Fwb2l - Tumblr Posts

maroon - yjh

pairings: yoon jeonghan x fem!reader

content: your valentines date, yoon jeonghan, wasn't the best at being reliable since the beginning. you probably shouldn't be giving him another chance, but with how much he's seemed to change since he met you, who were you to judge?

wc: 4k

genre: angst, fluff, suggestive

warnings: alcohol consumption (kinda), blonde jeonghan needs his own warning, mentions/allusions to sex, fwb to lovers

a/n: hii <3 happy valentines day! my first official fic on this acc lol... i hope you all like it!! reblogs are appreciated

He didn’t show. Though you were somehow expecting him not to, it still felt like a gut-punch to the stomach, the embarrassment and the way it surged through your body and cheeks, was an agonizing reminder that he wasn’t actually yours. 

Evening was nearly upon the city street as you were perched on a bench. You scrunched the pretty red fabric beneath you, holding your equally as pretty bag close, both of which contrasted to the displeased frown on your face. You’ve always been fond of Valentine's day, hence the reason why your expectations were held higher today, but with every passing loving couple that walked by came a wave of disappointment and several wake-up calls.

You had messaged Yoon Jeonghan hesitantly yesterday, he wasn’t exactly the type to hold conversations with you on text. Some days, responses would be scarce and other days, they would come immediately. Yesterday had been one of those days in particular:

You: are you busy tomorrow?

Yoon: i think i’m free, angel

Yoon: mmm it’s valentine’s, do you want to meet up?

You: if you want to

Yoon: of course i do. do you?

You: i do

Yoon: meet you at 6

It was 6:23. Perhaps it was stupid to assume that you both would meet up for anything other than the usual– sex with zero romantic ties, no intent of love with little room for consideration of anything beyond a companionship. There was something different in the air though, whether that be Jeonghan’s open softness towards you or the Valentine's day spirit. Either way you knew if you kept letting the lingering hue of crimson remain on your cheeks, or flush throughout every part of you when he was around, you weren’t going to last.

You met him your sophomore year of college. Not one to be easily convinced, your friend Soonyoung had been adamant in taking you to one of those awful frat parties that reeked with hooch and rancid booze. Out of complete boredom and honestly annoyance, you had agreed to his suggestion, and to your shock it had been the exact opposite experience.

The party was small. Not much room to do a fucking keg-stand, but enough to know that the sole intention of it was getting laid. The drinks in general didn’t seem as cheap as you had initially expected when walking in. The event Soonyoung had taken you to was obviously of higher class and it worried you that he forgot to leave that bit out for you– because now you felt extremely small and underdressed compared to everyone else.

Half of the night you couldn’t recall, not only was it far from the expected loud and sweaty stereotype that frat parties held for themselves, but it was just boring. 

Boring until you realized on your way out you bumped into a near stranger, colliding into them. An amazing misfortune for you, since the wine glass he had appeared to be holding in his hand was shattered onto the floor after the fluids splashed directly onto your torso. Any shriek you could have let out was immediately muffled by the feeling of a palm covering your mouth. 

“Fuck, I am so sorry about that,” he mumbled with a groan, clearly trying to evade the attention away from you both, and thanks to the apparent conceitedness the guests at this party had, heads turned away from you both after a few moments. His hand dropped to his side, he seethed at the mess he made. You’re not even given a chance to look at whoever this man was as he was dragging you elsewhere, “would hate for you to step on that glass.”

You couldn’t lie to yourself and say you didn’t know who this man was just by looking at the back of his blonde head. He was all the talk around campus, infamous Yoon Jeonghan and his habit of flirting with everyone and practically their mothers. Hell, the way he took your hand in his told you exactly what you needed to know about him: you had to tread lightly. (Not lightly enough, you noted, the wine on your shirt was still very much there).

And with that you were immediately taken into the bathroom, Jeonghan disregarded the line that was outside the door and went inside when it was vacant, shutting the door behind you. Sighing and observing your stained shirt, he tsked in disapproval, “you’ve got wine all over you, sweetheart.”

Your eyes narrowed, “your wine.”

He hummed and shrugged, “if that makes you feel better.”

Sighing exasperatedly, you watched him grab a washcloth in his cupboards, “it’s fine. Don’t bother. I can go home and wash up.”

While you were wondering what on earth was so amusing to this guy, he hummed again, turning to face you, “but while we’re here at my house, can’t we get the job done quicker?”

“I’m just saying you don’t have to. It’s fine, I’ll be fine.”

“You know I would hate for such a pretty girl to show up at my party just to leave after I made a complete mess all over her,” he stepped forward, inching closer to you, “and although the red looks perfect on you, you don’t seem very pleased with it– or me, for that matter.”

That was the flirtatious manner everyone had been buzzing about. If you didn’t know any better you may have thought there was a bolder, ulterior motive within his words. You didn’t let yourself believe him.

When Jeonghan earned a glare from you, he chuckled in surprise, “you don’t believe me.”

With a shake of your head, he flashed you a satirical grin at your answer: “I don’t think I should.”

Jeonghan takes the now dampened washcloth in his hand, taking a moment to drink you in before he figures he should wipe off the drying mahogany that stuck onto your skin. It did make you look good, “will you please let me at least do this? If I don’t, it’ll remain in my guilty conscience forever.”

You sighed and gave him permission, you hadn’t really given yourself an option because how were you supposed to go home without Soonyoung, anyway? He smiled and reached out to cup your cheek, the other hand wiping your neck with the washcloth for some reason, agonizingly slow.

“I wasn’t lying by the way,” he mumbled, “I’ve had eyes on you the entire night, you’re one of Soonyoung’s friends, right?”

You ignored his initial comments, “yeah.”

“Should scold him for hiding you from me later.”

“Hiding me?” You asked, confused. 

“I’ve never seen you around. Soonyoung surely would've mentioned having such a gem of a friend. Are you two dating?”

You shook your head, “I tend to avoid you.”

He clicked his tongue in disdain, “you know me?”

When you nodded, he clicked his tongue again, “I assure you that you don’t. Whatever you’ve heard about me doesn't equate to familiarity, angel. But you could know me. You should.”

You don't respond, trying to turn your attention away from the feeling of the warm washcloth dragging across your skin, “what’s your name so I can call you by it, pretty?”

“Y/n,” it didn’t matter whether or not you told him, something about him said that he’d find out either way.

“Well, Y/n. If you’d like I can wash your clothes for you and give you some of mine to wear, then you’ll be on your way home. I’m sorry about this, again.”

You were beginning to deep yourself in a hole, what was the harm of indulging in it? This man had come into contact with your skin faster than anyone has and maybe he was just captivating and sweet, but you were yet to learn about him. The way he happened to be the most gorgeous man you’ve laid your eyes upon was also a harmful position you would eventually put yourself into. 

And even though Jeonghan knew he was just being kind, a part of him also knew that he wasn't one to usually do this, and the tipsy state he was put in had drawn him into you. Though you had just been standing for the majority of the party, he thought you were captivating, so beautiful and something new he just needed. He hadn't meant to fuck up his plans by somehow spilling wine all over you, but he liked to think that tonight was going to work in his favor.

“Okay,” you accepted his offer. Jeonghan could feel his lips pull into a smile and his heart rate intensify as he took you out of his bathroom, into his room.

Pulling out a random t-shirt for you to wear, he tossed it to you, “change into this and I’ll wash your outfit. You’re free to wait in here for now.”

And so you did.

That was the first ever time you spent in Jeonghan’s ever-familiar room, and somehow you both knew it wouldn't be the last. It didn't take long for him to take further interest in you. Red-flushed skin to skin contact that turned into something more, Jeonghan had found you to be all kinds of things: alluring, gorgeous, perfect, and sometimes he could argue that you were made for him. The way he kissed down your exposed back in such adoration and the way he coaxed you into giving into him every single time. It was enthralling and somehow he couldn't get enough of you.

Though, you could retort that it wasn't the case that way with Jeonghan. Sure he had put care into you after completely taking your ability to walk, but it was nothing short of superficial to you. You knew after each time he took you, he would go back to pretending you didn't exist, and it was a cycle you hadn’t been bothered with until now.

You: do you want to study with me in the library tonight?

Yoon: i was busy. sorry 

That was his usual excuse. He was busy. You weren’t sure if he was fooling around with other women, while you yourself, well your only action was Jeonghan and it didn’t help that you felt yourself begin to harbor feelings for him. It made you feel uneasy and unsure in your situation with him.

After an outing with Soonyoung however, his bad habit of gossiping slipped on him, “it’s really funny. Whenever we’re all hanging out at Jeonghan’s, you know, the guys, he’s always leaving his room to join us after like 10 minutes.”

You made a sound of confusion, obviously bewildered as to why he was telling you this, “okay?”

Soonyoung grunts after sipping out of his straw, maybe you weren’t aware that everyone was aware, “his hair is all messy and he’s out of breath and he's red, Y/n. You’re always in there, huh?”

You felt yourself choke on your drink, he was right. You lost count of how many times Jeonghan had just finished with you, inside you, cleaning up his mess and kissing your bare shoulder sweetly before you drifted off to sleep in his bed. Now that you were aware his entire group knew– despite the fact that he would usually spend time avoiding you– made you feel embarrassed, “I’d rather we not discuss my… sex life, Soonie.”

“I think Jeonghan likes you, though. Everytime we ask him about you he’s all flustered and tries avoiding the question,” he shrugged, to which you only groaned.

“That’s because we have nothing to do with each other outside of that room. Or at least, that’s what he thinks.”

“I think you’re a liar, because he hasn’t been like this with anyone ever since his ex,” Soonyoung hums, pondering, “I don’t know, though. Sorry if I overstepped.”

Part of you wanted to press him for details, another told you just to leave it in complete ignorance. You chose the latter, but you wanted to ask: “been like what?” There was nothing between you both but an undiscussed trust you held for each other.

Nothing between you both. But you couldn’t deny the obvious tension between you and Jeonghan when his stare lingered on you longer in the halls between breaks, or how you knew he felt something when you were giving everyone attention but him at his stupid parties, and how you knew he wasn’t going to do anything about it. It had been a year of this. You were a pulling force and Jeonghan no longer knew how much he could take if you weren’t his, but something inside him felt it wasn’t right.

It’s not like you hadn't tried branching out, and Jeonghan didn't seem to mind when you did (which bothered you more than words could describe).  

But there was an underlying problem– each man that had tried to pursue you was a terrible choice. They were awful in terms of personality, lacked any sense of self-awareness, and most recently, they couldn't measure up to Jeonghan. If you were going to do this you needed to stop thinking about him.

You were walking back to your house one night, coming back from a date which went the usual direction: with a boring, assholish man who made you pay for the meal once again. It didn't piss you off this time, you wouldn't let it. You were tired and ready to give up.

As the buzz sets off on your phone, you couldn’t help a grimace at who could possibly be texting you that late at night. However, there could only be one possibility.

Yoon: are you free?

Yoon: i know it’s late but i miss you 

You: jeonghan

Yoon: angel

You: i just got back from a date

Yoon: oh

Yoon: bad time?

You: no

You: can you come?

Yoon: i’m on my way 

The familiar knock on your door came minutes later, you swung it open and Jeonghan was taken aback by your appearance. You were dressed gorgeously in a blood-colored dress, tears ran down your face and Jeonghan felt himself surge inside, closing the door behind him and taking your cheeks in his hands.

“What’s wrong, Y/n? Did something happen?” Jeonghan asked you worriedly in a panic.

You sniffled, exhaling exasperatedly, both hands reaching up to take his wrists and peel his hold off of you. You knew what was wrong, “I’m just not cut out for anyone, I guess,” you turned to face away from his gaze, “no one.”

Jeonghan pressed his lips into a tight line, “you know that isn't true.”

It didn't occur to you that Jeonghan didn't care who you dated, you knew once you were unavailable he would eventually become a complete stranger, “what do I know?”

“Look at me,” he prompted firmly, and you complied sharply, “I don’t know what those poor excuses of men are doing with you but they don't know how to treat you at all.”

You watch him inch towards you, his hands finding purchase onto your cheeks again, kissing where a wet tear had just slid down, “I’m trying to be okay with you going out with people that obviously don't deserve you, but it’s really hard especially when they make tears run down your pretty face like this.”

“Baby?” He whispered against your lips, you wanted his on yours, “do me a favor?”

“Hm?”

“Eyes on me tonight,” he grunted, “don’t think about anyone else but me. Please?”

“Okay,” you croaked, finally feeling his lips on yours, not before he pulled away, groaning incoherent mumbles as his hands traveled down your figure, fingers gliding among your dress as they hiked up the bottom of them.

“They don’t deserve you, this,” he hummed, “I’ll make you forget they even exist.”

There was a distinct blur between where it was appropriate for the both of you to just be friends with benefits and more. 

Throughout the next few weeks, there was an obvious shift in your relationship with him. 

He no longer let his stare falter from you in the halls, his lips curved into a tempting smile as you passed by. Whenever you met up with him, he was greeted with your arms wrapped around his as his body pressed against yours warmly. You could feel his lips on your head, whispering “I missed you,” into your hair before a kiss, which vibrated throughout you.

It was a real shame that you knew that you could never be his, and he could never be yours, even when the lines in your relationship with him have blurred into complete dissipation.

Even when you could've sworn you could hear him whisper the words I love you, tickling your wine-sucked covered neck as his chest was pressed flush against your back & you could feel it rise and fall intensely.

Jeonghan wasn't one for commitment, and you knew that, but you were already so far. It was truly a shame how you let yourself fall for him when you knew.

6:35, the sun would’ve been gone, maybe if you let go of the hope you held for all of this. The hope you latched onto that you could be something more today. The hearts, the red and pink decorations and the occasional couples passing by on the street of the bench where you sat. It was all in vain. You could admire, but never be the one admired from the sole being you wanted it the most from. Even if he had given you room to hope.

About ready to accept defeat and break it all off, a low voice came from directly behind you.

“I’m sorry I made you wait so long, angel.”

Your head snaps in the direction of the familiar voice, your eyebrows scrunched at the sudden presence of Jeonghan, when you were sure tonight was going to be another night of him cancelling out of the blue. 

