#kaili 🪢

[sluttywoozi]

April Shower | jww x f!reader

Wonwoo meets a lot of people through his career as a travel photographer. Not one of them has ever made him want to stay in one place, until he met you.

Rating: M (18+) | WC: ~12.0k Pairing: jww x f!reader | Genre: romance, meet cute, smut, love at first sight

Story Warnings: alcohol and food mention

Smut Warnings: masturbation mention, dirty talk, dom!wonwoo, bigdick!wonwoo, wonwoo’s cold hands, size kink, light thigh slapping, fingering, oral reader rec., overstimulation, slight dumbification, squirting, sexual health/safety talk, unprotected sex (don’t do it), cumming on tits

Reader Notes: has breasts and a vagina, like half a foot shorter than wonwoo, wap, has a cycle to track

AN: written for my bestie @sluttywonwoo’s birthday! kaili, the light you bring to my life is immeasurable and i’m so lucky i’ve gotten to grow with you over the past 7 years 💖

Wonwoo draws in a deep, tremulous breath as he raises the camera to his bespectacled eye, wishing not for the first time that he was anywhere but the city of love. 

This is the second proposal he’s photographed today, the fifth this week, and while he’s always thought himself to be someone who doesn’t mind love, he’s starting to grow a bit… weary. 

His hotel room is obviously meant for two, as were many of the pastas and desserts he’s ordered so far. Everywhere he looks, there are people kissing or hugging or holding hands, their ages ranging from teens in puppy love to folks in their golden years shuffling down the street arm in arm, supporting each other as they have for decades. 

He’s been working as a travel writer for five years, been single just as long, but this is the first time he’s ever found himself feeling lonely. He’s usually restless, never wanting to settle in one place, and he’s almost always solo, reluctant to give himself to someone who might want to keep him. 

Lately, he’s felt a bit differently. Perhaps he’s getting old, outgrowing his bachelor lifestyle. He finds himself wanting to plant roots where before he was nearly offended by the notion of digging any deeper than surface level. 

There’s just something about Verona that begs to be shared, to be experienced with someone else. Maybe it’s the romantic music flowing from the restaurants he passes, maybe it’s the fact that he seems to be the sole single person in this city. Regardless of the cause, he actually feels alone, for the first time in years. 

It’s not a feeling he enjoys, or one he’s familiar with, and as he traverses the cobblestone streets, he almost wishes he was holding someone’s hand instead of the camera he’s carried for most of his life. 

Wonwoo swears out loud when he feels the first drop of rain. He checked the forecast twice this morning, knowing he would be exploring an area a few miles from his hotel and that he wouldn’t be able to return to grab or drop anything off. 

With the weather appearing to be clear and sunny all day, he left his umbrella in his room and headed out to catch his taxi. 

He more than regrets that now, the rain starting to pour and his white button down beginning to soak through. He at least brought his water resistant backpack so for now, his camera is safe, but spending the rest of the day in sodden clothes sounds like actual hell. 

He looks up and down the street frantically, finding only personal residences, not a single shop in sight. 

Until he looks closer and realizes the building at the end of the row has a sign. He can’t read it from this far away, even with his glasses, but the hope is enough to propel him forward. 

He darts down the street, splashing through puddles and swearing again as he feels water permeate his socks. The store comes into view, the sign becoming clearer and clearer the closer he gets. 

Storie d’Amore, it reads. Love stories, of course. He shouldn’t have expected anything else from the city of love. 

“It’s open, thank fuck,” Wonwoo murmurs as he wrenches the door open and steps inside, his clothes dripping all over the hardwood floors. 

He feels terrible tracking rainwater into this store, but he had no other choice. His water resistant bag is only resistant for so long, and his camera is far too valuable to risk. 

He glances around the small room, looking for the owner so he can apologize and instead finding shelves upon shelves of books. He walks slowly, squelches following each step, and reads over the spines. 

He’s shocked to find novels in all kinds of languages, some he recognizes and speaks and some he doesn’t. He’s relatively fluent in five thanks to his years of language classes and traveling, and he has to resist picking up a book in each of the ones he knows. 

He reaches the end of the first shelf, gasping at the large paned window he finds and gasping even louder at the black, tailless cat lounging on the ledge. 

The cat pays him little to no mind, lazily peering at him over their shoulder before curling into a small ball. They blink their big peridot eyes a few times and let out a heavy sigh, settling into sleep faster than Wonwoo could ever hope to. 

