#vantawrites

ᴺᵒʷ ᵖˡᵃʸᶦⁿᵍ ♬⋆.˚ Daddy Issues - The Neighbourhood ᴺᵉˣᵗ ᵁᵖ ♬⋆.˚ Coming Down - The Weeknd

The window stood open, the cool night breeze slipping quietly through the room, soft enough to clash with the sharp expression set on your face.

It was already past midnight.

Sieun sat at his desk, surrounded by scattered papers and highlighted notes, the low voice of a woman explaining calculus from his laptop filling the otherwise silent apartment. His father had gone to sleep not long ago, leaving the house drowned in familiar night silence.

The dim desk lamp highlighted the tired shadows across Sieun’s face, but his expression stayed razor-sharp, completely focused on his notes. His pen moved steadily across the page while his eyes scanned formulas like he’d forget how to breathe before he forgot an answer.

Across from him you sat on his bed. Phone open.

Your phone rested loosely in your hand as you mindlessly scrolled through it, barely paying attention to anything actually on the screen. Every few seconds, your eyes drifted back to Sieun instead.

Watching the way his expression tightened when he focused. The absentminded way he ran a hand through his hair while rereading a page. The way he leaned back in his chair every now and then.

And somehow, that only made your annoyance worse.

You’ve been silently mad at him for the past few days, and it shows in everything you do. The way you ignore his messages, the way you look away the second he tries to make eye contact, the cold two word replies to anything he says.

Sieun tried bringing it up. Tried talking to you about it more than once, calm as always, like he could just solve it if you’d give him something to work with, but you refused every time. You didn’t want to talk about it, didn’t want to explain anything, just stayed stubborn and distant no matter how many times he tried.

And still, he didn’t give up. Of course he didn’t. He had the patience of a saint when it came to you. He just took it, let you be annoyed, let you push him away, stayed there anyway like it didn’t bother him. But everyone had a limit eventually, even him.

The worst part was that the reason you were mad at him in the first place was so stupid. Too stupid to even say out loud without sounding insane. He had left you on delivered for hours on Monday.

You glance back down at your phone, thumb moving aimlessly across the screen as your thoughts drift.

The sound of his desk chair sliding slightly across the floor breaks the quiet.

Still, you don’t look up.

“Do you want a snack?” Sieun’s calm voice cuts through the room.

“No,” you answer flatly without even sparing him a glance.

“You sure?” he asks after a beat. “You haven’t really eaten much today.”

Silence.

You keep your eyes on your phone, pretending to be absorbed in it.

Sieun exhales softly through his nose, a quiet sigh lingering between you. You don’t notice him stand up until he’s suddenly right in front of you, close enough that your attention finally snaps off your phone.

He steps in without hesitation, pushing your knees apart with his own as he settles over you. Your back meets the mattress, the movement so sudden it steals the rest of your breath, and you look up at him, still caught off guard.

As he holds himself above you, using his hands on either side of your body, he dips his head lower and places a gentle kiss against your neck. So soft that you feel your attitude begin to melt away. Damn this guy and his softness.

His lips were warm against your skin, using your neck as a canvas for his soft kisses. Pressing each one like it was wrapped in an apology he didn’t know how to form out loud.

“What’s wrong, baby?” he says between soft pecks, his voice calm as ever. Low, velvety, like it settles right under your skin and caresses the insides of your ears.

“Nothing,” you lie instantly.

“You know I can’t help you if you don’t explain,” he says, pulling back just enough that your faces are only inches apart now, his gaze steady on you.

You stay quiet for a moment, then finally give in.

“You left me on delivered. On Monday.”

The second it leaves your mouth, you internally regret it. It sounds so stupid out loud.

Sieun raises a brow, genuinely confused.

“I see you every day,” he says simply.

“That’s not the point,” you murmur, frustration creeping back in. “You always do this. You just analyze everything instead of acting like my boyfriend.”

There’s the smallest shift in his expression at the word boyfriend—so subtle you almost miss it. Like it catches him off guard for half a second. Softening the look in his eyes. He loved when you called him that. Even though you’ve already been dating for months, it never fails to make him happy.

Then he leans in again.

“I am acting like your boyfriend,” he says quietly, so softly it feels like his voice alone is creating an enclosed, intimate space between the two of you.

And before you can respond, he kisses you. Soft, gentle, cutting off whatever you were about to say. His kiss starts soft. Against the exterior of your mouth. Like he’s probing and eating at any ounce of attitude you may have left in your body.

Then, it turns hungry. Deliberate. Yet still intimately slow. His tongue darts out at your mouth and you part your lips, kissing back with the same hunger in your body. Your tongues swirl around each other in a dance.

The moment is quiet, except for the soft sounds of wet kissing and the laptop still playing on the desk.

“You’re annoying me,” you say, the protest weak and forced, like you don’t even believe it yourself. You say it, then don’t move away, not really meaning it in the way your words suggest.

“Mm,” he hums in response, clearly unconvinced, almost amused by how little effort you’re putting into staying mad at him. Resuming his tongue kisses.

His hand moves lightly between your bodies, brushing over your skin in a way that makes you shiver. It traces the goosebumps that rise there, like he’s noticing every small reaction you try to hide. His fingers unbutton your pants, followed by the low sound of the zipper sliding down. You lift your hips instinctively. Your body knows exactly what it needs. Soon, your pants end up by the bed.

His fingers hook into the hem of your panties. “Off,” he says simply, and you comply immediately. Your panties join your pants on the floor.

“Let’s see how well that attitude holds up,” he says casually as he kneads your thighs, his fingers digging into them until your breath catches in your chest.

He makes his way down, fingers ghosting down your body, moving slowly on purpose. Making your body instinctively writhe under him. Your breathing coming out in uneven sharp exhales.

“This… won’t make me nicer,” you manage to murmur between uneven breaths, already overwhelmed.

“Mm, I’m sure, baby,” he answers simply, a subtle smirk playing at the corner of his lips. One hand gently pries your thighs apart, pushing one back.

His fingers glide gently down your already wet slit, the moisture gathering on his fingertips. His throat works as he bites back a groan, the feel of your slickness on his fingers already tenting his pants.

“You’re soaked,” he breathed. The tip of his finger brushed gently over your sensitive nerve bud, so lightly it felt like he was testing the waters before overwhelming your body. Earning a soft gasp from you.

“Shh, baby,” he murmured, continuing his gentle circles over your bundle of nerves. Your body jolted at the sensation, heat rushing through you instantly. You had to stay quiet, careful not to wake Sieun’s dad. But, fuck it wasn’t easy. “You’re being so needy.”

He lifts his hand to your mouth, his ring and middle fingers extended.

“Open,” he says, parting your lips with them. You comply, and he slides his fingers into your mouth, wetting them with your own saliva. “You gonna be quiet for me?”

You nod with his fingers still in your mouth. Your tongue swirls around them as you suck gently, and he groans in response. “Fuck,” he curses under his breath. You taste yourself faintly on his fingers before he pulls them out, your saliva glistening in the dim light of the room. He purposefully grinds his hard outline against your thigh, making you feel it. “See what you’re doing to me?” he says, straining against his pants.

His fingers find your heat. Slowly, teasingly, he traces gentle circles around your sensitive entrance, keeping you waiting. You shudder at the feeling, hips bucking instinctively toward his hand. His gaze was piercing but calm, pinning you to the bed without him having to move at all.

“What’s wrong, baby?” His fingers kept you right on the edge, not moving an inch away or an inch closer to where you most needed them.

“Sieun, please…” you pleaded, breathless. You clenched around nothing at the attention to your sensitive center.

“Please…” he simply echoed.

“Please…” you repeated.

“You don’t deserve it.” He pulls his fingers away completely, depriving you of a single touch again. “Earn it.”

“Sieun…” your voice comes out weaker than you intend, more like a whine than anything else.

He looks at you with a interested expression.

Your earlier attitude is completely gone now, replaced by something softer. More desperate, in a way you hate how easily he can draw it out of you.

“No,” he says quietly. The rejection stings deep in your bones.

You frown, frustration flaring all over again. “You’re being mean.”

