Y'ALL WHAT THE FUUUUUUUUUUUUCKKKKKK THIS WAS SO INSANE I WON'T SLEEP PEACEFULLY TONIGHT WHAT THE HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELLL

Y'ALL WHAT THE FUUUUUUUUUUUUCKKKKKK THIS WAS SO INSANE I WON'T SLEEP PEACEFULLY TONIGHT WHAT THE HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELLL 🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯

my little doll - ml x reader

Pairing : Boxer!Lee Mark x f!Reader

Description : Humans have hormones, you understand that much. But does that explain why you can't stop the filthy daydreams that fill your head whenever you see a specific redhead? Does it excuse you for getting turned on by him simply breathing in your direction? And to make matters worse, he is off-limits, if your father found out you were messing with his prized boxer? You would be chained to a tower and your red-haired crush would be used as mincemeat.

Warnings : Bloody Nose, Perversion, Dom/Sub, Power Play, Panties, Caught Having Sex, Overstimulation

Wordcount : 20k

Hormones.

You dearly hate them, you hate how your chest does somersaults at the mere sight of him, or the fact you have to cross your legs when his voice tickles your ear, let alone the mocking sensation of arousal that forever plagues your core at the sweet little pet names he sure loves giving you. From the crimson red hair that falls over his shoulders, typically pulled back with a loose-fitting clip, a matching pair of eyes that have this undeniable sultry and charming glint to them, or the scars from broken bones or other mishaps he has yet to give you a story about that stick to his powerful arms and mesmerizing torso.

If anyone were to find out about the things that run through your head, the lewd imagery, the erotic scenarios... you would never be able to show your face again. It's normal to have less-than-pure thoughts, right? You're no less human than the next person, everyone has desires and fantasies!

But does that excuse the fact you've desperately been waiting for any chance you can get to go and relieve yourself? That the more you stare at him, the more you think about how good he may be in bed? His muscles flexing with each thrust, imagining the length and girth of his cock, would his voice be gruff or husky?

The recollection of your inner desires has you aching, it is humiliating, to say the least. Especially when the man who is the center of these very thoughts just so happens to be standing behind you, one hand on your shoulder, the other guiding your wrist. The close proximity has you feeling sick, between his voice right beside your ear and his hands on your arm.

To be honest, aren't you sick? Pretty sick in the head to be lewding Mark without his knowledge, what would he think of you if he were to learn of these sinful scenarios you let consume you? You simply cannot help it, any woman in your position would probably be the same, right? Thinking of all the things those hands can do, how his rough fingertips would feel between your legs, his tongue against your...

It isn't like anyone knows either, after all, it would spread like a wildfire if anyone were to find out about your less than an innocent crush. In your opinion, you do quite a good job at masking it, not too clingy to him but also not completely avoiding him. After all, he is your father's "student" if you could say that, often training under the watchful gaze of your dad.

Sometimes it still feels like just the other day when you two first interacted, him introducing himself, saying how he works under your dad. You heard of him from your father often boasting about this guy he is training. You figure it would be another older guy, rough around the edges, not good enough to be eye candy. You couldn't have been any more wrong, completely in shock to learn that this "guy" was not only a lot younger than you expected but looked like those Greek statues.

You can never quite focus when he speaks to you, eyes wandering ever so discreetly, ears deafening when you catch sight of a bead of sweat dripping down his neck, how the lump in his throat bobs while he talks or drinks water. 

Even now, as you throw another punch per his instruction, your focus is entirely elsewhere. Not on the way he tells you to twist your wrist when launching your fist from your body, but rather how good it feels when he speaks right next to your shoulder, each word making your eardrums vibrate. If only he knew that you weren't very focused on his self-defense lesson, but rather how good it would feel to have those big hands wrapped around your neck or your thigh... anywhere is fine by you.

Most nights you find yourself fantasizing about Mark…Mark, all the filthy scenarios possible flooding your already corrupted mind the whole time you feel yourself up. Gripping your sheets and pretending it's his hair, breathing into your pillow to try and mask the sounds of pleasure you just can't keep in. You feel awful every time you finish, though. Hastily fixing yourself and going to shower, hoping the water will wash away sin.

Alas, you know that any level you go to repent would never erase the tainted marks of lust from your body. You're trapped in this, like a stalkerish fan swooning over her celebrity crush. Again, thanking whomever it concerns that mind-reading is not a thing.

A hand comes down onto the top of your head, drawing you from your deeper workings, "That time was really good," Mark praised with a grin, fingers dripping from your skin, much to your dismay, "Try it again without me guiding you, put your all into it!" If you had any less self-control, a moan would have passed your lips from his perfect voice, each word rolling off his tongue like honey from a spoon. 

Times like now you wish you had a deeper relationship than what is now accessed, that way you could just grab at his arms and give him the prettiest bats of your lashes all for the sake of begging him to take you somewhere private. That's all you want right now, to feel his soft lips on yours, to taste his tongue that probably will feel minty from the gum he is currently chewing. The simple privilege of being able to kiss him would surely kill you.

You throw another punch and really start to feel that ache in your shoulder, but Mark calls it a "good burn", something you remember even your father saying back when you were little. Your eyes glance to the clock hung on the wall, usually, you are hoping time will fly by, but right now? You hope it goes painfully slow, who knows when the next time will be when you have him so close with his hands all over you.

"I think you've mastered how to punch someone, I'm a little scared by how quick you are..." The playfulness in his voice does more than make you smile, it also contributes to the arousal that continues to soak into your panties, which you can probably assume are ruined at this point, "Let's practice a kick for if you're being restrained by two people." 

The last thing you expect is to feel him come up from behind and wrap his arms around your torso, restraining your arms and keeping you firmly pressed to his solid front. You would have cum right there if it wasn't for how focused you were on the veins in his arms or his flushed knuckles, "So if someone comes from behind, they'll most likely grab you in a way to trap your arms." His voice vibrates in his chest, which in turn vibrates against your back. 

Mark gives you a bit of a squeeze, a soft gasp fluttering from your lips not because of the restriction on your lungs but rather how if you arch your back just enough... you would probably feel the one thing you daydream about. The one thing you imagine fucking you every night when you touched yourself. 

"It'll be hard to elbow them, and depending on how tall they are you may not be able to head-butt them... so you can take one of your legs and then jab your heel into the arch of their foot, the point is to fracture or break those bones because then it'll either make them immobile or they won't be able to run after you when you get away." You nod your head along to his words, "Or, some people say to put as much as you can to lean forward because attackers expect you to thrash in their arms or try to hit them."

Mark lightly nudges you as a means to lean forward, you almost think not to, afraid of the hormones that are already driving you up the wall. But you do it anyway, leaning forward, despite the fact he is pressed into every inch of your backside, "Take both of your hands and grab at one of my legs, whichever you think is easier, and then you're gonna pull as hard as you can to try and knock me off."

You almost feel bad, but you assume that since he is giving you this lesson, he expects to get roughed up a little. So despite your inner conflict not to, you lean forward as much as it takes to grab the leg closest to you, that being his right leg, and firmly gripping his calf and pulling his leg towards you. You're almost surprised by how easy it was, one second he is holding onto you, his breath wafting against the back of your neck, and now he is flat on his back.

"That caught me off guard," He says in disbelief, without your knowledge his crimson eyes watch how you slowly stand up straight after successfully breaking free of his grasp, "I shouldn't underestimate you considering how intense your father is with training." He notices your panties peeking through the fabric of your yoga leggings, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lip, and staring until the red fabric is no longer peaking through.

"When I was little he taught me some basic things," You turn around to offer him a hand, which he gratefully takes, "But I don't think the moves I learned when I was little will be much assistance now." You help him up with a smile, for a moment you forget the tension that had previously been eating you, "Thank you for helping me, you make it more fun than it should be."

The crimson-haired boxer offers you one of his signature smiles, flashing those pearly white teeth you always think of dragging your tongue over, "You're adorable," His fingers playfully give your cheeks a pinch just to see you pout, "Let's do one more move before you gotta close up, I think you have it in you to give it a try." Who are you to argue? After all, it means more time to ogle over him, to feel his hands, to dream up filthy scenarios that have your pussy throbbing.

What you don't expect is to feel one of his hands fall on the dip of your waist to stabilize you, the other coming down to hook under your knee and slowly lift your leg, "You're pretty flexible, I expected that... naturally everyone's legs are stronger than their arms. So sometimes if you see an opening, go for a nice high kick right into either their chin or nose." So that's why he is holding you like this.

His words, just for a moment, blur as you look at his hands on your body. The position is oddly provocative, it is easy to just picture you both nude, his cock driving in and out of you just like this. His hands holding your soft thighs wide open for him, one leg hooked over his arm as those very fingers tease your clit, his other hand snaking up your front to tweak your nipples and torturously squeeze your tits.

It's disgusting, filthy that all he is doing is holding you like this to guide you and you're imagining him fucking you just like this. It's horribly wrong, sickening - but oh, it would probably feel so good like this. His tip would rub against that sweet stop your fingers can barely reach, his breath against the very shoulder he would mark with hickeys...

"There we go," His voice sounds so close it nearly makes you flinch, "Okay, you want to aim with your heel and not the tip of your shoe because it can strain your ankle or even hurt the arch of your foot. So lock your leg as you swing it up and pretend like you're jabbing someone with your heel." You wish his cock was jabbing your insides, but nonetheless, you strike your heel into the air effortlessly.

Mark whistles at the power in your leg, what he would give to see you beat the shit out of someone. He is sure you could probably even take him out if you tried, which is another reason he hopes he never gets on your bad side. The first reason being that your dad would kill him.

"Maybe I should start practicing with you," He muses when you smoothly bring your leg back down, "I bet you'd be able to break me down, especially with a kick like that." What you would give to simply watch him train with your father, you've seen it a handful of times. How he drives his fists into the punching bag, or the muscles in his thighs stiffening when he tries to knock his sparring partner down. He always leaves you drooling, hoping to feel those very hands wrapped around your throat or to ride his thighs while he teases you for being such a slut. 

As much as you would love to spend the time with him, you know you wouldn't be able to handle all the touching, to see him sweating and his muscles showing through his less-than-covering tank top. Sometimes he even goes shirtless, which is ten times worse and even more hormone-inducing. If only there was a way to confidently tell him, "I've wanted to have sex with you since I first saw you, so please do whatever you want with me."

"I think you'd probably break me..." The words weren't meant to come out sounding so sexual, leaving a pinkish blush on his cheeks and at the tip of his ears, "But we can always practice like this whenever you want." You miss how he shuffles in place, trying to knock your first sentence from his head. Break you? He knows what you meant... but even he has some not-so-innocent thoughts.

With it being time to close, regulars gradually leave the gym, bidding you a farewell per usual, the machines slowly becoming empty. Though the only person who patiently remains, discreetly watching passing figures as they leave the building, is the redhead you have been eyeing all day. It is rather exciting, watching the final person pack up their things and leave, finally granting you the privacy you've desired all day.

You begin the process of locking up the gym, working the locks on the alternate entrance, as well as pulling the drop-down fence that cages the windows. You two often leave through the back door, so you always lock up the front earlier than you both intend to depart. Whenever he stays a little later than usual, he often waits for you to close and you will leave together. 

Being so focused on closing the main entrances and front of the gym, you don't notice the figure approaching you from behind, not until a shadow casts over you and you notice the lighting change. Not until a hand falls onto your shoulder, to which you peer behind you to see Markall packed up, "Did you bring a sweater? It's supposed to be cold out."

"I didn't, but it's fine because my car is right there." He knows it is, but he also knows that you tend to park quite a bit away from the apartment you share with your father because it didn't have a parking garage, "I'll be fine! Worst case scenario I catch a cold and can't come to work tomorrow." That's when you remember an important detail about tomorrow, one that you've been looking forward to all week.

"You have a match tomorrow, right?" Comes your voice amid his needless thinking, "Dad is making the plans, he's been running around all day... I think he may be more excited than you." You try to change the subject, knowing he will be persistent regarding you taking his sweater.

"Yeah, and that's another reason you should take my hoodie... that way you don't get sick and you can be there to cheer me on." His words make you feel so warm and fuzzy inside, is he really that worried? Does he really want you there to see him? It's too much, you may just pass out knowing he wants you to cheer for him in the crowd!

You heard rumors of professionals possibly attending, managers of some sort. It all sounds a little too good to be true, but knowing your father he is always pulling strings. To locals, it's considered a big deal because of the chance to gamble bets, entertainment... The matches are memorable. Mark likes the attention, to hear people chant his name and praise him, that adrenaline he gets when he is so close to winning. It is a drug, an addiction he just cannot shake. He needs support.

Finally, you take the hoodie from his hand, pulling the thick fabric over your head and covering yourself, "Thank you, Mark." He is so sweet, it makes you feel guilty for letting these thoughts ravage your brain. For allowing yourself to lewd him constantly, he has been nothing but respectful with you and all you can think about is how fucking good it would feel to sit on his face right now.

"Are you gonna be there to give me some good luck?" His words catch you off guard, give him some good luck? you never really see him before his matches, usually, only after will you congratulate him and offer to take him out for something to eat, per request from your father. It is a tradition to celebrate after a successful fight. Most of the night you will ogle over him, how good he looks with a slightly swollen lip, or how you would kill to lick the little bit of blood sticking to the fresh wound on his brow.

What could you possibly do to give him good luck? You will have to think of something, you can't disappoint him, "Since tomorrow is a big deal, I guess I have to make sure you have as much luck as possible, right?" Your words bring a grin to his face, you've always been so kind yet carefree. He likes that a lot about you, how you don't take everything so seriously, and never feels like he has to walk on eggshells around you. 

Whatever it may be, he likes getting some sort of recognition from you before he fights, you leave this positive and sweet taste in his chest. He finds that he tries harder with you around, whether it be to impress you or earn plenty of praises and compliments when the match is over. He doesn't care what you come up with, so long as it's from you.

Mark Remembers that you're off the clock and should get home before it's too dark, "A-Anway," He clears his throat and adjusts his gym bag over his shoulder, "Let's get out of here, I think we both could use a shower..." Despite his words, he is eyeing how exhausted you look, sweaty and your eyes a little swollen from overworking yourself. It reminds him of the time you went on a run with him, an innocent invitation he gave you since he never really sees you outside of the gym.

To his surprise, you weren't at all a bad runner, but unfortunately, your stamina does not nearly match his and he can still remember how cute you looked, tripping over your feet and waving your hand for him to slow down. The sweat that stuck to your face, neck, chest... how you were shivering all the while scraping to regain some oxygen in your lungs. Your fingers holding onto his arm, leaning into him with your eyes closed. 

You had looked so pretty that day, but all he could think about was whether or not you'd look the same if he were to have sex with you. Would the sweet bead up the same? Would your eyes get heavy once it was over? Would you pant and cling to him like now, doing your best to keep up and not collapse from exhaustion? That was the first time he ever thought of you other than as a friend, and ever since it feels like the daydreams have gotten a little worse.

Not nearly as explicit as yours, though.

God, you want to fuck him so bad. You want to ride him until your thighs burn, to feel his teeth marking your skin with every push of his hips, to open your mouth just so he can spit in it... reminding you that you're nothing but a perverted, disgusting, awful whore. That's exactly what you are. A brainless, hormonal...

Right, you're supposed to be leaving. With a final adjustment to the sweater he had kindly given you, you lead the way to the back door of the gym. You wish you didn't have to depart so soon, just before he had his hands all over you! Touching your legs, holding your waist... can't you turn back time just enough to go through that all over again? Even if it's just him guiding you to a proper punch. 

What you would give to feel those hands on your tits, or cupping the apex of your thighs. Would it feel different from when you touch yourself? Probably. His fingers are bigger, thicker, rough... you can only imagine the way they would curl to rub that special spot inside of your walls. You bet he would be able to make you squirt, you can only imagine it... if only.

"Make sure you sleep early," He chimes from beside you, "That way I can see you early before I have to go prepare for tomorrow night." It is bizarre how insistent he is on seeing you before the fight, did you do something different to yourself? Deep down, you're praying he may just have a little crush on you, but you doubt it. He could like anyone, he would never choose you... right?

Nonetheless, you don't let your selfish thinking distract you from the handsome man beside you. What doe sit matter whether he likes you or not? At least he talks with you. But every human has selfish desires, yours just happens to be wanting the crimson-haired boxer beside you to be yours, "I wouldn't miss a chance to see you," The words come out faster than you could bite your tongue, but with the cat out of the bag you roll with it, "Maybe I could bring you something to eat?"

The suggestions noticeably brighten him, the two of you coming out of the back door which you begin to lock for the night, "That would be nice, remember those grape leaves you had made that one time? I'd kill for those..." Neither of you misses how his voice noticeably quiets, as if he only wants you to hear that, for the huskiness in his tone to catch your ears. 

To say it doesn't cause a million and one butterflies to waltz in from your stomach into your chest, would be a lie. It would be a lie to deny how the most minuscule quirks he has always leave you in a state of your own temporary bliss. You wish you could hear him whisper over and over, to come up behind you like in those cliche romance films from the 60s. For his arms to encase your midsection, lips meeting the shell of your ear, telling you how his day is better now that he is home with you.

Oh, what you would give to live out a shitty romance film from however many decades ago with Mark. To be that mindless trophy wife even if for a day, to forget all responsibility and for him safely coming home to you to be your only worry. To spend your hours cooking and cleaning, making yourself look your prettiest if it means letting him use you to destress.

You just want to make him happy, is that so wrong? Maybe.

"I'll be sure to make you some," You say back, eyes falling from his to instead look at your sneakers, "W-Well, I'll see you early tomorrow... I'll be sure to bring your sweater back." You miss the subtle smile due to your eyes being elsewhere, a smile that lasts until you look back up to him, "Drive home safe, I can't wait to see the fight tomorrow."

The two of you bid your farewell, Mark keeping his eye on you up until you safely enter the comfort of your car, and only then does he get into his own. You always miss those gentlemanly gestures he does, how he never leaves until he sees you're safely in your car, always keeping an eye out for you whenever you go off to the bathroom. He gets so worried over you being just a minute too long, and part of him excuses it for a "need to protect" urge in him.

But a very small part of him has already learned to accept he may or may not have feelings for you, whether they are romantic or platonic, he cannot pinpoint; especially because he hasn't even fully accepted the fact he has potential feelings for you. 

Regardless, you drive away, unaware of how he waited for you to leave first. The entire ride home, all you could focus on was the cologne that stuck to the hoodie he let you borrow. How the masculine odor filled not only your nose but the car. It felt mocking like the hoodie knew how down bad you are forMark, but you try not to let it get to you. You try not to imagine how it would feel to bury your face into his shoulder and smell the cologne stuck to his skin.

That familiar heat floods between your legs, reminding you of how awful you are. Even with him gone, you can't stop the dirty thoughts. Maybe you just need to get laid? Maybe it's less that you like him, and just you being horny and deprived of intimacy. 

You know that isn't the case, but it's nice to pretend it is.

What would his favorite position be? Would he prefer you on top? Bent over? If you had to decide, you'd want to be able to see his face, to watch how good you can make him feel. No amount of brainstorming could probably compare to how sexy he would look engulfed in pleasure, nor how he would sound. You take him for someone who tries to hold back their moans, not wanting you to know you're being good for him.

"Oh, god..." You whisper under your breath as you continue to drive, knuckles bulging from gripping the steering wheel so hard, not to mention the ache in your lower back from how far you've arched yourself to try and ignore the throbbing in your clit. It's ridiculous, here you are driving home on an empty street, your apartment building isn't even that far away...

And yet you find yourself pulled over on the side of the road.

The entire time, you mentally scold yourself, eyes frantically looking about all the while you sick back into your seat. Your nose is buried into the collar of the sweater, the familiar scent comforting you while your hand moves under the waistband of your leggings and then under your soaked panties. Were you really this wet? Usually, you would be riddled with shame, but now? You can only thank yourself, knowing it will make it all the easier for your fingers to snake themselves inside of you.

You know that your fingers will never compare to the real thing, and most of the time you don't even get much pleasure from them being inside of you, but that minor sense of fullness somehow is just relaxing. Between your index and middle fingers being knuckle deep inside of your pulsating entrance, your walls clenching around what little space your fingers take up, and your palm grinding into your clit.

"M-Mark..." His name is always falling from your tongue, every time you find yourself viciously rubbing your clit in desperation, or grinding into the soft fabric of your pillow. Whatever you may be doing to pleasure yourself, his name is the only thing that you manage to utter during the entire process. Praising him for making you feel so good and whimpering how it's too much for you. 

If only he could see you now, curled up in your car and humping at your hand, panting and whining for the only man you've thought about for however long you've known him. If only he were here, to witness how filthy you are, that you're anything but sugar and honey - you're not sweet at all, you're just a needy nymphomaniac. 

You spread your thighs just a little more, fingers dipping in and out of your entrance only to then come out and give your neglected clit circular rubs before seeping back inside of your pussy, "I wanna cum,Mark~" Imagining it is his fingers pumping in and out of you, that it's his palm that continues to grind into your poor clit.

With the fabric of his sweater pressed firmly to your nose, it helps to muffle your pathetic sounds; strings of his name and pleas floating within the air of your car. the only other noise being the wet squelching sound of your fingers inside of you. It all feels so lewd, to be touching yourself like this in your car. If anyone were to find out, surely you would be not only shunned, but you'd never hear the end of it.

But god his hands felt so good on your thighs and waist when he was training you earlier, they were so warm, so big... his palms rough when they dragged over the skin of your arms. You wish he would've gone just a little higher

"F-Fuck... ah~ fuck me,Mark-" You squeak when your fingers nudge at your walls a little too roughly, further hiding your face in his sweater as it gradually becomes harder to contain your whimpers. The thought of him praising you, calling you his good girl, and saying you take it so well - would he pepper your teary face with kisses? Slow down to make sure he doesn't completely ruin you?

Your insides feel hot, tortuously hot. Every grind of your clit into your palm gradually brings you closer to the anticipated climax. Are you catching a fever? You know it is just your body readying itself for the oncoming bliss, the buildup in your stomach that feels like electricity, "I-I'm cumming," You breathe out a strained whine, "F-Fuck, I'm cumming... I'm cumming~!" You lose your voice as your fingers focus on your clit, rubbing back and forth against the poor nerve.