Enchanted, he swings his bag around to his front, digging through and pulling out his camera as quietly as possible. 

Even with the mid-April shower, the light coming in through the window illuminates the subtle white notes in the cat’s fur, giving them a glow he begs his camera to capture. 

He crouches until he’s eye level with the cat, holding his breath as he brings the viewfinder up to his eye and presses down the shutter button. 

The cat doesn’t stir, too deep in slumber to register the quiet click. He takes a few more pictures, trying different angles and light settings until he feels he’s gotten every possible combination. 

Maybe it’s stupid, but Wonwoo is more excited to share these photos than nearly any others he’s ever taken. 

Which is why he balks and falls flat on his ass when he hears, “Anubis is a model, you’ll owe us royalties for those.” 

Eyes wide, he looks around wildly to find the source of the words. There’s no one in sight, the store seemingly empty except for him and Anubis. 

“Up here,” the voice calls out, drawing his eye and making his mouth drop open when he finally notices a spiral staircase leading up to a small loft. 

He doesn’t know how he didn’t see it before. He must have been too busy staring at the cat to really take in the rest of the store, and as you slowly step down, he can’t tell if you’re amused or annoyed. What he can tell is that you’re the most beautiful person he’s ever seen, and that he suddenly wants to ask if you believe in love at first sight. 

“I can give you royalties! Please don’t make me delete them,” he pleads, far less embarrassed than he should be by the fact that he’s practically on his knees begging a pretty stranger to let him keep photos he took. 

You reach the landing and make your way toward him, your face unreadable. He’s surprised when you break into a sweet smile and hold your hand out to him. He hugs the camera close to his chest in response, making you roll your eyes and grab his free hand. 

The warmth of your touch is a shock to his system, but he holds back the shiver that wants to roll down his spine as you lean back and tug. Still confused, he lets you help him up, feeling self conscious in his damp clothes. 

He stands a little straighter when he realizes he’s over half a foot taller than you, the height difference giving him back some of his confidence. He’s not sure it should, especially with the unimpressed look you level at him when you set eyes on the trail he tracked through your store. 

“I’m so sorry, I can clean it up if you give me supplies,” he offers, fully serious and almost hoping you’ll say yes just so he can assuage his guilt. 

“These floors have seen worse,” you shrug, leaning down to pet Anubis, and Wonwoo has no idea what that means but he’s not about to ask. He introduces himself instead, shaking the hand still held by yours and repeating your name when you offer it. 

He’s only slightly jealous when you pull away and hook your hands under the cat’s body to draw him into your arms, though whom he’s jealous of, he doesn’t know. 

He would love to be holding the cat, but he has a sneaking suspicion he’d also love to be held by you. 

Your hand was so warm, and so soft, and the rest of you looks just as warm and soft, if not more. 

Anubis snuggles into your arms, his legs stretching and his toes spreading before he tucks them up against your forearm. His eyes go heavy lidded when you start to scratch his head, and now Wonwoo knows who he’s jealous of. 

He hates to admit it but it’s been years since he let someone touch him, and after just a minute or two of knowing you, he’s already hoping you’ll touch him more. He doesn’t know if it’s because you hold Anubis so lovingly, so gently, or if it’s because you have this aura about you that soothes him, or if it’s even because he feels this attraction, this draw to you. Maybe it’s all three. 

All he knows is that something about you makes him want to stay until his clothes are dry and the sun is setting, and then stay a little longer after that. Like for months, or even years, perhaps. 

He’s relieved when you ask if he’d like some tea, directing him over to the small fireplace in the back of the store and nodding to one of the chairs. When he sits, you lean down and plop Anubis in his lap, surprise painting your face when he doesn’t immediately jump down. 

“He’s usually wary of new people,” you hum thoughtfully, watching as the cat gets comfortable on his thighs. He brings his hand up and runs it over his soft fur, beaming up at you when he feels Anubis’s little body start vibrating beneath his palm. 

“I love him,” Wonwoo admits, his voice grave and his eyes open and true behind his glasses. 

You just laugh and say, “Me too,” before disappearing behind a door, leaving him alone with your cat. 

Rain is still barraging the building, the steady sound lulling him into a trance as he pets the sweet being in his lap. The fire warms him quickly, making him realize just how cold he was before, a small shiver attempting to wrack his body again. He keeps it contained to his shoulders, wanting to avoid disturbing Anubis if possible. 