A faint breath leaves him that almost sounds amused.

“You were ignoring me for three days,” he reminds you calmly, one hand brushing lightly against your thigh. “I think I’m allowed to enjoy this a little.”

He suddenly sits up, moving back against the headboard of the bed and settling there instead. You stare at him for a second, confusion immediately crossing your face at the sudden distance between you. Until he taps his lap once.

“Come here,” another tap.

You obey immediately, crawling across the bed toward him without even thinking about it. Your cleavage was on full display as you bent over. And his throat moved as he swallowed his breath. Gaze never leaving yours.

The mattress dips softly beneath you as you move back into his space, your earlier annoyance completely melted away by now.

The second you reach him, Sieun’s hands settle on your waist and he effortlessly pulls you onto his lap, turning you so your back rests flush against his chest. He pulls your shirt off, unhooks your bra, and tosses it to the side right after.

You let out a small breath at the sudden cold breeze surrounding you from the open window. Brushing your most sensitive areas, making your sensitive peaks harden against it.

With a rough hand, he immediately kneads your chest. His warm breathing skims against the back of your neck and ears as he speaks, voice low enough to send a shiver down your spine.

“Spread your legs,” he says, tapping your thighs. You do as he says. He lifts your knees, your feet settling on either side of his thighs. “Good girl.”

A hand slowly slips down your chest and stomach, and you watch it happen almost distantly, like it belongs more to the shadow behind you than to Sieun himself. You can’t see his face from this angle, but somehow that only makes it worse.

Because even without looking, you know that faintly amused expression is there. He was enjoying this.

His hand dips lower and his fingertips find your sensitive nerves, tracing it gently. A soft, uneven breath slips from you at the sensation, your head tilting back instinctively against his shoulder, like your body is searching for something steady to hold onto in the moment.

“You want them inside, baby?” he asks and you nod.

In a steady line moving downwards, his fingers find your entrance and gently slide two fingers in. You buck your hips forward, and he presses a hand to your stomach, pinning you back against him. “Ah, ah, don’t move,” he orders softly into your ear. “patience,” he reassures from behind.

He starts pumping his fingers in a controlled, slow rhythm—in and out—drawing those long-awaited moans from your mouth. With each stroke, your walls clench tighter around him. He groans softly, feeling your body respond. He curls his fingers inside you, picking up speed as he goes.

The sounds he pulls from you are unholy. Without pausing for a second, his other hand moves to your face, his palm covering your mouth and muffling the noise. As soon as you’re silenced, his fingers move even faster, wet sounds echoing off the walls. Squelch, squelch. Coupled with his rough, low groans and your uneven breathing.

“Mmphm…” you moan into his palm, hips bucking against his fingers as your back arches off his chest. Your hips move to his rhythm, but you have none of his control. You’re sloppy, desperate, overwhelmed. Meanwhile, Sieun stays completely focused, hitting the exact spot that has you seeing stars every time. “Good girl, fuck yourself against my fingers,” his whispered encouragement into your ears only makes your hips stagger a little.

“Fuck, you hear that?” he let’s out a shaking breath from behind as the wet noises turn even more obscene. Even without seeing it, anyone could paint a clear picture of how lewd it was from the sounds alone.

Your breath hitched as your thighs suddenly started twitching in response to the continues play against your sweet spot. “Mm, that’s it…” he hums in response.

Feeling your body about to reach the edge, he suddenly pulls his fingers out, leaving you empty, clenching around nothing. Your breath hitches and your thighs tremble. A whine escapes your mouth as your hips buck, chasing his touch.

Like if you reach them fast enough, he’ll take pity on you and fill you up again.

He slides them back in just as suddenly, not for your sake, and starts pumping and curling them at the same relentless pace. Your hips snap back, and your body jolts at the shock to your nerves.

He lets go of your mouth, and his hand cups one of your breasts, settling there warm against the softness of it.

He rolls one of your sensitive peaks between his fingers and places wet open mouthed kisses against the side of your neck. “So sensitive and responsive…”

“Fuck, Sieun… I’m gonna…” and suddenly you’re right back at the edge, about to cross it once more.

He pulls his fingers out again, and this time your whine is louder, followed by a wet whimper. “Please, please, please…” you plead, your voice hanging in the thick intimacy of the room.

“You’ll cum when I allow it,” he replies, unbuttoning his pants as he speaks. He pulls them down just enough, his already painfully hard shaft springing free and settling between your folds on his lap. “Stay still for me, baby.”

Rubbing soothing circles into your thighs with his thumbs, he aligns the head of his length with your entrance and eases in. You let out a moan, and he covers your mouth instantly.

As he sinks the rest of it in, it slides smoothly, without resistance. With a groan in your ear, he bottoms out and stays still for a moment, giving you time to adjust and himself a chance to breathe. You look down, watching the mess between your bodies.

“Shit, you took it so well,” he murmurs, his chest rising against your back as he takes sharp breaths that feel cold against his teeth.

You feel each ridge against your interior. Each vein pulsating a different kind of need. And you react back. With the same pulsing beat.

For a moment, neither of you moves. Just staying there in the same quiet space, the distance from the past few days finally collapsing back into something close again.

You, still stubbornly silent. Him, letting you be.

His hand lingers on you, slow and steady, tracing soft, grounding circles against your thigh. After a beat, he starts moving, gently thrusting up into you.

You watch his shaft disappear inside you from above. His palm feels slick against your mouth, damp from where you drooled while moaning into it. You feel him twitch subtly inside you, like his body couldn’t wait to empty itself.

His groans are low—low enough that only you can hear them. It stays between the two of you, suspended in the dim, intimate light of the room like the rest of the world doesn’t exist outside of it. Each thrust inside you felt like he’s punishing you in his own way for ignoring him. Like he’s letting the tension speak where words failed earlier.

His hand finds your bud of nerves and he traces his fingers against it, along with his thrusts. You bite onto his palm and he lets out a pained grunt, pressing it further into your mouth. Just holding steady, like he’s refusing to give you the satisfaction of a reaction. Loving the way he was overwhelming your body with the doubled stimulation.

Moving his hand away, he plunges two fingers into your mouth. Making you gag roughly against them. Your sounds turning wet and choked.

“You… You were so confident ignoring me earlier.” he murmurs, breathlessly into your ear. “Now look at you.” His warm breath ghosts over the back of your neck and makes you shudder and buck against his shaft, taking him deeper accidentally. He bites back a moan. “You’re taking it so well for me.”

Another gag around his fingers sends a shudder down his body.

Sinking further into your warm velvety walls. Making a mess between your bodies, the sopping noises hang loosely in the room.

“You wanted my attention. You got it, baby,” he thrust upwards faster. The head of his length hitting your cervix making your back arch off of him with nowhere to go.

“Mmgh..” you muster up what sounded like a pathetic clogged whimper, your thighs spasming as you feel a continues teasing against your nerves down below. Moving his fingers even faster, his tongue darts out to lick the back of your neck. Like he’s tasting your consumption. Your body completely overcome.

Your thoughts only being him. Sieun, Sieun, and once again Sieun.

A soft sniffle escapes you, and he notices immediately. If anything, he only seems to double his efforts, more attentive now, as your eyes start to well up. Tears spill over despite you trying to hold them back, his hand still steady as if grounding you through it.

“No, don’t cry now… you can take it,” he murmurs softly, pressing a brief kiss to the back of your neck as you tremble in his arms. The sound of skin slapping against skin now prominent in the room as his thrusts get harder.

He was taking retaliation in his own way for ignoring him. And despite your disheveled state, you didn’t ask him to stop. Didn’t say the safe word. You wanted it. You liked it.

Your body shakes in small, uneven jolts, your breath unsteady as you try to hold yourself together. He doesn’t let go, keeping you anchored against him even as you lean forward slightly, your back slowly easing away from his chest in broken, unsteady movements. He throws his head back against the headboard and shudders against your body as you clench around him. As if by reflex, your body was milking him of every drop he had.

Finally, flooding all at once, you gush all over his shaft in an eruptive warm flow. Your breaths came out in sharp, uneven pulls despite his attempt to muffle the sound.

