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agustdiv1ne · 7 months

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telepathy (m) — cbg

pairing: choi beomgyu x fem!reader

genre: smut, strangers to ???, mind reader/telepathist!beomgyu, funeral home employee!beomgyu (it's for the plot ok???)

wc: 11.7k

synopsis: most people would abhor a packed subway car — but beomgyu, telepathist extraordinaire, relishes in it. with a career in the funeral business, he finds his morning commute to be the only thing that keeps him relatively sane. reading the mundane thoughts of mundane people maintains his tether to his humanity, but when he goes to read your mind...oh, things get a whole lot more interesting.

warnings: mdni!! 18+ only, ageless blogs dni!!!, mentions of dead bodies, embalming, and funerals (though not very descriptive — it's only bc of gyu's profession), reader is a freak that listens to nsfw audios on her way to work!, gyu is a perv so it's a match made in heaven (hell?), gyu's honestly a little strange + obsessive in this...anyways, dom!gyu, sub!mc, solo male masturbation, on my big cock beomgyu agenda, very brief mentions of daddy/sir/master kinks, explicit consent is given before anything happens bc consent is sexy <3, mind manipulation (he makes it feel like he's touching her), exhibitionism in a way (it will all make sense, trust 🙏), degradation, praise, pseudo-fingering (idk how to explain it, f receiving), gyu calls mc: pretty girl, sweetheart, slut, whore, princess, mc calls gyu sir like once...whew! that was a lot, lmk if i should add anything!

note: you know i have a terrible bout of brainrot when the warnings are all nsfw related...yeah. Yeah. *presses post and runs away*

☆ playlist ☆

masterlist

beomgyu’s commute to work is, by all means, uneventful.

the train is packed as per usual, filled to the brim with businessmen and office workers and other miscellaneous passengers on their way to whatever the hell their destination is. like most days, he finds himself towards the middle of the passenger car, snatching a rare open seat between a stone-faced man adorned in a suit — his head buried in a newspaper — and a slumped over college student nursing a cup of coffee. the poor kid almost looks like death itself, sporting dark under eyes, rumpled clothes, and a prominent slouch to his spine. not that beomgyu could really blame him; he remembers how easily college living (if you could call it living) can chip away at a person’s mental well-being.

people-watching like this is what keeps him sane, he thinks. being surrounded by corpses all day, every day is more than draining — it sucks the soul out of him, really, being the only person on shift most of the time that he’s working, having to embalm and clean and pretty up all those cold, gray bodies so that their loved ones can say one last goodbye. it’s quiet in their minds and it’s all too quiet in the funeral home, the only sounds being the clanking of the embalming tools he’s been trained to use, his footsteps echoing down the tiled halls, his sighs of contempt when something small goes wrong — yet the living, breathing, warm people on the train provide a sense of normalcy, something to look forward to every day. to hear their thoughts, as prosaic as they are, has become a sort of saving grace from the lifeless, cold building that he finds himself in five out of the seven days of the week. honestly, if he can maintain a little bit of his humanity via strangers among the subway, even if it’s just by hearing their thoughts, then he’ll take what he can get.

yeah, that’s the thing: beomgyu is a mind-reader, a pretty talented one at that. not that anyone knew, of course — he wouldn’t risk the government finding out. beomgyu is not usually one for promises, but he has promised himself one thing: there’s no way in hell that he will ever become one of the government’s sick little science experiments, even if his life ever hits rock bottom. he has no idea how his powers work — just that they do, and he would like to keep it that way. it’s bad enough that he doesn’t know where he got such abilities; his parents never mentioned anything about it and only ever grew worried whenever he read back their thoughts to them, so obviously the existence of his powers is some statistical anomaly in the universe. normal people can’t read others’ minds. he was forced to learn that at a very young age in order to keep himself safe.

“how do you know that?” he remembers his mother’s alarmed tone when he first did it unknowingly, repeating back her own thoughts to her without realizing that’s what he had done. he was maybe six at the time — innocent, curious, plagued by voices in his head that he didn’t quite understand. those voices weren’t his. rather, they were his friends’, his family’s, his dentist’s and his doctor’s and his soccer coach’s voices that ricocheted about his mind uncontrollably;it was overwhelming for the young boy’s mind. the day he first admitted that he could hear them was the first day he heard his parents argue, their yelling from downstairs colliding with their internal voices in beomgyu’s mind, their terribly poignant concern for him and this development louder than any of the venomous words that they spat at each other in the living room. all he remembers from that day was himself crying, unable to block out anything that they thought, let alone his own thoughts. too much for his young mind to handle.

he heard their fear when they took him to the doctor for the first time of many, their heartache when the doctor came back and said that he might have psychosis, but more testing was needed. he heard how they started to deny it — their little boy couldn’t have that, could he? no, no he couldn’t. there’s no way he could.

although beomgyu was young at the time, guilt ate at him. he was the one hurting his parents, he was the one making them worry. despite his official diagnosis when he was seven, something inside him knew that the doctors were wrong. those voices weren’t just the result of the machinations of his mind at work — they were voices of the people he knew, strangers who passed him on the street. what they said wasn’t evil, it wasn’t out of the ordinary. usually, it was quite mundane. at some point, he started to practice with it, trying focus on one certain voice out of the buzzing hive in his mind, blocking out the others, switching and focusing and blocking out until the action was as natural as breathing. it took him about five years before he reached that point, and after nearly two decades of living with his abilities, he’s gotten quite used to it. his mind is usually quiet — besides his own stream of consciousness — unless he allows others in. or, rather, they allow him in, which they always do. he sees it like a set of doors; open one, and you can hear that one person’s thoughts. close it, and he no longer hears them. and none of them are ever locked since no one expects to their thoughts to be read, which simply makes his life that much easier.

if he’s being honest, he didn’t used to read minds as often as he does now, but there isn’t much he can do about that now lest he go insane. beomgyu could admit that his habit was a little creepy…okay scratch that, extremely fucking creepy. these people had no idea that their minds were being infiltrated, their mental walls bypassed and their privacy violated like a computer infected with a malicious virus. it’s borderline depraved, how nonchalantly he robs these strangers of their utmost privacy, sometimes of their deepest, darkest secrets that they would never want anyone to find out about. he could sequester quite a bit of money out of some of these people, now that he thinks about it.

and sure, that may sound immoral, but beomgyu has never considered himself to be of particularly virtuous character.

without a second thought, beomgyu taps into the mind of the kid next to him. he’s thinking about how he’s failing his statistics class because he just bombed his midterm. no, now his mind is full of what he’s going to eat after his 8 a.m. class. he shifts his focus on the businessman to his right. stocks, his cheating wife, how he’s considering leaving with his mistress in the coming days…

”what a prick,” beomgyu thinks to himself, smirking a bit. just a few more stops until he gets off, now.

he pulls his phone from his jacket pocket, scrolling aimlessly just to keep his eyes busy. sitting on the opposite side of the college student, an elderly lady walks herself through the stew that she’s going to make for her grandchildren tonight, excitement coloring her words. it’s cute — he loves hearing things like that. wholesome thoughts are not easy to come by nowadays, given the state of the world. exhibit a: a teenager standing on the other side of the train car worries himself into a frenzy over whether the girl that he has a crush on likes him back. exhibit b: a middle aged man contemplates if he should quit his job. for a second, beomgyu thinks that he might be in the same boat as him, before realizing that he has nothing else to fall back on — exhibit c. he could keep going.

a clear, robotic voice overhead announces the subway’s arrival to the next station — his station. sighing, he sits up a little taller, slipping his phone into the pocket of his slacks. a vague sense of dread weighs down his shoulders, knowing that he has a service to set up for the moment he clocks in.

he’s not looking forward to today, and yet the train still slows to a stop, the doors still slide open, and he still grabs his work briefcase from the spot between his feet. like clockwork, beomgyu maneuvers through the crowd, out the doors, and climbs the stairs up to the chilly streets of seoul.

decompressing after a slow-moving shift can take beomgyu’s night in many directions. sometimes, he simply returns home and hops into bed after a long, scalding hot shower that removes the invisible layer of grime that lays heavy on his skin. other times — typically on fridays — he’ll stop by a bar and catch up with his friends, occasionally leaving with a woman hanging off of his arm if he drinks enough to lower his inhibitions. more often than not, however, his excursions at the underground bar that taehyun is partial to end in him stumbling home alone and waking up the next morning with a raging headache. nursing a hangover alone, eating breakfast alone, bathing alone…he has never really become acclimated to it. the monster that festers inside beomgyu’s chest craves for love, for connection, for somebody to hold when the nights are too dark and his thoughts match the shade of the sky. the lack of connection is slowly getting to him. is this what insanity feels like? he wouldn’t know, nor would he like to find out. he’s sane. he’s perfectly sane.

beomgyu understands that his profession can be off-putting to potential lovers, but it’s not as if he had much of a choice in the matter — not when his one shot at the career of his dreams crumbled below his feet when the company filed bankruptcy, sending him tumbling back down to earth, to the reality that his college degree meant little to nothing to the vast majority of employers nowadays. though he applied to dozens of jobs, the only one he ever heard back from was from the listing titled “mortuary assistant,” and in desperation, he accepted the position without much thought. maybe if he had tried a little harder to find a different company where he could apply his skills, maybe if he had pushed himself to make connections in the industry when he had the resources to do so, maybe if he had pursued music production a little harder, had not given up so readily when things grew difficult…maybe things would be different.

beomgyu often thinks about the maybes.

this particular night, he finds himself leaned over a bar counter, a glass of amber-hued beer in hand. he half-listens to yeonjun’s slurred account of his dance crew’s latest win while he stares down at the mahogany tabletop. some condensation has gathered on the wood, and he swipes a finger through it. a slap to his shoulder brings his focus back to his surroundings.

“gyu, dude, y’should totally try out,’’ yeonjun pitches as he sloppily swings an arm over beomgyu’s shoulders. “get out of that. that—” he stumbles over his words for a moment, expression warping into a confused grimace. “that gross ass dead people building.”

beomgyu exhales a laugh as yeonjun’s head lolls against his shoulder, quietly whining about how his head hurts. while yeonjun is substantially gone already, beomgyu is only on his second beer. scanning the spacious, dim-lit room, he shakes his head. it’s times like these where he does not feel the need to slip into people’s minds — being surrounded by his friends is enough. “nah, man. i don’t think i could keep up. it’s been a while.”

“sure y’could! you’re like th’second best dancer here!” yeonjun says as his torso slumps down against the table. the bartender eyes him from further down the bar top with concern, but beomgyu sates the employee with an apologetic smile, ensuring that he turns away before setting his attention back on his friend.

beomgyu scoffs. “and i’m assuming you’re the first best?”

“uh, obviously. i literally run th’thing,” yeonjun retorts as he glares at him with a single eye open, an ear now resting on top of his crossed arms on the counter.

“yeonjun’s right,” taehyun butts in from the other side of yeonjun’s collapsed body. though his glazed over eyes give away his inebriated state, taehyun’s tolerance tends to lean much higher than yeonjun’s; this fact is confirmed by the crystal clear enunciation of his words as he continues, “you’ve been acting differently ever since you started working there. it wouldn’t hurt to try something new.”

great, even his friends have noticed. exhaling deeply, beomgyu nods.

“yeah, i’ll think about it.”

as the conversation meanders off into other topics, beomgyu sinks back into his own little world. curse taehyun and his acute perceptiveness. he knows that he’s been acting off, but maybe his friends are right; he once dreamed of being a choreographer, back when he was a teen, before he discovered his love for music production. perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad to try.

unintentionally, he meets the gaze of a girl sitting at a booth with her friends. he quickly averts his gaze, and by the time he looks back up, she has been roped into what seems like a shot-taking contest. six other girls circle the table, one joining the first girl in taking rapid-fire shots, four others egging them on, and one laser-focused on her phone, occasionally sipping water through a straw. from what he can gather, she’s likely the group’s designated driver — though it seems her role has morphed into more of a babysitter. she’s pretty, he’ll admit. just his type. if he was on his third or fourth beer, he’d probably be over there trying to strike up a conversation with her, rather than any of her drunk friends.

as she looks up and throws a cursory glance around the bar, she catches him staring, her kohl-lined eyes meeting his own. an eyebrow raises as her gloss-coated lips twist, as if to say “don’t even try it.”

oh, how terribly he wishes to slip into her mind and let her know that he has no intention to.

the ear-piercing screech of yeonjun’s barstool to his right tears his gaze away from her. yeonjun now stands, one arm around taehyun and the other around soobin, the latter sporting a borderline disgusted grimace directed at the older boy hanging off of him while kai simply stands behind the trio of men. yeonjun’s head hangs low below his shoulders, chin nearly touching his chest, as he emits a pathetic groan. at least he’s not puking this time.

“we’re about to go grab some food. this one,” taehyun’s head nods to yeonjun’s sagging frame. “definitely needs it. you coming?”

unwilling to allow the night to end quite yet, beomgyu hums, quickly pays his tab, and allows the brief, silent encounter with the woman to fade away into the back of his mind.

the rest of the weekend passes without fanfare, and monday returns to rear its ugly head once again. monday is beomgyu’s least favorite day of the week; it brings a raging headache from his 5 a.m. alarm, a bone-deep fatigue that lingers for the rest of the day. it brings grumpy commuters whose knees and elbows uncomfortably bump against his own. it brings people who think that he should give up his seat, and silently tell him so with narrowed eyes and furrowed eyebrows. how selfish, they all think whenever he actually bothers to read their thoughts. what a fucking dick, some of them even snarl within the so-called impenetrable walls of their minds, walls he so easily breaks down. he levels those ones with a half-awake glare, pupils gloomy and lifeless. internally, their uneasy reactions make him want to laugh, hysterically cackle in their faces because wow, is he really that scary? he shouldn’t be, but maybe the dark under eyes are doing something for him.

surprisingly, the subway car he frequents is less crowded than usual. not as many people stand in front of him, and he’s actually able to see directly across the car for the first time in a while. doors shut, and he’s left to look around at the regulars and the new patrons that often don’t show up again. they’re easily less interesting than the regulars. really, what can he say? the daily life updates satisfy his nosy tendencies.

still, he hates mondays. mondays suck. mondays make him want to crawl into a hole and eventually join the bodies at his workplace. they bring out the worst in his mind. all they do is remind him of the neverending cycle that he has trapped himself in — wake up, work, go to sleep, and do it all over again the next day.

mondays bring a lot of things he fundamentally dislikes, but this particular monday also brings you.

it’s split-second eye contact. nothing more, nothing less. your eyes grow wide, your lips parting just the slightest bit in surprise. though he has not invaded your mind (yet), he can already tell what you are thinking. fuck, he isn’t blind — he knows that he is handsome.

your eyes shoot downward, your head hanging low with your phone clenched between your fingers. one of his eyebrows raises while a small smirk plays on his lips — you’re new, and even better, you’re cute. his dark, seemingly bored gaze trails over to the earbuds nestled in your ears, then to your crossed legs. you glance up at him again, eyes blowing wide again as your thighs press together just enough for him to notice the movement. his own eyes narrow slightly, evaluating the sight.

you seem...interesting. prim, proper, sitting in a modest-length skirt and a plain blouse and coat that paint you as an unassuming character, just another random person in this sardine can of a train car. yet there’s this glint in your eyes that tells him there is so, so much more to you than what meets the eye — that the innocent, put-together little front that you display to the world is a complete and utter lie. it’s intriguing. new patrons come and go from this particular subway car every day, but you and your fresh face have caught his interest — and so has your odd behavior.

then, without warning, realization punches him square in the gut.

you were there the other night, with those girls at the bar. the one sitting at the end of the table with the small glass of water as you scrolled through your phone. the one who shot a piercing glare at him as you looked out for your inebriated friends. your current behavior is a far cry from the strong front he first encountered that night, small and oh-so meek and lacking the sharp, piercing edge to your gaze that initially piqued his interest in you. the change, for some reason, intrigues him more. what happened to that feisty glare, that confident air to your posture? he wants to know why you seem so meek, so he taps in to your mind and—

“you’re my dumb little slut, aren’t you? fuckin’ say it—”

beomgyu flinches in his seat, the door to your mind slamming shut as he sits there in shock. did he really just hear that? are you listening to fucking porn on the subway? what the fuck?

he’s never had this happen to him before. he’s accidentally stumbled upon the occasional horny thought before, sure, but listening to porn on the subway? that’s a new one. he decides to give you another glance; your lips are pressed together now, eyes pointed towards the floor as you further shrink into yourself. fuck, you’re so cute, but now he knows you’re also awfully perverted — and for some reason, he feels himself getting hard in his trousers at the thought of entering your mind again.

he should do something about this little development, shouldn’t he?

yeah, he thinks that he should. a sick sort of curiosity wins over the more logical side of his brain, the side that tells him that he should feel guilty for even thinking about what he’s about to do. he can’t, can he? no, he can — he wants to, he really fucking wants to. opportunities like this don’t just present themselves on a silver platter like this on the regular. if he doesn’t take this chance, then he’d be an absolute fool.

the subway slows to a stop, the weirdly cheery, robotic voice calling out another stop. not his, thank god. he takes this opportunity to open that pesky little door to your mind again, now fully expecting the depravity echoing in your brain — and rather than do anything drastic too quickly, he simply sits there and listens. he listens through an entire audio alongside you, ignoring the twitch of his cock as he listens to the woman be degraded and praised, in missionary and in doggy, her moans mixing with the man's in a cacophony of pleasure — he loves the way you jump when the sound of a hand striking flesh sounds through your mind. your fleeting sigh of “god, i wish that were me,” causes him to bite his lip. you like being treated like a slut, huh? like a stupid little whore only made to take cock? that’s music to his ears, really — because he likes treating girls like that too.

as sick and disgusting as it is, he continues to listen as if mindlessly tuning in to a podcast, subtly adjusting himself in his pants as he fights off a raging boner. he wants to be the one to do those things to you. he wants to make you scream and sob and beg for mercy as he completely ravages your body, fuck you until you’re brainless, perfect little slut for him. you’d love that, according to the audios you consume for the remainder of his commute — to be fucked so hard you legs give out from under you, to be owned, fully and completely. he likes that sound of that as well.