He tells himself it’s just because he wants him to stay, but if he’s being honest, he also hopes that if you see that your cat likes him, then you will too. 

Before long, you return with a tray of steaming mugs, one for him and one for you. You set it carefully on the side table between the chairs, telling him, “I would let it steep for two more minutes. There’s also biscotti, and some crostini if you’re allergic to nuts.”

“Wow, thank you so much,” he breathes, his eyes wide. He’s run into some very nice people on his travels, but it’s been a while since he was met with such hospitality. Here he is, sitting in front of a blazing fire with tea and snacks waiting for him, after dirtying your shop and taking unapproved pictures of your model cat. Cat model?

“So, how much do you expect in royalties?” He asks with trepidation, knowing the magazine he works for is pretty big but maybe not big enough to pay residuals for pictures of a cat. 

You stare at him for a few seconds, squinting your eyes and quirking your head before chuckling, “That was a joke. Bubby isn’t a model, I just think he’s handsome enough to be one.”

“Ohhhh.”

Wonwoo feels himself blush, his cheeks and ears flaring red before he forces out a laugh to try to cover his embarrassment. He’s not used to jokes, usually relying on sarcasm, puns, and situational humor, and he’s a bit ashamed he didn’t realize you weren’t being serious. He stares down at Anubis, petting him softly so he doesn’t have to meet your eyes. 

“Tea should be ready,” you say brightly, picking up your mug with careful hands and kindly allowing him to recover without your gaze on him.

He follows suit, cupping his hands around the hot mug and bringing it to his lips so he can blow gently, huffing when steam fogs up his glasses. He pushes them up into his hair, thinking absentmindedly that he should get it cut soon as he takes his first sip. 

The flavors bloom on his tongue, mint, orange, cinnamon, honey, and something else he can’t put his finger on. It’s the most comforting tea he’s ever had, and he blinks over at you with misty, blurry eyes, sighing, “What is this? I need to buy four tons of it.”

“It’s called Evening Sorrento, it’s one of my favorites,” you smile indulgently, bringing your mug to your lips and drinking slowly before setting it down and reaching for the biscotti. 

He follows your lead, taking a biscuit and dipping it in his tea like you do. The first bite has him groaning in appreciation, dark chocolate, citrus, and almond blending together flawlessly, the taste only enhanced by the tea. 

“What’s the spiciness from?” He asks curiously, taking another sip to try to figure it out himself. 

“Ginger,” you whisper like it’s a secret. “I candied some and put it in the biscotti, too.”

“You made these?” He sounds astonished, he knows, but he almost can’t wrap his head around someone being able to create something so delicious when all he can do is fry an egg. He still burns it half the time, more scared of undercooking than he is of overcooking.

“Yeah, my best friend taught me how, she loves to bake,” you smile sweetly, seemingly pleased to see him enjoying the food you made. 

Anubis stirs, stretching out on Wonwoo’s lap before leaping onto the floor and up into your chair. You murmur, “Hi, baby,” and Wonwoo can’t help but grin as he watches your cat use your arm to pet himself. 

He asks how long you’ve had him, then for pictures when he learns you rescued him as a kitten, gasping softly at the tiny version of the cat as you swipe through photos. The conversation shifts to Wonwoo’s desire to adopt a cat before he explains why he can’t, and the way you look genuinely sad for him makes his heart swell. 

You ask more about his job, about the places he’s been and the things he’s seen, and in turn, he asks how you acquired all of the books in this store. It turns out you have contacts all over the world, friends who send you romance books when they come across them in exchange for a free one when they next come to visit. It seems like the perfect system, allowing you to collect novels in different languages and share them with the people you love. 

Talking to you is so easy that he doesn’t even notice how late it’s grown until you check your phone, a startled expression on your face as you say, “I should have closed half an hour ago.” 

He glances at his watch, blanching at the clock staring back at him. It’s been four hours since he burst into your shop looking for refuge from the downpour, and he doesn’t even know if it’s still raining. The sun has long since set, going down around six PM this time of year, which was over two and a half hours ago. 

He rises swiftly, nervously smoothing out the wrinkles in his slacks and thanking you for your generosity. You stand with him, hugging Anubis to your chest before offering the cat for one last snuggle. Wonwoo takes him carefully, bundling him up against his now dry shirt and smoothing a hand from his head all the way down to the nub at the end of his body. 

He starts purring immediately, the sound audible even over the crackling of the embers, making you smile softly and tell him, “Bubby likes you.”