”Oh, fuck, there we go,” he praises from behind. His sheets were now completely soaked, the evidence of your pleasure having tainted them through to the other side. “Good girl, baby, such a good girl…”

Your movement looked like they were put in slow motion. As your high had left your head dizzy and clouded over how powerful it was.

He takes his time, lingering there as if he’s deliberately easing himself toward his own breaking point too. Like seeing you finally finish gave him the okay to start focusing on himself.

One of his hands finds your right thigh and he holds it back. He moves more urgently now. “Stay still, please,” he weakly pleads. You grip his forearm tightly, his hand locked around your thigh as he holds you open for himself. The muscles in his arm strain under the effort, veins standing out as his body tenses.

The bed creaked under the movement as he drove into you.

His hand now switched back to a flat palm against your wet mouth.

One twitch. Two. Three. You feel it all. And you know he’s about to make a bigger mess than you.

“Fuck…” he gasps, pulling out of you suddenly. And as soon as he does that, his release lands on your stomach immediately. With uneven yet powerful spurts. His hips stutter at the feeling.

His fingertips dig into your thighs, groans blessing your eardrums.

You can feel him trembling beneath you, tense and unsteady as he comes down from his high. “Oh, fuck…” he curses again.

You collapse into his lap and his head tips forward, his forehead resting against the back of your neck. Both of you are breathing unevenly, trying to catch your breath together in the same quiet moment.

Your bodies glistening with a thin layer of sweat.

Chests rising in heavy breaths.

He weakly lifts his head up, placing messy kisses against your sweaty face. Laying you flush against the mattress gently. He settles next to you, pulling you closer. Your head rests in the crook of his neck.

“You did so good, baby” he says quietly, brushing your hair back with a steady hand. “Breathe… it’s okay now.”

His touch is slow and reassuring, and the intensity from earlier begins to fade, replaced by something quieter and safer between you.

He reaches for a water bottle from the side table, helping you take a few sips.

He turns to place a kiss against your temple. “Let’s be honest when we’re sad, hm?”

You nod.

You both turn your attention to the laptop still playing the same calculus video. And he grins at you. “She has been talking the entire time.”

Which draws a soft shaky chuckle out of you.

The rest of the night settles into silence, the two of you curled up together in bed, finally still.

© geumnana ― 𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐚

ahn suho…

genuinely can't wait. he smiles up at you, hands on your hips. "oh? this is new." pulls you down by the back of your neck for kisses in the middle of it. groans and curses like theres no tomorrow. "sh*t.. don't stop baby don't stop..." watches you the entire time. his fingers leave genuine prints in your hips as he himself pulls you down further as if that's even possible. "just like that.. good job.." before he's done, you're already on your back roles reversed. he wants to see your face up close during his YK. "i know baby.. i know.." when he's the one overwhelming you now. his kisses feel like he's worshipping your skin.

yeon sieun…

is taken aback but stays still and calm. only one of his hands is on your waist. the other is gripping the sheet. head is mostly thrown back in immense pleasure. "mhm.." he hums each time you move. biting back his moans. eventually starts guiding your pace himself. hands on your hips. "let me.." really gentle with his pace in this position though. "you okay?" checking up on you the entire time. he traces circles on your thighs. feel him PHYSICALLY stiffen and tense up before he finishes.

seo juntae…

usually what you end up doing either way. he sits back. doesn't dare to hold eye contact. eyes mostly shut or has his hand over them. "please." pleading for no reason at all. soft whimpers and moans. face red and sweaty. his thing twitches a lot. intertwines his fingers with yours absentmindedly. takes his glasses off when its overwhelming. his hair is so messy from digging the back of his head into the pillows behind him. starts tearing up and crying a little when he can't take it anymore. "slower.. please.."

go hyuntak…

"nah." tries acting all nonchalant and dominant, but lets himself get pushed into the bed frame either way. hides moans and groans through biting the back of his hand. "oh f*ck.... " under his breath every now and then when it gets too overwhelming. props your hands against his chest. gets lost in the sauce half way through and forgets his nonchalant attitude. "that's it... you feel.. f*ck it feels good.." struggling with his words. surprisingly one of the most puppy eyed and submissive ones.

park humin…

clearly enjoying seeing you take the lead. biggest smile on his face. his hands tangle in your hair pulling your head back for neck kisses. "you're doing so good.." praise constantly. his rough hands grip your face and bring you closer for kisses. groans into the kisses. then follows with a slight breathless laugh. "you been researching for me baby?" caresses your arms and waist. you're taking the lead, but he's in control. "you're so dead after this." round two's gonna kill you. 100%. "you look so pretty.." constantly complimenting you.

oh beomseok…

his cheeks are red. his hands are shaking a little but he tries so hard to act tough. runs your hands all over his neck and kisses them. "too much..." is overwhelmed with your pace but he's loving it. tries to be quiet but he's too sensitive. lets out the neediest whines and whimpers. head thrown back. enjoys being held by the neck during. “you look... stunning.." between his struggling sounds. his mouth is slightly open constantly.

jeon seokdae…

he raises his eyebrows when pushed into the head board. "yeah? let me see what you can do.." said through a cocky tone. he's smoking a cigarette during but as soon as it gets overwhelming that cigarette is getting put out. his hands find your waist. can't help but push up gently. “no, don't move.." if you shift even slightly. his groans are deep. rumbling through his chest in a way that seems like he's trying to be quiet but failing miserably.

kang wooyoung…

his smirk is so cocky. looking up at you the entire time. waiting for a moment where you slip up so he can push you down. “f*ck you're good at this.." praise in contrast to his rough handling. pulling at your hair. hands touching your boobs the entire time. "slow down... im not going anywhere.." all cocky when you start getting overwhelmed yourself. constant cursing. this man is a POTTY MOUTH. his moans are heavenly. he does not hold his sounds back whatsoever. lets you know exactly how good you make him feel. the next door neighbours fall asleep to it like asmr. "can i film?" with a big smile. smacks your ass during. 100%.

geum seongje…

oh buckle up. hes smoking the entire time. “it's all yours.. you own it." drives you crazy with his words. blows smoke softly into your mouth mid kisses and smirks after. puts his cigarette down when its done. he pulls you by your neck down to kiss you. bites anywhere he can get his teeth on. groans and grunts. no moans. gets impatient with your pace and grips your hips. hovering you above himself and keeping you still. he thrusts up at his own needed pace. “don't move.. this is what you wanted huh?” when you start getting overwhelmed. bear hugs you against himself eventually. “aw, is it too much? poor thing..” this man is a mock pity WARRIOR.

na baekjin…

ᴺᵒʷ ᵖˡᵃʸᶦⁿᵍ ♬⋆.˚ Adore You - Harry Styles (Literally just PERFECT)

ᴺᵉˣᵗ ᵁᵖ ♬⋆.˚ Japanese Denim - Daniel Caesar

The grocery bags crinkle as you shove the door shut with your hip, almost dropping one of them. You shake your hair out of your face, some of it just sticks there anyway clinging to your eyes.

You quickly kick your shoes of at the door before heading into the kitchen to set the bags down on the counter. An easy smile on your face while you unpack.

“Sieun! Baby, I’m home!” you call out, your tone carrying through the apartment.

He usually came grocery shopping with you without you having to ask. Sieun didn’t like when you carried heavy bags alone. He especially hated when the plastic cut into your palms even if you promised him it was fine. Promptly urging him to pull the bags right out of your hands without allowing room for protest.

But today you insisted on going alone, pushing him back toward his desk and his unfinished work.

It doesn’t take long before you hear his footsteps.

The kitchen was open to the living room, one of those small yet cozy apartments, making you catch him in your peripheral vision. His cream quarter zip and sweats were still on from earlier. A slightly worn out look on his face coupled with faint tired shadows underneath his eyes.

Always from staring at documents and his laptop screen.

His hair was a slight mess, probably from running his hands through it far too much.

He pauses when he sees you. Just for a second.

“You carried everything okay?”

Placing the jar of strawberry jam down, you looked up at him and slightly rolled your eyes. Though there was a little smile on your face.

