Choi Seungcheol X Reader - Tumblr Posts

The Sweater - One

-> Pairing: Choi Seungcheol x Y/n

-> Summary: In the midst of a storm, Y/n and Seungcheol find warmth and comfort in each other's arms. As they cuddle, Y/n comes to the realisation that with Seungcheol by her side, no storm—literal or metaphorical—can shake the foundation of their relationship.

-> Word count: 732

-> Author's note: Hey guys, this is the first time I'm posting something for others to read so I'm sorry if it's not that good, I still have a lot to learn when it comes to writing. English is also not my first language so excuse me if there are any grammar errors or mistakes. I hope anyone who reads it likes it and I would appreciate some feedback and/or constructive criticism. Thank you :)

read on ao3

A storm raged outside, the wind howling and the rain harshly lashing against the floor to ceiling windows of Seungcheol's cozy apartment. Inside, the atmosphere was warm and inviting, starkly contrasting the chaos happening beyond the apartment's walls. Seungcheol and Y/n sat on the dark blue couch placed in the centre of the living room, wrapped in a big, knitted blanket, watching a movie. Or at least, trying to — Y/n was finding it hard to focus on what was happening in the tv in front of her, her thoughts drifting to the comforting presence of the person beside her.

Lightning flashed once more, briefly illuminating the room and Y/n shivered, not from the cold but from the intensity of the storm that had already been going on for a few hours. She turned her head towards Seungcheol, who was too engrossed in the film to even pay attention to whatever may be happening outside, his arm lightly but comfortingly resting around her shoulders. Seeing how focused he was, she hesitated for a moment, feeling somewhat shy despite their recent transition from friends to something more romantic.

"Cheollie," she said softly, after taking a deep breath, her voice being almost drowned out by a particularly loud clap of thunder.

He immediately turned to her, concern flashing in his eyes and worry etched on his face. "Yeah? What happened?"

She bit her lip, feeling her cheeks flushing under his gaze. "Can I borrow one of your sweaters? Maybe the one you wore yesterday?"

Her request made Seungcheol blink, slightly puzzled but not unwilling. "Of course you can, love. But why do you want that one? Not that it got dirty yesterday, but would you not rather wear a washed one?"

Y/n shyly ducked her head, feeling a bit silly for a moment before gathering enough courage to explain. "It smells like you. It's...comforting."

Seungcheol's expression finally softened into a tender and loving smile, dimples on full display. "I'd be happy to go get it for you." He said before he stood and walked in the direction of his bedroom, returning just a few moments later with the pink sweater she had asked for. As he handed it to her, their fingers brushed, sending a tingle up her arm.

"Here you go," he uttered, before sitting back down on the couch beside her. "You know, you're welcome to anything of mine, anytime. You don't have to be nervous about asking me for something."

Y/n pulled the sweatshirt over her head, being immediately enveloped in the scent of Seungcheol's cologne mixed with something so uniquely him that it made her feel warm inside and she could swear she felt her heart swell with love and admiration for the man beside her. She sighed contentedly before snuggling back into his side. "Thank you, Cheol. You don't know how much better this makes me feel."

He pulled her close once more, this time wrapping both arms around her to cuddle more comfortably. "I'm glad, love. I kind of like seeing you wearing my clothes you know? They suit you." He told her, admiring the way his sweater fell on her, the hem reaching her thighs that were covered with a pair of thick sweatpants.

His admission made her laugh softly, the sound being once again almost lost in a loud rumble of thunder but still able to reach his ears and making his expression soften even more, a fond look making its way to his eyes. "Do you really?" She asked him quietly.

"Yeah...I really, really do," he affirmed, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head. "You can keep it, if you want it."

At this Y/n looked up at him, letting him see how her eyes sparkled even in the dim lighting of the room. "I think I might just do that."

They settled back into a comfortable silence, the movie playing on tv now being mostly ignored, as the two basked in each other's embrace. Wrapped in her lover's sweater, Y/n felt a sense of security and happiness she hadn't felt in a long time and in that moment, she was sure that no matter what, no storm would ever be able to destroy the life they were just starting to build together. And with Seungcheol by her side, she knew that they would be able to overcome whatever challenges may head their way, as long as they have each other.

All Rights Reserved © yoonjoongles // do not copy or modify my work in any way.

The Sweater - Two

-> Pairing: Choi Seungcheol x Y/n

-> Summary: After a stormy night together, Y/n and Cheol share cozy moments over hot chocolate and cuddles with Cheol's dog, Kkuma, after waking up to a peaceful morning filled with love.

-> Word count: 1250

-> Part 1

  read on ao3

As the storm continued outside, the movie playing came to an end, filling the room with the soft hum of the TV and the occasional crack of thunder. Y/n and Seungcheol sat in comfortable silence, the warmth of their closeness making the howling wind seem distant and unimportant. Kkuma laid curled up at their feet, her presence adding an extra layer of warmth to the cozy scene.

Seungcheol shifted slightly, drawing his lover’s attention. He turned to face her, his eyes shining with affection. “How about we make some hot chocolate?” he suggested with a smile tugging at his lips.

He watched as Y/n’s face lit up with enthusiasm. “That sounds perfect. I’ll get the cocoa and marshmallows while you grab the mugs and the milk?”

Without waiting for a reply, they disentangled themselves from the blanket, and Y/n very reluctantly slipped out of Seungcheol’s cozy sweater as to not get it dirty in the kitchen. She carefully folded it and set it aside, silently promising herself she’d put it back on once they settled on the couch again. Kkuma followed them to the kitchen, her tail wagging happily Together, they moved to the large kitchen of Seungcheol’s apartment, working in tandem with an ease that clearly spoke of their growing connection.

As Seungcheol heated the milk on the stove, Y/n rummaged through the cabinets for the cocoa and marshmallows. She quickly managed to find the cocoa but had to stand on her tiptoes to reach the bag of fluffy marshmallows on the top shelf. Seungcheol chuckled lightly as he noticed her struggle and stepped in, easily grabbing the bag and handing it to her.

“Thanks,” Y/n said, smiling up at him.

“No problem,” he replied, leaning down to plant a quick gentle kiss on her forehead. “Teamwork, right?”

She grinned. “That’s right.”

With the milk warmed, they mixed in the cocoa and poured the steaming liquid into two large mugs. Y/n topped them off with a generous handful of marshmallows, watching as they began to melt not the rich chocolate. The couple returned to the living room, mugs in hand, and settled back onto the couch, wrapping the blanket around them once more, while Kkuma hopped onto the couch and snuggled between them, content to be part of the warm cocoon. After settling down, Y/n pulled her boyfriend’s sweater back over her head, savoring its warmth and the comforting scent that lingered.

For a while the two sipped their hot chocolate in silence, enjoying the simple pleasure of being together after a week of working hard and barely seeing each other in the process. The storm seemed to be calming outside, the thunder growing distant and the rain turning into a gentle patter against the windows.

Y/n leaned her head on Seungcheol’s shoulder, feeling a sense of contentment she hadn’t known in a long time. “This is nice,” she murmured. “I could get used to this.”

Seungcheol tightened his arm around her, his thumb moving to trace comforting circles on her arm. “Me too. I love having you here.”

She tilted her head to be able to look up at him, her heart swelling in her chest at the tenderness she found in his eyes. “I love being here.”

He grinned, leaning down to capture her lips in a gentle kiss. When they parted, he rested his forehead against hers. “How about we make this a regular thing? Hot chocolate, stormy nights, my sweater, Kkuma of course, you and I?”

As the last of the storm faded in the night, they sat together, wrapped in each other and the promise of many more nights like this to come. Kkuma yawned and nestled closer to them, a content sigh escaping her.

The next morning dawned clear and bright, the storm having left behind a fresh feeling in the air. The sunlight filtered through the curtains, gently waking Y/n before Seungcheol. She stretched lazily, feeling the cozy weight of his sweater still around her body. Kkuma was already awake, wagging her tail happily as she realized Y/n was getting up.

Careful not to disturb him, Y/n slipped out of bed and padded her way to the kitchen to get started on making some coffee. As she waited for the pot to brew, she took a moment to glance around Seungcheol’s apartment, her gaze softening at the familiar sight, and she realized how at home she felt there. Every small detail, from the mismatched mugs to the several picture frames hanging on the walls containing photos of the SEVENTEEN members, Seungcheol’s family and even some of the two of them together from the time when the two were still only friends, spoke of Seungcheol’s personality and their growing bond.

The coffee maker beeped, and Y/n poured two cups, adding just the right amount of sugar to Seungcheol’s, before carrying them back to the bedroom, the scent of fresh coffee filling the air. Seungcheol was stirring, his hair adorably tousled, and his eyes opened to find her standing there with a warm smile on her face and two steaming mugs.

“Good morning,” she said softly, as if scared to break the comfortable atmosphere in the room, before handing him his coffee.

“Good morning,” he replied, sitting up and accepting the mug. He took a sip, sighing contentedly. “You make the best coffee.”

Y/n laughed, settling back into bed beside him. “It’s just coffee, Cheol.”

“Not when you make it,” he insisted, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her close.

They sat against the headboard, enjoying their coffee and the quiet morning for a while. Kkuma jumped onto the bed, nuzzling between them and making them both laugh. Eventually, Seungcheol broke the silence. “I was thinking,” he began, a hint of nervousness in his voice.

“About what?” Y/n asked, looking at him.

“Well,” he said, setting his mug down on the bedside table and turning to face her fully, “I’m always so happy with you here, and last night, despite the storm, felt so right. I was wondering…how would you feel about staying more often? Maybe…permanently?”

Y/n’s heart skipped a beat. She hadn’t expected this so soon, after all they had just been dating for close to 8 months, but as she looked into his earnest and hopeful eyes, she felt warmth spread through her. The idea of making this place their shared home, of waking uup to him and Kkuma every day, filled her with joy.

“I’d love that, Cheollie,” she said, her voice filled with emotion and her eyes shining with love and affection. “I’d love to move in with you.”

As soon as the words left her mouth his face broke into the widest grin, and he pulled her into a tight hug. “You’ve just made me so happy.”

Y/n laughed, hugging him back. “I’m glad I can make you as happy as you always make me.”

They spent the rest of the morning planning and discussing what was needed to make the transition as smooth as possible, especially considering Y/n’s cat Loki and how Kkuma would react to having a new element in her house. They talked about which of Y/n’s things would fit in the apartment, where they would need to rearrange furniture, and even joked about negotiating closet space, while Kkuma, as if sensing the excitement present in the air, bounced around them, her joy evident.

As they shared their plans and dreams, the bond between them grew stronger with the promise of a future together.

All Rights Reserved © yoonjoongles // do not copy or modify my work in any way.

Divider by @bunnysrph

The Sweater

Y/n and Seungcheol find warmth and comfort in each other’s arms, and as they cuddle, Y/n comes to the realisation that with Seungcheol by her side, no storm—literal or metaphorical—can shake the foundation of their relationship.

— One

— Two

All Rights Reserved © yoonjoongles // do not copy or modify my work in any way.

feeling this as an only child. as someone who doesn't remember much of her childhood, because she didn't have anyone to share it with. as someone who thinks thrice before speaking and then decided to not speak about it anyway. someone who still has the imaginary friends she created when she was little.

having someone like seungcheol here would be the biggest blessing someone like me could ever have. still waiting for it

"you deserve way better than this", seungcheol says beside you. his attention is on the road in front of him as he drives, so he doesn't actually realize the moment you look at him.

you watch him, dressed in all black, golden watch in his left wrist, brown fluffy hair pushed back by his sunglasses. he's driving his amazing, expensive car, looking glorious at 28 years old - it looks like he has everything figured out, while you clearly haven't got there yet.

"and i mean it", he insists when you don't say anything. "you always take care of everyone around you - hell, you even take care of me -, so you don't have to do this if you don't want to. it's your life we're talking about, if they really care about you they will understand you."

it was so much easier said than done, right? as your best friend, cheol knows everything that's going on in your life; he's your number #1 supporter, always ready to cheer for you, to scold you when needed, to laugh and cry with you at any moment. it only seems natural, for him, to think that that's the standard for you, what you deserve. but you know better than that - you know not everyone will love you and protect you and understand you like he does.

and that includes your family.

"it's not that simple, cheol", you shake your head. "they need me, so i gotta help."

"you always help, yn!"

"well, because they've always helped me too!"

"and that's the point you're missing", seungcheol sighs. "if you tell me you're fine doing whatever they need you to do, that you're 100% sure, then it's okay - i'll even help you. but if it's gonna mess up your life, make you helpless, but you're still doing it because you feel like you owe them something, then it's my job to intervene and tell you to get your shit together."

it's your time to sigh, looking straight ahead at the road.

"they're your family, i get it, i love them too. but you can't. solve. people's. problems", seungcheol slightly hits the steering wheel at every word, just to make his point clearer.

"they need me to be the big person, so that's what i'm gonna do", you reply, crossing your arms.

cheol sighs one more time - he isn't surprised, to be honest. you're just as stubborn as he is, just as tough as he is, and that's why you two work so well as best friends, as siblings, almost.

"you're always the big person", he whispers, defeated. because he knows how tiring it can be, to be the adult, to take care of people, to solve everything when the ones who should be solving it act like kids.

but he's your best friend, after all. so he wasn't going anywhere, not when you would probably need him the most.

a/n: this is for everyone who's an only child and has to be the voice of reason sometimes, take care of your family sometimes, make decisions and take responsibilities you shouldn't need to sometimes. we got this. you ain't alone. ❤️🍒

this is the first thing I read today and I would now like to spontaneously combust.

"hey", seungcheol says with a smile, pulling you in for a quick peck.

"how are y-"

but wait, is something different in you?

"wait, wait", he raises his hand, pulling you in and kissing you again.

yeah, something's different.

"what?"

"did you change your chapstick?", it's cute how seungcheol licks his own lips, a puzzled look on his face as he tilts his head.

"yeah", you laugh. "i didn't think you would notice though."

he almost looks offended.

"of course i would! i liked the watermelon flavor."

"yeah, well, i ran out of it and couldn't find it anywhere, it's out of stock..."

seungcheol smiles, hands on the small of your back pressing you against him.

"it's okay", he kisses you once again, harder this time, and you could swear this is just an excuse of his to keep kissing you. "i really like cherry too."

three men and a slut

=͟͟͞➳❥ member  |  seungcheol x vernon x chan x fem reader

=͟͟͞➳❥ genre  |  smut

=͟͟͞➳❥ word count  |  ~2,700

=͟͟͞➳❥ warnings  |  foursome, car sex, dom!cheol, sub!vernon, sub!chan, switch!reader, pet names (princess, puppy, baby, good girl), name calling (slut, whore), possessive cheol, fingering, oral (m receiving), exhibitionism, voyeurism, humiliation, degradation, a little manhandling, some choking, a teeny bit of objectification ?, masturbation (m), creampie (they don't discuss birth control so BE SAFE), no mentions of alcohol but it's kinda implied they're a little tipsy, they're still aware enough to consent though!!, there's no clear relationships but it's mentioned that cheol & reader used to hook up, this is just really rough and nasty car sex, if i missed any please lmk!

=͟͟͞➳❥ notes  |  lowercase intended. this is technically the first threesome (well- foursome) i've written so feedback would be really helpful! also i don't usually write sub!idol just bc i personally am not experienced being a dom so that's why i usually write sub!reader, but for this i wanted to try writing it :) also don't laugh at my title i think i'm very clever and funny

this is written completely targeted at @duhnova i hope you suffer (lovingly) merry christmas heathen <3 please note since this was written with nova in mind it may have some things that not everybody enjoys so don't feel obligated to read if it's not something you're into! everybody has different tastes. for those that read it, i hope you like it hehe - 💒 june

minors dni - you will be blocked.

“chan will be here– soon,” you call behind you, stumbling over a crack in the sidewalk as you walk to go sit at a bench outside the club. 

vernon follows behind you, his jacket slung over his shoulder. “are you… coming back to my place?”

“mhm!” you giggle, sloppily pressing your lips against his. your tongue delves into his mouth as he whimpers, his hands falling to your hips and squeezing, pulling you against him so you can feel he's already half hard.

with public indecency charges the furthest thing from your mind, you’re almost considering undressing him right here and now, until a pair of bright white lights engulfs you and a shrill honk sounds behind you.

reluctantly you pull away from vernon, and he quickly reaches out to wipe the little bit of drool from your mouth as you turn towards the black suv.

“hiii, channie!” you sing out as you fling open the back door, vernon teetering after you.

he smiles, calling your name. "so where am i taking you now? your house, or vernon's?"

"mine," vernon says, helping you into the car with a grin before sliding into the passenger seat himself.

the drive starts out fine. until you look up at vernon in the front seat, hooded eyes watching the streetlights go by, and you begin thinking to yourself how pretty his face would be when you sit on his cock.

so you tell him so.

"you wanna… what?" he says, turning around in his seat to face you, his cheeks dusted with pink.

"well, it's not like i haven't before," you frown, scooching to the edge of your seat so you can lean forward to hear him better.

vernon sighs. "not in front of chan, though."

“you know i can hear you guys, right? i’m literally right here,” chan mutters, his eyes glued to the road. “now sit back in the seat and put your seatbelt on, or i’ll pull over.”

“well, you can join,” you sulk, but you slide back into the seat. “you don’t have to be so grouchy about it. do you want me to suck your dick? you probably have a really nice dick, too, would probably fit so nice in my mouth."

vernon whines about something in the front seat, but you can’t hear him, so you lean forward again to hear him. chan sees you out of the corner of his eye and glares at you, turning off at the next freeway exit and pulling into the first empty parking lot.

“can you just– do whatever it is you need to do so i can take you home safely?” he asks, exasperated.

“sure, if you don’t mind watching. or participating,” you say, already climbing up over the center console to sit yourself on vernon’s lap before chan can say anything.

you’re already starting to grind down onto him, but vernon stills your hips and looks over at chan, then back at you. “baby, we can wait til we get back home. don't make him watch if he doesn't want to."

you pout. “no, i want him to watch,” you whine, sliding your hands along vernon’s arms. “want him to see how good you make me feel.”

you look at vernon, and vernon looks over at chan. he coughs awkwardly, his face a bright shade of red that's only half visible in the moonlight. "i… never said i didn't wanna watch," he says finally.

"see! told you," you tell vernon, smacking his shoulder lightly. 

you turn back to face them, both their eyes watching you intently.

"so. who wants to do what first?"

while you’ve been caught up with the two men in the car with you, at the other end of the parking lot, seungcheol is just locking up at his closing shift.

the lot is empty, except for one car a few rows down from his, which is… odd, considering it’s after three in the morning. and when he looks closer, he notices they’ve got their hazard lights on. 

so of course, he can’t just leave without checking it out. somebody might be in trouble.

and somebody is in trouble. you, for cumming without permission, as vernon’s fingers are deep inside your cunt and you lean across the seat to bob your head up and down on chan’s lap.

“can feel you throbbing on my fingers,” vernon moans. he leans his head forward to kiss your hip, but it quickly turns into a bite, his teeth skimming over your ass as he sucks deep bruises into your skin. 

seungcheol is just about to knock on the window and ask if whoever’s inside needs help, when his jaw falls open at the sight in front of him. oh, the way his eyes go wide when he sees your ass, plastered against the passenger side window, your dripping pussy spread open on display with vernon’s fingers shoved into you for anyone who might walk by to see; your pretty lips wrapped around the driver’s girthy cock, spit pooling around the base of it from how hard you’re sucking.

you’re all so consumed with each other, drinking in how pretty you all look all fucked out already, that you don’t even notice your friend watching until vernon moans, rolling his head to the side and seeing seungcheol standing outside, face contorted with emotion.

vernon leans over to tap your shoulder to get your attention, then motions to the window, finally sliding his fingers out of you and wiping your wetness on your breasts.

you turn around, drool trickling from the corners of your mouth as you wipe your hand across your face, smearing it across your chin. you break into a grin and sit back onto vernon’s lap, reaching behind you to open his door. “hi, cheollie.”

chan looks up, breathing heavily as he struggles to recover from the feeling of your perfect, wet little mouth on him. “yo-you know him?” he pants.

“we… used to hook up,” seungcheol says, and if you weren’t so distracted by a million other things you might have noticed the cold tone to his voice. “looks like you’ve moved on, huh, princess?”

“and what if i have?” you giggle, raising an eyebrow daringly.

he tsks, his features morphing into a look you know all too well. “if i’d have known i’d see you tonight, i would’ve brought your collar, puppy,” he says with a sly grin that has vernon and chan’s mouths falling open in shock.

you sit back, placing your hands on vernon's chest. "well, you can join in, too. don't be a brat now, cheollie."

he scoffs. "princess, i think the only brat here is you."

you roll your eyes and point to the back door as you wrap your hand around vernon's cock, slowly beginning to move up and down. "door's unlocked. take it or leave it."

seungcheol just smirks, taking off his jacket and yanking open the door to slide into the backseat.

vernon whimpers as you curl your hand around him, the tips of your manicured nails gently scraping down his length as he bucks up into your hand.

you bring your other hand up to his cheek to kiss him. "you're the lucky one tonight, darling," you tell him. "you get to fuck me."

he groans, and he swears he'll cum on the spot, but then you're sinking down onto his cock and the car fills with his pretty sounds.

as he starts to find a rhythm, you lean back over and reattach your mouth to chan’s cock, painfully hard from so much happening all at once. precum drools from his tip, red and throbbing, and he sighs in relief when you finally begin to swirl your tongue around him.

cheol positions himself in the backseat, muscular legs spread wide as he watches three pretty little sluts whining in the front seat.

he's fine with sitting back and observing for now. he's fucked you enough times, had you in so many positions before, that it's almost nice to have the chance to see someone else ruin you.

but of course, both you and he know that no one makes you cum like he does; even these two cute men you have fawning over you every move, they can't make you scream their names like you would his.

so for now he sits back, patiently waiting for his turn, so he can show these two what it really means to give someone pleasure.

"i'm so close, bab–princess," vernon moans, correcting himself automatically after hearing the names seungcheol called you by earlier.

you clench around him, not used to hearing the familiar word on his lips.

"please, m'bout to cum, can i…" he pants, "…inside? please, i–"

"no."

the deep, stern voice that comes from the backseat is so unexpected, vernon's hips stutter, his orgasm falling away in a matter of seconds.

"you don't get to cum inside," cheol says, finally moving to unbuckle his pants and slip them onto the floor. "that's my job, and my job only." his hard cock slaps against his stomach, aching at the feeling of finally being freed from his pants.

"come on back here, slut," he says gruffly, motioning with two fingers. the same fingers you've had stuffed in your mouth, your cunt, every one of your holes, and that you can't help but imagine cumming on again– even after you've cum so many times already.

you whine but you comply, lifting your hips and letting vernon's cock slip out of you as he lets out a long, low groan.

he twists around in his seat, watching you climb back into the backseat.

"well, what are we supposed to do now?" he whines, gripping his cock with one hand.

"watch," seungcheol barks out, and to your surprise, vernon obeys, sitting back in his seat without complaining, his neck craned behind him to see what you're doing.

cheol grabs you by your shoulders and manhandles you into the seat on all fours, one hand wrapped around the back of your neck.

you wiggle your ass and he gives it a smack, so loud it cuts through the air.

"you ready, little brat?" he growls, rubbing at your skin where his slap left a mark.

"ple-ase?" you whimper, exaggerating the word. it's nowhere near as much begging as he'd usually require, but he's still a guest in this car, so he lets it go. if you ever call him for another late-night fuck, he'll be sure to make you beg twice as hard to make up for it then.

with one hand still grasping your neck, he uses his other hand to line himself up with you, finally pushing into you and bottoming out with one thrust.

he laughs at the way you whine, your hands gripping onto the edge of the seat. "forgotten what it's like to have a real cock in you, hm?" he teases.

you vaguely register vernon whimpering from the front seat, and out of the corner of your eye you can see his hand jerking up and down rapidly, no doubt building himself back up to the orgasm that cheol ruined just minutes ago.

cheol doesn't move, so you begin pushing your hips back against his, setting your own pace as he simply sits there, letting you fuck yourself on him.

but, as you're used to with him, he only allows you to do this for a minute or two before he's gripping your neck more tightly and thrusting into you.

you yelp at the sudden change of pace, your head falling forward as you hang onto the seat beneath you for dear life.

"you like it like this, don't you?" he groans, his hips slamming against yours so hard you're sure they'll leave your ass bruised when he’s finished. "my little whore, so greedy for a nice, thick cock, you'll do anything, won't you?"

you know he's expecting an answer, but his brutal pace barely allows you time to breathe, let alone speak. so all you can do is whimper in agreement, trying your best to nod but getting lost in the motion of his perfectly angled thrusts that have your knees shaking.

"three of us here with our own personal slut, to use however we want," he continues, giving your ass another hard slap that makes you clench around him.

with quite a bit of effort, you manage to lift your head to see how your other partners are doing.

vernon is still turned around, intensely focused on watching you, and he still has his hand around his cock, pumping furiously. his eyes dart back and forth between your cunt, where cheol is relentlessly fucking into you, and your face, where your features are probably scrunched up in pleasure.

chan must've just cum, and for a second you're disappointed you missed it– you would've loved to have seen the pretty faces he makes when his orgasm overtakes him. but then you see the way his head falls back against the headrest, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath, and you're just happy you get to see him like this afterwards. both his hand and the steering wheel in front of him are covered in thick, white ropes.

one particularly well-timed thrust brings your attention back to the man fucking you, your arms buckling and you fall to your elbows, back arched and ass in the air.

"are you gonna cum, little slut?" he coos, his voice deceivingly sweet. "go on, princess, cum all over my cock."

and like magic you feel your walls contract at his words, an orgasm you didn't even see coming hitting you with so much force you nearly fall off the seat. 

it feels like your high lasts forever, wave after wave of immense pleasure slamming into you as cheol fucks you through your orgasm, not once letting up.

he leans over you, wrapping one muscular arm around your body and holding you close. "you still want me to cum inside?" he breathes into your ear, and you nod rapidly, humming out a 'yes' as best you can.

"p-please, ch-cheollie…" you murmur, your eyes squeezed shut as you struggle to recover. "wanna f-feel you. wanna be f-full of you."

"good girl." you can feel him smile against your skin before he lets go, sitting back up and bringing both his hands to your hips, giving him more momentum to push himself into you.

every thrust starts hitting deeper than the last, a telltale sign he's getting close, too.

with a guttural moan he buries his cock in you one last time, pushing in all the way to the hilt before you hear him let go and you can feel each rope of thick cum that he pumps into you.

when he's finally finished cumming, he lets out a long exhale, his hands gliding over your body soothingly. he stays inside you for another minute before he pulls out, his cum already beginning to leak out of you, spilling down your trembling thighs. immediately you push your fingers into yourself to keep it in, and cheol grins. "mm. good, obedient whore," he coos, the sweetness in his voice no longer fake as he leaves one more playful smack to your aching rear.

you look up to see vernon, who came all over himself, his shirt stained with white as he sits in the passenger seat, eyes fluttering shut.

chan, having gotten over his orgasm earlier, is pouting in the driver's seat, complaining about how he's going to have to deep-clean his car again after it's been thoroughly covered in cum.

and finally, cheol. he slips his pants back on, struggling a bit in the cramped space, then opens the back door and hops out of the car.

he nods at the two in the front. "nice meeting you. now take good care of her."

vernon opens his mouth to say something, but quickly closes it, deciding not to. 

seungcheol waves behind him as he walks across the lot to his car.

"you know where to find me if you want me again."

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˗ˋˏ Impressions ˎˊ˗ | 18+ Only

synopsis: as impressionable as the scent he wears, he is the standout in a crowd of many. and you can't help but to inhale him deeply before the night fades away.

pairing: csc x reader

genre: smut, pwp

tags: alcohol, food & drinks, nightclub, diner | dirty talk, betting, bathroom sex, public sex, unprotected sex, creampie

wc: 2.2k

message from nu: ... -nu

lipglossjun's masterlist

If colognes come with an impressionability meant to outlast their wear time, then the person who wears the fragrance must be as impressionable as the scent, if not more.

Vanilla-scented fog machine haze, alcohol on one’s breath, rancid body odor mixed with humidity, and puffs of fruity vape smoke settle in the club’s atmosphere. There are more bills on the ground than in people’s wallets, and people dance dangerously close with no thoughts of tomorrow – neon paper wristbands strapped around right wrists that clash terribly with meticulously planned club outfits. Shoes pound against the sticky dark hardwood floors within the command of the beat of the music. Each passing hour spent in the club is more suffocating than the last – that is, if you’re having an awful time.

Unmistakably attractive, with an allure that could cause sirens to stare, Choi Seungcheol wears himself proudly – at times a little too proudly – disparate from the foul mélange of scents lingering in the air at the nightclub. His physical impressionability causes onlookers to notice his presence before they recognize the scent that follows him. He is the one who makes the scent a signature, never letting the scent overshadow him, refusing to be passive.

Long fingers daintily cover the opening of his cold Old Fashioned, the citrus twist sinking to the bottom of the glass cup as he leans in to listen to your agreement. And when his left ear appears before your lips, you breathe him in – traces of Angostura mixed with whiskey against your skin, and the intoxicating, sultry, musky oakmoss and patchouli lingering in the space where he moves.

When your answer touches his ear, he nods his head and knocks back the remaining of his semi-diluted cocktail in a fluid motion. He swallows the liquid without taking a breath, feeling the liquid rush down his throat in a fiery sprint that blossoms and erupts in his chest. Pausing for a moment, he plucks the orange peel from the bottom of his cup and holds it up to your parted lips, teasing you, testing you under the flashing strobe lights.

He watches you with a heavy film of lust as you slowly swirl the peel with your tongue, sucking the remaining alcohol from the rough and dimpled skin. The action leaves his mouth dry, not a single syllable able to fall out of his mouth. And all he can do is to drop the peel back into the empty glass and tilt his head towards the exit as you cling onto him – an acquaintance-turned-lover for the night.

If you weren’t already intoxicated enough, you watch him smirk while he pulls you closer to him in the backseat of the yellow cab, oversized silk satin shirt against your sheer black top, overwhelming your senses. Kisses plant along your jawline and soft finger pads graze your open skin. Street lights flash onto your lap through the window in a steady tempo as the car continues its journey to the edge of nowhere. The cacophony of downtown nightlife on a typical Friday night fades behind you before the night can even begin to end.

Near the entrance of the diner, an elderly couple sits facing each other. One of them sips from a small mug of hot black coffee, slurping instead of blowing to dissipate the heat. The other pokes at a cold plate of grits, judgmental eyes squinting at the clothes you wear, the silver chains layered around his neck.

It’s a booth at the far end of the diner, sectioned off and without any view of what’s outside. But the two of you don’t care – within the vicinity of the diner, there’s nothing but a national chain gas station on the other side of the street and miles of highways. The wooden table wobbles and feels sticky to the touch. Customers have to pry the laminated menus from the table’s surface in order to flip to the Extras section in the back. Edward Hopper’s Nighthawks hangs on the alabaster wall behind Seungcheol, trapped in the wrong era while pop music from the 2010s plays softly through the speakers, making the diner more of a liminal space than it should be.

The waitress swats at a tiny fruit fly while taking your order, telling you it’ll take a while before your food gets out – only one chef is working the night shift today. It’s a bit odd of her to let her customers know about the wait time before asking for their orders, but she seems kind. Compliment her acrylics that clack against her ballpoint pen, and she’ll beam, fanning out her fingers to look at the iridescent stones that sit on top of every other finger – tells you her little sister is going to be so happy to hear your compliment. People unknowingly reveal too much about themselves to strangers. She likes his menu choice – asks how he would like his eggs.

“Sunny side up,” he answers her. His brown eyes briefly flick towards you, skin in full view under a source of light – sheer black fabric, crisp box pleats in straight lines down your chest, and the giant satin bow he desperately wants to untie with his teeth.

Sitting opposite of you, with plump incarnadine lips made visible under the dark, yellow, and flickering lights, he shifts uncomfortably on the plastic-covered foam cushions that feel too firm to his touch. There’s something surprisingly soft about him: how he politely folds his hands on the table even though the silk he wears looks like it amounts to your biweekly pay and how you can see his eyes widen in concern when he sees you shrug off his jacket and take everything out of your pockets. The waitress is taking her break in the staff room.

You push yourself up and side-step out of the booth, leaving your phone face-up on the table.

“Restroom?” you ask him.

He nods once and opens both palms, flicking them both to the side, “You go first.”

A few minutes later, his lips are attached to your neck – wasting no time sucking, swirling, and ravishing your skin with his tongue. He has you pinned against the interior of the black plastic stall, a firm grip on your thigh that he plants against his hip, his arousal pushed against your core.

“So soft,” he murmurs against your skin, open hand trailing through the dangling ends of your satin bow, thinking it’s tied a little too tightly around your neck.

The scent of his cologne mixes with and overpowers the lingering scent of multipurpose cleaner and disinfectant spray in the bright diner restroom. The scent is an odd combo, but you don’t care. His thick fingers work you to dizzying heights, going back to dip into your open core once he’s had his fun with your ribbon, massaging your tender flesh as he watches your eyes lazily roll to the back of your head. Obscene squelches fill the silence as he continues to finger you, thoughts clouded with desire and lust.

“Hmm? If your eyes can speak what you cannot say, then I wonder what dirty words could be interpreted when I’m in you…that is, if they stay open.”

Truthfully, this beats having a quickie in a club’s restroom where there are always people waiting in line, people hogging the mirrors, and messy people sitting on the grimy restroom floors. However, if grinding against Seungcheol on the dance floor, ass up while he holds your head below your knees could lead to this moment, then you think you should start agreeing to go out more with your friends.

“Depends,” you purr while lifting your pointer finger to tilt his chin upwards. This briefly puts you in a position of command, allowing you to gloat over his willingness to bend for you. “How fast can you make me come?”

“Count to twenty for me,” he whispers while leaning in to kiss your collarbone. It’s an assertion, some sort of personal conquest, that he can make you come undone before the chef can even begin to plate the food.

“Fifteen,” you challenge, trailing your hands down his open chest without breaking eye contact, feeling skin transition into silk and then jeans when you stop at the edge of his pants. “Loser pays for the meal.”

Teeth are quick to latch onto a tail, yanking the bow loose with a growl, the man waiting to do so the entire night. He’s impulsive, and quick to act how he wants because he knows how to get his way. But even those who have free reign have their limitations. So he lines himself at your entrance, right eyebrow cocked, waiting for your signal.

“One.”

Candidly speaking, he would never forgive himself if he forgot the feeling of pushing himself into you in one fluid motion after the first number echoed into the empty restroom, feeling you squeeze around his thick and throbbing cock as he bottoms out, filling you up. And the way your arms flail, blindly reaching for the top of the stall to grab onto as he pauses to let you adjust, it just turns him on even more. He doesn’t mind if he takes his time – just one number and you seem to have forgotten how to count.

“Two. Three. Four,” you manage to hiss as he slowly pulls back with a smirk. 

He keeps a steady pace, gyrating his hips upwards to make sure you feel every agonizing stroke. 

“Five. Six. Se- fu-fuck,” you gasp. 

Realizing how you’re able to keep up with him, he switches. The grip on your thigh tightens, almost bruising your skin as he pulls your leg higher, arching your back to give himself a better angle to ram into you deeply, fucking you numb. You hiccup with every thrust, feeling your thighs tremble, struggling to keep yourself standing upright. But he doesn’t care, he relentlessly ruts into you like every fiber of his being depends on him winning that bet.

“What? Are your legs going to give in before you give up?,” he grunts while watching you cling onto him, burying your face in the space in the crook of his neck. A sly smile forms. Hearing you choke on each word, stumbling through the number ten, feeling you clench and tremble around him – it only feeds his ego, makes him delirious even. “Just give up, baby.”

The large industrial stalls shake from the force he fucks himself into you, the sound of his bare skin hitting yours echoing throughout the restroom. Pressure builds up in your core, and you feel yourself squeezing yourself tightly around his cock, legs giving up underneath you. You feel him catch you without interrupting his pace, arm muscles contracting as he nips at your neck. 

He hisses when he feels you squeeze him harder, knowing your orgasm is at the tip of your tongue. And he wonders how he was able to restrain himself for so long. 

“Thirteen. F-ah. Ahh. Fuck fuck, oh my god Seungcheol I can’t. I’m coming.”

His free hand around the hair on the top of your head, he watches you ride out your high, yanking harder when he realizes how your back arches erotically when someone pulls your hair. You continue to convulse around him, now a blubbering mess, even more so with your head pulled back and your neck exposed towards the ceiling. He wastes no time flipping you around, pressing you against the wall while he lines himself behind you, giving you no time to prepare as he slams into you from behind, building up his own high almost punishingly. Dimples in his cheeks deepen as he hears you mewl his name pathetically, ass up and squeezing him while you ride out your second high – if the two of you were anywhere else, he would linger in the moment, take his time to properly fulfill your desire. Spasming, he praises you for taking him so well while spilling his warmth inside you. Slowly pulling out with a sigh, he observes how his cum sits inside you, stopping at the edge of your entrance. But he gently pulls you upright, sitting you on the toilet, planting a soft peck on the edge of your lips.

“By the way,” he tells you while passing you tissues from the dispenser attached to the side of the stall. “I was never going to let you pay.”

You watch him leave the stall with a small but kind smile on his face, gently closing the door shut. The scent he wears still lingers - citrus, fine leather, and a woody musk that barely masks the unspoken promise that this wouldn't be the only night you'll be seeing him.

this one's for the brats

pairing; choi seungcheol (scoups) x afab reader (ft junhui)

genre; smut (minor dni)

warnings; mean hard dom!seungcheol, brat!reader, brat tamer!seungcheol, junhui teasing (sorry june brats don't get what they want), mention of alcohol, heavy punishment, heavy degradation, reader called pet names and degrading names, mention of a safe word, unprotected sex, impact play, pinching, choking/breath play, orgasm denial, overstimulation, cum play, fingering, oral (f & m receiving), biting, dumbification, objectification, humiliation, manhandling, seungcheol is able to lift and carry the reader, aftercare, if i missed anything let me know. this one is a lot, and i don't apologize (i was provoked)

w/c; 3.3k and some change 

a/n; this was written for @junkissed-replies and @duhnova because they are two of the brattiest little brats i know who liked to push my buttons and now everyone gets filthy spite smut -- and my fics always go soft at the end idk man -- also thank you for @wonwussy for reading over this

The fact that Seungcheol’s eyes hadn’t left you all night but he hadn’t spoken more than a dozen words to you should have been a good indication as to how your night would end up. Instead of heeding the warning glare from him over his glass of whisky you simply laugh against Jun’s neck. Your lips brushing his ear causing the man to sputter on his own drink when he feels his pants get tighter at your attention. 

Seungcheol knew you knew exactly what you were doing. One foot in front of the other, heavy footsteps make their way across the room while the rest of your friends seem to be completely unaware of what is happening. Jun looks up before you do, his eyes widening slightly when they meet Seungcheol. “Y/N…Cheol’s here.” 

You smirk against Jun’s throat, the smell of sweet alcohol on your breath when you pull away to look up at your boyfriend smiling at him sweetly. His eyes meet yours with interest before roaming over your body and Jun’s. “Are you having fun, darling? What about you Junhui?” 

Jun starts to slide away from you, but Seungcheol shakes his head reaching for your hand gesturing towards the stairs. “Join us, clearly it’s what she wants. Right?” Your playful giggle causes Jun’s Adam's apple to bob in his throat dramatically while he gets to his feet taking the spot next to you. 

“Are we really going to play Cheol?” Your eyes meet Seungcheol who simply gives you a wolfish grin leading you and Jun up the stairs towards one of the empty bedrooms. “Sure we are, princess…” Letting you lean into him, Seungcheol shakes his head causing you to miss his raised brow when he unlaces his fingers with yours. 

His eyes follow you while you make your way back towards Jun when the man walks into the room. Your hands are already tugging at the soft satin button up that feels like butter under your teasing fingers. “Did I say you could touch?” Jun watches your bottom lip jut out at Seungcheol’s words. Your head shaking, you smile still and glance over your shoulder letting your hip pop to one side trying to tease both of them. 

“No, but he’s so soft. You said we were going to play and you want me to play with you don’t you Junnie?” When your eyes meet Jun’s once again you find him meeting your gaze with a raised brow. His hand reaching into his pocket he takes out his cellphone reading the latest text message from Seungcheol, a small chuckle falling from his lips when he nods glancing over your shoulder at his friend. 

“Course I do.” Your brows furrow as you watch the smirk cross his lips, his fingers reaching up to tug on a loose strand of your hair. “Shame you had to be such a bratty little whore all night long.” Jun’s words hit you right in your stomach running down to your core causing you to clench. 

Seungcheol runs his thumb along his bottom lip watching confusion cross your face when Jun leans to kiss the side of your lips. Your hands falling to your sides when the man winks at you before leaving the room and leaves you wanting. “What’s the matter, princess? Did your toy leave you high and dry?” 

When you turn, a whine on your lips, your feet practically stomping on the floor like a child, Seungcheol raises his brows. A laugh slipping from his lips, he rolls his eyes leaning against one of the bedposts watching you sulking. “You two are mean. I didn’t do anything wrong…Cheol, I am so horny.” 

Nodding, Seungcheol watches you while he gives you a faux pout to his own lips showing you some concern, reaching out a hand to you in order to get you to walk towards him. When you are in reach of him, his hands around your hips, Seungcheol jerks your body flush with his, causing you to gasp into a moan. His hand slides along your body, up to your throat before his thumb tilts your head back slightly. 

“Is that so? Are you dripping? Did Jun get you that riled up? His innocent act? My dumb little angel was so quick to fall for it. You were rubbing your thighs together the moment I told him to let you grind on him like a bitch in heat.” Your cheeks burn in embarrassment, anger, and arousal while Seungcheol’s fingers spread along your throat, his eyes looking down at you even slightly. 

“That’s not fair…” Your words make Seungcheol scoff, his free hand moving from your hip to tug up your tight dress over your thighs and ass so he can have access to your skin. You hiss out a moan at the first slap to your skin causing him to smirk at you when he knows how much you like the punishment. “It’s plenty fair. Flirting with one of my best friends in front of me? If you had asked like a good girl this night might be going much differently. You might be getting all your needy little holes filled up. I would have asked him to stay.” 

Seungcheol listens to you whine, he knew how much you wanted that. He knew how much you wanted to fuck Jun but that wasn’t happening anytime soon now. “Why are you whining? Because you know things aren’t going to go as simple as you want them to tonight my little puppy?” 

When you nod, Seungchol gives you that faux pouting concern look again before his hand grips your chin firmly making you look him in the eyes closely. “Please Cheollie…I can be good. I won’t be so bratty anymore.” Watching you smile, Seungcheol smirks tilting his head examining you. His tongue darts between his lips as his eyes move along your face, the way your eyes really do resemble a puppy begging for a bone, your lashes batting like the cutest thing he’s ever seen. 

“Please? Mmm, fuck…please?” Seungcheol’s hand on your ass grips tightly causing you to moan when you beg, his eyes finally falling on your mouth when he grins and shakes his head. His hand falling on your skin is hard enough to make you yelp until he rubs the spot making you moan quickly after, your head going fuzzy with arousal. 

“You just need something to keep your bratty mouth entertained, clearly. It’s been running enough all night long. Pushing my buttons, riling me up. Did you really think you’d get your way so easily? Bat your lashes and give me that smile and I’d fold like a high schooler with my dick in my hand?” 

Seungcheol holds your chin tightly making you shake your head no as you verbally say it, a smile still playing at the corner of your lips. His hand on your ass moves to his dress pants, the sound of his belt hitting the floor is your only indication that his pants were off before he steps closer and tilts your head down towards his waiting cock. 

“It’s not in my hand sweetheart, but you better get it in your sweet little whore mouth.” You moan softly at his words letting Seungcheol manhandle you into place, his hand gripping your hair tightly as he brings your head to his hips. Seungcheol watches you start to lift your hand to grab him at his base before he lets out a disapproving sound. “I said your mouth.” 

You glance up at him, feeling slightly embarrassed again when you have to turn your head and use your face to lift his heavy length very slightly before taking him into your mouth from this angle. Tilting his head Seungcheol smirks, a groan escaping from his lips when you hollow your cheeks around him. “Mmm there we go…is this why you’ve been such a brat? Just missing my cock so bad?” 

Feeling you moan around him, Seungcheol gives you a cocky smirk, his hand still gripping your hair tightly. “Fuck, you should see yourself. Your mouth stretched around me like a slut.” His words cause you to clench around nothing, his precum and your spit dripping down your chin. Seungcheol groans out a laugh, his hand lifting to his lips to rub them when you glance up at him giving him those wide lust filled eyes. 

“What? What is that look for? Huh?” He knows you can’t answer, his cock halfway down your throat but he is asking anyway listening to you whine around him. Seungcheol’s hips buck towards your lips once making you gag and he coos in faux concern pulling your head back by your hair only to make you look up at him. His eyes follow your tongue across your lips while you catch your breath, your fingers digging into the comforter under your hands. 

His hand moves to wrap around your throat, using his body to push yours back onto the bed all while you smirk up at him. Your hand moving to wrap around his forearm, Seungcheol looks down at you moving his knee between your legs. When you roll your hips over his thigh a smirk crosses his lips, a small grunt escaping his lips when Seungcheol feels how wet you are even through his pants. 

“My pretty little cumslut…just a hole begging to be filled. Am I right?” You whine at his words pushing up at his hand around your throat that isn’t providing near the amount of pressure you would want. Seungcheol laughs watching you, tilting his head in almost fascination watching how quickly you were reduced to this under him. “Speak when you are spoken to, darling.” 

You nod first but then quickly whine out a yes and a please when you feel Seungcheol pull his leg back from your warm center. “No, no please? I answered you.” Your begs of desperation cause Seungcheol to groan, his thumb caressing your neck before he leans back to look at you. Tears threaten your eyes from frustration wanting him to touch you, fuck you, do anything but instead he just takes a step back while you thighs tremble. 

“Desperate…that’s adorable. Take your clothes off, Y/N. They are just in my way.” Seungcheol watches closely, his own hands working slowly to remove his own as you sit up a pout on your lips when you tug your dress over your head. Hearing your boyfriend laugh you glance at him lifting your hips pushing your panties down your legs. “What? Why are you laughing at me, Seungcheol?” 

Your eyes travel over his body, his hand stroking his length while he tilts his head watching you drop the soiled lace onto the floor next to the bed leaving you bare in front of him. “Because you are still pouting even when you know you are going to get fucked.” 

He was right, even as he walked towards you a pout still rested on your lips right up to the moment when Seungcheol grabbed your chin and tilted your head back once again. His eyes boring down at you, observing you while a smirk forms on his lips. You watch him lean towards you thinking he is going to kiss you only for him to push you back on the bed causing you to gasp out a moan. “God, please Cheol? I don’t want to play anymore.”

You listen to him laugh, his hand sliding along your neck, across your chest where he squeezes each of your breasts teasing you. “You don’t? That was all you wanted before, princess, to play…” You whine before a loud moan takes its place when Seungcheol pinches your right nipple letting go suddenly. 

He watches you take a few deep breaths, your eyes almost glaring up at him but he can see the want behind that fire even more. You arch to the feeling of his hand sliding along your stomach and finally towards the middle of your legs when Seungcheol moves to tug at both of your legs pulling you down in the bed. Your legs spreading on either side of his, the feeling of his thumbs pressing against your inner thighs eliciting a soft moan of his name under your breath. 

Seungcheol knew that you would use your safe word if you needed it, just as much as he knew how much you enjoyed it when he was rough with you. You arch your back rolling your hips towards his touch only to gasp when you feel a sharp slap to your inner thigh causing you to look back at Seungcheol. His raised brows make you pout once again even when he moves to lay between your legs. 

Your moan causes Seungcheol to scoff, the feeling of his warm breath fanning over your wet folds and thighs. “What if I just left you here untouched?” The whines falling from your mouth cause Seungcheol to laugh, his arm wrapping around your hip to pull you closer. “Mm, just a dumb little cumslut too desperate for her own good.” You wanted to argue with him but when Seungcheol’s tongue dives between your folds for the first time tonight. 

His own brows furrow at how good you taste, the fact that he has to stop himself from rutting into the mattress immediately. He wanted to lose himself in you so quickly and you made it far too easy. The sounds of pleasure begin to echo off the walls along with the sounds of Seungcheol’s mouth latching on to your pussy as he all but makes out with it knowing he is getting you closer and closer to falling over that edge. 

Seungcheol knew the tell-tale signs of your orgasm almost better than you did so when your thighs begin to shake around his head you feel his lips turn up against your skin. A soft cry of no falls from your own lips, your hands reaching for him when Seungcheol pulls back denying you your first orgasm. “Fuck! No…Seungcheol I was right there.” 

You watch as he sits up running the back of his hand across his lips, a chuckle slipping from behind his hand while he nods. “You act like I don’t know. You think you get to cum that quickly and easily? I’m still playing a game with my little toy.” The feeling of his fingers sliding between your wet folds causes your legs to jerk and a gasp from your lips while you look up at him almost defeated. 

“Is that all it takes? Just one?” He knew it was more than just one stolen orgasm. You were throbbing for him, aching, your brain was fuzzy and there was no way he was going to give in to you if you weren’t completely submissive. “I’m sorry, please?” Your voice is so meek that Seungcheol has to lean forward, his cock dragging across your already swollen folds making you whimper. “Speak up.” His breath is hot against your neck, his tongue running along your skin up to your ear when you say please again louder until he bites at your skin lightly making you yelp. 

“So pretty, keep fucking begging slut.” His hand slides between the two of you lifting your leg to his hip so you can feel the head of his thigh cock line up with you giving you no time to think or adjust when Seungcheol bottoms out into you. The breath knocked from your lungs you try to beg but can’t find the words or thoughts only moans which seem to be enough for the moment. 

Seungcheol’s hand moves back to throat, the pressure he applies this time is delicious and intoxicating. The drag of his cock, the feeling of his head piercing against your spot with each hard thrust that sends you towards the headboard. You moan Seungcheol’s name like a prayer until you are unable to, the feeling of pleasure too overwhelming, between his hand around your throat and his cock buried so deep inside of you. 

Watching your face closely, Seungcheol groans, his own climax building impossibly to a point he isn’t sure he can hold back for much longer. “Cum for me little whore, take a breath.” At his words, his grasp around your throat loosens allowing your lungs to fill with a deep breath sending your brain into a frenzy. Even if he hadn’t given you permission you weren’t sure in that exact moment you could have stopped your orgasm as it rips through you. 

A low growling groan is muffled next to your ear as Seungcheol buries his face against your neck, one last thrust sending him over the edge as he follows you. Thick white ropes mixing with your own cum that he keeps inside of you for the moment listening to you whimper. 

Seungcheol relishes in the feeling of your nails scratching along his side and back while you come down from your orgasm. His lips brush along your neck, his hand sliding from your throat giving him space to kiss over any marks his teeth had left when his hips start to move in you slowly fucking his cum into you. “Oh god...too much.” 

Another laugh escapes Seuncheol’s lips at your words, your legs trembling even when he pulls back to watch his cock being coated in cum before pulling out. “Is it too much? I think you could give me more angel. Look at all this cum you are wasting.” 

You knew it was a rhetorical question and there was no way you were going to be able to watch what he was doing, your body exhausted you could only react when you felt his finger push into you. Seungcheol’s cock even softening twitches to the moan that you let out when he adds a second finger working his cum back into you reaching for your g-spot until your body jerks and he knows he’s found it. “Give me one more, I deserve it.” 