He didn't give you much time to bask in every part of him, the way your eyes flickered to his serious expression to his very new hair– maroon, a dark difference from the blonde he would sport on his long locks. And finally, when he straightened, a giant bouquet filled with scattered red carnations wrapped  in the most luxurious tissue paper tied in a golden bow was held in his hands. His breath was labored and his chest continued to rise and fall as he looked at every part of you.

You felt confused, angry, and relieved all at once. All you wanted were answers.

“You’re late. You’re so late, Jeonghan, where were you?” You felt your voice break as you stood to face him behind the bench.

He looked at the flowers and then at you, “I swear I left the house early, quarter before six, promise Y/n. But I saw the flower parlor a few blocks down selling this gorgeous bouquet and the way they reminded me of you told me it was almost criminal not to get them. I didn't think it would take nearly an hour to wait in line, I’m sorry, baby.”

Your heart dropped, “you waited an hour to get these for me? Why didn't you text?”

“I didn't bring my phone, I was already halfway in line and I wanted it to be a surprise,” you watched him walk around the bench to stop in front of you, “I’m sorry you waited for me for this long, this is important to me, Y/n.”

“I…” You trailed off, not knowing what to say, your eyes traveled back and forth between the flowers, his incredibly handsome suit and his hair which matched effortlessly, “I don't understand anymore.”

He practically deflated at your words, “understand what, angel?”

“This, us,” you exhaled wobbly and let a hand run through your hair before letting it drop to your sides, “what we are. I don't get it, you pretend I don't exist for days and then treat me like I’m everything and more to you. Is it that hard just to choose one instead of leaving me to hang and dry like this?”

His expression softened as you continued, “you’re so confusing, Jeonghan, how do you want me so I can stop getting my hopes up–”

“I love you.”

“W-what?”

“I want to be your boyfriend, Y/n. I’ve wanted you since the day I laid my eyes on you, God, I love you and I’m sorry it’s taken me this long to say it.”

You felt an all-familiar profound feeling in your chest, the ones you would feel when staring at him when he fell asleep on your table, insisting he’d watch you study. Or when you felt him pepper his kisses when he thought you’d be sleeping, or just seeing him direct his alluring smile to you, “are you… sure?”

He sighed, “I’ve been so sure it’s terrifying, but not about how you felt. I wasn't sure if you want me the same way I want you, so I figured the feelings would disappear naturally,” Jeonghan set the beautiful bouquet of carnations on the bench before reaching for your hands, “I don't want to be anyone else’s but yours. You’re the only thing in my life that’s going well, and I didn't want to lose that. I’m so sorry.”

You shook your head, wriggling your hands out of his grip and Jeonghan’s heart dropped as he was sure that he had lost you now, until he felt them cup his cheeks warmly, “I want to be with you Jeonghan. No more disappearing, no more leaving, if you mean it, can you do that?”

He nods rapidly and eagerly, “I don't ever want to. I promise.”

Feeling a smile creep onto your face, you pressed a kiss on his lips, full of love and sincerity. You felt his own form of a smirk before pulling away, “so, am I…?”

“Yes, Jeonghan, you’re my boyfriend,” you rolled your eyes at him, playfully hitting his chest, “and for the record, I love you too.”

With a giggle he takes the bouquet and hands it to you, in which you gladly take. You gesture to his hair and his eyebrows rose up in realization, “oh yeah, do you like it?”

Cradling the carnations in one hand, he took your free hand, swinging it happily as you nodded, “why red?”

He shrugged, “it reminded me of you. It makes me look sexy, doesn't it?”

You sighed and jokingly nudged him, in which he feigned injury, “it does. So, where do you suppose we go?”

His footsteps mirrored yours, “I made reservations for that one fancy restaurant down the block,” he hummed, “it’s at 7, so we have just enough time to walk there now.”

“At seven? What were we supposed to do for an hour, Jeonghan?” 

His hand gripped yours tighter, and there was no mistaking what his quiet chuckle implied.

“Jeonghan.”

He chuckled again before stopping to face you. He ran a hand down your arm, “we can do that later, there’s a lot I want to do. But right now, I just want to be with you.”

He leans in to place a kiss on your cheek, “and before I get a chance to say it and rip this dress off of you later, you look absolutely beautiful.”

Your cheeks burned off a dark cherry afterwards, just before he began to walk with you again.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Jeonghan,” you murmur sheepishly.

He hummed, turning his head to pull you in for another kiss on the cheek, “happy Valentine’s, my Y/n.”

HITS DIFFERENT | L.DH

TITLE: hits different

PAIRING: lee haechan x fem!reader | mc’s best friend johnny, haechan’s roommate mark (+ kinda emotional support boy when mc acts like a loser)

GENRE: non-idol au, strangers to friends with benefits to lovers, getting together, smut, angst, fluff | requested | bonus part

SUMMARY: nobody ever got under your skin, not until Haechan came in your life and changed everything. 

WARNINGS: smut, protected and unprotected sex (condom first and then mc is on the pill), multiple sex scenes, oral sex, fingering, car sex, riding, fingers sucking, face sitting, rimming, anal, mirror sex, a bit of exhibitionism (as a fantasy), praise, teasing (as in degradation but it’s not hard stuff), handjob, morning sex, kitchen sex, toys (vibrator), overstimulation, (no bdsm but) switchy dynamics, sa doesn’t happen but there are a few references to pushy behaviours, mentions of a past car accident and death of a barely mentioned character | I hope I didn’t forget anything but if I did, let me know! | kinda implied that both haechan and the reader are bi because in this house we only support mxf bi4bi couples (joking… unless) do whatever you want with this information.

WC: 44.804k

TAGLIST: @adorejaehyn​@matchahyuck​@sundhaelatte@jjhmk​@ourbeautifulaffair​@what-the-jams​@oleoleniall​ @kundann @bbagu​@ismileeprnc-responder​@produmads​@zkdlllin​@yesohhsehun​@aliceinwhateverland​@strangevante​ @cas104 @hyuckdreams​

A/N: finally writing hyuck as a loser male wife (kinda) my life is complete!!! It’s been months and I’m back with a request, I know it took long to write it but I hope whoever requested will like this. I’m still not sure about the present tense but idk I’m trying out new things. I would really appreciate if you could support my work in any way, feedback makes me happy and motivates me to keep writing. If you can, reblog so it can reach more people or come and chat in the ask box to let me know your opinion! Love you, enjoy!

It was Johnny’s fault. It’s always his fault when things don’t go as planned. 

It’s his fault if right now you are jumping around Haechan’s bedroom trying to look for your clothes while the clock is running fast, and you are running late. 

Keep reading

pussy fiend (l.dh)

PAIRING ➢ haechan x fem!reader

GENRES & AUS ➢ smut, humor, fluff; college au, enemies to fuckbuddies to lovers, roommate au

WORD COUNT ➢ 68.9k total, in 2 parts (28.2k & 40.7k)

WARNINGS ➢ invasion of privacy, Haechan’s a sneaky little shit, cocky!Haechan, jokes about emotional manipulation, author pretends to know about stuff she doesn’t, mild dubcon

CONTENTS ➢ (mild) dubcon, bratty switches! boffum!, somnophilia, oral (receiving), allusions to a free-use kink but barely, rimming (receiving), creampie, dacryphilia, brief thigh job, praise, barely degradation but if you’re sensitive note that, some spit kink, panty sucking (?), Haechan’s a bit of a pain slut, fingering, biting

SUMMARY ➢ uhhh he likes you and is a fiend for pussy idk bestie

AUTHOR’S NOTE ➢ long time no see! please consider sending a donation/tip if you enjoy the fic! please do not get upset with me if you ignore the contents/warnings and get your feelings hurt; that is no one’s doing but yours. if you enjoy the fic, please consider tipping me here or here!! ALSO massive thank you to my love @ncteez for all her help with the initial idea and beta reading this monster for me :’)

PART TWO FOUND HERE !!

“Listen,” You start off with a firm tone as you look out at your audience. “We need to address the elephant in the room.” You say as you shoot your tormentor a disdainful look, your frown deepening when he just smirks and winks at you. “Ever since Lee Donghyuck, also known as Haechan, has moved into this apartment, my life has not known peace. I truly believe there is a karmic imbalance somewhere in the universe now that he lives here.”

Keep reading

As it was

summary: There’s nothing that nourishes the ego more than envious looks from old classmates. At a ten-year class reunion, Seungkwan is looking forward to enact his long-term revenge plan. When it all comes crashing down, you're helping him pick himself up the only way you know how.

or

You and Seungkwan are occasional friends with benefits

pairing: fwb!Seungkwan x Reader, they bicker a lot but don't hate each other enough to call it enemies lol

word count: 5.4k (20~ minute read)

warnings: toxic couple, unprotected sex, unresolved feelings, alcohol, sex in a public place, oral (f rec.)

a/n: happy new year and happy valentine's day! I'm immensely thankful for the past reception of my fics <3 thank you so much! I do have a couple ideas for a sequel on this, which makes me insanely excited <3 I hope you like it ^_^

There’s nothing that nourishes the ego more than envious looks from old classmates. The same eyes that underestimated now quietly calculate the overpriced budget of designer clothes.

Ten-year high-school reunion? That’s just what Seungkwan needed to flaunt his new prime spot as a host of "Bad Clue." He’s certain no person alive in this century hadn’t heard of him and his many accomplishments, but it felt good to rub it in.

“Oh, Seungkwan? I saw you on TV, do you think you could sign this for me?”

It’s a phrase he’s heard all night as his old high-school mates pour into the cramped barbecue restaurant. Not many dare to converse besides the cheeky favour. “Do you think you could get my resume in?”

Why did he even come?

Ah, that’s right. His first love, Lee Sohee.

She’d completely abhorred his very existence, but now, no one could. He’d make his comeback and completely captivate her heart only to get his revenge by giving her a taste of her own medicine.

“Did your injections go wrong? you can’t smile.”

The sound of your voice makes Seungkwan cringe. He scoots away when you plop down on one of the free seats to his side.

“Why are you here?” He spits back, watching you struggle to open the Soju bottle.

“You looked miserable,” You flash him a mischievous smile.

Your relationship was complicated, to put it kindly. Living in a small town, Seungkwan had known you his entire life. You were classmates throughout all of school and you haunted your way around him all through university, as well.

He said everything he knew about you had been against his wishes. And part of it was true, with how much time you inevitably spent together, you became closer than planned.

It was during his first year of uni when someone implied he was unpopular with girls and he panicked. Saying ‘of course not!’ He even had a girlfriend; You, the first girl that came to his stupid drunk mind.

Oh, you had a field day with that one. It was easy using it as blackmail material, getting a ride anywhere, takeout, and help with your homework. Seungkwan practically lived at your place, cleaning up and making you breakfast every day. University was a breeze for you after he dug his own grave.

“Seeing your face made me miserable.”

You scoff.

Seungkwan mumbles some curses under his breath and snatches the bottle away from your hand, opening it with ease. You cheekily hold your cup up.

A couple months into the pretend relationship, you decided to try it out for real. Not that anything changed except for the physical part, it was a convenient relationship until the very end, with none of that lovey-dovey bullshit. You parted ways when Seungkwan got into one of the many companies he auditioned for and left for the capital.

Motherfucker never even bothered breaking up with you.

You had a lot of fun being dramatic in front of his mother and getting him in trouble for that one, too.

“How long you in town for?” You raise your shot glass toward his with a satisfying ‘clink’ before downing the liquid in one go.

“I’m leaving tomorrow morning,” He replies curtly, finishing his own shot.

“Wow,” You hiss at the burning in your throat, shooing it away with a shake of your head. “Forgotten your roots, already?”

He scoffs, “I have to work, dumbass.”

“When’s your flight?”

“Eight hours.”

Widening your eyes, you can only stare at him in disbelief, “Why are you here? You should be fuckin’ sleepin’ or somethin’.”

“Not yet.”

And you’re hit with the stupid epiphany over the reason Seungkwan is so damn intent on watching the door.

“Oh my God, Kwannie,” You groan, dramatically flailing in your chair at that fact. It’s been a decade already, he’s like a superstar, why is he so hung up on this?! “Just… Stop! This is getting sad!”

“Mind your business.” He hisses, pouring himself another shot to help cope with your presence. That’s what he tells himself, it’s totally your cringey voice and not the anxious blackhole that has set in the pit of his stomach.

“I’m serious, why are you in love with her?” You lean closer, and your concerned gaze burns him.

“I’m not! This isn’t love! This is revenge!”

You sigh, patting his shoulder, “I know, buddy, whatever you tell yourself.”

Seungkwan lets out a frustrated groan, “Why can’t you just— Mind your business?” He shoves your pity pats away.

Turning around, you stand up. “Oi! DK!” You yell, setting Seungkwan in complete panic mode.

“No! No! No!” Seungkwan tries to shut you up by placing his hand over your mouth but it’s too late, you’ve caught the attention of the loud drunk.

“Aye! My gorgeous! You called?!” Seokmin stumbles toward where you sit.

Seungkwan gives up with a frustrated sigh and plops back on his chair, taking you down with him.

Seokmin and Sohee were polar opposites, she was popular and elegant. Every guy wanted to date her while every girl wanted to be her. She excelled in all classes and was loved by faculty and student body alike, she was student council president and never let anyone forget that. While Seokmin was a loudmouth, always making people laugh, not too long into his second year of high school, his teachers gave up on making any information go into that thick skull of his. He compensated his single-digit IQ with the kindest heart possible in a human male.

“Where’s our princess Sohee?” You giggle, leaning over Seungkwan’s shoulder to face Seokmin.

“Ah! My beautiful, precious, gorgeous noona!” He announces with a bright smile. You can’t help but laugh at his intoxicated antics. “She said she’d pick up the invitations after work, she’ll stop by later.”

“Invitations for what?!” Seungkwan whips his head around. You’re the only one that notices his jaw trembling.

The word doesn’t take a genius to know its many connotations; Especially the only one that made sense in the context.

“AH!” Seokmin claps his hands. “YOU DON’T KNOW!” He laughs, only building up suspense. “Sohee is getting married.”

Ah… He screwed up.

