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summary ✿‧₊˚: 3+1: three times Sylus suppresses his desire to have you, and one time his control finally snaps. sprinkled with relationship fluff, size difference, love confessions and whole lot of overthinking from our fav crow boy.
word count ✿‧₊˚: 13.6k (a whole ass freaking novella, grab a snack.)
tropes ✿‧₊˚: 18+, 3+1, smut, but packed with feelings, fluff, est. relationship, body worship, plot with porn??, love confessions, sylus is obsessed, and so in love, first times implied, p in v, size difference, (by size difference i mean sylus is freaking huge, like a mountain of a man, so big it actually makes him nervous bc u so small, every single one of us would be a small dot next to him that’s my personal headcanon, have you seen his ib memory? yeah, yeah u have this man HUGE), anyways what is protection they don’t use it don’t be like them, needy sylus, pet names, everything is consensual, awooo.
author’s note ✿‧₊˚: hello! i was cooking this one for so much time, i hope it’s not too boring! I’m not a native speaker so i apologize in advance for all mistakes or repetitions. I was also trying to write inclusive y/n and i hope i succeeded. I also did not imagine y/n to have a specific body type — i truly believe that no matter your size, next to sylus you would look like a crumb. as small as a pebble. believe me, i’ve studied the sacred texts (night of secrecy, grassland romance, innocent birdcage do i really have to keep on listing the memories where he enormous u get the gist). so!! i hope you’ll enjoy it ૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა
!!do NOT read if you’re not 18+!!
˙⟡⋆˚✿˖°⟡ ݁
Sylus usually considered himself to be a patient man.
He occasionally did act on his desires—he could admit that much—but when it came to the things he truly cared about, the things he treasured, he didn’t mind the wait. He knew that the best things in life came at a price, and if the currency was time, in this case he was willing to pay in full. He knew it was worth it. That you were worth it.
You, who accepted him as he was, with all his flaws and imperfections, making his life better every day you were together. You, who were so brave, gentle, and kind that you made him want to become a better man too—just so that one day, he could say he truly deserved you. You, who he had completely fallen for, unable to imagine a world in which he wouldn’t make the same choice of courting you all over again.
That’s why he wanted nothing more than to treasure and respect you in every aspect of life—including intimacy and his own desires. And to be perfectly candid, he had plenty of those from the very moment he laid eyes on you. But he wanted to act like a gentleman, never rushing you into anything. He was patient, waiting for you to make the first move. He wanted to be sure you trusted him, that you weren’t afraid of him—or of the things he wanted to do to you if he ever got the chance.
And even after several months of officially dating you, he still stuck to his resolve, despite the unhealthy hunger growing inside him. He was adamant that you make the first move, even though the waiting was slowly killing him from the inside—his desires burning through his skin, desperate to see the light of your glossy eyes, to feel you squirming beneath him, and to hear your soft moans and whimpers, letting him know that you wanted him too.
He wanted you passionately. He didn’t desire anyone or anything else in his life. He had never thought of anyone else in such terms, which made the wait much more bearable, fun even. The occasional tension in the air only made things between you even more intriguing. Sylus wondered when the moment would come for you to finally let him explore you, taste you, just as he had wanted since the first time he held you in his arms.
He was a patient man. An inquisitive one, but patient nonetheless.
But it was just getting too much for him to handle lately.
He wondered if you were doing this on purpose. Were you trying to make him go feral with want, push him into some action? Maybe you were just too shy to ask for something more, and decided to coax him to take you right then and there? Was it an act? A part of your meticulous, sneaky plan?
He felt his sanity slowly dissipating.
“Sylus? Please, hurry up and help me, we have to go!” You turned your head to look at him, your lips puckered in an adorable pout, and your feet anxiously shifting from one to the other, the sound of your beautiful black heels clicking against the floor of your apartment. The red soles didn’t go unnoticed by him.
And what didn’t go unnoticed as well was how breathtakingly gorgeous you looked, dressed in your tight black gown that accentuated the figure he was obsessed with.
However, he was a strong man. He could look at you in a dress and not get an instant boner; he wasn’t some mere beast. But when you asked for his help, he realized that life hadn’t prepared him for everything you had up your sleeve.
Because right now, you stood before him, your back turned toward him, holding your hair in your hands and exposing a zipper that you wanted him to take care of. A zipper that ran from your neck down, down, down to your red lace panties, which peeked out from beneath the unzipped black material.
He turned his head upward at the sight, his hand reaching for the bridge of his nose, a silent prayer escaping his lips. If God existed, He was not merciful this time.
He could also clearly see that you weren’t wearing a bra, the soft skin of your back exposed, slightly hidden under the material of the dress. Hadn’t he suffered enough?
He wanted to bark. Badly.
Oh fuck, was he really going to bark?
He hoped not.
“Sy?” The nickname almost made his legs buckle. He needed a moment to calm himself after just one look at you, and it seemed to take him much longer than what would be considered natural. The impatience in your voice betrayed your desire not to be late for the opera performance, which he had promised to take you to today. He gulped audibly and realized that you had no idea what you were doing to him—and that scared him.
If you were this dangerous unintentionally, how will he survive when you’ll finally, consciously decide to take things further?
“Yes. Yes, of course, sweetie.” He managed to choke out and stepped closer to you, your delectable scent overwhelming his senses. He tried to hide the slight tremble in his hands as he reached for the zipper at the bottom of your dress. When he zipped you up, he took his sweet time caressing your body with his knuckles, basking in the soft feeling of your skin and the dangerous touch of the lace of your panties. He hoped you couldn’t hear his heartbeat—or see the pink in his cheeks. He couldn’t remember the last time he had blushed, but now he was sure of it, judging by the warmth on his face.
He was hopeless. Utterly ruined.
“There you go.” He said quietly, caressing your beautiful hair with his fingers, smoothing the creases which appeared after your hold. He brushed it from your neck and planted a slow kiss there, his movements far too composed for someone who was boiling with desire inside.
“Thank you. I couldn’t reach it at all and we’re already short on time.” You put your hand on his head, patting it gently and sighing when he touched your waist. He couldn’t help but squeeze you there, feeling the warmth of your skin through the soft material of your dress. You understood this gesture as teasing and giggled adorably.
“You look magnificent, my dove.” The compliment slipped through his lips, earning him your sweet smile and a kiss on a cheek. He watched as you passed him to grab your purse, going straight to the front door, leaving him behind. Trusting he’ll follow your step, as he always did.
Sylus closed his eyes and touched the very spot on his cheek where your lips had grazed, releasing a sigh that could be interpreted as both contentment and a silent prayer for endurance.
“You coming, Sy?” He could hear you calling for him, and he opened his eyes. His left one shone brightly at him from his reflection on the window. His Evol proved useless when his body already made it abundantly clear what—or whom—he desired the most.
“I fucking wish.” He whispered under his breath, turned around, and walked up to you, picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder as he reveled in the weight of your body pressing against him. His ears were graced by your little squeal, that quickly transformed into uncontrollable laughter, a sound he wanted to record and play every time you were away.
You slapped his back playfully and joked about wanting to use your legs once in a while, and he laughed, saying that he just wanted to make sure that he had all he needed with him. Then, he grabbed his coat with his Evol, and used it to slam the door after you both went out. He hoped that the lust he felt, which started to get out of his control, managed to stay behind them.
He waited for so long; how hard could it be to wait for another couple of months?
˙⟡⋆˚✿˖°⟡
Hard.
Tremendously hard, both theoretically and physically, given the reaction of his body upon the contact.
He shifted slightly so that you wouldn’t feel his growing bulge against your core, his hands hovered over your thighs, his cheeks flaming hot. He was about to fucking pass out.
But you were none the wiser, sitting on his body, strangling him with your soft, mouth-watering thighs, practically rubbing yourself against him, and performing your little dance of victory after pushing him to the ground during your sparring.
Normally, he would have laughed with you and treasured your moment of happiness, his senses overwhelmed by pride as he watched you get better and better at self-defense with every practice.
But that was just cruel.
Not only did you show up in that little piece of fabric covering your breasts, something you dared to call a sports bra, its thin straps reminiscent of a fish net, offering NO support whatsoever for your charms, but you also dared to wear that pair of leggings you claimed you had bought with your friend during your last trip to the mall.
And they were leaving nothing for his imagination, your every curve hugged tightly, every dip deliciously emphasized. And fuck, you looked gorgeous in wine red. You knew you did.
“I got it in your color! Do you like it?” You asked upon entering his gym, twirling for him like the most adorable fucking thing he had ever had the pleasure of seeing, your arms up and your hair still untied. He did saw red, and it wasn’t just the color of your clothing.
His color. His girl in his color, he was going absolutely feral.
“I do.” He choked out, and tried to avert his eyes from your posture but lost that battle quickly. “You look stunning. My little gem.” He answered and you dared to look at him sheepishly, your face showing the signs of getting flustered.
“I’m not just a gem anymore. I’m a professional fighter.” You playfully punched his shoulder, jumping around and mimicking boxing moves, making him laugh out loud as he grabbed your fists in his hands. He pulled you closer to him and kissed your forehead, his arms wrapong around your frame.
“Is that an apology in advance?” You asked him when his lips left your skin. He smirked, his brow raising.
“Might be. Today we’ll be practicing attacks and knocking down your opponent.”
“Me? Knocking you down?” You looked at him with disbelief, your hands dropping to your sides, already defeated. “I’m doomed. Sylus, can’t I knock down Luke or Kieran instead?” Your cute pout and hands clasped in a begging gesture made him laugh again, as he fixed the bandages on your hands.
“And you think they would be easier to conquer?”
“Yes. Obviously, yes.”
“But they wouldn’t make sure you’re not going to hurt yourself, kitten, and I already know your patterns…” He leaned over you, his hot breath caressing your ear, making you shiver. His hands avoided touching your body. “And weak spots…” A whisper and a gentle bite on your earlobe were enough to send your adrenaline soaring.
“You—!” You jumped from him, like a little kitten, your face flustered and gaze filled with playful threat. “You’re going down mister. You’re SO going dooown.”
And down he went.
Right under your soft body, squashed between your warm tights, looking up at your beautiful lips twisted in an adorable, cunning smirk.
Oh, the way he loved you. The way he wanted to have you. The intensity of that feeling started to suffocate him.
“Okay, you got me, sweetie.” He choked out and tried his best to sound as nonchalant as possible. But nothing about this situation was nonchalant—your soft tights squeezing his waist and your butt pressing on his weak spot almost made him see stars. He grabbed your waist to try to stop your body from moving and gritted his teeth, fighting with himself to not buckle his hips up. “Now, up. I admit defeat.”
Defeat that had to do with the improvement of your skills and the force of your little fists, yes, but also with the way Sylus was distracted by your body, his eyes wandering everywhere during the battle, but not the places he should actually pay attention to.
Apparently, he was a weak, weak man, when the situation concerned you. Weak and impossibly horny.
“Hmm, I’m not sure if I want to.” You answered, a mischievous glint adored your gaze. He drank that expression in.
Beautiful. You were absolutely beautiful, sitting on him, your body sparkling with sweat, face red from the exhaustion. How could he keep his mind from going places? “I think I like you like this.” His eyebrows went up, and cheeks felt a little bit too warm for his liking.
What were you trying to say?
“Yes? Like what, kitten?” His heart felt like it was about to beat out of his chest. He knew that you could feel it, one of your hands rested on top of it, stroking his chest, feeling the warmth radiating from his skin through his shirt. He shivered, his body covered in goosebumps, finding the gentle touch too intense, somehow.
“Towering over you.” His breath hitched, his heart almost stopped its beating. “It’s much easier to look at your face when I’m like this. It’s nice.” His heart squeezed instead, your confession turning out to be more touching than teasing, and he cursed himself internally for belittling your interactions and intimacy lately. His mind immediately assumed sexual undertones, where everything you were doing with him, at your own, unique pace should be more than enough for him.
“You like looking at me that much, huh?” He answered, his hand going up to caress your cheek with the back of his fingers. He smiled with content, and he put his hand at the nape of your neck, hoping you’ll understand the implications.
You did. Not a second later you lowered your body so that you were lying on top of him, one of his hands holding you to himself by your waist, pressing you even closer together. He acknowledged how much he loved your full weight on his body, your hearts pressed so close to each other they started beating as one.
You put your hands on his cheeks, smiled down at him, and pressed a small kiss to one of his eyelids, and then to the tip of his nose. He closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the feeling.
“Of course. You’re my beautiful boy, Sylus.” You whispered to him, a smile adoring your face and he couldn’t help himself. He pulled you close by your neck and pressed a chaste kiss to your lips, almost whimpering into your mouth from the intensity of his feelings.
You reciprocated the kiss, not hesitating even for a second, and soon, both of your lips were swollen and glistening, your minds filled with sparkles and cotton.
You were the one to break the kiss, your mind going dizzy, body trembling from the arousal. He could feel it without using his Evol—the desire that raised within you, the fire that now flowed through your veins. His eyes sparkled with anticipation.
One moment and you’ll go pliant against him, melting into his embrace.
One second, and he’ll finally taste heaven, be as close to you as anyone ever has been.
“Y/N, will it be alright if I—” He started speaking, your eyes looking at him from above as you held onto his cheek and neck, caressing his skin with your thumbs, making him feel oh, so cherished. Yet, he didn’t manage to finish the request because a sudden crash from the door opening pierced through the silent room, popping your comfortable bubble in an instant.
You jumped out of his embrace, leaving him cold and yearning, his hands sliding over his face in frustration.
“Boss—”
“Luke, Kieran it better be fucking important.” Sylus hissed through his teeth, and the fact that he didn’t even try to hide his frustration made you huff out a laugh and you quickly covered your mouth with your hand. You didn’t want to laugh at him so openly, hiding how adorable his anger towards boys seemed to you at that moment.
His eyes caught yours, lured by the bubbly sound, and one of the corners of his mouth went up slightly. He raised his hand to your covered mouth and brought your hand down with his fingers, revealing your smile.
“It is, Boss! The Girm Company chairman called and demanded a meeting in thirty minutes.” Luke said quickly, Kieran peeking out from behind his shoulder. “And he didn’t want to take “no” for an answer.” Kieran added, his body now revealed.
You were not sure if Sylus was even listening, his eyes glued to your face, his fingers tracing the line of your smile absentmindedly. He still didn’t raise from the floor of the ring, his posture relaxed, one arm now resting behind his head.
“That bastard.” He answered under his breath, and closed his eyes in annoyance for a second and when he opened them, they were once again glued to you. “If you don’t want me to leave just say a word.” He said, and put a strand of your hair behind your ear. The back of his hand started a slow caress of your cheek, and you felt embarrassed, knowing that the boys were still looking at you both, waiting for Sylus’s answer.
“It’s okay, Sy. I actually have some errands to run in Linkon so I better get going.” You answered, grabbing his hand and pressing a kiss to his fingers. His breath hitched, eyes following the movement with a longing deep in his chest. “Besides, I’m tired of beating your ass today. Save some dignity for the next time.” You added with a mischievous look, poking his hard chest with your finger teasingly.
The laugh that came out of his chest was sudden—loud, deep, and so sincere that it warmed your chest, your lips spreading in a proud smile. He grabbed your hand off of his chest and brought it to his lips, kissing your fingertips. The mirth in his eyes clearly visible, the affection bare and tangible.
“You are so generous, sweetie. Letting your pray off the hook so easily.” He couldn’t stop smiling even when he was raising to his feet, his hand going to massage his left shoulder. He looked at you and offered you his hand, which you immediately accepted. He helped you stand, his eyes tracing your every move, still unable to look away.
Your body entranced him, your presence lit a fire in his veins. The point where your hands touched warm and almost overwhelming. His desire for more once again proven unquenchable.
“Boys, let him know I’ll be there. It seems that I need to remind him who actually is in the position to make demands.” His voice was now authoritative, followed by the boys’ exclamations of “Will do, boss,” along with two salutes send his way.
And they were gone just as quickly as they had appeared.
“Don’t be too harsh on the chairman. I don’t want to get in the way of your business.” He saw you turn to him with a worried expression on your face, and he leaned down to place a kiss on your forehead, his lips lingering on the spot for much longer than necessary.
“Hmm, I’m afraid that’s impossible.” He took your hand in his and placed a kiss on your knuckles, looking deep into your eyes. The sadness of you parting ways already blooming inside him. “They cut our time together short, so I’m planning on making them pay for that offense generously.” He smirked and watched you shake your head with disbelief, a small smile gracing your lips.
“I already miss you.” He heard you saying and you surprised him by throwing your arms around his neck, then kissing him almost senseless.
He closed his eyes and returned the kiss, which was starting to border on filthy. His hands grabbed your frame, pressing you closer to him, as his body bent toward you.
When you parted, your breaths were hot and heavy, a string of saliva still keeping your mouths connected. He stared at the filthy sight, his heart pounding in his chest, his boxers starting to become a rather tight fit. You placed a hand on his chest and pushed him away gently, your fingers trailing downward until they grazed his abdomen. He gulped audibly and remained still, watching you walk further and further away. He didn’t trust himself to move even an inch, afraid he wouldn’t be able to restrain himself anymore.
“Bye, Sylus. I’ll let you know when I get home safely.” You told him, walking away backwards now, your eyes not leaving his. “And we’ll continue what we started next time, okay, Boss?” The last part a whisper from your sweet lips, almost making him drop to his knees right then and there. You waved at him, shyness visible on your cheeks, and then you left him in the middle of the ring, stunned and filled with excruciating desire to finally have you.
Next time.
He groaned, his hands covering his blushing face, his mind already imagining the things he’ll do to you, only if you let him. God, he hoped that you’ll let him.
He did arrive late to the meeting that day, having to compose himself for much longer than you would have expected. He also made sure the chairman regretted keeping him away from you—your softness, your scent, an addictive drug he never wanted to be deprived of. The audacity to take that from him deserved nothing less than the highest of punishments.
He couldn’t help it, he already missed you.
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Sylus could write poems about his beloved, listing all her remarkable qualities and quirks; however, not once would he describe her as elegant and composed.
You usually were a tornado of various emotions, a temple of the things you cherished, your expressions lively and loud, honest and unrestrained.
You were also a bit clumsy—an occasional stumble, a bump to your limb now and then, or a broken glass wasn’t anything that Sylus hadn’t see you do before. He often worried about you and your safety, with new bruises appearing on your body from bumping into things or a piece of glass piercing through your delicate skin. Sometimes, he wished he could protect you from yourself too, but all he could do was press a kiss to every small injury you sustained from your hectic movements.
All bumps aside, he utterly adored that quality of yours. Every time he caught you acting awkwardly his chest seemed to shrink on itself, his heart squeezing, cute aggression overcoming his senses. You were just so adorable in those moments, the sight always reminding him of a little fawn, beautiful but uneasy on its feet. His craving to grab you and hold you in his arms, protecting you from the whole world, was strong; the urge to press a kiss to your forehead, then to kiss you senseless, even stronger. You were his little chaos: wonderful in your unexpectedness, extraordinary in every sense of the word.
Needless to say, he was used to your adorable clumsiness. He loved it.
That was probably why his brain stopped working when you proved to be everything but clumsy while playing the games at the local funfair. Your moves sure and precise, your gaze locked onto the targets, your body positioned exactly how it should be in order to gain the reward you wanted—whether it was a new plushie, a funky gadget or even some snacks.
And he had to say that this new, confident, borderline cocky behavior you were displaying was making him feel some things.
“Wait, let me try this time.” You said the first time he couldn’t score the prize, the claw mocking him relentlessly, wounding his pride.
You got that plushie in one, excellent attempt.
“Let me get that for you, Sy.” You proposed later, seeing him eyeing a figurine of a crow that reminded him of Mephisto. You were able to get not only that, but also a coupon for a food stall that served the best waffles you’ve ever eaten. As for Sylus, the sweetness of the treat paled in comparison to your blinding smile, with whipped cream still staining the corner of your mouth. He swiped it away with his thumb, then licked the digit, sending you a wink in the process.
He took pride in your blush, especially when making each other red that day started to feel like a competition between you two, whether you were aware of it or not.
“You want this one? Say no more, handsome.” Your words almost making him choke, your hands already grabbing the controls, your body bending over the machine, offering him a wonderful view of your ass. The tips of his ears immediately started to feel as if caught on fire. Even though he knew that you were teasing him, the pet name sounding foreign from your lips, he liked the feeling of you taking the initiative.
He also couldn’t stop his eyes from wandering, your body presented to him in a way that felt illegal to watch. He swiped his gaze up from the nape of your neck to your shoulders, taking note of your delicious-looking waist, perky butt, and thighs, which seemed lonely without his hands squeezing and kneading the soft flesh.
The cheerful sound of the machine made him snap back into reality, just as you were looking over your shoulder, sending him the most sexy, oh so sexy, proud smirk he ever saw in his life. He smirked right back, even though his legs felt disturbingly like jelly.
“I’m starting to think you enjoy this.” He remarked, grabbing the prize from your hands once again, the rest of your treasures already sitting comfortably in the back of his car. You send him a mischievous smile and fixed your hair, your fingers threading through the strands, the smell of your perfume reaching him once again during that night.
He wanted to devour you.
“And what’s wrong with that?” One of your hands grabbed his bicep, holding on to him as you started your lazy stroll in search of yet another entertainment. “You always get me things. And since I know now that you suck at these games, I have a perfect opportunity to return the favor.” He laughed at that, his hand moving to flick your forehead.
“I don’t suck at these games, all of them are tempered with, sweetie. I actually find it astonishing that you are so good at them.” His reply kind of soothing his wounded pride, his mind once again remembering your movements from before. The way you moved with confidence and grace, the little smirks and winks you send his way. His blood started to boil several stalls ago, and it hasn’t calmed since. “Makes one wonder about the extend of your abilities.”
The new, cocky, and self-confident side of you aroused him almost to the point of him grabbing you by the waist and taking you to his car, taking advantage of his tined widows.
“It all comes down to having a good strategy, as someone once taught me.” You said, repeating the words Sylus is always saying to you during your training, a mirth lacing your tone. How he adored you.
“Wise counseling you have here, kitten. You must have a fantastic teacher, if his lessons are proving to be useful anywhere you go.” The smile not leaving your face making him never want to look away.
“Oh, yes, he is. And an eye-candy too.” You touched his nose with the tip of your finger teasingly while he laughed. He stopped walking and turned to you fully, his arms closing around your waist, bringing you to him, close enough for your bodies to touch. The height difference always made him dizzy, with your head fully tilted upward in order to catch his gaze.
“Mm. Maybe that’s a quality he learned from you.” His tone quiet, one of his hands going to touch your cheek, his thumb pressing on your bottom lip. You appeared stunned. “I cannot think of someone sweeter than you. If he’s a candy, you’re one delectable dessert.” He whispered, his eyes going from your eyes to your lips, their reddish tone reminding him of a little cherry. He was fighting with himself not to put his hands on your ass, and squeeze the flesh that you kept pushing his way from the very beginning of your date, or not to place a kiss on your smart little mouth, which kept sending him these playful smirks all day long. He knew that if he started here, he would not be able to stop. No one would be capable of separating him from you, public place be damned.
His desire boiling inside him, threatening to melt his vessels and pour from his body, enveloping you in a tight, pleasurable embrace. He felt feverish, your body pressed to his giving him all the warmth he ever needed, molding his thoughts to fit only your frame.
You were perfect in his eyes. Your body, the perfect shape for him to hold, your face the only one he wanted to remember. And the way he felt when he was with you—so immensely happy, so carefree, so right—was a feeling he had never even dreamed about having. Your banter, little jokes and witty comments made him so at ease he never wanted to stop talking to you, afraid of depriving himself of even a second of the comfort you brought him: the knowledge that he could speak his mind freely, for you understood him beyond the limitations of language. By your side, he could be himself, the thoughts in his head quiet, giving way to expressing himself in any way he wanted. His little taste of heaven: the time you spent together.
He loved you. So intensely it used to scare him, but now he was offering himself willingly, no longer afraid of rejection. Even though you both still didn’t acknowledge it out loud, the feeling lingered in the air between you — a delectable sweetness, a comforting fragrance.
He wanted you. Body and soul. Soul and body. He liked to think he already had your soul in grasp, your actions and openness served as a perfect proof of that, yet your body was still his to claim. And the fact that there was still a part of you he didn’t manage to possess, to thoroughly acknowledge, frustrated him inconceivably.
Especially because you had that strong of an effect on him. Everything you did capable of driving him perfectly insane. Oh, how you had him wrapped around your little finger, without being aware how completely obsessed he was with you.
“Is that so?” His gaze went from your hypnotizing eyes back to your lips, drinking in every single whisper. You stood on your tiptoes, the sight making his hands squeeze your waist tighter, his breath quickening, mind trying to process closer distance. “If he keeps sweet-talking me like this, then I guess he will finally get to taste it.” You grabbed his chin and tilted it down, pressing a soft, drawn-out kiss to his lips. His eyes closed immediately, desperate to heighten his senses. He wanted this kiss to last, both in the moment and later in his memory.
And just as he was about to wrap his arms around your back, pulling you closer, hiding your body from everyone else just to steal a few more kisses, you stepped back, the quiet sound of a smooch echoing between you. He bit his lip, almost drawing blood, restraining himself from chasing after your lips.
“C’mon now. I still have a few tricks up my sleeve that I need to show you.” You gripped his hand tighter and started to walk toward one of the booths. You sent him a smile over your shoulder, making his efforts to calm his racing heart futile. “And then maybe we can grab some cotton candy? All this talk about sweets made me crave some.”
“Anything for you, sweetie.” He answered absentmindedly, your taste still lingering on his lips. How were you always able to move on from the kisses so quickly? It would be the only thing he could think about in the next minutes.
“And what do you want?”
“Hmm?” The question shocked him, his eyebrows going up, his eyes intently observing your face.
“Do you have something you’d like to do while we’re here? I keep dragging you stall to stall ever since we came here.” You said while turning to fully face him, grabbing both of his hands. “I want you to have fun too.”
“I always have fun when I’m with you.” His response honest, his thumb caressing your knuckles. “You make life so interesting. And today you already managed to surprise me, so I would say that was more than enough entertainment for me in a day.” You rolled your eyes at him, a small smile on your lips, and looked at him with patience.
“But the day’s not over yet. Isn’t there anything you’d like to do? Look around.”
He lifted his head from your frame and began taking in the booths and various food stalls that had previously escaped his attention. He hummed, as he could feel you shifting on your feet, unable to contain your excitement.
That’s when he caught something interesting out of the corner of his eye—a couple emerging from a small booth, huge smiles plastered on their faces as they held small pieces of paper. A spark of excitement ignited inside him upon realizing what it was.
“There. I want to have a memento.” He said, his finger pointing to that innocent-looking booth. Almost impossible to spot in the abundance of lights and sounds coming from other attractions.
“Okay! I think I already won you a mountain of mementos but if—Ah!” Your eyes lit up when you realized what he was pointing to, your lips spreading in a cheerful smile. “A photo booth! Sylus, that’s wonderful!”
It wasn’t long before you were both inside the booth, the space cramped, almost too small for him to fit. He sat on the small stool, taking up nearly all the space, leaving you no choice but to sit on one of his legs. Your arms wrapped around his neck for stability, yet there wasn’t a hint of discomfort on your face.
He loved how natural it was for you to be this close to him, the proximity no longer making you nervous. He still remembered how you were at the beginning of your acquaintance, when even an eye contact was enough to make you to shy away. Now, touching him was as easy as breathing, your body relaxed and pliant under his wandering hands.
While you were clicking playfully on the screen, setting up the machine, he took his time observing you—mainly how your body looked next to his, which made him short-circuit, reminding him why he was still waiting for you to make the first move in initiating sexual intimacy. The reason he didn’t want to rush things, nervousness buried deep inside his chest.
You were sitting on his leg, your whole body weighting next to nothing, his one limb nearly twice as big as both of yours. Your soft flesh pressed to him didn’t even take up half of the place available on his leg, and when he put one of his hands on your back, the huge patch of your skin he was able to cover made him gulp audibly.
You were so tiny, next to him.
He was a huge man, and he knew that. Not just his height, but his overall build made even other men look small in comparison. While he usually considered it one of his greatest assets, a fantastic tool for intimidation, in this particular case, it planted a seed of worry in him.
It took some time for you not to shy away from his touch, not to flinch every time he leaned to you, his body covering whole line of your vision. And it took him even more time to learn how he should touch you and hold you, not to put too much force behind his caresses, not to make you bruise. And although the gentleness run in his bloodstream by now, he was still worried about the actual sex.
What if he scares you? His body completely covered your delicious curves without issue.
What if he overwhelms you? His stamina and eagerness matched his overall size.
What if he hurts you? The thought of your body unable to accommodate to his size made his blood run cold.
He looked at your body again, and he had to hold in a sigh. He loved your curves, the unbelievable softness of your skin, how warm you were. He felt his hunger increasing every day, every minute, every second he spend in your presence.
Yet he had to wait patiently, not wanting to scare you. He also knew that you were starting to get bolder with him day by day. He liked to think that it was just a matter of time until you will initiate something more, cover him with your soft embrace, let him melt in your warmth.
Because at the end of the day, his observations of your size difference not only filled his mind with fear, but also made his body tingle in all the right places. The arousal he felt knowing that he could manhandle you without any issue, cover your whole body entirely with his, shield you from the world and its coldness—all consuming. The only thing he could think about.
You were tiny in his embrace.
But he could make it work. He will make it work so good.
How could he hurt you when he was so certain that you were made to be his? Two halves of a perfect soul.
His hand slid down to hug your waist and he pressed a lingering kiss to your shoulder. It made you giggle, you thought that it was his way of showing impatience. And it was, in a way. Just not the kind of impatience you assumed it was.
“All set! I had some fun with the stickers, do you want to choose your own?” He looked at the screen and opened his mouth to deny, but one sticker did actually catch his attention. He clicked on the small dove and placed it in the bottom of the template, next to the various hearts you already decorated it with.
“That’s you. The resemblance is almost striking.” He said making you laugh and you picked a sticker of some kind of a black bird.
“And that’s you. They unfortunately don’t have a crow one so this little fella has to work.” You placed the sticker close to the dove one, satisfied with your work.
“I get the vision. When I’m squinting my eyes, I guess.”
You had four pictures taken, all accompanied by laughter and endless teasing. One where you kissed his cheek, one hand holding his jaw, his eyes closed and features relaxed. One where he pretended to bite your neck, your face caught in laughter. One where he rolled his eyes, reacting to your lame joke of getting rabies from his bite, as you placed your pointed fingers above his head, adoring him with imaginary horns, your mouth open in fake shock. And the last one, where you grabbed his face and kissed him, his gentle smile pressed against your mouth, a picture of joy that couldn’t be restrained.
“I might have went kind of overboard with the stickers.” You said when you got your two copies of the pictures, four perfect rectangles inside a scarlet border, adorned with hearts, flowers and stars. Two adorable birds were at the very bottom of it, just below the date. Sylus looked at the pictures, and his heart seemed to grow bigger, the wave of emotions making him unable to utter even a simple word. “But I think they’re cute regardless! It’s so nice to finally have a picture of us printed out. I’m definitely going to frame mine.” You said and took out your phone to take a picture of it.
His thumb gently caressed the piece of paper, words still stuck in his throat.
It was the very first picture of you two together, and when he looked at it, he couldn’t help but get emotional, knowing that he never expected to have someone like you in his life. Someone to cherish, to protect, to hold. Someone who reciprocated his feelings, someone who will never leave him, even if doomsday falls upon Linkon, even if the world crumbles.
“Are you okay, Sy? You’ve gone nonverbal again.” He felt your hand on his wrist, offering him a gentle squeeze. He finally looked at you, going out of the trace he was in, and saw your beautiful face laced with concern. He felt your hand going up and down his arm, caressing him in order to bring comfort.
“Did I?” He managed to choke out and hugged you to his chest, craving the closeness, not wanting you to see his slightly glistening eyes. He feared that the darkness of the night would not be enough to cover them, the lights from the fun fair only exaggerating his sudden surge of emotions. “They’re perfect. Thank you.” You hugged his torso tightly, your arms going up and down his back. You knew him well enough to realize he got emotional, but you were smart enough to let him savor his feelings in peace. If he was not comfortable showing you his tears, you had to understand it—the knowledge of how much it meant to him already warming your heart.
“Anything for you, Sylus.” You repeated the same thing he said to you earlier, and he picked you up, still hugging you to himself, his face finding coverage in the crook of your neck.
“Sly little thing.” He whispered and pressed a kiss there, drinking in the sound of your laugh and melting under the touch of your fingers, which stroked his hair affectionately.
Oh, how he couldn’t wait to finally be yours completely.
˙⟡⋆˚✿˖°⟡
Mesmerizing.
You, dancing in his room at two p.m to the new vinyl he bought, your hair down, arms up. Your eyes were closed and there was a small, relaxed smile playing on your lips, that seemed to grow bigger with each sway of your hips. You decided to wear the nightgown he got you some time ago, white lace caressing your body with a gentle flow of the shiny fabric.
He couldn’t breathe. All air sucked out of his lungs the moment he turned around and saw you swaying to the music he picked out. A surge of want so intense came over him that he was afraid to move even an inch—his body on fire, his mind filled with the visions of you, thoughts of you, and what you could be reduced to, enriched with under the touch of his hands.
If only he wasn’t a coward.
“Will you join me?” you said over your shoulder, opening your eyes slightly, and you must’ve seen something unusual in his eyes, because your movements slowed down and a furrow appeared between your brows. He wanted to kiss it off instantly. “Sy?”
You were so precious and delicate, a perfect opposite of his harsh exterior and even more barbaric interior. He waited so long, restrained himself for so much time, waiting for you to move first—now, standing before you, the thought that you wanted him this way too pierced a hole in his heart and filled it with fear.
“Forgive me. I cannot.” he answered, his voice coming out with a slight growl, that he couldn’t contain anymore. He inhaled deeply and gritted his teeth, hoping that he was at least successful in not making his eye glow, his Evol suddenly unstable. He didn’t want to know your desires, not when they were visible so clearly on your face now—openness and anticipation, ever since you went back from your date.
He hoped that shower would be able to calm you down, even though the warm and steady stream of the water didn’t manage to help him this time around.
He was loosing his composure and he was loosing it fast. Weeks of this insatiable hunger, unrelenting need and dripping tension did that to him. He knew he was fighting a loosing battle ever since he laid his eyes on you today, looking so cozy in your oversized sweater, filling the air around him with your intoxicating scent.
He was ready to devour you months ago, the build up straining his muscles now, making him restless. He was a goner—one wrong move and his previous patience and willingness for you to take the lead reducing to vapor.
“Why? We always dance together to your vinyls, especially the new ones.” Your movements faltered to a stop, your magnificent face turned to him, with an expression so honest it made his heart clench painfully.
He thought of all the times you danced under the moonlight, soft notes of his favorite music floating through the air, your bodies moving to the rhythm, sometimes gracefully, some other times not so much. The feelings overwhelmed him even more drastically, his eyes closing for a moment.
It was enough time for you to close the distance, and soon he felt your cold hand pressing against his cheek, swiping the flesh with your thumb. He squeezed his eyelids shut tighter, the touch making his soul burn. You took his head in both of your hands, lowering it to face you.
“Sylus, talk to me.” you said, tone worried. He could feel you standing on your tiptoes, wanting to bring your face closer to his. His body almost shaking with the need to hold you. “You’re acting very unusual today. Is something wrong?” He exhaled the air he didn’t know he was holding and opened his eyes. Your face was so close that he could see the shadow your eyelashes cast on your cheeks. He could feel your breath, warm and inviting.
“I can’t touch you now,” he managed to utter, his hands at his sides, struck in cruel stillness. He locked his eyes with yours, filled with worry and a comforting gentleness. You were always so gentle with him, it made him go insane. “Because if I do, I won’t be able to hold back anymore.”
He saw the realization in the shift of your features as you fully grasped the meaning of his words. To his surprise, you took one of his hands in yours, and placed it on your cleavage, right over your beating heart, the rhythm beneath his palm fast but steady.
“Then don’t. Why would you even want to hold back with me?” You answered, slightly breathless, a pleasurable tingling already setting deeply in your abdomen. You looked at his face, the redness of his cheeks nearly matching the color of his eyes, the look he gave you so desperate it turned your legs to cotton.
The sudden burst of happiness in your chest almost made you tremble, you had waited so long for him to finally claim you as his, and it seemed he had finally reached his limit.
“I don’t—” He stumbled upon his words, a reaction so different from his usual self-confident demeanor it made you crave to uncover more versions of him. All versions of him, every single one he was willing to show you. “I can’t help but fear that I will hurt you. You are so soft, so breakable, it makes me nervous. Aren’t you scared of me? Of—Of what I could do, to you?” The confession slipping out of him, and he grabbed your wrist in one hand, the other coming to rest on your back. He slowly brought you to him, pressing your bodies together. He heard your breath falter, and drank that sound in. Then don’t — you had no idea what a hurricane you managed to stir inside him with just two simple words.
“Sy. My sweet, caring gentleman.” He heard your answer, and felt your fingers caressing his under eyes gently, your eyes never leaving his. One of your fingers touched the wrinkle between his brows, smoothing the furrowed surface. “You could never hurt me, even if you wanted to. You’re so fixated on the knowledge what you can do, that you’re forgetting that you’ve never even touched me hard enough to leave a bruise. No matter how much I wanted you to, sometimes.”
“You—”
“I’m not scared of you, Sylus. I could never, and I will never be scared of you. You’re the one with whom I feel the safest.” His hands started trembling, his patience thinning with every beautiful word from your lips. You were telling him things he didn’t even know how desperately he wanted to hear. “And I want you. I want to finally feel you, all your roughness and sharp edges. I want all of it.” The sound of your breathing mingled with the soft tunes of the vinyl. The air thick with want.
Any second now, he could feel it in the shiver down his spine.
“And I want it now.”
Snap.
His resolve shattered as he pulled you into him, capturing your lips in a kiss so deep and desperate it left your legs trembling. He kissed you with raw intensity, his tongue exploring your mouth, drinking in every sound you made as his hands roamed your body, claiming every inch he could reach.
You felt him everywhere. Your thighs, hips, waist, your neck, hair and breasts—he seemed to touch everything he was depriving himself of before. His hands huge, and although slightly rushed and trembling, still surprisingly gentle.
He lift you up, your legs straining his waist and he laid you down on his bed, not breaking the kiss for even a second, your breath his breath, your lips water to quench his thirst.
His head was spinning, and when he finally opened his eyes the sight before him alone made him lose his mind.
You were sprawled under him, your hair a wild mess, your lips swollen from the abundance of his kisses. Your eyes glistened, the look in them so full of trust and love, love so visible it nearly broke him in half.
“You’re exquisite. Irresistible. Ethereal.” The praises slipped out of his tongue before he could stop them. The last bit of control fleeting with the touch of your impatient fingers, unbuttoning his shirt, taking it off of him in a matter of seconds. He couldn’t even find it in himself to tease you for your impatience, not when his brain already turned into mush after touching your bare skin. “You look as if you’re coated in frosting. My sweet girl, my most delectable little sin.” His eyes focused on your white dress, his hands not brave enough to let it slip off of you yet. He already feared the man he would become upon seeing you fully bared before him.
“Sylus—”
“It’s unholy. How much I want you.” His lips traced a path from beneath your ear down to your neck, finding their place on your collarbones. “How much I need you. The greed unexplainable, insatiable no matter how close I get to you. It’s not enough. It will never be enough.” His eyes met yours in a silent question and you nodded quickly in permission, gulping audibly, your eyes drooping. He let his hands travel up your legs, grazing your inner thighs, swiping through your hips, his palms tracing the lace of your panties, making the hair on his body raise. He then swiped through your waist and finally, finally his hands rested on your breasts, where you wanted them from the very beginning.
His breath hitched as he looked down your body, noticing how his touch had already lifted the fabric of your dress, baring your legs and stomach. His body shielded you from the chill in the air.
He squeezed your breasts gently, fondling them in his hands, a low groan escaping his lips—the same ones which couldn’t resist kissing your belly, anywhere he could reach, not even thinking about stopping his sensual kneading. It baffled him, how soft you were, how pliant under his touch. His hands, although taking so much of the space on your body didn’t seem to make you nervous at all—every single one of his touches you accepted with soft sights, low whines and a bitten lip. You trusted him, and he was drunk on that trust, wanted more, needed to see how far it could take him.
It quickly appeared that there was no limit to the things he could do to you, your whispers not only appreciative, but also encouraging. The uncontrollable thrusts of his hips against the duvet bordered on painful, the knowledge that he would have you in mere minutes making him unbearably hard. But he accepted the friction, your comfort mattered to him the most, and he wanted to take care of you properly.
“Sylus. Sylus, more, please.” He heard your silent plea, and caught your eyes in his, and that’s when he decided it was a time for you to drop the dress. He helped you out of it then licked the goosebumps forming between your breasts, each tiny dot on your skin making him awfully aware that this was it. Your beautiful form, completely bare, just for him to see, to worship.
“My little gem.” He breathed out, his eyes drinking in your body, committing to his memory every dip and curve. “My treasure.” He nearly growled, his mouth attached to your breast, licking and sucking on your nipple, moaning in the process. He wanted to devour you whole, to not leave a patch of skin untouched by his mouth. He thrived in the way you took hold of his head, your hands messing up his hair, caressing it when his tongue worshipped your breasts and nipples, drowning in their softness. He found his safe place.
“Oh God I—I feel like I’m floating, please don’t stop.” He heard you breathe out, your chest heaving, your legs closing in an attempt to relieve the tension building inside you. “You’re so good. So, so, so good, Sy.” He released one of your nipples with a pop, and stored the visual of your skin glistening with his saliva for later. He basked in your praise and pushed himself down, knowing exactly what he wanted to do next.
“Yes? You want it, kitten? Say you do. Please. I need you to say it.” His voice groggy, laced with yearning so tangible it made your body shiver.
“Yes. Yes, I do. Please, Sy. I waited so long for you.” Your words made his head spin, a smile spreading on his lips not flirtatious at all, just pure joy and contentment. He kissed your stomach and his hands once again swiped through your whole body. He raised on his forearms and caged your head between his arms, and then pressed a long, deep kiss on your mouth which quickly turned into another wave of heavy kisses. He wasn’t hungry anymore.
He was ravenous.
“I need to prepare you first, sweetie.” He said to your mouth, his words immediately swallowed by your perfect lips. You whimpered and his grip on your arm tightened involuntarily, his hand playing with your hair. “I need to take my time with you, otherwise I won’t be able to fit. You’re so tiny it scares me.” You nodded into the kiss and he smiled at you gently, and after pressing a kiss to your forehead, he went down.
And when he finally widened your legs, his mouth was on you instantly, making you moan, your legs clasping on his head reflexively. He grunted into your core, licking and sucking skillfully, guided entirely by pure need and his own instincts.
“You taste so sweet.” It wasn’t long before your legs were trembling and his fingers joined his mouth in an attempt to open you up a little more, to prepare you for what’s to come. “You’re dripping because of me.” He chuckled softly but deeply, chest filled with pride, and he licked your core once again, sucking at the sensitive bud. What he didn’t expect was when he managed to fit one figer inside you, angling it upwards, your back suddenly raised from the bed, hands reaching to his chest, delicately pushing him away. A drowned out cry escaped your lips, the wetness between your tights increased, your plushy walls fluttered around his finger.
He made you come, and he instantly got addicted to it.
“Yes. Yes. Just like that, beautiful—Fuck.” With a swear word on his lips he wasted no time in slurping up your spent, his fingers from one, going up to two, then three. And when the only thing he could hear were your moans and whimpers, the taste of you imprinted on his tongue, the slide of his fingers smooth and slick—he realized that you were ready for him.
He slowly withdrew from your pussy, pressing one last lingering kiss to your clit. As his fingers slipped out of you, he finally let himself to catch more than a glimpse of your face.
And it shattered him, how utterly ruined you looked. All flushed and heaving, skin glistening with sweat, eyes shining, filled with unshed tears.
He did that to you, and he couldn’t be more proud of himself. He licked his fingers clean, savoring your taste, then he pulled you into an embrace, his arms wrapping around your whole body. Your head dropped on his bicep, your breath labored.
“You okay, kitten?” He asked gently, ignoring his painful erection, still stranded in the stiff fabric of his pants. His head pressed to your neck, and he inhaled the scent, licking off the droplets of sweat in the process. He couldn’t get enough.
“Yes. More than okay.” You answered, and he felt your hand wandering, trying to unbuckle his belt. His chest squeezed. “Need you now. Please, Sylus…”
“You don’t have to beg. I’ll gladly give you my everything. All of me.” His hands left your body for a moment, swiftly taking off his pants, his mouth now kissing your cheeks and nose.
“I want to taste you, too.” You whispered to him shyly, and he grunted, closing his eyes, begging every deity to give him more patience. How he would love for your little mouth to envelop him, but he knew that the sight alone would be enough to make him undone.
“Next time, okay, sweetie? I cannot wait to be inside you.” You giggled and nodded, pressing a kiss to his nose, stroking his hair gently.
He shivered and hissed when he took off his underwear, letting himself out in the open. He was so hard it hurt, his hand going up and down his erection in an attempt to reduce the tension, even though he knew that the only one who could truly satisfy him was you.
“Oh my god.” He heard your gasp, and noticed that you were looking at him, his body fully exposed, his cock heavy in his hand. “Sylus— Sy, it won’t fit. There’s no way that—” He silenced you with a kiss, and swiped his hand through your core, gathering the slick and spreading it on his member. The smooth glide felt so good he lost himself in the feeling for a second, his tongue licking into your mouth, swallowing your gasps.
“Shhh, I made sure to prepare you as well as I could. And I won’t hurt you, you said so yourself.” He said the last sentence into your lips, once again pressing a long kiss there. Then he kissed your cheek, and breathed hard against your neck, his one hand wrapped around your waist, holding you closer to him, and the other stroked his cock, guiding it to your entrance. When the tip touched you, he gritted his teeth and you gasped, the first contact electric. Your arms wrapped around his neck, your fingers playing nervously with the hair at his nape.
He breathed heavily, the tip of his cock aligned perfectly with your entrance. “You can take it, you were made for me. I will make it fit.” He let go of your waist and grabbed one of your hands in his, kissing your knuckles and smiling gently at you, the anticipation making his body shake. “Just relax for me, will you? Can you do that, kitten?” You nodded and exhaled slowly, some tension getting out of your body. He pressed one last kiss to your forehead and intertwined your fingers with his.
“Close your eyes. I want you to feel me.”
“No. I need to see you, Sy. Don’t make me look away.” He chuckled and pressed his forehead against yours in a silent acceptance. He never wanted to take his eyes away from you too, your desires matching perfectly.
You were his soulmate, after all.
He pressed his erection to your opening and started to slip in, gently, unhurriedly, despite the desire to take you in one thrust of his hips. You opened your mouth in a painful moan, squeezing his hand, panic visible in your eyes. He hated that he was bringing you pain, but knew that it was inevitable, he saw how wide he was stretching you out. “It’s okay, sweetheart. Easy. You’re doing so good…” He breathed out, his hand leaving his cock to hold your hip, the other going up and down your body in a comforting caress. “Taking me so well...” His voice hoarse, sweat dripping from his forehead from the strain of keeping himself under control. He managed to put the tip in, your pussy squeezing him, your heat making him shiver, the sensation the most pleasurable he ever felt. He closed his eyes for a second, trying to calm himself down.
“It hurts, it really—it really hurts.” You whispered and he grunted, feeling you squeeze him harder, his length sliding into you deeper. He opened his eyes and lowered his body to get closer to your face, and placed a kiss between your eyebrows.
“I know, love. If you want to me stop—” He couldn’t recognize his voice anymore.
“No. Never. Please.” You kissed his brow, and send him a small smile. “I—I can take it. I was made for you, yeah?”
He huffed out a laugh, a whimper finding a way out at the same time.
“You were. Mmhm. Good.” He slipped in further, his mouth opening wider. “Good girl. Just a little more.” And before he managed to stop the shivering of his body, he burrowed himself in your tight heat almost to the brim. You were not able to take all of him in yet, but it was nearly a perfect fit, the sight of you wrapped around him made him see red, a low moan slipping out of him, your whimpers the most magnificent tune he ever heard.
“I’m going to move now.” He said and you moaned, your head nodding frantically.
He started thrusting inside you, and he felt as if fireworks exploded inside him, the desire burning brightly, need finally calming down, his mind completely at ease. Your moans, whimpers, cute little “ah,ah,ah’s” making his whole body shiver, a smile finding its way onto his swollen lips. You felt so good below him, your warmth enveloping him fully, and he started to question if he truly was worthy of such a blessing.
He didn’t care anymore. He had you, you wanted him and that was all that mattered now.
“You’re so. fucking. tight. God.” He started moving faster to the accompaniment of your small encouragements, his hand holding onto yours. And when your legs wrapped around his hips, bringing him closer to you, he was gone.
He grabbed your waist and lifted up your butt, the pace and force of his thrusts intensifying, his grunts leaving his mouth freely, silent praises slipping from his lips every now and then. He couldn’t stop now. Didn’t want to stop.
“I want—I want to stay inside you forever. I feel—Ah—Mm—like I’m melting.” He moaned and you felt his mouth on your body, kissing every patch of skin he was able to reach. You kept breathing out soft, quiet moans, tears filling your vision. “So cute.”