“Yes, I carried everything okay,” you reassure him, knowing how much he thinks of your comfort. “You worry too much.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is.”

Sieun shakes his head.

“I just don't want you getting hurt.”

Your smile softens.

“I know.”

More groceries slowly spread across the marble countertop between you.

He leans over the island, forearms pressing into the cool surface. His sleeves were slightly pushed up, revealing how the muscles in his arms looked strained after spending the whole day hunched over his desk, typing away.

“I got a cupcake mix,” you continue, rummaging through another bag. “And frosting. Oh, and those little decorating things.”

He hums quietly.

“So we can make them together later.”

Another hum.

“And I got that strawberry jam you like.”

“Mm.”

“And hot chocolate since it’s so cold out—“

You pause.

“Baby.”

He isn't looking at the groceries.

His eyes are panning over you instead. The flushed look of your cheeks from the cold outside. The way your fingers carefully unpack each item. The smile on your face whenever you get lost in your own words.

Putting your arms around your chest, you cross them.

“Are you listening?” you raise an eyebrow.

“I am.”

“No, you're staring.”

A pause.

“Can I not do both?”

You smile despite trying to seem ticked off.

“I'm serious.”

“So am I.”

His voice is quiet, tired from work, but there's warmth in it.

“I like listening to you.”

You shake your head slightly and resume your unpacking.

His gaze drops briefly to your hands. At the pretty diamond sitting on your finger, catching the soft hue of the kitchen light, the promise ring he'd given you on your second anniversary.

His eyes linger there for a moment. Quietly in awe of everything. Such a minor detail, but the way it was resting so perfectly on your hand, it was a quiet reminder of a vow he'd made long ago. And he never regretted it.

Even now, watching you ramble about cupcake frosting, while unloading groceries in his hoodie with pink cheeks, the thought comes as easily as breathing.

Yeah. Her.

The same love he felt for you still deep within him. Within every inch of his body like you already owned him far beyond words could describe. Stronger now than ever.

He was sure about you. More sure than he's ever been about anything.

He rounds his way around the counter, watching you go on and on about a new Pocky flavor you were intrigued to try together, a smile playing at his lips. The corner of them lifting a little.

You look so cute. So perfect. Everything he needed in his life.

And craving you all day, was not making it any easier.

His need only doubled the moment you had walked out that door. Even while sitting at his desk, finishing up his last bit of work, his thoughts only kept drifting back to you. Always circling back to his beautiful girlfriend.

The way you’d laid so blissfully next to him in the morning. Lazily draped over the mattress, leg flung over him as you hugged him close. Face digging into his neck, close enough for him to smell your shampoo, like his chest was the only place you ever really wanted to be.

Which, naturally, made him sit restlessly waiting for you.

“—Right? It’s not crazy to say.”

His eyes flutter for a second as he snaps back from his thoughts, your voice cutting through the daydreams of how badly he wanted to sit you over that counter, wrap your legs around his waist and scatter your body with kisses and marks.

A dramatic sigh slips through you.

“You’re not even listening, I knew it,” you turn, already putting food away.

He pauses a moment trying to get his thoughts in line, string something coherent together that didn’t sound like he was caught lost of focus. Halfway between your words and his own reverie.

And yet, what he ends up saying is quite… unexpected?

“…You look beautiful.”

He catches you slightly off guard for a moment before you snap back in quite a stiff tone.

“Mhm.”

His eyes drift to the strawberry jam sitting on the counter. Without much thought, he twists it open and fishes a spoon out of the drawer, scooping up some and taking a bite straight from the jar.

The only person who could eat jam like that was Sieun. His hidden sweet tooth shamelessly came out around you.

And you had come to terms with that long ago.

He keeps picking at it inattentively, small bites here and there, his attention never leaving you. Eyes following you around the kitchen. The sway of your hair as you reach into the cabinets, the line of your back beneath his hoodie, the curve of your waist disappearing beneath soft fabric.

Putting the spoon aside, he swallows.

Something in him finally giving out. He couldn't keep his lips off of you any longer.

Sieun steps behind you as you reach into the fridge to slide a fresh carton of milk in, the cold air spilling out in between you. His hands find and settle at your waist, fingers tugging lightly at the hem of your hoodie before letting it fall back into place, like he’s toying with the idea for a second, teasing himself.

When he leans in, his breath brushes the back of your neck. Warm and soft, close enough that it changes the energy. Clashing with the cold waves coming from the fridge.

You feel it immediately, the way your skin reacts to his touch, small goosebumps rising along your arms as everything fades into something less important. Your thoughts tunneling in on the man behind you.

Pressed up against you.

“What’s gotten into you?” you ask, but you don’t move away.

He leans in and moves your hair to the side, pressing small kisses along the back of your neck, one after another, slow enough that it stops being accidental and starts being a choice he’s actively making.

His hands slide under your hoodie and stay there, fingers resting at your waist.

“Nothing,” he murmurs between kisses.

His crotch presses closer into you, making your breath catch as you felt his hard outline right against the curve of your ass.

“Doesn’t feel like nothing.”

He smiles against your neck, the corner of his mouth lifting from something only he knows, before his hands slide around you and turn you smoothly.

One arm slips around your waist as he crowds you against the wall, your back meeting the cool surface while his warmth closes in around you. His finger taps teasingly against the bottom of your chin, gently urging you to look up.

“Head up, baby,” he murmurs, his voice low enough to make something flutter in your chest.

You take a second too long to process it.

A tiny smile tugs at his lips.

“C'mere.”

His fingers slip beneath your chin, tipping your face up for you before he closes the distance, kissing you slowly, sluggishly. It felt like the kiss itself was mirroring how he wanted to relish the way your mouth danced against his.

He'd spent the entire day thinking about this and was finally getting what he needed.

His head tilts slightly, deepening the kiss, his free hand settling at your hip, keeping you close against the wall.

And without missing a beat, you kiss him back instantly, just as desperate to have him close. With the same intensity. His lips felt soft against yours, wet, inviting.

“Sieun…” you echo his name softly.

“Mm,” he breathes, smiling against your mouth. “Baby…”

His mouth doesn't last long before it finds your neck. Peppering it with gentle kisses as he pulls your head back by your hair. Not aggressively, but more like he's softly reminding you he needed to claim every inch of you.

“You smell good,” he rasps against your skin, sucking mixes of blue, red and purple on your neck. Tongue licking right into the thumping, restless rhythm of your pulse.

Eventually biting just hard enough to make you gasp before sucking the spot gentle. He blows cool air over the wet, stinging skin, and a full body shiver ripples down your spine before he kisses it warm again.

There was clear tooth indents in your neck. A sheepish smile immediately finds his face, though it doesn't stop him from going right back to it. Kissing, nipping, and fussing over every patch of skin he could find, as though he couldn't decide where to give his attention first.

Lacing with his hair, your fingers twirl it, your other hand on his shoulder. Keeping yourself sturdy in the moment.

“You’re being a little… needy…” you murmur between soft breaths, the words brushing his ear.

Which, weirdly, only seems to make things... more demanding.

As though the second he loosened his hold, you'd somehow disappear back into that evil grocery store that had stolen you from him for two whole hours.

“I just missed you,” he confirms.

You let out a little breathy laugh, “I wasn’t even gone that long.”

“Long enough.”

His breath comes in warm, shallow puffs against your mouth, pupils blown wide as he holds your gaze, the soft curve of his lower lip still pink from kissing. The need in his stare is sharp, that familiar puppy look in his eyes. Edged with a quiet claim that makes your heart stutter.

“A little break?”

He manages a sound of protest, his mouth slots back over yours before the sound can fully leave you, one hand fisted tight in the back of your hoodie to keep you close. His chest heaves against yours, every ragged breath warm between your lips, and he doesn’t pull back even when his lungs burn for air.

“Baby, mmh—” you giggle, his thumb brushing slow over the curve of your jaw before pulling back.

An idea clear in his eyes.

He grabs the same spoon once again, scooping a tiny amount and holding it in front of your lips.

"What are you doing?"

"Open."

"Sieun."

"Baby."

"You were just kissing me till you could barely breathe and now you want me to do a taste test? I already know it tastes go—"

Before you could finish, he slips the spoon gently past your lips and you have no choice but to take it.