All of a sudden, there’s no fucking reason for all this. The carpet has been swept from under his feet without a moment’s notice. Everything has built up to this moment and for what? Sohee is getting married and didn’t even bother to send a message.

She wouldn’t care.

He could stand before her, wave his shiny accessories, flaunt his status and she would be happily married.

Everything so far wouldn’t mean anything if he didn’t get his fucking revenge.

You watch as Seungkwan clenches his fists under the table, biting into his lips. Seokmin, of course, doesn’t notice the way the news was taken and has entered a monologue on how happy his older sister is with the matrimony.

Before you can call his name, Seungkwan bolts from his seat, leaving you and his belongings behind.

“He has a flight to catch soon! Thanks, DK!” You yell, hastily gathering up your bag and his coat and stumbling your way out of the restaurant to follow Seungkwan.

“Kwannie! Kwan! Stop!”

He pays you no mind, stomping his way toward his expensive rental and you quicken your pace, high heels loudly clacking against the asphalt.

“Seungkwan! STOP!” You snatch the keys away from his hand and shove your body between him and the door. “Are you fucking crazy?! You’re not driving.”

That seems to wake him up from his anger-induced trance, but now that you’re close, you seem like the perfect target to channel his rage.

“Get out of my way.” He hisses, eyes glazed in deep-rooted hatred that burns its way through his veins, its flames feeding on the very oxygen he inhales in shallow breaths.

You cross your arms, reciprocating his heated stare.

Seungkwan breathes in, ramming his fist against the doorframe only an inch or two away from your face. You’re not proud to say how hard you flinched.

“Fine, I’ll walk.” With a sigh, he just leaves you there.

“At least take your fucking jacket.” You jog toward him, juggling both your coats as you try to swing your bag over your shoulder, “What if you get sick? Your manager will kill you—“

Seungkwan turns around and snatches his expensive item from your hands, returning to his fast pace afterwards.

You struggle to keep up in your platform high-heels, so you shrug them off and run. Your tights will only protect your feet for so many steps but you’re too intoxicated to think that far.

He sighs at your unbothered smile and quickens his step. His legs might be long and slender, but you have quite the stamina and willingness to be a menace.

“Where are you staying?” You ask, hoping there would be a cab available downtown to escort your angry friend.

“Mind your business.”

You click your tongue.

Gathering up your courage, you blurt it out:

“I thought you knew.”

Seungkwan halts and turns around just in time for you to crash into his chest. His lungs heave with curt breaths, and he swallows hard, eyes studying your face for a sign of jest. There isn’t any.

“You knew? You knew?!" His fingers dig deep into your shoulders as he shakes your body, jaw tight in anger.

Sohee wasn’t just a pretty girl, I mean, she was– is, gorgeous. But that was never the reason young and impressionable Seungkwan fell for her, no. He was a chubby-cheeked, awkward boy who blushed at just about anything, and she was a goddess, descending from heaven to help him gather his scattered books back into his hand-me-down backpack. And he held this crush, letting it root deep into his teenage heart and blossom into first love. He talked about her all the time, his every waking thought plagued by Sohee, you remember how angry he got whenever one of his sisters teased him about it.

Entering High-school, he gathered up his courage and on the last day of school, he confessed.

And she had this look on her face, of utter and total disgust. As if he wasn’t even worthy of the oxygen he consumed. He was a mere bug that dared to enter her sight. She never uttered a word, but she didn’t have to; As her friends threw insults, crushing his weakened spirit, Sohee laughed.

The following year, he’d become someone totally different.

You can’t find it in your heart to mind his reaction, you actually understand it and you feel nothing but sorry, “I mean… She wouldn’t shut up about it. The whole town knows, I thought your mum had told you.”

“She didn’t.”

He lets go of you with a push and you stumble slightly.

You adjust your bag strap, “I figured…”

It seems the news finally settle into the pit of his stomach as Seungkwan runs his fingers through his perfectly styled hair with a heavy sigh. It crunches slightly under the weight of his fingers.

He’s a thirty-year-old man crouched down in the middle of a deserted road in his minuscule hometown, grieving his ten-year-old plan of getting revenge on his first love. God, the paparazzi would have his ass had he been in Seoul.

But in the middle of bumfuck nowhere, the only audience is you; And despite your track record, you show empathy, like a real, feeling, breathing, human being and not a folklore swamp witch that ate children for breakfast.

“Come on,” You announce, jogging up to grab his wrist and drag him before he can protest.

The school was very well-located. Standing strong in the very middle of town, its pebbled paths are still the same decade after decade.

The trees stand strong, far older than either of you and certainly outlive you. Its leaves are a bright shade of green this time of year, lively and healthy. God, you skipped so many classes under that shady spot behind the gym.

When you stop at the side gate, Seungkwan is horrified.

“You’re not planning to break in, are you?”

You roll your eyes, digging around in your purse for your crowded keychain. It’s dangling with many keys, but they are outnumbered by the sheer amount of keychains you have. Childish and colourful they make all sorts of noises as you look for the right key. When you unlock the gate, his surprise is visible for almost an entire minute.

“I keep forgetting you’re someone with a job, given how nosy you are.”

His dig goes ignored as you pick your heels back up and head in without further notice. Seungkwan had no choice but to follow lest he wanted to stand on a deserted road in the middle of the night with nowhere to go.

It’s a weird feeling coming back to your old high school after so long. The walls feel all too familiar at the same time they feel foreign. Scattered memories find their way into your thoughts as you navigate the ambience. Every corner holds a moment that would change you forever, that shaped you into the person you are. And yet, the decor has not changed, despite how much you have.

“I’ll give you an exclusive tour through our lounge, how about that?”

You stretch your arms in a flashy way, pushing open the door labelled as “Teacher’s Lounge”.

Becoming a middle school teacher was far from being your dream since childhood. It was something you had never thought of, but it felt natural once you received a recommendation from the guidance counsellor. Seungkwan bullied you over your sad, boring, life and how you were doomed to live in the middle of nowhere until you are wrinkly and old.

In the lounge, there are desks neatly arranged in the middle as well as a sofa in the corner with a fridge and a microwave. The decoration is minimal, a framed prize of excellence that’s almost three or four decades old, but it’s the only one you have to display.

You launch your heels and bag toward the couch and bee-line for the fridge. All while Seungkwan feels out of place in such a saintly space for teachers, the child in him feels naughty for entering the lounge without being invited by a grown-up. (You don’t count.)

Just behind the leftovers, in a box labelled “Frozen peas" was your communal stash of booze. Of course, no one was drinking on the job, but sometimes when you and your co-workers stayed back way past the sunset, you’d crack open a bottle to share.

“Is that allowed?!” Seungkwan widens his eyes at the familiar green bottles.

“It’s allowed as long as you mind your damn business,” You hiss, comfortably dropping into the battered old couch and patting the seat next to yours.

Giving up, Seungkwan cracks open his bottle and plops down next to you.

With a mischievous smile, you stretch your legs over his, laying down by the couch arm. He doesn’t even bat an eye, not as much as a side-eye or grumble. God, he must feel like shit.

“What’s the plan for now?” You ask.

Seungkwan sighs, taking a long sip.

“I don’t know… It’s meaningless.”

“There’s still plenty of ways of making her miserable,” You announce, taking a sip before announcing your marvellous idea. “Oh, you could crash her wedding!”

He gives you a half-hearted laugh, it eases the anxiety that looms in your stomach.

“And go to jail? Lose my career?” Shit, he has a point. You hate when Seungkwan has a point. “No, thanks.”

You’re deep in thought, mulling over ways to obliterate Sohee’s happiness in the cruellest form possible when he speaks up.

“I’m pathetic.”

There are no other words the egomaniac, arrogant Boo Seungkwan could say that would break your heart. The atmosphere feels wrong, having those words dissipate into the air, become a reality as soon as he speaks them out loud.

“No. No, you’re not” You lean forward, a light hand coming to touch his shoulder.

You wish you had better words, you wish you could be normal for a second and be serious about your emotions without roundabout ways of making the conversation lighthearted lest you actually acknowledge how much he means to you.

“Yes, I am. I’m almost thirty and I’m still fucking hung up on her—I mean, is that pathetic or what?

“Kwannie, shut the fuck up, you’re our national treasure. Everyone we went to school with WISHES they were in the place you are right now.”

He shakes his head, but you don’t allow yourself to be interrupted.

“Didn’t you see how everyone looked at you tonight? You stole the spotlight from the moment you walked in. You have everything you worked for.” Seungkwan is quiet, biting on his lower lip. He appreciates your words and it’s implied by the small pat he gives to your thigh.

You’ve got the bottle attached to your lips as you toe off your ripped tights, peeling them off your tired legs. No saving this pair, too bad, they were brand new. Warm alcohol buzzing down his throat, Seungkwan is almost hypnotised by the sight of your creamy thighs peeking from under your skirt as you struggle with the fabric.

“I could fuck her husband,” You joke, throwing the useless tights across the room and barely missing the trash can.

“No. No, you can’t,” His tone is so overly-serious you just can’t help but elaborate.

“That would ruin her wedding— Or do you mean I couldn’t seduce him? I mean have you looked at me? I could totally bag that snarky city boy,” You’re so engulfed in your argument, pulling your waistband over your feet that you don’t see Seungkwan leaning over to pull you into his lap.

“No, I mean. I won’t let you,” He stares deeply into your soul, hot breath hitting your lips, “You’re not allowed to fuck him.”

It’s the booze. It has to be.

I mean, why else would you, out of everyone, find this somewhat possessive behaviour so fucking hot?

Maybe it’s just how out of character it feels. Seungkwan always treated sex, with you at least, as such a mundane activity.

“wow. Sexist much?” You laugh awkwardly, wrapping your hands around his neck.

He smirks, “What? Like it doesn’t make your pussy wet?”

Your breath hitches and your mouth feels dry, dry and lonely, especially when his lips look so soft and rosy covered in his high-end tinted lip balm. You’d like to think it’s the alcohol clouding your judgement and that you are not that desperate for him in your other encounters.

Hypnotised by his lips, you’re melting into his body, finding your place on his lap. Every slight move of your hips his thighs tense up, your skirt has ridden far enough for your clothed core to touch his bulge, a shameful wet patch finding its way on the fabric.

“Say it again,” You ask and it’s a breathless plea that tickles his nose with lustful intent. Seungkwan smiles, eyes locked on the way you bite at your lower lips, so eagerly awaiting him.

“I won’t let you, you will not leave my sight,” He says, his adam’s apple bobs up and down in a dry swallow, “You can’t fuck anyone else.”

And you find his lips, consumed by your want. Mouth crashing on his with the weight of burnout, alcohol and horniness buzzing through your veins; Only heightened by how long it’s been since your last rendezvous.

Seungkwan holds your waist tight, fingers burying into your skin, leaving his mark everywhere they touch. He pulls you into his chest, impossibly close and even then, it’s not enough.

He groans into your mouth and you greedily swallow every sound he makes, eager to devour everything he will let you have, you will wait on hand for every drop of attention if you have to.

Arms secured around your hips, Seungkwan leans back. You’re still glued to his lips, chest flushed with his; Hips mindlessly grinding against his slacks, every bit of friction a blessing bestowed on his strained erection.

“Come up–” He says, lessening his grip on your waist.

“Wha… What–” You’re panting against his lips, breath tickling sensitive skin making him regret parting the kiss.

“Ride my face–” Oh.

Well, he didn’t have to say it twice.

Blood is rushing to your lower bits so fast you almost feel lightheaded, you want nothing but to crush his head between your thighs until he is out of breath and moaning nothing but your name.

He licks a long strip, moaning against your cunt at the intoxicating taste. Unconsciously, you’re thrusting your hips at his tongue, spreading your slick around his face.

Every time felt like the first when he tasted you on his tongue, when you dripped onto him, melted into his lips so willingly. When you moaned his name and chased your high, using him as you wished.

His nose bumps against your clit, making your body flinch instantly at the friction. Seungkwan chuckles against your cunt, tongue focused on prodding at your expectant hole. You gulp, reaching your hand to grab fistfuls of his hair, it crunches softly under your fingers, the hair pomade smells of tangerine.

Fingers digging into your flesh, he leaves crescent moons tattooed into your skin; part of you wishes they would last, constant reminders of him and every emotion that follows, you wish this moon cycle ended in something other than being left on read.

But at this moment, as Seungkwan eats your pussy like a starved man, bringing your hips closer and closer as if you were the very oxygen in his lungs, you can pretend.

With a soft mewl of his name, you glide your pussy along his open tongue, lewd wet noises filling your ears with sinful thoughts. His eyes are glazed with lust, staring up at you to capture every breath you take to drink your every moan with senseless intent.

“Pull my hair—“ he whines against your thighs, his voice is a hoarse whisper that tickles your sensitive skin, “Pretend you’re my teacher— Call me a bad boy,” Nipping at your skin, Seungkwan stares expectedly into your eyes.

God forbid you ever felt anything but maternal love for any of your snotty students, but Seungkwan words go straight to your pussy like a slap to your face. And you’re crushing his head between your thighs with such strength it has left the perfect imprint of your legs on his cheeks.

“You are such a weirdo–” You reply, absolutely floored by his request and even more by how willing you are to comply with any of his wishes.

Seungkwan whimpers, biting at your skin. Every word that dances in malice travel through his burning body, eliciting goosebumps over every inch of skin.

“Stop being such a brat and eat my pussy,” You command. The power feels dizzying, dripping from your lips with an unfamiliar venom.

“Fuck–” He curses before diving back in.

His thumb finds your clit, toying with the sensitive nerve at a slow pace even as his tongue absolutely demolishes your hole. You whine, tightening your grip around the locks of his hair.

The vibrations coming from his soft moans are going straight into your core, travelling along your bloodstream, rushing to your brain with the addicting dopamine.

“You– You’ll be a good boy, huh?” You ask, unsure of how to phrase it, if it will please him, domination feels unfamiliar on your tongue, “Be a– Fuck! Be a good boy and make me cum…?”

He nods fervently against your pussy, nose tickling your clitoris with the perfect amount of pressure to make the knot in your belly tighten.

His name falls from your lips as you cum, keeling over with a strained moan, legs convulsing from sheer pleasure.

