ÊâĄÉ ââ TASTES LIKE VICTORY â KIM SUNOOă
âźâ âæŠèŠâšŸ after his team wins their championship game, sunoo can't help but rush back home to his real prize.
éććź đ đ» .áèŻ»è ââ 4.2k âââexplicit content â smut (mdni)ădom!sunooăsub!readerăcollege/university auăfoodplay (whipped cream)ănipple playăoral (f. rec)ăvaginal fingeringăunprotected sex (don't do this)ăcreampieăbreeding kinkăsize kink (if you squint)ăslight impact playăice hockey terminology?ăpetnames used: angelăbabyăgood/needy/sweet girlăplaythingăprincess.ââł.list
âź â âäŸżæĄâšŸ yet again proving myself to be easily influenced since this fic came from my beloveds @jaylaxies & @yvampyr talking about sunoo fics, which i couldn't help write myself đ i hope you enjoy this short fic! life's been busy so i haven't got the chance to write as much, but TRUST good things are coming! đââïž keep well and much loveeeee! <3
"I can't believe it! Korea University add to their collection of championships, Kim Sunoo going coast to coast - nobody home, a filthy backhand goal to give them the win!"
The adrenaline rush compares to nothing else. Consumed by the cold slash of his skates, wind whistling past his ear, Sunoo moves on instinct. Waits for frays in Yonsei's defence, presence unassuming amongst bigger players on his team - Park Sunghoon, their defencemen - stealing the attention affording him this. A tossed puck with no one but Yonsei's goalie protecting their net.Â
He's gone before anyone blinks. On the replay he watches projected on the jumbotron before the award ceremony, Yonsei's d-men scramble to catch up with the speed he dashes with, making the sprint look like lightweight, leaving them in his shaved ice dust. The goalies attempt at blocking looks like mere child's play as Sunoo's stick goes right, left, right and then off his backhand, handing the goalie's ass to him. The barn is electric, the roof blown off home ice as staff, spectators and Sunoo's teammates fill his ears. He barrels into the boards, nearly falling on his ass with arms he flings into the air, throat rasped with the yell he lets out. Yonsei's players dawn a look of solemness, blurred in the veil of happiness shrouding Sunoo and his teammates pouring onto the ice, flinging themselves onto him. His ears ring, elated laughter pouring out of him as his back pins to the plexiglass, banged against by esctatic audience members.
"We're fucking champions!"Â
"Drinks on me, fuckers!"
The otherwise obnoxious hollers only make Sunoo laugh, basking in glory as the past months rush through his mind. A season that didn't look that much promising, an all-star team plagued with injuries, ever-rotating lines and a rhythm they couldn't quite get into. For months they couldn't win or lose three straight games, stuck in the limbo of average, alarmingly absent from the championship conversation. Sunoo had been injured, played the first two games before an ugly hit into the boards leaving him with a busted clavicle. It's the first time his defenseman, Riki, gotten ejected off the ice, sucker punching the guy so hard the ref picked his tooth off the ice. Other teammates rushed to Sunoo's aid, escorting him off his home he's forced to forget over his three month rehab.
While other facets of his university show some importance, the lack of hockey eats at him. You see it too, squeezing his hand when you see him become his worst enemy in his mind, cradling him in your arms when the tears eventually fall. His heart aches with anguish, disappointment in himself for deserting his team to fend for themselves his every other thought. Faintly, it lingers even when he's cleared, a coincidental comeback shared with the peanut butter to his jelly, center Lee Heeseung. Out with ankle fracture sustained over the summer break, the team doesn't really work without their star centre. But now that him and Sunoo back on the ice, there's chatter. Lots of it because once the duo take their shift, the game is theirs.Â
Like the winning goal, Heeseung's quick thinking along the boards grants them the opportunity to win.
Skating his way back to the bench, coach and staff alike cheering him on, he sees you. In the sea of red and white, he only sees you. Shining like the brightest star with a smile to match, pride shining in your glistening eyes. You're wearing his jersey, one of one with the bedazzled number 77 on your back, hugging your best friend with all the joy surrounding you. In a tangle of limbs, your outstretched hand waves frantically, kisses blown back he takes his helmet off.
"For you," he mouths, and you just melt. Right in Gaeul's arms and somehow that's better than his championship winning goal.