a few minutes into the second audio, you take another glance at him, eyes squeezing shut right away once you catch his gaze — and suddenly, your thoughts are full of him. he’s encountered countless strangers who can perfectly visualize their streams of consciousness, and you seem to be yet another one of them. images of you on your knees between his thighs and sucking his cock in the middle of this subway car flood his own mind, switching to one of him fucking you from behind against the wall while everyone else watches, then to him finger fucking you with a hand around your throat…what the fuck. what the fuck? how do you just do that? how do you think of such terribly shameless things while looking so pretty and demure, as if you’re a shy little thing rather than some fucking whore? he shifts his briefcase over his lap again. fuck, he’s so hard it’s starting to hurt. shit, fuck.

he should be appalled by you, but fiery, ardent lust is the sole emotion that floods his veins. would it be a bad idea to talk to you? no, you want it. you want it so fucking bad. just look at your mind — and he can make all your dirty little fantasies come true, if you would let him.

just as he’s about to actually do something about you, the subway slows to a stop once again, the same cheery voice announcing his stop. god dammit. pushing himself up to his feet, he finds that you’re doing the same, wide eyes flitting around nervously as you move towards the door and stop nearly right next to him, those earbuds that hide your biggest secret in plain sight still stuck in your ears. he can still hear those degrading words and moans and slapping sounds that still echo through your mind, loud and clear as if those white earbuds are sitting snug in his own ears.

the doors slide open, and soon enough, he loses sight of you in the surging crowd. stepping out of the subway, he looks around once, twice. you have completely disappeared; nowhere to be found, your mind has grown too far from his own for him to locate nor access, the tether between the two of you frayed to the point of snapping in half. with a brief purse of his lips, he sets off up the stairs. it’s fine, there’s always another day. it’s fine, he tells himself over and over again. there’s nothing he could have done in such a short time, anyway.

the sun sits high in the sky today, but the bone-chilling air cuts through his puffy coat like tiny needles puncturing his skin, or millions of scalpels slicing open flesh nearly to the bone, cold and sterile and far from comforting. autumn shouldn’t be this cold, and his slightly soured mood isn’t helping his case right now. he should have done something back there, he should’ve opened up the channel between the two of you and taken the plunge. it wouldn’t have hurt to try, but no. no, he let that opportunity go like every other one he’s had in his life. with his jaw set, he promises himself that it won’t happen again. it won’t, because if he keeps living like this — allowing all these opportunities slip through his fingers like grains of sand — he’ll never be able to forgive himself.

and honestly, beomgyu is no clairvoyant, and he should brush off the tickle in his brain as a stupid, naive hunch…but he has a compelling feeling that he’ll be seeing you again tomorrow.

when beomgyu returns home, the sun slowly sinking towards the horizon, he doesn’t unwind like he usually does. today’s shift was a slow one, with no bodies to preen and primp and no services to set up for, so most of his time was taken up with cleaning, filing documents, and sitting around aimlessly. no matter how much he tried to fend them off, thoughts of you bounced around in his brain for the entire eight hours he was on shift. fuck, he doesn’t even know your name, much less anything else about you, yet he wishes he could travel back in time and redo this morning all over again. he’s not sure how it would have panned out, exactly, but he has a few tricks up his sleeve that would’ve made it exciting.

he shakes his head. the current moment presents much more pressing matters than ruminating on this morning’s terrible decisions; the strain in his trousers proves to be a pertinent issue, a tent formed in the black fabric and aching to be touched. now that the public eye no longer holds his gaze, his apartment door locked shut behind him, he allows himself to give in to his most base instincts. a hand comes down to cup his hardness as he imagines his fingers as yours, you on your knees below him, those adorably wide eyes staring up at him in desperation. you’d wait for permission, right? you’d beg so prettily like a good little slut should? fuck yeah, you would. you’d be good, you’d take what he would give you — and you would love it.

groaning, he crashes onto his couch, head throwing back against the back cushion as he gropes his cock harder. he’s forgone slipping off his dress shoes and has barely even slipped his coat off before he’s giving in to the pulsing ache in his groin that’s nearly unbearable, the white hot need swirling in his stomach that demands his immediate attention. his belt quickly unbuckled and his trousers pulled halfway down his thighs, he slips his cock from his boxers, gasping at how sensitive he has become.

“oh fuck,” he breathes out into the quiet air, a shuddered sigh following when his thumb swipes over the angry red head, the bead of precum that has gathered there spreading across his skin. he brings his hand up to his lips, gathering some spit beneath his tongue before letting in loll into his palm. bringing it back down, he drags his hand up and down his shaft, teeth sinking into his bottom lip as pleasure rushes through his veins. he pumps his cock steadily, hips rolling up into his hand as if fucking your throat. eyes fluttering closed, his free hand grips the couch, fingernails digging into the worn leather and leaving half-moon indents in their wake. “fuck. god, fuck.”

would you be able to take him? he’s been told he’s big, most women barely able to take him even after extensive prep. he imagines how you’d keen as he enters you, your back arching so prettily and your walls stretching to their limits to accommodate his size. how you’d choke and gag on his cock if he decided to use your throat, tears streaming down your cheeks as you peer up at him pathetically, fingers digging into your thighs as you resist the urge to touch yourself. would you like to be slapped around a little, punished with spankings and little taps to your cheek?

“focus,” he mumbles to no one. to you. “focus, slut. be good for me.”

he’s delirious at this point, has dived so deep into his fantasies that he barely registers that he’s fucking his fist and not your mouth or sweet little cunt. that doesn’t stop his fingers from tightening their grip, squeezing the head before gliding back down again, then back up, the rhythm of his hips growing frenzied as his high inches closer. his free hand smooths up his stomach, taking his button-up with it as he clenches it with desperate fingers. he bites down on the fabric, pumping himself once, twice, three times before his high hits him, his cum spurting out in staccato ribbons. he’s making a mess, but he can’t bring himself to care when this is the best orgasm he’s had in months. the shirt falls from his mouth as he moans unabashedly.

“take it,” he groans, his hips canting upward. “fuckin’— fuckin’ take it. shit. such a perfect little whore for me.”

he cums and he cums, spilling all over himself until he’s milked dry. eyes closed, his contracted muscles melt into the couch, hot pants replacing his moans and groans. a few minutes pass before he fully comes down from his headspace and returns back to earth, only for him to realize just how much he came, staining his clothes and coating his skin in creamy white. he blinks.

reality crashes down on his head.

he just…jerked off to you. he just came so hard he saw stars just from the mere thought of you. oh, he’s in deeper than he first thought. too deep, too quickly, he can barely breathe.

“fuck,” beomgyu murmurs as he stares down at his cum-covered abdomen, his sticky hand. “fuck.”

beomgyu was right: you do come back the next day. and the next. and the next.

over the remainder of the work week, he watches you — well, more so listens to you, but he can’t deny himself the little glimpses he allows himself to take, drinking in how you worry your bottom lip, how the muscles in your throat contract each time you gulp. the poker face that you don crumbles oh so easily whenever he meets your stray gaze. it’s exhilarating, knowing the power he, a complete stranger, has over you. your microscopic slips in expression remain undetected to the rest of the passengers, but he sees every single one. they’re a perfectly entertaining backdrop for your explicit musings.

he knows he could approach you like a normal human being would, but where’s the fun in that? he’s not quite a normal person in his own right, anyway. instead, he’s decided to keep you in his sights, learning what exactly you enjoy, what you like to hear, preparing for the day where he again gathers the courage to toy with you within the walls of your mind. he’s in deep, and at this point, he’s accepted it if only to justify his sadistic obsession with you. actually, on second thought, he wouldn’t quite call it an obsession, perhaps a morbid curiosity more than anything. yeah, that’s all it can be.

it’s almost as if the universe has sent him a little present in the form of you, an apology for the trials and tribulations that whatever is above has rained down on him this past year or so. of course he’s going to savor it. who wouldn’t? so he sticks to his plan, and keeps watching you, listening to you, observing you, identifying your little quirks and deepest, darkest desires. they’ll be quite useful later, he’s sure.

over his…research period, he’s found out a lot about you. you like to be bullied, to be called a slut, a whore, but you also enjoy a little praise mixed in: good slut, good whore, pretty girl is so obedient for sir, for daddy, for master. you’re also not too picky in what you listen to, as long as it contains a male dominant in some capacity. couple’s content, threesomes, gangbangs are all on the table, as are solo audios that usually have some sort of plot to them — coworkers to lovers' first date that ends in sex? check. hot librarian who fucks over a table you after closing? that too. he could go on about what he’s heard in just the solo audios you consume, but even that list would be exhaustive.

by the time friday rolls around, he doesn’t even have to try to search for your mind; call him crazy, but it’s almost as if you, on some subconscious level, know that he wants in and are more than willing to let him. as if you keep the door cracked open just for him.

at least, he likes to think that you do.

staying close, but not too close, to you proves to be difficult today. fridays bring with them a surge of new faces that crowd the subway car, which is generally quite annoying, but at the moment, he also finds it to be frustrating. no seats are open when he boards, he can’t even see you through the dense crowd, but you’re there. your mind is there, open and waiting for him to enter.

though he won’t be able to see your cute little reactions, he steps through that mental threshold.

“it’s okay, baby. shh, don’t cry, you can cum. cum for me, just let go,” a gentle voice coos. aw, you must be having a rough morning, how sad. the only other day you listened to these kinds of audios, you looked absolutely miserable, the corners of your lips pulled down and a deep, pathetic furrow to your brows — it was wednesday, that’s right. two days ago, when you seemed frazzled and completely out of it. a little digging resulted in him learning that you had spilled your coffee all over the concrete on the way here, you thought your hair didn’t look right (even though, to him, it did, it looked perfect — he wished he could’ve told you that), and worst of all, your boss emailed you late the previous night to admonish you for your performance, demanding a meeting first thing that morning.

still, he wishes he could take care of your boss, eliminate that weight off of your shoulders. if it were up to him, your boss would be sitting in the morgue at his place of work, gray and comatose and unable to admonish you for things that beomgyu is sure you had no control over. because that’s how offices work, right? sink or swim, big fish eat the little ones, blaming those below them for everything they should be taking responsibility for. your boss has to be one of those. he was pig-nosed and donning a constant sneer when you pictured the verbal berating you’d be getting once you got to your workplace.

that day, he found himself thinking about how he’s become pretty talented with a scalpel.

“good girl. doing so well for me, pretty girl,” the same voice soothes, soft cries and sniffles from the submissive mixing with the gentle words. he could treat you all sweet too. he could be anything you want, if only you knew him.

he wants you to know him — needs you to, really.

there’s no clear cut reason for your current sour mood, your thoughts too jumbled together for him to properly decipher. are you picking apart your appearance? did you wake up late? is this all because of your boss again? he might just kill the bastard if that’s the case…if only he could approach you, tell you that everything will be okay, but he doesn’t want to knock down the house of cards he’s spent such precious time building over the course of the week. you’re too special for that. it’s the very reason why he tries to blend into the crowd, why he tries to keep eye contact to a minimum. the last thing he needs is for you to run away from him when you’re one of the only things holding him together.

when the car slows to his and your stop, disappointment nips at the space between his eyebrows. he didn’t even get to see you today, and the end of the work week means that he won’t be seeing you for two entire days. sighing, he falls into his typical routine: move towards the doors, wait for them to open, and follow the other exiting passengers out. where could you be? you’re still here, he knows that much since he’s still connected to you, still hears those soft words and moans, but where the fuck are you? you, as in your body. that you.

with a single cursory glance around, he swears he catches a glimpse of your figure before the crowd swallows you whole. as he’s shoved towards the stairs by the crowd, his chest grows heavy.

friday has just begun, but monday couldn’t come any faster.

“so, are you gonna try out?”

yeonjun is far more sober compared to last friday night, his eyes lacking that fatigued droop they always get whenever he’s had too much. beomgyu tears his glazed-over gaze away from the television screen to look at the yeonjun, sinking further into the couch below him. he points to himself. “me?”

yeonjun rolls his eyes, a knee swinging over the arm of the armchair he sits in. “who the fuck else would i be talking to?”

scoffing, beomgyu shoots him a glare. “i don’t know, man. y’don’t have to be a dick about it.”

the open bottle of beer in beomgyu’s hand chills his fingertips, so he switches it to his other hand before taking another sip. meanwhile, soobin plops down next to him with an already open bag of chips, offering some to him. he shakes his head, and soobin shrugs, beginning to munch on them by himself.

“i’m serious though,” yeonjun continues. “you should really try out. there’s not much to it, just dance to one song and you’re done. i’d probably pass you even if you sucked.”

“that’s nepotism,” taehyun chimes in from the floor, eyes trained on the screen as he shoots a player down in the game him and kai are currently obsessed with. the sound of gunfire fills the living room of soobin and yeonjun’s apartment, the murmurs of the two boys a low drone beneath it as they figure out their best strategy to win.

he almost wishes he lived here with soobin and yeonjun, or with the other two. yeonjun and soobin, taehyun and kai — only beomgyu lives alone. alone doesn’t necessarily mean lonely, but in beomgyu’s case, it does. maybe that’s why he’s latched onto you so hard: to cure his loneliness. he swats that thought away like one would a pesky mosquito. he hasn’t latched onto you, he admonishes himself, he’s simply curious. yeah, curious.

just a little innocent curiosity.

disregarding taehyun’s comment, yeonjun raises an eyebrow towards beomgyu. “i know i was drunk when i said that shit last week, but you really have been acting weird since you started at that job. we’ve all noticed.”

“yeah, it’s like you’ve gotten more reserved, or something,” soobin says, words muffled by his chewing. beomgyu grimaces, shifting closer to the arm of the couch.

“you’re the most introverted one here, you can’t say shit,” kai snorts. soobin throws a chip at his head.

“anyway,” yeonjun butts in with a scalding glare before an argument can begin. soobin and kai blanch, mouths closing. “we’re just…concerned about you.”

“is this some kind of intervention?” beomgyu laughs, disbelief apparent in his tone. he’s fine. he has you now.

“no, we just want you to know that there’s other things you could do that would make you happier than work at a fucking funeral home,” taehyun says, eyes still not straying from the tv.

“like joining my dance crew,” yeonjun tacks on.

beomgyu sighs. they’re kind of right, if he’s being honest with himself, but is he ready to put himself out there again? is he ready to face the potential of rejection, of failure? he’s had his life fall apart in front of his eyes once already, what if it happens again?

“...i guess.”

“c’mon.” yeonjun shifts around until he’s leaning on his elbows, focus solely on beomgyu. “tryouts are next saturday. i know how fast you can learn choreography. hell, you could probably learn something in a couple hours and be fine.”

“honestly, you’ll never know if you don’t try,” soobin chimes in. “it might end in something good.”

“yeah,” beomgyu says before taking another large swig of beer. “yeah, i know.”

and so another weekend passes, and monday returns once again.

soobin’s brief, sage advice plays through his mind again and again. although he understands that soobin meant for it to apply to his current career situation, beomgyu has adopted it for his situation with you instead. he should try, he’s going to try, eventually.

it might end in something good, he tells himself over and over again. he has to try.

mondays are a bit less excruciating now that you’re around. he has only known you for a week, but it’s been long enough to know that you make his day-to-day routine bearable — hell, he’ll stay at his terrible job as long as you keep showing up each morning. the day that you don’t will be the nail in his coffin — he chuckles at his stupid joke. yeonjun is rubbing off on him too much.

the sky is overcast today, and endless expanse of gray that contrasts the warmth of the changing leaves that line the sidewalk. it might rain soon, he surmises, but he hopes that it won’t. he’s forgone an umbrella today. digging his hands further into his coat pockets, he ducks into the subway station, descending the stairs and weaving through the crowd until he finds his usual platform. when he gets there, you’ve already arrived, ears vacant of those white earbuds, but it’s not a foreign sight to him. you typically put them in once you sit down. the fact that you get on and get off at the same stop as him…he almost likes to think of all of this as fate.

maybe the universe really is trying to apologize.

the subway arrives at the platform a few minutes later — minutes in which he tries not to stare at you. he’s not a creep, he swears that he’s not. he’s not a creep, he’s not a creep — he repeats this to himself as he follows behind you into the subway car the two of you frequent, he finds a seat across from you a few feet to your left. he can’t be too obvious.

and most importantly, he’s not a creep.

you dig around in your bag. ah, here come those infamous earbuds, he’s sure of it — but then they don’t, and then the digging through your bag grows a degree more frantic, your lips parting as you continue shoving whatever is in there aside in search of your most precious possession.

you feel like crying as panic surges through your veins. oh god, you forgot them. how could you have forgotten them? what are you going to do now?

beomgyu decides to tap into your mind in that moment, finding you in an unbelievably frazzled state. his heart clenches in his chest, he wishes he could help somehow…

wait. he could…oh my god, he could. no, that’s sick, he’s not a creep — well, no, he could. he definitely fucking could, and you’d probably end up liking it…

he could be your temporary replacement for today — no, he could become your constant source, the one you need to get through the day. he could become your audios. he wants to. they’d be far more…interactive, if he did, after all. you’d love what he could do to your pretty fucking body just with access to your mind. reading thoughts isn’t the only thing he can do — and soobin’s right: he’ll never know if he doesn’t try. how could he sit here any longer and not give in to his burning desire to ravage you? you know what? fuck it. this is the perfect opportunity, served up once again on a silver platter, waiting for him to take. he’s not going to let it slip away again — and oh, you just look so devastated right now, how terrible would he be if he didn’t help you?

in a split-second moment, beomgyu decides that today is the day. deep breath. focus. okay, he can do this. one, two, three…

“hello, pretty girl.”

you flinch before you look up and around, only to find no one is looking at you — well, he is, but through his peripherals. wouldn’t want to get caught, would he? suppressing a smirk at your reaction, he shifts in his seat.

“was someone just talking to me?” you ask yourself, brows furrowing as your eyes continue to dart around. your hand comes up to your ear to see if you accidentally remembered your earbuds, your frown deepening when you register that they are, indeed, not in your ears. glancing around again, your eyes skirt over his form. he shivers at the thought of what’s to come, biting his lip as he avoids your gaze. “is this some sort of prank?”

“calm down, sweetheart, this isn’t a prank. now, stop looking around, you’re the only one who heard me.”

your brain flits from thought to thought so quick he can barely keep up, the volume of them rising as you panic. your fingers clench the strap of your purse as if to ground yourself. “am i hallucinating right now? what the fuck? this has to be a prank. should i go to the doctor’s? no, my boss would kill me if i called out, but fuck, i should really go if i’m hearing things—”

beomgyu chuckles, the sound echoing through your mind as well. freezing, your muscles lock up as you look around again. your distressed stream of consciousness stops for a moment, before resuming at a much more rapid pace. “what the fuck, i need to call out right now, where’s my phone—”

sighing, he leans back into his seat and closes his eyes. so cute, how easily you spiral. “quiet that pretty little head of yours, pretty girl. you’re not hallucinating, this is all real. very real.”

a few moments pass before your internal freakout quiets down. for once, silence fills your mind…and rather than him break it, it’s you: “someone’s…talking to me through my mind? this is real?”