“I like him,” Wonwoo beams, reluctantly handing the cat over when you stretch your arms out. 

“You love him,” you correct with mirth dancing in your eyes as you walk him to the door.

He peeks out, sighing in relief when he finds that the rain has stopped before turning to you. He almost doesn’t know what to say, goodbye feeling too final, too formal. He thanks you again instead, dragging his feet now that it’s time to leave. 

But he doesn’t want to be rude, or keep you any longer than he already has, so with one last wave and a scritch under Anubis’s chin, he leaves. 

You call out, “Come back soon!” and while he’s sure you say that to all your customers, he can’t help but feel like you mean it. 

Wonwoo has a plan for the day: take the train to Venice, splurge on a gondola ride, and capture as many of the historical buildings as he can while the boat is guided through the canals. 

So why he finds himself standing outside of Storie d’Amore again, he doesn’t know. 

He managed to stay away for two days, hiking all over Verona and taking enough pictures to fill an SD card. He would have made it three if he asked the cab driver to take him to the train station instead of your place of business, but here he is. 

Some part of him wants to rationalize it. He didn’t get any photos of the area because of the rain, just of your (not) model cat, so he’s simply making up for lost time. That still doesn’t explain why he’s staring through the paned glass window at the end of your shop, hoping for a glimpse of you or Anubis. 

Obviously, you’re both here, but he doesn’t see either of you, and he also wants to buy a few books to take home, so it only makes sense that he goes into your store. 

He’s dry this time, thankfully, though he wonders if that means you won’t offer him tea and biscotti again. He can see a few people milling about, pulling books off the shelves to read the summaries and either placing them into mismatched baskets or putting them back. 

He does the same, searching for novels in the languages he knows with the intent of buying one of each. He’s gathered Italian, French, and English when he feels something rub against his leg, looking down to find a black cat staring up at him. 

“Anubis!” Wonwoo grins, leaning down to set the basket to the side so he can pick up his little friend. Holding him to his chest, he feels his heart warm as the purring starts, not even a little mad about the black fur accumulating on his shirt. 

“Oh!” 

He hears you gasp and glances up, smiling shyly at you and shifting to hold Anubis with one arm so he can send you a wave that only feels a little awkward. 

“I didn’t think you’d come back,” you say, stepping closer to him and taking in the basket at his feet and backpack slung over his shoulder. 

“You told me to,” he shrugs sheepishly, suddenly fearing that, “Come back soon,” is something you just say to everyone. 

“I didn’t think you actually would. I thought you’d be gone by now, on to the next destination.” 

He can’t tell if you’re happy to see him or not, but you haven’t kicked him out yet so he doesn’t plan on going anywhere. 

“The next destination can wait. I needed something to read on the plane anyway.” 

“Looks like you found more than just something,” you chuckle, peering closer to check out the titles he’s gathered so far. “All good choices,” you smile up at him, and he feels something unlock in his chest to make space for you. 

“Can I take you out on a date?” He blurts out, his eyes widening and his free hand flying up to cover his mouth. The words escaped without his permission, but he can’t say he wants to take them back. 

You tilt your head and look at him for a little while, like you’re searching for something, and you must find it because your smile grows before you nod and say, “I can close early tonight. Does seven work for you?” 

“It works perfectly,” he breathes after lowering his hand, his heart racing and his body feeling warm for once. 

A customer calls out your name, making you glance over before you turn back and say, “Leave your books at the register and meet me here later?” 

He can only nod, grinning too wide to manage any words. 

“Don’t take my cat, I love that little guy,” you warn him playfully (he thinks) and spin to find the source of the voice. He can hear you speaking in rapid French, easily translating it in his head without even meaning to. They’re asking for your help in choosing between two books, one a tragedy and one a comedy. 

You go over the pros and cons of each genre and offer your own personal opinions on the specific books, making Wonwoo wonder if you’ve read every novel in here. You seemed to recognize the books in his basket and you apparently know the ones this customer is talking about; maybe you read them as you receive them? 

But there are so many, there’s just no way, he thinks, letting Anubis wriggle out of his arms to follow you. He supposes that’s something he can ask you at dinner, the thought bringing a pleased little smile to his face. 

He selects his last two books and wanders over to the checkout counter, stashing his basket on the stool behind it before heading out to get pictures of the neighborhood while he can. 

He’ll be busy tonight, after all.

Wonwoo returns to your shop five minutes before the clock strikes seven. 

He slips in without your notice, making his way to his favorite window and sitting down on the ledge next to Anubis to scroll through the pictures he took while he was out. The cat just sprawls a bit more so his feet are touching Wonwoo’s thigh, the tiny points of connection warming him from the inside out. 

He captured another proposal today, but this one didn’t leave a hollow feeling in his chest like the others. Now that he’s thinking about it, neither did any of the couples he passed. He was able to truly appreciate all of them without that sense of bitter loneliness, and he can only attribute that to meeting you. 

An unbidden smile stretches his lips as he thinks about the time he spent sitting by that fire with you, talking about anything that came to mind. It’s been months since he spent four straight hours with someone, just talking. It’s been years since he wanted to. 

A tiny part of him fears he only feels this way because he’s been so lonely, but the rest of him knows he’d be enamored with you no matter what state he was in. 

This is only confirmed when you round the bookshelf and come to a stop in front of him, an emerald green dress swishing over your thighs and a smile brightening your face. You cleared the store in the time he spent reminiscing, leaving the room empty but for you, Wonwoo, and Anubis.

The air feels tense, heavy with something Wonwoo can’t quite identify. It’s only when he rises to his feet and finds himself closer to you than he meant to be that he realizes that something is potential. 

It’s the same rush of anticipation that fills his chest when he lines up a shot he knows will be incredible, when he finishes climbing a hill and sees the perfect sunset waiting for him, when he finally finds the words to describe the indescribably beautiful. The fact that he’s feeling it now, with you, tells him everything he needs to know. 

His previous fear of meeting someone who would want to keep him has become a dream, a wish that he can only hope will come true, because now Wonwoo knows he wants you to take hold of him and never let go. 

“Can I kiss you?” He asks, his voice so full of longing, it’s almost embarrassing. 

“Before the first date? The scandal!” You say dramatically, feigning offense and lightly tapping him on the chest. He gasps at the contact and covers your hand with his, pressing it flat to his pec so you can feel his speeding heart. 

You must realize how serious he is, how desperate, because the playful smile falls from your face, your gaze darting between his eyes and his lips. He feels himself flush under your attention, his ears and the back of his neck hot as you stare up at him. 

“Yes, Wonwoo. You can kiss me,” you breathe softly, your face tilting up and your eyelashes fluttering as he begins to lean down. This moment feels monumental for some reason, like something he’ll remember for the rest of his life, and as he cups your face and carefully presses his lips to yours, he figures out why. 

Everything about kissing you feels right, as if all of his jagged pieces have fallen into place, as if this is what he was destined for, as if the fates connected him to you with an invisible, unbreakable string. 

He wasn’t restless, he wasn’t a bachelor, he was just waiting for you. 

Suddenly his smile is too broad for him to keep kissing you, giddiness flowing through his veins as he pulls back and rests his forehead against yours. He leaves his hands on your face, brushing his thumb over the curve of your cheekbone before biting back his grin and kissing you one, two, three more times. 

He feels shy when he takes a step back, letting one hand fall to catch yours and squeezing like it’s a lifeline. 

“Was that… life-changing for you too?” Wonwoo asks quietly, scared to pop the bubble he’s found himself in with you. 

“Maybe,” you whisper, vulnerability evident in your voice though your face gives nothing away. “We should get going.”

“Yeah, yes, we should,” he lets you pull away even though it physically pains him, following when you tug him to the door with the hand he’s still holding. 

He doesn’t know what just happened, why you closed yourself off, but he’ll give you the space you seem to need, sure that if he pushes it will only make you freeze up more. For now, he’ll take you to that romantic riverfront restaurant he passed earlier and encourage you to order any and everything you like. 

You ease up a bit after a glass of wine and some shared appetizers, the smile on your face genuine again though your light still seems dimmer than it was before. You ask him a lot of questions but don’t offer up much information in return, keeping your responses short and to the point. 

It doesn’t disrupt the flow of conversation at all, thankfully; Wonwoo and you are compatible enough that it’s easy to bounce from one topic to another. There’s never a pause, never a moment where he doesn’t know what to say, and even with you being more withdrawn than expected, he still laughs himself to tears more than once. 

It’s late by the time he pays the bill and walks you home, which he’s learned is the building right above your shop. There aren’t many people out, and though he startled you when he took your hand in his, he continues to hold it the whole way back. You’ve gone quiet again, pensive, making him wonder if he’s done something wrong, or, worse, if you regret kissing him. 