Seungkwan taps your thigh when he can’t breathe and you pry yourself off his face, stumbling over your numb legs. A string connects your slick to his lips and you almost moan at the very sight.

“Fuck– That was hot. You’re so fucking hot–” He smirks, pulling you flush to his chest, crashing his wet lips against yours and you can taste yourself on him.

And you taste of unrequited love.

His hands are on your body so caringly, caressing every inch of exposed skin and exposing more on his way. You part the kiss to urge him to remove the tee shirt he wears and he practically destroys your pretty button-up with how roughly he tears it apart.

You whine at the fact and he shushes you with soft promises of getting you something prettier.

Your chest feels so soft against his, heartbeats matching in ardent craving, longing for the next minutes you will spend in each other’s arms.

When your hands find his perfectly ironed slacks, you can feel the strained bulge and the very obvious wet spot that stains the dark navy fabric. Seungkwan groans, flinching away from your touch as much as his brain yells at him to chase your hand.

“Fuck– I need your pussy— I’m gonna fuckin’ die–” He groans, pulling your hands away before he can waste any of his cum on your hands. He can’t do it today, he needs to be inside, to claim and conquer, to feel part of something.

Biting your lips at his words, you lay back, spreading your legs willingly. God, Seungkwan almost cums at the sight.

You’re looking up at him with such a lewd glaze painting your doe eyes, your own slick coating your lips above smeared lipstick. Chest heaving, your tits heaving up and down with every bated breath.

He pries open his belt and lowers his trousers just enough to free his throbbing erection. You whine at the sight, it stands red and angry, oozing precum and so ready to plough you into tomorrow.

Seungkwan didn’t wear condoms with you very often, only when he was fresh off a relationship and didn’t have time to get tested before your meetings. The last time you’d met, he had just broken up with a rookie idol, a petite thing with big dreams and pretty eyes.

He’d fucked his frustration into your hips that night, not a word about how his feelings. The next morning, he was back to normal.

But tonight, he was going to fill you up; God, it had been too long since he felt your walls clamping around his cock with such enthusiasm.

You adjust yourself over the pillow and watch as Seungkwan rubs himself over your slit, collecting as much lubrication as possible. Hissing, you hurry him up. He slightly thumbs at your hole, stretching it.

“Just fucking do it already–!”

He slaps your clit, “Shut up.”

Crossing your arms, you look away in resentment. Seungkwan chuckles at the sight of your pouty lips.

“Stop sulking, yeah?” He leans forward, whispering against your lips, “I’ll fuck you nice and good once you’re ready,” His kisses are gentle against your swollen lips, collecting more of your cheap red lipstick that stains more than you’d wish.

Deciding you’re somewhat ready, but mostly giving in to the extreme horniness that burns through his bloodstream, Seungkwan slowly thrusts into your tight hole.

“H-Holy shit–” He chokes, leaning forward to bury his reddened face into your neck. “How are you so fucking tight? No matter how many times I fuck you–”

He bottoms out, kissing the tip of your cervix, filling up the hole that sits at the bottom of your heart with plain arousal.

Your brain oozes dopamine at the stretch, tearing you apart to scramble your insides and batter your heart, only to put you back together with a single soft smile.

“Fuckin’ Move–” You managed to gasp, wrapping your arms around his neck, bringing his chest flush to yours.

Seungkwan half-worries he might go too harsh, that you’re not ready by how tight you still are; But you’re thrusting your hips against his, mewling sweet, tempting pleas against his ear.

So he cedes to your wishes, hips pistoning into yours with relentless desire. Your pussy squelches lewdly around his cock, a ring of arousal pooling around the base. He groans at the sight.

And you’re squirming under him, his name dripping from your tongue in a harmonic prayer.

Between thrusts, he finds your lips with the intent to drink your every moan, every syllable of his name that leaves your lips in a breathy moan.

Hands tight on your hips, Seungkwan lifts your leg to wrap around his waist, allowing him more leverage to plough your pussy as he wishes, to ravage you in every way. Stake his claim in the most primal way possible.

The new angle allows him to caress your sensitive spot with every merciless shove of his dick into your hole. The sofa creaks under the weight of you, and you’re silently praying it doesn’t break because you will flee the country before you explain to the principal why the lounge couch is broken.

Tears leak from your glazed eyes, you bury your face into his hair, smelling the citric hair gel, the woody cologne he created in a collab with an indie brand a couple years back.

Seungkwan nips at your neck, biting at your skin, trying his damndest to hold back the groans that want to escape, the praise that boils over on his tongue at how well you take him, on how you were made for him. Words that feel heavy, that elicit tears from your eyes and make you clench around him too hard.

“Come on, come on–” He urges, hand reaching to rub at your clit. Knowing fully he won’t last long.

“Fuck– M’ close!” You whine, arching your back, handing yourself on a plater, pliant and willing.

When you come, you’re silent, pulling at his hair with breathy gasps. Your walls convulse around him, milking his cock for all he’s worth, coaxing his own orgasm.

Seungkwan comes undone in hot spurts, painting you white with his cum, collapsing against your chest with a faint whisper of your name.

Still inside, he wraps his arms around your waist, peppering soft kisses along your collarbone.

He is only loving in the aftermath when the room smells of sex.

You wake up not too long after, and Seungkwan snores softly on your chest, drooling over your sweaty skin. You feel anything but sexy, all clammy and gross. And he’s gone soft and you can feel the cum leaking over your thighs.

With a sigh, you grab a pillow from the floor, shoving it under his head so you can hopefully leave without waking the beast. Luckily, you’re out of his embrace.

Plucking your clothes from the floor, you realise only one of the buttons remains on your blouse. Cursing Seungkwan in your head, you wear it anyway, having nothing better. You pull the skirt down after wiping away the fluids from your skin.

Seungkwan groans, mouth dry and arms numb, he sits up.

“Sorry, did I wake you?” You ask, leaning over the fridge to grab a bottle of water.

“What time is it?” His voice is hoarse, it tickles your tummy with the tempting domesticity.

“Just past two. When’s your flight?”

“At six,” He huffs, leaning against his knees.

You offer him some water, which he gladly accepts.

The silence isn’t awkward, it’s a comfortable blanket of omission that hides in its thread the unresolved feelings that snowball over decades.

“Do you miss it?” You ask, eyes focused on the night scenery outside the window, not nearly courageous enough to stare at him.

“What?”

“Our school years.”

“No fucking way. They sucked,” He laughs.

You chuckle.

“Didn’t you have fun? We used to go over to Chan’s after school and make his life a living hell.”

Seungkwan laughs at the nostalgic memory.

Lee Chan was the brother of an upperclassman and you became friends by chance. He was absolutely obsessed with girl groups and you, Seungkwan, Seokmin and Soonyoung just loved to make fun of his taste.

“What is he doing these days? Man, he was so easy to mess with.”

“He left for Seoul, to become a trainee in high school.”

He nods.

“If… If it hadn’t been for Sohee, do you think you’d have enjoyed it?”

It’s almost a hopeful question, a melancholic plea for acknowledgement. In the underlines, there is a secret question, “Do you miss me?”

“…I don’t know, maybe.” He shrugs.

maybe.

That was enough for you.

When he gets into the uber with a soft wave, heading back into his glamorous lifestyle, you’re left to pick the pieces of your heart back up, glue them all together with a boring routine and mind-numbing deskwork until he can break them again.

˗ˋˏ YUCK! ˎˊ˗ | 18+ Only (Part One)

synopsis: how can you remain friends with benefits with someone who turns his plushies around during sex, pouts when you don't kiss him goodbye, and spends his time occupying your mind?

pairing: lsm x yn (gn afab)

genre: fluff, romance | m, smut

tags: food, character is drunk in a flashback, cursing, domesticity, fwb, sexual innuendos, university au | car sex, degradation/dumbification, dirty talk, exhibitionism, fingering, games, pet names, switch dk/reader, spitting, pnv, unprotected sex

wc: 7.62k

a/n: some grumpy x sunshine dynamics inspired by my favorite song off charli's crash album. deciding to drop this fic in 2 parts instead of one bc the length of this vs my old laptop is e***** my a**. I literally had to delete the sims 😔 kind of excited and scared bc this is my first fic on this blog so comments are deeply appreciated -nu ♡

yuck! - part two

lipglossjun's masterlist

Bare legs intertwined and arms wrapped around each other, DK brings his head closer to yours so that your noses are only a few centimeters apart. He whispers good morning and gently kisses you on the forehead. However, instead of greeting him back, you decide to ruin an otherwise sweet and heartfelt moment by reaching above your head for the closest thing you can find and slamming it onto his body.

“Stop being cheesy. You can’t ‘Good Morning’ me after sex,” you grumble, turning your body away from his.

DK’s large and deformed bumblebee plush he frequently uses as a backrest bounces off his body and plops onto the cold tiled floor where it joins a menagerie of different plushies and discarded clothing items. DK doesn’t do anything in retaliation and only snuggles into your back, wraps his arm around your side, and pulls you closer to him.

“Fuck aftercare. I’m still horny,” he mumbles into your neck while leaving warm kisses on your shoulder. He moves his right arm to your hips and massages your waist with his thumb, pressing deeply and drawing circles into your skin.

The action is enough to make you think about going another round with him, but the scattered sounds of metal doors opening and closing in the distance tell you that it’s almost time for your morning class. You reach to the side to grab your phone from his nightstand to double-check the time. There’s a text from your friend who lets you know he has your lab coat. There’s a follow-up text from him telling you to stop fucking DK so that you don’t get a grade docked for missing lab. As much as you want to laze in bed with DK, you detangle yourself from him and sit up. He whines at the lack of warmth, but you ignore him and make your way to his private bathroom where your overnight bag hangs on one of the metal door hooks.

You can still hear him whining about his horniness as your hand reaches for the toilet paper roll beside you. Not wanting him to continue complaining, you tell him very loudly that you are peeing. You hope it’s enough to get him to leave you alone. At the same time, you hope your voice doesn’t travel through the bathroom vent duct to the other dormitory restrooms.

His whining stops.

You think he’s starting his usual clean-up routine, plugging in his white shell-shaped socket air freshener – the same linen scented one he bought once and then over and over again simply because you complimented it once in passing. He would pick up all of the fallen stuffed animals he’s collected over the years, probably apologizing to them one by one for dropping them and for having sex in front of them. It’s just who he is, and you never understood how you became friends with someone like him in the first place.

You’re blunt, a no-bullshit kind of person. If Eeyore and Squidward had a baby, that baby would be you. So, usually, people like Dokyeom would piss you off. Dokyeom is the type of person who wakes up as refreshed as the type of people in those instant coffee commercials after they have had their morning cup of dark roast. He’s bright and bubbly and too kind for his own good. He’s stopped many roommate disputes simply by tearing up while listening to his “children” – as he likes to refer to them – argue in front of him. He can’t walk to class without waving at or bumping into somebody he knows. Hanging out with people like DK sucks the energy out of you, but DK's miraculously somehow your friend.

Also, part of you knows you lucked out when you became friends with benefits with a dormitory resident advisor a few months ago. It’s convenient for the both of you – because of his single bed and bath suite, you always have a place to stay if you are still on campus late at night. Both of you two never need to worry about being too loud because his room is basically soundproof. However, that luck also meant having a partner who doesn’t understand his boundaries, has an overtly positive mindset, and treats and takes care of you like you are one of his Freshman residents.

“I swear if I get a UTI…” you mumble to yourself while you lock your phone and place it on the sink counter before you wipe. You make a mental note that you still have a few minutes before you have to head to your morning class or else you would be way too late.

When you leave his bathroom, you see he’s making his bed. The resident advisor is fully dressed and happily fluffs his pillows as if you didn’t use them to stifle his moans while riding him just a few minutes ago – not because he was too loud, but because it was seven in the morning and all you wanted to do was fuck. As you predicted, his stuffed animals are all back in place, including the ones that toppled onto his floor. The air freshener is plugged into the socket with its intensity on the highest setting. His curtains are pulled open, and the calm morning breeze gently brushes against the bright green string of pearls plant sitting on his windowsill. In his trashcan under his desk is the tied and disposed of used condom tastefully covered by empty snack wrappers and dirty lint roller sheets. It’s like he lives a double life – one that only you know and one that only his residents know.

You find a small water bottle and a granola bar on your backpack that you left on his desk chair when you arrived last night. Confused, you point at the items and turn to the man sitting on his bed. There is a big dumb smile plastered on his face despite you looking at him with a blank expression.

“What’s this?” you move the water and snack onto his desk so you can swing your backpack over your shoulder. You lean over his wooden desk to double-check and fix your hair in his table mirror.

“Some snacks,” he sings while reaching over to pull a stuffed animal onto his lap. It’s the one he often hugs when he sleeps alone. “You didn’t eat this morning,” he pouts.

“What did I say about not needing to be taken care of?” You frown while grabbing the water bottle and hesitate while looking at the bar you put on his tidy desk. “I hate granola,” you grumble, but you decide to pocket the bar before leaving.

He grabs the paw of the large brown bear he’s cuddling and uses it to wave goodbye, “Study hard.”

You flip him off before closing his large metal dormitory door behind you. His keypad whirs and clicks its automatic lock into place, and you make your way to the hallway elevators.

With each navy blue carpeted step you take towards the dormitory elevator, the wrapped granola bar crinkles annoyingly in your sweats pocket. The more you’re aware of the crinkling, the louder it rings in your ear – and it’s driving you insane. You hate the awful bright green dormitory doors, the sound of the foil wrapper, and the way DK tries to take care of you when all you want is sex. Sure, you can’t say you’re not attracted to him. You’re not the type to be friends with benefits with somebody you don’t have an emotional connection with. Yet, the man doesn’t even have a car. How can he take care of you if he can’t even drive on the freeway? To you, friends with benefits is like a drive-thru – you enter, you exchange for goods, and you exit. For a man without a car, the concept of his drive-thru just seems abstruse.