You felt so good, the stretch now pleasurable, your body accepting him fully, every thrust welcome, each one anticipated.
And he could see that so clearly on your face, his mind calming, knowing that he was able to bring you pleasure. It made him feel better too, your lovely expressions making his blood pump faster, his hips thrust deeper, just to see and hear more tokens of your delight. He was addicted to you and your reactions, to the way you sang his name, the way your skin tasted and eyes glistened every time he managed to catch eye contact.
Time quickly went by when you were loosing yourselves in each other. The positions changed constantly, Sylus looking for and finding new ways to tip you over the edge, making sure you were completely satisfied. You encouraged him to leave some marks on you, and you made sure to repay the sentiment, scratching his back with your nails, and pressing hickies on his chest—he already wished for the marks to stay there forever, and you assured him that you’ll stay instead, making him jump on you once again, burying his head in your shoulder.
“Say my name, kitten. Keep—Keep saying my name.” He grunted, his hips unrelenting, your bodies soaked, your own so tired that he had to hold it in his arm for you to not slip off the bed. He kept thrusting inside you from behind, his lips pressing gentle kisses on your neck and shoulder, his movements deep and sensual, pleasure overwhelming. You granted his wish, your voice hoarse and quiet.
You were going at it for hours now, yet he still hasn’t come.
Not because he couldn’t, but because every time he was close, he was slipping out of you, his eyes squeezing shut, a hand gripping himself at the base.
He didn’t want the night to end, refused to let you go, savored the feeling of being buried deep inside you, not knowing where you ended and he began.
“Sy—Mmm—Sylus—Ah.” The words failed you, your mind filled only with pleasure and thoughts of him. You were so tired and yet he made you feel so good you wanted to stay in his arms forever. “The—Ah—The sun is rising.”
He nuzzled into your cheek, his thrusts slowing down, quiet grunts leaving his lips. He sounded wrecked.
“I know, love. You look so wonderful in this light.” He kissed your cheek and glued himself off of you, leaving your body cold and shivering. In the next second, he manhandled you onto your back again, facing him. Your hands immediately flew to cover your face, fearing how completely ruined you must have looked after so much time making love and so many orgasms ripped out of you.
“No—Mmh—Don’t hide yourself from me.” He grunted, and took your hands in his gently, revealing the beautiful mess he managed to make of you. Your face covered in tears, cheeks flushed and lips so swollen it only made him want to kiss them some more. So he did. “Never hide yourself from me, dove. Hold me.” He kissed the palms of your hands and put them on his neck, your arms going to hold him closer. He huffed out a weak laugh, his thrusts not stopping even for a second. You felt his huge hands caressing your thighs and you moaned softly. “God, I’m sorry, kitten, I just can’t stop—I—”
“It’s okay, S—Sylus. Ah—I won’t run away.” You pulled his head closer and kissed his lips softly. His hands encircled your waist, drawing your body closer to him, the hair on his forehead brushing against your chest. Your eyes met his and he seemed to calm slightly, your gaze soothing the flame inside him.
“I love you. I—” You suddenly confessed, a single tear slipping down your cheek. His breath faltered, ruby eyes widening, your words shaking his world completely. “I love you, Sylus. So much. I love you so intensely it scares me, I—Ah—” A moan was ripped from you when he suddenly picked up the pace, the sweat from his forehead landing between your breasts. Another happy tear slipped from your eye, and if you had enough energy to keep your eyes open, you’d see that he was teary-eyed too. His hands grabbed your head, turning it up so he could look straight into your eyes—his own burning with desire and unspoken devotion. He needed to hear you say the words once more, but before he could start pleading for it, you managed to read his mind.
“I love you, Sylus.”
And those words were what finally made him shatter.
He came, so violently he nearly blacked out, his whole body trembling, and movements faltering, his cock buried inside you the deepest he could go. He released grunt after grunt, his arms holding you tight to him, your soft sighs only seemed to prolong his fall. He nuzzled his face up against your neck, then cheek, his lips touching your skin, unable to press more kisses due to the uncontrollable moans coming out of his mouth.
“F-Fuck—” He managed to choke out and you tried to calm your heavy breathing, focused on his cum filling you up, so much that you could already feel it spilling out. You whined and brought your hands to his waist, holding him close, and you came one last time too, your pussy squeezing him even tighter, ripping a short cry out of him. Goosebumps spread around your body from the pleasure and you went pliant in his arms, letting your sore muscles finally rest against the soft sheets.
Sylus relaxed a few moments later, his sweaty body collapsing on top of you, mindful not to put his full weight on you. His hot, heavy breath still warmed your neck, your hearts beating rapidly against each other, showing no signs of calming anytime soon. He managed to turn onto his side, his arms still wrapped around you, taking your body with him.
You were held in a wet, yet warm embrace, his arms protecting you from the cold morning air, your bodies still connected. The silence that ascended upon you comfortable and desired after so much time of intense workout—both throats roughed up and in need of hydration.
“Sylus, I—” You started saying, your voice a rough whisper, your head raising to meet his gaze, surprised that his crimson eyes were already studying you. He put one of his hands on the back of your head, his fingers playing with your hair ever so gently.
His gaze so intense you started to turn your head away, but he gently brought it back to him. He didn’t have to open his mouth for you to understand what he was feeling—the emotion in his eyes unmistakable.
“I love you, too.” He breathed out, his hand going up to your cheek, stroking it with the back of his fingers. His hand was cold and served as a delightful compress for your burning face. “I love you more than any words could ever express.”
He reminded you of a statue under this warm, morning light, his body perfectly sculpted. The only source of color were his cheeks, blaring red, nearly matching the color of his sparkling eyes. His wet hair still bearing the paths carved by your fingers, his lips kissed and twitching, fighting off a smile, which threatened to form when he realized how intensely you were observing him.
“My home is your home, my heart is your heart. Every breath I’ve been taking ever since I met you had already been yours — the day you tell me to cease, I will gladly do so.” He continued, his breath slowly calming down, one of your hands going to stroke his chest.
“I will never tell you to cease, you little dramatic fool.” You answered playfully, blinking away your tears, your hand going to rest on his warm cheek, his face immediately nuzzling into your palm. “If anything, I would curse you to live forever. Soundly and happily, by my side.” A soft laugh came out of his lips; a start of a smile that overtook his entire face, lightening up his features, showing off his small sharp canines.
“By your side...” He repeated, his voice possessing a dream-like quality, a smirk still visible. He swiped his hand over your body: from your shoulder, through your waist, down to your hip, and then back up. His touch soothing as always. “A curse has never sounded so sweet, my little dove.” He closed his eyes, and a sigh escaped his lips. The happiness spread through his body so intensely, that he thought he was going to burst.
Live forever, by your side. There was no other place in the entire universe where he would rather be.
He felt you squirming, a crease appearing between your brows, your hand squeezing his bicep. He hissed, feeling you squeeze him down there too, his cock still buried deep inside you, your plush walls a place he never wanted to leave. However, he knew that after so much time and so many orgasms you needed a break, your body sensitive and in need of extensive pampering. Good thing he adored spoiling you with affection.
“I’m going to pull out now, okay sweetheart?” You nodded your head, a small smile on your lips. You were just too adorable. “And then I’ll put you in a warm bath, order your favorite meal and change the sheets. Any objections?”
“None at all.” He switched your position so that he was once again on top of you, and he gently pulled out, a grunt leaving his lips at the loss of the comfortable fit. You whimpered when his cum started flowing out of you freely, and he couldn’t look away, the sight making the desire in him burn once more. He stopped himself before he started showing the cum back inside you. “Will you join me in the bath too?” He looked at your face, covered in the warm sunlight, the sight making him breathless.
“I would love to, if that’s what you want.” He hugged you to himself one more time, his body covering yours completely, his face finding refuge in the crook of your neck. He grazed the delicate skin with his teeth, then pressed his lips to your pulse, his tongue picking out to lick at your salty skin. “I love you.” He whispered into your neck, basking in the feeling of your heartbeat beneath his lips. “I love you, Y/N. Thank you for showing me what love feels like. Thank you for accepting me.” His breath started going out labored, the intensity of the emotion too big for his body.
“Thank you, for letting me love you. You are the best thing that happened to me, Sylus. I hope you know that.” Your kiss to his temple and your hands caressing his back felt like a blessing, your bodies connected in a soul-crushing hug his own private oasis. Never in his life had he experienced such a moment of total tranquility; only you were capable of bringing him peace.
He never wanted to let you go, and he didn’t have to. No other thought filled him with so much joy. You were his, just as much as he was yours. An ideal exchange of souls.
“I do.” He breathed out, and looked into your loving eyes once again. You smiled at him, and he felt his breath being punched out of him, his ruby eyes fluttering. He shook his head and reciprocated the smile, which quickly turned into a full laugh, your bodies shaking, hearts beating in unison. “I truly do.”
Your lips found his in a kiss that tasted like a promise—of a hand to hold, body to warm up to, and a heart that beat for one another. In every life, every universe, and in every space and time—now, and forevermore.
˙⟡⋆˚✿˖°⟡ bonus! ˙⟡⋆˚✿˖°⟡
“So which one finally did it?” You asked him nonchalantly, when you were both freshly washed up, lying on the new, pleasurably chilly sheets, basking in the afternoon sunlight. Too exhausted to raise, too happy to fall asleep after the whole night of making love.
His head on your chest stirred slightly, a confusion slowly overtaking his features.
“Hmm?” He opened his eyes, but he didn’t find it in himself to raise. His arms holding your body close to his, tightening their hold, a signal he hoped would make you continue the caress of his back with your fingers.
Your skin bared a fragrance of his soap and his skin, and he felt drunk ever since he noticed it.
“The workout outfit a size too small? Or those jeans at the funfair?” You continued, and his mind started to connect the dots. His eyes widened. “I knew that I would be sticking my ass out a lot that day so I made sure they were extra tight.” He heard you giggle and raised his head immediately, his gaze falling on yours.
“You—”
“What? You were making me wait forever! And don’t get me wrong…” You cupped his cheek, and he was rendered speechless. The whole time he was fighting for his sanity, trying to wait for you, restraining himself from taking you on the nearest piece of furniture — You were riling him up on purpose? “I love that you are a gentleman, and the princess treatment is really nice too, but I just couldn’t wait to have you ravish me, you know? Your girl has needs.”
He was going completely insane. He let out a hearty laugh, and shook his head in disbelief. It seemed that he underestimated you again, forgot that your desires and needs matched his almost perfectly.
And he should’ve known that the workout clothes were a bit too revealing for your liking. Fuck, he should’ve known.
“And it seems my girl is a sly little vixen.” His voice laced with humor, a smile still visible, head impossibly light. He hummed, and kissed a smile off of your plump lips, then your neck, shoulders and chest. You started trembling, and the smile he send you this time made him look as if he was a wolf studying his pray. You gulped audibly. “Well then, if you decided to manipulate me, then I think you are ready to suffer the consequences.” His kisses reached your breasts, and he took one perky nipple into his mouth, sucking passionately. His other hand grabbed at the other boob, kneading the flesh languidly.
“But it’s already bright outside, shouldn’t we—” A press of his finger on your lips hushed you, and his eyes met yours, his lips still circled around your delicate nipple. With a snap of his fingers the curtains covered the windows, cutting of the only source of light. Darkness enveloped you, making the press of his body on yours even more intimate. Your body was still on fire after the hours of tangling in sheets, every part of you sensitive and tingling under his skilled hands.
“Ah, ah. You’re trembling. Why is that, I wonder?” You heard his voice closer to your ear, and when your eyes got used to the darkness, you saw his eyes filled with mirth and something primal. His hands went slowly up your tights, their destination obvious. “I had no idea that my kitten was that starved. Now I can’t possibly leave her unsatisfied, can I?”
You felt his hands touch your warmest spot, and you let fireworks overtake you once more, your spine twisting to get closer to him. He tasted the skin on your chest again, and went down with his kisses, leaving a happy, wet trial in its wake. He raised suddenly, kissing you on the lips.
“And what about the zipper?” He asked absentmindedly into your lips, remembering the situation that nearly made him lose his mind couple of weeks ago.
“What zipper?” Your confusion truthful, your squeal loud when he suddenly plopped motionless on top of you, a sigh of exasperation leaving his mouth.
It seems that loving you was the beginning of his end, after all.
˙⟡⋆˚✿˖°⟡
thank you for your time! ♡ PLEASE let me know if you liked it, i would appreciate every single comment and engagement!!! i would be so happy to read your reactions (ㅅ´ ˘ `)
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Im BEGGING yall to use a diff platform than twitter / X for linking NSFW art/clips/photos. We all watched that man do the N*zi salute and YALL STILL USING THE PLATFORM??? STILL LINKING TO HIS WEBSITE. start utilizing bluesky or reddit please
Warnings: MDNI, sex, masturbation, medical masturbation, use of vibrators, clit play, piv sex, use of latex gloves, oral (fem receiving), some praise, kinda slow burn
A/n: I am not normal about this man in any way. Not really proofread. Please do not use my banners without permission.
You’re seated in Zayne’s office, trying not to squirm as he sets up your appointment. Although this was now the third time you were seeing him for this regular inspection, it didn’t alleviate your nerves the slightest. Each month, according to the Hunter’s Association regulations, every hunter needed to be seen by their primary care physician for 3 consecutive days for their health.
And although the association deemed it a necessity, it was an embarrassing requirement according to you. The Hunter’s Association had done a survey and discovered that many of their employees suffered from high levels of stress because they were isolated and lacked much-needed human contact. To combat this, they made it mandatory to get physical contact by a medical professional every month.
But when all the fancy jargon was pushed aside, all the hunters called it the same thing - medical masturbation. It had become wildly popular amongst both men and women hunters, eagerly marking the days on their calendar for when they could come in. When you heard about the rule, you wished the earth would open up and swallow you whole. You had tried talking to Jenna to insist that you were indeed taking care of yourself in that aspect, thanks to your trusted vibrator, but she had shaken her head no.
“We need documentation. I’m subject to it, and so is everyone else in my order.” Defeated, you’d walked out of Jenna’s office before remembering another mortifying fact with a jolt. Your primary care physician was Zayne.
Your childhood friend, your trusted cardiologist, stoic and calm, who remained reserved during your general checkups, was going to be your medical masturbator. You had almost turned yourself into a ball on the floor, tweaked out at the insanity of it all. Although Zayne was your general physician, you had a separate gynecologist, and apart from asking if you’d had your annual PAP smear, Zayne had left that part of your anatomy unquestioned. It didn’t help that you were attracted to him, and sure, if he’d asked you out on a date, you would have been more than happy to let him inspect you all he wanted down there.
But this clinical setting, enforced by your organization was a little too much to bear. Wondering how to tackle this situation, you wander over to Tara who was humming as she made her medical bookings on her phone app. “Isn’t this exciting?” she squeals as she sees you. “God knows the dating pool is thin right now. This is just what I needed!”
Tara’s primary care physician was a woman, and you wondered if that was a pro or a con. On the one hand, dropping your panties for a woman doctor seemed less unnerving than for a man. But if you had a preference for men, would it work against your arousal? You shook your head at your ridiculous musings and focused on talking to Tara. “Are you really that excited about this?”
“You have no idea!” Tara taps her feet as she talks to you.
“And you’re ok about having a woman stimulate you?” You probe, trying to gauge Tara’s reaction. Tara giggles and lightly pats your shoulder.
“I don’t know but the idea is kind of hot. I mean, getting it on in a doctor’s office? Besides if I don’t like it, I can change the doctor the next time.”
Her words hit you like a ton of bricks. “You can change your doctor?”
“For this yes, the app gives you an option since it involves showing off a lot of intimate areas. You have to be able to trust your doctor right?”
You logged into the app, finding the little button to request a change in doctors, but for some reason, the page kept refreshing and crashing. With a sigh, you decide to get the worst of it over with and call Zayne, hoping he can make the change for you on his end. His voice is cool and professional when he answers your call.
“Yes?”
“So, you must have heard about…the new regulation?” you had put forth nervously.
“I am aware of it, yes.”
“Well, for obvious reasons, I would like a different doctor.”
Zayne smoothly says, “Of course. Patient comfort is always first. Do you have a doctor in mind?”
“Maybe my gynecologist? I tried doing it in the app but it keeps crashing.” There’s a moment of silence and you can hear Zayne’s fingers tapping away at his keyboard before a low hum leaves his end of the line.
“There appears to be a problem.”
“Problem?” you’d parrotted back.
“Yes. Because so many people are booking appointments at the same time, most of the available doctors are already taken. Including your gynecologist.”
It felt like watching a bird crashing into a window in slow motion, that brief moment of hope that it wouldn’t hit the glass shattering in an instant. “Oh.”
There’s a pause before Zayne delicately says, “I’m sorry but it looks like you will have to make those appointments with me for this month. 3 of them according to the regulation. Hopefully, you can make the change for next month.” His voice sounded slightly apologetic.
“Won’t it be weird given that we know each other personally?” The question had fallen from your lips before you could stop yourself.
“I promise not to treat you any differently than any of my other patients who are coming in for this inspection. I understand this may be a little unexpected, but I assure you I did a term of gynecology during my internship.”
A tinge of mirth carried over in his voice and you can’t help but make a noise of embarrassment. “Zayne, please!” His laugh was dry but not unkind, and you can’t help but want to hide your face even though he couldn’t see you.
“Don’t worry too much. But I do advise you to make the appointments soon. My schedule is filling up rapidly.”
With those words, he’d disconnected the call and you were left wondering if an unknown god from another planet had cursed your existence.
And changing doctors had proven to be more difficult than you’d thought. The entire organization seemed to be having a single thought. They had made appointments in the app almost halfway into the year, essentially blocking you from being able to do anything about your situation. Now on your third month with Zayne, you watch as he checks his notes from your last session, feeling like you want to scamper from the room.
The last two sessions had been incredibly stimulating, your arousal heightened by the fact you were attracted to Zayne. You’d never considered having someone watch as you touched yourself but found that you’d enjoyed it, at least, when it was him. He had remained professional, but you’d avoided him these last two months, save for when you had to get your monthly cardiac profile. He reads his notes from his computer as he prepares for your session.
“Preferred device for stimulation still a vibrator, with a large, rounded, flexible head?” His eyes remain on his screen and you’re grateful for him giving you this smidgen of privacy.
“Yes.”
“Preference for the doggystyle position still?”
Your face burns. “Yes.”
“Still consenting for verbal stimulation?”
You nod your head.
“And still consenting for internal vaginal stimulation?” You make a noise of consent, squeezing your thighs together, your panties uncomfortably chafing against your already swollen pussy.
“All right, I have everything I need.” He logs off and removes his lab coat, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, revealing his well-corded arms, and your mouth almost waters at the sight of them. Clearing your throat, you shyly reach into your bag and pull out the vibrator in question, which he takes from you and clamps into a stand, adjusting it over the examination table you’d be on. A bottle of lube awaits on the tray next to the table and you swallow as he finishes the setup.
“Whenever you’re ready,” he says in that deep voice, and feeling like your fingers are wrapped in thick woolen mittens, you reach behind you to untie the hospital gown you’re wearing, and it falls to the floor with a swoosh, your nipples pebbling under the sudden chill. A small set of sensors were taped to your chest and on the sides of your forehead, essential medical devices to ensure your orgasm was satisfactory. Unperturbed, Zayne gestures to the table and you make your way onto it, letting your feet settle in the stirrups as he settles on a stool between your legs, pulling on latex gloves before gently spreading your folds apart. You stare up at the ceiling as he does his initial checkup.
“Labia look healthy, no signs of trauma or abnormal discharge,” he murmurs, then runs a finger down the edge of the fold that separates your inner and outer lips, causing your core to clench involuntarily. You hold still, knowing very well he saw the action, holding your breath, letting out a little sigh as he lets go.
“Normal reaction to stimuli, already semi-aroused,” he says, trashing the gloves and making another note on his computer. He glances over at you, leaning back uncertainly on the table. “You may begin.”
You swallow, then carefully turn onto your hands and knees, crawling towards the head of the table, grabbing the bottle of lube and squeezing the viscous liquid onto the head of the vibrator, avoiding eye contact as your breasts sway under the motion, nipples painfully hard from anticipation. You could feel Zayne’s gaze but can’t bring yourself to look up. Even though this was the third time, it hadn’t gotten easier, stripping naked and pleasuring yourself in his office.
Once the rounded head of the vibrator is slick, you turn, the chill of the lube against your heated membranes causing more blood to flow into your already engorged nub, and run your moist slit across the surface to spread the liquid onto your slickened folds. Your hand fumbles for the little remote control and with a buzz, the vibrator turns on at the lowest setting. You click the button a few more times until it gets to the speed you liked, then fail to hold back a moan as the sensations pleasurably begin to take hold in your clit.
The first time you had done this, nervousness had made you set the vibrator on the highest possible setting hoping to get a quick orgasm and sprint out of the office. Unfortunately, the sensors relayed this information into Zayne’s medical record that your climax had been unsatisfactory, and you had endured being lectured by him with the medical gown loosely draped on your body, your rear open to the cold office air.
His tone wasn’t unkind but it hadn’t helped you feel better either. “It helps neither of us if you rush this. The whole purpose of this examination is to ensure you’re relaxing. I know it’s embarrassing but if you fail to have a proper orgasm, I’ll have to make you repeat the process until I get data that says otherwise.”
“The sensors are-”
“The only way to measure anything. Without involving another person anyway.”
His words had left you gobsmacked and your retort had died in your mouth. After that incident, you had learned. Even with the chagrin of having him watch you, you had learned to take your time and let the feelings build, leading to incredibly savory climaxes that made your body squirm from the aftershocks.
Your hips sway, setting up a rhythm to brush your sensitive slit onto the head, letting it vibrate from cunt to clit, the lube aiding the frictionless sliding and making your core drip. Quiet noises of pleasure leave your throat as help yourself, arching your back and changing the curvature of your ass to maximize the sensations, then when the perfect pattern emerges, you let out a keening sigh, and try to remain still, letting the vibrator work its magic.
Zayne, who has been quietly observing the computer this entire time, observing the spikes relayed from the sensors, asks, “Have you found your optimal pleasure form?”
“Yes,” you gasp, the timbre of his voice sending an arrow of lust into the deepest parts of your clenching core. You knew what was about to come next. The sound of Zayne’s desk chair moving, followed by the snap of latex gloves as he pulled a fresh pair onto those beautiful hands. He approaches the examination table and takes the bottle of lube you had set aside earlier, a wet squelching noise issuing from it as he squeezes it over his gloved hand, gathering the fluid on his index and middle fingers. He leans over to whisper in your ears; the verbal stimulation has begun.
The humiliating reveal that you had a heavy praise kink had come up during your initial session and despite your insistence that it wasn’t necessary, Zayne, the ever-diligent worker, had made a note in your profile, and he’d been fulfilling it each time. A tickle of hot breath near your ear, before he murmurs, “Are you enjoying yourself?”
The hum of the vibrator in the background coupled with his voice makes your breath catch in your throat. You nod, knowing you didn’t have it in you to form coherent words.
“That’s a good patient. Good patients listen to their doctors you know. And you’re doing a wonderful job.”
Your hips snap back to push your clit against the rubber pad, letting out a whimper of pleasure, the action pushing your ass up higher, revealing your pathetically drooling cunt, fluttering with the dissatisfaction of being unfilled.
“Are you ready?” He waits for your consent and you manage a husky, ‘mm hm’.
“Good girl. Take a breath.”
You inhale, trying to relax, then let out an uninhibited moan as Dr. Zayne inserts his middle finger into your needy cunt, the ring of muscles offering no resistance to the probing digit. He gently thrusts a few times, before curling the tip of his finger up into the delicate patch of nerves on your upper wall, the smooth come hither motion awakening a new level of pleasure in your body. Your fingers tighten on the edges of the table, sobbing, trying not to scream at the feelings that threatened to explode from you. He keeps up the gentle assault before asking, “Are you ready for another one?”
“Yes…” your voice comes out shakily, knowing you desired more than just his fingers, but that you would never get to experience it.
“Perfect. So well behaved, taking exactly what I give you.” Zayne’s sensual voice floods your ear before his index pushes into you, the thickness of both his fingers sending you into overdrive. Your walls clench welcomingly around him, inciting an exciting pull of liquid heat in your abdomen, the muscles tensing in anticipation for the exquisite release you knew was about to occur.
Feeling your inhibitions abandon you as you are stroked closer to orgasm your self-control slips and his name falls from your lips as he pushes over the edge.
“Zayne…” some partially functioning confine in the back of your brain registers what you had just involuntarily purred, but the spasms rocking your core, those gratifying waves of delight flooding your body made it easier to ignore it as your being is reduced to a pliant mess of pleasure. His fingers ease up as the fluttering in your pussy calms down, your clit pulsating weakly as the final vestiges of pleasure are wrung from your body.
With a wet noise, his fingers leave your moist hole, the glove coated with your juices and the lubricant. Awareness finally comes crashing around you as you realize what you had uttered in the throes of passion.
“I…I didn’t…I wasn’t in control…” You try to find a way to explain, to let him know you had very little choice in the matter of sobbing his name as you orgasmed, but everything feels flat, almost on the fine line between explaining and insulting.
“There’s no need.” Almost as if he’s read your mind, Zayne matter-of-factly redirects the conversation. “It’s not uncommon to blurt out things during climax. Some people swear, and others call out names. It was a very normal reaction considering I was the one in the room with you.”
He throws the gloves in the trash and goes to check the computer, to ensure the sensors had given him the information he needed before starting the second round of the appointment.
“Oh.” You say quietly as he sits at his desk, feeling dejected. Although relieved he wasn’t making a big deal out of it, you can’t help but feel disappointed with his reaction. Shouldn’t a man be flattered when a woman cried out his name when she came? Maybe he really was treating you strictly as a patient. And here you were, pussy exposed and spread after being probed by his dextrous fingers, mooning over him like a high school girl. Perhaps the limit of your relationship with him was in fact, doctor and patient, the childhood friends aspect fading.
So there was no romance here at all. You had a crush on him, and he was doing his job. Reality sucks. You sniff and suddenly feel cheap, and get out of the doggystyle position and try to find the hospital gown to preserve some of your modesty. Zayne glances over at your sudden movements.
“Are you cold? I can get you a blanket.”
“I’m fine.” You try to sound normal.
“Your records show that you usually rest about 10 minutes before you are ready for the next round. Do you feel like that will be the case this time too?”
You find the gown and drag it up to your chin, covering your body as you lay back on the table. “Yeah. Actually a little sooner today maybe. I have somewhere to be.”
“You can’t rush these things. Your body will cum when it wants to. A forced orgasm doesn’t promote anything beneficial.”
“Well can we find a way for this to happen quickly and in compliance with the sensors?” You’re trying not to let your frustration show, the pleasantness of your orgasm fading. “I don’t think I have the patience to do two more rounds.”
Zayne listens to you impassively, but those amber eyes flecked with green had an underlying intensity you couldn’t place. “You don’t have the patience to do two more rounds?” He gets up and comes over to you. “You want to just leave then?” He approaches the edge of the table and there’s tension in his jaw. Perplexed, you look at him, his reaction unexpected.
“No, I’m sorry, I know I can’t leave because of compliance and all that.”
“Compliance,” Zayne mutters under his breath before grasping your chin and forcing you to look at him, a gasp leaving your throat.
“You’re getting frustrated because you have to do this a few times every month while being supervised? Do you have any idea what I have to do before you come in for these sessions?” His voice is a growl and you clam up, shocked by this aggressive display of expression from him.
“Every month I have to remain professional as you come in, pleasure yourself, and then leave. I have to endure seeing your beautiful body bare in front of me and control all my impulses to touch you, to not overstep my limitations as your doctor. I pleasure myself remembering the noises you make and ensure I’m well spent before coming in to do your appointments. You sit there, acting like it’s hard for you, but do you have any idea what you do to me?”
One of his knees is on the table, and he’s looming over you making you feel like a tiny animal caught in his fury. “It’s torture, to watch you. You’re not like the other patients I see. You never have been. Because with you, I always feel like I’m on the verge of losing control. Do you know how difficult it is to not do things to you that aren’t specified on your medical record? To have my fingers so intimately inside you, feel every little drop of pleasure clenching around my fingers, knowing at the end I can’t have you to myself? To hear you call my name and know that you only see me as your doctor?”
Your face is a bright shade of red but you can’t look away from his face. His teeth are gritted, and when you dare to glance down, you see the noticeable bulge that has formed between his legs. He follows your glance and clicks his tongue, letting go of your chin.
“I know I crossed a boundary today. It’s all right. You can go. I’ll reschedule you with another doctor. I know you didn’t want me in the first place.”
Your mind is a blur as you quickly reach out to grab his hand, your heart hammering wildly in your chest. His admission was like a prayer answered, and you weren’t going to meek about this. His breath hitches as he feels you pulling at his hand and gives you a look of uncertainty. Your lips part but the words you want to say refuse to come out.
“Damn it,” he whispers ferally before his mouth captures yours in a rough kiss. It was wild and demanding, a contrast to the reserved, patient man he usually was. You’re swept up in the feeling of his mouth on yours, the taste of his tongue, and the softness of his lips. When you break apart, his hand cups your cheek, his eyes searching your face.
“This isn’t just because of the session right?” He asks keenly and you realize what he’s asking you. He’d been aching for you before this whole stupid policy came into place. The same way you’d been longing for him.
“No, it’s not. I had a crush on you back when you became my doctor to check on my heart condition.” A sigh of relief leaves him before he tenderly presses his forehead to yours, and you’re caught up in the sweetness of the moment.
“I just had to be sure.”
Boldly, you raise your head, delighted when he meets you, pulled back into his kiss, your tongues sliding over each other, your fingers tangling into his hair, scratching the nape of his neck, pulling him closer to you.
You gasp as he breaks the kiss to drag his tongue down the column of your throat, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses to the heated flesh, your blood humming in your veins as your eyes flutter closed. He pulls away the gown and pulls your perked nipple into his mouth, and you revel in the jolt of pleasure it brings you, each suckle felt in your clit which had already swollen up again in need. His fingers capture your other nipple, softly tweaking and pulling it and drawing little whines of desire from your throat.
Your hand finds the junction between his legs and cups the heavy bulge, drawing a groan from him, palming him through his slacks, feeling it grow and tent the fabric under your ministrations. A low guttural sound leaves him and he gets off the table, and you almost protest until you see him dragging the small wheeled stool from earlier towards the table. He settles down on it, looping his arms around the tops of your thighs and pulling you closer to the table's edge until your feet find the stirrups again.
“Stay open for me darling,” he instructs, his eyes glittering and you shiver as you feel his breath against your swollen folds. You squeak as he pushes your folds apart with his nose, inhaling your scent, his eyes growing dark with lust. “You smell delicious. I always wondered. Had to stop myself from sniffing my gloves after you climaxed. Not professional you know.”
The musky tang of your pussy fills his senses, and his tongue darts out and dips into your slit, finding the swollen bud and licking it with just the right pressure that makes your toes curl and stars pop into your vision.
Your hand rests on his head, tugging his beautiful dark locks, his name falling from your lips without barriers. Your hips rock against him, moaning, then let a sob as his lips suction around your clit. His fingers, free from the gloves at last, probe your entrance, scissoring inside to prepare you for what was to come before they curl up into that gummy patch that he knew too well.
The sensations flood you, and the sheer knowledge of knowing you had Zayne touching you this way, unbound by the usual rules was sending you into a frenzy. Incoherent noises leave your mouth, crying out hotly as he teases the orgasm from you, your body shivering from the intensity.
He wipes his mouth on the back of his hand and takes in your appearance, so soft and satisfied on his table, a dreamy look in your eyes.
“Are you prepared for the after?” he asks, you nod, more than eager to experience him. A sly smile crosses his face before he reaches over into the little chest of drawers by the table and pulls out a condom.
“Hospitals have free condoms. It would be impractical to not use one when it’s on hand.” He explains seeing your questioning look and stands to undo his pants. You watch curiously as his cock is finally freed, eyes widening as it faces you, so impressive and veiny, standing proudly with a slight curve in its length. His pubes were neatly trimmed at the base, ebony curls visible behind the shaft. As he starts to roll on the condom, you feel your whole body heating up in anticipation.
He leans down to kiss you before taking your feet and resting them on his shoulders, his cock at the perfect angle to enter you. As he sinks into your welcoming heat, you let out a sigh of longing, feeling the delicious stretch of muscle as he pushes up inside you, gasping as you feel his full length sheathe itself. As he bottoms out, his eyes close in bliss, hardly daring to believe that after all this time, he is finally getting to fulfill this private dream.
Each stroke has him brushing against your gspot and kissing your cervix as he paces himself, feeling the primal urge to take you roughly and selfishly calling at his self-control. A growl leaves his throat as you whimper, straining towards him as the both of you struggle to keep a grip on reality. He feels the seductive way your walls clench around him, hears the soft noises you make, sees your face contort in pleasure with every roll of his hips.
“Oh you feel so good,” he pants hotly, glasses askew, almost at the tip of his nose as he thrusts. “Clenching me so needily. Gonna milk me dry.”
Your response is a shuddering whimper, your back arching greedily to feel all of him, creating the perfect curvature to brush your clit against the base of his erection with each push of his hips. He feels the little bud on his heated skin, your combined fluids dripping onto his shaft, slickening the bundle of nerves with each stroke.
“Be a good girl and cum on my cock the way you do on my fingers.” Zayne’s voice is husky as he tries to hold on, damned if he came before you. “I know you want to. I can feel the way your walls are spasming. They always do this pattern before you orgasm.”
The fact that he had memorized this knowledge of you was too much and you let go, your voice filling the room as you climax. Zayne’s hips stutter as he feels you around his length, pussy fluttering so him. His pace quickens, the sound of slapping skin becoming more and more urgent, his balls hitting your ass each time as he chases his orgasm.
A shiver passes through his body as it happens and he buries himself in your warmth. You hum in satisfaction as you feel his cock twitch and pulse inside you as he spills his load. He pants, sweat on his forehead as he bends down to kiss you again, carefully lowering your legs which burn from the stretch as they settle on the stirrups.
Threading your fingers through his hair, you brush your noses together, smiling shyly at him as he smirks, his eyes closing as he catches his breath.
“Can I see you outside of my office sometime?” he asks and you laugh at the invitation.
“Are you asking me out on a date after having sex just once?” you tease as he grips the base of the condom and slides out, your pussy feeling the loss keenly.
“I have been wanting to for a while. I was just wondering if I was misreading the signals. But I think I have a solid answer now.” He helps you sit up and cradles your body against his, idly stroking your skin, before gently removing the sensors off your body.
“Let’s get dressed,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead after a moment of cozy silence, and the both of you hunt down your clothes. As he fixes his tie, Zayne passes by his computer and lets out an amused huff.
“Something funny?” you ask as you button your blouse.
“The sensors definitely gave enough information to make anyone’s head spin.” You walk over and snort as you see the window, full of sharp spikes.
“Well, at least I am guaranteed you had a good time.” Zayne’s eyes sparkle mischievously as he pulls you in for another kiss.
“I’m not changing my doctor,” you reassure him as you pull away. There’s amusement in his gaze when he replies.
“Oh, definitely not. I think if the Hunter’s Association ever sees this record, they’ll heavily advise you to remain with the same healthcare professional.”
a/n: guys idk what happened all of a sudden i was possessed and the breeding kink just appeared <3
also on ao3!
I know exactly what it means, which is why I’m accepting this.
Sylus’ cryptic words leave you confused as the movie ends. It wasn’t even meant to mean anything in particular, although perhaps that was just you convincing yourself that you were in total control of this situation. You were giving the feather to him as a kind gesture, nothing more.
… Fuck, had he seen it as more?
A dull throb spreads out from across your temples, your fingers itching to pull out your phone and simply search up whatever it is he meant.
Why did feelings have to be so complicated?
You bite back a groan, slumping back in the car seat, an irritated look passing over your face.
“Something wrong?” Sylus’ smooth voice cuts through the silence, his eyes glancing towards you as he drives.
“No,” you manage out, trying to stop your voice from dipping into a grumble.
You sneak a glance at his face, only to find your gaze dipping to observe the way his long fingers wrapped around the steering wheel, the muscles in his forearms flexing with every move after he’d rolled up his jacket sleeves.
Ever since you’d managed to stop him from descending into a Praedator’s Frenzy, you’d found yourself suffering from a strange affliction. Yes, you had been terrified when you were trapped in that large birdcage with him, panic racing through your body as you tried to stop his sanity from unravelling any further and yet… you’d been embarrassingly aroused.
The way his teeth had sunk into your earlobe, his fangs scraping and vicious against the delicate skin of your neck. You had liked it in some sick sense. The heat that pooled between your thighs was because of Sylus, his feral nature and tight grip on your hips had made your mind swirl, his low, rasping voice, the slight rut of his hips into your ass-
You needed a cold shower. One with actual ice, preferably.
The car rumbles to a stop, and you get out agitatedly, cursing under your breath when you realize Sylus was following you in, up to your apartment. It isn’t hard for you to notice that Sylus has taken note of your change in behavior, his hands shoving into his pockets as he stares at you.
“Something is wrong,” Sylus muses, tilting his head in a searching manner. “What? You didn’t enjoy the movie?”
“It was fine,” you reply shortly, playing with your fingers. “I think I’m coming down with something.” A blatant lie to a man who probably knew you better than you knew yourself. You clear your throat, coughing a little exaggeratedly. “A cold.”
“A cold,” he echoes, dipping his head to stare down at you scrutinizingly. You yelp when he grabs at your wrist, his fingers pressing against your pulse point. Sylus’ eyes darken, his playful expression fading as his lips thin, his voice a low hiss. “Liar.”
“That’s-” you grumble, pulling your wrist free from his grasp, “that’s unfair.”
He stares down at you for a moment longer, his eyes searching. You squirm under his gaze, heart fluttering a little when he cocks his head to the side before straightening up.
“If you didn’t enjoy my company, you should’ve just said so,” Sylus drawls, shoving his hands back into his pockets.
You roll your eyes, huffing out a breath as you step out the elevator. “I wasn’t lying because I didn’t enjoy your company.”
Your current predicament was actually because of the contrary; you were finding that you were enjoying his company a little too much. You kick your shoes off when you get inside, hearing the soft lock of the door as Sylus closes it behind him.
When he stares at you blankly, you shoot him an unimpressed look, gesturing towards your couch. “Make yourself at home, Sylus.”
“I don’t remember my former roommate being so… cruel,” he sighs, sounding aggrieved. “Especially after rewarding me with such a heartfelt gift.” Sylus grins devilishly, his lips curving upwards, eyes glinting with amusement.
You flush, cheeks feeling hot with embarrassment.
“Whatever you think it means,” you snap, glaring at him in an attempt to hide your own flusteredness, “it doesn’t mean that. I was being nice, okay? Because I am a nice person!”
“Right,” Sylus laughs lowly. It’s a derisive sound, mocking and aggravating enough to have you bristling with anger. You watch as he moves until he’s leaning against the back of the couch, his ankles crossed over each other, arms crossed over his chest. “You were being nice.”
“I was!” you protest, body growing warmer. “You’re just being weird and- and sauve because-”
“Because?” Sylus presses, narrowing his eyes.
“Because you have a crush on me!”
Shit, shit, shit.
You don’t even know where the outburst came from, but your hand is slapping over your mouth as you stare at Sylus, feeling utterly mortified. You were totally projecting.
“A crush,” he echoes, clicking his tongue as he examines you.
“I- I didn’t mean that,” you blurt out, voice all pitchy and panicky. “I only meant that-”
You squeak when he reaches you in a few measured strides, his calloused fingers squishing your cheeks together until your lips pucker out like a fish.
“No?” Sylus murmurs, raising his brows, “pray tell, Miss Enforcer, what did you mean?”
“I… I don’t know?” you offer meekly, fidgeting under his grip, desperate to be let free.
Sylus’ nose nudging against your cheek causes you to stiffen, his fingers loosening their grip on you to instead stroke across the skin of your jaw. You let out a soft noise when he cups your cheek, his hands maneuvering your head until his nose grazes across the length of your neck, his breath hot as it fans across your skin.
“And if I did?” he asks, pressing himself closer, arm dropping to wrap around your waist tightly. “Have a… crush as you say.”
“Then- then-” you struggle to form a sentence, biting your lip to muffle any more damning noises that could be used against you.
“Then?” Sylus cajoles, his voice low and lilting, nose pressing firmly into your throat as he sucks in a sharp breath, savoring your scent.
“Then that would be embarrassing!”
You shove at his chest, stumbling a bit, still hazy from his closeness and intimate ministrations. Sylus holds you in place with his gaze, his arms crossing over his chest and you swallow down an indecent sound when you see the slight flex of his biceps underneath the fabric of his jacket.
The kitchen counter grounds you, your fingers pressing against the cool marble. It feels hard to breathe, and rather you’re the embarrassing one, having lost your nerve the moment he had gotten too close.
“Did you really think I wouldn’t notice?” Sylus asks, cocking his head to the side, his shoulders rolling lazily.
“Notice what?” you shoot back, grasping for a glass and filling it up with water before chugging it down rapidly.
“Stop playing stupid,” he replies, his grin mirthless. “I smelt it on you the moment you stepped into that birdcage with me.”
Now he was saying you smelt bad?
“Smelt what?” you scoff, partially offended. You turn your head, angling it down towards your shoulder, trying to sniff yourself subtly.
Sure, maybe you were a little sweaty, but he was making you nervous! You frown at Sylus, and he rolls his eyes, his hand reaching out to grip your chin, tilting your head upwards, towards him.
“Your arousal,” Sylus rasps, his eyes pinning you in place. “Wetness, slick, whatever you wish to call it. I can smell it, Miss Enforcer.”
Your face pales, humiliation washing over your expression, stomach twisting uncomfortably with embarrassment. Whatever thoughts are currently occupying your mind fizzle away, replaced by a sense of overwhelming mortification.
You open your mouth to respond and clamp it back shut, thinking better of it lest you embarrass yourself any further. Perhaps there was no point to having a sense of dignity, seeing as Sylus had clearly torn it to shreds.
“The Frenzy Enhancer doesn’t only enhance a Praedator’s Frenzy,” Sylus murmurs, tugging your head back when you avert your gaze, forcing you to meet his eyes. “It heightens our senses; for the purpose of making it all the more agonizing when one is deprived of delivering a bite.”
The LCBI had neglected to include that little fact in your training. You swallow nervously when his thumb traces down your cheek, over your jaw and presses against the jumpy pulse in your throat.
“Even now,” he continues, his other hand fisting your hair to tug your head back further. You yelp at the pain that sears across your scalp, fingers scrabbling at his chest as he presses his nose to your throat and inhales again. “You’re enjoying this, Miss Enforcer.”
“I- I am not!” you protest, doing your best to sound offended and hide the traitorous heat that was currently swirling low in your stomach with every fan of his breath against your skin. “Your nerves are clearly misfiring; d- damaged probably,” you sputter, “after your Frenzy.”
Sylus laughs hoarsely, his eyes lighting up and you know your pathetic excuse hasn’t worked.
“Stop fighting this,” he says, still sounding amused, his eyes softening slightly when he sees how flustered you’ve become. “You don’t stand to gain anything from pushing me away. Haven’t I made my intentions clear?”
“It’s complicated,” you murmur, “you’re- you’re you-”
“What is that supposed to mean?” he asks, raising his brows.
You huff out an aggravated breath, refusing to be cornered.
“Nothing. I only reacted that way because you seemed awfully wanton in that birdcage,” you hiss heatedly, waving your hands about. “Not to mention uninhibited.”
“I was hit with a Frenzy Enhancer,” Sylus snaps, his fists clenching. “Yes, I was uninhibited, but I was not wanton.”
Your lips purse as you consider Sylus’ response, remembering the way he had arched his back in his frenzy, the subtle buck of his hips when you’d placed your hand on his pec. Not to mention the groaning and well… whimpering. The feeling of his teeth on your ear hadn’t exactly helped in the moment either.
There’s an itch in you to get the last word in.
“You were wanton,” you argue, shooting him a stubborn look.
“I could have killed you,” Sylus murmurs dangerously, reaching out to grab your hands, his fingers intertwining with yours. “Sometimes a bite isn’t enough. I could have torn you apart, limb by limb until you were all but a severed, bleeding mess on the cold floor. Would you have liked that?”
You can’t say you would’ve, remembering the Praedator attack all those years, but this Sylus and there’s a foolish part of you that hopes that he would have been able to reign in his base desires.
“I’m still in one piece,” you mumble out, “besides, I know how to handle myself.” You sneak a glance down at the way his hands are holding yours, lips pursing as you feel the warmth of skin bleeding into yours. It’s too much for your poor heart, really. “You can let go now.”
“No,” he says quietly, his voice softer as he dips his head, the tip of his nose grazing yours. “I know you want this. I want this.”
You bite your lip at the pleading tone in his voice, heart stuttering in your chest. Sylus’ voice seems to wrap around you, and you peer up at him when he presses his forehead against yours, letting out a heavy exhale.
“Are you going to make me beg, hm?” Sylus muses, a smile pulling at his lips when he sees your lips twitch. “Please?” he whispers, his voice low and soft and somehow the sweetest you’ve ever heard Sylus. “I’ll be good, Miss Enforcer. Please?”
An incoherent noise escapes you, fingers tightening into his jacket as he steps closer, his body flush against yours.
“Will you let me have you?” he whispers, nosing into your cheek. “...Or perhaps you don’t want me to ask. Maybe you want me to lose control like I did in that birdcage. Growling and snapping and feral.”
Sylus was driving you insane. Your body feels hot, mind blank as a shaky breath escapes you when he grazes his fangs against your neck, his breath hot. You can feel how sticky your panties have become, thighs pressing together to try and soothe the ache of your cunt, aware of the overwhelming emptiness of it.
“Do you deny it, sweetness?”
“No,” you concede, your voice trembling, “no, I don’t.”
He hums, nudging impossibly closer, tongue darting out to lave over the erratic pump of blood in your throat. You open your mouth, a quiet mewl leaving you as he smiles against your skin, his lips pressing a heated kiss to your sensitive skin.
“Is that so?” Sylus muses, his hands drifting down to grasp your hips. “Such a shame you’ve waited so long to confess,” he continues, his voice low and purring, “had you asked me earlier, I would have given you my cock; no questions asked.”
“You- you would have?” you ask, your voice strangled as he kisses your neck again.
You can hardly catch up with what’s happening when he spins you around in his arms, his chest flush against your back, arms wrapping around your waist tightly.
“Yes,” he soothes, his fingers wrapping around your throat to tip your head back against his chest. “So many opportunities wasted,” he sighs, clicking his tongue. “I could have had you bouncing on my cock days ago, had my tongue buried inside of you, pounded into you until you were crying, bred you on my knot-”
“K- knot?” you squeak, head snapping to meet his eyes, “I thought that was a myth.”
“Hardly a myth,” he sighs, fingers dipping lower, delving under your skirt, “Praedators have knots, sweetness; intended to-” you gasp when he presses the pads of his fingers against your damp panties, stroking gently, “intended to lock us together.” Sylus smiles against your cheek, revelling in your wetness that was soaking through. He increases the pressure of his fingers, rubbing harder. “And I fully intend to knot you, Miss Enforcer,” he whispers, lips drifting across your cheek in a fleeting kiss. “Oh, don’t look so scandalized. You’ll be begging to be bred the moment I cum inside of you.”
Begging to be bred? Cumming inside? He was going to cum inside? You were most definitely going to die tonight; although perhaps part of you was resigned to your fate, his obscene words making you greedy and leaving you wanting more.
“Please,” you whimper, rolling your hips against his hand, grasping at his wrist to press his fingers against your clothed pussy more firmly. “I- I want that.”
Sylus lets out a hoarse grown at your whimpered confession, his fingers tugging your panties to the side.
“You’re dripping,” he hisses, fingers sliding through your puffy folds, “so, so wet, baby. Smells like you’re in heat.”
You really had to do more research on Praedators. Maybe you were in heat with how bold you had become, no longer stifling your noises, too far gone to care.
“That’s it,” Sylus rasps, rubbing your slick over your folds before sliding his fingers up to rub against your swollen clit. “Oh, it must ache,” he coos, beginning to rub tight circles against the throbbing bud, “I can feel how needy you are.”
Your head bobs up and down in rapid nods, ass pushing back into him as you rock your hips, whining when he circles your clit and squeezes your throat at the same time.
“Oh- oh fuck-” you mewl when he hunches over you a little, his breath quickening as he presses his hips into your ass like he had done a few nights ago in that birdcage. “Sylus!”
“So wet,” he mutters as though in a trance, his chin resting on your shoulder, fingers speeding up. “Shall I give you my fingers, baby, hm?”
“Y- yes,” you whine, dragging out the word into a low hiss, your nails digging into his forearm.
A sharp gasp leaves you when he eases one finger in, another following suit quickly after. It’s nothing like the feel of your own fingers, Sylus’ are longer and reach much, much deeper. You feel full already, head dropping forward as you moan raggedly, pushing at his hand to try and stuff his fingers inside of you even more.
“Greedy little slut,” he growls, his fingers crooking inside of you, “so needy and wanton, aren’t you? Pushing me away when what you really want is this - my fingers inside of you, my hand wrapped around your throat, my cock rutting into your ass.”