"M-Mark~ fuck, fuck, fuck- nngh~!" It all happens so quick, the squirting of your climax soaking into your panties and leggings, tainting the skin of your hand and pruning fingers, luckily not too much getting on the seat of your car. But it isn't the mess, it's the pulse you feel in your clit, a neverending throb that has your walls clenching and unclenching. 

You must look wrecked, between how you've managed to bizarrely sink into your seat, your leggings and panties slightly pulled down and your fingers covered in a mess of your cum and slick. You feel ridiculous more than you look it, having just touched yourself in your car to the thought of someone who most likely sees you as nothing but a friend. 

Once again you feel like you're taking a walk of shame; pulling your panties and leggings back up despite the uncomfortable and icky sensation of how wet the fabric is, adjusting yourself in your seat, and looking around for any ongoing or incoming cars. Only when you deem it safe, pulling out of the spot you had parked to continue your trek home, all in silence as a means to reflect on yet again letting your lust get the best of you.

All you can do is hope that when you get home and take a nice warm shower and make those grape leaves poor Mark asked for, that it will somehow erase this awful encounter with yourself from your head. Hopefully, tomorrow will be a better day. Though, you doubt it will take eight hours of sleep to cure you of the hormonal devil on your shoulder.

To make matters worse, the familiar chime of your phone interrupts your mental meditation on what just happened. Though, it isn't your phone that makes things worse, but rather the fact that the very name you see in the notifications bar is the one person you were hoping to get out of your head. You almost think not to answer, let alone look at it, but you could never do that to him.

Upon opening the message, you nearly cry with guilt - how can he be so sweet? Why do you have to be so awful?

Remember that time we went for a run? I forgot I took this pic of u when we finished... after u started to vomit because u pushed urself 2 much. U looked cute tho (:

Scrolling up you hold back the urge to get on your knees before some religious statue and beg for forgiveness. There he is smiling at the camera, holding it high enough to catch himself but also you in the back, to your surprise you don't look awful. Sure, you may be on the verge of death from running so much, and even sweatier than him, but the sunset somehow brought it all together.

And did he just say you looked cute?

You bite back the urge to squeal and get into a car accident, but mostly not to verbally freak out. Does he really think you're cute? Really? You almost don't want to believe it, why would he think you're cute? You don't dwell on it too much, happily accepting the compliment and rereading the message over and over again until another one comes through.

We should do it again, I had fun <3 see u 2morrow, don't forget the grape leaves!

Why does he have to be so perfect? It's always the nice guys who are barely out of your reach. Not that you deserve Mark, someone as obsessive as you doesn't deserve that sort of happiness - not when you focus more on wanting to have sex with him every day, rather than building up the courage to just ask him out.

Maybe tomorrow you will try.

The following morning comes all too quickly, but you give yourself credit for having not had a wet dream - something that shamefully occurs often - and waking up to the sound of your early set alarm without trouble. You're never usually up at this time, but keeping your promise to the crimson-haired man you think about more than you do yourself is your top priority. It would be awful to say you will be there with breakfast, only to diss him.

And surely he would end up not liking you at all, he has mentioned being prejudice against people who do not stay true to their words. 

You like to think that you got ready so quickly, so haphazardly due to your stress over possibly being late... but you know it's because of how excited you are to see Mark and the fact he told you he wanted to see you before he would have to go and prepare for his fight.

Before you leave, you make sure to grab his sweater which you left neatly folded at your desk. When you got home after your shower, the first thing you did was throw it in the wash and put it as far away from you as possible - that damned sweater, you should have never accepted it because look what it made you do! Nonetheless, you are grateful he thought of you and your health and that is the reason you washed it, to cleanse it of any and all evidence of the sin you committed in your car last night. It is still humiliating that you allowed yourself to lose that self-control, but at least you're not in denial. 

If your father were to have seen you with that hoodie, you are almost certain he would have recognized it and interrogated you. Luckily, that didn't happen, because if it had you aren't sure you would be able to explain without the flooding images of last night filling your head and driving you up the wall.

But none of that is your concern, not when you have to make it to the gym in time for him, you're certain he should be there at this time, as well as your father who is preparing the back building where all boxing training, practice, and matches go on. Your only hope is neither of you bumps into your old man, but with how analytical he is, he practically smells when and where he needs to stick his nose into business that isn't his.

As you pull your car into the lot of the gym, noticing the familiar vehicles that belong to both the man you are excited to see, but also the one you hope you don't bump into, the butterflies begin to catch up. He wanted to see you, even to now you still replay those very words, asking you to come by earlier so he could see you before he had to go and prepare himself for the night.

The nerves are beginning to start, you never quite got over that feeling that you were stepping into unfamiliar territory. You've known Mark for quite some time by now, can't you just get over it and walk in there? It isn't even him that you're fearful of, more so the eyes that may follow you the moment you step into the gym. What will others think? You're never so early, and walking up to the redhead with a bento box? You can only imagine the rumors this will start.

Yet, you suck it up. Your father didn't raise you to run away from things, worst-case scenario is he can't talk right now and you end up looking like a fool. You doubt it, but there are a hundred and one possibilities you are anything but prepared for. But isn't that what makes it exciting? The unknown.

Not really, you hate the unknown. The entire walk to the front door of the gym, as well as entering it to see not many people you are familiar with there, which isn't surprising since you work from the afternoon until it gets dark. Nowhere in sight do you see the redhead you have been waiting to see since you last saw him yesterday evening, and you aren't even sure where he could be.

Part of you worries you may be too late, but you figure if he were to be anywhere he must be in the back building. The only issue is you would have to possibly come face-to-face with your father, not only to hand back Mark's sweater but also breakfast you prepared for him. You almost think to just bail, claim there is a ridiculous amount of traffic and you're still on the road, but he isn't stupid.

And you're also not gonna hurt his feelings.

You carry yourself towards the back doors of the building to find the separate structure where all the boxers practice and train, it is rather run down in comparison to the main gym, but it makes sense since most of the fights that go on here go on without the knowledge of authority. You aren't even sure if your father has a proper permit for this building, but he's gotten away with it before, and you're sure you've seen local officers in their casual attire attending the matches.

But all of that is beside the point, not when you enter the building and come face to face with chaos. Between people moving chairs and tables around, cleaners mopping at the floor, boxers gathered to the far end of the building where you see your father. Unfortunately, there is noMark-

Before the figure behind you can even speak, this weird tingle down your spine alerted you to an approaching figure, which you quickly look back only to be met with long red hair and a bare, sweat-tainted torso. Had he always been so tall? So big? You have no clue where to even look, your eyes jumping from his chest to his shoulder, raking over his long hair, and finally locking with the familiar crimson eyes you are used to. You feel silly for staring at him, but you just can't help it.

"You made it," Comes his voice, a grin plastered onto his face at the sight of you holding his sweater and the bento box, "I see you brought me some gifts, is this what I think it is?" The tip of his finger points at the box of grape leaves, to which you hold them out for him to take, your words trapped in your throat at the sight of him completely shirtless in front of you. 

Mark opens the box and whistles at the plentiful amount of grape leaves you had prepared for him, "You spoil me~" He hums while bringing one to his lips, taking it all in his mouth in one bite. Your eyes lock on a droplet of oil that is stuck to the corner of his mouth, how his jaw looks when he chews, the bob of his adam's apple whenever he swallows. You can only imagine how much better he would look swallowing your cum, if only he was there last night to catch your juices in his mouth when you made yourself cum like that.

"How is everything coming along?" You finally find your voice, even if to just ask a question, from what you can tell most of the necessary tasks are just about done - which would leave Mark with an hour or so to get ready for the match later this afternoon - and most are just focusing on creating space to accommodate the customers coming to watch.

Nights like this your father makes the most money, charging for entry and snacks. You call him a shark for how he robs these people with his ridiculous fees, but what business is it to you? If it's what the people want, you're sure they would pay any amount just to watch some men beat each up other up. You weren't a fan of boxing until you first seen Mark, only ever wasting your time to see him in the ring.

When he swallows his third grape leaf, much to your shock, his eyes scan the room with an unsure shrug, "I'd say it looks fine, I've been trying to help out but your father refuses... keeps saying I should just go and warm up in the gym." You would figure as much, your father has favorites and those favorites tend to get the better end of the stick. 

You smile seeing how happy he is with the bento box you prepared for him, nothing makes you happier than when someone enjoys your cooking. Especially the person you like, a lot. It feels good to just be able to look at him and feel nothing but that giddy crush feeling bubbling inside of you, without the added turn-off of your anything but pure imagery that infests your less than perfect brain.

"There aren't too many people in the gym... maybe it will do you some good to stretch or something before you gotta get ready." Mark knows you're right, and he doesn't particularly enjoy doing absolutely nothing when everyone around him is up to some sort of agenda, "I don't plan on going anywhere now that I'm here, it wouldn't make sense... did you need help with anything in particular."

Of course, part of you is hoping to hear something like 'yeah, can you suck my dick?' but you know that won't happen. It is quite humiliating to even think that, how nice his thighs would feel in your palms, his cock shoved balls deep in your throat, tearing up and choking from the size. You bet he tastes just as good as he looks, and he looks like he tastes really good.

Mark closes the bento box, "Actually, yeah..." The three fingers the were covered in the thick oil that the grape leaves are cast in are one by one popped into his mouth, and oh is a sight to admire. His tongue dragging over the single-digit before dragging it out from his mouth with a light pop, "You mind wrapping my hands for me? I never do it tight enough." 

You've seen him struggle plenty of times with that hair of his, thick and down to his lower back. You aren't sure how he manages to take care of it, after all, it always looks so silky and voluminous. The women in those shampoo commercials could never compare, you're sure if Mark ever got into doing commercials he would have shelves empty within the first two seconds of the ad. 

Who wouldn't want to sit there and stare at him? His voice shaking every bone in your body, the way his muscles flex with the slightest movement, his pretty white teeth, not to mention thick lashes, and the way they frame his sharp eyes. Anyone would be happy to hear him talk, let alone drag their eyes over every dip and curve of his powerhouse of a body.

Before you are quiet for too long you come back to your senses, "Of course!" It comes out rather too enthusiastic, but Mark either doesn't notice or care. Especially not when you walk past him in that pretty little skirt of yours, you look so delicious clutching his sweater to your chest, your hips swaying in the most hypnotizing way. God forbid anyone, let alone your father catches his eyes checking you out from behind.

He follows you like a lost puppy, drooling over your legs and how soft they must be, how your thighs would feel amazing to just lay his head down on them. He's always found you attractive, and your sweet personality makes it ten times better. Whenever you wear those yoga leggings, he finds himself staring too long at you, watching you walk until you disappear somewhere.

What he would give to see you in cute little stockings, holding that skirt of yours up for him to admire the adorable panties you have on. Would you be into that? Letting him stare down at you, memorize every inch of your body, rub you through your panties, and push your shirt up and over your soft tits. The things he would do to you if you gave him the chance, and today he hopes he can coax you into paying more attention to him.

The two of you enter the gym, seeing that only a few other regulars have joined the same faces from when you came. The only sound being of the equipment and the cheesy music playing through the loudspeakers. Onlookers glance for a moment, watching the two of you as you both settle at one of the benches. You know they only look because they're interested in Mark and what he could possibly be doing with you. But who cares? You get to have an excuse to hold his hand!

"Did you sleep well?" He asks while fishing into the pocket of his shorts to pull out the hand wraps, "To be honest, I was a little worried about you since it was so cold... that's why I texted you, to make sure you were okay." Every word leaves you more and more in a state of speechlessness, he truly did care. All night that's all you could wonder if he genuinely cared and it turns out he did.

You contain your excitement, not wanting it to show how happy that made you, "Really?" You squeak out, "I-I was fine... your sweater kept me warm." You hide the flustered look by focusing down at the gauze in your hands, unwrapping the elastic material, "I made sure to wash it before I brought it back, I was pretty sweaty last night."

He finds you adorable, how your pretty hands hesitantly grab one of his and hold it in your lap. Your skin is so soft, so warm, he has to hold himself back from just squeezing or dragging his palm over the exposed skin. You're so careful with how you bring the gauze over his knuckles and between his thumb and index finger, making sure it is neither too tight nor too loose.

"Too bad, you always smell really good..." He watches your expression with a smirk, not missing how you tense up, "You never answered my question about whether or not you slept..." He loses his train of words as he watches your fingers trace over his knuckles. You're gentle, treating his hand like it's the most fragile thing you ever held, between the way you've fastened the gauze just right and are now just adjusting the wrap to better cover his abused knuckles.

The only thing on your mind is whether he takes proper care of his hands or not, does he make sure to clean them up and put ice? To massage all the kinks and knots out? You worry too much for him, not that he could ever tell. The tips of your fingers trace what scars aren't being covered, admiring how much he has probably been through to get this far. You've seen the way he trains, hours without a break, and always pushing himself, that's how stars are made.

Would it be so bad...? You feel conflicted, despite your hand already gradually bringing his closer to you, has anyone ever made sure he took care of himself? You try to do so, but sometimes your selfishness gets in the way. Is there anyone he lives with that pampers him? What you would give to be that person; rubbing his aching shoulders, kissing the bruises and cuts he has, washing his hair and back for him...

"y/n-" Your name leaves his mouth with a stutter, crimson eyes caught on your lips pressing delicate kisses to his knuckles. Your lips are soft, shimmering slightly from the lip-balm you have on, not to mention the warmth of your breath wafting against his hand. He doesn't protest, more so in awe at how pretty you look, how you don't even seem to be aware of what you're doing.

To say he hasn't pictured this exact scenario a hundred times or more, you wrapping his hands before a match, kissing each finger with one of your beautiful smiles. All he can do now is soak in this mini victory, a dream come true if you will. Your eyes peering through your lashes when your lips pull away from his hand, the cutest look of shame flashing on your pretty face, "Sorry, it just looks like it hurts..."

Mark stays silent as you hold his wrapped hand, reminiscing on how your lips felt on him, wondering if they would feel even better elsewhere. He doesn't respond right away, placing his unwrapped hand in your lap with a smile, "I liked it..." He says while you start to wrap his other hand, "Y-You should do it more often." 

You never expected him to say something like that, not that you expected him to be upset with you. To be honest, you weren't entirely sure what you were expecting his response to being when you pulled away. Part of you thought the atmosphere would grow awkward, unwanted even. Yet, here you are repeating the process with his other hand, the entire time you can't keep yourself from glancing up, only for your eyes to lock with his and his lips to curl into a smug smirk.

Just as you had with his other hand, you sheepishly bring the newly wrapped knuckles to your lips. Of course, this time you aren't as confident, but he finds it just as pleasurable. Your pretty eyes locked with his, kissing at the scarred flesh and trying to sit still. He can tell you're embarrassed simply by your body language, which you shouldn't be, he likes this show you're putting on for him.

Only when you finish, lowering his hand from your face and sitting up straight on the bench opposite to him, does Mark get a good look at your face. You would look good with a swollen bottom lip, irritated from his teeth nipping and tugging at it, and he wouldn't mind giving your cheek a playful bite, too. He realizes he doesn't quite want you to move away just yet, the simple act of you wrapping his hands already leaving him craving more of your attention.

"Could you help me with my hair, too?" You are only a little surprised by the question, especially since you've seen him put up his hair - despite it looking rather rough around the edges and a bit too low - and be perfectly fine with it. But you wouldn't turn down the opportunity to be close with him for a little longer. Did he ask that because he wants the same thing? You want to believe it.

Mark hands you the tie around his wrist, watching you come to a stand and circle around to stand behind him. His hair looks shiny, like layers of red silk on his head, "You have nice hair," You shyly state, putting the tie around your wrist as you start to gather his long and thick hair in your hands, "I bet you'd look nice with a half-up half-down style, but keeping it all up is probably for the best so it doesn't obstruct your vision, right?"

He wanted to answer you, but your voice sends such a chill through his spine, your warm breath hitting the back of his neck as you work to make sure not a single hair has fallen astray. Your fingers are like heaven, rubbing against his scalp, combing through the heavy bundle of red hair, "The last time I wore my hair down for a fight," He holds his tongue when you lean forward, the softness of your tummy pressing into him as you lean over his body to make sure you gather the hair in front, "I-It kept getting the way and stuck on things..."

You hum softly, not even really aware that the fact you're practically laying over his back to pull back the loose strands have him swelling in his briefs. Fuck, he would do anything to fill you up right here, let everyone watch him do it too. Pretty little y/n get her pussy stuffed for being a teasing little whore, panties around your ankle, barely fitting him inside of you. 

"You'll do great tonight," You say loud enough for only him to hear, "And um... maybe after we can go out for dinner?" Mark almost laughs at the predicament, it seems you beat him to it, "I-I mean, only if you're up for it, I just know this place with really good western dishes and I wanted-"

"Would you believe me if I said I was gonna ask you the same question after the match?" Your heart lodges in your throat, he is serious... right? Of course, why else would he say that? But it feels too good to be true! Would he really ask you out for dinner? It feels like everything is just falling together with the more the day goes by; wanting to see you before the match, wanting to ask you out for dinner, kissing his knuckles, touching his hair... it feels too perfect.

Technically it is because it seems your fifteen minutes of heaven is up when the familiar face of your father approaches you both, your fingers fall from the red hair you had been playing with, "I've been looking everywhere for you, kid... and you've been here the whole time!" His hands go up in the air, urgingMark to stand up, "Turns out we are actually behind schedule, the guys who came for the match are here an hour early so we gotta get you changed and ready to go in thirty minutes. Understood?"

PoorMark looks like a deer caught in headlights, "H-Huh? I thought the matches weren't until later...?" Even you are a tad confused by the situation, the matches are always held later in the day, wouldn't it be inconvenient to start now when there aren't even any customers?

But it turns out everything happens for a reason, "That was the impression I was under, but it turns out the new kid I hired to put up posters and shit put in the wrong damn time. So not only are people expecting a match in the next thirty minutes, but I haven't even finished getting the beer and shit out." Your father seems to be off the walls, between the anger in his tone and the way his brows are knitted close together, you don't think now is the time to upset him.

"You, go get changed and ready." Your father pushes Mark in the direction to the dressing rooms, "And you," He smiles while taking your face in his palms, "If I see that redhead getting too friendly with you I will kick his ass, now go and get yourself something to eat from the back you look half-awake." That's your father for you, even protective when the nice guys are around.

Alas, you do not argue, now is probably not the best time to tell him you wanted to go to dinner with Mark later tonight. You follow his orders to go and help with the food and beverages, you're sure he wouldn't want you working, but you figured with all the stress of the times being wrong you could help even just a little bit.

This is the most chaotic you have seen the gym, people coming with nowhere to go just yet, workers running around with chairs and tables and mops, carrying cases of whiskey and soda and things alike. If you weren't used to such disorder, for sure you would have cracked under the pressure of everything. Working a gym that also happens to have a "secret" boxing system in itself is just a mess.

Deep down, you feel bad for everyone and seeing the boxers rush in and out half-dressed in their uniforms and still trying to help, but at the same time, the fact that everything has been pushed earlier simply means you not only get to go out with Mark sooner but most likely stay out with him longer. You only hope that the stress of this mishap and the fight doesn't ruin those chances and he forgets, or even worse, just doesn't want to go out anymore.

As usual, you know that is just your overactive imagination and the pessimistic side of you, always questioning your worth and whether or not an opportunity is real or not. A lot of nights you spend laughing at yourself, how silly you were for holding so much doubt and worry over nothing; now is one of those moments.

When you should be focusing on helping to carry this case of water to the back building, you're wondering how Mark is coming along. He looked a little under pressure the last time you saw him, what if he might need help? Probably not...

But he did say he needed a little good luck before the match.

Maybe visiting him will somehow ease his nerves, despite him being a big guy with a lot of confidence, you are sure even men like him can be on edge for something like a boxing match. It's like football in high school minus being in high school and the football, right? Before game adrenaline, eyeing up the enemy, mentally and physically preparing yourself for the fight of your life. Everyone wants to win.

The only difference is that you know Markwill come out on top, you've never had as much faith in anyone as you do with him... which is why your feed deters from the back door to the second building in favor of finding which room Mark may be holed up in. Every dressing room has a name on it, and there are only five being used tonight because most of the boxers being trainees.

Your father is a big perfectionist, and if he doesn't have one hundred percent faith in you, then there is no way he will have you representing him. You learned that a lot growing up, but you think that's one of the reasons you crave perfection over minuscule things like how the gym equipment is set up, and where the towels and waters out, how things are accessible. They do say the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

As you make your way down the hall of vacant and occupied doors, your eyes finally catch sight of the familiar name done in the familiar striking handwriting you have seen thousand times over. Mark has this little within quirk that you can easily identify, always sharpening his letters and irregular capitalization. You've always liked coming to work to see his name on the sign-in sheet, always so bold and pop from the rest of the list of names. 

For a moment you almost hesitate to knock on his door, but it is either now or never that you speak to him. You bring your knuckles to the door, knocking three times before stepping back and waiting. You don't hear anything on the other side of the door, could he have already left? It is a possibility, out of everyone his costume has always been the most... let's just say revealing. Mark is meant to be the eye-catcher, he is young, has bold red hair, is big and intimidating all the while looking soft.

All the boxers have their teams, and Mark's just so happens to be a nice, scary piece of eye candy. Not that you mind at all, more for you to look at! But when the door doesn't open, you come to the conclusion he isn't there, turning on your heel to head back out and see if anyone needs help. You're disappointed to say the truth, having wanted to talk with him for a second before the match, but not everything can just fall into place.

You get about ten feet from the door before you hear the sound of a door handle turning and the squeak of its opening, "y/n?" The familiar voice stops you in place, you had thought the door belonged to someone else but turning to look into the crimson eyes of the person you had been hoping to see, "Hey, what's up?" He is only a little shocked to see you there, to be truthful he was hoping it was you on the other end of the door when he hurried to get to it.

But you standing there, he almost didn't believe it for a second, not until you scurried your pretty little self back the way you came to meet him at his door, "N-No! I just thought you could use a little help, you looked distressed when you had to rush out of there before." Your words sink in for a moment, you were worried. He finds it rather cute, you worrying your head over him and wanting to be a good helper.

"Is that so...?" He hums, smiling when you slowly crack under his gaze, "Can you help me get this shitty top on? Your father forgot to order a bigger size so we are trying to compromise." You're a little flustered to help him with his costume of all things, you'll be alone in a room with him and his uniform barely covers anything. Between the fact, his entire torso is revealed aside from the signature black arm sleeves, and you'll be dangerously close to him? You are melting and you aren't even entirely in his room yet.