Your face burns slightly at the sounds coming from your body while his fingers enter you over and over, wet and lewd. When you lift your hand to cover your face Seungcheol stops you, his hand grabbing your wrist pulling your hand back down to your side. “Don’t ever hide from me. Not when you look so fucking beautiful falling apart for me.” With his words, the coil snaps inside of you for a second time and you cum around Seungcheol’s fingers. His eyes watch you almost darkly, possessively as you orgasm, your hips rolling over his hand until finally you calm down. 

Even with heavy eyes you watch Seungcheol bring his fingers to his lips and hear the sound of his groan when he tastes the mixture of cum on his tongue. “So fucking good, look at you now. So well behaved.” A smile and a scoff cross your lips making Seungcheol laugh, his fingers running through your folds causing your legs to jerk. Your lips part when his fingers press against them letting you lick them clean tasting the same mixture of cum he had just a moment before. 

“Just like candy, don’t you think sweetheart?” You laugh, your tongue running along your lips before you nod muttering out a tired yes. “You did well, if you want I will invite Jun back for next time. Just…ask first Y/N. That’s all I have ever asked from you, but I know you get into a mood and you like to push my buttons.” 

Your body has started to melt into Seungcheol only for you to whine out a sorry and a no when he slides off the bed going towards the bathroom where you hear the tub beginning to fill. “I have to get you cleaned up before we can fall asleep baby. You can even sleep in the tub if you want but…” 

By the time Seungcheol makes it back to the bed a small sigh escapes his lips, his fingers push your hair from your serene face as you let out a slow steady breath in your sleep. You barely stir when he picks you up in his arms and carries you into the bathroom, lowering you into the tub with him promising to take care of you, reminding you how well you did.

——————————————————

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listen there’s no way seungcheol’s possessive ass doesn’t have a creampie kink. i’m 99.9% convinced.

he absolutely loves cumming in you. especially if it’s been a while. it’s like every time he fills you up, you become a little more his. he loves cumming in you when he’s fucking you rough, when he’s fucking you quick, when he’s fucking you kinky, but especially when he’s fucking you nice and slow. because just think about it…

—

it had been almost 2 months since you’d last had any real alone time with cheol. between his tour and your schedule, it had just been quick kisses and sleepy cuddles. but, he was finally back, and as soon as you met, one thing led to another.

he was especially sweet tonight. you could feel it from the moment he first kissed you - a deep lingering kiss. it was like he was trying to give you all his pent up love.

and he remained sweet all through - as he undressed you, kissed you all over, ate you out, and now, as he was fucking you.

‘does that feel good?’ he asks, his thrusts still slow and deliberate. he wants to take his time with you tonight.

you nod, your hand resting on his chest as he pushes in and out of you. ‘deeper..’ you moan and he gives in immediately. 

as your eyes flutter shut, you feel his warm palm against your cheek ‘my sweet baby’ he whispers fondly, caressing your cheek with his thumb.

you’re in heaven. it had been so long since he had called you his in person. it makes you giddy.

you move your hand to his neck pulling him closer until you can feel his warm breath on your skin. he smiles, kissing you softly before mumbling against your lips ‘i almost forgot how well you take me…you always make me feel so good…my good girl’

‘cheol..’ you moan at his praises. ‘i’m yours…’ you’re not sure what prompts you to say that but it’s exactly what he’s wanted to hear. 

the past few months of being away were harder for him than he anticipated. no amount of calls or texts filled the void of not being able to see you, touch you, hold you. he couldn’t help but feel a little anxious. but now, hearing those words while he’s inside you is so intimate, so..sincere that it feels exactly like the reassurance he needed. 

he loves it. and he never wants anyone else to hear it from you.

‘say that again’ 

you look at up him, doe-eyed ‘i’m yours…’ you say, a soft gasp escaping your lips as he picks up the pace.

‘you’re mine?’

you nod ‘yours..’ you repeat, your eyebrows furrowing as he starts fucking you harder.

‘i belong to you..’

he’s delirious.

‘show me how you belong to me baby…how should I make you mine?’ he moans into your ear, slamming into you.

‘cum inside me…please…fill me with your cum’ you can hear his breathing get heavier.

‘fu-ck..keep saying that’

‘cum inside me’ you repeat those 3 words like a prayer as he’s on the edge of his orgasm.

as you utter them one last time, cheol groans, his entire weight on top of you as he cums, curses and praises on his lips. you cling onto him as you feel his warm cum filling you up. 

he stays like that for a few seconds riding out his orgasm before pulling out and watching his thick cum drip out of you. ‘pretty..’ he whispers to himself. 

__

yeah, i’m 99.9% convinced.

sapiosexual

🌙 staring. Seungcheol x afab!Reader 

🔮 preview. “You’re a beautiful, bright, young woman, and you’re agreeing to be a companion to some middle aged psych nut who hardly has enough time for you-” you both laugh a little at the way he refers to himself, “compensation is a must.”

cw/ tw. daddy kink/issues, size/shoulder/back kink, contractual relationship, unspecified age difference, unprotected sex, choking, semi bondage, multiple sex scenes, fingering, squirting, oral (m/f receiving), baby oil massage, praise, dirty talk, hair pulling, overstim, dacryphilia, slight orgasm denial, hand kink, etc... I pet names. his: daddy. hers: gorgeous, angel, darling, my love, pretty girl, etc...

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 18.6k

🍭 aus. psychologist au, non idol au, sugar daddy au, aged up/soft dom cheol, etc...

☀️ mlist + an. dont fuck your psychologist, fuck a psychologist... and try to get a cheque while you do it 👀 (sapiosexual: the attraction to intelligence and broad af shoulders)

1: Wednesday

“I’m here to meet someone- under the name Choi?”

The hostess nods politely. “Mister Choi has been expecting you, right this way.”

Your heart lurches in your chest at her words. While it makes sense that the man you’re meeting for your date had let the host know he’d have a plus one joining him, there’s something in the woman’s diction that suggests a certain kind of familiarity. 

The restaurant you’re in is an expensive one, and the previous man you’d met through the online sugar dating website had made something of a show of being a part owner of a place such as this, treating the staff in a way that demanded obedience- 

You really hope, for everyone’s sake, that the person you’re meeting tonight is much kinder than the last.

The hostess takes you through the main dining section of the establishment and to a more secluded area, where she motions with a hand to the one occupied table by the windows that overlook the city. 

“Your server will come by for your drink order shortly,” she tells you, giving you a quick nod and something of a knowing smile before she returns to her post, allowing you to make the final distance to the table yourself.

The man sitting with his back to you hasn’t turned around, and you take a moment to collect yourself, swallowing thickly. Your eyes scan over his broad shoulders, taking in the pretty tweed suit, the colour of charcoal, and neatly styled black hair. 

You take a deep breath and begin forward.

“Sorry I’m late,” you apologize as you reach the man you’ve been in contact with just under a week- “you know how traffic can be-”

Your words feel jumbled in your mouth as Mr. Choi stands to greet you- because, although you’d been expecting a handsome man, you hadn’t been expecting him to be godlike-

The photos he’d had on the sugar dating site had been ten out of tens, but the man in front of you is a scale breaker. 

He’s even broader up close, and tall too- looking down at you with an amused expression, eyes practically twinkling-

“It’s alright,” he tells you smoothly, voice sexier than you could have ever imagined, “I’m glad you’re here now.”

“Me too,” you breathe, blinking up at him, etching his angelic features into your brain-

“You look beautiful,” Mr. Choi says, taking in the dress you’d spent three hours picking out-

His eyes don’t linger anywhere in particular, they’re quick to move back up to your face, and part of you almost wishes he’d stared at your chest just a little longer-

“Thank you,” you say, remembering you’ve yet to respond to his compliment.

“Would you like to sit?” he asks next, and you realize you’ve been staring too long, quickly tearing your gaze from him to give a curt nod. 

The two of you take your seats, and you adjust in your chair, letting out a shaky laugh. “I’m also sorry if I’m a little awkward- I feel like my social skills took a hit during the pandemic.” 

The man in front of you nods. “That’s understandable. The aftereffects of global isolation during covid is something that’s going to be studied by psychologists in depth in the coming years. You’re not alone in your feelings, believe me.”

You blink, thinking through his words. “Thank you-” you stutter, “for the reassurance, I mean.”

“Of course,” he nods again. “I think you’ll find I can be very reassuring, if need be.” 

Your skin tingles, and you can’t believe that you’d nearly let your best friend talk you out of this date.

‘Psychologists can be dangerous!’ Seungkwan had insisted, ‘One moment you think he’s your boyfriend, the next he’s hypnotized you to cover up a murder-’

You’d told him to stop rewatching Hannibal.

But you have to admit… Mr. Choi, or Seungcheol, as he’d called himself when he’d first messaged you, he definitely looks like Hannibal. 

Broad, handsome, tweed suit and all-

“I can see you’re thinking hard about something,” the man sitting across from you notes.

“Sorry, I was just-” you bite at your lip, “was just thinking that you’re probably really good at your job.”

His brows raise at this, and then he’s smiling, “Oh?”

“Yeah, you erm- you have a really calming voice and presence, and I mean- obviously you know what you’re talking about-”

“Are you in the market for a psychologist?” 

“No-” you answer quickly, “I mean, I don’t think so- that’s not why I matched with you at least.” 

The amused smile remains on his face, and it’s making it hard for you to look at him- 

He keeps his gaze so fixed on you, and he exudes confidence on top of the calm- 

Confidence that’s making your heart thump louder and louder in your chest-

“Hello, Mr. Choi,” the arrival of your waiter breaks the building tension you’re feeling. The question “How has your evening been so far?” confirms that Seungcheol knows the staff, and the pleasant way in which he responds tells you that you’re on a date with a good man. 

After a brief back and forth, Mr. Choi orders himself an Old Fashioned, and you ask for a gin and tonic.

Then, you’re once more alone with the man whose gaze is enough to have your pussy clenching with interest-

“I saw you were new to the site,” Seungcheol notes, and you can’t believe he’d bothered to look for that information on your profile, let alone remember it. “How’s your experience been so far?”

You take a moment to collect your thoughts before responding. “If I’m being honest, I talked to one person for a while, and when we met, he turned out to be- just- not a good person. So when you favourited me, and I thought you looked nice, I told myself it would be better to meet up in person without too much back and forth first.” 

“That sounds logical,” he agrees. “I’m sorry your first experience wasn’t what you thought it would be, but there is a silver lining, you’re here now.” 

“I’m here now,” you echo with a smile, and the waiter returns with your beverages.

Seungcheol had invited you for drinks and dessert. Seungkwan had insisted that meant drinks and sex, but your view of things is proved to be correct when Mr. Choi orders the ‘dessert tasting menu’ and the waiter scurries off again. 

“Should we make a toast?” you ask, allowing your eyes to trail over Seungcheol’s handsome face- his strong brow and pretty lips-

“We should,” he confirms, grabbing his glass and lifting it, “what would you like to toast to?”

“Being here now.”

“To being here now.” Seungcheol allows the lip of his glass to clink gently against your own before bringing it to his mouth, and you each drink to the moment.

“So,” you say when you set your cup down, “why drinks and dessert instead of dinner?”

“Dinners can be long, and full of expectations,” he tells you. “Drinks and dessert allows you to leave earlier, if you’d like to.”

“You seem like the kind of man who has everything figured out,” you muse.

The side of his mouth quirks into a charming half smile, and he leans forward slightly in his chair, assessing you with dark eyes- “Does that excite you?”

“Yes-” the word slips out before you can stop it.

The man in front of you leans back, satisfied. 

“What, exactly, are you looking for right now?” he prompts. “Your bio was… somewhat vague.”

“I guess-” you take a sip of your drink. “I guess it depends on who it is.”

“How about you start by telling me your thought process behind creating an account,” he suggests.

You’re momentarily distracted by the way his thumb rubs up and down the side of his cup- dragging through droplets of condensation gathered on the glass-

“My best friend loves Marilyn Monroe,” you find yourself saying.

This is clearly not the answer Seungcheol had expected, as he quirks that inquisitive brow of his at your words, and you’re quick to continue. 

“His favourite movie of hers is Gentlemen Prefer Blondes- and I’m not kidding, he’s been bleaching his hair since the tenth grade because of it- and there’s this quote- something like- ‘it’s just as easy to fall in love with a rich man as a poor man.’ And I just sort of thought- I’m tired of putting a lot into relationships with people who give nearly nothing in return. At least with something like this- I’d be guaranteed something- you know?”

“It sounds like you’ve spent a lot of your life trying to make other people happy,” he notes smoothly. “I can understand why you’d want to be on the receiving end. Everyone deserves reciprocation.” 

He pauses, swirling his glass, but you can tell there’s something else on his mind, and you wait on the edge of your seat for more.

“From what you’ve said,” his thumb runs up the glass again, “it sounds to me like you’re looking for a contractual type of situation, moreso than a verbal agreement. Something with that added stability.”

“That’s correct,” you nod.

The last man hadn’t ever brought up contracts or boundaries or any of the things that are mentioned when you’d looked up what sugar babying entails. 

You’re enthralled by the professional way Mr. Choi is handling himself, and you’re enjoying his crystal clear communication.

“What-” you lick your lips, “what are you looking for?” 

“As you know, I’m a psychologist,” he states. “The job comes with a lot of responsibility. I take care of a number of people with quite severe conditions, and unfortunately, regardless of my intentions, this means I’ve had less time and energy to give to people in my own life.”

He pauses to take a breath and a sip of his whisky before continuing.

“I had a fiance for a time, but it became clear to me that she wanted a child. At the time, I wasn't ready to give up my work to be present in the way a developing mind would need. I’ve been looking for a sugar baby who would understand my lifestyle. Someone to meet with once or twice a week, who would provide happy company and the emotional closeness all human beings desperately need, without some of the… expectations that traditional relationships have. Does this sound like something that could interest you?”

You find yourself quickly nodding.

“Good,” he smiles warmly at you. “I’d love to explore the exact details of a contract over drinks, and we can choose a day to do that, but for now, if you don’t mind, I think I’d like to switch the topic and focus on you a little more.”

“On me?” you blink- 

Mr. Choi’s grin widens, and the warmth meets his eyes. “Yes, you. I think it’s safe to say we’re both physically attracted to each other, but I want to know more about who you are, inside that pretty body of yours.”

You can feel your skin heating from his compliment, and you avert your gaze, grabbing at your drink to take a sip and cool yourself. “What do you want to know?”

“Let’s start with the things that make you happiest.”

2: Thursday

“Look who finally decided to answer,” your best friend sighs loudly when you put him on speaker, and you can imagine his classic Seungkwan eye roll.

“I was sleeping,” you tell him, which only succeeds in earning you a scoff.

“And I have been waiting for details about your date since last night!” 

“I sent you a text saying it was good!”

“And then you put your phone on silent you whore!” your best friend screams, making you laugh at his antics- then his voice dips. “Did you fuck him?” 

“No, of course not-”

“You sound like you’re lying.”

“I’m not, I promise-” you roll onto your back and look up at your ceiling, letting out a breath. “Drinks and dessert literally meant drinks and dessert.” 

“Did he at least- I don’t know, feed you some of the dessert?”

“No.” 

“Oh.” The line is quiet for a moment. “Well that’s anti-climactic.”

You laugh. “First you wanted me going on dates with sugar daddies, then you were weird about Seungcheol, now you’re wishing I had fucked him-” 

“Well- did you enjoy yourself?”

“Yes.”

“Was he hot?”

You groan. “So fucking hot you don’t even know-” 

“Then I do wish you’d fucked him- you’re my best friend, and you deserve to get laid,” Seungkwan says plainly. “Also- I was only weird about this Seungcheol guy because he’s a therapist-”

“Psychologist.”

“Same thing- the point is, he’s a guy with power and a brain- that can be a deadly combination.” 

“I thought I told you to stop watching Hannibal,” you smile, enjoying the way Seungkwan turns everything into life or death.

He scoffs at your words, disregarding them. “So tell me about your date.”

“Like I said, it was good. I got there, we ordered drinks, he’s obviously like- super smart. We talked a little bit about why we’re on the site-”

“Why is he on the site? If he’s hot, rich, and smart?” Seungkwan asks. “Shouldn’t he be with- I don’t know… someone his own age? How old was he again?”

“Mid to late thirties- and there’s a reason for it actually. He mentioned a fiance who wanted kids- I think women ‘his age’ are all looking for a family, but he’s very… invested in his work,” you explain.

 “Oh. Huh.” You listen to the cogs in Seungkwan’s brain turning. “So- I guess he just wants a sugar baby to work around his busy schedule?”

“He’s looking for a companion-” you say, “but, you know, someone who can handle the fact that his work comes first.” 

“Right.” A beat, then; “So did you guys talk money?” 

“Seungkwan!”

“What!?” he yells back. “Quit beating around the bush!” 

“He didn’t just- whip a wad of cash out and give it to me,” you laugh. “He paid for everything of course, and we agreed to discuss a contract over drinks-”

“When?”

“Actually-” you look down at your phone, which has just buzzed, scanning the new text. “Coincidently, he’s texting me now.”

“Oooh! What’s he saying?!” 

“He said, ‘I really enjoyed your company last night. Would you like to join me for drinks tomorrow at eight?’” 

“Wow, this dude works fast- are you sure you didn’t suck him off or anything?”

“Seungkwan!” 

“I just mean- two dates in three days- this is fast.”

“Yeah well,” you shrug while texting out a confirmation response for Seungcheol, “if you’d seen Mr. Choi in person, you’d be hoping things go fast too.”

“Is he really that sexy? This isn’t just- your old man kink?”

“I dont have an old man kink-”

“Sure you don’t.”

You groan. “Seungkwan, just trust me. This man-” you swallow thickly, “he could choke me out- and I’d say thank you daddy.”

“Right, but let’s hope he doesn’t though.” 

3: Friday

Part of you isn’t surprised that Seungcheol has a study in his home, but another part of you wonders if this man is really someone you should be entertaining, with his shelves of psychology texts and autobiographies written by renowned people in his field- and the framed degrees and papers of certification-

Seungcheol is the real deal; it’s clear as day and reflected in his home.

He gives you a tour of the main floor, moving from the study to the dining room, and despite your ardent attempt at listening- it’s hard to focus. 

If he’d been godlike in the charcoal tweed suit when you’d first met him- well, you don’t even know how to describe how well he fits into a plain white dress shirt, sleeves rolled up to expose strong, bulky forearms- and then there’s the way the material stretches over his deliciously broad shoulders every time he turns his back to you-

“Now that I’ve given you a small tour, why don’t you take a seat,” he says as you enter his kitchen. “And I’ll grab us drinks. What are you feeling? Wine, water, beer, champagne-”

“Whatever you think is best,” you tell him, a little overwhelmed by the effect his home is having on you- 

The effect he is having on you. 

“I think I’d like to give you champagne,” he says, turning his back to you to open his fridge.

You find yourself nearly drooling at the brief moments you’re able to gawk at his shoulders again- and when he faces you, your eyes immediately zero in on his hands as they begin to fiddle with the bottle-

“Has anyone ever talked you through opening a bottle of champagne before?” he asks.

Your eyes meet briefly and you feel your skin heat when you admit, “not really- is there a specific way to do it?”

“I’m not sure if there’s one specific way,” Seungcheol chuckles a little, looking down at his task. “At ceremonies, sometimes they’ll use a sword and knock the top of the neck clean off- but for our purposes, and to avoid breaking anything with the cork if it shoots off, I prefer utilizing the cork cage,” he runs his fingers across the metal contraption on top of the bottle. “The trick is to unwind it most of the way, but keep it on so when you manuever the cork up-” his thumb runs along the seem, working at it- “it pops,” there’s a loud sound, “but it gets caught by the cork cage, and then, both are easily removed.”

He’d done the motion so professionally- a man who’s opened many a champagne bottle in his time. 

Seungcheol seems to be an expert of everything - a true wealth of knowledge - and it’s one of the sexiest things you’ve ever experienced. 

You watch him pour two glasses of the bubbly liquid, and then he gingerly slides one across the marble island countertop, “I think you’ll enjoy this.”

He watches you with an amused expression while you raise the champagne to your lips, and when your eyes widen at the taste, he grins.

“It’s really good,” you say, toying with the stem of your glass. 

Now it’s your turn to watch him take a sip- and you’re blown away by how sexy he can be while simply drinking- his adam’s apple bobbing-

You wanna lick his neck.

You wanna lick his neck so bad-

“Should we get down to business?” he asks.

You wanna get down on something- and it’s not business. 

“Er- yes, we should,” you agree, shifting the way you’re seated on the bar stool at his counter-

Your panties are sticking to your core and it’s a little uncomfortable- 

You have no idea how this night is going to pan out, no idea if you’ll actually end up in his bed- so you’ve worn a beautiful, silky, matching set- its one drawback is the way the material sticks to  you when you’re even slightly aroused- and you’ve been aroused since the moment Seungcheol opened the door to his home and invited you in.

“Since this is a contract we’re making together, I held myself back from writing one up,” he explains. “I was thinking we could discuss it verbally, and I’ll write up a copy of what we’ve talked about after you go home tonight-” 

You feel your expression fall a little and Seungcheol pauses, expert eyes assessing you. 

“Is something wrong?” he asks.

“No,” you assure him, swallowing thickly and averting your gaze, “that sounds like a good idea.”

There are a few more moments of silence, and then Seungcheol rests both hands on the countertop, leaning forward, voice dipping when he says, “Darling, as much as I’d love for you to stay over tonight, I promised myself I wouldn’t fuck you until the third date.” 

Your skin feels electrified, and you gawk at the gorgeous man, who looks down at you with an amused grin.

You nearly shock yourself when the words “why not?” tumble past your lips, and his affectionate smile widens at your question.

“We’ve hardly discussed expectations,” he answers smoothly. “It would be… unwise for me to skip those important steps, to give you time to consider your options.”

“My options?”

“I am older than you,” he points out, “and there’s still a chance you might decide you want someone who can give you more of his time. I want you to be sure about all of this.”

“I am sure,” you insist.

“You think you are,” he muses, bringing his champagne to his lips, “but until you see a finalized document, you shouldn’t be agreeing to anything.”

“You won’t hurt me-” you tell him, “I trust you.”

“Although we only just met,” he points out. “If you trust me at all, trust in this process, okay, Sweetheart?”

You swallow any words of insistence that threaten to bubble up out of you, nodding and taking a sip of your own drink.

“So,” he lets out a sigh, “we discussed a few of my expectations when we first met, do you remember what they were?”

“You were looking for a companion of sorts, who could manage you being at work frequently,” you respond, feeling pleased when he nods and smiles at you. “Someone to meet up with once or twice a week.”

“Very good, Angel,” he praises you. “While it’s implied, I’d like to solidify what you might call a key condition.”

You’re practically on the edge of your seat, waiting for him to continue, your interest piqued.

“Any contract you’d sign would come with a loyalty clause.” He pauses for a moment, eyes searching your own. “Do you understand what that entails?”

“I think so,” you nod. “It would be an agreement that while I’m seeing you, I wouldn’t be entertaining anyone else. We’d be exclusive.”

“That’s my smart girl,” he smiles. “Even though I don’t have much time for you, I’d provide for you to live comfortably when I’m not around, in the hopes that, when we are together, we’re both committed to making the best of it.” 

You love the way that sounds.

“Which brings me to my next point,” he continues, “monthly allowances. I’ll cover your food, rent, utilities- anything you need, and provide extra spending money for clothing, jewelry, etcetera.” 

“Wow, that’s-” you feel your eyes widening, “that’s very generous of you.”

“It’s really not,” he insists. “You’re a beautiful, bright, young woman, and you’re agreeing to be a companion to some middle aged psych nut who hardly has enough time for you-” you both laugh a little at the way he refers to himself, “compensation is a must.”

You have to stop yourself from happily chirping an ‘if you say so daddy’ at the man that is so close to becoming everything you’ve ever wanted for yourself-

“On top of our one-on-one interactions,” Seungcheol says, “I’d also like for you to accompany me to professional events, but I’d need you to be discreet. On top of a loyalty clause, I might have you sign a nondisclosure act- how does that sound to you?”

You consider it for a moment. “I’m not the type to go tell people about my personal life- and other than my best friend, no one even knows I was on the sugar site-”

“Your friend who loves Marilyn Monroe and bleaches his hair?” Seungcheol asks with an amused expression.

“You remembered-” you laugh, heart warming to know how many details he’s held onto in regard to your first meeting.

“The NDA can exclude your close friend, we all need a confidant.”

“Thank you,” you swallow, “I think- if it allows me to talk to Seungkwan, signing a NDA would be okay.”

“Perfect,” Seungcheol nods, drinking the last of his champagne. “We’ve covered a few of the most important parts of an agreement, so I think maybe now is a good time to grab another important document that I need you to look over.”

“Oh?”

“Stay here for a moment, I’ll be right back,” Seungcheol assures you, flashing you a quick wink before exiting the kitchen.

It’s almost torturous to be alone anywhere in Seungcheol’s home without him, and part of you is inclined to follow him around like a lost, needy puppy-

You finish your drink while you wait, taking breaths to calm yourself, afterall, he’d said he wouldn’t be fucking you tonight- therefore, there’s not much for you to worry about.

Seungcheol returns shortly, holding a dark leather file folder, which he offers to you.

“What’s this?” you ask, not wanting to open it without being prompted to- but your curiosity is as high as ever.

“Separate from our sugar agreement, this is a bdsm contract. It has a list of kinks and other things, as well as a section for you to fill out, detailing what you’re comfortable - and more importantly - what you’re uncomfortable with. I’d like you to take it home, look it over, and if you have any questions, let me know.”

“Right-” you stand up, holding the file folder to your chest-

Any words that you were thinking of saying disappear when you look up at Seungcheol, once more marveling at your size difference and how beautiful he is-

“You’re easily distractable,” he grins, pinching at your chin gently, “aren’t you, Angel?”

“Yes sir,” you mumble-

Easily dazed too.

“My driver will take you home now,” the (much too sexy) psychologist tells you. “His name is Seokmin, you’ll probably have to remind him to give you his number. He’ll be available to you from now on if you need to go anywhere.”

“You have a driver?” you blink- shocked at how he’s able to afford all of this-

You realize he must come from old money- and you’re appalled you hadn’t noticed it before.

He doesn’t carry himself in the way a man who’d made a name for himself would- he has an air of confidence- a confidence that runs deep and is backed up by family money.

“Yes, darling,” Seungcheol grins, “we have a driver.”

4: Saturday

You’ve always loved having movie night with your best friend, but tonight, he’s not interested in movies. Seungkwan is easily distractable - a little like you, you suppose - and when you’d arrived over an hour ago, he’d immediately insisted on knowing every detail about your experience with the man he now refers to as ‘Psych daddy.’

On top of being distractable, Seunkwan is easy to please, and you manage to avoid mentioning the BDSM contract for a good long while, instead focusing on Seungcheol’s hot driver, who Seungkwan finds on instagram within five minutes.

“No way- first Psych Daddy is a ten out of ten, and now his driver is hot too?” Seungkwan bellows while mad scrolling through Seokmin’s profile. “Are you sure we’re not in some weird porn dream? You’re not gonna get tag teamed are you?”

“Seungkwan!” you scream, gently smacking him across the shoulder in shock.

“We were both thinking it!” he insists, shoving you back.

“I’ll have you know that we were not both thinking it,” you state with just as much certainty. 

“But you mentioned how nice the guy was when he dropped you off last night and we called for like five minutes before you hung up on me to go to bed!”

“Yeah, in the context that Seungcheol is really nice to everyone that works for him, despite being-”

“One of the youngest, sexiest psych daddies in the city, yeah, yeah-” Seungkwan waves his hand, “Stop rubbing it in.”

“Have you been researching my boyfriend again?” you ask, thoroughly amused.

“Boyfriend?” Seunkwan eyes you up and down, sneering. “Is that what we call dom daddies now?” 

“If he makes you sign a loyalty clause and a NDA, I think I can call him whatever I want, can’t I?” you point out. “And you avoided my question- you’ve definitely been googling Cheol again.”

“Been googling myself to pictures of pysch daddy-” Seungkwan says suggestively before asking, “He made you sign an NDA?”

“Not yet,” you sigh, “and don’t worry, we’ve discussed it and it will exclude you- I can tell you anything I want to.”

“Shit, did you tell him my name? Do you think he’ll accept me as a patient if he knows I’m your best friend?”

“Since when do you need a psychologist?” you laugh.

“Uh,” Seungkwan’s brows raise, “Bestie, have you seen my life? I definitely need someone to confide in who knows what the fuck he’s talking about.”

“Ouch,” you touch your heart, pretending to be wounded. “Since when did you not like crack gremlin advice?”

“Since you put down your crack gremlin hat and became a sugar baby to a hot psychologist,” Seungkwan sighs, taking one last look at Seokmin’s grinning face before he puts his phone down and focuses entirely on you. “But go back a few steps and talk to me about this loyalty clause- psych daddy sends you home with a ton of papers to sign, huh?”

“More than you could imagine.”

Your best friend looks you up and down with suspicion, brow raising in a silent prompt for more info.

When you remain quiet, Seungkwan sighs. “Fine, don’t tell me,” but after a beat, he asks, “Was it a sex list or something?”

You’re always stunned by how intuitive your best friend can be.

Upon reading your reaction, Seungkwan’s eyes widen and he grabs at your arm, nearly jumping with excitement. “No way!” he yells in your ear. “He did send you home with a sex list! Show me, show me, show me!” 

You look to your bag and before you can even reach for it, Seungkwan is darting past you and retrieving the papers. “Holy shit-” he breathes, scanning the document with eyes full of something like perverted excitement. “A checklist for kinks?”

“Yup.”

“Choking, yes. Spanking, fuck yeah- bondage-” he grins at you, “looks like someone’s a little slut for psych daddy.”

“Oh my god,” you groan, reaching for the papers, but he launches himself off the couch to evade you. “If you’re gonna be like this, I don’t want to show you.”

“Fine, I’ll be nice,” Seungkwan says, but he’s still reading the list, and his voice is lacking any real sincerity. “Okay so most of these are straightforward-”

“You watch way too much porn,” you sigh.

He practically growls at you. “As I was saying- most of these are straightforward, and you’ve filled out the ones I would have expected you to- but some of these are things even I have never heard of- like, what the fuck is…” he carefully sounds out the next word, “Quirofilia?”

“Honestly- the ones I didn’t know about, I just sort of skipped over, hoping maybe you would know- but…” you can’t stop the sly grin that works its way onto your lips, “I guess Cheol did say I could call him if I had any questions…”

“At this point, it’s almost like this list is purposefully vague on some kinks-” Seungkwan sighs, joining you on the couch again. “I bet Psych daddy has been waiting for you to call him for extra clarification.”

“We could google it,” you point out.

“Definitely not,” Seungkwan says quickly. “Call daddy, and put him on speaker.”

“Oh, so he’s just daddy now?” you tease, pulling out your phone. 

“Call him.”

“Hmm… maybe I’ll text,” you decide. “He could be busy.”

“That’s no fun,” Seunkwan whines, pouting out his lower lip.

“Too bad,” you tell him, typing in a quick message. “I said, ‘hey, whenever you have time, I have a few questions about some of the terms on the kink list.’”

“Add a smiley face,” your friend urges, “so he knows it’s like- good questions.”

You add a happy emoji, and hit send. Then you put your phone down, reaching for the papers from Seungkwan. 

“He might not answer anytime soon-” you say- just as your phone buzzes the familiar ringtone that you’ve only given to one person.

Both you and Seungkwan stare at your ringing phone, and then your best friend grins at you. 

“This guy is so whipped for you it’s crazy- are you sure you haven’t sucked his dick?”

“Oh my god stop!” you groan, “and be quiet or I can’t answer-”

“I’ll be quiet,” he insists, pretending to lock his mouth shut and throw away the key.

With one final warning glare, you turn your focus to your phone, answering the call. “Hello?” 

“Hey, gorgeous,” comes Seungcheol’s unmistakable smooth drawl- god, he makes your mouth fucking water- “So you got around to looking at the kink list.”

He’s so god damned confident- and when you look up at Seungkwan, you see he’s just as shook by your new lover as you are.

“Uh, yes,” you clear your throat. “There are just a few terms I’m unfamiliar with, and- I know I could look them up, but you said to call you if I had questions-”

“Of course Angel, I’d love to help talk you through it.”

Your panties are wet.

They’re wet, and your best friend is nearly falling off the couch from how seductive your new sugar daddy is.

“What kinks are you unfamiliar with?” Seungcheol prompts, and you can practically hear him smiling at the way he’s taking your breath away on a freaking phone call- 

“There’s this one,” your eyes scan over the word Quirofilia, and you do your best not to mangle it the way Seungkwan had when you relay it to Cheol.

“Quirofilia,” he repeats, teaching you the proper pronunciation with the calm, pleasant tone you’re starting to fall in love with. “It’s another term for a hand kink.”

Now it’s your turn to echo, and you say “A hand kink,” while blinking at your friend.

“Yes, angel,” Seungcheol chuckles on the other end. “If you check off the box for receiving, you’d indicate that you’d be more than comfortable with me touching you frequently. For lack of a better term, it goes hand in hand with a number of other kinks- spanking and choking for example, or finger sucking.”

“And for giving?” you question, having already checked off a yes for what he’s just described.

“For giving…” he clears his throat, “well, you’d let me pay for you to get manicures- maybe let me choose the colours and styles-” there’s another pause, then “I have to admit, I did notice that you have nice hands the first night we met.”

“Really?” your heart lurches in your chest and Seungkwan grabs a pillow to bite while listening in on a conversation that’s getting sexier and sexier- “What did you like about them?”

“They’re smaller than mine, for one. I’m sure we can both imagine how pretty they’d look wrapped around something… substantially bigger.” 

Your best friend spasms, practically screaming into the pillow, and you can’t help the way your own jaw drops at the statement- 

Are you about to have phone sex with Cheol in front of your best friend?

Do you need to get a room?

“We can discuss it in detail when I see you next,” Seungcheol says, cutting off your horny thoughts. “Are there any other kinks you’ve had trouble with?”

“I mean-” part of you wants to go through the whole list and pretend not to know things just to keep him on the phone- “if we’re going to discuss these all in detail when I see you next- maybe I should just wait till then?”

You can’t believe you’re cock blocking yourself just because Seungkwan is here.

“We can do that,” Seungcheol says smoothly. 

In the background, you hear someone say his name, and you find yourself asking, “did I catch you at a bad time?” suddenly worried you’ve interrupted something important.

“Of course not, angel, I wouldn’t have called you if I couldn’t step away for a few minutes.” There’s a pause then, “I’m at a conference this weekend, flew out this morning.”

“Oh,” your heart deflates a little.

“I was tempted to invite you,” Seungcheol says, calming the uneasiness you’re feeling. “But seeing as you’ve not signed anything, and I already had plans with colleagues, I figured this wouldn’t be the best first trip to take you on.”

This excites you again. “Do you have somewhere specific in mind for a first trip?”

“Somewhere warm,” he answers smoothly, a small chuckle following a moment later. “Anyways, I won’t be that available tomorrow, you caught me at a good moment tonight.”

“Well… will you be back on Monday?” you question.

Another small laugh, then, “Are you that eager to see me, gorgeous?”

“Maybe.” You eye Seungkwan who’s still screaming into the pillow. “But I mean- I remember what you said about needing a sugar baby that fits your schedule, so, I don’t want to pressure you to see me the day you get back from a work conference-”

“That’s very thoughtful of you, angel,” his smooth voice calms your anxieties. “I do have quite a busy week, a few things aren’t pinned down yet, can I let you know when I have more details?”

“Yes, of course-” you bite at your lip. “I should let you get back to your colleagues- thanks for calling me and talking me through uh- Quirofilia.”

You hear him take a deep breath, and then, Seungcheol lets out something like a groan- “I’m tempted to ask what you checked off for it.”

His words go straight to your pussy and after a moment of silence you ask, “Do you want me to tell you?”

“No,” he responds, “It will give me something to think about tonight if you don’t tell me.”

“Okay,” you grin at the way he’s toying with himself- ego fuelled by the idea of him thinking about you- “I’m excited to talk more about this with you when I see you next.”

“Me too, angel.”

“Have a great time at your conference daddy.” 

You slap a hand over your mouth, eyes widening at the way the term of endearment just slipped out of you-

Seungcheol lets out a deep sigh that betrays how much the word has affected him, and he sounds less composed than normal when he says, “Thank you, precious, enjoy your evening.”

You hang up, and as soon as you have, Seungkwan goes ballistic, practically pouncing at you while screaming, “That was too sexy! You guys are too sexy, what the hell!?”

Laughing at his antics is easy- pretending your panties aren’t ruined is another story.

5: Sunday

The ringtone that makes your whole body tingle with anticipation is becoming more and more familiar, and you practically launch yourself across your bed to answer your phone.

“Hi.”

A small chuckle, and a breath, then, “Hey you.”

“How's your conference going?” you ask, having not expected to hear from Cheol today.

“Good. It’s over, we finished the last meet up just before dinner. What are you up to?”

You grin to yourself, playing with the book in your lap. “I’m reading your most recent publication.”

“My most recent publication?” you can hear him smiling now too, and you enjoy the way he teases your choice of phrase. “Since when were you going out and buying my books, darling?”

“Since I saw how many you’ve done- when you showed me your library. I went out this morning and got two.”

“You could have asked, and I would have given you them for free… with a detailed note from the author.” 

“I was eager to begin reading,” you admit. “And you’re so busy- I’m still not sure when I’m seeing you next.”

“That’s actually why I called. I took a look at my schedule, and I’ve got options for you.”

“Ooh! I love options.” 

Another smile you can hear through the phone, and your heart beats a little faster. 

“I can see you alone on Friday, it’s the earliest day I have available- but if you’d like, you can accompany me to a get-together with my work colleagues on Wednesday. I know you haven’t signed any papers and we haven’t discussed anything in detail yet but… I have a good feeling about you, angel, and I’d enjoy having you there.”

“Then of course I’ll go with you to the get-together,” you announce, grinning like a school girl at the inklings of praise he bestows on you.

“That’s wonderful news, gorgeous.” - you love it when he calls you pretty pet names - “I’m sorry that this call can’t be longer- but I’ll see you Wednesday- and I’m sure I’ll find a reason to call you before then.”

“Yes, please.” 

He laughs, and the sound has your core buzzing with interest- how the hell is Seungcheol so sexy without even trying?

“Have a good night, angel, and don’t read too much of my book- they’re all depressing.”

“They’re informative,” you insist. “Have a wonderful night Cheol, and thanks for calling.”

6: Monday

“Hi.” 

You’ve gotta stop answering your phone with a full grin- but every time Seungcheol calls you, you can’t help but get warm and fuzzy all over.

“Hi, angel.” 

And wet. Wet all over. 

Wet where it counts.

“I was just thinking about you,” you confess, toying with the page of his book that you’ve been reading.

“Funny, I was just thinking about you,” he responds, “and I have been, all day. It’s quite distracting actually.”

“Really?” Your heart leaps again.

“I was thinking about getting you something to wear to the party on Wednesday- was going to get Seokmin to drop it off at your place, but then… I realized how much I’d rather see you and give you the dress in person, to see your reaction.”

This man gives you full on heart palpitations- and it takes everything in you to clear your throat and ask, “so does this mean I’ll see you before Wednesday, or?”

“I mean… I don’t want to assume you’re free every night- but if you’re not otherwise busy tomorrow-”

“I always have time for you daddy,” you smile, “and I’ll sign a contract to prove it.”

He lets out a shaky breath, and you love that you’re having an effect on him. “That’s good to hear sweetheart. I’ll move a few things around. How does seven sound?”

“Seven sounds perfect.”

“And it will be a longer stay this time. I know I kept our last interaction at my home brief- but if you bring all the documents I gave you, we can…” he clears his throat, “discuss them in full, tomorrow, if you’d like”

“I’d love that,” you admit.

“Seokmin will be at your place to pick you up at seven then, angel. I can’t wait to see you.”

“I can’t wait either.”

7: Tuesday

Seungcheol is a man who strives for perfection. From his home and work, all the way down to the pretty present he’s gotten for you, the box wrapped in a golden bow-

And when you open your gift to reveal an expensive red fabric just itching to be touched- you think there’s a possibility that you might very much be in love with the psychologist already.

“It’s beautiful-” you breathe, pulling the silky garment from its box to assess the length and style.

“You were wearing red when we first met,” Seungcheol tells you, “I thought to myself that I’d never seen such a gorgeous girl- when I invited you to the gettogether tomorrow, I knew there was only one colour I truly wanted to see you in.”

Your heart is having palpitations, you swear- 

“Do you-” you swallow thickly, looking up at him, “do you want me to try it on for you now?” 

It’s his turn to take a shaky breath, and after a stagnant pause, he shakes his head, “No. I think I’d like to be surprised tomorrow- besides, after we get done looking over the papers and contracts, I feel as if we’d both prefer you to be taking off clothes rather than putting them on.” 

He’s right about that.

You only wish you’d known about his affinity for the color red before you’d chosen a black lingerie set, knowing that tonight would be the night he’d finally strip you bare-

You can’t wait for him to fuck you. You honestly can’t- and all these paper signings- they’re just a formality for you. 

As far as you’re concerned, Cheol is the one- or at least, he could be the one. 

Or maybe he’s just the ‘for now,’ but regardless, for now, you want to be ravenously fucking him-

“My easily distractable darling,” he gently pinches at your chin, pulling you from your dirty thoughts. “Let’s see the papers.”

After putting the dress back in its box, you grab the purse you’d arrived with. It’s large enough to hold the folder with the documents, which you pull out next, setting it down on Seungcheol’s kitchen counter. 

“I see you’ve printed out the other documents I sent you since we last met,” he says, and you can hear the pride in his voice that you’d gone a step above and beyond what he’d asked of you. 

After your last date, wherein you’d gotten the kink list, he’d sent you an email with a link to a contractual pdf. Once you’d gone over the contract in detail on your computer, you’d printed it out, eager to sign your name- but you’d been patient, knowing he’d probably want to witness your signature being jotted down on the dotted line.

“I’m ready to sign them,” you tell him, also pulling a pen out of your purse-

“Eager angel,” he smiles, taking the seat on the barstool next to yours. “Are you sure you don’t want to read it all over one more time?”

“I’m sure,” you tell him, angling your body towards his and fiddling with your pen. 

“Alright,” Seungcheol nods, rolling up the sleeves of his white button-down, his forearms flexing. “How about you let me sign first, then you can do your own signature.”

You hold out your pen, which he accepts, and you watch the way he adjusts his glasses on the bridge of his nose when he looks down at the contract. His eyes scan over the document, and a moment later, the ballpoint pen is gliding languidly across the dotted line, his signature solidified in a binding agreement. 

“There we go,” he says smoothly, holding the pen out for you to take.

Within seconds, two signatures are on the contract, and your heart is racing just a little faster in anticipation of what’s to come next.

“And now to look over your kink list,” Seungcheol breathes, moving the signed papers to the side. 

Your heart lurches when he picks up the sheet you’ve filled in, and you stay silent while his eyes move over each line of information. 

“As much as these all interest me,” he says, “I’m pleased to see you’ve checked off giving and receiving for quirofilia.” His large hand moves to rest on top of your thigh, and he gives you a gentle squeeze, eyes shifting from the paper to your own. “Will you allow me to book a manicure for you tomorrow? In preparation for the get-together?”

“Yes, please,” you rest your hand on top of his own.

“We’ll have to get your nails matching your new dress,” he tells you smoothly, setting the paper down in favour of pushing a strand of hair away from your face, his index finger gently gliding past your cheekbone. “And there will be another present for you tomorrow.”

“Another?” you’re nearly dizzy from how well he treats you-

“Another,” he confirms, taking off his glasses to set down before standing from the bar stool. 

“Are you going to tell me what it is?” you ask, allowing him to prompt you to your own feet, both of his hands gently capturing your own.

Seungcheol gives his head a small shake, a smile on his lips when he responds with a “no.”

Something inside of you deflates slightly at the fact that he’s withholding information from you, and you can’t help the way you pout your lower lip out - just a little - in an effort to perhaps make him change his mind-

“Come on, angel,” Seungcheol laughs, pinching your chin and forcing you to look up at him. His dark chocolate colored eyes are swimming with adoration, and his small half smile is breathtaking- “you can be patient for one more day, can’t you?”

“Depends what for,” you admit, reaching your free hand out to hook your fingers in the front of his belt, pulling yourself closer to the man who’s as solid as any brick wall you’ve ever seen-

“Patience for the next present,” he clarifies, gaze dipping down to your lips as you move even closer to him- “not for anything else.”

“Promise?” you ask, pushing onto your tip toes- mouths even closer-

“Promise,” Seungcheol says, finally closing the distance between you.

His lips are soft- he’s a gentleman, and his hand moves from your chin to be cupping the nape of your neck, the other smoothing down to the small of your back. 

It’s chaste kissing- too chaste for you, and you wrap your arms around the back of his own neck, pressing your chest up against his.

You don’t want any more distance between you, and you especially don’t want to wait any longer for this man to fuck the ever-loving shit out of you.

“Cheol-” you groan, allowing him to tilt your head and slide his tongue along your lower lip.

“Yes, angel?” His voice is so deep and sexy, the vibrations of it going straight through from his chest to your own and then down to your tingling core-

“Daddy, please-” 

“I would ask you to use your words, but now that you’ve filled out your kink list-” he swallows thickly, gently pressing his forehead to yours, “I think I have a pretty good idea of what you’d enjoy.”

In the back of your mind, you remember that you’d said yes to most of the kinks on the list- so you’re not sure how - exactly - he’s going to narrow it down and decide on what to do to you today- but there’s another part of you that trusts him fully.

Tonight is going to be a night to remember, regardless of what kinks he fulfills for you.

“Wait-” your hands move from his strong shoulders to the front of his dress shirt, toying with the buttons there, “I never saw your kink list.”

“Would you like to?”

You nod.

“Another time then,” Seungcheol says smoothly, “tonight, I want to take care of you. How’s that sound?”

“Sounds good,” you admit, tugging on his shirt in an effort to pull him closer.

With a smile, Seungcheol concedes, lips finding yours again. 

Instead of being as chaste as he had at the start, with each brush of your mouths against each other, he’s becoming more bold, gently testing your limits-

Little does he know that when it comes to him, you have no hard limits.

He could talk you into just about anything- but part of you knows he’d never really try to talk you into much, which is one of the reasons why you’re so open for him.

As he kisses you harder, and you tug him even closer, you realize you’re practically trying to climb him- and in one motion, Seungcheol bends down and lifts you into his arms bridal style, being mindful of the black dress still adorning your body.

“I’m going to take you to my bedroom now,” he tells you, and you take the opportunity to begin speckling his neck and underjaw in kisses, your hands tugging and toying with the fabric covering his broad shoulders. 

It’s so easy to become lost in him- his gentle, calming aura truly overtakes you, and now that you’re contractually under his protection - both financially and romantically - nothing else does matter- 

Nothing except him.

You want to make Seungcheol happy- and you note his reactions, note the way he releases a shuddery breath when you find a sensitive spot just under his ear- your tongue dipping out to taste his skin while you press kisses there-

“Okay, angel,” he sighs, “time to set you down.” 

He places you gently onto his bed before straightening to look at you. 

Seungcheol has always been tall and broad- but towering over you at the foot of his bed while you lay there with soaked panties takes him to new heights - literally - and you find yourself practically drooling- sitting up in an effort to get close to him again-

“Nuh uh uh,” he tuts, pressing one knee onto the mattress between your legs. “Lift your arms so I can take this dress off of you, and then lay back down for me, yeah?”

You follow through with his request gladly, allowing him to strip you of your dress before you flatten against his bed again, looking up at him with a lustful wonder that you’ve never truly experienced.

“There’s my pretty girl,” Seungcheol says smoothly, discarding your dress before looking down at you with appreciative eyes- eyes that finally take in some of your best features, gliding across your breasts and the lingerie set you’re wearing- “You dressed up for me,” he notes.

“Of course, daddy,” you sigh, reaching for him when he presses his other knee onto the bed, “wanted to look good for you.”

“You always look good,” he tells you, flattening his form over your own, one hand pressed to the mattress next to your head while the other gently grasps your jaw. “My pretty little angel,” he says, breath fanning across your skin before his lips find your own.

You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer and looking for friction between your thighs-

A moan slips out of you when you feel his cock, pressing against the front of his pants deliciously-

Seungcheol chuckles into your kiss before pulling away from you, his lips moving to your neck- 

“So sensitive, baby,” he says, rutting forward ever so slightly- cock dragging past your panty-clad core and making you groan again. “When was the last time you were properly touched?”

“It’s been a while,” you admit, swallowing thickly and lacing your fingers through Seungcheol’s hair while he kisses down to the swell of your breasts, still captured in your bra. 

“Well, we’re going to change that.”

“We better,” you retort, back already arching off the bed to give him access to the clasp of your bra- which he undoes with deft fingers. “Take it off- please-”

The garment slips off of you easily, and Seungcheol tosses it to join your dress on the floor before his large, warm hand is cupping your breast, lips attaching to one nipple while his fingers toy with the other.

Small gasps of ecstasy escape you, filling the room with your whimpery sounds of need.

Your new lover focuses on your breasts in a way that begins to make you frustrated, your pussy clenching with untouched desire- and the feeling of Seungcheol’s muscled shoulders is almost too much for your hands, which can’t help but explore his body-

“Please-” you moan, shifting your hips up, eager for him to grind down on you again-

The hand on your breast is removed, and it slips between your bodies, two fingers pressing to your pussy through your panties. 

You release a whimper, body shuddering at the small stimulus on your clit-

“Your panties are soaked, angel,” he says, releasing your breast in favor of looking down at you again. “Do you really need me that much?” 

“I do,” you tell him sincerely, once more tugging at the front of his shirt. “I need you so bad-”

Your fingers begin to undo his buttons, but your motions are shaky, especially as he rubs your core harder, teasing you through your panties-

“Please- just take them off,” you groan. “Take it all off-”

Seungcheol grins, “If you insist,” and then he’s pulling away from you, leaving you cold and desperate, your hands trying to follow him-

But then you stop, zoning in on the way his own nimble fingers undo the buttons of his shirt-

And then he’s shrugging the fabric off, revealing a chiseled torso and an abdomen that you could wash clothes on-

“You’re so-” you groan, unable to even believe you’d found a man like this on a sugar dating site.

“I’m so…” he looks at you with a cocked brow, kneeling between your legs, his hands finding your thighs and smoothing down against your skin.

“You’re everything,” you tell him, unable to think through much else.

The complement works, and Seungcheol’s smile widens. “Thank you, angel,” he says. “Daddy’s going to eat you now.”

You’re so overwhelmed- in the best of ways- that you hardly even hear Seungkwan’s voice in the back of your mind screaming ‘hannibal the cannibal, bitch!’ 

Your best friend had been so wrong about Seungcheol- who gets down onto his knees at the foot of the bed, dragging you closer before hooking his fingers in your panties-

You lift your hips, allowing him to tug the fabric from your form, leaving you completely naked-

Seungcheol releases a breath that fans over your pussy, his lips pressing a wet kiss on your inner thigh.

“You’re so perfect,” he says, teeth grazing past your skin before he finally brings his mouth where you need him most.

You can’t help but reach down and tangle your fingers through his hair, determined to keep him between your thighs-

And he doesn’t disappoint, tongue licking you up and down, pressing through your pussy lips and dipping into your core, nose brushing by your clit-

“Cheol-” you whimper, toes curling at the sensation.