“I do,” you hiccup, mouth dropping open as you continue to moan, hips swaying back to meet his rutting, the everpresent press of his hard cock against you making your cunt drip with arousal. “Ah hah- I do want this.”
“Yes, you do,” he whispers raspingly. “Take what you need then, baby, take my fucking fingers.”
And you do take his fingers with soft cries and needy gasps and desperate whimpers. Sylus quickens his pace, tightening the hold he has on your throat when you try to squirm away, the lewd sounds of pussy embarrassing in the quietness of your apartment. He breathes heavily against your ear, panting as he thrusts his fingers in and out of you, his hand turning slightly to add his thumb to the mix.
You arch your back against him when he rubs your clit, turning your head into the crook of his neck, mewling as you try and bounce, trying to fuck yourself on his fingers. Sylus snarls when you clench down on his fingers tightly, his face pressing into your neck, fangs digging into your skin as he leaves harsh, biting kisses.
“Yes, yes, yes,” you begin to chant, your hand sliding into his hair, fisting it and tugging as you roll your hips needily, panting raggedly. “‘m gonna ah- ‘m gonna cum, Sylus.”
“Yeah?” he rasps, his teeth sinking into your shoulder, careful to not let his fangs sink in too deep. “Cum on my fingers then, grind that wet, little pussy all over my hand and cum, baby.”
A sharp gasp leaves you, fingers clutching at his wrist when he fucks his fingers into your pussy faster, his thumb unrelenting on your swollen clit. You moan brokenly when he kisses your neck, tipping your head to the side to bare more of your neck to him. Sylus growls, his kisses trailing upwards, his lips soft behind your ear.
You cry out when he sinks his teeth into your earlobe, feeling the way his fangs bite into the delicate bone of your ear. It’s just like in the birdcage, you think dazedly. He ruts into your ass harder, and the ragged panting coming from him is enough to make you come undone. You try to steady yourself, but it’s impossible with the way your thighs tremble, head tossing back as you cum around his fingers.
“Good girl,” he breathes out when you shudder and quake in his arms, his grip tightening to prevent you from falling when your knees buckle. Sylus kisses your cheek, dragging his lips to pepper soft kisses along your jaw as you ride out the last few waves of your orgasm, his fingers still stroking over your clit gently as your cunt clenches. “Good girl, sweetness, you did so well for me.”
Chest rising and falling rapidly, you drop your head back against his chest, leaning against Sylus for support. You whine softly when he pulls his fingers free, his hands petting over your skirt as he smooths it down over your thighs.
On shaky legs, you turn, arms wrapping around his neck. He hugs you closer, his head lowering as his nose brushes against yours gently.
“Be mine.”
Your eyes flutter shut when he kisses you, deep and longing. He squeezes at your waist and your hands drift, from his shoulders to his cheeks, cupping them to bring him closer, to kiss him more desperately.
Both of you stumble into the kitchen table, Sylus’ hands landing on either side of you as he deepens the kiss. You whine when he licks at your lower lip, mouth opening obediently for him. He groans and you let your hands drift, pawing at his trousers, palming at the material to feel the hard bulge of his cock, hot and thick and throbbing faintly against your hand through the layers of fabric.
“I want it,” you whisper against his lips, kissing him feverishly. “I want your cock, Sylus. I- I want you to-” you can hardly believe you’re about to say this, but the thought of it ignites a heat inside of you, an overwhelming need to be completely at his mercy. “I want you to breed me.”
His crimson eyes flare, hands reaching out towards you, pulling your shirt up over your head. You make an indignant sound when he hurriedly pulls your bra off, moaning in succession when he pinches your stiffened nipples.
“I can do that,” he murmurs, pulling at your skirt and panties too, until you’re bare. “I’ll breed you, baby.”
A laugh bubbles out of you when he picks you up, arms wrapping around his neck and legs around his waist. Sylus’ steps are practised as he strides into your bedroom, tossing you onto your bed. You bounce a little, regaining your balance before crawling towards him, nuzzling into the bulge of his cock.
“‘s big, Sylus,” you whisper, watching with hazy eyes as he pulls his jacket and shirt off in a smooth motion, his defined abdomen on display. You tug at his belt and he tugs it free, pushing his trousers and boxers down to reveal his cock.
It’s thicker than you’ve seen before, the tip of it blushed angrily, pre-cum smeared across the head. Your mouth waters, inching closer to run your tongue against the length of his cock, mewling softly at the heady taste as you trace your tongue across a prominent vein on the underside.
Your brows furrow when you run your tongue along the length again, pulling back to find a swollen ridge at the base of his cock. His knot.
“Can I touch it?” you whisper curiously, head tilting to get a closer look.
“Go ahead,” he murmurs, fingers spreading out across your scalp, scratching gently.
It’s strange, you think. A little puffier and thicker than his actual cock, darker in color too. You press your fingers against it gently and it gives just a bit under your prodding. You sneak a glance up at Sylus and he raises his brows, a smirk playing on his lips.
“It’ll feel good inside of you,” he promises self-assuredly, “swells up when- oh fuck-”
His breath stutters when you mouth at his knot, tongue laving over the sensitive spot as you squirm, kissing his knot. You lick over the ridge again, smiling to yourself when Sylus’ thighs twitch. His hand pushes at your head subtly when you focus on his cock again, a quiet breathy sound escaping him, enough to have you perking up and your pussy clenching. You want him as needy as he had you.
“You said you’d be good,” you coo, leaning forward to brush a kiss to his hip, your head dipping again to nuzzle against his cock.
“I- nghhh-” Sylus stammers, his cheeks flushed a light pink when you wrap your lips around the head of his cock and begin to suck lazily. “I- I am being good.”
You hum happily, pressing your head forward, swallowing down more of his cock.
“Fuck-” he breathes out, his hands petting at your hair, pushing down gently to make you take his cock further, until it’s stuffed down your throat and your nose is buried into the snowy hair at the base of his cock. “Feels- ah- feels so good, sweetness.”
You smile when he lets you pull off, lapping at the tip of his cock teasingly, your hand reaching up to squeeze his pec. Sylus swears, his back arching at the action, a soft whine spilling out of him.
“You like this,” you muse, dipping your head to suckle at his balls, relishing in the noises he lets out, watching his thighs tremble. You stare up at him hazily, tongue lolling out for him when he grasps his cock, his hand squeezing at his knot, his knuckles white with tension.
Your fingers pinch at his nipple greedily when he presses his cock back in and you squeal, the sound muffled around the thickness of his cock when he tugs harshly at your own nipple in retaliation.
“Brat,” he mutters, pushing your head down further, grunting softly when you dig your nails into his thighs and swallow around his cock.
“I thought you were being good,” you whine when he tugs at your hair, dipping his head to kiss you eagerly, his tongue licking into your mouth.
You pout when he pulls away, feeling betrayed by the shortness of his submission.
“Sorry, doll,” Sylus says, petting your head and rewarding you with another kiss; this time softer and sweeter, his lips lingering.
You let him kiss you in your dazed state, and Sylus takes advantage, crawling over you, his hands kneading at the fat of your thighs. Your bed is already messy, the sheets rumpling as he jostles you a bit, patting your thigh to make you move further up on the bed.
Sylus settles between your thighs, his cock hot and heavy against your stomach as he drops his weight onto you, his hands finding yours before pinning them above your head. You sigh into his mouth, legs wrapping around his waist, the heels of your feet digging into your ass when he rolls his hips, grinding his bare cock against your pussy.
“I like these,” he mumbles when he kisses down your chest and noses into your breasts. An airy noise sounds when he sucks a hardened nipple into his mouth, his teeth catching against the bud before he bites down measuredly.
You squirm, hips rolling needily when he sucks more of your breast into his mouth, alternating between them when he feels the other being neglected.
“Such pretty tits,” Sylus sighs, pulling back to stare at the stiffened peaks of your breasts, covered in his spit and budding teeth marks that were bound to bruise.
“I thought you were gonna knot me,” you murmur, rolling your hips up, mewling when you feel his cock slide between your folds.
“So desperate,” he muses, letting go of your hands in favor of grasping his cock.
You look down, eyes half-lidded as he grips the base of his cock, right over his knot that somehow seemed a little larger in the moments that had passed. A whine escapes you when he slaps his cock against your pussy, your cheeks flushing when you see the glistening strings of slick clinging to his cock.
“How sweet,” Sylus croons, his grin growing sharper, “even your pussy doesn’t want to let me go.”
You huff out a breath to hide your embarrassment, throwing your arm over your eyes. “Don’t talk like that.”
He laughs, rising up to sit on the haunches of his legs, his hand stroking his cock lazily. “But you enjoy it, doll. Don’t worry, I’ll give you what you want now.”
You watch with bated breath as he notches the head of his cock against your pussy, squirming when you realize how much his cock is actually going to stretch you out. The knot at the base seems even more intimidating; you feel a little nervous, thighs trying to clamp shut just when Sylus begins to push in.
“Hey,” he murmurs, leaning forward to kiss your cheek, “relax, okay? I’ll take care of you.”
You reach for his hand, trying to calm your rapid heart and Sylus gives it to you, lacing your fingers together before kissing your knuckles.
A soft gasp leaves you when he begins to push in again, and that’s when you feel how girthy his cock truly is. It stretches you, inch by inch and you bite your lip, eyes slipping shut.
“That’s it,” Sylus soothes, squeezing your hand and tilting his head to kiss your shoulder, “take my cock, sweetness.”
An incoherent sound emanates from you when he sinks all the way in, your hands scrabbling at his shoulders when you feel how good he’s stretching you, how full you feel - and that’s without his knot. You stare down, heart fluttering in your chest when you see where you’re connected, his cock buried inside of you.
“A- aren’t you going to put your knot in?” you ask meekly, mouth dropping open when he begins to move his hips, the slow, rolling motions making you see stars.
“When you’re ready for it,” Sylus whispers, his voice hoarse, “pretty pussy’s still too tight for it. Practically trying to milk my cock already, baby.”
You hiccup, tears nearly springing to your eyes when he begins to draw his hips out, thrusting forward more forcefully. Sylus moans loudly and you claw at his back, arms and legs clinging to him tightly when he swirls his hips and grinds them forward, burying his cock in deeper with every thrust.
His knot seems to swelling rapidly, and you peek down with wide eyes, letting out a shaky breath when you see how thick it’s become. It squishes up against you with every thrust Sylus delivers, catching against your clit every now and then.
“I- ngh- fuck- I don’t think it’s going to fit,” you whimper, trying to push at Sylus’ abdomen when he grips your hips.
He snaps his teeth, irritation showing on his face when you try to squirm away from his knot, his grip tight enough to keep you in place. “Don’t fucking run from it,” he snarls, and you’re reminded of the way he was in that birdcage, feral and unrelenting.
You gulp when he grips your thighs, pushing them down towards your stomach, practically folding you until your cunt is on display for him. It’s lewd and obscene and so terribly hot, that your pussy clenches down greedily, eager for more of his attention.
“There we go,” he whispers, snapping his hips harder, his balls smacking against your ass, “pretty pussy loves my cock, hm?”
You blink up at him, nodding shyly, the words slipping out of you unbidden. “I love your cock, Sylus.”
Sylus’ hips stutter to a stop when he hears your shy, whispery words, his cheeks flushing to a pretty pink that has your eyes lighting up.
“Y- yeah?” he murmurs, and you laugh when he clears his throat, giddy by the fact that you’ve managed to fluster Sylus of all people. “Whose cock is it then, baby?”
“Mine,” you murmur, your fingers reaching down to scratch at his navel, through the coarse hairs that lie there. “Your cock’s all mine.”
Sylus groans and you yelp when he suddenly spreads you open, gasping when he thumbs apart your folds, his knot beginning to sink inside of you. It’s a tight fit and you cry out, tears pricking at your lash line when he finally manages to bully it in.
You feel so full, you’re almost sure you can feel his cock in your throat.
“No- shit- don’t fucking clench,” he groans, his head dropping forward to bury his head into the crook of your neck when your pussy flutters around his fat cock and knot, trying to accomodate.
“Can’t help it,” you wail, fingers pulling at his hair harshly, squeaking when he tugs his knot free and starts to fuck you again.
Sylus ruts his hips into you, driving forward and pounding his cock into your cunt until you sob, writhing on your bed, the building pleasure entirely overwhelming. The clap of his hips is loud, balls smacking into you with every thrust, his knot creating an embarrassing sound whenever it sinks inside of you, before Sylus pulls his hips back, tugging the knot free.
“Gonna breed you,” he begins to mutter, his teeth nipping at your shoulder and neck, biting with measured care. “I’m going to breed this tight fucking cunt, sweetness. Give you all of my fucking cum.”
“All of it,” you echo breathlessly, “want it- want your knot, Sylus.”
“You’re getting it,” he growls, squeezing your hips tightly before shoving his knot in completely.
You scream, twitching when it swells inside of you completely. It’s unlike anything you’ve ever felt before, entirely too large to be tugged free again when Sylus jerks his hips.
“Oh- oh my- fuck-” you squeal, and Sylus smashes his lips over yours in a heated kiss.
It’s all teeth and fangs and spit, and you grab blindly at his shoulders, gasping uncontrollably when it continues to swell, growing fatter and fatter until your pussy throbs around it, the knot locking you together.
“Cum,” Sylus rasps against your lips, “cum, doll, cum on my fucking knot. Cum on my fucking knot so I can give you my cum and breed this sweet, little pussy.”
You moan brokenly, thighs twitching when he rubs your clit, the sensations on the sensitive bud trying to make you curl away from him. Sylus kisses you again and you whimper into his mouth, cunt clenching uncontrollably as you cum, head tossed back, and back arched.
He curses, his head dropping forward at the feel of your pussy, and you mewl when he cums straight after, ears perking up at the low growls and breathy groans. His cum is hot and thick, and you’re still too full, filled up with his cum and his cock. The knot doesn’t give way until several moments later, deflating slowly.
Sylus’ cum spills out, hot and slow and you watch with dazed eyes as it leaks out of you, your pussy fluttering around nothing, thanks to the loss of his fat cock.
“That’s no good,” he murmurs, his fingers spreading through his cum, rubbing it over your folds and clit before trying to push it back into your pussy.
Sylus frowns at you when you slap his hand away, and you give him a half-hearted glare, pussy aching and thighs sore from the way he had fucked and bent you. He hums, slinking down the bed to kiss your thighs and you sigh, running your fingers through his hair, the throbbing in your pussy fading faintly as he massages your sore muscles and kisses your clit every now and then, his actions affectionate.
You let him clean you up, thankful for the glass of water he brings you. Sylus pulls you closer into his chest, kissing your forehead, his hands smoothing up and down your sides.
“So what does it mean?” you ask him quietly, leaning forward to meet his kiss when he tips your chin upwards, “the feather?”
Sylus’ expression sobers for a moment, his lips grazing across your cheek to whisper into your ear.
“That your soulmate is near.”
You pull back, staring up into his eyes suspiciously. When you see the slight twitch of his lips, his usual smirk pulling across his lips, you scoff and swat his chest. He laughs, catching your wrist and bringing your hand up to his lips, kissing your knuckles.
“What?” he murmurs, “am I really such a bad candidate to be your soulmate?”
“You’re lying,” you grouse, letting him pull you up onto his lap and press his face into the crook of your neck.
“You don’t know that,” Sylus whispers, tilting his head to kiss the pulse in your throat.
You can’t help but think he has such a strange obsession with it. When he emerges from the crook of your neck, you cup his jaw, staring up into his eyes. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad, you think, spending every life with him, especially when he’s like this.
“Then promise me,” you say, your voice holding a hint of a challenge. “Promise me that when we’ve passed and our bones are nothing but dust that you’ll find me in the next life.”
Sylus seems slightly taken aback by your request, his eyes widening momentarily before he leans forward, slotting his lips over yours. “Is that a confession of love, sweetness?” He smiles against your lips, nipping your lower lip. “In any case, I promise it,” he whispers, his gaze intense, “in this life or the next, I will find you and have you.”
You purse your lips, heart fluttering at his declaration.
“You’re a fool,” you mumble, pressing yourself more firmly against his chest, head resting on his shoulder.
“And yet you still took my knot.”
“I hate you.”
Sylus pouts mockingly, his lips attacking your cheek with kisses until you have no choice but to let out the laughter you’ve been holding in. His words are a gentle whisper, caressing your skin, his promise tightening the unseen bonds that bind you together.
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Johnny Suh is insufferable. He’s rich, arrogant, and anything but funny. You refuse to believe he is worth anything more than walking away from– over and over again– because you keep showing up for his friends, and his friend’s keep forcing you to talk to him.
ao3 | main m.list | minors do not interact.
TOTAL WORDCOUNT ― 88k
PAIRING ― johnny x afab reader
CONTENT ― enemies to lovers, soft top johnny, female reader, extreme slow burn, pining, anxiety, arguments, jealousy, college setting, talk of home life troubles, partying, and drinking.
other tags are provided before each chapter.
SIDE CHARACTERS ― mark lee as the platonic soulmate, haechan as the guy who can’t keep a job, taeyong as the story teller, jaehyun as the guy who exists when he feels like it, unnamed best friend, made up ex girlfriend of johnny for drama purposes
WARNING!! reader visibly blushes and can be lifted.
!! CHAPTERS !!
one ―14.8k
two ― 17.2k
three ―13.1k
four ― 15.4k
five ― 11.5k
finale ―16.2k
if you think you’ve read this fic before, it’s because you have. l*cas was a side character and i have since went through and replaced him. i have also edited the entire fic and changed the title.
🔮 preview. As one am rolls around, you start to realize that maybe tonight you won’t get a call. He is a frat boy, and this is Halloween weekend. You’re disappointed as you get into bed, frowning as you scroll on your phone, hoping that if you wait another five minutes, maybe he’ll catch you. Five minutes turns into ten, turns into fifteen, and you find your eyes beginning to shut. You’re starting to understand how much you truly have come to depend on Ghostie as part of your nightly ritual. It hurts not to get a call from your favourite voice-modulated anonymous frat boy.
tw/cw. yandere/stalker subthemes, unknown caller, weed use, multiple reader orgasms, big dick!Johnny, oral, pussy eating, blowjob, deep throating, spit as lube, fingering, hand riding, dacryphilia, praise, dirty talk, cum/fullness kink, unprotected sex, heavy grinding, dick bulge, creampie, rough groping, slight restraint, size kink, submissive reader, subspace, dumbification, hair pulling, finger sucking, etc… I pet names: (hers) Tiny, good girl, pretty girl. (his) Ghostie.
👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 15k
🍭 aus. uni/frat au, yandere subthemes, Halloween, etc…
☀️ mlist + an. this might just be the best John fic I've ever written, or maybe I just need therapy
Sunday
You pause your movie when your phone rings and you look down at the screen. The number is unknown, and you briefly consider not even answering it. However, you’ve had two job interviews in the past week, and you don’t want to miss any opportunities, so with a sigh, you bring your phone to your ear.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Tiny, how’s your night going?”
Definitely not a prospective employer. Your sorority gave you the name Tiny during first year, something to do with the ‘tiny’ shots you always want to take, and only those within the Greek system use it on you. On top of the Greek-specific term of endearment, the man on the other end of the line is using a voice modulator of some sort, and it makes it impossible for you to identify him.
Your curiosity is sparked.
“Who is this?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
You sigh, leaning back against your bed and setting your laptop to the side. “I get that Scream is having a comeback, but this whole ‘calling a girl and being mysterious’ thing won’t get you laid anytime soon.”
“Are you sure about that?” You can hear a hint of laughter in the man’s voice.
“If you’re not going to tell me who you are, I’ll hang up.”
“We wouldn’t want that, now would we?” There’s a pause then, “Let’s just say, a mutual friend gave me your number. They thought we’d hit it off.”
“Whoever this ungendered mutual friend is, I doubt they expected you to call me with a voice modulator and act out a Ghost Face fantasy. I get that Halloween is a week away, but come on… you can’t be serious about this.”
“I am serious. Come on Tiny, live a little.”
“You’re awfully sure of yourself, aren’t you, Mister Ghost Face.”
“I’ve got good reason to be, trust me on that.”
You let out a deep sigh, going through your roster of men who might think this sort of thing would be funny. “Yunho? Is this you getting high again?”
“Wrong frat, but good guess. I didn’t know Alpha Tappa Zeta’s star quarterback was a stoner, thanks for the info, Tiny.”
“Shit,” you mutter to yourself. You hadn’t meant to throw Yunho under the bus like that.
“It’s okay, I won’t tell anyone about his… habits. That would be hypocritical of me.”
You search your mind for the stoners you know. Ones who would have the balls to call you like this.
“Do you want to take another guess? I’ll give you three chances. You have two more.”
Aside from ATZ, you spend a lot of time with Sigma Veta Tau. Soonyoung is a well-known blunt roller in the fraternity system, but he wouldn’t do a charade like this. He’s very open about hitting on you any time you’re at one of his parties.
“Jeonghan?” you ask.
“Last guess, Tiny.”
He doesn’t confirm or deny if you’ve gotten the frat right, but you can’t really see any other SVT members who would fit this mysterious man’s profile.
Your mind wanders to Nu Chi Theta. They’ve got quite a few weed lovers there, and you’ve been invited into many closed-room smoke sessions with the dirty NCT boys.
There’s Yuta, and he’d definitely have the gall to entertain a flirtation like this. However, you don’t know of any mutual friends who would ever set you up with him. With another sigh of irritation, you throw out the last name on your shortlist of stoner acquaintances.
“Hyuck? Please tell me this isn’t you.”
“Close but no cigar.”
“I don’t like this game.”
“You’re not supposed to like it, but it is entertaining, don’t you think?”
“What’s your angle with all of this?” you question. “If you’re not going to tell me who you are, then what’s the point of calling?”
The line is silent for a few moments. “I guess… I just wanted to talk to you a little, is that so bad?”
Your heart softens, if only momentarily. “Then grow some balls and ask me out like a real man.”
“Where would be the fun in that?” The mystery man lets out a short chuckle, and your irritation only grows.
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re really annoying?”
“A few times actually.”
“Well, you’re the most annoying person I’ve ever met and I haven’t even met you.”
“Yes, you have.”
“God, I’m tired of this. Goodnight.”
You don’t even wait for an answer, you simply hang up.
Despite trying to get back to your movie, you can’t get the mystery man out of your head. When you go to bed you can’t even sleep, your mind completely full of all the possibilities of who your caller could have been.
You’ll have to do some digging tomorrow. You can’t not figure out who this guy is- and you know just the fratboy to give you all the details you could need.
Monday
Mark Lee is always fifteen minutes early, even when it comes to an 8am class. You feel like shit after tossing and turning all night, so when you slide into the seat next to him in the back of the class, he gives you a once over and his lips part in shock.
“Are you okay?”
“No, Mark, I’m not okay,” you snap, regretting it a moment later- after all, Mark’s not the one doing this to you. “Someone called me from an unknown number last night. A frat guy, I’m not sure who. He was using this voice modulator-”
“That sounds hella sketchy.”
“Super sketchy,” you agree.
“I know it’s October and everything, but that’s a weird way to hit on a girl.”
“That’s what I said!” Mark always understands you. “He said a mutual friend gave him my number, thought we’d be cute together or something- whoever it was, I need to strangle them.”
“Is this friend a girl or a guy?”
“Mystery man wouldn’t tell me,” you groan.
“So… this dude could be literally anyone.”
“Not Yunho from Alpha Tappa Zeta, Jeonghan from Sigma Veta Tau, and not your roommate Hyuck. The guy gave me three guesses,” you explain, “the hint is that he’s a stoner.”
“Lots of frat guys are stoners.”
“Exactly,” you sigh, leaning back in your seat.
“What are you going to do if he calls you again?” Mark asks. “This kind of feels like stalker behavior.”
“It does,” you admit. “But at the same time, he calls me Tiny, and he says we’ve met before- when I asked what he even got out of the phonecall he said he just wanted to ‘talk to me a little,’ which, I don’t know, for some reason I feel like he’s not a stalker.”
Mark gives you a look that says ‘You’re crazy,’ and after listening to everything that just spewed out of your own mouth, maybe you kind of agree with him.
“So if he calls you again…” Mark reasks his earlier question, one you’d chosen to ignore.
But you can’t ignore it now, and you let out a deep breath.
“If he calls again… We’ll see what happens.”
“Tiny-”
“Mark,” you counter, knowing he’s about to chastise you. But you don’t want to hear it. If even he doesn’t have any idea of who your mystery caller could be, you simply can’t give up. If you never find out who this ‘Ghost Face’ dude is, you’ll feel unsolved for the rest of your life and you know it.
“Look, I’ll ask around a little,” Mark concedes.
You let out a squeal of delight, throwing your arms around your closet fratboy friend. He lets out a chuckle, gently squeezing you back.
Mark’s a good guy.
If only you were into good guys and not sleazy stoners calling you while getting a hard-on for being Ghost Face.
Monday pt 2
It’s nine o'clock and you’re starting to get tired while you study. You’re in need of a distraction, so when your phone rings with an unknown number, your heart practically jumps into your throat.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Tiny.”
“Wow, Mister Ghost Face,” you laugh, twirling in your spinny chair, “two nights in a row. You must really like me, huh?”
The laugh he lets out sounds genuine, even though his voice is obscured still. For some reason, the noise makes you grin, and you can’t believe you’re actually kind of having fun with this.
“I do like you,” the mystery man confirms. “Tell me about your day.”
“Tell you about my day?” You’re in shock.
“Uh huh.”
“No teasing or nothing? No three guesses about your identity?”
“I’ll tell you what,” he lets out a sigh, “like you said, Halloween is in a week. If you keep letting me call you until then, I’ll reveal myself when you come to the party.”
“The party?” you repeat. “You make it sound like there’s only one frat party on Halloween.”
“Only one worth going to.”
“Is that so?” He’s so cocky- why does that turn you on?
“Yup. In fact, I know you agree with me on this, because the past two Halloweens, you’ve come to my frat.”
Your body freezes. He’s just given you a massive hint-
“So you’re an NCT boy?”
“Wouldn’t call myself a boy, and neither would you if you saw what's in my pants.”
You swallow the lump in your throat, not sure how to even respond to the suggestive comment he’s just made.
The man on the other end of the line lets out a chuckle. “Sorry, I’m two blunts deep. I should watch what I say to you, that's why I asked about your day.”
“You don’t have to- watch what you say, I mean.”
“Yeah?” You can almost picture him leaning back in a chair, a large half-chub growing in his pants- “Are you getting horny from a mystery man on your phone? Dirty girl.”
“Dirty guy,” you counter, “trying to entice me by saying your dick is big.”
“Well, it worked, didn’t it?”
“I’m intrigued,” you admit, “but not only because of your cock.”
“It’s a nice cock.”
“Okay, I’ll tell you about my day,” you sidestep. “Had an early class with Mark Lee, you must know Mark.”
“Of course.”
“Well, he has no clue who you could be.”
“You talked about me.”
You can hear him smiling.
“I bet you couldn’t even sleep last night. Too busy trying to figure out who I am.”
Okay, maybe he is a bit of a stalker. Or maybe he just knows you well… who the fuck is this guy?
“Stop being so cocky,” you insist.
“Tell me I’m wrong.”
“Mark told me you’re probably a stalker, said I should maybe block your number.”
“I don’t have a number, if I did, that would be too easy for you. I’m an unknown caller… can you even block unknown callers?”
“I guess we’ll find out when I block you.”
“Won’t happen though. What did you do after your class with Mark?”
“Are you really that interested in my day?”
“I wouldn’t be asking if I wasn’t interested.”
He’s a cocky softy, who would have imagined.
You wonder what you ever did to make this guy so sweet on you- you’ve dated men who don’t even care to ask you how your day went, and this guy is out here doing it practically for free.
“Classes were okay, my sorority had a little fundraiser at lunch, we baked cupcakes.”
“They were good cupcakes.”
“Wait…” your stomach churns a little. “You stopped by?”
“I’m a sucker for cupcakes, and how cute your butt looks in blue jeans.”
You search your memory, counting how many NCT boys came through around lunch. You realize that there were far too many for it to do any good in deciphering which one is the man you’re currently talking to.
“Did we talk?”
“You talked to everyone who bought something. I’m not special.”
Except… he kind of is special, in a way you can’t truly explain… not yet anyways.
“Maybe you are a stalker,” you decide.
“I can promise you I’m not, but I bet you’d be kind of into it if I was.”
This guy makes you feel such conflicting emotions, you’re not sure how to even handle him.
“Look, I was studying when you called-”
“Right, you should get back to that.”
“I should.”
“Sleep tight, Tiny. It’s been nice talking to you.”
Part of you wants to return the sentiment, it feels second nature, but the words stop on your tongue. In all fairness, it hasn’t been particularly nice talking to the mystery Ghost Face guy.
Instead of saying anything else, you simply hit him with a “Bye,” and you hang up the phone.
However, you don’t get back to studying, you immediately call Mark.
He sounds groggy as he says “Hello?”
“Did I wake you?”
“No.”
“I just got a call from that guy again. He’s definitely one of your frat brothers, and he’s high right now.”
“That doesn’t narrow it down,” Mark sighs. “We sort of uh… all got high at the fire after dinner.”
“Mark Lee!” you screech.
“Sorry, sorry!” Mark groans. “I’ll uh… ask around some more. We’ll figure out who this dude is.”
“And if we don’t… he said he’d tell me who he is at your frat Halloween bash at the end of the week.”
It’s Monday now, and the party is on Saturday. That means you’ll only have to wait a few days… you can hold out for a few days… can’t you?
Tuesday
You read over the email a third time, but it doesn’t make anything better. The words ‘We regret to inform you that you have not been chosen for the position’ make your eyes begin to well with tears.
Quickly exiting your phone, you grab your things. You refuse to cry in the middle of the library-
The bathroom will have to do the trick, and you hurry to get there, holding back the choked sob that longs to slip out of you.
You’d thought for sure this interview would land you a job on campus. The interview had gone well, or so you’d thought.
You don’t even know why you’re getting so upset about this.
There’s just something so devastating about rejection.
You get to the bathroom quickly, shutting yourself into a stall before you allow the tears to fall again. You cradle your face in your hands, allowing the sadness to overwhelm you.
It’s important to have a good cry every now and again, and you definitely need this.
Your cries, however, are interrupted by your phone ringing in your pocket. Wiping at your face, you reach for the device, lifting it to your ear.
“Hello?”
“Are you okay?”
“I really don’t have time for this right now, Ghost-” you groan, closing your eyes at the familiar voice-modulated sound.
“You do have time,” he insists. “Tell me what happened.”
“What do you mean?”
“I just saw you running through the library. Looked like you were crying.”
“I wasn’t crying!” you nearly yell.
“Liar. Come on, Tiny, let Ghostie make you feel better.”
The affectionate-sounding nickname prompts you to wipe your eyes. “Are you sure you’re not a stalker?”
“I was in the library, don’t get your panties in a twist.”
“Was?”
“I’m gone now, can’t have you figuring out who I am before Halloween.”
“Would it really be so bad if I did?” you question. “It would make me feel better.”
“Look at you, using your bad experience to try to swindle me,” you hear him laugh, and there are more sounds now, as if he’s walking across campus. “Seriously, Tiny, tell me what’s going on.”
“Do you always walk around campus with a voice modulator?”
“It’s an app on my phone babe, now answer my question.”
“You didn’t ask a question, you commanded me to tell you what happened, and I’m not taking commands right now.”
He sighs. “Will you please tell me what’s making you cry?”
Your lower lip trembles. “It’s stupid.”
“Nothing that hurts you is stupid.”
“Why are you being so nice to me?”
“It looked like you needed a friend.”
“You’re not my friend. You’re some guy who got my number and gets hard by pretending to be Ghost Face from Scream.”
“I could be your friend. Could be more than your friend. And I’m not hard right now. Not after seeing you cry.”
You take a breath. “I applied for a job and I uh… they didn’t hire me.”
“Then they’re stupid.”
“Maybe I’m stupid.”
“Don’t say that.”
“I’m a girl who’s spent three days talking to a guy who keeps his identity a secret, and for some crazy reason, you’re actually making me feel better. That definitely makes me stupid.”
“No, it makes you soft. It’s one of the things I like about you.”
“Yeah?” you sniffle. “What else? And don’t say my ass in blue jeans.”
The man chuckles. “You’re soft, and kind. But you’re a fighter too. You’ve got a spark. Don’t even get me started on how smart you are-”
“And how would you know how smart I am?”
“For starters, you’re in the top-scoring sorority on campus,” he points out. “Whenever you come to trivia night, you wipe the floor with all of us. Mark talks constantly about how much you help him with his classes, which brings me to my next point, you care about charity. That’s a great sign of your character.”
“You do know a lot about me, don’t you, Ghostie?” His words have stopped your tears, and you cradle your phone close to your ear.
“Still not a stalker though.”
Now he even has you laughing. “Jury’s still out on that one.”
“You sound better already,” he muses. “Mark has a free block right now, I’m sure if you call him he’d take you for ice cream or something to distract you.”
“That’s a good idea,” you admit.
“I’m full of good ideas.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it, Tiny.”
Tuesday pt 2
“This guy sounds like a full-on stalker,” Mark says for the sixth time as you grab ice cream and sit inside while a storm passes, rain splattering the windows.
“I mean, if he knew your schedule, I’m guessing he’s someone close to you.”
“He’s stalking us both, I don’t like it.”
“But he’s nice.”
“He’s stalking you, Tiny!”
“He’s not!” you insist. “A lot of people were at the library today… honestly, I think… I think Ghostie is kind of sweet.”
“Ghostie?!” Mark stares at you in shock. “You’re calling him Ghostie now?”
“It’s cute, right?”
“It’s crazy is what it is!” Mark leans back in his seat, frowning. “This is giving me the creeps.”
“Well, it’s spooky season.”
“If I’m being honest, I don’t think any of my frat brothers would pull crazy shit like this. They’re mostly pretty chill dudes.”
“So you think he’s lying about being in NCT?” you ask, cocking your head to the side.
“I think he’s definitely lying,” Mark confirms.
“Well, agree to disagree.”
Mark studies you for a moment. “Look, the only guy who’s a freak like this is Yuta and he swore up and down to me yesterday that he’s not calling you with a fucking voice modulator.”
“I don’t think this is Yuta.”
“Because you’re a Ghostie expert now, huh?” He scoffs loudly.
“Yuta’s not really a stoner,” you point out. “And besides, I can’t explain why I know it’s not him, I just have a feeling.”
“Yeah, is that feeling in your pussy by any chance?”
“Mark Lee!” you gasp, scandalized by his choice of words.
“Be real with me!” he insists. “You wouldn’t be entertaining this if it wasn’t… I don’t know, turning you on? Are you turned on by stalkers? Is this why you like Halloween so much?”
“Okay, maybe I am turned on, but that doesn’t make me a bad person.”
“It just makes you crazy,” Mark groans, running a hand through his hair. “I swear to God, when the dude reveals himself at the frat party, it better be one of my frat brothers and not a serial killer. And also, I’m going to fight him.”
“Something tells me he’d beat you,” you giggle.
“Now you’re trying to make me feel bad.”
“Says the guy who just called me crazy.” You grin, knowing that you’ve won.
“This whole thing is crazy.”
He has a point about that.
Wednesday
You’ve been waiting all day for a call from Ghostie, and it comes right before you’re about to head to bed. You practically launch yourself at your phone, putting it on speaker and saying “Hello?” as if you don’t know who’s on the other end of the line.
“Hey you, feeling better today?”
“You tell me, mister stalker.”
“I haven’t actually seen you today, it was a bit of a shame if I’m being honest.”
“Yeah?” God, this man has way too much power over you. “And why’s that, Ghostie?”
“Because I’ve been looking at your Instagram, but you’re cuter in person.”
“Do you follow me?”
“We’re mutuals.”
You’re mutuals with pretty much the entire NCT frat, it would have been more helpful if he’d said he’s not a follower, although, now that you think of it, that had always been unlikely.
“Still trying to figure out who I am, aren’t you, Tiny?”
“Of course.”
“Remember when I was listing your good qualities? Patience wasn’t one of them.”
“That’s so rude of you,” you say, although, you’re grinning at your phone.
“Here, I’ll make it better. I have an idea for you.”
“Let’s hear it then.” You get comfortable on your bed, wondering what he’s about to say.
“If you want a job, there’s this bar on campus, Skeets. Have you heard of it?”
“Who hasn’t heard of Skeets?” You roll your eyes.
“They let just about anyone work there. A few of the NCT guys are bartenders, I’m sure they’d put a good word in for you with the hiring manager, he’s also a member of the frat.”
You haven’t been to Skeets in ages, and you try to remember who you know amongst the staff. “Wait, you’re right- doesn’t Hyuck work there?”
“He does… This is the second time you’ve mentioned him, got something of a crush, Tiny?”
“Would that make you jealous?” you tease.
“I’m not the jealous type,” he states. “But yeah… it would.”
“Don’t get your Ghost Face mask in a knot, I don’t have a crush on Hyuck. In fact, if you turn out to be Hyuck and I find out you lied to me about your identity, I’m going to be really mad.”
“I’m not Hyuck.”
“Good.” You consider his proposition for a moment. “Do you really think they’d hire me?”
“It doesn’t hurt to try.”
“You know, on Sunday, if someone had told me you’d be helping me find a job not three days later, I would have said they were crazy.”
“Guess I like to keep you on your toes.”
“I think you just have a major soft spot for me. Tell me I’m wrong.”
“I can’t. I promised not to lie to you.”
God, he makes you so giddy it’s insane.
“Are you going to come stalk me at Skeets if they give me a job?”
“Goodnight, Tiny.” He’s avoiding the question, and you can hear him grinning through the phone.
“Night, Ghostie.”
It’s the first time he’s the one to hang up on you, and it leaves you wanting more.
Thursday
Ghostie had assured you that Skeets hires just about anyone, but that doesn’t help the anxiety building inside of you as you prepare to take your resume into the bar.
You even do a Wonderwoman pose outside while waiting for Skeets to open, breathing deeply to psych yourself up while you go over possible interview questions just in case the hiring manager wants a chit-chat today.
“I love working in a team environment,” you say quietly to yourself, closing your eyes and running through responses. “The most important thing is that the guests feel welcome.”
The sound of something dragging across the cement ground has you practically jumping, lids flashing open as your head whips toward the noise.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt your mantra,” the tall fratboy laughs, setting up the wooden sign with the daily drink menu just in front of the door to the bar.
“It’s fine,” you assure him, swallowing thickly.
The man in front of you is Johnny Suh. He’s two years older than you, and you know him through Mark. When guys join a frat, they’re assigned a ‘Big,’ an elder frat brother to guide them through the process. Johnny is Mark’s big, and he’s always been nice to you whenever you’ve crossed paths.
You would call Johnny an acquaintance, not a friend, but he’s still a friendlier face than you may have expected to see upon your first moments interacting with Skeets staff.
“You coming inside, Tiny?” Johnny asks.
“Yeah, sorry John, one sec, I just need another deep breath.” You wave your hand at him, turning your back and gulping down air while you hold your bag tight to your front, the resume within practically burning a hole in the leather.
The hot fratboy heads back inside and you finish calming yourself down.
You can do this. You can get this job.
As you enter the bar that’s just open, you realize there are only a few staff members kicking around so far. Kim Jungwoo is rearranging chairs, and Lee Donghyuck is sitting on a table looking at his phone. Johnny Suh is behind the bar, and you decide you should probably talk to him, so you try to act confident as you walk through the small establishment.
Johnny’s brown eyes raise as you approach, and he offers you a small smile. “Tough day?”
“What?” You blink at him, settling against the bartop.
“You looked kind of off outside, and most people don’t come in to day-drink this early.”
“Oh, uh… I’m not here to day-drink.” You let out a tiny laugh. “Actually, I came to see if you guys were looking to hire new staff members, I brought my resume.”
You reach into your bag to pull out the papers, and you hand them over to Johnny.
His eyes scan the first sheet. “Wow, a cover letter, I’ve actually never seen one of these.”
People don’t apply with cover letters? The idea is kind of shocking to you.
Johnny hardly looks at your resume, setting it down in front of him to address you instead. “What makes you want to work at Skeets?”
“In all honesty, I need a job. I’m dependable, and I’ve got a decent schedule to work in the food service industry. I like working as part of a team, and I’m already friends with a lot of the staff here, so I thought it might be a good fit.”
Johnny nods, assessing you. “Have you bartended before?”
“I’ve got my qualifications to serve alcohol, but I’ve mostly had waitressing jobs,” you admit.
“At Skeets, we all do a bit of everything. Would you be open to learning how to mix drinks?”
“I’d be very open to it,” you nod.
“Then let’s give it a shot,” Johnny smiles warmly at you. “You’ve got good timing, we actually just had to let go of someone for excessive drinking on the job. I was going to put a wanted ad up today, but looks like that won’t be necessary.”
“Are you…” you swallow thickly, “are you serious? I’m hired?”
“Yeah, why not?”
You can’t help the squeal of delight that rushes through you, and a massive grin makes its way onto your face. You even jump a little, and Johnny seems to enjoy your excitement, smiling from ear to ear while you celebrate.
“When can you start?” he asks next.
“I can start tomorrow! I mean, if you need me that soon.”
“Tomorrow is a big night here at Skeets, the Friday before Halloween. We could use the hands, but it will be a busy one, do you think you can handle that?”
You’re quick to nod. “Of course. But I uh… I should let you know, I can’t work Halloween, I promised a friend I’d meet them at your frat for the party.”
“Don’t worry about Saturday,” Johnny assures you. “Sigma Veta Tau has their frat party tonight, so it’s all us NCT guys working, and tomorrow we’ll switch. As much as Seungcheol is a good comanager, I don’t trust him to teach you how to mix drinks on Halloween.”
“So… you’re going to be the main person training me then?” you ask.
“If you want something done right, you gotta do it yourself,” he confirms.
You can’t help but beam up at the tall frat boy, overjoyed at this turn of events. As cute as Johnny is though, part of you is excited to tell Ghostie about this when he inevitably calls you tonight.
Your life is definitely a little crazy.
“So, how about you come in tomorrow at seven?” Johnny suggests. “The bar will be open past midnight, but I figure I can show you a few things before it gets busy around ten, and then I can let you go early.”
“I’ll be here at seven.”
“And when it comes to what you’re wearing, we’ll give you a Skeets t-shirt,” he pulls at the black fabric stretched tight across his broad chest. “Other than that, you can wear any color of jeans and some sneakers.”
“Perfect.”
“You’ll be paid for the training shift, I’ll tip you out in cash, and if it goes well, we’ll get your banking details at your next shift after that,” Johnny explains. “I’ve got your number here on your resume, so I’ll be in contact with you on Sunday, how’s that sound?”
“Sounds like a dream.” You literally can’t stop smiling.
“Tiny’s going to learn to mix,” Johnny says fondly, “Mark’s going to love this.”
You already feel close to Mark’s big, and the opportunity to work with him is a good one. Johnny is one of the more well-known nice guys at the frat. Sure, he’s got a little bit of a dangerous edge to him, just based on his massive stature alone, but he’s generally a big softy bear.
“Thanks again for this, Johnny,” you beam. “I won’t let you down.”
Thursday pt 2
“Hyuck said our favorite Tiny sorority princess got herself a job today.”
“Hello to you too, Ghostie.”
“I wanted to cut to the chase and congratulate you.”
“I wouldn’t have gotten the job without you,” you admit. “So… thank you.”
“Don’t mention it,” your mystery man says, and you can hear that classic grin of his. “I’m sure you got it on your own merit.”
“Apparently no one’s ever brought a cover letter with their resume before.”
“They must have been impressed.”
“Hired me on the spot.”
“That’s my girl.”
Your insides flutter. You like the way it sounds when he calls you his girl. “How about your day, Ghostie? Stalk any new girls?”
He laughs. “Only one girl worth stalking, which, I don’t do, by the way.”
“Sure you don’t.”
“My day was long,” he says finally.
“Yeah, it’s nearly midnight, I was thinking about going to sleep but…”
“But you wanted me to call,” Ghostie finishes your sentence for you.
“When you say it like that it sounds kind of depressing.”
“It’s not depressing, Tiny, it’s cute.”
“Cute?”
“I like that you’re getting used to me.”
“You know… if you decided not to show up to the Halloween party- if you never called again, I think… I’d wonder who you are the rest of my life.” It’s a moment of vulnerability, and your heart races in your chest while you wait for his response.
“I wouldn’t do that to you, Tiny,” Ghostie promises. “I’ll find you on Saturday, and not in a stalker way.”
“What costume are you going to be wearing?”
“If I tell you, you’ll just show up and scour the whole place looking for me.”
“You know me too well, don’t you, Ghostie?”
“What are you going to wear, pretty girl?”
You literally kick your feet at the term of endearment, body buzzing. It takes a moment to collect yourself. “Honestly? I’ve got a Ghost Face mask hanging around somewhere.”
“And here I was being told I’m the one who gets hard pretending to be Ghost Face.”
“Well… even though I don’t know you, not really, I think I got that one pretty accurate, didn’t I?”
“Maybe a little.”
“I thought you said you were big,” you tease.
“Okay, maybe a lot.”
You bite at your lip. After the great day you’ve had, it’s difficult not to feel flirty. “Are you hard right now, big guy?”
He groans, and even under the voice modulator, something tells you the sounds he makes are sexy as fuck. You can feel your panties getting wet. It’s dirty, but in the best possible way.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” you grin.
“You’re being bad, Tiny.”
“Says the guy who’s literally hard right now.”
The other end of the line is silent for a moment. “Can I ask you something?”
“You can ask me anything.”
“What if… when we meet, you’re not interested in me?”
Well, this has just taken a turn. How did you go from horny thoughts to insecurity?
It’s a valid question though, one you should have asked yourself by now, but for some reason you haven’t. You think about it for a few seconds.
“I feel like… I know it’s been less than a week of talking but, you’re not like any other guy I’ve ever met. And not just because you’re calling with a voice modulator.” You let out a laugh. “You ask how my day is, and you care to hear my answer. You even helped me get a job, which is crazy to think about. For some weird reason, I think when I meet you, the emotional connection is already kind of there, so no matter what you look like, you’ll be more attractive to me.”
“You really think so?”
“I mean, NCT is known for having hot guys, so I’m not sure who you could be that would turn me off. There are only a few NCT guys I’d say a hard no to at the moment.”
“Yeah? Who?”
“Well, Doyoung and I have never gotten along, but I know you’re not him because he doesn’t touch weed. I dated Jeno for about a week, and I know enough about him to know I don’t want to do anything with him ever again, and also, that you’re not Jeno because he’d never ask me how my day was going-”
“What an asshole.”
You laugh. “All things considered, Ghostie, I think you’ll do just fine.”
“That’s good to hear.”
“Is this why you’ve been doing the whole voice modulator thing? You’re worried I won’t be interested in you?”
“It’s one of the reasons,” Ghostie admits. “I also worried that if I did hit on you, you might think I was only trying to get you into my bed, which, yeah, it would be nice, but… as perfect as your body is, it’s not the most interesting thing about you.”
What a scrumptious take; A guy calling you up and using anonymity to prove to you that this connection isn’t only about sex.
Your heart softens.
“Ghostie, you might be one of the sweetest guys I know,” you admit.
“More than your best friend Mark Lee?”
You laugh. “Maybe not, Mark would never do something like this. You’re a bit of a paradox that way, aren’t you?”
“If you say so, Tiny. As much as I’ve liked this talk, I think I should let you sleep. Halloween is two days away and I’m sure we’ve both got a lot to do before then.”
“What if I don’t want you to go just yet?”
“Then I’d remind you that patience is a virtue.”
“You’re such a tease.”
“Good thing we have an emotional connection so you’ll forgive me for it. Night, Tiny.”
“Night, Ghostie.”
Friday
Your first shift consists of shadowing Johnny. He’s a fabulous teacher. He’s calm, patient, and very encouraging. The first few hours are a breeze, but the bar gets increasingly packed as the night goes on.
It’s a little overwhelming, but Johnny helps keep you steady. He gives you the easy drink orders, things like beer and simple cocktails. While you’re filling a cup from the beer tap, he’s busy mixing five to ten different things into one glass for items on the Halloween special menu.
There’s something sexy about a diligent worker, and his beefy arms are all bulgy and hot in his tight Skeets shirt. You can tell that a lot of girls come up to the bar specifically to order from him. There are two other bartenders, but Johnny’s line is notably the longest.
You’ve had your own share of interested men pop over to say hi. There are very few frat boys here tonight, as there’s a party in full swing in the Greek village, so most of the guys coming up to grab a beer from you are people you don’t know.
Many of them are dressed up in costumes, and it’s interesting to try to guess some of the more obscure clothing choices.
Anytime you see a man in a ghost costume, your mind shifts to your mystery caller. You wonder if he’ll pop by tonight- but other than the men already working with you, no NCT boys walk through the front door.
No Ghostie.
There’s not one second of reprieve, but staff need breaks, and finally, just before midnight, Johnny pulls you both for a breather.
“Are you sure the others can keep up while we’re gone?” you ask, looking back at the swamped bartenders.
“They can manage,” he assures you, guiding you through the back staffroom to a door that leads to an alleyway behind the bar. “I know I’ve kept you on longer than I thought, but it’s just been so busy. How are you holding up?”
