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ex-conomics | csc

you supported seungcheol through years of being an aspiring athlete, and all you got to show for it was your undergraduate degree and an awkward, stuttered apology when he dumped you to go semi-pro. now he’s back after an injury derailed his career, and there’s only one problem: you’re the only one available to tutor him. you - 0; the universe - 1. talk about no return on investment.

⚽ pairing: choi seungcheol x f. reader ⚽ genre: exes to (lite) enemies to lovers; university au; angst, fluff ⚽ rating: while there is nothing explicit in this fic, there are two brief references to smut. while i can't stop anyone from reading this, i would prefer minors do not interact with this or any of my work. ⚽ warnings: cheol is some degree of famous, reader is a grad student/TA, mentions of an injury and coping with the aftermath of it, lots of economics talk that even i do not understand, swearing, one mention of alcohol, some misplaced jealousy, rom-com tropes, dino is kind of a loser but we love him anyway. probably a lot of other things i missed, but this is actually pretty tame for a fic of this length. ⚽ word count: 13.4k ⚽ thank you: a lot of people looked this over for me in the process and i'm sure i will forget some of them so if i do i'm sorry: @the-boy-meets-evil, @hot-soop, @highvern, and @haologram, who also gave me some wonderful ideas for the vlogs. thank you to MIT for opencourseware existing. i took microeconomics and dropped it, so i couldn't have done this without you. everyone in the discord server for helping me along the way and keeping me motivated. ⚽ author's note: i haven't posted a fic in nearly seven months, so i think it goes without saying that there are parts of this i like and a lot more i'm not 100% happy with. i'd love if this was more fleshed out and 10k longer, but i was able to write anything at all so it's good enough. this was written for the back to school with seventeen collab, hosted by @gyuswhore & @highvern. thank you both for letting me participate! please make sure to check out the rest of the stories! everyone worked so hard and this collab was a ton of fun to participate in. <3

You look down at the paper. Back up at who handed it to you. Down at the paper again.

“You’ve got to be joking.”

The poor freshman kid laughs, all nerves, and even though the sound is grating, you remember what it’s like to be forced into work study. How far away graduate school seemed; how large your professors loomed over you with all their power and knowledge and credentials; how you constantly felt like the dumbest person in nearly every room you walked into for four straight years.

“Um—”

You sigh, just barely resisting the urge to slam your head onto your desk. “I—it’s fine, don’t worry about it.” Your words do little to ease Freshman’s nerves. He’s still hunched over in the doorway of your office, wringing his hands as he shifts his weight back and forth, in for a lifetime of body pain with the way he’s squaring his shoulders. “You’re sure about this, though? Like, I’m really not being set up?”

“I don’t think so?” he offers, slowly starting to turn green right before your eyes. “Dr. Lee ga-gave me the paperwork himself, I don’t think he would’ve messed it up? Oh no, did I mess it up? Should I go back to Student Services and conf—”

Good god, this kid’s anxiety is gonna stink up your office for weeks. “No need!” you interject. “I’ll just…” Sign it, you want to say, but the longer you stare at the sheet of paper the quicker you’re losing your resolve.

TUTORING REQUEST FORM Student Name: Choi Seungcheol Degree: Undergraduate Major: Business Course: ECON04101 Introduction to Microeconomics Instructor: Lee Yeonseok, PhD. Recommended Tutoring: High (3-4 hours per week)

You curse under your breath. Of the two names on the paper, Dr. Lee’s does not come as a surprise. He’s a notorious hard-ass with an infamous attrition rate—most students don’t last more than a week in any of his classes—but he’s also the sole reason you were able to pay for someof your grad school tuition out of pocket with all the tutoring money you made.

That, however, was two years ago.

“Does he know I don’t tutor anymore?” Stupid question. The kid stares blankly back at you, as if to say I don’t know any more than the people in Student Services, let alone Dr. Lee. It is literally my first year here. “I’m Dr. Ahn’s TA this year. I’ve got my hands full with her bullsh… stuff—”

Immediately, you know you’ve said something wrong, because the kid’s eyes light up, all that previous anxiety disappearing like smoke. “Wait, the same Dr. Ahn that teaches the crypto course?”

“No, that one died,” you say quickly. Kid deflates. “Anyway, I don’t really tutor anymore, especially for econ. As you can see”—you gesture vaguely around the cramped four walls of your office—“they’ve upgraded me. They even put my name on a little placard by the door! Go look! They spelled it wrong! If that doesn’t sum up this university I don’t know what does.”

You heave another sigh. Try to school your face and tone into something that exudes professionalism and finality. “Look, I’m sorry I can’t help you. I tutored Dr. Lee’s students for, like, three years in undergrad so I’m sure they just… forgot that wasn’t my actual job here. Who’s in charge of tutoring these days? I’ll shoot them an email and explain all this.”

Freshman gives you a name, and it takes less than a second to find them in the employee directory. You expect that to be the end of it, but he’s still taking up space in your doorway. You quirk an eyebrow. “Yes?”

The hand-wringing returns, along with an embarrassed flush that disappears beneath the neckline of his school-branded sweatshirt. “I just—um. Maybe you could, uh. Send that now? Before I get back there?”

You blink. “Don’t you have to go all the way back across campus? How slow do you think I type?” He shrugs, and you give up on the idea of getting rid of him. “Fine. What’s your name, anyway?”

“Lee Chan. I’m a sophomore. Do you know that guy?”

“Oh. I thought for sure you were a freshman, but you’re gonna need to be more specific, Lee Chan, Sophomore.”

“The guy they want you to tutor.” You freeze. The guy they want you to tutor is—“Choi Seungcheol,” Chan tacks on, and, yeah, you know—knew, you correct yourself—someone with that name, once upon a time.

But there are a lot of Chois and a lot of Seungcheols. It’s been years since you’ve spoken to the Seungcheol you knew, and that was when he’d broken up with you to—“I heard he’s a football player? Well, used to be, I guess. The girls in the office were freaking out so I guess he’s pretty famous, but I don’t know anything about sports, do you? They said they have photocards of him. I thought they only did that for idols.”

You think about being kids together in Daegu. Think about the exasperated looks you’d share when your parents would drag the two of you to festivals: Palgongsan in the autumn, Biseulsan in the spring; transformation and rebirth. Think about being eight years old and watching your father cram into the small space of the Chois’ living room, standing around the TV with Seungcheol’s dad, shouting at Park Jonghwan. Daegu FC made the FA Cup quarterfinals that year, and you think, of everything, that’s what you’ll remember for the rest of your life.

You think about falling in love slowly. Sixteen and clueless, the pair of you were. Didn’t really know any different, just that you’d look at him and feel butterflies. That you’d hold hands in secret. Text beneath the dinner table. That you’d watch him on the football pitch and be consumed by pride. That the future felt impossibly far away, that life would never catch up to the two of you.

You think about all the football jargon you didn’t understand—the academies, the teams, the implications. You think about, I’m thinking about trying out for the FC Seoul U-18, I just don’t think there’s much more I can do here in Daegu. You think about replying, Oh, I applied to university there.

You remember thinking it must’ve been fate, how easy that had worked out. How easy that first hurdle had been overcome.

You think about how fast everything happened. The try-out, the acceptance, the explosion. Remember being unable to go anywhere those first few months without seeing Seungcheol’s face, touted as the next big thing. Think about applying for scholarships when he was applying for international visas. Think about studying for midterms when Seungcheol was studying English for interviews.

You think about the last few weeks of your relationship, when it felt like you were desperately trying to cling to ghosts. Think about how Seoul had once felt endlessly big, both in opportunity and size, and how it now felt suffocating. You think about, So you’re just giving up? Is that what you’re saying? Think about, I don’t know what else to do. It doesn’t feel fair to you.

You think about all the places you’ve watched him. On countless football pitches; shy glances in school hallways; in the passenger seat, wracked with nerves on the drive to Seoul; poised above you in bed, hairline dotted with sweat as he rolled his hips, telling you how much he loved you.

You think about watching him walk out the door, and how you never watched him again.

So you fire off your email, concise and to the point about why you can’t tutor Choi Seungcheol in Introduction to Microeconomics, and turn to Lee Chan, Sophomore.

“No,” you finally answer. “Never heard of him.”

For all intents and purposes, your rejection should’ve been the end of it.

A few days go by. You hold office hours, attend lectures, work on your thesis when you have both the time and the energy. Try to ignore the feeling of bees beneath your skin, anxiety needling each time you check your email. You were well within your right to decline the tutoring request, but you can’t help but feel like you’ve done something wrong. That someone somehow knows who Seungcheol was to you and will pull you up on it. That those girls who’d gushed about him to Chan are somewhere laughing at your expense.

But you don’t hear anything at all about it… until you do.

Sunday evening. You haven’t moved from your couch in hours, some variety show playing in the background, barely audible over your keyboard clacking. Much to your detriment, you don’t write many papers these days, so you’re out of practice. Feels like you haven’t done anything besides formulas in years, all of your academic knowledge reduced to fucking math, so you’re about ready to toss your laptop out the window long before the email even comes through.

You see, From: Lee Yeonseok. You see, Subject: Choi Seungcheol - Tutoring.

Your stomach plummets to the floor.

You scan the body quickly. You see the words personal favor… friend of his father… urgent matter… and your hands start shaking. Whether it’s from the sheer audacity of this man or anxiety, you aren’t sure, but it’s not like it matters. There aren’t a whole lot of people on campus brave or dumb enough to go up against him twice.

“Motherfucker,” you spit, bitter the only taste in your mouth.

Where did you go wrong to wind up here? You’d followed the script: got the grades, passed the exams, received half of the required education for the Respectable Career, helped a few others along the way chase dreams that may or may not have been their own. You’d fallen in love. Only had a broken heart to show for it, but that’d been in the script, too: The First Love, followed by The First Heartbreak.

The split from Seungcheol was supposed to have been the end of that chapter. You’d planned on never seeing him again, and you never would have, had it been up to you. Apparently the universe has other plans, participation required.

“Did you spill onion dip on the rug again?” You startle, sending your laptop flying. Kaori, your roommate, is perched halfway in between the living room and the kitchen like a cryptid, clearly not expecting your reaction. “Oh. Were you watching porn?”

Face burning, you fetch your laptop from the floor. “In a common area? Kaori, please, I have far more decorum than that.”

She snorts, resuming her trek to the fridge. “See, that’s what I thought, but then I walked out here and you threw your laptop so fast it was like watching my ex get caught watching furry porn all over again.” She pries the lid off a large container of yogurt. “You think this is still good?”

“Dunno. What’s it smell like?”

She sniffs it and pulls it back to check the label. “Vanilla, I think, which is concerning because it’s supposed to be strawberry.”

You shrug. “What’s the worst that can happen, you get extra”—you pause, trying to remember the correct order of things, before giving up entirely—“...biotics?”

“Mm, so close. Care if I just eat this with a spoon?”

Nose scrunched, you wave her off. “Couldn’t pay me to eat yogurt on a good day, let alone if it’s expired. All yours, babe.”

Spoon in hand and a pleased smile on her face, Kaori collapses onto the couch beside you. You try to return your attention to your paper, try to find your momentum again, and it works for all of ten minutes before you’re groaning and slamming the top closed.

You don’t even need to look over to know Kaori’s staring. “What’s up with you?” she asks. Before she can answer: “Wait, is this serious? Because I can’t have a serious conversation in this t-shirt.” You steal a glance sideways. Ask Me About My Hemorrhoid! it says, and you exhale loudly. “Don’t breathe at me, I lost a bet.”

“And continued wearing it?”

She jokingly rolls her eyes. “God forbid a girl has hobbies.” Nudges you with her foot. “C’mon, spill.”

Kaori doesn’t know about you and Seungcheol. Most people don’t, aside from a few old classmates from Daegu who found you on social media and tried befriending you once he started making a name for himself in Seoul. After that, it was just easier to keep things private while you were together. New friends knew you were seeing someone but not their name or how long you’d been together. Any curiosity surrounding why the Choi Seungcheol was following you on Insta had been waved away easily. Our parents are friends, we grew up together. Then you broke up, and there wasn’t any evidence to delete, and he wasn’t following you on Instagram anymore, and it was easier that way.

So, yeah—even though you hadn’t met her until years later, Kaori knows you have an ex. She knows you’ve had a few flings and situationships in the time since, too, and it’s why she’s none the wiser when you ask, “It’s nothing, really. Just—do you follow football at all?”

“Nah, not really. The new guy’s pretty into it and keeps trying to get me to watch the games with him, but it’s so fucking boring? I dunno, I can’t get into it. Not in real life, anyway—I binged all of Captain Tsubasa in an embarrassingly short amount of time, though. Why?”

“Student Services asked me to tutor someone the other day and I had to turn it down. I just don’t have the time, you know? This semester’s already killer, and Dr. Ahn’s been riding my ass nonstop about grades. Turns out it’s some football player, so Dr. Lee emailed me asking me to do it as a personal favor, which means, on top of all the other shit I have to do, I’m now tutoring some football player four hours a week in Microeconomics.”

Her face distorts. “God, that guy’s such a prick. Like wow, you’re good at the economy! Good for you! Who cares! Why don’t you go balance the national debt or something instead of torturing university freshmen!”

You also wrongly assume that’s the last you’ll hear of it from Kaori.

Two days later, after Student Services replies to your email with the days and times you’ll be tutoring Seungcheol, she materializes in the living room to harass you.

“You didn’t tell me your football player was Choi Seungcheol.”

The panic is instant. You know how she means it, but it’s not how your body interprets it. All of a sudden it feels like an interrogation, an accusation, and a whopping serving of guilt takes up residence in the middle of your chest for not being entirely honest.

“Explains this weird text Ken sent me.”

She slides her phone over to you, open to her text thread with her current flavor of the week. Beneath an article about Seungcheol enrolling in classes at your school:

doesn’t ur roomie TA there Why are you calling her “ur roomie” like you don’t know her name?? Rude. Also yes. ask her to get me an autograph No babe pls he was my fav player before he got injured No 🙄 fine. can i come over later? Starting to think you’re using me for my roommate. Get your own job 🙄

You hand her phone back. “I didn’t think you’d know who Choi Seungcheol even is.” It’s the best you can do, even though it just digs you a deeper grave. “You said you’re not into football.”

“I’m not, but unfortunately I am into that stupid man.” She sighs, wistful and longing. “Babe, you have to understand. His dick is so big.”

You hadn’t wanted to stay in Seoul for your graduate degree, let alone the same university you’d gone to for undergrad.

You’d applied to schools all over—Japan, Europe, even a few in the States. Romanticized the hell out of NYU, went window shopping for an overpriced apartment, picked a favorite pizzeria based on nothing but vibes and online reviews. In those few months after graduation, there wasn’t a whole lot tying you to Seoul. Your and Seungcheol’s relationship had been old history by then, your parents split. Your dad stayed in your childhood home and your mother moved a few hours closer to her sister. They’d waited until your brother was old enough to be out of the house.

And it’d just been… a lot. Overwhelming. Some days you could barely shower or feed yourself, let alone move halfway across the world, so you’d stayed in the familiar and tried not to let it feel like failure.

But the good thing about familiarity is you learn its tricks, figure out the hiding spots. Early on, your first or second week of grad school, you laid claim to a study room on a floor of the library everyone else ignored. You write notes on the whiteboard with faded blue markers that are still there days later. The chair on the opposite side of the table is always exactly where you left it, the space between it and the table enough to only accommodate you. Sometimes you leave books—old paperbacks littered with notes in your writing—or papers, just to see if they move.

They never do.

And all of this is why it feels like a punch to the gut when that sanctity is tainted. When you’re halfway through a stack of Dr. Ahn’s exams and the doorknob rattles behind you. When you don’t even need to turn around to know who it is, because he still sounds the same, still has that overwhelming presence. You’ve always sensed him before you felt him.

“There you are,” Dr. Lee says, ambling into the room before you can protest. He, too, is overwhelming, just in different ways. Immaculate posture that anchors his slight frame that’s always dressed impeccably and expensively. Wears a watch that’s triple your tuition. Shoes polished so bright they’re nearly blinding. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

This time it is an accusation.

Well, you found me, you want to say, but just knowing Seungcheol is behind him, lingering in that half-study room, half-hallway space, is enough to keep you quiet. Like if you speak you’ll summon him closer and you’ll no longer be able to pretend this is nothing more than a nightmare.

You plaster on a polite smile. Say, “Ah, here I am, kyosu-nim,” and put all your energy into trying to glue Seungcheol to the floor with your mind.

Which is fruitless, because Dr. Lee moves further into the room. Gestures for Seungcheol to follow him with an impatient huff, and the study room is small, sure, and with three people it feels cramped, but that’s not the reason it feels like all the air’s been sucked out of the room.

Seungcheol looks… different. He looks as anxious as you feel, and he sticks close to the wall like he’s trying to disappear. Dr. Lee introduces him with grave importance, unaware of your history, and the forced smile he offers you almost looks embarrassed.

You know Dr. Lee is still hammering away, probably giving you a stern talking-to for rejecting his request the first time, but you can’t tear your eyes away from Seungcheol. Feels like the world around you has reduced to a pinhead, all hyperfocus; feels like your lungs are sucking in stale air one at a time.

“...his father is a very good friend of mine, so I expect…”

You expected to feel nothing. Seungcheol had left to chase his dream—one you’d always been so supportive of that it sometimes felt like your dream, too—and, perhaps naively, you thought the distance and the years would’ve been enough. You expected your heart to have hardened. You expected all those nights you spent crying to hit you at full force. You expected anger, hurt—indifference, at the very least.

“...as many hours per week as you both can manage…”

But you should’ve known better. Should’ve expected the butterflies, the way your palms grow clammy, the way your heart rate spikes. Should’ve expected everything to feel upside-down. You should’ve expected to look at Seungcheol and feel sixteen and in love all over again.

“...you are responsible for his academic progress…”

And that simply will not do. You’ve spent the last few years pulling yourself out of that hole, clawing your way back to something resembling normal. You’ve purged the thought of him from your mind—let his scent fade from your sheets, an old sweatshirt he’d left behind; forgot the way his lips felt against every inch of your skin; forgot the way his entire being lit up when he laughed; forgot the safety he encompassed, the way he whispered all those sweet nothings.

You cannot go there again.

So you roll your shoulders back, smile politely. Say, “Ah, kyosu-nim, Choi Seungcheol-ssi seems very intelligent, I’m sure he is capable of being responsible for his own academic standing, don’t you think?”

Dr. Lee cannot disagree without all but calling Seungcheol an idiot, so he hovers before you in shocked silence. Makes a show of huffing and checking his watch, like he’s all of a sudden remembered he’s late for something and being inconvenienced by this conversation he started, and then he’s halfway out of the library with a terse, “Discuss and figure this out amongst yourselves,” thrown over his shoulder.

You have an entire dramatic exit planned in your head. Gather your things, fake a phone call that makes you sound authoritative and important, and brush past Seungcheol wearing your nicest perfume as if all of this is so far beneath you you can’t even bring yourself to care about it.

Of course, you actually have to brush by him for any of that to happen, and since you’ve already decided you will not go there again, you quickly scribble your email address onto a piece of paper and slide it across the table at Seungcheol, who has steadfastly remained planted just outside the door. “Here’s my email. I don’t have time to discuss this right now.” Seungcheol cocks an eyebrow. You start throwing things into your bag haphazardly. You know you look frantic and affected, but there’s not much you can do about that. “What? Send me a copy of your syllabus and what you want to prioritize. It’ll be easier to get through this if we have a plan instead of winging it.”

He seems to catch on to your distaste because he mirrors it. Scoffs as he rolls his eyes and says, “Yeah, no use spending more time together than we have to,” and if you hadn’t gone years without speaking, you would’ve seen right through it.

But you did, so it stings all the same.

As it typically does, the planet keeps spinning after your run-in with Seungcheol.

You grade Dr. Ahn’s coursework. Try running off your anxiety at the gym, even though it’s pretty good at keeping pace with you these days. You meet Kaori’s maybe-boyfriend sneaking out of your apartment early in the morning and he has the good sense not to mention your ex, but you chalk that up to the mess of hickeys covering his neck and not any sense of social decorum.

Other people’s embarrassment saves you a ton of your own, you’ve come to learn.

Throughout all of this, Seungcheol only emails you once to send you his course syllabus. Doesn’t mention tutoring or provide you with his schedule or ask for yours, so when you’re sitting in a bar with your friends, three or four drinks deep and feeling a little petty, you forward him the original tutoring request and make sure to bold, underline, and highlight the “Recommended Tutoring: High” part for good measure.

He doesn’t take your bait—electronically, at least—but he does show up to your office hours the following Tuesday.

Bag tossed onto the floor, he flops unceremoniously into the chair across from you and says, in lieu of a greeting, “They spelled your name wrong. On the door thing.”

“I know,” you reply, your smile polite and terse. Incredible how he has the ability to raise your blood pressure in milliseconds. “What can I help you with?”

“Depends. How long do you have?”

“Well, considering you’ve shown up to my office hours on time, I’m assuming you already know I’m here every Tuesday and Thursday from four to six. So”—you glance at the clock above the door—“assuming no one comes by who needs my help more than you do, you have approximately one hour and fifty-eight minutes.”

Seungcheol is quiet for a moment as he takes you in. His stare is weighted; it makes you feel a little green around the edges. Clinical and sharp, so far removed from the way he used to look at you. You clear your throat. “I looked over your syllabus. The good news is there’s only a midterm and a final and the rest is problem sets. The bad news is there’s only a midterm and a final so they’re weighted quite heavily. You really need to know this stuff inside-out to have any hope of passing.”

“That’s why you’re here, right? Dr. Lee specifically requested you.”

You huff a breath through your nose. “I’m here as supplemental help. I can’t take your exams or do your readings for you. What else are you taking this semester?”

He sighs, sinking further into the chair, very much playing the part of the heir who has no interest in any of this. Which… is unlike him, you think, if you’re even allowed to. The Seungcheol you knew years ago took everything so seriously. Never clipped corners or took shortcuts. Anyone else would think him a spoiled, petulant child. “Business Accounting and International Trade.”

“Could be worse,” you note. “At least those three courses are tangentially related.”

Seungcheol rolls his eyes. “Easy for you to say. I haven’t taken a fucking math class in years.”

You return it. “You remember how to add and subtract, don’t you?”

“I ruptured my ACL, not my…” He trails off, looking a little embarrassed that he can’t name a part of the—“Brain.”

Whatever you were going to quip back with dies on your tongue. It's the first time Seungcheol has broached the topic of his injury—the first you’re hearing of it at all, actually—and he says it like it’s a joke, like it’s not a thing at all, but the pain is all over his face. The bitterness of the situation he’s found himself in. The unfairness of it all.

And there are so many questions you want to ask that aren’t your place: if it’s fixable, if he’ll ever play again, how he’s coping. But you don’t really need to—you can’t imagine how you’d feel if someone suddenly pulled the rug out from under you. If everything contained within the four walls of your office suddenly disappeared.

Not that the man sitting across from you hadn’t already done that, but.

“Right,” you continue, as if he hadn’t said anything at all. You know Seungcheol—know he wouldn’t want you prodding, sticking your fingers in that particular wound. “I want you to take a look at this,” you say, handing over a printout you have saved from your undergrad tutoring days. “Tell me what looks familiar, what doesn’t; what does and doesn’t make sense.”

He looks down at the paper. Back up at you. Down at the paper again. “What the fuck is this?”

“I—what? Cheol, it’s my old notes on recitation. Surely you’ve already covered this—the syllabus says this is week one stuff.” He looks down at the paper again, and it’s so familiar, watching the life drain entirely from someone’s eyes.

You barely resist the urge to slam your face onto your desk a second time.

You meet Seungcheol at the sports center for your next tutoring session.

He likes the humidity and the smell of the chlorine by the pool. He also likes that it’s not the football pitch, so the two of you sit in the bleachers there and go over his lecture notes. Much to your surprise, Seungcheol talks a mile a minute. Has stars in his eyes when he says he finally understands elastic demand curves, supply shock; tells you he spent a whole hour making flashcards.

It’s the first time you’ve seen him so excited since your tutoring began—the first glimmer of hope you’ve felt since Dr. Lee cornered you in your library hideaway. None of this surprises you. Seungcheol has always been smart, even when football was his primary (and sometimes only) focus. He has more determination and grit than anyone you’ve ever met, so you’re not surprised he’s doing well, excelling, but you are surprised—

“Can I ask you something?” Seungcheol shrugs, shoves half a protein bar in his mouth and swallows without chewing. “Why are you… uh. Here?”

“At this university?”

“Not exactly. I mean, I am wondering about that, but I guess… why business?”

Seungcheol hums. Tucks his good knee to his chest and stares down at the pool. No one’s using it, and truthfully the two of you probably aren’t even allowed to be here, but you understand why he likes it. It’s nowhere near as secluded as the library and definitely not as air conditioned, but it is peaceful. Calm. The water laps against the coping in quiet, small waves.

“Ah, I don’t know. You know how it goes.”

You quirk an eyebrow. Never, in all the years you’ve known him, has Seungcheol done anything he didn’t want to do. All that grit and determination. “What about your father, then? Dr. Lee mentioned this was a favor to him. He’s a pretty important person to have in your Rolodex of favors.”

Doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see what this is: Seungcheol’s father has new money; worked from the bottom up, made some smart investment decisions that finally panned out after Seungcheol left for Seoul. Started doing his own thing, made a name for himself. Last you’d heard from your mother, Seungcheol’s brother was second-in-command. Hell, even your own brother did an internship there.

So you know what this is: a father helping his son after his dream was shattered, life turned upside-down. You can’t blame him, even if you’ve heard the whispers from all the way across campus. That Seungcheol is washed up now, trying to nepo his way into his father’s company because of it; that all he knows is sports and he should’ve stuck to that, what does he know about business, why is he the one Dr. Lee went out of his way to help.

Doesn’t stop any of them from smiling at him, though; doesn’t stop them from asking for autographs or selfies.

But you also know this isn’t something Seungcheol seems willing to discuss, so you crack a joke—“I mean, business. God, who’d wanna go into that?”—and go back to what he was willing to talk about.

You’ve never hated elastic demand curves so much in your life.

Deep in the throes of tutoring—when you can’t tell if it’s week two or week twelve—you make it back to your apartment just before ten, head pounding.

The door flies open just as you’re about to punch in the code, and there stands Ken, looking far more put-off than you’ve ever seen him. Looks defeated, if you’re being honest, like someone mopped up all his emotions and wrung them out like dirty dishwater.

“Oh, hi,” you say hesitantly. The man in front of you seems too much like a caged animal to let your guard down. “Everything okay?”

He aborts a nod halfway. Mutters an apology as he brushes by you and stalks down the hall, disappearing around the corner to the elevators. Usually he’s a talker—you haven’t been able to avoid a Seungcheol-related conversation in weeks—so you’re a little stunned. Stand there stupidly for a while, and that’s where Kaori finds you a moment later.

“You gonna stand out here all night, or…?”

“Oh—yeah, right.”

You follow her inside. Toe off your shoes and put them in the rack. Focus on the sound of the kettle whistling instead of the overbearing tension in the room. Drop your bag off in your room, throw on a sweatshirt three sizes too big and a comfy pair of socks. Rummage through the fridge for leftovers, contemplate what mindless show you’ll watch as you eat, and you do not, under any circumstances, ask Kaori what happened.

You don’t have to. You knew what this was going to be the first time Ken spent the night—the way he looked mortified to be meeting you in the shared kitchen at seven a.m., wearing a look that begged you not to tell your roommate he was sneaking out.

I, uh, have an early class, he’d said. You know how it is.

Maybe you should’ve called him on it then. Issued a warning-but-not-really. She’ll get attached if you don’t tell her. She should know it’s different for you, if it is.

But you’d convinced yourself it wasn’t your place. Kaori wouldn’t want you in her business like that, so you stayed quiet, just nodded before watching him slip his shoes on and close the door behind him so quietly you wouldn’t have known he left at all if you hadn’t been looking. Gone, just like a ghost.

So, yeah, you know exactly why your roommate looks haunted.

“I’m a few episodes behind on this if you want to watch with me,” you offer, pointing at the television with the remote. It’s a lie—you’ve never watched this show a day in your life, which Kaori seems to know—but she contemplates it nonetheless. “Also, my mom mailed us some cookies. I think they’re in the fridge.”

“Why are there cookies in the fridge?”

You huff a laugh. “They were outside the door this morning before I left for campus. I don’t know—just saw who the package was from and was like, oh, this must go in the fridge.”

She nods. Grabs the container and joins you on the couch. Sticks her feet beneath your butt and doesn’t mention a thing.

The closest she comes is a few days later. Catches you right before you head out to campus and asks how tutoring is going.

“Not bad, actually.”

Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes when she says, “That’s good. I’m glad things are going well for you two.”

Lee Chan, Sophomore makes his unexpected return at your office hours on an unsuspecting Tuesday.

“Can I help you?”

He doesn’t answer right away, just helps himself to the seat across from you. “Maybe,” comes his cryptic retort. “I was thinking about signing up for that crypto course next semester.”

You narrow your eyes. “No, you weren’t.”

He sighs. Looks a little panicked, like he can’t believe that didn’t work. “You’re right, you’re right. I, um—I wanted to come say thank you.” He pauses. “You know, for that… email you sent.”

You blink. “No, you didn’t.”

Lee Chan, Sophomore cracks immediately. Thunks his head on your desk and lets loose a pained sound. It nearly sounds like he’s wailing when he says, “I’m sorry! They put me up to it!”

What you’re able to piece together is this: Lee Chan, Sophomore has become a bit of a celebrity in the Student Services department ever since he met you, Choi Seungcheol’s tutor. And, like any smart, previously unpopular university student would do, he took advantage of it. Might’ve stretched the truth a little to make it sound like he knew more than he did, so now here he is, angling for information the girls with the photocards may or may not have paid him to get.

“They want to know about his girlfriend.”

“His what?”

What you’re able to piece together is also this: the Photocard Girls are certain Seungcheol is dating someone, based on little more than vibes. You suspect these vibes are their three degrees of separation, considering there was an abnormal amount of Change of Major files formed after his enrollment, but you tell Lee Chan that you don’t know anything and, even if you did, you wouldn’t put his business out there like that.

But some part of you still has this inexplicable urge to protect Seungcheol, so you match their offer with interest and tell him to say there’s nothing to report—not that you didn’t know, not that he couldn’t get anything out of you. Seungcheol isn’t dating anyone.

You don’t know if it’s true, but you figure that if it isn’t, he still deserves privacy.

Which is a notion you have trouble explaining a few hours later, when Seungcheol strolls into your office with a grease-stained paper bag full of cheese coin bread, offering one to you with a proud smile that drops slowly when you just stare in return.

“What’s wrong?”

Your mouth opens, closes, opens again. Nothing comes out, even though it should be simple. Some sophomore kid was just in here angling for information or the Student Services department is taking bets on whether or not you have a girlfriend would both suffice, but you cannot bring yourself to say the words.

What you settle on is, “Sorry, I just… had an interesting meeting before you got here.”

“Oh. Are you okay?”

You sigh. Tilt your head back to stare up at the ceiling. “It was about you, actually.”

Seungcheol chokes, starts stuttering over words you can’t make sense of. Says, “Me? Why? I passed my last exam—I mean, barely, but I still passed. And that wasn’t your fault! I didn’t study enough! I’ve been losing my mind over my International Trade class, that shit sucks—”

“It wasn’t about your grades, Cheol.”

“Oh.” Then, slowly, a lopsided, pleased smile overtakes his face. “Haven’t heard you call me Cheol in a while.”

“Seungcheol,” you correct.

He seems to forget all about the meeting. Tries again to offer you a coin bread before he threatens to eat them all himself, so you acquiesce mostly to shut him up, say you’ll bring the extras to Kaori. For some reason, you tell him about how much she’d loved the cookies your mom sent, and the nostalgia sets him off, gets him talking again, asking if they were the yakgwa she used to make when you two were kids.

They were, but you can’t seem to tell him that, either.

Seungcheol: sorry it’s last minute - running late. can you meet me at my place instead?

Seungcheol shared a location with you

You’re halfway to replying—I don’t think that’s appropriate—before you sigh and delete it. Midterms are only a few days away and you don’t have time to argue over where your tutoring sessions will be, so if Seungcheol wants to meet at his apartment that’s where you’ll meet him.