What starts off as an unlucky roommate situation turns into picture-perfect domesticity. After his previous roommate Intak ditches him for the big leagues (AHL to be specific), Sunoo's desperate for a roommate. You're just as pressed to find a roof over your head, on campus accommodation double booking themselves enough to kick you to the curb. Though wrong, the unfortunate circumstances set the stage for your meeting, one that wouldn't have happened due to opposite-end spectrum of your majors. And even then, your differences only uplift the groundwork laid by common interests and courtesy, your two-bed apartment witnessing the shift from flustered roommates to sickeningly sweet couple, all Sunoo's goals dedicated to you as he points to you in the crowd.
You flirt on the border of campus royalty, popularity accredited to the science competitions you win, the definition of beauty and brains as you pose with your millionth trophy. There's a special shelf in your home of shared accolades, gold trophies and medals signifying just how powerful you two are. Even better together.
Which is exactly why after getting bathed in a drum of blue Gatorade and snapping medal-biting pictures with one finger held up, he rushes to you. His teammates call him a party pooper, but he couldn't care. Until you say the same thing outside the rink.
"At least run up Jay's tab," you chuckle, tugging the puffed collar of his jacket for another kiss. Hoots and hollers of passing fans have your smiles doing guest appearances, the early spring chill settling into the midnight sky. "Go, have fun!"Â
Another tug, too close without a care in the world, lips brushing with each word you utter. "Then come home to me."Â
Sunoo sports a semi the entire time he's out, hidden away in his waistband as he nurses two pints paid by a deliriously drunk Jay. At the campus bar, jampacked with the rowdy teammates and rowdier fans, alcohol splashes to the sticky floor and the windows fog, joy so rife in the air Sunoo delays his return home. He soaks it all in â the pats on the back, the head knuckles rubs and the drinks everyone promises him. He indulges in the Skittlebomb shots Heeseung orders, a slap on his back as they cramp against the wooden bartop, shot glasses lifted under neon lights.Â
"Couldn't have done it without you," Heeseung grins, meaning it. "Next year's ours too."Â
And Sunoo feels it, like he feels the burn of alcohol cascading down his throat as its tossed back, here and then gone. Somewhere in the night, when Riki's tipsy enough to nuzzle into Sunoo like an overgrown puppy, his phone buzzes in his pocket. It's you and Gaeul, at a quieter bar on campus, shots of Tequila Rose between you. You're kissing the Korea University logo on your jersey, toying the line of tipsy as he does. He kisses his phone without thinking of it.Â
Sunoo stays as long as his heart allows him, biding his shit-faced friends goodnight before braving the cold spring winds, singing on his way to you. His lovesong reaches its crescendo as he attempts unlocking the front door, excited enough to mess up the punched-in passcode. His next try is successful, shoes kicked off and jacket thrown as he travels through familar halls, your break from the world shrouded in the dark Seoul skyline.
"Princess?"
"In here!"
His room, that's more shared since you claim you sleep better in his bed, draped in the countless t-shirts stolen from his wardrobe. Sunoo couldn't bring himself to care, satisfied with the opportunity of his hands shimming the material up your chest, eating you out like his last meal.
The thought tempts him along the countless scenarios having crossed his mind that night, blood rushing to his tip he's pretty sure leaks over your voice only. The long on-ice time he had over the game doesn't occur to him when he considers how long he'll make you scream his name, the same adrenaline rush he gets on the ice flooding him as he ventures into the dark room.Â
Only one light source brightens the room, his cocoa butter candle illuminated with the aroma wafting in the air. Its effect is immediate by association, a deep exhale of relief pushing out his nose before he sees you propped on the bed.Â
You're no longer in his jersey, not even just in his jersey but naked entirely. On display for him with the icing on the cake being you, sacred skin coated in fluffy, white whipped cream. Around your nipples and as a cute accent at the top of your cunt, legs spread to reveal the slow dribble of slick leaking onto the covers beneath you.Â
"Congrats on your win, baby," you coo, so giddy as your finger dips into the cream on atop your cunt. You have the audacity to smile, so innocently too as you give your finger a lick, humming at the taste. "Why don't you come get your treat?"
Sunoo could sink to the floor. He could drop to his knees, shattering the floorboards with his head in his hands because there's no way this is his reality. You, so pretty and so sweet for him, laid out to be devoured.