Even more annoying is DK’s stupid laminated smiling face stapled onto his large classroom bulletin board. DK’s face stares you down front and center while you wait for the elevator to stop on your floor. Below his face are hand-cut expensive cardstock letters shaped in a wavy curve spelling out A Baa-ginner’s Guide to Sleep. Under the title are several large sheep with sleeping facts glued to their centers that leap across a fence in a green pasture. You doubt anybody really pays attention to his bulletin board, but you quickly read through the facts on each sheep to pass the time while you wait for the elevator to arrive on your floor.

On the right side of the bulletin board is a tiny suggestion box nailed to the wall with a washable marker attached to the side of the box. You decide to uncap the black marker and quickly draw facial hair on DK’s face. You think he wouldn’t mind the hair – it’s nothing compared to the number of phallic pictures he had to erase on the whiteboard on his door the first month of school. If anything, he could wipe it off whenever he wanted. You cap the marker and look at his fresh goatee. The corner of your lips turns upwards and then quickly falls back to its resting position.

Your phone in your other pocket coincidentally buzzes when the elevator dings. You pull out your phone while stepping into the empty elevator and press the elevator button for the first floor. You see it’s a text from DK. He sent you a selfie of him and the same brown bear plush he was cuddling earlier. He wants you to know he’s still horny, but he misses you. A lot.

You sigh and unhook your backpack from your shoulder so you can access the front pocket of your backpack. The elevator stops at the floor below you, and you make your way to the side to let other students onto the elevator.

The weather is finally nice outside after a week of consistent fog and overcast skies, so you thought it would be a great idea to study together under the sun. However, about half an hour into studying, Jun is about twenty chapters into a webcomic on his phone, Chan is busy flicking stray ants off the thin bedsheet, and you are about to resort to using ideas from your 2014 costume party Pinterest board you archived into the depths of hell a few years ago.

“It’s giving either pick me or middle school boy whose entire personality is him being a class clown,” Chan says while laying back down on the makeshift picnic blanket you made from an old yellow bedsheet you pulled from your closet. He crosses his arms under his head for support.

Jun grabs the laptop from Chan’s lap and clicks through the options you’ve opened in your different tabs. He squints his eyes at the screen and winces at every single one while he drags his finger across your touchpad, wishing he never saw your options. He shakes his head and pushes your laptop back to you, immediately going back to scrolling on his phone.

You take back your laptop from Jun and frown while clicking on your different open tabs to peruse your options again. You thought it would be funny if you wore the themed costume you were currently going for, but your friends think it’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever come up with – and you’ve come up with a ton of stupid ideas in the past. But you couldn’t see how this simple costume gives off a “pick me” vibe.

“I just think it’d be funny,” you grumble while closing your current tabs to look for more options.

You’ve noticed that you’ve been hanging out with DK more than usual. Sometimes it wasn’t even to hook up with him. You would stay at his place to study for midterms, and the two of you would often end up having dinner or breakfast together. You’ve been in the dorms for so long that his residents often mistake you for another resident. But it’s true, DK is only a friend – albeit one who’s starting to grow on you – but he’s only a friend. What’s the use in trying to find a costume that he would laugh at anyway?

“What did I tell you? You can’t just be friends with benefits with somebody like DK. People like him want long relationships. They like holding hands while walking. They like sending goodnight texts with a cute moving sticker from a sticker pack they paid for attached to it. They consider taking you home to their parents as a date,” Chan quickly sits up to try to see your laptop screen, but immediately lays back down when his vision gets blurry. He uses it as an excuse to skip the gym today.

“You, on the other hand,” Chan turns to his side so he can see you more clearly, “just want his dick in you.”

The other friend tries to stifle his laughter after hearing the word “dick.” You groan and push Chan’s chest, causing him to fall flat on his back again. Although you have to admit, you don’t disagree with him. Getting dicked down by your friend after meeting up with him to try new dessert places he found on Instagram is an amazing experience. You could taste the remnants of his frozen yogurt flavor on his tongue while he kisses you after eating you out. Visiting new places and hooking up afterward? It’s like an extended BOGO deal that doesn’t seem to have an expiry date.

“You say that like wanting dick is a bad thing,” the other friend, Jun, who swapped his phone for your backpack, opens the front pocket to look for something fun to play with or eat that would better interest him.

He pulls out the granola bar you shoved in your backpack that sat untouched since DK gave it to you. He quickly reads the label to look at the flavor and decides to pocket the bar.

“No,” you tell him when you hear the familiar crinkle of the foil wrapper. You reach over to snatch your backpack and your granola bar back from your friend. “It’s mine,” you emphasized.

“You don’t even like those,” Jun grumbles while leaning his elbow on his knee. He huffs very loudly, making it very obvious he is sad he wasn’t able to take the snack for himself.

You roll your eyes and launch the granola bar straight at his chest. It hits him with a hollow-sounding thunk and lands on his lap. Bullseye.

“Jesus,” Chan exclaims, now sitting up. He points at the poor boy who is rubbing the sore spot on his chest with a smile on his face, “What’s with you and chests?”

You shrug, your face void of any expression. You were more of an arm person.

“But going back to Yn and DK, I honestly don’t see anything wrong with them. They’re just friends who hook up,” Jun, who is completely fine, tears the corner of the foil wrapper and pulls it downwards. He moves the remaining end that covers the sticky bar to the side, revealing the snack that lost its original shape after being tumbled and bumped in your backpack. “My last friends with benefits hated my guts. We had absolutely nothing in common too. I literally had to fuck in silence because if we talked, we would only fight. But it only lasted a while because they were only visiting the area, but damn, I definitely wouldn’t do it again.”

He takes a bite of his granola bar.

“Hate fucking can make you grow stress acne,” he casually adds while his mouth is full.

The two of you turn to him in surprise, never knowing about his revelation despite years of being friends. Jun shrugs, unbothered by your expressions, and continues to snack.

“What? I like getting my dick sucked,” he nonchalantly tells the two of you. A tiny piece of oat flies out of his mouth and onto the blanket. You flick it away before the ants can get to it, but Jun doesn’t seem to notice and continues to talk, “You gotta do what you gotta do.”

Crumbs fall out of his mouth while he speaks with his mouth full. Only after he finishes his sentence does he take time to swallow his mouthful and shove the remainder of the bar into his mouth. He swats the crumbs off the blanket and his clothes and crumples the wrapper, looking around for the nearest trashcan.

His eyes land on a group of people moving carts and setting up for an event in the distance. He could recognize the outfits anywhere from the navy blue polo with the university crest embroidered on the left chest to the regulated sand-colored khakis every worker has to wear. He’s seen someone wear that uniform more often than he would have liked. Every time he complains about how ugly the polyester polos look, his friend who regularly wears the uniform only laughs at him and waves goodbye. 

Why would RA’s need to wear sports wick fabric? Jun thinks to himself. Do they get sweaty from doing dormitory checks at midnight? 

You notice Jun silently frowning at something in the distance instead of getting up to throw away his trash. You turn your body to look at who he’s frowning at, and you see a bunch of students setting up for some university event later in the afternoon. Your eyes land on a familiar silhouette who carries a clipboard in his left hand while pointing at different places to tell his coworkers where to place the different banners and tables. You know it’s him from the crisp khaki pants he refuses to stain to the way he carries himself – the bounce in his step and the way his open hand always falls onto the shoulder of the person next to him to use as support while he’s laughing.

He’s the same person who’s too kind for his own good. You think about the time you went shopping at the mall with him and how he couldn’t bring himself to decline the offer of getting a free scrub from the skincare kiosk. You had to stare down the man into applying the product on the back of DK’s arm, but even then, DK spent the next week rubbing medical-grade hydrocortisone cream on his rash without complaining. DK still wonders about where the man is every time he visits the mall to this day. On the other hand, you would never admit to secretly taking matters into your own hand by writing angrily worded reviews on their Google page under Chan’s abandoned elementary school email he uses to sign up for free trials.

“You’re drooling for a man in khakis,” Chan suddenly disrupts your thoughts. “Check yourself.”

You blink your eyes and look around you. Jun is already long gone, Jun's trash tossed in a trashcan. Now, he’s leaning against a tree while chatting up a poor girl who wanted to read her novel in peace. The funny thing is, he seems to be doing pretty well.

Chan, who doesn’t want both you and Jun to go to the party with a date, excuses himself so he could leave to annoy and embarrass Jun. He thinks if he has to go to the party alone, then he’s dragging one of you down with him. In this case, it’s Jun.

Your mind wanders back to the costume party. You can’t do a couple’s costume because one, you and DK are not a couple; and two, DK always shows up as a slutty fireman. It was his thing. He would show up to parties already a little tipsy from pregaming. He would hug a liter bottle of chase in one arm and have a coiled prop hose hanging from his shoulder on the opposite side. His firefighter costume would hang from his waist while DK walks around dapping up his friends in a white sleeveless cotton tank with streaks of grey ash. And the drunker he gets, the more lopsided his firefighter helmet sits on his head, eventually falling off when he crashes on the couch.

To Jun, dressing up as a firefighter is probably one of the sluttiest things DK could ever do. The first is respecting women. You’re number six on Jun’s list.

Someone comes up behind you from where you’re sitting and holds a cold water bottle in front of your face. He turns it upside down and quickly flicks it upright so the water inside the bottle whirls around in a whirlpool.

“Water tornado,” DK laughs while twisting open the white cap and handing the plastic bottle to you.  

His lame party trick makes you snort. Instead of complaining about already having your own iced water, you gladly accept his water. You put the cap back on and put it on top of your backpack knowing very well that his booth would be selling refreshments for triple its wholesale value.

He sits next to you on the bedsheet that’s slightly damp from touching the grass. He stretches his legs across the blanket and makes himself comfortable by laying on his back. He asks you where Chan and Jun are, and you point at the two of them pushing each other in front of the girl. You stare at them in defeat.

“Poor girl,” he tsks.

He moves his head onto your lap and you hover your hand over his eyes to shield them from the sun. He quietly stares at you while you use your other hand to open your university login page on your laptop, not really paying attention to him.

Just then, someone calls for DK from the event area. DK immediately sits up but accidentally slams his forehead into your palm. You let out a soft laugh, and he playfully glares at you.

How dumb.

“Just saying ‘hi’ to a friend,” he yells back.

A friend.

“Give me a kiss before I leave?”

“No,” you frown at him while looking away. You were trying to get him to go back to work. It also wasn’t like you called him over. Albeit there is a part of you that is the tiniest bit of upset after hearing DK call you his friend so easily. How dumb of you.

He pouts but gently squeezes your shoulder before he jogs back to where he was setting up.

In the distance, Jun and Chan sigh while they pull out their phones to transfer money into the hammock girl’s bank account. Hammock girl bet that he wouldn’t kiss you even if nobody was near the two of you. She was right. Although, the three of them could agree that a shoulder squeeze is just sad.

He giggles when he sees your face contort in disgust after he holds the body wash under your nose, squeezing it gently so you can smell the scent. He takes it back and flips the cap closed before putting it back on the store shelf. He takes the bottle from your hand when it’s your turn to pass him your pick, but he quickly passes it back to you after he smells the scent. He shakes his head “no.”

“You don’t like this one?” you cap the bottle and place it back where it belongs. You thought the scent was fine with you.

“It’s too sweet,” DK reads the label on another product, “I feel like it would attract ants.” He shudders at the idea of a line of ants trailing in his bathroom but continues to swing his shopping basket by his side while he browses the bath products aisle.

You don’t know how DK managed to convince you to drive him to the retail store and help him with his next bulletin board design. You think it’s because he knows you drew the mustache on his face, but he suggested you shop with him for a body wash that you would also prefer using because you’ve been staying over at his place more often. You were going to decline his suggestion, but you remembered you were almost out of trash bags and condoms for your place. Because there were only so many times you could visit the health center free condom bowl without becoming one of their regulars, you agreed to his request.

Yet here you are, trailing closely behind DK under the bright fluorescent store lights where the first bottle on mostly every shelf is just a little crooked. The two of you have spent the last few minutes trying to find a scent that works for both of you. To be honest, you couldn’t care less about the fragrance he chooses, but he insists on finding the perfect one – stressing the “t” in “perfect” to the point where it came out of his mouth in a clicking sound. You were more or less focused on how his bicep bulges the heavier his basket gets – practically drooling when his rolled shirt sleeve pushes up just a little whenever his arm automatically flexes every time he adds an item to his basket. You hope he thinks you’re staying quiet because your nose is congested from smelling all of the products and not because you’ve been staring at his arms the entire time.

He taps you on your shoulder when you’re skimming the ingredient list of a 3-in-1, and you look over to see him smiling widely at you as he holds a slim opaque bottle in his hand. 

When you smell the body wash he holds under your nose, you give him a tiny nod in agreement. He immediately caps the bottle, drops it in his basket, and heads toward his next destination. The bottle rolls over in the red basket, and you briefly see the scent name while you trail behind its future owner. Its scent fits the man humming in front of you perfectly, and you can’t deny that you’re quite fond of it yourself. You decide to grab one for your place before catching up to him.

.

About half an hour later, you’re still staring at his arms while he reaches up the grab the hood of your car trunk to slam it shut after helping load the shopping bags. He seems to notice you staring as he wastes time by looking into his tote bag, pretending to look for something.

You hate him, that little minx. Of course, he knows you’re staring at him. He knows exactly how you’re feeling. He didn’t purposely press against you while reaching up for items on higher shelves for nothing. The t-shirt he’s wearing? It’s a size too small, but by god do you think it fits so tightly and so well around his body.

Between stressing about midterms and working on top of taking classes with a full-time course load, your sex drive has been out of sync with how it used to be. You and DK haven’t had proper sex in a while, and you’ve been caught thinking about sex during geology lab (out of all places). Jun was pretty sure you were harder than all of the rocks on the lab table. If one more sex scenario came into your mind, you were pretty sure a diamond would fall out of you the next time you open your legs.

DK knows how to push your buttons and rile you up – subtly and in multiplicities. But in your favorite retail store? Where you go to de-stress and bask in the free air conditioning? The same one that welcomes you with the scent of fresh buttery popcorn when you walk through its large revolving doors? Leave it to DK to ruin the one good thing you had going for you, but if you’re going to fuck DK in your car, then you are going to make him pay for it in the process.