"Don't swa—"

Immediately, the jam is down your throat.

"Baby, let me finish," he lets out a little breathy sound, almost a laugh, and shakes his head. Giving you yet another spoonful.

"Keep it in your mouth," he puts the spoon back.

Attention turning to you again, that is if it had ever left, his lips finds yours once more.

Only then do you realize what he's doing. And you'd be lying if it didn't make some certain parts of you pulse in need.

His tongue slips past your parted lips. The taste of the strawberry jam against his mouth as it mixes with his saliva, and his hand slides down to curl tight around your waist underneath your clothes, pulling you flush against him.

"Mm," he whines a little into the kiss, urging every bit of jam out of your mouth and into his.

His hands sneak up your torso, one settling tightly against your bra, cupping your tit into his desperate grip. The pressure of his thumb circling your sensitive peak makes your back arch off the wall into his chest. The moan you gasp out is swallowed immediately by him, his grip tightening just a little when you press closer.

Chasing the shudder you sent down his spine.

With one last content little hum, he kisses every bit of jam out of your mouth, sucking gently on your tongue before he lets go. His own tongue darting out to lick a bit that smeared the corner of your mouth.

Your fingers still curl in the fabric of his sweater, heart hammering against your ribs.

"Messy," he simply says and leans back in for another kiss, hand kneading your boob beneath the hoodie. Again.

Incredibly greedy.

“You taste good,” he whispers into your mouth.

You smile into the kiss, lewd, needy sounds spilling from your lips directly into his mouth. Your fingers twisted in the fabric of his clothes, your body leaning heavy into his, every nerve buzzing even as your knees go weak and you struggle to match the hungry rhythm he set.

“Better with the jam?” you tease.

He can’t help but smile, pulling back to study the expression settled on your face. The rosey tint spread across your cheeks, now definitely not from the cold but something entirely different, your messy hair, your pink bruised lips, and the glassy look in your eyes.

Especially the marks that adored your neck.

He stares a little too long. Thumb brushing against your cheek then your bottom lip. As if he was testing if you were real. Real and his.

“Mm.”

Another second passes.

“Don't make me compare you to food, weirdo.”

His mouth twitches.

You giggle.

“Seriously.”

The corners of his lips lift, something soft hidden beneath the teasing.

"Just you is enough."

A stupid smile washes over your face. Head over heels just as much as he was for you.

He kisses your warm cheek and whispers—

"Wanna make those cupcakes now?"

© geumnana ― 𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐚

ᴺᵒʷ ᵖˡᵃʸᶦⁿᵍ ♬⋆.˚ Pretty When You Cry - Lana Del Rey ᴺᵉˣᵗ ᵁᵖ ♬⋆.˚ Your Girl - Lana Del Rey

Despite being a busy, lively city, Seoul was strangely calm at night. The alleyway outside your apartment sat dark and silent, the only sounds coming from the rain trickling against the windows, distant humming of traffic somewhere far off, and the faint buzz of flickering street lamps. Otherwise, everything felt peaceful. Almost like the calm before a storm.

Like the kind of peace that settled quietly between the cracks before everything got turned upside down.

You laid sprawled across your couch, eyes barely open as you drifted in and out of sleep. The TV continued playing some old sitcom rerun you’d stopped paying attention to a long time ago, its quiet noise just blending into the apartment at this point.

You had hoped tonight would be a calm Friday evening like it always was, but work had completely drained you. A dull headache pulsed behind your eyes while your body tried its best to fight off the exhaustion weighing down on you.

You closed your eyes again, your breathing gradually slowing as sleep started pulling you under once more. The rain outside blended with the low noise of the TV, warm exhaustion settling heavier into your body.

Then your phone buzzed against the couch cushion beside you. The sound sliced straight through the silence. Interrupting the flow of your dozing. You frowned tiredly, blindly reaching for the phone before cracking an eye open. The brightness instantly burned against your vision.

“Fuck,” you muttered, squinting as you hurriedly lowered it.

A message waited on your screen.

'Open the door.'

Your stomach tightened immediately. You didn’t need to check the contact name. The shortness of the message alone told you exactly who it was. The firm tone was there. And that alone made you almost jump off the couch. Like your body recognized him before your mind could catch up. Like there was something pulling at you from the other side of the door.

Something risky, familiar, impossible to stay away from no matter how badly you wanted to.

For a second, you just stared at the words glowing against the screen while rain continued tapping softly against the windows.

Then with a tired sigh, you tossed the phone back onto the couch and sank deeper into the pillow, pulling the blanket closer around yourself. If you stayed still long enough, maybe he’d assume you were asleep and leave.

And the thought of him actually walking away left a dull, heavy ache settling deep in your chest, like something inside you was tightening and refusing to let go.

BUZZ.

The vibration felt louder this time.

You looked over slowly, already regretting it before even picking the phone back up.

'I know you saw this, baby.'

You let your head fall back against the couch.

Damn. That was going to be harder to ignore.

And it was, because you didn’t.

The moment you read the second message, all rational thought seemed to drain from your body. That stupid pull toward him took over completely, stronger than the headache weighing behind your eyes, stronger than the exhaustion begging you to stay curled up on the couch. You mute the TV.

Before you could even think twice about it, your bare feet were already hitting the cold floor.

You stood up too fast, blanket slipping off your body as you walked toward the door almost on instinct. Your stomach tightened the closer you got, anticipation twisting together with nervous excitement so intensely it made your chest feel tight. Like your body already knew exactly what was waiting for you on the other side of the door.

Your hand reached for the doorknob and slowly pulled the door open. The chain still hung loosely in place, only allowing it to crack open slightly.

And standing there in the dim hallway was him.

Na Baekjin’s dog.

Flowers in his hand. Your favorites, of course.

Like he hadn’t disappeared for a month and left everything hanging in silence. That was the worst part.

He always came back soft enough to make you forget he left in the first place.

And it worked. Every time.

Your stomach sank before you even moved.

Because the Union didn’t send people out on missions with flowers. That wasn’t procedure, that wasn’t accidental, and it definitely wasn’t casual. So this meant he wasn’t here by chance.

He was here on purpose. With intention.

And the fact that Seongje was standing there instead of wherever he was actually supposed to be could only mean one thing. He had stepped out of his usual role for this.

Seongje stood leaning against the wall beside your door, looking at you with that same calm, unreadable gaze that somehow still felt far too intimate. The scent of cigarettes clung heavily to his clothes. Rain had dampened parts of his dark hair, small droplets still sliding from the strands, and his orange jacket was zipped all the way up against the cold.

For a moment, neither of you said anything.

You just stared at each other through the small opening in the door, the silence between you feeling strange and heavy. Like some messed up reunion after weeks of no contact while he’d been off doing whatever thing he always disappeared into.

You don’t waste any time, immediately removing the chain and pulling the door open wider. And the second there’s enough space, he walks in like he already belongs there. Like the apartment had been missing him while he was gone. He quietly shuts the door behind him, the soft click echoing through the room.

“Took you long enough,” he says in that same calm, hushed tone that always sounded half sarcastic no matter what came out of his mouth. Extending the flowers out to you.

You stay still, "I don't want them."

And with a sigh, he places the bouquet onto a table nearby.

Your eyes immediately drop to his hands. Bruised knuckles. Split skin. Red and rough around the edges like the wounds were fresh. Like he’d been in another fight.

Like always.

Your chest tightens slightly at the sight and after a moment, you can’t stop yourself from asking, “Did you get in another fight?”

He doesn’t answer. Instead, his eyes settle on you, slowly dragging over your appearance like he’s studying how you’ve been during the weeks he disappeared. Not that he ever really needed to ask. Somehow, even when he wasn’t around, he always knew things anyway. He had his ways.

His gaze lingers over the oversized shirt hanging off your frame, the tired shadows beneath your eyes, your messy hair from laying around half asleep on the couch, your bare legs against the dim glow of the TV light.

“Are you gonna answer me?” you ask again, your voice finally cutting through the silence in the apartment.

His eyes lift back to yours.