No matter what, you refuse to turn him down, not now. You look both ways down the hall before quietly entering his room, the door shutting behind you both, "I'll be sure to order a resizing for you," You say and examine the rest of what should be a part of the top of his costume, "He must have gotten you mixed up with the new guy, but that's okay people aren't here to judge you for what you're wearing!"

Mark sits down for you, letting you adjust the arm sleeves on his arm, due to the collar and shoulder pieces not fitting him, they won't have anything to be held up with, "I find it kinda funny how big your dad is about image and impression, considering he has men beating on each other for like four hours straight." Your fingers feel hot against his skin, apply a makeshift tape to the inside of the hem of the sleeves so that it has a better grip on his biceps.

"I was thinking... maybe instead of staying for everything to finish, we could just go out as soon as my match is over?" Your heart leaps at the suggestion, you're starting to think that he can read your thoughts, that the entire time you were freaking out over that dinner date not working he heard it all and was now making sure you could rest assured. Again, once again your imagination going over the top, but it doesn't kill a girl to dream!

With nothing more to modify regarding his costume - which you realized he never needed help with it to start and he was giving an excuse for you to stick around - you circle to look him in the face, "I would like that, I don't really... I kinda only go to these matches to watch you." He knew that but you don't know that he knows, so he pretends he is shocked, "A-And because the matches are earlier than they were supposed to, maybe we have time before or after dinner to do something else?"

His mind wandered, he won't deny it, what could pretty y/n possibly have in mind for before or after dinner? He'd love for it to be you bouncing in his lap with your tits spilling out that top of yours, you'd probably love that, wouldn't you? Mark can just imagine how good you would look, squealing and gasping, doing your best to take his big cock, even crying a little because you don't wanna mess up and not be good enough for him.

Fuck, you look so tantalizing standing there, your fingers messing with one another in front of you as you wait for a response, "What did you have in mind?" Mark wants to know what sort of ideas you have brewing in your head. Here is he wanting to fuck you whenever he gets the chance, and poor you have no clue. Part of him wouldn't be surprised if you have fantasies of your own, it's always the one who acts all sweet and sugary that ends up being sour and spicy.

"I-I'm not sure... but we could figure it out later, right?" He is a little disappointed you didn't have anything specific you wanted to do, but he figured as much since everything is so last minute. Nonetheless, he can't wait to see what happens later, he knows you'll make it work just like you always do.

The silence that falls for a few brief seconds doesn't last long when a knock comes at the door, to which you look over in horror. You don't need someone walking in and seeing you here, especially if that is your father. But Mark has it under control, going over to the door and peeking out. You can't see who it is, but you can hear their conversation from start to finish.

"You're on in five, so get that uniform finished and get out there, 'kay?" You figured it was your father with how strict he is when it comes to time, "Also, have you seen y/n?" You freeze up at the mention of your name, you'll be dead if he so much as smells you in this room, which is the reason you sink further into the corner and as far away from the door as possible.

"I haven't, but I'll be done in a minute, don't worry." Less is more with your father, and thankfully you can hear the sound of him going on with whatever it was he was doing before checking on Mark. The door clicks shut and only then do you let out the breath you had been holding, "Shit, that was close..."

If only he knew how badly your heart was racing, and you wish you could say it was out of fear, but all you feel is hot, that adrenaline of your father finding his sweet little girl in the room of one of his scary boxers. What would he think? Sure he would tie you up in the tallest tower, but he would for sure hasMark's head on a pike in the gym. You almost miss that he is beginning to gather his things and ready himself to go out to the ring.

You still haven't given him any sort of good luck; no pep talk, no awkward friendship bracelet, no bouquet of cheap flowers. Why were you even here then? You wonder if he is disappointed, he did specifically say 'are you going to give me some good luck?' yesterday and here you show up empty-handed. But the last thing you want is to leave him with no sort of confirmation that you wish him the best.

Before he can leave, you are quick to make a move, "Mark-" You stop him with a grab to his wrist, crimson orbs look over broad shoulders to meet your own, "You said you needed good luck before the game..." What are you doing? You have nothing to give or show...

Markwaits in suspense, he had entirely forgotten the very words he said yesterday. He didn't mean it he was just teasing you a little like he always does. But the fact you remembered? He is flattered, albeit confused because he doesn't see anything in your hands and you don't have a bag or pockets on you... his head wanders, maybe a kiss? He would be more than just happy with that, through the roof even!

But as he watches you, tense where you stand and caught in some sort of conflict, the last thing he expects is to see you bend forward. He isn't quite sure what it is you're doing at first, but then your hands shimmy up and under your skirt.

What makes it even more of a smack to his face is when he sees something pink and lacy being slipped down your legs. Maybe it was how dumbfounded he was, but until you slipped your pretty legs out from the fabric and hold it out for him, does he realize that little pink lace is your panties, "A-A good luck charm for Red Riot from his... from his number one fan."

The two of you stand there for what seems like forever, did you kill him? He looks almost dead where he stands, his eyes wide, and locked on the bundle of fabric in your hand. You almost worry you did too much, "Kick some ass." You quickly take his hand and shove your panties in them, hurrying out the room with the most flustered yet satisfied grin on your face. You did it, sure it may have been a bit much, but your feelings are out there and the ball is in his field. Now it's his job to decide whether he accepts it or not.

You hurry out to the back building, knowing your father is most likely being driven up the wall by not knowing where you are. You concoct an excuse in your head, you were just in the bathroom because something you ate didn't sit right. He would believe that, right? He's always doting after you like you're still his little princess dressing up and walking around in sequins and glitter.

The building is a lot more crowded than you expected, but it is easy to find your father after shimmying through the crowd, "Where the hell were you, y/n? I was asking everyone and running around like crazy, I thought some psycho had-" You stop him with a gentle pat to his back, oh if only daddy knew what exactly it was you were doing, "Whatever, it doesn't matter, right? You're here, and you better be making sure you leeches don't go over and try to steal snacks."

Almost directly after, your father is surfing through the crowd to try and sell gym merch, memberships, popcorn, and peanuts. He has always been a businessman at heart, and you are anything but shocked to see him with his bag of random foods and trinkets to sell to customers.

The chaos doesn't last long, the familiar ring of the bell that calls attention to the crowd has the room quieting. You are familiar with the process of hyping up the crowd, when you were little and watching boxing matches on television with your father, you would imitate the spokesperson to make him laugh. You always wanted to do something like that, have all eyes on you as you do nothing but talk.

But you grew out of it inevitably, though it doesn't mean watching someone else do it makes it any less enjoyable, "Anyway, let me stop boring you all with meaningless conversation... let me welcome the man representing this very ring, Red Riot!" Everything else was a blur, Mark happily coming out, but if anyone could tell something was off it was you. The way his eyes wolfishly searched the crowds, as if he is expecting something or someone to be there...

Only after the spokesperson finishes introducing the redhead to the crowd of wild and returning fans, does he return to that strange behavior of looking around, he doesn't even pay attention to his opponent who is trying to antagonize and rile him up. What you least expect is for him to walk straight across the ring to where you are and lean down so you can get a good look at his face, "You're crazy," He whispers with one of the scariest smiles you've ever seen, "I think I figured out what we could do before dinner, you better be in that dressing room when this is over."

If anything could describe the things you felt right then, it would be both fear and excitement. Especially when he shamelessly reaches through the ring, knowing your father is completely distracted and grabs you by the collar of your shirt, and pulls you forward. You trip over your own feet, holding down your skirt when you remember you gave your panties to the crimson-haired man that has you in the palm of his hand.

Mark presses the sweetest kiss to your cheek, and if it weren't for the fact you both were in public, you would have grabbed his face and smashed your lips right onto his. But you take what you can get and flash him your prettiest smile before he has to let you go and return his attention to the man he is supposed to fight.

Everything feels surreal, your fingers constantly reaching up to touch the exact spot his soft lips had found your skin. God, if you were to die you would be totally fine with it after having that kiss, the match feels like a blur. Usually, you are ready to cheer him on, but now? All you can manage to do is watch and wait for it to be over, and with the way, the fight is going? You're certain the poor guy he is against is going to fall any second. 

Mark dodges the third punch the guy has thrown, you're starting to think he is growing desperate and exhausted. Why else is he just throwing random and uncoordinated punches? You've seen it a thousand times before, they always start going wild when they are tired and desperate. And you know Mark well, he isn't a fan of a sloppy opponent. This is why, although you flinched, you're also not surprised by the force he puts into his punch to humble the man in front of him. You hate how messy things can get, the sweat on them, blood... it's like watching two wild bears claw at one another's throats.

"Ouch! Looks like you're gonna pass out there, buddy... thinking of calling it quits and handing the win to Red?" You wish he would say yes, that he would just give up and let Mark have it for the night. You can barely find it in you to worry over some boxing match when he demanded you to meet him in his room. All of these scenarios are burning through your head, and even if it isn't what you want, you would be more than happy with another kiss.

Between the punches and swings, the blood you just noticed was dripping from Mark's nose and onto the lips he had kissed you with, it is all so overwhelming in addition to your hormones going crazy. You have never wished for a boxing match withMark to be over so badly, and it isn't even that you don't want to see him fight! You just want to see him elsewhere, specifically in private... specifically where he is undressed.

But when you see the man get Mark in a headlock, your heart drops for a second, he has this, right? You know he does, but you hate how long it's taking him to get out of that. You always get nervous for him when he takes a few seconds too long to take the advantage back, "Oh, do we have a possible turn around?" You can't stand him being stuck like that.

The only thing you know that could possibly give him the energy he needs to get out of that headlock is someone cheering for him. And sure the whole room is cheering from him, but he specifically told you, 'hearing you cheer is different from hearing everyone else, so use your voice!'

With all you have, you take a deep breath and cup your mouth to amplify your voice, "You got this,Mark!" And if anyone can pick your name from the crowd, it is him. It's like watching someone suddenly going through a drug boost, the way his arms coming up and tug himself free of the grasp around his head, all you can do is continue to cheer for him until he finally lands a good enough punch stun the guy. Red eyes find you in the crowd, and although he looks scary with the swollen lip and blood from his nose, you still get butterflies when he gives you that charming smile and a wink.

"Never mind, Red Riot has once again held his ground! Don't forget to place your bets in the back on who will win and possibly receive a free gym membership for two months!" It feels like you have been standing there for a million years, the snack table isn't even at the top of your priority list right now, you couldn't care less if they stole everything including the table!

The fight is already in the hands of the very man you have been cheering for this whole time, you didn't doubt it for a second. It is only a matter of either that man tapping out or Mark knocking him out and you don't care which it is. You are on the tips of your toes with how things are looking, Mark has insane stamina but you can tell he is getting a little fed up and tired, "Knock him out, Mark!" 

He lands a punch to the abdomen, the man curling over to armor his stomach, which anyone knows is the worst thing you can do. Right then and there, you knew it was over, especially when right after Mark knocks him directly in the nose and the guy goes falling back. He may not be unconscious, but his body language, the wooziness to his movements... you know he is finished.

"Aaaand~" Everyone counts down from three, "We have checkmate! But are we surprised with who is the winner? No!" You don't even listen to what the man has to say, not when the referee climbs the ring to hold Red Riot's fist in the air, a formal symbol that he has taken this week's fight. 

And when he looks right at you with that goofy smile of his, you can't help but to practically jumping in place with your biggest smile, blowing him a kiss. Of course, you didn't forget his demand for you to meet him in the dressing room. The moment you see him climbing out of the ring, you are high tailing out of that building. Could your father be calling for you? Maybe. Do you care? Absolutely not.

Not when you are holding down your skirt and running double-time right out of that humid building to get to where you need to be. Every muscle in your body is aching, every nerve aflame. If you could describe what it was you were feeling, it's like teetering over the edge right before you cum. To feel everything in your body working, like a thousand electric shocks straight to your core. 

You're so focused on getting down that hallway and into that room, your ears are deaf to the oncoming footsteps rapidly approaching behind you, "Gotcha!" A scream catches in your throat when you recognize the arms that wrap around your midsection and pick you up, no one else wears black arm sleeves like this, "C'mere." His hand grips your jaw, forcing you to look back at him just so his lips could finally meet yours.

And you should be disgusted by the blood from his nose rubbing off on your upper lip, or how you can taste the iron on your tongue. But you have waited so long to kiss him like this, even if it wasn't you imagined a hundred times over, it feels better than you could ever concoct in your imaginative brain. His lips are not at all chapped, they are soft and plush and perfectly mold with yours. 

Only when his tongue playfully swipes at your bottom teeth do the two of you break apart for air, eyes locked together in a moment of silence. You've never felt like this, as if you have a million and one little feathers moving around all inside of you, "I don't what I'm gonna do to you first." His voice is like a growl against your nape, the vibrations deep and rumbling into your sensitive skin.

He doesn't let you go yet, his arms remain tight around your torso as he carries you in front of him the rest of the way to the room with your toes barely touching the ground, "What are you going to- ah~!" Your eyes tear up when he sinks his teeth into your neck, slamming the door behind him with his heel, "M-Mark... mm~" He doesn't let up on your neck, sucking at the already darkening bite mark he has created. If someone were to tell you that you would be in this situation, with Mark Markholding you snug against his front and forcing you to bend over the vanity in his dressing room, you wouldn't believe them.

"Fuck, I was so close to grabbing you and dragging you right back in here when you gave me these," He digs your panties from his pocket, "You thought that was cute, huh? Tugging these off right in front of me like that?" You know he isn't expecting an answer, but you can't expect but to give him the smuggest nod you can while looking at him in the mirror, "You think you're so cute, don't you?"

The way he speaks with you, it's almost on the dot with every fantasy you have had. To feel like the perfect bittersweet brat just for him, if this is the reaction you will get then you plan to push his buttons more often. Every word that leaves him has you further hooked on his line and you will do anything just for him to keep whispering those things in your ear, for him to grab your face and make you meet his eyes.

"I wanna kiss again..." You give him your sweetest pout, doing your best to peer over your shoulder and trying to reach behind you to bring him closer, but he is having none of your little needinesses. Your hands are gathered easily in one of his big palms, pinned in front of you at the desk, "Mark, please~" 

He gives you a shake of his head, his free hand coming up to grab your chin and keep you still for him, "Nuh-uh, look at you..." His thumb swipes at your upper lip, "Got blood all over you, babe..." You felt it and tasted it the moment you kissed him, but you couldn't care less, your tongue dragging over your upper lip to clean it up. And you didn't miss the wolfish look in his eyes, watching your tongue drag over that blood and smear it even more.

Before your tongue can retract back into your mouth, he is quick to lean forward and press his lips to yours so his tongue can pry its way into your mouth. You don't fight it either, this is exactly what you had wanted and you are getting it. His tongue tastes like mint and a hint of iron from his busted bottom lip, but it is all good to you, if you could you would dance your tongue with his until you were on the brink of asphyxiation.

But you know that isn't possible, not when he is already pulling away from the kiss in favor of leaving a trail of them down your tender neck. It tickles, but you take it like you're supposed to, only somewhat flinching when he finds the bruise he had already left. It feels like needles, burning under the playful tracing of his tongue over the bite marks in your flesh. 

"Jerk..." You're silenced with a sharp spank, and you should be whining over it, but you've wanted this time and time again. You have no room to complain that it left your poor ass burning, not when it has you craving another. He likes your little resistance, how you give him something to dance around. As much as he enjoys the idea of you being his submissive little lamb, this little game you have going on is all the more interesting.

Without warning the bottom of your skirt is tugged up, your bare and wet pussy coming right into view, "Look at you, walking around with nothing under this... I bet you enjoyed that, look at how wet you are." Mark's hand is so hot on your ass, tugging it to pull your pussy nice and open for him to look at. You look so soft, so sweet, if he could he would take a nice bite out of you right now.

"Fuck, you think you can fit it?" You try to answer, you really do, but you can't stop focusing on his hand mocking you. The way it slowly circles your ass, the pad of his thumb barely grazing at your slit, "You want it, don't you?" You nod slowly while watching him through the mirror, how his abdominal muscles flex with every movement of his body, the sweat that sticks to his skin, not to mention the evident strain in his pants.

Everything feels hot, from the tip of your nose down to your toes, it's like you've been engulfed in hellfire... in a good way. Everything he does to you feels good, even if it's just locking eyes with you in the mirror, or readjusting your hips to take in every dip, curve, and roll on your pretty self. It doesn't matter what he does, and you know that the reason he has you so worked up is simply that it is him.

You are aware that the two of you are strapped for time, being here and like this is as unconventional as it can get. You know you can't be too loud, and you both can't take as long as you want, but you plan to make the most of it. If anything, you still have time to possibly exchange that dinner date for something else and you're sureMark wouldn't mind that, not with how you can feel his breath down your spine.

As much as you dreamed of your first encounter with him to be romantic, the moment you slipped off your panties and put them in his hand drew the line between a romantic night out and the potential that night you both won't be able to keep your hands to yourselves, "You're gonna watch me fuck you," He points at the mirror for you to look, not that you haven't been staring at yourselves through it this whole time, "I want you to see the slutty faces you make."

For a moment, you actually believed that he would finally fuck you, as foolish as that is, but rather than pulling off his own pants he is guiding you to sit on the vanity desk with your front showing in the mirror. The awkward position forces your pretty thighs open, giving you a look at just how ruined your pretty little cunny is, how your slick sticks to it and dribbles just a little onto the vanity you are sat on.

No words are exchanged between the both of you, his eyes are locked on your changing expression while yours are locked on his wandering hands. His fingers snake their way from your waist, gradually moving upward and under your shirt. His palms are rough and calloused, still wrapped in the gauze you had done prior to the fight, pulling at the sensitive skin of your torso. The fabric has the hairs on your neck standing up and when his large hands grope your tits through your bra you feel a familiar electric shock goes straight to your core.

"What're you making that face for?" You hadn't realized the way your face scrunched up in response to his hands, and the cocky smirk on his face only makes you all the more embarrassed, "Are you sensitive here...?" To test his intuition, his fingers push under your bra to feel at your bare tits, grinning at how soft they are and the way they fit so nicely in his palms.

You hate how it makes you feel, how every swipe of his thumb over your nipple has your hips bucking just a little, "M-Mark... mm- ah!" You're caught off guard by the mean pinch he gives your pert nipples, giving the sensitive buds an observant twist, watching your every reaction and every little twitch of those soft thighs. You look perfect, completely at his mercy and leaning back into him as his hands do what they please under your shirt, "Hah... y-you don't have to be so harsh..."

"No?" You shake your head in response, a cute little pout pulling at your bottom lip, "But I like how you react and look," One of his hands pull from beneath your shirt in favor of hiking up the bottom of your skirt to reveal your swollen and dripping pussy, "You seem to like it, too... making a mess all over yourself." He isn't wrong, you love it. You love the burn of your nipples with every painful twist, how your tits feel sore from his tight squeezes.

But simply touching them aren't enough for him, he wants to see them. You're already a pretty little thing, he doesn't doubt for a second your tits will only add to the list of things he likes about it. As well as to the list of things that turn him on, you being at the very top of that list.

You peer over your shoulder expectantly, eyes flicking from his down to his lips, you give him the only hint he needs to lean forward and slot his lips with yours. His tongue tastes just as good in your mouth as it did before, dancing teasingly and brush under your tongue. It's a wet, icky feeling but also one you wouldn't want to share with anyone but him. And with you so distracted by his tongue dancing with yours and tracing over your teeth, it gives him the perfect chance to do as he pleases.

One hand is swift with guiding your shirt up and over your tits, and it doesn't take much effort for his two fingers to get the clasp behind your back to snap open. The only obstacle being the straps that prevent him from completely taking the article of clothing off, but you're already on it, all without breaking the kiss you are sharing with him. While you work your arms out of the straps but also keeping your shirt on just in case you two have to make a run for it, Mark focuses his attention on your spread legs.

Opening just one of his eyes allows him to see the arousal that sticks to your cunny shimmers against the light of the room, all he has done was kiss you and play with your tits... you're a perverted girl, getting this wet over nothing, he bets you were thinking things that would leave even him a little shocked. Maybe later he will make it his mission to drag those fantasies out of you.

With the way you're situated on the vanity, feet planted on the desk as to give him the best view of your entire body in the mirror, it is easy for you to spread your legs impossibly wider for his hand that continues to slowly travel down your navel. The kiss breaks, only for you to little his jaw and neck with kisses, stopping right under his ear to begin sucking your own hickey into the sensitive skin.

Nothing could have prepared you for when his fingers finally met your throbbing clit, dragging over the neglected nerve, barely applying pressure with how he circles your clit and smears your arousal over your pussy, "You're a messy little thing, aren't you?" A pathetic hum of agreement passes your lips at his question, one you know he didn't expect you to answer. But he doesn't pay too much attention to that, not when he is dragging his fingers down between your folds to spread you open, "Fuck, you're so tight..."

Mark prods his middle finger at your not-yet-prepped entrance, watching how your walls suck his finger inside in desperation for some sort of relief. All this teasing and beating around the bush has your poor insides churning from the suspense. It's only one finger, but just as you expected that one finger feels a million times better than your two fingers. He knows how to curl them, to rub at the spongy patches inside of you, "Mm~! I-It feels good there..."

"Where?" He coos at your relaxed expression, "Here?" His finger rudely jabs at the spot he knows is making every muscle in your body go lax, to which you flash him a less than pleasant glare, "I'm just playing with you." His index finger is careful with how it slowly eases itself inside, pushing in with your middle fingers and getting you used to the stretch. It feels good, no discomfort in the slightest, and you can assume it's because of the way he continues to mess with that single spot that had your knees buckling.

His fingers push in as far as they can go just to mess with your walls, grinding and curling at the sensitive patches of nerves, only to remove both fingers entirely just to give your poor clit a few wet pats, "Ngh-Markiii, stop teasing it hurts..." He knows it does, he can see it in your twisted expression with every tap your clit receives, how you go from relaxing in his arms to flinching at the abuse.

But he can't help himself, not with how adorable you look bucking into his hand when he circles your clit, or your thighs twitching at the intrusion of his fingers. You look stunning, grabbing at his wrist when he is too rough, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. If it means seeing you continue to make such soft noises and to continue to breathe out his name like that, he'll keep doing what he has to do.

"If you don't want me teasing you, what do you want?" Oh, he can tell you weren't ready for that. It reads entirely in your flustered expression, and his fingers continuing to pump inside of you aren't doing anything to help... especially with the lewd squelching sounds your cunny just can't seem to stop making. It's humiliating, to say the least, how your pussy sucks his fingers inside desperately, the eroticism of watching his fingers disappear inside of you.