And devour you he does, crossing the room in three quick strides, hovering over you with flushed cheeks and a shit-eating grin. Desperate, longing kisses take all his attention, only acknowledging his discarded clothing as you tug them halfway off, only left in precome stained boxers, tasting sugary cream on your tongue. The room spins and he gets so lost in you, the plush of your lips and the glide of your tongue, getting harder off your kisses alone. He could spend hours kissing you, satiated by his appetizer as his arms barricade your warming body, whining high in your throat as his teeth sink into your bottom lip, tugging with the carnal need surfacing in him.Â
"So sweet, baby," he moans, smack of your glossed lips echoing in the silence of the night. His lips pry enough to allow him the sight of bliss unwind your features, breath shaky, in a bit of a daze. He could just eat you. "Do you know how pretty you are right now? All dolled up for me?"
"You deserve it," you whine, buckling under the warmth of his tongue, licking the sweat off your neck's column."Worked so hard this season. S' the least I could do."Â
A keen ends your sentence, resounding as Sunoo moves with intent, swirling his tongue around your cream-fluffed nipple, grazing enough skin to ripple shudders through you. Unintentionally scrunched up against his pillows, you allow for better access, back almost straight up, mere prey as Sunoo thumbs cream off his lip's corner, bringing it to your lips.
"Suck."
The command cushions with love, the very emotion parting your lips as you let his thumb sit on your bottom lip, glossy eyes staring into the darkness of his. His chin lifts as your tongue does a slow swirl around the digit, picking up the sliver of cream you pin your moan on. Not the look in his eyes promising all the ways he'll use you tonight.Â
"You're just the best girl, aren't you angel?" A fond tug lopsides his smirk, a margin of his lips bitten as he watches you suckle, both your hands hinged on his like he's the only thing tethering you to this world. "You'd do anything to please me, wouldn't you?"
Anything repeats itself back to Sunoo, echoed around the thumb he soon removes from your warm mouth. Your chest rises and falls, butterflies flapping their wings above the heat building in the pits of your stomach, halfway wrecked off his tongue and his cream painted thumb.
Curiosity lowers his stare and lo and behold, the duvet beneath you darkens with slick, leaking with the anticipation Sunoo can't help but pity.Â
Possession clamps his grip down around the top of your thighs, strength pulling you closer and onto your back. A yelp accompanies the drag of fabric, satisfaction lining his lips as he lowers his head where you want him most, pupils blowing in another wave of arousal.
"Just can't control yourself, baby. You get so wet for me," his eyes comb over the gloss of your folds, entrance clenching at the thought of what he'll do next. "Haven't even had all my whipped cream yet."
His cocky huff is the last thing you hear before your own pathetic whines, the trail from your belly button to the top of your cunt licked clean, lapped up by an eager mouth determined to render you a heaving, twitching mess. The luxury of one last breath is given to you before frigidness ripples up your spine, gasp tearing out your throat as his mouth starts sucking your clit. Back bowed off the mattress, you descend with the stretch of a moan, hips bucking to meet the open mouth kisses circling your clit.Â
Greedy for him like you've always been, your fingers tug at his hair strands, soaking up all the attention he gives your clit. He hums against you like you're something sweet, in a hazy trance amplified by the taste of you, the look of him making you moan more, eyes rolling back. Sunoo takes his time with you, zeroing in on every reaction you give him â a shudder, a whine, a buck of the hips â his full lips pillowing your clit as his tongue licks over it in broad stripes and pointed whirls, motions chipping away at your waning composure.Â
Peering down at your boyfriend, his world narrows down to only you, cheeks smeared in your slick with a dedication to your clit making all function of your lungs cease. Open mouth kisses make you squirm, muscles contracted in the search of more â more firmness, more fullness.Â
A stripe licked from your entrance to your aching clit detaches his face enough for his warm breath to fan over you, spit gulped down at the low-lidded gaze he directs at you.Â
"My needy girl. My mouth isn't enough for you," there's a frill of a joke there, his words not true in the slightest but you both indulge. You shiver and shake, letting yourself show how much you need him. "It's okay, you've been good. You can get my fingers."
Gratitude sings at the height of your voice, eyebrows creased as you watch in the lowlight his grin broaden, one hand clamped down on your hip with slow circles rubbed against your clit with his thumb. Curling into yourself, he takes delight in the easy glide of two fingers into you, cunt so eager for them you give him a warm welcome, walls closing down as soon as he enters.Â
"There you go, baby. Got what you wanted, didn't you?" the rhetorical question comes with the curl of his fingers, hooked to push against the soft spot he's memorized. The squelch fills the room, repeated in quick succession as he knocks at the spongy spot, squeals contesting with the cries of your cunt. Propped up on your elbows, you fray, having no strength but to collapse on your back, pants grasping at oxygen with stars dancing in your vision. "Poor girl's crying for me. Can't wait to stuff her full."