You’ve been eaten out before, but you’ve never been as into a man as you are with Seungcheol, and every brush of him against you has you practically whining and tingling with ecstasy.

You’d never thought sex could be this good- and he hasn’t even fucked you yet.

His tongue is nothing compared to what his cock is going to feel like- but his mouth alone is bringing you shockingly close to your high, devastatingly fast. 

Seungcheol releases a groan against your pussy, pulling away just enough to ask “close already, angel?”

“Mmm- yes,” you whimper, tightening your grip in his hair on an effort to bring him back to your pussy.

“You can cum, just- let me know,” he tells you, tongue returning to your aching hole, lapping at you for all you’re worth-

You find your eyes closing, your head resting back against his bed while his ministrations work you closer and closer to the edge-

One of your feet drags along his strong back, your legs threatening to close around his head as your sounds of pleasure begin to tumble out of you uncensored, filling the room-

Seungcheol presses his face against you even harder, lips wrapping around your clit-

“Cheol- I’m gonna-” you whine, breaths becoming irregular as you get closer and closer to cloud nine- “oh my god-” you reach the peak of pleasure, and a gasped “daddy” escapes you as you’re consumed with your orgasm, quivering legs trying to close around Seungcheol-

But two hands land on your inner thighs, forcing you open for the man who eats you through your high like he’s been starved- 

Perhaps you both have.

You haven’t felt something this good in- maybe ever, and all you’re able to do is tug on his hair, moan loudly, and rut your hips against his face while you feel him tingling through every fiber of your being.

Seungcheol works you through your entire orgasm and then some, until your legs feel like jelly from being tensed, and you can hardly breathe correctly. Then, he pulls away from you slowly, pressing kisses along your inner thigh-

You open your eyes to look down at him, and you’re met with a visual that has you getting wet all over again. 

The gorgeous man between your legs, wipes his thumb across his lower lip, collecting what’s there and slipping it into his mouth, releasing a groan that has you practically twitching- 

His pupils are blown with interest, and he’s breathing just as heavily as you are.

He stands up, towering over you once more.

Seungcheol swallows thickly, running a hand through his hair. “I’m guessing from the way you checked off cum play and breeding kink that you’re on some sort of contraceptive?”

You release a small laugh- no man has ever used the word contraceptive in the bedroom with you before. Cheol is so sexy with his fancy words-

“Hey,” he gently taps your inner thigh again, “are you alright?”

“Yes, I-” you take a breath, “sorry, I’m just-” you can’t help but reach for him, making something like grabby hands in the air.

“I’ll give you a second to come down a bit more,” he concedes, returning between your legs, holding himself just over your body while you attempt to latch onto him, ankles crossing behind his back to lock him in- “You really haven’t been properly touched in a while,” he notes, brushing your hair out of your face and behind your ear. 

“No,” you agree, “I haven’t.” 

You cup his face, eager for his lips to be on yours, but he holds just out of your reach, grinning down at you. “Almost ready to answer my question?”

You nod, taking a breath before telling him, “I’m on the pill.”

“Lucky us,” Seungcheol says, bypassing your lips in favour of pressing a kiss to your neck, just above your fluttering pulse point. “How are you feeling?”

“Good,” you admit, letting out a deep sigh- “needy.”

Seungcheol releases a small groan, and he pushes his hips forward, teasing your bare core with the front of his dress pants- “Yeah?” 

“Please-” you tug gently at his hair, “stop teasing me.”

“Just trying to let you take a breath,” he retorts.

“I don’t want to breathe,” you say stubbornly, “I want you.” 

He lets out a chuckle, and you find yourself wanting to prove how much you want him. 

There’s no way in hell that you’ll be able to dominate Seungcheol, he’s as sturdy as a bear laying on top of you, but when you push at his shoulders, he relents, allowing you to roll him onto his back so you’re now the one on top.

He blinks up at you, lips parting-

“Didn’t expect this, did you, daddy?” you ask, placing your palms flat on his chest while adjusting the way you’re seated, capturing his cock between your bodies-

Seungcheol sits up abruptly- and you almost think he’s going to say something, but instead, he presses his lips to yours, capturing the nape of your neck with his hand so you can’t move away. 

His kiss is hungry, tongue gliding past your own and earning a mewl of pleasure- your hips rock slightly, and you’re immediately aggrieved to be reminded that he still has pants on.

“Want you naked,” you tell him between kisses, “want to taste you-”

Now it’s his turn to let out a groan of eager delight, and he lets go of his hold on your neck, pulling away from your lips to look you in the eyes while he grabs a fistful of your hair, tugging ever so slightly to have your head arching back- “You sure about that?”

“God, yes-” you moan, licking your lips-

“Then go ahead, angel,” Seungcheol says, releasing you. “Do whatever your heart desires, and if you get tired, let daddy know so he can take over again.”

You’ve never been wetter in your life. Nor have you ever shimmied down a man’s body and wrestled with his pants so quick, but with Seungcheol, that’s precisely what you do, and within no time at all, you have your mouth wrapped around the head of his cock.

He’s girthy- and you can just imagine how good the stretch of him is going to feel- 

You’re practically drooling on him, bobbing your head up and down while he pushes your hair out of your face, releasing a groan and a “that’s it, angel” that eggs you on even more.

You’re aware that you don’t want to make him cum like this- this is just you returning the favour before riding him- 

God, you want to ride him so bad- like you’ve never wanted to ride any man in your whole entire life.

“Fuck-” 

It’s the first swearword you’ve ever heard come out of Seungcheol’s mouth, and it goes straight to your pussy, which clenches around nothing, your mouth slipping down far enough on his cock that you choke-

“Careful, darling,” the hand in your hair tugs you off his cock, and you take a gasp of air, sneaking a glance up at the man who has you going feral-

“I wanna ride you.”

“Like I said, do whatever your heart desires,” comes his almost casual response-

This man is going to be the death of you.

Death by psychologist cock.

Before you can even think a coherent sentence, you’re straddling Seungcheol’s hips, adjusting his cock to fit snuggly against your core, and sinking down on him, filling yourself inch by delicious inch until you’re sat atop him like a queen on her throne.

His hands find your waist, and you both release sounds of pleasure, your eyes closing to enjoy the feeling of being perfectly full for just a moment before you begin to move-

“Feels good, huh?” he prompts, squeezing your hips gently.

“Feels fucking fantastic,” you tell him- swear words be damned.

Your hands find his strong chest, and you lean over him, connecting your lips while you take a test thrust, bouncing just slightly on his cock-

The feeling is enough to have you both groaning into each other’s mouths, Seungcheol cupping the side of your face while he gently bites at your lower lip-

You’re not used to being on top- and it feels obvious in the shallow way you’re riding him, too distracted in kissing to give either motion your full attention-

But that doesn’t matter, because Seungcheol is rutting up to meet you, matching your slow pace and helping you find a steady rhythm with the hand still on your hip, guiding you as you begin to bounce.

It feels like heaven to be fucking Choi Seungcheol- feels like nothing you could have ever imagined. 

You find yourself getting lost in him, working on autopilot with one destination in mind: orgasmic pleasure, and with each thrust of his hips to meet you, he helps you get closer.

“Fuck, Cheol-” you groan, tearing your lips from his to take a breath, burying your face against his neck while your thighs burn from effort- “Daddy, please- please, fuck me-”

That’s all you need to say to get him to take over, flipping you onto your back so he can regain the top position. He captures your hands, raising them over your head where he can lock your wrists together in his strong grip, then his free digits slip between your bodies, seeking out your clit-

“Oh my god,” you moan, eyes closing as you’re overwhelmed in the sensation of him-

“Close already, sweetheart?” he questions, letting out a smug, sexy, little chuckle. “Feels that good?”

“Yes- feels so good,” you tell him, ready to say anything he wants you to if it means he fucks you harder-

His fingers draw small quick circles on your clit, and your legs twitch where they’re wrapped around his waist.

“I’ve hardly even fucked you- you can hold it a little longer, can’t you darling?” he prompts, nosing at your cheek. “For me?”

“I can-” you groan as he fucks you harder, “I can try- but- my clit-”

“Is this making it difficult for you?” Seungcheol smiles, relenting ever so slightly and then removing his hand all together in favour of wrapping it around your throat. “There, is that better?”

He squeezes your airway, and you’re simply unable to speak, unable to do anything but moan like a whore in heat while he fucks you closer and closer to an orgasm you’re desperately trying to hold off for him-

“You feel-” he lets out a groan, “unbelievable.”

No, he feels unbelievable, and you can’t even touch him with your hands still pinned- 

You think if you could graze your fingers across his strong shoulders you’d cum instantly, so maybe it’s a good thing he has your wrists in his grasp-

“I think I want you to cum now,” he decides, and you’re thankful- only for him to release your throat and rub your clit, which has you whining loudly all over again- “You’ll cum with me, right?”

“God, daddy- yes!” you whimper- the coil in your stomach clenching as tightly as ever-

Then he releases your wrists, anchoring a hand against your abdomen to keep you down while he works you over the edge- and your own fingers immediately seek out the shoulders that have you dizzy with lust, core clamping down on his cock as you’re high hits you full force.

“Cheol-” you whimper, delighted by the way he immediately presses his lips to yours, eagerly eating up your sounds of pleasure and returning them with grunts and groans of his own while fucking you through one of the best orgasms of your entire life.

His tongue dances by yours, teeth teasing past your lip-

Your fingers are in his hair and you can feel him practically everywhere, your entire body alight with wonderful sensations of bliss-

It starts to slow too soon, but every up must have a down, and as his hips lose pace and your sounds lessen, you realize you’re truly, madly, deeply in love with Choi Seungcheol.

And you’ve known him for less than a week.

8: Wednesday

“Are you settling in okay?” Bora’s voice pulls you away from your daydreaming, and you tear your eyes off of Seungcheol to focus on the woman whose house you’ve been enjoying for much of the evening.

She’d been introduced to you as Seungcheol’s colleague’s wife, and you’ve yet to get any one on one with the very pregnant hostess, whose husband, Mingyu, has been circling her like a puppy this entire time. 

“Yes,” you respond, finding your voice, “you have a very easy home to settle into.”

“I appreciate that,” she smiles, taking the free seat on the sofa next to you, one hand settling over her protruding stomach in a maternal way that makes your heart soften. “I’ve been meaning to have a chat with you since you arrived, but both of us seem to have a plus one that’s attached at the hip.”

Now it’s her turn to look over at Seungcheol and Mingyu, who are huddled around another psychologist friend of theirs, Wonwoo, and his wife, their attention fixed on the youngest member of the housewarming party, a six-month-old baby named Yumi.

“I feel as if I’m the plus one,” you say.

“Don’t be modest,” Bora brushes it off with a smile, “Cheol has had his hand on the small of your back for most of the evening. As much as they like to pretend they’re big shot psychologists, we’re the crutches that get them through the evening.”

You take a moment to consider her words. 

This is the first event you’ve gone to with your new beau, and for much of it, you’ve been as intent to stick to Cheol’s side as he has been to yours.

“Trust me,” Bora continues, “give it a few minutes and they’ll migrate over here to be close to us.” She pauses, then, “Mingyu has to get used to being in the living room, a pregnant woman like me needs a good, comfortable seat.”

You both laugh at the way she touches her belly again, pushing it out and relaxing back on the sofa. 

“How far along are you?” you ask. 

Despite already having had dinner and discussion for an hour or two, much of the focus has been on the home and various publications that the four university friends have been working on, with Wonwoo’s wife Minji having arrived with Yumi only a short while ago. 

“Eight months,” Bora sighs, continuing to stroke her baby bump. “I’m just about ready to pop. But enough about me and my belly, you’ve hardly spoken about yourself- and Cheol is always so focused on work, I’ve yet to get many details out of him, other than the fact that you’re worth skipping book club for. Did you two have a hot date last night?”

Your skin heats with embarrassment- “I didn’t know he’d skipped book club for me-”

“It’s a loose arrangement, Tuesdays at seven, I’m only teasing you,” Bora leans over to nudge you with her shoulder, offering you a sweet smile. “How did you two meet?”

The nondisclosure agreement pops into your mind like a red warning sign. 

“Erm…” you swallow, “Cheol hasn’t told you?”

“Like I said, he’s very tight-lipped about it,” Bora explains. “But- I’ve never known Seungcheol to be a fan of changing his schedule- and the pearl necklace you’re wearing- the dress, your lovely nails- they all seem like gifts to me. Am I right?”

Her husband might be a psychologist, but Bora has just as much of a critical eye. She sees right through you.

“Fine, don’t tell me,” Bora waves your silence off, “I know I’m right. I’ll figure you two out.”

“Are you being nosy again, Mrs. Kim?” Vernon, the fourth and quietest man of your new lover’s friend group joins you in the living room, taking a seat on the single chair to your left.

“Always,” Bora responds with a smile. “Wait, Vernon, maybe you know more about this. Y/N is being no fun- Cheol must have told you where and when they met-”

Vernon’s mouth opens in something like recognition-

“Ah ha!” Bora exclaims, leaning closer to you, sandwiching you in while she presses for more information. “So you do know!” 

“I do, but-” Vernon looks at you, then he leans in too, his voice dipping to something near a whisper, “Are we allowed to talk about this?”

“Allowed?” Now Bora is even more hooked on finding the truth than before, and her gaze darts between you and the man on your left, who obviously knows at least a few details about you and Seungcheol’s ‘origin story.’

Due to the NDA, all you can do is sit there like a fish out of water, and you find yourself looking to Seungcheol, hoping he’ll see you in distress and come over to sort things out-

“Let’s just say-” Vernon sighs, giving in to the pregnant woman’s need for information, “Y/N, you seem like a great girl- as kind, calm, collected, and smart as Seungcheol told us you were- but, I am shocked he found you on a dating site.”

“A dating site?” Bora’s eyes have widened, and she shuffles closer to you on the couch, jaw dropped. “Stop- when I told him to try online dating after his last girlfriend I was honestly joking- everyone knows Tinder is hookup central these days.”

Bora is as inquisitive as anyone you’ve ever met, and she checks you and Vernon for your reactions, easily picking up on the shift of energy-

“Wait, not tinder?” She pauses, waiting for an answer. When it becomes obvious neither you nor Vernon are going to elaborate, she sighs and sits back a little. “Now that I think of it, tinder is an app, not a site- the only dating sites I can think of online are-”

It’s like a lightbulb goes off atop her head, and her jaw drops a little more- then she’s inching in close to you again, whispering as Vernon had done earlier, “You know what? Now that we’re discussing it- a sugar daddy site would be perfect for Cheol.”

Vernon groans, throwing his hand over his eyes and leaning forward. It’s clear he’d expected to be able to talk to you in something of vague code without Bora picking up on it- but it seems he’s underestimated the astute woman next to you. 

“You guys are horrible at keeping secrets,” Bora grins, sneaking a glance at Seungcheol, who’s now picked up baby Yumi- “This is so interesting.” 

“The plot thickens,” you offer, unable to say much more than that.

“Oh my god, stop,” Bora says playfully, poking your arm. “Obviously there’s some… agreement that’s been made between you and Cheol, so I’ll try not to prod you for much more information,” she promises, “but I’ll talk to Cheol and the next time we meet, you’ll be able to speak more freely.”

“The next time we meet?” you ask, wondering how the woman can be so sure of herself in every regard.

“We’ll meet again,” she tells you. “Trust me, anyone watching you and Seungcheol- well, anyone who knows him, can tell he really likes you.”

Your heart skips a beat. “You think?” 

Bora smiles at you. “Sweet girl, it’s obvious. Trust me, Seungcheol doesn’t bring around just anyone to parties with us, and like I said, he doesn’t often change his schedule for girls either. I don’t care what site you met on, you have that man whipped.”

“Bora-” the psychologist on your left groans.

“Vernon,” she retorts with the same tone. 

They exchange a glance, a battle for dominance, and Bora wins, Vernon releasing a sigh before leaning back in his chair.

“You know what is surprising?” he asks.

“Tell us,” Bora mirrors him, relaxing back against the couch.

“How good Cheol is being with Yumi tonight.” Vernon is watching his friends and the baby again, and soon all three of you are.

“That’s a good point, Vernon,” Bora grins, nudging you a little with her elbow. “I wonder why that is?”

You think her intuition has finally run dry. She can’t be insinuating that you’re partially the reason behind Seungcheol’s apparent baby fever- 

And if she is, she has another shock coming for her when she finally talks to Cheol and finds out that ‘no babies’ was one of the clauses of your dating agreement.

“I think, Cheol’s the kind of man who likes seeing people happy, and Yumi is very expressive” you offer. “People can like babies without wanting one for themselves.”

Bora lets out a scoff. “Right, Mingyu and I always thought we just ‘liked babies,’ and now look at me. Liking babies is always how it starts, and before you know it, nine months have gone by, you’ve turned into a balloon and are buying a new home big enough to raise a family in.”

You are envious of her position, but at the same time, you’re acutely aware that you and Cheol are extremely new to each other. He’s not the kind of man to be hasty- or at least, you’d thought he wasn’t, but as Bora had mentioned, Seungcheol doesn’t introduce just anyone to his friends. 

You’ll have to talk with him about this and you know it, but until then, it’s enough to just sit between his friends and watch him play with Yumi, who seems to give everyone in the vicinity a serious case of baby fever. 

9: Thursday

“Hold up-” Seungkwan says, interrupting you with a wave of his hands, and they land on your knees, “wait a minute- so he makes you sign an NDA, and then invites you out with his friends, and one of them like- bombards you for an hour about him-”

“It wasn’t an hour-”

“Sure-”

“And she wasn’t bombarding,” you correct.

“Ok, fine, yeah, whatever- but then-” Seungkwan takes a deep breath, “he also has a thing about no babies, and in the first week- straight up rubs a baby in your face for an entire night-”

“Yumi was only there for an hour or so before we left-”

“And then!” your best friend interrupts you again, “on the car ride home, instead of discussing it with him like adults- ya’ll put up the separation between you and his hot as fuck driver, and nearly fucked in the back seat-”

“Oh my god, stop-” you groan, “I told you, it was just kissing-”

“With you straddling the man!” Seunkwan yells back. “And all of this, after he switched his schedule to fuck you on Tuesday night- even though you said it would go slow-”

“Actually, he told me he wouldn’t fuck me till the third date, and if we didn’t meet Tuesday, the night with his friends on Wednesday would have been the third date, so-” 

“I swear to fucking god, I have whiplash,” Seungkwan tells you, looking as serious as ever. “Ya’ll make me sick! Sick I say! What in the ever-loving fanfic is this bullshit-”

“Have you been writing more Hannibal and Will love stories again?”

“Maybe.” 

“Are you going to write a fanfic about Will and Hannibal based on me and Cheol?”

“Maybe…” 

“Seungkwan!” 

“Well don’t tell me juicy stories if you don’t want them getting thrown in a sex fantasy! Ya’ll nearly fucked in the back of a car with a hot chauffeur-” 

“I told you-” you begin to defend yourself again, only to be cut off by your phone buzzing.

Both you and Seungkwan look to your cell, placed a foot or two away on the coffee table.

“Daddy,” you both say in unison, and then you’re lurching for your phone.

“Seungkwan stop!” you screech, grabbing onto his sweater when he latches onto the device first.

“Put him on speaker!” Seungkwan declares, holding your cell just out of your reach while it rings.

“Yeah- I’ll put him on speaker-” you fold easily, “just give me the phone!”

Instead of handing it to you right away, your best friend answers the call and hits speaker, then thrusts it towards your face.

“Hi, daddy!” you blurt out, flustered from the small dust up you’d just had with your friend over the entire situation.

There’s a chuckle on the other end of the line, then “Hi, sweetheart. It sounds like I’ve interrupted something.”

“Just-” you grab the cell back from Seungkwan, “just had trouble finding my phone is all, was worried you’d be sent to voicemail.”

“I’m glad I wasn’t. It’s good to hear your voice.”

Your heart swoons, and Seungkwan grabs a pillow to scream into. “Good to hear yours too.”

“I’m just calling to see if we’re still on for tomorrow.”

“Right, yeah- do you still want to see me? I know you were very specific when we met about meeting up once or twice a week, and I’ve already seen you twice in the past three days-”

“Once or twice a week, plus the occasional group event,” Seungcheol clarifies for you. “I’d really enjoy having you over tomorrow, if you haven’t already made plans. I won’t hold it against you if you have, I can see how there might have been a small miscommunication- especially after my… erratic behavour this week, fitting you in on Tuesday- scheduling will almost always be smoother than it has been these last few days.”

“I’d love to see you tomorrow- I haven’t made any other plans.”

“Good.” You can hear him smiling. “Since it’s a Friday, and I don’t have any specific work engagements on weekends, how do you feel about bringing an overnight bag?”

Seungkwan drops his pillow.

“I would love that, too-” you say.

“Perfect. Should we say pick up at seven?”

“Sounds great.” 

God, he makes everything so easy-

“Can’t wait to see you again, angel. Have a good evening, you deserve it.”

You deserved to get dicked down.

“Have a good night too, Cheol.” 

10: Friday

When you exit your building, you’re shocked to find a different car - and an entirely different driver - waiting to take you to  Seungcheol’s home.

The man himself is standing aside a sleek, black, two-seater sports car, dressed in his usual suit aesthetic that shows off the broadness of his shoulders- 

You go feral nearly immediately, and it takes everything in you to stop from practically drooling as you close the distance between you and the man who pulls you into a hug that takes you off your feet for a greeting.

“Hey there, angel,” his breath tickles your hair and he sets you back down. He takes your hands gently, holding them out to the sides so he can get a good look at your outfit, a red dress you’d chosen, knowing it’s his favourite colour. “You look gorgeous.”

“You’re not so bad yourself,” you grin, playing with his fingers.

One quick motion has him spinning you like a dancer, and you find yourself giggling like a schoolgirl.

“Ready to go?” he asks when you’ve come to a stop in front of him again.

“Uh huh,” you nod, giving your head a little shake to pull yourself from a lust-fueled daze, “sorry, I was just- I wasn’t expecting you to be the one picking me up.”

“I gave Seokmin the night off,” Seungcheol tells you, opening the car’s passenger side door and holding out a hand to help you in. “Hope that’s okay,” he leans down and presses a quick kiss to your cheek before taking your overnight bag and closing you into the vehicle.

He puts your bag in the back trunk, then slips into the driver’s seat.

Seungcheol’s hand finds your thigh, and he squeezes gently, offering you a small smile. “I know we’re planning on having you stay the night, but if you decide you don’t want to sleep over, I can always drive you home later.”

“Cheol,” you rest your hand on top of his, “I think we both know I’m not going to take you up on that offer.”

“Sure, but I figured I’d put it on the table regardless.” 

You smile, leaning in to steal a kiss to his cheek, as he had when he helped you into your seat. “You’re too sweet to me.”

“You deserve it,” he insists, giving your thigh another squeeze before reaching for the ignition. 

The car revs to life. 

It’s hard not to stare at Seungcheol while he drives, and luckily, his hand returns to your thigh, giving you something to focus on. You take to playing with his fingers, marveling at how handsome every inch of him is.

“Vernon called me yesterday,” Seungcheol says, dragging your attention from his hands.

“Oh?”

“He admitted to slipping up and giving Bora ideas.” Seungcheol lets out a small chuckle, “said you looked like a deer in headlights when he arrived to the conversation- she was pressing you for details, huh?”

“Not in a bad way,” you tell him, wanting to defend the woman who you’re already coming to think of as a friend. “She was just- curious.”

“It’s my fault for not being specific with you about the NDA, or with Vernon for that matter- the NDA is primarily for when we go to work events outside of our inner circle, which is why your best friend is mentioned on the form you signed- it seems both Vernon and Mingyu were under the idea that I wanted to be highly secretive about us- but I’ve explained to them the nuances of it all. The next time you see Bora, please, feel free to discuss it with her, or Vernon, or Mingyu, Wonwoo, Minji- as long as you’re not too specific with Yumi, you can consider the baby a confidant as well.”

He’s obviously joking about the baby, but the mention of the child brings those same warm fuzzy conflicted feelings that you’d experienced last night at the get-together. 

There will be a time to talk with Seungcheol about his seemingly dualistic baby fever and baby aversion- but tonight is not the night for it.

You’re thankful he’d even brought up the topic of Bora and the NDA, and already, what little anxiety you’d felt about this whole thing has been substantially dwindled.

“I really liked your friends,” you admit, thinking back to how pleasant the evening had been. Despite Bora’s teasing and prying, she’d been nothing but a courteous host when Seungcheol and Mingyu had predictably rejoined you in the living room.

“They liked you too, angel. I knew they would.” He lets go of your thigh in favor of gently taking your hand. 

You can already feel your panties beginning to get wet- 

No man’s hands have ever had this effect on you before- and maybe it has to do, in part, with the whole ‘quirofilia’ thing-

Or maybe, Cheol is simply a man made by the hands of god himself- after all, how could he be this perfect without something like divine intervention?

Before you know it, you’re at Seungcheol’s house, and he’s pulling into the underground garage, where he parks next to the rolls-royce you’re accustomed to being driven in. 

Ever the gentleman, Seungcheol makes sure to come around and open your door for you, your duffle swung over his arm. He refuses to give it back to you, insisting on carrying it up to his home, where the two of you head to his bedroom instinctually.

He sets the bag down, turning to look at you, opening his mouth to say something-

But your patience has already run thin, and you all but launch yourself at the broad man, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck and pressing your lips to his while his hands find your waist.

He laughs into the kiss, and you think he must not have been expecting you to jump him like this. 

Doesn’t he know the effect he has on you?

“Cheol-” you groan, moving your lips to his neck-

“Eager, angel?” Seungcheol reaches down to cup your bum, prompting you to jump and wrap your legs around his waist. “It was hard being close but not able to properly touch you at the gettogether-” he says, taking a few steps back and collapsing down onto his bed, steadying you on top of him, “Could hardly even get work done today-”

“Was I that distracting for you, daddy?” you coo, teeth teasing past his earlobe.

He releases a groan, hands digging into your hips, forcing you down on his cock, which presses up against his dress pants, caught between your bodies. “Always.” 

“How can I fix it?” you wonder out loud, hands already going for the buttons of his shirt. “I wanna make you feel good.”

“You do, angel,” Seungcheol tells you, “make daddy feel so good.” 

“Wanna make you feel even better-” Then an idea comes to your head, “How about… a massage?” you suggest, thinking back to a paragraph you’d read from his book yesterday. “Aren’t you the one who claims relaxation time, such as stretching, massages, and the like, can be just as beneficial to the mind and body as activity itself?”

“Look at you, quoting my own work at me,” he releases a deep groan. “Are you sure that’s what you want to get up to tonight?”

“Just to start,” you tell him. “We have the whole evening- and tomorrow morning- why not start the night off with something like a massage? And work our way into…” you swivel your hips, “harder things.” 

“I like the sound of that, angel,” he confesses with another sigh of pleasure as you kiss the sweet spot just under his ear. “But you’ve got to let me get up so I can grab massage oil.”

You’d forgotten about that part, and the idea of letting Seungcheol leave you - even for a moment - brings out a bratty side of you that you’ve never truly experienced. 

It takes all your willpower to concede, getting off of the man who sits up and runs a hand through his hair. “You okay?” he questions, seeing the shift in your energy.

“Yeah,” you nod, “just hurry.”

He laughs, reaching out to gently pinch your chin between his thumb and forefinger. The kiss he places on your lips is as chaste as your first had been, and it leaves you tingling with potential, even as he stands and heads to the ensuite bathroom.

In his absence, you begin to take off your clothes, removing everything down to your bra and panties, and then, just for good measure, you settle onto your knees on the foot of his bed, trying to be as patient as possible.

You’re rewarded when Seungcheol appears in the doorway again, having stripped himself of his shirt. There’s a bottle of baby oil trapped between his teeth, and his hands are working on his belt and pants- 

When he sees you sitting on the foot of his bed, like the best girl there ever was, he lets the baby bottle drop from his mouth, catching it easily in one hand- “look at you,” he breathes, scanning your form. 

“Like what you see, daddy?” you tease, skin heating from the attention he gives you.

“Love it,” he tells you. “How good are your reflexes, darling?”

You open your mouth to respond, only to have him toss the bottle of oil at you. 

Unlike him, you don’t catch it gracefully, the bottle almost slipping out of your hands- there’s a small fumble but your digits wrap around it-

Seungcheol laughs at you. “With butter fingers like that- should I be getting us a towel to put down?” 

You hate that it’s a legitimate question.

And you doubly hate that the answer is a resounding yes, which you verbalize to him, annoyed that he’ll be leaving again-

But then you’re graced with a full view of his beautiful back when he turns to head into the bathroom again, and you decide to be a good, patient girl for just a few more moments.

Seungcheol returns, and you bite your tongue while you watch him set the towel down, but as soon as it’s settled, you find yourself saying - in something like a command - “on your stomach first,” you’re quick to adjust to your tone, “I wanna work your back out a little to start.”

“How could I say no to that?” Seungcheol grins, following through and laying flat on the towel.

You nearly drool while watching him adjust his arms, propping his head up with both hands under his chin. His biceps are bulging and your mouth is definitely beginning to water again, prompting you to lick your lips-

“Have you given many massages before?” he asks, as you straddle his hips, continuing to marvel at the shape of his perfect form-

“Erm- define many?” 

He chuckles, and you flip the cap of the baby oil, allowing the liquid to pour into your palm. “I’ll take that as a no.”

“It can’t be that hard,” you tell him, bringing your hands to the muscled back that has you wet like the ocean every time you see it.

“Tell that to my chiropractor,” he says, a joke that makes you both laugh.

You begin to work away at his muscles, both hands smoothing up and down his back, focusing in on the shoulders you love so much-

“Feels good,” Seungcheol groans, releasing a deep sigh of relief that has your ego shooting through the roof. 

“That’s good daddy,” you tell him, leaning over him and applying more of your body weight as pressure for your hands. “You deserve to relax.”

He chuckles slightly, and you realize you’re picking up on some of his diction. Hasn’t he been the one telling you what you deserve thus far? 

All it takes is you being on top and you begin to emulate his mannerisms, the soft dom tendency towards praise. 

You can tell he’s enjoying it, and you are too, your panties getting wetter with every second your hands are on his broad shoulders-

 “Can you flip now?” you prompt, knowing it hasn’t been that long that you’ve been working on his back- but you miss his face, and you’re eager to get your hands on his chest-

With a grunt of affirmation, Seungcheol begins to turn, and you lift yourself off of him enough to allow the movement. Once he’s on his back, you settle down again, capturing his cock between your bodies as it strains against his pants.

“You like this position, huh?” he asks, smiling up at you with an expression that exudes adoration. 

His hands find your thighs, rubbing up and down while you get more oil on your palms. “Not always,” you tell him, beginning to massage his chest, “top can be fun to start, in some cases, but- I really liked being under you the last time we were in your bed.”

“Oh yeah?” 

You avoid his gaze, knowing your skin is heating from what you’d just admitted. “Uh huh.”

“You’re cute,” he breathes, rubbing circles on your thighs, “getting all shy while sitting on top of me like this.”

“I’m trying to focus,” you tell him, trailing your fingers down to his abdomen. 

“You look a little dazed, darling,” he presses, “are you sure you don’t want me to take over?”

“I’ve hardly massaged you yet-” you go to argue, but Seungcheol is already making the move to sit up.

He grabs a fistful of your hair and tilts your head back the way he had last time- his breath is hot against your throat, and he trails his nose up under your jaw, bringing his lips to your ear. “What if I don’t care about the massage anymore?”

“Then-” you swallow thickly, pussy throbbing when his free hand unclasps your bra behind you, “then, okay.”

“Okay?” he chuckles. “My love, I don’t think ‘then, okay’ is a sentence.”

“Fuck me?”

“Not too sure that’s a sentence either, but, your wish is my command.”

It seems like the easiest thing in the world for him to discard your bra and flip you onto your back, lips finding your own, tearing your breath away.

Your legs tighten around his waist, and his oiled chest slides against yours, your newly freed nipples pebbling at the direct contact-

One of his hands, slides between your bodies, skimming over your breast and cupping it, squeezing. You release a moan of pleasure, hips bucking, pushing up towards him-

Your own hands slide over his slippery shoulders, and you mentally kick yourself for having lubed him up- there’s hardly anything to grasp onto, so you latch onto his hair instead, kissing him harder.

He releases your breast, hand slipping down and under the waistband of your panties. When his fingers find your core, they tease past your clit, and you can feel the silkiness of the baby oil on his digits, which glide into your wet hole as easily as ever. 

“Cheol-” you moan desperately, wanting to push your hips up- to get closer, but he holds you down with his large body, lips moving to your neck.

You realize, as his expert fingers crook up and find your gspot, that the last time you’d fucked, he’d never fingered you. You’d gotten to experience his tongue and his cock, but the middle and ring fingers that explore your pussy have something like trained exactitude, hitting the spot that has your toes curling with deadly precision. 

“Oh my god-” you whimper, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck, looking for an anchor while he begins to thrust his digits into you with enough force that your hips begin to rock-

The palm of his hand applies pressure to your clit, rubbing you through the rough manhandling that has you achingly close to an orgasm within no time-

“Gonna cum?” he prompts in your ear, hot breath making your skin tingle.

“Yes, daddy-” it’s the most you can do to hold onto him and clench your eyes shut, an intense feeling of euphoric pressure erupting between your legs-

“That’s it gorgeous, let it all out-” he groans, fingers unrelenting-

You can hear your pussy, squelching sinfully around his fingers- and you can feel wetness gushing between your thighs-

In the back of your mind, you realize you’re squirting, cumming completely undone on his hand, but you’re too lost in the feeling of it to care.

He finger fucks you to the point of overwhelm, until your whines and whimpers are hoarse and tears well in the corners of your shut eyes-

And then he’s pulling his hand out of your panties, and the soaked material is left to cling back to your sopping hole.

Your arms go slack, landing on the bed next to you, and Seungcheol pulls away from your body, making you moan desperately, eyes opening to watch him-

“I’m not going anywhere, angel,” he promises, pushing his own pants down before kicking them to the side, then he goes to tear your panties off, and you see, for the first time, how truly ruined they are. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone squirt this much,” he tells you, discarding the fabric so he can rejoin you on the bed, the both of you fully nude. “Did that feel good?”

“So good-” you whimper, hardly able to form sentences in your delirious, sex induced brain fog-

Seungcheol slots himself between your thighs again, cupping the side of your face, thumb brushing away the tear that’s escaped your eye. “Do you need a moment?”

“No!” you’re quick to protest, locking your legs around his hips. “Fuck me- daddy- please-”

You don’t think any cock has ever entered you as smoothly as his does, aided by the copious amount of wet arousal still dribbling out of your hole.

Seungcheol tucks his face against the crook of your neck, supporting himself above you with two hands buried into the pillow on either side of your head. His lips are feverish against your throat, and the groans he releases as he begins to fuck you make you as horny as ever.

“You feel so fucking good,” he moans, rutting into you with a pace and power that increases with every slap of skin on skin- “so perfect for me-”

“Daddy-” you whine, clawing at his back while he ravages your insides.

“So responsive-” his teeth graze past your neck and you shiver, whole body tingling with delight.

“Harder-” you moan.

“Harder?” he releases something like a laugh, and then you hear him swallow, adjusting his position so he can dig his elbows into the bed, hooking his forearms under your own shoulders, which props you up ever so slightly- enough to change the angle and allow him to follow through with your request.

You release a squeak at the feeling of being completely at his mercy, completely wrapped in Cheol while he’s wrapped in you- the perfect combination really.

The sounds escaping you aren’t something you can hold back, and each rough thrust has his cock hitting a spot deep inside of you, a spot that has you becoming a mewling, moaning, whimpering mess for him.

“Just like that-” you tell him desperately, grabbing at his hair, eager to hold onto something while you get fucked into oblivion-

“You close, gorgeous?” he asks, and all you can do is moan, which makes him chuckle, “yeah you are,” he breathes. “Squeezing daddy so fucking tight- you were made for this, weren’t you, angel?”

“Yes-” 

“Made to be fucked-” he growls, rutting into you even harder-

You’re not sure where sweet, soft dom Seungcheol has gone, but you’re more than happy to be decimated by the man fucking into you like an animal, and his sinful praisings go straight to your pussy, which clenches around him even more.

“That’s it angel, that’s it-” he groans, “just a little more-” one of his hands moves to grab your thigh, hiking it higher on his waist-

He hits a spot that has you seeing stars, and you gasp loudly, crying out-

“Cum for me,” he instructs, and before your mind has even registered his words, your pussy is following through with the command, clamping down onto him while the biggest orgasm of your life slams into you like a freight train. 

Seungcheol lets out delicious sounds of pleasure, gasping against your throat, fucking you through your orgasm while coating your insides with his own release-

You’re completely surrounded by him.

There’s nothing else, only you and Cheol… and perhaps the ruined towel below you, dragging against your back with each rough thrust.

His motions begin to slow, and he comes to a stop, collapsing some of his body weight down against you while you both struggle to catch your breath. 

Neither of you say anything, too lost in the aftershocks of pleasure.

But with Cheol, you don’t need to say anything. You’re completely safe with him, completely content to rest in his arms, knowing there’s not a single place in the world you’d rather be.

11: Saturday

Waking up in Seungcheol’s bed, you immediately stretch in search of him- only to find the bed empty.

Sitting up, and wrapping the quilt around your nude body, you look around, blinking away residual grogginess. 

The man who’d fucked you silly until the late hours of the morning is nowhere to be seen, and you can’t help the way annoyance floods through you. But you remind yourself that Seungcheol likes his schedules, and a quick check of the clock next to the bed shows you that it’s eleven am, so you suppose you can’t be mad at Cheol for not staying with you while you slept half the day away.

Getting out of bed, you’re surprised to find just how sore your body is. 

Your thighs burn- and you suppose a round number five riding session may have not been the best idea last night.

You find the simple black sleeping shirt Seungcheol had given you before deciding to tear it off of you for round six, and you enjoy the way it dwarfs you. 

Sometimes you still can’t believe how big and broad Cheol is- 

Finding your overnight bag, you take out a fresh pair of panties, and decide to head off in search of Seungcheol in the simple shirt and underwear look. It’s doubtful you’ll be wearing it for much longer regardless.

It’s not hard to find your psychologist lover, after all, you simply have to follow the smell of food to the kitchen. 

Your sugar daddy is standing at the stove, one hand holding a spatula while he cooks eggs, the other propping up a book that he’s quietly reading.

He’s so sexy and smart- and sexy… and smart.

You can’t help but tiptoe towards him, latching onto his back and pressing your cheek against the space between his shoulder blades, releasing a groan of pleasure to finally be connected to him again.

“Morning, angel,” Seungcheol greets you, setting his book down before adjusting you, tugging you so you’re in front of him and he can meet your eyes. “Did you sleep well?”

“Better than ever,” you beam at him, leaning up to press a chaste kiss to his lips. “And you?”

“Never better,” he returns your smile, and your heart practically melts. “Hungry?”

“Definitely- are you my master chef today?”

He laughs. “I’m not sure I’m that good, cooking is a hobby I’ve only truly picked up in recent years.”

“Right,” you say, turning in his arms to look down at the pan in front of you. “Very hard ingredient, eggs.”

Seungcheol releases a cross between a chuckle and a sigh behind you, poking at your ribcage. “I can make more than eggs. I just figured, I don’t really know what you like when it comes to food, so I’d make something safe and healthy. Besides, I wasn’t sure when you’d wake up.”

“So this is just for you, is that what you’re saying?” you tease him some more, enjoying the domesticity of this- it’s as if you’ve done this a hundred times before, or at least, you have the peace that comes with familiarity.

“If I had known you were such a brat-” he begins, but you cut him off with a squeal and turn to face him again, insisting “I’m not a brat!”

He simply looks at you with a smile.

“You’re being mean to me,” you pout, cupping the back of his neck and getting closer to him. 

Seungcheol scoffs, shaking his head slightly. He’s quick to change the subject. “Eggs are done, are you going to come sit with me at the table?”

With a sigh, you release the psychologist, allowing him to move the eggs to a plate- and when you turn to head to the table, you see a tray of fresh fruit and other breakfast items.

“There’s orange juice in the fridge, water, or I can make you some coffee,” Seungcheol says, following you to the table where you both take your seats. 

“I’m okay for now,” you tell him, grabbing a particularly tasty-looking piece of fruit to gnaw on. “Thanks, daddy.”

Seungcheol smiles, looking down at the healthy fruit options. “You know,” he says, moving a few pieces of cantaloupe and honeydew to his plate, “I’ve been wondering about you and your daddy kink.”

“Hmm?” 

“Just that- we’ve never discussed it, not explicitly- I guess, being a sugar daddy, the term is in the name, but… you took to it very easily,” he explains.

“Are you suggesting I have inherent daddy issues?”

“Not suggesting, merely… wondering.”

“How about this,” you set your fruit down, “I’ll talk about my daddy issues when you tell me why you think you’d be a bad father.”

Seungcheol looks at you quizzically. 

“I know you say it’s about your work and not having enough time, but- you’re settled in your career and reputation. You have this big house, a chauffeur, a group of smart psychologist friends who are popping out babies right now- and I saw the way you were with baby Yumi. looking at all of that- the only reason I can think of for why you’d be… adverse to babies, is that you have some personal reasons to think you’d be bad at it.” 

The man across from you stays quiet, leaning back in his chair, but a smile works its way across his face. Then, he sighs, “touche.” 

“So I guess neither of us will be talking about our daddy issues at the breakfast table,” you conclude, picking at your fruit again.

“How did I ever find a girl like you on a dating site?” Seungcheol says. “So pretty, and smart-”

“How did I ever find you on a dating site?” you retort, “so sexy, and smart-”

“Maybe finding each other was destiny.”

“Do you believe in that sort of thing?” you ask, cocking your head to the side. “Many men of science that I’ve heard of tend to lean towards atheism.”

“Maybe I used to, but then- let’s just say, I found an angel, and my world’s been flipped upside down ever since.” 

Your heart leaps in your chest, and you avert your gaze, looking down at your fruit. “You’re too sweet to me.”

“As I’ve told you before, angel,” Seungcheol reaches his hand across the table, placing it over your own, “you deserve it.”

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! this fic was never supposed to be this long- i don't know what came over me- it was very self-indulgent :) hope you liked it!

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🔮 preview. You can’t believe how easy it is for Seungcheol to get you quaking for him- but you suppose, in some sense, you’re always quaking for your sugar daddy, who’d turned the entire trajectory of your life around the moment you’d met.

cw/ tw. oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, daddy/breeding kink, bickering like an old married couple, praise, semi-bondage, size kink, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, etc...

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.3k I teaser wc. 370

🌙 staring. seungcheol x afab!Reader  

bonus teaser

“Are you checking your book sales again?” you groan, leaning over the back of the sunlounger chair to look over Seungcheol’s shoulders, your hands smoothing down his bare chest-

“No,” your psychologist lover says, closing his laptop and setting it on the side table next to him. 

“Liar,” you grin, moving around the front of his chair so he can see you and the red bikini adorning your body- one of many sets you’ve accumulated over the two and a half years you’ve been dating Seungcheol. 

You have no actual intent of going into the private pool behind you.

Seungcheol’s eyes eat you up, and the smile of appreciation that works its way onto his lips is as bright and full of affection as it’s always been. “Look at you, angel. I’ll never get tired of seeing you in red.”

“Ass kisser,” you tease, watching him stand up from the poolside chair. “I thought we agreed no work on our honeymoon.”

“It’s true that I promised that- but… checking sales on my new book isn’t work, it’s… checking sales on my new book, and besides, you were asleep,” your husband grins, hands finding your waist and tugging you to his chest. “What if you pretend you never saw me on my laptop.”

You roll your eyes. He’s gotten cheekier the longer you’ve been together, and this playful side of your relationship isn’t something you’d trade for the entire world. 

“You always get up to naughty things while I’m sleeping,” you tease, playing the part of an upset wife.

“Come on,” Seungcheol prompts, leaning down to kiss you, “say you love me.”

“I’ll say I love you when you fulfill your other promise.”

“You know, we’re what, three days into this vacation?” Seungcheol pulls you closer. “Who’s to say I haven’t already pumped a baby into you?”

“Me,” you grin, hooking your fingers in his swim trunks. “I don’t feel full at all right now, in any way, shape, or form.”

“Well then, let’s see what I can do about filling you up sufficiently,” he smiles, leaning down to kiss you one last time before throwing you over his shoulder and taking you back into your private vacation villa..

God, you fucking love this man.

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towards the sun

✧ choi seungcheol x reader

✧ summary: sometimes you wonder if seungcheol will one day regret being tied to you.

✧ wc is approx 2k

✧ warnings/tags: angst and comfort, insecurities. mentions of depression, anxiety. seungcheol talking abt his own struggles with depression. quiet anger, crying. seungcheol loves you sm and spoils you accordingly. childhood sweethearts, promise rings. you two worship each other <3 tons of metaphors.

✧ request: if you have the time can i please request for an argument drabble with cheolli? please make it angst with a fluffy fluff ending:))))))

✧ i hope you like this, anon!!! i couldn't fit in fluff at the end, but it's comfort and sweet. i know you asked for a drabble, but it sort of?? ran away from me?? i hope you enjoy nonetheless!!! <3

All night you had sat near the wall, watching your boyfriend socialize. Seungcheol was constantly moving, face bright as he talked to longtime friends and new ones, family members hugging him and congratulating him. 

 You drank your water steadily, trying to get that bitter taste out of your mouth. It had persisted ever since Seungcheol came home, brilliant and bright and shining. He was like a light amongst the crowd, a star amongst the ordinary. 

And you were part of that ordinary. 

He had risen so high. Seungcheol had flown towards the sun, fearless and accomplished. He hadn’t meant to leave you, hadn’t meant to leave you on the ground, but that’s where you stood; watching him fly away, stranded. 

When Seungcheol finally returned to your side, he pressed a kiss to your cheek. You couldn’t help but lean into him, despite all the thoughts that poisoned your mind and heart. He wrapped an arm around you, pressing you to his side. He was warm, as Seungcheol always was, warm from the heat of the sun and the satisfaction of flying so close to it. 

“I’m thinking we should head out,” he murmured, voice deep in your ear. He brought his other hand, the one not hugging your waist, up and brushed your hair from your face. Seungcheol’s eyes were sweet as they looked at you, soft with his adoration of you. “Don’t you think so, baby? It’s getting late.”

“Don’t you want to talk a bit more?” You asked, glancing about the room. People were still arriving, taking off their coats and scarves, cheeks aglow with the bite of winter. “You haven’t seen some of these people in forever.”

Seungcheol shrugged, humming as his finger traced the curve of your cheek. “I’ve always thought that if someone really wants to see you, they’d make an effort. You know more than half of these people don’t really care about me.”

You frowned at him, hating the thought. You found it hard for anyone to not care about him, not when his heart was so large and welcoming, when he was Choi Seungcheol. You loved him with every fiber of your being, loved him even when he flew to the sun and your feet remained on the ground, so how was it anyone had the ability to feel otherwise about him? 

Seungcheol laughed softly at your incredulous look. “Come on, baby. Let’s get some soju from the convenience store, some ramen. We can drive out of Seoul, look at the stars.”

Leaving the event was tricky. Even as he was helping you into your coat, even as he slid your fingers into your gloves and made sure they weren’t bunched awkwardly, people were stopping him. They glowed just from speaking to him, as if his stardom was enough to ignite them. 

Eventually the two of you made it out to the car, a sleek black thing that Seungcheol treasured. He tried not to be materialistic, not when the two of you came from families where your parents left you with your grandparents, heading off for long work days, each blinding into the one before it. But he couldn’t help himself. Sleek cars, branded clothes for the both of you, a promise ring, rosegold band lined with small peridots on your finger; a matching watch band for him, your birthstones surrounding the watch face. 

The car came alive with a smooth, deep hum. You couldn’t look at Seungcheol, staring down at your ring. 

Seungcheol was a man far above you in all aspects of the word. Once the two of you had stood side by side on the ground, your childhoods spent running from one house to the next, your grandmothers wearing matching, knowing smiles. But then he had left for the city, his dreams so big and bright, promises to return heavy on his tongue and weighing down on your heart. 

And he had returned for you. You had waited for him, both feet on even ground, but now you couldn’t help but think. 

Did you belong? Did you belong in this sleek black car with your ordinary desk job? Did you belong on his arm, when he shined so brightly and you blended amongst the crowd? 

Seungcheol pulled onto the interstate, fingers drumming on the wheel. Once he got into a comfortable pace, he removed one of his hands and moved it to your thigh. He grabbed your hand, thumb running over the ring absentmindedly. 

His nails were so perfect, you thought. Clean and manicured, trimmed. Your own were uneven, chewed with specks of dirt underneath them. 

You moved your hand from his, clenching your hands together. You shifted back in the seat. 

“Baby?” Seungcheol asked, glancing over at you. “What’s wrong? You tired?”

“It’s --” You sighed, looking out the window. Darkness had long descended on the city, traffic on the highway loose. “It’s nothing.”

There was a temporary silence. “I don’t think it’s nothing. Come on, baby.”

“Do you think we’re right for each other?”

As soon as it left your mouth, you regretted it. You wanted to reach out and grab the words from the air, throw them out the window. They felt so wrong. They felt wrong once you said them, real and tangible. They weren't just your silly thoughts anymore. 

He was quiet beside you. But you weren’t foolish enough to think that he had forgotten about it, that he was ignoring it. That wasn’t who Seungcheol was. 

“I want you to say that again,” he said, voice heavy. “Say that again.”

You felt like crying. How horrible you were. Seungcheol had a wonderful day, surrounded by people who loved and adored him, and here you were. Ruining it with your venomous words. 

“I just --” You broke off, throat thickening with the weight of your words. “Won’t you regret this?”

He was quiet again, though this time it was a baffled, agitated sort of silence. A car roared past you. He tapped his finger against the wheel. “Since you seem so knowing on the subject,” Seungcheol began, his voice tense, “why don’t you enlighten me further on my regrets.”

You took a deep, shuddering breath. The stars were completely hidden by the city. Your tears rose up, stinging at the corner of your eyes. “It’s just. We’re so different.”

“We’ve always been different. I don’t see why it matters now.”

You sniffled, ashamed of yourself for causing his voice to harden like that. Seungcheol didn’t yell at you, not after witnessing you flinch back from him once as teenagers. Still, the hardness in his voice, the absolute void of any affection and emotion, made you feel as if you had been yelled at. 

Disappointment, you found, was just as bad as anger. 

“We were kids,” you said.

“Oh, so now that we’re grown it suddenly matters? What the fuck, Y/n. What the fuck is this? What are you trying to say? That these past years haven’t mattered? That we don’t matter? That I don’t matter?”

“No,” you began feebly. “I just --”

Seungcheol interrupted, his red-hot anger slowly beginning to bubble up and out of his mouth. “This is so -- what? You’ve suddenly decided that we’ve wasted the past twenty-five fucking years of our lives? That suddenly because we’re grown that it makes everything fucking invalid?”

“Seungcheol,” you whispered, speechless. 

“I’m so fucking mad at you.” Seungcheol announced. He glanced behind him before turning on the turning signal. Seungcheol merged off of the highway, onto an exit. “I can’t fucking. So everything you’ve ever said to me doesn’t matter?”

Finally a sob, loud and ugly, erupted from you. You pressed your hands up to your face, obscuring it from him. You were shaking. Your heart was bleeding, it felt like. “I love you,” you sobbed, “I just don’t know what to do when you’ll stop loving me.”