“Don’t do that,” he says flatly. “Don't concern yourself with me."

You raise your eyebrows at that, a scoff slipping past your lips that almost sounds like a bitter laugh. Throwing your hands up in fake surrender, you let them fall back around yourself instead, arms crossing tightly over your chest.

“Right,” you mutter. “I forgot. We don’t do emotions.”

He slips his jacket off and throws it onto a nearby chair.

“Why are you here then?” you ask.

He steps closer, slow and controlled, each step deliberate until there’s barely any space left between you. His hand finds your hip, fingers settling there with a quiet firmness that makes your breath catch. He looks down at you through slightly damp hair, pushing it back from his face as he studies you.

“I think you know why,” he says simply.

“You’re such an asshole,” you mutter, your expression tightening in annoyance, like you’re seconds away from pushing him away and telling him to leave.

But you don’t move.

You stay exactly where you are, planted in place, not stepping back, not stopping him, not pushing his hand away either.

“You want me gone, just say it,” he says, his hand lifting to tuck your hair behind your ear. “I’ll leave.”

But there’s no real distance in his voice when he says it. No urgency to actually go. Because he knew you wouldn’t let him.

You know he only said it so the choice sits entirely with you. So if he stays, it’s because you let him. No one else made you. You made that choice.

“I hate you,” you mutter, though it doesn’t land with any real weight. Only partially.

Your hand moves before you really think about it, slipping under the edge of his shirt just enough to feel the warmth there, like you’re trying to ground yourself in something real.

Fingers slowly running against the muscles of his stomach as they tense beneath your touch. The slightest contact from you is electrifying to him, in a way that feels almost addictive.

“I know,” he says breathlessly before his lips find yours in a hungry kiss. And in it you feel how badly Seongje has been craving you, the way he has been missing you in his own fractured way, still too damaged to give you the part of him you keep reaching for, the part you’ve been dying to have. This is what he knows how to offer.

His hands find your waist as he lifts you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist like you belong there, like your body remembers him before your mind can catch up. Your lips stay locked in a rough, breathless kiss, all heat and urgency, neither of you willing to break away.

He carries you to the couch and lays you down, following you lower until his body hovers over yours. The kiss breaks just long enough for you to feel his warm exhale against your wet mouth as he slips his glasses off and tosses them carelessly onto the coffee table, like they don’t matter anymore. And without them, the kiss deepens further, slower this time, heavier, finally letting himself sink into it.

“Off,” he simply says, tugging at your shirt with a desperation that makes his hands feel almost unsteady, shaking a little in need. And you comply, taking your shirt of. Your body remaining as vulnerable on the outside as you were on the inside.

He takes a moment to let his eyes move over you, taking you in under the soft moonlight spilling through the window, the kind of quiet that makes everything feel almost too intimate. For a second, if this weren’t what you are, it could almost pass for something domestic, something loving and ordinary, like you’d both somehow ended up in a version of life that made sense.

“Lace?” A smirk tugs at the corner of his lips as he slips right back into himself, distant and detached, like he never left that version behind for a second. “You know this is unnecessary, right?” he says, his tone teasing, unappreciative as always, as if closeness is something he can’t quite let himself believe in for long. Or else it’ll feel too real.

“Thanks for that,” you say, your tone sharp with annoyance as you roll your eyes. It only earns another smirk from him. He doesn’t care whether his words land or sting.

“Anyone do a better job than me since last time?” he asks so casually, as if it’s just small talk. And you already know the answer. No. Because he’s the only one you’ve been with. But you still lie anyway, clinging to whatever pride you’ve got left.

“Yeah,” you reply. And he smirks.

“Yeah?” he echoes, clearly unconvinced, seeing straight through you. “You’re a terrible liar,” he says, tucking your hair behind your ear without breaking eye contact. Like he has all the time in the world.

“I know everything,” he adds softly. “And if there was another guy, he’d be in pieces already.”

His hand immediately reaches for your bra, fingers hooking under the strap before he tugs at it carelessly, letting it snap back against your skin. A pained gasp leaves you, earning nothing but an amused look from him. He runs his hands lower, fingers teasing at your sensitive peak through the fabric of the bra.

He lets out a rough, low groan, like his body doesn’t know how to want you quietly. Like someone admiring the pretty wrapper of a candy before ruining it between their teeth. And you feel it every time his fingers press deeper into your skin, holding onto you as if he couldn’t get close enough.

He dips his head, strands of his hair brushing against your face as his lips find your neck, tilting your head back slightly like you’re unknowingly in the way of him savoring the moment. He breathes you in slowly, the sweetness of your perfume blending with the lingering scent of cigarettes and musky cologne clinging to him. Two completely different worlds colliding for a moment.

“I’ve missed you,” you say, your mouth moving faster than your thoughts, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

His hand tightens around your waist in response, firm but distant, an automatic reaction without warmth. And it leaves that familiar ache sitting heavy in your chest. The kind that comes from reaching for something emotional and only ever getting physical closeness back, just enough to keep you there, never enough to feel held.

“Mm,” he hums against your skin, the sound low and distracted as soft open mouthed kisses scatter across your neck. “You smell good.”

Your hands find his hair, fingers absentmindedly playing with the black strands as his kisses slowly overwhelm every one of your senses.

Seongje felt like a bad habit you always swore you’d quit, the kind you promised yourself would be the last time before you were already falling right back into it the second trouble came knocking again.

He reaches beneath you, fingers working at the clasp of your bra until it finally loosens, discarded beside your shirt somewhere on the floor. Panties being the only shred of mystery you had left.

His hands find your chest almost instantly, warm and familiar as he draws you closer while his kisses trail lower and lower. They linger there for a moment, soft and unhurried, his lips brushing against your chest with kind of a quiet appreciation.

His lips brush gently against your areola as he kisses around it. And the moment he takes your sensitive peak into his warm mouth, he pulls a soft gasp from you. The quiet hum that follows sends a shiver down your spine, warm and knowing, and you hate how easily he can read every reaction from you. Heat rushes through you almost instantly, leaving your thoughts scattered beneath his touch.

He moves onto the second one. Opening his mouth slightly, he lets saliva drip lazily from his lips on it, completely careless about the mess. Showing just as much love and attention to both.

Like he needed to adore your body fully. And that was what made it so hard to say no, because being with him felt like being worshipped. Like you were wanted completely, intensely, in a way that made it impossible to think straight. But only when it suited him. It felt like he could switch it on and off whenever he felt like it, leaving you chasing the version of him that only showed up sometimes.

“Seongje…” you breathe his name into the room, aimlessly. He only hums in response against your skin, the sound quiet and satisfied against your peak. His thumb traces slow, absentminded circles at your waist, steady like he has nowhere else to be but here with you.

He ends it with placing a kiss against both of your sensitive peaks. Like he’s bidding goodbye to one part of you before moving on to the next he’s already decided he’s gonna wreck, unhurried and certain.

His kisses trail down your stomach. All the way till his final kiss lands flush against the skin your uterus laid behind. His head settles between your thighs. Fingers hooking onto your panties, he pulls them down.

“Lift,” he simply says, and you comply immediately. Lifting your hips for him so he could strip you. This was a memorized routine for you both, something you fall into without thinking. “So eager,” he grins, clearly enjoying how easily he can pull obedience out of you. You only hum back. Impatient.

Laying eyes on your bare core, he lets out a needy groan. His body reacting.

He tilts his head to the side, placing a gentle kiss against your inner thigh.

You let yourself sink into it for a second too long, because of course he doesn’t let it stay soft. He bites down just enough to make you jolt and gasp.

“Shush,” he says casually, like your reaction is the point, already pulling back as if he didn’t just do it on purpose to get something out of you.

He hooks his arms around your thighs and pulls you closer. Spreading you further for himself instead of asking you to move. Not having the patience to wait.

“Stay still,” he murmurs from between your legs. “I’ve been craving this,” and he wasn’t lying. Seongje loved eating you out. Not necessarily only for your pleasure. But his own too. He got off on it. It turned him on. He could finish just from doing that if he did it long enough. He loved collecting your reactions to different things he did down there.

Treating your body like a playground. And this was his favorite ride.