“such a smart girl. you figured it out so quickly,” beomgyu taunts, resisting the urge to coo again. adrenaline rushes through his veins, urging him to continue. you need him. he can make you happy. he just needs to hear you say it.

your thighs press together at the praise, fingers digging into the trousers you had chosen to wear. you shouldn’t be feeling like this. this is strange, terribly strange, and even a little frightening, now that you are aware that someone — that a complete stranger, at that — has full reign over your conscious. yet, at the same time, you’re curious to see how this will play out.

“and you can speak to me, too, if you focus hard enough…” his voice trails off. okay, you can do that. allowing your eyelids to flutter shut, you begin to breathe deeply until even the mechanical noises of the subway and the murmurs of passengers vacate your senses. mind empty, you exhale a shaky breath. focus. stay focused.

“hmm, impressive. you’re a natural at this.” god, he needs to quit praising you like that with his deep voice. by the way he laughs, you know he heard that too. fuck.

“who are you and why the fuck are you in my brain?” you decide to ask. straight to the point, no fluff to it, it’s reminiscent of your attitude at the bar where he first laid eyes upon you. this is the wall you put up towards strangers and any other threat to your life, but little do you know, beomgyu’s breached that wall already. this is just a little front. “answer me, you fucking asshole—”

“woah, woah, watch the language. why would i tell you who i am? it’s much more exciting this way, don’t you think?” the smile in his voice is unmistakable, but he purses his lips to keep them from curling upward.

you start to gnaw on your bottom lip, biting hard enough for pain to bloom across your nerve endings. this is stranger you’re talking to right now, a stranger who you’re talking to through your fucking thoughts. this is weird. you never signed up for this. “get the hell out of my mind before— before i—”

“before you what? can’t kick me out, you don’t know how to do that, pretty girl.”

fuck, he’s right — wait, if he’s in your mind right now, can he also control it? is he going to hurt you? is he going to make you his puppet and go on a murder spree? is he in this car with you, or somewhere else? what if…what if…

beomgyu can almost feel your panic swelling in his own chest. fuck, he needs to put a stop to your spiraling before it gets out of control. if you freak out now, then all of his work over the past week will be for naught. after all, he’s not going to do anything without your permission. the last thing he wishes to do is scare you off completely before he can have his fun. with great urgency, he cuts off your ramblings, “hey, now, relax for me, princess. i’m not going to hurt you. i’m as human as you are, just a bit…different, i guess. and i am in the same car as you right now.”

rather than respond, you look around again, eyeing every single man around you with suspicion, even him. he stares at the floor, maintaining what he hopes to be a neutral, borderline bored, expression. he needs to keep it together. he’s gotten this far, he can’t ruin this. “looking around again, huh? if i were that easy to spot, then this game wouldn’t be very fun, would it?”

“game? fucking with my mind is a game to you?”

the corners of his lips twitch up before he’s forcing them back down. this is it, the moment he has been waiting oh so patiently for. keep it together.

“well, not really — i actually have a proposition for you, if you’d hear me out.”

scoffing, you urge him along. “just get on with it.”

“so impatient. that’s okay. i can work with that,” he smirks. “i know what you listen to every morning, you know.”

your heart drops to your stomach. he what? oh god, you think you’re going to be sick. your arms wrap around your stomach, squeezing hard. this is bad, this is really fucking bad. “do you want money, or something? are— are you trying to blackmail me right now? i’ll have you know, i’m actually kinda broke right now. i really don’t wanna end up homeless, can you just. pick someone else to fuck with? there’s like twelve different businessmen in this car, i’m sure they’re rich and corrupt—”

beomgyu’s brows raise imperceptibly. jesus, are you always this flighty? “woah, chill. i’m not here to judge you — or blackmail you, for that matter. i’m not evil. aw, don’t look all shameful now. i told you i’m not here to judge — i actually wanna help you, if you’d let me.”

“help me?” you dumbly echo. “help me how?”

“well,” he starts. “i noticed you forgot your earbuds today, and you just looked so sad and lost without them. how else are you going to get through your commute? and then i thought maybe i could do something about that. y’know, help you out, get you through the morning.”

“so you invaded my privacy just to tell me that you wanna dirty talk to me for the rest of my commute? is that what you mean? ‘cause if so, that’s pretty weird,” you reply, though your stray thoughts that dart around tell him that you’re actually considering his offer — it’s tempting, isn’t it? to give in, to let his deep voice get you all squirmy and needy, knowing he could be anyone in this subway car. still, your words make him laugh, because of course you’re deflecting right now. it’s okay, he hasn’t given you the full story quite yet.

“that’s only part of my offer, princess,” he starts. “i can read minds, yes, but i can also do…other things.”

oh, you’re really considering it now. maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to let him. his voice is nice, and maybe, just maybe, it’s kind of making you horny. after a deep, long breath, you gulp once, then, with curiosity dripping from your tone, you ask, “...like what?”

jackpot.

beomgyu’s high on a mix of adrenaline and dopamine, utterly giddy because he’s got you right where he wants you, where he needs you. he’s played his cards just right, shoved your worries to the side and drew out your curiosity enough that you’ve taken his bait. perfect, oh, this is perfect. he knew you’d be good for him.

“it would be much easier for me to show you.”

“then show me,” you immediately reply, heat flooding your cheeks at the sheer desperation in your voice. god, calm down. he hasn’t even done anything yet.

chuckling at your internal conflict, he decides not to comment. “tell me if you don’t like something. i’ll stop.” he watches as you slightly nod to yourself, a soft “okay,” echoing through your head and into his — thus, he sets his plan into action.

something warm caresses your calf, but when you look down, there’s nothing there. your eyes widen — was that a hand? it definitely felt like one, the way it creeped up the back of your leg, calloused fingertips pressing into your skin. a shiver races down your spine. that had to have been him.

“it was,” he confirms, then his voice is growing impossibly deeper, adopting that gruff edge that you love so much. “you want more, princess? i can give you more.”

another phantom hand skirts over your waist, dragging down over your hips to your right thigh, just to stop there. biting your bottom lip, you nod, hoping that whoever is in your head right now sees it, wherever he is. the hand moves to your inner thigh; despite how tightly pressed together they are, it skirts over your skin with ease, seemingly beneath your trousers. “i need words, pretty girl, or i might just stop right now. and we wouldn’t want that, would we?”

no, you wouldn’t, not at this point. the unbearable ache currently building in your core makes you want to cry; you haven’t felt this level of desperation in a while, and you need to be touched. you need it so fucking bad.

“please.” the single word comes out meek, quiet. shame flushes your face, a fiery heat that spreads up to your ears and down your neck.

you hear the way his breath shudders, causing your own hitch. “fuck, you’re so cute, but i need more than that. beg. beg for me to touch you.”

his voice — fuck, his voice is so deep, so dark and wanton. you wonder what he sounds like when he’s moaning, how he would sound if he fucked you, pounded you into the mattress so hard you saw stars. the image of a faceless stranger fucking you from behind, your back arched behind you and your face buried in the sheets, as he holds your wrists behind your back flits across the big screen of your mind. you shake it away, but the man in your head is already tutting. “use your words, sweetheart, not pictures — though i’d love to do that to you too. you’ve got quite the imagination on you.”

beomgyu’s cock twitches in his boxers as you whine, frantic pleas bubbling up from the deepest, darkest recesses of your mind once he takes the sensation of his hand away from your thigh. you sound halfway dumb already, begging for his hands, his cock, his tongue — anything. you’ll take anything just, “please, sir. please touch me. need you to touch me so bad.”

you don’t even know who he is, yet you’re being so obedient, calling him sir, begging so sweetly for him — it’s like you’re begging straight into his ear. his heart swells at the thought, as does his cock. you sound so pretty, but he finds himself wishing he could hear these words come from your lips instead.

“yeah? my little slut needs more?” he prods, laughing meanly when you whimper out a yes. “aw, ‘course she does. desperate whores always need more, don’t they? so greedy.”

you have to swallow down a whimper at that, focusing so intently on keeping quiet that your nails have dug into your palms deep enough to almost break skin. the pain seems to help keep you grounded — that is, until you feel the sting of a palm against your backside. you flinch in your seat, gasping sharply. the man sitting next to you glances over, but you only hang your head and shrink into yourself. he looks away.

“focus, whore. you’re drawing too much attention to yourself.”

two hands are touching you now. one cupping your pussy, the other wrapped around your throat, pressing into the sides of your neck so you start to grow dizzy. the hand on your throat releases its grip to slide down to your chest, circling around one of your nipples before a thumb swipes over the pebbled flesh. your back arches off of your seat when the sensation morphs into that of lips, plush warmth enveloping your tit before the sharp bite of teeth interrupts. you inhale a shaky breath from your nose as lips return to soothe the sting. despite the hard press of your thighs, the hand on your pussy drags up and down your folds, dipping down to your entrance before dragging up to your clit. a tiny squeak sneaks up your throat before you’re masking it with a cough.

“aren’t you just a sensitive little thing? so wet too,” he coos, shifting his briefcase over his lap to gain some semblance of friction. his fingertips tingle as if your wetness coats them right now. fuck, he’s hard. if it were up to him, you’d be taking his cock right now, moaning so prettily as he presses you up against the wall and fucks up into you, your legs giving out from under you because he’s just making you feel so good, isn’t he? never mind that, he has a job to do. “how about i just…”

two lithe fingers breach your walls while a thumb continues to slowly circle your clit, barely brushing over the sensitive bundle of nerves. you feel like you’re going insane, trying your best to hold still as his fingers begin to move inside you, curling up into your walls. searching, he’s searching for that spot inside you that will get you crying—

then he finds it.

your knee jerks up, your legs falling open slightly before you’re pressing them closed again as he abuses it over and over again, crooking his fingers just right to find it with each thrust. your hips roll up into the sensation, stilling as soon as you realize that you’re squirming too much, being too obvious. people are starting to stare, calm down. calm the fuck down.

god, you don’t think you can. it’s too difficult to keep still with the way he’s finger-fucking you right now. with the way there’s lips suddenly circling your clit, sucking the pearl in so that his tongue can play with it. little kitten licks that make you want to scream and cry and beg for mercy because you don’t know if you can keep up this front of normalcy with the way he’s touching you.

it’s like he’s speaking directly into your ear right now, warm breath fanning over your earlobe, your cheek. “wanna see you fall apart, wanna see you lose it in front of all of these people, baby. bet you wanna cum right now, yeah? just wanna feel good, don’t even care if you quake and cry in public? you’re that fucking desperate for it?”

you nod to yourself, eyes squeezing shut. you’re so close. oh god, you’re going to cum. you’re going to cum like a brainless whore in the middle of a fucking subway car. you’re sick. you’re fucking sick for enjoying this.

you’re just as bad as him, beomgyu decides. he knew you’d like what he could give you, he knew you needed him. it was just a matter of time before you realized that fact. that’s okay, because he needs you just as badly. it’s a carnal need, white hot in the center of his stomach — fuck, he’s obsessed with you. he wants you to be his forever.

and beomgyu knows you’re close, but he’s not quite ready to give you what you want.

“please, oh god. please let me cum. fuckfuckfuck— no, please don’t stop!” you cry as he slows the pace of his fingers. “please no, ‘m so close! no no no—”

“you drive me crazy, it’s only fair if i return the favor. makes it more fun.” ripping the sensation away from you completely, he watches you bottom lip tremble as you blink back tears, your body melting into your seat as the pleasure fades away. “now, now, don’t cry, sweetheart. i have something even better for you.”

a few seconds pass before something breaches your entrance, your walls stretching to their limit, yet the sting of pain never arrives. filled to the brim, you throw your head back against the window behind you. to others, you seem to just be resting your eyes, but the way your mouth falls open is not lost on beomgyu. he knows you can feel him everywhere, knows you can feel the way the head of his cock nearly touches your cervix, how it presses into every single sensitive spot inside you. he knows he’s big, but you take it like a champ, your hips grinding down into the seat, as if to bring him deeper inside you. what a little whore, his little whore.

“y’feel that, pretty girl? feel my big fucking cock inside you?” he asks as your chest heaves, a feeble attempt in holding yourself together. “calm down, now. i’m gonna start moving, okay?”

he doesn’t wait for your response before he’s spoon-feeding you the sensation of his cock pulling out until nothing but his cockhead remains within your walls. a few seconds pass, then your begging returns. tearful, this time, fucking pathetic. he basks in the power that rushes through his entire being. you need him. you need him in order to feel good, and he loves that you do. he brings a hand down to adjust himself in his pants, hissing quietly at the ache that the action brings. he needs to fuck you right now. physically fuck you, none of this thought manipulation bullshit — but no, he has to be patient. he can be patient as long as it’s you.

the subway is slowing down again, and he comes to the gross realization that he only has a few minutes before both of you must depart. dammit, he has to make this quick.

meanwhile, you’re already halfway to your high just at the mere feeling of him inside you. as soon as his cock begins to move again, you’re choking back moans, head hanging low as your muscles tense and your hands press into your lap. you can feel him in your throat each time he thrusts back in, his thrusts growing faster and faster until he’s pounding into you.

“fuck fuck fuckkkkk!” you wail, encouraging him to continue. in reality, your walls clench around nothing, but your mind paints a different picture. you almost beg for him to cum inside, but you cant find the words, too fucked out to think about anything else but the knot in your stomach that grows tighter with each passing second. “fuck, please. please, fuck i’m, nghh—”

imaginary fingers swipe across your clit, and you’re a goner.

thighs quaking, your release coats your panties, walls fluttering, but the movement of his cock doesn’t stop until you’re begging for mercy. beomgyu almost cums in his pants at the depraved wails you emit, half-baked sentences pleading for him to “s-slow down, please. i can’t, no, i can’t — shit!”

finally — finally — he grants you reprieve from the onslaught of pleasure. your body slumps into your seat, your eyes shut as you begin to float back down to earth. the clack-clack-clack of the subway slows until it stops completely. the usual robotic voice announces his stop, but you seem so out of it that you don’t even register that you need to get off.

“good job, baby. you put on quite the show for me,” he praises as he rises to his feet. luckily, he decided on wearing a longer coat today which he uses to cover up his raging hard-on. this has to be fate.

no response. with an excited gleam in his eye, he disconnects from your mind and moves towards you. looming above you, he drinks in the beads of sweat that have formed along your hairline, the wrinkles in your trousers where you gripped the fabric a wee bit too hard, your dreamy eyes and how they blink down at his black loafers before raising to meet his own. concern has painted itself across his features, his head tilting as he holds your bleary gaze.

“are you alright, miss? you look a bit ill.”

you blink once. twice. god, how are you so cute even after getting fucked so hard? he can barely control himself from blurting out who he is.

“what—what stop is this?” you ask him, eyes wide and red-rimmed from your earlier tears. he tells you, and he watches those same eyes widen. “oh shit, this is my stop!”

attempting to stand, you stumble straight into his chest. he catches you with gentle hands before he’s helping you steady yourself. your legs tremble like those of a newborn fawn, sexy yet terribly adorable. he gulps at the image of you unable to walk, legs so sore that you’re forced to let him dote on you, that forms inside his mind. later. that can come later, don’t get too hasty.

“oh, you’re a bit shaky there,” he murmurs, a hand curling around you elbow when you stumble again. “are you sure you’re alright?”

“i’m f-fine, sorry for the trouble,” you reply with a polite, yet jittery, smile, stepping away from him. he wants to tell you to come closer again, he wants to smell your sweet perfume again, feel your warm skin beneath his fingertips.

but good things come to those who wait.

“no worries.” with a charming smile, he shuffles beside you, until the two of you have exited with the rest of the crowd. he catches your wrist before you can get too far, and you turn to face him once more. afterglow looks wonderful on you. “it looks like we’re getting off at the same stop today, so would you like me to walk with you until you’re feeling a bit better? i’m sure some fresh air will do you good.”

you pause for a moment, hesitating. have you seen him somewhere before? you feel like you have. “i…that would be great, actually. thank you.”

“of course,” he nods, holding back a smirk. he can’t help the words that escape him next.

“lead the way, then…pretty girl.”

the way you look back at him with alarmed realization — even a hint of fear — causes a grin to split open his lips. you begin to sputter as you back away, but he merely follows with light, casual steps. “w-what, who—who are you—”

his smile grows knife-sharp. the door opens — it always does.

“aw, c’mon, sweetheart,” he coos inside your mind, biting his lip as he watches your knees buckle. “who else could it be?”

#txt smut #beomgyu smut #txt x reader #beomgyu x reader #txt imagines #beomgyu imagines #txt x you #txt x y/n #beomgyu x y/n #beomgyu x you #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #💌 — gyu #agust.nsfw

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st4rymoon · 30 days

Text

𝐒𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐧 𝐑𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐲 𝐱 𝐊𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐠 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟖+

• Generous

.ᐟ Simon letting Konig get a taste of u bc he doesn’t get laid much and feels bad about how long he's been away without making you feel good :(

• dumbification, 3 sum, p in v, cream pie, brat tamer Simon & König, pet names, slut shaming in a loving way :] , breeding kink, pet names, choking, bratty reader, oral (m receiving), slight overstimulation

You couldn’t wait for Simon to walk through the door after months out on contract. You were Simon’s fresh air just like he was to you.

Never in a million years would he think he’d get so lucky and get such a good girl wrapped around his arm. Always so caring and loving to a man who’s feared by many.

Since Simon was finally coming home today you put on your prettiest sun dress and soft knee high socks waiting for the lock to hit 5.

Simon hadn’t thought much about what you were up to so it didn’t feel wrong when he invited könig over for a beer without letting you know.

So when you heard the door open you payed no attention to anyone but Simon, running into his arms and wrapping your legs around his waist. “Si I missed you so much!” you squealed while peppered kisses all over his face.

Simon tumbled onto the wall by the sheer surprise of your body pressed against his. His hands moving to hold you from the bottom of your ass “Dar- darling” he muttered as he rushed to keep you from slipping.

You didn’t notice the big shadow lingering behind Simon as you buried yourself into Simon’s neck. König’s eyes didn’t miss the slip of your white thin panties that hugged at your puffy cunt.

He closed the door behind him as you clung onto Simon “it seems like Riley got himself a clingy little thing” you heard from behind.

Simon chuckled as you hopped off him and fixed your dress up with a look of embarrassment “I- sorry I didn’t know anyone was joining you” you shakily replied.

You’ve seen König once or twice but this was the first time you really could take him in. Seeing someone taller than Simon was shocking, build and all even being horrifyingly similar.

Simon noticed the way you seemed to shrink into yourself as your eyes darted to Simon then König. He smiled as he ran a hand down your hair.

Having two behemoth men towering you was a intimidating to say the least. “You’ve met konig before love” Simon nodded as he faced you.

You nodded and extended your hand towards König “nice to see you”

König reached for your hand and instead of shaking it, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss onto the back of your palm “nice to see you too” he hummed.

You pulled back slowly and looked back at Simon, to your surprise he was smiling. “Come lovie” Simon cooed, taking his place on the couch as König went to grab a few beers from the fridge.

“Si why didn’t you tell me someone was coming, I thought I’d have you for myself” you pouted and he knew what you meant by the whine in your voiced, he smiled “we don’t take long”

You tensed as the cushion beside you sunk, you heard König groan as he settled beside you. You tried your best not to pay any attention, you had a boyfriend. But simon noticed the way your legs were squeezing together when Konig would shift around beside you.

“fine” you whined as you got up with a bratty pout. Both the men noticed the way you swayed your hips when you got up “Where are you going” Simon cooed “Upstairs since your friend is more important” you hissed.

“A bratty little thing” König chuckled “tell me about it” Simon replied. Both the men gave each other a glare, maybe they should apologize and teach you a lesson all at once.

Simon was a possessive boyfriend but when it came to sharing with his best mate, he had no problem letting you both get a taste of each other because after all, you both mean the world to Simon.

Simon pulled you onto his lap, his hand snaking up to the nape of your neck as he pulled you into a kiss. You mewled at the feeling of his cock bulging through his pants, your hips seeming to move on their own as you rubbed against him.

“You wanna let me and König apologize for how inconsiderate we are?” Simon cooed.

Your eyes widened as you looked over at König “I- Simon I-“ you muttered “shh I know, I know. I don’t mind sharing bunny, it’s all up to you” Simon had a smile on his face as you tried to make out if he was playing a joke on you.

You’d never expect Simon to be open to three sum since he was such a possessive man, König was his closest friend but Simon is willing to bend the rules when he’s in charge.

“Yes I want it” you nodded “knew you would, my needy little slut” Simon chuckled as you felt Königs hands snaking up your back.

“Just gotta break you in” König hummed as his hand wrapped around your throat and pinned you onto his chest . You were on Simon’s lap with your back pinned to Königs chest “look at me” König cooed.

“Get a taste” Simon hummed as he turned you around and placed you on Königs lap, letting you both get acquainted. You swayed your hips onto König’s lap causing a moan to escape both your lips. None of you said a word as your lips met, heavy moans spilling into each others mouths.

König smiled as your hands pinned him onto the couch, you seemed to be taking control as you rubbed onto his lap “needy little thing” he smiled as you began to bounce on his lap.

“I know she is” Simon sighed as he pulled your dress over your head. You were grinding onto Königs meaty lap as his hands cupped your tits, his lips pressing soft sloppy kisses onto your plump flesh.

You mewled at the sensation of his hands unclipping your bra. His tongue expertly swirling around your nipples, giving each equal attention.

You were so drunk of pleasure you didn’t notice Simon unbuckling his belt behind you “lay back f’ me” König hummed, both the men manhandling you into their desired position.

Simon settled your head dangling off the large couch as König spread your legs to accommodate his size. “Shh shh honey look at me, not at him” Simon cooed. He held your head back to look at him as you heard König shuffling out of his pants.

“Open” Simon cooed and you did as told. You opened your mouth wide and stuck your tongue out for Simon, a moan coming from both you as he settles his thick heavy length into your throat.

You held onto Simon’s arms as he thrusted in and out of your warm mouth, his eyes glued onto the bulging in your throat bobbing with each of his thrusts.

“All wet and sticky f’me, isn’t Riley a lucky bastard” König cooed as he nudged his tip into your tight cunt. Your eyes widened as you felt him rubbing between your folds, he was fucking huge.

You tried to moan but the only thing you could get out was gasps and gags as Simon fucked your pretty mouth open. Simon smiled as your eyes rolled back the second you felt König push deep into you.

It felt like you were being stretched open with two men filling you full. One fucking your mouth like a mad man and the other breaking you in for the first time. König was muttering to himself as he slammed into your sticky cunt, each thrust knocking the wind out of you.

You clawed at his arms as he began to drill you onto the couch, his cock nudging perfectly at your g-spot while you sucked Simon off like his own personal pornstar.

“She likes it rough huh?” Köing snickered in awe as he watched the way you took both of them so well. He watched as Simon held his heavy hand to your throat, keeping you in place.

Simon knew köing doesn’t get laid much so why wouldn’t he share his pretty little thing with his best mate? It’s only fair for his best friend and girlfriend to get acquainted.

You gasped as Simon pulled out of your mouth, his hands shifting down to gripping your hair as he knelt down to your face.

“Look at him, don’t be shy lovie. I want you to look at him in the eye- yeahhh just like that” Simon whispered into your ear as köing continued his brutal thrusts.

You stared into Königs eyes, Doe eyed and watery and König was growing overwhelmed with everything you gave him. The pretty moans, Doe eyes, spit dribbling down your chin as he stuffed you full. “That’s it” Simon cooed as he noticed that look on your face.

It was so overwhelming having your boyfriend whispering in your ear while his best friend bottomed you out. You let you a high pitched whine as you came around König, his cock still fucking you through your orgasm.

“A- ah fuck ah-“ König was trying to get his words straight as he felt his cock throbbing against your walls “wh- where do I- fu-“ he panted with your legs now hoisted up against his shoulders.

“In me! I- in me pleaseee” you whined as you managed to get your legs back down to his waist and pushing him against you, caging him in so he could fill you full of his seed.

Königs never came so hard in his life, he was moaning like a mad man as he pumped you full of his loads. His vision turned white as you throbbed against his sensitive and overstimulated cock.

“Forgot to tell you she likes getting bread Kö” Simon chuckled as he stared down at you with admiration.

You were drenched in sweat as his right hand man pulled out of you with traces of his cum buried deep inside you. Just because König fucked you dumb doesn’t mean Simon was going to hold back.

“You made him happy bunny, now it’s my turn”

#cod ghost #cod smut #simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #ghost #ghost cod #konig cod #konig x reader #konig smut #ghost smut #simon riley smut #cod x reader

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wonijinjin · 5 months

Text

painfully in love

author’s note: very self-indulgent, and wrote it to give some comfort to my darlings who suffer every month. take care yall<3 (also just mentioning that i totally believe he would know what to do bc he has a sister and he is the cutest giant puppy)

synopsis: when your period cramps torture you mingyu is always there to help and give you some comfort.

word count: 0.9k | genre: fluff, comfort (mingyu is the best, such a sweetheart) | pairing: mingyu x f! reader | warnings: mentions of pills/medicine, mentions of throwing up, pain

when mingyu stepped into your apartment he knew where he would find you; in the bedroom, under a pile of blankets. you had texted him earlier in the day that you had crazy cramps and asked him to bring some medicine home since you ran out of painkillers. “pretty girl, i am home!” he said loudly to let you know his presence in the house. after taking his coat off he went straight to the kitchen to get you a glass of water and prepared it with the pills and some dark chocolate, since he knew it can help with cramping. he entered the room silently, suspecting that you were asleep by the lack of response to his arrival earlier. he was right; you laid in the middle of the bed, a big fluffy plushie in hand, cluthing onto it tightly, the covers up to your chin, hair messy and spread out on the soft pillow. his heart broke a little; he knew how much pain you were in, it had happened before, that you had very strong symptoms on your period. he decided on not waking you as he felt pity for you and was happy to see that you were getting some rest at last, after being kept up all night by the pain. he settled into the bed next to you cautiously and wrapped his hand around your middle, warming up and massaging your abdomen with his large hands. you felt his form next to you, but didn’t entirely wake up; you just shifted and hugged him unconsciously. “aww, you are so adorable, sweetheart.” he whispered while starting to stroke your hair, playing with the strands in the meantime.

“mingyu…” he heard your mumbles a bit later, not holding you anymore, him working on the computer at the desk in the room. “huh?” he stood up, checking up on your form only to see your eyes closed and brows furrowed, discomfort written all over your features. “you are okay sweetheart, you are okay.” he cooed at you while tucking you in further and kissing your forehead after he saw the creases on it starting to fade, guessing you weren’t in distress anymore.

when you woke up it was almost completely dark outside and the first thing your brain registered was mingyu’s chest. “are you awake, pretty?” he asked gently. “when did you get home? wait i need to get up-“ you tried peeling yourself off mingyu’s body but a sharp pain in your lower stomach made you still your movements. “you okay? are the cramps hitting again?” he looked at you with worried eyes. “yeah.” you pouted, tears threatening to spill from your orbs as the pain increased. “oh sweetheart.” he rubbed your back in calming motions. “i bought painkillers, and i have some water and chocolate to take it with, can you sit up for a moment?” you did as he told and took the medicine, but as expected it needed some time to kick in, and until then you could only wish for the stabbing pain to stop, burying your head in mingyu’s chest as you whimpered in agony. “i’m so nauseous ’gyu. i don’t want to throw up.” you cried while trying to stop your head from spinning; it really had been a long time since you felt this bad. “you won’t. i am so sorry you feel this miserable, pretty girl.” “i am sorry you have to deal with this mingyu. you know how i hate being queasy.” you whined. “even if you do throw up it is okay, you know how you can’t do anything about it baby. tell me if you feel like you are gonna be sick, we will deal with it, alright?” he reassured you and cradled you in his arms, putting you on his chest properly so you could be comfortable. “i hate seeing you in so much pain. i want my happy baby back.” he pouted. “not your fault.” you murmured into his shirt. “thanks for being here.” he kissed your forehead and chuckled lowly. “of course sweetheart, i just wish i could do more.” he smiled sadly. “can i do anything to distract you from the cramps until the medicine works?” he quizzed with a warm expression, his eyes searching your face constantly for any sign of discomfort, ready to adjust to your preferences. “wanna go back to sleep. gotta make up for last night or i will be miserable tomorrow too.” he giggled at your reply, loving how you were so unfiltered on your period, being so real about not wanting to do anything other than sleeping, and not pulling any act about how you are fine and happy. “alright, pretty. then we will do just that. want me to rub your back or turn on a show for some background noise?” you looked up at him, pecking his lips for a quick and lazy kiss as you had absolutely no energy for anything more. “just hold me, please? you are so warm, making me feel sleepy and less achy.” you muttered, already exhausted from fighting your body’s stubborn muscles. “sure. sleep well then.” he whispered. “love you, mingyu.” you said back. “love you too, more than anything. tomorrow will be a greater day. get better soon.”

#wonijinjin #caratsland #seventeen imagines #seventeen #seventeen scenarios #svt imagines #seventeen fluff #fluff #svt mingyu #mingyu x reader #seventeen mingyu #kim mingyu #mingyu #mingyu x you #mingyu x y/n #svt kim mingyu #seventeen kim mingyu

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ncteez · 11 months

Text

homewrecked. (j.ww)

Wonwoo doesn’t seem to realize that you’re giving him the best option out of a relationship that doesn’t even involve you. With a cheating best friend on one side, and a loyal Wonwoo loving her from two hours away on another, you decide that home wrecking isn’t always a bad idea. or the one where wonwoo fights internal demons over wanting you bc he’s in a relationship that he doesn’t even realize is falling apart.

ao3 | m.lists | leave feedback and reblog to give wonwoo a boner

minors do not interact.

WORDCOUNT― 12k

PAIRING― wonwoo x afab reader

CONTENT― toxic relationships, fluffy sex?? like it’s very intimate

WARNINGS― infidelity, there’s some angst but it gets fixed with fucking, mentions of reader having tits that jiggle and she’s also shorter than him, alcohol consumption

NOTE― will i ever stop writing smut from his point of view? probably not. we love to know what a man is thinking while he’s balls deep. anyway, this ain’t proof read bye.

smut tags under cut::

smut tags― big dick wonwoo, making out, leg humping lmao, finger fucking, oral [m receiving], “IT’S NOT FUCKING, IT’S MAKING LOVE!!!”, cliche “omg ur pussy was like, meant for me”, mating press position, unprotected sex, cream pie, he’s in love bro–

Wonwoo didn’t know why he needed you so badly and the thoughts ate him up. Day after day, watching you dangle yourself in front of him like you don’t know he’s definitely not the type to take you up on the offer.

The issue is that he would take up the fucking offer if you had done this five months ago before he entered into a long distance relationship with your best fucking friend. She moved out of town, and two hours wasn’t going to stop him from pursuing that relationship. You, however, you were definitely going to make him stop pursuing. Why? Because your best friend is a bitch, and it’s not like she hasn’t texted you about all of the dicks she’s been sucking since she left.

Why not give him the revenge he doesn’t know he needs?

He can feel his eyes burning holes through that thin shirt you're wearing and at this point, it’s painful to try and pretend he doesn’t stare. Even more painful to pretend he’s being nonchalant about it each time you get a little too close to him, each time you bend over directly in front of him, and surely each time you decide not to wear a bra while wearing said thin shirt.

He doesn’t understand why he keeps showing up for you. Before, it was because you were a mutual friend between him and his girlfriend. You were cool, laid back, and fun to hang out with. His girlfriend never seemed to mind when the two of you would hang out alone, then again that was quite a rare occasion before she moved away. Now though, hanging out with you seems to have far more intent behind it than just avoiding boredom on a weekend. Now, you appear to be more interested in what he has to say, what he looks like, how he’s feeling.

Wonwoo can’t quite pin point the moment in time where you started acting this way, but he sure as fuck can pin point the first day you seemed off around him. He thought he was thinking too hard, wondering why you knocked on his door on a cold December evening with no jacket on, but wonderful cleavage offering firm jiggles with each shiver.

It got to the point that by the time spring hit, and he was still hanging out with you on the regular, that he was almost annoyed that the temperature got warmer. Sure, it was more of a reason for you not to wear clothes, but it doesn’t feel as intentional when you’re quite literally dressing for the weather.

Still, you’re here again. In his apartment, sprawled out on his couch with the remote in your hand as if this is your own space. You really do make yourself at home, a little too at home. No bra under that thin shirt, the air conditioning raising goosebumps on your skin and perking up your nipples each time you lift your arms up for a long and audible stretch for him to surely suffer over later.

Hanging out with you shouldn’t feel like this, because he has a girlfriend.

“What do you want for dinner?” He asks from the kitchen, pretending that the two of you don’t seem like a couple on your own, as if he wasn’t just texting his actual girlfriend.

“Dunno,” You shrug, turning your head to look at him and noting his slow response of bringing his eyes from your tits to your face. “We should go out.”

His heart thumps heavily at those words but is very quick to realize that you’re absolutely not asking to be his girlfriend right now.

“Huh?” He asks nonchalantly, averting his eyes back to his near-empty cabinets with a huff.

“Like, go out? To a bar? A restaurant? A club?”

He lets his arms fall from the cabinet as he closes it in defeat and makes his way to throw himself onto the couch next to you.

“You, of all people, should know I don’t go out anymore.” He retorts in a long sigh, averting to the fact that those are options for single men or couples that seek those kinds of experiences together.

“Why not? She still goes out.”

The first secret is out, though you kind of assumed he knew already.

“Oh? Does she?” He asks, seemingly not too bothered. “That’s good, she deserves to go out and meet people considering she moves to a brand new city.”

You nod in agreement, rolling your eyes up to look at his living room ceiling.

“Come on, she knows I’d be there to fend off any girls trying to get in your pants.” You argue with him, or rather, you try to convince him.

“And you plan to go looking like that?” He asks, turning his face to you and once again staring straight at the way your tits leave no room for imagination.

“Uh, yeah? It’s not like I'm the one under lock and key.”

He rolls his eyes at you but offers a small nod, standing to his feet and shuffling to his bedroom.

“At least put on a jacket or something, I think it’s supposed to rain tonight.”

You nod, smiling as you follow him to a room that should be off limits to you. Mostly pleased by the fact that you’re going out with Wonwoo alone, and surely you’re about to be wearing his jacket over the shirt you wore specifically for him to look at.

You were right, you are wearing his jacket as you step past the security at the club. Shortly after the two of you left a small diner, you nearly thought he was going to have cold feet and not want to go, even after taking the time to fix his hair and wear a nice outfit. Thankfully, he didn’t. Thankfully, he’s right at your side appearing as nervous as he was the day he asked your best friend out. Thankfully, he looks like he’s here for you and not to be your wingman.

“Lighten up, we’re just here to have fun.”

He nods, looking at you and the way his jacket looks on you. It shouldn’t look so good, you shouldn’t look so good to him. He can’t help but feel like he’s crossing a line despite learning his girlfriend goes out quite often without so much as telling him about it. Even before he started dating her, it’s not like clubbing was his thing. He just went with you and his girlfriend, occasionally letting his own friends tag along to find some raunchy date for the night.

“You’re right,” He nods again, encouraging himself. “Just gotta get in the mood of things I guess.”

You smile at him and pretend you heard what he just said over the bass of the music, and opt to point with your head toward the bar that holds a short line of people appearing to be ready to drink. He follows behind you, being led from a comfortable distance in a space that should force him up and against you. Consistently, you look back to make sure he hasn’t been lost in the crowd. To make sure he isn’t being grabbed at by all of the people who would surely want to pick him up tonight if they find him standing alone somewhere.

He keeps the pace though, shoving up next to you by the bar so that you both can order your first drink of the night. All you can do is look at him briefly any chance you can get as the two of you wait.

He looks uncomfortable here, but incredibly handsome in the darkened room with the neon LED lighting flashing across his cheeks. You’ve seen him in lighting like this before, usually pressed up against your best friend, but now you feel as though he needs you here for comfort. Then again, he wouldn’t even be in this situation if it weren’t for you arguing that the two of you come here.

Still, you know how he acts when the alcohol hits him, especially in a loud room full of hidden secrets that people are releasing without a single hint of fear. You have some secrets too, ones that you’ve felt bad for keeping, but in a way, it isn’t your job to tell him.

The snide part of you likes seeing him take an interest in you. Someone so entirely loyal shouldn’t be caught up with someone like your best friend. You’re actually shocked he gave in so quickly to even come to this club with you, even more shocked at the way he continued to hang out with you despite your obvious attempts of seduction.

You started doing it a mere day after your “best friend” texted you a selfie, post-sex glow practically dripping out of her sleepy smile within another man’s bed. With an arm wrapped around her, one that did not belong to Wonwoo. You knew it wasn’t him, because she texted that shit the same day Wonwoo had his job interview.

He got that job, and part of you wonders if the excitement in your friend’s voice for him over the excited call he gave her later was really for him getting the job, or if it was because she had some really great sex with some non-boyfriend. Because of course you were at Wonwoo’s house helping him pick a professional outfit, of course you were there letting him recite the things he wanted to present at the interview. Of course that’s what you were doing, you helped him prepare and then waited around his place until he got back with the news. He’s your best friend’s boyfriend, and arguably, he was also your best friend by that point.

After that, all respect for the relationship left you, and instantly you took matters into your own hands. Be there for him, be around him, be a friend to him, and of course, try to get revenge for him. Even if that meant using your own body because for some reason, you felt protective. You felt possessive.

Seeing the way he looks at you, even while being in a loyal relationship, is arguably pushing you past the boundary of just wanting revenge for him. You can see him argue with himself in his head, the doubt of why he’s looking at you this way, the doubt of why you’re doing this so suddenly. It’s attractive seeing him fight a loyalty that his own girlfriend doesn’t even give to him. It’s attractive to see him here, next to you, spouting out his drink order and looking at you briefly as if to tell you it’s your turn.

And you do order, feeling the fabric of his jacket rub against your naked arms, and the zipper occasionally stimulating your breast beneath the thin shirt. Wearing no bra has both pros and cons. The pros being, constant stimulation and Wonwoo keeping his eyes attached to you and telling on himself. The cons, the bar tender and every other fucking person in this club appear to also be staring.

Thankfully, the two of you grab your drinks shortly after and head straight around the dance floor and scout out a small couch in the back. Small as in, a two person seater with a small table in front of it. It’s a lucky snag on a saturday night to find an empty spot that perfectly fits the two of you, but neither of you seem to be complaining.

You sit down next to him, feeling the warmth of his arm radiating immense heat as his eyes travel the loud room of dancing bodies, his drink in a hand that appears to be trying not to tremble.

“Why’re you so nervous?” You whisper yell at him, taking a thoughtful sip of your drink before leaning forward and bringing your head playfully in front of his line of sight.

“Just kind of doesn’t feel right to be here without her, y’know?” He responds, taking his own thoughtful sip and grimacing at how strong the drink is. Still, he continues to sip as he watches you roll your eyes at him in a huff.

“Oh my god, could you be any further up her ass right now?”

He almost feels offended by that comment. Wanting her to be here is not considering being up her ass, if anything, it’s being a good boyfriend. You continue to spit sarcasm at him though, looking dissatisfied with how he’s acting.

“How come she can go out and have fun and you can’t? Here, look.” You say, pulling out your phone and snapping a quick selfie with him. “Watch, she won’t mind.”

You immediately send the selfie straight to her, with the small comment of “he agreed to be my wingman for the night.”

Instantly, she responds with a kissy emoji, wishing you luck on your dick-search. That’s it. That’s all she sends. Even you feel your heart drop a little for him at just how much she doesn’t seem to care considering he’s practically stroking out over the idea of being here.

“See?”

He nods, taking another drink from his cup and nodding even harder. Honestly feeling a bit better that she at least knows he’s here. Mostly because he didn’t even know how to tell her that he’s going out to a fucking club with her best friend.

“I’m so lame, god.” He laughs at himself, practically downing his drink by now and staring into your also already emptied cup. “I’ll go get us more drinks?”

You nod with a devilish grin, watching how his nervousness completely disappears to that of a confident man, in a club, who would have no issue with rejecting every single person who tries something with him.

There’s one issue though. Like, you commend him for that loyalty and you knew this would be a difficult task but, what if he genuinely rejects you too? Surely not, because at the end of the day, you’re the one who knows what’s happening behind his back.

Most people would at least tell him what’s going on before trying to seduce him, and in all fairness, you don’t know why you haven’t yet. You guess you’d rather have him cheat on her back, just to show her that he’s not going to sit here and wait on her like she’s expecting him to.

How is she gonna find out? You don’t know.

The night is good, rain dripping outside is easily drowned out by both the booming music and the loud laughter Wonwoo throws at you every few minutes from people watching. The two of you have barely moved from the love seat, but have continued to drink for hours now. At this point, you’re the one staring at him, and he doesn’t even seem to avert his eyes as he continues to drink.

From your tits to your eyes, to his jacket draped over you, all the way down to your legs and the way you move closer and closer to him, up to the point you throw both legs over his lap and he instantly grabs onto them to hold them in place.

Still, he’s laughing. Playing it off perfectly as if it’s not intimate, as if it’s not something he would avoid if he hadn’t already downed four drinks.

“Wonwoo,” You ask, getting closer to his ear to avoid yelling.

His voice booms back at you, still yelling.

“Yeah?” He responds, turning his cheek to meet yours in this moment of close conversation.

“You look really good tonight.,” You say directly into his ear, hoping he hears you as well as you hear yourself. You’re trying to tip-toe past a boundary, but it’s not like you’re lying.

“What?” He responds again, gripping your legs a bit tighter as he leans closer to you, his other hand reaching to your head to hold your lips closer against his ear. He really didn’t hear you, but it feels– you don’t know. It feels like something.

“I said, you look really good right now.” You half-laugh into his ear, and he responds with a soft chuckle before pulling away from you with a shake of his head.

“You’re being dumb,” He laughs as he continues to shake his head. “You’re just saying that because you’re drunk.”

“No, really,” You smile, playing it off much like he is. As if it’s a joke. Still, you crowd up to him again, lips right up against the shell of his ear and continue to sweet talk him. “She’s lucky, I’m a little jealous.”

You don’t hear him, but you can practically feel his skin go cold at your words. He doesn’t move, and you can argue that he doesn’t breathe for a solid thirty seconds. Which is strange because it’s not like the comment couldn’t be taken a few different ways. It appears he’s finally let it click in his head though. Right now, at this moment.

“Hm?” You continue against his ear.

Finally, he pulls from you, standing to his feet and letting your legs fall from his lap. You watch him nearly lose his balance as he tries to pretend he’s totally being normal about this, and totally not drunk.

“I’m gonna go get us another drink.” He says before walking off and not letting you say another word.

That, he does. He brings back another drink and appears now to be keeping his distance from you. And you, of course, with the alcohol bubbling in your belly, feel a bit too bold and far too interested in what you’re trying to do right now.

“Did she even call you today?” You ask, slowly making your way to the point of her not even texting him once she realized he was out with you tonight.

He shakes his head, then goes back to bobbing it to the music as if to borderline ignore you.

“Did she call yesterday?”

He ignores you.

“The day before that?”

He finally snaps his head over to you, brows furrowed in frustration as he fixes his drunken eyes on yours.

“What are you getting at? She’s busy!” He raises his voice at you, half-laughing at your questions toward him. You can’t tell if it’s because he’s pitying himself or if he thinks you’re trying to get him to cheat on her with you. The sad part is that it would be true either way.

“Oh. Yeah. She’s definitely ‘busy’.” You comment with a roll of your eye, practically downing half of your drink in one gulp before standing up and now trying to catch your own balance.

“If you’re gonna be this uptight, I’m just gonna go find someone else to hang out with.” You say defiantly, somehow hoping that he would get jealous.

He just watches you walk away, unsure of how he feels and instantly pulling out his phone to text his girlfriend. Partly just to see if she would respond, and only half because he hadn’t realized how much her communication to him had dropped.

You’re not having fun with this hot guy you found yourself grinding up against. You can feel the frustration in your bones with each grind, and even worse, you can feel his eyes on you in a way that’s very different compared to Wonwoo.

Sure, your tits are out and on display but it’s not like you did it for this guy. He eats it up in the way you want Wonwoo to. Even if his eyes are softer and full of doubt, this guy shows no shame in what he wants. He could have a wife at home, and still he’s looking at you without guilt.

Not that you support cheating. It’s a strange dilemma. Hating the fact that your best friend is doing it to Wonwoo, then countering her by fucking her man before letting him in on the reason why. It would be easier to just tell him, help him break up with her, and then woo him, but you feel angry enough for him that you prefer a more difficult route. The dramatic route. One that hurts her knowing he’s not bothered by her cheating because he has someone else to fuck now too.

Your drunk brain wonders what the fuck you’re doing here, with a guy that isn’t Wonwoo. So, your eyes wander around the room, landing on him still on that same love-seat, eyes glued to his phone.

Not-so-politely, you break away from the man attempting to shove his hand down your pants and head straight back over to him. You knew he wasn’t going to chase you out onto the floor after how rude you ended up being to him, but you really don’t have it in you to let him just sit in a club alone with a girlfriend two hours away probably taking some dude balls deep right now.

By the time you get to him and plop back down, he looks at you with a pained sort of face.

“Alright, turn it off.” You say, practically babying him as you grab his phone and hold the power button down. “She isn’t always the nicest.” You easily insult her to him, but he seems to agree by this point.

“She left me on read.” He says with an annoyed sigh. “You think she’s gonna break up with me?”

God, the pity you feel in that moment is intensely guilty. Because no, she’s not going to break up with him. It’s the other way around, actually.

“Hey, come on. You’re gonna ruin your buzz if you keep thinking about that.”

He nods to you, very nearly about to become the drunk-cryer before leaning against you with a heavy head, trying not to pay attention to your lack of reassuring him.

“Not sure why you’re jealous though, she hasn’t even let me visit her.” He laughs in a sad way. “Kinda wish she looked at me the way you do sometimes.”

He trails off, feeling you shift from under his head and take in a deep breath.

“You’re pretty attached, huh?” You ask, opting not to pry at this moment, opting not to feel jealous.

“Unfortunately.” He huffs, now lifting up and appearing to shake off his sadness. “Well, whatever happens, happens. At least I got you to hang out with.”

You nod proudly, now throwing your legs back onto his lap and staring at him.

“Yeah, whatever happens, happens.”

Oh boy, did stuff happen.

Stumbling into and out of a taxi happened, wobbling into his apartment happened, feeling him tug against your shirt as he fell into his bed, practically dragging you down on top of him, happened.

The most sobering moment was being entirely too drunk yourself to continue your plan with the night, stopping frozen as he looked up at you with a drunken smile and a small chuckle. The small voice coming from his lips saying, “You know, if I wasn’t with her I’d kiss you right now.”

You remember very nearly kissing him anyway, but opting to playfully cover his mouth and roll over and off of him before promptly passing out directly next to him.

And now you’re lying here at two in the afternoon, back facing him, with his arms clinging to you as if you belong here. You’re a little worried that he won’t remember what he said, and even more worried that he will. The hangover is prominent and booming in your skull, and partially you hope he’ll have a headache too blinding to even realize that the person he’s clinging to isn’t his girlfriend. It’s you.

Only a few minutes goes by before he stirs. His hands gripping you tightly, pulling you back and against him as he groans sleepily against your neck. You can practically feel his deep inhale of comfort by not waking up alone, until he freezes.

“Oh, fuck,” He says suddenly, in a voice more awake than ever. “Shit, sorry. I didn’t mean to like–”

You roll over to look at him with your own sleepy smile, pretending as if you just woke up as well.

“It’s fine.” You assure him, sinking further into the blankets and trying to ignore your headache. “I cuddle with my friends all the time.”

He stays silent, not quite sure of how to navigate the situation but ultimately feeling the sharp pound in his head and throwing his head back against his pillow with a huff.

You’re a little sad that he doesn’t reach out again, but it’s kind of a given. The fact that he doesn’t ask you to leave his bed is enough for you right now.

“Do you remember anything from last night?” He asks reluctantly, internally hoping to god that you don’t. He vaguely remembers saying some stuff he shouldn’t have said, and doesn’t remember at all if he followed through with it or not.

You pick up on his tone of voice, careful and slow.

“Not really.” You say back, acting as if you’re falling back to sleep.

He breathes out a small breath of relief, allowing the silence to take over the room.

“Except for you saying you wanted to kiss me.”

Wonwoo is actually fucking horrified that you remember, reaching a hand to his temple and rubbing harshly in a self-soothing way.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that.” He says back quietly, feeling the air become heavier and heavier.

“Oh,” You start, feeling a bit of a pull inside of you. “Well, you were drunk, so I didn’t think you did anyway.”

He breathes out another sigh of relief.

“Still, it felt good knowing.” You add.

Wonwoo pauses, feeling the ground beneath threaten to crumble from under him, taking you, him, and his bed with it as he looks over at your back turned to him. Something inside of him is now pulling a bit as he studies the way you breath and lay against his plush pillows. Your voice sounded disappointed, and he doesn’t understand why he’s also disappointed in lying to you about it. He did mean it, but it doesn’t mean you were supposed to be aware of how much he wanted to kiss you. He can’t. He’s loyal.

Nevermind the fact that you’ve never slept over. Nevermind the fact that you’re in his fucking bed.

“I’m not going to tell her, don’t worry.” You say out to the silence, in such a tone that doesn’t really leave room for him to respond outside of feeling bad more for you, than for his girlfriend who can’t seem to give him the light of day.

There’s another long moment of silence, and part of him wonders if you’ve already fallen asleep again. He can feel his headache get louder and louder in his ears and opts to try and sleep more too, because it feels like a better idea than dealing with this heavy atmosphere.

And he’s not sure why he does it, but he very carefully rolls towards you and reluctantly puts an arm around you. It’s just cuddling, nothing more. Friends cuddle all the time, right?

When you shift under him, wrapping your fingers up with his, he’s unsure of why he doesn’t pull back, and even more unsure as to why your hand fits within his better than his own girlfriend’s does.

It’s been a week of silence from Wonwoo since the night you slept over. When you officially woke up, he was still next to you, curled in on himself despite falling asleep in a way that should have been more telling than the silence in the room. You didn’t wake him because you knew he was pretending. The hint was that he didn’t want to talk about it, and he definitely didn’t want to look you in the eye. You took the hint.

So, you went home expecting him to text you at some point during the day. He didn’t. The next day? Also nothing. And now, a week later, still nothing.

You’re a bit in your head. Each work day is filled with menial tasks that do not interest you, mostly because you can’t help but believe you went a bit too far. You were being too pushy, and it resulted in this. Now, even if you were to see him again, wearing those revealing outfits would feel more like a disrespect than a fun little game you’re playing.

It isn’t fair that he’s playing that game with you without knowing, and perhaps it’s time to just get down to the point and tell him. His girlfriend is cheating on him and you’ve been a bad friend to him. You could care less about how she feels about you trying to get her boyfriend in bed with you.

His loyalty never faltered past staring at you and drunkenly admitting that he would kiss you if he wasn’t in a relationship. The task you gave to yourself was stupid, and to think Wonwoo would really pick you over her while still being with her was arguably the worst idea of your life.

Your confidence has faltered beyond belief, to the point that expecting him to text now is null. Even if you were to reach out to tell him what’s happening behind his back, at this point it would just look like you’re trying to pry. Like you’re getting involved in a place you do not belong, and definitely weren’t invited. Possibly even, like you’re lying just to get to him.

And you know, you would have stuck with the plan of silence, the plan of moving on from the situation, until she decided to snap you a billion and one selfies just the night before. Then again, it shouldn’t have surprised you when you opened snapchat this morning to see her, again, in a bed that isn’t Wonwoo’s. She must be out of her damn mind because his bed was warm and his arms were warmer.

She, again, is smiling. She looks drowsy in each photo, the arm held against her gripping her tighter in each photo until you see a glimpse of his face.

It shouldn’t piss you off, honestly, it shouldn’t. But the fact that she’s in bed with that man and not Wonwoo? Huge downgrade. The fact that she’s smiling bigger than you’ve ever seen her smile with Wonwoo? Worst best friend ever.

You don’t even respond to her, and instead screenshot every single photo, ignoring the fact that it will notify her of it, and then you block her.

You get a text at lightning speed from her immediately after taking at least nine different screenshots, catching a glimpse of the first line of text stating “what are you screenshotting for?” before blocking her number as well.

And then you sit, staring at the dirt in your camera roll before pulling up Wonwoo’s text box.

Sitting there on your bedroom floor, you type out paragraph after paragraph explaining yourself and your behavior before dropping the bomb. Drafting it once, twice, erasing all of it and starting over. Then you get anxious and close out the text box, instead writing what you want to say in your head but never quite satisfied with it because, well, even if she’s cheating on him…there is no way to explain it in a way that would excuse how you’ve been acting towards him.

Wallowing in your own self-pity, you seem to lose the point of the matter. Wonwoo is the one being fucked over, seemingly by both of you. Your best friend is taking advantage of him and so are you.

Ding.

Your phone goes off next to you, and part of you assumes it’s your “best friend” texting you from that guy’s phone instead, but your stomach drops the second you see Wonwoo’s name.

Wonwoo: can you come over today?

You almost want to say that you can’t, despite obviously wanting to. You’re anxious, you’re feeling awful, and you’re pissed off at the entire situation.

You: why? what’s up?

Wonwoo: i wanna hang out?

Well, maybe you can take advantage of his ignorance one last time. Surely he feels the intense awkwardness between the two of you, and he’s probably just wanting to put that to rest by hanging out like before. So, naturally, you’re going to go over under the idea of hanging out, and then find a way to tell him. Making no mention of how long you’ve known this to be going on, making no mention of your little mind game, or the revenge.

After all, he deserves to know.

Wonwoo is a little bit surprised that you show up in appropriate clothing. Not a hardened nipple in sight and you’re wearing jeans to cover your legs. He tries not to look at you in disappointment at this moment, and thankfully it goes unnoticed by you because, well, you’re blatantly avoiding looking anywhere near his face.

He doesn’t like that you’re not looking at him. Hates that even an hour into the hangout, you’re offering very little conversation compared to normal. You’re not making jokes, you’re not flirting.

While this is going on, Wonwoo feels like he’s staring far more than usual. Noting little things about you that he hadn’t gotten to pay close attention to before. The way your skin looks, your posture, the way you make a certain face when you seem to be thinking about something.

In his head, he wonders if he prefers looking at you this way compared to simply staring at what your body could offer if he didn’t have a girlfriend. His heart still beats the same steady pace, but it doesn’t change the fact that he feels like, especially after last week, there’s something here and exploring it is something he’s been avoiding for far too long.

It’s been there for a long time, and you never showed much interest until after he started dating your best friend. The fact that you started doing all that stuff after she moved away, while he’s trying to make things work from a distance? It was a hard thought to grasp, a hard feeling to admit. It seems he already admitted it to himself though. Putting together puzzle pieces in his mind that don’t quite fit. Ones where it’s him and his girlfriend, trying to fit your piece somewhere near him. It never fit until it was just you and him.

He never wanted to admit how much he loved spending time with you, how much he loved looking at you, how badly he wanted to touch you. It only got worse after she left, and after you started being around him more without her. He would notice even more things about you that he liked, and the mental gymnastics only drove him to act like an idiot around you. It made him talk about his girlfriend more, as if to mute the thoughts he would have about you.

Now though? He’s had time to think, he’s had time to figure things out, and ultimately, he’s had time to miss you. To see what it would be like without you around him for more than two days.

He really did miss you. A lot. Arguably more than his girlfriend, who lives two hours away and hasn’t even allowed him to visit her. So, as he’s sitting next to you on the couch, he moves closer.

When you get up to grab something to drink, he’s right behind you, absentmindedly placing a hand on your waist to reach up into the cabinet to grab you a glass before you can do it yourself.

When you sit back down next to him on the couch, he scoots even closer, reluctantly throwing an arm over the back of the couch and gently playing with the collar of your shirt.

All of those tiny touches bring your eyes to him a few times. The feeling of intimacy is more overwhelming than the day you lost your virginity. You didn’t have to do anything to get him to do it either. You’re not even trying anymore, and here he is, finding ways to get closer to you. Finding ways to invite you into his personal space.

The air in his apartment feels intense. It feels untouchable to you in a way too, making your anxiety bubble even more as you waver on the line of telling him the truth or just enjoying the way he’s acting right now. There’s too much guilt involved though, as you turn to look at him and this time, you don’t break eye contact.

He can tell you want to say something, but knows that you probably won’t speak your mind.

“What’s gotten into you?” You finally ask after a long moment of staring at him, and he just shrugs.

“I just feel comfortable,” he tries to play it off, his mind feeling heavy with the fact that she hasn’t texted him for three days. “And little frustrated.”

Sexually. Considering he hasn’t touched a single person since she moved away. Not to mention the fact that you have been dressing in a way that made him need physical touch for so long now. Until today, anyway. All of those hang outs where you showed up looking ready to be touched, and then leaving untouched? All of those nights he spent alone in his room trying to get his girlfriend to call him, moan for him, or send him photos? All of those nights without love from either of you, and only love from himself.

“Oh, Why?” You ask, reluctantly. You’re nearly prepared to get up and leave, hoping that his frustration isn’t at you as a person, or about what happened last week.

“She hasn’t texted in a while and I’m starting to second guess some stuff, I guess.”

You look at him with a shocked expression, the guilt rising in you to the point that you very nearly start screaming out the secrets. But you don’t, because he continues.

“You’re not wearing the stuff you usually wear to try and impress me either, so I feel like I may have lost my shot.”

Oh.

You look away, a confused feeling inside of you now. The guilt of the situation turning into that of petty revenge yet again. This is what you wanted. Him making a suggestion, even while in a relationship, to want you, to have you, to need you.

“I want to kiss you, so bad.” He sighs out at your silence, flopping his head against the cushions of his couch and groaning in frustration. He squeezes his eyes shut, a face looking as though he was pained to say such a thing, but it’s more so just the frustration of wanting to kiss you, and never having the chance. Never being able to be in a position to do it. Never being the person you wanted to do it.

“Are you going to do it this time?” You say in a small voice, still looking at him and the way he shows his clear intentions even through the slouched posture on the couch.

The cushions are plush around his head, offering him a comfort that you assume you could never bring to him in a moment like this. Even when he turns his head to look at you, eyes darting across your face to search for your usual cheeky smirk or grin, and finding none of that.

It’s the first time either of you have crossed the line of flirting. There is no flirting to be had here, and only Wonwoo’s reluctant intimacy, his needy suggestions.

“Yeah.” He lets out with a sigh, now taking in a deep breath and still not moving from the couch.

You, on the other hand, unintentionally push the secret to the back of your mind. The sheer idea of him wanting to kiss you, and him actually planning to do it overshadows any other thought in your brain. As if the entire situation never happened, and it’s just you and him with no ties to other people.

As if he’s not in a relationship. As if you’re not actively trying to end that relationship.

It’s silent, and he’s still unmoving after saying that. You look away briefly, trying to muster up the courage to say something else. To encourage him, to do it yourself. Then, before you can even try, you feel the couch dip next to you, and when you turn back to look at him. He’s right there.

You can feel his breath fanning over you, only now noticing that he must have been sucking on that candy before for this very reason. The scent of something fruity and sweet overpowering your senses as the two of you blink at each other.

You watch as his eyes go from open, to hooded, and you feel his palm against your cheek. The warmth of it lulling your own eyes to close.

The first feeling of his lips felt like any other kiss. Plush and warm. His lower lip slots between yours in a simple way, and he stays like that briefly before pulling back and looking at you.

His insides are buzzing, unsure as to why this feels so insane right now. He’s kissed before, so many times. He’s made out, he’s fucked. He’s done everything, but with you, it’s different. And it’s so fucking cliche to think about. Never did he think kissing you would feel any different.

But it does. And maybe it’s because your lips are prettier than his girlfriend’s, maybe it’s because the candy he had made the kiss all the sweeter. Maybe it’s because you’re here, and she’s not.

Or maybe, it’s because he actually likes you.

It only continues from there, his lips falling to yours once more, and then twice more, until he’s managed to cup your face in both of his hands and really kiss you. His tongue slipping in with ease and not at all as reluctant as his hands.

You kiss him back, seemingly trying to take what you can get before he realizes what’s happening and ultimately runs away from this.

With each passing moment, it’s what you expect to happen but, for him, each passing moment is only going further and further past the boundary line. His tongue continues moving against yours, his lips continue to fit perfectly with yours, and he keeps going until he’s breathless.

When he pulls back this time to breathe, his hands go from your face to your shoulders, running down your waist until he grips your hips and pulls you forward. You don’t budge at first, looking at him and his candy kissed lips.

He seems confident when he pulls at you again, and again, until you follow where his hands are pulling you. Directly on top of him.

There, he positions himself much like he did when he said he was going to kiss you. Head pressed back into the cushions, eyes closed before half-opening to look at you with a serious expression. Seeing him from this angle, with your legs thrown on either side of him, straddling him?

That angry feeling inside of you bubbles up again. This is what your best friend can fucking have? And she’s not doing it? She’s not here right the fuck now, sitting on her pretty boyfriend? With his stupid warm hands holding her so delicately on his lap? With his messy hair and pretty lips?

You groan as you look at him, moving your hand to pinch the bridge of your nose and shake your head.

“Hm? What’s up?” He asks, in his own little world with you, his girlfriend so far in the back of his brain that he doesn’t seem to comprehend the gravity of the situation.

“I just,” You start, adjusting your eyes back to him and taking in his image once again. This time feeling like the breath is knocked out of you with the way he’s looking at you. You forgot what you wanted to say.

“Are you worried?” He asks, bringing his hand back up to your face and running the back of his fingers against your lips.

It’s something that makes you feel like he’s not taken. It makes you feel like he wants to be taken though, by you, specifically.

You shake your head, kissing his fingers as they continue to make their way back and forth across your lips. Only slightly sticking out your tongue to lick them, before he runs that hand to the collar of your shirt and pulls you down and against him.

There, before you can even think to pull yourself back up, he’s wrapping his arms around you in a hug, letting your head lay against his shoulder as he talks.

“You really have no idea, do you?”

On the fucking contrary. He’s the one who has no idea.

“How long have I wanted to hold you like this?” He continues, still hugging you too tight for you to lift up enough to look at him. “Do you know?”

You shake your head, digging deep in your brain and finding no hints from him that would indicate such a thing.

“Since before you approached me to meet her.” He says, dropping the bomb that he’s still not yours, all while holding you as if you’re his. “Since that time you asked my friend for help on campus opening your bottle.”

“That was over a year ago.” You comment in disbelief, noting that college life felt so far away despite it not being a distant memory at all.

In fact, you remember the way he wanted to help before his friend did. You didn’t know him until that moment, and only knew his friend from a few classes.

“From the first second, I think,” He ponders, his grip on you loosening as he lets you raise up slightly to look at him. “I think this is what I wanted from then on.”

“Then why are you with–”

He cuts you off, kissing you again and ultimately doing the job of shutting your brain off so well that you can only believe he was meant to be the one doing it.

And there, the two of you sit like that with no goal in mind. Just kissing, just feeling, just enjoying. With each breath you need to take, the kisses only come back more intense, up until you think a solid hour passes.

Never have you made out for this long without a hand in your pants, or your hand in someone else’s pants. Arguably, you feel as if you need your hand in his pants by now, especially because you can feel how aroused he’s been.

He never pushed for more though, with his length sitting directly under you and his little relieved breaths each time you adjusted your body on his to kiss him deeper. You can imagine his legs must be going numb by now too, but he leaves no room for complaints.

None of his little sounds seem to come from pain, and the fact that this alone is enough to satisfy him brings that angry feeling back. You can imagine he must love to go slow. He must enjoy taking his time, and being gentle, sweet, and loving. Your best friend is so fucking different. You’ve heard of her sexual endeavors, you’ve seen them both in photos, videos, and hell, even in the same room as you because the bitch has no comprehension of personal space.

Only now do you realize that during her entire relationship with Wonwoo, she never talked about sex with him. She never sent photos, videos, or was all over him when the three of you hung out. You assumed it was because it was his boundary. You know she doesn’t respect boundaries though, so clearly not.

“I don’t know.” Wonwoo suddenly whispers between kisses, forcing you to search your brain as to what he must be referring to.

“Hm?” You hum into his insistent lips, only giving enough space for him to offer short bursts of conversation.

“Why am I with her, that’s what you were going to ask, right?” He says, pulling back and letting you look at him.

You nod reluctantly, trying not to feel his arousal beneath you twitch against your ass.

He shrugs.

“Does it really even matter?” He asks, now moving his body in a way that suggests you should stand, and you do.

You stay silent, watching him stand to his feet in front of you, looking down at you.

“Does it?” He asks again, looking at you for an answer.

You shake your head, watching him slowly take a step back, and back, and back. Fully aware of the fact that he’s making his way to his room, and knowing you’re going to follow him.

You do, following him until you get close enough that he grabs you again and holds you against his chest, expertly walking backwards in his apartment straight to his bedroom door. You could do that too, if you wanted to, because you’ve been here more times than you can count.

There, he continues to hold you in his grasp, inhaling the scent of your hair, running his hands down and slipping them under your shirt, rubbing your back.

You’re the one who snakes an arm around him to open his bedroom door, and he very nearly trips backwards. The chaos of you falling on top of him wouldn’t be the most awful error, with the way he keeps getting caught up with simply fucking hugging you. Thankfully though, he doesn’t fall.

Instead, he regains the control of his body and turns both of you around, now forcing you to walk back until your knees hit his bed and you’re falling back with him on top of you.

It’s silent again save for a small laugh from him, and he still just stares at you. As if he’s taking you in for the first time each time he does this.

He pulls his arms from under you and adjusts them now to where one is holding up his weight, and the other is once again fiddling with the collar of your shirt. There, he leans down and kisses the side of your mouth before moving down your neck, stopping where his fingers are toying with your shirt.

“I’m so hard,” He whispers against your neck, thrusting his hips forward and against your leg. “Can you touch me?”

You pause at the feeling of your heart fluttering, the warmth of his breath against your skin only heightens the feeling and you intentionally lift your leg slightly to bump against his length.

He lets out a pleased sigh at the feeling, tensing his hips against your leg and kissing against your neck again, beginning to suckle in that same spot.

His hands move up and down your body as he chases the friction your leg offers, slowly lifting your shirt, up until he has to remove his lips from your skin to get it off of you, only to immediately place them right back there, and sucking harder against your collar bone.

You feel his length throbbing against your leg with each little movement of his hips, and the pained feeling of your blood vessels being bursted with his mouth, the feeling of his hands now running up to your bra, intentionally moving the fabric just to free one of the breasts he’s spent too much time staring at before.

When he does that, you feel him release your skin from his mouth and groan out at the first glimpse of real naked flash, now running his lips straight to your nipple and sucking there instead. His hips moving faster against you until he can barely stand it.

He releases your nipple with a pop sound before looking at you, his eyes shining in a new way. He studies the way you lay beneath him, then looks down at his cock chasing the feeling of your slightly raised leg before he laughs at himself. Only slightly, a very small laugh.

“I feel so desperate…” He comments, shifting his hips harder. “and I don’t care.” He adds, reaching for your bra and pulling it off of you without so much as unhooking it. Then he goes straight for his shirt, lifting it off of his body just a quickly before lying against you just to feel the warmth.

“Are you okay with this?” He finally says, in a smaller voice, with a little less confidence.

Of course you are, even with all of the things unspoken about this situation, and what could come of it.

You offer him a small nod, moving your hands up to his hair and pulling a bit, as if to guide his lips back to your nipple. He follows with ease, smiling around the hardened nub and flicking it with his tongue before immediately pulling back and looking at you.

He’s fucking beaming. Never have you seen him look so happy. He’s practically glowing as he looks at you, and it makes you feel like your heart is going to thump out of your chest. You smile back, feeling like you both must look so stupid right now. He’s cheating right now, and you both couldn’t be happier about it.

“You’re so…” You start, your voice coming out cheerful and pleased. “cute.”

He raises a questionable brow at the choice of words there, wanting nothing more than to seem sexy, or like, arousing to you. But he will take it at face value, and hope that someday, maybe he’ll be more than just cute.

He hums, leaning back down to your nipple yet again, suckling it between his teeth before finally moving over to the other, warming up the skin there and leaving no part of you without a tingling sensation.

His hips have stilled, but you can still feel him ache against you, so you make it a point to raise your leg higher, moving it against him until he can’t stop releasing little moans from around your nipple. You keep doing that, up until he releases your skin with a deep sigh, one that feels painful.

“I want you so bad.” He groans, lifting fully from you and towering over you.

You look up at him, eyes trailing his chest and abs before focusing on his hands, which lifts from you and travels to the button of his pants.

It’s going to happen. It’s really gonna fucking happen now. You’re happy, your heart is fucking threatening death on you, and your entire body is reacting to him at this moment in the form of warmth soaking your panties.

He watches you watch him, your eyes practically urging him to do exactly what he’s intending to do, and he’s even more happy to oblige. Making a show of unbuttoning his pants, unzipping, and then pausing.

“Hey, look at me.” He says playfully, watching you struggle to move your eyes back up to his. “Keep looking at me.”

God, it truly is a fucking struggle to keep your eyes on his, despite how much you’ve grown to love how passionate they are when he looks at you. In your peripheral vision, you can see him lower his pants, you can see his hand reaching to pull his cock from his briefs, and you can even see him tug against it a few times, all while he’s smiling directly at you. Knowing you want to see it.

“How does it feel to have someone flash what you want in front of you, but not being able to really look?” He asks, again in a playful voice.

You roll your eyes at him, then dart them straight down and take in a deep inhale at how big he appears to be. Even against his hands, large and slender, his cock is arguably something that will feel new to you in size alone.

Honestly, you can’t fucking comprehend your “best friend” moving away and leaving that behind. Choosing someone else, letting someone else inside of her. Looking at it alone has your entire body in hyper-awareness of how badly you want it. You want him. Not even for revenge, but just to show him that he is fucking wanted. He is desired, and he isn’t worth fucking leaving.

You’re still staring when he shuffles back, landing his hands on your pants to try and get them off of you too, but you stop him. Shooting up from your back and nearly throwing yourself into a dizzy fit before grabbing onto him and pushing him from the bed.

He’s a little shocked, and definitely confused, until he realizes what you’re doing. You shift to lying on your stomach, face level with his hips.

“Oh,” He lets out, noting the way you’re grabbing his hips and bringing him forward again, his knees hitting his bed and the head of his cock hitting your lips. “Oh, shit.” He grits out, feeling you instantly take him into your mouth without even so much as suggesting you wanted to do this.

If there was a line to cross, it was already crossed, but this means there’s no turning back. And he’s fucking fine with it. His “girlfriend” never seemed this excited to do this. She was actually, um, quite boring in bed. Not to compare her to you or anything, it’s just, you know–

You can feel him tremble when you take him deeper into your mouth, honestly just wanting to show him how much you want this. You take him deeper, and deeper, until your throat constricts around him and you feel him tap at your shoulder and slide himself out.

“You don’t have to do that,” He comments, slightly out of breath, a tint of red fanning over his cheeks. “You really, really, don’t have–”

He’s cut off by you ignoring him, doing the exact thing that’s getting him to act like this. Taking more and more until your throat constricts again, and you continue to let your throat stimulate him.

“Fuck.” He moans in another shaky breath, showing that he’s still trembling, much like you are.

He doesn’t argue this time though, instead he opts to find out where the fuck he should put his hands. One lands on your head briefly, before it moves to your cheek to feel how hollowed out they are, then it ends up running through his hair, to amplify the feeling of pleasured insanity running through his body right now.

And when you pull back to breathe, you feel his hips chase the warmth of your throat. Gagging you once more before he sputters out a small apology, heaving in a breath and trying to steady his thoughts of how fucking amazing you are.

You smile at him, wiping the corners of your mouth before planting a kiss to the head of his length, tasting the salty pre-cum that you hadn’t gotten to taste before, considering how deep you took him into your mouth.

He still looks at you, dazed and totally infatuated with the way you look so proud of yourself. His cock twitching in front of your face, his eyes keeping the same passion. Before you can even go back in for more, he’s reclaiming his control.

“Roll over,” He says, not trying to seem demanding.

To you though, it just seems desperate, in a good way. A great way.

You do, rolling over and seeing him lean over you to quickly undo your pants, his cock literally right on your face. You playfully lick the base, feeling his entire body twitch as he laughs.

“Stop.” He chuckles at his own sensitivity, trying to shove your pants down in the awkward position.

“Don’t put it on my face then.” You argue, licking again.

He finally steps back with another laugh, removing his length from the assault of your tongue and throwing himself onto the bed, finishing the task of taking off your pants.

He briefly notes the wet spot on your panties, sighing in relief with a smile before he balances himself on one arm beside your head and leans down to kiss you.

You let him. Feeling entirely desired and wanted by him. The kiss is just as deep as the ones before, but this time you have the breath knocked out of you. You can feel his fingers moving your panties and going straight for your clit.

Your mouth falls slack against his, letting out a sigh that he swallows up enthusiastically.

He continues that, sliding his fingers up and down your folds, circling your clit, kissing you, chuckling to you, licking against your tongue before experimenting with sliding a finger into you.

He only stops kissing you at that moment, looking down at where his finger disappears inside of you, and then searching your face for a reaction. You look back at him with a dazed smile, slightly nodding with another long and drawn out sigh.

Then he slides his finger out, and slides in two, a bit harsher this time. Effectively fucking his fingers into you only twice before you’re pulling him back down and into a rough and messy kiss.

His hand continues to fuck into you as his tongue counters the motion with slow drags of his tongue against yours, as if he’s tasting each moan you give to him. The candied flavor of his lips is more dull now that you think you’ve kissed the flavor out of him. You imagine he can feel exactly how much you want him, with the way you’re grasping him, the way you’re moaning for him, the way you’re kissing with no rhyme or reason.

His hands get rougher and rougher as the minutes pass, up until he can feel you dripping against his knuckles and hopefully onto his bed.

“So wet,” he compliments you through a breathy kiss. “So pretty.” He adds, pulling back to really see how you look while being fucked.

You hum in response, spreading your legs a bit more, now using your own body to fuck against his fingers. Wanting more of him, wanting them deeper.

“Wonwoo,” You sigh out, feeling the slide of his fingers continue to drench themselves into the heat of your pussy. “Please tell me you’re going to fuck me.”

He continues to look at you, his cock twitching at the words as he dips his head in a small and, somehow shy, nod. All he needed was for you to ask. Now all he needs is to feel you stretch around his aching cock, relieving him of the intensity of how badly he’s wanted to be inside of you for so fucking long.

“Just tell me when.” he whispers, letting his fingers continue to do the work.

“Now.”

Well, you don’t have to ask him twice. He smiles, popping one more kiss to the corner of your mouth before lifting from you and staring down at the way you slide yourself on his fingers. Imagining briefly what you’d look like doing that to his cock. Closing his eyes tightly at the image and nearly whining out in pleasure at the image.

You’re a little shocked at first, with the way he pulls his fingers out, removes your panties, and instantly lays his cock against your core. Sliding it through your folds and humming at how wet you manage to coat his length. He does that for a little too long, but you watch him. He’s enjoying the image, staring straight down and seemingly focused on burning the image of his cock sliding against you in his mind.

And when he does finally position himself, he’s quick to grab one of your legs and place it over one of his shoulders, before sliding in slightly, then doing the same with your other leg.

There he stares down as he sinks into you, watching how deep his cock can go, feeling and seeing you pulse around him in a harsh and searing stretch.

Then, he looks at you and the way you’re lying under him with a face that resembles both pain, release, and pleasure. It drives him further, fitting his cock into you as if it was made for you and you alone.

You, on the other hand, feel as though you’re being split in fucking half by the sheer length of him. He just keeps pressing in, deeper, deeper, deeper. Until your legs tremble on his shoulders and he’s quick to turn his face to land a gentle kiss against your calf, as if to soothe you.

He couldn’t stop even if he wanted to though. When he bottomed out on you, all he could do was sit there and feel your pussy adjust to him. It felt so fucking good, so tight, so wet. All of it had him nearly not even thinking with his own brain. It made him want to say filthy things, seeing you stretched out on him, feeling your legs tremble even through his soothing kisses. Seeing your hands weakly grip at the sheets above your head.

Only now, does he slide out to offer you a bit of relief, watching your face and the way you take in deep breaths before releasing them with sweet sounds for him. He slides back in, letting out his own moan before gripping one of your legs to hold it in place and holding your thigh with the other. There, he finds a rhythm. One that has you moaning with each thrust, out of breath, and your legs trembling even more.

One that has him feeling like he could do this for hours. Loving the way he fits into you, loving the way your tits move with each thrust, obsessed with the way your voice translates pleasure for him.

He thinks he might be in love, fucking into you as if his life depends on it. As if his “girlfriend” never laid under him like this. Because she did, and somehow it never felt as good as it does with you.

Even through the silence save for moaning and breaths, it feels more intense than fucking ever has for him and he doesn’t want it to end. He loves the way your pleasure squeezes his length so tightly. He loves the little sounds you make, and fucking adores the way you still try to meet him half way with his thrusts. Like you’re urging for more, like you’re loving it, like you’re loving him.

He does this for a while, internally falling in love with you over and over again with each moan, each clench of your pussy, each fucking tremble. That is only heightened when he manages to move a hand to your clit, fighting your weak hands to push them away from you as he stimulates the sensitivity beyond belief.

You moan out for him, both chasing the feeling and urging him to stop because you don’t want this to end either. He chooses to keep going though, watching you reach your arms up to him, as if you’re calling to him through the intense sensitivity.

He’s so quick to let your legs fall from his shoulders as he intertwines his fingers with yours on one hand, the other keeping up the pressure against your clit. He leans closer to you now, face inches from your as he looks at you

“You’re so fucking pretty like this.” He compliments directly against your lips. “It isn’t fair.”

You can hardly comprehend what he’s saying, feeling his hips pick up intensity now that he’s even closer to you. The angle change makes the slide of his cock feel perfect inside of you, bumping every sensitive spot alongside his fingers caressing your clit, it sends you over edge without so much as a silent warning.

Honestly, it happens before he even realizes it himself. Feeling your pussy stutter around his length and the way you hold your breath as you try to kiss him at the same time. He tries to slow down to feel it, encouraging you to let it go while feeding into the one sided kiss. His fingers are still toying with you, wanting you to give him your all as you release. As he slows his hips, the slow drag of his cock inside of you continues to fuck you through your orgasm until he stops moving completely, unaware of how much you’re stimulating him through your orgasm, he pulls out half way in a panic.

“Hold on–” He breathes against your lips before throwing his head back and trying to convince himself not to come. “Stop clenching, fuck.”

You could argue, but honestly you’re about as stupid as he appears to be right now. Clenching harder at his words and the way his body jerks inside of you as he presses all the way back in again. Prolonging your orgasm past your own comprehension.

You moan louder in surprise, and there he goes.

Losing his goddamn mind inside of you as he releases, almost forgetting where he is as he pumps every single bit of his come into you with full fucking intention. Wanting you to feel it as he kisses you through it, wanting you to know just how much he could give to you, and ultimately feeling satisfied with the way you cling to him as he does it.

Up until both of you are breathless, trembling, and a fucking mess when he pulls out of you.

The silence in the room came back after the two of you caught your breath, Wonwoo was quick to clean both of you up, knowing for a fact that a shower will need to be in the plan within the next ten minutes.

But also, something else has come back to the front of his brain. Since, you know, he kind of lost his mind for a while there.

“Why didn’t you tell me she was cheating on me?”

“How did you–” You start, immediately pulled out of your post-sex daze. The glow of your skin disappearing and replacing itself with guilt and panic.

“When I asked her, she asked if you told me.” He responds, as nonchalant as ever. Showing no anger toward you for knowing.

It seems he figured it out on his own.

“Oh….”

“You could have just told me instead of letting me sit there and suffer abouting wanting you at the same time. Do you realize how awful that made me feel?”

You’re not prepared for this conversation, as much as you’d like to be.

“I was trying to get back at her.” You say in a small voice, feeling ashamed.

“Well, we definitely did.” He starts, tapping the bottom of your chin and forcing you to look up at him. “You should have told me though, instead of trying to take matters into your own hands.”

You look at him, searching for any hint of anger or disappointment and finding none. If anything, you see the frustration, possibly part of what he referred to before he fucked you. Before he definitely didn’t cheat on his “girlfriend” with you.

“We did?” You start, glancing away from him. “She knows we–?” You continue, wondering how the fuck the two of you would have gotten back at her if you only just had sex.

“Oh, right.” He puts a finger in the air. “I kind of jumped the gun and told her not to feel bad because I cheated on her too.”

“What?! With who?” You panic, wondering if the silence of last week was him fucking the sad out of him with someone else.

“You.” he pauses, avoiding eye contact. “Then I hung up and waited a few days to decide on what to do. I ended up texting you to come over so I could make good on my promise.”

“And if I wasn’t interested?”

“You were clearly interested.”

#wonwoo smut #svt smut #seventeen smut #jeon wonwoo smut

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tearsofastraeax · 3 months

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hiii i just love ur stories and i was wondering, could u write a story where a lot of girls flirt with ghost (cause he's just so hot tbh) and we're crying and feeling bad bcs we're scared he'll find better since he dosen't reject or ignore them??

ty a lot and take care <3

thank u anon ♡ i had so much fun writing a lil angst

sorry it took me longer than expected to wrap up your request, the creative juices are not flowing these days, but i hope you enjoy ♡₊ ⊹

It's no surprise to you that going out with an incredibly fine piece of man is going to come with some jealous feelings here and there.

Just a couple weeks after you started to hang out with Ghost, you noticed women staring at him. But you didn't blame them, how could they not stare? Ghost just naturally attracts women, with his broad shoulders, his veiny arms, those giant hands ... you could go on and on forever.

But you never expected to find yourself sitting in your bedroom, hiding underneath the blanket and silently sobbing into your pillow because of it.

Earlier that day when you were out with Ghost for a drink it really hit you. You had barely left for a minute to head to the bathroom, but when you came back you saw a beautiful woman standing next to him. Inching closer and closer to him, her hand on his shoulder and a flirty smirk on her face. And it didn't look like he was opposed to it in the slightest. His body was slightly angled towards her, his face covered in mystery behind his mask, but you could feel his smile, you just knew.

Your heart felt like it was about to drop, break apart, stop beating all together. Your stomach was in knots. Your thoughts ran a mile a minute, you had no right to be jealous, right? You were only seeing the man for a couple of weeks now, nothing serious... only, at one point, unbeknownst to you, your little heart had accepted him in and made it serious. You were fucked, royally fucked.

To feign calmness you took a slow breath, in and out. Before you made your way back to Simon and the woman still plastered to his side. You coughed uncomfortably to make them both aware of your presence.

It took him a moment to take his eyes off the woman, before he turned to you.

"Oh, this is my friend, y/n," he looked back towards her, gesturing to you.

You all but managed to swallow the big lump that had formed in your throat. His friend? Is that all you were? A friend? Nothing more? Did it only take one beautiful woman to suddenly make you nothing but a friend to him? You should have known this, it was just too good to be true. Of course he would find someone better than you. You felt your eyes begin to water, but you aggressively blinked the tears away. No, you were better than this.

"Yea, his friend", you pressed out, a tight and obviously fake smile on your lips. "Who is just about to leave actually. Have fun."

You grabbed the jacket haphazardly thrown over the seat next to the one you were just sitting on and turned around. Your legs carrying you out of the bar, you couldn't wait to get out of there, to just get away, as far as possible.

What you didn't see was Ghost's slightly confused expression as he watched you leave. But what you did know was he didn't follow you. Didn't he notice how upset you were? Did he just not care?

You huffed out an annoyed sigh, at yourself, at him, at the world, at everything.

You had barely made it home, slamming the door behind you, before the tears came. They welled up, making everything blurry, and then they came crashing over you like a wave, making it hard to breathe, harder to see and impossible to do anything but slide down against the door and sob into your hands.

And there you were, laying in bed, an hour later, still fucking pissed and sad and helpless and jealous and ...

Your phone vibrated next to you, Simons name popping up on your screen. You tried to ignore the call but he immediately called again. Deciding to pick it up you heard a low growl in your ear, the hairs on your neck standing up, a slight shiver running down your back.

“Open the fucking door, y/n.”

The edge in his tone made you immediately jump off the bed. For a quick moment though you stopped in your tracks, hating how he could command you and make you feel, how he had so much power over you when clearly he didn't feel the same about you.

But you heard him pounding on your door, so you hurried to open it. The door swung open and his eyes immediately bore into yours. You swallowed down a thick lump in your throat as he crowded into you, effectively pushing the two of you into the apartment. He slammed the door behind him shut and stared down at you, never breaking eye contact.

"What the fuck was that?" He growled. You couldn’t fucking believe his attitude, weren’t you the one that was supposed to be angry?

You took in a deep breath before you answered, "well, I wasn't the one flirting with some chick..."

You meant for the words to come out more powerful, maybe even as aggressive as his. To make him understand that he had no fucking right to barge in here like this and act as if he had the right to demand answers.

"You...", his gaze softened then, shifting into ... surprise? "You're jealous?"

All you could do was shrug, feeling too raw from crying to vocalise your feelings. But to your surprise, he didn't say another word, his hand softly cradling your cheek. Your skin underneath his felt hot to the touch as you looked up to him. His eyes seemed so soft and gentle then, making your breath hitch in your throat. The feeling of him wrapped around you like a warm blanket was overwhelming. His gesture nearly stitching your heart back together all by itself.

"I'm sorry... I-", was all he could say before his lips pressed onto yours, so harsh and hurried, yet somehow gentle and sweet.

His hands slowly travelled down your body, once he reached your ass, he lifted you up so effortlessly, your legs immediately wrapping around his, as he carried you to the bedroom.

He gently whispered between kisses, "I'm gonna make it up to you, I promise."

#Simon Riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x you #ghost x you #Simon Riley angst #ghost angst #request #✧･ﾟ⊹ astra writes 📖

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iiiiiiis-things · 9 months

Text

"Yeah, that nigga dick a bitch down"

pairing: duke dennis x femblack!reader

cw: cursing, smut, dick eating, backshots, annoying references that i found funny but you should ignore them bc i'm jus a huge goof ball

blurb: seeing duke ride the mechanical bull at the rodeo made you incredibly horny.

a/n: y'all i took way to long to make this just for it to come out ass 😛

"fuck" Duke lets out a loud groan, throwing his head back his gaming chair, as his mushroom tip hit the back of your throat. you were struggling, the slight curve that you loved oh so much (and that he fucked you so good with) wasn't making it easier, and although your lips rested prettily a little over halfway around his cock, you wanted to take all of him as your vision becoming blurry you slightly suck to ease the pain- earning another groan from the man above, you wanted to literally swallow him whole. he had you waiting too long for this.

------

you had been trying to give him hints all night, from giving slight brushes against his thigh, to full on grinding your ass against what you wanted most- and through all of it he barely even spared you a single glance. it might be pathetic but you were desperate.

ever since you seen him on that damn bull.

the way he skillfully held the strap in his left hand instantly flooded your brain with memories of the many, many times when he would yank your freshly done knotless braids while giving back shots and how you could barley walk for 3 days. You watched as the bull lifted up which caused Duke to grind ever so lightly on top of it and when it lifted him back down his hips rolled again, this action made you clench your thighs together behind the camera, your hole clenching as heat pooled in your pretty pink lace panties

Duke didn't stay on long, getting thrown off quicker than anyone had expected. When he did fall off, he jogged back over to you and Davo grabbing the camera so one of us could go on. after declining to ride the mechanical machine Davo makes his way over to it. Duke leans over your way coming to almost ear level with you his voice lowering "did you like that?" your cheeks began heating, after silently thanking god for being black, you turn your head just to find him staring at you. The two of you make intense eye contact which causes your breathing to hitch.

for a slight moment it only felt like you and him like everything else had faded into nothing.

your eyes switches between his and his lips before finally leaning in and just as you were about to place your lips on his he lifts his head away from you, smiling showing you the shiny grills that matches with his earrings. you furrow your eyebrows is there something you did wrong? Duke turns his head in front of him and as your eyes follow his gaze you see Davo running back over to us

the entire time you were at the fair you were trying your best to make it look like you didn't want to straight pounce on him. Duke had known what you wanted but he utterly underestimated how bad you wanted it. the he realization kicked in when the 3 of you had stopped to take a bathroom break miraculously he had came out before Davo which gave you two just a tiny amount of alone time.

"We gon hit up a couple more games and then we'll l- baby?" he watched as your head lifted to meet his eyes "yes?" This is when he finally gets a good look at you, your edges had begun to sweat out and your hair was frizzy but the actual lace of your green and black wig was oddly perfectly fine makeup slightly starting to wear off "you that horny?" his eyebrows scrunch in confusion, did seeing him ride a mechanical bull really turn you on that bad?

He seen that his comment had you taken aback by the way your eyes grow wide and your breathing accelerated but before you could answer anything Davo came back....again

when the two of you made it safely back home you made sure to tell kai to not bother you tonight and (and that you were sorry for what he was about to hear) Duke walked in first bee lining straight to his gaming chair. you walked in, locking the door, and what you found waiting behind you was honestly a sight for sore eyes. your turned around to see your boyfriend, man spreading and eyes low and red from tiredness you silently watch as he scoots his pelvis forward legs spreading even wider.

------

"Unh, unh, shitttt" he groans once again, he was close, you could tell by the way his hand was reaching down to your wig. he grabbed a fistfull before using his strength to bob your head up and around his length, producing lewd sounds as you bring your hand up to his thigh as his pace gets faster "baby i'm- fuck. i'm almost there" this only causes you to moan which sends vibrations along his tip as he pull you up only to slam you back down, tears began to trickle down to your cheeks, and soon you felt his grip loosen.

you went down on him once more before opening your mouth, you stick out your toungue, licking his heavy balls, immediately you feel Duke shoot his seed down your throat. slowly easing your mouth off him you raise your head and look him in the eye as you slowly swallow, bringing your thumb up to your mouth catching anything that dare to spill out, and push your thumb back inside your mouth.

----

you're ass up face down Duke is behind you teasing your entrance his rough fingers tips having a firm hold on your hips. "mmnh- please fuck me" you let out a small moan as his tip slowly works its way in only to pull out in the matter of seconds, this man knew what he was doing and you were starting to get sexually frustrated.

Duke leans down deepening your arch to whisper in your ear "i was gonna make you wait a little longer... but since you asked so nicely" out of nowhere he starts to absolutely annihilate your pussy. Roughly pulling your hips to meet his as you grip the sheets below you grunts spilling form his mouth and moans coming form yours his pace was fast, but as good as this felt you wanted him to fuck you differently this time. "fuck- babe stop." you reach your hand behind you to place it on top of his. Duke starts to slow down "what's wrong?" his forehead wrinkles with concern and frustration.

but all of that soon washes away when he hears the next sentence that comes out your filthy mouth "fuck me how you was doing that bull" a smile creeps up on to his face "oh so that's what this about?" his 1937 laugh booms in your ear. laughing? he's laughing? after all that torture he's put you through and he's laughing? see this is why you shouldn't of said shit. cause now he's making fun of you. as a matter of fact you should just leave his ass by himself to finish own his own. you had a pink dildo in your dresser that you could-

"mhhhhh shitt" a loud pornographic moan escapes your mouth Duke shoves his whole dick inside you only to grind lightly just like he was doing that fucking bull except you actually felt it. his right hand crosses over to caress your hip bone his left hand moves up to your head and starts to vandalize your curls your eyes are rolling to the back of your head, hands are tangled into the sheets, and your arch deepens once more

"that's it? that's the spot huh?" he lifts your head up as he leans down to make eye contact with you. "right- shit here?"

you moan out loudly it just felt so good. you weren't even able to form a proper sentence Duke had known he found it by the way you clenched around him at the end of each thrust. you could feel the curve abuse your cervix. this. this was different you could feel him, feel every vein, feel how hard he was, and the softness of his skin and he picks up the pace continuously rolling the curve against that sensitive spot inside you, duke groaned everyone your hips met his.

your pussy was sucking him in further into you, Duke kept going harder and harder ramming his length balls deep into you, all while rolling his hips up into that spongy spot inside of you. listening to all of the clapping and moans helped a tight knot form in your stomach.

"fuck just like that mama" his eyebrows crease, you just were so tight squeezing the hell out of him as his balls slap against your clit. Duke was just about ready to bust when you start to bounce your ass back on him. he loved this part of backshots, whenever you start to fuck back onto him it made him feel so good. he grew harder at the fact that you could take all of him. especially in this position.

he surprisingly moans when he looks down to see your pussy creating a white ring around the base of his cock "s-shit" he somehow goes even faster mercilessly abusing your cervix you were almost there and he was too you felt his thrust get sloppy, his grunts and moans increasing.

he the hand in your hair moves down to rub tight but slow circles around your clit bringing you the sweet release you've been waiting so long for. "fuckfuckfuck- fuckkk" you threw your head back in ecstasy squeezing him so tight that he legit couldn't move. you hear him let out one last groan as you go limp and milk him dry.

after staying in the same position for a while he finally pulls out collapsing next to you. grabbing the comforter you pull it over your body's resting your head on his chest as his arm comes to wrap around you.

"kai is gonna kill me"

#duke dennis #duke dennis amp #duke dennis x black!fem!reader #duke dennis smut #duke dennis x reader #duke dennis x black reader #duke dennis is my man #so fine #lol #y'all this ass #smut #hope yall are doing great

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erwinsvow · 2 months

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𝐢 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮

summary: jj's made a bad habit of sneaking into your bedroom at midnight.

word count: 3.5k

now spinning: radio by lana del rey

author's note: finally some jayj!! <3 writing this felt like coming home. i hope i did him justice! tags: adorably in love jj and reader. smut but make it cute (heavy grinding/petting, jj calls you princess b/c duh<3, he uses a condom bc no breeding kink here! jj sucks your tits through your (his) shirt because..yah)

JJ makes his way into the window of your bedroom, trying to be as quiet and careful as he can.

You stand back a little, trying to give him enough room to get in, but just as he swings his other leg over, he stumbles and a small succulent in a ceramic pot on your windowsill goes flying.

You freeze, scared that the thud of his leg on the window frame was enough to wake up your parents—who unfortunately share the room right next to you. JJ’s hands stick out immediately to catch the little plant, and then somehow, he juggles it into place while steadying his feet.

You let out a sigh of relief, and he places the little plant safely on your nightstand.

“That thing’s a troublemaker. It’s always the quiet ones, huh?” He whispers, already knowing from all the previous times how thin your walls are.

Time before last, he leaned back against the headboard too hard while you were riding him, and just the noise of it hitting the wall was enough to result in a knock on your bedroom door. He blames you for that one, though, and the next time your parents come in, they notice you’ve moved your bed across the room.

“This one was your fault,” you reply, unsurprisingly giddy now that your boyfriend is here.

“Nuh-uh, princess, that was all you. Why’d you leave the cactus there, huh? You tryna get me caught?”

You shake your head but you can’t stop the smile from spreading across your face and the quiet laugh from escaping, trying to explain that it’s not a cactus, but the words melting on your tongue. You watch as JJ carefully closes the window—he’d prefer to leave it open so he can sneak back out without much noise, but you get cold, so he pushes it down as gently as he can.

You can’t help it—you always end up staring, eyes fixated on his arms and the way they stretch and flex while he adjusts your pink curtains and makes sure no one can see inside. You don’t care if the neighbors watch. Let them, you think, JJ and I will give them a show.

He turns around to really take a look at you, mind always going a mile a minute thinking about how deep of a slumber your parents might be in, if he remembered to grab a condom (he’d forgotten it earlier in the month and you’d been so disappointed, he had to eat you out for an hour just to apologize), and then he thinks he wouldn’t be so upset if he did forget it. Finally he wonders if you have any snacks in your bedroom, which you normally don’t, but he’s feeling hungry today.

When he finally takes you in, you’re standing there with that pretty smile he loves so much, the sleep sets you used to wear every night forgone for one of his big t-shirts instead, the ones with tiny holes near the hem, one that’s probably been passed around between him, Pope, and John, but has now ended up in your closet as a permanent piece.

You told him a story a while back, about how your parents question why you never put on pajamas straight after dinner anymore, like you used to. It’s because JJ’s shirts are your pajamas now and you can’t let them see.

“Why don’t you just, y’know, change after they go to bed?” He asks after hearing that story, rubbing the small of your back under the very same shirt, wondering how smart a girl as you are didn’t think of that idea first.

You don’t answer straight away, instead pressing your face further into his chest and inhaling that scent which is so uniquely JJ—ocean and sand and that car smell since he was probably working on something before getting his favorite text of any night from you, from anyone, really—They just went to bed.

You mumble something into the skin of his sternum, unintelligible and quiet, and he has to use his other hand to move your head up.

“Sorry, princess, getting some static here. Repeat that for me?” He cups his ear to listen in, which makes you laugh.

“Just wanna feel close to you,” you repeat, even softer, immediately resting your face back on his chest once you finish.

You’re sure he doesn’t understand what you mean, because it’s deeply rooted in you, that you hate the way your parents treat JJ. They’re not so rich or Kooky to judge him for not being so, and they’re overprotective of you, always have been, but they act so differently around him. They barely give him a chance, no matter how much you affirm that you’re so happy, that you’re only that way because you’re with JJ now.

They look at the stuff that doesn’t matter—the motorcycle he rides, ignoring the pretty pink helmet he got for you sitting next to his own. They don’t know that he worries about keeping you safe, so much so that he borrows the Twinkie twice as much as he used to, because the idea of you getting hurt on his bike scares him. It scares him enough that he didn’t let you ride with him forever, that it took months of begging to even make him consider the idea.

They look at his clothes and his shoes and don’t like that they can’t invite his parents over for dinner, don’t like the idea of you going to his place but don’t like him coming over either. When they do finally grant your permission to hang out with him at your home, you have to stay in the living room the whole time, television on and playing some stupid movie you could care less about—but at least JJ’s here, at least he’s holding you.

You feel embarrassed, about the reason why you wear his shirt, about how your parents behave, about how you can’t do anything at your house but watch reruns and eat some snacks, your parents wafting in every now and then to make sure nothing’s changed.

And he tries, he really does, which makes your heart thud and causes a warm, happy tingle to extend from your ears to your toes. He shows up with flowers for the house, a bottle of wine for your parents, a bone for your dog.

He’s trying to save up for a car so your parents don’t associate him with the roar of his bike taking off and the danger he’s putting their daughter in (you almost cry when he tells you this, partly because it’s so sweet, partly because you love that bike, love everything about that bike—your pink helmet, holding onto JJ’s stomach on a ride, the way he sometimes props you up on it and tells you he’ll reward you if you’ll be good for him—which you always are.

Putting on other clothes—clothes that don’t belong to JJ—in front of your parents so they don’t feel uncomfortable at the sight of you in his shirt, is a sacrifice you refuse to make. It’s your way of rebelling, as insignificant and silly as it is, affirming that you’re not gonna cave and end your relationship because they don’t approve. It’s hard, for a people-pleaser like yourself, taking a stand against your parents. You don’t possibly expect him to understand, but you think he does that day, with the way he smothers you in kisses all night, and continues the affection on your sofa the next day, no matter who’s watching.

He snuck in that night too—pulling a pair of socks from his pocket for you.

“Got you some more clothes of mine, so you can take your little stand without it being so obvious-” He doesn’t get to finish his sentence, because you leap into his arms to hug him so tightly, he can’t catch his breath for a minute.

That had been months ago. Since then, you and JJ spent nearly every other night together, trying as hard as possible to stay quiet and not get caught. He seems more worried about it than you do, like tonight.

“Your dad doesn’t have any firepower in the house, right? Like any bazookas or something?” he asks, walking closer to you, away from the window. You shake your head, laughing silently. It’s harder and harder not to be all smiles around JJ anymore. “Good,” he says, not as quietly as before. He brings you in for a hug, arms tight on your back, face buried in your hair. “Missed you, baby.”

You hold on with your little grip for as long as you can, finding it even harder to let go after hearing him say those words—you’d seen him earlier today, briefly, but this was his first time sneaking in since yet another scare a few days ago.

You only pull away because he does, taking off his hat and setting it on your yellow quilt. He sits down, beckoning you over, and you respond immediately, crawling into his lap like you always do. You could sit like this forever.

“It should be illegal for us to go this long without seeing each other,” he murmurs against your shoulder, before pressing a gentle kiss to the skin. His shirt hangs off of you, giving him easy access.

“I saw you this morning, silly,” you whisper, not moving, head buried into his neck.

“For like a minute,” his hands go to your hips, adjusting your position to get you more comfortable in his grip. His fingers press into the skin there, available since you were only wearing panties under his shirt, no shorts to get in the way. “Can’t do anything to you in a minute.”

“That’s not what I remember—” but before you can finish, he silences you with a kiss, soft and chaste.

“Hey,” he starts, while you begin to giggle at the memory. “I thought we weren’t gonna bring that up anymore. S’your fault, anyways.” He trails off, kissing you again. “That sundress has magic in it, or something, not normal-”

“Yeah, yeah,” you say, deepening the kiss, your whole face feeling hot now at the mention of the memory—the first time the two of you had done anything more than making out.

“Woah, woah,” he says, pulling away again, making you groan in frustration. “Did you lure me here under false pretenses? Are you tryna take advantage of me right now? Because I came here to cuddle-”

“Shut up, Jayj,” and you go back to finish your kiss, your hips moving by themselves. You don’t realize you’re doing it, you never do, until JJ tells you. His hands move down, grabbing the fat of your ass and squeezing while he makes you do all the work, for now, at least.

You work yourself up quickly, you always do when you’re with him, and you could finish just like this if he lets you, grinding your cunt against his hard-on, multiple layers of clothes between the two of you.

He likes to see you get worked up, so he’ll let you do it for a little bit longer, lips still attached, his tongue in your mouth. He slides his hand around where your panties rest on your hip, knotting his fingers between the fabric, his other hand resting on your hip and loosely guiding your motions.

“Feel good, baby?” he finally asks, not loud but not as quiet as before, either. You don’t care much at the moment.

“Uh-huh,” you whine, feeling yourself get closer, something in your stomach winding up tensely and making you want to increase your speed. You try, but JJ’s hand controls you, tightening up and squeezing like it’s a warning—slow down.

“Can’t make a mess like this, remember, pretty girl?” he asks but you’re only half there, half paying attention. Your eyes are squeezed shut, skin feeling so ablaze that you’re sure there’s beads of sweat lining your neck and face, hands gripping the material of JJ’s shirt while you rock yourself back and forth.

He watches carefully, eyes raking in your pretty face all twisted like this, your lips swollen and red from the biting since you can’t make any noise, your hardened nipples poking through the material of his shirt. He wants to wrap his mouth around one and play with it using his tongue, not even bothering to lift the shirt out of the way, but he refrains, since he knows you’ll cum in seconds if he does, and if you cum, he’ll cum.

“Don’t care,” you exhale, breathy and pitchy. He doesn’t even remember what you’re talking about. “I want your mess-” and your head tips forward, resting on his shoulder while he still moves you with his big hands.

It’s all of it, all at once—the fact that you haven’t been able to do much of anything, but especially this, with JJ in days, how hard he is and how good it feels to rub your pussy against him instead of your pillow, the fact that despite his shorts and your underwear in the way, you can almost feel the veins of his pretty dick, the ridge that usually has him slapping a hand over your mouth because you can’t help the noises that come out when you feel it inside you.

You’re so close—and you don’t care about the condom, about how everything’ll be sloppy and sticky after this, so you try to go even faster, until you feel the entirely too-strong hands of your boyfriend manhandling you, pulling you off and laying you flat onto the bed in one motion.

“Wha- Jayj,” you whine again, so much louder than you thought it would come out. Your heart’s thrumming in your ears, brain turned to mush and clit throbbing from the sudden lack of contact.

“Shh, baby, you’re gonna get us both killed-” and you look up at him with wet eyes and your signature pout, the one that gets you anything you want—midnight trips for ice cream, convincing him to sleep over even when he knows your parents will pop in when it’s morning, going on a ride on his bike when he’d thought it was way too dangerous. “M’giving you what you want, okay, so settle down-”

You try to be as good as you can, watching patiently while your thighs tremble and an uncomfortable, hot wetness pools between your legs. JJ pulls off his shirt, frees his dick from the constraint of his shorts, and lets out a little hiss when he sees the wet spot on his clothes from where you were just having fun.

“Dirty girl,” he says, but he’s smiling, not upset. “Made a mess already, even without me.” You let out more shaky breaths at his words, half-listening, eyes focused on the pink color of his thick cock, the way he strokes himself before putting the condom on. Your mind has turned off, every single thought except JJ leaving your head.

“Gonna be quiet this time?” he asks softly, lining himself up with your wet cunt, eyes almost rolling back into his head at the way you suck him in. You’re all tense, stomach in knots and pussy clamping just thinking about every inch he’s going to give you, the stretch he puts your tight hole through. You don’t mind much though.

“Your fault,” you mumble, in a daze. You love everything about JJ, the way his hair falls over his eyes when he’s hovering over you like this, when he licks his lip when he rakes his gaze across your body, how he smirks at you when you get like this.

He lowers his face close to yours and your eyelids flutter shut, expecting a kiss, but instead he buries his face into the crook of your neck, biting and sucking on the skin while you try to stay silent, and then he buries himself into you, all the way all at once, and you strangle a scream back so it dies in your throat.

It’s like it’s the first time, every time, with the way he feels inside, the way you’ve never really gotten accustomed to how big JJ is.

“Sure, baby, my fault,” he finally agrees, letting go of the hold his teeth have on your skin. That'll leave a bruise tomorrow, and the rush he feels from that goes straight to his dick. “This one’s my fault too.”

You don’t pay attention to his words or the stinging sensation on your neck, because the entirely overwhelming feeling of JJ inside you, slamming in and out while you’re forced to stay silent, fogs your brain. JJ hovers over you, and your hands find their way around his neck, snaking into his hair, pulling gently while he lowers himself for another kiss—hot, wet, even messier.

He keeps you this way often, so he can swallow your moans and let you be as loud as you need without much as much of a risk. Your bedroom fills with the slap of skin on skin, his hips ramming against yours.

You’d cry out because it hurts, but the way JJ fills you is anything but painful—it’s excruciatingly good, makes your toes curl while you feel that tense knot in your stomach beginning to unravel by itself, JJ hitting that sensitive part of you deep inside.

But it’s always more than that—it’s his the messy press of his fingers against your clit, the way he dips his head and takes your pert, clothed nipple into his mouth and swirls his tongue, and then when he hears you getting loud, he goes back to kissing you, quieting you. He thinks about everything so you don’t have to, heading tipping back onto the pillow and squeals leaving your mouth without a second thought.

You knead your fingers into his hair, holding him in place so he doesn’t pull away from the kiss, because you know you’re about to get loud.

He does pull away—easily fighting your weak grip to bring his mouth to your neck, kissing the love-bites he already left there. You feel JJ’s hot breath on your ear, already a mess, already close, but you tip over the edge when he talks to you, as quiet as he can.

“Come on pretty girl, make a mess for me-” and you follow his instructions without another moment’s hesitation, the walls of your pussy fluttering and then clamping tight around him, moans swallowed into his mouth as he kisses you again. You writhe around, toes curling, entire body tensing, staring up at your pretty boyfriend for as long as you can before your eyes shut, mind numb from pleasure.

It doesn’t take much for JJ after that—the feel of your nails scratching his back, how your pussy clenches around him, the moans he wishes he could hear loud and clear. In a final lustful, selfish thought, he imagines you screaming under him, begging for more, not satisfied until he makes a mess inside your little cunt and fills you up. He spills into the condom seconds after, grunting into your neck and wishing the two of you were anywhere else but the bedroom next to where your parents are asleep.

The room is silent again, save for the heavy breaths leaving both of you. JJ moves first, carefully settling next to you because the bed creaks on his side. He sits up against the headboard, safe because they’re on the opposite wall now, and moves your tired, languid body into his arms, head resting against his chest.

“Well, you made a mess, alright. Hope you do your own laundry.” You giggle, hand coming up to rest above his heart, fingers tracing patterns into his soft skin.

He sighs quietly, a gentle sign he likes your touch. You could fall asleep in minutes like this, the heat from JJ keeping you warm, the content feeling in your heart making you smile dopily. JJ notices, leaning down to give you another kiss.

He stares into the distance with a hand stroking your back, under his shirt. He looks around your cute room—the overflowing bookshelf, the photos taped up on the walls (mostly of the two of you, he thinks with a touch of smugness), a pile of his shirts that are now your sleep clothes folded neatly in your hamper, freshly laundered.

JJ thinks he’d do anything to stay like this, with you resting in his arms, forever.

“I’m gonna do it, I swear,” he starts, not as quietly as before. It’s a gentle sentiment, like he’s reading you a vow. “I’ll do anything I have to, I’ll make ‘em like me. One day I’ll show up here and they’re gonna be happy to see me. I’m gonna get better.”

“You’re already perfect, Jayj,” you whisper back, eyes closed because you feel tears lining up. He presses a kiss to your forehead. “You don’t have to do anything. I love you.”

He smiles again, eyes closing. He’s about to say it back when there’s a sharp knock on your door, and the handle starts to turn.

#<3 #jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #obx #i really liked writing this!!! thoughts?

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