He was quiet, the car following a curve off the exit. When the car straightened out, his hand appeared on your thigh. Seungcheol squeezed it once before moving his hand again, grabbing your arm. His hand slid up your arm, wrapping around your wrist. Seungcheol moved your hand from your face, sliding to hold onto your fingers, ignoring the wetness from your tears. 

“You can’t,” he began, voice thick with emotion. “You can’t decide that for me. You can’t suddenly decide that I’ll stop loving you. That’s not -- Baby, that’s so unfair.”

You sobbed again, nodding against your hand. He pulled into a gas station, putting the car in park. Seungcheol undid his belt, turning to you. He reached out, taking both of your hands. “I want you to tell me what’s going on, baby. Give it to me straight.”

You sniffled. You reached up, removing your hand from his to rub at your nose. Seungcheol tsked at you, reaching into the glovebox and removing a tissue. He gently pressed it against your nose, wiping. 

“Come on, baby.” He muttered. His eyes were so wide, shining with unshed tears. “Let me see what’s going on inside that head of yours.”

You took a deep, shuddering breath. “It’s just -- Seungcheol -- you’re so amazing.”

He blinked, not quite following. 

“You -- you make more money in a month than I do in a year,” you went on, refusing to look at him. “Everyone knows your name. You’re -- you’re amazing and brilliant and famous, and I’m so ordinary and dull and work at a desk.”

Seungcheol let out a loud sigh, one of his hands moving to brush at your cheek and remove some of the tears there. “You know how stupid that sounds?”

“I know!” You sobbed, nodding. “It’s so fucking stupid but I can’t stop thinking about it. Seungcheol --”

He leaned fully over the center console, as close as he could get to you. He wound one arm around your shoulders, bringing you into him. “Baby. You are the most beautiful, brilliant, spectacular, amazing, perfect person in the world.”

You shook your head against him, but he sank one hand into your hair and stopped you. “Listen to me, Y/n. You are. You are so perfect. Do you remember the last tour? I couldn’t even make it through Japan. And I was so, so angry. Angry at myself, angry at my brain. But you weren’t. You just held me, loved me. Even though I felt so fucking ugly, you loved me like I was someone worthwhile. And baby --” 

He pulled away, his fingers swiping at the tears beneath your eyes. “I’m telling you right now. You’re fucking worth it. You’re perfect, and beautiful inside and out, and even if you weren’t you still would be because you’re mine. You’ve been mine since we were five and scaring my big brother with worms. You were mine when I left for Pledis. You were mine when you began college, when I came home from that tour. 

“You were mine, just like I’m yours. You’re still mine, I’m still yours. I will never, ever, regret this. I will never regret you.” He sniffled, and when you met his eyes they were slightly red. He was such an ugly crier, you thought, but still you couldn’t help but think he was the most beautiful person in the world. “Every single fucking day I wake up and think of how blessed I am to have you by my side. Whether you work in a desk or fucking -- if you decide to be a damn professional table tennis player. You’re mine, and I’m keeping you.”

You nodded, sniffling once more. “I’m sorry, Cheol.”

He shook his head. Seungcheol pitched forward, pressing his mouth to your hairline. “Don’t be, baby. Just promise me the next time you start thinking like that, you’ll tell me.”

“Cheol --” 

“I know,” he interrupted, though not unkindly. “I know how hard it is. But you’re mine, and you know how I like to take care what’s mine. I can’t do that if you’re not telling me what’s going on in that beautiful head of yours.”

You swallowed, a deep sigh leaving you. “I love you, Seungcheol.”

“I love you,” he returned, as easily as breathing. "Now let's go get some drinks, some ramen, and then we'll go home and cuddle in bed. Okay?"

You pressed a kiss to his chin, breathing in the smell of his expensive perfume and aftershave. "Okay."

Seungcheol might have flown to the sun, might glow and shine like a star; you might be standing with both feet firmly on the ground, squinting against the sun, watching as he took off. But the thing was, you would come to realize, that no matter how far Seungcheol flew, no matter how close to the sun he got, he would always come back to you.

Always.

kai pls “you sound pretty hot when you shut up.” + cheol im begging

also ily <3 hope ur doing well and taking care of urself <333

SAR BELOVED! sorry it took me a while to get to this </3 but hehe here's some cheol filth to start ur day right 😼😼😼

⟣ "you sound pretty hot when you shut up" ⟢ wc: 0.8k words minors do not interact!

One would think that the two presidents of the oldest fraternity and sorority on campus would get along swimmingly. Not only are the two organizations officially affiliated with one another, but most of the time, their members are either really good friends or dating slash fucking each other on the side.

So yes, it was perfectly logical to assume that you and Choi Seungcheol would fall into either of those categories.

Except you don't.

"Didn't I tell you to stop loitering around our property?"

"Your sorority is literally a sister organization to our frat. This is technically our property too, so what's your deal, ice princess?"

"My deal is that I can't fucking study when you're bringing all these stupid frat boys into our hangout! Don't you all have somewhere else to be?"

"Now why are you even studying at your goddamn hangout spot? You're supposed to hang out here, genius."

As Seungcheol bickers with you, the infamous Zeta Tau Alpha president, the 'stupid frat boys' he brought over to your sorority hangout spot all sigh in unison.

"There they go again," Mingyu comments with a laugh. "If I didn't know better, I'd think this is all for show and they're secretly screwing each other."

"That's, like, fanfiction levels of ridiculousness, dude," Seokmin comments. "They don't hate each other in a 'we-secretly-fuck-like-rabbits' kind of way. They just...hate each other. Period."

Soonyoung hums on the side while sipping on a box of juice. "Hmm... But don't you think they're being a little too theatric with their arguments lately? Remember when she splashed water all over Cheol at the cafeteria yesterday?"

"I don't know about that, Soonie," comments one of your sisters, Sana, who shakes her head. "Our lovely president over there is a sweetheart, but when you've done something to piss her off, she'll remember it until she dies."

Mingyu perks up with curiosity. "So you're saying that Cheol did something unforgivable? Is that why she hates him so much?"

Sana can only offer them a nonchalant shrug.

"No clue."

Unbeknownst to your members, Seungcheol has done something unforgivable to you in the past.

"I can't fucking believe you're still hung up on the first time we fucked," Seungcheol rasps as his fingers dig into your thighs. "It was just a one-night stand at the time. Why are you so pissed off?"

Though you want nothing more than to glare at him, the sensation of his thick cock ramming into you does unfairly well in derailing your train of thought. Still, your perpetual irritation with him breaks through the surface.

"How many times do I have to tell you that that was my first time!" You bite back, stifling a moan when Seungcheol presses your face against the cold metal of the lockers. "You can't just take a girl's virginity and leave her all alone in the morning! Doesn't your frat have a code of chivalry or something?"

Seungcheol lets out an irritated noise before lifting up one of your thighs—hooking it across his elbow so he gets to fuck into you deeper. The angle has the leg still planted on the floor quivering with pleasure but your pride won't allow yourself to fall apart so easily.

"Ice princess doesn't like it when her favorite boy toy can't be tied down? I came back to you anyways, didn't I? Again and again—ruining this pretty pussy for anyone else."

When you feel his breath against the shell of your ear, your walls clamp around his pulsating cock almost embarrassingly tight.

"And I'll keep fucking you until that ice cold heart of yours finally melts."

You don't offer up any more complaints—completely and utterly submissive as Seungcheol rails you against the lockers none-too-discreetly. He's rougher than usual, and it wouldn't surprise you if any of his teammates finally found out about this dirty little secret you've been keeping under wraps.

You're fucking addicted to him. His cock squelches with a lewd sound each time he fucks into you, orchestrating a perfectly timed orgasm that has your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

Not a single noise comes out of your mouth once it crests—mouth agape in a quiet scream as you topple over the edge. Your hips absentmindedly meet the cadence of Seungcheol's practiced strokes as you ride out your high, and he only stops when his cock paints your insides with the white hot mess of his cum.

"You sound pretty hot when you shut up."

He dishes out the backhanded compliment when you're fixing the collar of your shirt—mind thankfully far enough from that sexual subspace to rightfully scoff at him.

"Don't let it get to your head," you say, already halfway to the doors of the locker room. "I just didn't want anyone else finding out that we're fucking inside a public space."

Seungcheol chuckles. "Now don't act like you're not down to do it again twice as loud the next time I ask you to."

You don't entertain him with a response. Instead, you let the heavy doors slam behind you in an illusion of autonomy. Of course you wouldn't agree to fuck that insufferable frat president in another risky place.

Even if his cum staining your panties says otherwise.

Rain and Lifetimes

pairing; choi seungcheol (scoups) x gn reader

genre; fluff, mild angst

warnings; god!cheol, human!reader, reader is in a restless/poor mood, alludes to possible insomnia, there is some hints of sadness but also there should be a sense that cheol knows what he is doing and why he is doing it

w/c; 460 and some change 

requested; no

a/n; written for my sweet @duhnova I hope you enjoy this baby and that the rain gives you peace.

You sigh against Seungcheol’s chest. His finger gently runs along the length of your back and up to the nape of your neck. You felt restless and tense. The day had been long, like many of your days recently. All you needed and wanted was a little sleep but like many nights it seemed to elude you. 

Seungcheol frowns to himself when you turn away from him to lie on your other side. He knew you weren’t upset with him, but rather that you were upset in general. Following your motions, he turned to rest his cheek on his forearm looking at you in the moonlight. He could see the way your shoulder moved with each of your steady breaths. That was his calm, knowing you were safe and that he could easily pull you back into his arms if he needed to. 

After a few moments, Seungcheol chewed on his bottom lip turning his head back towards the window to count a few of the stars slowly under his breath. He knew there was no way you were going to sleep like this, not in these conditions, but he knew he could change them. 

Closing his eyes briefly, Seungcheol feels the air shift through the open window. He could smell the rain in the distance. He could feel the shift in you as you heard the first droplets hitting the leaves and finally the roof above the two of you. The sound of your pleased sigh, the relaxed breath escaping your lips, made it worth it. 

Seungcheol opens his eyes watching one of the many stars he had counted dim. Yes, the star had been long dead but he knew that was his fault. Those stars were his pathways. They were his lifetimes, but if he had to give them all up to feel you shift back into his arms and to feel your relaxed body finally beginning to find comfort, that was worth all of them. 

“I love the rain.” 

Smiling, Seungcheol leans down to press a kiss to the corner of your lips after hearing your tired words. You were so tired, you needed sleep so badly and he would make sure you got it. You were his life now. 

“And I love you, Y/N.” 

You laugh softly against Seungcheol’s lips before nodding only to bury your face against his chest finally falling asleep to the sound of the rain hitting the roof. It was your favorite lullaby when it was mixed with the sound of Seungcheol’s heart. 

Seungcheol rarely slept, instead, he watched over you. His sweet innocent human. 

Life could be lonely for a God. He had chosen another way. One day he would explain who and what he was and how you had changed him for the better.

please note that I am doing my best to tag -- tags are now down in reblogs -- all of you who have filled out the tag list form but tumblr won’t let me tag some of you. I think that is because either you have tags turned off or possibly a blank tumblr page. consider reblogging some of the fics you like from me or other writers. ♥

© onlymingyus - all rights reserved. Reposting/modifying of any fic, or pieces of original writings posted on this blog is not allowed. Translations not allowed. 

TRY ME — CHOI SEUNGCHEOL ࿐

summary. you push your sweet boyfriend a little too far when you threaten to fuck his business partner at dinner. he decides to show both you and mingyu who you belong to.

wc. 4.3k

warnings. [PLEASE READ] established relationship. subby brat!reader, hard dom/brat tamer!cheol, car s2x. heavy degradation (use of bitch), sir kink, light choking, jealousy & possessiveness, dumb!fication, praise, heavy pet name use, unprotected s2x, edging, phone call w/ gyu during s2x, mentions of fucking mingyu several times (oops), male masturbation (mingyu is kind of a voyeur?), creamp!e — MINORS DNI 18+

note. mingyu is always at the scene of the crime, i fear. he kinda got fucked over in this tho, i apologize </3 i’ll make it up to him soon. ANYWAY @jeonghantis i love u, thank u for reading this over and being my biggest supporter 🩵

your feedback is sooo important to me, so comments and rbs are greatly appreciated <3333 mwah, enjoy :p

“did you have a good time acting like a needy little whore?” seungcheol grits, hands gripping the steering wheel of his car harshly. you can practically see the skin of his knuckles losing color thanks to the dim street lights shining through his car. 

you sigh, shrugging, “could’ve had more fun if you’d fucked me like i asked.” your words were nothing if not nonchalant. you kept a cool front, but he knew you were acting like this to purposefully push his buttons. 

“and you could’ve waited till we got home, but you’re incapable of being good, aren’t you?” you could tell he was getting angrier by the second. he wouldn’t look at you, the tips of his ears were burning red, and he was huffing out nearly every breath. “you just had to embarrass me in front of all of my colleagues?”

you laugh humorlessly, “i would barely consider that as embarrassing. besides, it’s not my fault you couldn’t handle it.”

he scoffs incredulously, finally turning his head to look at you. “handle what? your hand rubbing my dick at the dinner table or slobbering all over my business partner like some bitch in heat when i denied you?” his question makes you bite your lip because, of course, it’s rhetorical. he knows you well enough to recognize you were doing both for his undivided attention. 

you flash a smile at him and he shakes his head, averting his attention back to the road. admittedly, he loves it when you get like this, all bratty and overly confident– but, god, you could be such a piece of work. 

but you’re almost positive that you love his possessiveness more than he loves when you’re a brat. your usually-cute boyfriend can be so fucking sexy when he wants to be. 

“mingyu could’ve fucked me in the bathroom, cheollie, you didn’t need to make us all leave early ‘cus of that.” your lips turn down in a faux pout. “bet he would’ve had a blast and you would’ve gotten all your little clients to make deals with you– could’ve been a win for all of us, no?”

you speak with a substantial amount of confidence laced in your words that it has him throbbing in his slacks out of jealousy and anger and burning desire to make you eat your words. he’s just about had it, ready to pull over and fuck you on the roof of his car. “better shut that pretty little mouth of yours.” he spits. “i’m not fucking playing with you, baby.”

you giggle at the warning, stomach churning with excitement and ruined panties soaking further. “or what? gonna pull over? fuck me like you own me?” you tease, hands gripping the ends of your dress as you shift in the excruciating puddle you’re sitting in. 

“you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he holds back a groan, cock twitching because he knows he would. he’d honestly love to. he’d love to fuck you like you’re his little slut– make you cry and apologize for nearly ruining his night.

you shrug, “maybe… but i know you won’t though. maybe i should call gyu, i’m sure he’d fuck me anywhere i wanted. i mean, did you see him? he was so ready to just take me on the table in front of everyone when i asked him.” you feign sadness with a sigh and frown. “you’d never do that– you’re so cruel sometimes, cheollie.”

“mingyu couldn’t handle you.”

“so? it’s obvious you can’t either…” you lie because you know damn well it was you who couldn’t handle seungcheol. not the other way around. “you proved that at dinner.”

he scoffs. “is that so?” you’ve finally set him off. so much so that he’s deterring from his original route home. instead, you notice that he’s pulling into the next deserted lot he sees and parking his car. 

he turns off the engine, snapping his head to see you under the harsh lamp post lighting with your pupils blown out and your thighs squeezed together. “get in the back.” he demands, voice hard and stern. 

you realize you have him right where you want him, yet you tease anyway. he always fucks you the best when you’re on your absolute worst behavior.

when you don’t move, sitting there staring at him with a small smile on your face and thighs rubbing together slightly, his voice drops an octave. “pretty girl, you better do what i said and get in the back. told you i’m not fucking playing around anymore.” 

you shiver, pussy flooding at his voice. you undo your seatbelt but you don’t move any further than that. you’re having a hard time keeping the bratty facade when all your body wants is to submit to him, but you get your next words out somehow. “make me.” you grin, eyes dark with lust and desire.

his jaw ticks at your reply, evidently unhappy with your lack of manners. surely, he didn’t hear you correctly so he cocks his head and utters out, “excuse me?”

you lean in over the center console, hand on his thigh much like it was a couple hours prior at the dinner table. “i said, make me.”

and he did. make you, that is. everything after that was a blur that had your head spinning– you remember some things like how he wrapped his large hand around your throat and how he practically forced you into the backseat as you smiled cheekily at him. you remember how he pressed his lips to your ear while he had your face down and ass up, sweetly whispering ‘cherry’ against it to remind you of your safe word. you couldn’t forget how he ripped your favorite lace panties in half before pushing his fat cock into you.

now he’s fucking you stupid, slamming into you with brute force from behind with one hand holding your wrists against your back and the other on your head, pushing your hot face deeper into the more cool leather.

“this what you wanted? wanted me to be mean to you? wanted me to fuck you and treat you like some cheap whore?” he spits. “it is, isn’t it? pissing me off turns you on?”

you choke on a whine at his words and when you don’t give him a verbal response, he topples over you, drilling himself deeper into your tight cunt, hot breath fanning against your face. “i’m getting a bit tired of you not answering when i ask you a question, baby.” he growls and you swear your eyes roll back at his animalistic-like energy. 

“yes,” you get out, choked and breathy. 

he shakes his head, gritting, “yes what?”

“y-yes, sir… i wanted this.” you submit whimpering out your words as you’re on the brink of ecstasy. you even think you’re starting to drool on his seats, and cheol notices, of course, but he doesn’t have it in him to reprimand you. especially not when you look this fucked out all for him. 

he coos, lips brushing against the bare skin of your shoulder blade. “good girl,” he praises condescendingly. “so pretty when you’re being good f’me.”

cheol has learned, after months of being with you, that his cock always puts you back in your place. it always turns you into his sweetest, respectful, all-around good girl even though sometimes, like tonight, you don’t deserve it.

“and what about mingyu, hmm? what would he think if he saw you taking my cock like a slut in the backseat of my car?” his cock twitches at his own question because, yeah, he’d love for people to see you crying– drooling– for him and his dick. 

you can’t be bothered to think about mingyu when all you can think about is his cock filling you to the brim, hitting all the spots that make you weak. you moan out something incomprehensible about how you ‘don’t care,’ and how you ‘wanna cum.’  

seungcheol lets out an airy chuckle, head spinning from the way your gummy walls always hug him so tight. “no? you don’t wanna fuck him now?” 

“n-never did! just you!” you pant, clenching around him as you grow closer and closer with every thrust. 

an animalistic noise bubbles up in the back of his throat before he spits, “that’s ‘cuz you’re just my pretty little bitch, right?”

your eyes roll and your jaw goes slack as you try to nod your head in agreement. “god, yes. ‘m yours.”

“that’s right.” he lets out a soft moan when you tighten around him, “ is my baby close?” 

“yes! yes, sir, ‘m so close!” you sob, desperately pushing your hips back to meet his thrusts. “gonna cum,” your warning makes cheol stop as he bites back a groan. 

“hold it.” he demands and when you let out a miserable cry, he simply shushes you. “‘m sorry, princess, but i can’t always give you what you want, especially not when you’ve been a slutty brat all night– you know that.” 

“‘m sorry! ‘m so so so sorry. please keep fucking me. please, please let me cum– i’ll do anything!” you desperately weep, tears free falling, soon to mix with the puddle of drool you’ve left on the seat. you have no pride or shame left as you attempt to push yourself back on to him. 

seungcheol smiles triumphantly at the mess he’s reduced you to. he almost feels like his actions are sadistic and, usually, he’d feel bad. usually.

he would never deliberately prolong your orgasm especially after you beg like that, but fuck, you’ve really got him in a mood tonight. acting the way you did tonight… that definitely accounts for some type of punishment. 

so his long arm reaches to grab his phone from the center console of his car all the while he’s still fully sheathed inside of your pulsing cunt. his voice drops another octave when his question comes out, “how bad do you wanna cum?”

you’re startled by his deep voice that seems to hold even more dominance than it did moments prior. a shiver runs its way through your body and you stutter out your response. “s-so bad, sir, wanna cum for you so bad.”

“mmm, and you’ll do anything to do so, yeah?” 

“yes! anything… please.”

the desperation in your voice evokes a shaky breath from him. he loves you when you’re a menace, but when you’re like this? all fucked out, drooling, and begging for his cock? it nearly turns him into a mess. regardless, no matter how much of a bratty front you put up– no matter how bent out of shape your attitude gets– he’ll always fuck you back into place. you’re at his mercy. you both know it. 

“alright, baby,” he starts gently, releasing his grip on your wrist using the free hand to ghost over the skin of your ass before grabbing a handful and massaging the flesh. “can you get on your hands for me?”

you nod eagerly, clenching around him instinctively at how quickly his demeanor can change. you do as he says, weakly moving your body till you’re on all fours with his dick still enveloped in your heat.

cheol unlocks his phone with his free hand, searching for his recent contacts. he places the phone next to your hand and you furrow your eyebrows at the action. 

the words ‘kim mingyu’ read on the screen and he smirks when you crane your head to look back at him. 

“w-what… what do you want me to do?” you stutter, though you’re sure you don’t really want to hear the answer to your question. 

his heavy hands continue to knead at your ass while he responds, voice barely above a whisper, “apologize to mingyu and i’ll let you cum.”

“but… won’t he… won’t he know what we’re doing?” you try to reason, but seungcheol knows. he knows that mingyu will know the second you utter your first word to him. 

that’s why he’s dead set on doing this. he needs mingyu to hear you getting wrecked on his cock– needs mingyu to know that you are his.

“don’t worry about that, baby. you’ll call him anyway, won’t you?” he slowly pulls an inch out of you before pushing back in, just barely fucking you. 

you whimper, nodding your head, “okay, okay. i will.” 

“good girl.” he praises, reveling in the way you tighten around him. 

your hand shakily presses the call button and you watch his name reappear on the dimmed screen. you press the speaker button and the sound of rings fill the car, but it doesn’t take long before he answers, his strained voice filling the silence.

“hello?” mingyu asks, clearing his throat. 

“hey mingyu,” cheol greets and you feel your entire body heat and tense up, a sharp exhale leaving your lips. “did you get home alright?”

“cheol…” you whimper lowly to keep the man on the phone from figuring you out but end up wincing at the tightening grip on your ass. you take it as a warning, biting your lip to keep from saying anymore. 

you tune out the conversation, trying to think of anything else but the burning fire in the pit of your tummy and the fact that cheol’s on the phone with his business partner whom you threatened to call up and fuck a mere 20 minutes ago. 

it isn’t until he slowly starts moving that you push your face into the leather seats to mask a whine– though it obviously doesn’t work much because you’re sure mingyu is well aware that you’re… present. 

“yeah, she’s here,” seungcheol smiles wickedly to himself as he replies to mingyu asking the obvious. “actually that’s why i called. she wanted to talk you– apologize for what happened earlier– isn’t that right, Y/N?”

you whimper again, suddenly changing your mind and shaking your head ‘no.’ this is way too embarrassing. 

cheol can’t resist the chuckle that comes out of his mouth. you’re cute. cute in the way your body betrays you when your pussy clenches tightly around him at the offer. cute when you say you don’t want to when your body says the exact opposite. 

“gimme a sec,” he says as his hand moves to press the mute button. “c’mon, don’t you wanna cum, baby?” he coos, snapping his hips against your ass at a steady pace.

“i do!.. i do, b-but he’s gonna know if y-you keep going.” you pant. “‘n i-i can’t talk to him like this.”

“oh, well maybe you should’ve thought of that, baby,” he says and you can hear the faux pout in his words. “if you wanna finish, you’ll have to apologize to him for being such a needy little thing all night.”

you shudder and nod defeatedly as seungcheol continues to thrust in and out of you. your hand moves to unmute the phone, taking a shaky inhale before you speak.

you try your best to sound as normal as possible, but your words still come out breathy and stuttered, “h-hello,” 

“Y/N?” mingyu calls, voice lilting a bit out of surprise. 

you involuntarily clench again at how taboo this whole situation is. how is cheol so okay with this? how will he ever face mingyu again? you know for a fact you won’t be able to without thinking about cheol’s cock stretching you out, but… then again, maybe that’s exactly what seungcheol wants.

“hi, gyu,” you greet, the nickname loosely slipping past your lips. you feel seungcheol’s hands grip at your waist again. rougher this time. like he wants to tell you something– stop being so friendly– just with his actions.

your eyes screw shut and your teeth dig into the pillowy flesh of your bottom lip to omit the whiny sound from leaving your lips. 

it doesn’t go unheard, of course. you can practically hear your boyfriend’s smirk when mingyu asks, “are… are you okay?”

you laugh breathily, a whine dying on the tip of your tongue when seungcheol moves a bit faster. “yeah! no, i’m good! i-i’m great.” you just need to get this apology over with so you can hang up and finally get what you want. “listen, gyu, i– oh, fuck.”

clearly, seungcheol couldn’t let it be that easy, slamming into you like he was minutes earlier. the tip of his cock rams into your sweet spot and you find yourself barely holding on, seconds away from crumbling if he doesn’t let up. 

mingyu’s mouth runs dry and you know he’s finally pieced it all together when he exhales sharply, “Y/N? are you sure you’re okay?”

seungcheol rolls his eyes. he topples over you again, plush lips pressing against one of your heated ears, “answer him.”

“yes, yes…” you pant. “i-i wanted… to say sorry.” 

“tell him why you’re sorry.” cheol’s hot breath fans against your ear again. his thrusts don’t falter in this process, effectively hitting your spot over and over and over. 

it’s driving you crazy. beyond crazy, honestly. it’s driving you absolutely mad. so mad that you don’t even care about the sob that comes out of your mouth when you apologize to mingyu again. 

“‘m sorry! sorry for ruining dinner ‘n sorry for being needy and ask– fuck– asking you to fuck me to- to rile cheol up.” you cry, tears slipping down your face as the knot in your tummy gets tighter and tighter. “i’m so sorry, please. please forgive me.”

seungcheol smiles against your ear, biting back a chuckle at your desperation. he knows the apology was more for him than mingyu. 

mingyu shudders straight into the mic before stuttering, “Y/N… it’s… fine, please–”

“cheol,” you sob, cutting him off and it startles both seungcheol and the man on the phone. it’s apparent that you’ve lost the ability to be discreet and your boyfriend takes pride that he and his cock are the reason for that.

but it’s when you cry out the other man’s name– a whiny ‘gyu’– that his jaw sets and his teeth grind together. 

“so fucking dirty,” cheol spits, sitting back up. his hips snap against your ass vigorously and it’s like both of you have forgotten about poor mingyu who’s still on the line and now hearing every word– every little thing. “moaning out his name while i’m fucking you like this? you really want him to know how much of a slut you are?”

mingyu lets out a muffled groan into his phone, hand slipping to palm at his clothed cock– which has been all hard and achy since you whispered into his ear at dinner– his other clamped over his mouth. he’s trying to keep his sounds at bay, trying to fight the moan that bubbles up in the back of his dry throat, but his name falling from your pretty lips like that? it’s making it impossible. 

he knows the two of you have forgotten all about him because he can hear the vulgar words his partner spits and the lewd sounds of his balls slapping against what he presumes to be your unbelievably soaked cunt. it’s driving him nuts. you’ve been driving him nuts all fucking night. 

and it’s true. you and seungcheol pay no mind to the phone– you’re too busy losing your mind and cheol is too busy making it happen– it’s like he doesn’t even exist. 

your walls hug his cock tightly and it elicits a deep chuckle from the man behind you. “look at that. you’re squeezin’ me so fuckin’ tight.” he says breathily. “just like you’re made to take my cock. isn’t that right, baby? made just for me?” 

you respond with a moan, arms giving out on you as you return to your previous position– one arm limply hanging off the seat while the other grips at the door’s cup holder– your face buried into the leather seat. 

seungcheol doesn’t tolerate that response, though, hand lacing into your hair and pulling your face off the seat. “answer me,” he grits, roughly tugging at your locks. “or i’m pulling out.”

you panic at the thought of being left all high and dry, incessantly shaking your head in his tight grip. “y-yes, sir, yes! for you– made for you.” you sob in a mix of pain and pleasure, back arching while his cock finally hits your cervix. “cheol– cheol, i’m– fuck, ‘m gonna cum! p-please, can i?”

and it’s when mingyu hears seungcheol’s given name– when it’s followed by your desperate pleas for release–  that he can’t hold it in anymore, letting out a loud, drawn out moan. he’s quick when pulling his cock out of his slacks, spitting into his palm, and working himself rather aggressively. it’s like he’s chasing his own release, too.

seungcheol grunts in confusion at the deep moans, but then it comes back to him. mingyu never hung up. an evil smirk plays onto his plush lips, “oh-ho, you hear that, sweet girl? sounds like gyu stuck around to hear you cum all over my cock.” 

and mingyu moans again, a hushed, “fuck,” slipping past his lips. you can almost hear how fast his hand moves, how unbelievably eager he is. 

your boyfriend moans, giving you sharper thrusts. he pants out his next words, “that’s so dirty, mingyu… didn’t know you were into that.”

and mingyu wants to tell him to shut the fuck up, but he can’t form the words when all he can think about is the sound of your pornographic moans and how he’s needily bucking into his tight fist, wishing he was in seungcheol’s position. 

you, on the other hand, could care less that mingyu is on the other side of the line, truly. you’re practically at your breaking point, and if you don’t release sometime soon, you may break. 

“cheol, please– please, please, i-i can’t–” you gasp out, pussy tightening around him and squeezing him for all he’s worth. “oh, my god, i’m–”

seungcheol shushes you, “‘s alright, baby, you can cum in a sec.” 

and just as you’re about to let go, cheol’s hand grabs at his whiny phone and ends the call, sending mingyu to what you presume is his doom. 

“i’m the only one who gets to have you like this.” he grunts, hips stuttering a bit. you can tell he’s close, too. the way he huffs out his words and his movements get sloppy. “cum for me, baby, come on.” he whispers. 

and you do. your orgasm, powerful and blinding, washes over you seconds after he gives you the okay. your body convulses and your back arches as the knot finally unravels in your tummy. your eyes roll, jaw dropping and letting out the loudest cry of his name. 

“fuck, that’s it, baby. that’s my fuckin’ girl.” he coaxes, fucking you through your orgasm, though your vice-like cunt makes it nearly impossible. “gonna fill you up just like you need, yeah? just take it all for me.” 

you whine, still recovering from your euphoric high, yet you still give him a broken nod. 

he groans loudly, giving you a few more hard thrusts before he’s nestling himself deep and stilling inside of you. his cock twitches and, before you know it, warm cum floods your pussy, effectively filling you up just as he promised.

the post-orgasm haze lingers over both of you for a while, but seungcheol is the first to speak up, a twinge of guilt filling him when he sees you’re still shuddering and twitching underneath him. 

his voice hoarse, “baby, are you good? was i too rough?”

“mmm, ‘m good, i liked it. you’re so hot.” you mindlessly admit, words breathy and muffled. 

he scoffs, hand soothing over your body. he’s always so soft after he fucks you regardless of how mad or upset he is. “so you did all of it on purpose, hm?” he asks knowingly and when you give him a sleepy giggle, he rolls his eyes. “you’re annoying.”

“it was worth it… it felt so good, cheollie,” you admit. “hope you’re not too mad, you know you’re the only one for me.” the reassurance slips from your lips and seungcheol can tell it’s genuine. 

“baby, you know you can just be normal and ask if you want to be fucked like that, right?” 

“it’s more fun this way,” you tell him, shameless with your words. “i literally thought i was going to cum when you ripped my panties. i’m serious, you’re so fucking hot.”

he snickers at your blunt words, “i think you’re still cockdrunk, baby. come on, i’ll clean you up and we can go home. think i got some napkins in here.”

you sigh, nodding your head, “can we roll the windows down? smells like sex in here.” 

he laughs, taking in the fact that it is now stuffy in his precious, fogged up car, but you were right. it was so worth it. the sex was just as good for him as it was for you, if not better. 

when he pulls out, he makes sure your ass is still raised up so his seed doesn’t spill out as quickly to avoid the mess it’ll make while he scavenges for napkins in the glove box. he does eventually get you cleaned up, handling you gently and whispering about how well you did, much like he does every other time. 

once you’re clean, he gets you to turn and look at him. he smiles at your disheveled state, “well, you look like you had the time of your life.” he says sarcastically. 

“i did, actually.” you say as a matter-of-factly. “i feel kinda bad for mingyu, though… i didn’t want him to get caught in the crossfire.”

cheol rolls his eyes in faux annoyance, “he’ll be fine, i’ll text him right now.” 

when seungcheol grabs his phone that now resides on the floor of his car, he sees that there are already a few missed texts from mingyu. 

“he said he’s fine.” seungcheol assures, though you can tell by the smug smirk on his face that mingyu most definitely did not say it was fine. “don’t worry about him.”

kim mingyu

hello?!

???

dude

not cool.

choi seungcheol

sorry, man. call dropped. see you monday.

kim mingyu

??????

© cheolhub — all rights reserved, please refrain from copying, reposting, modifying or translating my work on any platform.

taglist 🔖: @roe-sinning @hyuk4ngel @bowmonde @rckwithyou @5xiang @ttyunz @lunaofthelake @girls4cheol @miriamxsworld @enhacolor @jihoontea

As a journalist IRL this made me feel so many things 😅

title: eat. play. love.

pairing: seungcheol x f!reader

wc: 19.4k

summary: being one of new york's top food critics comes with a lot of perks: free dinners, nice awards, and a linkedin profile your parents could be proud of. that doesn't stop you from wanting a lofty promotion to editor, and the only person standing in your way is choi seungcheol. just one problem: his romance column has half of new york under his grimy little thumb. that, and you hate him.

in which your love language is food. seungcheol doesn't have one.

notes: romcom with mild angst, coworkers!au, slow burn enemies to lovers, playboy!cheol, suggestive (one moment in particular) + mentions of sex (otherwise sfw), swearing, lots of alcohol, also you will probably get hungry reading this. extra special thanks a million times over to my fav person @wuahae for bearing with me through literally all 20k words of this. i love you:')

It's underneath a layer of paper-thin egg yolk pasta where you think you see god.

Spoon meets whipped ricotta, white truffle, sage oil. A sip of 1979 cabernet, punishing and oaky. Rinse and repeat.

None of these words are in the Bible, yet you are having nothing short of a religious experience.

"Well, this seems like good news for the place," Jeonghan says. "Wine's tasty. Three stars?"

At this point, you're fairly sure Jeonghan has tuned the explanation of your elaborate rating process out (he's there for the wine, anyway), so instead you top him up and help yourself to a generous portion of his pappardelle.

"Four, then?" He leans forward on his elbows. "Or critic's choice?"

Candied lemon, pecorino, garlic. Derivative, but it's a good bite.

"You're distracting me." You point your fork at him. "You're like 80% alcohol, anyway. Bad opinions."

"Sue me," he laughs. "I would take a client here, is all I'm saying."

You pass on the opportunity to bring up that Jeonghan once brought a client to a Bubba Gump because he was craving coconut shrimp. But Jeonghan isn't a food critic—he's a business analyst and your best friend from college, back when all you cared about was Friday's house party and writing pizza joint reviews for the university paper.

It's a good arrangement. You appreciate his company, and he's never one to turn down a free meal. The both of you keep a small circle—such is the price of discernment.

There aren't many things that can come between you and a delicious meal. But, you have notifications turned on for just three things (all work-related) and you both watch the linen tablecloth light up under your face-down phone in true horror-movie fashion.

Jeonghan raises an eyebrow. "Popular on a Saturday night," he jokes. "Copy on your ass again?"

"Nothing's in production," you reply, letting the evil claws of your terrible work-life balance encircle you once again as you open your email.

URGENT: LIFESTYLE EDITOR TRANSITIONAL PLANS, it reads. It's from Wonwoo, your editor in chief, who has sent it with priority, as if the caps lock wasn't scary enough.

"So Joshua decided to quit. Just like you said," Jeonghan says, but it's like he's speaking to you through a wet paper bag because it takes every working brain cell of yours to read the email.

As you may know, Joshua has decided to step down from his position as our current Lifestyle editor.

Not a surprise, given his wife is having a kid. You had called it six months ago over the paper's Christmas dinner at Eleven Madison Park, when Joshua spent half of it outside on a phone call and the other half browsing the Baby Gap website.

I have decided to hire internally to fill his position. I and upper management believe you would be a good fit for the position. Please plan for a meeting 9 AM Monday to discuss transitional plans.

It's that part that you have to read over three times. And then you read it over a fourth, just for good measure.

"You're starting to scare me." Jeonghan puts down his glass, which is something akin to a baby separating from their bottle.

Sometimes you need a dictionary to understand Wonwoo, but the email seems clear as day to you. Good fit. Transitional plans. Suddenly you wish Jeonghan hadn't had so much of the wine because you're in desperate need of a drink.

"I-I think…I think I'm getting promoted."

How funny to think your lifelong dream would be realized over a 40 dollar plate of pasta. You want to cry and hug the maître d' and eat the entire complimentary bread basket.

"It's about time." The glass finds his relieved hand again. "You breathe journalism. I'm afraid one day you'll text me in AP style."

You read over all of it again, trying to memorialize the words that undoubtedly will launch your wonderful and long career in the upper echelons of media.

Looking forward to talking with the two of you.

Wait—two?

Then the proverbial cherry on top, the laughably convenient other thing your eyes had glazed over before.

CC: Choi Seungcheol.

"Choi Seungcheol?!"

Nothing is ever that easy and it then dawns on you that this is a competition type thing because never in the history of the printing press has there been two editors for a section.

Jeonghan stares at you blankly. It would be funny if you didn't feel like you were being double deep-fried like terrible fair food, all the thrill and elation of the moment boiled down to lead in your chest.

"I—he," you stammer.

Jeonghan mouths check to the poor waiter assigned to watch your table. God bless him.

"Words," he tells you. "You went to journalism school."

You take a syrupy breath that sits in your lungs unhappily. Your food is cold. This is a disaster.

"Well, actually, I'm not getting promoted."

Jeonghan's eyes soften, just enough without making you pity yourself more.

"There's this guy," you start. "He's the love and relationships columnist, the one I complain about all the time." Jeonghan makes a small ahh sound, your predicament finally dawning on him. "I guess we're both under consideration for the position. I didn't-I didn't even think of him. I—"

You slump into your seat, the arancini your only solace despite your complaint that the breading was too salty earlier.

"So? I bet you're a way better fit than him. It'll be a shoe-in. Easy decision."

Jeonghan's confidence in you makes you want to cry.

The problem is that Seungcheol is the human equivalent of Cosmopolitan Magazine. You can't recall the last time he walked into the office with a fully buttoned up shirt. You also can't recall the last time one of his advice columns wasn't in the end of quarter recap for popularity.

It's not in you to explain this debacle to Jeonghan. This whole situation is so cosmically awful that all you can do is ask for dessert in a takeout box and watch Jeonghan calculate tip without a calculator because that's all you learn in business school.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Jeonghan asks when you're both in the Uber.

"Yeah." You have a headache. You also can't decide whether or not to give the restaurant three or four stars, and you always know by the time you're out the door. "It's fine."

The tiramisu is cold in your lap. Jeonghan squeezes your shoulder. You refresh your email.

Choi Seungcheol's name stares back at you.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

The meeting goes exactly how you would expect.

Wonwoo, in his lanky taupe sweater vest, says that Joshua is leaving and you and Seungcheol are standing toe-to-toe in the space left behind.

"I'm sure you two are well-acquainted," he begins.

You stifle a laugh, but Seungcheol's cat-like grimace says more than enough. Neither of you have the heart to tell Wonwoo that your very first impression of Seungcheol was that he tried to hit on you at the new recruit party, or that Joshua probably deserves reparations for how often he mediated fights between the two of you during weekly meetings. (Maybe not reparations, but at least an Edible Arrangements.)

For better or for worse, Wonwoo's genius does not extend to social cues, and he follows with a blithe, "Therefore, I hope you two will treat this as a friendly competition between equals."

You almost laugh again, but this time it's because you need the promotion more than you need air, and you cannot allow some Buzzfeed reject with the face of a model take that from you. And you don't doubt Seungcheol wants it as bad as you do, considering how often you've seen him try to schmooze his way up the ranks.

He may have become a columnist by rubbing elbows with the right people, but you'll never forget the late nights you spent sifting through hours of interview transcripts, on the grueling climb up the totem pole to earn your position.

"We'll evaluate an article of your own submission at the end of the month before we decide. Best of luck."

At least Wonwoo knows to quit while he's ahead—he closes the meeting with a succinct nod before returning to his seemingly infinite unread emails.

"Exciting," Seungcheol says. He claps his hands together, Rolex gaudy under the office lights, and sends a nauseating smile your way. "May the best writer win."

He offers you a handshake. You think he has real life cooties, so instead you close your planner and shoot him a very pointed look.

"There's only one writer here. Thrilled to read your next thinkpiece on how men should spend more time on Tinder and not therapy."

That earns you a chuckle from Wonwoo, but Seungcheol is not easily fazed.

Instead he rushes to hold the door open for you on your way out, likely his favorite piece of advice to give his poor, indolent readers.

"I'll book a table for us at Avra next month," Seungcheol gloats. "Consider it a gift from your future boss."

"They don't have a kids menu, you know."

"No problem. I'll have my darling food critic order for me." He places a wicked hand over his polyester covered heart. "Ending misogyny in one fell swoop, huh?"

You wait for the door to Wonwoo's office to close before looking at him right in his wet, cow eyes with the most malice you can possibly muster. You feel it collect in your bones, enough to feel like you can physically hack it up and hurl it at him.

"You have no clue what you're talking about, huh? Do you actually attract women with that attitude? Or are you just a really good liar?"

You are so close to him, you could kiss him if you wanted—luckily for the both of you, you would rather die a thousand fiery, terrible deaths, and then die all over again. Instead, you watch his pout unravel into a grin from hell, and he leans in closer, the scent of Old Spice and break room coffee heavy on him. This morning's matcha latte churns in your stomach, and you wonder if you should have gotten oatmilk instead of dairy.

Up close, he's worse. His hair reminds you of the sad, tired swoop of the washed-up lead of a daytime soap opera. And he has no pores, which is deeply upsetting because he looks like the type to wash his face with Palmolive and a prayer.

"You know what?"

His breath hits your lips and your skin prickles like you have an allergy.

"What?"

"You just gave me the winning idea for my next column." No way, you think. Mind games. Classy. "See you at dinner, sweetheart. Looking forward to it."

The pet name makes you seethe. There are a million things you want to say, all colorful and none workplace appropriate.

"I'd rather starve."

"Better not let Wonwoo hear you with that bad attitude. I'm sure management loves a team player." His cheshire grin somehow gets bigger, all white teeth and pink lip. "Try to smile a little, huh? Have fun writing about snails and black garlic and cwa-ssants, or whatever it is that you do."

you watch all the laminated syllables of croissant go through his paper shredder smile and you think you black out.

He spins on his heel triumphantly, almost bowling over Minghao from Arts & Entertainment, who is undoubtedly wondering if you did, in fact, kiss.

Seungcheol laughs as he walks away, linebacker shoulders rippling under his one size too small shirt.

The metal-red knot of anger swells in your gut as you watch his perfect silhouette and his tiny little waist disappear into the staff room. Then you realize what you've been looking at and let yourself get mad all over again.

He does have a nice ass, though. You'll give him that.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

"You'll never guess what I have."

"Is it better than this lox bagel?" You answer, mouth unattractively full.

Seungkwan's answer is the sound of a straw hitting the bottom of an empty cup and the grating jostle of ice. Phone calls with him are like ASMR because he's always doing a million things at once, but you wouldn't have it any other way.

"Infinitely," he finally says, after procuring the last milliliter of what's likely his second coffee of the day. "Besides, we all know pesto is way better."

"Wrong, but okay," you reply. "What is it?"

"You're not gonna thank me for being the best friend in the world? Me, an editor, keeping nepotism alive for you? A mere columnist?"

"Senior columnist," you laugh between bites. "You need me. Who else would you text during content meetings?"

"Whatever." His eye roll is audible. "I guess I won't tell you."

He shakes his cup again, all ice and no patience.

"Fine! I owe you. My career and my life."

"And a seat at Momofuku."

"And that."

You take another greedy bite, letting the everything on an everything bagel get all over your chin. You love dressing up and going to restaurants that cost more than both of your kidneys, but there's something sacred about eating a $10 bagel behind the shield of your computer screen at a cafe where no one knows you.

There's someone laughing really loudly somewhere, and if you weren't otherwise preoccupied, you would look for the offender and give them a hard glare. You don't know what could possibly be that funny at 9 AM, but, then again, you never were a morning person.

"So, I have intel. About Seungcheol." You can picture the glint in Seungkwan's eyes, glittery and caramel. Unfortunately, the news that it's related to your worst enemy makes you sit up a little straighter. "At today's content meeting, Joshua said that he's working on some kind of challenge to go on as many dates as possible. He might make it a series."

"How tacky," you say, but the information clanks around in your brain like shoes in a washing machine. The indulgent, clickbaity headline just falls together perfectly—I Went On 50 First Dates So You Don't Have To. Exactly the kind of article your mom sees on Facebook and sends to you.

"You have to admit it's a decent idea. Not as good as yours, but it'll get engagement," is Seungkwan's reply, but you can barely hear it over the swell of another sitcom-esque laugh, this time, from a woman. "The other editors are very invested in this whole thing, by the way. Of course, I'm betting on you."

You're about to very openly stress about people gambling on your success when your eyes wander to the backside of the Sports Illustrated model getting napkins at the counter. Not bad at all, you think. It may be too early for the comedy club, but appreciating the male figure has no schedule.

And then he turns around, and you're able to see past the curly hair, muscle tee, beauty pageant smile—it's none other than Choi Seungcheol, fully outfitted with the audacity to trespass on your bagel place. You have never been more disgusted by your heterosexuality.

You hide behind your computer screen.

"Helloooo?" comes Seungkwan on the line. "Are you making out with your breakfast or something?"

"Seungkwan, I gotta go," you hiss. Your eyes follow Seungcheol as he makes his way back to his table. "There's a…situation."

You watch him sit across from a beautiful girl in a sundress and Prada sunglasses, and her lips tumble into a brilliant red smile.

It would be really fucking funny if he was on a date, you think, but then you see him make the kind of eyes you last saw in the deepest, stickiest recesses of a frat house on thirsty Thursday. Then you realize he is on a date, that he's been on a date, and it's his laugh that is equally annoying as it is loud.

Seungkwan works hard, but the devil always works harder.

"Ok, talk to you later. Bye!" You can hear the beginning of one of Seungkwan's protests, but you hang up before he's able to properly complain. Maybe you'll have to do a little better than Momofuku—that's a problem for later.

Over the rim of your laptop, you catch glimpses of their conversation. You notice Seungcheol talks a lot with his hands, and you wonder if that's another one of his tips or if that's just him. Him and those big clown hands, illustrating a story that you're unfortunately too far away to hear.

But you can hear her laugh again, and you try to guess what he's talking about. His childhood dog. The insurmountable burden of being prom king and captain of the football team. This little not-competition and this little not-rivalry between the two of you. How the PB&J bagel is the best thing on the menu (it's not, but you see the berry compote all over his fingers and you know that's the hill he's dying on).

No matter how you spin it, it's a hard pill to swallow. Choi Seungcheol is good at what he does, and there's nothing you can do to stop it.

You hear the careening lilt of what seems to be Seungcheol whining, and there's a brief flash of something like endearment in your stomach before the repulsion sets in.

Nothing you can do to stop him, huh?

The question, sinister and burning, writhes in your brain as you chew on the ice from your coffee and stare at a blank Word document, the cursor blinking like a heartbeat.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Beware the wrath of a woman scorned.

It's number 3 on Seungcheol's article titled Revenge and Other Stories. Unsurprisingly, he must not practice what he preaches, because you currently have all nine circles of Dante's Inferno inside you right now.

Play nice, Jeonghan had told you. Looks better to upper management.

And you did, until one of your photo requests mysteriously got deleted. Then Joshua told you to cut 500 words from this week's column because Seungcheol's just "happened" to be a little longer this time.

The knockout punch was yesterday when Seungcheol told you he was using your January critic's choice pick to take Wonwoo out for a friendly dinner, his treat. If you had known, you would've called ahead and told them to poison the hamachi. (No matter. Any foodie worth their salt knows Thursday is the worst day for sushi).

Now you sit on the C train, dressed to the nines, because you have a date with destiny at Nai. Sometimes destiny is a big pan of paella for one, but this time, it's Seungcheol and his next victim on date night.

Getting him there was so easy, it was almost criminal. An obnoxiously loud elevator phone call in which you name dropped the executive chef, a friend of yours, at least four times. Seungkwan very strategically asking you if a press pass can bypass reservations for a booked-out restaurant. Gossip in the break room with the intentional use of "intimate," "sangria drunk," and "affordable."

Affordable was a lie, but you're learning quickly that a hungry fish will take any bait. And seeing Seungcheol's face is never a joy, but you're not opposed to watching him open the menu for the first time.

"I have a killer Spanish accent," Seungcheol told you on the way out today.

Hook, line, and sinker.

The subway car rumbles under you. You're almost in East Village. You don't normally spend your Friday nights crashing dates—you actually don't really spend them outside your apartment at all, but Seungcheol is the exception to the rule and you're making a lot of them for him. A small price to pay for the glory of dethroning Casanova.

The plan is to "accidentally" run into Seungcheol and his Friday night exploit, and then to casually, non-bitterly mention a, that she is about to become a statistic, b, that his idea of chivalry was birthed in the basement of the Alpha Omega house, and c, that you're surprised he's still single because you always happen to catch him on dates. Something like that.

This is admittedly the best you could come up with. Like you said, you don't really crash dates. You don't really sabotage people either, but Seungcheol declared war the minute his Folgers breath hit your face outside Wonwoo's office.

Then you think of all the ways things can absolutely backfire. Seungcheol's warm, carefree whirl of laughter when he explains you're office rivals, or worse, lies and says you're nothing but a jilted, jealous ex. Or this whole thing could simply be immortalized in his winning article as a jaunty sentence about making the most out of a bad situation, yada yada yada.

You picture watching another girl, spellbound, as you dig into your table-for-one paella.

In your mind's eye, she laughs, floaty like his date at the bagel place, and for a moment you understand what it might feel like to want Choi Seungcheol.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Friday night at Nai is red and glittering and heady with saffron.

You remember when you first ate here, two weekends after the soft open, early in your career at the paper. After a three hour conversation over wine and octopus with the owner, you wrote the restaurant a glowing review that, to your surprise, helped land it several ritzy awards. Now the dining room is never empty, but they always find space for you.

That was the first time you learned that all of this work meant something. Yeah, you loved an excuse to stuff your face and get paid for it, but what was even better was the chance to tell the stories of a working father's hand-pulled noodles, the drunk, midnight origins of a tasting menu, the caramel-greedy fingers of a well-loved childhood.

This is the long way of explaining how you bypass the two hour standby wait time, and how you walk in on a first name basis with the manager.

You're fully prepared to see Seungcheol mid-churro, perhaps four pick-up lines deep and wondering if he still has a condom in his wallet.

That's why you almost miss him on your way to your table. His is empty, other than a lonely, watered down martini on the rocks and two menus.

"Seungcheol?"

He looks up at you, and something like genuine surprise melts into relief, then intrigue.

"Look at who crawled out of her dungeon," he chuckles. "You clean up good."

Whatever pity you may have felt for him vaporizes instantly. Although, when he beckons for you to sit in the empty seat across from him, you do take the bait—you're not about to pass up a good opportunity to humble your least formidable foe.