You read over the midterm notes on the train. Once, twice, and then a hundred more times until they’re nearly memorized, all so you can ignore the voice in the back of your head saying what a bad idea this is. That you have no business being on your way to your ex’s swanky part of town or integrating yourself into his life beyond tutoring at all. You shouldn’t know where he lives. Maybe you shouldn’t even have his phone number or answer his texts.

Not that there’s much you can do about it now, two stops away.

Seungcheol greets you warmly, if not a little rushed. Apologizes for the mess once you step inside, although it’s less “mess” and more “haven’t finished unpacking,” but there’s enough clear space to study at the dining table, so that’s where you set up, determined to keep things professional.

“Sorry again about this,” Seungcheol says, placing a can of cola in front of you as he takes the seat across. “I had to meet with my father and lost track of time, I guess.”

“Oh. How’s he doing?”

Seungcheol sighs, leans further back in the chair as runs a hand through his hair. A light brown, now. “Same as he always was, I guess. Talked about the business, about my brother. Can’t get him to shut up about that stuff most of the time.”

“The business is doing good, though.” You cough, clear your throat. “My, uh. My brother interned there during undergrad. I don’t know if your father told you that.”

You don’t know why you say it, because it’s clear from the brief flicker of pain on Seungcheol’s face that he hadn’t known, that no one had told him. And it hurts you too that they felt the need to keep it a secret, to protect Seungcheol from you even in tangential ways.

“He didn’t,” he admits, “but I’m sure he was happy to see him. He was, uh—he was glad to hear you’re my tutor. Said you were always smarter than all of us boys combined.”

You laugh. Hope it sounds casual instead of strained. “Well, no need to prove him right. Come on,” you say, tossing a study guide in his direction, “let’s get to work.”

Everything is alright for a while—nearly an hour at least. He has the formulas memorized and attributed to the correct equations. He can explain supply and demand, preference and utility, but things start to fall apart around budget constraints and constrained choice.

The formulas get mixed up. He grows frustrated when he doesn’t know the answers to your questions right away. Rolls his eyes and gets a little snappy when you correct him, try to explain things differently in a way he understands. At first he’s able to temper it, collect himself before things truly start spiraling out of control, but the longer the two of you sit there the more it all unravels.

He snaps, you snap back, and you can’t figure out why. You’ve survived this long in Seungcheol’s orbit even though you never thought you’d be around him again, and perhaps it was bound to explode eventually, but…

It’s the familiarity, you realize.

You and Seungcheol aren’t friends, though you’ve been playing at it for weeks now: meeting outside of the library or your office, the personal conversations bordering on reminiscing, being in his personal space. You don’t belong here. You don’t want to be his friend—you can’t be, not for real or pretend.

“That’s not what I’m say—”

“Then explain it better,” Seungcheol fires at you, eyebrows creasing. “You’re the tutor here.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m trying, okay? All I meant was—your answer isn’t wrong, but I know Dr. Lee and he’s going to want more than that in a response.”

“Right—not good enough, like I said.”

“I’m just asking you to expand on your answer—”

“And I’m telling you that’s all I’ve got. I’m not like you, all right? I don’t have all this shit just floating around in my head all the time. I’m not smart, I barely have any idea what’s going on half the time, and you sitting here being condescending about it is doing fuck-all to help.”

You inhale sharply, taken aback at the hostility in his voice. Suggest calling it for the night, say neither of you will be productive if you keep going like this, and neither of you bother to apologize.

So much of your relationship with Seungcheol was marred by clichés.

The two of you passing notes back and forth during class. You in the bleachers of all his games, screaming along to the team chants, waving a sign around with his name on it. Not realizing you had a crush on him at all until he liked someone else and it made your stomach hurt. Childhood friends turned lovers.

Another cliché: that it’s starting to feel like that all over again.

Seungcheol sits across from you in the library, econ textbook cracked in half in front of him as he pays no attention. Keeps grabbing his phone each time it vibrates across the table. Can’t fight the smile that forces its way onto his face when he reads whatever’s there.

Stupid, you think—both to do this and to think it’d play out any other way. Seungcheol left years ago. Probably lived ten lifetimes while he was away while you were here in this exact spot doing this exact thing. Barely lived half a life, just stuck your nose in textbooks and forced your way through.

“Cheol,” you say, trying to drag his attention back to the study guide. No use. He’s typing away, presses his tongue into the fat of his cheek as he responds. “Seungcheol,” you try again.

Also fruitless.

You have no claim here, you remind yourself—not to his time, not to him. He’s only here because someone else mandated it. You’re only here because someone else mandated it, but it stings all the same. Another reminder of what used to be, of what ended regardless of what you wanted. Another reminder that the role you used to play in his life is not the role you play now. That the space you used to take up created a vacancy, and eventually it was going to be filled.

And if this was anyone other than Seungcheol, if you were more emotionally evolved when it came to him, it wouldn’t gnaw at you as much. All of this would roll off your shoulders.

But it isn’t, and you’re not.

“If you’re not going to listen, then—”

“I am listening,” he interjects, but he’s not looking at you. Not looking at his textbook or his study guide. Keeps laughing and smiling at his phone, and it’s sick how bothered you are by it. That it feels like your stomach’s been turned inside-out with jealousy; with annoyance, because you don’t want to be here anyway, don’t want to do this anymore, and you’re wasting your time on someone who doesn’t appreciate it.

Perhaps he never did.

“What are we discussing, then?”

Still not looking up: “Consumer theory.”

You laugh—more a huff of air than anything, grin sardonically out of one corner of your mouth. Seungcheol sees none of it. “Wrong,” you answer, already expecting the way he shrugs it off. “I’m gonna skip ahead a few chapters, though. Consider it a freebie for your business class.”

It must be your tone that finally grabs his attention. Cutting, precise, purposeful. Seungcheol lowers his phone, quirks an eyebrow, wonders where this is going to go. It’s clear he’s pissed you off, that you’re itching for a fight. It’s clear the years of silence are finally coming to a head.

“Let’s talk about ROI. You know what that is?” You barely give him a second. “Return on investment. A performance measure used to evaluate the efficiency of an investment or compare the efficiency of several investments. So, let’s say I make one-hundred-thousand won on a ten-thousand won investment: my ROI is 90%. Are you following?”

He nods.

“Great, now let’s try something a bit more hypothetical.” You suck in a breath. “Let’s say I invest years of my adolescence into someone. A friend at first and then something more. Let’s say I played cheerleader, supported every hope and dream he had—went to every game, cheered him on, helped him practice his English. Held his hand and talked him down when the pressure felt overwhelming, when the only thing that felt inevitable was failure. Now, let’s say all I got in return was a stuttered, awkward apology as he dumped me and walked out the door. Let’s say that guy showed up again after years of silence just to once again waste my fucking time.”

The thing about pain is it’s not linear. What hurt five, ten years ago might not hurt today, but it might tomorrow; what hurt yesterday may never hurt again. The thing about pain is it lets you stick your head in the sand until it can’t anymore, and that’s where you are now: that window of time between Seungcheol walking out the door on the assumption you’d never see him again before he bulldozed his way back into your life has been slammed closed, locked up tight.

So you don’t even notice you’re crying until the room goes deathly silent and you can hear the drip drip drip of tears on paper. Until you watch Seungcheol’s hands flex and unflex in mid-air, stuck in that liminal space, wanting to reach out but knowing he has no right to. Until your chest aches so bad you’re sure you’re either about to break into stardust or cease to exist.

Until you say, “What, Choi Seungcheol, would you say my fucking return on investment was?” and he has nothing to say at all.

Kaori invites you to a party.

Just something small to celebrate the end of midterms and a classmate’s birthday. Nothing out of control or raucous, not even the kind of thing that’d earn a second glance from campus security. I won’t even make fun of you if you leave before eleven, is how she sold it to you, in addition to a small amount of begging and bargaining and a powerful set of puppy-dog eyes.

After everything the two of you have been through, you find it hard to say no.

So here you are, nearly eleven o’clock on a Friday, a cup of cheap beer in hand. A friend of a friend of a friend is wailing into a karaoke machine and although your ears are bleeding, it does feel nice for that to be your greatest worry. You aren’t thinking about your classes or how you’ve been prioritizing everyone else’s academic success. You aren’t thinking about whatever’s going on between Kaori and Ken. You aren’t thinking about Seungcheol.

At least you aren’t, until he walks through the door.

You’re going to continue not thinking about him at all—not about the fact he’s alone or how good he looks in a simple black T-shirt that’s a little taut in the shoulders. You’re not going to think about the way the air shifts, like the universe knows he’s important and is willing to accommodate. You’re not going to think about how Kaori catches your eye across the room, recognizes him from all her internet searches, and the way she mouths oh my god he’s so beefy at you.

You’re not going to think about how guilty you feel that she doesn’t know, because if you do you’re certain it’ll take over.

You watch Seungcheol work the room; watch as he floats between conversations, as strangers fall over themselves at the sight of him. How eager everyone is to give him something and how reluctant he is to take them. You watch as he winds up in the same circle as Kaori and how she must mention you, oh, your tutor is my roommate, because there’s a question in return before he turns and meets your gaze.

You wonder why the distance between you feels more insurmountable now than ever before.

Seungcheol finds you in your office.

It’s not a Tuesday or a Thursday, far later than four to six in the evening, but he doesn’t even bother knocking before he’s barreling in, stifling your space with his bad energy.

You haven’t seen him in nearly two weeks. Not since the party, if that even counts. Hasn’t bothered to reply to any of your texts or emails, and that was just fine by you, if that’s how he wanted to act, but it isn’t until he’s brooding on the other side of your desk that you realize you’re still aggrieved, too. Feels a little too familiar, him leaving you behind and in the dark.

So you don’t mean to—typically have much more professionalism than this—but when he tosses a stapled stack of papers with a barely-passing grade on your desk and says, “This is your fault,” the words come automatically and without forethought.

“Fuck off, Seungcheol.” It’s not your words that take him by surprise; more so the roll of your eyes, the accompanying huff. The impression that all of this is beneath you and nothing more than a mere annoyance. That however affected you were two weeks ago is not how affected you are anymore. “That’s what happens when you blow off your tutoring for two weeks because you’re a coward.”

He laughs, incredulous; unable to help the sound the tumbles out of his mouth. “I’m a—I’m a coward?”

“Yes,” you reply, tone giving away nothing. All he sees is feigned nonchalance despite the hurricane you feel brewing beneath the surface. “This,” you continue, pinching the corner of the paper between your fingertips and disposing of it in the trashcan beneath your desk, “is all on you, but do please let me know if there’s anything else you’d like to blame me for. I’m all ears.”

You don’t miss it: the way Seungcheol’s eyes grow wide at your ‘I’m all.’ The way he thinks you’re going to punctuate that sentence with yours, and it nearly has bile rising in your throat. Makes you want to scream, rip at your hair. If the last few months have taught you anything, it’s that you are still hopelessly in love with the man across from you—the man that continues to leave before he’s left, always at your expense.

So, yeah—Seungcheol is a coward, but only when it comes to you.

But he doesn’t look much like one now, gripping so hard at the edge of your desk that his knuckles have gone white, baseball cap pulled down low enough his eyes are barely visible. He’s always been overwhelming, always carried himself with an exaggerated arrogance even when it wasn’t warranted, always took everything so seriously, and maybe that’s why you’d thought he’d treat you the same way. Take you seriously. Wouldn’t just throw it all away on a maybe thing, and that’s why it's been years and you still aren’t over it.

Maybe Seungcheol is a coward, and maybe so are you.

Because not once since he’s been back have you been able to say what you mean. Can’t seem to tell him about the anger, the hurt, the heartbreak. Played it all off as petty nonchalance because you foolishly thought that would hurt him, that you’ve been reduced to simmering ash, no hope left for a fire.

“I could never blame you for a goddamn thing,” he says, voice so deep you could drown in it.

You so desperately want to know. You don’t want to know anything at all. You want Seungcheol to explain everything to you in detail and spoil the ending, but only if it’s guaranteed to be happy. Enduring another loss like the first time—you’re not sure you can take it. Not after you two have crossed paths like this, because you’ve never quite believed in fate but you think that has to mean something. That so much time and life had transpired and you two came back together.

Today, though, it doesn’t look like you’re going to get any answers.

Seungcheol straightens, looms at full height. Digs into the pocket of his sweatpants and pulls out a thumb drive. Wordlessly, he hands it over, and then he’s gone just as abruptly as he’d arrived.

Again.

Kaori wants to spend the weekend moping, and you can’t come up with a good reason not to join her.

She doesn’t mention Ken once. Not when she’s sobbing over A Silent Voice and Toradora! after that. Not when she keeps glancing at her phone every couple minutes to see if she has any texts. Not when you—only halfway paying attention between grading and your own assignments—suggest ordering something for delivery, maybe that new burger place down the street you heard was good, and Kaori shuts it down so vehemently you can only assume it was Ken’s favorite place.

Kaori just cries over the man with the big dick she never expected to take so seriously, and not even your stonewalling makes her feel ashamed of it.

And there’s respectability in that kind of openness and vulnerability. At least whatever she’s feeling is honest; at least she can admit she’s sad. You think watching Kaori process her breakup might help you process yours too, years too late, so you suck in a breath and ask, “Can I tell you something or is now not a good time?”

Kaori looks over at you. Dabs a soggy tissue at her eyes. “Well, I guess it depends,” is her answer, and she doesn’t shy away from how waterlogged her voice sounds. “If you’re going to tell me you’re a Takasu and Kawashima shipper, maybe, but if it’s anything worse I’m not sure I could take it.”

“I—what? Who even are they?” She gives you a half-hearted thumbs up. You sigh in response, sink further into the couch. “It’s, uh.” Clear your throat. “Do you remember when we met sophomore year? At that party? And I told you I wasn’t looking for anything and you said, and I quote, why not, I have a sixth sense for this kind of thing and I know that guy will have a huge—”

She hides her face behind her hands. “Ew, god, yes I remember that. My dick whisperer era. How embarrassing.”

“Right. And I told you I wasn’t looking for anything because I’d just gotten out of something.”

“Not really by choice, if I remember correctly. I told you if it was quiet it should’ve been loud, and then you never talked about it again.”

You nod. “I—yeah, that sounds like something I would’ve said.” You suck in a deep breath. “Listen, this is probably gonna sound bad considering I did never talk about it again, but—”

“Hey,” Kaori says, nudging you with her foot. Meant to be comforting, somehow. “It’s okay. There’s a lot you don’t know about me, too… most of which I’m not sure you should, actually.”

A laugh forces its way out, gives you a nice reprieve from the anxiety of the conversation you’re about to have. The need to explain it all, the need for advice. Maybe it’s not her—or anyone else’s—business, but you think you’ve kept this to yourself long enough. You and Seungcheol loved each other, once, and it seems foolish that no one knows.

Maybe Kaori had been right. Maybe love should be shouted from the rooftops; exist out in the open. Maybe something hidden in the shadows can never thrive in the light, and you knew it back then, deep down, but now it seems so obvious.

You think back to a few days before the library. Think about how things didn’t feel good but they felt okay. Think about the frustrated crease between Seungcheol’s eyebrows as he stared down at his textbook and how all you’d wanted to do was smooth it. Think about how you’d rolled your lips and tried not to laugh; how you thought it’d take a miracle to help Seungcheol pass this class.

Think about: What is the difference between the short-run and the long-run from the perspective of production theory?

Think about the short-run of your and Seungcheol’s relationship—that you’d burned bright and fast, even though it’d felt like a million years. Hadn’t dared to consider the long-run because anything beyond that bubble felt impossible.

Think about: Which of the following is not a property of isoquants?

Think about the way Seungcheol’s eyes lit up when he knew the answer. That they’re always linear, he said, and you smiled at his enthusiasm, raised your hand to high-five him and dropped it when he hadn’t noticed.

You think about the explanation—isoquants can be linear when inputs are perfectly substitutable—and what those graphs look like. Downward sloping, left to right. Think about how the graphs change when the isoquants are perfect complements.

L-shaped. Less straight as the inputs become poorer substitutes.

You know what your and Seungcheol’s graph would’ve looked like back then.

So it’s easy, almost, to tell Kaori everything. You tell her about growing up in Daegu, about the smell of the azaleas at Biseulsan in the spring. You tell her about how your parents had befriended the neighbors, how they had a kid your age, that that kid was Seungcheol—yes, that Seungcheol.

She’s able to anticipate the rest from there, but you fill in the blanks of what she can’t: being sixteen and falling in love, holding hands, the clandestine notes. All those football matches and how your throat would be hoarse from cheering. How nauseous you’d felt applying to university in Seoul, how excited you were when Seungcheol said he was coming with you. That, after you arrived, it felt like you were living in fast-forward. Barely any time to breathe or adjust; no time to just be you and Seungcheol. You had to be a student, someone responsible; Seungcheol had to be a phenom.

“Could you feel it was going to happen?” Kaori asks, now sat ramrod straight, all her attention on you. “Like, did you know?”

“I don’t know,” you admit. “Maybe I did? It’s hard to say now, all this time later. I know things definitely felt different, like life was pulling us in opposite directions.” You laugh, bitterness coloring the edges. “You couldn’t go two blocks without seeing him on some billboard, and I was just… normal, you know? I wasn’t some rising star athlete like he was, I just went to my classes. How was I supposed to compete with something like that?”

Your roommate hums, leans back into the pillows as she stares up at the ceiling. “I don’t think you were. Maybe that’s why Seungcheol was worried—maybe he felt like you were losing your own identity feeling like you had to keep up.”

You want to push back, argue that you weren’t, that you didn’t, but the truth is that it’s possible. That the shadows created by Seungcheol’s dreams were so massive you wouldn’t be surprised if they unintentionally swallowed you up. “It still wasn’t his choice to make,” you say, voice barely above a whisper.

And Kaori already knows all about your hurt, listened as you explained it all and laid everything bare. So when she says, “Sometimes that’s just how it goes, though, babe,” it doesn’t feel condescending. “We do the best we can with what we’ve got at the time. You can say now it wasn’t Seungcheol’s choice to make, because it’s been almost five years and you’ve made a life for yourself separate from him. But the—god, this is gonna sound so patronizing, I am so sorry—but you guys were so young. No one has it all figured out at that age.”

She snorts, runs a hand through her messy hair. “Shit, I’m nearly halfway to thirty and I still don’t know anything.” Adopts a frown. “What do you want now? Do you want closure? Want to try to fix things and become friends?”

“I don’t know,” you admit, biting at a hangnail. “He actually, um. The other day when he stopped by my office, he left me a USB drive? And before you ask, no I did not already look at it.”

“A USB drive? Who does this guy think he is, James Bond?” A pause. “Are you gonna look at it, though?”

You do.

Not until the silver, midnight light creeps in through your bedroom curtains and you’ve stared at the ceiling long enough; waited long enough for texts that never came, for divine intervention to, well, intervene. It never did—fair enough—so you decide to take fate by the reins. Grab your laptop, instant headache from the screen, stick the drive into the port.

It takes a second for it to load, but when it does: dozens of videos, organized by date. Vlogs, by the look of them—some from before your breakup but the majority of them from after.

You’re not sure what you expected, but it wasn’t this.

You click on the first one: a month and a half before both of you moved to Seoul. A fresh-faced Seungcheol appears on your screen, cheeks still round with adolescence. He’s in his room back in Daegu, can’t get the camera angle right. Nostalgia hits you like a ton of bricks as it pans to the side, to the wall behind his bed, and you see all his old posters. Mostly football players you couldn’t name, some girl group he used to love, a few movies. Just below them are some of the notes you’d written him in school, and they’re all you can focus on as he talks about how excited he is for the move.

The next: a few weeks after you’d started classes. By then, Seungcheol was well into the swing of things with Seoul FC. Already a big fish in a small pond, tryout offers from European teams starting to roll in. You can hear yourself in the background stressing over your first exam, wishing a generational curse upon your calculus professor. In the video, Seungcheol laughs, whispers like he’s telling the camera a secret as he talks about how nervous he is for his future. I don’t know why, he says, but it just feels like everything is about to change.

There’s a long pause between that one and the next. You understand why when you look at the date: three months after your breakup. Your hands hover uselessly above your keyboard. Whatever answers you’ve been looking for the last few years are probably in this video, but you can’t bring yourself to open it. Not right away, at least.

You click on a different one at random. Seungcheol’s somewhere in Europe, judging from the language on the signs behind him. Snow falls quietly—whenever he filmed this, it must’ve been early. No one else is around, and he cracks a joke that it’s a good thing, people would probably think he was crazy if they saw him. He doesn’t tell you where he’s going but he narrates the entire walk: points out a cafe he’s grown to love. The way to get to his practice stadium from where he’s standing. Pauses near a restaurant and laughs ruefully, shakes his head, says, I don’t know why I’m telling you this, but one of my teammates set me up on a blind date here and I got stood up. You’d probably think that was funny.

(You do. It also makes your chest ache.)

One from two years ago: Seungcheol in a hotel room, clearly nervous. He raises his hand to wave at the camera and you can see the corners of his nails bitten raw. Dark circles beneath his eyes; cheekbones more pronounced than you’ve ever seen them. On the screen, Seungcheol sighs, rakes a hand through freshly-bleached hair. Sucks in a deep breath as he says, I’m so nervous. I’m so—so fucking nervous and I don’t. Fuck, I don’t know what to do. I want to call you because you always knew what to say but that’s so fucking selfish. God, we haven’t spoken in years, and it’s my—that’s my fault, I know, so I brought this all on myself. I just want to hear your voice.

Another from a week after that: the color’s returned to his face, and he’s recording from what looks like a penthouse apartment. Sleek, modern; a small white dog napping on the bed beside him. He smiles, looks like he got his teeth fixed, looks like he’s no longer carrying around the weight of the world. Talks endlessly and excitedly about some tournament. Talks so fast you can barely keep up. Talks around words tinged with languages you don’t understand.

Seungcheol wins a championship. Records a drunk vlog from the same night, hair soaked through with god-knows-what—water, champagne, you don’t know. But he looks radiant. Looks like the culmination of two decades of dreaming. He looks happy, free, at peace. He looks like the reason he let you go, why he had to go away.

You scroll to the bottom of the files. Pause at the last video, dated seven months before the term started.

“Hi,” he says, and you can immediately tell everything is all wrong. Seungcheol’s in the dark, face only visible enough to see the tears tracking on his cheeks. “This is going to be the last one of these I make. I don’t know if you, uh—I’m sure you aren’t paying attention to me—my career—anymore, but. I, um. I got hurt. Ruptured my ACL. They’re not sure I’ll…” A sob escapes him. Has you wanting to climb through the screen to hold him, thumb away his tears, tell him everything is going to be okay. “They don’t know if I’ll ever play again.”

Seungcheol no longer looks happy, free, at peace. “Maybe you’ll be happy to hear that,” he continues. “Maybe it’ll help you to know I threw away our relationship for nothing.”

Cut to black.

The sudden silence is deafening. Has you desperately clicking back to the video you’d skipped, the one from just after your breakup. Seungcheol looks the same in that one, too, like the life has been drained out of him.

I don’t know why I’m doing this. It’s not like I’ll ever show these to you now, since I…

I’m sure I owe you an explanation. To be honest, I don’t know what I’m doing, I just—things have been so hard, and I’m still trying to make sense of it all. I feel like my life went from zero to a hundred before I could even blink and now I’m scrambling. I didn’t think it was fair to—to drag you through that. Me being away, moving to an entirely different continent. I have faith we could do it, I just. I don’t know, baby, I don’t…

You deserve to have your own life. Be your own person. I’m so scared that the world will never see you for who you are—so beautiful and intelligent and kind. You don’t deserve to be reduced to my partner. And if you ever see this, I know you’re gonna roll your eyes. Probably call me a mean name because I took the choice away from you, because you think I’m trying to be selfless and heroic, and you’d be right. It’s not fair, and I wish I could tell you I’m sorry.

I wish I could just… pluck out my brain and give it to you, because even if it killed me to do it, at least it makes sense to me. And I don’t—I don’t want you to think I’m not hurting. I’ve been sick to my stomach since I left. I know I’m making a mistake, I know I am, I just—how do I do what I think is right in the long-run when it’s not what I want right now, or ever?

I don’t want to get over you. I don’t want you to get over me, and that’s how you know I’m not acting selflessly, because you should. I want you to always be happy, I just… wish it was with me.

So, I’m going to keep making these. I’m going to take you along for the ride, wherever it takes us, because you should be here but I can only hope you can one day understand why you’re not. I’m so—I’m so sorry, I don’t…

I’m sorry.

I love you.

You fall asleep and dream that you were the one meant to meet him at that restaurant.

The first thing you do is make a call to your mother.

“Could you send another container of yakgwa?”

On the other end of the line, your mother tuts, motherly intuition audibly kicking into overdrive. Is probably wearing that all-knowing, sly grin she always does when you try to be coy and evasive. “What happened to the last container I sent?”

“Ah, you know Kaori loves those. They barely lasted an hour after I told her what was in there.”

She hums an acknowledgement. Sounds like she takes a sip of tea. “I remember someone else being quite fond of those cookies, too.”

“Well, they are the most popular cookies in the country, so.”

After haranguing you into admitting they’re for Seungcheol and not your roommate, your mother promises to send them quickly. A few days at most, which buys you enough time to figure out how you’re going to approach the man in question.

The vlogs have turned your entire world upside-down. Answered questions you hadn’t even known you had. Took all that anger and resentment you’d been holding onto and set it free, and now you’re just left with… a void. Want to mend things, and it makes you wonder if such a thing is even possible, if it’s too late, but you don’t let those thoughts get very far.

Instead, you let them spur you into action. Have you sitting in front of your laptop at your desk, office hours long since over, silence creeping in the more the department empties. The thrum of the airconditioning and the tick-tick-tick of the clock are all the only company you have.

You worry if it’ll show on camera, how out of sorts you feel: sweating from the nerves, dabbing at your hairline; cheeks warm to the touch. But you suck in a breath anyway, steel yourself. Look at your webcam and the daunting red circle…

And start recording.

He hadn’t gotten it at first. Not really.

There’d been a container of yakgwa outside his door with his USB drive taped to the top of it. No note—not that he needed one to know who it was from, but he wasn’t sure what it was. A goodbye? A please fuck off forever and never contact me again?

He’d just taken them inside. Ate too many of the cookies while feeling sorry for himself. Maybe had a glass or two of wine to compound the issue, and never, ever considered contacting you. Didn’t think he could bear it if you never wanted to see him again, but he just…

Well, he was drunk and alone and he missed you, and he’d rewatched all those videos he recorded a million times before when he was like this, so what was a million and one?

It’d been the same as every time before: he smiled at the happy parts, cried at all his old wounds. Wanted to reach through the screen and strangle his past self for including that part about the blind date, because he never wanted to date anyone who wasn’t you, why would he say that, felt mortified at the thought of you watching that—

And then there it was.

All the way at the bottom. A new video. One that hadn’t been recorded by him—

Hi, Cheol, you say, and that’s all it takes to reduce him to a sobbing, yearning mess. I’m not sure what to say here. I don’t really record much—sometimes for lectures when the professors are too busy, but never anything personal like this, but I watched every single one you made for me and I thought I should return the favor.

I wanted to tell you everything I’ve been up to since you left, but it hasn’t been much. I got my degree. Tutored a lot in undergrad—the same thing I’m tutoring you in now, actually. I was good at it and it felt good to have something that was mine, you know? I almost moved for grad school. Thought for a while I was going to wind up in New York, but then my parents divorced and it felt like too much, too scary, so I stayed. Kaori also stayed, so we got an apartment together. It’s not much, definitely not as nice as your place, but it’s good enough.

I don’t think I ever told you, but she was seeing a guy for a bit and he was… obsessed with you, to say the least. Thought you were the coolest person in the world. They aren’t seeing each other anymore. Ended pretty badly, but—speaking of which, maybe steer clear of Student Services for a while, too.

Sometimes it felt like failure that I wound up staying here. That I had scholarships from all these far-away, prestigious places and didn’t take advantage of them. That I gave into my fear. And now… I don’t know. Maybe there’s a reason I stayed behind. Maybe there’s a reason you ended up back here, too.

Whatever happens—I don’t want you to think I still blame you. Kaori says we do the best we can with what we’ve got at the time, and I understand now that’s what you did. Even though it hurt me, you were trying to protect me. I get it now. And I’m sorry you had to go through all of that alone. I can’t imagine how hard it must’ve been to go to all these places you didn’t know. To have to deal with your injury, the loss of a dream.

You said in one of your videos that you just want me to be happy, and that’s all I want for you, too, whatever that looks like.

Here’s my address if you ever want to come by to talk.

I love you, too.

—and then he’d been up and out the door, feeling stone cold sober, running to the front of his building to wait for his ride.

Felt like the drive took hours. Must’ve hit every red light between his apartment and yours. Took the steps two at a time just to get to your door faster.

There’s a man already standing outside your door when he gets there. One that looks shocked to see him, stars in his eyes, and when Seungcheol says, “Oh, you must be Kaori’s ex,” he looks more like he wants the earth to swallow him whole. Embarrassed in front of his idol.

He knocks on your door and gets no response. Knocks again, harder this time, and he has to try really hard to stifle his laughter when your voice yells from the inside, “Fuck off, Kenji, I already told you she’s not here!”

“It’s me,” Seungcheol yells back.

There’s quiet again. Just enough time for it to feel like his heart is going to beat right out of his chest and follow Kaori’s ex down the hall.

Then you’re yanking the door open—slowly, so slowly, like you’re scared it’s not actually him. Your eyes are brimming with tears when they meet his own, and he doesn’t let himself think, just goes on instinct, when he grabs for you, hands on your cheeks, and presses his lips to yours.

Somehow you taste the same.

Somehow you taste like redemption.

You taste like home.

Seungcheol kisses you until the tears slow. Kisses you until the universe realigns, until he could map your mouth in the dark. Kisses you until all you’re all he knows again.

When he pulls away, you’re gripping at his sweatshirt, don’t want to let him go. He presses his forehead to yours, offers up a million more apologies, starts talking nonsense. Says he’s going to drop microeconomics, what the hell does he know, he barely has a passing grade anyway, what does it matter, he’s such an idiot—

And then you say, “You came back,” and nothing else matters.

“I always will.”

(Later on, as you’re trying to steady your breathing, slick with sweat, your thigh thrown over Seungcheol’s hip as he stares down at you, dopey smile on his face, you say, “Choi Seungcheol, don’t you dare drop that class. I have worked my ass off to get you to barely-passing.”)

if you’ve made it this far thank you so much for reading! i am still very new at writing for seventeen, so i hope this was acceptable. i'm now going to throw myself into the warped tour vernon fic and will hopefully not go another 7+ months without posting anything. 😭

i would love to hear your thoughts! <3

44&46 with cheol omg

hi, hun 💜 i decided to pick one, hope you are okay with it!

44. kiss out of lust (choi seungcheol)

tw: a tiiiiny bit suggestive

seungcheol is a modern 21st century man, who is all for women rights, tries to be politically and socially aware of all important conversations and acts with his head not with his manhood. he takes pride in all of that, but this pride gets thrown out of the window when you walk out wearing something that turns him into a cave man with only one thought in his mind. worst thing is how you don't even do it on purpose and seungcheol has to act like his usual self, when his mind is somewhere in the gutter and his hands are itching to be not so gentlemanly with you.

'cheollie? are you listening?' you ask, frowning a little. 'you seem a bit out of it.'

that's cause i am and you are the reason is on the tip of his tongue but he holds it back. he kinda wants to go and take a cold shower now, but it's impossible to do when you both are at the birthday party of a mutual friend. and he's supposed to be mingling cause he hasn't seen some people here in a while, but how can he leave your side when you look like that?

'seungcheol?' you wave your hand in front of his face and lean closer, looking worried now. 'babe, is everything fine?'

he blinks. god, a man can have some weaknesses, can't he? 'can you please come with me to the corridor?' he asks in a raspy voice, knowing that you won't think anything special of this request.

'sure-sure, let's go,' you quickly stand up, glancing at him worriedly. 'it's so stuffy in here, you probably feel off because of it.'

you hurriedly push him to the corridor and once you close the door behind yourself, it's him who's hurriedly pushing you right on the wall, crowding you in a narrow space with no chance to escape. before you can even get surprised, seungcheol crashes his mouth on yours, finally giving in to the lust that's been eating him up inside since the moment you stepped out of your apartment in this dress. it's the i want you so much and god, you are unbelievable all in the kiss and your quiet whimpers are not helping him get sane at all. he can't come back to his normal self when he's feeling your body this close, when your hands are on his chest, when you let him kiss you deeper, dirtier-

'cheol,' you pull back, gasping. 'birthday-'

'fucking hell,' he mutters, ready to just ditch everyone but knowing very well that you won't ever let him do this. he tries anyways. 'let's go home?'