"M-Mark...: You don't even want to say all the things you want him to do to you, how do you tell him you've always wanted this? That night and night again you have touched yourself to the thought of him doing just about everything to you, from bouncing you in his lap, riding his face, bending you over, and having his way with you. You don't know where to start.

Mark can read it in your eyes that you have your words lodged in your throat, "If you don't tell me, this is all you're gonna get," He emphasizes his words with the pats of his fingers against your clit, "So be a good girl and speak up." You know he won't let you go until you give him exactly what he wants, the words are right on the tip of your tongue!

Your breath gets caught in your throat when his fingers slip out from your cunny, only to begin rubbing your clit back and forth, "I-I..." You squeak as he only seems to be rougher with you, purposely making you trip over your own words, "Mark~ fuck, fuck fuck-" Your fingers dig into his wrist, "I-I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna-" A strangled breath gets caught in your throat when he quickly pulls his fingers from your clit, "W-Wait, I was close,Mark!"

"Answer me and I'll let you cum." 

His lips on your throat make it all the more difficult, but without the added pressure of his fingers abusing your poor cunny, you finally muster up the words to tell him, "I want you..." He gives you that look, the one that shows he expects more, "I want you inside me-"

"What do you want inside?" He coos, fingers brushing under your chin to bring your focus to him, "My fingers?" You shake your head with a subtle smile, "Hm... this?" He sticks out his tongue at you, only to earn himself another shake of your head. He feigns ignorance, pretending he has no idea what you could be possibly talking about. 

Your sneaky fingers reach behind you, Mark didn't even notice because of how absorbed he was with your cute tits, cupping at the bulge in his pants, "This..." He didn't expect you to be so bold, not after how stubborn you were just being, but he likes the playful squeeze you give him, "Does that answer your question?" Your snooty little comment earns a sharp pinch to your clit.

"Yeah, it does," Through the mirror you can see him undoing the belt that holds up his pants, watching the cargo material fall around his thighs and revealing just how strained his aroused cock is against his briefs, "C'mon, get down and bend over the desk." You didn't expect him to be so quick to give you what you want, but deep down you think he still has something up his sleeve.

Without arguing, you climb down from the vanity as you were told, watching Mark in the mirror as you lean forward and put your weight on the desk. As much as you were watching him, he was also watching you. His eyes dragging down the curve of your back to your soaked pussy peaking from under the hem of your shirt, he has imagined this very scenario time and time again, and here you are right in front of him.

Somehow the real thing requires so much more thought than if it were only in his head, knowing whether you're okay, making sure you're not uncomfortable. No longer is it all just him and his dirty thoughts, he has to worry about your feelings too. And he is fine with that, but he never expected himself to feel like he has two tons on his shoulders by simply looking at you. It's one thing for you to be in his head bent over, but for you to be bent over actually in front of him? Well, let's just say his nerves aren't cooperating.

Maybe you noticed this, enough that briefly stand up from your previous position to meet his gaze, "I'm kinda nervous..." If he knows it isn't just him that's a little fearful of the unknown, there is a possibility it could bring back his confidence, "We can start slow and find our flow, right? that's how it's supposed to be." You're right, and he knows you are, maybe it was the thought that you had these high expectations that were making him nervous.

Little does he realize, as much as you want to be pretty enough and good enough for him, he wants to be just the same for you. But seeing the way you look at him, no sort of judgment or expectancy behind your eyes, giving him your signature smile, helps to melt all of that frustration and uncertainty away. You've always been good at doing that.

He isn't sure what came over him to cup your cheeks like that and pull you into a kiss, and sure the two of you knocked teeth from how urgent the kiss was at first, but the passion behind the kiss seemed to cast every sliver of doubt and second-guessing aside. All of your focus is on him, and his focus is on you in that very moment. 

The electricity that surges through you with every push of your lips against his, tugging at his lip only for him to bite back and do the same to you. It's like you two found a middle ground, the kiss connecting you both in a way nothing else could, blindly guiding you two in the position you both need to feel comfortable. Somehow you finding yourself seated on the vanity desk and his hips between your spread thighs.

You break the kiss, lungs burning from holding your breath for as long as you could, eyes falling down between your spread legs, "Ah..." Your breath catches at the sight of him beginning to push inside, you didn't get a well enough look at how big he is, but the feeling alone is a little unnerving. You aren't even sure how much is in, but it feels like more than you truly think it is.

"Don't pay attention to that," His voice is hushed, grabbing your attention and making you pick your head back up, "Does it hurt?" To be honest, it doesn't, it's more like this full stretch that is only slightly discomforting. Something you weren't prepared for but believe you can handle. You shake your head, not wanting him to think he is doing something wrong, which he isn't.

His hair looks so soft, albeit messy because of the fight, but nonetheless still silky and you can't keep your fingers from combing into it, "I want another kiss," Your fingers tug the tie from his hair and watch the red locks fall to lay over his broad shoulders, "Unless you're too nervous to kiss me, hm?" 

Your challenge ignites a fire within his chest, you sure know what things to say and when to get him riled up. And what you just said about him being too nervous? Oh, he isn't having it. Mark doesn't even need to speak for you to see the "game on" look in his eyes, and it doesn't make you any more shocked when his hand finds your throat and uses it to pull you forward.

The air is knocked from your lungs at the jerk of your body forward to meet him halfway, but you don't complain for a second, not when he gives you the confidence you had thought disappeared. It feels good to have that authoritative role back in him, for him to be taking back control with how he wants you and what he wants to do to you. Through the sloppy kiss that he has you locked in, you can feel your body being laid back on the vanity.

To your surprise, you have enough room to properly lay back, and with that Mark takes advantage of it. The desk perfectly supports your weight, allowing him the chance to grab your right leg and hoist it over his shoulder to create a more open angle for him to have you in. Immediately you can tell the difference in the feeling with this position, it pushes deeper at your walls rather than just rubbing past those spongy patches.

"Ngh... fuck, th-there it..." You can't form the right words to tell him how good it feels, even with the slow and controlled pace he has set for you, "Mark, I can take more. Please." You don't even try to hide the need in your tone, how it comes out as almost a whine rather than a polite little request. And he doesn't mind the demand, if you need more he is going to give it to you. After all, you're used to being daddy's little princess.

"You really think you can take more?" You nod your head, your hum of affirmation coming out as a moan, "Yeah? I don't think you can." His words contradict his actions, his back arching forward as he picks up the pace. No longer is the room echoing with nothing but moans and the obnoxiously wet sounds of your overwhelmed cunny, but the added volume of skin slapping skin makes what you both are doing here all the riskier. 

His cock is ruthless, no matter the pace he uses you can feel every vein and the slight curve of his member, it feels too much even if he isn't giving you enough. The size itself is a problem, and he likes to use that to tease you; you're too small, you can't take it... it doesn't matter. If he finds a way to make you feel little and weak in comparison to him? He goes for it.

And you don't mind, you like the dominance, how he keeps you pinned down with one hand on your throat and the other pinning your left thigh down. You feel completely at his mercy where you lay, unable to do anything but take it, "Mark, fuck, fuck-" 

"Shh," He warns you, "Don't forget where we are." And you haven't, the whole time you two have been doing this all you could do was worry over someone walking in or by or something, "Don't need your father finding out his little girl is getting her sloppy pussy stretched open... and it'll make it worse if he finds out I'm the one doing it." You know that, but you're a big girl, you don't need your father's permission to get laid!

Unfortunately, you keep that attitude too. Why should you have to keep quiet? You're having fun, that's no one's business but yours and Mark's. "B-But... but I like it-" You gasp when your right leg is brought down from your shoulder in favor of both knees being pinned to your shoulders, "Ah- too much, too much, too much~!" 

Mark, as much as he loves your sexy moans and cutesy whimpers, he doesn't love the idea of either of you getting caught like this, and what better way to fix the noise problem than shoving the panties you kindly give him right in your mouth? And it's only better that the pink of your panties looks nice hanging from your glossy lips. 

"That's what you get, babe..." He pants out each word and adds salt to the wound by flashing a cocky grin, "Bad girls who can't keep quiet when they're told get dirty panties in their mouth." If only he knew the things he was doing to you, the strikes to your core his cock cause, how his intimidating dominance over you has your insides turning, "But you don't need your voice to make you feel good, right? Look at you..."

It's ironic that he asks you to take a look at yourself, a mirror is just behind you and you can't see yourself from this angle. Luckily for you, your redhead is one step ahead to make sure you can really see how slutty you look right now with those panties shoved in your mouth. Mark takes your hips, wordlessly guiding you to turn around onto your stomach and plant your feet back on the ground.

You are forced to look yourself in the eyes, to see the little tears pricking the corners of your eyes, look at your swollen lips and your panties, and to make it all the more humiliating, Mark is standing right behind you. He is staring right at you, making sure you know he is there and watching you, and if that doesn't make you nervous... you aren't sure what does.

A hand comes down to grip your chin, fixing your head to look straight at the mirror and more specifically yourself, "Don't look away from that mirror, understood?" His voice is at least two octaves lower than before, rumbling in the pit of his chest and vibrating against your back. It shakes your core, but in the best way possible, tingles running up your spine and back down.

It isn't long before the warmth and fullness of his cock is sinking back inside of your gummy walls, making itself comfortable deep inside of you to the point his tip kisses gently at your cervix, "It's all the way in, y/n..." He whispers into your ear, "You ready? You think you can take all of it?" The only right answer is to nod your head, humming desperately and letting him know you're ready, you want it. And who is he to deny that? His pretty girl wants her cunny stretched, why shouldn't he give in and let her have it just how she wants? 

Unlike before he doesn't let you prepare yourself, oh no, the pace went from zero all the way to one hundred in exactly one second. It was like being plowed into, the force of his hips bouncing you off and into the desk. And if you looked horrible and worn out before, you looked twice as bad now. Your sparkly eyes rolling back to make way for the oncoming flow of tears, your entire body trembling with his thrusts.

"Mmph~! Nngh-" Even through the panties he can hear you, muffled and incoherent but still like music to his ears. You take him so well, struggling maybe, but you don't complain for a second about him being too big... and it probably is because your panties are down your throat. But if you really did need him to stop, he is sure you would find another way.

"Feels good, right?" He can't tell if you're nodding or that's just your head moving in sync with his forceful jerks, "Having this little pussy nice and filled... bet you couldn't wait for this the entire match, right?" If you were able to answer, you would be screaming yes from the hills! But instead, you can only stare him in the eyes through the mirror, tears and all, and he can see just how drunk you are on his cock. A pretty whore for him to fuck.

If he had known you were such a perverted slut, so needy to have a dick train you, he would have grabbed you by your cheeky yoga leggings and made you ride his dick while he did bench presses. And seeing you like this? You would have done it without question.

"You're getting all tense, y/n..." His eyes trail down to watch himself disappearing inside of you, and the ripple of your ass smacking his hips, "You gonna cum? This pretty cunt gonna make a mess for me?" You're more than just close to cumming, it's like a fire in the pits of your core, and every pass of his member inside of you has your thighs jumping and twitching, "Yeah, that's it, babe."

Oh, you wish he wouldn't call you that, the things it does to you... and the overwhelming pleasure of his tip plunging into your poor cervix? You feel like you're on the verge of passing out, "Don't look away," He keeps your head straight and makes you look straight ahead at yourself, "Watch yourself cum." You aren't even sure if you have it in you to hold it in long enough to properly look at yourself, let alone the energy to keep your head up.

Your eyes are locked on the mirror, your breath fogging it up with the forceful pants your lungs push out. If you were wearing makeup, you're sure it would be leaving streaks down your cheeks from the tears. They aren't tears of pain, not even close, but rather ones of overstimulation. You aren't sure how much longer you can last, but you don't have time to dwell over it, not when you watch the hand not pinning your waist to the vanity snakes down between your legs.

If the panties weren't in your mouth, you would be protesting and begging him not to. You aren't sure you could handle it! His cock is already tearing your poor cunny in half, his fingers will surely break you. But you can only watch in fear, and anxiously wait for his fingers to meet your throbbing pearl between your legs.

"Mmph~! Mm-" Your nails dig into the desk and back arches to try and get away from his fingers, but Mark doesn't give up, "Mm! Mmm~!" He knows you're protesting, he knows it's too much for your sensitive little cunny. But he wants to see you come undone, to see more of your pretty tears and those sparkly eyes roll back in absolute bliss. And with the vicious pace his fingers inflict on your burning clit, you aren't far from that edge.

"That's it, babe... that's it, I wanna taste this pussy when finish. I bet you taste so sweet, just as sweet as you look right now..." And he isn't lying, you've never looked as stunning as you do right now. No angel could compare to you, nothing. The sweat coating your skin and your juices tainting the apex of your thighs, "I got you, baby-"

He doesn't have the chance to finish his pep talk before he feels you come undone beneath him, your squeals and whimpers completely muffled by your stuffed mouth. Your poor nerves going off of the wall, thighs jumping and nails digging at the wood of the vanity, and your pussy squirting all over his cock and onto your thighs. You're embarrassed by the mess, but to Mark? It is the biggest ego stroker he could have encountered... he got you to squirt.

"Fuck, good girl, good fucking girl..." Mark slows the thrusts, as much as he wants to cum he can see how worn out you are, "Take a deep breath, princess. Just like that," You try your best to do as he asks, but it's so difficult with how quick your climax comes and the panties being in your mouth. You put all of your weight on the vanity, fingers clawing at it as if it could help ease the electricity shooting through every inch of you.

Mark sees you and he thinks he may have been too rough, "Shh, c'mere." The panties are taken from your mouth, saliva soaked into the thin fabric and sticking to your chin, "You okay?" Fingers, although rough and calloused, gently brush over your cheek to gather your tears, he worries he may have forgotten himself somewhere and been too hard on you. 

And your expression, weak and twisted, for a moment makes him feel horrible. What had he done? This was his first time having sex with you, something he has wanted for so long, and he just screwed it up. His eyes watched your every move, lips opening to say something and hesitating for a minute, you were probably pissed at him.

"Y-You..." Little tears prick at your eyes and he panics, "You didn't even cum inside of me, was I not doing enough?" For a moment, silence befalls the both of you other than your pathetic little sniffles. Were you really... that worried over him finishing? Is that really what has you on the verge of crying? If he could, he would eat you up right where you stand in front of him, you're too cute.

Two hands cup your swollen cheeks and bring your face close, "You want me to cum inside of you? That's what you worked up?" You nod your head all while leaning into his hands, "You're so cute, but I think you need to take a break, babe. You're shaking." He can tell you're teetering right at the edge of too much, he fears if he does anymore he may actually hurt you.

"But I want..." He shakes his head and kisses the tip of your nose, "Then... Then I'll suck it off." You won't let up so easily, he just gave you the best climax of your life, and if he thinks you'll let him walk out of this room with blue balls he is more than just wrong. 

Mark wants to argue, he knows you should clean yourself up and you both should get out of here. He isn't even sure what time it is or how long it has been, the fights could very well be over and neither of you has any clue. But what harm can you getting on your knees do? Maybe give you a sore throat, but he is sure with how loud you were, muffled or not, you are already on the train to a strained voice.

"Make it quick, I still wanna take you to dinner." Even after all of this, somehow taking you to dinner may just be the highlight of the night. Sex is great, but for Mark Markit is the intimate, quiet moments that mean the world to him. All those times you would open early or stay late with him, he cherished those memories. Unlike him, you could not care less about dinner or memorable moments or anything, you're far more focused on what his cum might taste like. You've thought of it a million times, and finally, you will be able to know. 

You ease yourself onto your knees in front of him, Mark fixing his pants out of your way and leaning back against the desk as he watches you make yourself comfortable. If he thought you looked beautiful lying underneath him with your knees by your ears, he isn't sure what to call you on your knees. Your gorgeous eyes looking at him through those lashes of yours, tongue dragging out and over your lips.

"Don't hurt yourself, pretty girl... I saw you struggling before when I started picking up the pace." You don't like being talked down to, but you know that's just him trying to get you worked up and you won't let him have that satisfaction. 

All of your weight is put onto your knees as you lean forward, the tip of your warm tongue licking your own cum from his cock, "Be nice to me or I'll use my teeth." He can't argue with that, and he knows you will do it. Your tongue drags over the veins, tracing them carefully, breath hot and fanning over his ready-to-burst member. If he had it his way, he would grab your pretty face and fuck this squishy mouth of yours, but he already pushed it and he wants you to go at your pace now.

"Fuck, that's good... tap it on your tongue for me," You stick out your tongue and do as he says, "Shiiiit, you look so hot right now." You know you do, if anyone could see the hearts in Mark's eyes, it's you... and those hearts are practically jumping out while he watches you rubbing your tongue over his messy dick, doing everything but putting it in your mouth, "C'mon, y/n... please."

"You want me to put it in my mouth?" You feign innocence while looking up at him, giving him puppy eyes and suckling at his tip. Mark nods breathlessly, even so much as adding an extra, needy please to really show you how much he wants it. He was so kind to give you exactly what you want, it would mean not to do the same for him!

Making yourself comfortable, you open your mouth wide enough to fit his tip inside, tasting that sweetness of your juices on your tongue. Is this what heaven feels like? For him to be guiding your mouth on his dick, cooing words of praise every time you successfully ease the tip in your throat without hurting yourself or choking too much.

The two of you see, hear, and know nothing but each other at this moment. Eyes locked together and no sound other than him breathing shakily and the rare pass of your name on his tongue, mixed in with the disgusting wet sounds of your throat stretching over him. You two wouldn't have been able to pick up on the footsteps coming down the hall, or the call of two very familiar names who just so happen to be missing at the same time.

And neither of you would have been prepared for the door to open, let alone, for the one person both of you feared catching you to be standing in the doorway in shock, horror... and Mark locked eyes for just a second, a second that allowed to see the seven layers of hell in your father's eyes, before the door slammed shut and feet moved down the hall faster than you could pull off of Mark's cock. 

"I... I think we should get out of here before he comes back."

Me after reading this

❛DON'T FUCK YOUR ROOMMATE❜ (h. renjun)

p. roommate!renjun x fem!reader w. 1.6k

warnings? kitchen sex , unprotected sex , pinning , masturbation , dirty talk ,

— 𖦹 ( you really shouldn't fuck your roomate , but he's making really hard ) !

"ow!" you hissed the butter from the pot , popping up , hitting your exposed skin. "stupid fucking butter." you cursed ,grabbing the pancake mix that you had already made , pouring it into the box.

normally you'd sleep in until about 12 on your day off , but you felt compelled to get up and be productive , so you decided to make breakfast for you and your roommate , who was still in his room sleeping.

you and renjun had came in contact with each other when your bestfriend told you he was looking for a roommate to help with the bills , and you were desperately trying to move out of your parents house. he was clean and he didn't ask for much , and all honesty you probably would've even if he was dirty and asked you to do everything — you were that desperate.

he was also nice , when he came home from work — which you weren't sure what he did , but you didn't question it , he'd bring you food , and he let you shower first so you'd get enough hot water , and he was overall a good person.

"maybe i should go wake him." you said , turning around , yelping in shock that he was standing in front of you , too close to be exact , his nose brushing up against him. "good morning princess."

one thing he did that you didn't necessarily hate , but it also didn't help your heart — he was flirty , not even a little , like to the point where he'd leave you breathless in some situations with the things he said. "are you cooking me breakfast?" you nodded. "f-for both of us."

you turned around , which didn't make it better because his frontside was now pressed against your backside , his morning wood pressed up against your ass , and you knew he was aware of it , you could see he's smirk out the corner of your eye.

"so sweet of you princess." he rested his chin on your shoulder blade — to anyone this would look like a couple sharing a sweet moment in the morning. "maybe i should give you a reward for being so good to me." but you and him weren't even dating , you haven't even hooked up.

he chuckled pulling away from you. "jesus (name) , you always get so flustered , im just joking." he sat down in the chair , while you gathered all the thoughts , taking the last pancake out , putting it on the plate.

"here." you placed in down in front of him. "thank you love." you sat down with your food , digging into the fluffy pancakes.

you were eating silently when he spoke up. "what are you doing today?" you shrugged. "it's my day off , so probably just stay home and clean , do some grocery shopping." you finished off your food , grabbing his empty plate. "that's cute." he smiled , toying with his lip ring that he one day came home with. "you're like my own cute little housewife." jesus he was on ten today.

"w-what are you doing today?" you said putting the dishes in the sink , turning the water on. "it's my day off too , some friends are coming over , we'll probably just drink and hang out , jaemin does smoke pot so i hope that doesn't bother you." you nodded. "it's fine , i'll pick up some beers and snacks at the market."

he stood up , making his way over to you , coming up to you like before , caging you in between his body and the sink. "here." he took the sponge out if your hand. "i'll do it , as a payback for breakfast princess , how about you just go get ready for the day." he released you from his trap , laughing as he watched you scurry away.

you closed the door , feeling like you could finally breathe. "why does he keep doing this." you whined , the feeling between your legs almost unbearable as you gathered your things for your shower , including your vibrator.

"oh fuck" you bit your lip , to contain your moans , moving the vibrator against your clit. this is how you often spent your showers , having renjun around all the time and him acting like this , you often got yourself off in the shower so he wouldn't hear you. "fuck im cumming!" you whispered , your body finally calming down.

you quickly finished up your shower , stepping out , wrapping your towel around your body. "shit." you cursed , you'd left your underwear sitting on the bed. "how does one do that?" you questioned , grabbing your clothes , opening the door , ready to make a run for it , your room was just down the hall.

you were too caught up in trying to get into your room , that you bumped straight into something — more like someone. "why are you in such a rush love?"

he lowered his eyes , taking in what you were wearing , smirking. "you wearing this for me princess?" you held on to your towel , holding your vibrator behind your back so he wouldn't notice , but that just made him even more curious. "whatcha hiding princess?"

"n-nothing." you tried to move forward , but he just blocked your way. "i know you're lying." he walked closer , so you stepped back. "i-i'm not , i swear." you cluthed the tool in your hand , backing up some more , letting out a oof as you hit the wall. "you've trapped yourself princess."

he went to reach for your hand , smirking. "you can try and stop me , but that just means you're towel will fall." he grabbed your wrist. "i would love to see what's under this towel , but we both know you don't want that." he pulled your hand from behind your back. "oh?"

your face burned with embarrassment , he was gonna bring this up every single day now , you wanted to crawl into a hole and die. "i hope you had fun love." he let you go just like that , walking back to his room , you quickly finished the walk to your room.