"Refreshing to see that our love guru isn't above dining solo," you reply. "I have to admit, your acting is impressive. What an elaborate ruse to get another poor, single diner to pity you enough to sit with you."

"It worked, didn't it?" He takes a sip of his cocktail, which is almost a brand new drink because it's 90% water, 10% martini by now.

"I'm no expert, but pretending to get stood up is not a tip I would give the general public."

"Who said I was pretending?"

No fucking way. Your jaw drops. It's too unreal to believe. Even if the slutty cut of Seungcheol's shirt wasn't persuasive enough, surely the prospect of enjoying a free Michelin star dinner would warrant an appearance, even for you. Breaking News: New York's Hottest Bachelor Ghosted at Top Restaurant. If only that were as wonderful to the average reader as it is to you.

Because waiters are trained to enter conversations at the best possible time, you're forced to pause and order a wine for the table and some tapas. (No paella for one? Seungcheol asks, and you try to reconcile your annoyance with the fact that one, he's read your review of this place, and two, that he looks mildly turned on that you can pronounce all the menu items. You tell the waiter to add a paella.)

"You got stood up?" You cross your arms over your chest. "You may think I'm dumb, but I'm not that dumb."

"You have no idea how flattering your reaction is." He laughs, and the air shifts around him, drawing you further into his eyes, inky under the lowlight. "I understand you think I'm irresistible, but, alas, not everyone shares your opinion."

"I never said that."

You hate how easy it is for him to push your buttons. You hate how in control he is, and you hate how he's looking at you like you're on the menu.

The waiter returns with the wine, and you decide you're feeling equally as terrible.

"Truly, you can't be that irresistible. After all this time writing about relationships, you would think you'd actually be in one."

Touché, you think. Normally, it would be too low a blow, even for you, except that his column-related debauchery is one of the four thrilling conversation topics he subjects you to at the office. And who are you to bury the lede?

"Coaches don't play," Seungcheol says, leaning back and popping the martini olive in his mouth offensively, as if he's not at a restaurant that takes months to get a good table at.

"Bullshit." You lean forward and chase his gaze. He doesn't shy away; rather, he meets you with an appraising raise of an eyebrow. "Coaches should at least know how to throw the ball."

"What do you think we're doing right now?"

"Oh, please." Your wrist twitches as you fight the urge to down your entire glass of merlot in a single gulp. You picture the title of his next article: Top 10 Ways To Get A Woman Drunk. And then the oh so charming punchline: 1. Be so insufferable she cannot last a conversation without her real life partner, wine.

"See? I've already got you laughing." He notices the generous sip missing from your glass and tops you up.

"No, you do not get to make this about me."

Somehow, you are laughing, but you chalk it up to the spiteful little man in your brain writing headlines for Seungcheol's column.

How To Antagonize Your Date In 5 Easy Steps.

"Need I remind you I'm only here because your actual date stood you up? Too soon?"

"I prefer you anyway," he answers, his expression half-challenge, half-something else that you don't really want to think about.

"Crazy, because I'd rather be literally anywhere else."

Signs You Are In A Hostage Situation, Not A Date.

"You should stick to food. You're a bad liar." He cocks his head to the empty table next to him. "It's still open if you want it."

"I'm no quitter."

Maybe The Male Gaze Isn't So Bad: A Thinkpiece.

Definitely not that one.

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"So, before I try anything," Seungcheol says, leaning across the table. "Teach me how to be a food critic."

"Why, so you can steal my job?"

"You can keep it," he laughs. "I'm gonna be your boss, not your replacement."

You notice he'll linger on the tail end of his sentences, betting on the response you haven't even come up with yet. He's picking apart the furrow of your brow, the marrow of your brain. It's like one drawn out interview, but you suppose that's all dating really is. Maybe your journalism degree wasn't a waste of money after all.

You won't give him the satisfaction of a fight (plus, you don't want the food to get cold), so you change the subject.

"Well, I take pictures first," you say, waving away his overeager fork.

"Genius. They really scammed you out of your Pulitzer, huh?"

You ignore him in lieu of repositioning the chorizo. Unfortunately, Seungcheol is unrelenting. You hear the snap of his phone camera, clearly taking a photo of you and not the meal—clever, but you won't bite.

"Wanna be in my story? I can tag you."

In your periphery hovers his wry, wanting smile.

"Sure. So the world can know I'm a charity worker too."

He whistles, clutching his heart. If he weren't so annoying, you would find him a little cute. Just a little. You blame the kitchen for whatever aphrodisiac is in the food today.

"Live update: date with food critic going about as well as an episode of Hell's Kitchen."

He says this leaning forward, elbows on the table, so close to you that your knees might touch. You tense at the thought.

"Any date of mine would be on better behavior."

"So you're admitting this is a date?"

"This," you wave your hand over the table. "This is not a date. This is me regretting ever pitying you."

"Well, pity looks good on you."

And there it is again, that accursed, perfect smile. This time, it works, and you fight the losing battle of the wine flush undoubtedly all over your face. It bothers you that there's a little part of you that enjoys this, but that's a confession you plan on taking to the grave.

"Enjoy it while it lasts, because you're not getting any again."

"Fine. I'm still waiting for your grand secret," he says, now biting the tines of his fork like an untrained dog. No rest for the weary, you suppose. "Food is food. Prove me wrong."

Despite the betrayal of your basal human instincts, you're determined to make this a bad encounter. Maybe you hadn't anticipated the full force of Seungcheol's overgrown fratboy persona, but you came here for a reason and you do plan to see it through.

"There is no secret." You split apart an empanada, the guts steaming and fragrant. "You eat."

"Like this?" He crams an entire piece in his mouth, and you watch him recoil and huff the heat out. "Mmm, 's pretty good, though."

Your eyes almost roll back far enough to see the wrinkles of your brain. Of course he wouldn't get it, but you don't know what you were expecting from a guy who thinks Hot Pockets are fine dining.

You put on your most pretentious food critic face. "Eating is about respect. Storytelling. He's retelling the first time someone made him this dish. The ingredients—they're words on a page. An autobiography." Your hand finds your chest and you sigh, a final touch to your Oscar winning melodrama that would certainly annoy anyone with even half a brain.

"Huh. Poetic," he says. He's still fanning his (very full) mouth, but he chews a little more slowly. "I'm respecting. I'm taking it in."

You don't know if he's actually doing any of that, but, when he takes his next bite he asks about what's in it (tomato, raisin, egg) and if someone really made the chef an empanada when he was younger (yes, on the flour-printed counter, every Sunday morning).

You press on. It shouldn't take much to bore him, but with every question, food-related factoid, and snide comment you have, he matches you with genuine curiosity. Either he's an excellent actor or he's secretly culinary school-bound, because you can't actually imagine anyone putting up with any of that, nonetheless I like dick jokes and football Choi Seungcheol.

You spend the rest of the evening like this, spoon to heart to cherry mouth. The wine is abundant, and Seungcheol spends more time listening than talking, which he admits is a first for him.

"You really know a lot about food," he says, likely fighting the urge to use his finger to get the last of the chocolate sauce off the churro plate. "I like that."

It's a cheap compliment in a game of low blows, but it sits warm and content in your chest. You have to force yourself back to the night you met him, when he was all cognac and one-liners and he gave you his spare hotel room key. A good reminder of his true nature, you think, despite the fact that he just listened to you talk about all the different grains of rice, ad nauseum.

"It's my job," is your reply, adequately distant for your liking.

"Fair. You gonna ask me about mine?"

"What more is there to know?" You hold up the check. "You're paying, right? Chivalry and all that?"

You're waiting for him to mention the company card, the only one allocated to your section that Seungcheol couldn't possibly have because it's sitting snug in your purse. The one you'll say you conveniently forgot so you get to see a grown man squirm at paying the bill.

"Already did. Gave the host my card when I got here. You're holding the customer copy." His chuckle disappears under the lip of his wine glass. "Bet you were excited to use the company card, huh?"

If shame were a physical object, you feel like your own personal Atlas. Your only option is to stare at the wasteland of empty plates before you and wonder how deep Seungcheol's pockets really are.

"Hardly. More excited that I burned a hole in your wallet." You click your tongue, out of options on how to ruin Seungcheol's night. You would spill wine on him but there's none left. "Anyway, I'm heading out."

"Running away?"

"Bored," you lie.

He calls you a taxi, and you walk out together, night heavy with the rhinestone glare of Friday night traffic.

"I actually had a nice time tonight," Seungcheol says, emphasis on the actually.

"Unfortunate."

"How do you think I feel?"

The taxi pulls to the curb, and he sighs, weighty with exaggerated relief. You can't even take it seriously because he's looking right at you and badly failing to push down the smile at the corners of his mouth.

It's only now that you notice his eyes are really brown, like he's from a cartoon or something. Worse, you'd daresay they're nice, less menacing, when they're tempered by a good meal and semi-public humiliation.

"Text me when you get back to your villain lair."

"If I were a real villain, you would have a lot more to worry about."

Seungcheol opens the cab door for you, and you catch a whiff of the cologne he undoubtedly smeared on in the toothpaste-streaked mirror of his five by five studio bathroom. Pine, leather, and citrus, which is the most pedestrian combination of smells to exist and yet you doubt it hasn't done him any favors.

"I'm terrified. Shaking." You clamber into the backseat, and he smiles at you again, as if you've forgotten what all his other ones looked like. "By the way—"

You have half a mind to shut the door in his face, but you can't find it within you—maybe it's the wine, or perhaps pure defeat. Probably the former.

"This job. It's—" He clicks his tongue and looks at the tops of his leather shoes. He's actually thinking, and you don't like it. "Never mind. See you Monday."

And then the words are gone. He shuts the cab door, and they're left in a plume of exhaust and Seungcheol's tiny waving figure in the rearview mirror.

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"So you're telling me you went on a date with your worst enemy."

It's 8 AM, and Jeonghan isn't pulling punches. Even through the phone, you can see his lazy grin, the pen he's flipping in his hand, the green ribbon of the Dow Jones on his desktop.

The newsroom is refreshingly near empty, except for Joshua, who hovers around the water cooler like a fly on the wall, if flies wore Armani ties and cigarette jeans.

"It wasn't a date, and I wanted to ruin it so he would have nothing to write about."

"No one goes on a date to ruin it. You could have just left."

"Clearly you haven't seen How To Lose A Guy In 10 Days."

"Are you serious." Jeonghan laughs, crackly and bright. "Care to tell me how that movie ends?"

"Except he isn't Matthew Mcconaughey. He says spaghetti like pah-scetti and doesn't use Oxford commas."

Mid-laugh, you endure another beat of extended eye contact with your editor until he beckons you over. He'd likely been waiting for the perfect time to interrupt the conversation he was so subtly eavesdropping on—oh, how you love a newsroom with an "open floor plan" to "facilitate communication." Sometimes you think the reason Joshua's stuck around this long is because reporters can't stay away from drama, especially if they're not the ones reporting it.

"I gotta go," you tell Jeonghan, whose version of a goodbye is a triumphant cackle.

You find Joshua putzing around, plastic water cup incriminatingly full.

"I take it you had an enjoyable weekend?" he asks, eyes sequined with all the secrets they hold.

"Yup. Just working on that Dining Through The Years article." Not entirely a lie—you are hedging your bets on this story, one where you revisit the restaurants you wrote about when you first got your start at the paper (Nai included, although admittedly yesterday's food was the least of your concerns). "You needed me?"

"Glad to see New York's finest chefs are well-versed in Kate Hudson's filmography," he says, grinning something beastly. If he weren't your boss, you'd knock that little water cup clean out of his hand. "Anyway, if your interview is over, I need you to go on a field trip."

"Field trip?"

Surely you're better than a task for the interns. You wonder if they're off fighting their own demons, seeing as you missed the circus in the elevator this morning, the usual juggle of hazelnut lattes and lemon poppyseed muffins for the higher-ups.

"Wonwoo needs you to help pick out catering for the corporate event later next week." Joshua tips his head back at Wonwoo's glass-plated office, where you see him redoing his tie in the reflection of his computer monitor. "My guess is that Yerim is going to be there, and he wants to make a good impression. Like an 'I consulted a food expert' impression."

Classic gossip queen Hong Joshua, always with the unnecessary but incredibly cogent commentary on office politics. You think you're actually going to miss the bastard.

"Flattered," you remark dryly. "Catering from where?"

"That's the thing. It's from this Thai place like two hours out from the city."

Two hours: code for an all day endeavor. He wasn't kidding when he said field trip.

You graciously resist the urge to groan out loud. No one told you taking the high road is one big slog through the mud, but here you are. You tell yourself this will help your campaign to be editor—the stinky, dirt-smeared silver lining.

"Before you ask—yes, I know you cannot take the subway there." You blink at him, wondering why this all feels like the set-up to a terrible joke. "Luckily, as you probably know, Seungcheol drives here every day and has offered to help."

Ah. There it is. You look for the blinking applause sign hanging above your head and the chorus of riotous Seungcheols making up your own personal laugh track.

"Only back to the office, though—" Joshua adds, as if that provides you any solace. "There's a one-way bus going up there at noon."

"N-not both ways?" you croak.

"Something about funds," he replies, shrugging. "Hey, don't shoot the messenger."

"You're not the one I'm thinking of shooting."

"Who knows? Maybe he is Matthew McConaughey." And when your glare turns sharp as the edge of a santoku knife, he holds his hands up like he's getting arrested. "I'm just saying. As your friend, not your editor."

Whatever.

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You have to admit, Wonwoo does have impeccable taste in Thai food.

Three noodle dishes, two curries, and the best mango sticky rice you've ever had: that's what it took for you to finally say "not all men." Certainly not Wonwoo, who's in deep enough to send his goons cross-state for a girl he's tried to woo for almost a whole year now.

A tamarind sunset blankets the countryside in milk and honey. You're sitting on a bench, ridiculously full with leftovers to spare, waiting for your chauffeur from hell.

Two years and you still don't know what car Seungcheol drives. Your last memory of it is it being flashy, impractical, and loud, much like him.

You know this, and yet you are still surprised when a gnat of a BMW rips into the curb in front of you. The passenger window crawls down, and Seungcheol has the gall to whistle at you.

For someone so predictable, he sure does manage to find new ways to piss you off. Unfortunately, on brand— according to him, Consistency Is Key (number 2 on Keeping the Spark Alive, August 2022 issue). You've done your reading.

"You're welcome," is the first thing Seungcheol says to you after cranking down the volume of the radio and watching you fumble with the seatbelt.

"You really didn't have to." You look at the array of gas station snacks bubbling out of the cupholders—Sour Patch Kids, a Big Gulp, and Flamin’ Hot Fritos. You didn't even know they sold Sour Patch Kids to full grown adults.

Still, you do feel a little bad. You can count on one hand the amount of people you would do this for and still have one or two cheese-dusted fingers left.

"But, thank you."

"Joshua made me," he says, and what happened this morning starts to make a lot more sense. "Plus, I was a little jealous. I would kill for a day frolicking in the sun, eating delicious food, far, far away from the big city. Not trapped like me in the newsroom, exhausted, toiling away on my magnum opus."

The sigh that crawls from his chapped lips practically shakes the car.

"I'm retracting my thank you."

"I'm devastated. Really."

You choose to watch the strip of shitty New York highway unravel through the greasy passenger window. No point in picking a fight when you're in a leather quilted jail cell for the foreseeable future.

It's at the thirty minute mark where Seungcheol casts the first stone of terrible, stilted small talk.

"Why'd you get sent all the way out here anyway?"

The red taillight flush of rush hour floods the car, an unpleasant reminder of the real sunset left far behind you.

"Thought you knew it was Wonwoo."

"Yeah, but why?"

Why does it matter? Is your first thought, but you realize he's attempting to actually have a genuine conversation with you, which you suppose is better than him flinging around another rude remark. Either that, or he's falling asleep, and you'd rather not have the last moments of your life be in Seungcheol's chick magnet car.

"Joshua thinks it's because he wants to impress Yerim at the corporate meeting this week. I guess she likes Thai."

Traffic is slow enough for him to turn to look at you, really look at you.

"Come on, he can't like her that much."

"Yes, he can." you try to read his expression, neon-glossy. "This isn't even that much effort."

"Nah," he shrugs. "There's gotta be some kind of ulterior motive. Maybe he wants to move into corporate."

"Hot take for a romantic." You frown. "Not everything people do is a career move, you know."

You omit the unlike you that sits heavy in the back of your throat, although, his cavalier approach to relationships is starting to make a little more sense. You wonder if this whole thing—the dates, the watch, the Invisalign smiles—is just a long, drawn-out joke to him.

"Seems like a lot of effort to go through for an office crush." His gaze drifts back to the road. "The extravagant birthday present. Always having her favorite flowers in the office. That one cringe voicemail we all heard him re-record ten times. No one likes anyone that much. Come on. Her dad is the CEO of the company."

Suddenly his winning smile doesn't seem so triumphant. It almost feels like a betrayal, but you don't know why.

"Maybe he just likes her," you reply. "I dunno. I choose to believe that. I think it's sweet."

"Maybe you're the romantic." The words come out like an accusation; Seungcheol laughs, but all the joy's been sucked out of it.

"Who hurt you?"

"No one did. I'm just being honest."

You would laugh at the irony if it didn't feel like there was a vine wrapped round your throat. Life is funny, but never so funny as to curse New York's favorite romance writer with cynicism and a lying streak.

"Controversial, but I actually want to do nice things for the person I like."

"And when was the last time that happened?" He's deflecting, which is predictably on brand for him. His grin, now playful, is propped up by a pair of frustratingly well-formed dimples.

You can't even find it within you to protest because he's right—you haven't dated in a long time. Joshua stopped asking if you were bringing a plus one to office parties ages ago.

But it's not that you can't—in fact, the last time you did, you think it broke you a little inside. It's certainly not a story Seungcheol's privy to, though. You already feel strange, cut-open, trying to convince him that people are capable of meaningful relationships.

Childishly, there's also a part of you chasing the truth about him because it takes him further and further away from you. So you do what you do best and deflect again. Two can play at that game.

"Not taking criticism from a guy who's dated half of the city and has nothing to show for it."

"I wouldn't say nothing."

He opens his mouth then closes it again, as if he's revising the words on his tongue. Journalist behavior, which you didn't even know he could still exhibit.

Now you're really thinking. Who hurt him, and how? The development that Seungcheol is more than the playboy slime haunting page 3 intrigues you more than you'd care to admit.

Before you can pry, Seungcheol's stomach growls, almost offensively loud.

"Sorry," he says. "Who would've thunk that corn chips aren't a balanced meal?"

You stare at the takeout boxes snug in your lap. There is a cosmic message being sent right now.

Seungcheol's sad, Frito-filled belly. Fresh noodle that won't keep well in the fridge. Tax and tip for a four hour car ride back to the city. Expanding your repertoire of blackmail so that you can claim your rightful helm at the paper.

These are all the reasons you give yourself for what you ask next.

"You in a rush?"

"How could I be—do you see the blinding speed we're driving at?" He laughs at his own incredibly unfunny attempt at a joke. "No, I'm not."

"I may or may not have an actual balanced meal for you."

That’s how you end up in the parking lot of a random 7/11 off the freeway. In any other circumstances, it would be a cruel and unusual punishment, but you've already been whittled down enough to actually care about Seungcheol, even if just a little.

That's what you tell yourself, anyway, as you watch him finish the last of the takeout.

"So I'm bad at food, and you're bad at love. Why the fuck did Wonwoo even think of promoting either of us?" Seungcheol kicks his shoes off and props his feet up on the dashboard. You notice his socks have dogs on them, little linty brown ones, and you feel a little worse about openly bullying him about his fashion taste in front of the entirety of copy staff.

"I may be bad at love, but you're worse. Especially for someone who does it for a living," you retort. "Don't think I forgot our earlier conversation."

You try to read the tiny text on a receipt he's got stashed in the center console, among his graveyard of snack wrappers. (2) CHEESY GORDITA CRUNCH…8.78. (1) M MT DEW BAJA BLAST…1.00.

Definitely bad at food, you muse to yourself.

"You think I'm not kicking myself right now? That I have a beautiful girl in my car right now, and all we do is argue?"

Now that—nothing could have prepared you for that.

It gets awfully quiet. The noise of the freeway seems to screech to a fever pitch, all horns and the thrum of the asphalt. You wish anything but John Mayer was playing on the radio.

You will the headlines man in your head to make you laugh. Instead, your brain presses the word beautiful into your neurons and you feel all the heat in your body float to your face, traitorously, dizzyingly. John Mayer croons, your body is a wonderland and your stomach knots into itself over and over again.

"Stop that."

"What?" Seungcheol's head lolls to his shoulder so he can look at you from the corner of his eye. " 's not a big deal. Never been called beautiful?"

A grin plays on his lips, expression dancing on something grim, like he's spoken his final words.

"I'm serious! Stop trying to get me to like you." You huff and cross your arms over your chest, like it'll somehow make you feel more normal. "I'm not some experiment for your column."

"Is it working?"

You don't answer. How can you? There's a yes resting on the roof of your mouth, surely the product of the handful of real, actual moments you've now had with him—far too many for your liking. This whole charade has been a balancing act on the razor edge between rivals and something else, and now you're feeling the sting.

"For the record, I have been called beautiful before."

"And for the record, you're not an experiment for my column. You never were."

There's a relief that pulses through your chest, a breathless, wonderful kind of dizziness. You grab hold of it as soon as it's reared its ugly head. You're flying way too close to the sun, chasing cheap validation from the same guy who ate your lunch out of the fridge last week.

He's no better—he looks like the vulnerability cracked him open a little, and you're the one holding the hammer. It makes for a grubby, unflattering portrait of two emotionally inept people trying to play feelings.

However, much like all other things Seungcheol, any glimpse of something real is gone before you know it. He takes a loud, noisy pull of Diet Coke, and the spell is broken.

"Want any?" And when you shake your head, grateful to swallow the words pressed to your tongue, he says, "Should we wait out traffic here?"

This is an easier yes. You tell yourself you're getting sick of brake lights and reading the license plates on the back of other people's cars. Certainly that makes Seungcheol's gaze, lingering and moonlight-warmed, a little more tolerable.

For once, you don't talk about Wonwoo or your job. You don't talk about love, either.

Maybe this is the reason the next few hours slip through your fingers. Three folded takeout pagodas and a secret—somehow this is all it takes for you to hate Seungcheol just a little less.

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Usually, a good eggs benedict can solve the majority of your problems. Today seems to be the exception. The hollandaise is broken, Jeonghan is already laughing at you, and nothing will ever erase the fact that Seungcheol drove you home last night and now he knows where you live. If you wake up one morning and see a sniper laser pointed at your forehead, you have no one to blame but yourself.

"You look exhausted." An eighth of a buckwheat pancake disappears into Jeonghan's mouth. "You literally eat for a living. There is no reason for them to keep you late."

Jeonghan has a funny way of caring about you, but he's right. You did get home at 2 AM yesterday, but that was on you, not Wonwoo.

"I'm not going to let a corporate slug tell me what is and isn't a real job," you sigh, taking a swig of your half-flat mimosa and reminding yourself to figure out which staff writer gave this place 4 stars in last week's paper.

"Says the girl who needs the company card to afford bottomless brunch," Jeonghan replies.

"At least I'm not a slave to my career."

"What do you call this whole thing with your coworker then, huh? It's all you text me about." The smirk on Jeonghan's face is miserably, tragically righteous, and you can't even be mad about it.

"Seungcheol is my enemy, remember?"

"You sent me a five minute voice memo the other day ranting about how he went on a date with another girl." And just like the little shit he is, he even pulls up your mile-long text history, just to rub it in your face a little harder.

"Am I not allowed to wish for his demise? Since when were you the mature one?"

"I wouldn't call keeping track of his whereabouts wishing for his demise." Jeonghan takes a well-timed bite of your hashbrowns. "Something tells me you're wishing for something a little different."

You almost choke on a blueberry.

"Absolutely not."

You watch Jeonghan power down another mimosa, half-fascinated, half-appalled he would even dream of suggesting something so vile.

The memory of Seungcheol, leant back in the driver’s seat, lowering greasy spools of rice noodles into his mouth, crosses your mind. He had laughed until he cried when he asked you if a pineapple had really fried this rice. That was the kind of man you were dealing with. You can't believe you laughed with him.

"I think it'll be good for you to get back into dating again. Mingyu was, what, three years ago?"

And that's the chocolate chip studded, syrup-covered nail in your coffin. Of course all roads had to lead back to you and your relationship trauma Jeonghan considered unresolved.

You had dated Mingyu when you were younger, softer. It was a love of firsts, of sun-washed mornings and farmer's market Sundays, of raw, black currant midnights and whatever long-winded conversation you had spent all day on.

Mingyu was a chef. His hands, his lips, his eyes—that's how you fell in love with food. Strawberry kisses into fresh pasta into the first time someone had ever cooked for you. What a wonderful, terrible thing to see all your history on a plate, the I could never eat peas, the once I ate mangos till I was sick, the guilty spoon in the vanilla ice cream after a bad day and the dark chocolate you keep in your purse. He remembered that you like your noodles just a little bit overcooked, and you don't even think you told him that.

Food, like some shitty piece of home decor would say in that swirling, curly font, really is some window to the soul. It didn't fully hit you until, one day, you were at the grocery store alone, and somehow you knew exactly what brand of everything Mingyu liked.

You opened a restaurant together after you graduated from college. Then it closed, and you lost Mingyu to Naples or New Orleans or Seoul—somewhere, anywhere to escape the corner of 5th and 40th, the December-pleated memory of his hands in yours and a promise you could never keep.

You're sure you're over it by now, but you'd be lying if you said you didn't look for him in a bowl of his favorite ramyun, the one you could never replicate even though he insisted he just added hot water (Food tastes best when it's a gift, he'd say. You never understood until now.).

Jeonghan doesn't believe you because every time you try explaining this to him, you end up sounding like the most chronically lonely person on planet Earth.

"That is the wrong guy to suggest then," you instead reply, feeling all the food dry up in your mouth.

"I'm running out of options."

"Don't you have a hot coworker or something?"

You shut your eyes, pushing Mingyu back to recall literally any face from one of the many swanky corporate parties Jeonghan bullied you into attending. The only person coming to mind is Lee Chan, and even more than his face, you remember the fat platinum band around his ring finger (Better luck next time, Jeonghan had said, mid-cheese cube).

Worse, amidst all the fuzz, a grainy recollection of Seungcheol's wet cow eyes washes up against your eyelids, and it's not going away this time.

"I thought we were all corporate slugs," Jeonghan replies, enjoying the way you glower at him over your fork. "I was kidding, anyway. Relax."

Your entire body heaves with the sigh that escapes you.

You thank god that Jeonghan is never serious, because otherwise you'd have to consider the fact that he really thought you should date Seungcheol. Jeonghan, who knows the pizza column you, the Mingyu you, and now the you that works late because there's nothing else left to do, really might have thought you should date grifter by day, con artist by night Seungcheol.

The fluorescent glaze of the gas station lights. Seungcheol's hand on the gear stick. His voice, warm and gauzy. It's like there's a flash drive of last night plugged into your head, and you can't take it out.

The stem of the champagne glass finds your hand, and you down the whole thing.

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Monday is uneventful. So is Tuesday, and you wonder what good deed you'd done to deserve such a blessing.

Wednesday, you realize you're just three interviews away from what could possibly be the best article of your life. Unfortunately, two of those won't pick up the phone and the third keeps rescheduling on you.

That's fine—Rome wasn't built in a day, and the same hopefully applies to your future noodle empire.

You're using your lunch break to write an email to number two when you notice Seungcheol hovering around your desk, a plastic straw in his mouth and evil in his eyes.

He's taken to publicly annoying you at work more than usual—Progress, Joshua had told you in the elevator this morning. Towards what? you had asked. He shrugged, letting his crafty, knowing look do all the talking.

"Me, you, and date number two?" is today's opening line. Before you can peel yourself away from your computer and give him a good lashing for whatever the fuck he just said to you, he continues with, "How's that for a follow-up text to my speakeasy date?"

"Lame," you reply, hackles still raised but now re-reading your email for typos.

"Wrong. You were supposed to say incredibly romantic, extremely witty, and unfairly charming." He perches his baseball player ass on the corner of your desk, waiting to be humbled. This is the usual order of things, which has shockingly become more of a familiarity than anything else.

"Do you even have a romantic bone in your body?"

Seungcheol raises an eyebrow. "Just one, but it's the only one that matters."

"Ew. Gross." You wrinkle your nose and attempt to soothe your temper with a sip of the terrible protein shake you got for lunch. "No wonder your column sucks."

"If mine sucks, I'd hate to see what people are saying about yours." And when your reply is a tired, hungry swig of your sad drink, he says, "No lunch today? Even I had something better."

"Lucky you."

The bigger truth is that that the deadline for your article, looming before you, is getting to you more than you'd care to admit. Seungcheol isn't helping, not with his bottomless magic hat of date stories that seems to only grow deeper by the day. Now you're forgetting to pack a lunch, and the highlight of your day has been reduced to punching numbers into a vending machine.

Things are bad, but you'll never say that aloud, especially not to the guy who'll spend the next five years dunking on you if you keep this up.

You stare down the lip of your bottle at the faux-chocolate dregs streaking the bottom.

The month before Mingyu opened his restaurant, you were so preoccupied with making sure everything was just right that you also forgot to eat. One day, leftovers from his work started magically appearing in your fridge. Chow fun (miss you!), salt and pepper shrimp (don't forget to drink water!), a gargantuan vat of hot and sour soup (love you most!).

It was a perfect coincidence until you realized there was no way Chinese takeout was coming out of a very French restaurant, and it was then you learned that love is never really a coincidence.

Now you have no coincidences, mapo tofu, or romance. Just muscle milk and a front row view of the struggling inseam of a man who must shrink his pants in the dryer.

He's peeling a tangerine. Your worst confession to date is that it's easy on the eyes. For once, his hands, always made busy with some scheme, now still over the rind, steady, practiced. Plus, it looks like a marble in his huge hands, which is unfortunately both funny and a little hot.

"Stare any longer, and I'm gonna forget how to peel this."

"Don’t flatter yourself. Just hungry," you half-lie.

Hungry, Stressed, And Delusional—The New Holy Trinity.

It's a catchy headline, but not a great look for you. Never in your life did you think you'd be ogling a man peeling an orange. He even takes all the pith off, and you don't have the heart to tell him that's where all the nutrients are.

"Exactly," he replies. Then he plops the naked, shiny fruit right on your bare desk. "Here. Eat."

You’re so taken aback, all you can do is stare. First at the orange, then at Seungcheol, who suddenly cannot make eye contact with you. Instead, he stacks the peel in his hands, dimpled piece over piece.

"Payback for the, uh, Thai," he says, and although you wouldn't equate a tangerine to James Beard awarded pad kee mao, all you can think of is an lime green sticky note in your fridge and a smile.

A gift. A pithless, wrinkly one.

The idea that Seungcheol was capable of being genuinely nice to anyone, nonetheless, you—probably the most undeserving person of it in the world—makes you feel something close to guilt.

You push through the feeling, instead taking the fruit in your hand and splitting it between your thumbs. The flesh caves so easily, and it's then you remember that food, unlike people, doesn't have to be complicated.

You can feel a better person somewhere inside you, someone easier to care for and with less of a bad attitude. You're not there yet, but there's a dark, satisfying comfort in not being good enough for the indulgence of that kind of intimacy. An arm's length was never too far away for you, except now there's someone sitting on your desk and they gave you lunch. Worst of all, you don't think you mind.

You hold out the half—sticky, guilty fingers and all.

Seungcheol wordlessly accepts it. There's no surprise or confusion—he smiles, you say cheers, and you both take a bite.

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On weekends, the Korean place down the street from your college apartment sold corn dogs until 3 AM. That was when words came easy and love came easier.

It was with sugar all over your nose, eyes pressed to the once forgiving half-moon, where you told Mingyu you would become a writer.

The thing about youth is that it can float anything, no matter how holey, desperate it was. So you sailed through college, that gasping hope wound tight in your fist. Then you started freelancing, just in time for Mingyu’s soft open. You wanted to write, but more importantly, you wanted some way, any way to be useful to the person who had given you so much.

In retrospect, there was no way your crude attempts at actual journalism could ever generate real publicity for him. Not in the heart of New York, where a new restaurant opened every two days and someone wanted to get published every three.

So you eventually sank, and so did Mingyu, leaving you with all this creased, no good love in your chest to shrivel up with nowhere to go.

All of that landed you here. A degree, a dream job, and a laundry list of accolades, but the fruit of that love still hangs heavy and joy-rot on the vine, as you wait for it to be good enough for the taking.

Ironically, it reminded you of cooking. No one ever teaches you when to stop, and now every other joint has dry-aged steak and some version of a three-day demi glacé. But at least demi glacé tastes good—you don't even know what the fuck you're doing some days, and the feeling's never been worse than now, waiting on a call you were supposed to get two days ago.

The phone rings, just in time to distract you from the top button of Seungcheol's fitted shirt, which looks like it's holding on for dear life. He's currently deep in conversation with Mina from design, but every so often, he'll glance your way to see if you're just free enough to be bothered.

The unspoken perils of working late—less people around to pester on Wonwoo's dime.

Mina stuffs her laptop in her bag and checks her watch. Strike three for Seungcheol.

Working Hard Or Hardly Working: A Guide To Office Romances. You're surprised he hasn't written that one yet. Maybe Joshua shot it down.

"Hello?" The dial tone breaks into the warm, risen-bread voice of the woman you know to be the owner of one of your favorite hole-in-the-wall noodle spots. The Friday night after your review was published, there was a line out the door. It honestly felt like a no-brainer to you, and you had no hesitation telling the owner that you were sure her place would become a local mainstay. You watched her crow-footed eyes go moony and you couldn't help but picture the day your yellowed newspaper would be posted up on the wall, framed and prophetic.

You're ready to profusely apologize for not stopping by—truthfully, no bone broth has come close to hers. Instead, she apologizes to you, which you aren't sure is flattering or a sign something terrible has happened.

You hope it's the former, but you should have known that hoping has never been enough.

She tells you that she closed the doors to her restaurant yesterday. It all comes spilling out, one gut punch after the other, the bills and the empty tables and how things just weren't the same the year after your review was published. She thanks you for your time, your writing, and your belief, and then she hangs up.

Not a thing in your body feels capable of moving. All the phone static passes right through you until the week's canned up dread balls up in your throat and some darker-than-black feeling swallows you whole.

The fluorescent ceiling lights sear into you. You think you're going to cry, and that's the last thing you want.

To anyone else, it wouldn't be that serious. Restaurants close all the time, and you know an entry in your silly little column is a far cry from a Hail Mary. But all you can think of is Mingyu’s neon sign on 5th and 40th and the two pairs of hands that had to take it down. You think your fingerprints are still on it, right over the blue shock of the I and the N.

One more dream taking on water, and once again, you're at the sad, cruel center of it.

You try to imagine the gumpaste walls, bumpy and water-stained. Maybe a pale square where your review used to hang.

No, you're definitely going to cry.

Fuck this, fuck work, fuck the article. And fuck Seungcheol, who's packing up his annoying, jingly messenger bag and is the only thing standing between you and an empty office to lose your shit in.

You squeeze your eyes shut and try to remember if you're wearing waterproof mascara today. Unfortunately, the cowbell of Seungcheol's bag sounds like it's catching up to you, and, like it or not, you are two shaky breaths away from breaking down in front of the last person in the world you want to see.

"Final touches on another titillating piece about pineapple on pizza?"

You have no stomach for yelling at him. You can't even look at him. Instead, you bury your head in your hands and tell him to never use the word titillating again.

"A little too soon to play editor, in my humble opinion."

You don't reply. You're trying to scare him off without really scaring him off because god knows you've done that with enough people. Either way, he's calling you a crazy bitch at the next holiday party. You can just hear it.

But you should've known Seungcheol, of all people, doesn't flinch at a little silence. You still feel him hovering behind you, probably wondering if it's the half-full vanilla protein shake on your desk that's turned you sour. Or if you'll really make good on your threat to shank him with the plastic knife you keep in your top drawer.

Just walk away, you think. Go the fuck home.

Seungcheol, who gets paid to play cupid like it's fantasy football, would never understand that bite of the dial tone. Not like that. Half an orange is a hell of a toll to pay for your unfortunate work-related trauma.

You count the seconds till he walks away.

One. Two. Three.

Four is cut short because instead of doing what he should have done and left, he places a hesitant hand at the base of your neck, between your shoulder blades.

"Hey, you ok?"

Easy, noncommittal words, but something in you cracks. You don't know what it is—maybe it's because it's late and you're running on nothing, maybe it's because you can't remember the last time a hand was so warm.

And so, against your better judgment, you lift your streaky, raccoon-eyed face (definitely didn't use waterproof today) from your hands to look at the same eyes you looked at not more than a month ago and swore at.

You're glad you have no idea what you look like, because it's bad enough that all the corners of Seungcheol's face fall.

"Whoa," he breathes.

Now he'll know when to leave me alone, you think, but then that hand slides to your shoulder and his expression becomes impossibly soft and what you thought was confusion, pity even, dips into affection, stinging and raw.

"Listen, I—," he clears his throat nervously. Perhaps he's running through his repertoire of Wikihow phrases to say to a sad person, but you, inexplicably, don't believe that. "I don't know what's going on, but if you, you know, ever needed to talk…" Then he points to himself because that's probably the longest he's gone without attempting to tell a joke.

You're two and a half shaky breaths into this conversation, and the likelihood you will start crying has not changed. If anything, the odds have gotten much worse because the stubbornness of Seungcheol's expression is fooling you into thinking he actually cares. The illusion is comforting—after all the fighting and sabotage and inconveniences, he's still made space for you. That, or he's keeping his enemies close.

Then his thumb rubs over the plane of your collarbone, and all the little walls and hurdles and dams and shields in you drop.

Close friends, closer enemies, and the infinitesimal space between you and Seungcheol.

You'll blame your sorry state of mind for what you're about to do because you can't really cope with any other explanation. That's a tomorrow problem.

Today, you trust Seungcheol. Today, you tell him not everything, but enough.

"Forgive yourself," he says. And before you protest and tell him, through the waves of tears and snot and lightheadedness, that your heart has yet to catch up to the rest of you, he interrupts you before you even start. "I get it. Just try."

You’re all too familiar with his sugar-floss, candy-coated platitudes that make everything seem so simple, but he looks you in the eye, or somewhere even deeper than that, with so much belief, it's contagious.

The words are ripped out from under you. All you can do is what you wanted to do in the first place. So you cry, and when Seungcheol takes you into his arms, at first tentatively and then all at once, you cry even harder.

"Is this ok?" he asks, so quietly, you almost don't hear him.

"Yeah, I-I think so."

You let him hold you, and all the noise and the heat and the static fades into a hum. His chin finds the top of your head and you let him do that too.

Neither of you say anything more. You don't need to.

All that matters is the welcome sound of someone else's heartbeat, a kind hand in your hair, and Seungcheol, with none of the charms and boasts and failed, half-baked insults he hides behind.

Just him, and you decide you like this version best.

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The emotional hangover you wake up with rivals that of every vodka-flavored morning you had when you were in college, plus another two shots.

There is nothing worse than the aftermath of a particularly bad episode of oversharing. There's a reason you don't talk about your personal life at all, but something about Seungcheol makes every single thing claw its way back up your throat.

A need to prove yourself. A tiny, whispering hope that if you give a little, you'll get a little in return. Or your pride, the familiar knife you keep wedged into your side. A million excuses rattle around in your head, but nothing will ever take away the fact that it felt good.

Shields down, heart bleeding—never did you think that's how you would find yourself in a state where you actually liked Seungcheol. It felt good to be taken seriously, to say that all the talk about foie gras and peppercorns and microgreens was just tableside service for a great love and an even greater apology. And you'd like to think somewhere between the tears and the linen of his shirt, you were finally understood.

Just try. The words, sun-warmed stones, float in the hollow of your chest. It felt a little more possible, coming out of Seungcheol's mouth, with that dumb, resolute expression of his.

You don't even know if you would do the same for him. If he came to you, rosy-eyed and breakdown-adjacent, would you drop everything and listen to him? Clearly his problems ran deeper than a pretty girl not calling him back, but you had never really cared to listen.

And that's something you'll give Seungcheol credit for—he puts up with you, with everything, really, albeit with clumsy hands and the mask of reluctance.

You roll onto your side to reach for your phone. There's a text from Jeonghan asking if you're still up for grabbing drinks this evening. (Always). You have your final interview at 2. (Thank god).

And no text from Seungcheol. (Damn.)

Somehow this is disappointing, which makes your day that much worse. Maybe the runny mascara wasn't as flattering as you thought.

8 Totally Normal Texts To Send When You're Overthinking.

Not a good headline for a worse situation. Honestly, you shouldn't care, but now you're here, staring at your phone and undecided on if you even want Monday to come or not.

You'll order one (or three) margaritas tonight. You'll ask Jeonghan about his upcoming trip to Seoul. You'll make your favorite overnight oats and you'll go to sleep and Sunday will pass just the same.

You won't think about Seungcheol's arms around you or his head on top of yours or the way he insisted he would drive you to the subway so you didn't have to walk. You almost brushed against his hand on the gear stick and the nearness made you want to throw up.

But you're not thinking about it. You can't. Not without falling in love just a little.

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"Here. Drink."

You set two cups on the table before sitting face-to-face with Seungcheol, who decided to roll up to a coffee date in a somehow flattering polo and slacks.

But it's not a date—you're just talking. It's a meet-up. Not a hangout, which sounds too familiar, and definitely not a date.

Yesterday did not go as planned. Margarita-buzzed and under Jeonghan's terrible influence, you texted Seungcheol. Just to clear up some stuff, you told yourself. Friday night's like a scab, and you just can't help coming back to it.

"So, you're a coffee connoisseur too, huh?" Seungcheol says, tipping his head to the side.

"Not nearly," you reply. "Just wanted to pay for something for once. I'm pretty sure I owe you at least fifty of these."

"I'll hold you to it." He's doing that thing where it's like he stares past you. It's the most impressive eye contact on the planet, and it's making you nervous.

Then the silence, once welcome, becomes awkward—the air turns stiff, clinging to all the things you haven't said yet.

You play chicken with the idea of being an emotionally intelligent person and just talking about what most certainly is on everyone's mind right now. The cup between your hands is burning your palms. Seungcheol smiles.

"I'm—" The exact moment you start, the words crinkle up on your tongue and all the walls come back up again. It's a terrible, inevitable instinct. "I'm sorry. For Friday."

"For…what?" Seungcheol pauses mid-sip to say this. "Also, this coffee is really good."

Arabica, orange, and honey, you want to say. But you can't deflect this time. Somehow Seungcheol has cornered you into this tiny cafe chair with that disarming grin and an overabundance of patience.

"Everything, I guess. You were just trying to leave."

"No, I wasn't." And he laughs, which makes your stomach fold over trying to figure out what there possibly is to laugh at. "I actually liked getting to know you. You…care a lot. And I didn't expect that."

Seungcheol's sincerity staggers you. You could ask what the hell he just meant by all of that, but you decide to take him for his word. You think you've experienced the most honesty from him in the past three days than you have in the entire span of time you've known him, and it almost feels like a privilege.

"Thanks…?"

"Don’t let it go to your head, though," he adds, as if to erase what he just said. "Can't have you walking around the office with a bigger stick in your ass."

"Poetic." You sigh. Once again, the illusion is shattered. You wonder if his kindness has a time limit. "How's your article coming along?"

"Nice try," he replies. "I'm not that easy."

"You're literally the definition of easy."

"Is that a compliment?" There's that challenge in his eyes again, that same look that he gave you outside Wonwoo's office. "You did ask me out on a date, despite saying that you'd rather eat glass. So I guess either there's a half-eaten plate in your trash or you've finally come to your senses."

"This is not a date. Dream on."

"You're right. This isn't a date." He leans forward on his elbows. "Just like our dinner date wasn't a date."

"It wasn't."

"Of course. If it was, I'd be asking stuff like…Where you're from. But I already know—h, e, double hockey—"

"Chicago."

"Same difference."

Your conversation continues as such.

Not a date, but where'd you go to college? Not a date, but do you have a pet? Not a date, but can I walk you home?

You realize your talk in his car two weeks ago involved everything but your pasts, but you suppose neither of you are the type to unwrap old wounds. Sometimes the bandaid is better on, but, in your case, there's really nothing left to tell.

You divulge that you went to Northwestern for journalism. You have a family tabby, and no, you wouldn't mind being walked home.

You also realize before today, you knew less about Seungcheol than you thought, but there's some give to his secrecy. He went to USC because his parents wanted him to. Played football for half of it until he tore his ACL and got adopted by the sports section of the school paper. He even captained the advice column for three semesters—something he wants to return to, but you're happy to tell him you wouldn't trust his advice as far as you could throw him. (What was your alias? Samuel. Sounds kinda like Seungcheol, huh? You say no. He laughs.)

After circling the same park three times, you reach the doorstep of your apartment building. You cycle through some one-liners to end on a high note, but none of them seem quite right.

It's not a date, but you've noticed Seungcheol keeps glancing at your lips, and it almost seems like one.

It's not a date, but Seungcheol asks some stupid question about if coffee could be considered tea, which you start to answer before you are rudely interrupted.

First, the bump of his nose against yours, then his lips, slow, insistent, dizzying. Your heart jumps all the way to your throat and you think there's so much heat in your cheeks that he can feel it.

It's not a date, but Seungcheol just kissed you and you liked it.

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The next time you see Seungcheol is in the elevator to the newsroom on Monday.

He sticks his dumb, big arm out of the cabin to hold the door open for you, and his smile bruises your overripe heart.

"Hi," he says, sneaking a glance like a guilty child.

"Hi."

The floor indicators flicker like fireflies, one by one. He sidesteps toward you so that your shoulders touch. You watch the 4 crawl to 5. The air in the cabin is sticky, electric.

And as if taking a great big dive, you kiss him, a fleeting, tender thing that you rolled around in your head for a good thirty minutes earlier this morning—and you never thought the fruit of overthinking could be so sweet.

The elevator dings.

Before the doors open to your floor, Seungcheol slams the close button, takes your face in his hands, and kisses you again.

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You have three reasons to get drunk.

1. It's Friday.

2. You finished your article.

3. You and Seungcheol are no longer mortal enemies, but now you don't know what you are.

(The other day, you both worked late, and he ordered takeout to the office. You sat crosslegged on his desk as he tried to explain what a touchdown was and why he was obsessed with the Steelers. Normally a two hour long conversation about football would be a punishable offense, but that night he made you laugh so hard your stomach hurt the next day.)

After Wonwoo's dinner with corporate, he went to the market across the street and picked up a few handles of soju and the fattest bottle of cheap vodka you've ever seen.

You're all getting a raise—you guess the Thai must have worked out well, although Wonwoo must have struck out with Yerim since he's spending his Friday night drinking with you guys instead.

So you get drunk.

Drunk enough to tune out of Jihyo from Sports giving Wonwoo dating advice—riveting, if not for your near double vision—and follow Seungcheol to the staff bathroom.

"Anyone—," you manage. His lips are hot on your neck, and every dizzy neuron in your body seems to be reaching, grasping for him. "Anyone ever tell you that your forearms look really good when you roll up your sleeves?"

"All the time," he replies, and he swallows the laugh right off of your tongue.

"You are so annoying." Your palm finds his heartbeat, and you revel in how it leaps towards your skin every hurried beat. You don't want to think about how many girls came before you, leant back against the bathroom counter just like this, but having a body against yours never felt so good. You guess that's what a three year hiatus will do to you. "Bet you hear that one a lot too, huh?"

"You got that right."

Another kiss, just a nudge of his nose and you're leaning up to him; your lips feel swollen and warm and somehow they still crave the feeling.

"How is it that we still bump noses," you ask, half words, half air. Seungcheol's hands, skin-greedy, skim over the back of your thighs like they're water and find the swell of your ass.

"You make me impatient." Cheshire grin across heart lips and you're toast. "Anyone tell you that you have a great ass?"

"All the time," you squeak out. It's a lie and a half but who cares. His fingers drag under the seam of your underwear and you've never been so thankful you forgot to wear shorts under your dress.

"Need you," he says, lips flush to the skin behind your ear, and your lower half would give out if you weren't propped against the sink.

The idea of Seungcheol on his knees, your thigh hiked over his shoulder, crosses your mind. He'd probably be really good at head, and that makes you dizzier than any ungodly combination of alcohol would. Or would he press you against the mirror, want your skirt pushed to your waist so he could fuck you from behind?

Anticipation tumbles into anxiety into some primordial, horrible shyness because you haven't had sex in years. You feel hot and damp and sweaty and you can't remember if you shaved or not. Plus, you're already seizing in his arms and he hasn't even touched you for real yet.

"H-home," you breathe. "Let's go home."

"Hm?" His hand slows in the dip between your thighs. "You wanna stop? We can stop."

"No, I just…I just thought it would be better if we went home. To…you know."

"Yours or mine?"

"Mine’s closer," you answer after a considerable amount of mental gymnastics trying to figure out if you're both drunk enough to not mind the mess.

You know your apartment and you know your bed and you know where the bathroom is in case you have to pee. There's a box of condoms under the sink. You have an extra toothbrush for him. Less variables to worry about because nothing else has really gone to plan. You watch Seungcheol misbutton the top two buttons on his shirt and all the fondness in your heart feels like a welcome stranger in your body.

How To Ruin The Moment In One Easy Step!

You feel incredibly horny and guilty all at once, but Seungcheol kisses your cheek on the way out and it's like you're able to breathe again.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

It seems that the car ride to your place sucks all the sobriety back into the both of you.

You're lying stomach-down on your bed, Seungcheol against the headboard with his shirt undone. You're in your bra and your still sticky underwear, and somehow, despite being ready to break your three-year spell, you like this much better.

"Imagine if someone needed to piss," Seungcheol groans. "I think we would have gotten fired. Lifestyle would have no editor."

"I honestly think that's why Seungkwan was standing outside for so long."

Upon hearing this, Seungcheol's eyes shoot open. If your phone wasn't charging, you would take a picture. He fell asleep on your shoulder in the car, and now, even with all the affection you can muster, you can only describe his hair as broom-adjacent. Einstein-core. How far you've fallen from grace.

"Don't worry, he won't say anything." And as you watch the color return to his face, you add, "Also, it's not that I didn't want to have sex, I just…" you trail off, hoping he'll get it even though you're making no sense.

"No, it was the right call. I wanna do it when we're both sober."

It smooths your frayed-out nerves knowing that none of this was a performance or a test, just two shy, touch-starved people stumbling in the dark.

"Lemme guess—this is just a typical Friday night for you."

"Flattering but no," Seungcheol replies, grinning something stupid. "Do you always spend this much time wondering what I'm doing?"

"No!" His hands, once busy with scrunching up the fabric of your bedsheets, now find yours, and he runs a careful thumb over your knuckles. You notice he has the care-worn hands of a line chef, or maybe even a baker, which is funny because you don't even think the man knows how to turn on an oven. "I dunno. You just seem so experienced. What about all of those other girls?"

He flips your hand over, tracing the creases of your palm.

"Just dates. Nothing serious."

You want to ask—What about us? Are we serious? But you swallow it all down. You watch Seungcheol's eyes, midnight-weary, fall back upon you, and it feels like he's trusted you with something important.

"Don’t get it twisted, though," he adds, before yawning big and wide without covering his mouth. "I'm a loser, not a virgin. Definitely not."

You bite back a laugh. Killer journalist bio, but that's something to pitch next content meeting.