'choi seungcheol,' you try to act strict but blush on your cheeks and rapidly rising chest work against you. 'we're not going home, we're returning back to our friends.'

'fine.' seungcheol leans in and kisses you once more for a good measure and to be more or less okay. 'but we're not staying for long. one hour max and even that is generous of me.'

you agree, pecking his lips one more time and moving back to the room. god, it's gonna be one long ass hour.

Hello can i get number 6 from the prompt with S.Coups after having an argument. Thanks 🩷

hi, honey!💜 thanks for the request, hopefully you will like it!

6. kiss of a falling tear (choi seungcheol)

when you voice wavers seungcheol knows he lost. and not in way like this is some stupid contest with winners and losers, but lost in a way of losing all will to go on with this argument. he hates them in the first place, but they are inevitable especially at the start of any relationships, so he sucks it up and tries to push through as gently as he can; which he's obviously not succeeding at, judging by your broken expression. what seungcheol hates the most about arguments is how they strip him down to his insecurities, the ones he's not ready to show to anyone and the ones he very much wants to hide from you. but you are you and even under few months you got under his skin so deep that being in the room with you and your tear filled eyes makes him want to swing himself to the wall.

'babe,' he calls in a tired voice because he is tired and this should end now, fuck, he can't stand seeing you like this. 'come here.'

you sniffle and his heart aches at this sound. uncertain, you take few steps towards him, stopping right at the arm length. 'you don't have to be like this with me,' you whisper, rubbing at your eyes. 'i'm- i'm not like them.'

seungcheol nods, ruffling his hair. he knows, he knows. he knows it all but sometimes it's so hard to act exactly the way he thinks is right, the way he knows is right. old habits die hard. 'i'm sorry, sweets.' he says instead, slowly reaching out for you. 'i really am. come to me, please?'

he needs to have you close or seungcheol fears he might break down. you wait for few moments during which his heart doesn't beat but then take his hand and let yourself fall into his arms, silently crying. knowing that he's the reason of your tears hurts seungcheol more than he can explain because it's so wrong - he's supposed to only bring you joy and happiness, not tears. taking a hold of your chin, he gently makes you lift your head and kisses away your tears, stopping right at your eyelids. 'i'm sorry,' he repeats, kissing your tear striken eyes. 'i'm so sorry, my love. it won't happen again, okay? i promise. it won't.'

pretty please (love me) || c.sc

Seungcheol knows he can't force you to say the eight words he wants to hear, but seeing you avoid the topic entirely makes him wonder if he's done something wrong, or worse... Do you regret being with him?

🍒 Pairing: Seungcheol x Reader (f) 🍒 Rating/Genres/AUs: PG13; Angst, fluff; Established relationship, Pretty Please couple 🍒 Warnings: None, but lmk 🍒 Word Count: 1.2k 🍒 Author’s Note: Can be read as a standalone. This is just something I've had in mind after writing "rid your worries". It's short, but I wanted to give some insight on this topic 🤭 😉

pretty please masterpost | seventeen masterlist | main masterlist

this blog is 18+. minors do not interact. plz & ty! (ageless/minors/blanks blogs will be blocked)

The room’s dark except for the TV.

Seungcheol has an arm around your shoulders while the other rests on your legs that are across his lap. Your head leans on his body, watching the movie fading to black and cueing the ending credits. You both sit quietly as you let the music fill the silence.

“Are you happy with me?”

Seungcheol’s abrupt question makes you shift to look at him. The TV light casts him in a glow of various colors.

“That was random,” you comment. “Did the movie make you sappy?”

Your teasing smile fades when you realize Seungcheol isn’t humoring your question.

“You’re serious?” you ask, but it’s a mix between a question and a statement.

“Yeah,” he mumbles and glances at the TV again.

“Where did that come from?” you ask.

He sighs and gently untangles himself from you, removing your legs from his lap. He grabs the remote and plunges you both into silence by muting the TV. He cards his fingers through his locks like he’s seriously troubled.

Your hand starts to lift to grab his but stops. You drop it and adjust the blanket you have instead.

“Yes, I’m happy. Are you?” you wonder, heart racing with the possibility of him feeling otherwise. Your fight or flight response tingles in your veins. Surely, this isn’t the beginning of a breakup speech. You’re just overthinking.

“Yes, but,” he starts to say. His two-second pause is enough to make your toes twitch with a need to run. Your heart clenches painfully in anticipation.

“I just feel like I’m not doing enough.”

Your lips dip down. You know you’re not the most affectionate, or when you are, it’s not normally you who initiates it, but you thought Seungcheol knows it’s just because you’re not used to it.

At least that’s what you’ve been telling yourself.

You stare at Seungcheol and see the sadness in his eyes. You slowly realize just how much words mean to him.

You hesitantly reach out. When he doesn’t pull away, you intertwine your fingers.

“You are,” you urge. “I’m sorry I’ve made you feel that way.”

“It’s just,” he trails off like he’s not sure if he wants to continue.

“What is it, Cheol?” you ask gently, still nervous for his response.

He heaves a sigh and stares down at your clasped hands.

“I love you,” he says and raises his head to meet your gaze. “I love you and it’s been nearly four months since we’ve gotten together, and I haven’t been able to tell you that. Any time I’ve tried, you’d cut me off. I thought it was a coincidence at first but even now I can see the panic in your eyes. Did I rush you into this? Do you not like me like I like you?”

You try not to avert your eyes because he might get the wrong impression, but you can’t help it. You look down at the blanket.

You can’t deny he’s not entirely wrong. It wasn’t a coincidence. Your heart would race anxiously anytime he’d start saying those three words. However, it wasn’t his fault you felt this way.

“No, and I… It’s not you, Seungcheol,” you say.

“Did someone say something to you about me? About us?” he asks.

You shake your head.

“I’m… scared,” you finally confess quietly.

“Of me?” he asks, pain in his voice that feeds the growing guilt in your chest.

“No,” you say. “Of making it real.”

Seungcheol squeezes your hand. “We are real. This is real. You, me, together. It’s been four months since making it real.”

His voice is strained from worry and confusion.

You nod and swallow the lump in your throat.

“I’m scared that if I say it, then I’ll be too attached. Too dependent,” you say.

You’re scared that he’ll leave you one day. 

You learned that depending on people only ends in disappointment. You had leaned on your mother, and she left. You had leaned on your father, and he withdrew. You had tried to lean on your old friends and boyfriends, and they’re no longer by your side. The only constant has been Dae, but that wasn’t an easy journey. For Seoah, she’s always been here but has never been close. No thanks to you. Though, you’ve been trying to change that lately. You wonder if Seungcheol will join that list in the future. It would be easier to move on if you didn’t feel so strongly about him.

But even as you tell yourself this, you know it won’t matter.

You’ve already given him a piece of your heart unconsciously. 

“That’s a bad thing?” he asks. “I want you to want me. I want you to confide in me.”

You want to do all those things. It sounds so nice to be able to rely on someone for once. Though any time you’ve nearly caved in, things would go awry. People would leave.

Seungcheol covers the back of your hand with his other. His warmth races up your arm and to your heart.

“I’m not going to hurt you or leave you. Don’t put me in the same category as them,” he says softly.

You bite your lip as you try to push past your fears to believe him. You want to, but it’s not easy to do. It’s not a switch that can be flipped.

“I’ll try not to,” you whisper.

Seungcheol takes a deep breath, then releases it gradually.

You’re not sure if he’s pleased with the answer, but it’s the best you can offer for now.

“I don't want to rush you. I know, or at least I think, you love me too,” he says, “but at least let me say it. I know it’s not easy for you to say it, and I know actions are important too, but I want to tell you it more. Please let me.”

You nod slowly. Maybe if you surround yourself with love, it’ll get easier to show and say it. Even if you try to deny it, you know you love him. And while that scares you, the severity of which you love him scares you more.

Seungcheol lifts your chin so he can see your face.

“I love you, Cherry,” he murmurs.

Your heart flips at his sincerity. It still makes you nervous, but there’s also a bubbly feeling that you focus on instead. While he looks so honest, there’s a hint of desperation. He wants to hear it. 

Your eyes drop down.

“I love you too,” you say quietly. 

Seungcheol exhales almost a sigh of relief. He raises your chin again with a smile.

“Wanna try that again and look at me?” he asks, a little playfully to calm your nerves.

You fidget under his stare. Shaking your head, you wrap your arms around his neck and burrow your face.

“Maybe next time,” you mumble. “For now, it’s just I love you.”

Seungcheol chuckles and engulfs your body in a tight hug. He pulls you into his lap and gently rocks you back and forth.

He kisses the side of your head tenderly and says, “I love you too, baby.”

You hum, snuggling closer into his warmth. You hope his words are true. You hope one day you can give yourself fully to him—to love him without worries. You just need time.

Hopefully, Seungcheol is patient.

A/N: I've got a few more fics of this couple lined up that I'm eager to share with you all! I don't want to post them all at once, but know they're on the horizon!!! 💗 hehe

Taglist: @musingsofananxiouspotato, @christinewithluv, @lockburn-castle, @iammisstora, @maknae00, @morklee02, @kittyhui, @aeerio, @cherrylovescheol, @ellllsia, @gyuguys

©️hongcherry // DO NOT REPOST OR MODIFY Please consider reblogging if you liked this work to show your support. Feedback/commentary is always welcomed.

there's a disturbance in the apartment, and it's enough to wake up seungcheol. you aren't in bed with him, which... okay, already bad when he's in a clingier mood, but there's something off about it all. he squints at his phone, slowly registering that it's almost ten in the morning. and immediately, he's throwing his blankets off, going to search for you. you turned off his alarms. no doubt because he doesn't have to work today. you're always (lovingly) nagging him about getting more sleep, the same thing he does to you, but that doesn't change anything--

the minute he opens the door, he figures out what's wrong. his roommates have you. jeonghan's got his phone in his hands, and joshua has an arm draped around your shoulders, and the three of you are laughing at something.

"really?" you gasp, "no!"

"yes!" jeonghan's laughing. "his hair used to look like that."

oh. fuck. hell. shit. seungcheol's already making his way over, nearly stumbling on his way out of his room. it's the opening that jeonghan needs to immediately jolt from his spot, phone clasped protectively in his grasp.

"what are you showing them?!" he barks as he walks past where joshua's cackling next to you. you catch him by the hand before he gets too far, and he lets you tether him to this spot as jeonghan cowers by the wall (and by 'cowers,' seungcheol means he's curled up and still laughing like the evil, evil man he is).

"nothing!"

seungcheol turns his focus onto joshua, who's already moving to leap over the back of the couch. he catches him by the back of his t-shirt, and it's like he's a cat with the way he pretty much turns to liquid to slip out of it. he apologizes to you as he bolts back to his own room, door slamming behind him, right as jeonghan's getting to his own.

with a sigh, seungcheol looks at you, joshua's shirt still in his hand. "well?"

you just grin at him, curling up on the couch. "... you look hot as a blonde."

oh. he's gonna kill them for dragging up his old, cringe-y college pictures. but first... maybe he should make an appointment with his hairdresser.

y'know. just to see if blonde does look good on him still.

[16:14]

‘i don’t know why you wouldn’t just call me’

you stared at your best friend from the doorway in disappointment as he sat up from where he laid in his bed. his face was a shade paler than it usually was, but his cheeks were bright red and rosier than ever. even from where you were standing, you could see the beads of cold sweat forming on his face and around his hairline. his collar was drenched.

‘i thought you were dead, cheol. dead.’

he grinned sheepishly. ‘i just didn’t want to worry you’

‘worry me?!?!’ you scoffed and fumbled to find the right words. ‘you- i- this- going m.i.a. and not responding to me for 36 hours is the part that gave me a fucking heart attack, cheol’

as you began to rev up the engine attached to your mouth to start your spiel on how you’re his best friend and it’s your duty to worry about him, you noticed the heavy dark circles under seungcheol’s eyes and his bloodshot eyes that made you realize how tired he actually was. you sighed and approached his bedside with a softer, more gentle manner.

‘are you okay? how are you feeling?’ you pressed a palm against his forehead and almost winced at how hot his skin was. his skin felt moist and clammy.

‘i’m okay, i swear. it’s just a slight cough-’ seungcheol’s words were cut off with a loud coughing fit, the scratchy sound making you wince in his stead. you patted his back as he coughed and handed him the cup of water resting on his bedside table. he gratefully took the cup and drank every last drop. ‘i swear i’ll be okay’

‘cheol i js witnessed you practically cough your lungs out. you’re nowhere near okay. did you eat anything today?’ you demanded, your hands resting on your hips like a mother hen.

‘half a cup of ramen..’

‘CHOI SEUNGCHEOL!’ seungcheol winced as he braced himself for your wrath.

‘i’m sorry, i’m sorry.. i just didn’t have an appetite-’

you turned on your heels and hurriedly left the room with a huff. ‘unbelievable’ you muttered under your breath.

seungcheol watched your retreating form with a soft smile as a warm, familiar tickled his chest.

fifteen minutes later, you placed a tray with a steaming bowl of your best chicken noodle soup and a pot of hot yuzu tea.

‘eat. or else you’re never seeing me ever again’ you said in a serious voice. one look at your face told seungcheol that you meant business.

as he slowly ate the meal before him, you hurried yourself with tidying your best friend’s room. picking up miscellaneous trash, taking out empty mugs and cups, and opening the shades and windows to let in some fresh air and sunlight. even from behind, seungcheol could tell you were upset.

‘i’m sorry, [name]..’ he mumbled.

you let out a huff and sat at the foot of his bed. ‘it’s okay, cheollie. it’s not your fault. i just get so worried about you sometimes and i-’ you wrung your hands in exasperation. ‘please take care of yourself. i don’t know what i’ll do without my best friend’

seungcheol set down his spoon. ‘i will! i am! i swear. i’ll do anything you tell me to do’

you smiled at his statement. ‘you don’t mean that’

‘yes i do. tell me to do anything and i’ll do it’

‘go on a date with me’

seungcheol’s head snapped up to face you with an unreadable look on his face.

‘see? you can’t do everything i tell you to do’ you let out a scoff and tried your best to play it off cool, like it was a joke. a funny joke you thought of on the spot. you didn’t mean that. as if you could be hopelessly and utterly and completely in love with your best friend of 6 years.

you reached for the empty bowl in front of him, but seungcheol grabbed your wrist, stopping you.

‘do you-’ he visibly swallowed. his voice was still scratchy and hoarse. ‘do you mean that?’

you felt something in your stomach flutter. ‘depends on your response, i guess’ you responded in a hush voice.

seungcheol let go of your wrist and ran his hands through his tired face with a groan. ‘you idiot, i’ve been trying to ask you out for months now’

you stared at him blankly. he what.

‘i’ve been working up the nerve to ask you out and it’s supposed to be super fancy and extravagant and all that but then i got SICK while trying to camp out at this mountainside viewpoint and it’s supposed to be super romantic or whatever-’

you let out an incredulous laugh and slapped his arm. ‘you IDIOT! it’s a date, not a proposal’

seungcheol laughed along with you. ‘maybe i did go overboard. but does that mean..?’

you sat closer to him on the bed and leaned forward until the tips of your noses were almost touching. ‘what do you think it means, choi seungcheol?’

‘that you’re forever going to be the only person that i allow to call me by my full name’

a/n: i was late to class but i suddenly got this idea so i wrote this omw to class and ran into a pole otw BUT IT WAS WORTH IT IMO

“cheol?” you huffed, amused and smiling down at your fiancé. “what’re you doing babe?”

he’d been doing this every single night since he proposed to you without fail. right before you two went to bed during your nightly cuddles. he’d lay on top of you— making sure his weight wasn't fully on you— and start pecking you with kisses everywhere he could reach.

well, not everywhere. he placed his kisses in the same places every night, and you couldn't figure out the pattern at all.

“kissing you,” he answered. “was it not obvious enough?”

you laughed, rubbing one hand up and down his back. “okay, let me rephrase. why are you kissing me in such random spots?”

“your moles,” he placed another kiss, right on the small mole on your collarbone. “if i kiss them enough they’ll appear in our next life, and i'll be able to find you again,” –he kissed the one under your lips, right in the middle of your chin– “and again.”

you scrunch your nose up, smiling at how absolutely cheesy your fiancé was being. you hadn't even realized he was kissing your moles, and usually you had an unconscious feel of where every single one you knew of was. you giggled ruffling up his hair with both hands and kissing his forehead. “well then, i'll just have to start doing the same to you once you're done.”

achilles’ heel — choi seungcheol

pairing — choi seungcheol x fem!reader

summary — after a knee surgery, your boyfriend feels off about his body. you’re determined to show him just how much you love it.

wc — 3.1k

warnings — nsfw content. minors dni. smut, established relationship, light angst, fluff, body insecurity, body worship, petnames (baby, pretty girl), oral sex (m receiving), creampie

author’s note — hi i still think about when cheol said in a live that he wears big hoodies bc he’s insecure of his body and im still upset because i need him to know that he makes couprangs (ME) feel insane over his body that’s sooo big and strong ok enjoy

Something is bothering Seungcheol.

You’ve been with your boyfriend long enough to reasonably suspect when there’s something on his mind, and while he’s gotten relatively good at putting on a front to his members, it’s a little harder for him to conceal his thoughts from you. You, who’s ever observant and aware of his habits. You, who, when Seungcheol is sick with something even if non-contagious, somehow coincidentally feel the same symptoms. You, who is practically empathetically connected with him.

It’s not hard to notice that he’s been distant, though. Ever since he’d been able to walk again after his surgery, he’s had a weird edge to him that was never there before, like a rescue dog with trust issues. 

By no means had he become neglectful to you. Not once had he stopped treating you like you were his entire world, but it was all in the way his hugs weren’t as tight as usual. He insisted he didn’t need help with things like showering or dressing anymore—which was fair since he could walk now, but when you’d asked if he wanted to join you in the shower, suddenly he was too tired. Once upon a time you couldn’t even finish the question before he was stripped naked and next to you. 

You don’t remember the last time you’d been intimate with him. The moment your lips would make their way to his neck after a soft makeout, he’d ease you away from him, gently confessing that he just wasn’t in the mood, that he was just too tired again. 

And that’s fine with you—you’d die before disrespecting the boundaries which are so crucial to your relationship. You did miss him though, and deep down, something in your heart had told you that, along with everything else, something was not right.

You’re curled into his side one night when you find the courage to confront him.

“You know you can tell me anything, right?” 

Your suspicions are confirmed the moment his chest stiffens under your cheek. 

“I know… Why?” he asks, hesitant, as though he’s walking on eggshells.

“I feel like you’ve been acting, I don’t know, off. I’m worried about you, Cheollie,” you admit, poking your finger into his torso. 

Three of his breaths, full of contemplation, fill the air before he speaks again. 

“It’s my body,” he says. “I don’t like how much bigger I’ve gotten.”

You bolt upright, staring dead into his eyes with daggers in yours.

“That’s why you’ve been so squirmish?”

He nods his head, pouting absentmindedly, then continues. “I’ve just felt… gross.”

It takes everything in you not to smack him across the face. Your hands ball into fists, your face growing hot as rage bubbles and stirs beneath your skin. You climb on top of him, trapping his waist between your thighs as you sit upon him.

“Choi Seungcheol, you’re so stupid.” There’s an air of affection in your words, but you hope they’re stern enough to get through to him.

He groans as he hides his face in the fabric of his hoodie. “This is why I didn’t tell you.”

“Because you knew it was stupid? Cheol, you were in rehab recovering from surgery. You literally couldn’t walk for weeks. Besides, you’re acting like it’s a bad thing that you’ve gotten ‘bigger’,” you say, fingers wrapping around his wrists so you can pull his hands away from his face. “Do you know how feral you’ve been making me feel recently?”

“Feral?!” he says, eyes widening as he fails to stifle an adorable giggle.

“Your shoulders are so broad now and it drives me fucking crazy,” you say, falling into a fit of your own laughter because the sound of your boyfriend’s laugh is more contagious than any sickness. 

Lacing your fingers with his, your expression hardens. In the rich brown of his eyes, his insecurity finally rears itself to you—and you’re determined to destroy every last shred of it.

“Love everything about your body, Cheol. Love when you cuddle me and hug me with your big arms, makes me feel so safe,” you confess, your smile radiating warmth. Your fingers squeeze his ones.

“Love how you can carry me around, on your back, in your arms…” You let go of his hands to flatten your palms against his stomach, smoothing up his torso slowly. His own hands, eager to never be empty, find your hips, his fingers pinching softly at you through your leggings.

“Love your thick thighs, love sitting in your lap…” You’ve reached his chest now and Seungcheol is smirking — he’s well aware of your obsession with this part of him. 

“Love when you throw me around, manhandle me like a ragdoll, pin me down…” You’re grasping at his shoulders now, leaning forward until there’s hardly an inch between your faces.

“Love when you spank me…” 

It’s then that something in Seungcheol shifts. His pants grow tighter, his hips shifting underneath you as you straddle him. He likes to think he’s a man of self-control, even when it comes to your antics. But there are times where he abandons all discipline — right now, his head is cloudy because he hasn’t let you touch him in weeks.

“You’ve been depriving me of cock all this time because you’ve been eating too good?” you say, scoffing as you reach for the hem of Seungcheol’s hoodie to tug at it. You pause, glancing at him for approval. Still with a dash of hesitation he sits up, helping you shrug it over his head, exposing himself to you.

“Don’t get too bratty, I can keep depriving you,” he retorts, but it’s playful. 

It’s like your first time with him all over again. All you’d gotten over the past few weeks were glimpses of his bare skin, a peek as he came out of the shower or changed or when his shirt lifted up as he stretched. He’s always been a little modest, but never to this extent. 

The sight of his bare form knocks every last breath from your lungs. He’s always been beautiful—strong and dependable, now even more so. His body has always given you the urge to get on your knees and worship and pray to him like the Greeks did, now it feels as though you were born to do just that. 

Then there’s a pang of violence, too, because he hasn’t even changed that drastically. He’s a little softer in his tummy, his arms a little thicker, but that’s all, really. It’s definitely not something for him to have been hiding out of disgust. Of course, it’s not all too difficult to deduce why he felt it necessary to do it—he’s an idol. It’s his job to look picturesque and perfect and flawless. His mind is bound to become mean, to turn to cruel lies of not being good enough.

Your lips leave a trail along his skin, from his collarbones, to his chest, and down his abdomen. Your hope is that each kiss will help chase away Seungcheol’s every last insecurity. It’s naive of you, perhaps, because it will take a lot more than just this to unravel what he has convinced himself of. At the very least, it’s a start.

You paw at the band of his sweats, lips hovering below his belly button as you glance up at him.

“Can I take them off?”

A nervous pause. Then, “do it,” he says, sighing softly. 

And then you’re pulling them down his legs, down his thick, hard thighs—the ones made for you to sit on. 

His boxers come next, but not before you ask for his explicit permission again. More than ever, you’re utterly dedicated to his comfort. 

It’s instinct how your hand reaches for his cock, heavy as your fingers wrap around it and so thick that your fingertips don’t even touch. The sight of it which you’ve missed so much, pretty, pink, and veiny, has you drooling already, your teeth baring down on your bottom lip. You’re aching between your legs. 

You need him inside you or you might die.

Seungcheol’s eyes sparkle as he watches your lips leave wet kisses along his length, pecking along the veins as you make your way up, then spoiling his tip with sweet smooches and kitten licks in between.

“Missed you, Cheol,” you tell him, breathy and tender.

“I know,” he says, then you take his cock past your lips and he hisses as the warmth of your mouth greets him. 

He doesn’t realise how much he’s missed this, missed you, until his tip bumps the back of your throat and you’re choking around him despite not even having half of him in your mouth yet. His hand flies to grab a fistful of your hair, still managing to treat you gently as he pulls you back.

“Easy, pretty girl,” he pleads, the rasp in his voice instilling within you an urge to listen. His effect on you is trance-like, his honeyed voice irresistible. 

You blink up at him, batting your tear-brimmed lashes at him, knowing how it makes his heart swell. You take him slowly this time, one hand stroking at his base so that no inch of him is left untouched, and you swallow him little by little. 

Seungcheol lets out a low groan, a gorgeous sound that makes the world spin around you. It rushes straight to your core, burning through you, turning you hungrier, greedier.

You can’t help but slip one of your hands down between your thighs, sliding your fingers between your folds which you find practically dripping. Your fingertips dance over your clit, circling it softly before you dip two of your digits inside to feed the insatiable flame that burns in your core. 

“Fuck, baby,” Seungcheol groans, catching sight of the way your fingers pump in and out of your dripping hole. “You don’t know what you do to me.”

He doesn’t need to tell you—his cock twitches in your mouth as he speaks. 

The sheer size and thickness of your boyfriend’s length always proves challenging for you, but the heat emanating from deep within your core begs for you to spoil him—because his pleasure is equally yours—and has you burying him all the way down your throat in spite of the tears that spring to your eyes and the clench of your oesophagus around him. 

And the thing about Seungcheol is that his mere existence is enough to toss you out of your mind, to make you throw all morals out the window until you’re no better than a cat in heat.

He lets out a noise that’s part-laugh and part-moan as your nose nuzzles against the wiry hairs of his happy trail, never failing to be caught off guard by your eagerness even after years of being your lover. His hand settles on your cheek, at the corner of your lips that are stretched around his girth, his thumb drawing soft strokes on your skin.

“I said go easy,” he says, voice strained, but he chuckles amusedly through his words.

You bob your head back up, popping off of him briefly. Webs of glimmering spit connect your lips with his cock, and Seungcheol thinks you’ve never looked prettier. He can’t help but brush his thumb over your swollen lips while his eyes drink you in with a tender gleam. 

“Can’t help myself,” you reply, smiling coyly, then the next moment you’re back on him again, swirling your tongue around his tip.

You pull your fingers from your pussy momentarily to drag your nails along his thighs, so thick and heavy with muscle that you’re certain when you sink them into his skin he feels no more than a soft scratch. It helps when you swallow him whole again, helps keep your tears at bay just a little, helps the muscles of your throat relax so that you can bob your head up and down his length the way both you and him like it.

You don’t go too fast lest he pulls you away for ignoring his pleas, but there’s also no need for you to go too fast. Yes, you’ve missed him, missed having him like this, missed touching him, but right now that’s not what you’re concerned about. All that spurs you on is the want —the need—to make Seungcheol feel as desirable as he is to you. 

So you take him steadily, at a pace that’s enough to get him worked up and simultaneously lets your affection drip from every drag of your mouth along his length, lets you taste every inch of him and every drop of his salty precum. Your soft moans muffled by his cock merge with his ones, breathy and whiny, broken up by praises and light mewls of your name. 

One of your hands moves between your legs again, squelching as your fingers enter your throbbing cunt once more.

You refuse to break your eyes away from his, as though averting your gaze from him even for a second would mean he would vanish before you. It’s also Seungcheol’s Achilles’ heel—look into his eyes and he doesn’t stand a chance against you. 

You could predict the way curses start spilling from his lips and the way his cock starts to throb lightly in your mouth and the way his hips start to buck every time his tip reaches the back of your throat. When it comes to you, he’s weak and he will never hide it.

“Baby, I’m close,” he says, a near whisper. 

His confession prompts you to pull your mouth off of him and he whimpers, pouting shamelessly like a kicked puppy. Some alpha leader. 

“You’re really teasing me right now?” 

“Cheollie… You’ve been ignoring me for weeks and you think I’d just let you cum like that?” you say, but your voice is full of playfulness. You want to make up for the affection you haven’t been able to give him for so long, yet a part of you wants to get back at him a little. 

“I’ll remember this,” he grins.

“I know you will,” you tell him as you clamber up his legs until you’re straddling his waist, bending forward to press a chaste kiss to his mouth and pouting at him. “What if I want you to finish inside me though?”

“Then let me prep you first,” he insists, giant hands finding your hips and drawing circles with his thumbs. He’s about to flip you over onto your back, but you shake your head and press a hand to his chest to keep him still. 

“I’ve already prepped myself, Cheollie, you wanna taste?” 

Before he can bicker back, you push your soaked fingers between his lips and into his mouth, and he sucks them subconsciously, lapping up every last drop of your arousal with a moan.

When his mouth is free of your fingers, he smiles.

“I still wanna touch you,” he rasps, resolute.

You lean over him until your mouth is on his again, but this time your lips slide sloppily against one anothers’ from the mess of saliva and cum that drips from them. Your hands travel up his torso, palms smoothing over his bare flesh, but touching him is not enough. 

“I wanna take care of you, Seungcheol, so please just let me,” you whisper against his lips, grinding your hips over his cock where it lays against his abdomen. 

“Okay, okay,” he surrenders, sighing as your lips drop down to his neck and nip at his tender skin there. “But I’m eating you out for at least two hours next time.”

You perk back up to shoot him an unamused look, in spite of the fact that it’s really a win-win situation for you. You just hate that there’s no budging your boyfriend’s stubbornness. 

“I love you,” he says, lips curling into a ghost of a smirk.

And here is your Achilles heel, because you’re just a girl, after all. A girl not immune to her breathtaking lover’s sweet words, whose heart sways at his whispers of affection to her—to only her. 

Warmth floods your veins. The need to be one with him becomes urgent. 

Grasping onto Seungcheol’s broad shoulders, you sink down upon him, inch by inch until he’s bottomed out inside you and your moans of relief are perfectly in sync. He grips your hips so hard they’ll probably bruise, no doubt having become unused to how sweetly your warm walls envelop his cock like a hug. Meanwhile you’ve forgotten how his dick, in all its thickness, is capable of punching the air from your lungs.

Still, there’s no hesitation in the way you start to bounce your hips on him and it’s not long before the burning stretch fizzles into a glowing pleasure in the pit of your stomach. 

When you’re above him like this, you’re able to take in the sight of all of him. His biceps, bulky and thick, his shoulders, sturdy and broad. Every inch of him is so perfect that you wonder how he’s all yours. You hate to think about how he could have possibly felt disgusted by himself. If he wasn’t already yours in real life, he would be in your dreams, exactly as he is as he lays beneath you. 

It’s overwhelming. Feeling him again after so many weeks, the way his cock drives into you so deliciously, his sculpture-like body—you’re not sure what does it, probably a mixture of everything, but before you know it your pussy is clamping down on him and your entire body quivers with a wave of

“Fuck, I’m cumming too, baby, I’m right with you,” he utters, staring at you as if you descended straight from Heaven.

“No,” you say, and your hips halt their bouncing, yet your fingers are still toying with your clit as you recover from your orgasm. 

Seungcheol whines at the cruelty of it.

“Not until you agree this body is sexy,” you say, teasing, grinding your hips painfully slowly along his cock—certainly not enough to keep up any kind of stimulation.

He gives a pained, exasperated laugh, and thinks fuck, he’s in love with you. He’s not sure what he’s done, maybe saved a life or two in a past life, but even that seems like it’s not enough for him to deserve you. 

The way your walls squeeze down on his cock makes his head spin. If he doesn’t cum soon he thinks he might die.

“It is, okay? I love this body. Now please, please, keep going,” he blurts out, stroking his hands up and down your thighs sweetly, pouting up at you so irresistibly.

“Say it’s sexy.”

He whines again, painfully desperate. His voice breaks when he repeats your words; “my body is sexy.”

You smile like a little minx when you start to bounce up and down him again, even harder this time. Seungcheol moans, such a gorgeous sound, and before long he’s grasping at your waist and pulling you flush against him as his cock throbs and he fills you up with spurts of his warm seed.

As he comes back down with heavy breaths, you pepper his neck and jawline with saccharine kisses. 

“I love you,” you say, relishing in the weight and warmth of his strong arms wrapped around your nude body, in the feeling of his soft yet firm torso that’s one with your own. “You’re perfect to me.”

𝗼𝗽𝗽𝗼𝘀𝗶𝘁𝗲𝘀 | c.sc (f)

a/n: for some reason the ask got deleted 😭 but an anon asked for something scoups related, so, anon, if you're seeing this, hi! thanks for requesting! i kept brainstorming, and finally came up with this, so i hope you like it! (sorry the ask got deleted im hopeless w technology 😭)

word count: 2.1k contents: seungcheol x afab!reader , gymbro!cheol , i have 0 gym knowledge forgive me , seungcheol and reader are dating , bullying mingyu is a canon event , lots of fluff , cheol being a green flag as always , slight angst , mentions of insecurities (but they have healthy communication about it!) , just overall cute vibes !