When you shut your car door, the hanging pine tree shaped air freshener clacks with the acrylic figurine keychain Chan brought back for you when he visited Japan during the winter. DK is sitting in the middle seat in the backseat of your manual, already visibly hard and palming himself. He grabs your hand while you move towards him to straddle his lap. Your knees sink into the cushions on the sides of his thighs, and you grind yourself on his arousal, feeling him grow harder and harder under you – days of pent up stress immediately leaving your body. He places his hands on your hips, guiding your movements, groaning when you find your pace – feeling the pool of arousal between your legs leak onto his crotch.

You grab his chin, thumb stroking the stubble along his jaw. He looks back at you with his big dark eyes, and your head dips so your lips can meet his. Your lips are hard and impatient as yours collides against his over and over – mouths working in tandem as he matches your pace and fervor as you continue to grind against him, digging your hips deeper into him when your back arches. You can’t help but smile against his lips and he moans in response, against your mouth. You fill the tiny opening by taking his bottom lip between your teeth, tugging and running your tongue against his lip.

However, he pulls back to catch his breath. His hands have traveled to your ass, and he asks you in the most innocent tone while kneading them between his fingers, “But what about the cars waiting for us?”

You roll your eyes and verbally scoff at him. You point his chin upwards so he’s looking up at you. He gulps while you stare at him, your eyes burning holes into his eyes. He knows you’re mad. But his dick twitches in excitement just thinking about how you’re going to punish him.

“Don’t play dumb with me fucking slut,” the way you jeer at him sends shivers down his spine. He looks up at you with glassy eyes, staying silent while you continue to berate him. “What? Purposely riling me up and then playing innocent when you think about a car waiting for us?”

He continues to stay silent while his breathing gets harder. He can feel his pre-cum leaking out of his dick, wanting desperately for you to sink down on him.

You tilt his chin to the side so you can whisper in his ear, “I’m going to make them watch you fall apart under me until they forget why they’re waiting for us in the first place. You understand?”

He nods his head quickly, thinking about how hot you look at that moment. You reach down to stroke his arousal with your other hand still secured around his chin. He whimpers at the feeling of your hand around him, eager to do anything you tell him to.

“What was the theme that you came up with for your bulletin board?” you pout at him, faking innocence. Of course you knew his theme. It’s all he’s been talking about since you picked him up from school. The concept is a little abstract, but you don’t push him because it’s not your board in the first place. You remove your hand from his chin and slowly trace it down his chest while looking at him with playful eyes.

“S-Simon says,” he hiccups as you unbutton his pants. He bites his lip when you reach his hard-on.

You see he’s red, hard, and throbbing in the palm of your hand. There’s enough pre-cum to drip down the sides of your fingers. You languidly stroke him, relieving some of the tension built up in his stomach. He hisses in response, closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the headrest.

“Simon says to tell me what you’re thinking.”

DK draws in an unsteady breath and groans while you continue stroking him up and down, slowly adding speed. “I’ve been so horny,” he breathes. “I think about you at night. How you’ll kneel in front of me, naked, and in between my legs. How you’ll slowly kiss up my thighs, leaving wet kisses the way I like them while spreading my thighs apart because you always treat me s-so well no matter how b-bad I’ve been,” he babbles while gripping onto your shoulders, anything that he can grip onto his vicinity.

You rub your thumb over his smooth head while he spreads his thighs a little wider in his seat. You feel your core begin to throb when you hear him shamelessly groan, the sound alone stimulating you further. However, you try to keep your composure while he’s literally in the palm of your hand. 

“And…” he trails off for a bit, turning his head and not meeting your eyes. You see the tips of his ears glow bright red as he tries to avoid your stare. “I had wet dreams about you spitting in my mouth,” he mumbles while trying to hide from you despite the fact that you’re still sitting on his lap. 

The mere thought of spitting into Dokyeom’s mouth continues to feed the flame burning inside of you, so you decide to continue your game with him.

“What was that hmm?” you dip your head so that you’re hovering right above his lips. He has nowhere to turn except to face you. And when he does, you can tell his eyes are frantically darting between your eyes and your lips. You’re close enough to him to feel his breath on your lips, how his breath hitches as you continue to build his high. “What did you want me to do to you?”

He quickly shakes his head and looks up at you as if to tell you he’s being a good boy by playing the game by the rules. You didn’t say “Simon Says” before your last question. You smile and nod at him while slowly pulling your shorts and panties down, placing yourself on top of his dick. He whimpers upon contact.

You trace him along the inside of your soaked folds, and he immediately bucks under your lap. He’s sweating and very close to becoming overstimulated at this point, but he’s surprisingly enjoying it.

“Simon Says to tell you what you want Simon to do to you,” you taunt him calmly. You align him at your entrance while keeping eye contact with him.

“Please...” he mewls, so desperate that he can’t even properly tell you what he wants. It’s frustrating, and he’s frustrated. He throws a mini fit by huffing after pleading. 

“Please what?” you kiss along his jawline while he tries rutting up into you. “Did my dumb slut forget how to speak?”

You frown at his action and lift yourself higher so he can’t reach you. You cock an eyebrow at him, trying to get him to tell you want he wants you to do to him. Because, fuck, even you were getting desperate at this point (even though it is mostly your fault for prolonging it for so long).

He finally fesses, “P-Please fuck me so hard that your car ah–”

So caught up with everything, you forget about his size, and loudly moan while you bottom out on him, immediately clinging onto him while you bury your face in his neck. He doesn’t even get to finish his sentence, but he lets out a choked scream as he feels you take all of him so well and so quickly. He feels so tight, so full in you. It reminds you about how much you needed him in you these past few days. He curses under his breath, automatically pulling you into him. He kisses you with so much ardor, running his tongue around yours, that you temporarily forget that you’re only friends.

His large hands find their way to your ass again, sizing you up and guiding it up and down over and over again, making you bounce up and down on him. He groans out loud while he drowns in the feeling of him stretching you open and you clenching tightly around him, hearing the sounds of your ass slapping against his thighs. You feel so good around him, a lot tighter than usual that he has to stop himself from coming immediately. His lips temporarily leave yours with a thin line of saliva still webbed between your mouths when he breaks your kiss. You take the chance to tell him to open his mouth wide, and he quickly obeys. You grab a fistful of his hair and pull it backward. His eyes roll to the back of his head, and you spit on his extended tongue, watching the transparent liquid slowly slide down his tongue. He swallows it and sticks his tongue out again, begging for more.

“Aww,” you coo at him while he tugs on your shirt, a little habit of his when he’s needy but too fucked out to verbally beg. “Dumb baby. Did you forget you’re still being punished?”

You lift yourself from him so that only his tip remains in you. He tries angling his hips so he can be in you again, but you only shake your head at him while trapping his waist between your knees. At this point, he can only whine your name. Your name escapes his mouth in a high-pitched rasp, slowly removing one of his hands from your ass to knead himself. He slowly rolls his balls between his fingers, tugging and releasing the prettiest moans while you watch him slowly get off by himself.

“Fine. Go ahead,” you remove yourself from his lap when you realize what he’s doing. You sit on the seat beside him while you watch him touch himself despite your pussy aching without his touch. “I was going to ask you to choose between me spitting in my dumb whore’s mouth again or ride him to completion, but it seems like he doesn’t need me anymore.”

He pauses what he’s doing to look at you with big glossy eyes. His face is hot and flushed, and you can still smell his musky scent from where you’re sitting. You almost cave when you see him look at you, your heart fluttering a little. No matter how much you love playing with DK, you will have to admit that you have such a soft spot for him. He reaches over to tug your shirt sleeve, but you only shake him off. You can’t allow yourself to swallow your pride no matter how much you want to baby him.

You think he’s going to beg for you to forgive him, but he does the complete opposite. He takes matters into his own hands by leaning over you despite the cramped space. He spreads your legs while he leans in between them.

“What are you doing?” you gulp.

He hovers his hand over your core and looks at you. You immediately nod, and he rubs your nub with his thumb, slowly inserting his ring finger in your cunt. He hooks it at the right spot, immediately making you buck against his hand in response.

“A- Ah. Baby please,” you mewl at him, begging for him to pump his finger. When he only stares at you, enjoying watching you beg underneath him as you fuck yourself on his finger repeatedly, your pride thrown out the window.

“I’m not even moving my finger and I can feel you creaming around it,” he smirks while tapping the inside of you by hooking and unhooking his finger, causing the coil in you to snap as you wail his name while riding out your orgasm.

Now it’s his turn to cock his head in amusement while he watches you desperately cling onto his arm as you continue to come on his single finger. Your eyes are squeezed shut, and your mouth can’t help but hang open while he inserts another long finger into you while you’re trembling under his touch. He continues to rub your nub in figure eights while he slowly scissors your aching and swollen cunt, knowing you’re about to cum again based on how tightly you’re clenched around his fingers, calling out and mindlessly babbling his name over and over again like it’s the only word in your vocabulary.

He feels your juices leak onto his fingers and he pulls them out of you just before your climax hits, holding it up to the large rearview window to see them well-coated with your slick and glistening in the sun. He brings the same fingers into his mouth and licks them clean when he sees a customer walking past the car. He shoves them into your mouth before you can complain, and you close your lips around his fingers, sucking on them and running your tongue around each digit.

“I’m fine with playing Simon Says,” he sighs at you while you continue sucking on his fingers while looking into his eyes. “But if you say you want to fuck me so hard that other people will see, then fucking do it right Yn,” he sneers.

He realigns himself at your entrance, slowly pushing into you. His new angle allows him to drive himself so deep into your cunt that you wail out a choked sob. There are no agonizingly slow strokes as he repeatedly pounds into you, hard, giving you no time to adjust. He ruts himself into you like you’re his toy and grunts while allowing the nastiest words to come out of his mouth, making up for all the time you lost between studying up until that moment. He’s so deep in you that you can feel him in your throat so that you can’t even utter a word, incoherent, as the springs of your car squeak to the rhythm of him relentlessly pounding in you. You’re so cock-drunk that you don’t even notice you’ve came again, this time sopping wet and onto your leather seats. You wail while struggling to keep your lips around his fingers. But they slip out of your mouth with a trail of your saliva and latch around your throat. He’s intoxicating, and you can't seem get him out of your mind.

.

“Was that too much?” you ask DK while you trace a heart around a plastic stencil he borrowed from the RA from the floor below his.

The two of you are sitting on the white tiled floor of his dormitory room, tracing letters and shapes on the construction paper he picked up at the store. Pop music plays from his laptop speakers, and he has his Pinterest board pulled up on his phone. After much brainstorming and a much-needed shower, the two of you finally came up with a new bulletin theme after scrapping the last one.

“It was the first time you called me ‘baby,’” there is a certain playfulness to his voice.

He proudly holds up the four-leaf clover he made by tracing four hearts on his green construction paper for you to see.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize to him.

Your hand accidentally slips while tracing the figure when DK crawls over to your side to look at your progress, creating a jagged line around the stencil.

“Did that cross the line?” your voice soft yet uneasy. You’re not sure if DK enjoyed the experience in the car. Maybe it was too much, you think to yourself. Maybe, it would’ve been better if you waited until the two of you got to his dorm.

“No…” he sits down on the space next to you and hugs his knees loosely. He thinks about it for a while. “It wasn’t what I expected, but don’t think I hated it,” he confesses while looking at you.

He takes a stray pencil on the floor and fixes the uneven line of the heart that you stenciled. You lean over to pick up his finished clover to compare it to yours. You frown at your crooked stenciled heart, but DK pats your head and reassures you that it’s fine the way it looks. Still, you think you should’ve volunteered to help him type his bulletin board information instead of volunteering to help him do something artistic like stenciling. 

“Thanks for helping me with my board today,” he tilts his head to his side while beaming at you. You can smell his new body wash on his skin and the ocean-scented laundry softener beads he uses for his clothes.

It’s your turn to bow your head to avoid his eyes. “I told you I’d help you today,” you mumble while tracing another heart. “And I kind of ruined your original plan.”

“Yn, it’s okay. It didn’t make sense anyway,” he leans over to quickly peck your cheek. He smiles at you and lightly pinches your nose between his thumb and index finger. “Did I ever tell you that you make me the happiest?”

Someone knocks on his door, and he immediately gets up from his spot to greet his resident. You’re left sitting cross-legged on his floor, trying not to make yourself known as the resident advisor talks to the freshman with his door open. You don’t even know why you try to hide yourself. You keep reminding yourself that you’re only his friend and that there’s no shame in being his friend.

But feeling of his lips against your skin lingers a little longer than it should. It’s just a simple peck on your cheek, but it feels like your skin is burning. And for the first time in your life, you don’t complain about his kiss.

###

part two

self preservation chapter list | remus lupin x fem!reader

your new job comes with new experiences. you never expected remus lupin. coworkers to friends-with-benefits to lovers. contains explicit content. 18+ only <3 [35k total]

part one

part two

part three

part four

part five

part six

pen pals (with benefits) | series m.list | jjk

Summary: You and Jungkook never got along ever since The Incident™. As fate would have it, you're paired up with him to complete a psychology project that will span the entire semester. When an innocent touch goes a little too far, a contract is made to protect the two of you from hurting each other, although it might be a bit too late.

♠ Pairing: jeon jungkook x reader ♠ Series word count (so far): 40,267 ♠ Genre/AU: Smut, Fluff, Slight Angst • college au • fwb to lovers au • enemies to lovers au ♠ Rating: 18+. This work and its subsequent chapters are not suitable for younger audiences. Warnings can be viewed for each individual chapters.

♠ ao3

Status: Ongoing | Next update: Drabble #4 | Latest Update: Chapter 4 & Part 2 of Class is In Session (Drabble)

Chapters: [1] • [2] • [3] • [4] • [5]

Drabbles:

dress down - a pwp in the dressing room of a lovely shop.

class is in session: part one | part two - a pwp in a dimly lit classroom and wandering hands.

all works are © bangtanhome

ENEMY ‖ five

When Hoseok finds out Taehyung is your new fuckbuddy at the game’s afterparty, you realize you’re in for a ride.