You only started acting like this after he pressed his lips to yours, after he asked if it was life-changing for you like it was for him. 

He doesn’t know what else it could be, unless you figured out you just don’t feel the same way about him as he does about you. His heart drops into his stomach at the thought, his fingers subconsciously clenching around yours, making you glance up at him in concern. 

He stares forward resolutely, not ready to see confirmation of his fears in your gaze. 

By the time that big window and Anubis’s sleeping body come into view, Wonwoo has convinced himself that you feel nothing but friendship for him and simply don’t know how to say it. 

Still, he can’t help but try, one last time. 

“Do you think I could see you again before I go? I’ve got plenty of pictures and I fly out tomorrow night, so my day is clear.”

You take a second to think about it, your eyes shuttering as if you don’t want him to see the thoughts behind them, before you answer solemnly, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Oh,” he breathes out, feeling like all the air has been pulled out of his lungs. “You don’t… think it’s a good idea. Okay, I’ll, um, I’ll just go, then.”

He can’t even make himself look at you, knowing that his mouth is pinched in the way it does when he’s trying not to cry. He squeezes your hand once more before disentangling his fingers from yours, taking a step back, and turning to walk away so you can’t see him lift up his glasses and rub at his burning eyes. 

He doesn’t get far before you call out his name. 

“Wonwoo! I… It’s because you’re leaving,” you sound as close to tears as he feels, your voice plaintive and fragile. 

He stops short and chews on his lip, swiping at his face with rough hands as your footsteps sound on the cobblestones. You let him stay where he is but he feels your fingers clench in the back of his shirt, like you’re afraid he’ll still walk away. 

That touch is enough for him to turn around, his hand catching yours as it falls and his heart stuttering at the sheen of tear tracks on your face. He brings his other hand up to brush his thumb under your eye, sweeping away a freshly fallen drop. 

“Is that why you said maybe, after I kissed you?” He asks in a gentle, low tone, less fearful of the answer now. 

“Yes. This has an expiration date, I don’t get to keep you. I couldn’t admit that just one kiss had me ready to sell my shop, buy a new cat carrier, and join you on the road,” you laugh softly in a self-deprecating way, avoiding his gaze again like you’re embarrassed. 

“Y/n, when I said it was life-changing for me, I meant it. As in, I would change my life for you. I can transfer to the Italian branch, go on shorter assignments, find a place here. You can keep me.”

“Wonwoo, I can’t ask you to do all that for me. I mean, we only met a few days ago, how do you know you won’t regret this?” You sound reluctant to accept his offer, but it seems to be coming from a place of worry for him instead of a lack of feeling, and he can work with that.

“I’ve been thinking about settling down anyway, I just needed a sign. Meeting you was that sign, and getting to know you like this has only made me more and more sure. Please, all you have to do is believe in me.”

Finally, you meet his eyes, searching them like you did when he asked you out, and once again, you find what you’re looking for. A watery smile stretches your lips as you step closer to him and up onto your tiptoes, wrapping your free arm around his neck and pulling him into a hug. 

His eyelids flutter shut, his arm vining around your waist and hauling you up against his body so you can feel his galloping heart. He presses his lips to the top of your head and breathes you in, finding your scent absolutely intoxicating. 

It’s fruity like pomegranate but sweet and floral too, reminding him of the lotus flowers he stumbled across in the southern Himalayas. There’s an underlying warmth, a natural musk that makes him wonder if you’re wearing perfume or if you just smell like this on your own. 

He doesn’t really care either way, not now that he has you so close, your joined hands coming up to rest against his shoulder and your body relaxing into his. You stay like that until his heart returns to a somewhat normal pace, before he pulls away just far enough to look down at you. He tugs his hand free so he can cup your face, whispering, “I’m gonna kiss you again, okay?” 

“Please do,” you whisper back, taking in a shuddering breath just before he locks his lips with yours. You sigh it out into his mouth and he swallows it like it’s a benediction, your tongue dragging against his as he kisses you and kisses you and kisses you. 

He’s about to let out a groan when a wooden shutter bangs against the stone building above, a loud voice shouting, “Prendi una stanza!”

“É la città dell'amore, Stefano, dacci una pausa!” You break away to shout back, grinning at Wonwoo’s flaming cheeks. 

“Y/n? Vai avanti, caro!” The shutter snaps closed again and Wonwoo bends over in a full body laugh, clutching his stomach as his abs flex with mirth. You’re not laughing like he is, but you are watching with affection and only the slightest bit of embarrassment. 

When he’s finally regained his composure, he straightens and wipes at his cheeks again, crying for a completely different reason than before. You smile up at him fondly, reaching out to fix his hair and asking, “Since you’re free tomorrow, do you want to come up for some coffee?”

Wonwoo doesn’t know if you’re really offering refreshments or if the coffee is a euphemism for something else, but either way, it’s an easy answer. 

“Of course I do.”

Anubis starts meowing as soon as you unlock the door to your shop, loping over on graceful paws and weaving between your feet. 

“You had your dinner, why are you shouting at me?” You ask as you crouch to pick him up, holding him like a baby and scratching at his stomach gently. 

“Maybe he missed you?”

You mull it over for a little bit, nodding your head in acceptance and admitting, “I don’t usually go out at night, so maybe he did.”

“Is that why your neighbor was fine with us making out as soon as he figured out it was you?” 

You lightly jab him in the stomach with your elbow and he pretends to be mortally wounded, stumbling and groaning dramatically as if he’d been hit with an arrow instead. 

He supposes he has been, but it was one of Cupid’s, not one of yours. 

Anubis twists out of your arms and you let him, locking the entrance to your store and leading Wonwoo to the back. You unlock one of the doors with a huff of exertion and a jiggle of the handle, turning to say, “Old building,” before pushing the door open and letting Anubis dart up the staircase in front of you. Wonwoo jerks the door closed and locks it with the key you hand him, following you up the stairs in near darkness. 

The room you lead him into is a bit smaller than your store, containing a compact kitchen and warm living room flanked by a wall with two doors. “Bathroom is on the right, if you need it.”

He slips off his shoes and excuses himself to freshen up, taking care of his business and washing his hands quickly. Chancing a look in the mirror, Wonwoo finds that he’s flushed, aglow with infatuation, his smile irrepressible and wider than ever. He almost can’t look himself in the eye, knowing that all he’d find is adoration for you, and perhaps a bit of nervousness. 

He doesn’t know what to expect now, doesn’t know if this is leading where he thinks it is or how to act in whatever case. But, not wanting to keep you waiting, he opens the door and shuts off the light, finding you sitting at your dining table with a full french press and two mugs in front of you. 

He wants to speed over but he strolls instead, trying to appear at least a little unaffected. That facade is broken when he stops a few feet from the table, suddenly unsure of whether he should sit next to you or opposite from you. 

Blessedly, you make the choice for him, sliding one mug across the table before smoothly depressing the plunger of the french press. 

The rich smell of coffee permeates the air as you gracefully pour, filling his cup with the steaming, dark liquid before filling yours. “Is black okay? I have sugar and oat milk, if you need them.”

“Black is great, thank you.”

He’s acclimated to the bitterness enough to appreciate the deeper notes, though it’s only because he was once too shy to ask for sugar. He sips carefully, wondering with a satisfied hum if this really is the best coffee he’s ever had or if he just thinks that because you made it for him. 

You fall into an easy chat, discussing pictures he took and customers you had while he was out and about, before you bite your lip and stare down into your coffee like it’ll give you strength. 

“Wonwoo, can I ask you something… personal?” 

Your eyes slowly return to his, and the heat in your gaze makes him want to pop open a few buttons on his shirt and fan himself.  

“Sure,” he says, with only a little trepidation. 

“What are you like in bed?”

Oh. 

Oh. You want to know what he’s like in bed. 

Have you thought about what he’s like in bed? Have you thought about being in bed with him? Have you thought about him and touched yours-

He should answer you before he lets himself get carried away.

“Um, I’m a little different, I suppose. I like to be more… dominant. Maybe a bit rougher than I may seem,” his voice is hushed, and he wants to look away from the intensity of your stare, but he finds he can’t. It’s like you’ve hypnotized him, entranced him with a single question. 

“Is there anything specific that you like?”

This conversation, he likes this conversation. A lot. He can feel his slacks tightening with it, his heart thumping far too hard to be healthy and his mind starting to offer up ideas so fast he can barely make sense of them. 

They’re mostly images, sensations, feelings, all modeled after you. 

“I like,” he begins slowly. “I like being in control. I think I’d like holding you down, making you take what I’m giving you. I like talking,” he chuckles wryly, before continuing.