"i wanna go to the gym with you."

seungcheol looks up from his phone to direct his gaze at you. it's a thursday night, a rare day off for the both of you, and you had been in the process of selecting a movie for the night when you suddenly spoke.

"what?" seungcheol asks again, not sure if he heard you right the first time.

"i want to go to the gym with you," you repeat, meeting seungcheol's eyes reluctantly, trying to mask your ulterior motive with a smile.

seungcheol was taken aback, but don't get him wrong. he was a regular at the gym, but in your last three years of dating, he had never heard you wanting to accompany him to the gym. instead, you'd always said that you'd rather be at home than be surrounded by sweaty people, including seungcheol himself.

so why the sudden interest?

"babe, everything okay?" seungcheol asks. he knows asking questions may seem rude, but he notices the way the smile you're shooting at him doesn't feel genuine at all.

"yeah! i just wanted to see what was so great about the gym for you to spend hours there," you say, making up an excuse on the fly, hoping you sounded convincing enough.

seungcheol knew you through and through, and he also knew that you weren't telling him the entire truth. but instead of prying, he decides to agree to your request.

"alright,come with me tomorrow," he nods. "it's gonna be pretty intense though. mingyu tells me i'm a really strict gym trainer." he jokes.

"it's okay," you laugh, finally cracking a real smile. "i have a feeling i'll become your favorite student in no time."

"we'll see about that," seungcheol teases, and you drop the topic, shifting your attention back to choosing a movie.

seungcheol needs to get to the bottom of this.

-

the next day, seungcheol comes home from work, and like clockwork, he changes into his workout clothes and grabs his gym bag, ready to head out, but-

something feels different about today though....

"excuse me? were you forgetting your star student at home?" comes your voice, and he finally remembers. he turns to see you waiting in the kitchen, and any suspicions he had about your strange request melt away at the sight of you dolled up in the cutest workout fit. your hair was up in a ponytail, and you were wearing a baby pink sports bra with a matching pair of leggings. you even had a cute duffel bag packed with you.

"aw, baby, you look adorable," he coos. he walks towards the kitchen and stops in front of you to place a kiss to your forehead, his arms wrapping around your waist to pull you into a hug. "also, i'd never forget my favorite student." he says defensively, and you laugh at his cuteness.

"sure, big guy," you chuckle. "let's get going, shall we?"

-

whatever worries had left his brain when he saw you at home had come back to him ten-fold at the gym. he started you off with some basic warm-up exercises and then the treadmill. the both of you jogged next to each other for a while. you had found all of this manageable until now, even though all the physical exertion had made you all sweaty, which in turn made you uncomfortable. you mask your uneasiness though, not wanting to alert seungcheol.

but he had already seen the signs of discomfort on your face. after the treadmill, he decided that he needs to take you home.

"i'm actually feeling really tired today, babe," he fake-yawns while you're sipping on some water. "how about we go home now and come back another day?"

"woah, you're tired just from some cardio?" someone speaks up from behind him, and it's mingyu.

how is he always at the gym?? seungcheol wonders, cursing mingyu's timing.

"i just had a long day at work. what are you doing here?" seungcheol rolls his eyes.

"working out, duh," mingyu retorts. "didn't you clock in late to work today, though? i've seen you less tired while you were working on three days of no sleep."

seungcheol really wants to punch mingyu in the face right now.

"if you're really feeling tired, we can head home," you butt in before seungcheol throws a dumbell at mingyu.

seungcheol would be relieved, if not for the way you look dejected and upset, and seungcheol would rather walk through fire than be the reason for that frown on your face, so he relents.

"it's okay, i'm feeling fine," he smiles. "we can continue, baby."

"just don't be all gross and couple-y," mingyu adds, and quickly scurries away before seungcheol can elbow him in the stomach.

after mingyu leaves, seungcheol gets you started on some basic squats. he shows you the correct posture, even helps you for the first few times till you get the hang of it.

finally, you gain the confidence to do the squats on your own, so you start off with a goal of completing 10. by the time you're on squat number 4, there's a burn in your thighs. you've heard people saying that it's supposedly a good burn, but right now, it's making you feel like your legs are going to snap into two, like twigs.

not wanting to embarrass yourself, you push through the remaining squats, collapsing to the floor after you finish them.

"hey! that was great!" seungcheol smiles cheerily. "i'm so proud of you. let's take a break and then we can move onto something else."

the next challenge: push-ups.

while you weren't a frequent gym-goer, you had an idea of how a push-up should be done. guided by seungcheol's instructions, you find yourself in the position to carry out some push-ups. once again, you set a goal of 10 and you start.

at push-up number 7, your arms give out and you lose your balance, your forehead bumping with the ground.

"shit. y/n, are you okay?" seungcheol is by your side in a blink, helping you up into a sitting posture. you look around the gym, and thankfully there weren't a lot of people around to see your disastrous attempt at push-ups, but you still felt your cheeks burn with embarrassment.

"i'm sorry," you sniffle, tears welling up in your eyes as seungcheol gently rubs your forehead. "i'm sorry for being bad at this."

seungcheol freezes when he sees you cry. he knows you, and you weren't the type to cry from such a small failure. the uneasiness twists his gut; something is really wrong.

"baby, you have nothing to be sorry for," he says, tone firm yet gentle. "let's go home and talk about this, okay? you did a good today, and you should rest."

leaving no room for negotiation, you let seungcheol gather both your belongings and walk you back home.

once you reach your shared apartment, you're aware of how sweaty and gross you are, your nose crinkling with disgust.

"i need to shower..." you mumble.

"you can head in first. call me if you need anything, okay?" seungcheol suggests. "i'll start on dinner."

you nod timidly and head towards the shower. a long and relaxing shower later, you're emerging from the bedroom in your comfiest pajamas, and a red spot on your forehead from the incident at the gym. you walk into the kitchen to see seungcheol putting down dinner on the table, freshly showered.

"you used the guest bathroom?" you ask, and he nods. you can tell that there's something on his mind, and you know its related to what happened today. knowing seungcheol, he likes to communicate whatever he has on his mind to maintain trust between you, so you eat dinner in silence, anticipating the conversation after.

once the dishes are washed and put away, you quickly go to bed, hoping to avoid any tough conversations by falling asleep early. but seungcheol is too aware of your tendencies, so he follows you to the bedroom, sitting next to you on the bed as you lay down.

"does it hurt a lot?" he asks, breaking the silence.

"my forehead? not that much. but the rest of my body is really sore," you admit truthfully.

"should i get you a painkiller for it?" seungcheol offers, and you shake your head. you've seen him come home from the gym complaining of sore muscles, but he never takes any medication for it, and you don't want to seem weak for doing so.

"you can take one, it won't make you weak," seungcheol says, as if he's read your thoughts. "what's going on, baby? i know something is bothering you, tell me what it is. let me help you."

the gentle tone to his voice makes you tear up immediately. you bring your hands up to your face as you cry. an alarmed seungcheol is quick to hug you, whispering comforting words into your ear.

once you've calmed down, you realize it's time to tell him the truth.

"i wanted to have something in common with you. all our friends and their partners have a shared interest. mingyu and his girlfriend love cooking, wonwoo and his girlfriend like photography; even minghao managed to end up with someone who loves tea as much as him. i just wanted to share something with you. i realized that you and i don't have a lot in common. everyone says 'opposites attract' but to what extent? that's why i thought of going to the gym, so that we could have something to share."

seungcheol is silent for a few moments, and you bite the inside of your cheek nervously while you wait for his response.

"y/n, you're the one person on this earth i have found a perfect match in. you and i have a lot more in common than you think. like the fact that you're the only person who supports my 'dipping french fries in milkshake' agenda," seungcheol cracks a soft smile, holding your hands in his.

"you don't have to force yourself to do things just to share an interest with me, baby. i love you for who you are. you're a wonderful artist, and i'm absolutely pathetic at drawing basic human figures. that doesn't mean we don't work together," seungcheol explains, hoping that his words make sense to you.

"i know, but i just- i just got worried that one day you'd be tired of having to deal with someone so different from you," you sigh, confessing the thought that had been plaguing your mind for a few weeks. "i don't want to lose you, cheol. that's why i did all this. but all i've really done is embarrass myself..."

seungcheol's lips draw into a pout as he crawls onto the bed, laying down next to you. he covers both of you under the blanket and pulls your body closer to him, your head cradled against his chest, and his arm wrapped around your waist.

"i'll never get tired of you. you're the love of my life, and i like the fact that every day we spend together, i get to learn something new about you. there's a familiarity in that too, you know?" he says, and the warmth in his voice makes your heart melt.

"ever since the day i met you, i've wanted to know who you are. i've wanted to know what makes you smile and cry, what food you don't like so i'll never bring it up, what your favorite disney princess is, even how much sugar you like in your coffee. and i'm so grateful to be able to learn every small thing about you, because that's how i show my love for you."

you pull away slightly from his embrace, meeting seungcheol's soft gaze.

"i love you the way you are, and no amount of differences could ever stop me from loving you. even if you were the north pole and i was the south, i'd do everything in my power to be with you, you get that?"

"how'd i get so lucky?" you whisper, eyes welling up again. "i love you too, so much. you- you made me cry, you idiot." you chuckle wetly, slapping his chest playfully.

"you're just a sap," seungcheol teases, but he rubs your back comfortingly nonetheless. "anyways, you're not going to be following me to the gym just for the sake of it anymore. i already think you're perfect the way you are, but if you ever do want to go, you should do it only because you want to, okay?"

"you don't have to worry about it," you dismiss his concerns. "from the second i step foot into the gym and got attacked by the stench of sweat, i promised to never come back."

"hey! that's rude!" seungcheol gasps dramatically. you can only laugh at the way a grown, 29 year-old man pouts like a toddler.

yeah, you really were lucky to have him.

-fin.

(Boy)Friend Material | Part I of II | csc x f!reader

You'd think that, having matched with Seungcheol on a dating app, you would be, well, dating. You suppose you're lucky, but not that lucky.

Rating: sfw (this part) | WC: ~3k | Pairing: csc x f!reader | Genre: emotional fluff, friends/idiots to lovers

Warnings: suggestive thoughts, down bad reader, implied alcohol drinking, kissing

Matching with Seungcheol on Bumble was a fluke, or maybe a miracle, considering the fact that you re-downloaded the app on a whim and his profile was the first to come up. 

The second you saw him in that blue baseball cap and white tee, his jawline sharp and his bicep thick, you knew there was no point in trying to find anyone better. So you conferred with the group chat to crowdsource a good opening line, something about how his birthday should be a national holiday, and awaited his response with bated breath. 

He replied within minutes, saying that he’d always thought so but was intrigued as to why you did too, and you, ignoring your friends’ advice to play it cool, told him that he was obviously a gift to the masses to get them through these troubling times. He got bashful then, but apparently you didn’t come on too strong in a bad way, because the next thing you knew he was asking for your number and requesting to meet up for some coffee. 

That was four months ago, and though it never went further in a romantic sense, you know you’re lucky to have him as a friend. Unfortunately, the thoughts you have about Seungcheol aren’t the kind you’re supposed to have about a friend. 

You wish you could say you haven’t always wondered what those plush lips would feel like on yours, or if he’d be big enough to stretch you out, or whether he’d take you gently or pin you down and fuck you like he means it, but you’ve wanted Seungcheol ever since you first locked eyes with him, even if it was just through your phone screen.

It would be one thing if you only wanted to sleep with him, but it’s a million times worse because you want to love him too. You want to hold hands, and go on cute dates, and get him little gifts just to see his eyes light up. You want to fall asleep in his arms, and take care of him when he’s sick, and tell anyone who will listen that he’s your boyfriend. 

How could you want anything less when he looks like all of your dreams come to life? When he gazes at you with those big brown eyes, always listening so attentively, as if you’re the only one in his world that matters? When he takes care of you without thinking, like it’s just second nature?

Even at a house party like this, where there are plenty of girls eyeing him and more than a few of his bros wanting to talk to him, he’s by your side. The second your shoulders twitched in a shiver, his jacket was covering them. As soon as your cup was empty, he was accompanying you to the kitchen to refill it. And you know that when you give even a hint of wanting to leave, he’ll be guiding you to his car and taking you home, perfectly sober because he volunteered to be the designated driver tonight just so you could have fun and be safe. 

If only you could tell him to take you back to his place instead of yours. The problem is that he would, and he’d take your makeup off all gently, and give you a big t-shirt to sleep in, and tuck you into his bed before going to sleep on the couch, even though it hurts his back and his feet dangle off the edge. You know because that’s exactly what he did the time you managed to scrape together enough courage to ask if you could stay over after a night out. 

You can’t have a repeat of that, not when you woke up wishing you were his (after dreaming that he’d fucked you into his mattress). You barely kept yourself from begging him to make your dreams a reality that morning, especially when he greeted you with bedhead, a gravelly voice, and your favorite pastries from the bakery down the street. 

It took you weeks to get over it, to be able to look into his eyes without wanting to either confess your love or jump his bones. And still, almost two months later, you’re pushing down both of those desires. Holding your feelings back when you’re with him is a constant struggle, one that’s only made more difficult by his affectionate and protective nature. It’s becoming painful, knowing he likes you but not in the way that you like him, being so close to him but never as close as you want. 

Near Seungcheol is your favorite place to be, but you’re starting to think it’s not somewhere that’s good for you, which is distressing because at this point, he’s one of your best friends. You see him nearly every week for meals and little excursions, and you’d go for every day if you didn’t have to keep him from your other friends lest they give away your secret. You don’t know how you’d cope with not being around him, but you can only assume it wouldn’t be well when he’s so enmeshed in your life, even your landlord knows about him.

God, you cancel one maintenance call after Seungcheol fixes your leaky faucet and Jerry thinks every other repair request is bullshit…

You startle as Seungcheol leans in close to ask you something, though you’re too distracted by the weight of his hand on your waist to process his question. It’s warm even through the cotton of your shirt and the denim of his jacket, and he must think it’s too loud for you to hear him because he uses it to tug you closer as he asks again, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I think I’m just ready to go,” you respond weakly, forcing a smile that must look as fake as it feels. Knowing you’re not telling the truth about the first part, he frowns reproachfully at you and lets go of your waist to intertwine your fingers with his, pulling you behind him to the front door. There’s a chill in the air though it’s barely September, and he drops your hand to wrap his arm around your shoulders, syncing his steps to yours and holding you tight.

It’s a short walk but the quiet tension makes it feel like eons have passed by the time you arrive at his sedan. He opens the passenger-side door for you and takes your bag so you can climb in unhindered, gently placing it at your feet before patting your knee and shutting you in. You watch as he jogs around the hood and gets in next to you, taking care not to slam his door. You wonder if it’s because the first (and only) time he did on a night like this, you thought he was upset with you for wanting to leave early. 

He was so sweet and concerned when you brought it up, instantly rejecting your offer to uber home so he could go back to the party as if he was offended you even asked, before telling you that there was no point in staying if he didn’t have you with him. That was just one of the many moments that have ruined you for anyone else. 

“What’s on your mind?” Seungcheol asks quietly, turning his body toward you and reaching for your hand. Unsure of what to say, you give it to him silently and fight back a shudder at the feeling of his warm, rough fingers against yours. 

You hate lying to Seungcheol, partially because you always want to be honest with him but mostly because you’re so bad at doing the opposite. He picks up on it immediately, and then he gets this sorrowful, wounded look on his face and goes all quiet, which makes you feel like you’re the worst person on the planet. 

How honest can you be, though?

You could leave out the part about wanting him to fuck your brains out and lead with the non-platonic feelings you hold for him. Or you could leave out the emotional side of things and simply share that you want to ride him into the sunset. Or you could tell him everything, bare your soul and your pussy, and hope for the best. But what if the worst happens? What if he tells you he could never want you like that, that you’re like a sister to him, that he doesn’t want to see you ever again because you’ve ruined this friendship? 

You don’t think you can risk it. 

Still, you’d like to avoid deceiving him and hurting his feelings in the process, so maybe you could just be vague instead. 

“A lot of things, but nothing I want to talk about right now,” you finally answer, avoiding his eyes and pushing down the voice in the back of your mind that screams you’re a coward.

His mouth scrunches to the side and his brows furrow, but after a minute of silence, he accepts it. 

“Okay, just… You know you can tell me anything, right?” He lowers his head to find your gaze, sincerity emanating so brightly from him, it burns. 

Anything but this.

“I know,” you whisper, attempting a smile to appease him, though the way he sighs defeatedly and looks away makes you feel like you’ve just made him worry more. 

Facing the wheel again, he turns the key in the ignition and carefully reverses just enough to pull forward out of his makeshift parking spot. The music coming through his speakers is soft and low, too quiet to really fill the silence sitting between you and him, silence that isn’t usually there. You don’t know what to say so you don’t say anything at all, your body thrumming with a nervous energy that you’re sure Seungcheol can feel. 

Glancing over, you find his hands tight on the steering wheel and his lip caught in between his teeth. You hate the idea that your anxiety has seeped into him, but he’s always seemed to think your happiness is his personal responsibility, so you suppose it makes sense. 

“Are you taking the long way?” You ask in confusion when you face forward again and watch the on ramp to the highway pass you by. 

“Yeah, I hope that’s okay… Just wanted a bit more time with you,” he murmurs with a melancholy tinge to his voice. 

“Of course that’s okay, I love being with you.” Shit, you wanted to make him feel better but you didn’t mean to sound so-

“Do you?” 

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you never…” He looks over at you and shakes his head, taking a deep breath before continuing to speak. “I know we’re taking things slow but I feel like you’re always holding part of yourself back from me. You never touch me, I’m always the one touching you. I make the majority of our plans. All my friends know you but I don’t know any of your friends,” he sighs in frustration and pulls over into an empty parking lot, putting the car in park. “And now tonight you don’t feel like you can tell me what’s wrong… I just- If you want to break things off, please just say so.”

When he finishes, he gazes at you, dejection swimming in his eyes like you’re breaking his heart. 

In your mind, you repeat the words that stand out to you as if they’re new arrangements of letters with meanings you’ve never encountered before.

T a k i n g  t h i n g s  s l o w.

B r e a k  t h i n g s  o f f.

What  t h i n g s?

“Seungcheol… Please don’t get upset, but I think we might not be on the same page,” you say slowly. “What are we? Because I was under the impression we were-”

“Friends,” you finish just as he responds, like it should be obvious, “Together.”

“You think we’re just friends?! We met on a dating app,” he bursts in a barely contained explosion. 

“You’re so hot, and sure, we went on that one coffee date, but we never went on any others-” You scramble to explain your reasoning. 

“We’ve gone on at least three dates a month since we met! Did you think we were just hanging out?” 

“...Yes?” 

“I plan them, I dress nicely, I pick you up, I pay,” he lists off on his fingers, clearly growing heated. 

“Okay, so maybe those were dates! But we don’t kiss, or have sleepovers, or talk to each other about our feelings,” you attempt to defend yourself. 

“I was trying to follow your lead,” he grimaces regretfully and pinches the bridge of his nose. “God, could I have been kissing you this whole time?” 

“You could have been doing a lot more than kissing me,” you laugh to yourself, thinking about all the wishes and desires you’ve had since you first laid eyes on him. Then you see his face, and it doesn’t really feel funny anymore. 

He looks equal parts irate and amorous, that strong brow furrowed in displeasure though his gaze is greedy, like he’s had enough of you but at the same time, he could never get enough of you. 

“Alright, since I apparently need to lay it all out, here’s what we’re gonna do,” he turns to face you, bringing a hand up to cup your cheek. You barely resist the urge to lean into it before realizing you don’t have to resist anything anymore when it comes to Seungcheol, your hand coming up to cover his and hold it to your face. 

His eyes soften at that, his thumb brushing your cheekbone as he says, “First, we’re going to talk about our feelings and get on the same page. Then, I’m taking you to your place to pack an overnight bag and to mine for a sleepover, and this time I’m not staying on that goddamn couch. It’ll take a while to make up for four months of not kissing you, but we can start with tonight. Does that all sound good to you?”

“Everything sounds great,” you breathe dreamily, already envisioning being on your back beneath him with those perfect cherry lips on yours. 

“Fuck, don’t look at me like that,” he groans, his head falling sideways against the headrest. “We have to talk first.”

“Are you telling me or yourself?” You ask teasingly, giggling when he squeezes his eyes shut and swears under his breath. 

“Both,” he sighs out before saying nervously, “I’ll start, because I’m a good boyfriend.”

You have to swallow down the squeal that threatens to burst from you just at the thought of Seungcheol being your boyfriend. 

“I’ve been into you since I met you,” he begins. “You make me laugh, you make my heart race, and you make me want you, all the damn time. The past four months have been the best of my life. You’re smart and beautiful and special and I want to be with you for as long as you’ll have me.”

Hearing Seungcheol say these things sends a rush of pure joy through you, followed by a flood of affection. He’s all you’ve wanted for four months, and now you know he likes you. And wants to be with you. It’s almost too much for you to handle… Almost. 

“Seungcheol, as soon as I saw you on that god-forsaken app, I knew I could stop looking. You’re funny and kind and thoughtful and devastatingly good looking, and I liked you so much that I tried to be happy just being your friend, but I always wanted more. I think it’s because I was so blinded by my crush on you that I didn’t realize we were more. We are more. Hopefully, you’re okay being with me for a long time, because I don’t know if I’ll ever want to let you go.”

He gazes at you, his face soft and his eyes earnest, adoring. “That’s fine with me,” he murmurs, leaning in. “Can I kiss you?”

“I literally thought you’d never ask,” you whisper, inching forward and holding your breath until his lips finally meet yours. 

They feel supple, lush, just like you knew they would, and he kisses you with a gentleness you didn’t expect. After four months of waiting, you thought he’d be impatient, rough, but he’s moving like he has all the time in the world, like you’re something worth savoring. He pulls away reluctantly, but you’re not done yet, your chin tilting so you can press your lips to his again. 

He sighs against you and you glide your tongue over his bottom lip, gasping when he opens his mouth to lick into yours. His hand shifts to cup your neck, tilting your head so he can kiss you at a different angle, and that’s when the moan slips out. 

It’s quiet, but obvious in the silence of the car, and you pause self consciously for a second before he brushes his thumb over your jaw and moans back. The sound is so hot that you’re inches away from unbuckling your seatbelt and climbing over the center console into his lap, your mind already wrapped up in thoughts of feeling his thick, sturdy thighs under you. He doesn’t let you get that far, breaking away with a gasp and staring at you heatedly, as if he can hear your thoughts. 

“I want too much from you for our first time to be in my car,” he pants raggedly, fighting to catch his breath after you attempted to steal it from him. 

“I suppose I can’t argue with that,” you acquiesce, watching as he shifts into drive and makes his way out of the parking lot. When he’s on the road again, he rests his palm on your thigh with a glance and a raise of his brow, as if to ask if his placement is okay. You just smile and intertwine your fingers with his, trying to shove down the giddiness bubbling up within you as you get closer and closer to your apartment.

AN: there was a natural separation between scenes so i decided to make this a two parter!! smutty part two will be posted sometime this weekend (hopefully)

please i am begging u to tell me ur thoughts and ur thots i am deep in seungcheol brainrot and i need to commiserate

edited to add: drop a comment to join the taglist!

cheeks are red like cherries in the spring - choi seungcheol imagine

hellllooooo yes back to back post😅 one thought, why is diet pepsi so cheol coded ??????? cherry???? cross gold chain???!?!?!?! LIKE OKAY MS ADDISON RAE THANK U FOR THE NEW CHEOL ANTHEM

and with that song in mind, here's a cheol scenario HAHA hope you like it!

if anyone want to be mutuals on X, i'm using the same un there😊

for my other svt fics, check them here

if you want, u can buy me coffee(totally optional but any donation is very much appreciated!) thank you🥺💛

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2024 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(gif not mine, credits to rightful owner)

"Cheol, I swear to god get the fuck out of my shirt"

"Your shirt? This is my shirt"

The audacity of this man to argue back, you thought. Who knew a big buff man like Choi Seungcheol would be like a clingy koala, the answer would be you and only you. You're the only one who gets him like this.

Your fiancé knew exactly which buttons to push and when to push them. Like right now, you told him you were catching up on some work you missed while the two of you went on a quick weekend trip but ofcourse he would find a way to be involved somehow.

So here he is, half of his body inside your(his) shirt while you sit on his lap.

You're close to getting your work done but Cheol's being difficult, littering kisses and a few playful bites here and there on your chest.

"Cheolie, please give me five minutes to finish this then I'm all yours. If you don't stop, I'm sleeping in the guest bedroom"

You feel him move out of your shirt, now he's fully facing you. One brow raised and a sulky pout already placed on his lips "You're mean"

"5 minutes or no cuddles tonight"

He scowls before helping you off his lap so he can get off the seat. "I'm setting a timer, done or not I'm coming in here" And you believe him. He's petty like you, maybe because you're both Leos.

He kisses you on the cheek before walking away, closing the door behind him.

You finish the last three emails you had to send before doing a final run through. You look at the clock to see you're cutting it close. Testing to see if Cheol will really come in the room, you wait instead of going out to the living room.

When the clock turns, you hear the door swing open. Everything happening all too fast, Seungcheol already throwing you over his shoulder before you can protest. He walks to the other room where he throws you (gently) on the bed, hands on his hips as he watch you laugh

"You're so petty" you laugh

"And you're so pretty, you know just how to drive me mad huh" he tells you, climbing over the bed until he's on top of you. He slots himself between your legs, tangling them around his hips as he rests his body on you but not fully putting all of body weight on you

"You better not have left hickies on my neck again" you poke him on the cheek

"And if I did? It's not like somebody will come and check" he retorts, then leans down to start kissing your neck again as if to prove a point.

"Cheol, seriously. I can never wear low cut now" your words differ from your actions, tilting your head to the side to give him more room. He smirks against your skin, kissing the same spot over and over again.

He pauses to look at you, eyes looking back at him with so much love and lust it goes straight through him. "You know you have a few moles like from your neck down here" he trails his finger from your neck down the valley of your chest, leaving goosebumps on it's trail.

"Do I?"

"Mhm, and you know what they say about moles? They say that's where you were kissed the most in your past life"

You smile, already seeing where this conversation is going. "Jealous?" you tease him

"Pshhh me? Yes. Actually sometimes it pisses me off thinking someone loved you this much, someone who isn't me"

"But what if it was you?"

"Then good. It should be me. I can't even fathom any other guy loving you more than I do" he tells you, ever so sure and confident of his commitment to you.

"You're cute when you're jealous"

"I'm gonna kiss you here too, over and over again so when we're reborn you get all these moles again I'll be sure it would be because of me"

You stare up at your man, imagining a universe where you're not with him is simply impossible. Pulling him down to crash his lips against yours, he reciprocates the kiss with just as much passion. Like you're the air he's breathing.

When you pull away he speaks again, "I really hope it's me in every universe"

You smile at his words, giving him a more gentle kiss this time. The two of you share a smile and few more kisses before you tell him,

"Love me like this and I'll make sure of it"

(Boy)Friend Material | Part II | csc x f!reader

Part I

Seungcheol really thought that, having met you on a dating app, you'd be more into, well, dating him. He supposes he should have made sure you knew that's what he thought you were doing.

Rating: M (18+) | WC: ~9.2k | Pairing: csc x f!reader | Genre: romance, smut

Warnings: elevator makeouts, minor safe sex discussion, lil tiny mention of birth control making reader depressed, restraining, oral f. rec., vaginal fingering, squirting, sex with a condom, crying during sex

Reader Notes: referred to with she/her pronouns, has two cats, has breasts and a vagina, gets carried by cheol, wap

Seungcheol is still fucking floored that he’s been dating you without your knowledge for four months. 

All this time, he’s feared that you weren’t as into him as he was into you. What else was he supposed to think when he was constantly the one reaching out? He was the one making the dates, and inviting you to hangouts with his friends, and asking if he could come over and spend time with you. 

He tried not to mind that it was always him hugging you, him wanting to hold your hand, him touching you in all the little ways people in relationships do. He told himself that he just hadn’t discovered your love language yet, and that once he did, things would change. 

Honestly, if you were anyone else, he probably wouldn’t have stuck it out so long. He was willing and able to because you’re you, and he likes you so damn much. 

You got his attention effortlessly with your opener, and the way you committed to the bit instead of backing down or changing the subject kept him interested. Then when he met you, you were somehow even funnier and prettier in person, and he was fucking enchanted. As soon as you parted ways, he was trying to figure out how he could see you again, dreaming up different scenarios and cycling through ideas until finally, he just asked. You said yes, so he kept asking. 

And now here he sits on your couch (where he can be found most Sundays), playing with your cats and listening to your musings as you pack your weekend bag. He doubts you think he can hear you or you probably wouldn’t be asking yourself, “Comfy or sexy?” out loud. He’s not sure which you pick but he’s kind of hoping for comfy because that’s always been sexy to him, the surety that you’re comfortable around him and cozy as can be. 

It’s been a while since his last relationship and he’s not a serial dater like some of his friends, so he was a bit out of practice when he met you. Still, he counted himself lucky that you grew to be so comfortable around him after only a few weeks, though now he knows it’s because you thought he was just your friend. 

He regrets that it took him thinking you wanted to break up to finally be honest about feeling like the relationship was one sided, because everything could have been resolved so long ago. 

All the times he’s thought about kissing you, he could have. Every morning that he’s surprised you with your favorite iced latte, every flower garden that he’s ever brought you to, every movie night that he’s looked over at you and watched the colors dance across your face in the darkness. He could have been kissing you for months, and you could have been kissing him back. 

He mourns the lost time, but part of him can’t be upset this miscommunication happened because it’s made him move with purpose. He’s constantly thinking of you, always trying to be what you need, and he honestly isn’t sure he would know you this well if he didn’t feel like he had to prove himself worthy. 

It’s not like he’s going to stop trying to prove himself now, but it helps to be reassured that your withholding nature wasn’t because he likes you more than you like him, it was because you didn’t know he likes you at all. 

He feels so juvenile talking in terms of like, but he’s a little scared to introduce love to the equation. He could so easily define his feelings for you in that way, but it’s been four months of dating you without you dating him back, and he’s reluctant to take that leap without being sure you’ll take it with him. 

After he bore his soul to you, though, you said all of those things, told him that you don’t ever want to let him go, which sounds a whole lot like a love confession just minus the actual word…

Bluebell paws at his hand, asking for attention, and he grants it, trying to shake off worries that don’t hold weight anymore. Poppy sprawls against his thigh, purring so loud he can feel the vibrations.

This has been enough, he tells himself. Count yourself lucky that it’ll get even better now that she can knowingly participate in the relationship. 

“Ready,” you say in a sing-song voice as you struggle through the door to your bedroom, your shoulder laden down with a duffle and your hand holding your giant water bottle…cup…thing. You’re wearing your favorite lounge set, one he’s seen countless times, but the way the soft fabric clings to the curves of your body still makes his heart pound. 

He rises quickly to greet you, sending Poppy skittering off the couch. She darts over to you, yowling as if he committed a mortal sin, and you pout indulgently at her, asking, “Did the big man scare you? Poor baby.”

He doesn’t mind the teasing, especially when you call him big in the process. 

Before he gets too wrapped up in staring at you, he strides over, carefully taking hold of the strap on your shoulder and lifting until you slide your arm through so he can shoulder the duffle instead. 

“Wanna get a refill before we go? I know you like your water more than mine,” he offers, continuing to say (because you’re so fucking cute when you’re adamant about something), “Even though it tastes the same.”

“It does not taste the same! My water is better and more refreshing!” You claim instantly, walking across the living room to your kitchenette.

“Maybe that’s because I’ve changed your water filter twice since I met you even though it only needs to be changed twice a year.”

“Maybe so, but you’ll change it a third time for our six month anniversary and you’ll do it with a smile on your face,” you playfully command him as you fill your monstrous water container. 

Six month anniversary. So you really do want to keep him around.

“Yeah, baby, I will,” he sighs, hoping you can’t tell that your little light-hearted threat has him feeling like he could drown, he’s so awash in adoration for you. 

“You’ve never called me baby before,” you gasp gleefully, spinning to face him with bright eyes and a wide smile. 

“I didn’t know if you’d like it,” he shrugs, a bit sheepish that it’s taken him this long to test it out. 