⤑ word count: 15.3k ⤑ genre: angst, smut [oral (m and f receiving), intercourse, threesome, dirty talk, unprotected sex, anal sex]; if you’re not into butt stuff and/or threesome, this is NOT for you ⤑ rating: 18+!!!! ⤑ pairing: reader x taehyung x hoseok

» Enemy [+Hoseok] – one | two | three | four | five

Keep reading

Love to Hate (Master List)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: Jungkook / Reader

Rating: 18+

Genre: Enemies to Lovers, Fuck Buddies!AU

Status: Ongoing

Description: Born with a silver spoon in your mouth, you’ve done your best to rid yourself of the taste since you were old enough to walk. Occasionally though, your mother manages to rope you into an obligatory function – or a blind date with playboy billionaire, Jeon Jungkook. Jungkook stands for everything you loathe about the world you left behind, but you can’t deny the spark of attraction between you. Intrigued by the promise of mutual satisfaction, you agree to one night in bed… and quickly realize you’re in far, far deeper than you ever intended.

[ Cross-Posted to Wattpad ]

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As it was

summary: There’s nothing that nourishes the ego more than envious looks from old classmates. At a ten-year class reunion, Seungkwan is looking forward to enact his long-term revenge plan. When it all comes crashing down, you're helping him pick himself up the only way you know how.

or

You and Seungkwan are occasional friends with benefits

pairing: fwb!Seungkwan x Reader, they bicker a lot but don't hate each other enough to call it enemies lol

word count: 5.4k (20~ minute read)

warnings: toxic couple, unprotected sex, unresolved feelings, alcohol, sex in a public place, oral (f rec.)

a/n: happy new year and happy valentine's day! I'm immensely thankful for the past reception of my fics <3 thank you so much! I do have a couple ideas for a sequel on this, which makes me insanely excited <3 I hope you like it ^_^

There’s nothing that nourishes the ego more than envious looks from old classmates. The same eyes that underestimated now quietly calculate the overpriced budget of designer clothes.

Ten-year high-school reunion? That’s just what Seungkwan needed to flaunt his new prime spot as a host of "Bad Clue." He’s certain no person alive in this century hadn’t heard of him and his many accomplishments, but it felt good to rub it in.

“Oh, Seungkwan? I saw you on TV, do you think you could sign this for me?”

It’s a phrase he’s heard all night as his old high-school mates pour into the cramped barbecue restaurant. Not many dare to converse besides the cheeky favour. “Do you think you could get my resume in?”

Why did he even come?

Ah, that’s right. His first love, Lee Sohee.

She’d completely abhorred his very existence, but now, no one could. He’d make his comeback and completely captivate her heart only to get his revenge by giving her a taste of her own medicine.

“Did your injections go wrong? you can’t smile.”

The sound of your voice makes Seungkwan cringe. He scoots away when you plop down on one of the free seats to his side.

“Why are you here?” He spits back, watching you struggle to open the Soju bottle.

“You looked miserable,” You flash him a mischievous smile.

Your relationship was complicated, to put it kindly. Living in a small town, Seungkwan had known you his entire life. You were classmates throughout all of school and you haunted your way around him all through university, as well.

He said everything he knew about you had been against his wishes. And part of it was true, with how much time you inevitably spent together, you became closer than planned.

It was during his first year of uni when someone implied he was unpopular with girls and he panicked. Saying ‘of course not!’ He even had a girlfriend; You, the first girl that came to his stupid drunk mind.

Oh, you had a field day with that one. It was easy using it as blackmail material, getting a ride anywhere, takeout, and help with your homework. Seungkwan practically lived at your place, cleaning up and making you breakfast every day. University was a breeze for you after he dug his own grave.

“Seeing your face made me miserable.”

You scoff.

Seungkwan mumbles some curses under his breath and snatches the bottle away from your hand, opening it with ease. You cheekily hold your cup up.

A couple months into the pretend relationship, you decided to try it out for real. Not that anything changed except for the physical part, it was a convenient relationship until the very end, with none of that lovey-dovey bullshit. You parted ways when Seungkwan got into one of the many companies he auditioned for and left for the capital.

Motherfucker never even bothered breaking up with you.

You had a lot of fun being dramatic in front of his mother and getting him in trouble for that one, too.

“How long you in town for?” You raise your shot glass toward his with a satisfying ‘clink’ before downing the liquid in one go.

“I’m leaving tomorrow morning,” He replies curtly, finishing his own shot.

“Wow,” You hiss at the burning in your throat, shooing it away with a shake of your head. “Forgotten your roots, already?”

He scoffs, “I have to work, dumbass.”

“When’s your flight?”

“Eight hours.”

Widening your eyes, you can only stare at him in disbelief, “Why are you here? You should be fuckin’ sleepin’ or somethin’.”

“Not yet.”

And you’re hit with the stupid epiphany over the reason Seungkwan is so damn intent on watching the door.

“Oh my God, Kwannie,” You groan, dramatically flailing in your chair at that fact. It’s been a decade already, he’s like a superstar, why is he so hung up on this?! “Just… Stop! This is getting sad!”

“Mind your business.” He hisses, pouring himself another shot to help cope with your presence. That’s what he tells himself, it’s totally your cringey voice and not the anxious blackhole that has set in the pit of his stomach.

“I’m serious, why are you in love with her?” You lean closer, and your concerned gaze burns him.

“I’m not! This isn’t love! This is revenge!”

You sigh, patting his shoulder, “I know, buddy, whatever you tell yourself.”

Seungkwan lets out a frustrated groan, “Why can’t you just— Mind your business?” He shoves your pity pats away.

Turning around, you stand up. “Oi! DK!” You yell, setting Seungkwan in complete panic mode.

“No! No! No!” Seungkwan tries to shut you up by placing his hand over your mouth but it’s too late, you’ve caught the attention of the loud drunk.

“Aye! My gorgeous! You called?!” Seokmin stumbles toward where you sit.

Seungkwan gives up with a frustrated sigh and plops back on his chair, taking you down with him.

Seokmin and Sohee were polar opposites, she was popular and elegant. Every guy wanted to date her while every girl wanted to be her. She excelled in all classes and was loved by faculty and student body alike, she was student council president and never let anyone forget that. While Seokmin was a loudmouth, always making people laugh, not too long into his second year of high school, his teachers gave up on making any information go into that thick skull of his. He compensated his single-digit IQ with the kindest heart possible in a human male.

“Where’s our princess Sohee?” You giggle, leaning over Seungkwan’s shoulder to face Seokmin.

“Ah! My beautiful, precious, gorgeous noona!” He announces with a bright smile. You can’t help but laugh at his intoxicated antics. “She said she’d pick up the invitations after work, she’ll stop by later.”

“Invitations for what?!” Seungkwan whips his head around. You’re the only one that notices his jaw trembling.

The word doesn’t take a genius to know its many connotations; Especially the only one that made sense in the context.

“AH!” Seokmin claps his hands. “YOU DON’T KNOW!” He laughs, only building up suspense. “Sohee is getting married.”

Ah… He screwed up.

All of a sudden, there’s no fucking reason for all this. The carpet has been swept from under his feet without a moment’s notice. Everything has built up to this moment and for what? Sohee is getting married and didn’t even bother to send a message.

She wouldn’t care.

He could stand before her, wave his shiny accessories, flaunt his status and she would be happily married.

Everything so far wouldn’t mean anything if he didn’t get his fucking revenge.

You watch as Seungkwan clenches his fists under the table, biting into his lips. Seokmin, of course, doesn’t notice the way the news was taken and has entered a monologue on how happy his older sister is with the matrimony.

Before you can call his name, Seungkwan bolts from his seat, leaving you and his belongings behind.

“He has a flight to catch soon! Thanks, DK!” You yell, hastily gathering up your bag and his coat and stumbling your way out of the restaurant to follow Seungkwan.

“Kwannie! Kwan! Stop!”

He pays you no mind, stomping his way toward his expensive rental and you quicken your pace, high heels loudly clacking against the asphalt.

“Seungkwan! STOP!” You snatch the keys away from his hand and shove your body between him and the door. “Are you fucking crazy?! You’re not driving.”

That seems to wake him up from his anger-induced trance, but now that you’re close, you seem like the perfect target to channel his rage.

“Get out of my way.” He hisses, eyes glazed in deep-rooted hatred that burns its way through his veins, its flames feeding on the very oxygen he inhales in shallow breaths.

You cross your arms, reciprocating his heated stare.

Seungkwan breathes in, ramming his fist against the doorframe only an inch or two away from your face. You’re not proud to say how hard you flinched.

“Fine, I’ll walk.” With a sigh, he just leaves you there.

“At least take your fucking jacket.” You jog toward him, juggling both your coats as you try to swing your bag over your shoulder, “What if you get sick? Your manager will kill you—“

Seungkwan turns around and snatches his expensive item from your hands, returning to his fast pace afterwards.

You struggle to keep up in your platform high-heels, so you shrug them off and run. Your tights will only protect your feet for so many steps but you’re too intoxicated to think that far.

He sighs at your unbothered smile and quickens his step. His legs might be long and slender, but you have quite the stamina and willingness to be a menace.

“Where are you staying?” You ask, hoping there would be a cab available downtown to escort your angry friend.

“Mind your business.”

You click your tongue.

Gathering up your courage, you blurt it out:

“I thought you knew.”

Seungkwan halts and turns around just in time for you to crash into his chest. His lungs heave with curt breaths, and he swallows hard, eyes studying your face for a sign of jest. There isn’t any.

“You knew? You knew?!" His fingers dig deep into your shoulders as he shakes your body, jaw tight in anger.

Sohee wasn’t just a pretty girl, I mean, she was– is, gorgeous. But that was never the reason young and impressionable Seungkwan fell for her, no. He was a chubby-cheeked, awkward boy who blushed at just about anything, and she was a goddess, descending from heaven to help him gather his scattered books back into his hand-me-down backpack. And he held this crush, letting it root deep into his teenage heart and blossom into first love. He talked about her all the time, his every waking thought plagued by Sohee, you remember how angry he got whenever one of his sisters teased him about it.

Entering High-school, he gathered up his courage and on the last day of school, he confessed.

And she had this look on her face, of utter and total disgust. As if he wasn’t even worthy of the oxygen he consumed. He was a mere bug that dared to enter her sight. She never uttered a word, but she didn’t have to; As her friends threw insults, crushing his weakened spirit, Sohee laughed.

The following year, he’d become someone totally different.

You can’t find it in your heart to mind his reaction, you actually understand it and you feel nothing but sorry, “I mean… She wouldn’t shut up about it. The whole town knows, I thought your mum had told you.”

“She didn’t.”

He lets go of you with a push and you stumble slightly.

You adjust your bag strap, “I figured…”

It seems the news finally settle into the pit of his stomach as Seungkwan runs his fingers through his perfectly styled hair with a heavy sigh. It crunches slightly under the weight of his fingers.

He’s a thirty-year-old man crouched down in the middle of a deserted road in his minuscule hometown, grieving his ten-year-old plan of getting revenge on his first love. God, the paparazzi would have his ass had he been in Seoul.

But in the middle of bumfuck nowhere, the only audience is you; And despite your track record, you show empathy, like a real, feeling, breathing, human being and not a folklore swamp witch that ate children for breakfast.

“Come on,” You announce, jogging up to grab his wrist and drag him before he can protest.

The school was very well-located. Standing strong in the very middle of town, its pebbled paths are still the same decade after decade.

The trees stand strong, far older than either of you and certainly outlive you. Its leaves are a bright shade of green this time of year, lively and healthy. God, you skipped so many classes under that shady spot behind the gym.

When you stop at the side gate, Seungkwan is horrified.

“You’re not planning to break in, are you?”

You roll your eyes, digging around in your purse for your crowded keychain. It’s dangling with many keys, but they are outnumbered by the sheer amount of keychains you have. Childish and colourful they make all sorts of noises as you look for the right key. When you unlock the gate, his surprise is visible for almost an entire minute.

“I keep forgetting you’re someone with a job, given how nosy you are.”

His dig goes ignored as you pick your heels back up and head in without further notice. Seungkwan had no choice but to follow lest he wanted to stand on a deserted road in the middle of the night with nowhere to go.

It’s a weird feeling coming back to your old high school after so long. The walls feel all too familiar at the same time they feel foreign. Scattered memories find their way into your thoughts as you navigate the ambience. Every corner holds a moment that would change you forever, that shaped you into the person you are. And yet, the decor has not changed, despite how much you have.

“I’ll give you an exclusive tour through our lounge, how about that?”

You stretch your arms in a flashy way, pushing open the door labelled as “Teacher’s Lounge”.

Becoming a middle school teacher was far from being your dream since childhood. It was something you had never thought of, but it felt natural once you received a recommendation from the guidance counsellor. Seungkwan bullied you over your sad, boring, life and how you were doomed to live in the middle of nowhere until you are wrinkly and old.

In the lounge, there are desks neatly arranged in the middle as well as a sofa in the corner with a fridge and a microwave. The decoration is minimal, a framed prize of excellence that’s almost three or four decades old, but it’s the only one you have to display.

You launch your heels and bag toward the couch and bee-line for the fridge. All while Seungkwan feels out of place in such a saintly space for teachers, the child in him feels naughty for entering the lounge without being invited by a grown-up. (You don’t count.)

Just behind the leftovers, in a box labelled “Frozen peas" was your communal stash of booze. Of course, no one was drinking on the job, but sometimes when you and your co-workers stayed back way past the sunset, you’d crack open a bottle to share.

“Is that allowed?!” Seungkwan widens his eyes at the familiar green bottles.

“It’s allowed as long as you mind your damn business,” You hiss, comfortably dropping into the battered old couch and patting the seat next to yours.

Giving up, Seungkwan cracks open his bottle and plops down next to you.

With a mischievous smile, you stretch your legs over his, laying down by the couch arm. He doesn’t even bat an eye, not as much as a side-eye or grumble. God, he must feel like shit.

“What’s the plan for now?” You ask.

Seungkwan sighs, taking a long sip.

“I don’t know… It’s meaningless.”

“There’s still plenty of ways of making her miserable,” You announce, taking a sip before announcing your marvellous idea. “Oh, you could crash her wedding!”

He gives you a half-hearted laugh, it eases the anxiety that looms in your stomach.