And with that being said, he spreads your lips using his thumbs. Placing an open mouthed kiss directly against your sensitive bud. You inhale sharply in response and he smiles. He licks a slow line across your slit from bottom to top. A soft sigh escaped you.

“You’re fucking soaked,” he breaths. And you were. You were so wet it was almost impressive.

Your hips bucked forward in desperation, but he caught you instantly. Pressing you back down into place, his grip tightened. He dug his fingers deep into your hip bones, halting any further movement. "Ah, ah. This is for me.”

Wasting no time, Seongje latched his mouth onto your nerve bud, sucking it into his warm mouth. The sudden catch of your breath echoed softly in the quiet, dimly lit room. Along with the sounds of wet slurps, like someone was really enjoying a bowl of spaghetti. Your back kisses the couch beneath you goodbye as you arch it off in response.

“Mm,” he hums between each suck, each slurp, each lick. Savoring it slowly, unhurried, as if nothing else in the world matters as much as this moment right here.

Your hand absentmindedly searches for his in the middle of everything, reaching for a comfort you know better than to trust him with, knowing he’ll never give it freely once the moment passes. But Seongje, being Seongje, and always knowing exactly how to play you, gives in to the quiet intimacy anyway. His hand finds yours, fingers lacing through yours as he holds it there, stroking it gently like it means more than it probably does to him.

And even in this moment, with him between your legs, you feel that familiar ache in your chest. Because this was so far from what you guys were.

He takes a moment to shift your position, propping one of your feet on his shoulder and the other on his back. Giving him even easier access. Careful in a way that feels almost at odds with how distant he is in everything else. He turns to give your ankle a soft kiss.

Resuming his work.

He pulls back just enough to murmur under his breath, “I want you to cum on my face,” before going right back to it like it was the most casual thing in the world to say, as if nothing had even interrupted him at all.

You look down, only to be met with his half lidded gaze, like he’s barely holding himself together. He’s drunk on you and not even trying to hide it.

This guy was in deep for you in dangerous ways.

His tongue plunges inside you, his nose rubbing against your sensitive bud at the same time. And you could’ve sworn you heard him smack his lips once, like he was genuinely enjoying it. This was something he was relishing, not rushing through. Like he lived for this moment alone. Lived to serve.

Your whimpers fill the room, echoing off the walls. Suspended in the thick air.

Your fingers tangle in his hair and pull tighter than you mean to, earning a faint smile from him. He liked when you got overwhelmed enough to forget your own restraint. He loved feeling and seeing the aftermath of your need on his body. Whether it was marks from kisses, little aches from you getting messy, or a dull soreness from his hair being tugged too roughly.

Your thighs trap his head as they give a weak twitch. He pushes them back, knowing he was guiding your body closer to the edge.

“Cum, baby cum,” He murmurs under his breath, still focused, while everything around you starts to blur at the edges.

Your thoughts feel scattered, vision softening as you struggle to keep up with him, caught somewhere between reality and the intensity of the moment.

“All over my face, make it yours,” and that did it. His encouraging contradictions worked to push you over the edge.

Your back arches off the couch, thighs spasming around his head. Fingers tightening in his hair even more, like you’re trying to anchor yourself in the moment, to stay present through it instead of slipping away into it completely.

Erupting, you gush all over his face, and instead of pulling back, Seongje keeps his arms hooked on your thighs and pulls you even closer. The ‘drowning hazard’ being completely disregarded as he looks up at you, drinking your intoxicating pleasure. Nothing about this moment is enough to make him pause.

“Fuck, fuck,” you curse sharply between heavy uneven breaths. Collapsing onto the couch again, catching your breath as you come down from your high.

He sits up between your legs. Looking down, he smiles faintly, the lower half of his face wet under the dim light. There’s something almost casual about it. Like he had just finished eating the worlds juiciest watermelon. He thumbs your intensely reactive bundle of nerves.

Your sensitivity was already heightened, making you jolt back in response and let out a soft whine, your head moving slowly as you try to steady yourself in the moment.

“Fuck, look at the mess you made,” he gives a gentle smack against your core. Another whine, followed by a whimper. “My good little slut.”

Guiding your hand, he presses your palm tightly against the hard outline in his pants. As if to prove a point. “I’ve been hard all day,” he whispers, “feel it.”

And you do. He wasn’t lying. He was hard as a rock. And you could feel how badly he needed to take care of it by how easily you could feel the pulsating even through the material of his trousers. You unbutton his pants on your own and he smiles down at you.

“Mm, keep going,” he says encouraging. Followed by the sound of his zipper lowering. Helping you pull it down, his pants slip right off. Joining your clothes on the floor. And almost immediately your hand pulls down at his boxers.

Length springing free and slapping against his stomach then settling right between your legs. The head was leaking with moisture. And your finger darts out to swipe at it, earning a groan from him in response.

A needy look settles in your eyes, like you’re trying to communicate everything without saying a word, hoping he somehow just understands. He notices immediately, of course, and lets out an amused chuckle in response.

Those puppy eyes don’t work on him.

“You want it, baby?” he asks. And you nod. “I don’t know,” his hands run down your thighs gently.

“Would you rather tell me about the made up guy that fucks you better?” he asks, teasingly. And you cringe at the memory of what you’d lied about earlier, the embarrassment hitting you all over again as it comes rushing back at the worst possible moment.

“Just please do what you came here to do,” you look up, “please,” pleading.

“Say it,” he says, fisting his length in his hand. Pumping gently. He wanted to chip away at what little pride you had left, even though you both knew it was already hanging by a thread, more performance than truth. You knew exactly what he wanted you to admit to.

You hesitate, watching the way his hand moves in a steady rhythm, the motion pulling your attention in until your resolve starts to slip. It’s almost hypnotic in the way it draws you closer, your thoughts thinning out. He was putting on a show. On purpose. And then, with a quiet sigh, you finally give in and admit it. “You fuck me best, please…”

“Yeah?” he grins, like that was exactly the answer he was expecting.

You nod, watching as he lowers himself to press a brief kiss to your shoulder blade. “No one could do it better… you know that,” you admit, the words slipping out like a reluctant confession. Bitter on your tongue, but honest all the same.

“I knew that,” he says and you scoff quietly. “Turn over,” he suddenly pushes you onto your stomach.

“Ass up,” pulling your hips up, your ass resting flush against his hard shaft. The intimacy of your bare skin against each other drawing a shudder from you. He was genuinely rag dolling you around. Like you weighed nothing.

He pushes your head down into the couch, the side of your face pressed firmly into the soft fabric, holding you there just long enough that you settle into it yourself.

“Arch it,” and you immediately comply. Arching your back for him.

Looking back, you catch that rough expression on his face. The one he only gets when he’s completely taken in by whatever he’s looking at, like he can’t quite hide how much he likes it. A clear hunger in his eyes.

He gives your rear one slap. You wince and let out a soft sound. The print of his hand clear in the soft skin. Turning red. “You always fold,” he murmurs, watching you like he’s studying a habit he’s already memorized. “And you still think you’ve got room left for pride.”

And that stings, because it’s true in a way you can’t quite argue with. You’ve never been able to fight off your need for him, for his attention. Even if it only lasts for a night, even if it never turns into anything more than that.

“You’re not like this with anyone else,” he says simply. “So don’t start pretending you are.”

You feel the head of his shaft, damp against your entrance, pushing in. And your breath catches in your chest as you brace yourself to fully let him in, whatever version of him he’s willing to give you.

“This,” he taps lightly against your core from below, “is mine,” he slides halfway in and your body writhes beneath him automatically. Biting back a moan you push back against him. Wanting more of him to fill you. Like the more he fills you, the less rationally you have to think.

His hand settles above your ass, easing you onto his shaft and with one swift yet slow movement, he’s in. With no resistance or push back. A heavy groan leaves his lips. Matching your soft gasp.

“Fuck, your pussy feels perfect,” he breathes out, rocking into you in a slow, controlled rhythm, “my favorite one.” Which only makes you let out an annoyed sound in response, sharp and immediate, like you can’t help reacting even when you try not to.