“I love it, baby is my name now,” you tell him, screwing the top back onto your water and sounding so serious, it’s almost comical.

You grasp your cup, holding your free hand out to him for what might be the first time. His heart skips a beat as he takes it, intertwining his fingers with yours and following you to your door. 

“Bye Bell, bye Poppy, I love you,” you call out, looking over your shoulder to find your cats already asleep in their favorite spots on your mushroom and flower cat tree. He whispers his own goodbye and closes the door gently, pressing the button and turning the lock until it clicks. 

Immediately, you’re tugging him down the hall and towards the elevator, a chuckle escaping him at the sound of your bubbly laughter and quick footsteps. 

“Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go,” you press the button and chant at the machine, bouncing in place beside him. 

“Excited?” He teases, amused by your lack of patience. 

Your head turns at the speed of light as you look at him with wide eyes and ask, “Aren’t you?” 

He would be sarcastic but it sounds like your heart is primed to break, and he can’t risk hurting you just for a joke. 

“More than I can say,” he answers honestly, expecting your smile but not the way you hustle him into the elevator and back him up against the wall, wrapping your arm around his neck and looking away only to press the ground floor button. 

“You gonna kiss me or not?” He murmurs, his eyes already on your lips as you get close enough for him to feel your chest against his. 

You answer without words, your perfect lips soft and unyielding, his hand dropping to your hip to tug you into his body as your fingernails scratch at the short hair on the nape of his neck. The feeling sends a shiver down his spine and drags a sigh out of his mouth, one that you swallow with a needy gasp. 

He lowers your duffle to the floor, stepping forward until he’s got you against the wall and sliding his thigh between your legs to see what other sounds he can summon from you as his passion starts to overflow. His lips move against yours insistently, a fire lighting up in his veins when you wilt into him and let him take control, the transfer of power mouthwateringly sweet. 

And then you pull away. You pull away and he tries to chase you but you stop him with a hand on his chest, and he won’t push you, he would never push you. 

“Everything okay?” He pants, trying to clear his mind of the thoughts and images of you that fill it. 

“Yeah, it’s just- we’re here,” you whisper, blinking at him and glancing over at the elevator doors. 

The open elevator doors. 

The lobby is empty, but if Seungcheol is being truthful, he thinks he wouldn’t really care if people did see. 

You’re his girlfriend, and he’s your boyfriend. What’s so wrong with it?

Then again, part of him does want to keep you all to himself, kissing in elevators included. Which is why he’s quick to step away from you and take your hand again, grabbing the duffle before pulling you through the lobby and to his car. 

He’s not in such a rush that he won’t still open your door for you, waiting as you get in and gently shutting the door before tucking your bag in the backseat and jogging around to the driver’s side. He closes his door quietly even in his haste, not wanting to startle you or make you think he’s upset in any way.

His hand finds your thigh again after starting the car up and getting on the road, the silence that fills the space anticipatory instead of stifling like it was just an hour ago. He finds himself clenching his jaw and bouncing his left knee, counting down the traffic lights that sit between your place and his until finally, there’s only one left. 

It’s red when he rolls to a stop, and his heart is thumping so hard in his chest that he swears if he looked down, he’d be able to see it beating. He glances over at you and finds you already staring at him, which has happened more than a few times in the months that he’s known you. This time is different, though, because you don’t pretend you weren’t looking, or start rambling nervously, or even look away. 

You just meet his gaze and let him see everything. Your nerves, your desire, your impatience, he sees it all, and feels it all himself. For perhaps the first time since he met you, he knows for certain that you and him are on the exact same wavelength. 

He’s so entranced that he doesn’t notice the light turn green until the car behind him honks, and that disturbance is still barely enough to make him tear his gaze from yours. His eyes reluctantly return to the road as he gives your thigh a gentle squeeze and presses the gas pedal, closing the distance between the light and his parking garage as quickly as the speed limit allows. 

A long minute passes and he’s pulling into his designated parking spot, his seatbelt unbuckled and his door open before the car is even off. Sometimes, you’re distracted and he gets to open your door for you, but this isn’t one of those times. You’re out just as fast as him, meeting him at the trunk and taking his hand. 

Together, you speed walk to the door that opens into his hallway. You pass through first and then he does, your pace getting faster the closer you get to his place until finally, finally, he’s unlocking the door and beckoning you inside. He pauses to slip his sneakers off at the rack and you follow suit, the sight of your shoes next to his lighting up the part of his brain that craves domesticity with you. 

You don’t come over as often as he goes to your place so when you slow, he takes the lead, his hand still holding yours tightly and his heart still racing. 

He doesn’t quite mean to press you up against the wall but he takes a step forward as you take a step back and then it’s just too easy to lean in and taste you again, your lips supple and your sigh sweet. 

The kiss starts off slow, tame, but it’s not long before he’s inching closer and sucking at your bottom lip, his tongue gliding along yours when you open your mouth and let him in. You’re so warm and soft against him, your breasts flush with his chest and his dick starting to throb against your stomach, the combination of sensations making his head spin. 

It seems he can’t get enough of you now after what feels like millions of missed opportunities, millions of times he’s wanted his lips on yours and his hands on your body. He’s lost in you before he knows it, near mindless with desperation and devotion, his hunger for you so overwhelming that he fears no amount of you will ever be enough. 

It’s never been like this before, nobody else has ever made him feel as if he would suffocate without their air or perish without their touch, but here he is, kissing you like you’re breathing pure oxygen and gripping your hips like he’ll fade into nothingness if he lets go. 

He knew you were special to him but he didn’t know he would need you like this, and the realization is enough to make him pull back, saying through sharp breaths, “Maybe we should slow down, I don’t want you to feel like we have to rush.”

You gaze at him, almost through him, and say, with great care, “Seungcheol, I’ve wanted your dick inside me since we met. If you want to slow down, we can, but if I had it my way, we’d be moving even faster.”

And fuck if that isn’t enough to spur him into action, to make his cock twitch in his jeans and his hands fly to your waist, a rough, “Jump,” escaping his swollen lips. 

You gasp but wrap your legs around him when he starts to lift you, his grip shifting to your thighs as you vine your arms around his neck, seemingly holding on for dear life. He’d die before dropping you so you have nothing to worry about, but he’s too focused on getting you to his bed to inform you of that fact. He also maybe likes feeling you cling to him like this too much to give you any reason to stop. 

“We need a condom, right?” He checks as he walks, fairly certain the answer will be yes. 

Jeonghan bought him a box when he first started seeing you, the exact size he needs and brand he likes, and handed them over with a wink and a wiggle of his eyebrows. Seungcheol rolled his eyes at the time, but he’s thankful for him now because he never would have bought them himself, too fearful of jinxing the situation. 

“Yeah, I stopped my birth control, it was making me hella depressed. Is that- I mean, are you okay with using one?” You ask, though you absolutely don’t need to. 

“Baby, all I care about is making you feel safe. I’ll wear a condom, I’ll pull out, I’ll do whatever you want.”

“You’re the best boyfriend,” you sigh, hugging him tightly and pressing a kiss to his cheek as he crosses through the doorway to his bedroom.

He left it relatively clean, thankfully, and there’s nothing embarrassing out, unless he counts the picture of him and you that he got framed last month to keep on his nightstand. You see it when he carefully deposits you onto your back on the mattress, your face twisting up like you might cry. 

He’s alarmed until you say, “I have that photo framed on my nightstand.”

The fact that you have one is enough to make him smile but the fact that you picked the same picture is enough to make him fucking beam, his lips stretched too wide to kiss you even though he really wants to. 

He tries anyway, his smile fading as he braces a hand next to your head and presses his mouth to yours, climbing up on the bed when you grip his shirt and start to pull him. He’s imagined this so many times, pictured you under him and on top of him and in front of him (face down, ass up as he slides inside of you). 

He’s made himself cum to the thought of you in this bed, and now that he has you here, he almost doesn’t know where to start. You seem to have your own ideas and desires though, and he’d give anything to find out what they are. 

So, like Seungcheol always has, he just asks. 

“You said you’ve wanted me since we met… What have you thought about?” His voice is ragged when he speaks, deep, but he thinks you like it, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip before your breath leaves you in a sigh. 

“Lots of things,” you whisper, your hands skimming down his chest until they find the hem of his shirt and start to push it up. He sits back on his knees between your legs and hauls it off, fighting a smirk at the way your eyes grow hazy.

You hesitate to put your hands on him, so he takes one of them in his own and presses your palm to his stomach, his muscles jumping at your warm, gentle touch. 

“Like what?” 

“Like… how big you probably are. If you’d be soft and sweet or if you’d be a little rough, a little mean.” 

Following your words, he drags your hand down and lets you feel him, his dick hard and pressing into the zipper of his jeans. You can’t cover all of it, but you close your fingers around the shaft as best you can and rub firmly, one, two, three times. 

“Fuck,” he sighs as you squeeze, the pressure making his eyelids flutter as pleasure sparks within him. “Which do you want more? Soft and sweet or rough and mean? I can be whatever you want.”

“You’re already all I want you to be, Cheol, so just be you.”

God, you’re going to be the end of him. Death by swollen heart.

“A bit of both it is then,” he murmurs as he leans down to kiss you, shifting his grip to your wrist before pushing your hand up to rest beside your head. He does the same with your other hand, leaving you unable to move your upper body. 

He’s about to break away to check in, but you melt into the bed and wrap your legs around his waist, tugging his hips into yours with a soft moan. 

The sound sends a lick of heat down his spine, his dick pulsing in time with his heart and so hard, it almost hurts. He breathes a shuddering sigh into your mouth and grinds into you, wishing his jeans could magically disappear so he wouldn’t have to stop kissing you to take them off. 

The denim is getting to be too restrictive though, especially when he’s dying to feel you with no barriers at all. So he tries to pull back, but you whimper into his mouth and hug him closer with your legs, and the only way he can respond to that is by kissing you harder and letting his body press into yours. 

He’s gone for you for a few more minutes, his jeans all but forgotten as you roll your hips against his and sink your teeth into his bottom lip. The slight sting makes him gasp and dig his cock into you in retaliation, his hands tightening around your wrists when you just push back and bite his lip again. 

It feels almost impossible to pull away from you now but he can’t take it anymore, the clothes need to come off, yours in particular. He’s imagined this too often and wanted you for too long to make this a quick, messy, fully-clothed fuck. You deserve better, you deserve everything, and he’s going to do his absolute best to give it to you. 

So he breaks the connection, ignoring the whine that escapes you to pant out, “I’ll kiss you again when we’re naked, promise.”

“Yes, oh my god, take your pants off,” you reply in a rush, your eyes lighting up as you attempt to free your wrists from his hold. He releases you immediately, but he climbs off the bed before you can wrestle his jeans down, his hands finding yours and pulling until you stand with him. With a laugh, he says, “I said ‘when we’re naked,’ baby. That means you, too.”

“Strip me then,” you raise your arms, a challenge in your gaze, and he can do nothing but accept it, tugging your shirt up and off and freezing in place when he sees what you have on under it. 

“Fuck me,” he murmurs, staring at the cherry red lace that encases your breasts. There are delicate little bows on the straps and the lace is so fine that he can see right through it, could probably rip it without even trying. 

“Did you wear this for me?” He asks absentmindedly, his eyes caught on your tits as they rise and fall with your breathing. 

“Yeah, I bought it when we started talking. I thought you’d like it,” you answer softly, tucking your thumbs into the waistband of your lounge pants and pushing them down just enough for him to get a peek of the very same red. “It’s a matching set.”

His knees weak at the thought, he sits heavily on the mattress, setting his hands on your hips and guiding you to stand between his legs. 

“Can I see?” 

“That’s kind of the point,” you whisper like it’s a secret, steadying yourself with your hands on his shoulders as he starts to pull your pants down. They slip off easily and pool on the floor, leaving you nearly bare before him and more bewitching than he could have ever imagined. 

“God, you’re so fuckin’ beautiful,” he sighs out, feeling almost dazed as he takes the sight of you in, his thumbs tracing over the bows that sit on the front of your hips. He sinks his fingertips into you, squeezing to feel the give of your flesh and using all of his willpower to stop himself from tearing the lacy panties right off. 

He could (and would) buy you a new set, but you bought this with him in mind, and had to wait so long to wear it for him. It’s too special for him to damage it just because he’s desperate to see you bare. 

You must be able to read his mind, taking your hands off his shoulders to reach behind your back and undo the clasps, the bra loosening on your body before you shrug it down your arms and toss it on the bed. 

Seungcheol finds himself spellbound once again, captivated by all the skin before him, the way your nipples pebble under his gaze making his breath catch in his chest. “Can I touch you?” 

“I feel like I’ll die if you don’t,” you answer immediately, gasping in relief when he smooths his hands up to cover your breasts. He cups them, testing the weight, and squeezes gently, already obsessed with the feeling of your soft, supple skin under his palms. His thumbs drag over your nipples, circling them until you let out a quiet little whimper, one that he would give his life to hear again. 

“Lay down for me, baby,” He requests, needing you spread out before him so he can fully drink you in. 

Forgetting a change in position means he has to stop touching you, he pouts when you step out of his reach, though he’s distracted almost instantly by the cheeky cut of your panties. 

He stands on knees that are still slightly weak, getting out of your way and watching as you climb up on the bed. He tries not to ogle you but your ass looks so fucking biteable from here, and he can’t even let himself focus on the space between your legs because he just might combust if he gets a good look.

You settle on your back in the center of the mattress and he feels his heart squeeze at the sight of you in his bed. He’s wanted you in it for months, and not just for sex, but for cuddling and reading together and falling asleep in each other’s arms, too. So much time has been wasted, but he won’t let it bother him, not when this literally feels like a dream come true. 

He starts moving toward you, trying to formulate a game plan for how he can kiss your stomach and suck one of your nipples at the same time, but you hold a hand out and say, “Stop.”

Every muscle in his body locks up, his heart pounding in anxiety that he’s done something wrong, that you’ve changed your mind about him, that you- 

“Don’t look so worried, Cheollie, I just want you to take your jeans off,” you soothe, making him sigh out his stress and squeeze his eyes shut. 

“Listen to me, Seungcheol. I like you so much that it scares me sometimes. I like you in a way that is concerning to my friends. I like you more than I have ever liked anyone else. My crush on you is deeper than the Mariana Trench,” you say emphatically. “I will tell you this until you believe it.”

Fuck, he feels like he might cry. 

Hearing these words from you is affirming beyond belief, soothing to his very soul, and the steadiness and truth in your voice as you said them is what gives him the courage to admit it. 

“I think I’m in love with you,” he whispers quietly, his eyes still closed. He hears rustling, envisions you making your way to the edge of the bed, and he’s not surprised when he feels your hands take his. 

“I know I’m in love with you,” you whisper back, your fingers intertwined with his and your voice just as sure as before. 

He blinks his eyes open, finds you staring up at him with a teary, affection-soaked gaze, and can’t stop himself from leaning in and pressing his lips to yours. The kiss stays chaste and soft even though your tits are out and he’s harder than he’s ever been in his life, this moment so precious to him, his desire takes the back burner. 

Until you pull back and tell him, “Now take your pants off, please. I’m so fucking wet for you.”

Fuck the back burner, you just lit the stove on fire. He unbuttons his jeans, the fly barely halfway down before he’s shoving them off and stepping out of them, kicking them away like their presence offends him. You didn’t ask him to, but he sheds his boxer briefs as well, feeling his cock pop up and hit his stomach before it hangs heavily between his legs. 

Your eyes grow wide and you open your mouth to say something, but he can’t stop hearing, ‘I’m so fucking wet for you,’ the words seared into his brain forevermore. 

“Let me eat you out?” He practically begs, willing to ask again on his knees if you want him to. 

“I love that you ask, but you don’t need to anymore. Just do what feels right and I’ll stop you if I don’t like it,” you promise, laying back and lifting your ass for him as he slips his fingers into the waistband of your panties and starts to tug them down. 

And shit, they’re soaked, fucking sodden with your arousal, the lace sticking to your pussy as he peels them away. He can feel his mouth water when the scent of you fills his nose, leaving him breathless and near brainless with need for you.

Sinking to his knees, he gently pushes your thighs apart to reveal the prettiest fucking pussy he’s ever seen. Maybe he just thinks that because it’s yours, but that doesn’t really matter when you’re glistening and open and all for him. 

He’s always imagined himself having some amount of finesse when he finally got his tongue between your legs, always pictured going slow and taking you apart piece by piece, or at least pacing himself even a little bit. Now that he’s here, with his hands on your thighs and his face just inches from you, he knows that won’t be the case at all. 

You smell too fucking good for him to hesitate any longer, his tongue darting out and dragging from your opening to your clit. He can’t hold in the groan that leaves him at the first taste of you, his cock twitching as your arousal coats his taste buds, heady and rich and perfect. His eyes flutter closed and he buries his face in your cunt, pushing your thighs up to your stomach so he has more room to work. 

He feels your hands against his, feels them hooking beneath your knees to hold your thighs up for him, and he moans gratefully in response, setting his thumbs on either side of your pussy and pulling your lips apart so he can taste you more directly. 

He dips his tongue into your entrance and you clench around it, the sensation making him whimper into your pussy and delve even deeper inside. Just this might not be enough to get you there but you taste fucking heavenly and feel even better, and he’s wanted his mouth on you like this for months. 

So he allows himself to be selfish for a few minutes, fucking you with his tongue just to feel the way you quiver and squeeze around the muscle. Your arousal starts to leak down his chin and he almost regrets the waste of it, pulling his tongue from your pussy to latch his lips to your opening and suck. 

“Seungcheol, please, I need-,” you implore him, your words halting when he fills you with two of his fingers, the digits sinking inside with a squelch. You whine above him and his gaze travels up your body to find your back arched and your kiss-swollen lips parted, every sound that escapes them like music to his ears. 

Fuck, you’re a goddamn wet dream.

His fingers curl inside of you, exploring until he finds that patch of nerves along your front wall. As soon as he grazes it, you gasp brokenly and buck into his touch, making him bite his lip and return his eyes to your pussy and the way it swallows his fingers. His mouth finds your clit and suctions around it, the little bud firm under his tongue as he flicks it back and forth, following your sounds to find what you like best. 

“Cheol, I-I’m getting close,” you moan out in a warning tone, but it only makes him more determined, his fingertips grinding into you and his lips puckering around your clit. You seem to love it when he sucks in pulses and crooks his fingers into your sweet spot at the same time so he sets a quick tempo, hoping to help you find the edge and then tip you over it. 

It happens sooner than he expects, the molten velvet of your cunt tightening around his fingers rhythmically as your cries reach a fever pitch. He doesn’t stop, wonders if he even could when you’re making the noises you are and begging him, “Please, Cheollie, please.”

He would soothe you but his mouth is still hard at work on your clit, his tongue rolling over the bud again and again as his fingers prod that spot inside of you. Soon enough, you can’t speak, just sobbing and sinking a hand into his hair to hold him in place, your thigh falling to rest on his shoulder. 

He doesn’t mind the weight, loves your soft skin against his ear and the feeling of you pressing his face into your pussy, as if he’d even consider pulling away now. You want to cum again, he can tell, and he’s not going to stop until you do. 

He fucks his fingers in and out of you faster, pursing his lips around your clit and sucking deeply, grumbling and groaning into you in encouragement, his brows furrowed and his vision hazy. 

Your cunt spasms around his fingers, growing impossibly wetter and locking down like a vise until all he can do is curl his fingertips into your sweet spot and dig his tongue into your clit. A sharp whine pierces the air and your thigh trembles on his shoulder as you break, arousal gushing out of you in spurts to coat his neck and drip down over his collarbones. 

It’s the only flood he’s ever been thankful for, and before you’ve even started to recover, he’s already voicing his gratitude.

“Fucking beautiful, baby. That was the hottest thing that’s ever happened to me, oh my god,” he mumbles, pressing kisses along the thigh that rests on his shoulder, withdrawing his fingers to clean them off with his mouth. 

“I didn’t know I could do that,” you whisper dreamily, struggling to lift your head. 

He lowers your thigh and rises to his feet, shaking out his stiff legs before leaning down over you and letting you taste yourself on his lips. The kiss grows deep in an instant, his tongue sliding into your mouth as you wrap your legs around him and pull his body into yours. His aching dick gets trapped in between until you reach down and take hold of it, guiding it to rest against your hot, wet cunt. 

That first bit of contact is enough to pull a low groan from him, the slippery heat of your pussy on the top side of his cock making him throb and leak against you. He’s so fucking desperate for you but there’s only one thing that he wants more than to sink inside of you bare right now, and that’s to respect your wishes (and not get you pregnant… for the next year or two, at least). 

Maybe someday he can fuck you without a condom but that day won’t be today, so with great difficulty, he drags his lips away from yours and reaches an arm out to pull open his bedside drawer. He feels around for a second, exclaiming victoriously when his fingers catch on the box before he takes hold of it and sets it on the bed. 

Looking back at you for approval, he finds you beaming up at him like he hung the stars in the sky just so you could bask in their light, and fuck, he swears he’d rearrange them all in the shape of you, given the chance. 

He fumbles one-handed with the box for a minute, his other hand braced next to your head to keep himself from crushing you, before you take over and tear it open, ripping a packet off the strip and tossing the rest onto his nightstand. 

“We’ll need those for later,” you inform him matter-of-factly as you unwrap the condom and reach down to wrap your fingers around his dick. He’s been leaking enough precum that your hand glides when you pump it up and down, and it takes an astounding amount of self control not to fuck into your grasp as if he’s never been touched before. 

You place the condom at his tip and start to roll it on and even that is heavenly, your touch electric and your eyes bright like the summer sun when your gaze meets his. He feels you line him up, his cock jumping at just the thought of being inside your perfect cunt, barrier or no barrier. Your legs tighten around his waist, pulling his hips into yours, and he takes that for the hint it is. 

Sucking in a deep breath, he starts to sink into you, the head of his cock pushing through the tightness of your entrance to disappear inside of you inch by inch. He goes slowly, both to give you time to adjust and to give himself the opportunity to get it together, the blazing heat and intoxicating grip of your pussy wiping out every coherent thought in his brain. There’s a stretch but it’s eased by your arousal, and the way he can feel you relaxing and opening up to accept him is nothing short of exquisite. 

“How does it feel?” He gasps out raggedly, watching your face as he finally bottoms out. Your eyebrows are scrunched up and your pretty lips are parted, soft breaths escaping as you hitch your thighs up higher on his waist and let your eyes blink open. 

They’re full of tears, making him blanch and immediately start to pull his hips back, sure that he’s hurting you and you’ve been unable to even speak through the pain to tell him. 

“No, stay! Stay, Cheollie, it’s fucking perfect,” you plead in a broken voice, hugging him closer with your legs and wrapping your arms around his neck. 

“Then why are you crying?” He asks, confused and still slightly worried though the fluttering of your walls around him is enough to make him want to cry too. 

“I’ve just wanted you for so long, and you make me feel even better than I ever dreamed you would,” you tell him through a wobbly smile. “I think you’re my missing piece.” 

“Baby,” he sighs lovingly as he melts against you and drops down to his elbows to press his lips to yours, the movement burying him just a bit deeper inside and making both you and him moan in pleasure. 

He doesn’t think he even knows words that could explain how flawless, how right you feel around him, but he can at least try, for you. 

“Being inside of you is like… coming home. Like I’ve been wandering in the cold my whole life and I finally found somewhere soft and warm and safe to rest. I kind of want to never leave,” he murmurs, resting his forehead against yours and gazing into your eyes as he speaks. 

“You may not be able to stay forever but I’ll always want you to come home again,” you promise him gently. “You will leave enough to move, though, right? Because-”

Laughing, he squeezes his eyes shut and steels himself before pulling his hips back a few inches, the drag of your clenching walls on his cock enough to steal his breath even with the latex in between. He tries to go slowly as he presses back into you, but the igneous embrace of your cunt draws him in with one effortless, gliding thrust. 

Somehow, burying himself inside of you the second time feels even better than the first, and it’s easier to withdraw from your warmth again when he realizes that the pleasure will only compound as he moves more and more. 

Fighting to keep his eyes open and on your face while he establishes a rhythm, he builds speed until the catch in your breath and the fluttering of your eyelashes tells him he’s found the best pace for you. He can’t make it out more than a couple inches before your legs around his waist stop him, but he loves that you want him inside as much as he wants to be inside, so he just puts more power behind his hips as he slides back in to make sure you feel it. 

Time starts to pass and he falls into something like a trance, the feeling of your pussy clinging to him as he leaves and cradling him as he returns hypnotic. It’s almost as if he’s lost the ability for complex thought and replaced it with pure sensation, just acting on instinct now that his brain has been rendered useless. 

It doesn’t help that your gaze is deep, mesmerizing, fucking magnetic. He can’t look away, feels like he can’t even blink as he fucks into you, his face close enough to yours that he’s breathing your air. Still, he wants to be even closer, wants to burrow inside of you, climb into your ribcage, and make a home right next to your heart. 

The desire is so intense, it’s nearly frightening, but nothing could scare Seungcheol away from you now. He’s yours, mind, body, and soul, belonging to you in a way he’s never allowed himself to belong to anyone else before. 

He hates to admit it, but he’s already starting to get close. Lasting has never been an issue for him, even in the past few months when all he could think about was you, but thinking about you and being inside of you are two very different things. Your pussy is goddamn magical, everything about fucking you is goddamn magical, and he fears his only hope is in changing positions. 

“Baby, can I- shit, can I fuck you from behind?” He stalls his movements long enough to ask, dreading the moment he’ll have to pull out completely so you can turn over. 

“Um, yes but…I honestly don’t know if I can hold myself up,” you reluctantly admit, like you think it’s something to be embarrassed about. 

“That’s what pillows and my hands are for,” he assures you, smiling at the way you relax and unwrap your legs from his waist, allowing him to begin the process of extricating himself from you. 

Slowly, he begins to draw his hips back, ignoring the alarm bells that ring in his head as he feels his cock leave your heat inch by inch. It’s only for a minute or two, he tells himself, pushing off of you and sitting up so you can get onto your stomach. 

He watches your body move as you roll over, his eyes stuck on the curve of your plush ass before you get your knees under you and they shift to the gleam of your wet, fucked open cunt. Keeping his gaze on you, he reaches to the head of the bed and grabs the two pillows that rest there, sliding them under your hips one after another. You sink into position, your back arched and your cheek pressed against his sheet, completely relaxed even with your body on full display for him. 

The groan escapes without his permission, the memory of your taste on his tongue making his mouth water. Before he knows it, he’s on his stomach too and burying his face in your pussy, reaching up to press down on the small of your back so you arch even deeper into him. 

“Cheol!” You gasp, pushing back onto his tongue when he shoves it inside of you, making him whimper into your cunt as he devours you. 

“Never gonna get enough of this pussy, fuck,” he mutters as he shifts his focus to your clit, wrapping his lips around the bud and sucking in pulses. He doesn’t know how long he eats you out, just that he goes until you’re dripping down his face again and squirming against him, desperate to cum. 

“Seungcheol, please, I ne-need your cock, need you to fill me up,” you cry out, reaching back and gripping one of his hands where it holds you down. 

His dick jumps and leaks into the condom at your words, the plea in your voice sparking a shiver he feels all the way from his scalp to his toes. Pulling his tongue from you, he rises back up on his knees and shuffles forward, taking hold of his cock and gliding it up and down the seam of you, nudging at your clit. 

“Cheol,” you begin, likely about to threaten him. He would love to hear it but your entrance catches on the head of his dick and he can’t resist the alluring, feverish depths of your cunt, sliding inside in one long, ruthless thrust. 

You keen when he reaches the end of you but you also tilt your hips to accept the last inch, the snug clutch of your pussy near mythical in the bliss it brings him. With one hand gripping your hip to hold you up and the other firm on the small of your back to keep you in place, he starts thrusting in and out of you. 

The tempo he takes is brutal, fierce, the force of his hips impacting your ass making it ripple and bounce as he fucks into you. His hearing is fuzzy with how fucking good it feels but he can still make out the smack of his skin against yours and the slick sound of his cock gliding through your wetness. There’s a squelch every time he bottoms out, and accompanied by your whines and whimpers, all of the noises combine to create a masterpiece of a melody. 

Seungcheol truly thought the pause would help but he’s right back where he started, throbbing and leaking for you and so fucking close to the edge, he’s concerned he’ll make it there before you do. Sure, you already came twice, but you deserve a third, a fourth if he can hold himself back long enough - one orgasm for every month he spent not making you cum. 

The hand on your back slips around under your hips, working itself down between your legs to find your clit. It’s swollen beneath his fingers, slippery from the arousal his dick keeps pushing out, which only makes it easier to swirl circles into the bud, the way your pussy instantly clenches around him making him moan roughly. 

The added resistance just enhances each stroke, your walls trying to suck his cock back in when he pulls out and hugging him tighter and tighter every time he pushes inside again. He fears he won’t be able to make you cum without it making him cum too, but there’s something so poetic about finding that euphoria together that he can’t be bothered about breaking this soon. 

“Getting close, baby?” He asks, fairly sure what your answer will be. 

“Yeah, Cheollie, wan-wanna cum with you inside me so bad,” you gasp, craning your neck to look back at him. “Thought about it every time I-” 

You can’t finish your sentence when his fingers start to move faster, but he thinks he knows where you were going with it. 

“Every time you fucked yourself, you wished it was me instead, huh?” He teases a little meanly, knowing he has no room to talk.

Your face crumples as you nod, tears filling your eyes, and he leans down over you, his hand leaving your hip to brace himself so he doesn’t suffocate you. He presses his lips to your cheek, your jaw, your neck, murmuring, “I did the same fucking thing, baby, and I always wanted it to be you.”

“Promise?” You whisper, a vulnerable tinge to your voice. He’s reminded that, until tonight, you had no idea how he felt about you. This is all still new, and he needs to be kind, delicate, reassuring as you acclimate to the reality of him being in love with you. 

Stopping all movement so you can fully focus on his words, he whispers back, “Cross my heart and hope to die. Ever since we met, I’ve thought about you, wanted you, dreamed about you. I fell for you. You’re it for me.” 

“You're it for me too, Seungcheol,” you tell him gently, before asking, “Can I turn back over? I want you to hold me.”

He answers by smacking one last kiss to your cheek and climbing off of you, helping to roll you onto your back and pulling one of the pillows out from under your hips, leaving you slightly elevated but not so much that it’s uncomfortable. Sighing contentedly as he stretches himself out along your body, he slides his forearm under your shoulders to pull you into his chest and holds himself up with that elbow, slipping the other hand between your bodies to guide his dick inside of you. 

“Better?” He confirms, grinning when you nod shyly and wrap your arms around his neck, your legs rising to encircle his waist as he sinks back into you. He hopes you feel as held by him as he feels by you, the sheer comfort and safety of your body enough to make his eyes water this time. 

He moves slowly, carefully, rocking in and out of you at a steady pace, never leaving you more than halfway before burying himself inside again. The brief pause did wonders for his self control, his release feeling far enough away that he thinks he really might be able to get you there once before he lets you pull him over the edge too. 

Until you start kissing him, that is. 

Once your lips meet his and your tongue slips into his mouth, every part of him is wrapped up in loving you. There’s not a single thing on his mind except for you, every thought dedicated to kissing you, fucking you, pleasing you, and it feels so goddamn right. Like this is what he was made for. 

And fuck if that doesn’t have him closer than ever before, his cock pulsing and leaking into the condom, the latex probably the only thing keeping him from cumming right now. If he could feel you bare, it would be over for him, and as much as he wants to experience you without the barrier, he’s thankful for it. 

His fingers settle back onto your clit and start to rub circles around it, his mouth catching the gasp you let out when his hips scoop on the next thrust in and drag the head of his cock against your g-spot. 

He can’t hit it with every stroke, not when he wants to get as deep as possible, but combined with the work of his fingers, he can feel you getting closer each and every time he does graze the erogenous patch. 

You stop kissing him to tilt your head back and let out a long, high-pitched whine, and he knows it’s almost time. He doesn’t change a thing, not when your nails dig into his shoulders, not when your hips buck into his, not even when your pussy starts to swallow around his cock. He just keeps his steady pace, continues to roll your clit beneath his fingers, and hopes, prays, wishes that pleasure will find you before it washes over him. 

“Please, please, please baby, please fucking cum for me,” he begs, every muscle in his body tensing as he fights to hold off his own orgasm. It’s not in vain, thank fucking goodness, because you whimper brokenly as your pussy starts to undulate around him, growing tighter and tighter until he can’t move, can barely even breathe. 