"Definitely a loser. I think you make me a loser by association."

"Good. So we're both losers. I like that." He smiles at you with so much warmth, it makes your heart physically hurt. Then he clamps down another yawn. "God, I'm exhausted. I think if we fucked in the bathroom, I'd have passed out. Or pulled my back."

"Then sleep," you chide, shucking a pillow at him. "Also take your shirt off. I don't like outside clothes on the bed."

"Say less," Seungcheol says. "I’ll blow your back out another day. Save the date." Between your almost audible gulp and his unfortunately attractive physique, you almost forget the place you're in-between.

Did everyone fit into his arms? Did he lift a hand for just anyone? Two silhouettes in the lamplight—was that how every day with him ended? Or just you, the only other person competing with him for his dream job? The convenient reality scares you.

The thought never seems to cross Seungcheol's mind. His head hits the pillow, and he's out like a light. But not without a not-so-subtle scoot to your side of the bed, near enough that the heat of his skin plays off yours.

You lean into it, liking how your skin buzzes with the closeness.

You're lulled by the sway of Seungcheol's breathing behind you—probably the most quiet he'll ever be. The moonlight oozes into the room; sleep comes over you like water, a slow, gentle wash.

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You can't remember the last time you cooked for two.

You open your fridge, and the hollow insides stare back at you. Rows of condiments and two water bottles. You have finally reached K-drama CEO status.

"Is this the part where I get kicked out?" Seungcheol says, shrugging his shirt back on as he walks out of the bedroom.

"This is the part where I cook breakfast for you."

"Really? You don't have to." He sounds genuinely surprised, which tips your heart a little off-axis.

"I want to," you reply, double checking the fridge as if opening it a second time would repopulate it. "That's what people do when they care about each other."

"Or if they're trying to poison you."

"Will you just let me do something nice for you?" You yank your head out to glare at him, and he looks stung.

"Thanks." He says it after so much pause that you wonder if this is the first time someone has done this for him. You wish you had a better offering, but surely the man with the worst palate in the world could spare his judgment for one meal. "No really, 'cause I am starving."

You let him bask in the rare glory of the unobstructed refrigerator light while you rummage through the pantry for a plan B.

"Holy shit. You live like this?"

"Not always. It's been…a week." All you have is the ramyun Mingyu likes, which feels like a weird, culinary betrayal. But you're hungry, and Seungcheol is eyeing a strange bag in the freezer that you don't even remember putting there. "You good with ramyun?"

"Honestly, I'll eat anything," he whines, gnawing on the ice straight from the freezer drawer.

At least he's self-aware. But he makes all the spaces Mingyu left behind seem a little less empty, and you can't find it in you to be mad at that.

You wait for the water to boil and Seungcheol finds a seat at your tiny dinner table, a misaligned, wobbly product of Mingyu’s inability to read an Ikea manual.

"I'm hoping your week got better?" Seungcheol asks, referring to your capital W week.

You tentatively nod before dropping the noodles in.

"Of course it did—you woke up to me in your bed. Can't get better than that."

"Actually, it's because I finished my article yesterday."

Seungcheol pauses before laughing to himself. "Congrats," he replies, now wiggling the table on its bad leg. "Can't say the same for myself."

you watch the starch-foam wash over the mouth of the pot, precariously close to the edge. You overfilled it, which mildly surprises you until you consider that you're cooking double the food.

There's a stretchy, anxious tumble in your stomach. It's not like you were expecting him to cheer or anything, but it just reminds you that you are, still in fact, competitors. When all of this is said and done, one of you is losing, and from every angle, it seems like quite the death knell for whatever you've got going on now.

It's a pity because you actually kind of like this arrangement. If Seungcheol was in your banged-up flea market chair next Saturday morning, you wouldn't be mad. Maybe you would even make him waffles. From scratch, even.

"What, too many dates to cover?"

He laughs again, somehow to no one in particular. "Something like that."

Past the bruising swell of his smile is the much sharper, more unforgiving edge of an unspoken hurt that you're neither trusted with nor owed, and yet you refuse to drop it. What about me? It feels like you're almost there, wrapped around something bigger, a scoop you can't pull your stubborn teeth out of.

"Is there a reason none of those were serious? Come on."

"What's so wrong with that?" And when you don't say anything, he says, "Trust me, it is never that serious."

His voice ticks up at the end like a teenager trying to play cool and the noodle water boils up around your chopsticks as you try to get your portion cooked through.

You won't—can't—turn to face him. You committed to the line, and now you must see it through, no matter how bad an idea it may be.

"That's not true," you finally squeeze out, finding the right footing for your voice. "It was serious for me. I'm sorry it wasn’t for you."

The table stops rocking.

"I'm glad. Really." He claps his hands together like a cruel punctuation mark, and it's then you remember that the only person as ill-tempered as you happens to be sitting two feet away.

Like an injured animal, your heart wants to cower back into your chest. You knew this was a mistake—this being everything—but an open wound can't help but bleed and your pride can't do without seeing the knife.

"Look, I don't know what your problem is." The pot hisses, astringent and pleading, beneath your fist. "I don't know what happened with your love life, but don't take it out on me."

"You asked."

"Yeah? Well, what is this?" You turn to face him, feeling the air between you tense, pulled like a rubber band. "You can't sit in my kitchen and tell me you don't care about whatever this is."

After all of the terse meetings, elevator spats, and foul-mouthed encounters in the parking lot, you can now recognize the fresh twist of Seungcheol's mouth and the livewire of a temper you've become so familiar with.

"Who said I didn't care? I'm just tired of you trying to lecture me about my life. I—"

"I'm not lecturing you, I just know you can't really believe what you're saying." Every word stumbles out, trembling and doe-legged, barely audible over his attempts to interrupt you. "There's nothing wrong with admitting you were in love with someone. And if you can't, I just feel really fucking sorry for you."

There’s an incredulous look in Seungcheol's eyes. But it's the worse part of you, ruthless and hungry for acceptance, that makes you say, "Maybe the fact that nothing lasts is your fault."

"Oh, really?" Seungcheol's voice, half-laugh with none of the warmth, rips through you. "You're really gonna act like you're better than me? As if you don't write in your pretentious little column every week, just waiting for your ex to read it and decide he wants you back again?"

There’s a red hot flash behind your eyes and everything inside you feels like it breaks at once.

"You know, at least I had someone who cared about me. Can't say the same about your miserable, sorry ass. Now get the fuck out of my apartment."

"Wh—"

he stands up, table croaking underneath his fists, and you realize you've crossed a bridge that can never be uncrossed.

"Get. Out."

It feels like a stitch in you has come undone. The water has long boiled over the pot and there's no joy to be found in watching Seungcheol stumble over his pant legs on the way to the door.

"I didn't want Mingyu. I wanted you."

it's not an apology, nor is it an indictment. You don't know why you say it, and you guess Seungcheol doesn't either. The door slams behind him, and all you're left with is a bloated pot of ramyun you never really wanted anyway.

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Celery. Red wine. Short rib.

If you had one day left on earth, you think you would go grocery shopping. It was like a prayer to you—you could close your eyes and know exactly what aisle had the beef broth, or feel the stone weight of a can of San Marzano tomato paste.

That's one thing you can thank Mingyu for—it's true that you don't love him like you used to, but you refuse to believe that any love worth having is also worth leaving behind.

Fingerling potatoes, the red ones. A Vidalia onion.

You recite your shopping list, slowly, quietly, a rosary.

Baguette is the next item, with a question mark next to it because sometimes your local bakery sells out after 3.

You pass by, expecting to see the shop window cleared out. Instead you see a familiar crown of cowlicked black hair and a horribly well-worn grin that only looks good because it's on Choi Seungcheol's face.

He's paying for a pretty girl's sourdough, and thyme, rosemary gets washed out by a dizzying riptide of heartache.

It was never personal, you tell yourself. Just another date. That's the angle.

You think it hurts a little less, knowing that it all was a business transaction. A long interview.

The thyme is next to the dill. The rosemary is next to the chives, at the end of the shelf.

You watch Seungcheol lean over the tiny cafe table to take a sip of his date's Americano. Did he always laugh like that? Were you really any different?

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Monday feels tilted.

There's the usual gust of cinnamon sugar and cold brew—today's offering from the interns, who have begun to master the art of pressing the elevator buttons with full hands. Wonwoo is wearing his Monday outfit, a wrinkled cream button up under a navy blue sweater vest. Your cubicle is empty, just the way you like it, save for the ass-shaped spot cleared off on the desk edge.

You like days like this, except today you don't and you know exactly why.

"Today's the day," Joshua says, nose buried in a bakery-style muffin, the top pillowing out of the wrapper.

He stares over your shoulder at your article, locked and loaded for submission to copy.

You are not exaggerating when you say you would die for these four thousand words. You ate and cried and argued for them in what you can only describe as the worst literary coliseum of your life, and now their (and your) fate rests in Joshua’s massive Mickey Mouse hands and Wonwoo's bespectacled whimsy.

"Well, don't let me stop you." He laughs and then totters away, sucking a crumb off a finger. Just another Monday.

Your cursor hovers over the SUBMIT button. You've always been a little scared of it—unsurprising, since you're also the type to triple read an email before sending it—but there's a new kind of fear boxed in those little pixels.

Last night, you emptied out your freezer. Stuck on the back wall was a neon green sticky note, behind all the bags. See you when you get home, it said. You laughed and then you cried and then you ripped it up because that's probably what Seungcheol was looking at the morning you chewed him out.

All of that heartache must have been good for something. To say you wasted it on a no-love situationship wouldn't do any of it justice, not when all that's left is most definitely a crude shoutout on Seungcheol's next listicle. If you weren't already getting one earlier, you sure are now.

You wonder what you'll be:

10 Signs She Is Clinically Insane.

It's Not You, It's Them!

Help! My Friend With Benefits Isn't A Friend Or A Benefit!

At least that one is funny, although if it's the winning line, you don't think you can ever show your face in the office again.

The beginning and the end and the muddy in-between. Entrenched in all of it was this article and this job, and you'll be damned if you let your misplaced faith get co-opted by a sweaty-palmed Casanova.

(8:19 AM; the smell of summer and dried-down cologne. A hand on your ribcage, just beneath your heart. Good morning, Seungcheol says, as if emerging from a long, wonderful dream.)

You picture the byline with editor tacked next to your name. To run your finger over the ink spackled serif of a paper hot off the press, as if somehow it would radiate the misery you had to endure.

(11:41 PM; jajangmyeon and a pack of rice crackers. Seungcheol had given you his chopsticks because you dropped yours. The hum of the broken light outside Wonwoo's office sings in the silence of an empty newsroom. Your eyes meet, and you don't look away.)

There's a sinking feeling in your chest. You close your eyes and hit submit.

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Ask Samuel!

It's 6 PM on a Thursday and if you weren't already on your last thread, you are now. The angry red of the Daily Trojan website glares back at you from your phone as you step into the elevator with none other than your editor-in-chief.

You've resorted to reading Seungcheol's old advice columns. Not because you miss him, but because you want to know if he was ever a competent writer capable of talking about something other than how to score on a second date.

That's the only way he's beating you.

(There's also no way you miss him. The thought would make you laugh out loud if you weren't standing next to your boss).

One column became four became ten. After thirteen you concluded Seungcheol must have sustained a head injury some time before starting his job here—you can find no other explanation for how someone so generous and intuitive could've gotten lost in the chaff of articles with more pictures than words.

"Congrats," Wonwoo says, seemingly speaking into the void.

"Pardon?" You close out a particularly riveting query about estranged childhood friends to look up at him.

"Congrats."

"F-for what?" You get that head rush again, the same one you got a month ago at the Italian restaurant with Jeonghan.

"The job. You got the position." Wonwoo clears his throat calmly, as if he's not delivering the most important news of your life. "I wanted to let you know in person before we sent out Monday’s email."

For once, you have no words. In a wonderful instant, they are all zapped out of your brain. You feel hot and clammy and anxious all at once and you half expect to close your eyes and see either god or the flare of a hospital light, waking you up from an impossible coma.

"Holy shit," the primordial ooze inside you says instead. "T-thank you."

"No need."

"What about Seungcheol? Does he know?"

"I haven't told him yet, but he should be aware." Wonwoo pauses. "He didn't submit anything."

"What?!"

There are only so many surprises your body can handle. You feel like you are being held together by a fast-unraveling string on a poorly made sweater. Your stomach is somewhere in your feet and you don't even know where your heart is. Part of you is waiting for the elevator to stop so the entire office can jump out of the walls and laugh at you.

"I too was surprised," Wonwoo says, now checking his smartwatch for messages. "He must have changed his mind. No matter—I'm confident you will be an excellent fit."

The elevator jerks to a stop at the first floor. You feel boneless, like a can of cranberry sauce.

"Forgive me, I have a dinner appointment." Wonwoo ends the conversation the best way he can—with his trademark parentheses smile and a nod of the head—and leaves you in the elevator cabin alone.

All the times you've dreamed of this moment, you're tear-dizzy, joyous, fumbling with your phone to call your parents.

Instead you stand motionless, waiting, emptied.

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To make croissants, you fold a slab of butter into a square of yeasted dough. You roll it out thin and then fold it into itself before leaving it to rest in the fridge. Then you take it out again, roll it, and fold it. You do this until you've forgotten how many times you folded it and you no longer crave croissants.

When you were five, you pressed your nose to the window of your favorite patisserie and decided this is how your mind works.

You've had ample time now to flatten out Saturday morning, to watch all the little layers of doubt and loathing form, and now you're sick of it. It's not often you're star witness to your own unhappiness, but, as if you were called to the stand, you can easily play back the moment you lit the match and then watched everything explode.

You're not sure what either of you were expecting. A playboy and you, who loves so insistently, almost as if out of spite—there is truly no reality in which it makes sense. The fact that you fought over a literal pot of ramyun only proves this.

And now he's saddled you with the final blow. The position of your dreams with none of the glory because he gave up.

He gave up.

None of this should matter to you.

You're standing outside the office, waiting for your ride to your celebratory dinner (this time, on Jeonghan). The little headline man in your brain is silent for once. Instead, you try to enjoy the breeze, honeyed with late June, and not dwell on the horrible twist in your stomach every time you think about your new position. It's been 24 hours since you found out but it is no less raw.

It's then that you catch Seungcheol, creeping out the double doors of the office like some sort of criminal. You're not sure if it's the plod of his Sasquatch feet or that bag you hate so dearly, but you could recognize that walk from anywhere.

His pace quickens when you turn to face him—he's running away. You won't grant him the satisfaction. Not when he's fucked up what little you had left, and then some.

"You're an idiot, Seungcheol."

That does the trick.

"Funny way of saying hi," he responds, bracing himself on the sidewalk as if you're about to hit him.

"Why didn't you submit anything? What the fuck were you thinking?"

"What does it matter to you? You got the position."

"Look, I—" You shut your eyes, feeling the frenetic ice-cream churn of your brain try to put together a million broken up words. "I'm sorry for Saturday. But I never wanted to scare you off from the job. You deserve it as much as I do, and, as much as I hate to say it, I care about you too fucking much to watch you throw away your shot."

Saying the words is like cutting something loose from your chest, a million strings coming undone.

Seungcheol takes a deep, unsteady breath. You watch the crest and fall of his shoulders and the inescapable tar pits he calls eyes get big and shiny.

"No, I—" He pulls himself from your gaze. "I'm sorry. I should have never said that to you. And I should have never treated you like that."

The silence between you ripples, as if after a long rain.

"I was scared. A long time ago, I threw myself into a relationship. I thought we had something really, really good, and then I found out she was also seeing someone else."

Being right never felt so bad. It's even worse that something you would look forward to—the I told you so, the jokes really write themselves—no longer holds any satisfaction, only a sense of loss and a terrible urge to make it right again.

"And it's not right, but I decided that it was a mistake to take chances like that again. And it was fine, fun even, going on all of these casual dates and getting paid for it. Then you just had to mess it up."

"H-how?"

"You were so dead-set on convincing me otherwise. You wouldn't let it go, not with your weird sayings and the way you talked about your ex and when you told me you were making me breakfast. I started believing you, and it really fucking scared me."

There's a sharp pain in your head. It feels like, at once, you were skinned like a fruit. Like the interlude between dream and waking, all the sheets of sleep yanked from your person.

"What…what about the article?" you ask, scrambling. You don't really want to contend with what he just told you. You don't think you can.

"You deserved it more. And you really love what you do. I used to think it was all bullshit, but I was wrong."

You take a hard swallow. The image of Seungcheol, head bowed, a nervous hand on the back of his neck, swims in front of your eyes.

"Whatever. I don't even know what I'm saying anymore," he laughs, mirthless.

"No, wait," you say. "I-I also…never took you seriously, not even when I should've. You know, I read your advice columns. Crazy, I know."

"I do have to say that is one of your more insane claims."

"No, I thought, they were actually, you know…really good." You watch him blink, mouth already twisting up as he fights a smile. "What I'm trying to say is that I think we messed up. In a lot of ways. But I want to be friends again. Or at least not enemies."

Seungcheol takes a long pause before he sticks his hand out.

"Choi Seungcheol. Writer. It's nice to meet you."

Some force, as if you had always been connected, pulls your skin to his. You shake his hand for the very first time, and starting over never felt so good.

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"You're booking Eleven Madison for the office dinner again, right?"

Wonwoo pops his head into your office, his Monday uniform now festive with a holiday tie. Today, it's snowmen with glasses.

"Naturally," you reply. "Unless you have plans on that Friday."

You're referring to last week, when Wonwoo took a call in the middle of a staff meeting and revealed that yes, he would most definitely be available for drinks with Yerim that evening. He ended the meeting thirty short seconds later, and you think you saw him skip to the elevator.

He laughs, deep and caramel. "Not this time. Also—don't forget to review those job applications. Sent them to your email."

Before you can tease him again, he leaves, and you are forced to look at your teeming inbox, the only unfortunate side effect of your new position. But you've never been happier, and a hundred new unread emails never seemed so wonderful. The first time Jeonghan saw you in your new office, you were so giddy he thought you were coming down with something.

You take a hefty sip of today's coffee (ginger, molasses, cinnamon). On the side of the cup, the one you keep facing away from the door, reads SEUNGCHEOL and OAT, in loopy marker letters.

After you shook hands in the parking lot, you agreed to take it slow. You thought bringing everything to a simmer would cure you of your affection, but it wasn't even a month before Seungcheol was back in that same seat in your kitchen, eating the blueberry waffles you promised him.

But if slow meant long phone calls and the nervous twine of your hands after an ice cream date, then you think you like slow. You could do slow for a while.

He's taken to bringing you coffee in the morning. He claims it's your editorial right, but you think he just likes having an excuse to barge into your office. (And close the door behind him. And kiss you. But that's aside the point.)

Plus, Seungcheol's had plenty of legitimate reasons to be in your office. The newest one is the launch of Ask Sunny! , which you think is the best idea he's had since deciding to get you coffee every day. He spent the last few days campaigning to reuse his old alias, but you're pretty sure he was just looking for reasons to argue with you.

"Afternoon, boss."

Speak of the devil, and he shall appear. You always seem to learn the hard way with Seungcheol.

He swaggers in, ear-to-ear smile on his face, before taking a seat at the designated corner of your table.

"I think I like this desk better," he says, folding at the waist so he can lean close to you. Instead of reminding him it's the same desk, you just choose to make space for him, you let him press his nose to yours.

"Friendly reminder we're at work."

"Everyone's at lunch, genius."

He interrupts you with just a touch of his lips, which should be considered no less than a war crime by now.

"You are the worst."

"Not what you said last night. Not even close." He places another wet kiss on your nose before sliding off the table edge to his feet. There's a horrible warmth in his eyes as he watches you very clearly remember what exactly he's referring to. (A wandering hand. A cherry. Dark hair, wound through your fingers). "Anyway, I've got serious problems to solve. Or should I say Sunny? I still think we should have gone with Samuel."

"Executive decision," you tease. "Now if you don't need anything, scram. Out of my office."

"Just wanted to remind you I made reservations for us at Avra today," Seungcheol says, lingering in the doorframe with the shit-eating grin he tends to sport nowadays. "I'll even let you order."

There's no fighting the familiar bloom of laughter in your chest. It boils up, sparkling and citrusy, as you roll your eyes and watch Seungcheol return to his desk no less starry-eyed than how he walked in.

If cooking is a language, then love is the words, and you finally think you're learning to speak them.

You open the email at the top of your inbox: Seungcheol's last draft of the article he never published. You urged him to let you consider it for the next issue, and he finally caved (although you're learning that he really doesn't take much convincing when it comes to you).

Eat, Play, Love: A Guide.

Maybe you'd put it through. Maybe.

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Merger | KNJ, CSC

Merger

Pairing: Namjoon x Fem!Reader x Seungcheol

Rating: M 🔞; NSFW

Genre: Smut; pwp; non-idol AU

Warnings: Threesome; porn with the barest of plots; cussing; alcohol consumption; voyeurism; fingering; clit play; breast play; oral sex; spit-roast(😬); handjobs; penetrative, protected sex; masturbation; multiple orgasms; pearl necklace; soft aftercare

Word count: 6.1k words

Summary: “Oh, so you guys are like a package deal then?”

A/N: It’s been ages since I’ve written and finished any WIP! This is probably the filthiest thing I’ve written--ever! It's completely indulgent, and since my moots and I have been kicking around the idea of a leader-line/crossover fic, I figured, why not? Thank you, @roaminginthenights and my Discord loves for enabling me!

Full disclosure: I’ve never written a poly fic before, so please be kind! Anyway, I'll shut up now. Enjoy!

You’re still shaking hands with Namjoon and Seungcheol, when you suggest getting celebratory drinks. They’ve just accepted your firm’s very lucrative offer to invest in their business, one you identified and insisted your firm consider. There’s still plenty of paperwork to complete, documents to sign, but for now, after securing the biggest deal of their lives, they (and you) deserve one night to bask in their success before the real work begins.

As a new partner at your firm who finds and manages ventures, you want to be seen as both an advisor and a peer. You aren’t just another representative of the new majority shareholder; you listen and care about their needs.

Just hours ago, they appeared as slightly awkward but well-rehearsed tech geeks, hoping to secure funding for their business. This more casual setting is exactly what they needed. And frankly, after a couple of drinks, you realized that you needed it too.

In a quiet corner of the bar, with loosened ties and rolled-up sleeves, your newest clients seem much more relaxed, blending in with the tech and finance crowd that frequents this part of the city.

Unlike the old crowd, Namjoon and Seungcheol stood out to you. They brought new energy and enthusiasm instead of the burnt-out, jaded-looking faces you usually saw. They had a spark that made you believe in their vision, making you excited to see where this partnership could go. It also didn't hurt that they were very attractive (objectively speaking), which was rare for guys in their industry.

“We can’t thank you enough,” Namjoon says. He handles operations for the business, led the pitch, and hasn’t stopped expressing his gratitude since you left the office.

“We promise you won’t regret taking a chance on us.” Seungcheol adds. He oversees the tech front and was quieter in comparison. He let the demonstration do all the talking for him, and you were very impressed, but now he seems to be livening up.

“Well, you guys made a convincing pitch. I think that the service you offer and your business model is unique and we see a significant untapped market for it. All you need is scale, and we’re very excited to be involved in that effort.”

Namjoon turns serious for a moment, “To tell you the truth, we’ve been used to hearing ‘no’ in the last few months, so we were shocked by your offer—I mean, we still are.”

You smile. “All you need is that one ‘yes,’ to get you going! I’m glad you both persisted and that we can be part of what we’re confident is going to be a huge success.”

“To getting rich!” Seungcheol roars, raising his glass, making you and Namjoon laugh in response. You then tap your glasses against his, echoing his sentiments.

Peering past the rim of your drink, you observe their banter and laughter at techy inside jokes you're not privy to. Outside the conference room and clearly more relaxed, you start to see their individual charm, which would knock the socks off anyone who stopped and paid attention.

You shift in your seat, leaning just a tad closer to Namjoon—close enough to catch a hint of his scent, but with enough distance to keep things semi-professional.

“So! I feel like I've been going on and on about how we like to work with our portfolio companies. But what about you guys? Tell me more about how this partnership works,” you ask, gesturing between them.

To your surprise, Seungcheol clears his throat and answers first. “We complement each other well. Joon is more articulate than I am, while I’m more comfortable working on the technical side of things.”

He seems shy, often hiding his face when laughing as if to avoid drawing attention to himself. Yet, his confident demonstration today—and the obvious technical expertise behind it—suggests that he’s more self-assured than he initially lets on. He may not talk as much as his counterpart, but when he does, he demands that you focus on him and nothing and no one else. With those dark, deep-set eyes and plush lips, you wouldn’t even think of diverting your attention elsewhere.

…Unless Namjoon was in the same room.

“Cheol is quicker at troubleshooting and debugging,” he says. “He prefers rectifying things right away, figuring things out as he goes. My approach is more theoretical. I prefer to take my time, gathering more information, maybe drawing things out a little longer than they need to be…”

Namjoon had your full attention from the moment he introduced himself. He had a boyish, dimpled smile that could make anyone swoon—a stark contrast to his tall and broad frame. He was mostly formal during the presentation but unafraid to go off on smaller tangents that showed his passion and kept you hanging on his every word. At certain points, you wished he would keep going, especially with that deep, rich voice of his.

However, as the night progresses, Seungcheol gradually draws your attention toward him as well.

“Let’s just say that Joon likes to play with his food, while I just want to get right to it and eat,” Seungcheol says, tipping his glass to his partner and winking playfully at you.

Your jaw drops at his unexpected comment, surprised by how bold it is. Normally, you'd think something like that would be out of line, but instead, you’re amused by it.

Little by little, you start to pick up on the subtle nuances in Seungcheol’s behavior. He has this laid-back attitude that contrasts with Namjoon's more reserved demeanor. It's fascinating to see the differences between the two, and you can't help but be drawn further into their intriguing dynamic.

Namjoon clears his throat, giving Seungcheol a subtle warning. “Uhh… please excuse my friend here. He offers the most colorful analogies.”

You wave him off. “I think he’s pretty funny, actually.”

“Why, thank you!” Seungcheol beams, takes it as a compliment then takes a sip of his drink.

“Besides, we need a little humor to get through the day, right,” you add.

You see Namjoon’s shoulders visibly relax. Your carefree reaction seems to give him a sense of relief.

With that awkwardness out of the way, you press on to get to know them better. You feel there's something more about them you can't quite put your finger on. Against your better judgment, and maybe due to one too many drinks, you’re dead-set on finding out.

You switch tact to keep the conversation going. “Has anybody ever pulled one of you aside to offer you an individual deal?”

“It’s happened before, but we’ve always turned them down,” Seungcheol replies.

Having been friends for over a decade, Namjoon nods in agreement. “Cheol and I have this pact—it's either both of us or neither of us.”

They’re young, business-savvy guys who haven’t lost their earnestness despite the ruthless competition. But the skeptic in you decides to test their ‘pact.’ “Oh, so you guys are like a package deal then?” you tease.

Seungcheol lets out a low laugh. “Yeah. Something like that.”

The look he gives you after he says it makes the words sound naughtier than they seem. But you brush the comment aside, keeping your thoughts PG since this is still technically a business meeting. Though, if you’re being honest, Seungcheol’s responses have been toeing the line between professional and provocative. His comment about preferring to eat his food rather than play with it makes you curious about what other colorful analogies he can come up with when he does cross that line. Frankly, you hope he would run through the entire spectrum.

Namjoon gives him a furtive look. “What he means is that this business wouldn't succeed if one of us walked away. It's better to hire both of us so you can get the best possible return on your investment.”

You scoff in disbelief. After years in this industry, you know that somebody is always looking to get ahead, as long as the price is right. “You mean to tell me that you’re perfectly fine settling for a 50/50 share when one of you could just take it all?”

“We don’t mind sharing.” Seungcheol bites his lower lip to stifle a smile, while his eyes glistened hotly in the muted lighting.

And just like that, this business meeting has evolved into something completely different. You’re not stupid, and neither is he. Deep down, you want to squeal from excitement. At least one of them is feeling you.

Before you jump to conclusions (or onto Seungcheol’s lap), you turn to Namjoon, expecting him to once again rein in his friend’s spicy comments. Instead, you’re surprised to find him staring, a smile ghosting his face.

“Do you disagree?” You ask him, rubbing the back of your neck to relieve some of the tension you were feeling inside. You’re interested to hear how he would try to spin Seungcheol’s comment.

There’s a slight pause before he smiles wider, flashing a dimple on his cheek. “Nah. I don’t see anything wrong with sharing… or taking turns, for that matter.”

You inhale sharply, holding that breath for a moment as your stomach drops. “Taking turns?” you ask carefully, brows furrowed in curiosity.

Unfazed, he answers, “Leading projects, of course!”

Your lips form an ‘o’ shape, and you nod slowly. “Right…”

The room suddenly feels hotter. Feeling parched, you tip your glass to your lips and drink, but it doesn’t help. Your body is telling you that you need something else to relieve your thirst.

Namjoon tilts his head, still appearing nonchalant. “What did you think I was referring to?”

“Nothing,” you reply. Narrowing your eyes at him, you ask, “What did you think I was thinking?”

They both stare at you quietly before bursting into laughter. Touché.

You’re laughing along with them when your phone chimes, reminding you about tomorrow’s meeting—something your boss has mentioned multiple times this week. When you look up from your screen, you notice the bar is nearly empty. You didn't realize it was so late. Even though you're reluctant to leave things…unsettled tonight, duty calls.

You motion for the server to bring the check, then hand over your credit card with a sigh. Guess you'll have to handle things on your own tonight.

Noticing your change in demeanor, Namjoon turns to you again. “So, are you one of those partners who pays for dinner and drinks, takes their commission, then we never see them ever?”

You soften at his question. “I’m sorry that’s been your experience in the past but I guarantee you, that’s not how I, or my firm, operate. I actually answer my phone and return calls,” you assure him.

He nods, seemingly satisfied with your answer. At least one of you is. You watch him toss back the last few drops of his drink, some spilling onto his chin. He picks up a napkin to clean up, but before he can, you see an opportunity and take it—swiping your thumb across his chin, surprising him and Seungcheol.

“I like to be hands-on with my clients.” Enough with the innuendo tennis! You're done playing games and want to see if one of them is willing to put their money where their mouth is. Meeting be damned, you’ll deal with the fallout later.

Namjoon is stunned into silence, trying to process what just went down. While you wait for him to get his head around it, Seungcheol jumps in. “Hmm, is that right?” His voice is low and husky, sending a chill down your spine.

You turn your head towards him. He appears to be pouting slightly, clearly jealous of the attention you're giving his friend and business partner. You smile, satisfied to provoke that bit of aggression in him.

You shift and bring your face closer to his, your voice steady. “Why? Is that hard to believe?”

He purses his lips, his dimples prominently on display. Normally, you'd find them adorable, but not now, as he looks like he's stalking you as his prey. “Well, there are two of us, you see…” He glances at Namjoon past your shoulder, as if giving him a silent signal.

Not a second later, Namjoon’s hand is under the table, sliding up your thigh. You’re thankful your table is tucked away in the back corner of the bar, keeping the lewdness out of sight.

“And we can be very demanding,” Namjoon breathes into your ear, while Seungcheol, humming in agreement, nuzzles his nose against your neck. “You think you can handle us both?”

Now that ache in your chest has traveled down between your legs. You press them together to hold off a bit longer, but it’s a futile attempt.

“You shouldn’t underestimate me, you know.” You lean in, your mouth hovering close to Namjoon’s. “I’m an excellent multitasker.” You push him to the brink when you touch the tip of your nose to his. Pulse racing, he closes the gap and seals his lips over yours. The kiss is soft at first, before he gradually deepens it. You succumb to the moment, letting out a soft moan when his tongue licks into your mouth.

You’re breathless when you pull away from him and turn to Seungcheol. He cups your chin to draw you closer, his eyes dark with desire, and captures your mouth in a hungry kiss. There's a hint of urgency in it that could be mistaken for impatience. But you like it, just as you enjoy Namjoon’s unhurried pace. You lose yourself between them, forgetting all the professional boundaries you were supposed to maintain.

You barely step into the room when Seungcheol tugs at your wrist, pulling you back and kissing you. Your fingers tangle in his hair while he holds your jaw, his mouth moving over yours, licking and sucking. You hear the door shut in the background, then feel Namjoon’s arms wrap around your waist. He starts kissing the exposed skin between your neck and shoulders.

Two pairs of hands explore your body, taking off your clothes, mouths trailing kisses everywhere. Your head spins as you’re caught between these two in nothing but your underwear, and all you can do is moan as they ravish you. You’re aching for attention. You arch forward, grinding your hips against Seungcheol’s thick thigh, desperate for some friction to ease the ache between your legs.

He pulls away, chuckling. “Someone’s a little eager.”

Namjoon murmurs in your ear, “Are you in a rush or something?” His hand slides between your legs, pulling you against him so you can feel his stiff cock against your ass. He cups your clothed pussy, fingers grazing over the damp material. You moan in response, your neck falling back on his chest.

“No rush,” you manage to say, “But aren’t you guys a little overdressed?” You reach back to palm Namjoon’s hardon through his pants, making him groan in your ear. You were wound up so tight at this point that you hoped one of them would break that seal, and fast.

“Ooh-ho-hoo…alright. C’mon then,” Seungcheol chuckles softly, pulling you away from Namjoon.

He leads you further into the room, until you find yourself standing by the foot of the bed.

“Before we start, is there anything you won't do?” Seungcheol asks.

“Or is there something specific you’re curious to try?” Namjoon adds, gauging your comfort level.

You appreciated their thoughtfulness and took a moment before sharing your boundaries with them.

“I’m not into DP or any kind of anal play. Choking is a no-go, and hard pass on any degradation. Besides that, I’m open to trying stuff.”

Namjoon nods. “And hey, if you're not feeling it, just let us know. We'll stop right away.”

Nice to know that chivalry isn’t dead, even in a threesome.

“Alright, that's settled then,” Seungcheol grins, but his smile quickly shifts to something more serious. “Now, sit,” he says softly. Without missing a beat, you sit down on the edge of the bed.

With his eyes locked on you, he slowly unbuttons his shirt, then moves to undo his pants with the same deliberate pace.

Your pulse races, your body buzzing with excitement and impatience. “We don't have all night, you know,” you said, watching his hand slip past his boxer-briefs’ waistband, stroking himself underneath.

“I know,” he says.

Movement from your periphery distracts you. You see Namjoon settling into one of the chairs by the window. He looks just as mouthwatering outside of his suit, all bare-chested and—

You yelp when Seungcheol jerks your hips to the very edge of the bed, your thighs on either side of him. Lowering himself, he whispers a warning into your ear. “And I also know that you want him…”

He glances at Namjoon, then back at you. Suddenly, you feel sheepish, like you've been caught trying to sneak another serving of cake before you've taken a bite out of the first slice you were given.

“I can make you feel good, too,” he breathes. He nips your earlobe, then rubs his hard length against your center to tease you. You moan, bucking your hips to feel more of him, but he’s got you pinned to the mattress.

“Besides, my buddy here prefers delayed gratification, and you—look really needy right now,” he points out. “I can help with that.”

Your core clenches desperately at his offer. “Please,” you whine.

He decides to taunt you, to make you squirm a little more. “Please, what? Use your words,” he says with a teasing lilt in his voice.

“Make me come… please.” You smile sweetly and bat your eyes at him. “Didn’t you say you preferred to get right to it, and eat?” You remind him of what he said earlier, hoping he'd finally end your torment.

He grins at your pouting, clearly amused. Teasing him a bit more, you reach back and unhook your bra. As you slide it off your shoulders, you catch his gaze and notice him licking his lips in anticipation.

He tilts your chin up and leans in for a kiss. Your hands instinctively wrap around his neck, pulling him closer, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. You sigh in contentment, lost in the moment, as his tongue explores your mouth, savoring you.

“Let’s get rid of these,” he says before slipping your panties off. He moves down, leaving a trail of kisses on your chest. He takes a hardened nipple in his mouth. You inhale sharply at the feel of his tongue circling and teasing it.

He moves lower, settling between your legs. Spreading them wider, he traces your inner thighs with his lips. He gently sucks at the flesh, purposely avoiding your center, prolonging the ache between.

He lifts your legs and props them on his shoulders. With his mouth lowered, his nose grazes your folds, making you shudder. He inhales deeply. “You smell intoxicating,” he says, before you feel his mouth on your clit. You let out a lingering moan at the contact.

“Ohh, right there,” as you push your hips shamelessly at his mouth. Your hunger builds as his tongue licks and flutters over your slick.

Your back arches, gripping the sheets as he inserts a finger, then a second. You throw your head back, eyes shut, lost in complete pleasure.

The mattress dips gently above where you lay. Feeling a warmth on your cheek, you open your eyes to see Namjoon lowering his lips onto you. You moan softly into his mouth while Seungcheol continues to lap at your soaked core, with his fingers dipping in and out of you.

Namjoon palms your breasts, teasing and pulling at your overly sensitive nipples.

“I love how responsive you are.” His tone carries that deep rasp that tickles your senses. You were incredibly turned on, feeling both the thrill of submission and the power of being serviced by two insanely hot men. Every touch, every whisper heightens the intensity, leaving you on the edge.

“I cannot wait to taste you,” Namjoon says, punctuating every word.

His voice triggers your release. That last bit of control snaps, and your body goes rigid. Your jaw goes slack as your orgasm takes over.

“F-uck…” you barely manage to say. Namjoon keeps caressing your face, helping you come back to reality.

Just as you're catching your breath, Seungcheol looms over you. He reaches above your head to grab something from Namjoon. After slipping on the condom, he hooks your leg around his waist to open you up for him. In one smooth move, he's in deep.

You moan breathlessly, wrapping your other leg around him as he finds his rhythm. Your fingers dig into the curve of his ass, leaving little crescent marks all over his skin.

“So good…” he breathes out.

Hearing rough groans above your head, you crane your neck. Namjoon is leaning against the headboard, fisting himself. His eyes blown out with arousal while watching you get fucked by his best friend. You want to take him in your mouth, but his cock is out of reach.

“I want him,” you say with a hungry look in your eyes. Then, turning your attention back to Seungcheol, “But I also want you to keep fucking me.”

His brows shoot up in surprise at your bold request, and he and Namjoon exchange looks, slightly taken aback.

“I did say I could multi-task,” you remark with a smirk, your confidence unwavering.

Slowing his hips, Seungcheol grins devilishly, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Greedy girl, huh?”

Your reply is straightforward and unapologetic. “I want what I want,” you shrug. 

With a quiet laugh, Seungcheol pulls out, leaving you feeling bereft, but the promise of what’s next keeps you eager. Then, getting on your knees, you crawl over to Namjoon, your movements slow and calculated, savoring the anticipation. You look up at him and smile, then plant a swift kiss on his lips.

You dip down and give his cock some light licks, teasing the sensitive skin with your tongue. A deep groan rumbles from his chest, giving you a surge of satisfaction. You lower your mouth, taking your time, making him inhale sharply when the tip hits the back of your throat.

As you find a rhythm, Seungcheol watches intently, riveted at the sight before him. He traces your spine, trailing his fingers down your lower back. He presses lightly, urging you to bend further and lift your ass higher. He uses his thigh to push your knees wide, ensuring you're in the most optimal position for him.

Your cheeks hollow as you take long, deep pulls. Your tongue traces his length, flicking the tip when you reach it. Then, your body stills, pausing to let out a strangled moan at the shock of Seungcheol burying his cock in you from behind.

Namjoon looks down at you, his eyes filled with lust. “Don’t stop,” he begs softly.

Once you gather your bearings, you lower your head again. He runs his fingers through your hair, gathering it in one hand to keep it away from your face.

“Ahh…shit,” he hisses through his teeth. With a hooded gaze, he watches his cock slide in and out of your mouth.

He writhes in pleasure, giving into your ministrations, resisting the urge to push your head down and fuck your mouth mercilessly. His self-control turns you on even more, so you take him in deeper, pumping him with your hand while your mouth works up to the tip. You moan around Namjoon, and the vibrations from your lips send him into a frenzy.

Although you wish you could fully relish in satisfying him, you can’t help but get distracted by your own arousal as the heat in the pit of your belly grows.

Seungcheol’s hips churn, rubbing and thrusting into you, hitting the spot that makes you want to come more than anything. His fingers dig deeply into your flesh, likely to leave bruises the next morning, but right now, you couldn’t care less. You are getting fucked good and plenty tonight.

The air fills with the sounds of your moans and the rhythmic smacking of skin against skin. The room is thick with the unmistakable scent of sex. It’s a heady mix that you’re happy to surrender to. Your free hand finds your pulsing clit, knowing that one stroke would send you right over the edge.

You pull away from Namjoon seconds before you cry out, your core spasming with your climax—this one more intense than the first. Your walls clenching within sets off Seungcheol’s own orgasm.

“Fuck, I’m coming,” he breathes out, followed by a drawn out groan when he releases inside you.

As the euphoria fades, he pulls out and collapses to one side of the bed, utterly spent. Meanwhile, you slump onto the mattress, feeling the lingering warmth and the aftershocks of your orgasm.

He gets up, intending to make his way to the bathroom, when you suddenly reach out and give his ass a playful smack, catching him completely off-guard.

With a soft laugh echoing in the room, he continues toward the bathroom, his hand instinctively rubbing at the stinging skin, a smirk playing on his lips.

Namjoon lays next to you, his fingertips gently brushing over your bare skin, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. Leaning in closer, he presses a kiss to your shoulder. It’s a sweet gesture, considering the debauchery that just occurred moments ago, and you don’t mind one bit.

“You okay?”

Your lips curve lazily. “Yeah. Are you?”

“Fine,” he replies.

You roll over to face him, drawing closer.

“You should rest a little more.”

Your hand playfully traces patterns on his chest for a moment before sliding down to his stomach. “I’m good to go, and you,” your eyes flit downward, “…look like you’re ready, too.”

He was half-hard seconds ago, but just before you can touch him, he grabs your wrist, pulling your hand up to his lips to kiss it.

You can’t help but frown at his rejection. “But you still haven’t—”

“I know. Let’s just take a minute,” he suggests. “Relax.”

Usually, when someone tells you that, you do the exact opposite. But his voice was so soft and reassuring that your furrowed brows start to ease. He seems to have other plans.

You keep your eyes on him, watching his every move—deliberate, and intentional. He gently strokes your cheek. You watch his hand travel slowly down to your neck, savoring the warmth of his touch as it lingers there for a moment. His hand continues down to your chest, pausing to stroke your nipple. Your eyes shut at the feather-light touches that send goosebumps racing across your skin.

When he reaches the juncture of your hips, he gently pushes you flat on the bed, with little to no resistance from you.

“Keep your eyes closed,” he breathes into your ear. You do so, then feel his hand move past your stomach. You hold your breath, expecting his fingers to touch your wet folds. But instead, his hand stops on your upper thigh, leaving you a bit disappointed.

His lips graze your cheek. “Tell me what to do next.”

Whatever complaints or protests you were about to voice out die out instantly, and instead replaced by growing anticipation. “Rub my clit,” you gasp quickly.

You hear a light chuckle from him before his hand reaches down between your legs.

“Like this?” He asks, then begins to rub slow circles on the sensitive flesh.

“No, up and down,” you tell him. You let out a sharp breath when he does so, and at the right pace. “Ahh, yes…up more…” You hum in pleasure when he strokes the most sensitive spot.

“What next?” He patiently awaits your instruction.

“Talk to me,” you croak out.

His breath blows gently by your ear. “What should I say?”

“Anything…” you pant, “Just want to…hear you.” You didn't think you had a voice kink, but listening to Namjoon speak earlier today was…a revelation, to say the least.

With his silky-smooth tone, he starts whispering the naughtiest, filthiest things you can think of, each word dripping with seduction. His voice wraps around you like a cozy blanket, pulling you deeper into his steamy fantasy.

You’re so wet for me.

So sexy.

As soon as you walked into the room, I wanted to bend you over that table and fuck you senseless.

You beg him to finger you, and he does so, sliding into you, working your sensitive nerves, and building up your need even further with every movement. There's something incredibly erotic about him asking you what you want and you telling him exactly how to please you. This is the kind of fantasy fulfillment that most people can only dream of.

“Should I eat that pussy after I make you come like this? You were making a lot of noises back there for Cheol. Will you do the same for me?”

You nod frantically.

“Yeah? Will you come hard for me?”

You nod again. “Yes, yyesss…don’t stop…”

“Tell me when you’re close.”

“Ahh yes, I’m there…s-slow down.”

He does as he’s told, coaxing your orgasm out of you. “C’mon, baby…let go.”

“Mm…coming—” As you say the words, he presses his fingers up against the roof of your cervix, sending waves of pleasure through your body.

“Let me hear you.”

You let out a deep, prolonged sigh that echoes in the room.

Namjoon’s fingers continue to pump slowly into you, stretching out your orgasm. “There we go, atta girl.”

Your legs tremble, breaths turn into shaky gasps as your walls clench and release around his fingers.

“Holy shit, that’s hot,” Seungcheol says from afar. Fresh out of the shower, he finds himself wishing he hadn’t missed the scene that has your face contorting in pure, unbridled pleasure.

While you’re still reeling from coming, Namjoon turns you onto your side. He then pulls your back flush against his chest, wrapping his arms around you to hold you close.

“You ready for me,” he asks, his teeth grazing your ear. Your body responds instinctively, trying to roll your hips into him. You feel his hard cock against your ass cheek.

“I want to ride you,” you plead.

“You do?”

You want to set the pace, the rhythm…the depth…You turn to face him, tilt your head up, and playfully bite his lower lip. “I want to be on top.”

He laughs, deep and husky, and eventually gives in. He pulls away to reach for a foil packet on the nightstand, sitting up against the headboard as he sheaths himself.

You move up to him, even though your legs feel like jelly. You straddle his hips and drape your arms over his shoulders, pulling him closer. With your eyes locked on each other, you slowly lower your hips. Your lips part with an involuntary sigh as you sink deeper. You fight to keep your eyes open, savoring the feel of him stretching you, filling you completely. 

Catching your hips, Namjoon looks up at you. “Ride me good, yeah?”

Your core clenches reflexively at the challenge.

You lift again, slowly, making you both feel every nuance of that mind-numbing friction. Then, you slam back down, the fullness, the connection, was too good to contain. He shifts restlessly, his hips moving tightly, wanting to feel more of you.

Seungcheol sits beside Namjoon, wanting to get a front row seat. He reaches for your breast, palming it as he lazily strokes his cock. “She feels good, huh? Nice and tight.”

“Mm-hmm,” Namjoon agrees. “Sweet mouth on her, too.”

Seungcheol hums, his lips curling into a dark, enigmatic smile. “Mm, I’ll have to try that for myself,” he says, his voice dripping with need.

Just thinking about having Seungcheol's thick, hard length in your mouth drives your senses wild, making your walls clamp around Namjoon, causing him to hiss through his teeth.

Seungcheol chuckles softly and decides to tease you a bit more. He rolls and tugs on your nipple. “Can I come on your tits?”

“Hmm… yeah…” you hum vaguely as another wave of throbbing hits your center.

With a soft growl, Namjoon captures your mouth, sliding his tongue into it. His hand cups the back of your neck, holding you right where he wants you. You kiss him back, matching his ardor while you rock back and forth against him.

He pauses the kiss and supports your back as he changes position. He gently guides you to lean back, allowing him to go deeper. You place your hands behind you for balance, steadying yourself on his thick thighs as he moves inside.

Seungcheol watches with a lust-filled gaze, his eyes darkening with desire as you and Namjoon fuck. Each movement heightens his arousal, and his breaths grow rougher. His hand moves in sync with your rhythm. His strokes grow more rapid, but still controlled; he wants this to last as long as possible.

You gaze at them with heavy-lidded eyes. Namjoon looks so tempting beneath you, his neck straining with effort, beads of sweat forming on his forehead, and his breath coming in ragged gasps. Seungcheol, with his jaw slack and eyes half-closed, has every muscle in his body taut with anticipation.

A sob escapes your lips  as your entire body trembles with another promise of an orgasm.

Namjoon places his hand just below your belly, teasing your clit with slow strokes of his thumb as his thrusts turn messier.

“I’m close…don’t…stop,” you stutter, thighs burning as sweat breaks through your skin.

“Fuck,” he bites out, his teeth grinding,

Burying his face in your neck, he tightens his grip on your hips, holding you firmly in place as he continues to slam harder and deeper into you.

You cry out, your body shuddering as pleasure washes over you. Every nerve ending is alight, and you’re fighting to catch your breath.

His hips start to slow down, and you can feel his muscles tense. He tightens up for a second before finally letting go, the rumbling in his chest reverberating as he groans deeply into your shoulder.

Peering in Seungcheol’s direction, you wrench away from Namjoon, a soft moan escaping his lips as you get off him.

“May I?” Your lips hovered over his cock, waiting for him to give you permission.

Nodding, he moves his hand to give you enough space to scoot closer to him. You lick your lips, then take him in. He throws his head back and lets out a deep sigh, gripping the sheets so hard his knuckles turn white.

You hollow your cheeks, and his response is immediate, his breath hitching as he fights to maintain control.

He sucks in a sharp breath when you run the flat of your tongue up his length before your head dips down again. “Geez….ffuuuckk, this feels so good.”

He looks down at you, cups your jaw, and holds your hair with one hand to guide the pace. With a deep groan, he shifts his hips, pushing into your mouth.

Driven by the desperate sounds he made, you suck harder, determined to make him come again. Face flushed, and stuttered breaths escaping through his parted lips, he is completely at your mercy.

“I’m close, I’m close,” he says in a hurry.

You pull away, but remain bent over, pushing your tits up toward him, offering yourself to him.

He sits up, balancing on one knee. With a few definitive strokes, he spurts onto your chest. His moans of pleasure fill the room, his face grimacing in agonized bliss as he rubs out the last remnants of his release.

Namjoon approaches, handing you a warm, wet washcloth. A shower would be ideal, but this will do for now as exhaustion finally hits you. You fall backward onto the mattress, with Namjoon and Seungcheol sitting up against the headboard on either side of your legs.

The three of you lay in silence for a few moments, staring at the ceiling, heartbeats settling, basking in your post-orgasmic haze.

Namjoon interrupts your thoughts. “Are you alright?”

With heavy eyelids, you look at him, muster a hum, and offer a weak nod before your head lolls back on the bed.

“Tired?” Seungcheol asks, massaging your ankle.

“Naaahh, I can totally go for a couple more rounds,” you reply sarcastically, making everyone burst out laughing.

“Well, now you know how our team works,” Namjoon remarks with a chuckle.

You snort. “Interesting team-building activity.”

“I think we should do more of these, don’t you think?” Seungcheol counters.

You sit up, laughing and shaking your head. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

He raises an eyebrow. “We could always arrange another meeting if you need more... convincing. Over dinner, maybe?”

Namjoon chimes in, “We can add it to the contract? Make it official?”

They both stare back at you with eager eyes, waiting for your response.

Pursing your lips, your mind races with possibilities, and you can't help but feel a thrill deep within you.

“Maybe,” you smirk.

BTS Fic Masterlist | SVT Fic Masterlist

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SugarDaddy!Scoups who shows up at your apartment one day while you're out and waits outside your door for you to come home, despite having a key, cause he's unsure if he's still allowed in your space.

SugarDaddy!Scoups who knows you're shocked to see him, but desperately wants an answer, so he refuses to leave until you tell him what's wrong- what he did and how he can fix it.

SugarDaddy!Scoups who pulls you into him the second the words "I'm pregnant" leave your mouth, his whole body enveloping you and his arms holding you tightly to his chest.

SugarDaddy!Scoups whose heart breaks when you ask, "Are you mad at me?"

"Baby, I'm so fucking happy right now I don't know what to do with myself."

SugarDaddy!Scoups who tells you he's all in, that he wants this, wants the baby, wants you.

SugarDaddy!Scoups who kisses you passionately, breathing you in and holding your body to his before he asks you to be his, for real, forever.

SugarDaddy!Scoups whose over the moon when you tell him that you've always been his.

Boyfriend and baby daddy!Scoups who takes you to bed that night and worships every inch of your skin, sucking marks onto your chest and stomach, littering bruises over your thighs and filling you up with more cum until you're writhing under him and can't cum anymore.

Boyfriend and baby daddy!Scoups who makes sure to be at every appointment and class. He reads all the books and does all the research.

Boyfriend and baby daddy!Scoups who asks you to move in with him so he can keep you and the baby close.

Boyfriend and baby daddy!Scoups who has the nursery set up and ready to go by the end of your 4th month (he's just really excited, ok?)

Boyfriend and baby daddy!Scoups who cries when he finds out he's having a little girl. He breaks down in the appointment, babbling out "thank you" over and over.

Boyfriend and baby daddy!Scoups who takes paternity leave the second you take maternity leave and refuses to go back until you give him the ok.

Boyfriend and baby daddy!Scoups who sits behind you and holds you close to his chest, feeding you ice chips, while you give birth to his little princess.

Boyfriend and baby daddy!Scoups who holds you both close while you sleep in his arms, whispering sweet nothing's to the little princess.

Boyfriend and baby daddy!Scoups who proposes to you in that hospital bed, the baby between you and a ring resting on her chest.

Fiancé!Scoups who refuses to let you move when you get home. He brings you food and drinks and helps you to the bathroom and bathes you. He changes the baby's nappies and feeds her.

Fiancé!Scoups who is scared to be intimate with you in case he hurts you, so he waits four (4) months. He gives in when you ask his parents to take the baby for a night and greet him with the sight of you in his favourite lingerie.

Fiancé!Scoups who is happiest when he's got you snuggled into his side and little princess resting on his chest.

WHY THE ACUTAL FUCK AM I JUST READING THIS???????

MASTERPIECE

ABSOLUTE MASTERPIECE

I LOVE YOU-

but even after this, you're still everything to me

choi seungcheol x reader, formula 1 au

genre: heavy angst

wc: 5.5k

warnings: fem reader, enemies to lovers, misogyny, death threats

a/n: another request by @straykidsstanforeverandever. lot's of heavy f1 jargon and such in this. if you aren't super in tune with f1, there may some references you don't understand. read with caution. title is a lyric from the grudge by olivia rodrigo.

Imola has always been one of your least favorite tracks to drive. And after today, you never want to come near it again. Maybe you’ll fake an illness when the time comes around next season. It would be nice to let the development drivers get some real racing time and you wouldn’t have to drive this cursed track again. 

A voice in your ears distracts you from the little pity party you’ve started in your brain. “Are you okay y/n?” 

Your race engineer’s question reminds you that your radio is being publicized on live television right this moment. Sighing, you quickly respond, “yeah Will, I’m fine. Today’s just not my day.”

The answer is half-hearted, but the man knows better than to question you right now, when you’re being recorded. He settles with, “okay, red flags are out for you. You can hop out of the car when you’re ready.”

You don’t think you’ll ever be ready. But life is tough and Formula 1 is tougher, so you undo your belts and pull yourself out of the car. You take a minute to inspect your blown out tire, before taking your helmet off. Marshals surround you, asking if you are alright, but you brush them off. You just want to be back in your driver’s room already. 

The journey back to the paddock is a painful one, both mentally and physically. Your knee is throbbing from where it hit against the side of the car on impact. You pray the cameras don’t pick up your limp. It takes all of your energy not to cry when you see the pitying expressions of the rest of the McLaren crew. Another potential win out the window, just like that. 

The rest of the race passes by in a flash. Between going to medical as per your trainer’s request (the cameras did in fact pick up the limp) and changing out of your race suit, you only catch the last three laps. One of the Mercedes cars wins by practically a mile. And it’s fucking Choi Seungcheol of all people. 

You have half a thought to turn the TV in your driver’s room off the second he crosses the finish line, but you don’t. You’re itching to hear whatever dumb thing he says in his interview today. The man is a walking PR nightmare. 

Sure enough, the camera is chasing after him the second he steps out of the car. After a few second water break, he turns to the interviewer, who asks him, “Great win today Seungcheol. You worked your way up from 5th to 1st within a few laps today. How does that feel?”

“It feels great. I mean I couldn’t have done it without y/n’s tire of course…”

You turn the TV off, cutting him off the second he mentions your name. Slumping back even more on the couch, you throw an arm over your eyes and let out a frustrated sigh. Whatever possessed you to choose a male dominated sport?

You’re thrown out of your thoughts once again by a voice from your doorway. “At least it was kind of a compliment, eh?”

When you peek out from under your arm, Oscar is leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. You remove your arm from your face, scooting farther down the couch and patting the spot next to you. The Aussie moves to join you. 

After a few moments of silence you turn to face him. “You made it back to the paddock pretty fast.”

It’s his turn to groan this time. “I retired 7 laps from the end. Engine failure. I was in 3rd.”

You hum, wistfully. Then turn to look out the window. “Bad day to be Papaya, I guess. Think we can convince Jungwon and Pato to take our places at Imola next season? I think I have PTSD from this track now.”

Oscar simply snorts in response. For the small amount of time remaining before you have to face the nightmare that is media duty, you simply enjoy sulking together. 

A little less than a week later, you’re standing on one of your all-time favorite tracks: Monaco. Your mood now is starkly different than it was at Imola. You’re practically bouncing on your heels waiting for FP1 preparations. Jungwon is by your side, instructed by your team principal to “learn from the best,” since he’ll be driving here for F2. 

The kid is clearly a little nervous, but he’s endearing and a pretty decent driver, so you don’t mind. You’ve already gone over the track layout with him, giving him tips for certain corners and telling him where he can make up extra time. There’s not much feedback left to give until you see him drive in person, so you resort to small talk.

As you both walk up and down the pit lane, Seungcheol saunters up to you. You resist the urge to walk away, trying to keep a good display of sportsmanship in front of your junior driver. The Mercedes driver however, clearly does not care, because he says, “is this your replacement after the Imola incident y/n?”

Jungwon, bless his soul, looks mortified. It takes everything in you to not fire a sarcastic remark back. You’re both saved from the awkwardness by Oscar though, who steps in between you and Seungcheol. He clears his throat and tells you, “Andrea is looking for you. I’ll take Jungwon for now.”

You know Andrea is most likely not looking for you. You saw him ten minutes ago when you left the garage. Thank god for Oscar’s ability for thinking on the spot. Now you have some personal time to cool off before free practice.

Both Jungwon and Oscar watch as you jog back to the garage. The Aussie lets out a relieved sigh once you are back safely. He turns to make sure Seungcheol has walked away. Thankfully, he has. 

The younger driver looks at the other quizzically. “I didn’t really realize the rivalry was actually real. I thought it was an act for the cameras.”

Pushing around a stray rock with the toe of his shoe, Oscar sighs again. “Would you believe me if I said they were teammates once?”

Jungwon’s jaw practically unhinges from his face with how far it drops. The kid is probably too young to know them in any capacity other than their rivalry. “But they hate each other…” he muses aloud.

Oscar urges the kid to keep moving along the track with a hand on his back. “Yeah, well they used to not hate each other. They were F2 teammates. It’s none of my business to tell you everything that went down but something happened that year. By the end of the championship they wouldn’t even speak to each other.” 

Jungwon nods in response, but doesn’t say anything. It’s clear that Oscar won’t give up much information, so he drops the subject. But every once in a while, his mind turns back to it. What could’ve been so bad that you guys couldn’t even talk to each other as teammates? If it was some sort of on-track collision he’s sure it would’ve been talked about in the media constantly. Now he’s really going to have to find out. 

And there’s no one better to consult than his own teammate, Lee Chan, who happens to be in the Mercedes Junior Driver Programme.

“You want me to do what?” he asks incredulously. “He’s my mentor, I’m not going to bring that up. Are you dumb?”

“Dude, aren't you curious too?” Jungwon questions.

Chan rolls his eyes at his teammate. “Yeah I’m curious but not curious enough to risk my spot in this program just to ask Choi Seungcheol why he has rivalry with y/n.” 

“You don’t even have to ask him directly,” Jungwon tells him. “I asked Oscar about it, not y/n. Maybe you can ask George or Jeonghan about it.”

Chan throws his hands up in exasperation. “Oh even better, not only do I involve two of the biggest names in Formula 1, I involve one of their trainers and their teammates. What a genius idea!”

Jungwon covers Chan’s mouth as quickly as he can. They’re still in the paddock after all. “Dude keep it down.” 

The man just stares back at the McLaren junior driver, who sighs and says, “listen, I’ll try my best to get something out of y/n too. It’s not just you doing something.”

“Yeah that’s so motivating Jungwon,” Chan says sarcastically.

“Okay, okay,” he finally lets up. “I’ll pay for all of your afterparty drinks this weekend if you figure something out.”

This is motivating enough for Chan apparently, because he reaches his hand out for Jungwon to shake. They come to an agreement and part ways, heading back to their respective hospitalities.

Chan watches in the Mercedes garage as you set the fastest lap at the very end of Q3. He knows Seungcheol is going to be pissed when he gets back. Not only did you qualify P1, but he only qualified P6. His temper is much worse when he’s mad at both himself and someone else. 

Following Chan’s prediction to a tee, Seungcheol steps out the car practically fuming. He tosses his helmet at Jeonghan, who, as his trainer, is quite used to his behavior at this point and catches it. He marches right up to Toto, who is watching a replay of your final lap, and says, “she should’ve had a track limit violation at the chicane.”

Toto turns to him, surprisingly calm, and simply tells him, “She didn’t cut the corner enough to incur a limit violation.”

This is not the answer he wanted to hear, so he turns on his heel to stomp off to his driver’s room. Toto shouts at him from over his shoulder. “Take Chan with you. If you’re going to overanalyze every single mistake you made, at least someone should learn from it.”

Seungcheol whips his head back around to look at Chan, who nervously gulps. He wants to be mad at the kid, but he can’t find a reason to when he’s practically shaking like a leaf. Clearly he didn’t want to be thrown into this situation either. “C’mon,” he mutters and gestures at the junior driver to follow him. 

Back in his driver’s room, he unzips his suit, tying the arms around his waist before plopping down on the couch. When he looks up, the kid is still hovering by the door. Grabbing his iPad from the table, Seungcheol gestures for him to come sit down.

But Chan hesitates. “I can leave you alone, you know? I won’t tell Toto.” 

Seungcheol just rolls his eyes and gestures to the couch again. “C’mon kid. As much as I hate him right now, he’s right. You might as well learn from this and you’re already here.”

Chan makes his way to the couch rather cautiously and sits as far away as possible from the man, who is scrolling through the footage from qualifying. Without even looking over at him, Seungcheol says, “you can sit closer. I’m not going to bite.”

Not wanting to make him mad, Chan scoots a few inches closer. When he looks over at the iPad again, Seungcheol’s fingers are hovering over a video. He hasn’t clicked on it yet. He just sits there and stares at it. When Chan looks a little closer, he can make out your car in the thumbnail. 

Seungcheol clears his throat, looking away for a second. And then he turns back to Chan and says, “is it…uh okay if we watch y/n’s lap first?”

The question kind of stuns him. He was expecting Seungcheol to avoid any reminder of you at all costs. Scared that his voice will betray him, he just nods.

Seungcheol clicks on the video and they watch. The video is on mute and there’s no commentary from either of them. Just silence. As the lap ends, he pauses the video and whispers, “that was a good lap.”

Chan is even more surprised now. He was expecting a frustrated sigh or any sort of mean comment. But he doesn’t get any of that. Now, Chan’s scared that it’s a setup. That he’s trying to get him to agree just to berate him for it. He doesn’t know what to say.

Seungcheol senses that he’s not going to say anything and takes it upon himself to start the conversation. “She’s always been good at Monaco. Even since the first time she drove the track.”

This has really piqued Chan’s interest. Since her first time? Seungcheol was there the first time she drove Monaco? That had to be what? F2?

And then it dawns on him. Jungwon said something about them being teammates in F2. Hoping that the information is public knowledge (it should be, practically their whole racing lives are on Wikipedia) Chan decides to ask about it. “Was that when you were teammates?” He cringes the second the words come out of his mouth. Jungwon owes him big time.

While Chan was expecting him to look angry, Seungcheol just looks at the iPad dejectedly. “Yeah. At Prema. Do you…know about that whole thing?” he asks the boy.

Jackpot. Seungcheol willingly talking about it? He’d never thought this would happen. Then Chan remembers he actually has to respond to him. “Uhm, no I don’t think so. Jungwon said you guys were more…amicable back then.”

“Jungwon’s your teammate at MP?” he asks Chan, who nods in response. Then, Seunghcheol throws a curveball at him. “You’re not attracted to him right?”

Chan sputters at the question. “What? What does this have to do with anything?” When he looks Seungcheol in the eyes he’s dead serious. So he humors him. “No, I’m not attracted to Jungwon. I’m not even gay.”

Seungcheol just nods. “Okay, good. I mean good that you’re not attracted to him. There’s nothing wrong with being gay.”

This is getting weirder by the second. Chan gives him a questioning look. Why the personal questions?

Exasperatedly, Seungcheol sighs and says, “I don’t want to tell you this if it’s too relatable. I don’t want to scare you and make you not pursue a relationship because of something that happened to me.”

Chan is finally starting to put the pieces together. Then the light bulb goes off and he shoots out of his seat. “You and y/n were together?” he practically shouts.

The older driver drags him back down to his seat and shoves a hand over his mouth. “Be quiet, would you?” Then he releases Chan and slumps back against the couch. “I wouldn’t call it together. We weren’t dating, we knew that F1 would ultimately cause heartbreak for the both of us. We were just messing around. But we were exclusive, I guess.”

Chan doesn’t say anything. He just nods and waits for him to continue. “It was stupid and we both knew it. Especially y/n. She knew that if we got caught, it would affect her career more than mine. Even if we both knew that she was a better driver than I was. This sport isn’t kind to women.”

Seungcheol looks like he might cry. It’s so different from the Seungcheol that Chan witnessed 15 minutes ago in the garage. He doesn’t know what to do. He frowns and lets the man finish his story. 

“Y/n was a part of the Red Bull Junior Team at the time. She had been promised an F1 seat within 3 years if she won the championship. I was in the Mercedes Academy at the time too. So we attended a lot of F1 events together. And I was stupid enough to drag her to makeout in a hidden corner of the paddock at one of them.”

He paused, like the next part of the story would pain him to say. “A member of the press caught us. We both knew we were so screwed. He could easily out us right that second or even use it to blackmail us. Luckily Angelo from Prema was there with us that weekend and helped us negotiate with the man. Turns out this press guy is a big fucking misogynist because the final deal was that he wouldn’t out us if he could tell Christian Horner about our relationship. Said he ‘didn’t want no bitches in Formula 1.’ Prick.”

“Christian kicked her out of the junior program when he found out. He’s also a misogynist. I’m glad she didn’t end up there. He told her that he prefers people who win championships through dedication, not those who sleep to the top. But instead of being mad at him or the press guy, she was mad at me. She told me that I ruined her career. That she would never get into Formula 1 because of me. So she never spoke to me again unless it was at work.”

Chan looks at him skeptically. “But her career turned out fine.”

Seungcheol just shrugs. “Exactly.”

Chan is even more confused now. Understandably, you were upset by this whole situation. But why is Seungcheol a dick to you now? “But the whole rivalry? You seem to have started the hostility in that. Not her.”

The man sighs. “Her career turned out fine, Chan. But she continued to be mad at me.”

It’s starting to click in his brain. “So you’re mad at her because she never forgave you?” Chan asks. 

All Seungcheol says is, “bingo.”

They’re interrupted by Jeonghan knocking on the door and letting the F1 driver know that he’s due in a few minutes for media duties. Seungcheol leaves Chan on his couch without another word. 

“You’re buying my drinks in Barcelona too,” Chan tells Jungwon the second he opens his hotel room door.

Jungwon gapes at him. “What? We only agreed to the afterparty,” he says as the boys walk further into the room, away from prying eyes and ears. 

“Yeah well that was if I got you any information. I got you the whole fucking story, dude.” Jungwon’s eyes are as wide as saucers and he immediately starts asking about it. Chan recounts Seungcheol’s monologue to the best of his abilities. 

“Holy shit, dude,” Jungwon says once he’s finished, flopping down on his bed. “It’s like the opposite of enemies to lovers.”

Chan rolls his eyes at his teammate. “It’s sad, Jungwon. Y/n lost her future job and Seungcheol at the same time. And now they can’t even be civil with each other because they’re holding grudges.”

Jungwon mulls over his words for a minute. “Maybe I’ll ask y/n about it when she’s drunk tomorrow.”

“How do you even know she’s going to be drunk tomorrow, Won?” Chan asks his teammate.

He turns to flash a cheshire grin at Chan before plainly stating, “she’s either going to podium and drink to celebrate, or she’s going to do bad and drink to mourn.”

Chan rolls his eyes once again. “Speaking of which, I’m going to bed. No matter how well I do tomorrow, you’re paying for my drinks.” He drags himself out of Jungwon’s room and down the hall to his own.

You and Oscar are sitting at a table in the far back of the club, away from the hustle and bustle of the rest of the afterparty. Mingyu from Ferrari, his trainer Jungkook, Mark from Red Bull, and Chenle from Aston Martin are also gathered around. You’re enjoying the light conversation, basking in the high of your win.

Mark catches your attention after a minute of you spacing out, pointing toward the closest bar. “Isn’t that your little shadow, y/n?” When you look over you see Jungwon conversing with a blonde kid around his age. 

“Yeah,” you muse. “Kind of recognize the kid he’s talking to too. Can’t put a finger on his name though.” 

“That’s his teammate from F2. Lee Chan I think,” Oscar pipes up from across the table. “The kid with the otter helmet.”

A collective “ohhh,” leaves everyone at the table. “I’m going to get another drink,” you tell them. “Might bring the kids back with me.”

Mingyu snickers at you as you leave. “You can’t adopt them all, y/n!” he shouts as you leave. You flip him off behind your back. 

Approaching the bar, you order another drink for yourself and saunter over to where Jungwon is standing. “Hi Wonie,” you say, catching him by surprise as you ruffle his hair a bit. You turn to acknowledge his teammate too. “Hi Chan.”

Chan points back at himself like he’s surprised you know his name. “Is your name not Chan? Oh fuck I’m too drunk for this.” you berate yourself out loud. 

“Uh no ma’am, my name is Chan. Just surprised you know me, that’s all.” he says. 

You giggle a little bit. “Don’t call me ma’am, it makes me feel old. You’re the kid with the otter helmet, right?”

“Yes ma’am,” he says, before correcting himself. “No, I mean, yes. Yes, I’m the kid with the otter helmet.” You can hear Jungwon cackling at his friend behind you. 

You smile at him again before turning back to Jungwon. “Well I’m heading back to sit with those four dumbasses,” you say, pointing back to your table where Jungkook and Mingyu are arguing over something on Mark’s phone. “You two wanna keep me company so I don’t have to deal with them by myself the entire night?”

Jungwon lights up at the question. “Of course!” he practically shouts, and drags a begrudging Chan by the arm to follow you.

When you reach the table, you pat the empty seat next to you, gesturing for Jungwon to sit. Chan grabs the chair next to Mingyu, who messes with his hair and murmurs something about, “the otter kid.”

Jungwon seizes his opportunity ten minutes later, when Mingyu and Oscar are engrossed in a conversation with Chan, Jungkook has gone to the bathroom, and Mark and Chenle are on a video call with Mark’s boyfriend.

“I’m surprised you’re okay with Chan being here,” he says to you as quietly as possible, while still trying to be louder than the music. 

Your eyebrows scrunch at the comment, clearly confused. “Why?” you ask him.

You follow his eyes as they search around the crowd. They land on Seungcheol. Still facing your rival, he says, “Chan is a Merc Junior. Seungcheol is his mentor.”

Letting your eyes wander back to Jungwon, you steel your face into something more serious. “Jungwon, just because Chan is being mentored by a driver I hate doesn’t change my opinion of him.”

“You really hate him?” Jungwon asks. “I understand you guys don’t like each other for whatever reason, but hate is a strong word, right?”

You sigh at him. “Hate is in fact a strong word Jungwon,” is all you say and you leave it at that.

After a minute of uncomfortable silence, he decides to push his luck again. “...Chan said you guys used to be really close. When you were in F2 like us.” 

“Yeah,” is all you say in response. The conversation is just barely hanging on by a thread.

“I don’t want me and Chan to end up like that.” It’s kind of a low blow, he thinks, especially when you’re a little drunk, but it works. You turn to him with sad eyes and reach out to rub his hand comfortingly. 

You whisper so lowly, Jungwon can barely hear it. “You won’t end up like us, Wonie. I promise.”

The near tears in your eyes have him getting emotional too. All signs are showing that Seungcheol’s story is likely true. One last test to find out. “Why not?” he asks.

The tears are getting closer to spilling over and you turn your head to blink them away. While you’re still facing away, you mumble, “your relationship isn’t like ours. At least I hope it’s not.”

Hook. Line. Sinker. Jungwon’s got it now. Seungcheol was definitely telling the truth. He feels a little guilty about prying it out of you like that, but you seem to have sobered up with the conversation. Oscar’s voice breaks both of you out of your little bubble. “Y/n, everyone is going to head back to the hotel soon. You ready?”

You nod vigorously at the man, probably to hide the fact that there are tears in your eyes. You hop off your chair, grabbing your bag and your phone. Then, you lean down to ruffle Jungwon’s hair a bit. “Goodnight Wonie. You and Chan be safe tonight please.”

After bidding everyone else goodbye in the lobby, you and Oscar take the elevator up to your floors. Oscar’s room is one floor beneath yours, so he says goodnight with a comforting hug and a congratulations on the win. As you ride the elevator up once more, you think back to your conversation with Jungwon. Next time you see Seungcheol, you need to tell him to keep his mouth shut.

The elevator doors open and you turn to head to your room. You see a familiar flash of blonde hair round the corner. What convenient timing. You pick up your pace and grab his sleeve, and he whips around with a deadly look in his eyes. It only slightly softens when he realizes it’s you. You shoot him an equally deadly look back. “You want to tell me why my mentee was asking me questions about our relationship?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” is all he says. You roll your eyes.

“Don’t play stupid Cheol. You know Jungwon and Chan are teammates. What did you tell Chan?” As much as he wants to hate you right now, his heart can’t help but skip a beat when you call him Cheol. It’s been so long since you’ve called him that. 

“I didn’t tell Chan anything. Why would I tell him about anything other than racing?” he counters back.

It’s not believable enough for you, so you push. “Jungwon said something about Chan knowing we were close in F2.” 

Seungcheol, tired and wanting to just go to bed, tries to pull his sleeve out of your grip, but you relent. “You can look that up on the Internet y/n. Would you please let me go to bed?”

“No Seungcheol. This concerns both of us. He was asking all the right questions. If you told Chan about us, there’s no guarantee he keeps it to himself. He clearly already told Jungwon.”

He finally frees his sleeve from your grasp. “Can we at least take this somewhere private?” he whispers. You nod and he pulls you down the hall. He’s taking you to his room, you realize and the thought makes you sick.

Once safely inside of his room, he turns back to you with a fire in his eyes. “You wouldn’t have to worry about any of this if you forgave me.” It’s not the words you were expecting to hear, but they also don’t surprise you. 

You try your best to compose yourself. “You ruined my career Seungcheol. Of course I never forgave you.”

He throws his hands up in exasperation. “I clearly did not ruin your career. Look at yourself right now. You’re getting paid more than me. You’re way ahead of me in the championship. Your career is perfectly fine.” This comment starts what is basically a slightly hushed screaming match. 

“I had to fight my way in and got lucky with McLaren. I had a guaranteed seat at RB and you know that.” 

“You know it’s for the best that you didn’t end up there.” 

“That doesn’t make it okay!”

“What was I supposed to do, y/n. I couldn’t have stopped that press guy, I couldn’t have stopped Christian from releasing you, I couldn’t have controlled any of this. But you were the one that stopped talking to me. Just because we cut things off doesn’t mean I had to deal with radio silence for the next year.”

You pause, thinking over what you’re about to tell him. “I had to.”

He crosses his arms and he straightens his posture. “Bullshit.”

“I had to because of the press guy,” you tell him, urgently. 

“We took care of him, y/n,” he deadpans at you. He’s getting uncomfortable with the conversation now. He can’t sit still. 

Tears well in your eyes at the thought of releasing your biggest secret to the man you once loved. “He’s your fucking superfan Seungcheol. He’s been following you since your karting days, like a creep. That’s why he found us in the paddock that day. He was following you. And when he saw us together he took it as an opportunity. He saw me as a threat to your career. He didn’t just get rid of my Red Bull seat. He threatened me for months after through phone calls and emails, saying that if he ever saw me talking to you, he would end my career for good this time.” 

The tears in your eyes have finally spilled. Seungcheol’s heart breaks, both at your words and at the sight of you crying. After a minute of gaping at the revelation, he steps forward and wraps his arms around you. He rests his chin on top of your head as he lets you sob into his chest. 

“He,” you stutter, “he told me that if I didn’t let you win the F2 championship, he would kill me. That’s why I crashed at Baku and didn’t podium the rest of the year.” You rest your head back against his chest and sob again, harder this time.

Seungcheol reaches up to slowly stroke the back of your head, trying to calm you down. “I’m sorry, y/n. I’m so, so sorry.”

He already knew everything was his fault, but this makes it so much worse. People were threatening to kill you because of him? Suddenly, it dawns on him. How much of an absolute dickhead he’s been. For years he’s been pretending to hate you, throwing mean comments at you, picking fights with you, all while you were trying to protect yourself. “Why did you play along?” he asks.

You don’t look up. Instead, you just let out a questioning hum into his chest.

“The rivalry,” he says. “Why did you play along with it if you didn’t really hate me?”

“It’s good for publicity” you joke. There’s the y/n he knows and loves. Loves. He hasn’t thought about you like that in a long time. Now that he knows the truth, he wants you back in his life so bad. But he knows he doesn’t deserve it. 

“Is the guy still threatening you? Is that why you played along?”

You shake your head. “No. I was trying to negotiate for a bodyguard in my McLaren rookie contract and Andrea asked why. I didn’t want to tell him, but I had to. It would’ve gotten out eventually I think, had Andrea not had him arrested.”

“But why y/n? I’m still trying to understand why you didn’t tell me this. Why did you make it seem like you hated me too?”

You finally look up at him again, brave enough to make eye contact once more. “I thought it was too late to tell you. I had already lied to you, ignored you. That’s not the best way to come back into someone’s life.”

“It was for your own safety. I would’ve understood that,” he tells you softly. Your eyes are bloodshot and the area underneath them is puffy. His heart aches. This is all because of him. 

You shake your head again. “I didn’t think like that at the time. And you had already brought the rivalry into the media. Of course I would be mad at you when you were talking shit about me to the press.”

It’s not a guilt trip on purpose, but it still hits him where it hurts. “Ok, y/n. I get it. I’m a dick.”

“That’s not what I’m trying to say,” you mumble, helplessly.

Silence overtakes you both. Despite the circumstances, it’s not an uncomfortable one. Just two people mulling over their thoughts. Eventually, he breaks it with a whisper of “I miss you.” 

You whisper back an “I miss you too.” It’s real and genuine. You don’t say it because you feel like you have to. You say it because you want to. You hope he can pick up on that. 

He does. His forehead comes to rest against yours as his hand strokes your cheek. His eyes flick to your lips and you hold your breath. As his lips find yours, you feel years of tension release. A stray tear runs down your face and he brushes it away with his thumb. He pulls away.

“Do you,” he breathes out, “do you want to try again?” All you can do is nod in response. 

[dies]

dark protector

🌙 starring. Choi Seungcheol x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. “When I’m balls deep in your pussy, watching you writhe under me, listening to your pretty sounds- that will be the cherry on top of this birthday,” he explains. “Thank you for wanting to make me feel good, but- usually, baby, I like to be the giver.”

tw/cw. mentions of past relationship abuse/trauma/cheating, alcohol, bar fights, Cheol gets grazed with a knife, unprotected sex, dry humping, hand job, blow job, pussy eating, fingering, pleasure dom!Cheol, breast worship, dirty talk, praise, size kink/manhandling, multiple reader orgasms, groping, Cheol is a big muscled tattooed man, creampie, birthday sex, etc… I pet names: (hers) baby.

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 14.2k

🍭 aus. tattoo/motorcycle au, nurse!reader, soulmates, etc…

☀️ mlist + an.  The tarot deck used in the prologue is ‘The Wild Unknown Animal Spirit Guide Deck’ by Kim Krans. I had so much fun exploring a more spiritual-themed plot, the idea of soulmates and spirit guides and such :)

Prologue

It’s been six months since your breakup. Six months of self-work and healing practices. Six months of connecting with your spirit guides, hoping you can work through this dark period of your life and come out the other side.

You’ve just gotten off a long shift at the hospital, where you work as an emergency room nurse. Cleaning up other people’s messes makes you feel a little more whole every day, it shows you that while your wounds might be deeper than the skin, you have the resources to fix things that seem unfixable.

After a shower, you slump onto your couch, your hands reaching for one of your tarot decks. It’s as if you can feel the energy radiating off your spirit animal cards, and you remove them carefully from the box, holding them close to your chest.

“Spirit,” you say softly. “I think I’m finally ready to try dating again. But I’m scared. I’m scared I’ll end up in the same situation as last time, finding a man who needs to be fixed- I know my pattern is finding broken men, and I’m done with that. I need guidance. I need some sort of sign that will show up when I meet the right person.”

Part of your healing journey was writing down what traits you’d want in a partner. You’d made a list that included, ‘kind, smart, patient, stable, loyal, and protective,’ and you’d folded to your own physical tastes by writing ‘tattoos’ as well. You can’t help it, you like the way art looks on skin, and although all the tatted bad boys you’ve dated in the past have been assholes, you’re holding onto a hope that you can find a good man with tattoos. You know they’re out there, you just have to find one.

“Spirit, can you help me pull a card, and whatever animal is on that card could be a tattoo that my future significant other would have?” you ask. “Please don’t choose a lion or a wolf or something super common- I want an animal that is a little more unique, something that couldn’t just be coincidence… but, I mean, if my soulmate is meant to have a wolf then I guess I can make that work.”

You hate questioning your guides, hate putting boundaries on them. If your soulmate has a stupid, overdone tattoo like every other man with ink, then so be it.

Taking a deep breath, you begin to shuffle your spirit animal deck. 

You’re not being too fast with your shuffle, you prefer to sit for a long time and wait for cards to pop out rather than force a reading with erratic motions. Focusing on your breathing, and your ask from the spirit, you wait patiently.

Soon, a card pops out, landing on the coffee table in front of you.

An Elk looks up at you, and you take a moment to assess the card before finding the guide book.

You flip to the Earth section, finding the Elk easily. There are a few keywords at the top of the reading, they say ‘Stable, resilient, headstrong, the father.’

Stable is a word you’d written into your boyfriend manifestation notes, and you consider that for a moment before reading further. 

“The great Elk represents the Earth element in its masculine form. This means it provides underlying support and stability amidst life’s many changes. An Elk personality is fully established in themselves and knows their core values. They become known and respected for acting in ways that uphold those values. Sometimes the Elk’s ego can become inflated, but for the most part, they make damn good fathers, mothers, lovers, and friends. The world needs more elk energy.”

You think about the type of man who could be stable, whether that’s financially or emotionally. You’re hoping to find a man as set and in love with his job as you are- the kind of man you could build a future with. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been thinking about kids, and the note that Elk personalities make good fathers and lovers makes the feeling of hope stir within you.

However, the Elk - like the Lion and the Wolf -  is a pretty common tattoo. 

“I’m wondering if I should ask for a second card,” you tell your guides. “This deck has numerous animals connected to zodiac signs. Fish for Pisces, Scorpion for Scorpio… I know not all zodiacs have an animal correlated to them, so I won’t use this as a defining factor, but… maybe to make things even a little more specific, could you help me pull a card to represent the zodiac sign for my future Elk tattooed boyfriend?” 

This feels like a lot. And you’re aware that there are only a few cards in this large deck that will actually connect to the zodiac, so you prepare yourself for a dud card.

You begin to shuffle, and this time, a card pops out even faster than the first. It’s face down on your coffee table, and you take a breath, willing this to be a sign.

When you flip the card, you find a lion staring up at you.

The lion is correlated with the Leo zodiac, and you swallow thickly, thinking about the traits generally connected to Leos. The words that come to mind are ‘confident, loyal, ambitious, and protective,’ two of which are traits you’d manifested.

You find your guidebook again, reading the top line of traits: “Patient, regal, a complete master.”

“The Lion is a master of the fire element and the living mascot of self-transformation. A lion personality dedicates their life to personal and spiritual growth. This dedication inspires some and intimidates others, therefore the Lion is respected by all but known intimately by few. Some mistake the Lion as hard to access or aloof, yet those with a keener eye know better. Lions are observant, stealth, and precise in their words and actions. They do not waste energy or resources. This card reminds us that self-mastery is available to all, no matter where our quest begins.”

You consider your reading as you put your deck away and head to bed. A Leo man with an Elk tattoo, someone who is patient, stable, headstrong, loyal, and maybe a little egotistical, but hopefully not in any ways that would be damaging to you like your narcissist of an ex-boyfriend.

You’re prepared to not find a man who fits this bill, but you feel a little better about narrowing down the traits you’re attracted to. Some people don’t believe in tarot, and while you can understand that, this reading has spoken to you in a way that you can’t quite explain.

There’s no timeline to the reading, and you won’t be restricting yourself waiting for a man with an Elk tattoo to sweep you off your feet, but it feels a little easier having some parameters. 

When you fall asleep, you dream of a large man standing in shadows, Elk-like antlers protruding from his head. 

One:

“Tell me again how you found out about this place?” you sigh, getting out of your best friend’s car to stare at the tattoo studio.

“God, I’ve told you a hundred times,” Sunmin rolls her eyes. “One of my sister’s boyfriend’s cousins’s boyfriends work here.”

“I’m going to need you to say that slower.”

“My sister’s boyfriend, Jeonghan, his cousin is dating one of the artists here, and he says they’re all super hot. And I figured, since your tarot cards told you a few months ago that you’ll find some dude with an elk, a tattoo shop is a good place to look for him.”

“Okay, but please don’t bring up the actual tarot,” you plead. “People judge me for that shit all the time.”

“My lips are sealed but my eyes will be wide open,” she grins.

The two of you enter the tattoo shop, and the air conditioning is a welcome reprieve from the hot summer outside. Your friend chats with the receptionist about her consultation with an artist named Vernon, and soon the two of you are being escorted deeper into the studio.

It’s an open plan layout, with small sections for each artist. Only one man is currently tattooing someone, and you suppose that since it’s the morning, they likely get busier as the day goes on.

There’s a large man who approaches you and your friend as you sit in Vernon’s section. “Hi! You must be Vernon’s ten o’clock consultation! I’m Mingyu. Vernon’s just chatting with our boss in the back, but he’ll be out pretty quick.”

“Hi, I’m Sunmin and this is y/n,” your friend introduces you. “We have no problem waiting.”

“Cool. I don’t have a client for a while, I can keep you guys company while you wait for Vernon if you’d like.”

“We’d love that,” Sunmin beams. 

“How did you guys hear about us?” Mingyu asks, taking a seat on the tattoo artist chair.

“My sister’s boyfriend’s cousin is dating one of the guys who work here,” Sunmin explains.

“Is your sister’s boyfriend Jeonghan?” 

You’re shocked the man was able to follow what Sunmin just said.

“Yup! That’s him!” Sunmin confirms.

“Love that guy,” Mingyu grins. “Yeah, I’m dating his cousin. He told me he’d tell others about the shop but I didn’t think he’d actually follow through with it.”

“Well, here he is, following through,” Sunmin laughs. 

“So is this tattoo consult for you?”

Sunmin nods. “Yup! I’ve always liked ink, got a few small pieces, but I wanted something bigger for my thigh.” 

“How about you?” Mingyu asks. “Any future tattoo plans?”

“Not at the moment,” you respond, gaze shifting to a door that leads to the office in the back. Two men have come out, they’re both quite handsome, dressed in oversized hoodies that obscure any ink on their torsos. 

“I’ve actually been looking at elk tattoos,” Sunmin lies, “know anyone with anything like that?”

Mingyu opens his mouth to respond, but one of the men from the back is already approaching. “Hi, are you Sunmin?” he asks.

“That’s me,” your best friend beams.

“I’m Vernon,” the soft looking man smiles. Mingyu gets out of his seat, bidding a quick farewell before going back to his own section. As Vernon and Sunmin begin to talk about her tattoo plans, you find your eyes shifting to the man who must be the boss as he walks over to inspect the tattoo taking place.

He’s got a nice build, and you can see the outline of strong shoulders even from under his large black hoodie. He rolls up the sleeves, and you can see he’s heavily inked, but from a distance, you can’t make out any elk-like marks. 

Sunmin had done her best to try to ask Mingyu about a tattoo fitting what your tarot had told you to watch out for, but you suppose you shouldn’t be shocked that your soulmate isn’t in the first shop you’ve gone into. 

You relax against your chair, listening to Sunmin and Vernon talk.

You’ll do your best to find your Elk inked Leo, but you suppose you can’t rush the process.

Two: 

You’re at a bar with friends when you hear a commotion just outside. As the designated driver of the night, you haven’t touched any drinks, and although it might not be anything serious, your emergency room nurse instincts kick in, drawing you to the possible danger as you quickly make your way to the front of the bar.

You catch the tail end of what’s happening, one bouncer chasing after some guy who’s booking it down the street, and another man being held back by a second security guard. 

The man being held back looks enraged, and he manages to break out of the bouncers grasp- which is when you see blood on the back of his white shirt.

“Fuck that guy,” the injured man snarles, and when he turns, you catch a glimpse of his profile.

It’s the man from the tattoo parlour, the one you assumed was the boss.

While he looks extremely pissed off, you can’t help but approach. “Excuse me,” you say quietly, grabbing his attention. “You’re bleeding.”

“Am I?” He looks over his shoulder, grabbing at his shirt where the blood is. “Fuck, he must have grazed me.”

Must have grazed him… with a knife?

“I’m uh… I’m an ER nurse, do you mind if I take a look?” you ask.

“I’ll grab the first aid kit,” the bouncer tells you, darting back into the bar.

“I’m fine,” the tattooed man tells you.

“Then there’s no harm in me taking a look to confirm that.” You try to smile softly at him.

The man looks at you, narrowing his eyes. “Don’t I know you from somewhere?”

“I think I was at your parlour last week, my friend had a consult,” you explain. “I’m y/n.”

He looks you up and down. “Seungcheol.”

You can see the anger and tension dissipating from his shoulders. 

“Why don’t you take a seat on the curb and I’ll look at your shoulder?” you suggest.

Seungcheol sighs, but does as he’s told. He sits down, grabbing at the back of his shirt. You catch him wince as he tugs the bloodied fabric off, and you’re shocked at what’s revealed.

It’s not the slight gash that makes you take a step back, it’s the Elk head tattoo on the center of his spine, with large antlers tangling up toward the back of his neck.

“Is it that bad?’ Seungcheol asks, looking over his shoulder at you again.

“No, it’s not that.” You do your best to compose yourself, kneeling down to look at the wound, although your eyes keep going back to the Elk. 

The bouncer returns with the first aid kit, and Seungcheol sits there quietly while you clean the wound. “You’re right that it was a graze, but I still think stitches would be a good idea,” you tell him.

“I’m not going to the hospital,” Seungheol responds while you press gauze to the wound, bandaging him up with medical tape. 

“Why not?”

“I just don’t like hospitals,” the beefy tattooed man says simply.

You release a sigh. “Listen, I’m going to give you my number, and if there’s any sign of infection, call me, okay?”

“You said you're an emergency room nurse, right?” he asks, standing up when you finish with his shoulder.

“Uh huh.” Words evade you as you look at his chiseled chest, and you do your best not to be too obvious at the way you’re gawking at him.

“Aren’t you going to ask me what I did to piss off the dude with the knife?”

“It’s not important,” you respond quickly. “You identified it as a knife wound, and that’s all I needed to know.”

“I was in the emergency room one time, got stabbed by some kid outside a strip club, the nurses kept pestering me about the details. It’s one of the reasons I don’t like hospitals,” Seungcheol explains.

“Well, your business is your business,” you tell him. “All I care about is that your wound doesn’t get infected, and you take care of it if you’re not getting stitches.”

Seungcheol’s gaze feels hot as he stares at you, and then he pulls his phone out of his pocket, handing it to you. “Here. For your number.”

Your fingers are shaky as you type in your digits before handing it back to him, and you can’t help but notice the way your hands briefly touch.

“I need a drink,” Seungcheol says. “You coming back inside? I’ll buy you something, as a thank you for not pestering me.”

“No thanks is necessary,” you try to assure him, but Seungcheol is already reaching for your hand.

“Don’t fight this,” he tells you. “Let me say thank you in the way that I know how.”

You allow the big burly man to guide you back into the bar. He orders himself a shot of tequila, then turns to you expectantly.

“Uh, can I get an iced tea?” you ask.

“Not drinking?”

“I’m the designated driver tonight,” you explain. “My friends are over there-” you turn and catch your whole table of friends staring at you. 

Seungcheol follows your gaze and smirks, offering your friends a small wave. “Okay, so you're a stay in your lane ER nurse, and you’re a designated driver.”

“That sums it up I guess,” you laugh.

“She’ll get an iced tea,” Seungcheol tells the bartender.

You like that he’s not pushing you. Some people pressure you to drink when you’re out, but you like to have your head screwed on straight on your shoulders. You never know when an emergency is going to happen, and your soul calling is helping people. On top of that, it’s nearly midnight, and you’ve got a shift in five hours that you need to be sober for.

“I’m trying to find red flags with you, you know?” Seungcheol says nonchalantly. “But so far, I’m not seeing any.”

“Maybe that’s because I don’t have any?” you suggest.

“I’ve been told I’m a walking red flag,” Seungcheol muses. 

“Tattoos can be deceiving,” you point out, although, studies do show that people with trauma are more likely to be inked- all your ex’s have had tattoos, and they’ve all had dark pasts. You can’t help you type, and staring at the man with the elk on his back, you wonder if this is going to be just another repetition. 

Your drinks are set in front of you and you watch Seungcheol down his tequila shot. He shakes his head out a little at the taste, and you appreciate the way his dark curls look with the motion. 

“Anyways, you’re here with friends, I won’t keep you,” he sighs.

“Thanks for the iced tea,” you smile softly.

“Don’t mention it,” Seungcheol nods.

You mirror the movement, grabbing your drink and heading back to your table.

The moment you’re seated, all your friends erupt into chatter.

“Who was that?!” one asks.

“He was hot!” another friend notes.

“Wasn’t that the dude from the tattoo shop?” Sunmin questions, looking after Seungcheol. “Is he… bleeding?”

“Yeah, it’s the guy from the parlour,” you sigh. “His name is Seungcheol, and yes, someone tried to stab him outside.”

“Jesus!” Sunmin’s eyes widen. “But… he bought you a drink?”

“I just cleaned the wound and bandaged it,” you explain. “He insisted on getting me a drink.”

“Well… that’s nice, isn’t it?” one of your friends says thoughtfully.

“I guess.” It’s clear you don’t want to talk about this further, and your friends quickly go back to discussing something else, but you inch closer to Sunmin. “He has a tattoo.”

“He has a lot of tattoos,” she laughs.

“No, he has like… this big elk head and antlers on his back.”

“What?!” 

“Don’t make a big deal out of it,” you warn her, not wanting her to raise her voice too loud so your other friends hear. You’re quite private about your spiritual leanings. Being a woman of science, and ER nurse no less, sometimes it feels like believing in fate isn’t something that works well with your job.

“We’re talking about this later,” Sunmin tells you.

“Yeah.”

You sit back, thinking about it.

Obviously your interaction with Seungcheol was short. He came off as a bit of a hot head, perhaps you’d even use the word brash- there was certainly a level of ego that radiated off of him as well, but, at the same time, he’s one of the most handsome tattooed men you’ve ever met.

You’d asked your guides for a sign, and tonight, the Elk had bared its antlered head.

Now it’s up to you to decide if you trust in fate, or if this is all just a coincidence. 

Three:

You’re about seven hours into your eight hour shift. Having started at five am, after being a designated driver and getting your friends home at three, you’re quite tired. Things were very busy for a while in the emergency room, but for whatever reason now that it’s noon, things have seemed to calm down a little.

You’re just sitting in the nurse station with your coworker Joshua when your phone buzzes in your pocket. It’s an unknown number, and at first, you’re not sure if you should answer it.

Against your better judgement, you bring your phone to your ear, “Hello?”

“Is this the stay in your lane ER nurse who’s also the designated driver?”

You let out a sigh. “Y/N.”

“Yeah, you.”

“Hi, Seungcheol.”

“Hi. So, I tried to stitch up the wound when I got home, and I’m not sure if I did a good job.”

“You tried to stitch it up?” you ask, already exasperated. “Why didn’t you ask me to do it at the bar?”

“I just didn’t,” he says simply.

“Send me a pic of the stitches,” you instruct.

“One sec.”

You wait patiently, and Joshua catches your eyes. ‘What’s happening?’ he mouths.

You quickly mute your call. “Some guy I helped at the bar last night got grazed by a knife, he didn’t want stitches, but decided to try to stitch himself up this morning.”

“What the fuck?” Joshua laughs.

“Okay, sent.” Seungcheol’s voice makes you hit the unmute button, and you open your messages to see the picture.

Joshua rolls closer, staring at your phone. While Seungcheol’s broad muscular back is a bit of a distraction, the stitch up job on the wound is sloppy, and draws most of your attention.

“Seungcheol,” you sigh. “I’m going to say this in the nicest possible way. You might be a tattoo artist, but your stitching skills are sub par at best.”

The line is quiet for a moment, then you hear a chuckle. “Someone’s in a grouchy mood.”

Joshua’s eyes widen, and he looks at you for your response. 

“You would be too if you spent all yesterday sleeping, woke up to be a designated driver for your friends, got home at three and had to be at work for five.”

“Oh… are you at work now?”

“Uh huh.”

“I shouldn’t bother you then,” Seungcheol says quickly.

“It’s no bother,” you assure him. “Look, I’m off in an hour. I’ll swing by to your shop to check out the stitching. Most stitches should be sewn within six to eight hours, we’re bordering on twelve- I just want to make sure there’s no infection.”

“You should just go home after work.”

“You should listen to your ER nurse and let her help you,” you retort, too tired to argue with him over this.

Seungcheol makes a groaning sound. “Fine.”

“See you in an hour.”

You hang up the phone and Joshua looks you up and down. “What’s his deal?”

“Honestly,” you sigh, “I couldn’t tell ya.”

Four:

You and Joshua often have the same shifts, and you carpool together to feel more green, so it’s Joshua who drives you to the tattoo parlour when you’re done work.

Seungcheol is waiting outside, arms crossed over his broad chest, and he eyes Joshua as the both of you get out of the car. 

“Hey,” Seungcheol says as you approach, “who’s this?”

“My coworker, Joshua,” you introduce them, and Joshua has the decency to hold out a hand.

You hold your breath, releasing it when Seungcheol gives him a customary curt handshake.

“He’s your ride?” Seungcheol asks.

“Uh huh, is that a problem?”

“I just don’t feel comfortable having him around while you check out my shoulder, even if he does work with you” Seungcheol explains. “Listen, I’ve got a motorcycle and an extra helmet in the shop, how about I take you home after this?”

Both men look at you, and for a moment, you feel flustered and put on the spot.

You’ve never been on a bike before- but fuck it, you’re too tired to work through Seungcheol’s weird alpha behavior and territorial mentality about you having a male coworker with you.

“That works,” you agree. “Thanks for the ride, Josh.”

“Text me when you’re home,” he warns, pulling you in for a hug.

You can practically feel Seungcheol staring daggers at the two of you when Joshua pulls away and heads back to his car.

Seungcheol’s demeanor is a bit icy as he leads you into the shop. You notice Vernon and Mingyu. Mingyu even says a loud “Hi, y/n!” and you nod politely as Seungcheol takes you into the back office, closing the door.

“So, is that dude your boyfriend?” he asks, heading to the first aid kit already open on his desk.

“No, I’m not seeing anyone right now. My last ex, uh… he did a number on me.” 

“Yeah?” Seungcheol takes off his shirt while you grab medical gloves to pull on. “Wanna talk about it?”

“I’m not sure what there is to say,” you admit with a sad laugh.

“Then you don’t have to say anything,” he decides.

“How about you?” you ask, softly prompting him to turn away from you on his spinny chair so you can assess the wound, gently removing the gauze. 

“What about me?” he counters.

“Are you seeing anyone?”

“Nope.” He’s quiet for a moment. “My ex was a bit of a shit show too.”

“Well I guess we’re kindred in that at least,” you smile, leaning close to get a better look at his shoulder. 

Seungcheol shivers slightly, and you think your breath on his throat must have set him off a little, but he stays silent. You notice his hands balling into fists on his thighs.

“I think your stitching can stay, but I’m going to clean your wound again and rebandage it.”

“Sounds good,” Seungcheol responds gruffly.

“While I’m doing this, do you mind if I ask about your tattoo? This big Elk?” You gently graze your surgical gloved pinky finger down his spine, and Seungcheol shivers again.

“Jesus, don’t do that,” he snaps.

“Sorry. It’s a pretty tattoo, I couldn’t help myself.” Your skin is heating with embarrassment, and you notice Seungcheol’s ears turning red too.

“I uh,” he swallows thickly. “My grandma was a tarot reader. She was always doing these readings, very connected to the Earth and shit. She used to tell me I had an Elk soul, like her. Something about spiritual guidance, protection, kindred souls or some shit. I’m not super into that stuff, but when she died, I kept having these stupid Elk dreams. Sort of felt like she was trying to communicate with me- if you believe in that sort of thing. Anyways, I figured if I got the tattoo, I’d feel closer to her, like she has my back.”

This is not the tattoo explanation you’d ever considered would come from a man like Seungcheol, and it takes you a few moments to register it and decide on a response.

“It sounds like you were very close with your grandma, I’m sorry that she passed.”

“It’s okay,” Seungcheol shrugs it off. “Shit happens.”

And just like that, he’s closing up again.

You wonder if you should tell him about your tarot connections, but you don’t want to sound like some crazy chick if you mention your spirit guides pointing you toward an Elk. Instead, you bite your tongue as you finish up his wound. 

“All done,” you announce.

Seungcheol doesn’t say anything as he stands up and puts on his shirt. “What’s your address?” he asks, pulling out his phone.

You show him on the maps where you live. “Are you sure you want to give me a ride? Don’t you have… clients?”

“I can get you home and be back in time for my next appointment,” he assures you. “Think of this as another way of saying thank you for fixing me up.”

So far, he’s shown two love languages. He’s bought you a drink, and now he’s doing an act of service. He’d seemed hesitant on touch today, unlike last night when he’d been drinking, and you wonder what his history in relationships is like.