"(name)?" you did dare turn around , scared of what he would say. "if you ever want to feel good the right way my room is right down the hall." your breath hitched. "i'm sure i can get you off way better than that stupid toy."

you quickly shut the door , quickly fanning yourself , before sitting down to get yourself ready for your day of errands.

renjun shut the door to his room , locking the door , groaning silently. "fuck." his cock straining against his pajama pants. "why'd she have to be wearing that?" he palmed himself , sighing. "fuck that's why she was taking so long?" he freed his cock from the prison of his pants , stroking himself. "oh fuck."

he imagined what you were doing in the shower , getting yourself off. he bit down on his fist , so you wouldn't hear him moaning , or so he wouldn't slip up and say your name like he'd done it before , but when you confronted him about it , he covered it up with a lie.

he squeezed the tip of his cock , his thighs shaking as white droplets spurted from his tip. "sh-shit." he sighed , cum covering his hand , he grimaced , grabbing a tissue. after discarding it , he grabbed his things , ready to do his daily routine for the day.

you heard the shower , quietly peeking out of the room , to make sure he really was in there , before grabbing your things , leaving out of the apartment.

after the emotionally draining trip to supermarket , you were finally home , putting the password to apartment door in , walking in sitting the bags down , not noticing the group of people sitting in your livingroom. "(name)?" you looked up , finally realizing.

"you're back?" renjun asked. "mmhm." you nodded picking up the bags. "do you need help?" a voice from behind you said , you turned around , facing the boy. "i'm mark." he was handsome , and helpful. "oh , thank you."

he helped you put everything away , you grabbed the beers and the snacks , making your way to the livingroom. "(name) , these are my friends i was telling you about , that's mark , jeno , jaemin and— donghyuck." the boy interjected. "but everyone calls me haechan."

"nice to meet everyone , i bought beer and snacks for you guys." you sat it on the table , opening the cand handing them out to everyone. "pretty and caring." renjun glared at the boy. "yah , lee haechan." he warned. "im just saying." you chuckled. "we're just about to watch the game." jaemin said. "you can stay watch if you want if you want."

"(name) , you staying?" renjun asked , he didn't want you to , he didn't even want them to look at you. "im sorry , not tonight." he smiled to himself. "i really just want to take a shower and take a nap." you said. "next time then." jeno said you nodded. "next time."

you turned to walk away , when renjun stopped you , surely he wouldn't do this in front of his friends. "don't take to long this time." he smirked , your eyes widened , before you scurried off to your room.

he chuckled , turning back to his friends. "you lucky fucking bastard." haechan said. "what are you talking about?" he rolled his eyes. "you're fucking her aren't you?" mark slapped his friend for his crudeness. "haechan stop."

"no im not fucking her." although he wish he was. "so you're just living with a girl that hot?" haechan kept going. "so she's single?" he took a sip of beer , sitting it back down. "cause if she's single , i need her number like now."

he didn't know why he was upset , you guys weren't dating , yet he was about to rip haechan's head off for even bringing it up. "i'll be damned if i come home to you fucking my roommate , knowing you it probably wouldn't even be in her room , more like the kitchen table." he grumbled , bitterly taking another sip of beer.

"alright everybody out." you heard renjun yell about 5 hours later. "all of you are sober enough to get home , and someone can drag haechan home , go." you heard a bunch of shuffling and whining. "(name) , bye bye!" you heard haechan slurring , making you laugh , he was seriously a character. "shut up and go."

you waiting for the door to close , making your way out of the room. "he's funny." he closed the door , sighing. "yeah , you say that now , you try know him for 7 years , that will change." you smiled , looking at the mess they left. "i'm sorry , i'll clean it."

"it's fine , i don't mind." you began to pick up all the can , taking them to the sink to wash them out so you can trash them. "so helpful." he said coming up behind you. "so pretty." he whispered , close enough to smell the beer he was drinking.

"re-renjun." you stuttered , the cold metal of his lip ring against your neck. "don't fight it love , you knew it was bound to happen soon." you sighed as he left little kisses down your neck , his hands roaming around your body. "i didn't forget about earlier." he darkly chuckled.

he lifted up to the shirt you were wearing , sneaking his hands into your sleep shorts. "did it feel good?" he rubbed your clit through your panties. "were you thinking about what happened during breakfast?"

you whimpered , you definitely shouldn't be doing this with him. "answer me love." he pressed down on your bud. "did you make yourself cum to the thought of me fucking you against the kitchen sink." you nodded , moaning. "fu-fuck renjun yes , please , i need more."

he pulled your panties to the side , stuffing you full of his fingers. "shit." you moaned as he thrusted his fingers in and of your hole. "f-feels so good." he hummed. "yeah?" flicking your clit. "told you i could make you feel so much better than that vibrator."

it felt so wrong , but at the same time so right , he was so skilled with his fingers , he had you cumming in no time , but you still wanted more. "fuck renjun , pl-please , need you to fuck me."

he pulled your short and underwear down , along with his pants , freeing his cock from his underwear , bending you over the sink "such a pretty little cunt." he rubbed himself against your folds. "can't wait to fill it with my seed." he pushed himself inside you. "fu-fuck such a tight cunt." he wasted no time , thrusting into your hole. "renjun!"

he was rough , but you liked it , panting in your ear. "so many times i thought about fucking you." he groaned. "jerking off to the thought of -fuck- you screaming my name."

you were gripping the sink , his name and a mixture of curse words flowing out of your mouth like a waterfall , your roommate was truly fucking you dumb. "you're mine now." he grunted , hitting that spot. "only i get to fuck you like this , my little slut."

you moaned , clenching around his length. "fuck keep clenching and im gonna cum." you did it again. "oh fuck." he stilled his hips , cumming inside of you , triggering your orgasm. "renjun!" you let a pornographic scream as you came , a white ring forming around the base of his cock as he fucked you both through your orgasms. "im gonna pull out now baby." he kissed your shoulder , slowly pulling out , you whimpered. "good girl." he praised. "you did so good."

"i couldn't have made it obvious enough that i wanted to fuck you." you both laid in his bed. "i don't just go around pressing my morning wood on random people." you laughed. "well you'd always played it as a joke." he nodded. "guess i shouldn't do that anymore." he climbing on top of you.

"i guess if i want to fuck you i should just go for it then huh?"

©️LUVYENI

No because this was insane y'all

Licentious

❝ Wonwoo has always been a scrupulous man, but he’s quick to abandon all his morals after his wife hires a cute babysitter to look after their daughter. ❞

PAIRING: jeon wonwoo x female reader

WORD COUNT: 7.1k

GENRE: babysitter au, cheating au, smut

WARNINGS: dilf!wonwoo, babysitter!reader, infidelity, age gap (reader is in her 20s and wonwoo is in his 30s), dacryphilia, dumbification, daddy kink, oral sex (f & m receiving), face riding, possessiveness, unprotected sex, squirting, overstimulation, multiple creampies, pussy drunk!wonwoo, cum eating, cock drunk!reader

a/n: this was written because i’m still not over this photo shoot and because it’s wonwoo day! minors dni!

You should feel disgusting, ashamed, guilty, or even the tiniest bit of regret. But you don’t. All that’s left is a deep-rooted longing and carnal desire that can’t be suppressed.

The strong arm wrapped around your torso pulls you impossibly closer, a slender nose nuzzling deeper into your neck. You lick your lips and press your cum-stained thighs together. Oddly enough, you can’t even overthink. All you focus on is the comfortable warmth lulling you to sleep.

The fact that the addicting warmth is coming from your boss who’s married doesn’t make it hard to fall into peaceful sleep.

The dynamic in the Jeon family is odd. From the moment you stepped into the house to babysit the married couple’s one-year-old daughter, you took notice of the disconnect and hostility between the pair. This came as a shock since they had seemed like the perfect couple when they interviewed you.

It isn’t until Mrs. Jeon comes home one night with a man that is most definitely not her husband that you realize this picture perfect family is anything but. The older woman didn’t beg or plead with you not to tell her husband. Instead, she asked through slurred words if you could take her daughter upstairs to her room and stay with her for the night. Icky as it was, you did as you were told.

You wondered if it was your place to say anything, but the choice was ultimately taken from you the next time you were asked to babysit. The housekeeper had let you inside their home during one of their screaming matches. Apparently Wonwoo already knew about his wife’s promiscuous activities. It surprised you to find out he was more angry that she didn’t care to be a good mother. Mrs. Jeon responded that she never wanted to be one in the first place and only did so to placate him and save their failing marriage.

Needless to say, you spent the rest of the night in Hana’s room.

You texted your friend in a panic. She had helped you get the job, so you didn’t feel right about making her look bad by abruptly quitting. Although she reassured you that she would support you no matter what you decided to do, you still felt sorry.

Maybe it’s because you feel the need to not let her down or maybe it’s because of the little girl with huge brown eyes that you’ve grown inexplicably attached to, but you decide to stay.

Things don’t change or get better with time. It’s not your place to judge what’s going on which is why you mind your business despite the tension between in the house only getting worse by the day. The only thing that makes it tolerable is not only the adorable baby you take care of, but the man who hired you. Jeon Wonwoo the hottest man you’ve ever seen, and he’s also extremely sweet and such a good dad.

You feel only slightly guilty that you’ve developed a crush on your boss, but it’s quick to disappear when you realize that sweet Mr. Jeon is still loyal to his wife even though she couldn’t be any more terrible to him. The impure feelings consume you more and more as your boss starts to spend his days at the large house. He started working from home since his wife decided to spend her time out of the house and coming home late or not at all.

Part of you feels disgusted and resentful, but when she confesses to you after one of her nights out that she only married him to please her parents, you feel a bit sympathetic. Still, you can’t understand how she involves her precious daughter in the problems she’s had for years.

There’s a part of you that wonders if you only being able to babysit part time is of any actual help. Since you’re still a full time student, you can’t always be there to watch the cute little girl. It makes you feel sorry because you can see all the stress Wonwoo is feeling.

You feel sick for even fantasizing about helping him relieve that stress.

None of this matters since you don’t plan on acting on your inappropriate feelings. That is, until you show up to the grand mansion soaked from head to toe.

“Y/N.” Wonwoo is quick to usher you inside when he opens the door and sees you completely drenched. “What happened? I tried to call—”

“My phone died.” You say, shivering as you step in the large foyer. “I got caught in the rain. Sorry.”

“Don't be. Let me get you a towel.”

He’s quick to return with a fluffy towel that’s softer than any other towel you’ve felt in your life. It almost makes you want to reject it for fear of ruining it.

Wonwoo leads you through the living room where you see his wife passed out on the couch, two bottles of wine and an empty glass on the coffee table in front of her. You’re quick to direct your stare elsewhere, not wanting to know the details behind that.

“I’m sorry you came all this way. My sister-in-law is watching Hana since Yerin and I got into a fight.”

You feel awkward since you came all this way for nothing and the storm outside showed no signs of clearing up. Wonwoo must sense how uncomfortable you feel because he leads you upstairs to the master bedroom.

“Why don’t you stay here for the night? It’s late, and I don’t feel comfortable letting you leave in this weather.” His tone is friendly but leaves no room for arguments. “You can use our bathroom to take a shower. Leave your wet clothes in the hamper and I’ll stick them in the dryer.”

You thank him, feeling your heart thumping erratically like it always does when you’re around him. Wonwoo offers you a kind smile before leaving you alone. It’s strange for you to step into the luxury shower that’s used by your boss and his wife. You try to stop your mind from wandering too much and focus on getting clean.

When you’re done, you notice there’s no towels around, only a fluffy bath robe that looks completely new. Without much of a choice, you slip into it and step back into the bedroom.

Wonwoo is sitting on the large bed. He gives you a kind smile as you walk over and sit by him. It’s silent for a moment until you decide to break it. Maybe you’re crossing a line by doing it, but you can’t stand to see the sweetest man you’ve ever met in such turmoil.

“Are you okay?”

Your boss’s shoulders sag. “Not really. I’m not sure what to do anymore. I know Yerin is unhappy, but we can’t just break our family apart. Why can’t she think about our daughter?”

He sounds so vulnerable that it makes your heart break. You fight the urge to give him a hug.

“I’m sorry.” Wonwoo breathes out, running a tense hand through his hair. “This isn’t your problem—”

“It’s okay.” You reassure him. “And I’m sorry. Even if you get a divorce, it doesn’t change the fact that you’re a good dad.”

Wonwoo turns to look at you with shining eyes. He gives you a smile that you easily return. “Thank you for saying that. It means a lot.”

“It’s true.” You tell him honestly. “You’re considerate and kind. Any woman would be lucky to have you.”

You belatedly realize that your words could be considered inappropriate, but the intent gaze you’re receiving isn’t disapproving. Somehow, the air has turned different.

“Yeah?” His deep voice has taken a raspy tone that’s driving you insane.

“Yeah.”

Your heart is leaping up to your throat, and before you know it, you’re both leaning in. Wonwoo slides an arm around your waist and tugs you closer until your practically on his lap. His other hand slides up to cup your face before his lips collide with yours.

The kiss starts off slow, both of you wanting to savor the feeling and taste of each other. Your mind becomes clouded with lust, and it seems to get worse when you feel his thumb gently caress your face. It’s not long before the sweet kiss turns demanding and hungry.

Your hands seem to move on their own as they caress his chest and broad shoulders. You start to tug on the shirt that’s tucked into his pants, wanting it to come off. Wonwoo relents easily. He pulls away from your lips to rip the shirt off.

You only get a split second to admire how good his chest and abs look before you feel the top of your robe being yanked open. Wonwoo’s eyes are dark as he takes in your pretty tits that he’s imagined countless times. He eases you on to his lap fully so you’re straddling him before he brings your chest to his awaiting lips. Wonwoo latches his hot mouth on one of your hardened nipples, tongue licking and swirling around the hardened bud.

You cry out in pleasure, cunt throbbing with need. Wonwoo gives the same attention to your other nipple as he pinches and pulls the one that’s covered in his saliva. All you can do is moan and whimper pathetically, feeling like you can come from him sucking on your tits alone.

“So pretty.” Wonwoo groans as he presses wet kisses on your tits, licking and sucking on every bit of exposed skin on your chest.

His impressive bulge keeps brushing against your wet cunt, and you start to purposely grind down on him so he can fuck you like you both want.

Wonwoo smirks at your actions, loving how the robe falling around your elbows is open enough to give him a peek at your stomach. “Such a needy little bunny. You that desperate for my cock?”

God, his deep voice is going to make you implode from sexual frustration. It seems like he’s going to Keep teasing you, so you’re left with no choice but to use a trick that’s always worked for you in the past.

“Want it so bad, daddy.”

You have to hold back your smirk when Wonwoo’s cock twitches under you. His gaze sharpens and becomes impossibly darker. Wonwoo’s large hands sneak under your robe to knead your bare ass before pushing you forward to grind your dripping cunt against his growing bulge. You whine out, loving how his hands feel on you.

“Gonna be a good girl for me?” Wonwoo coos into your neck before he places a gentle kiss on it. “Let daddy use you how he wants?”

Your pussy clenches at his words, and you can’t even be ashamed when you quickly nod with eagerness. His teeth gently nip at your neck before he pulls back and gives you a heated look.

“Then show me how much you want this cock.”

You lick your lips and move to get off his lap, letting the robe fall to the ground. The way Wonwoo looks at you like he wants to eat you makes more arousal drip out of you. You kneel between his legs, mouth salivating as Wonwoo starts to unbuckle his belt to pull out his dick.

His cock is huge—the biggest you’ve ever seen. It’s thick and long and connected two heavy balls that are full of cum. You’re going crazy at the thought of having him inside you and fucking you full of cum until you can’t think. Wonwoo’s dick slaps against his taut stomach, and you wait all of two seconds to get your hands on it.

With eagerness that makes precum ooze from Wonwoo’s throbbing tip, you grip his fat cock and spit on his bulbous head. The guttural groan he lets out when you start licking up the length makes you wetter. You envelop his tip with your hot mouth, slobbering all over him as you swirl your tongue around to lick the cum spilling from him.

Wonwoo moans, running a gentle hand through your hair. He feels like he’s already fucked out and you just started.

You feel your jaw has to hurt when you start to fully take the rest of his cock into your mouth. The weight on your tongue makes you hum. Sucking dick always made you wet, but the fact that it’s your boss’s cock is making you drip all over the floor. You start to bob your head talking him deeper until all you can hear are the pretty moans he’s letting out.

Wonwoo can’t look away. Your mouth is full of cock and your pretty tits are bouncing with every bob. You look completely irresistible, on you knees for him. It makes him regret not getting to this point with you sooner.

You pull off his cock when he starts twitching in your throat, wanting to tease him just enough to get him to fuck you the way you know he can. Placing gentle kisses along the thick vein, your hand trails down to massage his balls. You’re drooling all over his cock, looking so fuckable that Wonwoo nearly blows his load right then and there.

“So fucking pretty.” Wonwoo murmurs softly as he goes to caress your hair.

His words make a burning desire ignite in your stomach, and you let out a needy whimper before sucking one of his big balls into your mouth. You start to fist his cock, gazing up at him with hooded eyes.

“Want you to fuck my mouth, daddy.” You moan, voice slightly muffled by his sack.

Wonwoo’s cock throbs at your words. Fuck. He’s going to absolutely ruin you.

Your boss grips your hair and pulls you off. He slaps his leaking tip on your mouth, smearing his precum all over your lips. Wonwoo’s eyes are the color of the dark sky outside as he nudges his cock into your mouth. “Be a good bunny for daddy.”

His cock eases down your throat, making you gag slightly. But you take it all, not caring that your eyes are starting to water. Wonwoo starts to buck his hips, balls slapping against your chin as his cock hits the back of your throat. His moans are silent as his heavy dick throbs against your tongue.

Your drool and his precum starts to drip down your chin, and you feel his cock start to pulse inside your mouth. He gives a few more thrusts before he’s emptying his balls into you mouth. You happily swallow every drop of his thick cum, moaning around him in pure bliss.

“Such a good girl.” Wonwoo says through quiet pants.

He pulls his dick out of your mouth, affectionately caressing your head. A string of saliva connects to his throbbing tip as you gaze up at him with the most alluring look he’s ever seen. Wonwoo pulls you up until you’re laying on his chest. His mouth is on yours in a second, tongue invading your mouth to taste every inch of you.

Wonwoo trails a hand down your body, pausing to squeeze a handful of your ass. You moan into his mouth when he trails his fingertips to your wet cunt. Fuck. You’re already so wet and ready for him. He pulls away from your sweet lips and looks at you with ravenous desire.

“Want my mouth on your pussy, baby?” His eyes are wild with desire as you let out a cute little whimper and nod furiously.

In the next second you’re hovering over Wonwoo’s face. His strong hands grip your thighs before they jerk you down and make you sink your cunt on his awaiting tongue. You gasp out in pleasure when you feel Wonwoo’s tongue split through your folds. He groans against you, already addicted to your taste.

“Don’t hold back, sweetheart.” Wonwoo’s voice is muffled, the vibrations feel delicious against your quivering pussy. “Ride my face and let daddy taste your sweet cream.”

You start to roll your hips, moaning as you feel Wonwoo’s tongue swirls around your wet cunt. It’s almost embarrassing how wet you are. Your juices are pouring out of your cunt and covering every inch of his lower face every time you rock your hips.

“Ah!” You cry out, fucked out gasps tumbling past your lips when your boss’s nose bumps against your clit.

Wonwoo spreads you wider for him, using his lips to envelop your pulsing clit before giving it a harsh suck. The moan you let out when he starts to make out with your pussy is downright pornographic. Lewd squelching sounds are bouncing off the walls, and it sounds so good paired with your cute little cries of daddy, daddy, daddy!

“That’s it, baby.” Wonwoo groans into your dripping cunt. “Use daddy's face.”

One of his hands is still holding on to your thigh to keep you in place. The other one is drawing back to caress the globe of your ass. Then, his large hand comes down to slap it, hard. His actions catch you off-guard. It sends a thrill to your cunt and you moan out way too loudly.

“Fuck, daddy!”

Your pussy tightens around Wonwoo’s tongue as he happily drinks up all the arousal coming out of you. He happily hums against you, loving how vocal you are.

“Such a good little bunny. Let Yerin know that your rubbing this sweet little cunt all over her husband’s face.” Wonwoo whispers filthily, slapping your ass one more time to get you to cry out for him again. “Let her hear how good daddy’s making you feel.”

Honestly, you had been so lost in your pleasure that you forgot his wife was downstairs, passed out. But you don’t fucking care. Part of you almost wants her to wake up and hear how good her husband is making you feel.

You cry out again when you feel long fingers entering your pulsing cunt. Wonwoo roughly pumps his fingers in and out of you, wet slapping sounds filling the room as he continues to suck your clit.

All your senses go into overload when you feel his bare teeth against your bundle of nerves. Wonwoo lightly bites down and nips at the sensitive flesh, making you moan loudly. You throw your head back, prolonging your loud cries not caring that his stupid wife is just downstairs because you’re squirting all over her husband's face.

“Fuh-fuck! Daddy!”

Wonwoo’s strong enough to keep your thigh pinned down with one hand. He keeps you in place even when it gets to be too much. Your pussy is twitching and feels unbearably sensitive. The intensity of your orgasm has your legs feeling boneless like jelly. But this isn't enough for your boss.

“Keep riding my fucking face, baby. Fuck, you’re making daddy so hard right now.”

You look down and a newfound thrill takes over you at the sight of Wonwoo below you, face covered in your juices. His tongue licks all around his lips before he brings them back to your wet cunt. You’re in awe by how much of your cream is on his face, and how much of your slick is still pouring out of your pussy. It’s almost like you’re leaking all for him.

You fist his hair in one of your hands while the other comes up to pinch and pull at one of your nipples. Wonwoo groans into your wet lips as you start to grind and rub your pussy all over his face. He flattens his tongue to lick a long trail up and down your slit before he swirls it around and around your puffy bundle of nerves. Your arousal is leaking on his face and dripping down on the mattress below.

Fuck. Never have you been this wet before.

“Fuck, bunny. You’re so fucking hot.” Wonwoo moans, giving your ass another hard smack.

He keeps slapping your ass, loving how the flesh jiggles softly every time. You’re wriggling against him, but that does is cause delicious friction. Wonwoo’s nose glides over your clit, making you cry out for him. You’re so obscenely wet that you think he might drown in your arousal. Even so, you can’t help grind down on him because the delicious feeling of him fucking you with his tongue is too addicting.

“Feels so fucking good, daddy!” You cry, rocking against him faster, roughly fucking yourself on his tongue.

Your eager moans and whimpers has him clamping down on your clit like before, sucking on it like his life depends on it. Wonwoo slides his hands up from your thighs to your hips to move you forwards and backwards and sideways all over his face. His actions cause a slippery mess that has you moaning and crying screaming his name in abandon as you squirt all over his face for the second time.

“Da-Daddy—ah!” The grip on his hair is probably painful, but you don’t care and Wonwoo doesn’t seem to either as he laps up every drop of your release.

His face is so indecently wet with your arousal as you weakly ride out your high. It’s possibly the most intense orgasm of your life. You swear you can see stars behind your eyes as your entire body shakes with pleasure—red hot waves of pleasure that only Wonwoo has ever made you feel.

A weak whimper tumbles past your lips, completely fucked out when Wonwoo finally releases you from his powerful grip. You sag down to the mattress like a limp doll. You’re completely sated as Wonwoo sits up to caress your tear-stained cheek. It makes a fluttering feeling invade your chest.

“Such a good girl.” He coos, eyes clouded with fondness. “My pretty little bunny.”

Wonwoo swoops down to press his lips to yours so you can taste yourself on him. He starts to make out with you languidly, exploring every inch of your mouth until he can no longer taste your cream.

“Daddy.” You breathe out, cunt still pulsing with need. “You’re gonna give me your cock now, right?”

His eyes are dark as he drinks in your naked body. Truthfully, he had planned to stop since it seemed like your orgasms were pretty intense. But with you asking so prettily and cutely, he can’t deny your wish. Wonwoo feels his desire turn into an insatiable hunger when you watch him with carnal lust as he undresses completely.

Seconds later, he kneels between your open thighs and spreads you apart. Wonwoo spits on your soiled cunt before he sinks into your tonight walls. He lets out a guttural groan, obsessed with the way you’re squeezing him. You moan along with him, wrapping your arms around him as his fat cock splits you open.

Wonwoo’s pace is brutal from the start, deeply ramming into your tight pussy as if he’ll never get the chance again. You know that won’t be the case, though. It seems like he wants to have you more than once, and you already know you’ll let him have you all the times he desires.

“You’ve been keeping this tight little cunt from me, sweetheart.” Wonwoo moans as he hunches over you, one hand beside you head while the other is on your hip, pulling you to meet his harsh thrusts.

You feel like absolute heaven. After months of fantasizing about you, Wonwoo finally has you quivering on his cock. He wants more than just a taste now. He’s completely addicted to you, and he wants to be the only man to have you.

“Fuck, baby. You’re dripping all over me, making a mess on daddy’s cock. Gonna lick it up for me after?”

You moan obscenely at his filthy words. Wonwoo drives his aching cock into you deeper. Lascivious noises fill the room—skin slapping, indecent groans, and of course, the loud squelching coming from your pussy. This is better than any fantasy Wonwoo ever dreamt up. To have you sprawled out on the bed he shares with his wife as he fucks you like he’s always dreamt of doing.

It’s like Wonwoo has tunnel vision. All he can focus on is your mewls and moans as his fat cock disappears into you. Your cream surrounds the base of his dick and makes a carnal haze cloud Wonwoo’s mind. He hooks your left leg on his arm, opening you wider for him. “Juicy cunt taking my cock like the good little bunny you are.”

You’re completely wreaked below him. The sight of your pretty little pussy taking him raw is driving him insane. You’re so gorgeous, and Wonwoo can’t get over it. He feels himself throbbing inside your cunt with every pump of his hips. The risk of being caught by his dumb wife makes him animalistic.

“Fucking love your big cock!” You moan, mouth falling open in pleasure.

Wonwoo moans at your words before he dips down to meet your open lips. His tongue licks into your mouth, tasting you all over again. When you part, his eyes are ravenous but also extremely enamored like he isn’t ravishing you in the bed he shares with his wife.

“Ah!” You cry out when his leaking tip hits your sweet spot. “Feel so full, daddy!”

The smirk he gives you is tantalizing. “You like being stuffed full of daddy’s cock, don’t you, baby? Love it when he splits you open and stretches you out, hm?”

“Love it so much.” You whimper with a nod, cunt tightening on his veiny cock. The drag of his dick feels so good that you can barely think straight.

Wonwoo grunts, fucking his cock into your hungry cunt, filling you so deeply that you can’t breathe. He pounds into your dripping hole relentlessly until your moans turn into nonsensical babbling. His throbbing tip is going so far inside you and ramming against your sweet spot that you feel yourself going dumb on his cock. Drawn out moans fill the room, unintelligible syllables spilling from you between his harsh thrusts.

You can’t even function anymore. Wonwoo took that ability from you the moment his thick cock penetrated your pussy. Your boss’s hand slips down your thighs until they get to where you two are connected. His thumbs part your glistening folds, spreading your lips so he can watch the way his cock is buried inside your tight pussy.

“Don’t stop!” You moan, bucking your hips to meet his powerful thrusts.

Wonwoo starts to rub gentle circles on your puffy nub, turning any remaining thoughts into static. His other hand slips up to your body and covers your mouth. Your whines and mewls are muffled, forcing you to listen to the lewd squelching coming from your cunt taking cock.

“You hear that, sweetheart?” Wonwoo growls, hips snapping. “Fucking soaking my cock like the dirty little bunny you are.”

The cries you’re letting out are quickly stifled when Wonwoo shoves his fingers into your mouth. He moans your name when you happily suck on them, swirling your soft tongue around them as if his digits are your favorite treat. He gently fucks your mouth a bit before yanking them out and smearing the saliva coated fingers on your hardened nipples.

“Daddy!” You moan loudly, body arching into Wonwoo as a familiar euphoric feeling washes over you.

Your orgasm hits so suddenly that Wonwoo is surprised. He doesn’t stop, though. He fucks you through it, juices being forced out of you as his cock splits you open. The tightness of your twitching walls beckon him to fill you up with his cum, but he holds back.

Instead he focuses on marking up your pretty tits. He sucking on your nipples, licking and nipping at them until they’re covered with his love bites. It helps you ride out your high, and all you can do is mewl softly as you run your fingers through his soft hair.

“I want your cum, daddy.” You weakly thrust up, moaning in protest when his cock slips out of your cunt and slides between your folds. “Come inside me. Want it so bad.”

His length is shiny with your release. It’s so hard that it looks almost painful. Wonwoo grits his teeth, lashes fluttering when your hand guides him into your cunt again. The stretch burns deliciously. You’re still not fully used to his size even though he just fucked you like an animal in heat. But you don’t care. All you want is to feel him come inside you.

Wonwoo pulls out of your pussy all the way only to deeply thrust his cock back in to the hold. He repeats this until you’re crying out for him like before. Finally, you clamp your legs around his sides, locking him balls deep. He can’t help but laugh at your determination. Especially when you start to rut against him desperately. God you’re so fucking cute he can’t help but want to ruin you.

“Please, daddy. Fill me up and stuff me full of your cum!”

“Such a desperate little bunny.” Wonwoo coos as he forces your thighs apart, pummeling his dick deeper inside you. “Trying to milk daddy’s cock. You want me to fuck you full of my cum until your pretty little pussy can’t hold any more of it, huh?”

“God—yes. Fuck. Fill me, fill me.” You whine brokenly. “Give me your cum and make me yours!”

You’re close again. Heat washes over your skin as you try to work yourself down on his cock. Wonwoo smirks down at you, pounding into your tight cunt like a starving beast. Another deep roll of his hips has you crying out for him again. Your pussy swallows his cock avidly, drenching him in your cream. Every pound of his thickness sends your juices down to your ass and adds to the soiled mess under you.

Wonwoo’s eyes dart between your fucked out face and your battered cunt. Your arousal coats your thighs and the base of his cock. He can even feel your essence seeping down his balls. Your wet lips are swollen at this point, your aching clit rubbed raw by his fingers. Still, he doesn’t stop.

“Gonna pump you full of my cum, sweet girl. Gonna stuff you full until I’m all you can feel.”

It’s unholy how you're so willingly being split open by his big cock. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, dizziness taking over.

“Fuck.” Wonwoo moans when he looks down to when your tight cunt is gripping his cock. “Cream all over me, bunny. Show daddy how much you love his cock.”

You’re thrown over the edge, cunt gripping his cock even tighter as he relentlessly hammers into you. Wonwoo feels your nails dig into his back, scratching down his spine, no doubt leaving red marks on his skin. Not that he cares. Wonwoo wants you all over him. Craves for you to mark what’s already yours.

Wonwoo grips your hips and lifts you, sheathing his throbbing cock into your cunt right to the hilt. He ruts into your leaking core like an untamed beast, and you let him because you want his cum to fill you up until you can’t think anymore. His gaze is locked on your pretty pussy as you moan out for him to fuck you harder.

Your cute moans have his eyes flickering up to your face, cock twitching wildly when he sees your fucked out expression. “Fuck, Y/N!”

It’s the prettiest sight to see Wonwoo’s euphoric expression as he spills his cum into your awaiting pussy. He’s so deep inside you, claiming you until his seed is gushing out of you and down to your ass. He keeps fucking his warmth into you, spilling more ropes of his cum with every thrust.

Wonwoo relishes in the pretty little whimpers you let out as he fucks his cum back into your hot cunt.

He slowly pulls out of you with a hiss, brows furrowing in dissatisfaction when he sees his cum leaking out of you. You’re not sure how long he stares at your messy cunt, but you’re taken by surprise when he suddenly smashes his face into your sloppy pussy.

You both moan loudly when he starts lapping up your mixed releases. He’s so eager with his movements, obsessed with the taste of you and him mixed together. Wonwoo licks you clean, smirking at you when he leaves you a mewling mess after he’s done. The sight of his chin glistening with your mixed releases turns you on all over again.

It’s how you find yourself being impaled on Wonwoo’s big cock once again. Your moans are filthy and louder than ever. Every tip he slams his hips against your it feels like he’s punching the air out of your lungs. You feel like you can’t breathe let alone think with how deep his cock is fucking into you. The brush of his leaking tip against your sweet spot reduces you to a babbling, moaning mess.

“D-Daddy.” You stutter out with a soft whine. “Don’t stop!”

Wonwoo leans down to press scattered kisses across your jaw before he smashes his lips on yours in a sloppy kiss that swallows all of your moans. You mewl into his mouth as your arms come up to wrap around his neck, back arching with your tits pressed against his chest, nipples grazing his own.

“Pretty pussy’s so fucking tight.” Wonwoo growls, hips snapping at a savage-like pace. “I can barely move.”

It’s true. Despite him drilling his aching cock into the wet heat of your slick pussy, it’s becoming increasingly difficult to move with how much you’re tightening around him. The way your velvety walls hug his cock lights up every single nerve of his body. Wonwoo loves the feeling of the heated friction of his veins dragging along your hot cunt.

He buries his face in the crook of your neck with a loud moan. Wonwoo starts to suck and nip at your sensitive flesh until he sees that he’s successfully left behind dark bruises on your skin. He gently kisses the marks he’s left behind—a great contrast to the way he’s roughly fucking you.

“Feel that, sweetheart?” Wonwoo pants, his snapping hips moving faster than before. “Daddy’s gonna mold your pretty pussy so no one else fits.”

You cry out when his thumbs finds your puffy clit. He runs fast circles on the sensitive nub, loving how your tight cunt spasms around his twitching cock.

“So good!” Your voice slowly starts to break off into wanton moans as your legs wrap around him.

Wonwoo’s weeping tip brushes against that spot inside you that has you arching your back and screaming out in pleasure. His cock twitches when he feels your hot cunt continuously tighten around him. With a guttural groan, he brings his thumb down to your clit to run fast circles on it. It’s almost amazing how fast your cream starts to coat his dick at the stimulation.

“God, sweetheart.” His voice seems to get deeper as he keeps splitting you open. “Pretty pussy was fucking made for me. It’s mine—all mine.”

“Daddy!” You moan in ecstasy. “Feels so good.”

His thumb keeps stroking your clit until you’re shrieking his name like it’s the only thing you know how to say. You choke on a euphoric cry as you come around his cock. Wonwoo lets out a guttural groan bad your wet walls start to spasm around him. His hips slam against yours desperately as he chases his own high.

The tight clench of your cunt forces him into an orgasm of his own. Spurts of his hot cum paint every inch of your walls, filling you up with every twitch of his cock. Thick ropes of cum drip down the sides of your thighs as he fucks his load into you, groaning your name through a strained, cracked voice.

Wonwoo’s hips sloppily rutting into yours as he fucks his cock into your messy cunt. Sticky strings are connecting his girthy base to the lips of your cunt. You're writhing from overstimulation, thighs shaking and tears slipping from the corner of your eyes.

“D-Daddy!” You moan, so far gone on his cock that it’s all you can think about. “Fuh-Fuck. T-Too—ah! Too d-deep!”

You feel so fucking good you can barely speak, toes curling with the ever sharp thrust of his cock. His hard pelvis grinds against your puffy bud as he lifts your legs so they’re resting on his shoulders. The new angle makes his throbbing dick go deeper inside you, and all you can do is pathetically grind up to chase the pleasure that’s consuming your mind and body.

Wonwoo growls lowly when he feels your pussy twitching around him. The fact that you look so fucking pretty beneath him, babbling and choking on your nonsensical words. Wet tears are clinging to your lashes as every thought that’s not about him or his cock being fucked out of you so easily.

“Fuh–uck!“

You sound so fucked out that Wonwoo has to thrust deeply into you to get you to let out more of those cute moans. His rough pace has your pussy clamping down on him as he angles your hips higher to sink impossibly deeper into your hot cunt.

Wonwoo’s smirk is so attractive that your pussy leaves behind another layer of cream on his hard cock. He licks his lips, playfully slapping your aching clit. “Slutty little bunny. Did daddy already fuck you stupid?”

He’s teasing you because he knows you’ve got more for him. Wonwoo won’t stop ravishing your little cunt until you’re nothing more than dumb, pliant and feeling so fucking good after he’s done using you. Your mind is completely hazed with pleasure that you barely register the filth he’s speaking when hes he's fucking you into the mattress like a wild animal, grunting through his teeth with every needy twitch of his heavy cock.

You’re just as desperate for your release as Wonwoo is to dig it out of you. Somehow, he’s already managed to memorize every single spot that has you creaming around him. Which you do. Like a cute, dumb bunny in heat, you leave a mess around the base of his cock. He moans your name in fondness when your nails leave behind stinging marks along his biceps and shoulders, still begging for another orgasm.

“Cute. Fucking. Bunny.” He grunts between the rough snapping of his hips. Your soiled cunt is squeezing his cock tighter like you’re begging him to fill you up with his cum. “All fucking mine. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

In all your lust and pleasure, you still manage to nod. “Oh-Only yours, da-daddy!”

You have him so fucking close already with the tantalizing little look you’re giving him. Wonwoo leans down so he can admire how pretty you look with tears of pleasure dripping down your cheeks. You cry out when your boss splits you open further, almost folding you in half beneath him.

The sudden force of his hips make your body clap against his, and you feel dizzy from the overwhelming sensation as your eyes close in bliss.

“That’s right, baby. Only daddy can fuck you this good.” His deep voice wavers with the increasing tightness of your cunt.

Wonwoo is practically bouncing his hips into you as his heavy balls smack of your ass with every impact. He’s already fucked you stupid. You’re nothing but a mindless, pretty bunny underneath him as he grinds his cock against the pleading spots inside of you. It feels like your insides curl and ache with need as your orgasm races to burst along your limbs with the next too-deep touch of his cock.

“Daddy!”

All you can do is cry for him as you come, babbling out mindless mantras and hiccups of his name. Wonwoo moans along with you at the first milking compression of your tight cunt around him, giving him no choice but to spill into you with a low groan that only seems to prolong your blissful state.

The back and forth stutter of his hips is intoxicating, his pelvis pressing tight against your cunt. Wonwoo fucks his load into your eager pussy, not wanting to waste even a drop of his sticky cum. His thrusts slow until you start to whine at the oversensitivity.

You slowly open your eyes and give him a spent smile. Wonwoo returns it, crawling over you to kiss you. It’s sweeter and more gentle this time—just like he is. You gasp into his mouth when his fingers sink into your tender cunt, pushing his cum back into you. You squirm, toes curling at the feeling.

“Such a good little bunny.” Wonwoo praises as his fingers circles your clit before tracing up and slipping them into your mouth. “My pretty, little cockslut.”

“Mhm.” You moan around his fingers, knowing this is only the beginning of your deepest desires.

“I hear you’re in love.”

Wonwoo doesn’t look away from his glass because he knows Mingyu is giving him a knowing smirk. It’s not a surprise that his best friend already knows about you. After all, you’re good friends with the woman Mingyu is madly in love with.

“As usual, you’ve got me beat in that department.”

Mingyu’s smile doesn’t falter because even if he’s not talking about it, Wonwoo doesn’t deny the feelings he clearly has. “She takes good care of Hana. Don’t act like that’s not all you look for in a woman.”

It’s silly the way Wonwoo can’t fight the fond smile that stretches his face. Every time he thinks to how well you take care of his daughter, he falls for you a little more each time.

“And you?” Wonwoo questions his friend who’s more of a lovesick puppy than he is. “You’ve found the woman of your dreams, but you still haven’t proposed.”

“I’m waiting until she finishes school.” Mingyu has that goofy smile on his face he gets every time he thinks bout his girlfriend. “After she gets closer to achieving her dreams, I’m going to make her my wife.”

Wonwoo can see the stars in his friend’s eyes and lets out a find laugh. “You surprised me. I thought you’d marry her the second you broke things off with her mom.”

Mingyu only gives him an excited smile. “She’s worth waiting for. So hurry up and finalize your divorce. The girls have been dying to go on a double date.”

Wonwoo feels a giddy excitement consume him. For years he had only foreseen a bleak future with a woman who didn’t love him. But now that he knows he’s going to face the future with you by his side, he doesn’t plan on letting you go.

taglist: @duolingofanaccount @felix-3002 @junhui-recs @asjkdk @dani41 @kageyama-i-want-tobiors @ohwonwoo @dokwiyomie

Missing ma boi jin :<

and I love you ♡ for @myork

cr. namuspromised, 0613data

Y'ALL I SWEAR TO TO GOD. PLEASE.

the quiet boy has a big dick?! part 2

"I'm glad you could make it." Jisung says, opening the front door so you could come inside. He stares down at you as you take your shoes off. When you finally stand up straight, you take a second to notice his appearance.

A black hoodie with the sleeves rolled up, revealing his forearms, some black shorts and of course; those glasses. His tall stature suits his clothes very well.

"Yeah," you answer, a small smile spreading across your face. Jisung helps you take your jacket off, hanging it on the coat rack. Your whole body suddenly became tense as you felt his cool fingers raking against your skin.

You can feel your face getting hot as you remember the last time you both were left alone together. To say the least, you were kind of hoping that it would happen again.

It's quiet as you two walk over to the living room. The smell of cocobeans and vanilla hits your nose once you sit on the couch. "Your place is nice." You say to him.

Jisung chuckles at your comment, setting down two glasses of water. "Thank you. I've been trying to keep it simple, but I'm glad you like it." He takes a seat next to you, his thigh touching yours. You nod your head in understanding, reaching for the water.

You then remember how you forgot to give him water the time he came over to your house and you turn to him suddenly, startling him. "What's wrong-"

"I just wanted to apologize for forgetting your water when you came over." Jisung stares at you, confused for a moment. "Ah-" he says, laughing to himself. He lifts a hand before placing it on your thigh. "It's okay. You've already apologized."

His hands. You stared at it on your thigh as you continued to sip your water, not remotely saying anything. Out of habit, you sit closer to him, staring at the fire place. You then rest your head snugly on his shoulder. Jisung rests his head on top of yours in response.

You close your eyes with the water glass in your lap, feeling calm. That is.. until you hear a toilet flushing in the distance. You sit up fast, startling Jisung again for the second time. He stares at you with wide eyes. Even through his dark bangs you could still see his pretty gaze.

"What was that?" You question, quirking an eyebrow at him. He takes a moment, turning to look over to the bathroom that was hidden in the dark hallway. "Oh, right.." Jisung sighs, sounding dejected. He clears his throat, setting his water glass down onto the coffee table.

He stands up. "I forgot to tell you that I have a roommate." Upon hearing those words, you tense up. 'He has a roommate?!' You think to yourself. As if on cue, the bathroom door opens and a voice is heard.

"Man that was a relaxing shower." the voice says.

You see a guy exiting the bathroom- no a hot guy exiting the bathroom and he's shirtless. He's got a dark towel hanging off his hips, revealing his v-line and his toned body is hard not to look at.

You notice how his skin is tan, his wet brown hair hangs over his eyes and you can tell he's staring at you by the way his plump lips curl into a smile. You see him slightly loosen his towel before he's walking towards you and Jisung in the living room.

"Who's this?" He asks the younger, lowkey checking you out. He has a smirk on his face and it's unforgettable. He licks his lips, waiting for Jisung to respond.

Park sighs. "She's a friend," Jisung then turns to you, whispering; "That's Donghyuck. Don't let him butter you up."

'Donghyuck. Why does that name sound familiar?' you think. Suddenly you remember. 'Wait.. the jock from school?!'

"I heard that." Donghyuck spoke, walking over to the other side of the couch, leaning down next to your ear. "You're very pretty you know." His voice is husky, causing you to squeeze your thighs together. Jisung watches in annoyance. He notices, stifling a laugh.

"I'll be back after I put on some pants." Donghyuck announces, disappearing into the darkness once again. "Just pants and not a shirt?" Jisung shouts at him. You hear Donghyuck laugh audibly, followed by a door slamming shut.

-

You're only fifteen minutes into the movie when you see Donghyuck come out of his room and go into the kitchen. He clears his throat, grabbing a brownie from the pantry. When he turns around, you turn your head back to the tv; acting as if you weren't staring just at him two seconds ago.

When he comes back into the living room, he sits in the empty spot next to you and you can't help but notice what he's wearing. Compared to Jisung, he's much more open sporting a pair of grey sweatpants and of course; no shirt..

The both of them are man-spreading, taking up most of your space. You want to say something, but you don't. You kinda like the view. Being squished in between two men, hot men at that, is almost every woman's dream.

There's an arm behind your head too, but you don't know who's it is. Jisung huffs in irritation, mumbling nonsense to himself. You thought it was cute actually.

"Who even picked this movie anyway?" Donghyuck complains.

Jisung sighs, clearly irritated. You laugh a little.

-

Almost an hour into the movie, a sex scene sneaks it's way onto the screen. You stare intently at the couple on the screen, suddenly becoming hot as the woman starts moaning aloud.

"Shit sorry, I forgot this movie had that part in it-" Jisung apologizes, eagerly reaching for the remote to fast forward. Without thinking, you grab his arm and he looks at you.

"Wh-" You lean in and kiss him. It takes him a moment but he kisses back, placing both hands on either side of your face. You silently moan into the kiss as Jisung's tongue slides into your mouth.

Without thinking, you take off your shirt, throwing it onto the floor. Jisung does the same, his hoodie coming off along with his shirt. Your hands rest on his shoulders. It feels good to touch his skin after some time.

Suddenly, you feel a pair of lips on the back of your neck. Two hands reach to the front of you, pulling your bra cups down to fondle your breasts. Your nipples began getting hard as Donghyuck's fingers circled them.

You gasp into Jisung's mouth and his eyes open, looking into Donghyucks. He doesn't say anything, he just moves down to your neck, sucking hickeys and biting every so often.

Jisung's hand slides down your stomach and into your panties, circling your clit. You can feel yourself leaking more and more with every kiss. 'Is this really happening?' you begin thinking, comepletely out of it due to the pleasure.

You were so wet too. Jisung's body presses up against yours and you can feel him twitching in his shorts. Donghyuck is behind you, his hands going from your boobs to your hips, subtly grinding against your ass. You throb wildly, needing to be full.

Jisung slid a finger inside you before pulling it back out, rubbing your clit again. His finger was coated with your wetness, making everything just feel even better. He moves his finger back and forth against you, causing you to gently hump his finger.

Jisung kisses behind your ear, and Donghyuck groans behind you.

You're nearing closer and closer to your release, becoming more and more eager with Jisung's finger rubbing you off. Donghyuck then yanks your panties down, revealing your wet cunt. You're literally dripping.

"Fuck." Donghyuck says, laughing breathlessly. He watches intently as Jisung's finger slides back and forth in between your folds. Donghyuck pulls his sweatpants down, freeing his cock. You can feel it against you, warm and hard.

"Jisung, move your hand." Donghyuck grunts. The other obeys, moving right before you could cum. The tip of Donghyuck's cock glides inside of you without trouble and his head drops down on your shoulder. "Holy shit."

He fits inside so perfectly.

You moan, falling against Jisung. In a daze, you pull Jisung's pants down, revealing his cock too. You stare at it with hunger, leaning down to get to work. You arch your back and Donghyuck chuckles.

You coat Jisung with salvia, licking stripe after stripe on the underside of his cock. You then open your mouth, allowing him to slide in and out. Meanwhile, Donghyuck is filling you to the brim. He's almost as big as Jisung, bumping up against your g-spot with every thrust.

The pleasure is so great that you want to cry. Feeling confident, you let as much of Jisung into your mouth as you can, causing him to moan. The vibrations from your throat cause him to grab your head, thrusting into your mouth. Your eyes roll back, your nose flush against his pubes.

"Fuck this feels so good.." Jisung says, the slapping from you and Donghyuck echoing in the living room. The candle continues to burn, illuminating your shadows on the wall.

The grip on your hips tighten as Donghyuck slows down for a minute, regaining his composure. Upon this happening, Jisung pulls out of your mouth, pulling you up to meet his eyes. You kiss him, moaning to the rhythm of Donghyuck's thrusts.

Donghyuck goes to cup your breasts again, and Jisung's fingers go back down to rub your clit. You jump, getting close to cumming. His thrusts are more aggressive, causing you to drip more and more. You pull away from Jisung, knees weakening. "Fuck me Donghyuck- fuck!"

Your body becomes tense as you start to squirt, all over Donghyuck's cock and Jisung's finger. They both groan at the sight of you coming undone. Jisung jerks himself off, watching you get it good from his roommate.

With you still cumming, Donghyuck does two more deep thrusts, finally coming to a stop. "Oh fuck yes." he curses, filling you up with cum. He grunts while still thrusting shallowly in and out of you. Tears flood your eyes once he pulls out and you feel Jisung getting behind you.

The thought of him getting the sloppy seconds made you even more horny. He pushes inside, already close to cumming himself. Being full with Jisung again was something you'd never get used to.

His skillful hips torture you in the best way possible, and you cry out loud. Donghyuck sucks on one of your nipples, sparking another orgasm out of you.

For the second time, you cum, all over Jisung. He follows right behind you, pumping you full. He pulls out, sighing in relief. Being full with two loads of cum was something you never thought you'd experience.

Donghyuck pulls off you, smiling to himself, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. The three of you lay on the couch, exhausted. "That was amazing." You hear Donghyuck say. You nod as a response.

Jisung breaths deeply. "Maybe she should start coming over more often, hm?" Donghyuck agrees immediately. You smile to yourself, resting a hand on your barely visible bump.

-

FINALLY!! THANKS FOR READING Y'ALL SORRY ITS NOT AS LONG<3

ALSO YES IT WAS A SURPRISE THREESOME

PLSSSSSSSSSSS oh my god 🥹🥹

Goodbye, Fourth of July (18+)

pairing: lee chan x fem!reader

genre: college au, best friends to lovers, angst w a happy ending, smut (MDNI!!), hints of crack?

description: it's the fourth of july when you realize you're in love with your best friend. unfortunately though, it seems that he doesnt love you back, and this knowledge sends you spiraling. you push him away, but chan just wants to know why you're so upset

warnings: v v sad, pining, brief mention of s/a, chan is kinda dumb in this fr, reader is dramatic af tho, unprotected sex, desperation, praise kink, finger sucking, titty sucking, use of petnames (baby, pretty girl, sweet heart, good girl, cumslut once), mentions of alcohol and weed, irene is chans gf in this but shes not a villain shes mother fr

quotes from my proofreader: "my soul left my body", "no this is too personal", "i feel like im having a panic attack"

wordcount: 8.2k

Fireworks exploded across the sky the night your life was ruined. 

Down the gray, dim corridors of your campus where room after room was ablaze with idle lights, daring to imitate the stars above them. Every crevice of the left wing was filled with the noise and decorum of a college frat party, where people lived out their own lives simultaneously to yours - yours, that was shattering into millions of pieces onto Yoon Jeonghan’s kitchen floor. Every moment of teasing, of lingering touches, of adoring smiles, of secret memories and exchanged glances came hurdling onto you on the 4th of July, red solo cup long forgotten in your hand. You were in love with your best friend. 

“I’m in love with Chan,” you whispered, looking blankly across the room to see him leaned back against the couch, flashing a bright smile at Mingyu beside him. His blonde mullet - the one, that he had been so terrified to get, and only did so, when you told him he would look great - was tousled and spiky across his neck. He was wearing a red bomber jacket over a white tee, and he looked so good you thought you might cry. 

Soonyoung wouldn’t have heard your confession - was it a confession? Admittance? Defeat? - had he not been standing right beside you. He thanked God that your words were not lost to the music and to the ambiance, to lay and die in the sticky, hardwood floor. “What?!”

He was yelling over the music. You turned over to him, mouth cracked into a frown. “What?! You’re in love with Chan?! Seriously?!” He started bouncing and giggling, ignoring your hands coming to grab onto his forearms. He had predicted this exactly five months ago. 

“Shut up, Soonyoung, seriously!” You were yelling too, barely overcoming the booming voice of Kesha on the speakers. Bathed in pink light, letting your nails trail over the kitchen counter, you felt your heart becoming soft and trembling.

Your life was ruined. 

“What the fuck am I gonna do?” you cried, feeling Soonyoung spin you at your shoulders until he was right in front of you, alcohol dampening the air between you.

“What do you mean? You’re gonna confess to him. You guys are literally in love with each other” He said it as if it was the easiest thing in the world. As if you hadn’t been best friends since freshman year; as if you didn’t know his favorite animal cracker shape and the exact model of his everyday sneakers. 

“I can’t do that.” 

“Yes, you can.” 

“I can?” 

“COMINGGG THROUGHHHHHHHH!” Frat-house dork Seokmin pushed between you and Soonyoung with a sky-high Vernon on his trail. Vernon shimmied apologetically, eyes sunken and red. “Getting cross-faded,” he supplied helpfully. 

“As you should,” Soonyoung mumbled, slightly peeved in his tone, but Seokmin and Vernon seemed too intensely high to notice his disdain. You were too floaty to be offended by their sudden intrusion. The party, the floor, the music, the stench of sweat had become distant and you felt very alone with your heart. And Kwon Soonyoung, of course.

“You can! Right now! I’ve been telling you for months!” He shook you by your shoulders, apparently sensing your distance. You looked up at him with furrowed brows, tugging at the strapless end of your short, glittery dress. “But he’s-” you inhaled sharply. “He’s not gonna love me back, Soon.” Soonyoung cut you off with a scoff. “He’s so in love with you! He looks at you like you’re the only girl in the…” 

Soonyoung trailed off, eyes peering past you into the crowd. “Oh shit,” His eyes widened, settled on you, then flicked back up. What the fuck was he looking at? “Uh, as I was-” you moved to look, struggling against his suddenly deadly grip on your shoulders “- no, don’t look!” He moved to stop you, but it was too late. You scanned the crowd with narrowed eyes, finding yourself confused as to what he’d been crying about. That is until you saw him. Red bomber now discarded, Chan had removed himself from the couch and was currently grinding on your biochem-classmate, Irene. 

Oh. Okay. 

You felt like cold hands grabbed onto your throat from within, as it contracted and tears stung your eyes. There it went, your heart and all its pieces on the floor, and weighing you down like an anchor, was the knowledge that you’d spend the rest of your life picking them up. 

”God fucking damnit. This is awful, I’m awful,” your head was spinning, and you could barely make out how your fishnetted legs started moving, let alone how the tips of Soonyoung’s fingers brushed against your bare back to pull you back to him. You needed to get out. Out, out, out. 

You squeezed through the tight crowd, avoiding the gaze of your classmate Seungcheol, who tried to smile at you from where he stood. This had to be some sort of mistake. Some sort of illusion brought upon you by the rhythmic movements and the loose slip of alcohol. Maybe you were hormonal? You didn’t know, but you couldn’t think while some bass-boosted playlist built dams of pressure on the sides of your head.

You finally squeezed through the door, closing it behind you and locking away that cursed, wretched memory. The further you got, the fainter the image of him. By the time you were slipping out of the hallway and into the yard, you could almost convince yourself that it was a mistake. A foolish moment, that you would tuck away and keep in a locked chest. 

God, you were cold, shivering in your scrappy fabrics, as you slid down the brick wall by a flower bed, staring into the sky. It was the fourth of July, and your chest had exploded in fireworks while looking at your best friend. Every line had simultaneously been crossed and uncrossed. 

You had realized it just a few minutes ago, just standing in the kitchen, when Wonwoo from history had asked you for a lighter. It had just been a graze, but you’d still felt it, in the faraway reaches of your purse. Amongst crumbs, concealer, a couple unraveled cigarettes and wired earphones with only one working side. What was that? You’d handed Wonwoo the lighter and then dug around for it again. A little slip of paper, edges soft and worn. You pulled it up. 

It was just a drawing. A little scribbled dinosaur. God, you couldn’t even remember when he’d given it to you. But there you were smiling at it. And then looking at him. And then you knew. 

You started crying. Hot, fat tears dripped down your cheeks, and your lips were trembling, and suddenly your body was stuttering and convulsing against the wall, and you were in love with your best friend and he was obviously not in love with you. 

“Y/n?” 

You snapped your head towards the door and the person you wanted to see the least in that moment (that thought made you cry even more, because when had you ever wanted anyone but him by your side when you were upset?) was peeking his blonde haired head through the door. Chan had such a heavy frown, looking down at you from the wide opened doorway. 

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong, sweetheart?” He was immediately crouching down, hand burning hot on your back, stroking the muscles. Another hand on your knee and it was all too much, so you pushed him away. He backed off immediately, and you wished you missed the flash of hurt on his face. He looked at you with so much worry. “What happened?” 

He was sitting across from you on the pavement and you couldn’t bear to see him, lit geometrically by the moonlight and the explosions in the sky, brows creased. Averting your eyes, you fiddled with the edge of your dress and sniffled. What were you supposed to say? It was hard to say anything. You fought down the tears pressing at your eyes again, swallowing your emotions before you looked at him again, almost robotically.

“I’m fine,” you said, nodding, and only adding more when his face twisted in confusion. You were always honest with each other, he thought, why were you lying? “It’s stupid, I’m.. I’m on my period and my hormones are just.. Bleugh.” You found it in yourself to giggle.

Silence, only decorated with the constant stream of fireworks and distant laughter of drunk college kids. Chan studied you for a moment, legs crossed and arms slung over his knees. “Cheol said you looked upset.” 

“Yeah, I, uh, I was thinking of that sad dog movie.” 

Another pause. “Old Yeller.” 

The distance between you had never felt wider and you were certain Chan could feel it too. 

“You know you can tell me anything right?” You wished your laughter hadn’t been so heart-achingly bitter. He looked so confused. All he wanted to do was make you feel alright, why wouldn’t you let him?

A nod. “Yeah,” you breathed in deeply, tear-streaked makeup drying from the gentle wind. “I know.” 

The air had become so thick, you had to gulp down breaths. Chan cocked his head to the side and looked at you soulfully. You were staring at your knees, nervously playing with your fingers, and a flush had crept up your neck to the very tops of your shiny cheeks. He sighed. “I can get, uh,” he hesitated for a moment, “I can get Soonyoung down here. If you want.” You nodded before he was even done talking. Anything was better than sitting across from him - not now. This time you knew better than to look at his face, because you knew your entire facade would break down the moment you’d catch the frown on his face at those words. 

The moment Chan left, you sighed so deeply, relief and despair coming in a pair to crash over you like a wave. Soonyoung came not two minutes later and, ever the great comforter, immediately tried to make you laugh, sitting in the grass right in front of you.

“Oh my god,” he put on his best Jennifer Coolidge voice, “you look like the fourth of July!” _____________________________

Your first instinct was to hide - to turn over a stone and lay under it without breathing. Maybe then, if you separated yourself from him the feelings would simply dissipate, like perfume throughout the day. But you and Chan had a ridiculous amount of classes together, - something you used to enjoy and cherish - and every interaction had become half-awkward. 

What also didn’t help is that him and Irene did not seem to just be a party fling. You were walking the halls with him, backpack slung across your shoulder, and listening to him drone on and on about a date.

“I think it’s the blonde,” he explained, “I think she likes the blond.” He peeked his eyes over to you, as you walked and you nodded. “It looks good,” you smiled, heart crushing when his face lit up, that sharky smile playing on his lips. “Right? But I don’t know what to wear. I don’t think she liked my jacket. You know, at the party.” At the mention of the party, his giddy expression faded a little, eyes flicking back to look at you again.

You’d been different since then. A little quiet and every word a little strained, every breath a huff, every smile somewhat unable to reach your eyes. He knew something was wrong, but he couldn't figure out what. For the life of him, Chan couldn’t. You’d told him when you got a tampon stuck a couple months ago, you’d told him about your awful dates, about your most embarrassing moments in your life. Something had to be serious, he thought, watching the way your eyes had become darker and sunken, for you to shut him out completely.

“Y/n,” he said and his voice was abruptly so, so soft. His hand came to cradle your own, stopping you in your tracks. Your eyebrows cinched together when you looked at the way his thumb caressed your knuckles. “You are okay, right?” and all of a sudden he was so close to you, head bopping downwards to catch your eyes, a little breath becoming humid on your cheek. For just a split second, he saw how scared you were, an emotion that took up all the space in your head, widened eyes darting up to his. Then it was gone. You smiled a tight line, ripping your hand from his. “I’m good. I’d be better if we actually made it to class on time.” 

You were bouncing away and for a few moments he stood still, watching you. 

“Alright,” he whispered to himself.

_____________________________

 You and Chan met through Seungcheol. It was your first year and you were fresh-faced, young and a totally different person. It was your first biochem project and the teacher had paired you with Seungcheol - Seungcheol, who you just so happened to know was amongst the most popular guys at school. He was sweet though, if not a little slow, but he was excited to get into the project and had invited you to his place to study. You had graciously accepted, seeing as your roommate-situation at the time was less than ideal. 

You had just hunkered down with stacks of books and laptops open on his desk, when Seungcheol got a call; to this day you’re not sure about the specifics of it, and all the information you’d later been able to pry from Seungcheol was that “Jeonghan was in trouble”. Whatever the case, the man had taken the phone and immediately taken on a crease in his forehead and a small frown on his lips, before apologizing profusely and promising that he’d be back in 20 minutes or so. 

And there you were, wearing a dress and hairclips and sitting idly at his desk, while his roommate sat, just a few feet from you, on his bed with a controller and a headset on. That was the first time you saw Lee Chan. He had sharp eyes that you found intimidating at the time - especially with the focused grimace he wore, something you later found endearing. And, of course, you knew he was popular as well. How couldn’t he be, when his muscles were showing through his t-shirt, and he looked beautiful even in the domestic state you found him in. Maybe especially in that situation. 

“D’you wanna see me play?” he’d asked, eyes not even leaving the screen. “Um,” your voice was meek, “sure.” 

Seungcheol didn’t come home for another three hours. The sky turned from a bright blue into an orange hue outside the campus-curtains, and you sat cross-legged beside Chan on his bed, watching him play Overwatch. Had it been anyone else, you were sure this would’ve been the longest, most awkward three hours of your life. But for whatever reason, you and Chan just clicked. It was all laughter and smiles, and it felt like you had known each other forever. Fate had whisked the two of you together with a gentle push. That was two years ago. 

Chan defied all your expectations. Surely, a young man who was attractive and popular would be an asshole, you’d thought, but he was so sweet, something that was most apparent when he smiled and laughed, eyes becoming crescents and toothy grin becoming sharp at the upturned edges. 

Maybe you’d always liked him. You’d started reflecting on your relationship after that party, and came to realize that there’d always been a faint mist in your chest. A soft hum that drummed within your ribcage, when you saw him. It was warm, pleasant and constant when you felt his warmth at your side. 

And sure, your relationship had had its moments. You distinctly remembered sitting between his legs while watching a movie once, and how you’d been so uncertain if he was okay with the skinship. His face behind your ear, you heard the smile in his voice, as his hands ran along your arms: “It’s okay, N/n. I’m cool with this if you are.”

You found yourself thinking about that often, but now there was a distinct pain to the memory. It was especially painful, when the gap between you and Chan was widening with every day. He tried to reach out, tried to catch you in the halls, but you were always “busy”. 

Chan caught on to the fact that you were avoiding him when you started showing up late to classes, just so you wouldn’t have to walk with him; hear him talk about Irene, while that once soft drum had become a marching band in your chest. So you scrambled inside 5 minutes late, much to the dismay of your professors, and found a spot with some random classmate - far away from Chan. You’d have your eyes turned to the board, but you couldn’t focus, not really. Like a constant thorn in your side, you felt Chan’s sharp eyes across the room, boring into with such an intensity you thought you might catch on fire. Scribbling useless notes and focusing your energy - what little energy you had - on the class, you determinedly avoid his eyes. Had you seen them, never once darting astray from your form, you’d see the tenderness they held. “Why are you avoiding me?” His eyes said. 

And then: “Why are you avoiding me?” his mouth said, out of breath from chasing after you in your hurried exit. You turned to him, almost bleeding into the blue of the accented-wallpaper. His eyes softened at your wounded expression. You were gently ripping apart at the wish to see him and be around him, with simultaneous urge to ignore him and become free from his scrutinizing gaze. He would never not know that something was wrong.

He scanned the crowded hallway, and gently, almost as if testing the waters (which he hadn’t felt the need to do in years) placed a hand on your upper arm. “Come on.” 

You gave in. God, it was so easy to give in. You missed him. You missed him like a fish might miss water, had it been taken away from it. You missed him like a priest misses God, when his presence ebbs away and the sky is suddenly so very empty. So it was so easy to be led on, to sit down in the passenger of his car and just close your eyes and enjoy how it felt to be beside him. Chan scanned you as he drove, laying there with closed eyes, willing yourself to not look at him again, and realize you had to throw this all away. 

He said nothing that entire car ride. Maybe he sensed the desperate need you felt to just have this silence. You clung to it as if it were tangible, as if someone would take it away. He would, once you entered his apartment. Seungcheol was nowhere to be seen. You placed yourself on bed and played with the fraying edges of his IKEA duvet cover.

“I miss you.” he said. You sighed, pursing your lips and looking at your fingers. “I miss you too.” 

“You’re avoiding me,” he said, only a faceless presence in your peripheral. 

“I’m not avoiding y-...” you trailed off when he crouched down in front of you, your entire vision cursed (or blessed?) with his frustrated face. “You are,” he said, eyes boring into yours. You trembled. “I’m not, I’m just busy.” He backed away, sulking, and you tried not to make it obvious that you heaved in a shaky breath from the proximity.  “I can tell when you’re lying, you know?” 

You laid down on the bed, arms crossing over your chest as if you were a corpse. Was there a way out of this, you wondered. Every glance, every touch, and every word that dropped from his mouth poked and prodded at you sadistically. 

“I’m not lying.” 

You heard fumbling and raised your head to see Chan, having discarded his shirt, putting on a new one and you cringed at how your heart sped up, seeing his toned stomach, before it disappeared under a sweater. “What are you doing?” you asked. He sighed. He glanced at you before studying himself in the full-length mirror Seungcheol had stolen from Mingyu. 

“I’m going on a date with Irene in, like, twenty minutes.” 

A pause. You sat up.

“Oh.” 

He went on, throwing around scattered clothes and grappling for a cologne in his bag. “I’m sorry, I can’t cancel this, I don’t think she’ll really appreciate it,” he laughed a little. Throwing his head over his shoulder, his smile faded when he sensed your sorrow. His heart hurt then, so he moved, freshly spritzed with the cologne you bought him last Christmas, to stand in front of you on the bed. Your breath hitched when his hand found your cheek and he was suddenly dripping with sincerity and an emotion you really hoped wasn’t pity. “I just- I really wanted to talk to you, Y/n. I’m really worried about you.” You leaned into his hand pathetically, almost whimpering against it. You missed how his embrace felt. His thumb brushed over your cheek and he lingered there, eyes trained on you for just a moment - perhaps a moment too long - before he pulled away.

Suddenly he was putting on a jacket and ruffling his hair in the mirror again. “If you want you can stay here until I come back? It’ll only be, like, an hour and a half, two hours. Cheol will be home soon, he can keep you company.” 

“Yeah, maybe,” your eyes were huge, when you willed yourself to stare at the floor. Chan must’ve sensed the meekness in your voice, because he looked over at you through the mirror, a frown on his lips. “I promise we’ll talk, I just- I don’t wanna disappoint Irene.” 

It ached when you responded: “There’s nothing to talk about, Channie. I’m fine.” 

“I’ll see you in a couple of hours?” you only nodded half-heartedly. 

“Bye, N/n.” 

“Bye, Channie.” 

He left with a rustle of his keys, and when the door was closed, your body contracted, muscles pulling inwards until you were hugging your knees in his sheets. And you were crying because it smelled like him, and because he had held your cheek with such care, only to leave moments later for another woman. Everything you held dear, every moment you lingered on was just one-sided. Your tears were crystalline confinements for your most treasured memories with him and you were bleeding out on his bed, sliced in the heart.

It was Seungcheol who found you there like that, curling up in his roommate’s bed with painful sobs squeezing your whole body. You told him. Maybe you shouldn’t have, but you did. “I love him,” you cried, and Seungcheol stroked your back, as he listened. “And he doesn’t love me back.” 

You apologized abashedly when you had calmed down, but Seungcheol only tutted and shook his head. “That’s what friends are for,” he’d said and patted your hair, and you giggled even though you felt all silly with your red face and your puffy eyes. The older man promised not to say anything, and you found yourself trusting him completely. You bid your goodbyes and felt a little lighter.

When Chan came home a heavy duvet of regret settled in his stomach. You were gone, only the faint mist of your perfume left behind in his room. When night fell, he slept on a bed stained with your tears. _____________________________

A week passed and you spent every moment alone in your dorm room, ignoring papers and deadlines in favor of lying completely still under the covers. Soonyoung came over with food every once in a while, and always left devastated at how completely disarranged you were. He felt powerless and if there was one thing Kwon Soonyoung didn’t like, it was feeling powerless.

That was how you found yourself in a very John Mulaney-like situation on a monday afternoon, sitting before Soonyoung and, surprisingly, Seungkwan, Soonyoung’s roommate, in a nearby café. 

“What is this?” you asked, arms crossed and leaned back in your seat, unimpressed. Soonyoung smiled sheepishly, sliding a paper across the table. It read “Intervention” in big, bubbly letters, colored with cheap highlighters. “An intervention?” you said incredulously. 

“Yes, we’re worried about you!”

“He’s worried about you. I’m skipping physics for this,” Seungkwan butted in.

“The community is worried about you,” Soonyoung gave a harsh glare to the younger boy, who was mirroring your distaste for the current situation. “So we’re hosting an intervention.” 

“This is bullshit,” you said. “Agreed,” came Seungkwan. 

“Alright, you two! Let Daddy explain,” Hoshi waved his arms in outrage and the two of you groaned at the word choice. “Y/n. I am sick and tired of watching you cry and cry and sit at home over a boy who is fricken’ in love with you!”

“Did you just say ‘fricken’?” 

“Unimportant. The point is get your act together and tell him or get over him!” Soonyoung was determined. While you felt his point of view was certainly unfair to you, your demeanor gave way a little. He was right, you knew. This was ruining you more than you’d care to admit. “You are worth so much more than this.” 

“As much as I hate to contribute to this, Soonyoung has been telling me all about.. Your situation, and I have to say I agree. I thought you and Chan were dating until Soonyoung told me this,” Seungkwan said, smiling sympathetically at you. You frowned. “It doesn’t matter what you guys think, you know. He doesn’t see me like that.. It just fucking hurts.” 

“If he doesn’t see you like that, then fuck him--”

“Don’t say that, Soonyoung--” 

“You need to put your energy into a man who will know your worth!” Soonyoung sassed and Seungkwan snapped his fingers once for emphasis, face totally blank.

“I know you’re right, okay?” you reasoned, sighing. “It’s not as simple as that. I know you want to help, Soonyoung, but.. I just need time.” 

Soonyoung deflated, but he understood. I guess he was a little powerless in this situation. Even Seungkwan, who definitely was not thrilled about missing physics, smiled sorely. You watched them and hated yourself for bringing worry to everyone around. Like an oil spill in the ocean, your black mass infected everything around you. They’d done nothing and here you were, parading your sadness like My Chemical Romance in 2006. 

“Thank you anyway.”  _____________________________

Chan was theorizing. There were only so many things that could happen so suddenly, that could make you push him away like this. He hadn’t seen you in a week and he’d begun biting his nails again. Every waking moment had become consumed with this question: why? Why were you acting like this? Irene would pointedly comment on how quiet he was being, and his lies came like flowing water. 

Chan was certain that he’d never experienced anything harder than watching you unravel everyday. Every morning more disheveled than the last, every smile more dull. Let me help you, he’d think, watching you slump in your seat on the other side of the room, running an unsteady hand over your face. You’d even found a way to avoid him after class. Day after day he’d run after you when you sped out of class, and when he reached the hallway where students were pouring out, you’d be gone like a faint ghost. 

Irene ended things with him over a text. “I just don’t see us working out anymore,” it’d read and lying in his room he’d sighed quietly. He couldn’t bring himself to care. The text diverted his attention for only a minute, before he was staring at the ceiling again, thinking of you. It had to have something to do with him somehow. But no matter how much he scrutinized every interaction you’d had, he came up blank. 

“Are you okay?” It was Seungcheol, standing in the doorway and hanging his jacket on their clothing rack while eyeing him. He’d hardly heard him come in. Chan heaved a sigh, long lines of worry oozing out of him. 

“Y/n’s been acting really weird with me. I can’t figure out if it’s something I did,” Chan squeezed his eyes shut. “I just want her to be okay.” 

Seungcheol frowned sympathetically. “Maybe you should just leave her alone.” Chan’s eyes sprung open and he grimaced, before ruffling the sheets where he sat up on the bed. Seungcheol was settling himself onto his bed, phone in hand and head against the headboard. “Why are you saying that?” 

For a moment, Seungcheol flashed his brown eyes with a hint of ‘oh shit’ in them, before they relaxed and he regained composure. “I don’t know, maybe she just needs some time away from you.” 

A pause swallowed the room. Chan studied his friend with furrowed brows. “Did she talk to you?” 

“Uh-” 

“You know why she’s acting like this!” Chan raised his voice, weeks of frustration crackling in the pit of his stomach. He stood up, so he could tower over Seungcheol’s bed. “Relax, man, I don’t know anything-” 

“You do! Tell me what’s going on, Seungcheol-” Only a few words had been shared, but they’d tugged at the right strings, and suddenly Chan’s muscles were tightened as they buried into Seungcheol’s collar. The older man scowled and wrapped his hands around his roommate’s wrists in warning. Chan’s hold untightened and unscrewed and he slumped in on himself like a piece of paper, “please, Seungcheol, please. I’m going crazy.” 

Seungcheol’s gaze softened. He pushed the boy’s hands away and sat up on the bed, voice a low, solemn grumble. “I can’t tell you.” 

“Fucking please, Seungcheol. What if something happened to her? At that party. I keep thinking about it, how I wasn’t with her, and what if some asshole harassed her or something. I googled it and Google said women can feel lost, lonely and embarrassed over stuff like that,” Chan started pacing. “And then I was thinking what if it was a friend of ours? And maybe that’s why she doesn’t want to tell me, but, of course, I’d support her in anything she told me.” 

Chan stilled in his wandering across the narrow floorspace. “Can you at least tell me she’s okay?” 

All sharp eyes and blonde hair and panted breaths Chan stood in the middle of the room and waited for Seungcheol to tell him that you were okay. Chan would’ve even been at peace with Seungcheol telling him that you never wanted to see him again, fuck, as long as you were fine and you still laughed and smiled, even if it was with Soonyoung and not him.

But the answer didn’t come. Seungcheol frowned and fiddled with his watch. “I don’t think so, man.” 

Whatever ties had held Chan back before snapped. He stood still for maybe three seconds in the unlit room, before his body burst into action and he was scrambling for his jacket and keys.

“Fuck this.” 

Sprinting down monotonous corridors, a hard-headed Chan let wisps of blonde hair flow behind as the air kissed his cheeks. He wore the crease in his brow that had become permanently etched onto his features. Chan had a one track mind; maybe that’s why things didn’t - wouldn’t - work out with Irene. Currently, the record spinning was you and he’d gone damn near insane, so this time he’d made up his mind. He was not leaving until you talked to him. Whisking past door after door in the quiet nighttime, catching Wonwoo exiting some random dorm and smiling sheepishly, he ignored him and braved forward. 

It was not until he was standing right in front of your door that he hesitated. The door framed his figure entirely, trapping him within its confines. What if Seungcheol was right? What if he was making things worse? 

But for Chan, he wasn’t sure that he could go any lower. Every day had become a new rock bottom, every day that you avoided him, every moment wondering what he could have possibly done. He missed your smile. So then he was knocking at your door.

“Fuck off, Soonyoung, I’m not going to anymore interventions!” you yelled, voice hoarse from beyond the door. Intervention? Had you developed a drug problem? He knocked again and heard you groan, before heavy footsteps thumped towards him. 

“What do you want, Soonyo-” you paused, door half-creaked open. Your eyes were two moons, and your nose and cheeks were red. “Chan,” you breathed, voice nasally from a stuffy nose. Chan said nothing, only pushed past you to get inside. You sniffled.

Your heart was a bomb, or maybe a firework. Chan had lit the fuse and standing before him, where he was half lit in the middle of your room, you knew it was only a matter of time before it exploded, chest blazing with a parade of colors for the fourth of July. Because it was him, a greek fucking god in your toy-decorated room, in his sweatpants and a white t-shirt, and it was you, wimpish and thoroughly out of order, in pyjama shorts and a pink sweater. 

“Come. Here.” He wasn’t asking. You nodded and took two steps, and the moment you were within arms reach he enveloped you in his chest. His arms were so strong and warm, one wrapping around your waist and the other bunching up your hair to keep you pressed into him. Your cheek bunched up against his heart, you closed your eyes and heard how fast it was beating. He was scared. 

“Talk to me,” you could hear it, too, the fear. His voice was trembling and even though you couldn’t see his face you could imagine his brown eyes glazed over and lips in a pout. The thought squeezed at your heart. 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. He squeezed his eyes shut at the raspiness in your voice. “Don’t be, just talk to me. Please,” his voice was a wavering breath. He pulled away, head ducking down to peer into your eyes. Your cheeks burned and you looked away, becoming completely enamored with the white of his shirt, just for the sake of not seeing his eyes. Then both his hands were on your cheeks, a little harsh at first, but then softening. “Look at me.” 

He leaned closer, one hand straying from your cheek to hold you by the back of the head. “Look. At. Me.” he gritted his teeth and you felt the warmth of his face hitting yours. You did. You looked at him, saw him again, really, the guy you’d been avoiding and simultaneously praying closer to you standing before you like a kicked puppy. Suddenly you were crying. It felt like he’d turned you inside out. 

“No, no, no, don’t cry, pretty, talk to me, talk to Channie, okay?” he frowned before he was pushing your face closer, nosing your cheek and hair, just a big baby in front of you, with hot and humid breaths on your freshly wetted skin when his lips brushed over it. His hand on the back of your head was only urging you closer, and his back was hunched in a long arch just so he could be with you, as close to you as possible. 

And while his touch was bliss for a moment, the reality of it came crashing down, and your hands waved him off, taking a step back, which Chan followed with a step forward. He looked so hurt, hands held out for you to take but you shook your head.

“Don’t- Don’t do this to me, Chan. Not when-” you were shaking when you reached up to rub over your eyes. “Not when- Not when you have Irene to go back to.” 

“Irene?” He asked incredulously, almost in outrage, almost as if the thought hadn’t even crossed his mind. It spurred you on. “That’s what this is about?” 

“No!” you cried, “Or- yes, I don’t know.” 

Chan was silent for a few moments when you began pacing, hands over your eyes. “You were jealous?” 

“No- That’s not the point!” your lip trembled when you removed your hands and looked at him again, his arms at his sides, now that he didn’t have you to hold.

“We were never going to stop being friends, you know-” his voice was quiet and yours overpowered his easily, when you screamed at him to say: “I didn’t want to be friends!” 

Boom goes the dynamite, indeed. Fireworks filled every crevice of your ribcage.

“Because I love you,” you paused only to flick your eyes over to his, and you sucked in the fear. Your voice shook when you continued: “And I think I have for- for, like, a year? And I only realized on the fourth of July and there you were with Irene, and I just… And I thought if I backed off these feelings would go away, because you obviously don’t-” 

“Irene broke up with me,” his voice was much quieter than yours. You wanted to scream and cry and yell, because what did that matter? Why did that matter when it changed nothing? But then he spoke again: “She broke up with me because I kept thinking about you.” 

Silence. It hit you that Chan was not informing you, he was telling himself this.

“Yeah,” he scratched at the back of his neck and chuckled dryly, “I kept being quiet on our dates, ‘cause I was thinking about you. I guess she sensed it.” 

You were looking at each other in the dim lights. He was so beautiful, cheeks shiny and soft lashes curling over his lids. You sniffled. “Does that mean that you-” 

Yes.

Yes, it did, because before you could even finish your sentence he was taking a step forward and his hand was on your cheek again and this time his lips were on yours and fireworks, fireworks exploded in your chest and on your lips like bursts of static, but this time it wasn’t pained, it was beautiful, and you’re melting into his hold, just as he was yours. Lips moving in perfect unison, he tilted his head down and you tilted yours up, and grabbed his neck, and his other hand slid onto your waist, resting there, as the two of you rocked under the artificial light of your overhead lamp. 

Everything you yearned for was in your hands and you didn't dare to pull away, only whimpering when you ran out of breath, and chasing his lips when he pulled away to breathe. He chuckled, mouth curved upwards in that beautiful smile that you love. You love it, and there’s no point in hiding it. He pressed his forehead against yours and you’re panting into each other’s mouths.

“I love you too,” he said. You grinned, a perfect blush spread across your rounded cheeks, and his heart soared so much that he had to kiss you again, pecking and mumbling it again and again against your lips: “I love you, I love you, I love you.” 

His tongue slid over your lip and you opened your mouth with a squeak. His tongue was wet and warm in your mouth and his hands were suddenly on your hips, pushing them into his. Then he pulled away, blushing himself when a string of spit connects you. “Is this okay?” he asked, so softly, so gently, and you nodded, flushed and out of breath and pathetically desperate.

“Yes,” you whined, “need you so bad.” He cooed when you pressed your hips into his, long fingers brushing hair out of your face. “Channie’s gonna take care of you. Channie’s gonna make it up to you,” and yet again it's almost like he was saying it to himself, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care when he lowered the two of you onto your bed. Hair strands stretched from their roots in your head, when you hit your plush pillow, and you were all shiny and sparkling eyes, laid out before him in a way that he never dared to imagine. “Too pretty,” he whispered, kissing you again. 

He was grinding into you, anchoring himself on your waist and whimpering into the corner of your mouth at the feeling of your warm center through your shorts. “Baby, need you so bad. Can I take this off?” he tugged at your shirt and you nodded, unable to get anything out but whines. He pulled off the pink fabric, marveling at your bare chest before him. Of course, he’d seen it before, in tight shirts, on days where you’d decided to forgo a bra, and he’d always cursed himself for imagining the real thing. “You’re so beautiful,” he cried, as he hit your core just right and he stared at your tits’ slight jiggle. 

“Such a pretty baby, so ready for me, can I touch them, please, please?” he was babbling, somehow already pussydrunk, but you were no better, eyebrows cinched together in pleasure, nodding without even an ounce of hesitation at his request. He groped at your chest, thumbs brushing over the hardened buds, before he ducked his head down to suck on one. You’re gasping, as his tongue flicked over you, hands tangling themselves in his hair, moaning his name into the air. He hummed loudly, and you felt a thick glob of wetness escape your pussy at just the sight of him, hunched over you like a wild animal, panting into your chest.

“You’re so pretty,” you whispered and he let go of your tit with a small ‘pop’, lifting his head to look at you. He was grinning ear to ear, face still hovering over your chest. “Am I?” and suddenly he was so cocky, hand cupping your heat through your shorts, and watching as you buck into his hand with a strangled moan. “Needy girl, need pretty Channie to touch you, hm?” He teased, fingers gently rubbing over the fabric of your damp shorts.

“Please,” you whined, thrashing in the sheets, desperate enough to cry. He cooed and shushed you, hovering over you by one, strong arm: “Shh, sweetheart, shh, I know. I got you, I’ll make you feel good.” As much as Chan wanted to make you beg, he was desperate too, and he couldn’t help the slight guilt of what you’d been through. The thought almost made him frown, but he pushed it away and peeled off your shorts and underwear in one swoop. 

You cried out when his fingers were finally sliding through your folds. Your eyes, half closed, flicked up to see him, gaze trained on your core in amazement. “You’re so wet, baby,” he purred, spreading the warm slick up to your clit to start circling it with two fingers. “Just for you- Mngh!” 

He plunged two fingers into you with ease, wetness coating his fingers to let them slide in. You were panting and thrashing and moaning his name, and he just watched with the biggest hardon he’d ever had, how he made you feel good and how pretty you were, and how much he never wanted to pull his fingers out of your sopping wet heat. 

“Do you want my fingers in your mouth?” he asked, and you squeezed your eyes shut and nodded vigorously. “Hey, hey,” the fingers that weren’t plunging in and out of you and curling into your pussy’s sweet spot, squeezed your chin. Your eyelashes fluttered open, and you stared at him with blown out eyes. “You gotta look at me while you do it.” 

Then his fingers prodded at your lips, and you opened them with a whine, willing yourself to keep them open, to see how he smiled adoringly down at you. They were filling you just right, one hand stuck in your pussy and the in your mouth, teasing over your tongue. Your orgasm was approaching, knotting in your stomach, embarrassingly fast. 

He groaned at the sight of you, looking up at him with huge, adoring eyes while sucking his fingers. “Fuck, fuck, good girl, such a good, appreciative girl, taking my fingers wherever she can.” You clenched around him at that, and he chuckled knowingly. “Yeah, you like being my good girl? Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum in my fucking pants.” 

You released his fingers only to moan - almost scream - his name, as you came around his fingers, curling into you and working you through your orgasm. “That’s it, sweetheart. Cum on Channie’s fingers. Look so pretty when you cum.” 

You were still dazed on your bed in the glimmering aftermath of your post-orgasm, when you heard Chan shuffling beside you, and then he was leaning over you once again, shirt and pants discarded and cock proud and stiff and leaking precum onto your stomach. You groaned at the sight, hand trailing over his exposed stomach, where abs dipped and rose, glistening softly. Then your thumb caressed and pressed against his slit and he hissed, dropping his head into the crook of your neck. 

He nosed at your neck, pecking a little, before speaking, voice too strained and too pretty: “Can I fuck you, baby? Please, please, I need to feel you around me so bad.” He had shut his eyes tight, fighting the urge to grab hold of your back and press your tits into his chest.

“Please,” you came back equally as whiny, writhing in his hold, where his thumb was rubbing soft circles in your hip bone. “Please, wan’ your cock. Need it.” He smiled into your neck, grabbing your head and kissing your cheek. “So cute.” 

You felt the head of his cock slide through your still impossibly wet folds, then pressing against your entrance. You were murmuring his name over and over and he was panting into your neck and licking a stripe of wet glistening saliva onto it, as he began to push in. 

You were writhing so much he had to place his hands on your hips to still you, whispering soft reassurances until he was pushed all the way, clit pushed into his abdomen. You’re so full, you can’t stop the wanton moans at the feeling of his pretty, red cock, every bulge and vein pressed against your gummy walls. “You’re so fucking tight,” he spat, fearful that he’d spill his load into you immediately from the way you were clenching him. Then, slowly, he was rocking into you and the both of you were clambering onto one another. Your hands found his neck, his hair, his flexing biceps, and his your hips, waist, boob, and then clambering up to hold your face and look into your eyes. 

“Look at me,” you almost didn’t catch the way he repeated those words from before, but you looked into his brown orbs, blonde hair curling over and tickling your forehead. “So fucking pretty, so cute, my little cumslut. Say you want my cum, baby, please, say it.” 

“Wan’ your cum!” you cried, as he angled his cock inside you to press into that spongy spot. He was giving in to all his wants at your words, pulling you up by pressing his arms under your back, so your tits pressed against his chest, and he was nosing at your face again, trailing kisses everywhere he could reach. “So good for me, so pretty, all mine. Fuck, sweetheart.” 

“All yours,” you babbled mindlessly, when his hand snaked between your bodies to rub circles into your clit. “Cum for me, cum for me, baby.” 

His thrusts were growing sloppy, and you felt the knot tightening in you once more, pulled tight and ready to snap. “Cum, cum, come on, my pretty darling. Fuck, Y/n, I love you!” 

At those words you came, pussy pulsating around his cock and clenching so tight, he was unsure if he could even pull out in time. He did though, pulling out just in time to see his seed spill all over your soft stomach. 

Panting and out of breath, his arms gave out and he collapsed on top of you, body covering yours. “Ugh,” you groaned and looked up at you, laughing softly. “Chan, you’re heavy,” you complained. “I’m a weighted blanket,” he countered, but climbed off of you anyway, lying down next to you. You looked at him, with the side profile of a god, and his blonde hair tousled and chest rising and falling.

“You are pretty,” you said, and you could almost cry when he looked at you and blushed. 

“You should’ve just told me,” he whispered, turning his head to gaze at you. You frowned and nodded. “But it doesn't matter now,” he reassured, one hand climbing from the sloping, bunched up duvet and running his hand through your hair. He tilted his gaze towards your cum covered stomach, some of it having smeared onto himself, and he pushed himself off the bed. "I'll get a towel."

Naked and divine, he disappeared into your small bathroom.

“Oh, God..” you groaned suddenly, face morphing into anguish.

“What?” Chan called from the bathroom.

“Soonyoung is going to be the most insufferable person on the planet when he finds out about this."