The cool night air is a drastic difference from the heat and humidity inside, and you take a deep breath, closing your eyes and enjoying it. “I’m doing alright,” you tell him. “You’re the one making the difficult drinks.”
“I’ve been mixing cocktails for years,” he brushes it off, reaching into his back pocket.
“Well, it shows.” You watch to see him pull out a rolled joint, and next comes a lighter.
“Want some?” he asks, lifting the joint to slot between his perfect lips.
“Are we allowed to smoke on the job?”
“Hyuck was prescribed Vyvanse last year, so he’s practically on coke all shift,” Johnny grins, lighting the end of the joint and taking a puff. “Besides,” he lets out a deep breath of smoke, “in the service industry, sometimes you need a little buffer.”
Skeets really is a chill place if the hiring manager smokes weed on breaks with subordinates.
“I didn’t realize you were a stoner,” you muse.
“Most of us frat boys are,” Johnny admits, pulling the joint from between his lips. It’s placed casually between two fingers, and his other hand ruffles through his pretty hair. “It’s a nice night.”
“It is,” you nod, looking up at the sky. Stars are twinkling in the dark
“I’m glad you joined the team, not sure we would have been doing so well without your extra set of hands.”
“I’m really grateful to have been given a trial shift,” you smile softly.
“Well, just so you know, it’s more than a trial shift. You’re hired.” He nudges your shoulder gently, and your grin only grows.
“Thank you.”
Johnny takes another drag from his joint. “Sure you don’t want a puff?”
“I really shouldn’t-”
“I’m going to let you go home pretty soon after this,” Johnny tells you. “So it won’t affect your performance that much.”
You wonder if this is a test, but… at the same time, you don’t think Johnny’s the type of guy to test you this way.
You give in, accepting the joint and bringing it to your lips. It’s been a while since you smoked one of these, and your first tiny hit leaves you coughing, passing the joint back to Johnny while you try to catch your breath.
He grins while watching you, and you get the sneaking suspicion that Johnny thinks you’re cute.
“Thank you,” you say, coughing again.
“You’ve got good manners, don’t ya, Tiny?”
You nod, wiping at the tears that have formed in your eyes from the smoke.
“Who... who do you usually smoke with?” you ask.
“Why? You a cop?” Johnny jokes.
“No, it’s just uh… God, I could tell you the whole story but you wouldn’t even believe me if I did,” you find yourself laughing. “Just… I didn’t know you smoked, so, I’m wondering if maybe there are a few other guys in your circle who do too.”
Johnny looks you up and down. “Like I said earlier, Tiny, almost all us frat boys partake in mari-ju-ana.”
It’s clear he’s not going to give you any information that could help you figure out who your Ghostie is. You suppose you really will just have to be patient.
In less than twenty-four hours, you’ll be finding out who your mystery caller is, and the suspense is absolutely killing you.
Friday pt 2
It’s twelve thirty when you finally get home, and you’re very tired. But at the same time, you’re awake. You take your time getting ready for bed, ignoring the loud party sounds outside and around the frat village while you wait for a call from Ghostie.
As one am rolls around, you start to realize that maybe tonight you won’t get a call.
He is a frat boy, and this is Halloween weekend.
You’re disappointed as you get into bed, frowning as you scroll on your phone, hoping that if you wait another five minutes, maybe he’ll catch you.
Five minutes turn into ten, turn into fifteen, and you find your eyes beginning to shut.
You’re starting to understand how much you truly have come to depend on Ghostie as part of your nightly ritual. It hurts not to get a call from your favourite voice-modulated anonymous frat boy.
You try to self-soothe by assuring yourself you’ll meet him tomorrow, but it doesn’t really help.
Tossing and turning, trying to get comfortable, you fall into a blissless sleep.
Saturday
You’re groggy when you open your eyes, but you still go to check your phone. There’s a missed call notification from an unknown number at three am, and suddenly you’re wide awake, bolting up in bed.
“Hey, Tiny, it’s me.”
As if it could be anyone else.
“Sorry I didn’t get a chance to call you last night. I was pretty swamped with Halloween stuff. But if it makes you feel any better, you were definitely on my mind.”
Here you are kicking your feet again.
“Probably won’t get a chance to talk to you until the party, I really do hope you come… in uh… more ways than one.”
God, he makes you wet.
“I get it if you’re a little mad at me for not calling earlier, and I promise to make it up to you when I see you, if you’ll let me.”
He’s so oddly respectful.
“But I get it if you don’t want to do anything at the party. I’ve enjoyed talking with you this week, and if that’s all it’s going to be then I won’t hold it against you. Anyways, goodnight, see you soon.”
Saturday pt 2
You feel cute tonight. You’d taken your Ghost Face mask off almost as soon as entering the frat, but the little black dress you’re wearing is enough to capture a lot of attention.
Every frat boy that comes up to you makes your heart race, but none of them reveal themselves as your Ghostie.
You’re actually beginning to get a little frustrated, and after two hours of floating around hoping to find your mystery man, you head with Mark to his room for a break.
Mark’s roommate, Hyuck, is sitting on his bed, bong already out and resting on one thigh while scrolls through his phone. He looks up when you enter, smirking. “Finally, smoking buddies.”
“You texted me like two minutes ago to come up here,” Mark rolls his eyes. “Have some patience.”
“Not in my nature,” Hyuck insists, setting his phone down and reaching for his lighter. “First hit is mine.”
As if you expected anything less.
You watch him inhale the thick cloud of smoke, holding it for a moment in his lungs before he lets out a deep exhale. “Fucking hell, he groans, that was a good hit.”
Mark takes the bong and Hyuck falls flat against the bed, closing his eyes and smiling.
“So have you found your stalker yet, Tiny?” Hyuck asks.
Your gaze flashes to Mark. “You told him?”
“He was curious why I was asking for a stoner list,” Mark defends himself.
“Whoever the dude is, he’s got balls,” Hyuck says wistfully.
There’s a knock on the door, and Jaehyun pokes his head inside. “Heard we’re smoking?”
“Yeah, come in!” Hyuck waves his hand, still collapsed on his bed.
The door is pushed open wider, and you catch sight of Johnny standing behind Jaehyun. Your new hiring manager flashes you a wink as they enter, and the door is shut firmly behind them. Jaehyun goes to sit with Hyuck, but Johnny approaches you, taking the seat next to you on Mark’s bed.
“How’s your night going?” Johnny asks.
“She’s waiting for her stalker to come kidnap her and fuck her brains out,” Hyuck says loudly.
“Your stalker?” Johnny laughs.
“Some guy has been calling her all week,” Mark tries to explain.
“It sounds worse than it is,” you insist, feeling the need to defend Ghostie. “He’s only a little perverted.”
“And you’re into that sort of thing?” Jaehyun questions, cocking his head while Mark takes a puff from the bong and hands it over.
“Not usually,” you admit. “But… this guy is different.”
“You don’t even know what he looks like,” Mark groans, collapsing in his desk chair and running an anxious hand through his hair.
“That doesn’t matter,” you insist.
“Fucking girls, dude,” Hyuck laughs, sitting up and watching Jaehyun smoke from the bong. “You know what we need?”
“More weed?” Mark suggests.
“Yes, but also, shots.” Hyuck’s eyes shift to Johnny. “Not the shit from downstairs. The good stuff.”
Johnny lets out a chuckle. “You want something from my secret stash?”
“The tequila you brought back from Mexico,” Hyuck nods.
Jaehyun lets out a puff of smoke, holding the bong out for Johnny, who shakes his head.
“You’re not taking a hit?” Jaehyun asks, staring at Johnny in hazy shock.
“Not tonight,” Johnny responds. Then he turns to you. “If neither of us are taking a crack at the bong, how about you come help me grab the tequila?”
“Careful, John,” Hyuck teases, “She’s not interested in you, she only has eyes for this Ghostie dude.”
Mark shoves Hyuck’s knee and Johnny simply grins. “Come on Tiny, you don’t want to get secondhand high on a night like this.”
He’s right about that, and you stand with him, heading to the door. Johnny’s so tall and broad, and you try not to stare at his shoulders, but it’s extremely difficult not to appreciate his large form.
“What’s your costume?” you ask.
“Oh, this?” He pulls casually at his black tshirt. “I’m a serial killer, they look like everyone else.”
“Very original,” you laugh, falling into step with the tall fratboy as you make your way down the crowded hall.
“My room is on the top floor,” he tells you, heading to the stairwell and holding the door open for you. “I like your dress, by the way.”
“Thanks, it goes with this.” You hold up the Ghost Face mask to show it to him, and his grin widens while you climb the stairs.
“You’re gonna have to let me try that on.”
“I’m uh… I’m actually saving it for Ghostie to try,” you admit, feeling a little silly with how loyal you’re being to your mystery caller.
“He’s a lucky guy,” Johnny muses.
“Here’s to hoping it goes well,” you sigh.
Johnny doesn’t respond to your comment, and as you reach the top floor he guides you three rooms down, using a key to unlock the door before he holds it open for you. “After you, Tiny.”
The space is the same size as Hyuck and Mark’s, but it only has one bed. “I didn’t realize they had single rooms here,” you say, looking around.
“There’s only a few, and I’ve got seniority,” Johnny explains. He closes the door behind him, walking over to the large closet.
You take in the decorations. It’s unmistakably a frat boy's room, but much cleaner than you’re used to. There’s a gaming station, and a mini fridge that you’d guess is full of beer. A clothing rack shows off some of Johnny’s more sophisticated tastes.
You’re curious about what else he has in his stash, so you join him by the closet, peeking inside. “We’re looking for tequila right?”
God, he has a whole shelf full of expensive bottles of booze.
“Uh huh,” Johnny nods. “Should be in the back here somewhere.”
“Isn’t this tequila?” you ask, pointing to a bottle he’s brushed past.
“Close,” Johnny flashes a grin at you before continuing to rummage, “but no cigar.”
You freeze.
It’s been nearly a week since your first interaction with Ghostie, but you remember that interesting turn of phrase like it was yesterday.
But- it can’t be.
Johnny can’t be your mystery caller-
Can he?
“Found it,” Johnny announces, pulling an immaculate bottle of tequila out. His gaze lands on you. “You alright, Tiny? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“I mean… have I?”
He cocks his head. “What do you mean?”
“You’re…” You swallow thickly. “Are you my Ghostie?”
Johnny meets your gaze with a steady look. “Does it upset you?”
It’s not a clear confirmation, but it’s a confirmation nonetheless.
You stare at him in absolute shock for a moment. He looks insanely gorgeous tonight, all broad, with his pretty lips- without even knowing what you’re doing, you find yourself throwing your arms around him and burying your face against his chest.
Johnny freezes, obviously startled by the sudden contact, but then he’s wrapping you in a tight embrace. One of his hands finds the back of your head, and he cradles you close.
Neither of you say anything, you simply hold each other while you come to terms with everything.
He’s so stupid for ever thinking you wouldn’t want him-
You do want him. You want him so bad-
Pulling away from his chest, you tilt your chip up, reaching for his face. You cup his cheek while you move on your tiptoes to press your lips against his.
He appears just as shocked at this movement as when you’d hugged him, but he eases into it all the same, kissing you back gently.
But you don’t want gentle, you want him.
You’re pent up from a week of teasing, and you shift in his embrace, wrapping both arms around the back of his neck while you glide your tongue against his lip.
Johnny lets out a groan, his mouth opening for you while his hands slip down to tug your waist closer.
The kiss deepens and now it’s your turn to release a moan, pressing your tits closer to his chest. He feels like heaven against you, and his lips are absolutely magic. His tongue glides gently against your own. You can taste beer, but it’s not unpleasant, in fact, it turns you on even more.
You thread your fingers through his hair, dragging your nails against his scalp-
“Fuck,” Johnny mutters against your mouth.
Then he’s bending down, hands grabbing at your ass and prompting you to jump. You wrap your legs around his hips and he carries you effortlessly, closing the distance to his bed.
Instead of tossing you down, he sits on the mattress and suddenly your knees are digging into his charcoal duvet. You’re on top, fingers in his hair, your tongue licking at his lip, and you’ve never felt so powerful.
It gives you the confidence to wiggle your hips a little, and you’re pleased to find he’s already growing hard in his jeans. God, he feels big- and your pussy throbs at the idea of what you’re going to do to him tonight.
You’re in a dress, and your panty-clad core feels delightful against bulging denim. Johnny’s grabbing at your bare thigh, kneading your flesh, and it makes you moan desperately. Not only is he skilled with his tongue, but his hands seem to know what they’re doing too.
Suddenly he’s grabbing at your hair, tugging you so you arch your head back, giving him access to your throat. His mouth feels amazing as he begins to lick and suck on your neck, finding your sweet spot way too easily-
“Who-” You swallow thickly. “Who gave you my number?”
Johnny laughs against your skin, pulling away to look up at you with dark eyes. “Mark did.”
“Mark?!” You’re in absolute shock now.
“Gave it to me during finals last year,” Johnny explains. “But… we both had busy summers and…” one of his hands sneaks down to guide your hips, helping you grind against him, “I guess I wasn’t sure how you felt about me.”
“You’re crazy!”
“Maybe a little,” he admits. “I’m also Mark’s big, and it’s not like you and I have ever been close.”
“But you’ve liked me for a while, haven’t you, Ghostie?”
He groans at the nickname, looking up at you with eyes full of wonder. “Longer than you know.”
You wish you could say you’ve felt the same- but in all honesty, you have always seen him as Mark’s big. As an older fratboy dad type-
The way he’s acted with you this week has inklings of that protective daddy personality you know and enjoy, but… he’s not been particularly dad-like. He’s shown you a new side of himself, and you’re so fucking happy he did.
“You know, when Mark finds out you’re my stalker he’s going to flip.”
“I wasn’t stalking you,” Johnny insists, grinning up at you as he applies more pressure to your hips, making you grind against him harder.
“God, you even hired me for a job-”
He laughs. “It wasn’t favoritism, you had a cover letter, the bar owner was even impressed.”
“You’re so bad- this whole time you’ve been mind fucking me. I would have never guessed my Ghostie worked at Skeets.”
“Well, I do have a minor in psychology,” he admits. “Figured the best place to hide is in plain sight.”
“You even smoked a joint in front of me and I never guessed-”
“Yeah, I was playing with fire with that one,” Johnny laughs.
“It’s funny. I was so busy thinking about being loyal to Ghostie that I was trying not to check you out last night.”
“And I’m so lucky to have you. You wouldn’t even let me put on your Ghost Face mask, so busy saving it for Ghostie.”
“Saving myself too,” you note, grinning down at him.
“Yeah?”
“We’ve talked every night since Sunday- I haven’t cum in over a week.”
“Fuck, Tiny,” Johnny groans. “I guess I better help you out then.”
“Really? How are you going to do that?”
“I’ll let you stay on top for a while, let you grind against me until you’re begging for me to tear your dress off.” He pulls at the strap on your shoulder. “Then, I’ll flip you over, get on my knees, and eat you out like the good girl you are, stretching you open with my fingers.”
“And then?”
“When you’re shaking and delirious from cumming, I’ll fuck you right. Bet you’ve never really been fucked right before.”
God, you definitely haven’t. At least- you know you’ve never been fucked the way Johnny is about to fuck you.
“What if I already want you to tear my dress off?” you ask, grinding down against his cock.
Johnny lets out a low groan, grinning at you. “Tiny, you’re nowhere near begging yet.”
“I’m not?” You lean forward, pressing a kiss to his throat before your teeth drag against his earlobe. “Please, Ghostie, I’m already so fucking wet, you wouldn’t believe it-”
He laughs, hand finding your hair again. He tugs you away from his neck, pressing his lips to your own and kissing you hard.
He takes your breath away. His tongue is perfect, licking and tasting- making you moan loudly while you work your hips, swiveling on his denim-covered cock.
“Fuck, Ghostie, you’re so fucking big-”
“You haven’t seen anything yet,” he promises, grabbing a fistful of your ass and squeezing so hard it almost hurts. But the pain is wonderful, and you cry out in ecstasy, working yourself harder against him.
If it wasn’t for his enticing cock, you think you could make out with him like this forever.
You just want to be naked, so you grab at your dress, intent on lifting it off-
Johnny stops you. “I’ve told you patience is a virtue, haven’t I, Tiny?”
You groan in annoyance. “John, please-”
“Ghostie,” he corrects you.
You don’t even care- you simply grab his hand, guiding it between your legs. His fingertips brush over your soaked panties, and you gasp at the feeling of him, immediately grinding down, looking for relief.
“Fuck-” you moan, closing your eyes and throwing your head back.
He begins to circle your clit through your thong and you’re forced to grab at his shoulder to steady yourself, whimpering loudly.
“Shit, Tiny, you’re so fucking pretty,” he whispers.
“I need you,” you gasp, feeling an orgasm already bubbling in the pit of your stomach. “Please, move my panties to the side-”
Johnny doesn’t question you this time. He pulls your thong away, easily burying two large fingers into your wet, needy core.
Now you’re really gasping. You lean forward, wrapping both arms around his strong shoulders and burying your face against his throat. “Oh my God, Ghostie- don’t stop-”
“You’re going to cum from this, aren’t you, pretty girl?”
You nod desperately, swiveling your hips so your clit can rub against the palm of his hand while his fingers work you open.
“So good,” you whimper. “So fucking good-”
Johnny groans, curving his fingers and stroking your gspot.
You squeal in his lap, thigh muscles clenching while your pussy begins to throb around the foreign intrusions. You’re so close to the edge you can almost taste it.
“Want you to cum for me. Wanna hear your sounds while you drip down my hand.”
Fuck, he’s way too sexy, voice all low and seductive. He’s breathing hard, and you can tell you’re turning him on just from riding his fingers-
“Come on, Tiny, who’s my good girl?”
“I am-” you gasp, digging your nails into his shoulders as your orgasm hits you straight on.
You moan loudly, burying your face against Johnny’s neck. You’re panting against his skin, wiggling your hips while his fingers continue inside of you, driving you absolutely insane. Waves of pleasure are overtaking your form, and your mind is completely blank, overwhelmed by the feeling of ecstasy that Johnny provides for you.
“That’s it,” Johnny encourages you. “So fucking good for me.”
You’re shaking on his lap by the time your high is over, and you press wet kisses to his throat, earning groans from your Ghostie.
You reach down for your dress, lifting it up and off your body. Johnny pulls back, watching you with dark eyes. He takes his fingers out of your wet pussy, bringing them to his lips to clean. But he’s not done there, as you toss the fabric to the floor, Johnny offers you his digits next.
You lock eyes with him for a moment before leaning forward and accepting, taking his wet fingers into your mouth and helping suck them clean. You groa at the taste of yourself. Johnny watches the motion, his free hand finding your hip and forcing you to grind down against his cock.
“You’re so hot, Tiny,” he says, removing his fingers from your lips.
“Wait till you see me naked,” you grin, reaching behind yourself to undo your bra.
It falls away easily, and Johnny’s large hands cup your breasts almost immediately. His head dips, eyes taking in your newly exposed skin. “Fuck, how does a girl get this perfect?”
“How does a guy get a massive cock like yours?” you counter, rubbing yourself against the front of his jeans.
“Touche,” he chuckles, leaning down to lick your nipple.
You thread your fingers through his hair, guiding him to show more affection to your chest, which he’s more than happy to do. His large hand cups your right breast while he worships your other with his mouth, suckling on your nipple. His teeth drag gently against the sensitive bud and you moan loudly, rocking your hips all the while.
“As much as I’d love to keep sucking on your tits,” Johnny sighs, lips moving up your throat again, “I’d rather be between your legs.”
“Ghostie, do whatever you want to me,” you instruct, feeling delightfully submissive.
“You got it, Tiny.”
In one easy motion, he flips you so your back is on the bed. Johnny pulls away from you, sinking to his knees at the edge of the mattress before grabbing you and tugging you closer. He tears his own shirt off, giving you a great view of muscles that make you even wetter. Then he grabs your panties, sliding them down your legs so you’re completely bare for him now.
Johnny doesn’t say anything, he simply licks his lips and dives into you. His tongue parts your folds, dipping inside to taste your walls while your legs shake around his head. “Fuck, Ghostie-”
You reach down to grab his hair, applying enough pressure to his head to let him know you’re enjoying what he’s doing… if he can’t already tell from your desperately needy moans.
His lips move to suction on your clit and a squeal escapes you, your back arching slightly at the sensation.
You’re sensitive from having cum already, sensitive from having not cum all week only to be getting this much attention now. But you’re also probably sensitive because this is Johnny, because there’s been a build-up that’s left you ready to pop, and he seems intent on making you pop multiple times for him.
“Oh my God,” you whimper, eyes closed, abdominal muscles tensing with effort as his skilled tongue works you up again.
Johnny groans against your pussy and it’s one of the sexiest things that’s ever happened to you. Your grip on his hair tightens, your core throbbing with pleasure already.
When he adds two fingers into your dripping hole, you know you’re not going to last, but you don’t think he wants you to.
In fact, you’d bet that Johnny himself is just about ready to explode. You can’t believe he doesn’t have his cock out yet- can’t believe he’s so intent on making you cum twice before getting any satisfaction for himself.
“Fuck, Ghostie-” You want to tell him how close you are to cumming, but you can hardly get the words out between your moans. “I’m- holy shit-”
Johnny finger fucks you even harder, his mouth focusing on your clit, and you’re pretty sure he’s understood your garbled attempt to warn him, pretty sure he wants you to cum.
You allow yourself to find your release, your back arching again as you tug on Johnny’s hair, keeping his face between your legs. You grind down slightly, your body chasing your orgasm as it surges through you like fire in your veins.
Johnny lets out a low groan again, and your entire body twitches at the extra stimulation. You’re gasping now. Nothing has ever felt this good-
To his credit, Johnny tries to help you through your entire orgasm, but he pulls away before you’re truly finished. You can feel him panting against your pussy, and when you open your eyes to look down at him, you find Johnny staring at you with the horniest expression you’ve ever seen on a man.
“Ghostie-” you whimper, shifting against his duvet.
“Condoms,” he says, pulling his fingers out of your core and standing up.
“I’m on birth control,” you tell him quickly, making him freeze. “And if we’re both clean-”
Johnny practically moans at the idea, looking down at your body. “Does my Tiny want to be filled up all nice and good?”
Now it’s your turn to groan, and you nod, licking your lips. You sit up next, feeling your skin heat at the words you want to say, “I also… I wanna suck you off first.”
Johnny approaches the bed again, towering over you. It’s hard to focus on his eyes when his abs and strong biceps and veiny forearms are drawing your attention, but when he cups your jaw it makes things easier. “What did I ever do to deserve you?”
“You pretty much stalked me for a week,” you tease, grinning.
Your Ghostie lets out a laugh. He doesn’t bother to check you on the word ‘stalking’ this time, even though he’s always been adamant that’s not what he was up to. It’s nice to have this little win, and as a reward for him biting his tongue, you reach out to undo his belt.
As the buckle unclasps and you move to his zipper, there’s a loud banging on the door.
Johnny looks over his shoulder and you can hear Hyuck screaming “Tequila!”
The frat boy in front of you lifts his finger to his lips, a shushing motion, and then he reaches into his back pocket for his phone. You bet he’s going to text Hyuck some lie about not being in the room, but you’re too horny to slow down.
You get his jeans undone and you bundle your hands up in all the fabric, roughly tugging them down.
Johnny lets out a groan when his large cock slaps up against his abdomen, and he moves his phone to the side to give himself a better view, holding it with one hand while raising a brow at you.
You’re on your knees at the foot of the bed now while Johnny stands there, and you steady yourself, grabbing the base of his cock. With one last wink at Ghostie, you lean forward, kitten licking his length from balls to tip.
The man above you quickly types in the text, then tosses his phone to the side, his large hand coming down to cup your cheek. You take this as a sign to accept him into your mouth, so you do exactly that.
He’s so large and thick- you haven’t sucked cock in a while, and you’ve never sucked a cock as big as his. You know you can take your time, Johnny’s always been patient with you.
You start by paying attention to the head, swirling your tongue around him and getting used to his size. Your eyes close, mind focused completely on your task. You’re already drooling from this, and you can feel your saliva dripping down his shaft. You smooth your thumb along the new trail of spit, helping lube your hand so you can begin to pump his cock.
“Fuck,” Johnny groans, tightening his grip in your hair.
You try to sink your mouth further onto his cock, but it’s difficult. He’s just so huge-
Your pussy throbs knowing that soon, this monster dick is going to be inside of you-
Without any lube that you’ve seen so far, you want to make him as slicked up as possible, and it helps that you’re drooling from how sexy all of this is.
His cock hits the back of your throat and you gag slightly, powering through the uncomfortable feeling as you glide your tongue along his shaft. You’re not a quitter.
“Holy fuck, Tiny-” Johnny praises you. “You don’t have to try to take more than you can handle-”
But you want to. You want to pleasure him the way he’s pleasured you, and his words only prompt you to suck harder, earning more groans from the man above you.
“You’re so good at this,” he continues his words of encouragement, and they do help you take him deeper. His voice is smooth, sexy, and thankfully not modulated in any way.
You’ve never realized how nice John’s voice really is.
You apply more pressure with your hand, pumping him faster-
“Okay, okay-” Johnny tugs gently on your hair, prompting you to pull off of his cock and blink up at him in confusion. “I have to fuck you now. I’m done waiting.”
You let out a tiny mewl, nodding.
Johnny kicks off his jeans completely, pressing a knee onto the bed. He leans down to kiss you, and then he’s grabbing your body. In one easy motion, he tosses you a few feet up the mattress, so your head can land against the pillows.
God, he makes you feel truly Tiny- it’s one of the sexiest things ever.
He takes his place between your legs next, lips finding yours. One of his hands cups your cheek, and the kiss deepens, his tongue invading your mouth while your arms wrap around his strong shoulders.
You can feel his cock sliding between your pussy lips, and it’s almost embarrassing how wet you are, how much drool you’ve left on him.
“Please-” you whimper. You can’t wait another moment either, you have to know what he feels like. You reach your hand between your bodies, grabbing his cock so you can line him up with you properly. “Ghostie, I can’t-”
He kisses you, cutting you off. Something tells you Johnny understands, and the moment you have him properly situated, he begins to push into you.
You gasp against his lips, letting go of his cock so you can grab his shoulders. He’d worked you open with his fingers two times over, but nothing compares to this. You can feel your walls stretching to accommodate his impressive girth, and it leaves you practically brain-dead.
“Let me know if it’s too much,” Johnny tells you, lips moving to your throat so he can suck on your sweet spot while he continues to burry into your hot, wet core.
You wrap your legs tightly around his hips, closing your eyes while the feeling of him overtakes you. You’ve never moaned like this before, never felt anything like Johnny-
He groans loudly against your skin, gently thrusting, coating his cock in your juices to make things easier-
The moment his hips hit flush to yours, his full cock buried inside of you, you both gasp. Johnny grabs at your hands, interlocking your fingers and pinning them to the pillows on either side of your head.
“Fuck, you’re so big, you’re so-” You can’t even think, especially not when he takes another test thrust.
His cock drags against your inner walls and you cry out, body tingling.
“You take me so well, Tiny,” he praises you, mouth still hot on your throat. “The perfect fit.”
You can’t speak, not now, but you can squeeze his hands and tilt your head to the side, kissing his cheek. Johnny takes the cue to bring his lips back to yours, and you’re immediately lost in yet another breathtaking makeout session.
He’s moving slow, fucking into you at a gentle pace, allowing your body to get used to his massive size.
But you’re feeling particularly desperate, and greedy. “More.”
“More?” He laughs. “You sure about that?”
You nod, eager to be decimated by him. “Please, ruin me-”
Johnny groans, letting go of one of your hands so he can press his palm flat to the bed, giving himself more leverage. He begins to fuck you faster, and each meeting of his cock to your core has you whimpering like a whore in heat.
“You make the cutest fucking sounds,” Johnny breathes.
Only he - with his cock making you feral - would call your noises of pleasure cute.
He’s so stupidly endearing.
“Fuck, Tiny, you’re dripping- making this too fucking easy for me.”
It’s absolutely embarrassing how wet you are. He’s gliding into you with no issues now, and each movement is like heaven. The head of his cock hits a spot deep in your stomach- you can’t help but reach down, pressing your palm to your abdomen-
You can feel him rearranging your guts, and you both groan when you apply a bit of pressure.
“Deep, huh?” Johnny lets out a moaned chuckle.
“So deep-” you agree, words slightly garbled.
“I’ve just started with you and you can hardly speak,” Johnny muses. “Wonder what’s gonna happen when I make you cum again.”
You cry out desperately, removing your hand from your stomach so you can claw at his hair, bringing his lips back to your own.
You’re tired of thinking- all you want to do is experience this, experience him, at your fullest- and boy, are you fucking full.
Johnny lets go of your other hand, reaching for your thigh. He adjusts it higher on his hip and suddenly he’s driving into you even deeper.
Your eyes roll into the back of your head and you gasp loudly against his lips. Johnny traces his tongue along your teeth, and you can feel him smirking.
You love that he’s enjoying this- enjoying watching you come completely undone for him.
“You know,” he says, “if you keep squeezing me like that, I’m not going to last long.”
You don’t even care. You know this isn’t the only time you’ll be fucking this man- and after cumming twice already, your body is near its limit of pleasure, if that’s even possible. In fact, there’s something very sexy about making a man cum quicker than he’s used to, and your pussy clenches at the thought.
“Fuck,” Johnny groans again. “Can I flip you over?”
At this point, you’ll agree to any request, and you nod quickly, biting at your lip.
With one last kiss, Johnny pulls away from you. His cock slips out of your core and you whine at the loss, only for his two large hands to grab your waist and manually turn you onto your stomach. Then he adjusts your hips, pulling you up into doggy position.
“If you need to scream, use the pillows,” Johnny warns you, lining up with your pussy again.
The first thrust has you doing exactly that. You bury your face into the pillow, letting out a loud cry as his cock hits deeper than before.
This position might just kill you, but you don’t care.
His hands feel so good- so large and warm and steady on your hips as he finds an even rougher pace.
You can hear your ass smacking loudly against his front with each thrust and it only adds to your arousal.
Bunching your hands up in his duvet, you do your best not to be so loud that the whole frat will hear you. But it’s so difficult not to just melt under him-
You can feel your eyes welling with pleasure-fueled tears, and it drives you crazy.
“Fuck, you like this position, don’t you, pretty girl?”
“Yes, Ghostie!” you gasp, nodding while his cock continues to make you feel like absolute heaven.
“You look fucking perfect like this,” he tells you. “Face down, ass up. Pretty soon you’ll be begging for me to fill you up even more.”
His words flip a switch inside of you. “God, yes, please-” you cry out. “I want it so bad-”
“Want what?”
“Want your cum,” you whimper. “Wanna be so full-”
Johnny groans, grabbing rough fistfuls of your ass while he fucks you even harder.
“I need it, Ghostie, I need it-” You’re crying now, and Johnny notices.
He bends over your back, bracing an arm across your chest so he can lift you onto your knees. He cups your jaw, thumb stroking through a tear track. “Holy shit, Tiny,” he moans, mouth hot against your shoulder.
“Please, Ghostie, please-” you whimper, lower lip trembling-
You’re so close-
Johnny lets go of your jaw, and his hand slips down your front. You jolt when his fingers make contact with your clit, wriggling in his grasp.
“I’m almost there, Tiny,” he admits. “Watching you cum will tip me over the edge- you’ll be good and cum for me, right?”
All you can do is nod. Words are gone. Your mind is blank except for the pleasure that’s coursing through you.
Your noises are getting pitchier, and Johnny works you all the way to your peak. You gasp loudly as you topple over the edge, core clamping down hard on his cock.
Your legs feel like jelly, and Johnny releases you, allowing you to fall to the bed while your orgasm ravages your form. You’re clawing at the sheets, burying your face in his bed to muffle your screams-
His hands are bruising on your hips, and you hear him let out a loud groan. You can feel him filling you up, his motions faltering ever so slightly. His breath is hot against your shoulders and it’s added stimulus that makes you twitch, so completely overwhelmed that it almost feels like you’re about to black out.
But you don’t want to miss a second of this. His groans of pleasure keep you in the moment even as your mind is in a sex daze.
Johnny rides you through your high, thrusts slowing until he comes to a stop behind you.
You’re both breathing heavily now, and Johnny stays still for a moment, enjoying the last of your orgasm aftershocks. Then he flattens his chest to your back, hand falling to the bed next to your own.
“Holy shit,” he breathes.
You can’t help but let out a small laugh, and it makes Johnny groan as your core clenches again.
He kisses your shoulder, lips oddly tender in comparison to the way he just blew your back out.
“Ghostie-” you whimper, wanting to collapse on his bed from exhaustion.
“Stay still, I’ll get something to clean you up,” he assures you, pressing one last kiss to your skin before straightening from your back.
You miss his warmth as soon as he’s gone, and you especially miss his cock when it slides out of you.
You feel him get off the bed, and a moment later, something begins to drip down your inner thighs. He really filled you up, and it makes you twitch. You reach a hand between your legs, cupping your core and rolling onto your back on his bed, trying to breathe properly.
Johnny is back a second later, and you can feel his gaze on you.
“Spread these thighs for me, Tiny,” he says gently, touching your knee.
You open your eyes, and then you open your legs.
Johnny moves your hand out of the way, letting out a groan. “You have no idea how fucking hot this is-” he tells you, wiping your core clean of his cum.
You still don’t have it within yourself to speak, you can only watch him toss the tissue in the garbage before you’re making grabby hands at him.
Johnny laughs. He sits on the bed next to you, leaning against the headboard before scooping you into his lap. He’s so fucking big, and he makes you feel safe cuddled in his arms, your cheek pressed to his chest.
His heart is still racing, and it makes you feel better to know you’re not the only one who’s so affected by this.
Johnny’s fingers begin to thread through your hair, and he simply holds you while you come out of subspace.
The party is still in full swing outside, and it’s an interesting feeling to have such a private moment with Johnny in the middle of a frat on Halloween.
“Do you think anyone heard us?” you ask finally.
Johnny laughs. “Don’t worry about it,” he says soothingly.
You pull away from his chest, looking up at him. His hand moves to cup your face and you press your lips to his. It’s a much gentler kiss than he’d given you mid-fuck, and it eases your racing heart.
“Ghostie?”
“Yeah, Tiny?”
“I like you a lot.”
He lets out another chuckle. “I like you too.”
“We’ll do this again sometime, right?”
“Of course, Tiny.” His hand smooths up and down your back. “I’d also like to take you on dates, if you’ll let me.”
“I’d like that,” you nod, relaxing against his chest again. “And… and when you call me, no more voice modulator.”
“No?”
“I like your voice, your real voice.” God, you’re feeling so soft and mushy for him.
“I like your voice too.” For a second, it’s a sweet moment, and then Johnny continues, “Liked listening to your whimpers.”
He’s such a frat boy, but you kind of love him for it. “Did you like my tears too?”
“Only if they’re for a good reason,” Johnny says. “If anyone else ever makes you cry, I’ll have to fuck them up.”
“My protective Ghostie,” you grin, leaning up to kiss the underside of his jaw.
“As much as I’d love to stay cuddling you forever, I should probably bring the boys some tequila,” Johnny sighs.
“The boys,” you echo. “I feel like I’ve just fucked Mark and Hyuck’s dad.”
“Do you have a daddy kink, Tiny?”
“For you, I have any kink you want,” you laugh.
“I like the sound of that.”
“Just… kiss me again?” you ask. “We can bring tequila after.”
“Are you sure you want to come with? You can stay here and I’ll come back-”
“We should…” you lick your lips, “we should be social.”
“I just fucked your brains out and you want to go be social?” Johnny grins. “Maybe I didn’t work you over well enough.”
“You worked me over perfect,” you laugh, grabbing at his jaw so you can press your lips to his.
Johnny melts into the kiss, and there’s something in it that feels like coming home. You’ve never felt this safe with a guy before, and it’s kind of starting to scare you.
If you were to stay here- you think you might even fall in love with Johnny… that is, if you haven’t already.
You pull away from your Ghostie, letting out a sigh.
Getting out of his lap isn’t fun, and your legs are wobbly as you stand next to the bed, but Johnny’s hands go to your hips to steady you.
When he stands, he towers over you, and you’re overcome by your thirst for him all over again. You wrap your arms around the back of his neck, bringing him in for another kiss.
It’s so easy to get lost in making out with Johnny, but you have to tear yourself away, nodding, “Tequila.”
“Tequila,” he echoes. “Can you stand by yourself?”
“I’m okay,” you assure him, but it still hurts when he lets you go.
Johnny pulls on some sweatpants while you find your dress-
“You’re not putting that back on,” Johnny tells you, moving to his closet. “Let me give you some clothes.”
“Are you trying to announce to Mark and Hyuck that we’ve fucked?” you laugh, accepting the large t-shirt he throws your way.
“Trust me, Tiny, they’ll know.”
“Yeah? How’s that?”
“After this, I won’t be able to keep my hands to myself, and something tells me you won’t be able to either.” Johnny pulls on a hoodie, grabbing the tequila and turning to you. “I know you, remember?”
You grin, pulling on the pair of black boxer shorts he’d also sent your way. “Maybe a little too well.”
“Or not well enough,” Johnny suggests, approaching you again.
“You’re such a sweet talker.”
“Only for you,” he smirks, leaning down to kiss you again. “You look cute in my clothes.”
“Do I look like I just got fucked senseless?”
“Definitely.”
“Mark’s going to hate you,” you laugh.
“He’ll get over it,” Johnny brushes it off, reaching for your hand. “Ready to go?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
“You can still stay here if you want.”
“No, let’s face this now.” You need to be firm, need to get out of this love den before you find yourself even more loved up.
The two of you head to his door and Johnny holds it open for you.
In the time you’ve been fucking, it looks like a lot of people have dispersed from the party, so walking through the hallway isn’t exactly a walk of shame. However, when you get down the stairs to Mark’s floor, you realize you still have to pull up your big girl panties to face him.
“I’m going to run to the bathroom,” you tell Johnny, “I’ll meet you in Mark’s.”
“You don’t want me to come with you?”
“To the bathroom?” you laugh. “I think I’m good.”
With one last kiss, you make your way to the frat bathroom at the end of the hall. It’s important to go pee after sex, for UTI reasons, your sorority big sister has drilled that into you since first year. When you’re done, you head to the sink, daring a look at yourself in the dirty mirror.
You look fucked, but you also look happy.
In fact, you can’t stop smiling.
After washing your hands, you dab some water on your throat, hoping it will calm you down. Once you feel good and ready, you exit the bathroom.
Mark’s door is open when you get to his room, and you poke your head inside.
Jaehyun and Hyuck are on one bed, Mark and Johnny on the other, and they’re all lifting shots to their mouths. As you step inside, Mark’s gaze shifts to you. He takes in your new outfit and his eyes widen, then he spits out his shot, coughing loudly.
Johnny’s hand finds Mark’s back while he practically coughs up a lung, and then Mark is leaping to his feet. “What-” His eyes dart between you and Johnny, and you can see the realization there.
“Jesus, Mark, learn how to handle a shot,” Hyuck scoffs.
Mark doesn’t even entertain Hyuck, he simply turns to his big, pointing an accusatory finger at Johnny’s chest. “You’re Ghostie!?”
Johnny stands up. “You’re the one who gave me her number last year.”
“I what?!” Mark’s eyes are practically bulging out of his head now.
Hyuck and Jaehyun exchange a look, and Hyuck reaches for the tequila to pour another shot.
“Mark, it could be worse-” you say, trying to de-escalate the situation while stepping further into the room.
“How could it be worse!?” Mark bellows. “My Big is a stalker!”
“He’s not a stalker,” you defend Johnny, coming to join your tall new lover, your hand reaching for his.
“You’re her new boss!” Mark insists.
“Hyuck fucked our last bar manager,” Johnny points out.
“Guilty,” Hyuck smirks over the rim of his new shot.
Mark’s still not having any of this situation. “This is fucked up.”
“Mark, I’ve told you a million times, it’s spooky season.” You can’t help but giggle. This has been such a turn of events, but you wouldn’t want it any other way.
“You better not hurt her,” Mark says next, trying to meet Johnny’s gaze even while substantially shorter.
“I won’t,” Johnny promises.
“This is just-” Mark shakes his head. “Fuck this, I need to sleep.”
“We can move the party to my room,” Jaehyun says, already grabbing the bottle of tequila while Hyuck reaches for his bong.
It’s clear Mark’s done talking, and he collapses onto his bed face first like a tantruming toddler. You’ll discuss this with him another day, but you know now is probably not the time to push him to accept that his Big has a whole different side to him that Mark’s never seen.
As you leave the room with Hyuck, Johnny and Jaehyun, Hyuck elbows you in the side. “I always knew you’d end up with one of us.”
“Yeah?” you laugh, gaze shifting to Johnny and Jaehyun who walk a few feet ahead of you.
“Once an NCT girl, always an NCT girl,” Hyuck nods. “And between us…” he leans closer, “Johnny is a good one.”
Your Ghostie looks over his shoulder at you, and you meet his gaze with a smile. “He is,” you agree. “Hey, John?”
“Yes, Tiny?” He stops at the door to the stairwell, holding it open and allowing you to catch up.
“I changed my mind, I think I am done with the party tonight.”
“Yeah?” Johnny smirks. “Gonna come back to my room?”
“If you invite me.”
“Tiny, my room has an open-door policy for you now.”
“Is that so?” you wrap your arms around his neck, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips.
“Uh huh,” Johnny grins. “And free cuddles, anytime you want them.”
“I like the sound of that,” you confess.
“Just get married already!” Hyuck shouts back at the two of you as he climbs the stairs with Jaehyun.
You and Johnny can only laugh at Hyuck. Your willpower is completely gone, and you allow your Ghostie to take you back to his room.
He cuddles you close as the party dies down outside, and you find yourself slipping into the best sleep of your life on Halloween night with your Ghostie by your side.
☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! Halloween is my favourite Holiday, and there's something about Johnny and horror genre that makes me go feral
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🔮 preview. There’s no way he should be this fucking sexy. You’re outside in the cold, parkas on, a Santa hat on his head, a joint between his lips, both your jeans down to your knees, his hand over your mouth to stifle your moans, and he’s about to fuck you against a wall with his massive cock- you’ve decided that Johnny as a whole is simply illegal.
cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, exhibitionism in an alley, weed use, slight temperature play, big dick Johnny, quickie, cum kink/filling panties with cum while at work, praise, dirty talk, size kink, hand over mouth silencing, choking, etc… I pet names: (hers) Tiny, pretty girl, good girl. (his) Ghostie.
👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.5k I teaser wc. 275
🌙 staring. Johnny x afab!reader
bonus
You’ve been dating Johnny for a month and a half and you still can’t get enough of him. Whenever you pop over to the frat, it’s not long before one of you is dragging the other to his room. There’s never been sexual chemistry like there is for you and your Ghostie.
You’d never thought your biggest hurdle in the workplace would be refraining from jumping your bar manager, but here you are, every shift, practically drooling over him. Each brush of his hands across your body as he moves behind you to grab something makes you want to tear his clothes off, and your patience is at an all-time low.
With Christmas fast approaching, the bar scene has substantially dwindled, and it’s making you even more needy. When Skeets only has a handful of customers, you fill drink orders while thinking about sucking on Johnny’s cock.
It doesn’t help that he’s started wearing a Santa hat- why does it make him even sexier?
As Johnny smiles and makes casual conversation with a pair of girls sitting at the bar, you do your best to calm yourself. At the end of the night, you’ll be the one in Johnny’s bed, you just have to get to closing.
You notice in the periphery of your vision that the girls are finishing up with their drinks. Johnny excuses himself to grab the card reader, and as he slips past your ass, you feel his hard cock in his jeans. It’s difficult to stifle a moan, and you do so by biting on your lip.
He loves teasing you, especially while you’re at work, and it drives you absolutely mental.
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❀ Summary: Fridays are reserved for watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer and stuffing your face with popcorn and pizza. It’s been like that for you and Chan since your freshman year of college. But when he skips your Blood and Popcorn night for a date, things take an unexpected turn.
❀ Word Count: 11,315
❀ Genre: Friends to Lovers, Angst, Fluff
❀ Type: Smut
❀ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.
❀ Warnings: Literally so much misunderstanding and repressed feelings, pining, light themes of jealousy, recreational drinking, recreational weed use, bad communication skills, some mild insecurities, explicit language, explicit sexual content including unprotected vaginal sex (do not do this lmaooo), nipple stim, light teasing, oral (f. receiving), clumsy/playful sex, jokes/banter while fucking. They’re both down horrendous. Joshua as an almost love interest. Jeonghan is both terrible and great at advice. Alternating POVs and some time skips.
❀ A/N: This is another work coming from a conversation with @daechwitatamic who at this point, I think had been the driving force behind all three random one shots I’ve written. I apparently can’t say no when she asks for something :) so anyway, here is simp Lee Chan and simp reader because ???? And yes I'm posting this at 11:30 pm at night who cares there are no rules!!!!!!!!
❀ A/N 2: Also thank you to Jo for reading this before hand because it would be otherwise largely illegible. King Julian is on the way, bestie.
❀ Disclaimer: Disclaimer: All members of Seventeen are faces and name claims for stories. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios. Moreover, none of my works accurately reflect, represent or take a stance on the nuances of Korean culture, cities, people etc. Seventeen members are not Seventeen culturally, intellectually, physically, or representationally in my stories, and should be considered name and face stand-ins for made up characters.
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“So why not Blood and Pizza if pizza is always involved but popcorn isn’t?” Mingyu eyes the french fries on your plate. You give him a warning glance, pointing the sharp tines of your fork at him. He retreats, leaning against the cracked vinyl of the booth, pouting. “Also, the title sounds gross.”
“Good thing it has nothing to do with you then.”
“Wow, you’re not even going to invite me?”
“No,” you chirp, popping a shoestring fry into your mouth. You savor the saltiness, humming delightedly. “It’s for me and Chan. Not me, Chan and you. Plus, you know nothing about Buffy.”
“Isn’t that a magic dragon? And are you sure you two aren’t dating?”
The look you send Mingyu makes him hold up his hands in surrender. It isn’t the first time someone has asked if you and Chan are dating, and you know it won’t be the last. You don’t want to start down that avenue tonight, trying to navigate the questions of why and well you seem to be a good match.
If romantic relationships were started over simply having things in common and matching a vibe, you and Chan would have started dating a long time ago. But you’re not, and you’ve already gotten over the fact that you’re not dating and that you will not start dating.
Mostly.
The bell rings above the diner door, drawing your attention. Like he’s been manifested by Mingyu’s dangerous question, Chan spots you and lifts a hand, a smile splitting his face as he heads over. You scoot over in the booth, dragging your plate along with you to make room for him.
Chan is dressed in jeans and a green sweater, your favorite color on him. He sits down next to you, cushioned seat dipping a little as he leans over to kiss the top of your head and steal fries off of your plate. You let him, feeling heat flush up the side of your neck as you look anywhere but Mingyu’s accusatory stare.
“These are so good,” Chan says around a mouthful of fries. “Thanks, Bambi.”
You grin at the nickname, trying not to flush too hard.
“I wouldn’t know,” Mingyu says pointedly. You ignore him, shoving your burger in your mouth. “Apparently I’m not allowed fries or to attend your movie night.”
“Order your own fries,” Chan says.
“Ugh. I already ate mine.”
“So order more, idiot. And of course you’re not invited to Blood and Popcorn. That’s our thing.”
Our thing.
The corner of your mouth twitches as you glance at Chan. He doesn’t notice, catching the eyes of the server and waving happily, giving her a broad smile. She gives him a thumbs up in return, confirming she’ll put in his usual now that he’s there.
There are a lot of things that belong to you and Chan. Studying at the very diner you were sitting in during freshman year had been one of them, though now in your final year there’s not as much of a need to study and you’ve incorporated other friends in your late night trips for grease and calories.
You also shared trivia nights on Tuesdays with Vernon and Seungkwan, football Sundays with Seungcheol, Mingyu and Jeonghan, once a month family dinners with everyone, and most importantly, Blood and Popcorn.
Chan steals another fry off of your plate and you let him, leaning back in the booth. Mingyu glares daggers at you, dark eyes flicking from your plate, to you, to Chan. You grin around a mouthful of cheeseburger and he scoffs before looking away.
Behind you, Chan’s arm stretches across the back of the booth, just barely brushing against the top of your shoulders. Your stomach flips a little, momentarily elated at the contact before you swallow it down with Sprite, pretending it wasn’t there in the first place.
The two boys immediately fall into a conversation about their shared engineering class. You tune it out easily, a learned habit over the last four years of having to listen to Chan tell you the functions of a bridge and the best way to design one. Instead, you focus on the rise and fall of Chan’s soft voice and the way it lulls you into a state of calm.
When the server brings over his order, he pulls his arm from over the back of the seat. Immediately you snatch one of the onion rings from his basket, popping one into your mouth and hissing as the crispy snack burns you. He shakes his head, laughing as he gives you a napkin while you sputter.
“Careful, Bambi,” he murmurs. “They’re literally steaming.”
Mingyu reaches for an onion ring, only to be threatened with the blunt end of Chan’s steak knife. “Don’t even think about it.”
“But she-”
“Bambi has special privileges,” Chan quips. “Order yourself some more fries for the love of God. I’ll pay for them.”