You’re cumming, fuck, you’re cumming, and so is he, the pulsating of your walls around him making him surge deep inside and stay there as he fills the condom with his cum, his cock jerking and jumping within you. It’s better than it ever has been, every thought in his head wiped out by pure fucking ecstasy and every muscle in his body tensing then relaxing as he succumbs to the urge to just melt into you and let two become one. 

Minutes, or maybe hours, pass before he can pull himself away from you, but eventually you release your hold on him, your arms falling to rest beside your head and your legs gingerly returning to the mattress. He doesn’t know if he’s ready to not be inside of you, but the condom is starting to feel uncomfortable now that he’s softening, especially as full of cum as it is, so he holds the base of it as he withdraws himself from you. 

You pout the whole time and he does too, but you say nothing as he gets off the bed to slip the condom off, tying the end in a knot before dropping it in the bin next to his desk. 

Seungcheol doesn’t know why but he’s nervous to turn back around, to face you again. When he does, though, you just smile up at him sleepily and open your arms, waiting for him to find his place. 

He grins softly and slides back into bed, laying on his back and gathering you up against his chest, humming contentedly when you snuggle into him, your leg tossed over his thigh and your arm wrapped around his waist. 

“We should wash up, but I don’t want to move…” he murmurs, lifting his head just enough to press a kiss to your crown before letting it drop back down, his eyes fluttering closed. 

“I have bad news,” you say quietly. His heart starts to race and his eyes fly open, his arms tightening around you like that’ll protect him from what you’re about to say. 

“What is it?” He asks, hesitation clear in his voice. 

“We forgot my stuff in your car,” you whisper nervously, as if that’s something he would actually get upset with you over. 

He can’t stop the laugh that bubbles out of him, tinged in both love and relief, though he does muffle it in your hair. 

“That’s not so bad, baby. I’ll go get your water and bag, and you start the shower, okay?” he proposes, already planning to jog so he can make it back in time to rinse off with you. 

“Okay,” you sigh happily, sitting up and rolling out of bed before prancing over to the ensuite, fully fucking naked. 

Yeah, no way in hell is he staying on that goddamn couch tonight. 

AN: what a fucking journey this was!! I’m so happy i kept yall updated through it because it was so nice to have you cheering me on and to know you were excited for it to come out 🥺 did i expect it to be three times as long as part one? no! are their feelings a bit dramatic? yes! is this fanfiction? yes, so i can make it as dramatic as i want! people get married after one month, they’re allowed to be in love after four! ps you don’t know how hard it was to keep more breeding kink from slipping into this like it’s borderline impossible for me to write seungcheol without breeding kink but i did my best and i did it for you

all i have left to say is this: you deserve someone who will love you like seungcheol loves reader! you deserve someone who will listen to you and respect you and do everything in their power to make you feel good! that’s what i, user sluttywoozi, wants for you! remember that the next time you think about settling for less than what you deserve!

Taglist: @so-da-1 @plskillme22 @nightshadeblooming @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @gyuguys @jennwonwoo @lelestarmy @disneyprincessshuri @alexbarberry @scoupsjin @sourkimchi @bangrauhl13 @meowmeowminnie @jungkooknippleanddicksucker @lukeys-giggle @polyglot-ton267 @bubbletroubble @bouclesdefeu @sunshinekyeom-sang @ujimatchaaa

[20:08]

Tags: Choi Seungcheol x Fem! Reader, established relationship, facesitting, overstimulation, praise (f. and m. receiving), piv sex without a condom for the first time, dirty talk, petnames, breeding kink if you squint and creampie.

I will block you if you are a minor and/or have no easily visible indication of your age on your blog if you interact with me in any way.

Your fingernails bite into the wood of your headboard already in anticipation. While you try to be cautious as you lower yourself onto Seungcheol's face, your boyfriend has other plans in mind. Years of hard work paying off as he uses his strength to grab your thighs and all but shoves his face into your slick folds.

"Cheol," you choke out, your thighs already shuddering under his unrelenting hold when his plump lips wrap around your swollen clit and suck. You suppose these months apart haven't been easy for him either but, he seems determined to sear your taste onto his tastebuds. High-pitched moans and keens of his name leaving your well-kissed lips while he hungrily laps at you. Alternating between licking your clit and chasing the taste of your wetness that's no doubt smeared a good portion of his face by now.

Seungcheol is a determined man. It's simply in his nature. It is no surprise that facet of his personality bleeds into your bedroom as well. Despite the more than likely present ache in his jaw and a lack of oxygen, he remains latched onto your clit. Using the knowledge he's collected over the course of your relationship to bring you closer and closer to your climax. Strong hands digging into your ass, guiding you along his tongue and face. Making sure he's able to reach every bit of you he can.

"Cheol I- I'm so close- please I-," you moan out, reaching one of your hands down to grab his blonde locks. God, this colour looks so good on him. It looks even better peaking out between your shaky thighs. Your words only serve as motivation for him. The vibrations from his noises of pleasure tightening the knot in your core, your slick walls clenching and unclenching periodically.

A few firm laps of his tongue are what ultimately cause the proverbial knot to unwind. Seungcheol keeps you firmly pinned to him as shudders overrun your body. Your hands harshly clutching at his hair and your headboard. If your hold hurts, he doesn't show it. Choosing instead to drag you higher up his face so he can lick up your release, his nose brushing your hypersensitive clit all the while. Your moans quickly shift to pitchy whimpers. Your thighs locking around Seungcheol's head but, he remains unbothered.

"Ch-Cheol," you cry out while he continues. Strangled gasps leaving your crumpled body from the sting of overstimulation beginning to set in. Any unconscious attempts to move away from his mouth are thwarted easily. His hold on your thighs remains steady as he hurls you into another orgasm at breakneck speed.

Your second orgasm barrels into significantly faster than your first. A few stray tears falling from your eyes and streaking your overheated face. Fortunately, he seems to be feeling merciful this time around. Parting from your drenched folds with a gentle kiss before easing his hold on you. With all the minimal energy you have left, you heave yourself off of his face and flop down beside him. Both of your frantic breathing all that can be heard in your bedroom.

Your eyes are shut but, your ears pick up on him shuffling beside you. If you had the capacity, you'd crack your eyes open to watch him do whatever he's doing, you would but, you're too preoccupied with regaining feeling below your waist.

"Are you okay?" He rumbles against the side of your face. Nuzzling into you and planting kisses wherever he can reach.

"Barely," you mutter into your pillow, reveling in his affections.

You quite literally just came but, you still feel yourself throb when he laughs. It's just so deep and attractive and him. You really can't be faulted.

"It's not my fault my girlfriend has such a delicious pussy," he says, dragging his fingers lightly over your folds prompting a few tremors down your spine and you few weak whines from your lips, "And I haven't had it for a whole two months. Can you really blame me?"

You suppose you can't when the feeling is more than mutual.

"No," you mutter, pressing into his touch, "Oh and, I'm okay. I just needed a minute."

"Understandable," he muses and you can practically hear the grin in his voice. He let's out a frustrated huff as he rubs your thigh, "I'm so annoyed that I didn't think to bring condoms before coming here," he grumbles, "I mean I know we could still do other things but, I really wanted to feel you, y'know."

"You still could."

His hand pauses on your thigh.

Gathering all the confidence you can muster, you open your eyes to find his handsome face morphed in unadulterated shock. You would giggle if your heart wasn't thundering against your chest, "We have been dating for close to a year now," you say, taking pride in your voice only trembling marginally, "I'd be okay with it if you are. You know I'm on the pill anyway, so..." You trail off.

Seungcheol looks like he can't quite believe his ears. His big brown eyes blinking at you owlishly as he processes your words. Before you can stew in your anxiety for a beat two long, he leans in to kiss you. The angle is a little awkward but, you couldn't care less. Your release is the first taste that hits your tongue. A little salty but, not unpleasant. You briefly wonder if it's a little narcissistic to get aroused from your own taste.

"You're trying to fucking end me," he groans against your mouth.

"I'll take this as a yes then," you laugh breathlessly.

"Like I'd ever say no to that. Are you kidding me?" He mutters, sounding partially affronted with a pout, "I need you to roll over for me, baby," he gently commands. The whiplash he gives you is so disorienting something but, you comply nonetheless when he gives you some room. Making yourself comfortable on your pillows, drinking in the sight of his pinkened lips and miles of bare muscle. Your walls clamping viciously when your eyes land on the outline of his heavy cock through his sweats.

Two months really has felt like a lifetime.

Typically, he'd tease you for staring at him so blatantly, but tonight is about as atypical as they come. Instead, he opts to hurriedly tug his boxers and sweats down his firm thighs. You swallow thickly watching his cock bob a little in the space between the two of you. Still as girthy and long as the last time you saw it.

"If I had more patience, I'd fuck that pretty mouth of yours," he says, shooting you an impish grin before focusing his attention between your thighs as he shuffles closer to you and grabs himself.

"That'll have to wait for later though," he mutters, his voice dark with arousal as he coats himself in your wetness with a few lazy strokes along your slit. He's completely enamoured with the sight of himself parting you. You can't blame him but, you're too busy moaning out with every bump of his tip along your clit.

"Seungcheol please," you whine, weakly arching into him to meet his thrusts, "I want you inside of me please."

"Well, when you sound so cute and ask so nicely, how can I say no?" You know he has no intention of waiting for a response, and the praise only adds to the fuzzy state of your mind. Your eyes roll into the back of your head when he very slowly begins to push into you. While the feeling of your bare walls is otherworldly and he'd love nothing more than to sink into you in one go, he knows he's a lot for you to take. Especially after so long.

Your nails rake his broad back with every centimetre of himself he eases into you. You're more than wet enough to take him, but God, he's just so big that you just need a few moments to adjust to the sting of being stretched by him. At least you're able to just take him from the get-go now. You remember all those weeks of him having to use his fingers to stretch out first and how, in hindsight, you'd come to appreciate them when faced with the real thing when he thought you were finally ready.

"You're doing so well, baby," he whispers, watching your face carefully for any signs to stop, "You're taking me so well. Like you always do." He litters your neck with kisses to help distract you from the mild discomfort, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles into your thighs.

"You're so big," you babble out, your eyes fluttering when his nudges the sensitive part of your walls with ease. You don't even think he really meant to but, the sensation is enough to rip desperate keens from you and dig your nails harder into his back. More of your wetness gushing out of you to help ease his glide, leaking down your ass.

"Yeah?" He breathes with a small laugh, "I'm big huh. Did you miss my big cock, baby?"

"Yes," you cry out when he finally bottoms out and, it's a lot. It might even be too much if you're being truthful with yourself. It's never felt like this. You think you might really be able to feel every ridge and vein of his cock. His tip is nestled so deeply inside of you that overwhelmed tears spring to your eyes just from that alone.

"Fuck," he groans gutturally into your shoulder, his hands digging into your thighs and pressing them further against your chest, "Fuck. Shit. Fuck, baby, you're so tight and wet," he moans, his body practically vibrating with how much he's holding himself back from moving.

"Cheol," you whimper, "Cheol, move please. I'm okay. You-You can move. Please move," the words rush out of you so quickly that you're not even sure they're coherent but, he seems to hear you all the same. Your back arches borderline painfully when he pulls out of you until his fat tip is all that's left inside of you before thrusting back in.

You clutch him tighter to you, not caring in the slightest about the burn in your thighs from the way he has you folded. You just want to feel as much of him as you can. You need to. He happily complies, allowing you to tug him closer as he slowly finds his rhythm. His cock dragging deliriously along your wet walls.

"I missed you," he grits against your jaw before pulling you into a messy, uncoordinated kiss. It's more so the two of you moaning into each other than anything else but, you'll happily take it. Especially when his cock splits you open so deliciously.

"Missed you too," you whimper into his mouth, a cry of his name echoing throughout your bedroom as he finds that spot against your walls again. Using that knowledge to his advantage, he angles his hips a little so his heavy cock hits it with every thrust. You thought you were already well-worn for the night but, you can feel another orgasm building.

"You have no idea how much I've thought about fucking you like this," he grunts out between precise thrusts, "Feeling you bare around my cock. Fuck. You're better than I could've ever imagined, baby." He covers every part of he can reach with kisses, his own noises of pleasure vibrating against your skin, "My pretty baby with this fucking amazing pussy. Can't wait to fill you with my cum."

You have a stronger reaction to those words than you anticipated. Your walls gripping him like a vice, his name all your jumbled mind is able to say right now interspersed with moans that are a concerning volume. You just hope your neighbours can't hear you right now.

"Does my baby like the idea of me cumming inside of her huh?" He teases, "Do you love the idea of being so filled with me that it's leaking out of you for days?"

All you can think to do is nod frantically. Your hands clutching at his muscular shoulders as his pace picks up considerably. The lewd squelching of your wetness and his heavy balls slapping against your ass joining the chorus of sounds in your bedroom.

"God, always such a needy good girl for me," he grits out, "Your pussy's so good. Gonna make me cum so hard," and that might be the closest you've ever heard your boyfriend come to a whimper. Not that you can blame him. You can very easily see yourself growing addicted to feeling him like this. Maybe waiting two months does have its merits in some aspects.

"Cheol," you heave out through your laboured breathing, "Please, please I want it. I want you to cu-cum inside me. I need it, Cheol please," you beg him, drinking in the way his pretty face contorts in pleasure and his eyes grow glossy at your words. His thick cock twitching inside of you more incessantly than before.

"I love you."

And that is what ultimately pushes him over the edge. He slots his mouth firmly against yours, moaning into your bruised lips as his cock jerks inside of you. Painting your walls white with seemingly endless ropes of his thick, sticky cum. Having been teetering on the edge from the moment he sunk into you fully, it's no surprise that your third orgasm slams into as he cums inside of you. Seungcheol groans weakly into you from the sensation of your walls milking him for even more of whatever he has left to offer.

Your thighs are a mess of his spit and your combined orgasms. All of it more than likely smearing your inner thighs and trickling onto your sheets. Your poor pussy sensitive and still spasming from everything he put you through tonight. Seungcheol eventually sags on top of you. Nuzzling into your neck while the two of you come back from whatever layer of the ozone you floated up to.

"Maybe being apart for so long isn't all bad," he jokes against your skin.

"You're just saying that because you're stilling riding off the high of cumming inside of me. I remember a certain someone pouting for week about not being able to see me or touch me."

"Fair point," he concedes sheepishly.

AN: I wrote this while very sleepy and in love with Cheol so, not making any promises on quality lol. I did really want to write something for his birthday though. Happy birthday to the other love of my life.

Reblogs are greatly appreciated.

Do not repost, edit, copy and/or translate my work. I do not give you my permission to do so, nor will you ever receive it.

I lose my voice when I look at you

Can't make a noise though I'm trying to

Tell you all the right words

Waiting on the right words

-Black Butterflies and Deja Vu by The Maine

s.coups??? 🥹🥹🥹🥹

hi, amore! thank you for requesting! 💜

song: black butterflies and deja vu by the maine 'can't make a noise though i'm trying to tell you all the right words' (choi seungcheol)

this is for 1.4k followers event - send me a seventeen/formula 1 driver name and any song of your choice and i'll write an imagine on one of the lyrics!

seungcheol wants to bang his head against the wall because he had at least four perfect moments to confess and he missed all of them. it's extremely frustrating cause there's no one else to blame but himself and the only reason why he's not pulling his own hair out is your presence. your illuminating, butterflies in the stomach awakening, making him feel like a kid again, presence. seungcheol is smooth usually, has no trouble flirting and finding pretty words for pretty girls but with you he finds himself at loss, fumbling with sentences like a middle school kid.

'i think we can go watch musical? do you like musicals?' you ask sweetly, turning to look at him.

i like you seungcheol wants to say and yet he only nods. holy shit, why is it so hard?! it's almost like he's sixteen again, with no confidence and trembling knees. you're still staring at him, probably waiting for something more and seungcheol curses inwardly. 'uh, yeah, musicals. sounds- sounds good. yes.'

he cringes but you only chuckle, shaking your head. 'it's okay if you don't like them, you know? we can always go somewhere else. hm, carting, maybe? what do you think?'

you are so sweet, seungcheol fears he'll get cavities. he can't stop though; you're always so considerate and nice and sweet, fuck, how did he score you again? oh right, he hasn't, not yet. he hasn't because his tongue seems to be against cooperating and he can't simply say 'i like you' to your face.

'or maybe not carting. hm, are you into sports? you are, right? basketball? we can check-'

'anywhere with you would be great.' seungcheol interrupts.

and it's not 'i like you' but it's close, right? it's all his mouth is ready to get out, apparently. he chews on his bottom lip nervously and when you blush lightly, looking away, he breathes out in relief - finally he said something good. he hopes you can give him some more time; seungcheol has all the words he wants to say but for whatever reason it's hard to get them out. but he has the words and he will say them out loud - just you wait.

     seungcheol + mutual masturbation

— look at me, look at me, you lookin'?

WARNINGS: +18, smut, mutual masturbation—HIS LEO ASS KEEP ASKING YOU TO LOOK AT HIM lmaoooo, cocky asf seungcheol, attention seeker!seungcheol, you fingering & him jerking off, teasing.

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

it’s too hot to be inside, but neither of you care. the fan’s doing its job, whirring lazily in the corner, but it’s the tension that’s got the both of you sweating. that heavy, choking heat that doesn’t let up, suffocates you just right. the kind that makes your mouth go dry, your thighs clench, but you don’t dare break the silence. not when seungcheol’s got that look in his eyes, the one that says he’s thinking all kinds of filthy shit, the kind of shit that makes you pulse between your legs before he’s even touched you.

you’ve seen him naked more times than you can count at this point, but somehow it hits every time. all sharp jawlines and thick muscles—something about seungcheol naked on a couch just works.

he knows it, too, the cocky bastard.

“keep looking,” he says, voice all raspy and low, the way it gets when he’s trying to get under your skin. “i want you to watch me.”

you’re already watching him—how could you not be? but he’s got this thing where he wants your attention locked on him completely, like if your gaze even shifts for a second, he feels it. it makes him feel young, he told you once, being this filthy with you. like he’s got no responsibilities, no reputation to uphold. just seungcheol, bare as fuck, jerking off on your couch while you do the same next to him.

“don’t look away,” he breathes again, louder this time, and you realize that he’s practically begging. you watch his lips curl into a smirk as he catches your eye again, his chest rising and falling with every sharp breath. fucking leo, you think, biting your lip to stop a grin from forming.

he spreads his legs wider, thick thighs shifting, flexing under his weight as he leans back more. you see every detail, the way his chest rises and falls with his ragged breathing, the way his fingers flex as he grips his cock tighter, stroking himself harder. his hips jerk slightly, and a low, filthy groan escapes his throat, the kind that makes you shiver all the way down to your core. “fuck, just… just keep your eyes on me, yeah? i need you to see this.”

his thumb smears over the head, gathering precum, and your mouth waters. the way he’s so fucking confident, so unapologetically filthy, makes your own skin feel too tight. but he’s not done. not yet. not even close.

“you like this? watching me like this? knowing i’m only doing this ‘cause of you?”

your gaze flicks to his face, and fuck, he’s beautiful. contorted, flushed, the raw need written in every line of his expression. he knows you’re watching, knows you’re hooked on the way his hand moves over his length, the way his thighs part even more, inviting your gaze, daring you to look away but knowing damn well you won’t.

“yeah, that’s it. keep those pretty eyes on me,” he murmurs, voice barely above a whisper, almost breathless now. “don’t fucking look away.”

and you don’t. you can’t. not when he’s making those sounds, those filthy moans that seem to vibrate through you, pooling low in your stomach. not when his cock’s so thick, so fucking hard in his hand, veins standing out against his flushed skin, precum dripping down to his fingers. and the way his balls move, tightening with each stroke, makes you dizzy. you watch, entranced, as he fists himself faster, the wet slide of his hand getting louder, filling the space between you with something so fucking primal.

his eyes always dark, dangerous, but god, the way they soften just for you? makes you you whimper, and it’s embarrassing how needy you sound, how much you want him.

but it doesn’t matter. not when he’s putting on a show for you, just for you. his hips stutter, his breath hitching as he pushes closer to the edge, but he holds back. barely. you can see the tension in his body, the way he’s fighting not to let go too soon, wanting to drag it out. for you.

“you feel this, baby? you feel how fucking hard i am for you?” he grits out, his hips lifting off the couch slightly. his knuckles are white from the grip, precum glistening at the base of his thumb as he keeps jerking himself off.

your fingers are slick, moving fast between your thighs, the sound of it unmistakable in the quiet room. wet, lewd. it’s loud enough to make seungcheol’s breath hitch, his eyes flicking down to where your hand is buried between your legs. he can’t take his eyes off you, like he’s watching something divine, like he’s never seen anything more perfect in his life. and when you speed up, fucking yourself even faster, you swear you see his lips twitch into a smile.

he’s mesmerized by the speed of your fingers, by the way you’re so desperate, so fucking horny that you can’t stop. can’t slow down. every time you thrust deeper, every time you curl your fingers just right, you let out this needy little whimper, and it drives him fucking crazy.

“so greedy, baby,” he groans, his grip on his cock tightening. “look at you, fingering yourself so fast… you’re so fucking wet. can you hear it?”

you can. fuck, you really can. the slick sounds of your fingers plunging in and out of your cunt are filthy, and you know it’s turning him on more. his eyes are locked on your pussy, watching as you fuck yourself, as your fingers slip in so easily, coated in your own slick.

he’s grinning now, that cocky smile stretching across his face as he watches you struggle to keep up the pace, your hips bucking against your own hand. you’re lost in the feeling, your mind hazy with the need to cum, but you can feel his gaze burning into you, hungry for more.

you slip your fingers out of yourself for a moment, bringing them up to your mouth. your eyes meet his, and you make a show of it, sucking your fingers clean, your tongue swirling around them, tasting yourself. the way his jaw tightens, how his chest rises and falls even faster, it’s all you need to know. he’s fucking gone for it.

he’s grinning now, that cocky smile stretching across his face as he watches you struggle to keep up the pace, your hips bucking against your own hand. you’re lost in the feeling, your mind hazy with the need to come, but you can feel his gaze burning into you, hungry for more.

you slip your fingers out of yourself for a moment, bringing them up to your mouth. your eyes meet his, and you make a show of it, sucking your fingers clean, your tongue swirling around them, tasting yourself. the way his jaw tightens, how his chest rises and falls even faster, it’s all you need to know. he’s fucking gone for it.

“shit,” he breathes out, his voice strained. “you’re gonna fucking kill me.”

you grin around your fingers before pulling them out with a soft pop, then reach down to rub your clit, your slick fingers gliding easily over the sensitive bundle of nerves. the wet sounds get louder, more desperate as you press harder, rubbing circles over your clit, your hips rolling in time with the rhythm of your hand.

“fuck, baby, that’s so hot,” he groans, his hand moving faster on his cock. “look at you. look how fucking wet you are.”

you can barely think straight, too focused on the way your body is so close to falling apart. your fingers slip and slide over your clit, wet with spit and slick. your fingers move faster, slipping down to your entrance again, teasing yourself before plunging back inside. the squelching sound of it makes seungcheol groan.

“shit, you’re so fucking good at that,” he mutters, almost to himself. “you finger yourself so well… so fucking fast.”

you chuckle softly, the sound barely escaping your lips before your face contorts again, your eyebrows furrowing, mouth falling open as the pleasure rips through you. it’s filthy, that fucked-out expression that seungcheol can’t take his eyes off of. “i’ve been single for too fucking long,” you gasp, your voice strained, as you glance at him through hooded eyes, trying to keep your breath steady. “that’s why i’m so fucking good at it.”

every muscle in your body tightens, and your hips lift off the couch, chasing after your fingers, seeking more. it’s almost too much, but the desperation keeps you going, fingers moving relentlessly inside yourself.

he lets out a low, throaty chuckle, his eyes dark with lust as he watches you come undone. the way his gaze lingers on every twitch of your body, every slick movement of your fingers, makes you clench around your digits. “yeah?” he grins, his voice teasing. “guess that means you’ve had a lot of practice, huh?”

you try to roll your eyes, but all you can manage is a shaky smile, a breathless laugh mixed with a whimper when your fingers curl just right inside you again, hitting that spot that makes your back arch off the couch. “shut the fuck up, cheol,” you moan, unable to hide the desperation in your voice.

“nah,” he breathes, his eyes glued to the way your fingers disappear inside your dripping cunt. “i like watching you. you’re so fucking pretty...”

his words make your pulse race, and you can feel the tension building in your abdomen again, the pleasure coiling tight like a spring ready to snap. every nerve feels electric, raw, and your body reacts instinctively, your fingers moving faster, slick and messy, as your other hand rubs quick circles over your clit. the wet sounds of your fingers pumping in and out of you fill the air, mixing with your irregular breathing.

“shit,” seungcheol groans, his hand fisting his cock harder now, his eyes never leaving your face. “you’re so fucking good at that. finger yourself faster, baby. c’mon, i know you can take it.”

you whimper, your body obeying before your mind can catch up, your fingers working at a frantic pace, your hips lifting off the couch again as you grind down against your own hand. the pleasure is making you tense from head to toes, a heady blend of too much and not enough, and your vision blurs as you teeter on the edge, so fucking close.

“cheol,” you gasp, your voice high and desperate, “i’m— fuck, i’m gonna—”

“yes, yes, do it, cum for me, hm? you're going to make me cum”

the tension snaps, and you’re gone, your body arching off the couch as your orgasm crashes over you. your fingers thrust deep inside you, curling, and you scream his name, the sound raw and guttural as the pleasure tears through you. your muscles clench, trembling violently as your body spasms with the force of it, your cunt clenching hard around your fingers, soaking them as you ride out every blissful wave.

it’s so intense that your mind goes blank, your body shaking uncontrollably as you cum, your breath is ragged, uneven, as you whimper and moan, your fingers still buried deep inside you, your clit throbbing under your touch.

your fingers slow their movements, slipping out of you, and you groan softly at the emptiness, your body still buzzing with the remnants of your orgasm.

seungcheol’s eyes are dark, his chest heaving as he strokes himself faster and faster, his gaze flickering between your fucked-out face and your slick, glistening fingers.

“fuck,” he groans, his hand moving faster, slick sounds filling the room as he pumps his cock. “you’re gonna make me cum just from watching you.”

you smirk, a lazy, satisfied grin spreading across your face as you watch him, “then cum,” you purr, your voice still a little breathless. “show me how much you want me.”

his jaw clenches, and he lets out a low, desperate moan as his body tenses. he strokes himself faster, harder, his hips bucking slightly as he gets closer and closer to the edge. “keep looking at me,” he pants, his voice strained. “don’t fucking look away.”

his breath hitches, and with one last stroke, he groans your name, his body shaking as his orgasm hits him hard. thick ropes of cum spill over his hand, onto his stomach, and he keeps stroking himself through it.

when he finally comes down, his chest heaving as he catches his breath, he looks at you with a sluggish, pleased grin. “fuck,” he mutters, his voice rough, “you’re fucking gorgeous.” his hand still pumps his cock slowly, the cum collected on his hand as it raises up, his abs twitching everytime he does.

you laugh softly, shaking your head as you collapse back onto the couch, still trying to catch your breath. “told you,” you tease, your voice hoarse. “i’ve had a lot of practice.”

his grin widens, and he chuckles, reaching out to pull you closer, his sticky hand resting on your thigh as he looks at you with that familiar, cocky smirk. “nah,” he says, “you’re just naturally a fucking slut, baby.”

you raise an eyebrow, still panting softly as you turn your head to look at him sprawled out on the couch, all smug. “oh, i’m the slut?” you scoff, letting your hand slide up your thigh, fingers lazily tracing the still-sensitive skin. “you’re over here jerking off like a horny boy, but i’m the slut?”

seungcheol’s smirk doesn’t falter, though you see the way his eyes dart to your fingers before flicking back to your face. “i mean, i wasn’t the one fingering myself like it was a fucking olympic sport,” he quips. “you looked like you were about to break your wrist.”

“please,” you roll your eyes, your lips quirking up into a sly grin. “like you weren’t fisting your cock like it owed you money. i thought your hand was gonna fall off, cheol. or were you just that desperate to put on a little show for me? you came so fucking fast, baby. all that talking, all that bossy shit, and you still couldn’t hold it together”

“fast?” he echoes, leaning back slightly, his fingers lazily trailing over his own stomach, where the mess of his orgasm still glistens. “baby, i was pacing myself for you. trying to let you catch up.”

you let out a sharp laugh, fully sitting up now, and you let your gaze roam slowly over him, from the sticky mess on his stomach to the lazy, smug curve of his lips. “pacing yourself? that’s what you’re calling it now?” you hum, letting your legs stretch out as you slide them against his thigh, the soft pressure making him shiver. “because to me, it looked like you were ready to bust the second i started moaning. i thought you were gonna cry if i didn’t keep watching you. so fucking needy for my attention.”

that hits him. you see the way his jaw clenches, the way his eyes darken, and he swallows hard, the smugness wavering just a little. because he knows its true, he craves your attention so bad. maybe that’s what turns him on the most.

Title from James Joint by Rihanna

Summary: Weed always makes you a bit looselipped, especially around your two best friends, Wonwoo and Seungcheol.

Rating: M (18+) | Word Count: ~4.1k

Warnings: weed smoking, shotgunning, swearing, sex while high, best friend threesome, wonwoo’s cold hands, dom cheol, switch wonwoo, fingering, oral f. rec., restraining (they hold reader down), size kink, they both have big dicks (i yam who i yam), finger sucking, cum eating, crying, voyeurism, male masturbation, squirting, lots of fluid talk, unexpected feelings (as in i didnt expect them) 

Reader Notes: she/her pronouns used, breasts, vagina, sub, wap

“You know what I miss?” You ask rhetorically from your place on the floor, taking a drag and preparing to give them your answer whether they want it or not. “Cumming.”

Their eyes grow wide, Wonwoo shifting in his seat and Seungcheol giving you an appraising look. 

“Do you not do it by yourself?” Seungcheol asks quietly. 

“No I do, all the time, but it’s just not the same,” you sigh as you lean back against the couch, passing the blunt to Wonwoo and missing the trembling of his hands. 

“You miss cumming with someone else?” Wonwoo asks, exhaling the smoke-wrapped question. 

“Yeah,” you sigh dreamily, watching as Wonwoo hands the blunt to Seungcheol, who wraps his plump lips around the tip and takes a deep pull. 

They stare at you, not that you notice, too caught up in precious memories of a time when you weren’t the one taking care of yourself. 

You do catch them sharing a look, communicating silently and coming to some sort of decision just as Seungcheol passes you the blunt. 

“We can do it, if you want,” Wonwoo offers. 

“You can do what?” you ask absentmindedly, blowing out smoke and picking at a loose thread on your pajama pants. 

“We can make you cum,” Seungcheol clarifies, his face straight and serious but his eyes fiery. 

You only need a few seconds to consider. 

“Okay. How do you wanna do this?” 

“Why don’t you let us worry about that, hm?” Wonwoo asks gently.

You nod, tongue tied and a bit lightheaded already, watching as Wonwoo drags the coffee table out of the way and Seungcheol starts rolling up his sleeves. 

You wonder if you should warn them how wet you get when you’re high, but decide to let them find out for themselves, like a little surprise. 

You’re already wet, you can tell, feeling the slickness dampening your panties. Who could blame you though, when Wonwoo’s crouching in front of you, his eyes hazy behind his glasses and his big hands slowly moving toward the hem of your shirt. 

Seungcheol is watching from the side, having moved from his chair to sit on the floor a few feet from you, and you hold his gaze as Wonwoo drags your shirt up. 

You can see his pupils dilate, and you remember you took your bra off before they arrived. 

“Can you guys take your shirts off too?” You ask, lifting your hips so Wonwoo can pull your pajama pants off. “I’m not self conscious, you’re just hot.”

Seungcheol smirks and reaches a hand behind his head, whipping his top off and tossing it to the couch. It lands behind you, and damn, he smells so good, and then Wonwoo takes his shirt off too, and shit, his abs are right there. 

Right there, and already under your hand, and you’re not sure when that happened, but fuck are you glad it did.  

“That’s nice,” you whisper, petting Wonwoo’s stomach and feeling more wetness seep into the seat of your panties. 

You honestly forgot they took off your pants until you hear Cheol groan, and look over to find him staring between your legs with his lip bitten between his teeth. 