He smirks, clearly satisfied that he got under your skin. “Jealous?”

“You’re not worth that,” you reply.

“Oh, I’m not?” His smirk only widens, enjoying this far too much, especially when the two of you slip into this rhythm, talking like you can’t stand each other, even when you’re both still here.

“Nope.”

“Mean,” he simply says. Catching you off guard with a sudden pull back before snapping right back in with a sharp, hard motion, making you lose your balance for a second.

“Fuck,” you exclaim sharply, gripping the couch pillow at the sudden thrust, throwing you off balance. It hits you all at once, overwhelming your senses and leaving you momentarily reeling from how intense you felt him.

He keeps that same steady rhythm, firm yet unhurried, refusing to break it even for a second. Pull out till the tip. Slam back in till he bottoms out. Repeatedly. Drawing reactions from you so intense it only makes him double his efforts. Doing you through your whines. The only sound heard.

Coupled with his low, repeated groans. Wet noises. And the sound of skin against skin with each stroke. “You’re perfect stress relief,” he breathes, his voice slightly shaky and breathless. His hands press gently against your back, guiding you deeper into the position until your spine arches further than you expected.

You only manage something back that comes out soft and barely audible, more breath than words. Too overwhelmed to form a proper sentence, your voice catching and cutting in and out as if your vocal cords can’t quite keep up with the movement, leaving only broken, staggered sounds between breaths.

“Mm, good girl, shut up,” he mutters, “shut up and take this dick.”

His hand reaches under, fingers tracing gently against your nerves. Meanwhile, he multitasks, strokes evidence of how he felt about you. Need, intoxication, yet no warmth.

“Tell me to stop,” he says, and for a second, all he does is wait, “and I will.”

Nothing. No resistance. No safe word. No hesitation. Not even an attempt to pull away. Only the continues satisfied hums.

Because no matter how messy the two of you were outside of this, you still wanted him here.

His mouth twitches into something smug at the realization. “Exactly.”

It isn’t long before your own hips start moving against his. Like your body has finally found its rhythm, moving in sync with his, as if it’s working with him now without hesitation, naturally following his pace.

Which only makes his smirk widen as he looks down, a faint glint in his eyes giving away how much he’s enjoying the view in front of him. His rough hand settles against the small of your back, keeping you in place as he guides the movement.

“That’s it,” he breaths, “fuck me back, baby,” he encourages you quietly, tilting his head back for a moment as his adams apple moves with a slow swallow, collecting himself before looking back down at your back profile with the same steady focus. “Use me like you need.”

The room is drowned out by the thick intimacy of your sounds blending together into something almost overwhelming, like a lullaby warped beyond recognition. Outside, the rain only grows heavier, tapping insistently against the window as if mirroring how the atmosphere between you two deepens the longer it goes on. Soft breaths mix and overlap, filling the space until there’s hardly any silence left between you.

The tip of his length keeps prying and probing at your cervix. You feel like he’s everywhere in you at once, the moment settling into your whole body. Your stomach, your heating core, your chest.

His hips stagger slightly as his focus slips for a moment, his balance tilting forward until his chest meets your back. You feel his breath brush close to your ear, warm and unsteady, sending a ripple of goosebumps across your skin. His hand finds your hair, gathering it and wrapping it tightly around. Only to pull your head back by it and trail wet kisses along your jawline.

Your lips meet in a hungry, messy, sloppy kiss. No patience in it, just everything you don’t say out loud coming out all at once. Like this is how you talk instead, when words won’t land right between you two. He pulls back as you both breathe into each others mouths. Lips wet. A thin string of saliva hanging between your bottom lips.

“Fucking perfect,” he murmurs against your lips.

His hand leaves your hair only to shove your head down into the couch instead, your cheek crushed into the cushions as he keeps you there. “You like when I ruin your peace, huh?” he says, hips driving into you relentlessly, fingers still against your scalp. It feels like each stroke pushes you deeper into the couch. Making you apart of it. And you’re loving it.

It shows on on you. The way your eyes drift to the back of your head. Your uneven sharp breaths. Your hips bucking backwards into him. The sweat glistening on your body. Your flushed face in complete bliss.

“Seongje…” his name slips out more like a plea than just a word, quiet and unsteady, carrying more than you meant it to. “Mm,” you whine as he ravishes your insides. Taking it perfectly for him.

“You’d rather let me destroy you than be alone for one night,” he exhales sharply, looking at your back arching further, under no command, just on its own. “Look at you. Still letting me do this.”

You let out a sound in protest, and he just smiles, already aware of what you’re doing. He can see right through the way you’re trying to look tough, trying not to show how much you actually need him there. Him deep inside you being your lifeline in this moment.

“You’re saying one thing and feeling another,” he snaps you hard against himself. “Shit, you feel so fucking good.” And that small bit of praise was what you lived off of, the kind that lingered longer than it should and stayed with you even after he stopped talking. He lands one slap against your rear.

“You can’t even form a sentence,” he says, voice tight, barely controlled. “Just sounds. That’s all you are right now.”

Another whine, and a pathetic barley audible, “deeper, please.”

He grins down at you. Pushed into the couch with your ass up high. And despite your already disheveled, completely overwhelmed state, you were still asking for more, like you couldn’t quite get enough of it no matter how far gone you already were.

“Whiny little whore,” and he delivers. Exactly what you needed. He adjusts your position again, roughly moving your knees further apart and pushing your back into a deeper, more supported arch. Keeping his hands on your back, he presses down firmly, holding you in place and locking you into the position so you can’t slip out of it. His length sinking even deeper inside. You let out a incoherent wet whimper.

Already soaking the couch with your overwhelmed cries.

“Good girl, cry for it,” he says.

You clench around him involuntarily and he exhales sharply, “Fuck, stop squeezing me like that, I’m gonna cum,” he says as if that’d be the worst thing ever. Like he didn’t wanna finish too early. Even though you’ve been at it for an hour now.

And despite that, his body betrays him. You feel him twitch inside you. And he groans, drawing a sharp inhale. His fingers digging into your hips as his breath lingers right behind your neck. He moves back. Suddenly pulling out, leaving you completely empty and clenching around nothing.

You don’t even turn around, just collapsing straight into the couch, your body already weak and sore, your breaths uneven and heavy as you try to collect your thoughts that were quite literally fucked out of your head.

His head tilts back again, eyes slipping shut for a moment like his body’s reacting faster than he can control, overwhelmed in a way he doesn’t bother to hide. His hand pumps his hardened twitching shaft a few times and you feel the evidence of his undoing trickle down your back. Thick and warm. Coming out in a soft, messy stream.

“Oh, fuck,” he groans, mouth slightly agape as each pump makes his head dizzier. He genuinely goes deaf and blind for a few seconds over the feeling, everything around him cutting out as he tries to process it before slowly coming back to himself.

And that was one of the reasons he was so addicted to you. Only with you did it get like this, his senses shutting off.

He drops down onto his heels behind you, face still flushed, breath finally slowing as the moment settles. You’re both still wrecked in the same way, just coming down from it together.

He leans in without thinking too much about it, placing slow kisses along your back first, then your shoulder, then higher. Unhurried. Intentional. Like he’s making sure you’re actually still here.

Turning you gently, you laid on your back looking up at him.

“That’s it,” he says quietly. “Breathe. You did good for me.”

His hand stays on you the whole time, steadying you, not rushing anything, just grounding you while your breathing evens out again.

“Pretty girl,” he adds after a pause, softer than usual, like it slips out before he can stop it.

He moves up, brushing a kiss to your cheek, then another closer to your mouth. Each one slower than the last, like he’s letting himself linger a second longer than he normally would. Then your lips meet properly, and it’s quiet in a way that makes everything else feel far away.

Your chest aches in that moment. Knowing this wasn’t a normal kiss. This was the type of kiss that indicated it was goodbye. Till he felt a craving for you again. Like always.

When he pulls back, his eyes stay on you, studying the aftermath on your face.

“Yeah,” he says finally, almost to himself. “This is why you get like this.”

His hand lingers a moment longer before he lets it go a little.

“You don’t get this version of me anywhere else.”

© geumnana ― 𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐚