cherryredcheol

[cherryredcheol]

i think it depends what you’re looking for…

in my mind they’re definitely both dominant, potentially hard dom, but i see wonwoo being more patient. he can stretch shit out for HOURS if need be. he will edge and tease his partner until he’s decided they’ve earned release.

cheol however is a little more greedy and more impatient. he’ll start with every intention on dragging things out, making his partner work for it. but with a couple needy whines and soft eyes, i think he’d fold.

seungcheol vs wonwoo in bed, who do you think is better and why?

#seventeen imagines #seventeen #seventeen fluff #seventeen scenarios #svt #seungcheol #wonwoo

[cherryredcheol]

drenched

member — junhui x f reader  genre — smut word count — 2.4k  synopsis — the pool isn't the only thing that gets jun all wet. warnings — descriptions of female anatomy, oral (reader receiving), squirting, body worship, pussy drunk jun, mentioned that reader wears a bikini (+ other clothes), they're so horny for each other it's actually just gross notes — requested by anon for my 🐈 1k event — thanks to @onlymingyus for looking over this for me <3 sorry the synopsis is boring asdhgsj i couldnt think of a cooler one. also very very sorry again that it's taken me so long to get to these old requests but i hope you enjoy! please be sure to reblog with comments or send an ask if you liked this :)

if there's only one thing in this world that jun is obsessed with, it's your pussy.

practically every night he comes home, throwing his bag on the chair and pulling you onto the couch, begging you to let him eat you out, just really quick before dinner, please? i'll make you cum so fast, promise, just let me have ten minutes with you.

most of the time he slides your pants down and finds you already wet, knowing the kind of mood he'll be in when he gets home. it's almost impossible to force your mind out of the gutter when you can't stop picturing him kneeling between your legs, his dark brown eyes turned even darker with lust as he watches your face and every single tiny little reaction you have to him.

it's not your fault that you really can't help it if your mind wanders during the day, sending a shiver down your spine every time you think about how desperate he is for you. he'll never pass up the opportunity to bury his fingers inside you, moaning about how good it feels to have your cunt clenching him so tight and how pretty your legs look as they tremble around him.

jun loves nothing more than how wet you get and he'll clean you up with his tongue, his cock throbbing because he knows you're like this for him and him only. he'll gladly spend hours between your legs, groaning about how you're straight out of his dreams; what other explanation could there possibly be for the fact that he gets to come home to the prettiest girl he's ever seen every single day? not only that, but that you let him play with you whenever you want? he feels like he's died and gone to heaven every time you spread your legs apart and let him spend as much time as he wants in that spot.

of course, he has other favorite things, too. he loves fucking you from behind so he can see your gorgeous ass bouncing in front of him. he loves laying back and letting you do whatever you want to him, pushing his shaft between your breasts and grinning when he covers your face in his cum. but nothing compares to having his face smushed in your pussy, his skilled tongue and long fingers reaching places inside you that you didn't even know existed before you met him.

tonight is no different than every other night that he comes home and begs for your pussy. except this time he's got one thing and one thing only on his mind, and it's going to drive him insane if he doesn't have you right this second.

the first time it happened it caught you off guard. your cheeks flushed hot with embarrassment as the drops rolled down his abs coating the both of you in liquid, your legs still wrapped around his waist when he stops thrusting. you started to apologize, until jun lets out a long, low groan and tells you don't you fucking dare apologize for the hottest thing he's ever witnessed in his whole goddamn life and now he's made it his life's mission to making you squirt as much as is physically possible.

you didn't even know you could squirt at all before jun, but he brings a side out of you that you didn't know was there. a side of you so absolutely insatiable, like an unquenchable thirst, and now that it's been unlocked you're addicted to it.

with the rising temperatures and clear, sunny skies that have come after the rain and cold, it's obvious that summer is quickly closing in. it's one of his favorite seasons for many reasons, but the main one is that hotter weather means seeing you in more revealing clothes.

he had never been the type of guy to go feral at the sight of an ankle or an exposed shoulder, but around you it's like he loses all control. the way your shorts hug your ass—jean shorts, pajama shorts, bike shorts, any and all of them. his mind goes blank and all he can imagine is your perfect pussy hidden so teasingly from his view, and he'll do anything to get a taste. teasingly, because you know exactly how he gets and you love to play into it just to make him even more riled up.

you've started buying shorts that are just a little bit too small, just a little bit tighter that show another extra inch of skin. and you grin in satisfaction every single time he tears them off of you and pushes his hand down past the waistband to feel how soaked you are… until he wipes that smile right off your face with just a simple brush of his fingers.

the same goes for your shirts, too. the crop tops that expose your tummy; he loves to run his fingers over your skin, and the short length makes it so much easier for him to slide his hands up to feel your breasts. and don't even get him started on the tank tops; he feels like a virgin all over again, unable to stop his cock from twitching in his pants. when he sees that little extra bit of cleavage sitting so perfectly.

god, he loves every fucking thing about your body. but there is, however, one downside to the summer season.

okay, so it's not exactly like they banned him from the public pool, but they did tell him (in not so nice words) to stop feeling up his girlfriend in the locker rooms, and now he's too embarrassed to ever show his face there again. which honestly is more than fine by you, because if your hand wasn't down his swim shorts jerking him off as you lazily sat beside him in a chaise lounge, then was it really even a good day?

but besides that, the problem is that he can't see you near water without thinking about making you squirt. there hasn't been a single time when you've been out on the backyard patio, drops of sweat glistening on your skin from the summer heat as you hold a garden hose in your hand watering the tomato plants, that he hasn't wanted to push you against the side of the house and take you right then and there. to curl his fingers in your pussy until his hand is more soaked than the vegetables.

or like the time you both stayed at your parents’ house for a weekend while they were on vacation. he'd found you sitting out by the pool reading your book after you've just finished swimming, and the drops of water on your thighs that hadn't yet dried from the sun had reminded him too vividly of how you looked after he made you squirt with his cock. that day you'd needed a second shower, and it wasn't from the chlorine in the pool.

if your mind is in the gutter when you think about him, then his mind is in a place further than hell when he thinks about you. 

so really, you can't blame him for tonight. you can't get mad at him after you sent him pictures of the pretty new bikini you'd bought for the upcoming cruise you were going on next month. but not just pictures of the bikini; pictures of you wearing it, your knees spread temptingly in a way that you knew for a fact would get him hard as a rock in seconds.

he's pissed, but more than that he's needy, because he already had to jerk off in the bathroom at work because he couldn't get his hard-on to go down any other way. his own fist will never compare to how good your pussy feels against his face, so it seems as good a place as any for you to start making it up to him for your bad behavior.

he barely gets the front door closed behind him before he's pushing you against the wall, his fingers clawing desperately at your sides as his lips capture yours. it's hot, he’s hot, and the temperature outside has nothing to do with it.

even the air conditioning in your house can't cool you down as he drags you by the waist to your shared bedroom, telling you it would be in your best interests to be waiting naked by the time he comes back with towels because he's not feeling very patient tonight.

you love it when he gets like this, and you grin triumphantly as you pull your panties off and leave them hanging off the edge of the bed, the glistening wet spot on them purposefully noticeable. you already know that you won't be leaving this room until the towels and sheets beneath you are equally soaked, and just the thought alone makes you dizzy. 

the grin on jun's face is wide enough to rival yours when he comes back to find you laid out so prettily on the bed, on display for him like a gourmet fucking meal.

you lift your hips for him as he spreads out a towel beneath you, kneeling at the foot of the bed with your thighs on either side of his head. just one look at your dripping folds and he's already gone, throwing your legs over his shoulders and digging his fingers into your thighs to spread you apart even more for his eager mouth.

you've had jun's mouth on you more times than you can keep track of, but every single time still feels like the first. no matter how often he does it, you don't think you'll ever be prepared for the first lick, when he flattens his tongue to cover as much of you as possible at once before he begins.

the way he immediately and easily finds your clit, sucking messily before moving lower to slide through your folds, is always enough to bring you right up to the edge, but it doesn't last. it's a constant battle between making you cum as fast as possible, or prolonging it and moving around until you can't take it even for one more second and your orgasm is ten times stronger. 

this time he chooses the latter, but you already had a feeling that that's how things would go. he's focused, honed in on your pussy; he is going to make you squirt all over his face, and if you don't think that's a guarantee, then you'd be sorely mistaken.

it's not the first time you've played this little game with him: sending suggestive photos and texting flirty messages, until you inevitably end up under him with enough orgasms to last you a week. but it's never enough to last, of course, and it's not long before you do it all over again.

he likes to act like he's teaching you a lesson, but you both have been through this routine enough times to know it's the thrill that keeps you coming back more than the need for punishment. you could always just ask him, but where's the fun in that? it's much more exciting to push his buttons and let him take over. it would almost be funny how his reaction is exactly the same every single time, if your reaction weren't also exactly the same. it's a habit you fall into together, but you wouldn't trade it for anything.

jun's fingers slide up your body, stopping at your waist to grab you and pull you harder against his nose. it's impossible not to let yourself get lost in it, moaning and threading your fingers in his hair as your pussy throbs in his mouth.

he points his tongue at your clit once more and he doesn't let up until your thighs start to shake, your breath coming out in shallow gasps. you're close and he knows it, almost even better than you know it yourself because he's spent so much time between your legs that he knows how to read your body like an open book. 

your fingers in his scalp squeeze tighter, pushing his head further into you, and he groans at the feeling. he loves how quickly you get fucked out from his mouth alone, that you’re barely even processing how roughly you're moving his head because your body is on fire from the stimulation.

he'd live and die in your pussy if he could, and that's exactly what he plans to do tonight as his tongue flicks faster and harder. he can feel the wetness already gushing out of you and he knows you're right there, ready to give him what he so desperately wants.

with one final suck to your clit you go rigid and your muscles release, whimpers and whines flowing from your lips like liquid as you cum. it drenches his face, running down his cheeks and his chin and soaking his hair.

he drinks you up like a starved man, like he's been wandering alone in the desert and finally found his oasis. your head rolls back and your body writhes under his hands, but his grip is too tight and he is far too committed on getting every last drop from you to allow you to squirm out of his grasp.

it's overwhelming nearly to the point of pain but you don't want him to stop, you desperately need him to keep going until you're drained. and that’s one of the best things about jun, is that by now he can practically read your mind and he can tell when you need more and when you don’t.

he can tell what you want without even having to ask, so he reaches up and squeezes your hand in his as he looks up from between your legs, meeting your eyes and giving you that look that makes you shiver because you couldn’t imagine anyone else but him in this position. you don’t want to stop, not yet, and he nods at you knowingly with a hazy little grin and slides his tongue right back where you want it.

he’s more than willing to spend the rest of the night kneeling in front of you until you’re spent, if that’s what you want. honestly, he’s willing to spend the rest of his life there, too.

i hope you enjoyed this!! if you did, consider reblogging or leaving a comment or an ask :) it shows me this is something people want to see more of, and knowing people like this makes me want to write more of it! thanks for reading!!

taglist will be in the comments under this fic since tumblr is having problems with mentions, i can't add them as i usually do. if you'd like to join and be notified when i post a new fic, you can fill out this short form here! :)

#oh my god #i love you junhui #this was so good

[cherryredcheol]

iou: one (1) fic

have idea...too stoned to write.... easy-going puppy boyfriend!mingyu x fussy cat girlfriend!reader

not a hybrid au, just this vibe ...she loves him so much but he's kind of ruining her perfectly made bed and it's kind of driving her crazy...

...someone remind me to write this later when i am sober...

#seventeen imagines #seventeen #seventeen fluff #seventeen scenarios #svt #svt x reader #mingyu #mingyu imagine #mingyu x reader #mingyu scenario

[cherryredcheol]

alexa play, “but daddy i love him” by taylor swift, max volume.

Between the Titles

Pairing: Min Yoongi x fem!reader

Genre: fluff, smut (mature/18+)

warnings: egregious caffeine consumption, yoongi smokes cigarettes, reader is about the same height as yoongi (its me hello im almost the same height as him), gay taehyung, volunteer jungkook, silver fox yoongi (he just has some gray hair bc hot) smut warnings: making out, grinding, fingering, oral (f. receiving), semi-public sexual acts, bathroom sex, protected sex, praise kink

Length: ~9.5k

Note: no thoughts, just big brain yoongi in a sweater smoking cigarettes and drinking coffee. btw almost all the books in this are real but i haven't read them so if you have lmk if they're worth the read lmao. thank u to my dearest @gyuswhore and @idyllic-ghost for beta-ing this

Summary: Five days a week in the library means you're very familiar with the senior research librarian. It also means he has no qualms about making his own book recommendations either.

m.list + support my work

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked.

The sweet aroma of old books and strong coffee infiltrates your nose as the heavy doors into the library swing open, offering reprieve from the storm raging on outside. It’s far too early for anyone to be here beyond staff and a few other morning birds. You glide right to the circulation desk as if fatigue doesn’t pulse through your veins, barely quelled by the second cup of coffee you sip from.

As always, the same familiar head of dark hair with sparse silver streaks waits at the circulation desk. He’s the only person working this early despite being the senior research librarian but you never hear any complaints louder than muttered annoyance under his breath when he thinks no one is around to hear. Bent over his laptop, Yoongi doesn’t even bother to look up as he slides a heavy stack of books to the edge of the counter. 

Eleven total, ten heavy volumes on ancient fertility cults across the globe, and one book you know he’s mixed in for his own amusement. 

It’s become something of a game between you two. At first you thought he was mixing your materials with someone else’s, but every time you brought the additional copy back to his desk, Yoongi insisted he had no idea what you were talking about and questioned your reading choices. Each time the titles got more ridiculous: Castration: The Advantages and the Disadvantages, How to Enjoy Your Weeds, Amish Vampires in Space, the list goes on and on. But after he slipped Why Fish Don’t Exist into your stack a few weeks ago, you decided to start responding. 

You left the stack at his desk like usual, ears perked for his reaction to Fishes I Have Known. An amused snort rang out just as you opened the doors to leave for the afternoon. The sound was so unlike the stoic man you’d become accustomed to over months working on your thesis; not that you heard him talk much to begin with.

Since then you’ve made a point to match every book he leaves for you. Yesterday, Yoongi chose I Could Pee on This: and Other Poems by Cats. At the end of the day, you spent thirty minutes searching shelf after shelf for an appropriate response, every book failing to meet your expectations. It wasn’t fair he knew the expansive collection like the back of his hand but nevertheless you found something up to par.

Yoongi rolled his eyes when you passed your books over the counter, a copy of Staying Dry: A Practical Guide to Bladder Control, like a shining star on top. A brief pink of his tongue flashed across his lips, a feeble attempt to muffle an amused smile. It was the most obvious reaction since the first time you responded.

Smiling like the cat who ate the canary, you left on clouds last night.

But this morning you have notes to write.

Snagging the collection, you make your way deeper into the building. Your unassigned-assigned desk tucked away on the fifth floor, far enough away from any noise so you can fully immerse in work without the threat of distraction. An uninterrupted view of the courtyard below is an added bonus.

The wooden table top is covered in a neat collection of pens and sticky notes in minutes; your laptop and the foot tall collection of references you devour over the next eight hours taking up the other half.

A few titles you request over and over sit on top, too valuable to be checked out for long term use so you settle for keeping them in constant rotation since no one else bothers to read the dusty yellowing tombs. For now, you focus on the new pieces you hope hold the information you need.

Earth rites: fertility practices in pre-industrial Britain, Archaeology and Fertility Cults in the Ancient Mediterranean, Metamorphosis of Baubo: myths of woman's sexual energy— 

I’m in Love with Mothman…

Well there it is.

You thumb across the glossy cartoon cover, failing to bite back a smile. Yoongi has a penchant for tossing in the most outlandish romance books he can find. Maybe because he knows you spend just as much if not more time than he does between the stacks. The suggestion box at the desk was full of cards stained with your penmanship asking for longer hours; several of which you’ve seen Yoongi rip in half as he pointedly met your gaze.

Tossing it aside, you pull forward one of the more musty books and start reading.

When you finally manage to resurface from laborious tales on several cults of Aphrodite, the rain is long gone. Even the darkest corners of the old building seem to glow gold in the evening sunset filtering through the glass doors. They're the only thing standing between you and freedom in the form curling up on your couch with a glass of wine and a new episode of your favorite reality dating show. But first, Yoongi needs his books back. 

His desk chair is abandoned and the return cart is gone as well which means he could be anywhere in the building. Disappointment leaches into your spine at the fact you won’t be able to witness his reaction to the twelfth book in your pile; the one you spent an extra fifteen minutes looking for in the corner of the third floor. 

A thick piece of library paper lists the materials you’ll need for the next day lays atop the neon green cover of Pest Management Solutions: How to Manage Your Moth Problem. They decorate the corner of the desk until Yoongi returns to find them. Hopefully he appreciates your humor.

Yoongi isn’t at his desk the next morning when you come in either. Instead, a doe eyed man with a lip piercing occupies the chair, clearly playing some game on his laptop. 

Approaching the counter, you begin to ask, “Where’s Yoon–”

“Staff meeting,” he interjects like he’s already answered the question a million times despite the library opening only five minutes ago. The white of his teeth threaten to blind you. “But I can help you!”

His name tag isn’t the same engraved golden metal Yoongi’s is, it’s a plastic sleeve with a paper insert with barely legible handwriting you decipher as  “Jungkook” and below “Volunteer.” You’ve seen him before from a distance. Usually trudging through the shelves with the book return cart in tow, occasionally taking a quick read inside before putting them in their rightful place. 

“I need to pick up some books. I gave Yoongi the list yesterday.”

“Sure.” Jungkook jumps up, approaching the shelf lined with piles for other patrons. “What’s your last name?”

He combs through the list after you answer, finding your stack easily enough. 

“Alright so Yoongi left a note that the encyclopedias you wanted are on the usual desk you have upstairs. But other than that I’ve got: Historical Studies of Changing Fertility, Sacred Mushroom and The Cross, Archaeology and Fertility Cults in The Ancient Mediterranean…” Jungkook lists off the titles, checking to make sure they're all in order. “And, um, this one isn’t on the list.”

It must be Yoongi’s choice for the day.

“What is it?”

Jungkook looks like he’s trying to hide his own amusement as he slides it over for you to read.

If I Were a Bird, You'd be The First Person I'd Shit On.

“Huh,” you blush. “Wonder how that got in there.”

“He must have left it by mistake. I can put it ba–”

“No, I’ll take it.” You toss it on top of the other, less embarrassing books in your stack and gather it into your arms before Jungkook can get in another word. “Thanks for your help!”

Scurrying towards the hallway housing the elevators, you attempt to juggle the pile of books, your stuffed bag, and coffee without taking a spill. It’s one thing to have your silent battle with Yoongi, but having someone else witness it makes you feel downright silly. And for the first one witnessed by others to be such an absurd and downright passive aggressive selection sends embarrassment through your veins.

As promised, three encyclopedias sit neatly on your desk; the volumes so thick they protrude from the table top like a small mountain. No wonder he left them there instead of making you carry them up in individual trips. But Yoongi’s goodwill clearly ended there. A sticky note on top of the stack pens his discontent at your selection.

I had to spend 3 hours in the basement to find these. If you need them again, don’t.

Even though he hadn’t signed it, you know it’s from him. The tight script fits his personality; thin lines of annoyance bleeding through the ink, not just his words. A waft of musty old paper and dust breezes through your nose as you open the first copy. They must have been housed in a forgotten storage area. At least his bird book makes more sense now. 

You don’t dig into the heap until after the sun is halfway through the sky but when you do it only proves to unravel your wits. Reading on, the wrinkle in your eyebrows deepens further. Page after page of conflicting knowledge passes by, each sentence more confusing than the last; minutes negating months of research. The thick pages hardly provide a soft landing for your head as you allow it to thump forward in exasperation.

The scrap of chair legs alerts to a new presence watching your meltdown in real time.

“Something wrong?” Yoongi asks.

With a heavy sigh, you respond.“I want to die.”

“Get in line.”

Shifting in your seat, you peer in his direction. A different day but the same wardrobe: dark button up, glasses, same unapproachable facade. But what Yoongi is doing sitting next to you is new.

Yoongi makes himself comfortable, picking at his nails as he waits patiently for an explanation. 

“Everything in my thesis is either wrong or the world authority on fertility in Europe is full of it.”

“Bummer.”

“Your sincerity is overwhelming.” You snap.

Yoongi rolls his eyes. Boredom seeps across his face but he doesn’t move to leave, just sinks deeper into the chair. “You’ve read almost half the collection since you started coming here, why are some old dusty books such a big deal?”

“Because all of those books cite these books which means those books are wrong and all my work is in the toilet.”

“Those books are from the seventies, the information is probably out of date.”

Slamming the copy serving as a pillow shut, you take a second glance at the title: Encyclopedia of Women and World Religion, Volume 7.

“Yoongi,” you sing.

Yoongi’s gaze flashes to yours, a trickle of confusion flashing across his eyes.“What?”

You stack up the books and push them across the desk with some effort. Just to savor the satisfaction of besting Yoongi, you indulge a long sip of now cold coffee before speaking again. No one else is around to witness your victory but that won’t dampen the high.

“Looks like you’ll be back in the basement because you brought me the wrong editions.”

He opens his mouth to argue, snatching one of the books to investigate but you beat him to the punch.

“I asked for the twenty-fifth edition, not the seventh.” You smirk. “I think you're losing your touch.”

He watches you over the rim of the cover. A fleeting glance in your direction but it makes your heart squeeze with need.

“Well, I guess you’re right,” Yoongi sighs, standing. “Do you still need them for anything or can I go ahead and take them?”

With your approval, he heaves the heavy tombs on to his cart. The strain of his forearms, bare from rolled up sleeves, catches your attention. Veins raised under creamy skin, lean muscles leading down to hands you’ve noticed since the first day you started visiting the library.

If you keep staring, you’re likely to start drooling. So you dive back into one of the useful books littering your desk and pretend to read until he’s disappearing down the hall.

On your way out, leaving much earlier than a typical day due to Yoongi’s mistake, you drop the remaining books off at the circulation desk. Along with a copy of Avian Hunting Techniques. He’s absent again but it doesn't matter.

You continue out the doors and down the sidewalk only to spot him leaning against the brick exterior further down the street. Even from a distance you can make out the natural scowl he’s constantly sporting. Except this time his lips pout around a cigarette. 

Of course he smokes.

The quasi-mysterious librarian who flirts with you through book titles, smokes cigarettes and looks hot doing it. 

“You know those things will kill you, right?” 

“That’s what the box says but they aren’t holding up their end of the deal,” Yoongi responds, flicking the ash before looking at his watch. “Wow, out before six. I’ll alert the press.”

“Well, if someone gave me the right books then maybe I’d stay longer. But I’m not about to wait around while you get the ones I need.”

Yoongi takes another drag of his cigarette before responding, “Are you trying to say I forced you to take a break?”

The realization dawns on you. Yoongi is the senior research librarian. He’s never given you the wrong books, even when you request the rare copies needed to be loaned from a different part of the country. The few times you’ve offered understanding if he couldn’t get them were met with a challenge in his gaze and smug satisfaction when handing them over a week later.

“You brought me the wrong copies on purpose!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He’s lying. You know it. Yoongi definitely knows you know by the way he smirks. But he’s already crushing the filter under his shoe and moving back towards the library by the time your brain catches up to your mouth.  “Have a good night, Y/N.”

With a scoff of indignation, you stalk towards your car.

The next morning, you march straight through the class doors to where Yoongi sits, fueled by snowballed annoyance from the previous day. Waking up on the wrong side of the bed is an understatement. If there are any gods, Yoongi should pick one and pray.

Your free afternoon of yesterday was spent dealing with the chaos your apartment has become over the past few weeks. Unfolded laundry, stacks of random papers, out of place books, and errant dust bunnies all became new victims to energy usually reserved for a full day of research. Taehyung practically shit himself when he woke up before dinner and found you scrubbing the bathroom sink.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, hand to his chest like a flustered old woman.

Bleach curled in your nostrils. “I live here.” 

“Not between the hours of eight and seven.”

But after the mess was dealt with, aggravation set in. How dare Yoongi purposefully meddle in your work. Well meaning or not you were an adult and could decide when enough was enough. The purposeful mishap hadn’t set you back far, one afternoon but a drop in the bucket in comparison to the months you’ve already spent chasing new leads. But the principle of the matter is that it’s none of his business what you do and when you do it.

Yoongi slides a slimmer stack over when you stop in front of him.

“Encyclopedias are on your desk,” he announces through a sip of coffee. He continues to type away, feigning disinterest as you sort through your stack with measured annoyance.

“Are they the right copies this time?”

“Double checked them myself.”

You open your mouth to verbalize your doubts but Yoongi’s pick of the day catches your eye.

Surviving Your Stupid Stupid Decision to Go to Grad School.

Scoffing, you flip the book around and shoot daggers into his face with your eyes. “Do you think you’re funny?”

The corner of his mouth twitches then becomes a full blown smile. Leaning over the desk, he drops his voice, “I think I’m hilarious.”

Remembering you are, in fact, in a library, you manage to muffle a frustrated groan. You dump the supplementary reading back on the counter for Yoongi to deal with and head upstairs. 

Unlike the usual days where you put off finding a response to Yoongi’s extra copy until the waning hours of the afternoon, you drop your bags and head straight for the shelves. The fifth floor houses a collection of textbooks and other reference material. It’s why it's always deserted unless some poor fool stumbles on it by accident; the perfect place to work uninterrupted for hours.

You head down stairs, circling the fourth and then third floor like a shark in a feeding frenzy. A few covers spark interest but nothing captures what bubbles in your veins: annoyance, anger, confusion. A brief flutter of interest as to why Yoongi decided to mess with you but those feelings are more dangerous than the acidic ones.

Row after proves unfruitful in your quest for passive aggressive revenge. None have the same bite as his book, or seem to curb the homicidal thoughts raging in your head.

Until a little white book peeps back at you from the end of the aisle.

Yoongi jumps when you slam Bitter Is the New Black: Confessions of a Condescending, Egomaniacal, Self-Centered Smartass in front of him. A feat in and of itself to sneak up on him given the loan desk has a perfect view of the entire first floor but whatever he’d been clicking away at on the computer was distraction enough.

“What's this?”

“Thought you might like some new reading.” You flash your teeth.

His chin jerks towards the glossy cover. “I already gave this two stars on Goodreads.”

Of course he has.

Face prickling in embarrassment, you turn back the way you came without a word.

Hours later, when half the day has ticked by and the ache for more caffeine burns your eyes, Yoongi stops by your desk. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t try and gain the attention you pointedly withhold. He sets a paper coffee cup on the corner of the tabletop and leaves.

You snatch up the cup after he rounds the corner out of sight. The lack of sugar leaves much to be desired but free coffee is free coffee, especially to a PhD student with limited means. 

It isn’t much of an apology but guilt blooms down your spine anyway. He meant well. You aren’t known for giving yourself breaks; unable to quit while you’re ahead. A voluntary day off is less likely than winning the lottery. You’re a busy body and the constant work keeps you from dissolving into chaos.

You don’t see Yoongi again until every book at your desk is exhausted, begging for a break from your manhandling. Double and triple checking notes and citations are the poor excuse you implement to delay the inevitable. At some point you’ll have to go downstairs to face the music. 

He’s waiting like always, scanning the mountain of returns littering the counter from a long day. Each step closer withers something in your stomach. 

The copies in your hand shift onto the wooden surface, joining the stack for him to work through. Yoongi flashes a polite grimace when you catch his eye before immediately diving back into his work. Hopefully he understands why you chose Thank You for Smoking. And why you covered the second half of the title with a sticky note.

Jungkook’s smiling face greets you bright and early. His name tag has been upgraded from flimsy paper to a plastic one and a printed label with his name. 

Handing over your library card, he quickly scans it and grabs the books meant for today’s dissection. 

“Yoongi wanted me to tell you that if you want more coffee while you’re working, you can go to the staff lounge on the second floor.”

“Oh.”

Jungkook continues sifting through your requests, making sure each is correct.  “Between you and me, the coffee down the street is better. But don’t tell him I said that.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s a coffee snob and thinks his shit—sorry—stuff is the best.”

“Okay,” you say, grabbing your pile. “Thanks.”

You set up your station like always, sorting through each book and devising a mental to do list. The desk resembles a feast but instead of food it’s encyclopedias, printed articles, and dusty manuscripts Yoongi wrangled from who knows where. On the outer board of your work station rests the feature of the day: How to Beg for Cigarettes.

A few hours pass between the pages. Your previous research is confirmed by the significantly less dusty encyclopedias this time, corroborating the basis of your thesis. A new work you haven’t seen is cited in the back, piquing your interest for more evidence. 

Instead of bothering one of the staff, you use the library website and find it in their catalog. It’s somewhere on the second floor where Yoongi offers free coffee. Two birds, one stone; a new book and a new cup of coffee.

The layout resembles all the other floors. A collection of study tables in the center crowded by bookshelves on all sides. One person, an undergrad by the look of pure dread on their features, occupies a table but that's it. Glancing at the note with the call number, you start towards the stacks on the left.

You find the correct area, eyes scanning up and down the different shelves to no avail. Hundreds of books, different sizes in an array of colors, flash by but none are the one you need. You’re about to call it quits when you spot it on the top shelf, just out of reach.

Call it a moment of stupidity, a brief blight of recklessness, but the book sits only a few inches beyond your fingers. You look around to make sure no one is around to witness the brilliantly flawed idea crest in your brain. With the coast clear, you hoist yourself up the shelf.

A deadpan voice nearly makes you fall.

“Looking for something?” 

Yoongi stands a few feet away, head cocked to the side. Of course he’d find you in such a ridiculous position. Even through the blur of your peripheral vision, the harsh lines of his usual uniform clashes against the back drop of books. Dark jeans fitted over his thighs, dark button down rolled up his arms, and a pair of glasses that make him look hot. But you’re in no position to dwell when the risk of falling on your ass is so high.

“Nope, just getting in some exercise” you grunt, moving your foot to the shallow hold of the next shelf.

Yoongi moseys up behind you before continuing. “And climbing a decades old bookshelf is how you stretch your legs?”

“You smoke cigarettes, I climb old furniture. We all have our vices.”

Your foot slips from its perch, making you squeak before catching your balance. 

“Alright spider-monkey, that's enough.” His hands slide across your hip, fingers curved around the softest part of your waist as he helps you down. 

Distracted by the weight of him still on your hip, the heat of his chest a scorching across your back, you don’t even think to disparage him for the cheap Twilight reference. The few inches Yoongi has on you allows him to reach overhead to snag the copy you need with ease. But as you watch his hands close around the spine everything beyond fades to black; like the universe pinholes where you two stand.

“This one?” You feel the vibration of his words up and down your spine, warm breath tracing across the shell of your ear.

Body on autopilot, you turn to face Yoongi. His mouth moves, eyes scanning the book cover but every word deafens in a muddy haze. He doesn’t seem to realize his hand is still on your waist, or how he crowds you into the shelves; chest to chest, stomachs barely an inch apart.

“Huh?” you ask, tearing your eyes away from his mouth.

“I said, if you asked for this book earlier I could have gotten it for you.”

“Oh.”

“You okay?” he asks, stepping further into you. “You look a little flushed.”

The bastard smiles. A God’s honest smile like his thigh isn’t between your own, or he isn’t waiting for a reply while his fingers dig in beneath your ribs.

Just when you open your mouth to say something, Yoongi silences you with a firm squeeze of his hand. His head lowers until his breath ghosts along your chin. 

Then you’re kissing; lips sliding together easily like he anticipated it. The world shatters all around from just a few passes of his mouth across your own, the weight of his body flattening you against the bookshelf. 

The first hint of his tongue against the seam of your lips makes you gasp and Yoongi takes the opportunity to taste you. You melt under his attention. Head tipping back, shoulders bowing to take more, your senses flood with the remnants of coffee and something else; something so quintessential Yoongi your head spins. It lights a new flame in your veins, one burning with pure want.

A handful of his shirt pulls him closer. Yoongi follows easily but gets more than asked for when one of your hands tangles in the back of his hair, tugging until he’s tilting his chin the way you want. It’s a bad habit other dates have subtly complained about but a noise bubbles in his throat at the dig of your nails; responding with his own palm squeezing roughly across your ass until your hips meet his. 

The crash of the book near your feet is like a bucket of ice water.

“Oh my god,” you gasp. Jumping back proves futile as the shelf digs further into your spine. “I–”

Puffy lips and lowered eyes stare back at you, clear evidence that you haven’t hallucinated what just happened. Yoongi dips down to kiss you again but you slither out of his grip.

Forgetting the book on the tiled floor, you mumble an apology and flee back upstairs, beelining to the vacant restroom.

To your own mortification, your features mirror Yoongi’s; lips swollen, eyes glazed. Your sweater twisted around your torso clearly betraying your rendezvous in the stacks. Beads of sweat cling to your forehead and neck.

A few splashes of cold water help clear the fog in your brain but as it dissipates embarrassment sets in. Making out with a handsome man is one thing. Making out with the librarian assisting in the most important work of your life is an entirely different ordeal; one that can only spell trouble.

Pacing back and forth, the cool paper towel on the back of your neck helps calm your racing heart enough to leave the safety of the ladies room.

Try as you might to drown under piles of books, it’s useless. You pretend to read the same passages over and over but none of the words register. The kiss replays over and over and over again. You kissed Yoongi. Yoongi kissed you back. He tried to kiss you again when you pulled away.

The end of the day inevitably comes which means you have to face him whether you want to or not. But you won’t allow a single lapse of judgment to affect your work; a moment of weakness propelled by months of abstinence that just so happened to coincide with a surly librarian’s entrance into your life. You just needed to get it out of your system. If it hadn’t been Yoongi it would have been someone else. 

At least that’s what you tell yourself.

A glance at your watch informs you that today is the second day you’ll leave the library early. Rather than give into the stubborn instinct to stay, you decide putting as much distance between yourself and Yoongi is far better for your mental health. With squared shoulders and a raised chin, you head downstairs. 

Yoongi’s waiting behind the counter. He isn’t typing on his computer or scanning books. He watches every step you take, arms crossed in front as he leans forward like he’s eager for a confrontation. 

“Yoongi,” you say.

“Y/N.”

You use every fiber of will to maintain eye contact as you pass your stack over the counter. “I’ll need these same ones tomorrow.”

“Okay.” He nods. “And the kiss?”

“What kiss?” you croak.

Yoongi’s eyes blaze like you’re a new puzzle to be solved, like he wants to take you apart and find exactly what makes you tick. You feel naked. “The one where you—”

“Must have been someone else. Sorry. Have a good night!” You rush for the door before he can say another word.

Another morning is another day in the library, but this time your roommate begs to tag along. 

“Look, I’m not getting anything done on my thesis so maybe you’ll rub off on me,” Taehyung says.

Rolling your eyes, you step through the door he holds open. “I think you’ve had plenty of people rub off on you.”

Gasping with fake indignation, he catches up easily. “Are you calling me a slut?” 

“Yes.”

“Good, I wanted to make sure we were on the same page. Is that him?”

Yoongi and Jungkook are talking behind the counter. Jungkook’s hands wave wildly as he recounts whatever information to his boss while Yoongi listens with fake interest. Or that's what someone else might think. The subtle signs he cares are hidden in the details; the miniscule lift of shoulders, a cock of his head, and when Jungkook pouts in a way too ridiculous for a man his size, Yoongi hides a smile in the shake of his head.

“Yes.”

“And I’m the slut?” Taehyung scowls as you pinch his shoulder. “What? He’s a nerd’s walking wet dream.” 

“And he can hear you, so shut up.”

“Morning!” Jungkook calls on his way past with a cart full of books. 

He grins like he knows exactly what happened on the second floor yesterday but that can’t be true. Yoongi doesn’t seem like the type to kiss and tell. Only the type to kiss and tease you relentlessly for it when no one else is around to hear.

Taehyung’s attention immediately locks on him. You love your roommate, always have and, unfortunately, always will; but he is a slut and Jungkook is definitely his type. However, he’s on your turf and knows better than to fuck where you have to eat for the next few months. 

“Y/N, Y/N’s friend,” Yoongi says when you approach his desk. 

“Taehyung.” 

“Right,” Yoongi drawls, blinking lazily before sliding your books over and turning around to sort something on the opposite counter.

Taehyung, ever the gentleman, grabs the pile for you and follows upstairs. 

“Well he seems like a cup of sunshine,” Taehyung whispers. 

“Just because he isn’t fawning over you doesn’t mean he’s an asshole.”

“I’m very fawn-able, ask anyone,” your roommate argues as you approach the fifth floor. “Wait, what's this… How to Defeat Your Own Clone and Other Tips for Surviving the Biotech Revolution. This is the type of shit he’s giving you? You’re easier than I am.”

“Give me that.” You snatch the paperback out of his grip. “Stop being nosy.”

Taehyung lets you work in peace after that, disappearing to gather more of his own materials. Even in undergrad he’d never been one to sit still for long. But he still managed to get a spot doing an engineering thesis despite the constant changes in his attention.

After several hours of mind numbing typing you need a break, and another cup of coffee on someone else’s dime sounds perfect.

“I’m getting coffee.”

“Bring me some,” Taehyung says without looking up from his screen.

The staff lounge is nothing fancy. A couple small tables with plastic chairs tucked around, a cork board covered with fliers, and a white board stuck to the fridge scrawled upon with black dry erase marker. The coffee pot sits full in the machine, still hot to the touch. 

You pour two cups. Taehyung’s gets loaded with creamer cups until it’s closer to white than black while yours is sweetened to sickening perfection. When you try to take a sip, the liquid immediately burns your tongue. Too hot coffee is better than cold coffee but an ice cube would help make it more palatable.

Moving back to the fridge, you go to open the freeze but stop when the white board catches your attention again.

Most notes are chores or friendly reminders about time cards but almost half the board is dedicated to a back and forth.

‘Unofficial Employee of the Month: Jungkook’ 

A note in Yoongi’s tight script: ‘You don’t work here.’

‘That’s why it's unofficial!’ in what must be Jungkook’s messy handwriting.

‘You’re my official employee of the month. - Namjoon’

At the bottom is a crude drawing of stick figures, two tall smiling ones holding hands under a rainbow labeled ‘JK’ and ‘Joon’ and a comically shorter one with evil eyebrows surrounded by storm clouds and ‘yoongi :(’ overhead.

“Snooping for secrets?”

“Jesus Christ,” you jump, turning to face Yoongi. “Has anyone ever told you it’s rude to sneak up on people?”

“You’re in the staff lounge, there’s gonna be staff here.” Yoongi crosses to the coffee pot on the counter and pours himself a cup. He doesn’t add cream or sugar or anything else to lessen the bitterness. Cliche. “So, was bringing your boyfriend here your subtle way of letting me down?”

“You think Taehyung is my boyfriend?” You whirl around in shock. Yoongi raises a brow, prompting you to continue. “Jungkook is more his type than I am.”

Yoongi releases a pleased hum, eyes shining. “So no boyfriend then?”

“Nope.”

You’re shaking but don’t look away from his hungry gaze. Yoongi takes a step closer, and another and one more until you're pinned to the countertop and his mouth is on yours. 

This time, you're more aware of everything. The smell of his cologne, the tickle of his bangs along your forehead, all the tiny details that were muffled before. Yoongi’s lips are firm against your own, a little chapped but it only makes you hotter with each pass.

His mouth is everywhere; your chin, your jaw, peppering down your throat until he pushes aside the hem of your shirt and sets to work on the jut of your collarbone like he’ll never get a chance again. 

“Yoongi,” you hum on the first rake of teeth. 

He takes it as an invitation to dig in harder, sucking the skin until your spine threatens to break and you say his name again. Desperate for some kind of anchor, you knot your fingers back in his hair and pull. 

A throaty noise responds and the need to hear more rears its head. Yoongi who always watches with measured fascination undone by some light petting. The power is addictive. 

Legs spread, he presses in flat. The heat of his cock, rigid beneath the fabric of his jeans, teases across the seam of your own. You're technically still in public but the consequences concern you less than the knowledge that you’ll go mad if you don’t feel him. His arms circle your back, pulling you firmer against him, right to the edge of the linoleum counter.

Wedging a hand between your bodies, you manage to get his zipper undone while your tongue traces along his jaw. Yoongi angles his hips to help, curling into your palm when you cup him over the fabric of his boxers. Every press has him swelling harder. 

His hands reach under your shirt. Skin on skin, the rough calluses of his fingers trace your ribs, thumbs following the cup of your bra in a tease. It’s a simple touch but your own hands falter when he brushes a nipple. You melt into each other.

“Hey, Yoongi, do you know where—HOLY SHIT!”

Jungkook stops at the door, eyes wide, mouth wider. 

“Get out!” Yoongi barks. He’s trying his best to keep your body covered from the younger man’s view but even if Jungkook isn’t getting a full frontal he isn’t dumb enough not to realize what’s going on.

Yoongi shudders a few breaths. Head hung low, he tucks himself back into his pants without moving away. You’re already slipping down from your perch when he looks back up.

“I’m just gonna…go,” you mumble, scurrying out the door.

Jungkook waits outside, eyes still bugging out of his head but at least has the decency to pretend he didn’t catch you in the act.

Tugging your shirt down, you avoid his gaze. How far would you have let Yoongi go if Jungkook hadn’t interrupted? 

“Coffee?” Taehyung asks as you approach the table.

You know what you look like without a mirror. The same as yesterday with glassy eyes and bruised lips, clothes wrinkled. Thankfully, Taehyung is more interested in his modeling software than where you’ve been. 

“They were out.” 

With a sigh like he is personally victimized by the lack of caffeine, Taehyung collapses on the table and plays dead. But he perks up at the sound of footsteps approaching behind you.

“You left this in the break room,” Yoongi says, dropping a cup of coffee by your side before disappearing. 

You turn to follow his retreating for until he’s hidden back between the shelves. The back of his hair is still messy despite his attempt to fix it, same with the wrinkles in his shirt from your hands.

“I thought they were out?” Taehyung eyes you suspiciously when you look back at him.

Cradling the still hot cup in your hands, you avoid his gaze. “Shut up.”

“So you do have to sleep with someone to get a cup of coffee.” 

“I’m not sleeping with him,” you spit in a harsh whisper.

“Why not?”

“Because…”

Because what exactly? There isn’t a good reason other than the fact Jungkook was the king of cockblocks. You would have let Yoongi do just about anything he wanted and he seemed to be in agreement. But you’d rather die than admit that out loud.

“You are so smart and so incredibly stupid.” Taehyung rolls his eyes, rising to pack his things. “I need to pee.”

You point him in the direction of the bathrooms and get back to work.

When Taehyung returns minutes later he starts shoving his things in his bag. “I’m leaving.”

“Why?”

“This is like the epicenter of hot smart men and I refuse to suffer any longer.”

“You got Jungkook’s number,” you deadpan.

Taehyung can’t hide his own shit eating grin. “Yoongi gave it to me.”

“If you’re leaving, so am I.”

“Why?” your roommate whines. 

“Because I got you a hot date and that means you owe me dinner.”

“Technically it was Yoongi but I’ll concede.” Taehyung heaves his bag up. “Come now my dearest, we can still get happy hour if we hurry.” 

You reach in your own bag and toss him your keys. “Go wait in the car. I’ve gotta go grab another book real quick.”

“Whatever,” Taehyung says, mumbling something like ‘nerds’ under his breath as he heads downstairs.

You find Yoongi while on your way to his desk, already toting around the cart piled high with returns from the day. Several of the covers are Taehyung’s picks and somehow the knowledge they’ve spoken almost knocks you off kilter. Taehyung is a good wingman and that’s what worries you most.

“Hi,” he says, kneeling to put a book on a low shelf.

It shouldn’t have the effect it does but something about the way Yoongi looks up at you, on his knees, head tipped back, has your mind running wild with the image of him in the same position with both of you wearing far less clothing. Maybe if you weren’t interrupted in the staff lounge you’d have seen it in real life.

“Hi. Mind if I add these to the pile?” 

“Go ahead.”

The Stocking was Hung sits on top. You don’t wait around to see his reaction.

The temperature had steadily been increasing over the past weeks but this morning is the worst of all. That inescapable warmth fully seeded overnight and promised the comforting days of sweaters and pants are long gone.

Heat makes you lazy and fitful. In the early hours, long before you actually need to be awake, you stare up at the ceiling of your room. Not even a frigid shower helped the stickiness of your skin or laying still in your bed in nothing but one of Taehyung’s shirts and ratty shorts. It followed you everywhere until you left for the same brick building you spend more time at than at home.

Without thought, you throw on the first seasonally appropriate outfit in your closet; a thin dress that covers enough for the public but promises to keep you cool.

Yoongi seems to be taking the change in weather as well as you are. His usual attire is absent, nothing but a white shirt clinging to his torso. The pale skin of his forearms briefly catches your attention but you focus anywhere else to stop from rounding the desk and finishing what started upstairs.

You steel yourself and approach the desk, determined to act normal.

Familiar dark eyes flash up to greet you but Yoongi’s mouth doesn’t form any words. He just stares at you. You can feel the weight of his gaze on your shoulders, your neck, and then he pointedly keeps them trained on your eyes. Like he's willing to pretend yesterday didn’t happen. 

He doesn’t speak when he passes over the same pile of books as yesterday but you can feel him burn a hole in your back. Even after you climb up the stairs and out of sight, the prickling sensation you’re being watched follows.

You don’t get anything done. The words on the page might as well be another language as your mind races.

Yoongi didn’t give you an extra book today.

An endless list of potential explanations race through your mind. Maybe you’d been too forward with your choice. Maybe he’s gotten it out of his system, a quick tryst in the employee lounge enough to satiate his curiosity. Maybe because it’s the second time you’ve brushed him off. Even if it wasn’t your fault Jungkook stumbled in before anything worthwhile could happen. 

But he isn’t speaking to you and he isn’t giving you the random book you’ve come to look forward to every morning. 

Channeling the restless energy of overthinking, you take a lap around the floor. You pause to flip through random books as you zigzag through the stacks. Anything to take your mind off the unshakable tension sticking in the air like syrup.

Your laptop is in sleep mode by the time you reluctantly come back. Everything is as you left except a book you’ve never seen before sits on top of the open one you’d been reading.

There’s a Boy in the Girls’ Bathroom. 

A sticky note sticks up from the inside of the cover. A bolt of excitement shoots down your spine. When you flip it open a familiar handwriting stares back: ‘on the seventh floor’.

You hadn’t been gone too long but the fear of making him wait has you rushing up the stairs. Each step brings you closer to where he waits until you’re opening the bathroom door.

“Yoongi?” 

A hand wraps around your upper arm, yanking you in. Another hand silences a surprised shout before you realize it’s Yoongi and not a murderer pinning you to the interior of the door you just came through.

“Jesus, you scared me.” 

“Sorry,” he breathes. “It’s just not a good look for me to be up here.”

“Oh, really?” You smile. “And why is that?”

“This is my job.”

“Didn’t seem to stop you before.”

“Who says it’s stopping me now?”

He thumbs the strap of your dress, hooking under the thin material and dragging it down your arm. The heat and weight of Yoongi against you, touching you so simply, makes you vibrate. Yoongi moves into your neck, panting with a grind against your thigh. “I swear I don’t usually do this.”

You want to argue that you have two accounts that he does do this often, at least with you. But for someone who says they don’t, Yoongi is surprisingly natural. The tease prickling the end of your tongue fizzles out under his teeth across the curve of your shoulder, goosebumps blossoming along your back. 

A whimper unbecoming of an adult woman breaks the lullaby of summer air conditioner singing through the vents. You’re sweating under the cling of your dress, skin hot to the touch thanks to Yoongi’s attention; long fingers curved around your waist, thumbs skimming just under your breast.

“Could have fooled me.”

“This is a very nice dress.” His mouth bites down your neck, taking advantage of the new strips of skin the neckline unveils.

“That’s all it takes?” you pant from the wet of his tongue. “A pretty dress?”

“If you think,” he whispers into your ear. “I’m doing this because of your dress then you really haven’t been paying attention.”

The dark locks of his hair are too alluring to resist, tempting one of your own hands to scratch against the tip of his spine when Yoongi rolls against you again. A firm tug brings him to your mouth, lips molding to one another in a searing kiss. You can taste the coffee from the lounge and the faintest hint of cigarette smoke, like he thought to hide it before asking you to follow him.

“How long? How long have you wanted this?”

Yoongi hooks one of your thighs higher, savoring the heat of your core against the crotch of his pants with a slow thrust. “Since you came in and busted my balls over not having that archived manuscript when the website said we did.”

You remember that day. Patience thin from Taehyung’s loud overnight guest, you stormed into the library looking to take it out on a photocopy of the manuscript only for the only copy to be AWOL. Yoongi became the surrogate for your rage, his eyes burning into your skull as questioned how he could let it happen.

The next day was when he started adding books to your stack.

“That was months ago.”

“I’m a patient guy.”

You want him naked; ache to catalog what he’s hidden underneath bulky sweaters and loose button ups over the past few months. But that idea has to wait for somewhere less risky. You settle for dipping your hand under his shirt, tracing your fingers over the elastic of his boxers peeking from the waistband of his pants.

Attempting to hide the effect he has, you loop your fingers in his belt loops and pull him even closer so your face is hidden in the crook of his neck. “There’s a Boy in the Girls’ Bathroom? A little on the nose, don’t you think?”

“Like The Stocking was Hung is any better?” Yoongi sighs as your mouth ghosts over the rising vein webbing the side of his throat.

“Hey!” you object, rising to face him. “I thought you’d appreciate it after that mothman book.”

“I appreciate you complimenting my dick plenty.”

Yoongi doesn’t let you go, hands palming at the swell of your ass the entire way from the door to the counter. He’s got one hand curved along your jaw, thumb hooked around your chin and his teeth bruising your lower lip. The edge of granite digs in your spine but not for long as he lifts you and settles on his knees to dive under your skirt. 

He kisses up your calf, tongue snaking across the knob of your knee then the plush of your thigh. Just when you feel a puff of breath against the damp crotch of your panties, Yoongi falls to repeat the same path against your other leg. 

You don’t suffer for long. Pooling the excess fabric around your waist, Yoongi blinks up from between your thighs. The pink of his tongue follows the edge of your panties, wetting the fabric more until it clings obscenely. 

He pushes his glasses up to rest on the top of his head, keeping the mess of gray and black hair out of his eyes before diving back down.

His tongue lathers over your covered slit with a groan. “Taste better than I imagined.”

“You thought about this?”

“Couldn’t stop thinking about it. On my desk, yours, against that fucking bookshelf.” Yoongi punctures each word with more wet kisses against your core. “In my car, my bed. Everywhere.”

A cool breath has your thighs squeezing around his head thanks to the erotic combination of his spit and your own fluids drenching your panties. “Is this all you think about?”

“I had to come up here and jerk off yesterday because I couldn’t stop thinking about your hands.”

Your panties are pulled to the side before you can indulge in the new visual blooming on the edge of consciousness. “Yoongi.”

Eyes closed, his mouth circles your clit, tongue gently stroking you to life. Every pass against the sensitive bundle of nerves has your thighs squeezing around his head. 

The first prod of fingers makes Yoongi’s hold on the crook of your knee tighten. He stretches you back open, eyes following the way you suck him inside; coating his spindly digits with more arousal each time.

“A-ah,” you shake. “Please.”

Yoongi chances a glance up at your face, the needy sheen in your eyes, the way your mouth gapes, and decides to take mercy. 

He latches back onto your clit. Yoongi groans as you tug his hair, knocking his glasses to the ground. The pace he works your remains lethargic, savoring the kick of your hips until you grind against his mouth. 

Throaty groans vibrate against your cunt, tightening the muscles along the inside of your thighs. Neither of you are doing a good job muffling yourselves but if it’s between getting caught and having him stop then you’ll deal with the consequences when they come.

“Oh, Yoongi.” Your chest pulls tight; spurred on by the sounds of Yoongi bullying your insides, his mouth smacking against your folds. “I’m— oh, oh, oh!”

The rough crook of his fingers sends you flying. Only the pressure of his shoulders keep you from slipping off the counter as you explode against his mouth. Euphoria rushes your veins, licks of pleasure overwhelming. Every muscle quivers as Yoongi works you through until you use his hair to pull him away.

He’s quick on his feet. You’re still recovering as Yoongi pushes your bra down and draws one of your nipples into his mouth, licking and sucking until you pull his hair again. Eyes cinched tight, face wet, you force his pants open then his underwear until Yoongi is almost as exposed as you are; pretty in your palm, sticky and hot to the touch.

But it’s not enough to feel him in your hand, you need to feel him inside. To fill you up where you sit hollow and aching without his fingers to provide a sliver of relief. “Fuck me.”

Yoongi doesn’t tease, has no quip about how needy you are. He keeps his mouth on your chest and uses his hands to grab something out of his pocket. It happens so fast you don’t even realize the condom is on until he nudges between your legs.

Your nails dig into his back, breathing through the initial stretch is the only way you stay quiet. Yoongi hides himself back in your neck, strained noises clawing out of his throat.

Yoongi isn’t gentle. Not caution or waiting. Months of push and pull destroy any desire for him to treat you as something fragile. He rushes into desperately, forcing your palm flat against the mirror behind you for some semblance of stability.

“God,” he grunts. “You’re incredible.”

You whimper a quiet acknowledgement, too fucked out to blush under his praise; pulling Yoongi closer until he’s scooping his hands underneath your ass, thrusting into you over and over. His mouth finds yours. Greedy. Hungry. 

It’s Yoongi who struggles to stay quiet. Even through the kiss he moans loud enough you feel it in your throat. You listen to them all, twisting the hand knotted in his hair to hear the whine you’ve quickly become obsessed with.

“Should have done this sooner,” your back arches and Yoongi’s mouth slips back down. 

“I tried. But you kept ignoring me.”

“I wasn’t—fuck—ignoring you.” Yoongi is everywhere. His taste on your mouth, cologne burned in your nose. The feel of him all over your body. “Shit.”

He fucks you harder to prove a point, hand slipping down to rub your clit. Your second orgasm glows on the edges. If Yoongi keeps playing with you, stretching you in half on his cock and biting a mark into your breast, you know you’ll come.

You focus on breathing. Letting it come to you instead of chasing it, overthinking it to the point it evades you. It’s easier than usual. Yoongi doesn't leave room for anything else beyond feeling good. 

“Oh my god,” you whisper as the cord tightens. 

Everything turns white hot, pleasure tearing through your muscles and ripping them to shreds. You convulse in Yoongi’s hold, only pinned down by his hips fucking you brutally. Nerves shot, Yoongi babbles praise in your ear but it's indecipherable from the headrush.

Yoongi follows you over the edge a few strokes later, twitching inside you until he stills. His hips give a few arrhythmic bucks as he fills the condom with his load. 

There's something nastier about clothed sex. The way sweat makes your clothes cling tighter, the rush of needing each other so badly you can’t be bothered to do more than pull things to the side. 

You feel dirty but in a good way. Yoongi kisses across the apples of your cheeks, your chin, your forehead, even your brows, but never returns to your lips. Each leaves you more frustrated than the last, muscles twitching beneath and head turning at the last second to try and meet his mouth. 

Tricking you with a brief connection, he laughs when you chase his lips as he dodgers back. But a pout and whine bring him back into your orbit.

He cleans you up with paper towels, wiping away the mess between your thighs with something akin to disappointment. But he doesn’t complain as he fixes your clothes and then his own. Muscles like jelly, you fall into his side when he helps you down from the counter. 

With a kiss to your temple, “Let's get out of here.”

“Morning, Yoongi.” You smile as you walk up to his desk.

A set of dark eyes rise to greet you, taking the cup of coffee you so graciously offer before smiling as well. “Good morning.”

Jungkook gawks like he’s never seen you two speak before. Round eyes bounce between you and Yoongi as if it’s a tennis match instead of a normal conversation. Probably because Yoongi was less than subtle when he pulled you out of the building yesterday, telling him to call Namjoon if anything came up.

Or maybe because you’re wearing one of Yoongi’s shirts.

You discovered much about the mysterious librarian overnight. He’d taken you back to his apartment; a perfect extension of himself decorated with dark furniture and more books than anyone could possibly read. Yoongi owned a collection of vinyl records that rivaled his book collection, he was a great cook, and he was studying to take the entrance exam for law school. 

After you were wined and dined, Yoongi dedicated hours between your legs. On his couch, against the massive bookcase in his living room, between the sheets of his bed. 

He also had a kink for eating you out while you explained your thesis in precise detail.

You’d only been allowed to leave when Yoongi was getting ready for work, not that you'd put up much argument. 

You make a scene of sorting through the stack he slides over. It’s not that you don’t trust Yoongi. But now that you’ve had a taste, you’re addicted to his presence. But he unfortunately can’t follow you upstairs so you savor the time now. 

“One of my books is missing,” you say.

“Oh, right.”

Yoongi passes over an unfamiliar copy.

Maybe He Just Likes You

And the blue sticky note attached, with his handwriting. ‘Dinner when you're done?’

Taglist: @tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie @gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire @missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu @lovelyhachi @sliceofwoozi @dokyeomkyeom @yoonguurt

© highvern. copying/reuploading/translating my work anywhere is strictly prohibited.

#as BOTH a librarian and a grad student this was everything #i love you min yoongi

[cherryredcheol]

masterlist

seungcheol

two boyfies partner privilege

jeonghan

"lovie" just...suck?

joshua

junhui

soonyoung

wonwoo

"peach"

jihoon

seokmin

mingyu

"angel" eat it then just one secret first night

minghao

seungkwan

domestic bliss

hansol

"bug" quiet time

chan

#seventeen imagines #seventeen #seventeen fluff #seventeen scenarios #svt #svt x reader

[cherryredcheol]

quiet time

tldr: what exactly is he staring at? a/n: this is an ode to my own headphones. thank you for everything you do. (none of this would exist without you)

you think the best thing vernon ever did for your relationship was buy you your own pair of noise-canceling headphones. not only was it cute that you two had a subtle way of matching, but the gift was the catalyst for what you two called “quiet time”. 

you knew vernon needed his alone time. knew he needed time with his headphones on and music blasting in his ears, in his own world. you were happy to give him the space and do your own thing. when you opened the headphones he had given you, you weren't really sure you’d use them, perfectly happy with your small earbuds. the large headset seemed excessive. however, you quickly got the appeal after using them for the first time.

now every time you two hung out, you’d have quiet time. each doing your own thing, existing in the same space but not interacting with each other. hair getting flatter on both your heads as the band of the headphones pressed down. 

today you were sat on opposite ends of the couch, several feet of space between you both. you were absorbed in a game on your phone. he couldn’t help but stare at you, the music blasting into his own ears becoming background noise as he focused on you. he loved seeing you in those headphones, pleased to no end when he sees how well you use them. when he bought you the exact same pair that he had, he was nervous they would get mixed up but that fear was put to bed when you promptly decorated yours with little stickers, saying they needed to be “cuter” and as he stares at those stickers now, he can confirm you’re cute, but it might not be the headphone’s doing. 

you could feel vernon’s gaze on you, you’d felt it for minutes now. no longer able to stand it, you turned your head to him, pulling the headphones down to rest around the back of your neck. 

“why are you staring at me like that?” 

vernon pulled his own headphones down, unphased, “what?” 

you huffed, “why are you staring at me so intensely? it's creeping me out.” 

he smiled easily, “i just love you so much, bug.” 

you rolled your eyes, pulling the headphones back up, “well knock it off, you’re distracting me from my game.”

vernon just continued to stare, not missing the soft blush on your cheeks and little smile tugging on your lips as you tried to focus on the small screen in your hands. unsuccessful, you turned your head again pushing the headphones just off the ear closest to vernon, "for real stop staring. i need to beat this level before i can even think about making dinner so if you want to eat soon, you’ll look away.” 

laughing, vernon crawled closer to you, closing the distance between you two on the couch. wrapping an arm around your shoulders, he pulled you closer and whispered in your exposed ear, “i’ll wait forever for dinner if it means i can keep looking at you.” 

#seventeen imagines #seventeen #seventeen fluff #seventeen scenarios #svt #svt x reader #vernon x reader #vernon fluff #vernon imagines #vernon #hansol vernon chwe #hansol fluff #hansol x reader #seventeen hansol #hansol

[cherryredcheol]

" i am so proud of you "

pairing : hansol chwe x gn!reader

"13 ways to say "i love you" with seventeen"

warnings : language

word count : 0.6 k

a/n : got a little carried away with this one , something about writing for vernon is just so fun

"I was thinking, why don't we go out tomorrow to that restaurant you really like? To celebrate and all."

"I'd really like that." You call back, glancing over at your boyfriend who is still busy washing dishes at the kitchen sink. Though he isn't looking directly at you, you can just make out the excited look in his eyes and the toothy grin gracing his lips. He's been like that since you told him about your promotion at work. Honestly, you didn't expect him to make such a fuss over it. It was a relatively small promotion, just a raise and a slightly higher title. But that sunny expression on his face could make someone think you'd hit CEO status.

"I'll make reservations after I finish up here." His words are barely audible over the running water. You're about to thank him when your phone buzzes to life beside you.

Incoming call from Boo Seungkwan.

Seungkwan? You think, narrowing your eyes at the screen. Why on earth could he be calling you and not Hansol?

"Hello?"

"Y/N!" His excited voice comes through the speaker. "You're not busy right?"

"Not really, no. Why, what's up?"

"I— well we all wanted to call and congratulate you on your promotion!" A chorus of voices flood your phone and you take it you're on speaker with the rest of the members.

"That's very sweet of you all, thank you." It's nice, having so many people in your corner cheering you on. "But how'd you know? I only just found out about it a couple hours ago."

"You're joking right?" It sounds like Chan. "Hansol won't shut up about it in the group chat."

"He talks about me?" You ask no one in particular

"Yeah, like an annoying amount." That's definitely Mingyu.

There's a short altercation on the other side of the call, probably Seungkwan trying to wrestle his phone back from various members. But you don't pay much mind, the warm feeling in your chest taking over all other senses. You let your gaze drift back to Hansol, who is now on his laptop, nodding along to whatever song is currently playing in his head.

"Just, give it here—! Sorry about that," Seungkwan's voice jolts you from a daze. "Anyways, we just wanted to give you our compliments. We'll let you get back to your night."

Good, because tears are already welling up at your lashes and you're not sure how much longer you can hold back the stitch in your throat. "I appreciate it, tell everyone I said thank you."

You hang up before Seungkwan can respond and promptly make your way to the kitchen. Hansol's nose is still buried in his laptop, eyes squinted as his fingers peck at the keys. "Okay," He says upon the realization of your presence. He hits the enter key rather dramatically. "Reservations are made and you're . . ." His words teeter off when he looks up, met with your tear-filled gaze.

He takes a beat. Brows furrowed and head cocked to the side. "–You're crying. Shit, wait— why are you crying?" Hansol panics. He rushes to you, taking your face between his warm hands. Holding you the way one would hold fine China. Carefully, his thumb comes to swipe a stray tear from your cheek.

"You tell your members about me?" You sniffle. Hansol's eyes go wide and his mouth opens and closes like a fish before he conjures up an answer. "Was I not supposed to?"

The pure concerned cluelessness in his voice makes you giggle and he seems to relax when he realizes he's not in trouble. "I just didn't know you bragged about me like that, it's sweet."

"I am so proud of you,"  Hansol speaks with unashamed sincerity. "Why wouldn't I brag about your accomplishments?"

taglist: @matchahyuck @dontwannaexsist @minnieminshi @myfavoritedelusion @tanya596carat

#it would heal me in a DEEP way to have vernon tell me he’s proud of me #this actually made me cry #i will miss this series terribly

[cherryredcheol]

just...suck?

tldr: you need him to what? mentions: dad!jeonghan, breastfeeding, nipple sucking (but not sexy(?)), reader can breastfeed but no gendered terms used. a/n: i have never been pregnant/breastfed. sorry if this is inaccurate. i have no idea where this came from this is not smut but DNI if you're under 18

“okay lovie, she’s down for a nap. which means we have about an hour before she wakes up again. what do you want to do? need a shower? want to watch tv? hungry?” jeonghan spoke softly, coming down the stairs into the living room, not looking up at you as he fiddled with the baby monitor in his hands. 

hana was just about 3 months old and although jeonghan had done everything he could to help, you were still your baby’s main source of nutrition and you were tired. and to top it all off you were pretty sure you had a clogged milk duct and it hurt. 

jeonghan looked up from the monitor when you didn’t answer and rushed to your side when he saw the tears in your eyes. “lovie, what’s going on? are you okay? what can i do?” he settled gently next to you on the couch, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into him. 

“hannie,” your words were choked, voice thick with emotion, “i need you to do me a favor.” 

jeonghan nodded, “anything, lovie. name it and i’ll make it happen.” he waited for you to collect your thoughts, rubbing your back softly.

you sat up a few moments later, wiping at your eyes to catch the couple tears that fell, and let out a big sigh, “it’s quite possibly the least sexy thing ever, so please don’t laugh. i really need you.”

“lovie, anything you need, i’m here for.” he was looking at you so softly, all the love in the world held in his eyes. 

your face flushed before you even got the first word out, but you were brave and asked with your whole chest, “i have a clogged milk duct and it fucking hurts. can you please try to suck the clog out?”

if your chest didn’t feel like it was being stabbed every time you took a breath, you would’ve laughed at the look on jeonghan’s face. 

“um, yeah. sure.” jeonghan shook his head, as if clearing his thoughts. he’s not sure what he was expecting your favor to be but this certainly wasn’t it. he gestured vaguely to your chest, “you want me to just…suck?” he could feel the heat crawling up his neck. 

he’s not sure why he was so embarrassed. he’s done worse things to you than suck your nipple. hell, that was barely foreplay. but this was the first time since hana had been born that the two of you would have any kind of intimate touch beyond kisses. suddenly he felt like that young man he was when you two first met. back in his first apartment, his small room with beige walls that he paid way too much in rent for. 

you were a vision on his bed. usually silver-tongued, jeonghan was rendered speechless at the sight of you topless. he couldn’t believe his luck. he likes you so much. you get all his jokes and make even better ones, you’re so smart, and not to mention pretty. he’s pretty sure you were straight out of his dreams and here you were on his bed, in his room. his roommates had actually listened and made themselves scarce this evening so he could be alone with you. you’d only been on a few dates but he knew he was in it for the long haul with you. he could just tell. 

his eyes flashed back up to yours, shy smile on his face, “can i just…suck?”

you were positively pink, also shy suddenly, “if you don’t want to, it’s okay. i read online it’ll probably go away on its own.”

jeonghan took a deep breath and met your embarrassed eyes, “i’ll do anything for you, lovie.”

#seventeen imagines #seventeen #seventeen fluff #seventeen scenarios #svt #svt x reader #jeonghan fluff #jeonghan scenarios #jeonghan #jeonghan imagines #yoon jeonghan

[cherryredcheol]

partner privilege

tldr: just use face i.d.? tf? a/n: i am...delusional

“hyung?”

seungcheol didn’t look up, he typed in the password to his phone, immediately opening his messages to you, “yes, dino?”

when dino hesitated, seungcheol finally looked up. dino looked a little flustered and when seungcheol looked past his maknae’s shoulder, he saw jeonghan and joshua giggling on the other side of the practice room, trying (and failing) to be subtle about watching him and dino. 

immediately sensing he was being set up, he asked again, “yes, dino?” 

dino couldn’t even look seungcheol in the eye. instead he kept his eyes trained on the ground and asked, “why is it that you always type in the password on your phone? why not use face i.d.?” 

seungcheol’s face instantly warmed. his eyes cut across the room to jeonghan and joshua just in time to watch them fall into a puddle of laughter. ignoring dino, he called out to them, “you guys suck!” 

and with that seungcheol left. eager to see you now that practice had ended early. he was going to offer to give jeonghan a ride home on his way over to yours, but not after the shit he just pulled. 

“cheollie, would you please pass me your phone? i want to change the song.” 

seungcheol walked around to the other side of the kitchen island, handing it to you easily, “here, baby.” 

you grabbed the phone with your spare hand, the other still stirring your dinner on the stovetop. 

seungcheol bumped your hip ever so lightly, grabbing the spoon from your hand. “find the song, baby. i’ll stir.” 

you smiled at him, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. you held the phone up to your face, pressing the lock button, illuminating the screen. the phone, sensing your face, immediately unlocked, no password required. 

after a few seconds of searching through his music app, you’d finally found the song that had been stuck in your head at work all day, the soft melody coming gently out of the speaker on your counter. 

you returned to the stove, peering into the pot. bringing a hand to rest on his back, you gently pushed him from the stove. “i’ll finish up here, cheollie. grab some bowls, will you? and if you want rice, put some instant in the microwave. i forgot to make any earlier.” 

he smiled, gummy and broad, relinquishing the spoon to your capable hands. “sure thing, baby. anything for you.”  

#seventeen imagines #seventeen #seventeen fluff #seventeen scenarios #svt x reader #svt #seventeen seungcheol #seungcheol #seungcheol imagine #choi seungcheol #seungcheol x reader #seungcheol fluff #seventeen drabbles

[cherryredcheol]

" have you eaten today ? "

pairing : boo seungkwan x gn!reader

"13 ways to say "i love you" with seventeen"

warnings : mentions of food , language (seungkwan calls the reader "dumbass" lovingly)

word count : 0.6 k

a/n : words cannot describe the love i have for boo seungkwan , if my future partner isn't boo seungkwan himself i don't WANT them .

You'd like to think after two years, you've grown used to Seungkwan's disapproving glare. But jeez, if he isn't laying it on thick tonight. You're pretty sure he's actually burned two dime-sized holes through your laptop with the way he glowering from his spot across from you.

"Boo..." You draw out his name in a warning, not bothering to look up or cease typing. "You're gonna strain your corneas if you don't quit it."

"Your fingers are gonna fall off if you don't quit it." He mocks.

You spare a full three seconds to look up from your computer just to shoot him a look that says really? Now you're just being immature.

"I told you when you insisted on coming over I wouldn't be able to entertain you. This project is due in two days and I need to focus." You huff out.

It's true, you literally told him three times over on the phone he was welcome at your place, but that he'd have to be quiet and let you work. Which, in hindsight, you really should have known better considering it's Seungkwan, but you felt bad having already blown off your boyfriend three times this week due to this project. And judging from his tone when he called, he was two seconds from marching over and kicking down your door anyway.

Seungkwan clicks his tongue. "This isn't about being entertained—" you highly doubt that "—it's about you being a dumbass and overworking yourself."

You roll your eyes, but that only seems to fuel his persistence. "It's been hours since I got here and you've yet to take a break."

"I will in a bit, just let me finish this."

Seungkwan doesn't get the chance to retort. The doorbell rings with what you assume is the take-out he called in for himself a little over thirty minutes ago. You'd originally told him you didn't want anything, shooing him to quiet down when he tried to ask. But now, you're starting to regret that. Especially when the smell of his food wafts into the room moments after the door shuts.

He sits back down across from you, opening the containers and making quick work of digging in. The scent of it hits your nose tenfold, and at that, your stomach growls. Loud enough for Seungkwan's head to pop up and his eyes to narrow. Traitor, you curse at your stomach.

Seungkwan tilts his head and you're too scared to meet his gaze for fear of being scolded.

"Have you eaten today?" He asks, with a soft tone and unexpected seriousness. You just shrug, not wanting to let go of your pride.

"I'm fine."

He scoffs and immediately starts using the container's lid to dish out a heaping portion. All the while muttering to himself about you being difficult and how you're going to give him at least twelve new grey hairs.

"Here, take half." He shoves the lid, which definitely has more than half piled onto it, towards you.

When you just blankly stare at it, he sighs and picks up a piece with his chopsticks. He extends his arm as far as it can go until the item, drenched in a sweet-smelling sauce, is centimeters from your lips. "Eat." He instructs. So you do, admitting defeat by finally pushing your computer to the side and exchanging it for the plate Seungkwan fixed you.

"I swear, what would you do without me." He teases, beaming with pride.

taglist: @matchahyuck @dontwannaexsist @minnieminshi @myfavoritedelusion @tanya596carat

[cherryredcheol]

i did not read this at my desk at work

The Hair Tie Test

Jihoon didn't mean to classically condition you to get wet every time he puts his hair up, but he can't say he minds the result.

Rating: M (18+) | WC: ~2.5k | Pairing: ljh x reader | Genre: smut

Warnings: implied consent, oral reader rec., somnophilia mention, fingering, jihoon is in love w u and ur pussy

Reader notes: uses hair ties, has breasts and a vagina, wap

Jihoon first started keeping a hair tie on him when his hair was still short and the relationship was still new. 

He picked up the habit after noticing that you always have at least two, one for you and one for anyone else who might need one. One night about three months in, you gave both away to people you didn’t even know, and then later when you got warm, you had nothing to put your hair up with. 

So before Jihoon saw you next, he bought a pack of the brand he knew you liked and tried to get used to the feeling of the elastic around his wrist. It was tight and constricting at first, but soon enough, he grew accustomed to the sensation and stopped perceiving it at all. 

The next week when you gave both of them away again, he was prepared. He acted nonchalant as he brandished his wrist, but the joyful gasp and squeal you responded with had him biting back a grin the rest of the night. 

Now that he’s let his hair grow so long, he’s started keeping two hair ties on him as well, one for you, and one for him. 

There are a few reasons why he might tie his hair up in the day to day: he gets too hot, the wind blows it into his face, he needs it out of the way to work out. 

At night, there’s only one: he’s getting ready to eat your pussy till you cry. 

You laughed the first time he stopped to pull it back in the middle of his descent, but by now, you know exactly what it means when he reaches for that hair tie. 

He’s almost sure he accidentally conditioned you, because every single time he gets between your legs after putting his hair up, you’re wet. Even if you’re fresh out of the shower, or winding down in bed, or tired after a long day of work, you’re ready for him as soon as his hair is tied back. 

He wonders if that happens during the day too. When he answers your facetime call after a workout and you see his hair is up, do you get wet? What about when he picks you up from work on a hot day? Or when he took you on that picnic date last weekend and it was particularly windy? Did you want him then too?

Today, he’s decided to find out. 

You’re having a relaxed day at home, just lounging on the couch together and catching up on shows, so there’s no ostensible reason for him to tie his hair back.

Which is exactly why he does. 

He doesn’t say a word as he starts to gather it up in his hands, brushing the strands back with his fingertips and forming a pony before looping the hair tie around it one, two, three times. He can feel your gaze on him but he keeps his eyes on the TV and returns his hand to the leg you’re resting in his lap, rubbing soft circles around your ankle bone with his thumb. 

He sees you shake your head in his periphery as if to clear it, and lets the corner of his mouth turn up in a smirk on the side you can’t see. You’re restless for the next few minutes, checking your phone and wiggling your foot and tapping your fingers on your thigh, and he decides he’ll only make you suffer till the next commercial break before checking the results of his little test. 

As soon as an ad starts to air, he’s turning in place and tugging one of your legs to rest behind him, shifting to lay on his stomach between them and tucking his fingers in the waistband of your pajamas. You look at him with wide eyes but raise your hips when he starts to pull them down, bringing your knees up to your chest so he can take them all the way off. 

He gently pushes your legs apart, waiting for you to let them fall open the rest of the way, and feels a grin stretch his lips as soon as he sets eyes on the mess of your pussy.

You’re glistening with arousal already, so wet and so fucking pretty, and he’d laugh at the fact that he accidentally Pavlov’d you if he wasn’t already busy sucking open-mouthed kisses up your thigh. 

Usually, he’s desperate to get you on his tongue, but on a lazy day like this, he feels like he should take his time, work you up slowly, tip you over the edge gently. 

So he doesn’t rush as he licks a fat stripe up the center of your cunt, languidly dragging his tongue from your entrance to your clit. He exhales a soft moan at the taste of you, lifting your left leg over his shoulder and wrapping his arm around it to reach your pussy. 

His fingers push your lips further apart so he can lap more directly at your clit, rubbing the tip of his tongue up and down before pursing his lips around the bud and sucking lightly. 

You let out a delicate sigh, one of your hands coasting down your body to pet his head, your nails scratching at his scalp and making him shiver. His other arm winds around your right leg, his hand resting on your stomach where you intertwine your fingers with his. 

Jihoon loves the quiet intimacy of moments like this, loves how you want to make him feel good when he’s doing the same for you, loves that you and him don’t need words anymore, not when you have tender hands and an unbreakable connection. 

He loves your pussy too, you’re so warm and soft and fragrant, and getting to put his mouth on you is one of a great many privileges in his life. Getting to make you cum is another, though he’s not in a rush to make that happen. 

It will, of course it will, but before that, he wants to savor you, treasure you, cherish you. 

Today, he’s about the journey, not the destination. 

You don’t seem to mind, thankfully, just laying back and letting him explore you like it’s his first time between your legs rather than his five hundredth. He’s meticulous in his study of you, his gaze traveling up your body to watch your face as his tongue glides through your folds. Your eyelashes flutter when he ever so slightly digs the tip under the hood of your clit, so he does it again before wrapping his lips around it and taking slow, deep pulls. 

That makes you gasp, makes your brows pinch together and your pretty eyes grow hazy, makes him want to abandon his plans and go faster, harder, make you cum now. But he can be patient, he will be patient, because he knows that his slow and steady perusal of you will be all the more rewarding when he finally guides you into your release. 

But if he keeps sucking your clit, that will happen before he’s ready. He moves down a bit, firming his tongue and pushing it into your entrance, groaning quietly at the heady essence that coats his taste buds. 

Jihoon loves to eat, that’s a fact everyone knows, but whenever they ask his favorite meal, he always has to lie. He’ll say steak or salmon or some kind of pasta, but if he could be honest, his answer would be your pussy. Not just pussy, but yours, specifically. 

There’s just something about the way you taste that sates his every craving, that has him thinking about it even when he shouldn’t be, that makes him want to enjoy you loudly, messily, voraciously. 

That’s how he usually is when he goes down on you, today being an outlier. 

It’s a welcome one, though, and perhaps long overdue, because he can tell how much you love it at this pace. You’ve got a dreamy look about you, and your thigh is so relaxed on his shoulder, he can feel it weighing him down. Then there’s your sounds, your sighs and hums and muted gasps telling him he’s doing something very right. 

It almost makes him want to put you to bed like this, eat you out so leisurely, you fall asleep with his head between your thighs and cum without even knowing it. He can wake you up the same way, pull you out of your dreams and push you straight into pleasure with just his tongue.  

Your pussy is luxury incarnate; beginning and ending the day with your taste in his mouth would be both a privilege and an honor. 

But then, this is too. The way you gave yourself over to him without even a word exchanged, let him get you naked and spread you out right here on the couch in the middle of the day. You’re not rushing him as he takes his sweet time relearning every inch of you, and oh, the time is sweet. 

Your pussy is sweet too, but not sweet like candy. It’s sweet like falling asleep in a patch of sunlight, like coming home after a long time away, like flowers blooming again once the frost of winter fades. 

He could live and die here, with his tongue inside of you and his nose buried in your folds. 

He’s sure he could subsist on just your pussy. Food isn’t a requirement when he has something he loves to eat even more, and your arousal wets his throat just like water does, flowing generously enough that he can drink you down and tasting so luscious that he won’t have need for anything else. 

You probably wouldn’t be opposed, you love his mouth on you as much as he loves to put it on you. He’s still obsessed with how responsive you are, even after almost two years together. 

You don’t hide a thing from him, always let him see and hear the way he makes you feel, unselfish with your noises, your reactions, and your desires. 

When your fingers tighten in his hair and you sigh out his name, he knows that means you want more, and he’s inclined to give it to you. Slow and steady wins the race and all that, but his aim is always to give you what you need, and if you need him to go faster, to go harder, he will. 

It helps that his hunger is beginning to overtake his patience. He was hoping to work you up softly, methodically, lead you into gentle waves of pleasure rather than the crashing tsunami you’re both used to, but he doesn’t have the fortitude to make you wait when he wants it just as bad as you. 

It turns out he can be disciplined in every area of his life except for eating your pussy, and maybe that should feel like a defeat. Instead, it just feels right, like he’s worshiped at your altar and now he gets to revel in your benediction.   

He shifts his greedy mouth back up to your swollen clit and starts to suck hard, his sights now set on making you cum all over his face. His bangs fall over his forehead into his eyes, obscuring his view of you, and you push them back for him, staring down at him with parted lips. 

You watch as he devours you until you can’t keep your eyes open anymore, the falling of your lids telling him you’re starting to get close. You’re making the prettiest sounds, your little moans and whimpers going straight to his cock, which is already achingly hard for you. 

This isn’t about him though, so he ignores the throbbing and doubles his efforts, groaning into your clit when your fingers tighten in his hair, pulling slightly at the roots. He’s got a sensitive scalp, not in an ‘ouch’ way but in a ‘moan when you play with his hair’ way, and that’s something you discovered very early on with how tactile and affectionate you are. 

You take advantage of this discovery often, but this isn’t one of those times, no, you’re just so close to the edge that you can’t control your hands anymore. The one holding his is squeezing his fingers, and he can’t help but think about how your pussy would do the same if he slid two inside. 

Having something filling you up makes your orgasms stronger anyway, so he decides to take back the hand holding your pussy open, giving your thigh a loving knead on his way to your cunt. He primes one finger at your entrance, and when you feel it, you sigh out a long, “Yes,” like it’s something you’ve been waiting for. 

You clench down as soon as he slips it inside, your walls fluttering as you grow closer and closer. He’s quick to sink in another, curling the tips up toward your belly and pressing them into your sweet spot. He doesn’t fuck them in and out, just rubs that ridged patch and sucks your clit until your back arches and your moans rise in volume. Your thigh starts to quiver on his shoulder and he knows you’re right there, that it’s only a matter of time before you-

“Jihoon,” you whine as your pussy contracts around his fingers in pulses, wetness seeping out around them as you tremble and buck into his mouth. He uses your combined grasp to hold you down so he can carry you through to the other side, his lips still suctioned around your clit, taking deep pulls to prolong your pleasure. He watches you the whole time, watches the bliss play out through your expressions, the look on your face combined with the feeling of your pussy swallowing around his fingers almost enough to make him cum too. 

You melt into the couch when it’s over, your face and your hands relaxing, a sleepy hum escaping you as you pet his head in thanks. 

“What was that for?” You ask drowsily, blinking your eyes open just as he pulls his fingers out and slides them into his mouth. He never wastes a drop when it comes to you, and that’s something you know well. 

Something he knows well is that you love tasting yourself on him, so before answering, he gently lifts your legs off his shoulders and rises up to press his lips to yours. 

“Do I need to have a reason?” He murmurs into your mouth, kissing you again so you don’t question him further. 

The test can stay his little secret for now, especially when he’s gathered so little evidence. 

He’ll have to try it out a few more times, just to be sure. 

AN: fully inspired by this ask thank you anon ily

My Masterlist

#oh wow #i need him in a way that is CRIMINAL

[cherryredcheol]

"lovie"

tldr: all the ways jeonghan uses your nickname a/n: but mom, i love him. (there is a makeout scene in this...)

pesters: but only in good fun

“lovie,” he coos at you, encouraged by the blush on your cheeks. he could tell by the look in your eyes, you were embarrassed but not upset. you hadn’t thought anything of it when he suggested you wear the green hoodie in your closet to visit him and the members in the practice room. 

“need to let everyone know we’re together?” he couldn’t help but poke fun at you as you walked into the room wearing a matching hoodie to his. you had no knowledge he had even worn the offending garment today. if you had, you wouldn’t be in yours, especially not in front of his members and their staff.  

“i’m pretty sure everyone already knows.” his teasing didn’t let up, even as he wrapped his arms around you, pleased to see you had fallen right into his trap. you faintly heard joshua scoff somewhere behind you, too focused on the man in front of you to really give him any attention, “you guys are gross.” 

whispers: when he wants to check in

“lovie,” his whisper pulls you from your thoughts. “i don’t think that pork will come back to life no matter how hard you stare at it. mingyu grilled it really well.” you rolled your eyes but turned to look at him nonetheless. he looked awfully handsome under the dim light of the bbq restaurant. he always looked handsome, you supposed. 

“are you okay?” he was still whispering. wanted to keep this moment as private as possible so you could speak freely. he knew dinner with his members could be a lot, especially after a long day at work. 

“you can tell me if you want to go. you know i’ll never pass up an opportunity to go home with you.” his eye dropped in a wink, and this time you smiled when you rolled your eyes. going home with him did kind of sound like a good idea…

breathes: in between kisses

“lovie,” it escapes him like a sigh, slipping out between you two in a heated moment. you were on his lap, completely blocking his view of the tv, and in the back of his mind he knows he wanted to see this one but he couldn’t bring himself to care. not with the way he is consumed with the feeling of your weight pressing on him, your warmth almost burning his skin even through layers of clothes. 

when you pull back and look at him, he swears he feels his heart skip a beat. face oily and bare from the skin care you had completed before joining him on the couch for movie night, he’s never thought you more beautiful. he can feel your lip balm on and around his lips, a reminder you’d been there.

“whatever you’re doing, it’s working lovie,” he praises. “you’re practically glowing.” if he thought you were radiant before, you beamed under his praise. the last thing he saw before his eyes closed to continue kissing you was your toothy grin. 

giggles: behind cupped hands

“lovie,” he was snickering when he pulled you into a secluded corner of seungchoel’s apartment. game night was in full swing and you had just started the third round of mafia. while the rest of the members were distracted by mingyu and soonyoung’s bickering, jeonghan whisked you away, his mischievous smirk on his face. 

“can you keep a secret?” he was talking in hushed tones, hiding his mouth behind his hands to avoid prying eyes. when you nodded in confirmation, he leaned impossibly closer, breath tickling your ear. 

“i’m the mafia.” it took everything in you to keep your face neutral. you didn’t want to blow him in after he spilled such a big secret. it warmed your heart that he trusted you enough to tell you his role in the game. “if you tell anyone, i’ll kill you next.” 

scrawls: on a post-it

“lovie,” the note brought heat to your cheeks. you really hoped your coworker at the desk across from yours didn’t notice. when had he even slipped this in? you packed your own lunch and he wasn’t even awake when you left for your shift this morning, still snuggled beneath your comforter when you pulled your shoes on and headed out the door. 

“i miss you. hope you’re having a good day!” his neat handwriting brought a smile to your face. this wasn’t the first time he had snuck a note into your lunchbox, but he didn’t do it often so this was really a treat. and on a friday, too! what a great way to end the week. 

“i can’t wait to spend the weekend with you.” you shared the sentiment. looking forward to a free weekend with no plans or schedules. free to rot in your bed for the next two days with your beloved. “love you!” 

#seventeen imagines #seventeen #seventeen fluff #seventeen scenarios #svt #svt x reader #seventeen x reader #svt imagines #svt fluff #jeonghan #jeonghan x reader #jeonghan fluff #jeonghan imagines #jeonghan scenarios #yoon jeonghan

[cherryredcheol]

as a librarian myself, i would LOVE to have a hot boyfriend come hang out in the building all day. instead i get creepy old men :)

jun x fem!reader (she/her) — pure fluff <3

“hi. excuse me, i’m looking for that book? it says you have it here on your website but i can’t find it anywhere”

you look up from your computer and flash a smile to the handsome customer that’s standing behind your desk. the library has been particularly empty this afternoon, so this interaction comes as a much needed relief from your intense boredom.

standing up from your chair, you motion the boy to follow you towards the modern history section, where you know his book is waiting amongst a hundred others.

“it should be over here, let me jus…”

but you’re cut off by a slight push on your shoulders, just strong enough to have your back meet the shelves right in the middle of the alley.

you let out a chuckle, not surprised in the least. now towering over you, the pretty customer lets you just enough time to notice his smirk before putting his lips over yours.

“jun, i’m at work”, you push him back, but your giddy smile and the giggle in your voice betray how you truly feel.

“but i miss you” your boyfriend replies, kissing you again. “when do you finish?”

“in an hour” you reply, your hand mindlessly playing with his hair. you love it when it’s tied half-up, and he knows that very well. “just go for a walk or do some shopping and then come back to pick me up, okay?”

you notice his gaze shifting to your left and landing on a rather thick book with yellow pages and a fancy looking cover.

“no i think i’m gonna stay here. just me and…” he pauses to read the title, “recollections of the civil war. can’t wait.”

you chuckle at this convincing display of interest, and give him another peck on the lips.

holding the book against his chest, he then tells you in a whisper: “ok don’t say anything but i’m actually just gonna sit over there and admire the hot librarian. she’s really cute, i wonder if she’d wanna go on a date with me. what do you think?”

after giving a quick look at your surroundings, you whisper back: “i think you have your chances. plus she told me she felt like going to the movies lately so, you know… just saying…”

he nods in agreement, and you two eventually part ways to avoid attracting the attention of the other few people here.

the rest of your shift feels like an eternity. jun chose to sat rather close to your desk, and although he spent most of his time looking at you, it only made your impatience grow stronger. not to mention that he kept texting you how good you looked which made it hard to focus on your actual work. but 5pm eventually came around, and you were out of the building less than three minutes later.

“hi gorgeous” he greets you, linking his arm with yours when you meet him outside. “hope you’re ready to run, our movie starts in 10mn.”

“wait, what?” you ask, and immediately feel your arm being pulled forward by your excited boyfriend, who’s already started running with a huge smile on his lips.

it’s not that jun is particularly eager to go to the movies; but every once in a while, he likes to remind himself that he’s actually sharing his life with the hot librarian he used to have a huge crush on. some days he even allows himself to think that, in a few years, he might also share his last name.

[cherryredcheol]

my heart by your side forever [soulmate aus]

Keep reading

[cherryredcheol]

a spark of realization

pairing: non-idol!hoshi x gn!reader

prompt: soulmate au series. 13/13

word count: 5.0k~

warnings: some food mentions. some angst. coworkers au. platonic love between soonyoung and his friends <3 some alcohol mentions (all regarding soonyoung drinking, no real mentions of reader actually drinking). mentions of static shocks throughout.

daisy’s notes: soonyoung looks at all of his friends and goes 'i love u all so much' and im like god same me when i look at my friends

summary: Unlike Jihoon and every other friend that swore they didn’t have one, Soonyoung knows he doesn’t have a soulmate. He’s tried plenty of the subtle soulmate things. He doesn’t feel anyone’s pain or emotions, he doesn’t taste anything weird, and he’s dyed his hair enough times to know that he most likely doesn’t have someone out there. Yet the static that makes his hair stand on end sometimes just causes him to think that maybe there’s something else to expect…

Kwon Soonyoung was positive about one thing in his life: he did not have a soulmate. Never showed any signs when he was ten onward, and he never would. Sure, it hurt to hear when he was ten—he was ten and stuck into this category of “without” regardless of how he felt about having a soulmate, that was sure to make anyone upset—but he’d figured things out for himself while growing up. Some people hated their soulmates. Other people loved them, sure, like… every single one of his friends now, but that was beside the point. Soonyoung had decided several things for himself. 

One: he didn’t need a soulmate to be happy and fulfilled. Plenty of people didn’t end up with their soulmates. Plenty of people didn’t have a romantic relationship with their soulmates, but stayed in touch. Some people didn’t even want their soulmates at all, either. Therefore: no one needed a soulmate to be a complete person. He was just fine on his own. (This was something his parents taught him from an early age.)

Two: Soonyoung did have soulmates, actually. Twelve of them. His twelve closest friends were his soulmates, platonically, and they’d all chosen each other in life. But if he had to pick one, then it was easily Jihoon. The two had known each other the longest now, and Soonyoung had told him one night that if neither of them had soulmates, then they were platonic soulmates. And even after Jihoon found his soulmate, Soonyoung still believed in it. The two of them just fit together in a way that was right.

“Really?” Jihoon had been half-asleep on the couch that night, tired from both work work and music work. He and Joshua had to re-record the song they’d been working on… again. Soonyoung could admire how dedicated Jihoon was to having a perfect product, though. “That’s sappy.”

Soonyoung had giggled, admittedly very much not sober. “No, no, I mean it! We’re soulmates, I think.” Another burst of giggles as he reached toward Jihoon’s hand. “I know you have one now, but…” 

Jihoon gently patted his cheek. “No, you’re right. We’re soulmates, too.” He shut his eyes, about to nod off again. “Soonyoung…” He yawned, turning onto his side. His dark eyes found Soonyoung’s a moment later, only barely open. “I don’t want to give you false hope, but… Have you ever looked into it?”

Soonyoung leaned against him. Of course he had. Hadn’t most people who did, deep down, want a soulmate? Well, maybe except Vernon. Vernon did his own thing most of the time. “I don’t wanna.”

“You don’t have to,” Jihoon said, understanding as always. “But…”

“Hm?”

“It’s hard to live in a world where I would have one and you wouldn’t.” Jihoon’s voice was heavy with sleep, and his eyelids fluttered shut again a moment later. “That’s all.”

“Why not?” Soonyoung stifled a yawn. “You’re cool. You make music. Plenty of people would love that. You can write your soulmate love songs now.” 

It earned a quiet chuckle from Jihoon. “Just…” He trailed off. “I was okay with not having one because love is… different. Like what Wonwoo says about it. It’s a choice and something you make. But you…” 

Soonyoung blinked curiously at him. He…? 

“Anyone would love you,” he mumbled, clearly beginning to doze off now. “I just don’t understand how it could be me and not you.”

Soonyoung had decided to love Jihoon extra from that point on. Jihoon’s soulmate did the same, and everyone else truly adored Jihoon, but Soonyoung understood. Jihoon never saw himself as the leading man in any situation. He wasn’t sure if that extended to believing he wasn’t anyone’s first choice (he was always Soonyoung’s, if that meant anything), but Soonyoung didn’t need to know. He just knew that he would always hype up Jihoon as much as he could. Everyone did, to be fair, but Soonyoung was happy to be a louder voice among the crowd. He would always be there to stream his songs when they were released and share them on every account he had, even if that sometimes required Seungcheol or Wonwoo helping him not break the link in the process.

But he’d never let go of that thought. How could it be me and not you? As if Jihoon deserved a soulmate less than Soonyoung did. Soonyoung had his moments of yearning, the same way that Seokmin often did, but he wouldn’t trade places with any of his friends. Their soulmates meant something to them. Soonyoung had seen the way Seungkwan doted on his soulmate day in and day out, and he’d quietly apologized to him once for the times he’d made inappropriate jokes. 

“What, those?” Seungkwan hadn’t seemed bothered in the slightest. “You were trying to make light of things so I wouldn’t worry.” He crossed his arms. “They hurt in those moments, but I can’t blame you for trying.”

How did Soonyoung get so lucky? Was this what the universe granted him in exchange for lacking a soulmate…? He wasn’t sure, but he wouldn’t trade any of his friends for a soulmate. He’d happily make do with the twelve he’d forged any day.

Okay, so maybe Soonyoung was getting in his head a little. Seokmin had just spent a  little over two weeks in a time loop because, surprise, he also had a soulmate. Which sent Soonyoung down a small spiral. According to some study out there that still needed more information to be more valid or whatever, a good portion of people who were told they didn’t have soulmates when they were ten were people who didn’t have obvious signs. Time loops, hair colors matching, lost items, sparks flying, colored footprints leading to the other person… All things that people simply wouldn’t have seen at age ten. 

So maybe Soonyoung started to dye his hair after Jihoon found his soulmate. It wasn’t abnormal, Soonyoung did like to play with his hair. It’d been a while since he’d gone bleach blonde. And maybe his soulmate didn’t care and that was why he stayed bleach blonde until his roots started to show. And maybe his soulmate didn’t care that their hair was cherry red not long after that…

And, maybe, Soonyoung was acutely aware of the date after Seokmin broke his loop. Each day followed one another as they always did, but Soonyoung swore a Tuesday felt just like a Monday once. 

And maybe, just maybe, Soonyoung lost a bracelet with his name on it. Joshua made him another one, no question, but he hadn’t found anything that didn’t belong to him (or Jihoon) in his living space. Everything was in its proper spot, just as it was supposed to be. Nothing new. 

No footprints stood out to him, and he hadn’t bumped into anyone lately that made him feel those mystical sparks that Jun once told him about. 

Kwon Soonyoung did not need a soulmate to be happy… So why did he want one so badly?

“I don’t need one,” was what he blubbered to Seungcheol one night, a week after Seokmin broke his time loop. “I don’t. I shouldn’t act like I need one to be happy because I am happy. I’ve been happy before, so—”

“It’s okay.” Seungcheol had held him as he cried. “Soonyoung, it’s normal for people to want them just as much as it’s normal for people to not. If you want a soulmate, it’s okay.” 

How was he supposed to say that now it was starting to hurt? That all twelve of the soulmates he chose in life had their own soulmates, even the ones who were convinced they didn’t? 

“Work is still bad,” Soonyoung said suddenly, still crying into Seungcheol’s shoulder. The words just seemed to dribble from his mouth now, no true thoughts behind them. “Two of the new hires took off because they found out they were soulmates and—and they wanted to get busy living life while they could. And now all of us are staying every night because we have to make up their work, and—”

He just kept babbling, sobbing as everything seemed to spill out of him. Seungcheol just held him, rubbing circles into his back to soothe him. Soon enough, all the words had dried up, and Soonyoung was just left, breathing quietly as he came back down. His head felt foggier than before. Lighter, though. 

“You’ll be okay,” Seungcheol promised him when Soonyoung finally moved away to wipe his face. “I’ll buy you dinner when you work next, okay?”

“I feel guilty,” Soonyoung said a moment later. With less thoughts to weigh him down, his feelings seemed to become more obvious. 

Seungcheol had chuckled. “You shouldn’t. I’m offering—”

“Not that.” Soonyoung let out a long sigh, tugging his sleeves down over his hands for a moment. When did he start feeling so cold? “I… I love all of you. You’re all some of my best friends. I meant it when I said I consider you all soulmates. I feel like I should be happy that we all met in this life, but…”

“We can’t fill that void,” Seungcheol said. He turned to face Soonyoung fully, arm draped over the back of the couch. “Soonyoung. I love you, but you aren’t my soulmate. There’s things I want to do with them now that I know them that I wouldn’t want to do with anyone else. I can’t call it love because I haven’t known them long enough, but… You do understand, right?”

Of course he understood. Soonyoung had dated before, after all. “I know, but—”

“None of us want you to feel left out,” he said. “If you want to date, then you should try dating again when things have calmed down.” He paused, “Or now, but I think the stress from work is getting to you too much.” Again, Seungcheol paused, mulling over his thoughts as though he needed to get them right the first time he spoke them aloud. “Soonyoung. Do you remember what you told all of us when you said we were your soulmates?”

Soonyoung had been… a little drunk that night. Most of them were. But Soonyoung had seen the videos that were taken by his friends of his drunken rambling, and he’d said a lot. “Which part?”

“The universe picked soulmates for a lot of us,” Seungcheol said, “but we still have to choose them. And you decided you would choose us.”

It was the easiest decision Soonyoung had ever made, and one that admittedly made him and a few others cry. He’d been right, though, hadn’t he? A soulmate was a person that the universe felt was perfect for you, but plenty of soulmates didn’t last. It was almost always the people who believed that just being soulmates was enough to have a lasting relationship. Soonyoung had seen people who finally reached their breaking point and ended things, always crying later because that was their soulmate. Almost always, their stories were similar to the others: they weren’t trying. It was supposed to come naturally to them. But a soulmate wasn’t a guarantee for love. All relationships, platonic or romantic or familial, needed work put into them. That was why Soonyoung knew that a soulmate represented a choice. One that the universe made for a person, but a choice that a person had to keep choosing if they wanted to make things work. That was how love worked, after all. Soonyoung had been in love before, and he had chosen that person until they couldn’t choose each other anymore. 

And he knew that it went the same for those with soulmates. Seungkwan had been with his soulmate for over a year now, and plenty of people could count the petty disagreements the two had had. They always came back together after they cooled off, talking things out like adults (sometimes with a little intervention from Chan or Vernon, but those moments were rare). Minghao and his soulmate had an actual argument not too long ago, but they’d bounced back and been stronger than before for it. Even Jeonghan, who had loved his soulmate almost his entire life, had an unfortunate spat that lasted a few days before he reached out to them and asked to reconcile. Love was a choice as much as it was a feeling. It was what brought them all back together again. A soulmate wasn’t the end-all be-all of love, but Soonyoung had realized why they all fit so well together. They all shared some sort of experience in some way, whether it be a string to connect them or losing objects. It was something to bond over, to open up the doors to choosing one another once that decision was clear. 

“Someone is going to choose you some day,” Seungcheol said, completely serious. “And they’ll be lucky if you choose them, too.” 

Soonyoung wiped at his eyes with his sleeve again, the fabric scratchy against his skin. Minghao would be chastising him now for it, pulling tissues out of his pocket or his bag depending on where he’d decided to keep them that day. That, too, was Minghao choosing to love his friend. “I love you,” he said softly. Thank you for choosing to be in my life. He wasn’t sure where he’d be without him.

Seungcheol chuckled, warm as ever. “I love you, too,” he said back, always as though it were the easiest thing in the world. Maybe, for Seungcheol, it was. 

A week later, work was a little kinder to him. His coworkers gossiped about some new hires coming into the company, and Soonyoung, truly, couldn’t care less. As long as they did their jobs and didn’t run off immediately to see the world or whatever those two were doing, he was happy. He’d given a polite nod to the new hires as they were introduced, and ignored the way the hairs on the back of his hand were standing on end. He’d charged himself with too much static upon coming in, dragging his feet as he tried to subtly push his sock back up after it had rolled down. He’d managed to discharge the static eventually, although the slight zap from the metal he touched had made him hiss in pain. It felt like a little too much, but what did he know? He had other things to worry about, like the backlog of work that still stood out to him. It’d take a few days for things to calm down for good. And, sure, the polite thing to do would be to get drinks with his coworkers… But no one was inviting anyone anywhere. Not when there was too much work during the day and everyone was exhausted by the time they all clocked out. 

“So? What do you think?” One of his coworkers had whispered to another after the new hires (a pair of people around Soonyoung’s age) had left ahead of them, having packed up quickly to catch their buses home.

Soonyoung packed up a little slower. Maybe it was wrong to listen in, but…

“Hm…” The woman hummed to herself for a moment, shifting her weight from leg to leg. “I’m not sure yet. Sungyoon seems to work hard, but the other person…” She frowned, crossing her arms as she grew still. “They’re very quiet. Like…” 

Soonyoung knew that she had just glanced at him. He’d always been the quiet one at work, the polite one who worked hard. That’s what you were like, from what he understood, too. You came in, you put yourself to work, and then politely excused yourself when you needed to run to get to your bus. Sungyoon had gone with you, not keeping it secret from anyone that the two of you were at least friends. Speaking of…

“Do you think they’re dating?” She whispered to the other. 

Soonyoung hoped you weren’t. You were… actually kinda cute? Plus he admired your work ethic a lot, even on your first day. Maybe when things calmed down, he could ask you out to coffee or something. 

“I didn’t see any marks,” the other man said, not bothering to lower his voice any further. “They could be soulmates. They clearly have a history…”

Soonyoung packed his bag and took off. He’d had enough of this. The journey home was uneventful, but Jihoon had picked up on how disgruntled Soonyoung was from the moment he walked in the door. Halfway through his vent session, Jihoon had looked at him.

“Why are you jealous? You just met them.” 

Jealous? Soonyoung was not jealous of anyone. He choked on his own words, unsure of what he could say that was actually convincing. If he denied it, then Jihoon would only believe that he was bullshitting him to try and save face. Yes, you were cute in Soonyoung’s eyes, but he’d only just met you! He’d be a weirdo if he was jealous this quickly! And you wouldn’t want anything to do with him if he was weird. 

“I’m not jealous,” Soonyoung said once he was sure he could say it casually. “I just find it weird that my coworkers care so much. They’re doing a good job.” He paused for a second, “both of them are! Sungyoon is very nice.”

Jihoon was not convinced. Nothing could convince him now, then. “Mhm.” He shrugged. “Nothing wrong with being a little jealous if they’re clearly close. Just don’t let it bother you.”

“I’m not!” Soonyoung felt his face heating up. He wasn’t. He wasn’t bothered in the slightest. It was more-so his coworkers being weird about it. It was weird to speculate, wasn’t it? If you had a soulmate, then good for you. If you didn’t, then… 

Then maybe Soonyoung had a shot.

“A soulmate?” You had looked up, the same man who’d speculated about you and Sungyoon being soulmates having shoved his nose into your business. You blinked, unsure of where this topic had even come from. “No, I don’t have one. I don’t think I do, at least. Is this a part of company business? I told H.R. after I was hired that I don’t have any signs that would prevent me from working, but I didn’t know everyone needed to know this.”

Soonyoung smiled to himself. Yeah, you tell him. It was your business anyway. 

“But what about you and Sungyoon—”

“College friends.” You smiled politely. “We live close to one another, too. I’m not seeing anyone now. Is that all?”

Sungyoon sat at his desk, watching you with this amused twinkle in his eyes. Sungyoon had the same kind of admiration for you that Soonyoung had for his friends, he was positive. He watched the way his coworker slinked off after a moment, apologizing for prying into your personal life as you returned to work. Soonyoung reached down to pull something from a desk drawer, only to feel a familiar zap the moment he did. He’d winced in pain, but it did nothing to dampen his mood. When Soonyoung relayed later the information to his friends at dinner that night, Wonwoo had watched him the entire time, all too aware of how thrilled Soonyoung seemed to be about the whole ordeal.

“Why do you seem so happy?”

Was he happy? He was, kind of. Without being disrespectful, you’d rebuffed the guy and kept most of your privacy in doing so. There were no long drawn out college stories about some adventure you and Sungyoon had while in college, no emotional moments of spilling about how you resented the fact you didn’t have a soulmate. Hell, Soonyoung had no idea how you felt about it. Were you indifferent like him? Did you have a similar situation to him, too, where you had chosen your own soulmates out of your friends?

“They were being disrespected,” Soonyoung had settled on saying. “I’m glad they handled the situation well—”

“He likes them and wants to ask them out,” Jihoon said after taking a sip of his water. “So he’s glad they’re single.”

Soonyoung shoved Jihoon slightly. “That’s not it at all!”

Jun chuckled from his seat, watching the exchange. “There’s nothing wrong with liking them, you know.” 

“There isn’t, but I don’t like them like that. I barely know them. We’ve barely even talked.” Soonyoung rolled his eyes. “How can I like someone I don’t know yet?”

Wonwoo shrugged. “I liked my soulmate before I really knew them. They seemed interesting.” 

“That’s different!” 

“Is it?” Jun shrugged. “I haven’t known my soulmate for long, but I still liked them before we started talking. They seemed nice. You can have a good opinion of someone without knowing them intimately—”

“That’s not the point,” Soonyoung said. “You’re all trying to turn this into something it’s not. I just… I dunno. When I see them, I want to know them more. It’s like they just keep pulling my attention toward them.” He paused, chopsticks in hand as he looked up. “They keep looking at me, actually. It’s kinda funny. I think they might be into me, actually.”

Suddenly, all three of his friends exchanged a look. Soonyoung furrowed his brows. “What?”

And none of them would tell him their thoughts. When he pushed further later as they were leaving the restaurant, Jihoon just waved him off. 

“You’ll figure it out.” 

“Shit!”

Soonyoung looked up at the sound of your voice, soft enough that it didn’t catch everyone’s attention. Sungyoon withheld a chuckle as you glared at him a moment later, and Soonyoung couldn’t help but keep his eyes on the pair of you. You’d wrung out your hand, reaching for your desk drawer as you started to search through it for a highlighter. Soonyoung liked the fact that you always highlighted things in pretty colors—bright green so far, but he overheard you telling another coworker, Seungmin, that you liked to switch out colors every so often. It kept things fresh, and Soonyoung found that cute. Almost as cute as the novelty erasers that you kept on your desk to decorate it, never using them since you always used pens (save for the pencil you kept exclusively for the sticky notes you attached to your computer monitor). 

“It’s not funny,” you had hissed back at him. “This place has a bad static problem… Is the air dry to you? I think dry air makes static build-up likelier.”

“It’s just you.” Sungyoon watched you curiously, glancing over to see that Soonyoung had started watching, too. 

Soonyoung watched the way he slowly reached for a pad of sticky notes, jotting something out. Then he reached forward, attaching it to the top of your monitor. You swatted his hand away, eyes flickering over to see Soonyoung just as he turned his attention back to his own work. Yet the moment he was sure you were looking away, Soonyoung glanced over to see you pulling the sticky note off the monitor. How had he avoided you this long…? Something about getting too close to you made his chest all fluttery. Had he really started crushing on you so easily? Then again, you kinda did make it easy. You were cute in your own ways, and it made it hard to focus most days. Now all he could think about was what Sungyoon had written to you. 

He’d stretched himself over Vernon’s couch that night, playing with a little feather toy that his soulmate’s cat (Nutmeg, apparently) seemed to love. She pounced at it again, and Soonyoung had, yet again, been rambling about his work adventures. 

Vernon plucked another fry from Soonyoung’s leftovers. “Dude. Kinda sounds like there’s something there.” 

“I don’t know,” Soonyoung said. “Maybe I’m being silly. I should ask them out sometime, but they’re still new. It feels weird to do it so soon.” He paused, watching as Vernon slowly began to reach for another fry. “If you’re hungry, then eat. I’m fine.” 

With permission, Vernon immediately pulled over the rest of the leftover fries. “I mean it, dude. Why wait? You like them, they seem to like you, just go for it.” 

… Maybe he would.

But probably not today. Soonyoung had woken up late which, thankfully, wasn’t too bad considering he didn’t live too far from work. Jihoon had been in the kitchen, sliding over a plate of toast when Soonyoung booked it from the room.

“You have that meeting—”

“I know!” Soonyoung grabbed two slices. He’d shove them into his mouth on the run over. “I know—I set an alarm!”

Jihoon looked up, already annoyed, “I know. It woke me up.” 

He’d make it up to him later. He yelled back a casual “love you!” to Jihoon, who only groaned in response, and booked it to the stairs. No elevator today: the complex’s elevator sucked most days, and Soonyoung always reserved it for when he was coming home rather than heading to work. He’d pulled on the wrong pair of shoes considering he had a meeting today. He needed to look nice, and he did, mostly. These were the ones that were a little too broken in, having lost traction against the office floors, and they’d lost their shine a bit. Maybe no one would notice? Hopefully no one would notice. He didn’t need anyone making a comment… or you to think less of him. Were you the kind of person who cared about that kind of thing? He hoped not. As long as you were presentable, Soonyoung wouldn’t think any differently of you. 

He burst through the front doors of the building, yelling out to where you and Sungyoon had just boarded the elevators. He saw the way the two of you looked surprised, eyes wide and brows raised as Soonyoung booked it across the lobby while no one else seemed to think much of it. It was far from the first time this had happened, to be fair: it happened back when he was new, and it kept happening every so often since. Soonyoung, unfortunately for everyone else, was the kind of person who could be loud when he needed to be. Which was good for him, because Sungyoon had taken pity on him and held the elevator doors for him. Soonyoung’s hair was standing on end now. Fuck, when did the building have such a bad problem with dry air? 

Shit, fuck, the floors were against him today. In the split few seconds he had, he’d tried to yell for you to move aside so he could crash against the elevator walls, yet his brain seemed to have turned to pudding. He felt this subtle pull forward, which he once thought was gravity as he nearly tripped over the elevator threshold and into you.

Only for sparks to fly. Literally fly. Sungyoon had crumpled to the floor in pain, howling about ‘what the fuck was that?!’ while Soonyoung only felt this warmth wash over him. You’d been shoved against the elevator wall and were clutching the back of your head (shit, fuck, he’d check on you once his brain caught up to him). Wait.

Wait. Sparks flew. 

You…?

“Dude, what the fuck?” You’d pushed him away, hand still clutching the back of your head. 

Immediately, his brain had finally started fully functioning again. “Shit!” He stepped forward, trying to get a closer look at the back of your skull. No bleeding or visible bruising, but what did he know? “Are you okay? Did you get hurt? I’m sorry, I tried to stop, but—”

“What the fuck was that?!” Sungyoon was still on the elevator floor. The doors slid shut after a moment. 

Quietly, Soonyoung hit the button for the correct floor, just to get things moving. “I… I, uh…”

You stared at him, slowly connecting the dots. “Oh.”

“Did… Did it hurt you?” Soonyoung shyly asked, only to realize he’d been vague. “The sparks.”

You shook your head. “No. But—” You looked at Sungyoon. “Sungyoon, are you okay?”

“I’ll live,” he pulled himself back up. “Of course he’s your soulmate. No wonder you two wouldn’t stop staring at each other…”

Soonyoung had felt a pull toward you, but… He always thought that was infatuation fueling that feeling. There were so many things he’d already wanted to ask you, and yet it felt… weird to say them with Sungyoon there. Were you like him? Had you given up on soulmates even though you wanted one? Or did you not care that Soonyoung was your soulmate? Would you have still liked him if he wasn’t…? He felt like he would have liked you either way, but he would never know for sure now. Then again, maybe he could be okay with not having that answer. If he got to know you better, then he could be happy. Neither of you spoke for the ride up, and he could see Sungyoon debating stopping this elevator ride early to give the two of you space.

Thankfully, he didn’t. But he did book it off the elevator once the doors opened, leaving the two of you two step off together.

“So…” You were a little quieter than normal, never quite looking at Soonyoung for too long. “We’re soulmates.”

He nodded. “Is that okay?”

That earned your attention faster than anything else. “Of course that’s okay. Why wouldn’t that be okay?” 

“I just thought that…” You didn’t seem happy. Then again, he barely knew you.

You shook your head. “Just because I’m used to not having a soulmate doesn’t mean I’m not happy it’s you. I already thought you were cute, so…”

Soonyoung shyly smiled at you, hand brushing against your own. It was enough to get you to stop and face him. “I know we have a meeting soon, but… There’s a little place across the street we could go for lunch. It’ll be my treat, if you want—”

“I’d love to,” you smiled. “I’ll look forward to it, soulmate.”

Soonyoung watched you walk ahead of him, smiling to yourself. Suddenly, he felt a new sense of confidence wash over him as he watched you go. He’d only known you for so long,  but something told him that choosing you was going to be the easiest decision he’d ever made.

(And when he told Jihoon that night, he’d called Jun and Wonwoo immediately to send him the money he’d just won for betting that Soonyoung would figure it out sooner rather than later.)

taglist: @twancingyunhao @wonuziex @synthetickitsune @staranghae @porridgesblog @weird-bookworm @bangchansbae @laylasbunbunny @bewoyewo

[cherryredcheol]

hat trick!

the term 'hat-trick' is used to define when a player achieves the feat of scoring three goals in a single game.

summary: the first half of the championships is going to their opponents and everyone is looking to mingyu to lead the team to victory. as their star player, it’s a tall order, especially when his plate is already full with you.

this a part of the man of the match universe

genre: professional football (soccer) au, porn with a little plot

wordcount: 5,616

pairing: mingyu x afab!reader

warnings: HEAVY DDlg kink, HEAVY d/s themes, both parties are safe, sane, and consenting adults, reader is implied to be significantly smaller than mingyu, huge mingyu, big dick gyu (canon), (acknowledged???) exhibitionism, unprotected sex (pls dont do it, its not worth it), multiple sex scenes, spit kink (bec i wrote it), creampie (also bec i wrote it), mentions of masturbation, size kink go bbrrrr, bulge kink, pussy stretching, plenty dirty talk, mingyu uses soooo many nicknames (pretty, baby, princess, etc.)

author's notes: this is written for my dearest friend @madeforgyu who helped me bring forward!mingyu to life and for making his gf such a joy to write. thank you also to her for inspiring me to come back to tumblr after almost a decade.

Mingyu is pissed. He’s absolutely fucking livid.

This game had to have been fucking cooked. There was no way the ref was making all these shitty calls for him not to be paid off or something. The team had been making all the right moves but the second something seems like a foul, a whistle blows and somehow it's always someone from the Diamonds getting the blame.

Mingyu had come to four attempted goals on target and any other time was deemed offside by the refs. If he sees that fucking checkered flag go up one more time before they call for half time he’s going to really give them a reason for a red card.

Any other day he’d probably be able to brush it off after the half time break. But this isn’t any other day or any other match. It was the last match of the season — it was the Korean FA Cup final.

The 23-24 season was grueling but rewarding for the Diamonds. After the major upset at finishing as runners up in the season prior, the whole squad had come into this season with fire under their asses. The change in coaches was another thing — while their ex-manager, Mr. Cho was a hardass, their tearful promise to give him a win even after his retirement paired with Seungcheol’s no-bullshit coach style took them from 100% to 250% in the space of the off season.

Mingyu’s never been a better football player. Which is why he’s unhappy when the half time whistle does blow and they’re down 0-2.

Both teams shuffle into the tunnel to head to their locker rooms where their managers and coaching staff were waiting. Then Mingyu sees a flurry of pink shuffling through the mess of white and red kits.

“Excuse me, excuse mee, coming through please,” comes a light voice, parting the crowd.

There are a couple of chuckles and greetings coming from his teammates and even a high five and a “hey tiny!” from Hoshi before it finds its way in front of him.

It’s his girlfriend. It’s you.

Your presence at the game is no anomaly. You’re pretty much a permanent fixture, sort of like the 12th man of the team. Except you can’t play football for shit and you’re always somehow wearing the worst shoes for going on the pitch.

Everyone on the Diamonds’ side knows you — from the press, to the coaching staff, even some of the nutritionists. You’ve been with Mingyu forever. You hardly phase anyone around you when you bat your eyes at Mingyu and grab one of his hands in both of yours.

Mingyu tries to harden his glare at you, doing his best to send a look of displeasure at whatever it is you’re trying to pull.

“I’m soooorry,” you start, playfully rocking on the balls of your feet and trying to tiptoe to get closer to him.

Mingyu almost wants to roll his eyes.

The last of the team coaches enter the locker room but before the door closes, Seungcheol peeks out and meets Mingyu’s eyes. Hoshi’s head pops out next to him shortly after.

“I don’t have to tell you anything, I’m sure," Seungcheol starts, “But you’ve got 10 minutes, Gyu.”

“Tiny, I need my forward in tip top shape, alright?” comes Hoshi’s laugh.

Now Mingyu really rolls his eyes.

You can’t help the giggle that bubbles out, “Aye aye captain!”

You don’t have to be told twice when Mingyu drags you into an extra locker room and says “Skirt up, pretty.”

He makes quick work of slamming the door shut, not even bothering to lock the door. But he does flick the lights open. He wants to see. He has to see all of you.

When he turns around he clicks his tongue at you seated on one of the benches. You’re still rolling your underwear down your legs. They’re a completely useless pair. Though he admits most of your underwear is useless, either too frilly, flimsy, just there for decoration. It’s okay. He likes pretty things. No wonder he likes you so much.

“Uh-uh, doubletime princess. No time for the usual. I need to come before stepping back on that fucking pitch.”

Mingyu’s agitation from his sub par showing during the first half is bubbling under his skin. He’s been stiffening under his shorts since he saw you shuffling through the tunnel and the minute you grabbed his hands, the only thing in his head was how badly he needed to stuff you with his cock.

He grimaces at the pout on your lips as you finally untangle that stupid lacey thing from your frilly socks and platform sneakers. Mingyu grabs your wrist and drags you up against the wall that isn’t lined with lockers. He presses your front against the wall and uses his knee to spread your legs apart.

On instinct you stick out your ass, eager already despite him still being fully dressed, wiggling slightly to show him you want this too.

With quick, practiced fingers Mingyu undoes the knot of his bottoms and pushes down his compression shorts low enough to pull his cock out. He breathes a sigh of relief because finally he can flip up your skirt and see just how needy you are.

He has one large hand wrapped around his equally large cock and inspecting the view in front of him. His other hand settles on the roundness of your ass, grasping slightly to spread you open. He eyes your pink puckered hole and allows his gaze to move down to your pussy. He’s pumping himself roughly to get himself to full hardness as he eyes the slick that’s seeping between your lips. You’re almost jealous. That’s your job.

Once he’s satisfied with himself, he lets his cock rest between your cheeks, and he grasps you on both sides to squeeze. You want to cry, almost scared he’ll get off like this, just fucking the tightness of your pressed asscheeks. It’s almost quiet save for his panting and the way your slick cunt is starting to wet his cock.

So you whine loudly, that unimpressed, unsatisfied one that precedes a—

“Daddyyyyyyyy!”

Fuck there it is.

Mingyu grimaces and clicks his tongue again. No use being quiet now. Or ever, really. Everyone knows anyway.

He turns you around quickly, hoisting you up in his arms and moving to wrap your legs around his slender waist. This position has your pussy pressing up against the underside of his cock and the slight relief it gives you makes you nearly sob.

Instead you whine. You whine and start to grind sloppily as the feeling of delirium starts to course through you. It comes naturally when it comes to Mingyu. You’re addicted and so is he.

Even if your bare cunt is already pressed against him and all Mingyu has to do is angle your hips slightly to slip in, he goes the extra mile.

He supports your smaller frame with one hand and uses the other to lift a corner of his jersey to his teeth so he can bite it. He pulls it up high enough to expose his stomach and your mouth waters at the sight.

Mingyu looks good. He always looks good and he knows you like it when he’s on display for you as well. The dips and groves of his stomach, how it's still damp from the sweat from the first half, has you clenching around nothing.

He feels it against his cock and he quickly decides to quit playing around. You two probably have around 6 minutes and not a second to lose. So he flips the front of your skirt up and groans at the sight of you.

You’re soaked and coating his cock as you try to grind against him, a futile attempt to somewhat relieve yourself. 

So Mingyu pulls away slightly to position the head of his cock at your entrance.

“D’you play with yourself at all, sweetheart?” He says, tapping the large head of his cock against your clit.

“Huh?” comes your confused response.

“I asked my dumb baby if she played with this little pussy?” He answers meanly.

You flush. It’s like a routine for you to stay with Mingyu the night before a game, allowing him to let off steam and go into a game day glowing and stress free while you sit on his lap in the team bus full of his cum from your morning fuck.

But the night before the cup finals had you attending a work event at the last minute because of a scheduling issue that had both you and Mingyu pissed off and horny.

You suppose that’s partly to blame for the first half that had even you swearing at the refs from your seat in his private box.

“Just a little—“

He clicks his tongue, “How many fingers d’you use?”

“Just two daddy, a-and I stopped!” you cry almost petulantly.

“Yeah, baby? Why’d you stop?”

“Because it was no good!” You bounce in his hold slightly, biting your lower lip as he continues to tease your entrance and clit. Just the head of his cock was enough to get you this wound up.

He grins. It’s brilliant and handsome and just so fucking mean because he says, “Thats right. Two of my dumb baby’s fingers are nothing on daddy’s cock,” and pushes into you.

Mingyu has always been so big and thick and you have always always been so much smaller than him, his cock always stretching a little painfully when he first slips in. But today, with such little time and even spending the night away from each other, the stretch punches the breath from your lungs.

You squeal in equal parts delight and distress and Mingyu sets a brutal pace, not even letting you settle into the feeling of him inside of you.

But you understand. You’re his good girl so you look at him with big teary eyes, bottom lip in between your teeth and nod dumbly at him. Words fail you whenever he’s inside you but it’s okay. It’s better than okay. 

You two have long established how nothing nothing in this world makes you happier than when he uses you as he wants, when slips into you whenever he wants, and calls you his princess while destroying your insides.

His eyes are transfixed on where the two of you meet and you can’t help but follow his gaze. It’s absolutely lewd how you wrap around his cock, airtight, and how the sloppy noise echoes in the room.

“Look at my little pussy,” he starts, “my perfect little hole. My baby’s little cunt was made for me.”

Your cries are growing needier, louder, and more depraved. At the back of your mind you remember to worry about how tonight's the championship match and that the halls are surely bustling with press, staff, and even the opposing team. But Mingyu is fucking you so deep, so fast, that he’s literally fucking the thoughts out of your head.

You fight to stay with him in this room, in this moment, but before your eyes completely shut close, you feel his hand wrap around your throat.

“Daddy’s running out of time, baby,” he says, “so be a good girl and stay still for daddy, huh?”

You whine and nod as his hips move faster and he cages you up against the wall, your arms coming up to wrap around his head. 

“Words, princess. I need words.”

You want to swear at him and thrash in his arms but you’re feeling too good, too lost in the pain and pleasure. You bite at the collar of his jersey because it's the only thing you can do to quiet the pathetic whimpers, babbling, and indecipherable cries Mingyu’s pulling from you. 

Mingyu presses a kiss to your temple quickly, “My dumb baby,” he coos, “look so pretty when you’re crying on my cock. That’s my pretty baby, daddy’s almost there. Keep being good for me, m’kay?”

He speeds up his fucking, hips pistoning, and the press of his cock pressing against that spot in you that makes you see stars.

Mingyu pulls you into a kiss that’s all spit and teeth and bruising lips. He sucks on your tongue before separating the two of you and looking back down at his cock bullying its way into your pussy. 

It happens before your mind can process it but at the speed of light you feel a wet, hot thwack of his spit landing on your clit harshly and you cry out, unable to keep it in.

“Daaaaddy!” It’s loud and keening and you’re sure everyone on the other side of the wall hears.

But it’s all Mingyu needs and one, two, three, brutal thrusts later, he’s spilling deep into you, fucking you through his orgasm.

Your eyes fly open as he rubs at your clit with his thumb while he pulls out and slaps at your puffy clit before he brings your face close and presses back in for a long, deep kiss.

When he pulls away and meets your eyes there’s a mean glint in them and a shit eating grin that is almost frustrating enough to bring you back to tears.

“See baby, if you’d been good, I’d have made you come.”

“B-but! I was good, daddy! I was so good for you!” He settles you back down on wobbly legs and tucks himself back into his uniform.

You’re looking at him in indignation, tears brimming at eyes, threatening to fall. Mingyu’s eyes soften as he brushes the tears away with large thumbs and tucks your hair behind your ears.

It’s a futile attempt to have you looking presentable but your smudged lip gloss and the mess at the back of your head are enough to sell you both out for your halftime activities.

“Being good means not touching what belongs to daddy when he’s not there.”

All you can do is huff. He’s right.

You’re trying to fix how your jersey (a custom pink version of the Diamonds’ home jersey) is tucked into your skirt when you catch Mingyu picking something up from the floor.

It’s your underwear.

“Gimme!” You pout, trying to reach for it. But all Mingyu has to do is raise it above his head and it’s impossible for your to retrieve the flimsy lace

“I think I’ll keep this one for now,” he starts, “Think of it as a lucky charm.”

He unrolls the flimsy fabric and folds it into a small square, tucking it into his compression shorts and tightening up the drawstring of his uniform.

“If you want to be good for daddy tonight, you’ll keep all my cum inside of you, won’t you?” He says sweetly, talking you through the idea he’s suddenly come up with, “then daddy will win this game and fuck you with my medal on.”

After trying to get both of you presentable again, you slip out of the auxiliary locker room hand in hand just two minutes over Seungcheol’s initial 10 minute deadline.

You greet the team as they all line up again to return to the pitch and smile proudly as Mingyu talks to his teammates about feeling more relaxed and ready to play. You don’t miss the way he lets go of your hand just to wrap an arm around your waist, hand resting just on the curve of your ass as you two pass the players of the opposite team.

“Good luck, daddy. Come back to me a champion, please.” You bat your eyelashes at him and press the most innocent of kisses to his cheek.

The sweet moment is interrupted by an exuberant, “OKAY! LET’S GO!” from Hoshi.

You roll your eyes at him playfully but give in when he asks for a fist bump and says, “Tiny, thank you as always for your invaluable contribution to the Diamonds.”

You head off to where Hoshi’s girlfriend is seated, opting to be surrounded by friends and fans alike, but not before hearing the two teammates’ exchange.

“You ready to show them up, rockstar?” Is Hoshi’s jest.

Mingyu can only laugh and say, “Fuck you.”

And show them up he does. Just 6 minutes back on the pitch and Mingyu reminds everyone why he’s one of South Korea’s most prolific strikers. With an assist from Jeonghan Mingyu is lighting fast as he performs one of his signature moves and sends the ball flying to the top left corner of the goal.

You scream your throat hoarse as you watch him run across the pitch towards a camera, pointing and kissing the diamond crest on his chest.

Not long after that Mingyu nets a freekick from just beyond the penalty box, equalizing the game. With so much at stake and still so many minutes on the clock, you can hardly breathe easily, knowing it could still go either way. And it does. 

At the 80th minute the opposition scores their third goal and you could practically feel the Diamonds’ crowd deflating, fearing a repeat of the previous year.

“They can still equalize, I’m sure of it,” you hear Hoshi’s girlfriend from beside you, “As long as Soonyoung doesn’t fuck up and your boyfriend produces another one of his miracles, we can take this to penalties.”

You groan. You hate penalties, but you know how much this match means to Mingyu and the team.

Despite the possibilities, the game has gone into injury time and the crowd around you already look like they’re ready to pack up but sticking around just in case.

The majority of the players are crowded around the opponents’ goal, desperate feet hoping to score or hoping to defend. At this point some of the opposite side’s players are just trying to kill time to secure their win.

Hoshi is yelling orders from along the Diamonds’ midfield, abandoning his goal with the confidence that his teammates will surely take another goal. 

But time just about stops when the Diamonds are awarded a corner. Jeonghan looks like he’s dragging his feet about taking it, walking away to have someone else take the kick. But in a split second he turns back to kick the ball in a beautiful arch that meets none other than Mingyu’s right foot to take a third goal.

Hat trick.

Penalties are an awful cruel thing for any football fan, you think. Even after over ninety minutes a winner still isn’t decided and it falls down to each team’s five penalty takers and their goalkeepers.

Hoshi’s girlfriend is in hysterics next to you, gripping your hand like a lifeline. Mingyu had been the first to take his penalty, the ball floating almost gracefully and finding itself out of the keeper’s reach in a split second.

The score was at 4-3 with the Diamonds in the lead after Seungkwan’s attempt had found the back of the net neatly. If their opponents miss this, the championships would be theirs.

This all falls down to their captain.

Hoshi has always been so dependable and today is no exception. The very second he deflects that fifth and final attempt, cheers erupted in every direction and the final whistle is blown. 

The Diamonds won the Korean FA Cup.

The players, the coaches, and press flood the pitch and white confetti erupts around you. Before you know it your seatmate has vanished. She’s running across the pitch to jump into Hoshi’s arms, kissing away the tears pouring down his face, the team captain overcome with emotion.

Jealousy flares in your chest and you try to look everywhere for Mingyu. You stand indignantly, looking all over for him when you’re reminded of gravity.

The intensity of the match and the anxiety at its uncertainty had taken your mind away from your mid-match tryst with Mingyu and from the fact that he had come so deeply inside of you that it was only now that you were standing and pacing and you could feel the thick, sticky seed moving inside of you, threatening to drip out of your hole. You didn’t even have any underwear to catch it and sop up the mess, the lace neatly folded and tucked into Mingyu’s own underwear. 

You stamp your foot and a whine pathetically when you feel someone come up behind you. You quickly turn to see that, amidst the chaos, Mingyu had found you.

You’d only been away from each other for an hour but in that hour he had become a champion and that fact alone had changed him. He looked like some Greek hero with how he stood with pride painted on his face and how his handsome smirk screamed winner.

God, you needed to suck his cock. 

Luckily for you, Mingyu had the same idea. With the flurry around the win and the podium and carpets still being set up, the captain, manager, and executives still giving interviews, Mingyu knows everyone will be busy and he has time to whisk you away before anyone will even notice he’s gone.

That’s how you end up in the team’s main locker room, still a bit messy from the half time huddle, kneeling in front of Mingyu’s locker and choking on his cock.

“That’s right, baby. Take it slow so you can take more daddy in your mouth,” is his sweet encouragement before he takes the bottle of champagne next to him and takes a long swig.

You’re transfixed, blinking teary eyes to clear them, just so you don’t have to look away from the sight in front of you.

Mingyu had stripped everything off, feeling like he was overheating from the match he’d just played. He sat like a king, leaning back against his locker, spreading his legs and propping one leg up on the bench. He’d popped open a bottle of champagne and pressed the mouth of the bottle to your lips, watching the alcohol overflow from your mouth and drip down your chin to your neck and down your chest.

He kisses you shortly after, tasting the Moët on your tongue and pushing you down onto your knees.

There’s no need to preface anything because in no time you’re gagging on him. It doesn’t take much to have you drooling all over him, his cock so much bigger than what you should actually have in your mouth.

“You can fuck my throat, daddy, please please please!” You gasp out as he pulls you off of him so you can take in a deep breath.

“I know baby,” he says before taking another swig of that champagne, your eyes following the way his Adam's apple bobs. 

He leans down to bring the bottle to your mouth and says, “tongue out, my filthy girl.”

Your spit is thick and sticky in your mouth and you make a show of it when you follow his orders. He wraps a hand around your throat to steady you as he pours champagne into your mouth again, not caring about how much falls down the side of your mouth and dampens your jersey.

He leans back, pleased with the indulgent mess before him, and grabs at the hair at the crown of your head to pull you back down on his cock.

You’re a dream. You had been so good, so obedient at learning to take his cock over the years, and now he’s sure he’s molded himself into your throat the same way he’s made your pussy perfect for only him.

“My perfect girl’s got the most perfect mouth, huh?” He’s holding you down onto him, keeping your head in place, “The filthiest fucking mouth and its all for dad’s cock.”

The noises are disgusting. With your mouth full you can’t say anything but you’re happy just to listen to him come undone. Your spit and his pre-cum gather at the sides of your mouth but you don’t want to stop until he’s pumping his sticky cum onto your tongue.

You pull off of him to lave your tongue over his balls, sucking on one and then the other before saying, “Daddy, I think I deserve to drink your cum, right?”

Mingyu swears under his breath, somehow still not believing how lucky he got with you, your depraved mind the only one that can match his own.

He downs the rest of the champagne and moves to kiss you, sharing the drink. You gulp down what you can before going back down on him, holding down his hips as the muscles beneath your fingers jerk as he fills your mouth. 

Mingyu comes in thick ropes of sticky hot cum that you almost have trouble swallowing, but daddy trained you to be a good girl, thankful for everything she gets. So you swallow every single drop, proudly showing Mingyu your empty mouth.

“Atta girl.”

You try to be on your best behavior and good for Mingyu for the rest of the evening. You’re the picture-perfect girlfriend watching and cheering proudly as he gets his gold medal and the team cheers in unison once Hoshi lifts the trophy above his head. The pictures are taken and the interviews are given but there’s only so much you can take and by the time Mingyu has you buckled up into his car, you’re feeling unnecessarily bratty.

“Baby,” Mingyu starts. You’re some fifteen minutes away from his house and he’s about to get into it now?

“Mm,” is your petulant response.

“Listen to me,” he warns.

But it almost comes as an instinct to you to retaliate, having the most fun when you two go back and forth like this.

“Don’ wanna.”

From the corner of your eye you see his jaw harden.

“Didn’t daddy fill you up, today?” He says as more of a statement.

“He did.”

“Didn’t daddy feed you his come, princess?”

You start to flush, “He did.”

“And then didn’t daddy say he was going to fuck you with his medal on if he won the championships?”

He’s pulling up to his house now and you almost let out a sigh of relief.

“He did,” you answer.

He parks and turns to you, “Then you are going to get out of this car and head up to our room and you are going to strip yourself naked.”

You’ve been waiting for this. Finally, away from any prying eyes and ears, no matter how accepting, you can finally let loose and have him every way you want him.

“Daddy will park the car and unload the stuff and when I come into the room I better see that messy pussy served up for me.”

There’s buzzing in your ears and you bite your lips.

“Of course, daddy.”

It starts with your good intentions, really.

You had asked him kindly to lay back against the pillows and the headboard promising that you were going to be real good, daddy, I promise! And that you were so proud of him, that he was so yummy on the field and of course he was going to be the winner.

You wanted to reward him, said that daddy deserves to be ridden to have your tits in his face, to be spoiled.

To be fair, it was a valiant effort on your end. Once he’d settled into bed, you squealed and threw yourself over him, chest to chest as you rubbed your bare pussy onto his cock.

You were aching to be stuffed but you know how sloppy and wet he likes your pussy to be. And through his cum from earlier today was smeared all over your cunt and thighs, you knew you could do better for him.

You pressed kisses to his chest while running your hands over the dips and divots, the hardness and softness of his chest and abs and sighed dreamily as you met his eyes through thick lashes, “I love you daddy, I’m so happy for you.”

“I love you too, baby. I’m happy I made you happy,” was his simple response.

You bit your lip at the elation that filled your chest and you pressed a quick kiss to the gold medal resting on his chest. You stood on your knees on either side of his hips and kept one hand on his stomach to steady yourself as you lined his cock with your entrance.

The delicious stretch and resistance was still there as you sank down on him, his own spend mixing with your slick, making the slide delicious.

He couldn’t keep his eyes off how your pussy split open to take all of him. The pace is slow and your whimpers of “Daddy, daddy, daddy” made his head spin.

But while slow and romantic was good, it was always just how your love making started. This was all before your thighs had grown tired and your lower back started to hurt.

Mingyu tried to talk you through it, guide your hips on how to grind just right for the head of his cock to press against that spot inside of you. Even his encouragement of you can do it, pretty, daddy’s tired is futile when you finally cry out.

“But daddyyyyy,” comes the high pitched whine, “I’M TIRED TOO. Don’t you feel bad for your baby?”

And he breaks at that.

He sits up and flips the two of you over without even pulling out and your eyes roll as the movements jostle him inside of you.

The anticipation is reaching its boiling point when lifts one leg and places it over his shoulder and pulls out of you to rest his cock on your sopping cunt.

He loves this. It’s fucking sick, but he loves to see how big he is compared to your little hole. He loves to see the head of his cock aligned with your belly button and how you clench around nothing, already missing him inside you.

Before he decides to push his cock back inside you he grasps himself by the base and rubs harshly at your entrance and clit with the engorged head of his cock. It makes you squeal as the rough stimulation shocks your system.

He had left you hanging during half time, with only just enough time for him to fill you up, and you had been too preoccupied blowing him to rub yourself to completion after the match.

But the blessed feeling of an orgasm is finally bubbling back onto the surface now that Mingyu was focusing on your pleasure.

“You’ll give me this, right, baby?” He says pulling you back to him. He wants you to be present, to know how he’s making your body tick, “Be my good girl and wet my cock, daddy wants this pussy to be dripping when he fucks it.”

You whimper in acknowledgment and he speeds up his ministrations, the stimulation getting to him as well as beads of pre-cum mix with your slick and eventually, the spray of your cum squirting out of you messily. 

Your moan is music to his ears and you cry out as he pushes his cock into you, not giving you even a second of respite.

With both hands free, Mingyu positions both of your legs over his shoulders, your stupid frilly socks tickling his ears. This position is a favorite for the both of you. He loves how deep he can fuck you like this, the head of his cock kissing your cervix. And you love how when you put your hand just under your belly button, you can see and feel how his cock moves inside you.

“Fuck, look at you,” he says all too breathless, “So fucking perfect.” The sweat beading on his face falls on your temples and you want to cry — what a waste not to taste him on your tongue.

“My perfect little cocksleeve, that I made just for me, isn’t that right. Fuck.” He’s losing it and God do you want him to fall apart.

He pulls away slightly and laughs to himself a little when he sees how his medal, still around his neck, is resting on your chest, bouncing slightly as he continues to fuck into you. What a sight. And only his.

What a day it’s been for him to have woken up in this very bed alone and just another football player hoping for a dream to come true. And to end up here now, in the same bed with you calling out to him like a litany of prayers and his champion’s medal sitting between your tits, bite marks on the flesh contrasting prettily against the yellow gold.

He bites his lip and focuses on your bodies and how you can barely get the word ‘daddy’ out coherently, mumbling dadd-da-daddy-dad unintelligibly. He does you a kindness and presses a hand down where your smaller one is, and thrusts hashly, loving the way you clench around him as you finally reach a second peak. The vice grip your pussy has on his cock is enough to push him over the edge as well, spilling another load into you and your eyes flutter shut.

Mingyu doesn’t pull out of you but sets your legs down and massages the insides of your thighs because he knows you’ll complain about them tomorrow.

He slips off his medal and sets it on the bedside table next to your phones.

After arranging your bodies to be more comfortable, he presses soft kisses on your ear and into your hair, chuckling slightly as you mumble in your sleep that it tickles. 

Mingyu can’t help but keep that smile even as he settles down. It feels so good to be a winner.

-`✮´- if you've come this far, thank you and it'd mean the world to get a reblog or to hear your thoughts on my first fic on here!

[cherryredcheol]

Imagine walking hand in hand with Mingyu on April 6th. The two of you incognito, hats and masks in places to keep you hidden from the public as the two of you take the time to visit some of the many birthday ads bought by Carats. You’d watch Mingyu’s eyes light up with each one, knowing his smile was wide as he watched Carats stopping to take selfies with the ads unbeknownst to them that he is watching them with love in his eyes.

You’d eventually ride the subway together during the least busiest time seeing a few ads there to end your day only for you to leave Mingyu alone for just a few moments. When you returned you’d have a single cupcake with one lit candle. You’d see that same love in his eyes and as he lowered his mask to make his wish and blow out the candle you’d fall in love with him all over again on his birthday.

Nothing needs to be spectacular for you or Mingyu even on days like this. As long as he has your hand in his, it’s the most perfect birthday.