Mingyu immediately stops whining, mood improving markedly as he orders fries, wiggling in his seat happily. Chan cuts his burger in half, asking, “Why were you talking about Blood and Popcorn anyway?”
“Shua asked Bambi out on a date,” Mingyu answers around a mouthful of fries. “She told him she couldn’t go because of Blood and Popcorn.”
Chan stops eating and looks at you, brows creasing. You feel your heart rate speed up as you kick Mingyu under the table. He yelps, knee jerking upward to slam against the underside of the table. The salt and pepper shakers rattle in place as Mingyu bends over to rub his shin.
“He didn’t ask me out on a date.”
“He asked you to dinner!”
“As friends!”
“Oh yeah,” Mingyu snorts, rolling his eyes. “Friends take friends to fucking prime steakhouses. He asked you out on a date.”
For a moment, silence envelops the table. You stare at your fries, watching Chan out of your periphery. He looks away from you, wiping the grease from his fingers onto the napkin. The air feels pregnant with tension suddenly, your anxiety bubbling as you open your mouth to assert once more it wasn’t a date.
Chan beats you to breaking the silence, “We can skip this Friday so you can go!”
You open and close your mouth a few times, heart dropping to your ass. “What?”
“It’s totally fine if we have to skip. I don’t mind.”
Chan picks his burger back up, not looking at you. Heart pounding in your chest, you can’t help but watch him in total silence, trying to string together a response. Sure, maybe Chan doesn’t mind if you miss your weekly solo hangout. But you care.
The ache of the implication cuts you suddenly, a delayed reaction. You feel your throat tighten painfully, reaching for your Sprite to try and swallow past the sudden tension. It does nothing to quell the way the casual dismissal of your tradition keeps cutting you long after he’s said the words, sawing down to the bone.
“I wasn’t aware that we could just skip Blood and Popcorn, I guess.”
“I mean if you’ve got a date.”
That’s not the point, you want to scream at him.
Chan is a lot of things. Perceptive isn’t one of them. If he had been, you know he would have sniffed out your feelings for him a long time ago. Luckily for you, he’s remained completely oblivious over the last four years of your friendship, and you like to keep it that way. Keep it safe.
Nothing ruins a friendship more than unrequited romance. You know that from more than just the media you consume - you’ve seen more than once first hand when one friend catches feelings for the others but the desire isn’t mutual.
It isn’t mutual here. It’s always been very clear where Chan’s interests lie, and you’re totally fine with that. You accept the relationship that you have happily and quietly, and thought moments like are a brutal reminder of where you stand, it’s alright because you also love your friendship. More than you love him - at least, you think so.
So when Chan so easily suggests to go on a date, to cancel your thing with him to accommodate, you know it isn’t because he doesn’t care. He just thinks that you should go on a date because it doesn’t occur to him that the real reason you don’t want to is because your interests are somewhere else. That you don’t want to cancel Blood and Popcorn because it’s for the two of you and no one else.
“Yeah,” you rasp, unsure what else to say. “Um, maybe.”
“Shua is a good guy.”
“Yeah. Yeah he is.”
Mingyu and Chan go back to their conversation about class. You finish your meal in silence, leaning back against the seat as your thoughts wander listlessly. You gaze around the diner, drinking in detail as their conversation becomes background noise and you can no longer understand what they’re saying.
Rounders Diner had been a staple in the college community long before you were born, and continues to be the center for academic life. Students fill the booths sipping on milkshakes as they cram for exams or homework, night shift workers sit at the countertop and order coffee before heading to work, and the jukebox in the corner glows neon, only offering a selection of music from the 50s.
Behind the countertop is an open scratch kitchen, the sound of sizzling grease and yelled orders bracketing an Elvis song you know the words to but don’t know the name of. Black and white tile flooring with years worth of scuffs reflect the canned lighting in the ceiling. Over near the entrance is a wall covered in pictures of students of note throughout the years.
You remember the first time Chan had hauled you to Rounders. It was the first day you’d met, two freshmen absolutely terrified of the world after experiencing two back to back intro courses together. The dining hall was on the opposite side of campus from your classes, but Chan had insisted there was a diner just off the corner that everyone said was a necessary experience.
He was the first real friend you made. Your roommates had become your best friends too, Lorna and Mai splashed across almost every memory you have of college. But that first day is only colored with Chan, who had slid into the seat across from you and looked around the diner with a bright grin like he was suddenly at home.
Wanna start coming here after class?
You did. And you had.
A hand waves in front of your face, making you blink several times before Chan’s face swims into focus. Your thoughts are a little delayed as you drink him in: dark hair framing dark, angular eyes that turn molten brown when the sun hits them just right, a jawline that has turned sharper as he’s aged, though his cheeks still have a youthful softness that you adore, and a grin that makes the world dim.
“What?” you ask him, totally at a loss for words.
He laughs and you feel the corners of your lips turn upward, an automatic response to his mirth. “I asked if you were ready to go.”
You look up to see Mingyu at the register, passing over the bill and a card. “I think I spaced out. I thought you were buying him fries?”
He snorts. “Never fear, it’s my card. Everything okay?”
You hesitate. Not for the first time, the urge to spill your guts to him grips you so forcefully that you almost do right in the middle of Rounders. Almost tell him everything from start to finish, the feelings, the reason you don’t want to date Joshua, how beautiful you think Chan is-
Mingyu starts heading back and you force a grin on your face, bumping his shoulder with yours. “Of course. A little tired, though. Thanks for dinner.”
“You know I’ve got you.” He gets up from the booth and holds his hand out to you. “Always.”
-
Chan is the stupidest fucking person he knows. He lets out a loud scream into the warmth of his pillow, squeezing his eyes shut as he lays face down in his bed. His arms are shoved under the pillow, fisting in his sheets as the long-winded scream finally begins to die out.
“Yes, that is healthy,” Seungkwan calls from Chan’s desk against the window. “Let the pillow know everything that you’re feeling.”
Scowling, Chan lifts his head up and looks over his shoulder at where Seungkwan is sitting. His roommate is hunched over Chan’s laptop, a document open on the screen as he clicks around rapidly, cursing under his breath.
“Why are you in here again?”
“My literature professor is a dinosaur,” Seungkwan answers. “And only accepts printed essay submissions.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes.”
“No, I mean you don’t have your own printer?”
“No, and I will not be paying thirty cents a paper for an essay that is almost thirty pages long.”
“That’s like, nine dollars dude. Also, why is your essay thirty pages long?”
“Ask the dude who wrote Beowulf.”
“Isn’t that like… a movie?”
Seungkwan mutters something under his breath. The printer chimes, followed by a mechanic whirring as the paper feeds into the machine and starts printing. Spinning in the chair, Seungkwan looks at where Chan is still laying stomach down, face squished against his pillow as he cradles it.
“Speaking of movies - are you having Blood and Popcorn here or at Bambi’s?”
Chan can’t help but smirk at the nickname. It had stuck ever since your freshman year when you’d called Rin Hartford a bambi-eyed bitch for saying nasty things to Mingyu. He thinks that night might be the night he realized he was absolutely head over heels for you, even if he had only known you for two weeks then.
Despite your quiet disposition, you’ve always been the epitome of bravery. He can’t recall a time that you haven’t said what you meant or meant what you said, and defending your friends and speaking up has always been paramount to you.
For someone like Chan who was often the youngest and the softest spoken in any group he was in, you were a breath of fresh air. And you’ve taught him to speak up for himself, letting him grow comfortable pushing back with people - especially his friends - and how to give back what he gets.
Corrupted, Seungcheol joked once. She corrupted him and taught him how to bully us back.
“I’m not really sure,” Chan says slowly, thinking about your conversation at the diner, the exact source of his pillow-scream. “We might not be doing it.”
“Uh-oh. Trouble in paradise?”
“There is no paradise. We’re just friends.”
“That’s the trouble I’m talking about, brother.” Seungkwan turns around to start collecting the pages out of the printer. “Is the Blood and Popcorn cancellation the reason for your pillow screaming?”
“I don’t know that it’s canceled.”
“That really clarifies the issue.”
Chan scowls. “Did you know Shua was into her?”
“Uh, yeah.”
“He asked her on a date.”
“Joshua must have got tired of waiting for you to make a move on Bambi. I guess he decided you weren’t going to.”
Chan frowns and sits up. He didn’t realize Joshua remotely had a thing for you, and while Chan adores the older member of their larger friend group, the thought of him taking you to dinner - a date - makes his stomach tighten.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means,” Seungkwan clarifies. “That you have had the last four years to nut up or shut up. Everyone has waited for you to make your move on Bambi and you haven’t. If you’re not going to do it, someone else might as well.”
“I mean, anyone could ask her out. It’s not like I have-”
“Don’t you dare say you didn’t have dibs. Dibs can be unspoken, Chan. You’ve been in love with that girl since freshman year, if you think people - especially our friends - cannot tell and don’t respect you enough to give you time to ask her out, you need to wake up.”
“It’s that obvious?”
“Not to her, clearly.” Seungkwan stands and grins at Chan placidly, his essay collected in his hands. “Fortunately for you, the only person who is as dumb as you are is Bambi. Match made in heaven, really.”
Chan chews his bottom lip. That offers a little bit of relief. He doesn’t like knowing that his feelings are so obvious to everyone else, but at least you don’t know. He cannot imagine how uncomfortable it would make your friendship dynamic knowing he was mooning over you while you just saw him as a friend.
“Well, she doesn’t feel that way about me. I’m not going to confess my unrequited feelings and put her in that position to deal with them. It wouldn’t be fair.”
Seungkwan gives Chan a slow blink, smile turning plastic. “Like I said. Match made in heaven.”
Heaving a sigh, Chan throws himself on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. Chan was certainly an idiot for a lot of reasons, but the biggest reason has to be the way he has let his feelings for you fester since freshman year. Instead of implementing preventative maintenance, he’s let the problem grow to the point that his friends are no longer waiting for him to do something about it.
The window of opportunity is gone.
Not that there was a window of opportunity to begin with. Chan has seen what it looks like when you’re interested in guys - dazed eyes, a little flustered, a tiny grin on your face. You’ve never looked at him that way. At least, not really like that. You smile at him all the time, but it’s different.
If he had the slightest indication you looked at him like you were interested, he’d have spilled his feelings a long time ago. Hiding this from you feels almost like a violation of friendship, but in order to preserve the friendship and keep you comfortable, he does what he must.
The memory of him telling you to go on a date with Joshua makes him groan in embarrassment. He presses the heels of his hands to his eyes, seeing stars explode behind his lids. It had been a knee jerk response, something to distract you from the immediate jealousy and panic he’d felt that moment that Mingyu had dropped that bit of information at the table.
Mingyu. That motherfucker did it on purpose - not to rile Chan, but to try and give him a kick in the ass toward the right direction. But like everyone else, Mingyu doesn’t get it. If Chan told you how he felt just to get it off of his chest, it would be putting his burden on you. You’d be the one who had to feel guilty for it being unrequited, you’d be the one who would inevitably feel uncomfortable or out of place.
No. It would be the highest form of selfishness he can think of, offloading the heavy weight of his feelings just to give them to you as a reprieve from carrying them around so long.
Chan blinks away the swimming colors, staring up at the popcorn ceiling of his bedroom again. He can hear Seungkwan singing somewhere in the apartment, liquid voice calming even in Chan’s mild state of distress.
Joshua is a good guy. Honestly, there are only a few guys that Chan knows who would make a suitable partner for you, and he begrudgingly acknowledges that Joshua is at the top of that list. And yet he still feels a twist of self-loathing that he had pushed you so quickly towards it, the regret like bile in his stomach.
The last thing Chan wants to do is skip Blood and Popcorn this week. It is the one guaranteed day of uninterrupted time with you, and he waved it away like it meant nothing to him, which could not be farther from the truth. The nights of watching Buffy and eating pizza and sometimes popcorn mean everything to him.
He just wishes he had been brave enough to stand his ground.
-
Maybe Joshua Hong is the worst person ever. Chan dismisses the irrational thought as soon as he has it. Joshua isn’t awful at all. It’s just that he’s leaning in toward you and saying something into your ear over the loud din of the party, and Chan watches the way you nod.
Crack. The plastic cup in his hand splits and immediately spills rum and coke all over the kitchen floor. Jeonghan starts yelling at him, ripping paper towels off of the roll and throwing them in Chan’s direction. He mutters an apology, gaze drifting over the kitchen counter to the living room where you’re laughing, head tilted back, warm light splaying across your throat-
“Ya! Don’t just let it pool at your feet!”
Jeonghan’s screech brings Chan back to life. He snatches the copious amounts of paper towels Jeonghan has thrown at him and starts to soak up the drink. The tile floor is already sticky and Chan cringes. No way have either Jeonghang or Seungcheol cleaned this floor any time recently. If anything, Chan has done it a favor.
The party is in full swing around him. He stands up with the soaked paper in his hand, tossing it into the trash and grabbing more while Jeonghan digs underneath the counter. Chan finishes soaking up the spilled drink and comes eye to eye with a new set of paper towels and spray cleaner.
Chan gives Jeonghan the soaked papers. “Jeonghan, your floor is already disgusting.”
“Then you should have no problem cleaning it!”
“Sure, Mom.”
“Don’t call me that!”
He rolls his eyes but does what Jeonghan says, spraying the area quickly and pressing down the paper towels. They come away sticky and black, making him cringe in disgust before tossing them out and washing his hands. As he turns off the faucet, Jeonghan has the decency to hand him a new drink.
Chan takes it without comment, the image of Joshua leaning into you a little too much for him to deal with right now. He drains the cup, sputtering a little. Jeonghan is a heavy pour and the spiced rum goes down rough, his eyes tearing just a little as he finishes the drink.
“Well, that’s one way to stop from spilling.” Chan shoots Jeonghan a look before reaching for the mixer and handle of rum again. “You do normally drink like a fish, but anything in particular driving tonight’s thirst?”
“Nope.”
“Right, so it’s not tall, dark and handsome hanging out with Bambi?”
Chan feels his eye twitch as he heavily pours the liquor into his cup. “Nope. And Joshua isn’t even that tall.”
“Taller than you.” Chan shoots Jeonghan a venomous look. His face is beatific, grin a little bit dangerous as he holds his hands up in a white flag. “You look pretty bothered. If only there were a way to fix that.” Chan looks at Jeonghan with wide eyes, hope surging for a moment. “Just tell her you like her.”
“Why is that the only advice any of you have?”
“Because it’s the only advice I have. Either tell her or get over your feelings. Those are your options.”
“And I’ve already told you, it would just make her uncomfortable. It’s not her burden to bear.”
Jeongan taps his fingers on the countertop, studying Chan. Chan pouts into his cup, taking long draughts, trying not to cringe at the strong taste. He can already sense the oncoming buzz and he welcomes it, needing a little something to distract him from the obvious elephant in the living room.
“Alright,” Jeognhan relents. “Then deal with the consequences and get over your feelings.”
And he will. Chan has always been good at dealing with the repercussions of hiding his feelings, and he does them well. So he tips back the cup and rejoins the party, nerves steeled and ready to deal with the consequences like his friends keep telling him to.
-
“What?” you asked, lifting your voice to be heard over the rowdy game of cards at the coffee table. Joshua had asked you something but the words had been lost on you as your gaze drifted to Chan where he was leaning against the wall, talking to a girl you didn’t know. He was leaning awfully close. “I didn’t catch that.”
Joshua smiles. He really is handsome, and everything someone could want in a partner. He’s kind and gentle, has a little bit of an insane streak, and he is incredibly intelligent and loyal. So why do you feel nothing when he grins at you or laughs?
Your eyes drift over to Chan again and you feel your stomach flip. The alcohol turns to lead. The girl Chan is speaking to is so close to him, both of them turned toward one another as he ducks his head down to say something to her. She laughs and he smiles, looking her up and down.
Jealousy swallows you whole. It roars so loudly in your ears that you almost miss Joshua’s question again. “Did you give any thoughts about dinner on Friday?”
Dinner? Friday? Oh right. He had asked you to dinner on Friday, but you’d declined due to your planned Blood and Popcorn night. With Chan. Who is flirting with the girl next to him, who is flirting back.
The jealousy feels like a raw, rotten thing. It turns the alcohol in your stomach sour, makes the sweat on the back of your neck feel too much, like the room is too loud and too full. Even as the envy rears its head, an ugly beast ready to unleash, you turn to Joshua and say, “I really can’t. Friday nights are really important to me.”
Joshua looks disappointed, but he’s polite enough to nod and smile. “I understand. Maybe a different night?”
“Um, maybe. Would you excuse me? I really need some air.”
You stand abruptly, starling the people next to you. The cup in your hand shakes a little and your throat constricts and oh god. You cannot cry in the middle of a party just because you’re a little buzzed and the boy you like is across the room with another girl.
“Do you want me to-”
“No!” You quip, shaking your head. “Totally fine, I’m so fine, I just need some air. Please! Sit! Stay!”
Joshua raises his eyebrows at your frantic commands and you give a laugh that is a little on the hysterical side as you step over the legs of people sitting on the floor and on the couch. Joshua calls after you as you make the escape but you don’t turn around, eager to get out of the room.
You trip over someone’s foot and nearly launch into a passerby as you go. Strong hands steady you before you totally topple over, though your drink sloshes over the edge of your cup, spilling it on the carpet.
“What is it with you and your other half?” You look up to realize that it’s Jeonghan who stabilized you. “Spilling drinks all over my damn floor!”
“It probably helps. Your floors are disgusting.”
“Ya! That’s beside the point - why do you look like you’re about to die?”
“I feel like I might. I need fresh air.” For a moment, Jeonghan looks confused. You watch his dark brows pull together and he looks over your head, dark gaze scanning for something. For Chan, you realize. It’s usually Chan who leaves with you if you need air or need to stick your head in a bucket to vomit. The realization hits you like a brick. “Not him,” you whisper. “I’m fine.”
Your words land at the same time Jeonghan focuses in the direction you’d last seen Chan. He holds you there, suspended in time for a moment as his eyes dart between you and back to where you know Chan is still leaning against the wall.
There is a flicker of something that you cannot place in Jeonghan’s gaze before it softens and he nods. He pulls you toward him and helps guide you around the groups of people. “Fresh air it is.”
“You don’t have to come.”
“I don’t know, crying alone is kind of lame, Bambi.”
Cool air hits you the second you step onto the porch. Soonyoung is sitting on the railing with Jihoon and Vernon leaning next to him. He waves enthusiastically when he sees you, breaking out into a grin and lifting the joint between his fingers, an offer. You shake your head and he shrugs, passing it to Vernon who lifts a hand in salute.
The smell of weed chases you down the grass slope of Jeonghan’s backyard. It’s not so much a backyard as it is open to the apartment community’s lake. The spray of the fountain grows louder as the sounds of the party fade.
Jeonghan sits down in the grass, leaning back on his hands. You join him, cringing at the dampness from the dewey grass. Taking in a deep breath you close your eyes and lean your head back, letting the wind cool the sweat on your overheated skin. The breeze mists the fountain, tiny specks of water tingling on your face as you sit in silence.
Behind your lids, you can see the image of Chan leaning in toward that girl. The intimacy of the space. You hate how you can recall it in such detail - you’d always been able to remember details where Chan was involved. Like the way he was wearing a black, long-sleeved tee that pulled against his chest and arms perfectly, or the way the necklace you bought him two years ago glinted in the light of the living room, or the way-
“I did it to myself, huh?” you ask, feeling the first tear collect on your lash line. You tilt your head upward, trying to blink it rapidly away. “I could have just told him a while ago.”
“Well, I don’t think you’re entirely responsible,” Jeonghan mutters. “Look, putting your heart on your sleeve is really scary, especially when it’s to someone you really value. But you have to decide what to do. You can either tell Chan you love him or you can decide to get over it. You can’t cling to unspoken feelings, though.”
“I just… I don't feel like he returns the feelings and I don’t want to ruin what we have.”
“Then get over him.” You snap your gaze at Jeonghan, who is looking at you with the cool and calm you wish you felt. “If you’re unwilling to be honest with him, then your option is to get over it.”
“Do you think he would… react poorly?”
“Of course not, but I will not speak to all of Chan’s feelings. Those are his to share, not mine, and I believe in the sanctity of acting on one’s own.”
“You sound so… saintly.”
“Dealing with all your problems has turned me into a saint. Do you know what it’s like being therapy to all of these damn people? You all take ‘door open’ a little too seriously.”
You laugh, feeling a little lighter. Pulling at the grass, you sigh. “You’re right, though. I either need to just tell him or let it go. I can’t just… suffer.”
“If only you’d come to that conclusion a while ago.”
“Bleh.”
Fresh air and the weight of Jeonghan’s words weigh down on you. You know that he’s right. Though you’re confident that Chan doesn’t return your feelings, you don’t explicitly know because you’ve never asked. And if you never ask, you’ll never know.
Calm settles over you as you decide your course of action. Blood and Popcorn is in two days - you can bring it up then.
Nodding to yourself, you pluck more grass out of the ground. “Alright,” you tell Jeonghan, heaving a sigh. “Thanks, Mom.”
“Ugh, you two! Don’t call me that!”
-
Hands shaking, you stare at your phone. You’ve had two days to mentally prepare for this evening and yet when you look at your phone, you think two days was not remotely enough to prepare for this evening. You haven’t spoken to Chan at all about what time you want to have your weekly hangout, but that’s not unusual.
The only thing unusual is your hesitation to hit the call button and ask what time he wants to come over. It’s such a simple thing - you don’t need to confess your feelings to him right now. But the anticipation of what inviting him over means and the possible disaster it can bring makes your fingers shaky.
Instead of hitting dial, you take one deep breath and let it out slowly. In slowly again, and-
Your phone starts ringing before you can finish the exhale. Your heart pounds in your throat when you see Chan’s name flash across your screen. For a few seconds there is pure panic, but you manage to collect yourself and slide your thumb across the screen. It takes a few tries, your hands clammy with anxiety as you answer.
“Hi!”
“Don’t kill me,” Chan immediately says on the other side of the line. You pause, cocking your head.
“Why would I do that?”
“I have to raincheck on Blood and Popcorn tonight.”
“Oh no, are you sick? Do you need me to bring anything over? Is Seungkwan-”
Chan laughs on the other side of the phone and your stomach flutters helplessly. You hear the creak of bed springs and you know he’s sitting on his bed. He has the world’s creakiest bed. “I’m not sick.”
“Oh.”
You frown, sitting down on your couch and folding your legs. There’s nothing else you can think of that Chan would cancel Blood and Popcorn for, so illness had seemed like the first rational thing. You feel a little embarrassed at immediately trying to take care of him, but push it away to ask, “What’s up?”
“I have a date. Tonight is the only night she was available for like two weeks. She’s in her first year of law school so her availability sucks.”
It feels like the air vanishes from the room. You lean back against the backrest on the couch, deflated. You hold the phone to your ear, but don’t feel the weight of it in your hand. The TV across the living room becomes a blur, the muted program in the background unrecognizable.
A date. Chan has a date. That he’s willing to cancel your night for.
You think back to that night at the diner when he told you to just go out with Joshua instead of doing Blood and Popcorn. How easily he pushed it aside. Like it was unimportant. Easily missed.
“Bambi?” Chan’s voice sounds distant through the roar of your emotions. “You there? The cell service in your apartment is so shitty.”
“I’m here.”
“Oh good. Sorry to miss, please don’t kill me. We can add two days of Blood and Popcorn next week to make up for it?”
“Yeah. Uh. Yeah.”
There’s a pause. “Are you okay?”
“Definitely.” Lie. “Sorry, I just woke up from a nap and I’m a little spacy.” Lie. “No problems here. I’m not mad. Enjoy your date.” Lie.
“Thanks, I’ll let you know how it goes after!”
“For sure.”
When Chan hangs up the phone, you think that Jeonghan was right. Crying alone is lame.
-
Chan can’t do this.
Sol isn’t the problem - at least not directly. She is beautiful and funny, sharp as a whip and has an edge to her that he loves in women. She is successful, has goals, and she’s sensible. And she’s into him, which is perhaps the biggest plus of all.
But she isn’t you. Sol’s biggest problem is that she’s not you, and it’s not really her problem at all. It is Chan’s and Chan’s alone, and he cannot sit through this date anymore. He’s tried for the last hour already, asking all of the right questions and laughing at all the right places, but he cannot stop the way he wonders if you’re watching buffy. He cannot help but wonder if you’re in those expensive pajamas you like, drinking inexpensive wine from the corner story, his favorite contrast.
Chan cannot stop thinking that his button up is a little too tight on his chest and the uncomfortable way his new shoes rub his ankle. He’d rather be in a tee and shorts, freshly showered and stretched out. He cannot stop blinking his eyes, hating the way one of his contacts is irritating him, wishing instead to be in glasses and the lowlight of your apartment.
From the moment he ended that call with you to cancel Blood and Popcorn, all he’s felt is dread. Dread for the upcoming date with someone he should be excited about, dread for telling you how it goes, dread for having to be in public with people and to get to know someone, dread at what happens at the end of the date, does he have to kiss her? Does he have to go get ice cream? What does he do-
“Are you okay?” Sol’s raspy voice draws him from his thoughts - not for the first time that night. She’s leaning back in her seat, dark eyes pinning him to the spot. She is as sharp as she is beautiful, and normally someone like Sol would make him trip over his feet. “You zoned out.”
“I apologize, that was rude of me.”
“It was,” she agrees. She swirls the wine in her glass, looking him up and down before giving him a sympathetic smile. “I won’t be offended if you want to call this off early.”
“What?”
“You’re not interested,” she asserts. Confident. Self-assured. “It’s totally okay if it’s not working for you.”
Heat crawls up the side of Chan’s neck. He runs his sweaty palms over his slacks. “I am so sorry,” he says earnestly. “This sounds so stupid to say, but it is me, it isn’t you.”
“No offense, but I know. You’ve been distracted since we got here. You obviously have something or someone else on your mind.”
“That easy to read, huh?”
“Open book. I have some pride, though. Let’s pay the bill?”
“I’m sorry.”
Her grin is polite. Understanding. “Don’t be. You’re cute and nice, but I cannot suffer knowing your mind isn’t on me.”
“Understandable.”
Chan knows he’s lucky. Anyone else a little less level-headed or less confident might have made him suffer. As it is, Sol does let him suffer a little, sliding the bill over to him with a knowing grin. He likes Sol - not like he likes you, but she’s good people.
“Promise me one thing?” Sol asks before ducking into her Uber. “It’ll help my pride.”
“Sure.”
“Go spend the rest of the evening with whoever it is and make sure you tell them how you feel. It’ll be worth it, that way.”
Chan grins. “Alright. I promise.”
And he does intend to hold to that promise. Something about tonight is different. He can feel it as he walks quickly to his car, undoing the top button of his shirt as he goes. The air is crisp and there are still a few streaks of orange in the night sky, the sun long gone.
Chan calls you as he turns his car onto the road, heading toward your apartment on the northside of down. He drums his fingers along the steering wheel, buzzing with nervous and excited energy as the line rings. When you don’t pick up, he ends the call.
Jeonghan was right - he usually is. Chan could either tell you how he feels or live with the consequences, and he’s decided he cannot live with the consequences. He cannot sit across the table from someone who isn’t you and pretend that he isn’t wondering what you’re doing. He cannot look at the curve of someone else’s mouth and wonder what it would be like if it were yours.
The date had been spurred by the intense wave of jealousy and inadequacy he felt at Jeonghan’s party when he saw you sitting on the couch with Joshua. He has no idea how else he would have had the confidence to start chatting up someone as commanding as Sol, but he was powered by rum and a wounded heart.
Stupid. It was stupid, he realizes now. He has been stupid so many times regarding you and for long enough that even Joshua, the most polite of his friends, felt like they could respectfully intercept you, now.
Well, perhaps you will choose Joshua instead. Chan is fine with that. What you want has always been paramount to him. But if you choose Joshua, it will be with the knowledge that Chan loves you and he always has.
Steeling himself, he gets out of the car at your apartment complex and looks up at the building. He can see the lights on in your living room, confirming you’re still home and probably watching Buffy. The thought sends a thrill through him and he smiles, shaking his head and taking a deep breath.
“You’ve got this, Lee Chan,” he tells himself. “You’ve got this.”
-
A loud knock on your door startles you. You finish blowing your nose in the issue, trying to suck up the rest of your tears. Pulling the sleeves of your sweater - Chan’s sweater - over your hands, you wipe your face with sweater paws, trying to erase some evidence of your tears before having to face the delivery person.
Grabbing the bills on the counter, you wonder how many people delivering food have seen people answer the door while crying or immediately after crying. Honestly, they’ve probably seen all types of strange situations, which makes you feel a little bit about answering the door after very clearly sobbing.
Unlatching the top and flipping the deadbolt, you yank the door open, prepared to not make eye contact to make it a little less awkward for you and the person just trying to hand you pizza and soda, except-
“Chan?”
It is Chan standing outside of your door. You blink in surprise, giving him a quick once over. He looks really nice, dressed in slacks and a black button up shirt that is a little too tight across the chest - not that you’re complaining - and the top of the buttons undone to reveal the necklace you gifted him. His dark hair has styling product in it, pushing it out of his face, save for a small rebel strand that hangs over his eyebrow.
Chan looks… beautiful. You’re suddenly very aware that you’re in his sweatshirt and sweatpants, face swollen from crying, nose a little snotty and looking worse for wear.
“What are you doing here?”
“Why are you crying?”
Chan pushes his way into your apartment and you let him, dropping your arm as he passes by. He shuts the door for you, flipping the latch and lock out of habit as he turns to you. He reaches out to grab you by the shoulders but you back up a little, suddenly terrified of his touch.
He notices. “Why are you crying?” he asks again, dark brows knitted and mouth twisted in a frown. “Talk to me.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be on a date?”
“Left early, wasn’t working. What’s going on?”
You swallow thickly, realizing you’re at a crossroads. Silence stretches between you as he waits for your answer, looking at you with so much concern that you begin to crack. The tension in your throat returns, the telltale sign of tears and you ball your fists, nails digging into your palms.
A torrent of feelings bombard you. Anger. Hurt. Desire. Relief. Hurt again.
“You canceled Blood and Popcorn.”
Chan opens and closes his mouth, head cocking to the side a little bit. He looks mystified, trying to put together the pieces to the puzzle. “I don’t understand.”
“You canceled Blood and Popcorn for something else. For someone else.”
“I-”
A series of emotions flit over his face. You feel your heart pounding wildly in your chest as you watch each one, trying to catch them as they go. Confusion. Thoughtfulness. Confusion. Realization. You watch as he drinks you in, the tears, the wet stains from crying on the shirt, your words. Slowly, Chan puts the pieces together for the entire picture, and his face becomes so soft that you nearly cringe.
“Oh, Bambi.”
“You can date whoever you want, you’re not mine,” you punch out, wiping a tear as it escapes your eye. Feeling small, you back away from him a little, breaking eye contact. “But it hurts when you shove me aside like that. Look, I know we’re friends, but-”
“Bambi,” he says gently. You’re not looking at him, but you know that tone. The pleading. He’s begging you to stop, you think, but if you don’t get this out now you never will.
“Blood and Popcorn is important to me. You’re important to me. I know you’ve never seen me as more than a friend, but Chan-”
Chan interrupts you again. This time though, it’s by crashing against you. You nearly topple over onto the coffee table with the force of it, but you cling to him, digging your hands into the meat of his biceps to hold yourself to him. His hands press into the small of your back, sending a bolt of electricity to you that you can’t pay any attention to, because Chan presses his mouth against yours softly, stealing all of your thoughts.
For a second, your brain goes static. You’re so stunned you don’t do anything but cling to him, vacantly aware that the softness of his lips are on yours. Tentative. Questioning.
Chan pulls away and your eyes flutter open. He is only an inch away from your face, his minty breath fanning your lips as he begins to apologize, panic on his face. You interrupt him this time, surging forward to crash your lips to his, far less gentle than he had been the first time.
The box you’ve shoved every feeling for Chan cracks open. You feel everything pour out of it, a steady stream of want as you press into him. He smells like teakwood and mint, hypnotizing you. His mouth is soft and eager, sucking gently against your bottom lip.
Everything feels lighter, like gravity has lost all meaning. Chan pulls away from your mouth a little, close enough to brush your lips against his in a feather-light kiss, but enough to gaze down at you through half lidded eyes.
“The date didn’t work out because I kept thinking of you,” he whispers, voice shaking. You feel your breath stop as he speaks, each word sinking in. “It was stupid to ask her out. I was feeling insecure about Joshua asking you out, and it was stupid and petty-”
You kiss him again. He smiles into the kiss, letting you lead him, slow and lazy. You feel his tongue brush against the seam of your lips and you eagerly let him in, toes curling as he licks into your mouth.
“I just want you,” Chan admits, breaking away for a quick breath of air. He presses his lips against the corner of your mouth, your jaw, your cheek. He peppers your face in them as his hands skate up your back, hot even through the material of his sweatshirt. “I have for so long and I’ve been so afraid to tell you.”
“I was afraid too.”
“I have wasted so much time.” His hands cradle your face, turning you to look at him.
Chan is so earnest. Raw honestly glitters in his eyes. Deeper, hiding beneath the surface is something a little darker and more intense. Want. Desire. Something that lingers, waiting for you to call it forward. You love him so much that in that moment you almost cry more, feeling overwhelmed with everything you’ve buried down for years.
“I want to make up for it,” you whisper, stealing a kiss that is more teeth than anything. He makes a noise in the back of his throat. Your hands sink to his waist, gripping at the fabric of his shirt. “I was actually going to tell you tonight, before you canceled.”
“What a stupid man I am.”
You smirk a little. “Yes.”
“Let me apologize,” he murmurs, voice low. You feel yourself shiver as he pushes you toward your room, connecting your mouths again. The kiss is messy and needy, so different than the one moments before. You tangle together, stumbling toward your room. “I’ll make it up to you.”
“Oh?”
The crash landing onto your mattress is not graceful. Chan’s full weight falls on top of you and your foreheads smack a little. You yelp in paint and Chan groans, burying his face in your neck. You can’t help the laughter that bubbles to the surface, exploding out of you as your hands press flat on his back, soothing as you hold him to you.
“First step of apologizing,” you wheeze under him. “Give her a concussion.”
“I’m sorry,” he says, burying his face further in embarrassment. “I’m a little eager.”
His breath tickles your neck, making you squirm under him. He seems to notice, opting to press open-mouthed kisses against your throat. You hum, eyelids fluttering at the stimulation. “It’s okay,” you breathe, fingers turning to claws against his back. “It’s cute.”
Chan leans off of you, properly supporting himself with arms on either side of your head, caging you in. His knee slots between your legs, making your stomach leap in excitement as he scoots it up a little, almost pressing against you.
“You’re cute,” he notes, kisses getting messy as they go up your neck toward your ear. He nips your ear and you let out a sound. His laughter is warm against you and you shiver. “You’re in my clothes.”
“I wear them all the time.”
He groans. “I know. Fuck I know.”
“Is that what does it for you?” You move your hands from his back to his waist, pulling the tucked shirt from the waistband of his slacks. His hips twitch forward, excited. He busies his mouth with pressing wet kisses to your jaw. “Me in your clothes?”
“Everything does it for me. I am down horrendous for you.”
“I really didn’t know.”
He moves a hand to pull at the collar of his sweatshirt, exposing more of your collarbones to him as he kisses. “Everyone else did,” he assures you. You hiss when he bites down and licks over the sting, looking up through dark lashes to gauge your reaction. You nod a little and he grins, doing it again. “Biting. Got it.”
With trembling fingers, you work the buttons on his shirt. You steal touches as you go, greedy for him. Too long have you hidden what you want in the shadows, too long have you resisted this. Now, you take.
You brush your fingers against the flexing muscle of his stomach as you pull at the shirt, making him moan deep in his throat. His skin is like fire as you brush your fingers across its warmth, shoving his shirt off. He leans up, letting it fall from his shoulders, rippling to the ground.
The light from your hall glows behind Chan, haloing him in golden light. Your breath catches in your chest as your fingers press to his skin, brush over his shoulders and chest, down his stomach. You feel him twitch beneath your hands but he lets you explore, breathing hard under your reverence.
Golden boy, so full of fire. It’s all you can think of as you stare up at him, equal parts light and dark in your bedroom. Your hands drop to his belt and you tug him to you, desperate for him.
“Kiss me,” you beg.
He does. His mouth is greedy, stealing your breath. A thrill shoots through you when he slides his knee up higher, pressing it between your legs. You breath the kiss to gasp at the barest amount of pressure and Chan grins, watching your reaction through a heavy gaze.
“Take this off for me,” he asks, voice raspy. He pulls at the hem of his sweatshirt on your frame. “Please.”
You lean up, pressing your mouth to his collarbone in a sweet kiss as you pull the shirt over your head. He helps you, tossing it somewhere else. His hands go to your sides, fingers tracing up your curves as he pushes you back down, claiming your mouth again.
It feels like you might go crazy. Your bare chest presses against his, the friction turning your blood to liquid fire. His knee is firm between your legs, and when his hand slips to your waist, squeezing you and urging you to roll your hips you can’t help but let out a moan in the shape of his name, helpless.
“Fuck,” he swears, dropping his forehead to your shoulder as he helps you move against his thigh. “If you say my name like that again I might bust in my fucking pants.”
“Chan.”
“Don’t,” he laughs, biting your shoulder. “I want this so bad.”
“I want you.”
“I might pass out due to sheer joy.”
“I have some ideas on how to revive you.”
He lets out a swear and you laugh. “You’re going to be the death of me.”
“Maybe.”
Truth is, you think he might be the death of you. You’d die happily in his arms, completely swept up in the feeling of Chan’s tongue as it skates across your skin and up the swell of your breast. When he pauses, you look down at him. He smirks, happy to have your attention before he flicks his tongue lightly over the peak of your nipple.
You squeeze your legs around his thigh, back bowing off the bed. He lets out a chuckle, repeating the flicking motion as he watches you with dark, satisfied eyes. It drives you insane, the way he watches you with equal parts reverence and determination to find out what makes you squirm.
Chan is a fast learner. His teeth scrape against your nipple and you whine, thrashing under him as he teases you, pulling gently. The sting feels so good, making you melt into the mattress underneath him. He makes a sound of appreciation, sucking gently and sending you to the moon before trailing his mouth toward your other breast.
The hand on your hip squeezes you, reminding you why it had been there in the first place. “Keep going.” His breath fans against your skin and you tremble. “I like seeing you worked up.”
“God,” you whisper, trying to roll your hips against his leg again. It feels so good but it’s not enough, and as he sucks greedily at your chest you feel like you might rip at the seams. “Who knew you were so… this.”
You feel his wet grin against you, tongue flicking against your pert nipple. Your head falls to the side as you pant, trying to catch your fucking breath.
Of course he can reduce you to nothing so easily. No one knows you better than Chan, the two of you like twin flames. Every touch of his tongue, every press of his fingers into your skin, every breath of your name on his lips were made to unravel you because it’s Chan. Your Chan.
Your Chan who gently pulls the sweatpants from your hips, groaning low and slow when he sees the way your panties stick to your folds. Your Chan who kisses and bites the softness of your thighs, breath ghosting across sensitive flesh, fingers prying your legs apart when they start to twitch shut.
You’d always been made for him. To think otherwise was folly. You know that now, hand gripping his bones tight as he pulls your hands to the side, the cold air hitting your aching cunt. He lets you squeeze his hand, not caring that your gripping is bone-breaking.
“Hmm.” He looks up at you and you look down at him. His eyes are blown and he grins, shaking his head a little. “This for me?” You nod, your thoughts banging around the near empty space in your head as you do. “Fuck.”
And then his tongue presses against you, flat and warm and fuck fuck fuck. You can barely function as Chan drags his tongue slowly up your pussy, avoiding your clit entirely before dragging it back down. He makes a sound in his throat that sounds like a whine and you nearly lose it there, driven insane by him.
Chan takes the hand he has linked with yours and rests it on your hip, pressing into you to keep you still. You buck under his mouth and he laughs, unbothered as he looks up at you. The vision of him between your legs makes you dizzy, his hair mused, tongue pressed between your folds, eyes starving.
Your other hand grips his wrist where his opposite hand holds you open. You cling to him, thighs twitching as he licks you at his leisure. His mouth is a weapon, bringing you to the edge of insane easily. When he closes his lips around your clit and sucks gently, you fear you might break.
He can sense it too, setting himself to the task of pushing you over the edge. Chan learns you so quickly - maybe just knows you intuitively - alternating between circling his tongue around your throbbing bundle of nerves and sucking on it gently.
“I am going to die,” you gasp between ragged breaths. “Your fucking mouth.”
“Yeah? Feels good?” The buzz of his words drive right into your lower stomach where your orgasmed has so much compacted pressure you know you’re going to snap any moment. “Taste so good. I could eat this pussy all fucking night.”
“Fuck, Chan. I’m gonna come.”
He gives a harsh suck to your cunt, the wet sound obscene. “Good.”
“Like that.”
“Yeah?” he asks, panting. He does it again, following your instruction. Your mouth falls open as you nod, unable to string together more than. “Mmm.”
Chan doubles his effort, the wet sounds of his mouth making it all the harder to keep it together. He keeps you in place as best as he can, but his little hums of pleasure and the combination of his mouth and tongue send your orgasm slamming into you.
You think you say his name. You have no idea if anything comes out at all. You come hard, thrashing against the bed as he licks you through it, uncaring. Every nerve in your body is on fire, limbs tingling as you float in the momentary high of your peak before you start to come back down, breathing raggedly.
A cramp throbs in your fingers that are still twisted in Chan’s grip. You loosen your grip a little bit, feeling a little bad about almost snapping his fingers. He doesn’t seem to mind, head still between your legs, tongue gentle and pressed against your twitching entrance. He avoids your clit, letting you catch your breath.
“Chan,” you mumble. He lifts his head, your arousal spread across his mouth. He is a mess, spiking your need for him. You pull at him, wild. “Kiss me.”
He doesn’t hesitate. He scrambles up to you, letting go of your hand in favor of cradling your face. The kiss is hungry and wet, your heady taste on his mouth as you drink him in. You don’t care, desperate to have him close, pulling him into you.
One of your hands snakes between your bodies, pressing against the firm outline of his cock through his pants. He lets out a whine, shaking his head as he breaks the kiss, breathing heavy.
“Don’t,” he begs. “I will cum right now.”
“Oh?”
“I’m so serious, I almost came untouched.”
“Wow, I really do it for you, huh?”
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” His sincerity makes you flush and you peck him on the lips. “I cannot promise I will not come apart after a single stroke.”
“Don’t care.” You undo his belt, pulling. “Want it. Want you. Please don’t make me wait.”
He curses. “I can deny you nothing.” He sees your wicked grin and shakes his head, laughing as he pulls away to kick out of his pants. “You like having me wrapped around your finger, huh?”
“You’re not the only one whipped.” He looks at you, doubtful. “You think I share my fries with anyone? Be so real, Chan. That’s something only you can do.”
“Got it. French fry privileges, what else can I weaponize?”
You don’t answer his question, distracted by him as he peels his briefs off and fists his heavy cock. You lick your lips, drinking in the length and thickness of him, the sticky, swollen tip, the way he pumps himself when he kneels on the bed again.
“Hmm?” he asks, noticing you're distracted. “Everything okay?”
“You have a nice dick,” you blurt. He pauses, raising his brows, thighs pressed to the back of yours. You fold your lips flat, a little embarrassed by your outburst. “Thank you is the proper response to a compliment.”
He bursts into laughter and you can’t help but join him, covering your face as it heats up. “Don’t hide from me, wanna see you,” he teases, grabbing your hands and pulling them from your face. He pins them above your head. “And thank you.”
Chan runs the head of his cock along your sticky folds, both of you moaning in unison. His hand still pins yours above your head, making you feel open and vulnerable. Your knees squeeze his hips as he ruts against you a little, eyes focused while he uses his other end to guide himself to your entrance.
“Mmm,” the sound escapes you as he presses in, the ache in your core doubling for a second as he sinks further. “Fuuuck.”
“Okay?”
“Very. Just- slow.”
“You got it, baby.”
The term of endearment hits you low in the stomach. Between him whispering baby and sinking into the hilt, you don’t know what drives you crazier. The easy answer is just Chan. It’s simply Chan who does this to you, who turns you inside out, who reduces you to a whimpering mess.
Chan lets go of your hands and brings it to your face. He leans down, supported by the other hand as he kisses you gently, letting you adjust to his girth, pussy spasming around him as you try to keep it together. The kiss is slow and sweet, in contrast to the feral kiss you shared earlier.
“Fuck,” he breaths against you mouth, laughing. He presses his forehead against yours. “You’re fucking squeezing me. I might die.”
You do it on purpose this time and he hisses, all of his muscles clenching. “Like that?”
“Doonnn’t. If I come right now I’ll be so embarrassed.”
“Why? It’s just me.”
“I don’t want to one-stroke my dream girl, are you serious?”
“Dream girl, huh?” He pulls out a little before shallow thrusting back in. “Mmm yeah. That feels good.”
Instead of answering your jest, he kisses you slowly. His strokes are slow but deep, making you sigh. He feels so good, having him like this. Chan presses his body against you, melding the two of you. You wrap your legs around his waist, squeezing to keep him as close as possible.
Your name falls from his lips as you move in sync. You can feel his heart pounding in his chest, feel him shake in your hands. He buries his face in your neck, mouth pressed against your skin as he breathes heavily. You cling to him, as though you could press your love into him, as though you can transfer it through touch.
Chan slides a hand between the two of you, reaching down to circle your clit gently. You whimper in surprise, squeezing around him and drawing out a low sound. “I’m gonna come soon,” he murmurs. “Do you have another one, baby? Can you try for me?”
You nod. He presses his lips to your temple, driving his hips faster, fingers firm. You feel yourself wind up again, desperate to catch up to Chan, to give him what he wants, to come undone together. You’d do anything for him - anything he asked. You always have.
A glint of metal catches your eye. You see the necklace you gifted him hanging around his neck, tapping his collarbone in time with his movements. The sight of it makes you possessive, your desire for him surging. Gripping the back of his neck, you bring his mouth to yours. You don’t kiss him, but your mouths are pressed together as you mutter, “I love you, you know?”
He groans, hips stuttering, fingers firm. You’re so close, you feel yourself right on that edge again. “I do know,” he admits, his cock pressing that perfect spot inside of you that has the room spinning. “I love you too, you know?”
You feel him smile against you. The kiss he gives you is so gentle that it sends you over the edge. You hold him tight, coming undone around him as he groans into your mouth, unraveling with you. When he stills, you keep holding him to you, his embrace warm.
Chan nudges your nose with his. You open your eyes to find his dark ones peering at you. You smile, lifting a hand to trace your fingers along his jaw, the gentle slope of his nose, the roundness of his cheeks. You note the faint freckles under his eyes, his long lashes, the way one side of his lips lifts before the other when he smiles.
“Hmm?” he asks.
“You’re so pretty.” You trace your finger to his nose and then flick it. He frowns and pulls away, making you laugh. “There is cum leaking down my leg to my ass.” He thrusts once sharply and you whine. “Chaaaan.”
“Hmmm?”
“Can we shower?”
“We?”
You grin. “You speak French?”
“I speak pussy.”
“Ew, get off of me!” you laugh, hitting him in the shoulder. He laughs too, rolling off and pulling out. “Take me to the shower, you loser.”
“Oui.”
“Then I want to watch Buffy - oh no.”
“What?” He stands and reaches a hand out to you, helping you up. “Are you alright?”
“I ordered pizza and they probably tried to deliver.”
“That’s okay.” He pulls you toward the shower and smacks your ass lightly, making you yelp. “Start the shower, I’ll call and get it re-delivered.”
You pause, looking at him, unable to bite back the smile. “I love you.”
“Mhmm. Love you too, Bambi.”
-
“I know I’m good looking,” Chan murmurs, eyes on the screen. “But you’re staring very hard at me.”
You’re laying against his chest, head tilted up to look at him. You can’t help it, watching the blue light from the TV dance across his face, reflected in the glasses he put on after the shower. His hair is still damp and fluffy, skin glistening from the skincare post-shower.
“You are good looking.”
“Damn. Only like me for the looks?”
“Well your jokes aren’t very good.”
He levels you with a glare and you laugh, kissing him quickly before settling down in his arms again. His embrace is warm and he smells like your shampoo. You press yourself into him further and he grunts, letting you.
“Can we do Blood and Popcorn forever?” you ask, watching him fondly. He smiles and kisses your forehead, flooding you with warmth. “Please?”
“Anything you ask, baby. Blood and Popcorn forever.”
summary: you didn't mean to actually meet the man who's audio porn was single handedly getting you off every night, but you do.
note: this has been a looooong time coming and is dedicated to one of my best friends, grace. 💗 i hope everyone enjoys this chaotic smut fest.... also i've recently discovered that porn is actually illegal to produce or consume in korea? so suspend your disbelief for this fic lol
warnings: camboy!yeosang/barista!yeosang x fem!reader, it's a smut-a-thon barely a plot in sight featuring - nsfw/audio porn, guided masturbation, female masturbation, male masturbation, lots and lots of orgasms, use of dildo, nipple play, one night stand dynamics except they kind of fall for each other, big and i mean big dick yeosang, oral sex (f receiving), gratuitous squirting, fingering, thigh riding/grinding, protected and unprotected sex (do not do this they're being hella dumb), rough sex, maaaaaajor praise play he says good girl more times than i can count, so much use of 'baby', plus pretty girl/babygirl, absolute pleasure soft dom yeosang of our dreams, reader literally passes out from coming you're welcome
pairings: yeosang x reader
genre: smut and more smut, where's the plot???
word count: 14.5K
additional note: yeosang owns a cafe in this fic called ongozisin, it's a real cafe in seoul and you can check out their ig here! the vibes are truly so yeosang i can't even articulate it, so i just wanted to share this for the extra visual!
Paid porn for women has tiers. You stumble headfirst into this realization with your fingers stuffed inside yourself and your body slick with sweat, and there’s nothing that takes you right out of your frantic self care session than a request for your credit card number and a terms of service page.
Your chest is heaving, legs shaking, and you feel your orgasm slip right through your fingers as you skim over his Fansly page. You should have just skipped to another one of his free audios on Pornhub like you always do, but this week was long and stressful and slightly emotionally fraught, and there’s only so many times you can ignore his husky little ad at the end of the audio file inviting you to check out the full, uncut content.
“Jesus,” You breathe, pushing yourself up in the bed and letting your phone drop to the side as you recover your breath.
Are you really going to do this? Are you really going to pay for porn? The internet is full of it, spilling over from every angle with any little thing you can imagine. There’s a reason Rule 34 exists, people are horny and people love attention, so if you can fathom it there’s free porn of it.
And yet, nothing ever, ever gets you there like he does, and you’ve never even seen his face.
You glance down at your phone again and you see his familiar header image, a deeply contrasted black and white header of tangled white sheets, and his username striking across the corner in neon green. fromryu. This is what drew you in initially, the simplicity of it all. You were sick of skimming through all of the men making porn for women with names like ‘TheMasterDominant’, ‘Your_Daddy’, or ‘forherpleasureee’ and then just listening to them groan in your ear and call you a slut for fifteen minutes. That might work for some, but it definitely doesn’t work for you.
Ryu was different, is different. His audios are a mix of scenario based role-plays and straight forward guided masturbation for women, and you’re pretty sure he comes right along with you when you listen, but it’s just not the same.
You’ve fucked yourself to every single one of his free audios. Some of them more than once, some of them several times, if you’re being honest. You’ve always ignored his ads, because he gives so much content away for free you can’t imagine what would be behind a paywall that would get you off harder, until today.
Your brain just couldn’t get there. You’ve heard him chuckle that chuckle before, say that line before, coax you into orgasm with those exact words before, and you need more.
Your credit card is firmly in your hand before you can give it another thought, and with a fluttering stomach you tuck yourself into a robe and back into bed to pick a tier. With a long sip of a fresh glass of wine you lean back in your pillows and read through his welcome page.
His tiers make you smirk, he’s funny.
Third base, full uncut audios and one special audio per month just for subscribers – $4.99/month
Just the tip, uncut audios, one special audio per month, and access to a private discord server where subscribers can make audio request submissions – $9.99/month
Every inch (and more), uncut audios, exclusive audios, access to discord, exclusive video content, and access to a private Snapchat - $24.99/month
In for a penny, in for a pound, you guess.
You click on ‘Every inch (and more)’ and plug in your card numbers before you have a second to rethink your decision. You really hope you don’t get hit with a fraud alert that you have to explain to some poor customer service representative.
The wheel spins, the charge goes through, and suddenly you’re in. Your mouth has never been so dry.
There’s dozens of videos, dozens. For every audio you’ve listened to on Pornhub, there’s a video that goes with it, and for every free piece of content there’s two times as much paid video content. $24.99 was nothing compared to how many hours of content you’re suddenly sifting through.
There’s a common thread across every video though, you can already tell from the thumbnails, Ryu still never shows his face. Almost every thumbnail is the same, a white wall and a charcoal gray couch, and a man wearing oversized black sweatpants and a tight black athletic shirt.
His knees are parted, legs spread open and casual, and his hands rest clasped between them. You swallow thickly at the sight of his arms. He’s built. His hands are so good looking you think idly that he should just be modeling watches or something, it’s ridiculous how nice they are. His skin is tanned, veins snaking up his forearms, and silver rings across several of his long, thick fingers. Can the sight of a man’s hands make you come? Your aching clit throbs.
You skim through the video titles and tags to try and select one and your stomach twists. His videos are even more varied than the free content he posts and organized so well you think you might be in love with him already.
There’s a folder for role play videos, and you skim through that quickly just to see. Neighbor overhears you moaning and comes to check on you, best friend takes your virginity, boss and secretary working late, brother’s best friend slips into your room at a sleepover, step-daddy teaches his babygirl a lesson.
Your cheeks flush hot pink and you settle further into your sheets, backing out of this folder and navigating to your tried and true favorite.
Guided masturbation and encouragement.
There are even more videos in this folder and you skim through any of those ones that say ‘exclusive’ in the title to avoid ones you’ve already heard parts of. The hashtags alone leave you breathless and you have no idea what to choose, every video cleanly tagged with what you’ll need to be able to keep up with his instructions. Hands only, rabbit vibe, hitachi wand, bullet vibe, dildo, butt plug, nipple clamps, lubricant, massage oil, blindfold, wrist restraints, ankle restraints, the list goes on and on.
You select one at almost random with the tags ‘hands and fingers’, ‘dildo’, and ‘optional squirting’.
The screen starts black, and for a second you’re pretty sure something’s wrong, but then you hear him.
“Hi everyone,” Your muscles melt, and you push your noise canceling earbuds deeper into your ears, “I have something a little special today,”
You’ve never heard him talk so casually, almost like a vlogger or something. His voice hasn’t yet shifted into that deep teasing tone that kicks off every free video, and you’re already sold on every dollar you’ve spent when he starts to just chat.
“I got a request from a special subscriber in my discord,” He says, “someone who’s become a friend and who confided in me that she’s never been able to make herself squirt,”
Your breath comes a little more quickly.
“It’s not easy to do, I know,” He says, tenderly, the screen still black, “and I want you all to know that if you’re still struggling after this audio, that’s okay. It takes time, and your body is not a sex toy. There’s not a perfect combination that works for every person with a vagina,”
Your brow quirks at the inclusivity of his language choice and you smile a little, easing yourself down in the bed to keep listening to him.
“But I’m going to do my best to help you,” He continues, “so while I get set up over here, I need you to get your own space ready. Get up out of bed or off the couch, but keep me with you, okay, baby?”
You’re shaking and he hasn’t even said anything sexy yet. You don’t always listen perfectly to instructions, sometimes you skip ahead a bit and get to the good stuff just to get yourself off, but this time it’s different. You tuck your phone in your robe pocket and stand.
“For this session,” You can almost see the smile in his voice and you try to imagine him, “you’ll need a couple of good towels laid out across your space. You’ll need to drink a big glass of water before we get started, and then I want you to find your best dildo, the one that really makes you come hard. The one that fills you up just right, that hits that tender little place you wish I was touching with my fingers,”
He’s going to make you come so hard you see Jesus, you can tell already.
“We need everything to be perfect,” He says, “and for you to be comfortable. Tonight is not the night to test out that new toy, okay? Tonight is for you and me, so go and get your supplies, and I’ll tell you all about my day. I’ll be your favorite little sexy podcast.”
As he starts warmly talking to his audience about his long lazy morning off work, you nearly crumble. You’re really not supposed to be getting a crush on this guy, but here you fucking are. He’s sweet, casual and laughs a little while he talks, and while you gather up the towels and the water and the frankly oversized dildo, you’re smiling.
You hear him sit down and sigh and then his voice shifts, just a little, “Alright, baby, are you ready?”
You sink back back down to sit on your own bed and you wait.
“Just a reminder,” He says, “I will be using female descriptors throughout this video. If you’re uncomfortable with me calling you ‘girl’, like babygirl or good girl, or referring to you as a woman in any way, I am posting the similar content with male descriptors. If you’d prefer to hear baby boy or good boy, check the links below this video, okay?”
You smile again.
“Alright,” He hums, “now, where were we?”
The camera clicks on and you feel the little gasp leave you. You almost forgot.
He leans back on the couch and keeps talking, “That’s right, the lesson. Get settled over the towels, and if you’re wearing anything, it’s time to take it off for me.”
You lay back over the towels and let your robe part open.
“That’s so good,” He croons softly, “god, you’re so pretty, baby,”
Your chest thumps hard.
“Let’s start slow, okay?” His hands smooth over his thighs, “the key here is teasing, and I know how much you like it when I tease you.”
Your hand rests on your own thigh, your other propping up the phone as you watch with rapt attention.
“Touch your pretty thighs for me,” His voice is rich and thick in your ears, “that’s a good girl, there we go, nice and soft. Is your pussy wet? Did I do that to you again, pretty girl?”
You’re barely breathing, eyes fixated on the screen as he strokes his own thigh through his sweatpants, slow and steady.
“Are you aching?” He asks and you can’t help but nod, feeling like suddenly he can see you through the screen.
“Touch just a little,” He murmurs, “but don’t jump ahead. Keep your fingers off your clit, we’re not there yet, sweetheart.”
A little tight sound slips out of you as you follow his instructions.
“Is your sweet slit wet?” He hums, and his hand slides up his thigh and rests over his stomach, “Are you throbbing?”
Fuck.
“Someday, baby,” He sighs and you watch him shift on the couch cushions, “I’ll taste you,”
“Fuck,” You whisper.
“But for now,” He’s smiling, you know it, “you just need to listen to me and do everything I tell you,”
You’re nodding again.
“I promise,” He says, “I’ll take such good care of you baby, if you listen, I promise to make you come.”
Your stomach clenches, core fluttering, and you drift your fingertips up and down your slit, following the way his middle finger is slowly sliding back and forth on his abs.
“Are you listening?” His voice goes husky and your head drops back into the pillows. Next time you’ll need a better way to watch him and listen and touch yourself, but you’re so incredibly desperate at this moment that it really doesn’t matter, you’ll make due.
“You are, aren’t you?” He murmurs, “Good girl,”
Your legs spread a little wider.
He leans forward, you hear the rustling of the fabric and you snap your eyes back to the video to see him leaning forward, hands clasped together loosely, and you’re pretty sure you can see the outline of a bulge in his sweatpants.
“Does it hurt?” He croons, teasing.
You love him like this.
“Take your hand away from your pussy,” He says, just a little more commanding, “right now, baby,”
You pull it back reluctantly.
“Close your eyes for a minute,” He murmurs, “spread your legs for me,”
You comply immediately.
“Tease your nipples,” He sounds a little breathier now and you fight the urge to watch the video, “do whatever feels good, touch your tits exactly the way you like it,”
You roll your nipples, tugging them softly and kneading your breasts with both hands now that you’re not propping up the phone.
“Imagine me with you,” He says, “feel my fingers sliding up your calves, my lips on your inner thigh, you can feel my breath against your sweet cunt, I know you can,”
You’re about to come untouched, that’s the thought that rocks through your mind when your hips jerk on their own, his deep voice nestled right in your ear.
“Look at you,” He muses, “squirming around, so fucking desperate for something inside you,”
Your breath catches.
“You’re so needy,” He continues, “are you making noise for me? Little pants, little moans? Are you trying to be quiet?” He clicks his tongue against his teeth, a soft scold, “Not with me, baby,”
A moan bubbles up out of you.
“Hands off.”
Your eyes open immediately, and you don’t pull your hands away just yet, but you’re frozen still. You’re breathing hard, blush climbing up your chest, and your hips jerk slightly. If he doesn’t let you touch yourself soon, you’re going to lose your mind.
“Good girl,” He says after a moment, “very good,”
You drop your hands, scrambling for the phone so you can see what he’s going to do next.
“Now watch me,” He instructs, holding his palm up to the camera, “take two fingers,” he separates his fingers, keeping his middle and index fingers tucked together, “and when they’re inside curl them just like this.” He crooks his fingers in a come-hither motion, “Just like this,”
You slide your hand down your front, slipping your fingers through your soaked folds, but his voice makes you pause.
“Go slow,” He instructs, “push them in nice and slow for me,”
You follow his instructions.
“There you go,” He sighs softly, “now curl your fingers,”
You watch as he does it in the video and you follow instructions dutifully, your fingers brushing over your spongy g-spot.
“Feel that?” He leans back, and the tent in his sweatpants makes you pant, “That perfect little spot that makes you whine so good for me?”
You nod again, biting down on your lip, desperate to move but waiting.
“When I say,” He slips his fingertips into his sweatpants, teasing you, “fuck your perfect pussy with those fingers,”
Sweat drips down your chest.
His hand disappears into his sweats and he groans, “Now,”
You don’t have to be told twice.
“Harder,” He says, throaty and low, “I know you can,”
A tight sound slips out of you as you work yourself, but you nearly fall apart when you watch him push down the top of his sweats. His cock is huge, there’s no other way to say it. Thick and perfect, aching pink at the head and when he wraps his hand around himself you feel the tense knot of your orgasm rushing back.
“Oh, f-fuck,” You scramble in the sheets, pulsing your fingers in and out just like he told you to.
“Look at you,” He says again, “fucking yourself for me. I bet you’re imagining my fingers, aren’t you? Just like I’m imagining your dripping pussy,”
Pleasure rocks in your gut.
“Use your other hand,” He instructs, “rub that clit for me,”
You drop the phone like it’s hot, and you have to crane your neck to see the video, but it doesn’t matter. He’s given you the perfect permission to do exactly what you need and you have to take it.
“Does that feel good, baby? Yeah? Do you feel like you need to come for me?” His voice gets closer to the microphone and you’re rapidly approaching the edge, “You’re so close, fuck, listen to you,”
“God, oh god,” Your legs are trembling.
“Do you see how hard you make me?” His fist jerks over his cock faster and your mind is unraveling, none of his other audios feel like this, “Do you know how much I want to see you come?”
Pressure drops in your belly.
“Fuck,” He pants, “you’re almost there, I know you want to come for me, but not until I say,”
It’s happening whether he wants it to or not, whether you want it or not, and your fingers bear down harder on your clit, your eyes locking closed, head falling back.
You pull your hands away and it’s possible that nothing has ever felt as bad as this one stolen orgasm. Your hands are shaking, body flushed and slick with sweat, and if any of your neighbors are up they are probably getting an earful.
You lock eyes with the video again and his hands rest on his knees, cock standing tall and at attention, edging with you.
“Get that dildo nice and wet,” He says, and you search your sheets for the silicone cock, “in your mouth pretty girl, imagine that’s my cock between your lips,”
He strokes his hand slowly down his length, smearing a bead of precum down to the base of his shaft as you dip the cock between your lips and take it as far in your mouth as you can.
“It’s time to come,” He soothes, like he knows you’re a whining, quivering mess, “I know you need it,”
The dildo pops free from your mouth and you watch as he lifts the hem of his shirt to expose the smooth plane of his abs, “Fuck yourself with me, sweetheart,”
Pleasure pops through you as you press the toy to your hot channel.
“Nice and fast,” He pleads, thrusting into his fist, “don’t stop this time, not until you come,”
The bubble inside you expands again, pressure everywhere.
“Just trust me,” He whispers in your ear, “don’t stop. I’ve got you, I’m right here, you let go baby. Don’t fight it,”
Your back arches up off the bedding, the muscles in your arm aching as you thrust the toy in and out of yourself, pressing it up again and again into your g-spot.
“Come, baby,” He sounds like he’s begging, and your free hand flies down to grip the sheets, “let go, you come, that’s it, there you go,”
You turn your head, catching sight of him again and the way he works himself over.
“There we go,” He groans sharply, his own release spurting up ropes of cum onto his exposed chest, “can you feel me inside you? Come with me, that’s a good girl, good fucking girl,”
He sounds dizzy, panting himself, you’ve never heard him quite like this and one final thrust sends you spilling over the edge. Your vision whites, body locking up in ecstatic pleasure, and you clap a hand over your lips to stifle the moan that rips out of you.
It takes a minute to come back from that. Your ears ringing, and the dildo slips out of you with a final pulse from your shattering orgasm. He’s talking, you register it, but his voice sounds far away and you realize that you’ve lost your earbuds. You scramble to get them back in, pulling the video up to your eyes.
“-And that’s okay,” He’s saying, his cock tucked away and his shirt back down, “you can try again another time if you didn’t quite get there,”
For a second you’re confused, it was the hardest orgasm of your life, but then you remember this was intended to be a guided masturbation to squirt and you blush, alone in your apartment, at the fact that you didn’t quite get there and he’s talking to you.
“It’s all about the build up,” He explains, “but I’m sure with a little practice we can get you there.”
You’ve never really cared about squirting until now, but he makes it sound like a perfect date and something tells you that you’ll be back here again night after night if he’ll have you.
“Anyway,” He sighs and you hope he’s smiling above the camera, “thank you for spending a little bit of your day with me, I hope I made you feel as good as you made me feel,”
You blush again.
“I’ll see you soon,” He assures, gentle like a lover would, “sleep well, jagiya,”
The video cuts and you blink hard, you’re still smiling.
You are so, so fucked.
After that, Ryu becomes a problem. You wish it was just the videos and the dirty talk and the good orgasms, but it’s more than that. You just like to hear him talk now, the little bits at the beginning about his day are starting to get into your head. And then there’s the Snapchat.
You kind of expected the private Snap to be sexy photos and videos of him in the almost pitch dark huskily saying good morning, but it isn’t. You still have never seen his face, but his videos are casual, friendly, too real for a man you spend every night fantasizing about. He chats about things he’s doing or books he’s reading while he’s cooking, filming just shoulders down so you can watch the muscles in his arms while he chops vegetables. You fall in love with the sound of his voice when he’s just talking, his stretched out s-sounds that only really peek through outside of his constructed scenes. You find yourself missing him a little on days he doesn’t post.
You’ve gotten used to waking up with him, falling asleep with him, checking in on him during the day. His message announcements in Snapchat don’t feel like they’re for everyone, they feel like they’re for you. You know that’s not true of course, you know you’re paying a hefty monthly bill just to feel like this, but you don’t care. It’s been a while, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t just need some company.
It’s a Thursday when everything goes to shit.
You wake up far too late, forgetting to set the alarm on your phone after falling asleep directly after yet another Ryu narrated orgasm, and everything has been off kilter since. You’re scrambling to get to work on time and every little thing is going wrong. Your coffee machine isn’t turning on, the sweater you want to wear is still in the wash, and your umbrella will not open despite the rain that’s ruining what would have been a good hair day.
When you decide to stop into the coffee shop across from your office it’s not even a want, it's a need. You’re already thirty minutes late, why not make it forty-five?
You’ve never come here, not once. You’re used to going to the shop around the block from your apartment, and this place is new. Ongozisin is the kind of place you’d normally take your time in. The space is clearly industrial, concrete walls and flooring made to look unfinished. The aesthetic is still warm though, with natural dark wood furniture and bamboo accents, Joseon era paintings and a juniper bonsai along the back wall.
To the left side of the cafe stands a bay of tall windows and the very modern, very clean point of sale. The line isn’t too long, but you can see that the pace of this place is slower by design, so maybe you’ll just round up and call it an hour late. A door opens to your left and you watch as one of the baristas steps out from a kitchen holding two black plates of colorful, carefully constructed pastries.
The line moves ahead of you, and the person behind you softly clears their throat to jog your attention.
You step closer, only one person ahead of you now.
When you hear his voice you nearly reach for your phone.
“That’s perfect,” It’s Ryu, clear as day. His voice is distinct and deep and here.
Your eyes snap up to the barista behind the counter, your body frozen stock still as you take him in, mind spinning.
“Do you want any cream?” He says to the woman ordering.
Blush lights up your cheeks and all you can think about is the video you watched the night before and his voice in your ear - Do you want my cum inside you, pretty baby?
You should leave. There’s a reason this man is anonymous on the internet, never showing an inch of his face, and Ryu isn’t even his name, it's just what you call him. He never calls himself anything in the videos, never reveals what part of Korea he lives in, never talks about his job. He doesn’t want to be found.
You’re about to turn, run, scramble away, but his voice comes again and this time you realize he’s talking to you. The man, Ryu, smiles, “Good morning, can I get you something?”
You’re frozen.
“Miss?” A little crease between his brows.
“Sorry,” You jump forwards, ignoring the annoyed huff behind you and shaking off as much of this panic as you can, “I don’t know where my head is this morning,”
“That’s alright,” He says warmly, “that’s what I’m here for,”
You can’t say anything, your mind blanks.
His eyes flick over you and then he nods, “You know, coffee? To wake you up?”
“Right!” You nod, “Sorry, yes, an americano please,”
“Iced or hot?” He asks.
Are you feeling hot, babygirl? Do you need to take something off for me?
“Hot,” You say it on a reflex but then you remember yourself, “no sorry, iced, iced please,”
“Okay, sure,” He smiles, “iced,”
You make it through payment without too much more embarrassment, apologizing again, and then you step to the side. Another barista appears, slotting into Ryu’s place so he can turn his attention to the drinks he needs to make and you take the moment to get composed.
He’s handsome, that’s a given. You expected that, but still he looks even better than your imagination conjured up, more real. He looks exactly right for this cafe too, his black hair long enough to brush the base of his neck with half gathered into a ponytail, pieces loose to frame his angular face. He’s dressed smartly too, black oversized trousers and a fitted black t-shirt, slim black boots, and an open jacket in a dramatic modern-hanbok style. You realize you’re staring the minute his eyes hold on yours and they crinkle up as he smiles. He has a birthmark, a smooth light pink flush across his eye and your heart thumps in your chest.
“Long night?” He asks you, passing off a coffee in a mug to the woman who had been ahead of you in line.
He just puts you at ease and you nod, “Something like that,”
“Ah,” He knocks out the round cake of used espresso from the portafilter as he talks, “and you look like you got caught in the rain, don’t you have an umbrella?”
“Broken,” You grimace, “it’s been one of those mornings,”
“Mm,” He nods, focusing on queueing up espresso for your americano, but while the shots pull he turns back to you, “I don’t think I’ve seen you here before?”
You shake your head, “No, first time,”
“Do you like it?” He gestures around with a nod of his head.
“Very much,” You smile, “it’s a great space,”
He smiles again, looking proud, “I’m glad you like it,” he says, “we haven’t been open very long, but so far people have seemed to enjoy it,”
“Oh,” You watch him pour your espresso over ice, “is the cafe yours?”
He nods, “Mine and my friend’s,”
You wish you weren’t late, you wish you were able to stay just a little longer.
“Well,” You tell him honestly, “it’s beautiful here, I’ll have to come in more often, I only work across the street.”
“Ah,” He nods, “I thought you looked familiar,”
Blush creeps up your neck.
“Did you need cream?” He asks and you hope he doesn’t notice the way your pulse quickens at his words, but he nods towards your coffee and you shake your head.
“Thank you,” You take the cup off the bar and step back, “I appreciate it.”
“I hope that helps,” He says, and then he glances behind you at the large round window, “actually, I’m sorry, can you wait one moment?”
“Sure,” You watch him duck out from behind the bar, making a quick beeline for the swinging door that leads back into the kitchen. You have no idea what he could want, there’s no way you’d be recognized by him except as a stranger on the street, and your stomach knots up.
It takes him a moment, but he darts back out, a long black umbrella in his hand, “Take this,”
“I can’t do that,” You wave a hand, “I’m only across the street, but that’s really kind of you,”
“If you’re only across the street then I know where to go to get it back,” He shakes his head, “just take it, it’s raining like crazy out there,”
He presses the handle of the umbrella into your free hand, and your breath catches in your throat, his skin brushing against yours. Your eyes flick over his rings, just the same as always. A signet with a deep black stone, a hammered silver band, a clearly vintage one on his index finger that looks like an old Catholic saint token, the finer details rubbed away with age.
“What time do you close?” You ask, accepting the umbrella.
“Seven,”
“I’ll bring it back after work then,” You tell him, “is that alright?”
He nods, “But if it’s still raining, just keep it. Bring it by tomorrow,”
“Tomorrow,” You nod.
“Mhm,” He nods, something warm in his expression, “this will have to be your new usual spot,”
Is he flirting? You’re wholly and entirely unprepared to deal with that considering the way you moaned his name last night. Something clicks in your brain at that thought though and you nod, “Maybe it will. I’m y/n, by the way,”
“Yeosang,” He smiles, “it’s very nice to meet you.”
Yeosang.
“You too,” You dip your head, “and thank you again for this,”
“Of course,” He says, “I hope this turns your morning around a little,”
You open your mouth to say something, but there’s a voice from the cafe bar that slices cleanly between your conversation, “Yeosang-ah!”
Yeosang glances back and then he sighs, just a little, “I have to go,” he tells you, “but I’ll see you again,”
“See you again,”
He’s back behind the bar before you can blink, focusing on each customer’s order. The man who called his name is grinning, and you wonder idly if he’s the friend who owns the cafe with Yeosang or just a part-timer.
With your stomach fluttering, you push out into the rain to get to work, Yeosang’s name on a loop in your brain for the rest of the day. When you get home, his umbrella resting by the door, you delete his Snapchat from your contacts and unsubscribe from his Fansly account.
Ongozisin becomes a daily ritual.
The money you used to spend on his Fansly now goes straight into the cafe, first thing in the morning before work and a last lingering stop in the evening before you go home.
On busy days you barely get to see him and sometimes you’re left just chatting with Wooyoung, his best friend and business partner. You like him too, you like the atmosphere and their kind warmth, but if you’re being honest you find yourself living for slow days. The days where you’ve timed it just right to have a little talk before the rush of the day or the closing tasks of the evening.
Little by little, Ryu fades from your mind, and the man in front of you is just Yeosang. The guy who runs your favorite coffee shop, the guy who dresses almost otherworldly, who smiles wide but only when you say something truly funny, who sometimes gets lost in his own head while he’s making cappuccinos.
He’s lovely.
Sometimes you think he might be flirting, a little more suavely and charismatic than his business partner who asked if you had a crush on him since you were coming into the cafe so much. Sometimes Yeosang adds a little extra treat to your plate of food or he adds pretty latte art to your cup if you’re staying in the cafe. That might be nothing, but it certainly might be something.
It isn’t until another day of rain, harsh pelting rain, that Yeosang appears at your table.
“We close soon,” He says, and when he sees the brief flash of concern that you’ve overstayed your welcome on your face he shakes his head, “sorry, I meant to ask, how are you getting home tonight?”
“The train,” You glance outside.
His nose crinkles, “You don’t have an umbrella today either,”
“True,” You look down at your belongings, “I didn’t check the weather,”
“If you wait a bit for us to lock up,” He says, “I’d be happy to walk you to the station,”
“Oh,”
“Or if you’re not busy,” He clears his throat softly, “I could walk you to this little restaurant around the corner?”
Flirting, then.
You smile and nod, trying to keep your eagerness tamped down to a normal amount, “Are you asking me out, Yeosang?”
He grins, “I’ve been trying to,”
Your stomach flips pleasantly, “I’ll wait, dinner sounds nice,”
His shoulders sag, a little relief in his expression and he clears away your empty cup as he says, “I’ll be quick,”
You catch Wooyoung slapping his friend's shoulder as he disappears into the back room, and before you know it you’re blushing and sitting across from this man at the restaurant down the block.
Dinner is so smooth it feels surreal. It turns out you both like the same music, and several books too, and you’ve never been on a date with a man who asked you so many questions about yourself and didn’t just talk your ear off. Dinner stretches long too, and you’re strangely grateful it’s a Friday when you finally do check the time. He has to work on Saturday at the cafe, but not until a little later in the morning, and so neither one of you really wants to call it quits.
The after dinner walk turns meandering, and then his hand is brushing against yours, knuckles to knuckles.
You don’t think of him as Ryu until his fingers brush down your back, lips close to your ear when he finally asks you. The way he does makes your body melt - I hope I’m not ruining things by asking, but would you like to come home with me tonight?
You agree before your mind catches up to itself, but every step of the walk to his apartment has your heart picking up speed. You had forgotten on the date how you met him, really met him, and your gut churns.
Do you tell him? Do you lie?
Everytime he grins at you, touches you, tucks his long hair behind his ear and nods, you can’t imagine a one night stand. You could maybe swallow the truth if that’s all this was to you, but it’s not, and so you can’t.
On his block you feel the internal countdown ticking.
“You can change your mind, you know,” He offers, noticing how you’ve gone quiet, and it pulls you straight out of your thoughts.
“Oh,” Your head snaps up, “I’m sorry, I don’t want to change my mind at all, I just got a little lost in thought.”
He nods, this time finding your hand and giving you a squeeze, his steps slowing as you approach his building, “Can I ask what about?”
You nod, returning the soft pulse of his hand in yours before separating your skin from his. His eyes flick down to your hands, and then back up to your eyes.
“I have a bit of a confession,” You swallow hard, “something I think I should tell you before we go upstairs,”
“Okay,” He leans against the stone wall behind him, “is everything alright?”
“I hope so,” You nod, “I just feel like there’s something I should say now, and if it makes you uncomfortable at all, just be honest. I’ll go home, no hard feelings,”
“y/n,” His brows draw together in confusion, “what’s going on?”
You take a deep breath, taking a step back to get a little breathing room, “I recognized you when I came into the cafe that first day,”
“Recognized me?”
“Yeah,” You clear your throat, your chest feeling tight, “for the past few months I’ve been… a subscriber,”
“A subscriber,” He repeats, and for a brief flickering second you wonder to yourself if this man just looks and sounds and feels exactly like Ryu but isn’t, but then his face blanches, “oh,”
“I’m not anymore,” You shake your head, “and clearly you like your privacy, so I didn’t know how to just come out and say it, but if you’re actually interested in me and not just being flirty at the cafe then I just can’t lie to you… I don’t want to start something with a lie,”
He’s quiet, and then his eyes flick down.
It was so, so nice while it lasted.
“I should have told you sooner,” Your stomach flips and you take another step back, “and I completely understand that you’re upset, I’ll just, I won’t say anything to anyone and it was lovely getting to know you, and I’m sorry, I’ll go,”
His head snaps up, “Go? y/n, stop, slow down,”
His hands smooth down your forearms as he jumps forwards, pulling you gently back towards him. Your heart is beating so loud you can practically hear it, “I’m sorry,”
“I’m not upset,” He assures, “can we go inside to talk? I don’t want to do this in the street,”
You nod, letting him lead you through the garden gate and up towards the house, but his words pulse on a loop in your mind. You hope he’s good at letting you down easy because this hurts. You should have known it that first day at the cafe, you should have stayed away and not played with fire.
His house is small, but very nice and despite being sparsely decorated, you like it. You feel trapped in the entryway so unsure of what to do in this space, especially when you recognize the corner of his gray couch.
“Can I get you a drink or something?” He interrupts your thoughts, “I have wine, probably some soju, and a bottle of truly undrinkable Japanese whisky,”
“Undrinkable?” You blink.
“I think it’s supposed to be very good if you like whisky,” He explains, “it was a gift,”
“Ah,” You couldn’t feel more awkward if you tried, “wine, I guess?”
“Okay,” He smiles, a close lipped polite smile that doesn’t quite touch his eyes, “well, make yourself comfortable, I’ll get us a drink and then we can talk,”
“Sure,” You’re still frozen as he walks away down the hall to what you presume is the kitchen. It takes a minute to unstick yourself, but you make your way to the couch and wait.
He returns with two glasses of red wine and then he sits in the chair opposite you, not on the stretch of couch next to you.
“Sorry,” You take the wine, stomach flip flopping, “I know this isn’t how you thought the night would go,”
“Mm,” He nods, taking a sip of his drink.
“I don’t know what to say,” You tell him honestly.
He nods, looking anywhere but at you until he finally meets your eyes again, “You’re not a subscriber anymore?”
“No,” You tell him firmly.
“Why?” He asks, and the question hangs between you.
“When I recognized you at the cafe and you were being so nice to me,” You explain, “it occurred to me that something might happen between us, as friends or otherwise, and it just felt wrong to know you as Yeosang and then… engage with your content that is clearly anonymous and meant to be private. I didn’t want to do that without you knowing,”
He nods, setting his glass on the nearby coffee table, “I see,”
“You are keeping it private, right? I feel like you’re careful to not overshare,”
“Yes,” He nods, “no one knows.”
“Then I really am sorry,” You set your own glass aside and lean forwards, “I’m sure you didn’t want to bring your real life as Yeosang and your online life as Ryu together, I just recognized your voice immediately that day in the cafe,”
“As Ryu?” He glances back up at you.
“That’s what I…” You try to parse through it so it doesn’t sound like a parasocial affair, “fromryu, you know? That’s just what I filled in for your name, I guess,”
“Ryusang,” He nods, “it’s the Hanja spelling of Yeosang,”
“Oh,” You soften.
“Why didn’t you mention you knew me before?” He asks, but despite his words nothing in his demeanor is upset, just curious.
You take another large, steadying gulp of wine and nod, “I didn’t really think the cafe was an appropriate place to tell you that I’ve gotten off to your voice before,”
He laughs sharply and looks down, “Okay, that’s fair,”
“Right,” You murmur.
“y/n,” He sounds hesitant and you look back up to him, “can I ask you something?”
“Anything,”
“Did you come out with me tonight because you wanted to go out on a date with the guy from the cafe, or because you wanted to have sex with Ryu?” The question is direct and cutting.
“With you,” You answer quickly, and now you know exactly why he’s putting this distance between you, “you, Yeosang.”
He’s quiet, turning your words over, you can practically see him thinking.
“Yeo,” You murmur, fighting the urge to reach out to him, “if all I wanted was that, I wouldn’t have told you. But I really like you, Yeosang, and I’d like to see more of you and see where this could go, but I completely understand if me knowing this part of you is too much. If you don’t want to go any further with me romantically or as a friend, this can just be a nice date we both had,”
He nods and then says, “I have one more question,”
You wait, your stomach in knots.
“Do you have a problem with what I do?” He asks.
“I mean,” You shake your head, “I was a subscriber, so no,”
“I don’t mean like that,” He clarifies his words, “I mean in terms of a romantic relationship. I like my work, both the cafe and the content, and if we start seeing each other I’m not going to suddenly stop making porn just like I wouldn’t close the cafe.”
“I’m not asking you to,” You shift over on the couch and reach towards him, resting a hand on his forearm.
“I’ve dated a few women,” He explains, slipping his hand into yours and twining your fingers together, “this was not something any of them were comfortable with,”
“Oh,” You nod, but he continues.
“A couple of them thought it might be fun,” He adds, “but when things got more serious they expected me to stop for them,”
“I’m sorry,” You tell him quietly, “I don’t expect anything like that,”
“You don’t now,” He points out, “and neither did they in the beginning.”
You can see the way this has fucked with his head a little, the way he keeps his shoulders stiff and turned away from you as he explains, and you suppose you might react the same way if you were in his shoes.
You chew the inside of your lip as you think about how best to say this to him, but finally you manage it, “Yeosang,” you get his attention, “what you do for work doesn’t change what we do on a date or in bed,”
He turns his head a little, the only indication you have that he’s really listening.
“I have no expectation that you’re some… sex god,” You smile a little, “though my guess is that you’re pretty good at dirty talk,”
A small smile appears on his lips.
“If I didn’t like what you do for work I’d go find another guy,” You continue, “and I’m sorry if the other women you dated weren’t comfortable with it, but I’m not so shy about it. I like what you do, and you’ve helped me plenty, and there’s nothing more flattering than knowing you liked me enough to even bring me upstairs,”
“Don’t sell yourself short there,” He looks up, shaking his head, “when you said yes to dinner I thought I’d be lucky if I got to so much as touch you,”
Your heart quickens in your chest, “You, what?”
He turns his body towards you properly now, “y/n,” he says, “I like you, I’ve liked you since you walked into the cafe soaking wet and exhausted, I’ve been trying to figure out how to ask you out for weeks.”
“I think I’m dreaming,” You breathe, and he grins at your words. You clap a hand over your lips and groan, “Sorry, I didn't mean to say that outloud,”
“It’s honest,” He says, “I like that about you,”
“Well,” Your hands naturally separate as you lean back onto the couch, “then believe me when I tell you that I am fine with your work. All aspects of your work,”
His eyes flick over you, gauging how honest you’re being now, “All aspects?”
You nod again.
“y/n,” His voice softens, “what tier subscriber were you?”
It clicks in your brain that you haven’t really told him everything, all the things you know about him and his work. Little audio videos here and there might be forgivable to some women, but more might be too much.
“The highest,” You tell him, “when I say everything I mean it, the videos, the Snapchat, all of it.”
He seems to relax at that, “And if this does go somewhere,” he gestures between you both, “if we keep seeing each other. If it becomes more than a few dates,”
You nod.
“You’re alright knowing that even if we were dating and going to bed together every night, I spend my free time making people come on the internet for money,” He says it so plainly that you have to blink at him.
You turn his words over and then sigh, “There’s one thing,”
He leans back in his chair, putting a little more distance between you both, obviously braced for your words.
“I just have a question,” You ease him, “just something I should know, I think.”
He nods once, his shoulders tense again.
“Do you ever talk one on one with people?” You feel your cheeks heat, “I know you do, you have the discord, but I mean do you ever do what you do alone with someone?”
He softens, “No, no I don’t,”
“Okay,” You nod, the tense knot in your stomach relaxing, “okay, then,”
“Would that be a boundary for you?” He asks.
“I think so,” You tell him, “it’s different when you’re making a video to upload for anyone and talking to someone, at least to me,”
He nods, and then he moves, shifting from his position on the chair to your side on the couch. The nerves that were knotted deeply inside you start to unfurl, his proximity feeling like a peace offering, like an acceptance of your words.
“Subscribers aren’t lovers,” He says finally, “and some people blur that line with their content, but I don’t.”
“Then, Yeosang,” You take the opportunity to slide yourself sideways a little closer to him, “I am fine with all aspects of your work, more than fine.”
“Will you tell me if that ever changes?” He asks.
“Yes,” You make him this promise, “I like you too, all I want is to be honest with you,”
He nods, his fingers flexing on his thigh as he thinks. Finally, he swallows tightly, his skin flushing a little now that you’re almost pressed together on the couch, and he asks what he’s wanted to ask all night, “y/n,” he turns towards you, “can I kiss you?”
He’s stunning this close, enough to render you speechless, breathless. You manage a single word, “Please,”
He’s on you in a flash, and Yeosang’s lips are warm, soft and plush and as he presses into you and winds his arms around you. Your body relaxes into his instantly, the feeling of his warmth, the scent of him, rich coffee grounds and sugar infused into his skin from his work at the cafe.
His tongue probes your mouth, his breath hot as he sighs. Your body feels alight, hot and feverish and desperate from just a single kiss. You need him inside you yesterday.
When he breaks the kiss, you realize you’re half straddling him. Somewhere in the heat of the moment and the muddled fog you hitched a leg over his and his hands dragged you up against him so you’re chest to chest. When your mouths break apart, you’re still merely inches from each other and panting the same little breath of air.
“y/n,” His hands explore you slowly, moving over your skin like he’s trying to learn you, “normally I would try to keep the kink to a future date, but since you already know all of my deepest, darkest fantasies, maybe we can skip ahead?”
“Yes,” You laugh softly, “definitely,”
“But I am realizing something,” His hands find the curve of your ass, “I’m at a disadvantage here, you’ve seen my videos, but I don’t know anything about what you like.”
“You,” The word bubbles up and you flush red again.
“My voice, I’m sure you like that,” He drops it a little to emphasize the husky bedroom quality of it with a teasing smile on his face, “but what videos do you like? What were your favorites?”
He’s about to ruin you, there’s absolutely no question. Even if he was all talk you’re sure to be coming just from his words alone, but his hands, the way he touches you, there’s no doubt he has the skills to back up everything he’s ever said in the videos too.
“Now I’m a little embarrassed,” You admit, “an hour ago we were on a first date,”
“An hour ago I didn’t know the woman across the table had fucked herself to the thought of me,” He counters softly, “and we can slow down if you want but judging from the wet patch on my thigh I think you want to keep going,”
You jerk your hips immediately, angling to pull them away so you can stop embarrassing yourself all over this man after a single kiss, but his hands lock down hard over your ass and he holds your body firmly against him.
“No, no,” He adjusts his leg so that his thigh is pressed even more firmly against your cunt, “don’t be embarrassed with me,”
“Right,” You blush darker.
“I’ll tell you what I want,” He offers, “would that help?”
You nod quickly.
One of his hands shifts to lovingly stroke up and down your back as he speaks, “I want you to enjoy this more than anything. There is nothing that gets me off harder than making a partner absolutely fall apart for me, and knowing I did that for them, and I think you already know that from my content. That’s real, that’s me.”
You shiver a little and he leans up to kiss you, softer this time.
“I’d like this to be good for you,” He continues, “and honestly I already want to see you again, but in case it’s only one night for you I think we should make it count.”
The night went from nothing to everything so fast your head is spinning but you nod, surging up to kiss him with your hands pressed against his chest for balance. Your core drags along his hard thigh with your momentum forwards and you gasp a little into the kiss, your hips bucking softly on their own at the sudden pleasurable sensation. You feel something stiff and warm pressing into your belly and you feel a rush of sensation between your thighs.
“So,” He kisses you again, leaning away so he can talk to you, “tell me what videos you liked,”
“The um,” You clear your throat softly, “the guided ones,”
He smiles, “Those are your favorites?”
You nod.
“And the roleplay?” He asks.
“Good,” You nod, “everything you do is really good,”
“But the guided ones get you off, hmm?” He squeezes your hips.
You nod again, “You’re very good at what you do,”
“Guided,” He says, almost to himself, before he drags your hips up and back along his thigh, “so you like when I talk you through it?”
You rock your hips on your own this time, picking up on his cues that he wants you to grind on him, “Mm-hmm,”
“Tell me more about what you like,” He keeps one hand planted firmly on your backside, but the other starts to wonder, fingers teasing the skin of your collarbones before he cups your breast through your sweater.
“Y-you’re so comforting,” You manage as you slowly rut your body against his, “even when you’re edging me and telling me what to do, you’re just, I don’t know,”
“Is that right?” He teases softly, his fingers toying with the top button of your closed cardigan.
“Mm,” You sigh, pleasure truly starting to build inside you as you rock your clit lazily against him, “and you understand it takes time for women,”
The button opens.
“You take your time with the build up,” You sigh, finding a better position for your hands against his firm chest while you continue to rock, “and when you talk about what you wish you could do to me if you were there,”
Two more buttons part open and he hums softly, appreciatively, “You like knowing what I want?”
You nod, watching as he makes short work of your other buttons.
“Maybe I should just show you,” He slides the cardigan off your shoulders until it pools around your waist, caught on your elbows, “wouldn’t that be better than just listening?”
“Y-yes,” You sigh, your hips slowing so you can let him take the lead.
He shakes his head, pressing his hand against your ass again to keep you moving, “That’s it,”
You moan softly, fingers gripping his shirt, “Yeosang,”
He chuckles at your needy whine and brushes his fingers between your breasts, stroking up your chest, down and over the wire of your bra, and lower still over the soft flesh of your belly.
“There you go,” He smiles, “I know that feels good,”
You nod, “So good,”
“Jagiya,” His hands slide your bra straps down, letting the soft material of the mesh cups fall and reveal your breasts to his hungry eyes, “look how pretty you are for me,”
You’re close.
“Don’t stop,” He murmurs, shifting under you so that he can sit up further and press his lips to your chest, “I need you to come,”
“Yeo,” You whine, your hips sinking into a quick rolling rhythm that feels so right.
“I need to take my time with you,” He confesses, lips traveling from the center of your chest across the swell of your breasts, “but I don’t think I can,”
“I-I don’t want you to,” You moan, wrapping an arm around his shoulders to stay steady, “please,”
“I want to,” He groans, “but, fuck, y/n,”
“Yeo,” You shudder, pleasure snapping up and down your spine, “it’s not one night, it could have never been one night for me,”
He exhales a heavy breath against your skin, hands tightening pleasantly on your rutting hips.
You’re startlingly close to tipping over the edge, the bubble growing closer and closer to bursting, and you squeeze your eyes shut tightly to focus on the sensation of him, “I-I need,”
He grips you harder, “Tell me, baby,”
“I, I,” You stammer, body stumbling towards coming.
“Come on,” He says lowly, “tell me what you need, baby, I’m right here,”
A tight sound bubbles out of your mouth and you figure it out in a second, your hand winding into the back of his hair to direct his head, pushing his mouth until you feel his lips ghost over your pebbled nipple.
“Oh,” He groans, his tongue catching your nipple firmly and sending a shock down your back, “there we go, I’ve got you,”
His tongue flicks over your nipple again, closing his lips over the hardened bud to suck sharply in exactly the way you need to take you right over the edge.
“I’m,” You grip him harder, losing yourself entirely now as you grind against him for your release, “I’m so close,”
“Come,” He pants, latching back onto your breast to keep lavishing the same attention, his arms banding tightly around you to hold your shuddering body close.
Your finger tightens in his hair, he begs you once more to come, and your orgasm knocks into you sideways. You moan sharply, jerking against him as you fall apart, and you feel him start to move.
He presses fast kisses across your chest, his voice soothing, “Oh, there we go,” he sighs as he feels you trembling, “fuck, what a good girl showing me exactly what she needs,”
His words draw a groan from your lips, your head buzzing at his praise.
“Perfect,” He sighs against your chest, “you have the prettiest tits I’ve ever seen,”
You shiver, “Yeah?”
“Mhm,” His fingers trace a circle around your nipple, and something in the way he’s touching you and the sound of his voice tells you everything. He’s about to tease you, edge you, make you come, and god willing he was about to fuck you. Yeosang flicks his thumb over your nipple and smiles, “Baby, I’m going to turn you over, if you want to slow down or stop at anytime you just tell me,”
“I think I’ll be,” You start to say, and then he maneuvers you quickly in his strong arms, gathering you close so he can turn you over on the couch, leaving you lying flat on your back against the cushions. You squeak and the way he pushes your legs together, quickly undoing the buttons on your trousers and pulling down the zip, and he glances up at the sound to check your eyes but finds nothing but your lazy post-orgasm smile.
As he kneels and strips your trousers off he groans, “God,”
“W-what’s wrong?” You blink, finding his eyes.
“Absolutely nothing,” He smooths his hands up and down your bare legs, “except I’m finding it very difficult not being inside you yet,”
“So come inside me,” You smile.
The corner of his mouth turns up at your words, “Already, baby? It’s only the first date,”
You process your words and roll your eyes, “You know what I meant,”
“I do,” He smiles wider now, “but you need to come again before I fuck you,”
“Not that I’m complaining about you touching me,” You gasp sharply as he hooks his thumbs under the sides of your thong and yanks it away, “but I’ve been daydreaming about your cock for months, so,”
He laughs sharply, tugging his own shirt up and off over his head as he does, “I’m flattered,”
“Shut up,” You press your thighs together and let your head flop back onto the cushions.
“Darling,” Yeosang says, kissing each of your thighs before he starts to slowly open your legs again, “how long has it been since you’ve been with someone?”
“Honestly?” You grimace, “A while,”
“And how long since you’ve had anything bigger than your fingers inside you?” He asks it so plainly, so calmly, while he widens your legs and starts to tip you open, another kiss to your inner thigh.
You shiver in his hands, “N-not that long,”
“Hmm,” He sounds pleased at that, “do you like using toys when you fuck yourself to my voice?”
“Fuck,” You gasp as his finger traces the softest line up and down your slit.
“Is that a yes?” He blows a cool stream of air across your throbbing clit and you jerk in his hands.
“Yes,” You answer quickly.
“What I wouldn’t give to watch that,” He says, kissing your inner thigh again before he continues, “but still, I’m probably bigger than your dildo, be patient with me,”
“Oh, fuck,” You melt as he presses one finger inside your slick channel.
“Relax,” He soothes you, “just let go for me,”
You don’t know how your life is this strange, how you went from listening to this man through your headphones while you touched yourself under the covers alone at home to his fingers sinking inside you. You’ll probably wake up from this dream with sticky thighs. There’s no way this is real.
Those are the thoughts that dizzy you until he pushes two fingers flush into your heat and you moan sharply, your hand gripping down on one of the couch throw pillows. He feels pretty real.
He groans, gently pumping his middle and ring finger just to get you used to the sensation, “Feel good?”
“So good,” You sigh.
“How badly do you need to come, darling?” He asks, continuing the slow and steady thrust of his fingers.
“So badly,” Your voice is whiny, needy, entirely informed by the feverish heat spreading through you.
“Pretty girl,” He hums, “with an even prettier pussy,”
“Oh, god,” You grip the pillows harder, and he’s barely doing anything to you but your legs are already starting to tremble.
“Mmm,” His fingers begin to pulse more firmly and you feel his fingers curl, finding the spongy crook of your g-spot with practiced ease, “and you need my cock inside, don’t you?”
“Ah, yes! Yes,” Pleasure blooms through your body.
“Soon,” He promises.
You moan again as he repositions, continuing the steady drumbeat of his fingers inside you as he reaches around with his opposite hand to separate your lower lips, the pad of his middle finger now alternating between maddening flicks and taps to your clit.
“Ah! Yeo,” Your hips rock, “just like that,”
“Good girl,” He murmurs, “telling me what you like,”
A tight sensation fills your lower belly, a blossoming heat that spreads from your core up through your body in warm waves, “F-faster,”
“Mm,” His thrusting picks up speed instantly, the angle slightly adjusting as he does, “that’s it,”
The angle chance has his curled fingers pumping against your g-spot hard and suddenly the sensation drops low, almost painfully tight and sharp like you’re on the precipice of something.