His plump, red bottom lip that you’ve always wanted to taste, always wanted to sink your teeth into, and it occurs to you that you can. 

Now, if you want. 

So you reach one hand out, the other still on Wonwoo’s abs, and wait for Seungcheol to shuffle over. 

Your fingers catch in the waistband of his sweats, tugging him closer until you can lean up and capture that plush lip between yours. He groans into your mouth as you dig your teeth into his soft flesh, and you moan when he slides his tongue into your mouth. 

Or maybe you moaned because of the cold fingers on your nipple, tweaking and rolling and pinching. 

You’re really not sure. 

Your mind is foggy with the smoke still floating around the room, and you pull away from Seungcheol to grab the blunt on the side table. 

Taking a drag, you watch as Wonwoo kicks his sweats off, his hard dick pushing against his boxer briefs and leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination, thank goodness. 

You lean in, holding your breath, and press your lips to his, exhaling the smoke into his mouth with a sigh. 

You don’t want to forget about Seungcheol, so you break the kiss and take another hit, sliding your fingers into his hair and pulling him close to give him the same treatment. 

His groan rumbles deep in his chest and vibrates against the hand you place on it, his skin warm and toned under your palm, and you bite his lip again before breaking away to take one final drag. 

The blunt’s almost done, so you pass it to Wonwoo, who takes a hit and closes his eyes before handing it to Seungcheol, who breathes the smoke in deep and leans in to blow it into your mouth. 

You feel like you’re swimming, high from the weed and from their hands on you, and you let out a contented sigh as Wonwoo starts tugging your underwear down. 

His eyes track the fabric as it slides over your skin, and you suspect he may not be ready to look at you bare yet. You pull him into a kiss so he doesn’t have to, one of your hands on his chest and the other playing with the waistband of Seungcheol’s sweats, and you feel more than hear Wonwoo ask, “Can I?” as his hand trails up your leg. 

You breathe out a yes against his lips, tilting your hips into his touch when his fingers tentatively slide along your slit. 

Wonwoo works you open slowly while Seungcheol kisses your neck, drifting lower and lower, pushing Wonwoo’s head down when he gets in the way. Wonwoo takes the hint and slides down to lay on his stomach, pushing your thighs apart so he can fit in between, and you gently pull his glasses off and set them on the couch so they don’t get wet. He thanks you with a kiss to your inner thigh and leans in until you can feel his breath on your pussy, before looking up at you. 

The look on his face, open and wanting and reverent, steals your breath. You’re starting to wonder if maybe there’s something he’s not telling you, but you can’t find it in yourself to care when he finally licks into you. 

Fuck, his tongue is perfect, so good so so so-

You can feel Wonwoo and Seungcheol laugh, and realize you’d said that out loud, but now that you’ve started, you just can’t stop.  

“Wonwoo, yes, fuck, please can you-,” you suck in a gasp as two long fingers sink inside you, clenching around them already and bucking your hips into his hand. 

“You really did miss this, huh?” Seungcheol chuckles, wrapping those plump lips around your nipple and sucking until you squirm. His fingers play with the other, tugging harder than Wonwoo did, and you arch your back, pressing into his warm touch. 

You’re close already, opening your mouth to warn them but whimpering instead when Wonwoo curls his fingers inside you and suctions his mouth around your clit. 

Your hips jump when he works in another finger, colder and thicker and longer than yours, and you love it, you love it all. 

“So good, Wonwoo, you’re so good,” you whine, pitch raising when you feel him groan into your pussy. 

The vibrations feel incredible, and you can feel your clit starting to pulse under his tongue, sending your hips into his face again. 

That begins a delicious feedback loop of you grinding against his tongue and him moaning into you, and with a long, hard pinch of Seungcheol’s warm fingers around your nipple, you fall over the edge. 

Fuck, it feels like you cum forever, wave after blissful wave of sensations hitting you, and you know you’re crying, know you’re babbling, know you’re near sobbing their names, but you can’t stop. 

You’ll never be able to stop if Wonwoo keeps his tongue on you and his fingers curled like that, and you sigh gratefully as he helps you ride it out and then slowly pulls away. 

Your face crumples when you see him suck your wetness off his fingers, and scrunches further when Seungcheol replaces him between your legs. 

“Mind if I have a taste too, baby? Think you can cum again?” he asks softly, lips hovering a few inches from your pussy. 

“Can we rearrange a bit first?” you ask, voice a bit raspy from smoking and then moaning so much. 

They nod, waiting for you to tug them into place. 

Your second orgasm always hits harder than your first, and you know you’ll need Wonwoo to ground you when Seungcheol starts, so you sit up and bring Wonwoo behind you, pulling his hand until he settles at your back, his legs stretching out alongside yours and his arms wrapping around you. 

You feel safer like this, pressed up against his chest and cocooned in his arms, able to feel his lungs rise and fall and his heartbeat against yours.  

Keeping one of his hands beneath yours on your sternum, you let the other wander, and it immediately finds your breasts again, testing the softness of them and exploring how the flesh dents under his fingers. 

Seungcheol’s just been watching this all unfold, sitting on his knees and waiting for you to give him the go ahead. His thighs look so thick, his hard dick trying to push through the fleece of his sweatpants, and you almost want to keep him like this just so you can look at him. 

“You’re so pretty, Cheol,” you whisper, tilting your head back onto Wonwoo’s shoulder and squeezing his hand with yours. 

Seungcheol blushes, face remaining stoic but the tips of his ears turning red, and he waves you off as he lays on his stomach between your thighs. He grunts when he realizes the angle isn’t very good with you sitting up, and you can see the gears turning in his head as he figures out what he wants to do. 

“Baby, hold your legs up so Wonwoo can cross his,” he waits for you both to move before pulling each of your legs down to hook over Wonwoo’s knees. 

You’re fully spread out like this; you can feel the air on your wet pussy, feel Wonwoo’s hard cock pressing into your back, and you should feel exposed, but you just feel dizzy with need instead. 

Seungcheol tugs you closer to his face, making your thighs strain as they spread wider over Wonwoo’s legs, and you try not to pant as he sucks kisses into your hips. He chuckles when you whine and try to get closer to his face, unable to get far with your legs spread as they are, and finally decides to have mercy, pulling your lips apart with his thumbs and licking a broad stripe up your cunt. 

He swirls his tongue over your clit and you want to buck into him, but you really can’t move, especially as Wonwoo holds you tighter against him, so you talk instead. 

“Cheol, please, can I have your fingers? I feel empty,” you moan, near ready to give up all your dignity and beg. 

He pulls away, and through lust gritted teeth grinds out, “Aw, our baby feels empty? Wonwoo, should we let her have what she wants?“ 

You shiver at the depth and tone of his voice, and it becomes a full body shudder when Wonwoo answers, “Of course we should, she asked so nicely. Said please and everything.” 

His words trail off at the end, whispered into your neck as he lays kisses over your skin, bites his marks into your shoulders. 

Seungcheol hums around your clit, brings a hand up and sinks three thick fingers inside, pushing through your tightness to curl into your g-spot. 

You keen through the stretch, your heart thudding harder against Wonwoo’s hand, and Seungcheol grins into you, watching as your pussy opens up to take his fingers. 

“So fucking good for us, aren’t you?” Seungcheol breathes, licking your wetness off his lips before diving in to paint them with you again. 

“So good, baby, taking it so well,” Wonwoo sighs against your throat, his lips drifting up and down your soft skin. 

“She tastes fucking delicious, doesnt she, Wonwoo?” Seungcheol goads, reminding Wonwoo he’s not the one with his tongue on you, and Wonwoo glares at him, pushes him away from you by the forehead, and slides his fingers onto your clit. 

You jump at the feeling, his calluses dragging on your skin as he rubs circles into you, and Seungcheol just shrugs before sinking down further and shoving his tongue inside you with the next thrust of his fingers. 

Crying out, your hand shoots down to fist in Seungcheol’s hair and pull him closer to you. He follows, spreading his fingers so he can get as much of his tongue in you as possible, groaning when a fresh wave of arousal hits his face. 

You’re close again, so close already, and you don’t think you can speak, can barely even move, enough to tell them before your vision blurs and you cum with a wail. 

Your hips jerk uncontrollably, into their touch and then away, and Wonwoo holds you down through it all. Your body squirms in his arms, but he’s too strong for you to get anywhere, and you have no choice but to take the pleasure they’re giving you. 

You cum for what you fear might be hours, shivering in Wonwoo’s arms and clenching down tight around Seungcheol’s fingers, and you can feel the tears streaming down your face, dripping into your open mouth. Your wail cuts out, taken over by a gasp as Seungcheol curls his fingers into your g-spot again. 

You can tell he wants to go for a third, but as you regain your breath and your capacity for complex thought, you realize you have something else in mind.

“I want you to fuck me,” you plead weakly with a pout. 

“This was supposed to just be about you, baby,” Seungcheol reminds you. 

“Yeah,” you say, confused, “I want you to fuck me, how is that not about me?” 

Wonwoo shifts to sit in front of you, glancing at Seungcheol out of the corner of his eye before his gaze lands on you, “She’s got a point.”

“You’re only saying that because you’ve wanted to fu-“ 

Wonwoo clears his throat, glaring sideways before smoothing his hands down your body in contemplation. 

“Me first, then you?” he asks Seungcheol absently, his eyes caught on your curves. 

“Fine, but you can’t cum inside,” Seungcheol stipulates firmly, to which Wonwoo nods in all seriousness. 

“Deal,” they voice in unison with a shake of their hands. 

You stare incredulously, but suppose you shouldn’t be surprised they’re approaching this like a game between friends. 

Because they are friends, best friends, and you’re their best friend too, and this is all just a game, a game that you definitely won’t think about in the shower, or on the way home from work, or when you’re lying in your cold bed alone at night.

Definitely not. 

But maybe every once in a while, as a treat, you think as Wonwoo tugs you down to lay flat on the floor and starts pushing inside of you, his size a shock to your system even though you literally saw his massive dick with your own eyes. 

You stretch around him, cringing slightly at the sting, and he pulls your ass to rest in his lap, fucking into you slowly until he bottoms out. You jump when you feel a hand snake between your legs, not realizing you closed your eyes. 

You open them to find Seungcheol staring at you with his fingers on your clit. He holds your gaze, lip pulled between his teeth again, and circles over your swollen bundle of nerves with warm, sturdy fingers. 

“You good, baby?” Wonwoo asks gently, waiting for your nod to pull his hips back until he can see his cock glistening with you. He slides back in gradually, giving you time to adjust, though you can feel his fingertips digging into the flesh of your hips and know you must be tight around him. You squeeze down, just for fun, just to hear him moan, and he does, curling over you and dropping his face into your neck. 

The space narrows between you, pressing Seungcheol’s fingers into you harder, and when the new angle forces the head of Wonwoo’s cock into your g-spot, you yelp and writhe beneath him. He soothes you with his hands running up and down your sternum and breathes,”I know, baby, I know,” into your throat before straightening up again, pulling back, and thrusting in a bit harder.

It’s like you can feel Wonwoo’s cock in your throat, he’s so big inside you, but you love it, can’t get enough, buck your hips into his until he’s really fucking you, fucking you like he wants. 

You want it too, you realize, have wanted it for months, years, maybe the whole time you’ve known Wonwoo, and it’s that realization that makes you break, back arching, cunt throbbing around his length and pushing him into his own orgasm. 

He pulls out just in time, his hot cum shooting out onto your pussy and dribbling down to your ass, Cheol’s hand flying back to avoid being covered. 

You jump at the movement, and Seungcheol smirks, “Yeah, baby, I’m still here.”

You bite your lips sheepishly, honestly having forgotten about him, and as Wonwoo pets your hips, you whisper a timid, “Sorry, Cheol.” 

Seungcheol just shakes his head in bemusement and tugs off his pants, waiting for Wonwoo to get out of the way before claiming his place between your legs. He gathers up the cum on your pussy, showing Wonwoo his fingers, and slides them inside of you, smirk growing when he catches Wonwoo’s harsh glare. 

“You wanted to go first,” Cheol teases Wonwoo with a tilt of his head, pulling his fingers out and bringing them up to your mouth, waiting for you to close your lips around them and suck before sinking his dick inside you. 

Wonwoo’s cum is still warm, tinged with your wetness and a bit salty on your tongue, but you can’t say you hate it, can’t say you wouldn’t mind another taste, maybe from the source-

“You’re thinking about him, aren’t you?” Seungcheol whispers, leaning down close to you to hide the movement of his lips. 

You cringe, nodding apologetically and gasping when his hips meet your ass, his cock huge and hard inside you. 

“Why don’t you look at him then, baby? Look at Wonwoo while I fuck you,” Seungcheol commands, gently taking your face in his hand and turning your head until you catch sight of Wonwoo. 

He’s flushed, panting, glasses back on and near fogging up with how hot his face must be. He holds your gaze as Seungcheol pumps into you, his hand wandering down to his half-hard cock, his mouth opening on a moan when he sees the way your breasts bounce as Seungcheol rocks into you. 

It’s hot, so fucking hot, having Wonwoo watch you like this, seeing the look on his face as your shared best friend fucks you into the carpet, and it only gets hotter when his hand wraps around his dick, squeezing at the head, moaning when precum dribbles out. 

Seungcheol roots his cock deep inside and you moan too, trying to turn your head to look at him, but he holds you in place, makes you watch Wonwoo jerk himself off, makes you watch him watching you, and you can feel the knot tying up in your stomach again. 

With every thrust of Seungcheol’s hips into yours, every groan he lets out, every clench of his fingers on your hip, the knot gets tighter, and you can feel your cunt getting tighter too, your walls hugging his dick, swallowing it deeper every time he tries to leave. 

Eventually, he stops trying, just fucks himself deep inside you and stays there, glancing over at Wonwoo and smirking before beckoning him over. 

Wonwoo shuffles to you on unsteady feet, hand leaving his cock as he walks, and you’re nearly entranced by the way it bobs heavily between his legs. You’re still stuck on how big he is, so much bigger than you thought he’d be, and it’s not like you thought he’d be small. You just didn’t expect… this. Him. And his massive fucking cock. 

You want it in your mouth, you think, but Seungcheol has something else in mind, stilling his fingers on your clit and waiting for Wonwoo to kneel next to you before telling him, “Make her cum.”

You and Wonwoo both look at Seungcheol, confused, until he shifts the hand between you to your hip, freeing up space for Wonwoo to fill. Wonwoo sucks in a broken gasp, slides his hand between your legs, and rubs his rough fingers over your clit insistently.

He curves his palm around your cheek, pressing his lips to yours and exhaling a sigh into your mouth, and you return it on a moan, weaving a hand into his hair to pull him closer to you. You arch into his touch and try to grind against him, making Wonwoo groan raggedly and press harder on your clit, swirling precise circles, over and over and over until you shatter with a cry. 

You can feel yourself gushing around Seungcheol’s cock, feel it seeping out of your entrance and coating Wonwoo’s fingers, making them glide on you as you clench. Seungcheol’s head is thrown back, his eyes scrunched closed, his plump lips stuck open as he starts to cum inside you. 

His cock jumps as it spits hot cum into you, making you whine in Wonwoo’s mouth when you feel it flood your insides, and he pants as his fingers speed up on your clit, sending you spiraling into another orgasm. This one hits different, your vision whiting out and a buzz filling your head, and you squirm in their hold as wetness splashes out of you, soaking Seungcheol’s stomach and Wonwoo’s hand. 

You can’t stop clenching and you can just barely hear Seungcheol whining in overstimulation over the roaring in your ears. You feel something warm on your stomach, break away from Wonwoo to blearily look down, and find his cock resting on your abdomen in a pool of white. 

You’re a bit confused, because Wonwoo’s got one hand between your legs and one cupping your face, so how did he just cum? 

You look up at him again and, through blurry eyes, see his cheeks redden, his hand leaving your face to push his glasses up and cover his mouth.  

You’re still staring at him, dumbfounded, as Seungcheol starts pulling out, and even soft, his cock drags against your walls. Your hips jerk with residual waves of your orgasm, stoked by the friction of his cock leaving you, and you can’t hold in the whine or the wriggle when his fingers find your pussy and push his cum back inside. 

You try to catch your breath, and Wonwoo’s eyes, but he’s avoiding your gaze. 

You’re not really sure why, but you decide to let him take his time, smiling sleepily at Seungcheol while he tugs his sweats up and scurries off to grab you a damp washcloth. 

Wonwoo looks like he wants to die, crouching on the floor next to you with his hands hovering above your stomach, as if he wants to scoop the cum off of you but wouldn’t know what to do with it. You can tell he wants to say something, but he seems frozen in place, tongue tied. 

It’s hard, realizing you didn’t really think this through. You didn’t have any worries about your friendship with Seungcheol, that’s always been solid as a rock, even through you accidentally sending him your nudes and you walking in on him with your roommate. 

Wonwoo, though, Wonwoo’s always been different. 

You wouldn’t say your friendship is precarious, but it’s… delicate. Special. Something you’ve nurtured and grown over time, and now you sit here, his cum drying on your stomach and his eyes avoiding yours, and you wonder if you’ve just undone it all. 

Seuntcheol comes back before you can spiral too much, swiping at the puddle with a washcloth then helping you stand and hobble to the bathroom, shower already running and your skincare set out. You can hear towels tumbling in the dryer, and over the water, you think you just might hear Seungcheol say, “If you wait any longer, you’ll ruin everything.” 

You just close your eyes and sink into the steam, letting this be a problem for future you. 

AN: thank you to the anon who brought this to me and the other anon (same maybe?) who reminded me of it!! and also thank you to @sluttywonwoo for reading this over for me 🫶

Part Two

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hey I need cheol to fuck and breed me stupid for doing well on my exams :(

Hit the Books, Hit the Sheets

Synopsis: Where after weeks with your face buried inside of books on the brink of exhaustion, however, when the day of the exam arrives, your hard work pays off as you receive notice of an outstanding grade—an A+. Overwhelmed with pride and joy, Seungcheol decides to reward you for your dedication. WC: 3.4k WARNINGS: Smut, mentions of body fluids, breeding, oral (f. receiving), praising, dirty talk, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, g'spot stimulation and lots and lots of praising (again).

Seungcheol walked into the apartment, tired from a long day's work. As he entered the living room, he noticed the familiar sight of you buried in your books, your face obscured by the pages. Concern tugged at his heartstrings as he observed the weariness etched on your features, the faint dark circles under your eyes telling a silent tale of your relentless study sessions.

"Baby," he called softly, approaching you with cautious steps. "You should take some rest. You've been at it all day."

You glanced up briefly, offering him a tired smile before returning your attention to the book in front of you. "I will, Seungcheol. Just a little more to go through."

Seungcheol sighed, taking a seat beside you on the bed. "You've been saying that for days now. I'm worried about you, sweetheart. You need to take care of yourself too."

Your brows furrowed slightly in concentration as you flipped another page, your mind fully consumed by the wealth of knowledge before you. "I know, Seungcheol. But I have exams coming up, and I need to be prepared."

He reached out, gently placing a hand on yours to stop your relentless flipping of pages. "I understand that, but pushing yourself too hard isn't healthy. You need to find a balance."

You met his concerned gaze, feeling a pang of guilt tug at your heart. "I'll rest after I finish this chapter, I promise."

Seungcheol sighed once more, realizing that his words were falling on deaf ears, your mind too deeply immersed in your studies to truly register his concerns. With a heavy heart, he leaned back against the pillows, silently watching as you continued to pour over your books, the weight of exhaustion evident in every line of your posture. He knew he couldn't force you to stop, but he hoped that eventually, you would realize the importance of taking care of yourself, even amidst the chaos of exams and deadlines.

s the days went by and Seungcheol noticed you becoming increasingly consumed by your studies, he took it upon himself to ensure you were taking care of your physical health as well. Despite your insistence on studying continuously, he made it a point to interrupt your sessions with nutritious snacks and meals.

He would gently tap you on the shoulder, interrupting your concentration momentarily as he placed a plate of fresh fruit or a homemade sandwich beside your books. "I brought you some snacks, sweetheart," he would say softly, a hint of concern in his voice.

You would offer him a grateful smile, pausing your reading momentarily to indulge in the nourishment he provided. Though your mind was still preoccupied with your studies, you couldn't help but feel a sense of warmth and appreciation for his thoughtfulness.

At dinner time, Seungcheol would coax you away from your desk, gently reminding you of the importance of taking a break and nourishing your body. He would prepare wholesome meals, ensuring that you ate enough to sustain your energy levels through the long hours of studying ahead.

As Seungcheol pulled up to the college campus, he turned to you with a reassuring smile. "You've got this, babe," he said, his voice filled with encouragement. "Just remember everything you've studied, and trust in yourself. I believe in you."

You nodded, feeling a surge of determination as you gripped his hand tightly. "Thank you, Seungcheol," you replied, your voice filled with gratitude. "I'll do my best."

With one last reassuring squeeze of your hand, Seungcheol watched as you stepped out of the car and made your way towards the college building. As you disappeared from view, he couldn't help but feel a swell of pride for the strength and resilience you displayed, even in the face of daunting challenges.

Once you were inside the campus, your phone began to buzz incessantly with messages from Seungcheol, each one filled with words of encouragement and love.

"Hey babe, you've got this! I believe in you!"

"Just a reminder that you're amazing and capable of anything, including acing this exam. I'm cheering for you all the way!"

"You're gonna ace that exam, my love! Make me proud!"

With each message that popped up on your screen, you felt a surge of confidence and determination. Seungcheol's unwavering support served as a constant source of motivation, driving you to give it your all during the exam.

You settle into your seat, the words of Seungcheol echoing in your mind like a comforting melody. With a determined click of your pen, you begin to write, each stroke of ink on paper fueled by his unwavering belief in you. As you tackle the exam questions with a newfound sense of confidence, memories of Seungcheol flash before your eyes, reminding you that you are capable of overcoming any challenge that comes your way.

Hours pass in a blur of concentration and determination, until finally, you complete the exam and hand it to your professor. It's almost ironic how quickly he corrects your paper, mere minutes compared to the weeks of intense study that preceded this moment. But as you sit in your seat once again, waiting for the final grade, you can't help but feel a sense of pride knowing that you gave it your all, guided by the unwavering support of Seungcheol.

Heart pounding in your chest, you rise from your seat as your teacher calls your name to receive your exam. With trembling hands, you accept the paper, barely able to contain the anticipation bubbling within you. As your eyes scan the page, your breath catches in your throat at the sight of the A+ adorned with a red circle, a silent testament to your hard work and dedication.

"Thank you," you manage to whisper to your teacher, a grateful smile gracing your lips as you swiftly exit the classroom. Once outside, you find a secluded spot and press your knuckles against your mouth to stifle a scream of joy, tears of relief and happiness pricking at the corners of your eyes.

With trembling fingers, you dial Seungcheol's number, the night's breeze swirling around you as you wait anxiously for him to pick up. Finally, his voice fills your ears, sweet and familiar, as he greets you with a warmth that washes over you like a comforting embrace.

"Hey, how did it go?" he asks eagerly, his excitement palpable even through the phone.

You take a deep breath, the words tumbling out in a rush as you share the news. "I got an A+, Seungcheol! I did it!"

On the other end of the line, you can practically hear Seungcheol's jubilant celebration, his joyous jumps echoing through the receiver. "That's amazing, sweetheart! I knew you could do it!"

He pauses for a moment before continuing, his voice filled with determination. "Don't move, okay? I'm coming to pick you up right now. We're going to celebrate at your favorite restaurant."

In a matter of minutes, Seungcheol's car pulls up in front of the college, and you can't help but feel a rush of excitement as you spot him stepping out of the driver's seat. His face lights up with a beaming smile as he rushes towards you, his arms outstretched for a big hug.

You meet him halfway, throwing yourself into his embrace as he lifts you off the ground in a tight squeeze. The warmth of his hug envelops you, filling you with a sense of comfort and joy as you revel in the moment.

"Congratulations, my love," he murmurs into your ear, his voice filled with pride and admiration. "I'm so proud of you."

As he sets you back down, he takes your hand and leads you towards the car, opening the door for you with a flourish. "Let's go celebrate," he says, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "But first, you need to eat well. You've earned it."

With a grateful smile, you climb into the car beside him.

After a celebratory dinner at your favorite restaurant with Seungcheol, you return home feeling content and relaxed. The warmth of the hot water soothes your tired muscles as you sink into the bath, letting the steam envelop you in a cocoon of relaxation. With each passing minute, the stress of the day melts away, leaving you feeling lighter and more at ease.

Once you've finished your bath, you towel off and before climbing into bed beside Seungcheo, and you can't help but smile as you watch him play on his phone. But when he senses your presence, he quickly tosses the device aside and turns his attention to you, his lips finding their way to your face in a trail of soft kisses.

You giggle at his affectionate display, enjoying the gentle caress of his lips against your skin as he peppers kisses down your face, tracing a path along your jawline and down to your neck. His touch sends shivers down your spine, and you can't help but laugh at the ticklish sensation.

But as his kisses linger on your neck, you feel a sudden rush of sensitivity, a soft moan escaping your lips involuntarily. Seungcheol's eyes light up at the sound, a mischievous glint dancing in his gaze.

He chuckles softly, his lips trailing lower along your neck, leaving a trail of feather-light kisses in their wake. "Since you've been so amazing today," he murmurs against your skin, "I think it's only fair that I give you a reward."

Your breath catches in your throat as you feel his touch ignite a fire within you, anticipation building with each passing second. "And what might that be?" you ask, your voice barely a whisper.

As he reaches your belly, he gently pushes up your jersey, granting him full access to your clothed pussy. Your body trembles with anticipation as his gaze locks with yours, his eyes filled with an intense hunger that sends a shiver of excitement coursing through you.

Without hesitation, Seungcheol lowers himself even further, his lips brushing against the fabric covering your clit. A soft moan escapes your lips as you feel the warmth of his breath against your most sensitive area.

With a teasing grin, Seungcheol leans in closer, his tongue flicking out to trace a slow stripe along your clothed clit. You flinch, moving your hips impatiently to feel his tongue. 

As Seungcheol removes your panties and spreads your legs wide open, anticipation pulses through your veins, your body thrumming with desire. When his wet and hot tongue makes contact with your clit, you throw your head back, a moan escaping your lips.

"Mmm…" you moan, the sensation sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. You can feel the sensitivity of your clit heightened after days of intense studying, your body craving the release that only Seungcheol can provide.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, urging him on as his tongue flicks your clit with increasing speed. The pleasure builds and builds, each stroke of his tongue driving you closer to the edge.

"Ah! Oh god, Seungcheol," you cry out, the pleasure becoming almost unbearable. You can feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter within you, your body teetering on the brink of release.

As you gasp for breath, you plead with him, your voice dripping with desperation. "I'm gonna cum, Seungcheol. Please, please!"

With a primal growl, Seungcheol redoubles his efforts, sucking your pussy with an intensity that leaves you trembling, you could listen to the sound he made while he slurped your cunt. The sensation is overwhelming, pushing you past the point of no return as you finally cum in his tongue. 

"Oh, Seungcheol," you pant, your thighs tightening around his head as you ride out the waves of your orgasm. "You're... you're amazing. So good... so fucking good."

As Seungcheol continues to lavish attention on your sensitive pussy, your thighs instinctively tighten around his head, riding the waves of your orgasm with abandon. Each flick of his tongue sends sparks of pleasure shooting through you, intensifying the sensations to dizzying heights.

But as the pleasure becomes almost too much to bear, your body convulses with oversensitivity, the overwhelming sensation bordering on pain. With a shaky breath, you finally manage to choke out a plea.

"Seungcheol, please... stop," you whimper, your voice laced with need and desperation. 

Seungcheol pulls away reluctantly, his hands moving to grasp your boobs as he gazes down at you with a hungry glint in his eyes. You meet his gaze, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you struggle to regain your composure.

"God, you're so fucking beautiful," he murmurs, his voice low and husky with desire. "I could eat you out forever."

A blush creeps onto your cheeks at his words, but a surge of arousal floods through you at the praise. With a coy smile, you reach out to trace a finger along his jawline, the intimacy of the moment igniting a fire within you.

"You're amazing" you whisper, your voice husky with desire. 

His eyes darken with desire at your words, and he leans in closer, his lips brushing against yours in a tender kiss. "I'll always make you feel good, baby" he murmurs against your lips. "You're mine, and I'll take care of you forever."

As your lips meld in a heated, passionate kiss, you feel Seungcheol's tongue eagerly seeking entrance, his lips sucking and teasing yours. With a soft whimper, your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, pulling him closer as desire courses through your veins.

Seungcheol breaks the kiss, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he gazes down at you with dark, lust-filled eyes. "What do you want, babygirl?" he murmurs, his voice husky with desire.

You whimper softly, your body pulsing with need as you meet his gaze with a hunger of your own. "I need you," you whisper, your voice trembling with desire. "I need you to fuck me, Seungcheol. I need you to make me yours." At this point, you were completely crazy for him, after all these days without his touch that you craved so much. 

A hungry grin spreads across Seungcheol's lips as he leans in closer, his hands moving to grip your hips possessively. "Oh, baby," he growls, his voice dripping with desire. "I'm going to please you all night long. You're mine, and I'm going to make you feel so fucking good."

With a needy moan, you arch your back, pressing your body closer to his as you feel the heat of his arousal pressing against you. "Yes!" you whimper, your voice barely a whisper. "Please, Seungcheol."

Seungcheol's sweatpants fall to the floor, revealing his throbbing erection, wet and glistening with anticipation. Your breath catches in your throat as you watch him, your body trembling with need as you ache for him to fill you completely.

With a low groan, Seungcheol positions himself between your legs, his tip teasing your entrance, the anticipation sending sparks of pleasure coursing through your veins. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, he begins to enter you, his massive cock stretching you to your limits as you gasp at the sensation.

As he inches deeper inside you, Seungcheol's voice fills the air, his words dripping with pride and admiration. "I'm so proud of you, baby," he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. "You've worked so hard, and you deserve to be rewarded."

His words send a surge of warmth flooding through you, your heart swelling with love and gratitude for this man who stands before you, ready to give you everything you desire. With each thrust, he praises your efforts, his words driving you wild with desire.

"I'm going to fuck you so good, baby," he growls, his voice filled with primal need. "I'm going to make you feel every inch of me, the way you deserve it."

With each thrust, Seungcheol's words of love and admiration fill the room, mingling with the sounds of your moans and the wet slaps of your bodies coming together.

"I love you," he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion, as he drives himself deeper into you.

"You worked so hard," he praises, his movements becoming more urgent with each passing moment, as if he's trying to convey his love and appreciation through every thrust.

"You're so beautiful," he whispers, his voice a soft caress against your skin, as he loses himself in the pleasure of being with you.

With every word, every declaration of love, Seungcheol's thrusts become more intense, more desperate, as if he's trying to pour all of his love and desire into you with each movement of his body.

"I love you!" he repeats, his voice a mantra of devotion as he continues to move inside you

As your cheeks flush with embarrassment, Seungcheol's gaze softens, his fingers gently caressing your hair with a tenderness that sends shivers down your spine. His cock continues to pound into your g-spot with precision, each thrust sending waves of pleasure crashing through your body, leaving you unable to do anything but moan and whimper in ecstasy.

"You like that, baby?" he coos, his voice low and husky with desire. "You like the way my cock feels inside you, hitting that sweet spot over and over again?"

You can only nod in response, your words lost in a sea of pleasure as Seungcheol's relentless thrusts drive you closer and closer to the edge of bliss.

"That's it," he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin as he continues to drive into you with unbridled passion. "Just let go, baby. Let me take care of you. I'll make you feel so good, I promise."

With each word, each caress, Seungcheol's cock pounds into you with an intensity that leaves you breathless, your body writhing beneath him as you surrender yourself completely to the pleasure he provides. 

"Oh, fuck," Seungcheol groans, his voice strained with pleasure as he feels your pussy spasming around him, the clenching sensation making him stutter in his movements. "You feel so good, baby. So tight and wet around my cock."

As you roll your eyes back in ecstasy, lost in the pleasure of his thrusts, Seungcheol's words become more desperate, more urgent.

"God, you're driving me crazy," he gasps, his hips thrusting faster and harder, unable to resist the overwhelming sensations coursing through him. "I can't hold back anymore, baby. I'm gonna cum so hard for you."

"Please, Seungcheol," you whimper, your voice dripping with desperation as you circle your clit, trying to milk him for all he's worth. "Cum for me, baby. I need to feel you come inside me."