“And go to jail? Lose my career?” Shit, he has a point. You hate when Seungkwan has a point. “No, thanks.”

You’re deep in thought, mulling over ways to obliterate Sohee’s happiness in the cruellest form possible when he speaks up.

“I’m pathetic.”

There are no other words the egomaniac, arrogant Boo Seungkwan could say that would break your heart. The atmosphere feels wrong, having those words dissipate into the air, become a reality as soon as he speaks them out loud.

“No. No, you’re not” You lean forward, a light hand coming to touch his shoulder.

You wish you had better words, you wish you could be normal for a second and be serious about your emotions without roundabout ways of making the conversation lighthearted lest you actually acknowledge how much he means to you.

“Yes, I am. I’m almost thirty and I’m still fucking hung up on her—I mean, is that pathetic or what?

“Kwannie, shut the fuck up, you’re our national treasure. Everyone we went to school with WISHES they were in the place you are right now.”

He shakes his head, but you don’t allow yourself to be interrupted.

“Didn’t you see how everyone looked at you tonight? You stole the spotlight from the moment you walked in. You have everything you worked for.” Seungkwan is quiet, biting on his lower lip. He appreciates your words and it’s implied by the small pat he gives to your thigh.

You’ve got the bottle attached to your lips as you toe off your ripped tights, peeling them off your tired legs. No saving this pair, too bad, they were brand new. Warm alcohol buzzing down his throat, Seungkwan is almost hypnotised by the sight of your creamy thighs peeking from under your skirt as you struggle with the fabric.

“I could fuck her husband,” You joke, throwing the useless tights across the room and barely missing the trash can.

“No. No, you can’t,” His tone is so overly-serious you just can’t help but elaborate.

“That would ruin her wedding— Or do you mean I couldn’t seduce him? I mean have you looked at me? I could totally bag that snarky city boy,” You’re so engulfed in your argument, pulling your waistband over your feet that you don’t see Seungkwan leaning over to pull you into his lap.

“No, I mean. I won’t let you,” He stares deeply into your soul, hot breath hitting your lips, “You’re not allowed to fuck him.”

It’s the booze. It has to be.

I mean, why else would you, out of everyone, find this somewhat possessive behaviour so fucking hot?

Maybe it’s just how out of character it feels. Seungkwan always treated sex, with you at least, as such a mundane activity.

“wow. Sexist much?” You laugh awkwardly, wrapping your hands around his neck.

He smirks, “What? Like it doesn’t make your pussy wet?”

Your breath hitches and your mouth feels dry, dry and lonely, especially when his lips look so soft and rosy covered in his high-end tinted lip balm. You’d like to think it’s the alcohol clouding your judgement and that you are not that desperate for him in your other encounters.

Hypnotised by his lips, you’re melting into his body, finding your place on his lap. Every slight move of your hips his thighs tense up, your skirt has ridden far enough for your clothed core to touch his bulge, a shameful wet patch finding its way on the fabric.

“Say it again,” You ask and it’s a breathless plea that tickles his nose with lustful intent. Seungkwan smiles, eyes locked on the way you bite at your lower lips, so eagerly awaiting him.

“I won’t let you, you will not leave my sight,” He says, his adam’s apple bobs up and down in a dry swallow, “You can’t fuck anyone else.”

And you find his lips, consumed by your want. Mouth crashing on his with the weight of burnout, alcohol and horniness buzzing through your veins; Only heightened by how long it’s been since your last rendezvous.

Seungkwan holds your waist tight, fingers burying into your skin, leaving his mark everywhere they touch. He pulls you into his chest, impossibly close and even then, it’s not enough.

He groans into your mouth and you greedily swallow every sound he makes, eager to devour everything he will let you have, you will wait on hand for every drop of attention if you have to.

Arms secured around your hips, Seungkwan leans back. You’re still glued to his lips, chest flushed with his; Hips mindlessly grinding against his slacks, every bit of friction a blessing bestowed on his strained erection.

“Come up–” He says, lessening his grip on your waist.

“Wha… What–” You’re panting against his lips, breath tickling sensitive skin making him regret parting the kiss.

“Ride my face–” Oh.

Well, he didn’t have to say it twice.

Blood is rushing to your lower bits so fast you almost feel lightheaded, you want nothing but to crush his head between your thighs until he is out of breath and moaning nothing but your name.

He licks a long strip, moaning against your cunt at the intoxicating taste. Unconsciously, you’re thrusting your hips at his tongue, spreading your slick around his face.

Every time felt like the first when he tasted you on his tongue, when you dripped onto him, melted into his lips so willingly. When you moaned his name and chased your high, using him as you wished.

His nose bumps against your clit, making your body flinch instantly at the friction. Seungkwan chuckles against your cunt, tongue focused on prodding at your expectant hole. You gulp, reaching your hand to grab fistfuls of his hair, it crunches softly under your fingers, the hair pomade smells of tangerine.

Fingers digging into your flesh, he leaves crescent moons tattooed into your skin; part of you wishes they would last, constant reminders of him and every emotion that follows, you wish this moon cycle ended in something other than being left on read.

But at this moment, as Seungkwan eats your pussy like a starved man, bringing your hips closer and closer as if you were the very oxygen in his lungs, you can pretend.

With a soft mewl of his name, you glide your pussy along his open tongue, lewd wet noises filling your ears with sinful thoughts. His eyes are glazed with lust, staring up at you to capture every breath you take to drink your every moan with senseless intent.

“Pull my hair—“ he whines against your thighs, his voice is a hoarse whisper that tickles your sensitive skin, “Pretend you’re my teacher— Call me a bad boy,” Nipping at your skin, Seungkwan stares expectedly into your eyes.

God forbid you ever felt anything but maternal love for any of your snotty students, but Seungkwan words go straight to your pussy like a slap to your face. And you’re crushing his head between your thighs with such strength it has left the perfect imprint of your legs on his cheeks.

“You are such a weirdo–” You reply, absolutely floored by his request and even more by how willing you are to comply with any of his wishes.

Seungkwan whimpers, biting at your skin. Every word that dances in malice travel through his burning body, eliciting goosebumps over every inch of skin.

“Stop being such a brat and eat my pussy,” You command. The power feels dizzying, dripping from your lips with an unfamiliar venom.

“Fuck–” He curses before diving back in.

His thumb finds your clit, toying with the sensitive nerve at a slow pace even as his tongue absolutely demolishes your hole. You whine, tightening your grip around the locks of his hair.

The vibrations coming from his soft moans are going straight into your core, travelling along your bloodstream, rushing to your brain with the addicting dopamine.

“You– You’ll be a good boy, huh?” You ask, unsure of how to phrase it, if it will please him, domination feels unfamiliar on your tongue, “Be a– Fuck! Be a good boy and make me cum…?”

He nods fervently against your pussy, nose tickling your clitoris with the perfect amount of pressure to make the knot in your belly tighten.

His name falls from your lips as you cum, keeling over with a strained moan, legs convulsing from sheer pleasure.

Seungkwan taps your thigh when he can’t breathe and you pry yourself off his face, stumbling over your numb legs. A string connects your slick to his lips and you almost moan at the very sight.

“Fuck– That was hot. You’re so fucking hot–” He smirks, pulling you flush to his chest, crashing his wet lips against yours and you can taste yourself on him.

And you taste of unrequited love.

His hands are on your body so caringly, caressing every inch of exposed skin and exposing more on his way. You part the kiss to urge him to remove the tee shirt he wears and he practically destroys your pretty button-up with how roughly he tears it apart.

You whine at the fact and he shushes you with soft promises of getting you something prettier.

Your chest feels so soft against his, heartbeats matching in ardent craving, longing for the next minutes you will spend in each other’s arms.

When your hands find his perfectly ironed slacks, you can feel the strained bulge and the very obvious wet spot that stains the dark navy fabric. Seungkwan groans, flinching away from your touch as much as his brain yells at him to chase your hand.

“Fuck– I need your pussy— I’m gonna fuckin’ die–” He groans, pulling your hands away before he can waste any of his cum on your hands. He can’t do it today, he needs to be inside, to claim and conquer, to feel part of something.

Biting your lips at his words, you lay back, spreading your legs willingly. God, Seungkwan almost cums at the sight.

You’re looking up at him with such a lewd glaze painting your doe eyes, your own slick coating your lips above smeared lipstick. Chest heaving, your tits heaving up and down with every bated breath.

He pries open his belt and lowers his trousers just enough to free his throbbing erection. You whine at the sight, it stands red and angry, oozing precum and so ready to plough you into tomorrow.

Seungkwan didn’t wear condoms with you very often, only when he was fresh off a relationship and didn’t have time to get tested before your meetings. The last time you’d met, he had just broken up with a rookie idol, a petite thing with big dreams and pretty eyes.

He’d fucked his frustration into your hips that night, not a word about how his feelings. The next morning, he was back to normal.

But tonight, he was going to fill you up; God, it had been too long since he felt your walls clamping around his cock with such enthusiasm.

You adjust yourself over the pillow and watch as Seungkwan rubs himself over your slit, collecting as much lubrication as possible. Hissing, you hurry him up. He slightly thumbs at your hole, stretching it.

“Just fucking do it already–!”

He slaps your clit, “Shut up.”

Crossing your arms, you look away in resentment. Seungkwan chuckles at the sight of your pouty lips.

“Stop sulking, yeah?” He leans forward, whispering against your lips, “I’ll fuck you nice and good once you’re ready,” His kisses are gentle against your swollen lips, collecting more of your cheap red lipstick that stains more than you’d wish.

Deciding you’re somewhat ready, but mostly giving in to the extreme horniness that burns through his bloodstream, Seungkwan slowly thrusts into your tight hole.

“H-Holy shit–” He chokes, leaning forward to bury his reddened face into your neck. “How are you so fucking tight? No matter how many times I fuck you–”

He bottoms out, kissing the tip of your cervix, filling up the hole that sits at the bottom of your heart with plain arousal.

Your brain oozes dopamine at the stretch, tearing you apart to scramble your insides and batter your heart, only to put you back together with a single soft smile.

“Fuckin’ Move–” You managed to gasp, wrapping your arms around his neck, bringing his chest flush to yours.

Seungkwan half-worries he might go too harsh, that you’re not ready by how tight you still are; But you’re thrusting your hips against his, mewling sweet, tempting pleas against his ear.

So he cedes to your wishes, hips pistoning into yours with relentless desire. Your pussy squelches lewdly around his cock, a ring of arousal pooling around the base. He groans at the sight.

And you’re squirming under him, his name dripping from your tongue in a harmonic prayer.

Between thrusts, he finds your lips with the intent to drink your every moan, every syllable of his name that leaves your lips in a breathy moan.

Hands tight on your hips, Seungkwan lifts your leg to wrap around his waist, allowing him more leverage to plough your pussy as he wishes, to ravage you in every way. Stake his claim in the most primal way possible.

The new angle allows him to caress your sensitive spot with every merciless shove of his dick into your hole. The sofa creaks under the weight of you, and you’re silently praying it doesn’t break because you will flee the country before you explain to the principal why the lounge couch is broken.

Tears leak from your glazed eyes, you bury your face into his hair, smelling the citric hair gel, the woody cologne he created in a collab with an indie brand a couple years back.

Seungkwan nips at your neck, biting at your skin, trying his damndest to hold back the groans that want to escape, the praise that boils over on his tongue at how well you take him, on how you were made for him. Words that feel heavy, that elicit tears from your eyes and make you clench around him too hard.

“Come on, come on–” He urges, hand reaching to rub at your clit. Knowing fully he won’t last long.

“Fuck– M’ close!” You whine, arching your back, handing yourself on a plater, pliant and willing.

When you come, you’re silent, pulling at his hair with breathy gasps. Your walls convulse around him, milking his cock for all he’s worth, coaxing his own orgasm.

Seungkwan comes undone in hot spurts, painting you white with his cum, collapsing against your chest with a faint whisper of your name.

Still inside, he wraps his arms around your waist, peppering soft kisses along your collarbone.

He is only loving in the aftermath when the room smells of sex.

You wake up not too long after, and Seungkwan snores softly on your chest, drooling over your sweaty skin. You feel anything but sexy, all clammy and gross. And he’s gone soft and you can feel the cum leaking over your thighs.

With a sigh, you grab a pillow from the floor, shoving it under his head so you can hopefully leave without waking the beast. Luckily, you’re out of his embrace.

Plucking your clothes from the floor, you realise only one of the buttons remains on your blouse. Cursing Seungkwan in your head, you wear it anyway, having nothing better. You pull the skirt down after wiping away the fluids from your skin.

Seungkwan groans, mouth dry and arms numb, he sits up.

“Sorry, did I wake you?” You ask, leaning over the fridge to grab a bottle of water.

“What time is it?” His voice is hoarse, it tickles your tummy with the tempting domesticity.

“Just past two. When’s your flight?”

“At six,” He huffs, leaning against his knees.

You offer him some water, which he gladly accepts.

The silence isn’t awkward, it’s a comfortable blanket of omission that hides in its thread the unresolved feelings that snowball over decades.

“Do you miss it?” You ask, eyes focused on the night scenery outside the window, not nearly courageous enough to stare at him.

“What?”

“Our school years.”

“No fucking way. They sucked,” He laughs.

You chuckle.

“Didn’t you have fun? We used to go over to Chan’s after school and make his life a living hell.”

Seungkwan laughs at the nostalgic memory.

Lee Chan was the brother of an upperclassman and you became friends by chance. He was absolutely obsessed with girl groups and you, Seungkwan, Seokmin and Soonyoung just loved to make fun of his taste.

“What is he doing these days? Man, he was so easy to mess with.”

“He left for Seoul, to become a trainee in high school.”

He nods.

“If… If it hadn’t been for Sohee, do you think you’d have enjoyed it?”

It’s almost a hopeful question, a melancholic plea for acknowledgement. In the underlines, there is a secret question, “Do you miss me?”

“…I don’t know, maybe.” He shrugs.

maybe.

That was enough for you.

When he gets into the uber with a soft wave, heading back into his glamorous lifestyle, you’re left to pick the pieces of your heart back up, glue them all together with a boring routine and mind-numbing deskwork until he can break them again.