It occurs to you all at once what he’s trying to do, the way he’s trying to make your body sing, and despite the rolling waves of pleasure and how close you are to your second release, you don’t necessarily want the first time you squirt to be on Yeosang’s floor.
“B-baby,” You whine, the pet name slipping off your tongue, “I’m gonna, I think, oh fuck,”
“Fuck yes,” His fingers flatten down over your clit and he rubs fast, slickly rolling over your firm bud, “let go,”
“I can’t,” You shake your head, sweat breaking out across your brow, “I’ve n-never, oh, fuck, Yeosang!”
“Come,” He commands softly, “that’s it, you come, right here, baby,”
He’s not stopping, and with the way he’s working you there’s no way you could even if you tried. In a snap your body releases hard, a sensation like nothing you’ve ever felt pulsing through your slick cunt and your legs jerk, hips snapping up as clear fluid pulses out of you. The sound that leaves your lips is wanton, broken and needy, and your ears are very clearly ringing.
“Oh, fuck,” Yeosang hums, almost to himself, rubbing fast across your soaked slit to help coax every bit of slick from your center, “oh, baby, look at you,”
Your legs try to snap shut at the suddenly sharp overstimulation, but all he does is take that as his cue to stop directly stimulating you and instead drop the warm flat of his tongue over every inch of your glistening pussy. You gasp sharply at the feeling, rolling your head forwards so that you can look down between your legs, and you moan softly at the sight.
He’s buried between your thighs, lazily licking stripes up your inner thighs and over your cunt, but slowly enough that his aim isn’t to draw you into another orgasm, he just wants to taste you. To feel you on his tongue and ease you through your little aftershocks.
“God,” You breathe after a moment, “oh, my god,”
He chuckles, kissing the top of your mound, “Was that your first time?”
You nod, still trying to catch your breath.
He groans a little, palming his hard cock through his trousers to readjust, “That’s an ego boost, I’m not going to lie,”
You manage a laugh despite your dizzy, orgasm fogged brain, “Yeah?”
“Mhm,” He strokes your thigh, “if you’re not careful I might get addicted to the way you taste when you come,”
A shudder runs through you, “You can’t just say things like that,”
“It’s not a lie,” He says, “I’d spend a whole night between these thighs if you’ll let me,”
“Mm,” You sigh, reaching down for him and brushing your fingers through his long, dark hair.
“Now?” He cocks his head slightly to the side, “If you want my mouth, you just have to ask,”
You shake your head, slowly starting to push yourself into a sitting position and slide your hips away from him, “Not tonight,”
“What more can I give you tonight?” He murmurs, running his hands up and down your bare thighs, “Anything you want,”
You cup his face, drawing him close to lock your lips on his, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and nuzzling into his nose, “Take me to bed, please, Yeosang,”
“Let’s go,” He agrees, extricating himself from your arms so he can stand and offer you a hand up.
You take it, but as you do you realize the wet puddle on the floor in front of the couch and you blush dark red, covering your mouth with your hand, “I’m so sorry,”
“For what?” He blinks at you, and then follows your nervous eyes.
“I didn’t realize,” You start to say but he interrupts you with a hard kiss.
“Relax,” He says, “if we’re lucky you’ll make a mess of my room too,”
“I don’t know how I did it,”
He laughs again, “I do,” he smiles, “now come on, I need to see you in my bed before I combust,”
He tugs your hand, leading you down the hall until you’re in a large master bedroom. Your eyes flick over the details - industrial, warm wood, dark green sheets, soft ambient lighting. You’re about to comment on it, but he flips you back around to face him and captures your mouth in another hungry kiss.
“God,” He backs you up to the edge of the bed, dropping you down and falling over you, “tell me I can have you,”
“You have me,” You pant against his mouth, all thoughts of his lovely interior decor gone in an instant when you feel the hard shaft of his cock nestled between your thighs.
“I swear next time we’ll go slow,” He grinds his hips down, rolling his length up and down your slit, only the thin fabric of his trousers separating you.
“Please,” You buck against him, “I need you right now,”
“Fuck,” His hands are hot, searching, “is that right, darling?”
“Inside me,” Your hands scramble to find his waistband, “please,”
He nods, lips still pressed against yours, and then he leans back just enough to undo his trousers and start to push down his pants and boxer briefs.
Your mouth runs dry immediately. He wasn’t wrong about his size. You have fairly large dildos at home, thick and long and perfect for reaching all the spots you need it to, but Yeosang was bigger, thicker and longer than anything you’ve ever had inside you.
“Condom?” He manages as he shucks off his pants.
You blink, tearing your eyes away from his perfect, aching cock and nod, “We probably should?”
“Right,” He doesn’t push you to make a different choice, he simply searches his nightstand for a moment and produces a foil packet.
He strokes his cock twice while he tears the packet open with his teeth, before watching you beneath him as he rolls the condom smoothly down his length, adjusting it so that it fits perfectly.
You’re trembling with anticipation, you can feel it and so can he.
“y/n,” He murmurs, leaning over you and pressing a hand beneath your back to finally unclip your bra, “I want you to do something for me,”
You nod, sliding the cardigan and bra off your body and pushing them over the edge of the bed.
He grabs a firm looking pillow and folds it in half, “Lift your hips for me,”
You lift up and he slides the pillow right under your backside to leave you propped up and open for him.
“If it doesn’t feel good,” He murmurs as he maneuvers you into the position he wants, “or if I’m hurting you at all, just tell me,”
You nod.
“And I want you to tell me when you’re about to come,” He instructs, “I need to know,”
You nod again, your stomach flipping with desire.
He licks his lips, folding your legs open a little wider and slotting himself over you. He settles with one hand on your raised hip, the other braced on the bed by your head, his knees on the edge of the mattress between your splayed thighs.
His cock finally, finally, nudges at your entrance and you grip down on the sheets below you.
“Mm,” He groans, sinking just an inch or two into your tight heat, “you’re even tighter than I thought,”
He pushes in a little more and you moan at the stretch, “Oh, god,”
“Do I feel that good, babygirl?” He teases, pushing in a little more.
“So good,” You lift your head to watch the way his thick length splits you open.
“I am bigger than your toys, aren’t I?” He rolls his hips this time, rocking himself deeper with every little thrust.
“Y-yes,” You nod, your head dropping back to the mattress.
“Can you take me, baby?” He murmurs low.
“Fuck yes,” Your hips buck up again on their own as he opens you up, nearly fully sheathed inside you.
“Just a little more,” He says, his hand tightening on your hip, “there we go, fuck, that’s it, you’re taking me so beautifully, baby,”
Tears rush to your eyes, not from any kind of discomfort, but just from the overwhelming sensation of him. You’ve never been so full, never been so deliciously stretched and had these parts of you touched, and it rushes a blush to your chest and emotion through your veins.
His fingers brush along your jaw, bringing your eyes to his, “Good tears, or should we stop?”
“If you stop I’ll actually cry,” You laugh, blinking away the hazy sheen in your eyes, “you feel so fucking good,”
“Oh,” He sighs, thrusting gently in and out of you, “what a good, good girl, you are,”
“Jesus,” You shiver beneath him.
“Yeah?” He starts to move now, just a bit more, rocking his cock at a steady pace in and out of your wet core, “You like when I tell you how good you are for me?”
“Yes,” You moan, a shock of hot pleasure spiking up from your core, “please,”
“Such a good girl letting me fuck her perfect pussy on the first date,” His voice has dropped low again, husky and direct, and you babble out a sound of pleasure as he talks, “so warm and wet,”
“Fuck, fuck,” Your eyes roll.
He collapses over you a little more, his desperate lips searching for yours and the angle deepens, pushing his cock deeper and deeper inside you with every downward thrust of his hips.
You grip his shoulders, nails digging into his warm skin, “Baby,” you pant, “your cock, oh god,”
He hums against your cheek, head falling slack as his lips find your throat, sucking your pulse points and no doubt searing his mark into your tender skin. He pumps his hips harder and you moan under him, cursing again and scrambling to hold him closer.
“Such a dirty mouth,” He nips at your neck, “are you always like this, or is my cock that special?”
All you can manage is a taught moan in response, his cockhead now continuously connecting with your sweet spot over and over and rendering you unable to string a coherent thought together.
He groans at the way your cunt flutters and spasms and he kisses you hard, fingers tangling in your hair, “One of these days I’ll feel you for real,” he pants, “nothing between my cock and your sweet cunt,”
Your back arches, your mind spinning at the thought, “Yeo,” you moan.
“Fuck,” He chokes, “the way you’re squeezing me,”
You make a tight sound, something between a pleasured whine and a sob, and his hips stutter and stop, pressing his cock in as deep as possible as he grips down on whatever parts of you he can, breathing hot and heavy against your skin.
You can’t really move well in this position, but your hips rock in tiny back and forth motions to try and keep the sensation rolling through you. He’s panting into your shoulder, clearly trying to keep himself from coming too soon, and your mind commits to an idea before you have a second to double check yourself.
“Yeo,” You tap his arm, “baby I need to move,”
He pushes off you, his cock sliding out of your soaked core and you leg your legs straighten out, “What’s wrong,”
The words are barely off his tongue before you’re sitting up, grabbing his hand and drawing him back to the bed, pushing him onto his back with a guiding hand to his shoulder. He lets you lead, watching you as you put him where you want him this time, and he smiles, eyes flicking over you appreciatively.
“I need you,” Is all the explanation you can give, and maybe with a stranger this is foolish, borderline stupid, but you know him. He’s not a stranger really, not to you.
With a feverish pulse of need inside you, you shift to straddle his hips, and with quick, sure hands you roll the condom up from the base of his cock and toss it to the side.
“y/n,” He manages, but you’re lifting yourself over him now and his hands fly up to brace your waist, “are you sure?”
“So sure,” You connect his cockhead with your slick hole and drop your hips down fast, taking the whole hard length of him inside you in one smooth motion.
It’s his turn to moan, his head dropping back at the sensation of your wet walls and he grips at you, his hips stuttering beneath you.
“God,” He bucks up into you, “you’re perfect,”
“So are you,” You rock against him, finding the perfect place for your hands on his chest, “you’re so deep,”
He moans again, and when you start to bounce up and down he curses tightly.
“J-just don’t come inside me,” You keep bouncing, a steady fluid motion in your hips that you can tell is driving him crazy, but you have to keep your head at least a little.
“F-fuck,” He groans, his jaw tightening as his eyes flick down to the place your bodies are joined together, “you’re making that kind of difficult,”
“I just wanted to feel you,” Your shaking arms buckle a little and you find yourself flush against his chest while you work his cock.
“Me too,” His hands find your ass again and he starts to direct the pace, “God, I could fuck you forever,”
A moan drops from your mouth, your hands tightening on his chest.
“Don’t stop,” He urges you, and you realize your hips slowed at his words, “you feel so good riding me like that,”
Your thighs are burning already, but you hardly care, every fast shift up and down leaves you closer and closer, “Love you cock,”
“Mm, yeah? Say that again,”
“I,” You curse as a spike of pleasure rolls through you, “fuck, I love your cock,”
“Good girl,” He grips you tight, his hips jutting up to meet you now.
Your pace falters slightly, “Please, please,”
“I’ve got you,” He adjusts just enough to hold you steady as he fucks up into your tight heat, “I’ve got you,”
You moan, dropping your head into his chest and shuddering against him, “Baby, oh fuck,”
“A-are you close, jagi?” He pants, fingers digging into your hips so hard you know you’ll have bruises.
“Don’t stop,” You beg, “please, god, don’t stop,”
He groans, keeping the pace of his thrusts and using his hands on your ass to maneuver you to meet his hips.
“Shit,” You shudder in his arms, your orgasm fast approaching, “I’m coming,”
“Come here,” He shifts you fast, rolling you up and off him and manhandling you up to your feet.
You make a surprised noise at the lack of him inside you when you were getting so close, but you don’t have to worry for very long. Before you can open your mouth he has you standing, facing away from him, and bent over ninety degrees to brace your hands on the bed.
He thrusts back inside you sharply, slamming his hips into yours and leaving you moaning and curling in on yourself, your legs starting to tremble.
“Come on my cock, pretty girl,” He palms your ass before planting his hands on your hips and using the leverage to pull you back into each of his thrusts, “you’re so close,”
Your eyes slam shut, fisting the sheets as you hang on, every sharp push of his cock driving deeper and deeper. You’re going to have bruises, you’re going to be sore, but none of it matters when he’s making you feel this good.
You sob out a moan, collapsing forward into the bedding but he holds you up, “I can’t,”
“Yes, you can,” He pants, his sweat slick skin connecting again and again with yours.
“Fuck,” You groan, “I’m almost, I’m so,”
“Touch your yourself,” He directs, interrupting your pleasured ramblings, “rub your clit for me, baby,”
You slide a hand between your legs, locating your slick bud with ease and rolling your fingers over it quickly.
“Fuck, there you are,” He groans, “that’s right, baby, come on my cock,”
The same new sensation drops in your gut, your legs start to shake and you’re fairly sure that without his sure hands you’d be crumbling.
“That’s it,” He coaxes you up, never once slowing the sharp snaps of his hips, “there you go, that’s my good girl,”
Something unravels in your gut and you come with a shout, folding in on yourself as your legs quake and your mind whites out. Yeosang wraps his arms around you, curling over your back to keep you steady, and his cock slips free so he can stimulate you through your orgasm with his fingers, more liquid pulsing out of you as he fucks you over the edge.
You’re a quivering mess, and he lets you drop into the sheets, pushing you onto your back so he can stand over you, one hand fisting his slick cock.
“I’m coming,” He groans, “w-where?”
Your hands cup your breasts automatically, and you arch up to offer yourself to him, “On me, baby, come all over me,”
Yeosang groans sharply, his hips thrusting into his tight grip as ropes of silvery white cum paint your skin, covering your belly and breasts and dripping down your chest. He’s panting, his skin flushed pink and sweat covering every inch of his toned chest.
It takes you both a moment to recover, both trembling in the same position as you try to regain your breath, but after a few moments he smiles a hazy, satisfied smile and finds your eyes, “You’re so beautiful,”
Suddenly you feel a bit shy, even despite everything you’ve just done together.
“So beautiful,” He sighs again, pushing his hair back out of his face, and then he drops to his knees.
He hushes your soft protests and this time he tastes you slowly, but with intention. After such rough, intense sex, he follows it with the softest, slowest orgasm you’ve ever had. With slow sucks and gentle licks he brings you through a languid rolling wave that softens your limbs and leaves you sleepy and pliant in the sheets.
You drift, falling into sleep too easily for a first date in a sort of stranger’s apartment.
You wake a little later to a warm sensation on your skin, and you blink your eyes open to see Yeosang sitting next you, freshly showered and wearing black sweatpants and a familiar blank tank top. He draws the wet washcloth over your skin and then stops and smiles when he sees your eyes open.
“Hey,” He murmurs.
“Hi,” You reply softly, “I didn’t mean to fall asleep,”
He shakes his head, “Don’t be sorry,”
“I think you scrambled my brain a little,” You laugh, covering your face with your hands.
“Hopefully in a good way,” He nudges you.
“Beyond good,” You look up at him, “are you kidding?”
He smiles a little wider, “Good,” he says, “I drew you a bath,”
“Oh,” Your eyebrows raise.
“I thought you might be sore,” He explains, “I know I was a little rough, I hope you’re not feeling it too much,”
You shake your head, “Just a little, but in a good way,”
He nods, “Does the bath sound nice, or would you prefer a shower?”
“Bath is perfect,” You can see that he’s suddenly a little nervous, back to the same man from your date, no trace of Ryu’s husky tones.
“Here,” He offers you his hands to help you up, and guides you towards the connected bathroom suite. It’s large, crisp and clean, and in the corner stands a large spa-like tub filled high with warm water.
“Thank you,” You murmur as he helps you slip into the cocoon of water, the subtle scent of lavender wafting up from the steam.
“Mhm,” He nods, pulling a bamboo stool from the side of the sink and setting it down so he can sit at the edge of the tub and be at eye level with you.
“This is nice,” You murmur, still finding yourself a little shy in the post-orgasm clarity of it all.
He’s quiet for a moment, his fingertips dragging over the surface of the water and then he bites his lip.
Your stomach sinks for a moment, nerves coming back tenfold at the idea that maybe he’d prefer you to go after this, maybe this is all you’d ever have. Maybe he reconsidered what you know about his online persona and maybe he wasn’t willing to take the leap.
“y/n,” He sighs, “this might be forward,”
You look up from the rippling water.
“But what do you think about staying the night? We could order some dessert, maybe keep getting to know each other a little?” He asks.
You can’t fight the smile that blooms over your face, “I thought you might have changed your mind,”
“No,” He reaches into the water to find your hand, twining your fingers together, “not at all.”
“Yeah?” You squeeze his hand.
“I’d be crazy to let this be a one-time thing,” He lifts your hand from the bath and presses a kiss to the back, “I hope you feel the same.”
“I really do,” You twist to the side, leaning over to find his mouth and lock your lips together.
Yeosang cups your cheek, deepening the kiss tenderly, his tongue sweeping against yours, “What are you doing tomorrow night, then?”
“Tomorrow?” You lean back a little.
“Let me take you out again,” He kisses you again, softly this time, “I’m probably supposed to wait a few days, Wooyoung would tell me I seem too eager, but,”
“Who cares about that?” You grin, leaning out of the bath far enough to wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him, “It’s a date,”
“And Sunday?” His hands slide down your back.
You nuzzle his nose with yours, “I have a date,”
“Oh,” He says, deflating instantly.
“You might know him,” You tease, “he owns this lovely little cafe,”
He laughs, his forehead leaning on yours, “You’re mean,”
➼ genre; fluff, smut, slight angst for the first half but i make it better quickly promise
➼ pairing; san x afab!reader
➼ au; established relationship, college au
➼ warnings; explicit smut
➼ rating; m/18+
➼ wc; 6.4k
one busy semester is all it took for you and san to find yourselves struggling to find footing in the storm that is your relationship, yet rather than let go, he asked for one more week, one more day, one last chance to help get you back to shore
part of the ...and it's snowing collab.
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➼ smut warnings; unprotected sex, oral: m, vaginal fingering, praise, body worship, service-top san, san has some slightly submissive tendencies, coming inside
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You normally wouldn’t find yourself in Wooyoung’s apartment on a Tuesday morning, sitting at the bar counter beside his roommate with two mugs of coffee sitting on the granite between you, but you also haven’t had any leisure time to waste lately. It’s a miracle that Wooyoung is even up before ten o’clock, though that might be in part due to you pleading desperately over the phone to come over.
“Oh, you make her coffee but not me? The fuck is up with that, Hwa?” Speak of the devil, Wooyoung comes into the kitchen still rubbing sleep from his eyes.
“She’s a guest, you live here. And I had to wake you up because you slept through three alarms so my sympathy levels are close to zero right now.” Seonghwa flashes a faux shrug despite the heated glare he’s sent. Wooyoung lets out a huff but lets it go in favor of redirecting his attention to you.
“Right, well, what did you need to talk about so badly that it couldn’t wait until the afternoon?”
“San is coming over tonight, I couldn't do the afternoon,” you mumble.
“Is it about him then? Did something—” he waves a hand through the air like that’ll explain his thoughts, and when confusion shows on both your face and Seonghwa’s, he gives up “—did something happen between you guys?”
“It feels a bit awkward,” you admit over the rim of your coffee mug. Wooyoung scoffs at that, but Seonghwa is far more forgiving than your best friend in that he sends you a sympathetic grin.
“Awkward?” he prompts, toying with his own drink. Wooyoung pushes away from the counter and turns to the coffee maker.
“I don't know. Yeah, awkward, a bit. I guess. Like we don't know what we're doing or how to be in a relationship anymore.”
The brutal semester you both just suffered has been the main factor in the wedge in your relationship. Weekends full of studying, ones that you spent together at the start of the semester when he would come to your place or vice versa so that you could be together even while working. Then, San started picking up more shifts at his part-time job, and you had to redirect your focus to a particularly important internship that required you to forgo those weekends in the blink of an eye. You did have two weekends free of school and work, but San had to rush home during one of those on account of his mother falling ill. The other one was shot by you falling ill with the worst cold you’ve known in all your years of living. San came by that Friday with your favorite chicken and beer, but you couldn’t bring yourself to risk getting him sick when you knew how important the semester was to him too. It didn’t keep him from coming by again Saturday and Sunday both, soup was delivered to your front door along with voice messages wishing you well throughout the night. Even your text conversations were fizzling into oblivion by the time finals rolled around, which only served to amplify your feelings of dread.
“Has he been acting differently?” Wooyoung tunes back into the conversation, this time more serious with his tone. “Like, he's pulling away or something?” Wooyoung stands on a different footing in this conversation and knows things Seonghwa doesn't in terms of your relationship with San. He's been there for you since well before you started dating San, and you're certain that he'll be there for you if it were to end tomorrow, the next day, or years down the line.
“It's gonna sound so childish and stupid but he hasn't been calling me nicknames since the semester ended.” You tuck your hands into your lap and shrink into yourself a little, feeling the hot burn of shame well up inside.
“That's not stupid at all, y/n,” Seonghwa reassures barely a second after you finish your train of thought. “That's not.”
“He's right. That's totally unlike San.”
“Not! Helping!”
“I'm just being honest?!”
“Look, y/n, I don't want you to start having doom thoughts or thinking the worst — that doesn't mean his feelings for you have changed.” You’re starting to think that you should’ve asked Seonghwa for advice from the start instead of Wooyoung. “Maybe he's feeling that awkwardness you are too, or maybe he's feeling insecure. The only way to know is to ask. Have an open and honest conversation about it.”
“But…” You glance past Seonghwa to look at Wooyoung's back. Without even needing to look back, he seems to feel the weight of your stare.
“You're scared that if you bring it up, the worst will happen and y'all will break up.”
“We've been dating for so long that I don't know what I would do if that happened. I don't know how to be single, no offense to either of you, but it's just that we've been together for so long now. I wouldn't know what to do with myself if it ended.”
“If…” Wooyoung bites his words back as though he's unsure of how they will come out. “I don't want this to sound harsh, but if all it takes for him to lose his feelings for you is one busy semester, then that's not someone I would want you to have a future with. I know it's not up to me and it's not my business, but I want you to value yourself more than you value your relationship with San.”
“I truly don't think he's lost his feelings for you, y/n,” Seonghwa cuts in again, hand darting out across the counter in your direction. “Woo is right; you should value yourself more than the relationship you're in, but that doesn't mean you can only have one of those things. They can coexist.”
“What if I’m fighting for something he doesn’t want any longer?” you inquire softly and under your breath.
“The spark isn’t gone, y/n, I’m certain of that much. Maybe you just… need to find a way to reignite it!” The coffee maker dings loudly behind Wooyoung. And like it’s turning on a lightbulb in Wooyoung’s head, his expression turns suddenly bright. “Why not do just that? It’s been half a decade, to be fair, so really you can’t be blamed if things feel a little stale. If you went and did things that made you fall for each other in the first place, wouldn’t that help a bit?”
“I hate to say it…”
“You always say that when I’m right!”
“Ignoring him, that does sound like a good plan, y/n.”
Despite the reassurance from both your best friend and someone you consider to be far more mature and wiser, it doesn’t fully quell the concerns settling in your gut.
It’s only been six days since you last saw San, though you would argue that it feels a lot more like six months given how absent you both have been from each other’s lives of late. While that isn’t particularly your fault or his wholly — it’s definitely a joint effort that’s kept you apart — it does make your skin itch with anxiety every time you think about seeing him again.
It’s all culminated into this moment right now, where you sit on the edge of your couch waiting for the doorbell to ring and announce his arrival. You want to see him, desperately so, you’ve missed him so incredibly much that you can hardly stand it. And yet — you’re rooted to the cushions riddled by anxieties. You tried to rid yourself of the lingering stress after leaving Wooyoung’s apartment by doing chores properly for the first time in months, going so far as to run to the grocery and restock some necessities as well. You hate to be the type of partner who cannot do anything alone without associating it with your partner, but San was on your mind throughout the day.
Will he feel the same as you even though the flame keeping your relationship alive has been inching closer and closer to nothingness? The two of you don’t fight, in fact, your friends like to say that things go a little too smoothly between you two, and while that’s true, they aren’t aware of what it looks like when you and San aren’t getting along. It looks the way this semester has, slow conversations that lead nowhere and less time spent in each other’s presence. You aren’t fighting right now, but you certainly aren’t all sunshine and rainbows. The weather mirrors your emotions — dim greys shrouded by white flurries of snow that have been falling since early afternoon.
You clench your fingers around the seam of the couch cushion. No part of you wants to play the part of the overbearing partner: if you’re too eager to see him, wouldn’t he find it off-putting?
The doorbell rings.
It takes a moment for you to brace yourself for impact, standing and walking over to the door as slowly as you can manage without it seeming like a deliberate delay. The second you open the door, however, your worries melt away for a moment.
San smiles so brightly like you’ve not gone a second without reveling in each other’s presence. The weather is clinging to his coat still even though he had to climb three flights of stairs to reach your door. The little snowflakes are beginning to melt into the fabric.
“May I come in?” The facade cracks a bit. It’s not like him to ask such things, but you choose not to hold it against him now.
“Yeah, yeah, I finally had time to clean the other day so everything’s — nice.”
If your smile is strained, he says nothing about it, stepping over the threshold and into your apartment like it’s the first time he’s ever done so. He’s polite all the time, but now it makes those seeds of doubt sprout further because you’ve been together for five years now, what reason does he have to act like a stranger in your home? A home he’s been in time and time again, one he’s slept in, fucked you—
“Do you want ramen or pizza?” You force the thoughts to come to a halt before your expression turns bitter.
“Let’s do ramen, I’ll cut up the vegetables for you.”
There’s an elephant in the room that it seems neither of you wants to address, and so you keep your mouth shut just the same as San with the thought of “maybe this awkwardness will pass after tonight”. You watch him remove his coat and hang it up on the door while still picking at your nails. He extends a hand to you, one you take eagerly, and you lace your fingers through the gaps between his. A bit like a well-oiled machine, you think, something that Wooyoung had noted about the two of you as far back as freshman year of college. San presses his lips to the top of your head. You lean into the touch ever so slightly.
You share in a quiet synergy that carries you through the motions of preparing food, with no conversation exchanged aside from a “watch for the knife” and “careful, behind you” on occasion. You’re still trying to psyche yourself up to bring up what’s truly on your mind, so you aren’t sure that you’d be able to get any conversation out without it spiraling into insanity right off the bat. For the moment, for now, you want to simply drink in San’s presence.
He hums as he opens a cabinet in search of bowls, but they aren’t there.
“Oh, I—I moved the bowls to the other side.” Three months ago, your mind adds. It would do nothing but add salt to a blossoming wound. San stops dead in his tracks too. He seems to suffer the same crisis that you do right then. After a few seconds of mental buffering, he resumes his humming and shifts to the adjacent cabinet like the moment didn’t happen at all.
You sit beside each other at the bar counter, atop the uncomfortable stools you’ve had for well over two years now, but it offers a weird comfort because it’s familiar, it’s something San knows, it’s something you share and have shared for years.
“Thanks for the meal,” San says, still wearing a bitten-back smile.
“Of course. Thank you for helping.” But the detrimental reality of not speaking to someone properly for a long while is that part of you forgets how to make conversation with them. There is nothing for you and San to “catch up on” seeing as you’ve been keeping each other updated on your lives through dry text conversations. “Um…” He’s eyeing you carefully now, and you could pass off the watering in your eyes as the spice of the food, but he would call your bluff in an instant. The funny thing about doubt is that once it’s taken root, it’ll keep growing back no matter how many times you chop at the stem.
“What’s wrong, y/n?”
“It’s just — I don’t — are we breaking up?”
San freezes halfway over his ramen, chopsticks nearly falling from his fingers as he rushes to put his noodles back down. Your shoulders start shaking before you can stop it. He doesn’t stop you from turning away from him, but San has always been endlessly patient and gentle with you so you don’t expect him to ask you to look at him anyway. He does rest a hand atop your forearm though, and his thumb drags small, comforting circles over your skin.
“Talk to me, y/n, what do you mean by that? Why would we be breaking up?” The words themselves sound calm. There’s a slight quiver to his tone, however, that makes you want to crawl inside yourself and disappear. “A-Are you wanting that?” Your continued lack of response makes San more urgent than ever, and he shifts his hand to your leg, spinning you to face him. You can’t be certain of the expression on your face (though you’d wager there is some degree of hurt); whatever San sees makes him let out a distressed noise from the back of his throat. “Come here, duck, talk to me.”
Standing on somewhat shaky legs, you push yourself closer to San, and he instinctually moves his knees apart to let you tuck yourself into the space there.
“Don’t cry, baby, I’m here, you can talk to me,” he murmurs, hands cupping your face in his hands. You reach down to cling to his shirt like it’s a lifeline.
“That’s the first time you’ve called me that in weeks. This is the first time we’ve spent time together in six days. We’ve barely spoken or spent time together all semester, and I know why — I know we agreed that school and work have to come first. I know that.” Your voice drops to a whisper as you lose the confidence to speak. “I didn’t think it would mean losing you though.”
“You haven’t lost me, y/n. I’m still here, with you, loving you just as much as ever.” San smiles a little as you push your cheek further into his palm. “My feelings have not changed. I thought about you every day, wondered how you were doing, and if you responded to my texts late, I hoped you were eating well and getting enough rest. I listened to your voice memos rooting for me every night. Your face was always the first thing I saw in the morning because I still keep that slideshow of you as my lockscreen.” Reaching around to the back of your neck, he gives you a little tug, and your foreheads bump together. “The thought of you helped get me through the semester because I knew that it was you who was waiting for me at the end of the tunnel.”
“Sannie…”
“How long have you been worried over this, baby? You should’ve come to me the moment you started having doubts. I wouldn’t have let this go on if I had known.”
“I thought I felt you pulling away so I was scared to bring it up. You weren’t calling me nicknames anymore, and I started reading into it too much and freaked myself out.”
“I’m so sorry, y/n. Don’t put the blame on yourself, it’s not a crime to have anxieties. I didn’t even realize I stopped using them. I suppose I just got swept up in my own feelings and wanted to call you by your name as much as possible.” He nudges you with his head again. “Because I missed you so dearly.” Your lips turn up at the corners, a gesture that doesn’t go unnoticed by your boyfriend. “And because I adore you so so much, my y/n.”
“Stop that.” You hope he doesn’t, truly.
“But I’m so mushy and full of love for you, y/n.”
“You’re gonna make me blush.”
“Oh, I can think of other ways to do that, baby.” San stands, subsequently pushing his body into yours, but your hands are still on each other, his moving down to caress the back of your thigh before he hooks his fingers around the bend of your knee and hoists your leg up over his hip. “I haven’t been good to you, my sweet,” he murmurs close to your lips. “What kind of boyfriend am I if I let you feel unwanted?” Your heart skips a beat as he grips tight at your other leg, then you’re suddenly weightless for a second as he hoists you up to his waist.
“We just ate—”
“I don’t plan on letting that stop me.” You let out a gasp as San traces the line of your jaw with his lips, hot breath spilling across your skin as he carries you from the kitchen. “Unless you want it to?” This damned man knows what he’s doing, he knows the hold he has over you — your brain is already turning into a foggy mess of want, and even the prospect of waiting two minutes for him to lay his hands on you is too much to bear. Your nails drag across his shoulders, tugging at the thin material. He misses the doorknob to your bedroom thanks to your antics, sending you against the wood a little harshly and forcing the air out of your lungs. “Sorry, sorry.”
“Still on the pill.”
“Hm?” he echoes, managing to turn it right on the second try and popping it open properly.
“I’m still on the pill,” you repeat. San freezes in place to stare at your face. You bring a hand around to toy at his parted lips with your thumb. “So you can fuck me raw.”
San becomes so dumbstruck that his jaw moves up and down over and over without any semblance of noise coming out.
“Fuck, you’re gonna make me come in my pants like a horny teenager,” he says under his breath. You drop your head back and laugh. San’s hold on you feels so blissfully warm. You didn’t even have time for this during the semester, sometimes thanks to your workloads but more often thanks to sheer exhaustion. A few solo jaunts before bed are hardly enough to please you the way San does. Based on how tightly he’s gripping your ass, he seems to feel exactly the same.
“It wouldn’t be the first time.”
He manages to get you both to the bed without further incident, laying you down on the mattress with a sort of reverence that makes your chest swell with emotion. Even through the barrier of clothing, his fingers are hot and sear a path from your hips up your waist then right back down again as San wastes no time in stripping you of your pants.
“I missed you so fucking much it’s insane.” You want to respond, but the sight of your lover dropping to his knees at the foot of the bed stops you in your tracks. All you can do is lie there and watch him tug your pants off, lips moving to kiss each bit of exposed skin along the way. Goosebumps rise across your body when he kisses his way up higher. His broad frame cages you in the closer he gets to your face, and despite his hands being on the somewhat small side, they feel all-encompassing when they’re sneaking under your shirt and exploring the skin beneath.
“I missed you more,” you murmur, catching his chin between your fingers and angling his face upwards so you can properly look at him. “I love you so so much, San. More than I can put into words.”
“Yeah?” You make no effort to pull him higher although he moves as though you do and climbs all the way up to be right over your face. He hums before dipping down to kiss the corner of your mouth. “I think I’ve missed you more still though—” another kiss, this time to the opposite side of your mouth “—but you’re welcome to challenge me on that.”
“San,” you whine. He pulls back and sits back on his knees. Your brain goes totally blank watching him take his shirt off. It’s something you’ve seen time and time again, truly nothing new or foreign to you, but something about it now makes your gut twist in on itself. He’s lost a bit of the muscle you’ve grown accustomed to seeing on him, now softer around the edges, at the waist and across his stomach. It doesn’t curb your desire for him in the slightest; if anything it makes you want him more, to cling to him tighter and feel him firmer against you.
He throws the shirt down to the floor and drags a hand through his dark hair. His legs are splayed around yours, putting the prominent bulge in his pants on full display before you.
“I want you to use me, y/n.” He grabs your hand from where it’s resting against the bed and brings it to his chest. You dig your nail into his flesh like it’s second nature to do so. “Tonight, for your pleasure.” His eyes trail after your every moment, watching as you sit up and pull your legs out from under him. You graze the underside of his dick ever so slightly yet it’s still enough to make his lashes flutter.
“Then…” San is like putty in your hands, conforming to every move you make while still maintaining that unbreaking eye contact. He turns with you, and you climb off the bed to stand despite feeling seconds away from toppling over. All it takes is the slightest push against his chest for him to lie flat on his back. “Will you be good for me?”
His response comes in the form of a bitten-back whine thanks to you cupping the bulge of his cock as you withdraw your hand. It’s intoxicating to strip him of his jeans and feel every inch of his pretty tapered waist. You urge him to move further up on the bed, making room for you between his legs once you’ve tossed his pants down beside yours on the floor. The tip of his cock peeks out the top of his underwear, already stiff and leaking precum onto the elastic band. Saucy nudes here and there don’t do him nearly enough justice, you think. You tease just the bit of him that's exposed with your tongue, licking at the sensitive and swollen head, and he twitches beneath the fabric. Humming to yourself, you inch his underwear down just far enough to put his whole member on display, along with his balls, but you don’t go any further than that. It’s enough for you to get your mouth around him, after all, and that’s exactly what you do without giving San any time to brace himself for the touch.
He lets out a desperate moan the moment your wet heat envelopes his length, fingers curling into his palms around the comforter. His hips twitch with the desire to thrust upwards, but he keeps himself firmly planted on the bed, fulfilling his end of the bargain for you and being so delightfully good. The weight of him on your tongue isn’t nearly enough; you want him buried deep inside you as soon as possible, and you’d go on and do it now if you didn’t think it would hurt like a bitch given how long it’s been since you’ve taken him. San isn’t distracted enough to miss the way you retract a hand to touch yourself, and he fights to speak through broken moans.
“I w-wanna touch you, pretty.” You lift yourself off his cock until just the tip sits on your lower lip.
“I’ll let you later when I ask you to fold me in half and fuck me into the mattress.” You sink two fingers into your hole, taking San back into your mouth to revel in that full feeling again. You’re just as needy as he is, in reality, because your walls are already coated with arousal and it pools around the base of your fingers in such a way that it makes your cheeks flush. San’s noises aren’t helping in the slightest — for as quiet as he is in day-to-day life, he is ever so vocal when it comes to sex, especially when his cock is buried in your mouth. He’s just long enough to push right into the back of your throat, making it far easier for you to take him fully.
“Your mouth feels so — fuck, fucking good, baby.” If you weren’t preoccupied, you would love to return his words with your own, so you settle for tugging at his balls a little. It earns you a delightful little yelp, and his hips buck up to drive his dick further into your throat than expected. “Hngh, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
“I want—” you don’t finish your train of thought, too rushed to bother with it as you scramble to rid yourself of your underwear. San greets you with his hands when you climb back onto the bed and grabs hold of your waist. He tugs and pulls at your shirt until it’s gone too, leaving you with nothing more than your plain black bra. However, even that San seems to find issue with, because he toys with the clasp until it comes loose and throws that aside too.
“Beautiful,” he murmurs, settling back against the mattress. He’s always told you this is his favorite position, to see you straddling his hips and bouncing on his cock, though he favors missionary quite a bit as well because it lets him see your body and face while he’s fucking you (despite how much he loves your ass). His cock is trapped between your pussy and his stomach now, hard and throbbing for the same kind of stimulation you so desperately crave. You drag your folds along his length a few times just to tease San, but he grips your hip in warning. In hindsight, you should have let him finger you open more before because the stretch is far more than you remember — not enough to hurt, but enough for you to really feel every inch of him entering your body. It makes you writhe atop him, your spine arches, and you drop your head back. San holds you like you're a precious gem, thick arms circling around your waist as you rest your hands on his chest. The position gives you some much-needed stability, but San's fingers have begun to get severely distracting. He rolls his thumbs into your skin, pausing only to squeeze and pinch at the more sensitive parts of your sides.
“I’m gonna start moving,” you whisper like being too loud will break some sort of seal. San nods and unwraps his arms enough to simply hold your hips. Despite the decrease in definition of his muscles, his strength doesn’t seem to have gone anywhere, because he lifts you with such ease that it’s a bit dizzying. Still, he lets the control rest in your hands. You sink down slowly on his cock, letting your walls get used to the drag, before doing the same motion two, three more times. The first whimper to fall from your lips is what snaps your resolve. San’s hold on you remains firm but only to ease the strain on your thighs as you begin to pick up your pace.
“Beautiful, beautiful, you’re so beautiful, my sweet.” San rolls his hips up in time with your movements, driving his cock up into your cunt as you drop yourself onto him, and it reaches so deep inside you that you see stars behind your eyelids. “Missed you so much, missed this, seeing your body through photos wasn’t enough — fuck, it wasn’t enough.”
“How many, ah, times did you come to those photos, hm?” You crack one eye open to watch San’s face. He’s already flushed with want, but the red in his cheeks deepens more upon hearing your question. You lean your weight further into your hands. “I fingered myself so many times thinking of you, Sannie. B-But, hngh, it wasn’t good enough. Not as good as your cock. Nothing… n-nothing feels as good!”
San thrusts up with more vigor now, all but taking over for you to go slack above him as he drives your hips down with his hands and pushes his length into you from the opposite direction. Then, suddenly, his movements falter and stutter to a halt, and he looks just as shocked as you are when his cock twitches against your walls. A blooming of warmth fills you right after, along with the realization that San has just come inside you without warning.
“I-I’m sorry, I — I didn’t mean to, ah, I thought I would last longer.” He slings an arm up over his eyes, and the red in his face deepens in hue. “I’m sorry, I should’ve let you come first.” You click your tongue against the roof of your mouth. Leaning down over him, you peel his arm away from his face so that you can see his shamed expression better.
“Your dick is far from the only thing that can make me come, babe. Right?”
He nods a few times, but there’s still a pout on his lips. You kiss it away.
“Then—” you detach yourself from his body, bringing about an unwelcome emptiness as his spent cock slips out of you, and roll onto your back beside him. He watches with rapt attention as you spread your legs and open your pussy to him. “Why don’t you?”
San moves with surprising haste for a man who has just come, rolling into the space between your legs, and while you expected him to just use his fingers to get you off, he hooks his hands around your thighs and shoves his face into your used cunt instead. It yanks a startled moan out of you, and it’s only amplified when he closes his lips around your clit. He’s lucky you don’t give him a concussion with how quickly you slam your thighs around his head. You don’t notice that he’s moved a hand until fingers are prodding at your leaking entrance and urging the come he just pumped into you back into your hole.
“O-Oh, San.”
Normally, he takes his sweet time eating you out, bringing you to the precipice of orgasm before sending you right back down time and time again without release. Though, either out of lingering shame at coming early or simply out of a desire to make you unravel, San laps at your clit so eagerly that it sends shudders through you. You can feel your blood rushing lower as he urges you to come, walls clenching around his fingers. It only takes another second more for the first wave to hit you, and it makes you scramble to grab hold of San’s hair as he keeps curling his fingers over your sweet spot. He does so throughout each wave of your orgasm until tears burn the corners of your eyes and you’re all but pleading for him to grant you some mercy.
“You — you had nothing to prove, you know,” you say between desperate attempts to catch your breath. San giggles and looks up at you from his lewd position. “Ugh!” You shove his head away from you half-heartedly just to spare yourself more embarrassment.
“Oh, come on, don’t be like that, duck!”
You only go as far as the pillows, turning back to him immediately and opening your arms to welcome him into them.
“I came too early, of course I had something to prove,” he adds once he’s snugly placed against your chest. You slot together like two pieces of a puzzle, his head under your chin and your breath stirring the messy strands of hair in your path. “I’ve fallen out of practice. When was the last time I did that? It’s embarrassing…”
You can’t contain your laughter.
“You always come a little early when I ride you.”
“That’s not fair!”
All you can do to soothe him is pat his head. You feel a tad sticky and gross all over, but San’s warmth more than makes up for it, and if you’re not careful, you’re certain you’ll fall asleep within minutes. A small sniffle coming from the man atop you chases thoughts of rest away in the blink of an eye though.
“San?”
“’m okay, promise.”
“You’re crying, baby, that’s not ”okay“.”
“I just,” he inhales and licks over his lips, skating across your sternum in the process. “I wasn’t sure I was gonna stay afloat without you.” You comb your fingers through his hair.
“Tell me when you need me and I’ll be there. Always.”
“I didn’t want to disrupt your schedule and get in the way.”
“You have to trust that I’ll take care of myself and my responsibilities even if I help you too. You always tell me that when I worry over the same things. It goes both ways, San, okay?”
“Okay.” He nods against you. “Okay, I’ll try to remember that. As long as you don’t lock yourself away when things get tough. Rely on me if you need strength. And talk to me when something is on your mind.”
“Alright, we have an agreement.” Out of nowhere, you remember Wooyoung’s suggestion from this morning. Picking at a stray piece of San’s hair, you mull over your thoughts some more. You could let things settle as they are now since things seem to be back to a pleasant state of balance. But even so, would it do any harm to try anyway? “I’d like to go on a first date again. With you. I want us to go on a first date again.”
“Hm?”
“Like… I want us to go out like it’s the first time all over again. And feel that excitement and giddiness we had back then. We don’t have to, it’s just a thought. I don’t know. Maybe it’d be a good thing after this semester.”
Silence overtakes the room. San’s breathing is so steady that you think he’s fallen asleep, but the second you try to shift and see his face, he tilts his head up and looks into your eyes.
“Alright. Let’s go on a first date again.”
…
“I figured we’d go to that little Thai place by the grocery before heading over to the Christmas light show?”
“Oh!” Your thoughts rearrange themselves around his words. “That sounds really nice, yeah.”
“The guys wanna meet up at Wooyoung’s after for chicken and beer, but I told them I’d leave the decision up to you.” He tilts his chin a bit to the side as he speaks, lips quirked up at the corners, and you find yourself so incredibly fond of him all over again.
“Let’s see how we feel after walking around.”
You offer to drive tonight, but he denies you quickly, whining about how he filled his tank full of gas just for tonight so you don’t push the matter any further than that (though, you still tease him a bit once he opens the passenger door for you). When he turns the car on, music starts blasting through the speakers, a song you recognize well, and the dash shows that he’s been listening to the playlist you made for him at the start of the last school year.
“Sorry, forgot the volume was up so high.” He scrambles to twist the dial down, but you stop him with your hand, gripping his wrist lightly and giving a firm shake of your head.
“I didn’t realize you still listened to it. Normally you just have the radio going.”
“Ah, well,” San’s cheeks are a bit flush under the low lights of the car, “I suppose I’ve been feeling a bit sentimental these days.” His next move is a bit hesitant; he reaches across the console and lays his hand atop your thigh. You reassure him by putting your hand over his, fingers curling around his once again. It feels normal and familiar, though you can’t count on two hands the last time you’ve done something as menial as holding hands with San.
“San?” He makes a noise of acknowledgment while watching the road. “I’ve missed you.” His nails dig into your flesh a little, and the pressure makes your heart clench in your chest.
“I’ve missed you more.” You can only see his side profile, but it’s enough for you to catch the upturn of his lips.
“I’ve missed you most then.” The statement slips out through a pout.
“And I love you more than the moon loves the ocean.”
The weight of his hand is comfort enough for you to be at ease for the rest of the drive.
────────────
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this work belongs to caly / hongism (2023). do not copy, repost, or plagiarize in any way.
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Pairing: university student y/n x office worker San
Genre: smut with plot (MINORS DNI!)
Word Count: 12.5k (I don't know what happened)
Summary: Your mother insists on getting you a tutor for your studies. You want to resist until you meet Choi San, your tutor. His sweet talk and good looks make you focus on anything but your studies and you do everything to finally catch his attention in the same way.
Warnings: San is a few years older (5 to be exact), some nipple play, fingering, some orgasm denial, lots of dirty talk, blowjob (face-fucking leaning), protected sex, mirror sex
The reader in this is so horny omg. Just straight up trash for San (relatable). Also very long build-up.
"Good is not enough in this family," your mother repeats to you for what feels like the 100th time. „Your grades have to be exceptional if you want to work in my business."
Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you change your phone to the other hand to stir your pasta around. You just told her about your recent test results which of course are not satisfactory to her.
The problem is that you are actually doing pretty good. You never missed or failed a class, you passed all your courses with at least a good score and you had even fulfilled additional classes to broaden the spectrum of your studies. But just like she said: Good is not enough for her. She won't shut up about your grades until you reach 100% in all of your classes - which is basically impossible, especially in your field of study.
"Do you even still want to work in the family business?" your mother asks you provokingly. And the problem is, you do. You really do. Your mother is the CEO of a big pharmacy company and ever since you were a kid you followed her interest in chemistry. You even chose your pharmacy major without her influence. But now that you are taking the same path as her, she is all in your business about being the perfect little mini-her.
"I do, mom. I'm working hard on it, I promise. The next exam is in four weeks and I already started studying."
She makes a huffing sound before answering you: "You said that the last three times as well and still didn't get a full score. You should really get a tutor."
"Mom! I'm the best in my class. Why should I get a tutor? I'm doing great!" You are glad you're only talking to her on the phone so that she doesn't see the way your hands clasps over your face. She can't be serious with you. Getting a tutor with your grades is just embarrassing.
"But not great enough. You know what? The son of a close business partner recently started working at the company. He graduated a few years ago with an honour's degree and seems to be a very promising young man. I'll ask him to tutor you."
Your cheeks start to heat up just at the thought of how embarrassing the whole thing will be for you. Getting a tutor that worked for your mother is literally the worst case scenario. You feel like a high school student that doesn't pay attention in school and now gets scolded for it.
"I do not need a tutor, mom." You state once again but her mind is already made up.
"I'll give him your number and he will contact you. And don't you dare be rude to him, his father is very important for our business!"
You can't believe her words. Since when have you ever been rude to anyone she introduced you to? Your mother ends the call before you can protest any more.
Angrily, you fish a single spaghetti out of your pot to taste it. It's perfectly cooked when you munch on it in annoyance.
--------------------------------
This is Choi San.
Your mother told me you needed tutoring on your pharmacy classes and gave me your schedule.
I can teach you Tuesday and Thursday afternoon from 6PM. Would that work for you?
You fall back onto bed with a frustrated groan as you read the messages. She really asked him. Now you have no choice but agree to him tutoring you because your mother would kill you otherwise.
Typing a reply you take a deep breath. This will be such a waste of time for the both of you.
Hello! Tuesdays and Thursdays are good. Thank you so much.
You hate how pathetic you sound. What are you even thanking him for? You don't want him to tutor you and he was definitely forced by your mother so why even play pretend?
No problem. We can use meeting room 117 at the company since I reserved it for us. I'll see you on Tuesday.
You dread Tuesday every single day from now on. When it finally arrives you feel ridiculous as you enter the large building of your mother's company. You have been here countless times but you never thought you would get tutor lessons here.
Even worse is that your mother made you go greet her beforehand. She specifically texted you to visit her office before the appointment with Mr. Choi. You walk past her assistant with a polite greeting and finally enter her office.
The luxurious room sat at the top floor of the building with a nice view over the city. Sometimes you forget how successful her company actually is. It can be quiet intimidating.