The hint alone rips your self-control to shreds, arms crossing over your closed eyes as you operate on pure instinct, hips chasing the nudge of his fingers.Â
"So impatient, baby," he coos, so condescendingly sweet your toes curl. "Riding my fingers like the desperate thing you are."
Something sickeningly syrupy drips from his words, your nearing orgasm chasing after it as you hear him say,
"Is that what you are, princess â my horny plaything?"Â
"I am, I am!" you cry, red hot arousal setting your body alight, cells awaiting his commands. "Want you all the time, every time â ngh!"Â
His ego feasts off the cries draining out you, expression pinched with every inch of pleasure Sunoo gives you. You're balancing on the edge of oblivion, his lips closing around your clit, tempting you to come around urgent fingers.Â
"Wanna feel me properly?" he murmurs on you, vibrations emptying your quivering chest. "You sound too cute not to cry on my cock."
A wobbled gasp tears out your sandpaper dry throat, moisture lining your eyes as his fingers drag out your velvety walls, holding onto him for dear life. The loss of presence folds your lips into a needy pout, hips searching only for a broad hand to smack them back into place, clit sizzling from impact. Teeth ridge into your tongue, biting back the cry of ecstasy at the pinch of pain, electricity lining your spine with the muddle of your brain.
"Be good and you get what you want," he looms over you, lowering his briefs stained in precome to reveal his cock, flushed and ready to fill you. "Good things come to those who wait, princess."Â
Displeased, there's a sulk somewhere in your expression but you let it show, clit still simmering with the low-level pain you secretly like, nearly drooling when Sunoo finally lines himself with your entrance. It's something you won't allow yourself to miss, overextending your neck to catch a glimpse of his fat tip drag upwards, nudging against your clit.
A dulled whimper spills out, jaw dropping open as he works himself back down, tip gliding against your soaked entrance and back up, enjoying the feel of you. The heat. Teeth bury into your bottom lip, teased to your wits ends but letting it happen regardless, the torturous wait well worth the madness when he feeds his cock into you.Â
The stretch burns with welcomed familiarity, thighs quivering as his length disappears into you, nothing left but the flush press of his pelvis against your thighs, trimmed balls grazing the beginnings of your ass. You could come then and there, the fill of him making your thoughts hazy at best, cluttering your non-operational brain while your walls close in on him again, feeling every ridge and engorged vein of his thick cock.
"Don't even have to train you to take me. You just take it all by yourself."Â
His tone still carries that air of arrogance, rightfully so with the latest addition of gold on your mantel, long forgotten in the depths of Sunoo's bag to be here with you. Hissing at the tight squeeze of you, Sunoo buries himself to the hilt, shoulders drooping with the large exhale he does once settled in you.
"You feel so, hm â good," hurried blinks accent your words, the simmer of being stretched out weighing down your tongue with a boulder. "Please move."
"Ask me again."
No intention of moving, he poses with a tilted head and smooth smirk, index finger extending to lap up the remaining cream on your chest. Surprise sounds out your throat as he leaves your nipple with a mean pinch, humming along the digit he sucks into his mouth. "Well?"
You're not above begging. Not in the slightest and not when he's already inside you.
"Please? Pretty please?" A request posited with innocent eyes, batted lashes and a pitiful pout to match. "Can you please fuck me?"
He feels how hot the whispered words leave you, cheeks the sun's temperature as he cups your cheek, skin brushed with the caress of his thumb as he says, "You're so pretty when you beg,"Â
Sunoo's grip firms, possessive in the shadows of the nights, sharp eyes lethal enough to kill. "You have no idea how much it turns me on."Â
His hand abandons your cheek to push you back onto the mattress by his fingertips, hooking his hands beneath your knee's bend before he moves. There's little build-up, if any, thrusts coming with a clear message of ruining you. Taking apart his treat however he desires, because you're compatible in more ways than one, hands held out for him as the room shakes with the outpour of your moans.
"See what you get when you're good?" your knees are burrowed further into your chest, Sunoo leaning forward with his weight to keep you in place. A twitching, needy mess, slick splashing to the pool beneath you, urgent creaks of the bed signifying its nearing collapse. It's everything you ever wanted and more, arousal swallowing you whole as it bursts through every cell of your body.
Sinking like anchors on either side of you, your arms unveil the sight of Sunoo, muscles piled on from hours on the ice, hard slopes highlighted in the beige lighting. His umber fringe starts to stick against his forehead, the quiet labour of breaths pushing out his chest, skin glistening with the thinnest veil of sweat. The coil in your stomach pulls tight, cunt milking his length with a mewl. He sees it all, the view of your body withering at the hard ruts of his hips, licking his lips at the helpless claws you sink into the duvet. The contraction of your face, taking him with the cry of esctasy.Â
It's only natural the words escape him.Â
"I love you."Â
The sweet admission comes as he thrusts harder than before, knocking the wind out of your chest with a dying wheeze. A weak whimper comes out on its tail end, his full weight on you as his hands pin yours above your head, rooted in place before fingers intertwine. Your heart swells with its speedy race, choppy breaths exchanged in close proximity as his mouth hovers yours, a peck amongst many given as your lips chase his, kissing him with the gravity of your love. The warmth of your body proves incomparable with the tender affection you hold for him, in the very chest he ducks to lick the last remaining cream off.
"Love you too," you croak, feeling so full. Of him, of love. No place, not even a sliver of space left for anybody else. "I love you so, so much."Â
Endeared, the crescent moons of his eyesmile dominate your vision, spiking the fondness blooming in you as his cock drags in and out, tip hitting the deepest parts of you. Lungs restricting with the dig of your ribcage, your orgasm starts creeping up behind you, body heightening to its impending doom with trembling limbs and goosebump-riddled skin.Â
"Don't come yet," he groans, lips flirting with the underside of your jaw. "Let me use you a bit more."
With a brain halfway melted, it's a wonder you cling onto those filthy words, throat bobbing as your cunt fights to mould to his shape. Mindless nods follow his words, eyes bouncing between his angelic features.
"I'll comeâ!" you squeal, a stray tear escaping. "âwhen you want me to!"
"Good girl. My perfect sweet girl," he coos, obsessed with you. "Even when you're cockdrunk, you listen to me. Open your mouth, pretty, you deserve your own treat."
One hand untangling, his heavy hand pushes all strands of hair backwards, palm resting on your cheek with a thumb running across your lips. The slightest tug opens your mouth wide, spit landing square on your tongue. The delighted hum vibrates all through your chest, lips falling shut with a smile only widened as he lightly smacks your cheek, chuckling throughout.Â
Hints of whipped cream mingle with your tastebuds, the most dominant flavours being him and the aftertaste of your slick. You're tethering on the edge, blood flooding your ears as something bigger than yourself fights for control of your body, lungs grasping for big breaths in a hollowed out shell.Â
"Can I come?" the question comes out rushed and squeaked. Blinking away tears, your mind is no longer in control. "Please, please, pleaseeeeee. I'm gonna come, I'm gonnaâ!
Digging fingers fix your jaw in place, eyes with no choice but to stare into Sunoo's, the knit between his eyebrows signalling his own incoming orgasm.
"Watch me come, baby," he suggests. "Watch me stuff you full."Â
One last pull back of his hips and he's filling you again, tip kissing your cervix as he orgasms, hot spurts of come flooding into you. The thought alone rolls your eyes back, the thick substance painting your walls the final nail in the coffin. A dulled scream unleashes out your mouth, dampened by the crash of his lips as he kisses you deeply, swallowing all your whines and tears as your body convulses beneath him, your hand squeezing his.Â
Before your body floats back to earth, more than one braincell sparking together to work, Sunoo flops down beside you, figures starfishing on the bed. Silence makes itself known as the dust settles, inhales eating away at the humid air, the scent of smacked skin and his ocean breeze cologne wafting in passing.
"Your stamina's scary," you huff out, laughing weakly with him. "How do you win a championship and fuck me into next week?"
"That's what all those hours in the gym are for," his lip corner picks up, face turned to you as he says. "To keep you satisfied,"
"Stuffed too."
"You're gross!' your nose wrinkles, a master hypocrite.
"Hm, keep talking like that," his cheeks bunch up, body peeling off the covers to eclipse yours. "It turns me on."
"That whipped cream's gone to your head!"Â
Arms making no real attempt to wrestle him away, he sinks down to you, a kiss pressed into your forehead. "Love you."
"Love you more." you say with feigned reluctance, smiling into the peck he smothers you with.
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