Seungcheol's eyes squeeze shut tight, a curse slipping past his lips as he feels your pussy clenching around him harder, the sensation driving him to the brink of ecstasy.

"Cumming," he gasps, his voice a ragged whisper as he empties himself inside you, his body trembling with the intensity of his release. 

As Seungcheol's hot cum fills your cunt, you can't help but moan in ecstasy at the sensation of his cock pushing the cum deeper and deeper inside you. The overwhelming pleasure sends waves of ecstasy crashing over you, driving you to the brink of another orgasm.

"Fuck," you mumble, already overwhelmed by the intensity of the pleasure coursing through you. "Keep fucking your cum inside me, Seungcheol. I need it. I need all of you."

Seungcheol's moan is almost pained as he buries his face in your neck, his body trembling with desire at your words. "God, yes," he groans, his voice thick with need.

Seungcheol watches with satisfaction as he withdraws his cock from your pussy, his gaze lingering on the sight of his cum dripping from your wet and messy cunt. A sense of pride washes over him as he takes in the fucked-out expression on your face, knowing that he's given you the release you so desperately needed after days of exhaustion.

Your relaxed demeanor is like a reward to him, a testament to his ability to bring you pleasure and satisfaction even in the midst of your busiest and most stressful times. He can't help but feel a surge of pride knowing that he's been able to fuck every last bit of tension out of you, leaving you looking and feeling more relaxed than you have in days.

"I love you," you whisper, your voice filled with sincerity and adoration.

Seungcheol's eyes soften at your words, a tender smile spreading across his face as he reaches out to cup your cheek. "I love you too," he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion.

the great war

❝Because the greatest war Seungcheol had ever waged was against your heart.❞

historical! au | enemies to lovers! au | smut, fluff | 41k words

s u m m a r y : there was only one thing you hated more than your restricted life, and that was choi seungcheol—the greatest venetian general who has ever lived. when a marriage is arranged between the two of you, you were sure it would end in bloodshed. however, as you and seungcheol are forced to attend balls and share a few hard truths, you realise you have more in common with the mysterious general than you thought.

c o n t e n t : military commander! seungcheol, noblewoman! artist! mc, artist! minghao, artist! soonyoung who are both annoying (affectionate), cheol and mc absolutely hate each other because i need to see proper e2l, cheol has a scar on his lip (yes this needs a separate warning), this is set in renaissance venice so there will be many artist references, the doge = basically ruler of venice, themes of sexism, constant arguing between mc and cheol, there is fluff, also angst mature warnings -> tons of sexual tension, making out fuelled by hatred, cheol calls you carrissima (which personally i find very hot) fingering, oral sex (f. receiving), unprotected sex (only because medieval contraception is horrendous), petnames cheol says some vile things during the deed, slight corruption kink

p l a y l i s t : dangerous woman by ariana grande || war of the hearts by sade || love is stronger than pride by sade || i don’t understand but i luv u by seventeen

t a g l i s t : at the bottom of the fic!

a u t h o r ’ s  n o t e : hi hello thank you everyone for waiting for this monster fic!! thank you alice and addy for being the reason i finished this fic, thank you chia for creating a beautiful picture of general! cheol, and greatest thanks to choi seungcheol the man you are </3 i hope you all enjoy this fic as much as i enjoyed writing it <33

WHEN THE VENETIAN REPUBLIC DEFEATED THE OTTOMANS ONCE AND FOR ALL, EVERY CITIZEN—BE IT PEASANT OR THE RICHEST ARISTOCRAT—KNEW WHO WAS BEHIND THAT VICTORY.

His name sparked life into the deathly, cramped streets. Whispers and cheers carried along the murky lakes, the rushed streams underneath the city, lapping up to the cobblestoned shore—entering the ears of marketeers, patricians, nuns, prostitutes, everyone. Wherever one went, the commander’s name rang like the dozen church bells, scattered throughout the lake-locked lands.

The buzz in the air was more frantic this afternoon, though, because the victors’ party was finally returning to the state.

Finally returning home.

You, despite your family’s excitement, despite your connections to the man behind the success of it all, could not have cared less.

Keep reading

ODE TO A CONVERSATION (STUCK IN YOUR THROAT) - c.sc

Everything with Seungcheol has always been easy. Easier than with anyone else, anyway.  (and it hits me — i don’t want anybody else touching you like i do, like i do, like me. is it okay? that i don’t want anybody else touching you like i do.)

pairing; choi seungcheol x fem!reader.  genre; smut (MINORS DO NOT INTERACT) with a little bit of plot. friends-ish to lovers to (healthy) exes to fwb to -- warnings; writing early parts of this felt low-key pretentious but it was kinda on purpose because i was trying something stylistic and outside my normal?? so??? but on a real: swearing. alcohol consumption (they aren’t drunk at the time of having sex). reader is written to be wearing makeup. it's kinda just filth. proof read but all the words just melted together eventually (if i missed a typo, no i didn't <3) smut warnings under the cut! w/c; 6k. a/n; del water gap’s ode to a conversation stuck in your throat was my most listened to song last year. i now can’t listen to it without thinking about s.coups (i also just point blank can't stop thinking about s.coups) -- enjoy x

smut warnings: big! dick! seungcheol!, making out, fingering, oral (f rec), unprotected p-in-v sex (make good choices), lil bit of edging if u squint, overstimulation if u tilt ur head like 82º to the left, manhandling, soft-ish dom!cheol, lotta praise, use of pet names (babe, baby good girl, my girl, sweetheart), kinda possessive!cheol, jealous!cheol, biting and marking (hickeys, digging nails in), light light light light light crying/dacryphilia (not really, like there are Some tears in eyes but just to be safe ig)

Everything with Seungcheol has always been easy. 

Easier than with anyone else, anyway. 

You’d known him in passing for a long time before anything happened. A friend of a friend — someone you always smiled at and chatted with at social events, because he was easy to smile at, and so very easy to chat to. You can’t even remember which birthday or New Year’s party or Halloween bash or Saturday night jamboree was the first: they’ve since all just dissolved into one pleasantly foggy memory, and every time you saw him thereafter he made you feel so comfortable, so at home that it felt like the hundredth.

And it continued that way for a few years. Pleasantries exchanged in friends' kitchens, conversations across beer-garden tables. Catching up on each other's lives in a hallway outside the bathroom for handfuls of minutes at a time before one of you inevitably got tugged away by the friend you were waiting for. You were comfortable with him, around him: he just had that kind of energy. So on a big group night out one evening, when you found yourself feeling a little uncomfortable being flirted with by someone you had never met, you instinctively flashed Seungcheol a look from across the bar. He came straight over and immediately to your rescue; with him slipping all too naturally into the fake role of your unimpressed significant other, you realised that it was easy to be whisked away under his arm, easy to let him buy you your next drink, easy to let him kiss you breathless just to really drive the pretend point home. 

Staring up at him after, feeling his drink-chilled hands cupping your cheeks, watching his gaze flicker between your lips and your eyes, you realised that igniting a spark had never felt so…

And it was easy to kiss him again later that night under the influence of a little too much wine and blanketed by a couple of lowered inhibitions. It was easy to giggle into the crook of his neck as he leaned against a stone wall, trailing his fingers up and down your arms, rambling about how he wanted to kiss you again and again and again and forever, maybe, because he thought your smile was beautiful and your lips were so soft and you tasted like cherries, and he liked cherries, and if you could kiss him every day he’d never have a reason to be unhappy ever again. It was so fucking easy to fumble in your purse for your phone, to let him put in his number, and when he asked you if he could take you out for dinner, when he messily typed a text message out begging the same question and sent it to you (‘so we both remember, tomorrow’), it was so, so easy to say yes. 

Then, the first date? It was beyond easy. You talked and talked and laughed and laughed, each of you having a few cocktails with your food, never running short of conversation, never not finding little ways to touch each other both under and over the table. Arranging the second, and then the third, and inviting him up for a coffee after date number five was easy, and falling into bed with him was easy. Holding him close, your sweat-slicked bodies moving as one entity in the dark: it was easy, and the pillow-talk after about what this growing thing between you was, came so damn…

So you introduced him to your parents, and your other friends, and in turn he did the same with you. Two and a half years breezed by, then, and even the hard parts… Even the arguing and time spent away from one-another, whether he was sleeping out on your couch following an emotionally charged spat or trips taken as part of his job demanded he spend weeks at a time without you. The hard parts? By comparison to everyone before him, they were easy. Anniversaries and birthdays and Valentine’s days: he spoiled you, and you doted on him, and being together was just so–…

Even the day you decided to end your romantic pursuit, while impassioned, wasn’t hard. In part, maybe it was because it was a long time coming: you still loved each other deeply but your lives were so chaotic and different, and it wasn’t fair to keep waiting around for each other when it just clearly wasn’t your time. And in part, because he was so calm in how he held your hand tightly in his (even when he dried your tears), how he kissed your forehead, in how he told you that you deserved more than the life he could give you. And at the end of it all, when he promised to always be there for you, naturally you promised the same back. 

Keeping that promise? Well. It was easy. 

So what if it took a few weeks for things to feel sort of normal? If you had to remember how to greet him without offering your lips for a kiss or your arms for a hug? If you had to get used to sleeping alone, and waking up alone, all over again? The thing that mattered was that he was still in your life, and you were still in his: your relationship wasn’t broken, it was just different, and once the little transition period was over, once you were both used to your new normal… Being ‘just friends’ was kind of easy. 

(Kind of, being the operative phrase.)

Six months post split, you mentioned to him in passing that you were going on a date the following day. As soon as you realised what you’d said, you regretted bringing it up, but without missing a beat Seungcheol lowered his drink and raised an eyebrow at you, excitedly asking you to tell him everything. The person’s name, what they were like, how you met them, where you were going. He didn’t feel like your ex-boyfriend, then and there: he felt like a best friend. So you told him every detail, and he listened intently, following up by requesting you text him when you got to the date and again when you got home so he knew you were safe. Of course, you said that you would. First, because it was sensible. Second, his requests were easy enough.  

And the date went okay, all things considered: the guy was nice, if a little bit awkward, and you had a good time bowling with him and playing some games in the old arcade, but there just wasn’t a spark. Everything felt difficult. Forced. So when he was the one to say to you after that he’d had a nice evening but felt that maybe you should just be friends, you couldn’t help but feel relieved. Letting out a breath and giving a genuine smile, you agreed, thanking him for his refreshing candour, before bidding him good night and making your way back to your car. 

You held your phone between your fingertips for a while as the engine ran and the heating started to kick in, slowly warming you from the outside, in. As you thawed, you bit the inside of your cheek absentmindedly, a potentially questionable decision planting itself in your mind. Your body didn’t mind how good of an idea your brain thought it was, though. Your fingers moved entirely of their own accord; finding and pressing Seungcheol’s contact name was so starkly different to everything else had been, all damn night. It was easy. His sleep-roughened voice drifting down the phone sounded so easy. Asking if he minded you swinging by his place for a coffee and a debrief felt easy.

Two hours later, writhing on his mattress, two orgasms deep with his head still buried between your thighs and one of his hands groping at your tit as if his life depended on it?

Fucking. Easy.

So then, started the pattern. Waking up the next morning absolutely swimming in one of his oversized t-shirts should’ve felt like guilt and a betrayal of all your self-growth, of your moving on, of your friendship. It should’ve felt uncomfortable and gross and maybe a little panic-inducing, but it never did. It was warm and cosy, it was familiar and comforting, and when he greeted you ‘good morning’ with a pillow to the face, you knew that nothing was ruined; rather, this was just another new difference to your ever-changing relationship with him. Waking up this way… Well, it felt—

Look, you’re only human. You both have needs. After spending two and a half years learning each other's bodies, being together in that way again came so, so… 

After every date gone wrong, after every stressful week at work, in the midst of every family drama and friendship breakdown, you found yourself seeking respite in his apartment, between his bedsheets. In his tongue lapping at your pussy; in the head of his cock bruising the back of your throat until he spilled his release into your mouth; in the slow, deep, precise thrusts of his hips as he buried himself inside you over and over and over and over, taking your mind off the stress and concentrating only on making you feel good, on helping you forget everyone and everything else–… 

And now?

Well, now, you’re on your way back from yet another miserable date.

About three months ago, you stopped even considering giving the taxi drivers directions to your own place. Now, when you slide into the backseat, you automatically reel off the address you always end up at after a night like this. When your dates only talk about themselves, or say something so wildly out of pocket that it makes your toes curl (and not in a good way), or exclusively go on and on and on about their ‘crazy’ ex partner, you’ve grown all too used to showing up pouting at your friend’s front door. 

What? 

Being greeted by his knowing smirk and him inviting you inside is familiar; stepping across the threshold and kicking off your shoes in the hallway feels just so… easy.

Flopping down on the couch is easy, and waiting for Seungcheol to come back into the living room with two gleaming glasses and a bottle of wine is easy. Shuffling closer until you have your head resting against his shoulder is easy. Sipping at a chilled glass of rosé with his arm around you, the tip of his finger rubbing tiny circles against the point of your shoulder, eyes fluttering at this perfectly normal, totally platonic, absolutely-not-leading-anywhere-this-time contact is…

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks a few seconds after you set your now half-empty glass down. Your lips curl a little into a grimace on one side and a soft laugh rumbles deep in his chest.

You swear you can feel it vibrate all the way down to your bones.

“What is there to even talk about?” you sigh. “He wouldn’t stop comparing me to his mother, strike one. Spent twenty minutes explaining the plot of my favourite movie back to me, strike two. And then, after all that, threw a tantrum when I swerved his kiss goodbye after he’d eaten basically a whole loaf of garlic bread. Strike three. You’re out.”

He laughs again, and you adjust your head to peer up at him but he isn’t looking at you. He’s staring off at the opposite wall, not even glancing down when his arm tightens to pull you even closer. On cue, you nuzzle your head down into the muscle beneath his t-shirt, and you sigh. 

“What’s so funny?” you ask. 

“Nothing,” he says breezily. “Just… You sure know how to pick ‘em.”

“I don’t deliberately go out with people one screw short of a toolbox, Cheol,” you grumble, lightly slapping his chest. “They always seem fine when we start talking.”

“Mhm,” he hums. You feel him move slightly and then his lips are being pressed to the part of your hair. You’re sure it’s supposed to be a little condescending, but it kind of tingles instead. But that’s just because of the way his breaths play over your roots. Isn’t it? “I know.”

“Trust me, I’d love nothing more than to find someone who—”

“Hey, I know, y/n,” he says again, still softly but just a little firmer this time. “It’s not your fault all these guys are dicks. But-…”

He trails off, tongue pressed lightly against his top teeth, and decides that maybe finishing this sentence isn’t the smart way to proceed. You wait a few seconds, just in case he changes his mind, and poke at his chest again when he doesn’t. 

“But what?” You ask. 

He shakes his head. “Nothing. It was a stupid joke. Don’t worry about it.”

“Tell me,” you whine. “You know I hate it when you do that.”

It’s his turn to sigh, now. “But…” he starts, pausing for a mixture of allowing his nerves to settle and for dramatic effect. “I’m not complaining: the worse your date goes, the better sex we have after.”

It momentarily stuns you into silence and you suck your teeth at the remark, shaking your head. But you don’t sit up, you don’t shove him away, you don’t argue the point he’s just made whether it was a joke or not. Because…

“I hate that you’re right.”

His hand slides down behind you until it’s wrapped around your waist, his bicep strong against your back and his fingers light as they fiddle with the fabric of your blouse. 

“No you don’t,” he tells you, lips tweaking up on one side. 

You sigh, burrowing closer into his chest. He’s wearing the cologne he knows you like most and it smells faint, worn, as if he’s had it on for hours, all despite being only dressed in basketball shorts and a white vest. His plans tonight started and ended with you, and showing up here wasn’t promised until you were on his doorstep. Something about knowing he wore it just in case triggers an all too familiar ache between your legs.

Giving in to it?

Ha. 

It’s too fucking easy.

“Shut up,” you grumble. Your hand uncurls and your fingers splay over his chest, confessing your agreement and laying the foundations for you even if you deny what you want out loud. “Yes, I do.”

“Oh?” He asks at the exact moment you can feel his nails graze at your skin beneath your shirt. “Do you really?”

“Yeah.” You shift slightly, searching for just a crumb of relief from the press of your thighs, but it never comes. 

“I see.” He flattens his palm against your side, the other hand tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, eyes not quite meeting yours as they fixate on the strands already sliding back to their former place against your cheek. 

He gently clears his throat, tongue darting out over his lips for the most fleeting of moments, and when he speaks again, it’s lower, quieter, softer. “But if you hate it sooo much…” he ducks his head, close enough that his lips brush the corner of your mouth as he moves them. “Why are you here?”

He bumps the tip of his nose against your cheek, subtly turning your face so if you so much as shuffle, hiccup, breathe in too deeply, your smiles would meet. But they don’t. A hair’s breadth apart, you linger, eyes meeting his in a scorching challenge. One he doesn’t back down from. One he holds, and holds, and holds – waiting, for you, for his answer.

“Because,” you croak. Your throat feels dry, your eyelids suddenly heavy, lashes fluttering. 

“Because?” he taunts, his chuckled exhale tickling the tiny hairs all over your skin. 

You maintain his gaze still, and he chuckles, holding your chin between his thumb and forefinger. when you don’t speak for a few seconds more, he takes it upon himself to finish the sentence for you.

“Because you know,” he drawls, gravelly but still somehow heaven-sent and honey-sweet. “That no-one else does it for you the same way I do. Do they?”

You shake your head, the muscles in your neck tight as you wrestle with them not to surge forward and topple against him in a kiss. Seungcheol is an easily pleased man, but you know he loves a bit of a chase and it would be a little rude not to reward his hospitality by giving him one. 

“Say it,” he urges. You’re acutely aware of how his breaths stop fanning against your face once the words are out of his mouth, but you don’t give him anything yet. “Come on. You could have any one of those idiots if you wanted them, but you don’t.” A pause. “Do you?”

You swallow hard, cheeks growing hot. You shake your head again, “No.”

“Because…”

And after one, two, three, four, five thundering beats of your heart—

“Because I want you.”

Seungcheol smirks as he pulls your chin up, finally bringing his plush lips down against your own. It’s soft. almost tender. Barely moving — just a press, but it sends waves of energy through you anyway. 

“You’ve got me,” he says, pulling back an inch, studying your desperate eyes with his own. “Always gonna have me.”

And suddenly, it’s like his entire world might stop if he lets you go.

Both of his hands cup your cheeks as you shift up onto your knees, your own fingers grasping for dear life at his vest. He kisses you as if he could swallow you whole: hard and deep, breathing hot through his nose as his tongue works its way into your mouth and finds your own. You groan, and hearing the sound draws one out of him, too. There’s just something about kissing Seungcheol, and being kissed by him: you don’t even have to think. He just does. You just do. It’s easy.

His hands find the bottom of your shirt and he pulls upwards, separating from your lips to pull it over your head and toss it haphazardly towards the floor. He reconnects with you almost immediately, hands sliding down from your face to your exposed neck, to your shoulders, toying with the strap of your bra.

“You wear this for me, or him?” he asks, breathing heavily as he looks down at your covered tits, the red and white garment sitting pretty against your skin.

“Who d’you think?” you ask, equally fighting to gasp air into your lungs. 

“Better not have been for fuckin’... Captain mommy issues,” he mutters, kissing you hard one more time before his lips attach to the side of your neck. “Never liked the sound of that guy. Thought you were too good for him.”

“S’that right?” You ask, tilting your head back and stuttering out a sigh, lacing it with wisps of a laugh. “You never said so.”

He sucks your skin into his mouth and you swear you can feel every capillary beneath the surface burst one by one, your body-heat climbing to almost unbearable territory. “You were excited,” he says. “Just ‘cause I don't agree with your choices, doesn’t mean I’m gonna be an ass about it.”

And for someone trying their best to cover your throat in as many bruises as possible (no doubt so that if you bump into the asshole from HR who took you out tonight when you’re back at work on Monday, he’ll see that you had a plenty good time without him), it… feels kind of sweet that he’d hold himself back in the name of your theoretical happiness.

“Too good to me,” you chuckle. You’ve long since released your hold on his vest and are now threading your fingers through his hair. He kisses and sucks down over your collarbone, grinning against your skin all the while. 

“So?” he asks, tugging the top of your bra in between his teeth.

You glance down at him, biting your bottom lip at the sight. His pupils are blown-out, drowning his familiar warm, chocolatey eyes in black pools of desire. No lies, that’s always been your agreement. No lies. So you tell him the truth, pushing your chest up towards him and pressing his head down slightly so his top lip brushes against your tit. 

“Wore it for you, Cheol.”

“Mhm. That’s my girl.”

He sits up straight and pulls you down to him, smashing his lips against yours again as his hands slide around your back, fingertips making quick work of your bra clasp. He pulls the straps down your arms, grunting at the feeling of your breasts relaxing against his own chest; the bra joins your shirt on the floor, and soon after follows his vest, your hands clawing at it to get it off him as fast as you can.

“Up,” he says as your hands trail over his stomach, fingers dipping into every groove of muscle, feeling how they ripple as he reflexively tenses them under your touch. “Now.”

You oblige, climbing off the couch and standing upright. His hand finds the back of your shoulder and he guides you around to the side of the sofa, promptly pushing you down over the arm-rest so your face meets the cushions you were both just sitting on. He pulls your pants down your legs and helps you step out of them, dropping down to his knees and kneading at your thighs with a guttural moan.

“Gonna make you forget all about him, y/n,” he says. “Make you feel so good you won’t even remember his name.”

“Please,” you gasp, feeling his teeth sink into your ass. “So-... fucking good to me…”

He adjusts the position of your legs, bumping them apart until he can settle on his knees between them. His nose drags against the crease between the top of your thigh and the bottom of your ass, his lips trailing kisses all the way from the outside of your leg to where your pussy is throbbing for him. He skips over it, though, nipping and licking at the back of your other thigh, until you’re rocking your hips back to try and push him into your core.

“Be a good girl,” he chuckles, thumbing over the wet-patch in your panties. “I’m gonna look after you. I promise.”

His tongue meets your wetness just a moment after, dragging over the fabric and making you whimper. Your hands scramble to clutch onto something, one grabbing the edge of the seat cushion and the other balling into a fist. 

“Fuck, Cheol,” you hiss, feeling the heat from his mouth all over you. “Please – I need it. I need you.”

“Shh,” he says. You can feel his lips twist into a smile. God, you wish you could see him right now. “I’ve got you.”

When exactly his fingers tucked themselves under the waistband of your underwear, you’re not sure: all you know is that one minute, he’s breathing in your scent through the seat of your panties, and the next he’s yanking them down your legs and diving into your cunt like it’s his last meal on death-row. The sheer force of his hands gripping your thighs and his head burying itself between them makes you stumble forwards, the couch groaning as it shifts against the laminate flooring, and you cry out a wet sob of his name.

Who were you kidding, before, when you thought that this wasn’t going to go anywhere tonight?

The build-up to this started the second you told him about the date a week and a half ago.

But you can’t think about the mediocre pasta dish you ate this evening, or the moron who sat across from you at the table who kept checking his phone and glancing over your shoulder. You can’t think about how many times he went to the bathroom after receiving a text, or how he came back grinning cockily before he sat back down. 

All you can think about is how deep Seungcheol’s tongue fucks into you. How he fucking slurps all the wetness your pussy can give him, how he groans and moans and chuckles every time he shifts his head forward and flicks the muscle over your clit. Your head is spinning and your eyes begin smarting at the corners when his nails on one hand dig harshly into the fat at the top of your thigh. It stings, but it feels so fucking good. Your knees are weak, you’re about to bite clean through your lip in an attempt to be respectful to Seungcheol’s neighbours, and your knuckles are sore from the force with which your fist is clenched. 

Lord, he’s good.

“Don’t hold back,” he gasps, pulling away from you, a string of his own spit and your arousal still connecting him to your pussy. “C’mon, babe. I can feel you’re close.”

The loss of his mouth genuinely feels like the end of the world and you could buckle, in this moment. But he’s done this on purpose: he always does. He knows you. He knows the sounds you make and the way your body moves when you’re tantalisingly on the edge of your climax. His thumbs rub circles into your thighs and you just know he’s got the most obnoxious, insufferable grin on his face behind you while he does it: you can picture it, so perfectly. So easily. 

The orgasm you didn’t quite reach starts to ebb away from you and you give a grumble of frustration, pushing up onto your palms to turn around and look at him.

“You’re such a bastard, Cheol,” you hiss, and he grins back at you, his lips swollen and shiny as he licks over them.

“Get that pretty face back down, baby. I’m not done.”

It feels like a delightful punch in the gut, so you do. You drop back down onto your elbows, feeling him shift his position but you can’t see to what; his body heat never leaves yours even when his hands aren’t on you anymore, so you know he hasn’t stood up or gone far. It’s only when you clear your throat that you feel him again. Sat down with his back to the couch, between your thighs, nosing at your clit to get you worked up all over again: his fingers trail over your folds, collecting your arousal, spreading your lips and tonguing between them. You whine for him, keening and confused but overwhelmed at the stark shift from before. How he touches your pussy like it’s the first time, like it’s the last. 

He presses one long finger inside you, free hand pushing your hips into just the right position that he can suck your clit into his mouth. You feel yourself grinding down against his hand, begging him for more without having the words to ask for it, but Seungcheol doesn’t need to be asked. It’s intuitive to him. Eating you out could well be his day job. Another finger joins the first and he pumps them in and out of you at a pace you adore, his tongue flicking precisely over the bud in his mouth.

Your disappointingly lost orgasm from before starts to creep up on you again, and you know he knows it too. But this time, he doesn’t slow. This time, he doesn’t stop. He hums in the back of his throat: it’s permission, you realise, to come undone; burying your face further into the cushions, you let out a muffled series of expletives, sobs, moans of his name. You tumble over the edge with a broken cry, fingers curling into the couch cushions, and he only pulls away when your knees actually give out.

His strong frame is the only thing still holding you up by the time you’ve stopped twitching through the aftershocks, remembering how it feels to have full lungs and a working pair of eyes. You roll your head to the side as he slips out from beneath you, immediately sliding his arm around your waist and leaning over you to keep you steady. Through the material of his shorts, you can feel his hard-on poking at your ass: the fact that you’re this fucked and he hasn’t put his cock inside you yet makes your eyes water.

“Okay?” he asks, pressing tender kisses down the length of your spine. You just breathe, nodding with difficulty owed to your current position and the way all your muscles suddenly feel a hundred times heavier than normal. “Talk to me, sweetheart. You okay?”

“M’okay,” you say. “Just… gimme a sec…”

He keeps pressing his lips all over your back, hands rubbing soothing circles on your hips as you fully recover. You nod again when you’re a little more communicative, pushing up onto your elbows once more.

“Said I’d look after you,” he says. “And you were so good for me.”

“Yeah?” you ask, swallowing hard as you twist your spine uncomfortably to look back at him. Fuck it, maybe he’s the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen. Is that some great secret? Is it such a crime?

“You always are, baby.”

He looks down at you again: at the shape of your body, bent so crudely over the arm of his couch. At your messed-up hair, your smeared makeup, your soft, dewy eyes. He bites his bottom lip, swallowing hard, running a finger from between your shoulder-blades all the way down towards your ass.

“Can I?” he asks, pushing his hips against you again, your still-soaked pussy smearing arousal all over the front of his shorts where it meets them. 

“Please,” you nod, shifting your legs slightly to try and get more comfortable. He drops his shorts in a matter of seconds, cock springing free from their confines. It’s thick and veiny, leaking in his palm as he strokes it, one hand coming back to rest on your hip.

“Fuck, babe,” he sighs. “You’re doing so good.”

The head feels delicious against your swollen cunt and you gasp at the pressure of him sliding through your folds, leisurely lubing himself up with your arousal. It glides over your clit and you can’t contain the slight hiss that escapes you. He starts to say something, his voice just audible to you where you’re propped, but for some reason he stops short, and you don’t quite hear him anyway. There’s not enough time to dwell on it though: your eyelashes flutter closed when he prods at your entrance, pushing into you with hardly any resistance at all, and his unstarted, unfinished sentence is forgotten.

It’s still a stretch to take him and he eases himself deeper until his hips are pressed fully against your ass. He rests there for a moment, letting you adjust, letting your body mould to the shape of his own, and it’s only when you reach back with one hand to gently nudge against his wrist to give an okay that he starts to move.

“Good girl,” he says, quieter this time. Like he’s distracted. Like he’s contemplating. But you don’t ask, because you don’t really want to know: every drag of his cock against your walls feels like fireworks bursting over every inch of your skin, like being engulfed in flame, and nothing could take you out of how electric you feel. “Taking me so, so well.”

His hips start to thrust against you quicker, snapping so his cock buries itself deep but mercilessly quickly into your pussy. It’s only a matter of minutes until you’re clenching around him and when you do, Seungcheol – who you noticed early on into your relationship was one of the most vocal men you’d ever had in the bedroom – stops holding back the sounds you think back to when it’s just you and your trusty vibrator against the world. You swear that half the reason your sexual chemistry with him is so unrivalled is because of how loud you can both get.

You don’t know how long he’s fucking you for, sweat beading over both of your bodies and leaving you slick all over. What you do know, though, is that when he bends down over you, supported by one hand bracing his weight against the cushion by our head, he’s close. 

He isn’t groaning and grunting anymore. He’s whining. So agonisingly hard and so painfully wound up that he could snap. His voice is little more than a whimper in your ear when his lips ghost over the shell of it, thrusts slowing as he tries to stave off his high just a little bit longer.

“Wanna drown in this pussy,” he says, eyes squeezed shut, jaw falling slack as you spasm around his length again. “Shit – I love y-... love this… love this so much-...”

And this time, you fucking notice.

This time, you hear him. You know what he said before, now. When you didn’t care, when you just wanted him to fill you up, when you just wanted to have him pound into you until your brain disconnected from failed romances and shitty dating apps and people who weren’t him. Because he started to say it then, too – started to say I love y–

And this time… you say it, back. 

“I love you too, Cheol.”

Jesus, fuck.

Loving Choi Seungcheol is the easiest thing in the world.

He freezes, buried inside you all the way to the hilt, a bead of sweat running down the bridge of his nose and hanging onto the tip for dear life. His eyes shoot open, his head turns, and you meet his gaze by turning your own. He’s feeling everything. All at once. So are you. Arousal and need and fear – God, so much fucking fear – but love. Adoration, affection, endearment, devotion – shit, he feels it all, and it’s written in every line of his face, and when his lips move into a smile, when the corners of his eyes crease, when he lets it wash over him, it feels better than any orgasm he’ll have for the rest of his life.

Even the one that explodes through him when you start to grind yourself back on his cock and he lets go, fingers scrabbling to hold your hand, lips finding home on the back of your shoulder. He paints your insides with his cum, fucks it into you for as long as he can physically withstand. You don’t even have it in you to chase another climax of your own, too blissed out in the relief of your own feelings to feel inclined to try. 

So, maybe there’s a reason you kept accepting dates with men you knew you weren’t compatible with. 

Maybe there’s a reason you didn’t give those other people a real chance.

Maybe there’s a reason you always found yourself looking forward to the end of every night having dinner with a stranger.

Because all the roads lead you here. Because it’s easy being here – it’s where you belong.

He stays sheathed inside you for a little while longer, pressing kisses everywhere his lips can reach before he has to pull his softening cock from its home between your legs. You lament at the feeling of emptiness, even as his strong arms wrap around your waist and pull you upright for the first time in so long that your legs feel like jelly. It’s okay, though. He holds you against his chest, burying his head into your neck – there’s no way you’re going to fall.

(At least, no more than you already have.)

“I’ll give you everything,” he whispers to you, moving your hair out the way so he can press small, doting kisses to the line of your jaw. “I can give it to you. I was a fucking idiot before – I’ll give you everything I have. I don’t know if I can be perfect but anything you want–...”

“I just want you, Cheol,” you tell him. “Everything – screw all that. I just want you.”

“Be with me?” he asks. You nod, feeling him light up in a smile for the hundredth time tonight. Even though you can’t see it, you’re sure it’s as blindingly beautiful as the first smile he sent your way, all those years ago. (It was Joshua’s birthday. You remember that, now.) And the second. And every damn time since. “Forever, this time.”

“Forever, this time,” you agree.

Because spending forever with the man who lifts you into his arms and carries you towards his shower, so you can clean down and get ready for bed? Right now, it sounds so –

But everything with Seungcheol has always been easy. Easier than with anyone else.

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