"There you are," she greets you with a mere look up from a bunch of files on her desk. "I hope you prepared well for your tutoring session. Please don't embarrass yourself in front of Mr. Choi. His father is an important business partner of mine and he himself seems to be a very promising employee. I don't want my own daughter to make him think worse of the company."
Of course she only worries about the company. The idea that this is incredibly humiliating for her own daughter does not even cross her mind.
"Hello, mom. Of course I prepared well, I always do. I won't disappoint you."
She nods at you, satisfied with your answer before looking at her watch. "Then you should head to the meeting room. He is always ridiculously early for meetings so he's probably waiting for you already."
Great, you think to yourself. You hoped you would be able to grab a coffee beforehand.
"I'll go right away. Bye, mom."
You walk to the elevator with heavy steps and check your own watch. It's still fifteen minutes until 6PM so there's plenty of time to grab a coffee before, no matter what your mother might say.
Entering the elevator you select the floor of the meeting room with the plan to walk to the coffee pantry first. Half-way down, the elevator stops on a different floor. When the doors open you almost choke on your polite "Hello" as your eyes take in the person in front of you.
Walking into the elevator is easily the most attractive man you have ever seen in your life. Dressed in a tight pair of dark pants and a perfectly fitted dress-shirt the handsome stranger repeats your greeting with a small bow and a mind-numbingly attractive smile. His eyes carry a little glimmer even behind the round pair of glasses he wears and as he pushes back his black hair you feel like swooning.
You have to keep yourself from staring when he takes his place in the elevator and both of you wait for it to move. Just now you realize he hasn't pushed a button, which means he is heading to the same floor as you. Out of the corner of your eyes you can't help but watch him.
He is a few inches taller than you but appears even bigger due to his broad frame. You wonder where that man even finds clothes that fit his stature with his broad shoulders and tiny waist. He checks his most definitely expensive wrist watch before looking at the display counting down the floors.
When the elevator doors open with a ding, you almost jolt. You were so caught up in thinking about how good he looks that you didn't even notice arriving on your floor. The handsome man gestures for you to step out first with another deadly smile in your direction.
"Thank you," you barely breath out as you step out of the elevator in front of him. It feels like the air outside is ten degrees colder. Without looking back you head to the pantry of the floor. You need a coffee even more than before now that you can only think of that guy from the elevator. There is no way you can concentrate on tutoring now without some caffeine.
The benefit of being the CEO's daughter is having a card with unlimited access to the coffee machines so you happily press the button for a black coffee. At the familiar buzzing sound you can finally relax and take a deep breath. No man has ever made you so flustered before just by existing. Maybe you should visit the office more often if that was the kind of employees your mother hired.
Taking your coffee into one hand and your study bag into the other you turn around to head to the meeting room. Caught up deeply in your thoughts you almost run head first into the person behind you.
"Woah, careful there. You don't want to spill that coffee do you?" his voice is smooth like honey, with a joking tone to it. You blink up at him a few times before you find your words.
"I'm sorry. I was distracted."
The man from the elevator smiles at you and you feel your body warming up from the inside out.
"Don't worry, nothing happened." He looks you up and down quickly before holding eye contact once again.
"Excuse the question, but do you happen to be director Kim's daughter?"
You stare at him in confusion. "Yes. Yes, I am. How did you know?"
He moves past you, grabbing a cup from the pantry himself and turning on the coffee machine before he answers:
"You share her eyes. But more importantly, your bag has a pin of the pharmacy faculty of the university and because I'm supposed to meet her daughter for tutoring on this floor in - " he checks his watch again: "exactly 12 minutes, I figured it might be you."
You are impressed. His looks are already enough to have your eyes turn into hearts but there is probably nothing that makes a man more attractive to you than his wit. But what hits you even more than that is the fact that THIS was your tutor.
I take everything back mom, I love tutoring. Sign me up for another year.
"Well, you figured correctly," you reply weakly, at a loss for words. "Nice to meet you Mr. Choi."
You put your cup on the pantry table to reach your hand out to him. He takes it with a smile.
"Nice to meet you too, Miss Kim. I was going to get the two of us some coffee but as I can see you already helped yourself."
Oh, so he's a gentleman as well.
"Next time you should let me take care of that," you said showing him your free access card. "I happen to own the key to infinite coffee."
"Does the caffeine addiction come for free with that as well?" You chuckle at his joke.
"I think it's the requirement to get it in the first place."
"Well then I will happily let you get us coffee next time."
Next time, you think. The reality that you will be seeing this man on a regular basis hits you.
For a second the two of you just smile at each other. Then Mr. Choi notices that his coffee is done and he grabs the cup.
"Let's head to the meeting room then. I wouldn't want to waste your time."
You sir, can waste my time any day of the week, you think to yourself but obviously keep silent as you follow him to the room.
He holds the door open for you and you settle down onto one of the meeting chairs. You always hated these things. They are designed to make you sit upright and therefore terribly uncomfortable. You desperately want to fold one of your legs under yourself like you always do at home but you have a good image to keep. After taking a seat across from you he puts his bag onto the table and looks at you expectantly.
"So what topics exactly are you struggling with? It's been a while for me but I'm sure I can help."
"To be honest with you, I don't really need help on anything."
San raises his eyebrows behind the round glasses on his nose. "What do you mean?"
You sigh, not knowing how to explain this dilemma best. "My mother made me get a tutor because she believes I need better grades. In fact I'm the best of my year with perfect attendance and an average of 95%. She says that everything under 100% is not enough which is why she must have thought of you as a tutor."
San just stares at you with a peculiar look on his face. He looks almost impressed from your words.
"I knew director Kim could be quite strict but I had never imagined that extent. I'm sorry she made you do this, a 95% average is very impressive in the pharmacy field."
"Says someone with a perfect 100% graduation," you snap back, a little more spiteful than you want to. But San doesn't seem to take it the wrong way. Instead he chuckles in response. The sound sends shivers down your spine, his voice dipping way lower than you had expected it could.
"Trust me, that wasn't all brains. I only know my way around people." You don't doubt that last statement for even a second.
"Maybe instead of teaching I can give you some tips around the university. That would probably help you more."
Now you are interested.
"What kind of tips for example?" You lean forward resting an elbow on the table as you pick your cup of coffee up for a sip. It's still burning hot but you pretend you didn't just burn your tongue as you set it back down.
"Does Mr. Han still do the medicine lectures? He's been using the same exam template for years. Pharmacy students are just to selfish to share the results with the younger students. I'll look for my old exams later to give them to you."
Your mouth opens in awe. Everyone from the year above had told you Mr Han's exams were the hardest and it turns out they were just lying to intimidate you. The competition was real.
"These fuckers," you mumble beneath your breath but judging by his chuckle, San heard you just fine.
"Sorry," you excuse your language immediately with a small nod. He is still an employee under your mother and she told you explicitly to act well around him. Hiding your uneasiness you go for another scolding sip of coffee.
"Don't worry, darling. I won't go complaining to your mother about your language. You don't need to be her perfect little girl for me."
You almost choke on your coffee and have to force the liquid down your throat with an effort. You really wish they didn't but his words made your insides squirm. The amount of money you'd pay him to call you 'darling' again is surely an embarrassing amount. But good little girl also didn't sound too bad from his mouth.
"Thanks," you mumble, not knowing what else to say and stare onto the table to hide your flushing face. If you look at him with those slutty, round glasses right now, you're sure you'll combust.
You don't notice, but Mr. Choi eyes you up and down carefully before he resumes speaking. He smiles at your flustered state that obviously doesn't escape his sharp senses. Seeing your pretty face flush from only these few words, satisfies him deeply.
"Then how about that toxicology class? If Mr. Lim still teaches it, I know a few ways to get on his good side. He always picks favourites and it shows in the grades."
Mr. Choi continues listing off ways to better your grades around your professors. You can't help but be impressed. Not only is he obviously very intelligent but also great with people. Maybe what kept you from exceeding in your studies was your rather reserved nature in class.
"How about this," Mr. Choi finally proposes after teaching you some of his ways. "I'll get you my old notes and exams and with that you will surely ace all your tests. Then we can meet up for these tutoring sessions and while you study in peace I can get some work done. This way your mother is happy and we both profit from the situation."
You nod without hesitation. "That sounds like a great idea. Thank you so much, Mr. Choi."
He groans at your words, a sound that makes you react in a way you don't even want to put into words.
"Please don't call me Mr. Choi when we're alone that makes me feel terribly old. My name is San."
"Aren't you older than me though?" you ask back carefully. It doesn't feel right to call him by his first name.
"If 5 years are old to you?" he inquires with a slight teasing edge to his voice. You don't know if he's flirting with you or if you are just becoming a witness to this man's effortless social skills.
Truthfully, you are 22 and 5 years more don't seem that much to you. Still his way with words and the confident aura around him make him seem more mature.
"I didn't say old. Just older."
He rolls his eyes at your stubbornness, leisurely resting one of his elbows on the backrest behind him. "Just call me San, darling."
There it is again. That word single-handedly turns you into a blushing mess within seconds and you find yourself agreeing without another thought.
"Okay, San."
A satisfied smile spreads on his face and you marvel at the dimples that form on his cheeks. "Much better. Than how about you do some studying and I'll get some work done now?"
"Sounds good," you reply and start taking out your classwork. He could've told you to start stripping right now and you would've agreed without question. Damn you are down bad for him already...
It is a weird situation at first. You are used to studying around strangers in the library, but sitting alone in a room with San makes it hard to focus on your upcoming test. His eyes keep flicking from his work laptop across to you and you don't know if he's interest in the topic you're studying or you.
You yourself on the other hand are surely interested in him and you can't help but steal a few glances at him working diligently at his laptop every now and then. Even typing on his keyboard looks ridiculously hot on him with the way his slender fingers run over the keys.
After about two hours of you trying to keep your eyes on your notes San finally closes his laptop and stares at you until you reciprocate his look.
"I guess two hours is enough to make your mother think you studied, right?" he asks with one corner of his mouth slightly lifted.
"Sure," you respond weakly.
"I'll look for my old tests and will bring them on Thursday," he goes on as he stands up to pack up his laptop and bag. You also start gathering your study books.
"Thank you again," you answer lamely. But the promise of already seeing him again on Thursday excites you.
When you proceed to grab your now empty coffee cup his hands react quickly as he snatches it from you.
"Don't worry about that, I'll put those away," he's leaning over the table now, smiling at you through slightly closed eyes and you can't help but be entranced by his looks. "You should make sure to get home before it's dark outside. Want you to get home safely."
"Don't worry about me, I'll manage."
"Oh but I won't if something happens to you and your mother finds out you were last seen with me," he replies cockily as you two finally go to the door.
You have to chuckle at his remark. "Good to know I'm not the only one terrified of her."
"Everyone is terrified of her," he mumbles under his breath but you are already reaching the coffee pantry - aka your cue to go home.
"Can we use the same room on Thursday?" you ask as you stop in front of him. You make sure to brush your hair behind your ear in a nonchalant manner, knowing it shows your good angles.
"Yeah, I already booked it," San replies easily, eyes fixing yours from above. "But let's meet at the coffee machine here. I want to at least take advantage of that free coffee if I give you all my study secrets."
He winks at you at the last part of the sentence and it makes your insides twirl like on a rollercoaster. You give him a small smile through fluttering lashes. "So that's what you meant with a win-win situation: Endless coffee. Well it looks like I don't have a choice but to be your personal coffee machine."
You want to punch yourself right after that sentence leaves your mouth. How much more stupid could you possibly sound? Personal coffee machine. Saying you wanted to be his personal slut would have been less embarrassing.
But San doesn't seem to mind your awkward response. "Sounds good to me," he replies smoothly. "Then have a good ride home and I'll see you on Thursday."
"Until Thursday," you reply before you can say something stupid again and stroll off to the elevator with a small wave.
As soon as the doors close behind you, your head thumps against the steel wall. There is no way you will get any studying done with that man in the same room as you.
---------------------
Your next few meetings with San go on smoothly. You are always on time but he is still earlier than you, waiting for you at the coffee machine. You get both of you a coffee - sometimes two if you feel like it - and you two get to work in a comfortable silence sitting opposite to each other in the meeting room.
After San brought you his old exams you can now prepare exactly what you need to know for your next tests. But no matter how hard you try to focus on your studies, your eyes keep wandering from your books up to the handsome man working on his laptop.
You soon notice his seemingly endless closet full of tailored dressing shirts and perfectly matching pants. He always looks immaculate, not a single wrinkle on his shirt and his hair always neatly combed back. Even his skin is flawless to the point that you start questioning if Choi San might be a figment of your imagination.
Just like his outer appearance, his manners are immaculate. Like you already noticed on your first meeting, he is a sweet talker. Always knowing the right thing to say and never letting your conversation end in awkwardness.
Whenever he feels like taking a break you notice him starting to talk to you. At first he asks how your studies are going. Then he wanders off to the professors you two shared and how he managed to ace all his classes.
Your whole attention is glued to his lips. For one thing because the information he can provide you with is crucial to your academic development but much more importantly because his lips are the prettiest thing you have ever seen. They look so plump and smooth while he's talking that your mind can't help but wander to the other things he might be able to do with them besides talking.
If at your first meeting you were down bad for Choi San, one month later you felt like you were drowning and he was the last bit of oxygen left on earth. You wanted him with a passion that you didn't even know you were capable of.
But you couldn't have him. There was too much at stake. He still worked for your mother and if you made a move on him that he wouldn't reciprocate you would risk the eternal hate of the only woman that still held control over your life. And so far San hadn't shown any sign of feeling the same way about you that you did for him.
„You're stuck on that?" San suddenly asks you over the page of biochemistry that you've been staring at for a solid five minutes. You haven't spared a single thought on the topic in front of you. Your mind is only occupied by the thought of San leaning over you on the meeting chair, your chin in between his slender fingers as he smirks down at you. You hate him for having this effect on you when you so desperately need to focus on your studies.
You really need to get your thoughts together.
„Oh no I was just getting carried away," you answer, looking at him pointedly with a sly smile.
You tried little attacks like this on him before. A casual pull down of your shirt, stretching your arms to make it ride up over your stomach or even looking directly at his lips as he spoke. But no matter how daring you get you can never catch San slipping.
His eyes stay on yours only whenever he looks at you, his tone is always polite and never goes farther than a casual joke. You simply can't draw a single reaction from him and it drives you insane.
„Do you need a small break? We could get another coffee," he offers helpfully.
I don't want a damn coffee I want you to fuck me on this meeting table.
"I'd love to, but I'm already way too warm today. I fear the AC can't fight against the heat anymore."
It has gotten exponentially hotter over the past days and you can feel it even inside the modern building.
"You're right, it's quite hot in here," San says with a disappointed face. "What a shame we don't have iced coffee. We should get some on Tuesday!"
His eyes light up in excitement and this little sliver of pure happiness doesn't escape you. It's surprising how cute he can be with that shamelessly hot body of his.
"Do you know a place near?" You ask to drag on the conversation. You yourself know at least 3 cafés in the area that sell iced coffee but you want San to tell you a place. Maybe his favourite. So that you can go and think of him.
"Yes, I can show you!" he answers proudly.
"I'd love to." You send him a gentle smile with long eye contact before both of you look back at your work.
But your concentration withers away like the dying plant in the corner of the room when Choi San begins undoing the buttons of his shirt sleeves.
You know you shouldn't but your eyes immediately watch as his slender fingers start neatly folding up his sleeves. The muscles in his underarms dance beneath his skin as inch after inch of skin gets revealed.
You feel like a medieval man salivating over exposed ankles as you stare at San's arms. The veins are protruding in the heat and his honey skin is glistening under the bland neon lights.
Your heartbeat quickens and it's mostly because it feels like you finally found San slipping. Him rolling up his sleeves is like a crack in his perfect mask and you are certain that he wouldn't do it anywhere else in the company. He only does this because he is with you.
"Shoot," he suddenly exclaims and draws your attention up to his face. You catch the small pout that appears on his lips before he looks back at you.
"What is it?" you ask him.
"I forgot to book the meeting room for Tuesday and now everything is blocked. There is a work event next week. I should've booked it earlier."
"Oh," you simply reply. This is even more confusing. You don't believe that San would ever forget such an important event. Is he trying to get rid of you?
"Don't worry about it, darling." His smirk and the nickname has you fighting for air. "I'll find us something else."
You can only nod at him with a smile. Maybe he isn't trying to get rid of you.
The rest of your study/work time flies by as your mind thinks of all the possible meeting places you and San could have for Tuesday. You feel like a highschool girl dreaming about dates with your crush but you don't care. The man that is supposed to be tutoring you just makes your heart speed up in a way that you haven't experienced ever before.
When your meeting time comes to an end and San starts packing up his stuff he simply says: "How about we meet at my place next time? I don't like working in cafés it's always so crowded and noisy. And I have coffee too."
You snap up at him in surprise at the proposal. "Sure," you reply as nonchalantly as you can at the prospect of going to Choi San's apartment. Alone. With him.
"I can pick you up here with my car after work. So you don't have any extra way."
"That sounds good," you reply with a small smile, trying not to sound too excited.
"Then until next week," he says with one of his handsome smiles and you say your goodbyes before you can turn even redder in his presence.
When you walk onto the elevator this time and the door closes behind you, your heart is pounding into your throat. As the realization sets in that you will be alone with Choi San in his apartment a satisfied smile set over your face. Oh you will use that chance for sure.
----------------------
You spend the entire day preparing for your tutor appointment with San. Something deep inside you tells you that this behaviour is ridiculous but you push this inner voice back down as you play your favourite music and get ready.
You wear your hair in light waves and put on makeup to bring out your eyes but not look overly done up. Your outfit was a tricky matter but you settled on a classic pleated skirt and a tight long-sleeve. Everything about your appearance today lands on the thin line between innocent and suggestive and you are satisfied when you twirl around in front of the mirror.
All you want is one small reaction out of the man that you have thirsted for over the past weeks. If Choi San even so much as lets his eyes scan you up and down, your mission would be successful. Lost in your task of getting ready you almost forget to actually pack your study books before heading to your mothers company.
You two agreed on San picking you up at the company's garage. So you are taking down the elevator to the parking floor and checking yourself one last time in your phone camera before stepping into the parking lot.
Having no idea how his car looks like you pull up your chat with San, wanting to ask him where to go. But before you can type your message a calm voice calls you over from across the parking lot.
"Y/n!"
You turn around to a sight that makes your heart flutter. San is leaning onto his car, a chic black Mercedes. His white dress shirt has one button unbuttoned and his sleeves are rolled up again. His feet are crossed over each other leisurely as he waits for you to come over.
Walking up to him you have to try real hard to look casual and not like your nerves are taking over you with the impending situation of being in the same car as San for an undefined amount of time. Your heart is beating already and he hasn't even called you any nicknames yet.
"Hello, San. You're not wearing glasses today?" you notice in surprise and hope it doesn't come off as too attentive.
"Sometimes I wear contacts," he replies smoothly. "It's a styling decision."
While you love the glasses on San seeing him without has a different charm to it. Almost like he is showing you a different side of him.
"Ready to go?" you ask him to keep the conversation going and you're almost proud of your nonchalant tone.
"Ready when you are," he replies with a light smile and walks around the car to open the door for you.
Of course he opens the door for me.
Before you can get in he also takes your bag from you to store it in the back. You want to refuse but one of his smiles finally makes you give in and you hand him the bag. Finally, you thank him and sit down in the passenger seat. The car looks even nicer on the inside: leather seats and perfectly clean. Something inside you starts questioning where this man hides his flaws since noone can possibly be this perfect at all times.
"It's only a 20 minute drive," San explains as he gets into the driver's seat and turns on the engine. You can't help but watch his hands as he manages the gearshift. But as he turns around to look for obstacles his eyes get stuck on you. For a second you think you got him. That his eyes linger on you for a little too long because you finally pulled a reaction out of him.
"You haven't even put your seatbelt on, darling."
And with that your mind is blank. Simple emptiness.
Before you can react, his hand reaches past you, grabbing the seatbelt and plugging it in. His hand doesn't so much as grace your shoulder for a millisecond but you feel like your lungs are constricting.
"Thanks," you breath out before he finally pulls out of the parking spot. He does that wildly attractive thing where he put his hand on the back of the passenger's seat while driving backwards and you feel like losing it already. How will you survive being in the same apartment with this man. San however seems his usual chatty self.
"I'm sorry again for not booking the meeting room in time. I already reserved it for the weeks to come," he starts talking to you.
"Don't worry. I totally don't mind," you answer and regret it immediately. Did that sound too eager? Something about Sam's presence makes you overthink every single word you say.
"I have a fancy coffee machine at home so I can at least return the favour of you getting me coffee all the time."
You smile at that. It feels like this little inside thing between you two how you always use your company privileges to pay for both of your coffee. San thanks you every single time, bringing up how much you save his day.
"I never thought you were that much of a coffee guy at home too," you say trying to get him to tell you more about himself.
"You're acting like I didn't go through pharmacy as well!" He replies with a slightly sulky tone. "No way to survive that major without getting addicted to coffee."
You chuckle at his response. "That's true unfortunately. So you just carried the addiction into your job?"
"You could state it like that but by buying a fancy machine you can just say that coffee is your hobby instead."
Whenever you two talk about mundane topics like this you can't help but be glued to his lips. To get a glimpse of the Choi San that isn't working over-hours all the time and kept up his perfect image at all costs. You want to find out the details about him. Like how he enjoys his coffee or what colour he might like best.
You continue the drive in casual chatter like this before finally reaching your destination. As San pulls into an underground parking lot of an apartment building your heart rate quickens again. Something about seeing his apartment makes you incredibly nervous.
He tells you to wait inside the car after he lets the motor die down so that he can open the door for you again. Even this small gesture has you wrapped around his finger and you smile as you try to step out of the car as gracefully as you can.
San leads you into an elevator and as soon as the doors close you feel reminded of your first meeting. Of how he took your breath away just by standing next to you in such a small space. And now there isn't much difference. He still makes you just as nervous. But at least you can talk to him now.
"How is studying for your exams going so far?" He asks casually.
"It's okay," you reply lamely. "I'm trying my best."
"You know if you actually do need my help you can obviously ask me," he offers alluding to your deal of him basically just getting his own work done instead of tutoring you.
"You've already helped me so much. All I need to do now is actually study," you say turning down his argument.
You idiot, you think to yourself. You could've at least pretended to need his help.
You wait in silence as the remaining floors rush past you. You're surprised with every passing number, wondering what floor San might be living on. But the elevator doesn't stop until the highest floor.
San let's you exit first which makes no sense to you since you don't know where to go. So you wait for him to show you the way to his apartment.
As soon as he unlocks the door and leads you two inside you curiously scan his place. On a first glance it looks almost exactly like you expected: it's very clean and tidy, the furniture is modern and rather minimalistic and the whole place carries a simple colour theme of black and chrome with only hints of colour. The entrance leads straight into an open living room that connects to the kitchen.
"Make yourself at home at the dinner table," San offers while gesturing at the big, black table that looks like straight out of a design magazine.
You both place your shoes neatly at the entrance of his apartment before you take your bag to the table. As you choose a seat from which you can look outside the gigantic window front, San heads over to the kitchen, getting something from a cupboard.
"Can I get you a glass of water before I make some coffee?" He asks you with a kind smile.
"That would be nice," you answer even though water was not what you were craving right now.
He filled one for you and brought it over before returning to the kitchen. "You want your coffee hot or iced?"
"Iced? This is better service than at the company. You should forget to book the meeting room more often." It's a weak attempt at flirting with him but he laughs non the less.
"So iced it is?" He confirms with you again and turns on his electric coffee grinder after you nod approvingly.
It shouldn't captivate you that much, looking at him while he was performing such a basic task as making coffee. But you could watch him for hours, the way his broad back stretches out his dress shirt. The way he moves around so smoothly. The way the muscles in his arms flex as he handles his espresso machine.
You turn towards your study materials just in time before he faces you again, two iced coffees in his hands. He places one gently in front of you before he sits down opposite of you.
"Thank you," you smile at him extra sweetly.
"Anything you want, darling."
You swear to yourself that if he calls you darling one more time you will throw all rational thoughts out of the window and straddle him right here in his stupid designer living room chair. But for now you settle for a coy smile as you feel your cheeks heat up.
To add to your demise, as San drags his chair closer to the table both of your knees touch for a brief second before he casually changes his seating position. The table is narrower than the one in the meeting room and knowing that your legs are mere inches from another makes you even more delusional. What if he did that on purpose?
After that, all concentration for your studies is far gone. It doesn't help at all that the iced coffee he made you was the best you had in ages and with every sip you keep wondering what Choi San isn't good at.
I just know he fucks good there's no other way, you think to yourself but get interrupted in your thoughts.
"Are you stuck on something?" San asks you and you almost don't even dare to raise your eyes to look at him. A kind of shame overcomes you as you realize what you have been thinking about while he worries about your studies.
You sigh to buy yourself time to find an answer that doesn't include: Yes, I'm stuck because I can't think of anything but your body on top of mine.
"Yeah, I just can't seem to concentrate well lately. Maybe I'm stressed out because of my finals."
It isn't fully a lie. Your finals are approaching steadily and with you thirsting over your tutor instead of studying you are indeed starting to worry.
"I would love to tell you that grades don't matter too much but I know your mother won't agree and I will probably face her anger too if you fail," he laughs at the end of his sentence to lighten the mood but quickly notices he only stressed you more by saying that.
"I'm sorry," he quickly retracts. It feels like the first time you caught him messing up his smooth way of talking which in return makes you smile.
"No, you're right. I just never thought about the fact that she will hate both of us if I mess up. What a way to relax."
"I shouldn't have said that," San again apologizes. "I'm sure you will do amazing though. After all you studied so much."
He finishes his sentence with a wink and you must stare at him for a second like an idiot. Did you just imagine that? Or is he alluding to something? Does Choi San know that you thirsted for him this entire fucking time?
But his further actions don't allow you to think much more.
"You look quite tense actually," he continues. "You know it's not good for your back to sit stiff like this for a prolonged amount of time. Your neck must be hurting?"
You have no idea what he is talking about. And your confusion only grows as San gets up from his chair heading in your direction. Every step he comes closer to you has your heart pumping erratically. Even though you dreamed about him being closer to you and finally paying you more attention you are now paralysed at the situation unfolding. Simply being close to him renders your entire body useless.
San steps behind you and, to your absolute shock and amazement, his hands gently grasp your shoulders.
"To compensate the stress from university I took a physiology course that taught us how to massage tense muscles."
As if to proof his words his thumbs gently start rubbing circles into your neck. The warmth of his fingers seeps through your thin shirt and fills your entire body. It feels like he set you on fire with this simple touch.
All of this cannot be real. This must be a figment of your imagination or you actually fell asleep on your study notes while dreaming about San. But his voice sounds very much real when he resumes:
"You have to relax, otherwise I'll hurt you." His voice drops lower than usual and as he gently drapes your hair over one shoulder to get it out of his way you can feel his breath fanning over your neck. Goosebumps erupt all over your skin.
But amid the fire burning in your veins and your clouded mind you actually manage to ease into his fingers and allow him to loosen up your muscles.
"That's a good girl," he rasps behind you and you know you tipped over the edge now. There is no going back from this. You feel like a doll in his hands. His words are electrifying, leaving you unable to utter a single word, to make a single sound. Your mind is running on a state of emergency. Nothing seems to get to you but the fact that San is touching you.
And oh is he good at it. His hands are pressing into all the right places relieving all the pent up tension you built ever since getting ready for this meeting today. If his fingers are already this good at massaging out your stress you can't help but think about what else they can do.
"How do you feel?" He asks. His voice is still low and his tone taunting, as if he knows exactly what he's doing to you.
"Better," you answer. Your voice is merely a whisper. You sound weak, even in your own ears, and wonder if he even heard you.
"Yeah? Then how is this?" With his question his thumbs dip beneath the collar of your shirt and massage your upper back a little lower.
You can't help but close your eyes. The low tone of his voice, his fingers on your skin and the playfulness of his words. All of this is so overwhelming you can only lean back and revel in his touch.
"It feels so good," you manage to breath out when you realize he asked you a question.
He bends down a little, his mouth now right next to your ear. "Should I make you feel even better?"
He is quite literally the devil on your shoulder. Everything in your body screams for you to say yes immediately. The unspoken promise has your entire body on fire and you almost give in to your desire. But a tiny speck of reasonable thinking pulls you back into the dangerous territories you are moving in right now.
"What do you mean?" you ask carefully. You know that this is everything you wanted for the past few weeks but still you can't help being confused about his sudden change.
His left hand wanders from your back to your chin, tilting it to the side so you can look at him. The look in his eyes sends a shiver down your spine. His pupils are dilated and he is looking at you like he is preying on you. The intensity is something you have never seen in him before.
"You are far too smart to be asking that question, darling," he replies smugly.
"But you were never interested in me?" You ask back and want to hit yourself on the spot. Why are you even asking questions when the man you've desired for weeks finally seems to be making a move on you? But after all he is acting very out of character.
San chuckles, never taking his eyes off of you. "You're so cute. All these weeks that you've been wanting me and now you ask what I'm doing?"
Your mouth opens in shock. So he did in fact know all this time that you were interested in him.
"Don't act all surprised now, darling. You really thought I didn't see the way you looked at me ever since we first met? How your eyes keep focusing on my arms in my tight shirts. How you steal glances at me when you think I'm not looking? I wanted to see how long I could leave you thirsting like this before you would break."
His confession has you gasping as you realize you weren't even faintly as indiscreet as you thought you were. Instead San was playing with you the entire time. Watching your every move.
"Desperation looks so cute on you," he adds with another devilish smile. His fingers continue drawing circles into your back as his burning eyes keep you fixed in your spot. You feel bewitched by his entire presence, like he has cast a spell on you.
"I made all this effort to get you into my apartment so we both don't have to risk our lives by having me ruin you on the meeting table and still you didn't even have a clue. I'm almost disappointed if you weren't so cute when you are surprised like this." A satisfied grin plays around his plump lips, as if he revelling in the taste of this sweet opportunity in his hands. "Now be a good girl for me and finally do what you've been wanting to do for weeks. Tell me you want me."
You haven't taken a single breath since he started talking and as a result your head feels dizzy. It takes a short moment before you can finally form the words that your head is screaming at you.
"Please," you whisper pathetically.
"Please what, darling?" San revels in the way you can barely speak.
"Please ruin me."
You can basically see the fire behind his eyes ignite as you speak those three words. His hand wanders to your cheek, grabbing it firmly. He takes his sweet time to let his thumb run over your bottom lip, eyes trailing after his own movement.
"With pleasure."
Finally, his lips press onto yours in a desperate kiss. They feel just as soft as they always looked to you, but he kisses you with a roughness that is almost contradictory. The combination is intoxicating. As you reciprocate the kiss, heat runs through your limbs in shockwaves.
Suddenly impatient, San interrupts the kiss to pull you up and out of the chair by your arms. Grabbing your waist he manhandles you onto the dinner table instead, lifting you onto the ledge as if it was nothing.
Your hands bury in his hair as both your lips meet again in a rushed embrace. In return, San wedges one of his legs between yours and spreads your knees so he can stand between them. The way he handles you makes heat pool in your core. San has a determination to his every move that makes you want to do whatever he could want from you.
One of his hands still tightly grasping your waist, the other winds in your hair as he deepens the kiss. When his tongue enters your mouth you arch your back wanting to diminish every centimetre between you two. Your head is dizzy, completely overwhelmed by his every touch.
San's firm hands are restless on your heated body. His fingers quickly find a way to shift under your shirt and his thumb draws circles into the bare skin of your stomach. Choi San feels like a drug. His touch just as intoxicating as you always dreamed it to be.
He removes his mouth from your lips only to latch onto the fragile skin behind your ears, kissing his way around your neck. You let your head fall back to give him better access and when he starts sucking on your skin you relieve a small whimper.
You can feel San smirking into your skin as he sucks even more. It's like he has found your weakness and is now shamelessly using it to make you melt beneath his fingers. And it's working so well. Your hands lose grip on his hair as you lose your ability to focus on anything but San's lips on your neck.
"Don't tap out on me already, darling. I'm only getting started," he rasps into your ear in between kisses. You draw in a shaky breath at his words. Your legs feel like jelly even as your sitting down and you just know you won't be able to walk after San is finished with you.
He finally withdraws his lips and for a second just revels in your already dishevelled form: hair messy, red flush to your cheeks and lips glossy from kissing him.
"I'd love to have you on my dinner table but let's take this somewhere more comfortable for now," he says in a soft voice.
Hooking his hands under your thighs he picks you up from the table, carrying you towards his bedroom. Woken up from your trance by the change of motion you suddenly gain back some of your bite. While San is busied with carrying you, your fingers rush to the collar of his dress shirt. Oh how often you have dreamed of popping open those buttons one by one. And finally you have the pleasure to do so. A soft chuckle makes his chest move in front of you as San looks down on your actions.
"You couldn't wait, could you?"
"Why would I?" you reply cheekily as your hand smooths over his now exposed skin. He feels so soft and hot under your fingertips that you don't think you'll ever be able to detach.
San throws open his bedroom door with his shoulder and before you have a chance to take in the room you are thrown onto the plush bed. He follows behind immediately, hovering over you with both hands propped up next to your head. He lets his eyes run over your figure lazily, up and down.
"Don't even know where to start with you," he mumbles half to himself and half to you as he watches your chest rise and fall in heavy breaths. He decides to put on a show, sitting back on his heels and slowly continuing your work in unbuttoning his shirt.
Apart from his skin being exposed the simple act of opening some buttons shouldn't drive you as crazy as it does right now. It's simply the sexiest thing you have ever seen in your life. The way his hooded eyes stay on yours the entire time while one button after another falls open under his practiced movements.
You are moving on autopilot when you also sit up to take off your own shirt. You simply can't delay this any further. As your shirt lands somewhere beside the bed, San lets out a small groan, surprising you. He stopped in the middle of folding down his sleeves.
"How did you know that purple was my favourite colour?" He asks in a raspy voice. His eyes are raking over your deep purple bra with a desire in them that lets shivers run over your skin.
You can't imagine a better way to find out his favourite colour. You only chose it because it accentuates your skin tone but now it feels like fate to you. Finally, you are getting to the edges of Choi San. Getting to know him on a level that you were craving like the air you needed to breath.
"Good intuition," you reply. Your confidence surges under his heavy glances. Maybe a little too much. "Need help with that?" you ask him teasingly with a nod towards his shirt, which hangs open around his toned torso.
As soon as you speak those words you are getting pinned back to the bed, San's hand suddenly wrapped around your neck. He isn't putting any pressure on it yet but you can feel his strength pulsating around your neck. His broad shoulders are taking up most of your vision and with the way he glares at you you just know that you are soaked.
"Don't get too bold with me, darling," he says in a warning tone. "I'm the one in charge."
You look up at him through big, round eyes, lashes fluttering because you have a feeling that it will push just the right buttons in him.
"Go ahead then," you reply firmly. "Do whatever you want to me."
San sits up again and roughly tugs on his sleeves, finally discarding his shirt fully. Then his lips are on yours again in a heartbeat.
You greedily let your hands wander over his now fully exposed upper body. The muscles playing under his skin feel so good as he buries his hands in your hair. His biceps is so big that your fingers can barely wrap around it halfway. You can't get enough of touching his body which so far you only admired in fitted dressing shirts.
San kisses his way down from your lips again but this time he doesn't stop at your neck. Continuing down your chest he kisses the tender skin between your breasts. When he takes both hands to squish your breasts together, burying his face in between, you lose your last bit of composure.
"Please, San. Please just fuck me."
He lifts his head to smile at you devilishly. The fire behind his eyes seems so bright that you're scared it will never burn down again.
"Already begging for me? You're still half dressed and I'm only starting. Have a little patience."
As he finishes his words, his hand snakes behind your back to open your bra in a swift motion. He peels the straps off of you with a new found patience that makes you feel like you are suffocating.
When the piece of clothing lands on the floor, San's eyes are glued to your chest. Slowly, he lowers himself down again, gently taking on of your nipples into his mouth. As soon as his tongue starts lapping at you a string of moans escape you. He just feels so good.
Without ever losing focus on kissing and nipping on your chest, one of his hands wanders to your skirt. He finds the zipper so easily it feels like he has studied undressing you. He pushes it down your legs quickly, leaving you only in your underwear.
As his hand starts stroking your inner thighs, your eyes roll to the back of your head. He feels like a dream.
"Please San. Please touch me," the words leave your mouth in whispers. Silent pleas for him to finally give you what you want.
"Is my darling so stressed from studying that she needs her mind taken off of things?" His fingers trail over your clothed heat as he asks you in a sickly sweet voice. His eyes are focussed on your face, taking in how you crumble beneath his touch.
"Yes. Yes, please," you whimper desperately. Every touch feels like electricity on your skin.
"Want me to stuff you full so you can forget everything you've studied for for weeks?" He pushes your panties to the side, his fingers toying at your entrance.
"Please San..." you repeat yourself weakly. Finally he gives into your pleading and sinks two of his fingers into you. You are so wet that they glide in with ease. You suck in a harsh breath as he begins pumping them in and out of you.
"God you feel so good. Can't wait to fuck you, my darling. Bury my cock so deep into you you forget your own name."
His words make you shake beneath him. You had a lot of suspicions about San in the bedroom due to your extensive daydreaming about him. But never did you expect him to be so vocal and downright dirty with his words. It catches you off-guard and only heightens your pleasure.
San scoots up on the bed a little so his face is hovering over yours again, while he slips a third finger into your heat. "How do I feel?" he asks with a raspy tone to his voice.
"You feel so fucking good, San," you moan in answer. His fingers stretch you out so deliciously and he reaches this spot deep inside you that makes you arch your back with every thrust.
"Yeah, you wanna come on my fingers?" he rasps into your ear now, lips again attaching to your neck, sucking deep marks into your skin.
"Please, San." You feel like a broken record that's repeating the same thing over and over. You grow closer and closer to an orgasm with every motion of his fingers inside you. But San has other plans for you. And when he feels you desperately clenching around his fingers, he pulls them out of you.
"I'm sorry darling," he says immediately, even though his face doesn't display any regret. "But you look so pretty when you're desperate. And I want you to come on my cock when I make you fall apart for the first time."
You feel like crying. You want nothing more but to come and yet him taking it from you only makes you want him more. You would do anything for Choi San.
He stands up from the bed and opens his belt. But before he can take of his pants, he orders you over with a motion of his finger. You sit on your knees at the edge of the bed in seconds, looking up at him expectantly.
He doesn't say a word and only gestures for his painfully strained pants. You don't need any more hints to start opening his pants and pulling them down his legs desperately. You hook your fingers into his boxers too but look up at him once more before continuing. When he nods at you you finally pull them down as well.
You can't help but stare at San's length. He's big, just like you had always imagined and he was rock-hard. When San takes himself into his hand and gives himself a few strokes you open your mouth on your own, sticking out your tongue in anticipation of tasting him.
San starts gently. His other hand weaves into your hair and he pulls you onto his length slowly. You are able to take a good amount of him before his tip hits the back of your throat and you release a surprised moan. San closes his eyes momentarily as he relishes in the feeling of your hot mouth around him.
"Shit, you feel so good," he rasps out before he starts thrusting in and out of your mouth. Your hands seek hold on his muscular thighs and you look up at San through big and pleading eyes. Even though he isn't pleasuring you, this almost feels as good as having him bury his fingers inside you. All you ever dreamed about was him using you just like this and the feeling of it happening is so intoxicating you feel like you might pass out any second.
"Look at you enjoying my cock so damn much, that your eyes are losing focus," San chuckles. He looks down at you in disbelief as you mindlessly swirl your tongue around his cock. "You love being ruined by me, don't you?"
You can only manage a desperate nod and approving grunt as you continue sucking him of. No man has ever made you this desperate. As you look at him from beneath you feel like you have accomplished everything you ever wanted: his hair was dishevelled, his breaths uneven and a red tint painted his cheeks. All in all, Choi San lost his perfectly maintained appearance as you sucked on his cock and to you he looked 100 times prettier this way.
When his thrusts go sloppy, he pulls out of your mouth in a haste before he can come. "You're driving me crazy, darling," he grunts as he catches his breath for a second. In a more gentle tone he resumes: "Lay back on the bed for me, ok?"
You do as he says, laying down on your back in the middle of the bed, your body buzzing with the anticipation of what is to come. San goes to his dresser, opening a drawer to get a condom.
When he climbs over you he looks at you intensely. But at the same time his eyes hold a softness that makes you feel secure.
"Are you sure about going on, y/n?" he asks warmly. No petnames this time. He wants a clear answer.
"Never been so sure in my life," you reply with a smile and his lips mirror yours as he beams down at you.
Quickly he sits up to open the condom and roll it onto his member. Opening your legs with his knee he situates himself between you and positions his cock at your entrance. One hand on your hip and the other holding his cock, he slowly sinks himself into you while carefully observing your face.
Your eyes flutter when he is fully inside of you and you moan at the feeling. San releases a grunt as well and waits a few seconds deep inside of you.
"Fuck, you're so tight for me, my darling. Don't worry I won't stop this time until you come." And with that he starts thrusting into you. He begins with slow and deep thrusts but as soon as you get used to his size he speeds up rapidly.
His abs are flexing underneath is skin as he grabs onto your hip and pistons himself into you. With every thrust you can feel him hit this spongy part deep inside of you that makes heat build in your core with a throbbing intensity. Meanwhile you revel in the sight above you: San looks like a god. His muscular body moving above you is almost enough to push you over the edge but what's even more entrancing is his face. His expressions seem almost possessed. Like a demon took over him as soon as he started fucking you, he fixes his eyes onto yours.
"Am I fucking you good? Making you forget all your precious studies?" There they are again. His filthy words driving you down a one-way-road to insanity. "I hope you forget everything so you have to see me even more, darling. Then I can keep on fucking this tight little cunt over and over again."
"Fuck, San!" you moan out, being shocked by his words. His control over you is baffling and you can't help but grow closer and closer to your orgasm with every word.
"I know you like me like that, darling. Do me a favour and come on my cock so I can finally see you lose yourself will you?"
You can't form an answer. Endless moans tumble out of your mouth in increasing volume and San knows he has you exactly where he wants.
"Come for me."
Your orgasm hits you with an explosive intensity. Faintly, you notice yourself moan at a concerning volume as your high washes over your body. But San doesn't seem to mind. Your legs are shaking and he helps you ride out the feeling with slower strokes. He waits for your breath to slow down again before he leans down to you and places a gentle kiss onto your lips.
"I want you on your knees in front of me," he says sweetly as soon as your lips separate and your head is spinning. Still you manage to get up with the help of his arm beneath your waist and you let yourself be positioned in front of San, your back to him.
Since you didn't have the opportunity to examine his bedroom earlier you only now notice the big mirror on his wardrobe next to his bed. Looking ahead, you can now see yourself on your knees, sitting in front of San.
You look even more dishevelled than you feel: Your hair is all over the place and some of your eyeliner smudged and a handful of dark purple marks littering your neck. Also, a red tint covers your skin, making you look flushed. San behind you smirks as you examine your own figure.
"You look so pretty all messed up like this for me, don't you think?"
His arm wraps around your waist as he leans your body back onto his broad chest. You look tiny in front of his build.
"I'll make you look even prettier," he promises as he sinks himself back into you.
He picks up his intense pace from before and you already feel dizzy again. With his arm holding you tight he is basically lifting you up and down his cock. At this angle he is hitting you deeper than before and you are sure you won't last very long until your next high.
But nothing could've prepared you for the feeling of San winding his other arm around you too, his fingers gently starting to stroke your clit. Your head falls back onto San's shoulder as you give in to the mind-numbing pleasure that starts buzzing through your body.
"Keep your eyes on me, darling. I want to watch you fall apart."
His voice sounds sulky, almost cute. It doesn't match his relentless thrusts and his fingers pleasuring you. It takes all your strength to lift your head again and look at San through the mirror. His eyes are hooded now, a shin layer of sweat making his flawless skin shine in the evening light.
"You make me feel so good," you manage to say as San keeps on pounding into you. You want him to know how he makes you feel. How good he is being to you.
"Am I?" He smiles in satisfaction as he watches your brows draw together with a particularly deep thrust. "You too, darling. You feel so good around me I don't think I can last much longer. But you'll come one more time for me, right?"
His voice sounds so deep and sultry in your ears. "Of course, Sannie," you mumble absent-mindedly. You don't even notice the nickname until he chuckles behind you.
"How can you be so cute and so sexy at the same time? You'll be the death of me, my good little girl."
He places a kiss onto your cheek and that is what finally drives you over the edge.
"Fuck, San. I'm coming," you moan out before your high crashes over you. If he wasn't holding you, you would fall to the ground. You try to hold eye contact with San through the reflection but your eyes keep on shutting as waves of pleasure roll over you. You have never felt such an intensity before.
But San's thrust don't slow down this time. He keeps on rutting into you relentlessly, driving you to insanity. You feel like you're swimming in a pool of pleasure.
"I'm close, darling. Just a little longer," San's voice is pitched higher than before, sounding just as desperate as you feel. You want nothing more but for him to come.
"Please, Sannie. I want you to come so bad."
Your desperate pleas are San's final straw. Clutching your body tight to his own, he finishes with his cock buried deep inside you. You can feel him pulsating in your heat and your moans mix into his grunts as you milk him for every last drop of his cum.
As you both slowly recover San pulls out of you and gently lays you back onto the bed. You can't do anything but catch your breath while he gets up to rid himself of the condom and return to you with a glass of water.
"Drink something," he urges you on and you take the glass from him. He watches you with a tinge of worry in his eyes. After taking a few sips you offer the glass back to him.
"You should drink some too, I'm sure you worked your body more than I did."
He smiles at your words and takes some water too before returning the glass to his bedside table. When he looks back at you there is a heaviness to his gaze that worries you.
"What is it?" you ask.
San takes a deep breath before answering you. "No matter what I said to you before, I actually didn't expect us to tumble into this as quickly as we did right now. And I want you to know that I didn't do this to use you or take any advantage of you."
His hand nervously grabs for the back of his neck. "Actually, I've been interested in you ever since we first met but I fear the tension between us was quicker than both of us."
You try to process his words even in your hazy state of mind. A spark of excitement surges through your body as you realize what he is saying.
"I feel the same, San," you reply truthfully. "I like you. And not just because you're insanely handsome."
You are glad when he laughs shyly at your words.
"So maybe I can take you out on a date that doesn't involve work or pharmacy studies sometime?"
"I hope sometime means this week, because I waited long enough for you already."
After everything that happened this evening, this moment when he smiles at you might be what makes your heart beat the fastest. You can't believe your luck as you look Choi San into the eyes and he leans in for a kiss.
-----------------
"This was a stupid idea," you say to San but maybe more to yourself. "I should tell her alone."
"How will she ever respect me again if I let you do this alone?" San replies worriedly. "She told me to tutor you and now here we are. I will look terrible either way."
You have never seen him this nervous. But after all, your mother has the ability to make everybody scared for their life. You two pass her assistant's desk with a polite greeting as you head straight for your mother's office. She knows you are coming but she doesn't know you're bringing company.
You knock carefully on the door until her voice calls you in. Your mother stays seated as you two enter the room. She doesn't look surprised or confused about San's appearance but rather intrigued.
"Why are you visiting me today, y/n?" she asks simply.
Your heart is beating out of your chest as you prepare for answering.
"I have something to announce to you," you start off as confident as you can.
Your mother's eyes flick between you and San. "Go on."
"San- ... Mr. Choi and I, we are..." your voice is shaking. Why is this so hard for you?
But San grabs for your hand, linking his fingers with yours as he confidently finishes your sentence: "We are in a relationship, director Kim."
His boldness strikes you as admiring. Maybe he was right about accompanying you.
A silence that draws out unbearably long fills the room. You feel like your lungs are being compressed with every passing second.
Then your mother smiles. It's not exactly a smile of happiness. It speaks more of victory.
"Finally," she announced. "It took you two longer than I expected."
Now it's your turn to be silent. Both you and San are stunned in your places.
Finally you find your voice to ask: "What do you mean, mom?"
She smiles at you in satisfaction.
"You see: Mr. Choi is a good man. He's a gentleman, treats his colleagues with the utmost respect, excels at his job and is handsome too. How could I find a better match for my beloved daughter? But I know you wouldn't be interested if I were to formerly introduce you two so I thought I'd help you in a different way."
Your mouth falls open in shock. Out of all things, your mother purposefully setting you up with San has never even crossed your mind. Your boyfriend seems even more shocked at the revelation than you, his face reddened and a stunned expression on his face.
"So you set us two up?" You finally ask your mother.
"Of course I did! And it worked out brilliantly, don't you think? I'm glad you both came to tell me. Mr. Choi?"
San perks up at her words. "Yes?"
"I assume you will take good care of my daughter?"
"Of course I will," he replies sternly, voice full of sincerity. "I will do everything care for y/n." His words make you feel warm and fuzzy.
Your mother nods approvingly. "Then you two may leave. I still have work to do."
You both nod hastily and thank your mother before turning back for the door.
"Oh, before I forget. Y/n?" your mother asks one last time.
"Yes?"
"I received your test results that you sent me. They look very promising."
I hope you enjoyed <3 Pls reblog and leave feedback if you can :)
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