It sounds like you’ve both had shitty past experiences.

You just want to figure him out.

“Have you been on a bike before?” Seungcheol asks, grabbing a small black fullface helmet off a shelf of motorcycle memorabilia. 

“No.”

“Are you scared?”

“More tired than anything else,” you admit with a laugh.

“Well, my Harley has a sissy bar, so you’ll be okay.”

You don’t even know what a sissy bar is, but you follow Seungcheol out to his bike anyways. 

“Here, we can put your stuff in my saddlebag,” he explains, opening a large additional compartment near the back tire of his bike. “I don’t always ride with these, but for whatever reason, I thought it would be a good idea to have them on today.”

He helps you put your work bag in his bike, and then, he helps you with your helmet, his fingers delicately grazing your throat as he tightens the strap there.

“If anything is wrong, just tap my thigh,” he tells you, swinging a leg over his bike and starting the engine.

Even with layers of protection over your ears from the helmet, his Harley is loud. It purrs, like a lion, and you stand in a daze for a moment before he makes a motion for you to hop on. 

You’re careful of his injured shoulder as you slowly get on the bike, adjusting yourself on the seat. 

Seungcheol reaches for your hand, settling it on his hip. He opens his visor. “Ready?”

You nod.

He nods back, and the bike roars to life. He pulls out of the parking spot, and you hold on tighter, thankful for the additional padding of a safety bar behind your back- is this the sissy bar he was talking about? 

You can’t dwell on motorcycle terms as Seungcheol gets onto the street, the bike moving even faster. The feeling of summer air is hot but pleasant on your skin as you ride between cars. You get the sneaking suspicion that Seungcheol is holding back on his driving-

You could imagine him weaving between vehicles and being a general menace on his bike, but with you on the back, he’s trying his best to be a gentleman.

You’re shocked at the trust you already have in this man. A man who a little over twelve hours ago, was a stranger.

You’ve never considered yourself an adrenaline junkie, but on the back of Seungcheol’s bike, everything else slips away.

You’re at your home before you know it, and you almost feel sad when Seungcheol pulls up to the curb. He motions for you to get off, and he joins you on the sidewalk a moment later, quickly helping you with your helmet.

“How was it?” he asks.

“That was super fun,” you tell him, beaming.

Seungcheol grins when he sees the expression on your face. “Glad you enjoyed it.”

“Listen, keep the helmet for now,” Seungcheol says. “I have your number and I know where you live, so I’ll come back for it.”

You feel your expression drop, and Seungcheol cocks his head to the side, concern written on his face.

“You good?”

“I just-” you swallow thickly. “Sorry, my uh- my ex used to say that to me. That he knew where I lived when I broke up with him. It felt like a threat, and it’s one of the reasons I had to move a couple of months ago.”

Seungcheol is quiet for a moment. “Fuck that guy.”

You nod. “Fuck that guy.”

Five:

You’ve had Seungcheol stuck in your head. After he’d dropped you off, it had been hard to sleep, your mind preoccupied with his answer about his tattoo. When you’d finally woken up hours later, you hadn’t been able to help yourself, you’d pulled out your tarot deck.

“Spirit,” you’d breathed. “I think I may have met him. The Elk. And even though you’ve given me the sign with his tattoo, I feel like I need more confirmation. I’m going to shuffle, and if this is meant for me, can you please give me a love card?”

There are numerous cards within the deck that talk about relationships, partnerships and new beginnings, and you’re hoping that one pops out.

You begin to shuffle, closing your eyes and taking it easy.

It’s about a minute before a card pops out. It’s upside down on your coffee table. 

You take a deep breath, slowly reaching out to flip the card.

The Two of Cups stares up at you, and you don’t even have to open your tarot guide book to know what that means. It’s a card of unity, of partnership. Other than the Lovers, it’s one of the most clear relationship cards you can get. 

You stare at it for a long while. The Elk may have been a coincidence. The fact that his own late grandmother had been a tarot reader may have been a coincidence. But pulling the Two of Cups, out of any other card, when seaking confirmation- this feels like fate. 

Part of you wants to be extra sure and ask for the lovers card, but you also think this might be a good time to trust your spirit team. They’ve guided you twice now, and maybe you have to look inward.

Why are you so cautious that Seungcheol might be the one?

Are you ready for a new relationship?

You’d thought you were ready- and here you are, meeting a man who fits your type-

Maybe it’s the fact that he is your type that you’re worried. What if he turns out to be a dickhead like the last ones? You’re still holding onto a lot of fear. You want to protect yourself, which you validate as a legitimate concern.

But… are you going to spend the rest of your life frightened?

Or are you going to try to let go of those fears and learn to trust again, even if it ends up biting you in the ass?

The possible risk is heartbreak, but the possible reward is endless happiness.

Fate can only do so much, this is the part where your own actions will dictate the future.

Six:

“So, how’s that dude with the tattoos doing?” Joshua asks, taking a seat next to you in the nursing station when things have finally calmed down.

“Cheol? I uh… haven’t talked to him since he dropped me off at my place two days ago.”

“Is that good or bad?” 

You shrug. “I’m not sure. We’re both busy people. I work here, and he owns a tattoo shop.”

“I guess that’s true,” Joshua nods. “Maybe you should call him and see how he’s doing?”

You quirk a brow at your friend. “What’s your angle here?”

Now it’s Joshua’s turn to shrug his shoulders. “No angle. I think, as your friend, sometimes it’s important to give you a little push. After all, your tarot said he’s your soulmate.”

Joshua’s one of your only coworkers who you’ve felt comfortable opening up to. He knows about all your spiritual inklings, and you’d filled him in on your whole Elk, Leo, Two of Cups fiasco yesterday. 

“Fine, I’ll give him a quick call,” you sigh. “Strictly as a nurse who wants to see how the wound is doing.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Joshua grins.

You roll your eyes at him, fishing your phone out of your pocket.

Seungcheol answers on the second ring. “Hey.”

“Hi, how are you doing?” you ask, putting him on speaker phone. Joshua might be encouraging you to do this as a friend, but you know better than anyone that he also loves some good tea.

“Doing okay.”

“And your shoulder?”

“Good as far as I know… why? You worried about me?” You can hear the grin in his voice, the fact that he’s loving the concern you have for him. “I’ve had worse, you know.”

“I’d just hate for it to get infected,” you sigh.

“Look, if you want to do your due diligence as a nurse and everything, how about you get drinks with me and assess it yourself?” he suggests.

Joshua grabs your thigh, eyes widening, waiting on what you’ll say next.

“We could do that,” you respond.

“Sounds good, when are you free?”

“I’m off tomorrow.”

“How do you feel about eight o’clock?” 

“That works,” you nod.

“I’ll pick you up at eight then, and bring your helmet.”

You find yourself smiling. “Will do.”

“It’s a date. See you then.”

“Bye, Cheol.”

Your heart is racing as you hang up the phone, and Joshua immediately repeats Seungcheol’s words, “It’s a date.” 

“It’s a date,” you respond, jittery at the idea.

“Some guys are assholes and say ‘let’s hang out,’ but this one says ‘it’s a date.’”

“That’s a good sign,” you insist.

“A very good sign,” Joshua agrees. “If this dude ends up being the one, I might just have to get into tarot.”

Seven:

You’re surprised to find yourself playing nighttime mini golf with Seungcheol on your date. “What happened to drinks?” you ask as he pays for your tickets and grabs your clubs from the attendant.

He shrugs. “Figured you’re a nurse so you might not wanna get on my motorcycle after I had a few drinks, also the fact that you were designated driver last time I saw you at a bar- I thought this might be more your style. But, I’ll warn you, I’m not going to go easy on ya.”

You laugh, pleasantly surprised at how astute this man can be. “I think this will be fun.”

“Me too.”

Seungcheol’s wearing black jeans and a charcoal v-neck that shows off his strong shoulders. He’s the epitome of your type: a bad boy with tattoos. Yet, when you begin to play, he’s shockingly patient.

“Let me show you how to hold the club,” he suggests on the second hole, waiting for you to nod before he steps behind you and wraps his body around your own. “Feet positioning is key.” He also gently adjusts your hands, and your heart leaps in your chest when he breathes against your throat. “It might take some time to get used to,” Seungcheol warns, “so don’t beat yourself up if it doesn’t come naturally.”

You hit the golf ball, and it goes a lot closer to the hole than your first shot had.

“Did it take a while for you to get into mini golf?” you ask.

“Nah, I was always a natural,” he teases, flashing you a wink before he takes his own shot.

You admire the way his shoulders look with his back to you. “So what got you into being a tattoo artist? Into having your own place?” 

“Well, my grandma passed, and she left me a pretty big inheritance. She always thought I could succeed as a tattoo artist, but before that I was stuck doing blue collar type shit. I think, the money was her final way of telling me to follow my dreams. I’m kind of obsessed with ink, if you haven’t noticed.” He holds out his arms, which are littered with patchwork. “How about you? How does someone get into being an emergency room nurse?”

“I just like helping people,” you explain. “When I was a kid, I broke my arm falling off the monkey bars. I’d always been scared of hospitals, but the nurse who helped me in emergency was an angel. She made it less scary, and when it was over, I realized I wanted to be just like her. When people come into the emergency room, it’s never fun. It’s frightening, and cold- and I want to be there for people who are going through that, to be a warm, friendly face.”

“My grandma had a light worker's soul too,” Seungcheol nods. “That’s what she always called it anyways. She wasn’t ever officially trained, but in her later years she got into herbal medicine. Anytime I was sick it was lemon and garlic chicken noodle soup with bone broths and the works- always made me feel a lot better.”

“She sounds like she was an amazing woman.”

“She was,” Seungcheol agrees. “I don’t know you that well yet, but I think she would have liked you.”

You grin. “Is that an important trait you look for when taking girls to mini golf?” 

Seungcheol lets out a laugh. “It should be. My last ex wouldn’t have fit the bill, and at the time, I thought that was okay, but it didn’t end well.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“I’ll talk about mine if you talk about yours,” he suggests. “You said your last boyfriend was a creep when you broke up, threatened to come to your place and shit, he sounds like a piece of work.”

“He was,” you sigh. “I’ve got this thing for big tattooed men, bad boy types. It always leads to me getting my heart broken. He would tell me I was the one and everything, but I found out he was cheating on me with some waitress at the bar he used to go to all the time.”

“So what I’m hearing is… I’m your type.” Seungcheol flashes you a wink and you roll your eyes at him. “I’m just fucking with you. I’m sorry to hear that. Cheaters are the fucking worst.”

“Sounds like you’ve experienced something like that too.” 

“Looks like both of our ex’s were cheating fucks,” Seungcheol says. “I know it’s a red flag to talk shit about your ex or whatever, but some ex’s deserved to be talked bad about.”

You nod. “A hundred percent.”

“Did you think you were going to be with your last one forever?” Seungcheol asks after a moment.

“I thought so.”

“Me too with mine, I was just about ready to get her a ring.” He frowns, looking down at his golf ball. With a sigh, he easily knocks it into the hole. “Well, this is just the way life happens I guess.”

It’s clear you both have very similar wounds. You’re shocked at how easy it is to talk about this with Seungcheol. Some people say not to talk about ex’s on dates with new people, but this almost feels therapeutic. You understand Seungcheol better, and you’re sure he understands you too.

It’s promising to know he thinks about the future, that he’s ready to settle down, not all men are.

Maybe you’re both in the same boat with all of this, and that’s a hopeful thought.

Eight: 

Seungcheol can’t seem to get you out of his head. 

He’d never thought of himself as a particularly superstitious man. His grandma had been spiritual, and he’d always loved that aspect of her. He’d enjoyed doing tarot readings and making all sorts of elixirs with her in the garden. She’d told him he’d be a successful tattoo artist, she’d seen it in the stars, and while she’d been a big part of making that premonition come true, he wonders what else she might be right about.

Seungcheol’s grandma had always told him he’d end up with a healer like her. A doctor, a psychiatrist, a nurse- she wasn’t very specific, but she’d said his soul would call in a light worker when the time was right.

He feels drawn to you, his little emergency room nurse, designated driver, light worker. 

It’s been such a short amount of time, but there’s something unexplainable about the way he feels.

“You look distracted,” Mingyu muses, coming to join Seungcheol outside the tattoo parlour where he’s puffing on his vape.

“Just thinking.”

“About your birthday party tonight, or that girl you brought through the other day?” Mingyu presses, grinning as he bumps his shoulder against Seungcheol’s. 

Seungcheol can’t help but sigh at his friend’s prying ways. 

“Look you don’t have to tell me anything, but summer is almost over and you need a backpack. My angel has been surrounded by testosterone motorcycle rides for months, and we’d all love another girl to be part of the group. You should invite her out tonight.”

Of course Mingyu’s coming at this from an angle of having a girlfriend. He and Wonwoo are obsessed with their ‘little angel,’ and Mingyu’s always talking about the joys of being in a relationship. It can get somewhat tedious for Seungcheol.

“Don’t you have a client soon?” Seungcheol sighs.

“Point taken, I’ll leave you be,” Mingyu says, patting him on the shoulder. 

As soon as his friend is inside, Seungcheol pulls out his phone. He thinks about what he’s going to say to you, before typing out an easy, “Up to anything tonight?”

He’s shocked by how quick your response is. “It’s Sunmi’s birthday this week so we’re celebrating tonight since it’s Saturday.”

Seungcheol’s mood drops, and a moment later, you’re calling him.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi,” you respond. “How are you doing?”

“Not so bad.” He wants to tell you that it’s his birthday tonight, wants to try to convince you to come, but at the same time, he doesn’t want to guilt you, doesn’t want to mess up your plans. “What’s up?”

“I just… I know we’ve only gone on one actual date, and I only met you a week ago, but… I just want you to know, when I go out tonight, I’m not going to be hitting on anyone or anything.”

He’s taken aback for a moment. “I wasn’t really worried about that.”

“Okay! Good! I just- I know with your ex and everything- and I just, I figured I’d clarify, even though we’ve only been on one date, I’m a one guy at a time kind of girl.”

He respects that you’re so direct about this, and he appreciates your loyalty. You really are a good person. 

“I’m a one girl at a time kind of guy,” Seungcheol says finally. “Glad we’re on the same page about that.”

“Me too.” He can hear your smile, and it makes his heart swell. 

“Anyways, I’ll let you go. Have fun tonight.”

“I will, bye, Cheol.”

Nine:

You’re having a great night. The drinks have been flowing, and you’re having a fun time celebrating Sunmi’s birthday. Things are fuzzy in the best way- until you hear a familiar voice say your name.

You turn to find your ex standing close to you at the bar, and your heart sinks in your chest.

“It’s been a while,” your ex states.

You can’t even find the words to speak, suddenly getting drunk seems like a horrible idea.

You’ve just started to feel safe again, to feel stable- you’d thought being out with your friends, you could let loose, but now your ex is here and your heart is beginning to race.

“Have you been drinking?” your ex asks, coming to stand closer to you at the bar top, where you’d been sipping a gin and tonic. 

“I, uh-” your words catch in your throat, and you swallow thickly. “It’s Sunmin’s birthday.”

Your ex nods, and when you look toward your table, you see Sunmin gaping at you.

Turning away from Sunmi, your ex addresses you. “Is she still a huge bitch?”

“I-” you want to defend your friend, but you feel frozen. You can’t think- you’re completely overwhelmed, and you can hear the blood rushing in your ears, your heart like thunder in your chest.

“We need to talk,” your ex says next. “Come outside with me.”

He grabs your arm, and then a hand wraps around yours. You turn to see Sunmi standing there, glaring at your ex. “What do you think you’re doing?!” she asks.

“Y/N and I need to have a chat outside,” your ex sighs, being very dismissive.

“She doesn’t have to go anywhere with you,” Sunmi insists. “Honey, do you want to go with him?”

You quickly shake your head, moving closer to your friend for safety.

“She doesn’t know what she wants,” your ex rolls his eyes, tightening his grip on your arm to the point where it almost hurts.

“We’re going to the bathroom,” Sunmi insists, somehow successfully tugging you away from your ex. 

“Run away, but I’ll be right here to talk to her when you’re done.”

It feels like a blur as Sunmi races you to the woman’s washroom. “Y/N,” she helps you to the sink, looking at your face. “Are you okay?”

“I-”

Sunmi pulls you to her chest, hugging you deeply. “We’re going to sort this out,” she promises.

“How?” You feel like crying. All the emotions come flooding back, the fear, the helplessness-

“We’re going to call Seungcheol.”

“What?” You’re in shock. “We can’t do that!”

“We can, and we will. Men like your ex only respond to other men. We’re calling him. Give me your phone.”

Reluctantly, you hand Sunmi your cell, turning on the sink to splash your arms with cold water.

“Hi, Seungcheol?” There’s a pause. “No, this is Sunmi. I’m out with y/n, we’re at a bar on Elm and fifth street, her ex just showed up- okay, okay, yeah, we’re in the bathroom in the back.”

She hangs up and you look to her for an explanation.

Your friend lets out a sigh. “As soon as I said your ex was here, Seungcheol said to give him five minutes. I’m going to keep you here and he’ll come get us, okay?”

You nod. “I’m sorry to ruin your birthday.”

“Honey, you’re not ruining anything,” she assures you, pulling you in for another hug. 

You hold back tears while you wait with Sunmi, and in no time at all, there’s a knock on the bathroom door. Seungcheol pokes his head in, and you see his expression drop when he sees you.

“What happened?” he growls, coming to join you.

“Her ex was trying to drag her outside-” Sunmi tries to explain.

“He touched you?” Seungcheol asks, anger laced in his words.

You nod, pointing to your forearm. 

“Grabbed is more like it,” Sunmi breathes.

“Okay,” Seungcheol nods. “Okay, I’ll get you out of here. Just hold onto me and we’ll get out of here.”

You nod again, allowing Seungcheol to gently take your hand. He guides you out of the bathroom, and you huddle close to his side as he walks you through the bar- you almost think things will go smoothly when your ex steps in front of you.

“Who’s this, you’re new boyfriend?” he asks, venom dripping from his words.

Seungcheol stops in his tracks. “So you must be the dip shit ex.”

“Say that again, asshole,” your ex growls, eyes narrowing.

“You must be-” Seungcheol broadens his shoulders, “the dip shit ex.”

Your ex releases a laugh, and then he’s taking a swing. It feels slow and fast at the same time, Sunmi tears you away from Seungcheol, who dodges the punch easily, only to land a blow to your ex’s stomach-

“Y/N! Sunmi!” Mingyu’s voice appears out of nowhere, and suddenly two strong arms are wrapping around you and your friend. “Outside!”

Mingyu keeps you close as he gets you and Sunmi out of the bar while a commotion ensues in your wake. Four motorcycles are pulled up on the curb. You recognize Vernon, and there’s another man you’ve never seen before.

“Cheol’s starting shit,” Mingyu tells his friends quickly.

“We heard your ex was here?” Vernon offers, giving you a sympathetic look.

“He threw a swing at Cheol when I got inside,” Mingyu tries to explain. “Y/N, we’re going to get you out of here, Wonwoo pass me the spare helmet from the saddlebag.”

“What about Seungcheol?” you ask, watching the men fuss.

“He can take care of himself,” Mingyu assures you, helping you put on the helmet.

“Cheol will meet us at our place,” the new man, Wonwoo, says. “When he gets hot like this, he doesn’t drive very safely.”

“Trust us,” Mingyu pleads. “We just gotta get you out of here, your ex made the first swing, and nothing good can come from this now.”

You turn to Sunmi and she squeezes your hand. “It’s okay, get out of here. I’ll text you what happens.”

You can’t even think as Mingyu gets onto his bike and you awkwardly take the seat behind him. You can’t comprehend how things happened the way they did- how fast the altercation had been before your ex had taken a go at Seungcheol.

As you leave the bar, heart thundering in your chest, it’s the most you can do to try to slow your breathing, your body still carrying the trauma that you’d endured with your ex, the wound you’d thought was healed now torn open.

Ten:

“Are you sure this is okay?” you ask as Mingyu covers you with a large fluffy blanket on his couch. “I mean- you just said your girlfriend is four months pregnant and sleeping in the other room-”

“It’s fine,” Mingyu assures you.

“I’m sorry if I ruined your night.” You’d found your ability to speak again once you felt safe and in Mingyu’s apartment, and now, you can’t help the anxiety bubbling inside of you. You feel like a burden- and it’s an all too familiar feeling from your time with your ex.

“You didn’t ruin it, we were almost done anyways,” Wonwoo notes. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Y/N, deep breaths,” Mingyu tells you, sitting on the couch next to you, offering your calf a reassuring squeeze.

“Is Cheol going to be okay?” you ask.

“He’s going to be fine, that man has never lost a fight,” Mingyu explains, smiling softly.

In the distance, you hear an engine revving, and Wonwoo sighs. “There he is.”

Not even five minutes later, Seungcheol is practically bursting through the door. His eyes find you on the couch, and you’re quick to stand, allowing him to envelop you in a hug. His heart is racing in his chest, he’s clearly panicked, and when he pulls away, he looks down at you with wide eyes.

“Are you okay?” he questions, cupping your face as if checking you for injury.

“I’m okay, are you okay?” you retort.

“Just a few bruised knuckles,” he assures you. 

You find yourself laughing, and as you laugh, your eyes well up with tears. Now that he’s here, you finally feel like you can take a deep breath, and he’s quick to tug you back to his chest as you cry.

“I’m going to give you a moment, then I’m going to take you home,” he tells you, hand smoothing up and down your back.

You stay in his arms until you feel a bit better, and when you pull away, Mingyu is offering you a tissue. You clean yourself up, say your goodbyes, then Seungcheol walks you out with the spare helmet in hand.

He doesn’t say anything on the way down, but at the bike, he hands you his fullface. “Want you protected,” he tells you, grabbing the bucket helmet from your grasp.

You nod, putting on the helmet and allowing him to help you fasten it up. 

You’re quiet as you both get onto the bike, and Seungcheol adjusts your hand to his hip, squeezing gently. 

The bike roars to life and you take off.

It’s a different feeling to be on a motorcycle while still a little drunk, and you find yourself throwing your head back to look up at the night sky. 

You’ve seen the stars before, but on the back of Seungcheol’s bike, it feels like you're experiencing them for the first time. 

You lose track of time doing this, and the ride is done sooner than you’d like when he pulls up to your building. “Come on, baby,” he says softly, helping you take off your helmet. “Let’s get you upstairs.”

He holds your hand, helping you with your keys to get into the apartment complex. The elevator ride is quiet, but his hand is a reassuring constant, warm and large wrapped around your own.

He’s never been to your place, and you feel a little self conscious as you open up your door. It’s a modest apartment, one bedroom- there’s really nothing to be insecure about, but you think maybe your anxiety from the bar incident is just making you a little crazy.

“How about you sit down, and I’ll get you some water?” he suggests, helping you to the couch.

You kick off your high heels, curling up on the cushions while Seungcheol putters around your kitchen. He already looks like he belongs here, and for a brief moment, you can forget about your ex.

Seungcheol rejoins you on the couch, handing you the cup. “Here.” 

“Thank you.”

You sip on your water, trying to breathe properly again.

Seungcheol gives you the space to unwind. He doesn’t pester you with questions about the altercation with your ex at the bar, and you’re grateful for it.

“You’re not hurt, are you?” he asks finally.

You shake your head, your eyes dropping to his hands. “You’re hurt though.”

“Just bruised knuckles,” he assures you. 

“There’s blood,” you insist. “I’ll-”

“Tell me where your first aid kit is and I’ll grab it.” 

You direct him to the cupboard in your bathroom, and he returns with it, setting the case onto your coffee table. 

“How’s your shoulder?” you ask as you take out the tools you’ll need.

“Almost better, I heal fast,” he says softly.

It feels good to focus on his wounds rather than your own, and you gently clean the scrapes on his hand. His right fist is pretty badly bruised, and you do your best to treat it. Then you begin to slowly wrap his knuckles, taking your time. Two wraps around his wrist, diagonal across the top to his pinky, under the hand, to the pointer, diagonal- 

It’s a nice repetition of motions, and when you’re all done, you lift his hand to your lips, gently pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “All better.”

You look up at Seungcheol, and he stares back.

Then, he slowly moves in, carefully watching your expression. He stops just an inch from your lips, and you can feel his breath on your face. He’s waiting for you to make the final move, for you to be the one with control.

With one last look at your beautiful, dark protector, you close the distance.

It’s a soft kiss, not the kind of first kiss you’ve ever had before. Seungcheol doesn’t immediately try to dominate you like men in the past have, he lets you set the pace. You lean in closer, grabbing his shoulders to stabilize yourself as you deepen the kiss. 

Seungcheol’s arms wrap around you, and it’s a somewhat awkward position on the couch like this, so he simply pulls you onto his lap. 

You lose yourself in the kiss, allowing all your anxiety to dissipate while you enjoy the safety Seungcheol provides. 

After a while, Seungcheol pulls away, and you’re both breathing heavily. 

“How… how do your knuckles feel?” you ask.

He laughs, looking down at his hands. “I might black out my fingers when this is all healed,” he admits. “I get into too many barfights. My grandma used to say it was the Leo in me.”

“The Leo in you?” you repeat, heard thumping wildly in your chest.

“Yeah, I uh…” he lets out a soft chuckle, “I didn’t wanna pressure you to come out or anything after I heard you were at a friend’s birthday party, but it’s sort of my birthday today.”

You’re frozen for a moment. “Happy birthday.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re a Leo,” you say again.

“Uh huh. You’re not about to tell me some weird zodiac rule about our signs not being compatible, are you?”

“No, it’s not that.” You take a deep breath. Just a short time ago, you’d decided not to tell him about the Elk tattoo meaning, and now here you are, about to tell him everything. 

You’re not sure if it’s the adrenaline from the bar situation, or the slight tipsyness, but you think fuck it, if he could tell you about his tarot loving grandmother, you can tell him about this.

“A few months ago, I did a reading,” you begin to explain.

“A tarot reading,” he clarifies.

“Yeah. And I asked my guides to show me a spirit animal card that would be a tattoo on the person I’m supposed to be with. The card came up as an Elk- and before you tell me it’s a very common tattoo, I know it is, which is why I asked for further clarification with them telling me the zodiac of this person too-”

“And they said Leo,” he breathes.

You nod. “Then, when I met you, the Elk lined up, but I still wasn’t sure, so I did another reading on us, and the Two of Cups came out, it’s a love card. So with those two cards, and now the fact that you’re a Leo-”

“Is this your way of telling me you think I’m your soulmate?” Seungcheol grins.

“God, I should have guessed you’re a fucking Leo,” you roll your eyes.

“Don’t be rude,” he tuts, gently pinching your hip. “If it’s any consolation, my grandmother always told me I’d end up with someone in the medical field, and you’re an ER nurse.”

“She really said that?” you ask.

“Uh huh.” Seungcheol’s gaze dips to your lips then back up again. “I wonder if she saw this future.”

Your heart melts. After your last relationship, where the lovebombing came on fast, you’d promised yourself not to get burned by that sort of thing again- but here you are, falling for Seungcheol way quicker than you ever have with anyone else in the past.

Even so, something about this feels so right.

You let out a breath. “One time with the Elk may have been coincidence. Two times with the Two of Cups card was a little odd. But three times with your Leo Zodiac-”

“I guess the question is, do you believe in fate?” Seungcheol moves closer.

“I think you know that I do,” you laugh.

Seungcheol’s hands squeeze your hips, and he doesn’t say anything else as he brings his mouth to yours.

You kiss him eagerly, wrapping your arms around him, pressing your chests together. His tongue glides against your own and it feels like magic- there’s a bulge growing in his pants, and you can’t help but begin to grind down against him.

Seungcheol releases a small groan and it’s music to your ears, prompting you to apply more pressure to his cock when you wriggle against him.

With a sigh, Seungcheol pulls away. “Baby,” he says softly, “you’ve been drinking and I don’t want to take advantage tonight-”

“I swear that whole situation with my ex sobered me up,” you admit. “Besides, maybe I want to give you a birthday present.” 

“A birthday present?” he repeats with a chuckle.

You nod. “Cheol, I haven’t even kissed anyone in months- I’m already practically drenched from making out, you won’t make me wait even longer, will you?”

He studies your face, and you can see the moment he folds. “We can do this, but at any point if I think you look drunk, we have to stop. I don’t want you to regret this being our first time.”

“I could never regret this,” you promise, leaning in to press your lips to his throat.

Seungcheol throws his head back, his fingers digging into your hips again. The low moan he releases tells you that he has a sensitive neck, and you enjoy simply teasing him for a minute while you mentally prep yourself for what’s to come next.

You do want to move on, and this is one of those steps.

You’re not afraid of it. You had been frightened about intimacy with someone new, but Seungcheol makes you feel more safe than you’ve ever felt in your life.

You want this. 

You shift a little on Seungcheol’s lap, reaching down to cup his cock with your palm. 

Seungcheol swallows thickly, his hands smoothing up and down your hips. “Are you sure?” he asks. “You don’t want me to take care of you?”

“It’s your birthday,” you point out. “And you took care of me at the bar, I think it’s my turn to show some appreciation.”

He doesn’t argue with you, and you can feel the tension leaving his shoulders. He lets out a deep breath. “I know it’s early,” he says, “but… if we do this, I don’t want any confusion. I want you to know that you’re mine, and I’m yours.”

“Honestly? I’ve been yours since practically the moment I saw you take your shirt off so I could clean your shoulder wound.”

Seungcheol releases a chuckle. “Really?”

“Uh huh, you make me fucking feral.”

He lets out a groan of appreciation. “It’s been hard to control myself too. That day at the studio, when you touched my back tattoo- I was so close to breaking. Wanted to throw you onto my desk and make you feel good.”

You imagine what that would have been like, and it makes you moan. “Why didn’t you?”

“I could tell you had a past, and I didn’t want to scare you off,” he admits. “I’ve been… trying to be a good boy.”

Your bad boy trying to be good to make you comfortable. You really hit the jackpot with Seungcheol.

“Cheol, I’ve told you I have a thing for bad boys,” you tease.

“So maybe I should take control right now,” he suggests with a grin.

“Let me suck you off, and then you can take control,” you tell him, pulling away. “I’m going to get on my knees now.”

Seungcheol watches you slip onto the floor infront of him, and your hands find his belt. You try to focus on your task of getting his pants off, but you enjoy sneaking glances at him, seeing his pretty face as he tries to keep composure.

He lifts his hips to help you tug his jeans down, and his cock slaps up against his lower abdomen, hard and already leaking.

He’s a decent size, somewhere between six and seven inches, and his cock is as girthy as the rest of him. You lick your lips, grabbing the base so you can adjust him toward your mouth as you lean in.

“No teasing,” Seungcheol warns, voice softening when he says, “please.” 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Liar,” he laughs, reaching out to stroke your head.

You slip the tip of his cock into your mouth, swirling your tongue. 

“And that’s the teasing I was talking about,” Seungcheol muses. “Feels good though.”

You sink further down onto him, beginning to suck as you move up and down.

“Fuck, that feels even better,” he groans.

When you were with your ex, blow jobs were an expectation, and because of that, you never really enjoyed them. There’s something powerful about doing this of your own volition, about making the conscious choice to pleasure Seungcheol.

You close your eyes, getting lost in the motion of providing this for him. Hallowing your cheeks, you suck hard when you’re near the tip, and Seungcheol groans loudly, shifting further down on the couch so you’re not bent over him in such an awkward position.

“You’re good at that, baby,” Seungcheol says. “But there’s only one birthday present I’d enjoy more than this.”

You let out a “hmm?” sound, an inquiry.

“When I’m balls deep in your pussy, watching you writhe under me, listening to your pretty sounds- that will be the cherry on top of this birthday,” he explains. “Thank you for wanting to make me feel good, but- usually, baby, I like to be the giver.”

Your pussy throbs at his words, and you increase your speed on his cock, letting out a moan of appreciation. 

“Yeah? You like that?” he asks. “Say the word, baby, and I’ll make it happen.”

You pull off of him, your hand smoothing up from base to tip to pump him while you address your beautiful dark protector. “I just want to make you feel good a little while longer.”

His expression softens. “Making me feel really good.”

You grin, returning to your task. 

Seungcheol’s hand is gentle in your hair. He caresses you while you suck him off, never applying pressure or trying to get you to deep throat him. It’s an ever constant, soft touch, and you’re shocked at how much of a gentleman this heavily tattooed, bar fighting, Leo can be. 

“Baby?” His voice draws you from your thoughts. “I know I said you could say the word and be done, but- this feels too good, and I don’t wanna bust the moment I begin to fuck you.”

You pull off of his cock with a pop, smiling up at him. “Okay.”

“Okay?” He lets out a shaky breath and grins. “Where’s your bedroom, gorgeous?”

“Right there.” You point at the door adjacent to the living room.

“Come on, baby, it’s my turn to take care of you.” He helps you to your feet, pulling his pants back up, and you’re shocked when he throws you over his uninjured shoulder, carrying you to your bedroom while you erupt in a fit of butterfly fueled giggles.

Seungcheol lays you softly onto your bed, staring down at you. He takes in your silky shirt and your dress pants, you like to be more classy when you go out, to keep up with your reputation as a nurse.

The two of you are very different people. He’s black ripped jeans, plain tshirts and tattoos. And you’re classy outfits, scrubs, and a healer’s touch. Somehow, even with these differences, the two of you work. Like Yin and Yang, complementary forces, light and dark.

“Can I take these off for you?” he asks, tugging at your pant leg.

You nod, watching the way he begins to undo your button and zipper. He’s slow with his motions, precise. It’s not a rush to get you naked, it’s an enjoyed exploration, and you love the way his eyes glow when you lift your hips to allow him to pull the fabric off your lower half.

“You’re so pretty,” Seungcheol muses.

“Yeah?”

“That day you were in my shop with your friend, doing a consult with Vernon- I was trying to act like I was watching my newest apprentice work, but… I kept looking at you. And then, outside the bar, when you showed up again-” Seungcheol shakes his head, his hand smoothing along your leg gently. “Baby, you’re going to turn me into a believer.”

“Invisible string theory, perhaps,” you grin.

Seungcheol chuckles. “If that’s what you want to call it.”

He takes off his own shirt, and you watch the way his muscles move under his skin. He’s littered in tattoos, patchwork on his arms and chest. There must be a hundred small to medium sized tattoos, and you want to know the story behind each and every one.

But there’s a time and a place for that, and right now, you’re eager for something else.

Seungcheol gets on top of you, and you immediately thread your fingers through his soft dark hair, pulling his lips to your own.

Your free hand explores his muscular shoulders, careful of the bandage still on his bar wound, and you’re practically tingling with how attracted you are to this man.

He kisses you deeply, cupping your face while his other hand braces him to the bed over top of you.

Your legs wrap around his hips, pulling him closer, and he grinds against your panty clad core.

The pressure on your clit has you moaning, and Seungcheol responds by kissing down your throat. He licks at your collarbone, and then his hand moves from your cheek to your shirt. “Can I take this off?” he asks.

“Uh huh, there’s a tie at the back.”

Seungcheol pulls off of you, and in one motion, he flips you onto your stomach. His warm hand smooths over your shoulder, toying with the tie there.

You hold your breath in anticipation as he begins to undo the corset style back of your slinky top. He leans over you, pressing a kiss to the nape of your neck that makes your body erupt in goosebumps. 

You enjoy the way he takes his time with your shirt, and he slowly helps you slip it off. You’re laying flat on his bed, your tits pressed to the comforter, while Seungcheol explores your back with his hands. He traces the curvature of your sides, pressing kisses along your spine. Soft curls tickle your skin, and you’re grinning like the Cheshire Cat at how good this feels.

Seungcheol flips you over again, and his gaze dips to your exposed breasts. “You’re so pretty,” he muses, gently groping your chest, his thumb grazing over your nipple. You watch him swallow thickly, and then he’s leaning over, taking the sensitive bud in his mouth while you tangle your fingers in his curls again.

With his mouth on your breast, his free hand slips down your body, and he tugs your panties down just enough for him to access your core.

Two digits rub between your pussy lips and you feel him smile against your nipple. “You weren’t lying about being wet, baby.”

“Would never lie to you,” you breathe out shakily.

“No?” He circles your clit and you moan loudly. 

“Never,” you repeat, pushing your hips up toward his hand, needing more friction.

Seungcheol rewards you by slipping both of his digits into your wet core, pressing his palm to your clit as he begins to finger fuck you. He sucks on your breast while he does this, and you’re lost in the sensations he provides.

“Fuck, Cheol-” you whimper when his teeth graze your nipple, your pussy clenching tight around his fingers.

“Wanna make you cum,” Seungcheol says, pulling away from your breast to look down at you.

“Then make me cum,” you respond, nodding at him.

Seungcheol presses one last kiss to your lips and then he shifts down the bed, pulling his fingers from your core. He gets onto his knees at the foot of the mattress, dragging you toward himself and pulling your panties off.

He spreads your thighs. “So pretty,” he muses. “Everything about you is so fucking pretty.”

Your skin heats, it can be hard to take a compliment, but something tells you that Seungcheol will get you used to this kind of praise.

He leans forward, eyes meeting yours as he presses a kiss to your clit. You jolt at the small contact, releasing a shaky breath.

No one has eaten you out in months, and your core is already throbbing with anticipation. 

“Gonna take care of you,” Seungcheol promises, and you know that this promise extends far past the sexual setting you’re in right now.

He moves forward again, capturing your clit in his mouth while his digits easily slip into your pussy again.

You throw your head back, enjoying the sensation of him worshiping your cunt. He’s gentle with his motions at first, kitten licking your sensitive bud. You know he’s getting used to your sounds, figuring out what pressure works, what you enjoy, whether thats sucking, or more gentle stimulus.

“Feels good,” you tell him. “Like the way you crook your fingers.”

He responds by applying more pressure to the ‘come hither’ motion he’s making, and you release a whine at how good it feels.

“Just like that,” you whimper.

He sucks your clit harder too, and you moan louder, hips bucking toward his face.

Seungcheol’s free hand finds your lower abdomen and he pins you to his bed, keeping you still while he works on your pussy.

You can feel your walls clenching around him, and Seungcheol releases a groan of pleasure. It adds to your own feeling of euphoria that clearly he’s enjoying this. He hadn’t been lying when he said he’s usually a giver, and the fact that he doesn’t see this as a chore has you able to enjoy it fully, unlike certain past experiences where men had to be begged into eating you out.

Sex with Seungcheol - even foreplay like this - feels so natural. You’re not as in your head as you usually are, with his nonverbal communications and moans, you can be certain he’s enjoying this as much as you are, and it gives you the confidence to give yourself over completely to the pleasure.

Sex should always be like this, you realize.

There’s no pressure, no worrisome thoughts, it’s just two souls connecting physically in a way that’s mutually beneficial. 

Having not been eaten out in a long time, it’s not surprising that you’re extremely sensitive, and Seungcheol works you all the way to the edge before you can even comprehend what’s happening.

“Cheol-” you whimper, threading your fingers in his hair, “I’m gonna-”

You don’t get to finish your sentence, he sucks harshly on your clit, and your words become moans as your orgasm surges through you.

His hand on your abdomen keeps you steady as he works you through your high, sucking on your clit until your legs are shaking on his broad shoulders.

Seungcheol pulls away, and you open your eyes to watch him wipe the back of his mouth, licking his fingers clean. 

“Still want this?” he asks, hooking his fingers in the waistband of his jeans.

“More than anything,” you smile.

A moment later, Seungcheol is as naked as you are, and he gets between your thighs again, lips returning to your own. He doesn’t immediately slip his cock into you, instead, he grinds against your core, teasing your sensitive clit and driving you wild.

You kiss him eagerly, threading your fingers through his hair and groping his muscular shoulders, enjoying the feeling of him despite the need growing inside of you.

You’re reminded again that there’s no rush.

You can take pleasure in this without feeling like you need to be getting fucked to be worth something.

You’re a hundred percent sure that if you’d told Seungcheol you’re not ready for sex, he would have stopped, cuddled you, and not taken it personally. There’s this feeling that Seungcheol is going to be around for a long time- and as crazy as it is with how short of a time you’ve known him, you know that your connection runs deeper than your physical attraction.

Seungcheol shifts slightly, grabbing at his cock. You bite at your lip while you wait for him to line it up with your core, and you break your kiss, panting. Your eyes meet as he slips the head of his length into your wet hole, and you both groan at the feeling.

“Fuck,” Seungcheol moans, sinking in inch by inch. “You feel so fucking good.” 

“You feel better,” you retort, kissing his cheek and nuzzling his nose.

“Impossible,” he grins, burying his face in your throat as he begins to fuck you.

You claw at his shoulders, crying out with each thrust. He fills you so well- he has probably one of the biggest cocks you’ve ever taken, and the way he stretches you out is like heaven, like he was made to be in your pussy.

The sounds he’s making are unlike any other pleasured noises you’ve ever heard.

Nothing has ever felt this right.

Seungcheol’s uninjured hand finds your own, and he laces your fingers, squeezing you reassuringly as he fucks you harder, his speed increasing.

His lips are hot on your neck, and it feels delightful. You love just laying back and taking everything he’s giving you. He’s so big, like a warm, weighted blanket covering your form.

Your toes are already curling at how deep he’s hitting, and your thighs shake desperately around his hips.

“Cheol-”

“Yes, baby?” he asks.

“You just- fuck, this feels so good-”

“You deserve to feel good,” Seungcheol tells you. “You work so hard for others, I’m lucky I get to be the guy working for you.”

Your heart swells at his words. Past boyfriends’ haven't ever truly appreciated how hard it is to be an emergency room nurse. You spend your whole shift taking care of others, and that high pressure, intense mentality bleeds into your personal life. It's a sweet relief to be the one on the receiving end, to relax and know that you can fully give yourself up to the pleasure and desire you feel, without feeling obligated to return this favour with future sexual gratifications.

Seungcheol’s lips meet your own, and you get lost in him, moaning desperately as he works your pussy open.

His thrusts slow, and he stays completely still inside of you for a moment, then pulls away.

“Can you shift onto your side for me?” he asks. “One leg straight on the bed, the other thigh pulled closer to your chest.”

It’s a position you’ve never tried before, but you trust Seungcheol, and you’re quick to adjust. You lay half on your side, one leg stretched between his knees while you bring your other toward your breasts. 

Seungcheol’s warm hand finds your thigh, and he helps bend you, his free hand guiding his cock to your pussy again.

When he pushes in this time, it feels even deeper, and you let out a squeak at the stimulation.

“You like that?” he asks, hand moving from your thigh to your breast, where he gently pinches your nipple.

“So deep- I feel so full-” you whimper.

Seungcheol only grins, and he’s an absolute vision in this position. He’s practically on his knees, and his chest is all exposed and gorgeous. His tattoos are beautiful as he massages your breast with one hand, the other on your thigh, anchoring you while he fucks you.

You’re not sure if it’s the sideways angle or what, but he’s hitting a spot that has your toes curling tight, your pussy clenching.

“Fuck-” you moan.

“Shit, I should have asked this before-” Seungcheol says, voice shaky, “do I need to pull out or-”

“I’m on birth control,” you assure him. “You can cum inside.”

“Fuck,” Seungcheol groans, rutting into you even harder. 

“Kinda want you to fill me up,” you admit.

“You’re way too sexy, baby, holy shit-”

You can tell your words are doing a number on him, and it makes your core throb with pleasure.

“Can you rub your clit?” he asks. “Want you to cum with me. I hate cumming alone.”

“Yeah.” Your hand slips between your thighs awkwardly, and Seungcheol decreases his pace  to give you a chance to catch up to his pleasure.

His movements are slower now, more precise, his cock hitting that spot deep inside that has you crying out again.

“You look so good like this,” Seungcheol tells you. “My pretty little nurse.”

For some reason, his words just do something to you, and your core throbs even harder. “Cheol, I’m close-” you warn him,

“Tell me when you’re almost there and I’ll go fast again.”

You focus on the sight of him, on the tattoos and muscles, his strong features and the pretty dark curls. His small groans egg you on, and you’re at the edge in no time, giving him a nod. “Okay-”

He releases your breast, using both hands on your leg now to steady himself as he fucks you stupid, your whole body jolting with each motion. You let out a desperate whine, rubbing your clit even harder-

“Fuck, fuck-” Seungcheol groans. “Feels so fucking good- fuck, cum with me, baby, cum with me-”

You moan in response, your core clenching down desperately on his cock as your orgasm explodes through you. Your whole body shivers with endorphins, heart racing in your chest.

Seungcheol throws his head back, releasing an extremely sexy groan as he cums with you, fingers digging into your skin as he thrusts slowly and deeply, working you through your orgasms.

You rub your clit until you can’t take it anymore, tearing your hand away.

Seungcheol slumps forward, stilling completely, and you greedily grab at his shoulders. He collapses half on top of you, and you thread your fingers through his hair, panting hard.

His forehead rests against your own, and you both just try to catch your breath.

You’ve never felt connected to someone the way you feel connected to Seungcheol in this moment. It’s all consuming, and it makes you emotional as you come down from your high.

Seungcheol must notice your shaky breathing because he opens his eyes and looks at you. “You okay, baby?”

“I’m just-” you swallow thickly. “I don’t know-”

You can’t voice it, can’t voice the way you’re feeling. There are so many thoughts swirling around in your head, so many past traumas rearing their ugly faces and making you second guess yourself-

“I’m yours, and you’re mine,” Seungcheol breathes, pressing a kiss to your lips. “I’m not going anywhere.”

And just like that, he can clear all of your anxieties, as if he was able to read your mind and see your fears. 

You’ve always been drawn to bad boys, to men who you envision as some kind of dark protector- and now, you think you’ve finally found the right one. 

☀️ mlist + an. Thank you so much for reading! this fic is written in conjunction to my other story 'crossroads,' read more about Mingyu, Wonwoo, and their y/n here

🍭 support me by. sending a tip here or here - or become a patron to access monthly bonus content and extensions for fics like this one :) find the Patreon teaser below! 

🔮 preview. Seungcheol’s thrusts get faster, and he rests his forehead against your spine while he rails you into the blow up mattress at a campsite where anyone could walk by. His baby fever is at an all time high, and he’s fucking you like a man who means every word he’s saying.

cw/ tw.  Unprotected sex, sex in a campsite, exhibitionism, staying quiet during sex, pussy eating, fingering, large/muscled/tattooed Cheol, quickie, baby fever, dirty talk, breeding kink, praise, breast worship, etc…

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.6k I teaser wc. 180

🌙 starring. Choi Seungcheol x afab!Reader

 bonus

It’s been just under a year since you started dating Seungcheol, and through him, you’ve found a family. Many trivia nights, and bowling excursions have been spent with Seungcheol, his friends, Sunmi, her sister, and her sister’s boyfriend Jeonghan. Once you’d met everyone face to face, it had been much easier to track Sunmi’s convoluted explanation of her connection to the tattoo parlour, and it’s been a joy to become so close with so many wonderful people.

Sunmi’s sister’s boyfriend, Jeonghan, is cousins with Mingyu and Wonwoo’s girlfriend, who’d had a beautiful baby girl this past January, and now, it’s the baby’s first summer. You don’t mind the shift of hang outs to be more baby inclusive, and now, you find yourself at a campsite with the whole gang.

While everyone is quite enamored with the little baby girl, Haesoo, no one is more obsessed than your boyfriend Seungcheol. You always get to see him coddling her while out and about as a group, but in the past three days at this campsite, you’ve contracted a serious case of baby fever.

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Hi! Can I request an angst fic with seunghceol which starts because he forgot a date?

Thank you so much!

i hope you like it! sorry it took me forever

when he forgets a date

pairing: seungcheol x fem!reader

genre: angst

word count: 912

warnings: none

The apartment felt oddly cold. The heater was on but you still didn’t get warm. Though the thermostat was close enough you just couldn't bring yourself to get up and adjust it. Everything inside of you just felt sort of empty inside and you couldn’t even understand why. 

You had expected it and yet you had gotten your hopes up. It wasn’t the first time Seungcheol missed one of your dates. Every time something like that happened he would show up a few hours later, flowers in hand — from god knows where — and a charming smile on his face. And at every single turn, you forgave him. 

His excuses were always all over the place and you never thought much of it. Seungcheol is just busy, you told yourself. As time went by he missed more dates and that initial thought started to crumble. Sure, Seungcheol was busy but he still had plenty of time for his friends, to go out golfing with them, drinking with them.

That was when your mind started to go to dark places and you really felt as if you were small and someone who he never really cared about. And then, you started to think that he was cheating. That feeling of not being enough was all over you. Maybe it was pathetic or just your ego but also couldn’t stop. 

So you decided to give him just one more chance, you could give him that much. If not for the dates, Seungcheol was a good boyfriend, caring and loving. That’s why you always felt bad whenever you thought that he was being anything but a good boyfriend. 

But do good boyfriends miss all of their most recent dates with their significant others, even though they talked on the phone earlier and seemed excited? 

You laid down on the couch pulling the cover that was at your feed up so that it would cover your body. Taking a deep breath, you tried to force your mind to rest. There was no point in thinking the worst, at least for now. You did what you could, what you thought was best. You had gotten the reservations, got ready, and left on time. Gave him all the directions he needed, and sent him a map to find the restaurant more easily. 

Instead of waiting for Seungcheol outside and risking losing the reservation, you waited inside. You called him, texted, called him again, called his office. It was as if your phone had stopped working. You even tried calling your friend to see if she would pick up. When she did, you just apologized and said that you called the wrong number and chatted with her for a minute. 

You decided that you would have dinner regardless, it was a good restaurant after all. The food would have probably tasted better if your mood wasn’t so horrible. The waiter looked at you with pity in his eyes so you asked for the check and left.

Seungcheol hadn’t answered any of your calls your texts, so you doubted that he would call or show up anytime soon. The only thing you could do was try to sleep and figure everything out tomorrow.

You had just managed to sleep when you were awakened by the sound of someone knocking on your door. The sun was already up and the living room was clear with sunlight. There was only one possible person to be knocking on your door. You got up, opened the door, and went back to the couch. 

“yn, I know you’re pissed” Seungcheol said, closing the door behind him and joining you on the couch “ and you have every right to be. But listen to me…”

You scoffed, resting your chin on your knee. 

“Let’s hear it then. What happened this time? Was it work? Did one of your friends have diarrhea and needed you to clean their butt for them? Were you with someone else?”

Seungcheol looked at you with wide eyes, desperate. He knew where this was going, what you were going to do and say but he was trying to hold on for dear life. 

“I know you’re angry, I know” 

He tried to hold your face but you pulled back, he tried to hold your hands but you also pulled away.

“I’m not angry or pissed. I’m tired, Seungcheol”

Shaking your head, you stood up. You thought about it, for hours, during the entire night and you had made your decision. 

“Since we started this, whatever it was” you waved your hands between him and you “I gave you all I had, all that I am. Although I can’t say that you didn’t do the same at first, it all changed after some time. And it’s fine if your feelings changed, it sucks but it happens. I really wish you could have told me when it did”

It was Seungcheol’s turn to shake his head. This time, when he reached for you, you didn’t pull back.

“It didn’t change, I promise. I still feel the same way I did back then. It’s just that I have been on my own my entire life, I don’t really know how to do this”

You laughed, not really believing in what you were hearing from him.

“Then I guess you’re not really the man I thought you were then” 

You pulled back from him and took three steps back. 

“Don’t push me away” he begged.

“You should go”

taglist: @wonwooz1, @sobun1est, @mirtaspace, @feat-sun,  @belladaises, @mhlsymlysn, @swinterr, @immabecreepin, @uniq-tastic

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