“I like listening too. I wouldn’t want you to hold back, I’d want to hear every little noise I could pull out of you. And I think I’d really like using my hands first, making you cum until you cry. Or until you beg for my cock.”

You suck in a ragged breath and glance away before looking back at him. Finally, he can read you, desire obvious on your face and in the tight knuckled grip you have on your mug. 

You set it down cautiously, aware of the still scalding coffee inside, and push away from the table to stand. Wonwoo watches you walk around to his side, his gaze fighting to stay on your face and not on the way your dress moves over your thighs as you get closer and closer to him. 

You stop just a foot away, holding your hand out and waiting for him to take it with a slight air of impassioned impatience. He places his hand in yours and rises to his feet, valiantly ignoring the view of your breasts from this angle and following you when you turn and begin tugging him to the door on the left. 

“Are we done talking?” Wonwoo asks, exhilarated and aroused, his dick hardening so quickly it leaves him feeling dizzy. 

“Not even a little bit,” you breathe, pushing the door open and facing him again as you walk backwards towards your bed. 

He crosses the few steps between you, crowds you up to the edge of the bed and pushes you to lay down with a gentle hand on your shoulder. His hands won’t stay gentle for long, and he hopes you understand what you’ve gotten yourself into. 

“If you don’t like something I do, tell me,” he whispers before leaning down and taking hold of your legs, pulling them apart and filling the space in between with his hips. 

“I will,” you gasp as he grinds against you, your dress pooled at the top of your thighs, just barely exposing your black panties. “But I don’t think I’ll need to.” 

I like everything you do. 

You don’t say it but he hears it anyway, the corner of his mouth lifting in a soft smirk before he braces his hands on either side of your head and moves in close. He doesn’t kiss you yet, just watches the way your eyelids flutter shut and your lips pout in preparation. You peek an eye open when he continues to hold himself away from you, your hand rising to cup his neck and attempt to tug him down to you. 

The second your fingers come into contact with him, he shifts his weight to one hand and grips your wrist with the other, pushing it down to the bed and holding it there. You bite back a smile, wriggle beneath him to get more comfortable, and drape your other hand above your head. 

That, he likes, and he rewards you by releasing your wrist and dragging his fingers up your inner thigh instead, digging them into the warm, soft flesh and groaning when he comes into contact with your panties. They’re soaking, so much wetter than he expected, and when he cups his big, cold hand over the seat of them, you shiver and buck up into his touch. 

“How long has it been for you?” Wonwoo asks, as if it hasn’t been literal years for him. 

“Um, a while, it’s been… a while,” you admit, seemingly shy for the first time. He should reassure you, but he likes the way you shrink beneath him, likes even more the thought of being your first in however long. He plans on being your last for the foreseeable future, so it’s only right he’s the one to break your dry spell. 

“Good,” he grins wickedly down at you, pulling your panties to the side and letting his fingers glide through your arousal. You’re soft, and sopping wet, and hot, so fucking hot, just for him, and already he’s wondering if he’ll be able to make good on his words.

If he’ll be able to hold himself back from you long enough to make you beg for it. 

He’ll do his best though, for you, and that starts with not grinding himself into your thigh. He needs to forget about his own pleasure, focus solely on yours, or he’ll be balls deep inside you before he’s even made you cum once. 

That won’t do, not when he wants you writhing on his fingers and pleading for his cock. 

So he pulls his hips away from you and tucks the tip of one digit into your entrance, sliding it in slowly enough that your face crumples in impatience, a low whine escaping you when he just leaves it there and drags his thumb over your clit. 

He wants to take his time, wants to learn you with his hands and his teeth and his tongue, wants to catalog your reactions and be able to take you apart diligently, passionately, like you deserve. 

This teaches him that you don’t like to be teased, and he decides to shelve the idea of edging for another day. He’ll go with overstimulation instead, he thinks, working another finger inside and rubbing more firmly with his thumb. Your face relaxes, your mouth opening on a sigh, and Wonwoo can’t resist leaning down to suck at your plump bottom lip as he curls his fingers inside of you, not yet searching for the spot that will make you gush for him. 

He’ll find it when he’s ready, when he feels like he’s built you up enough, and then he’ll use it to push you over the edge as many times as you can take. For now, he’ll savor the taste of your noises and start stretching out your perfect cunt. 

He pulls away from your mouth, fully aware that he could get lost in your kiss and intent on talking to you more before he lets that happen. 

“You feel so fucking good wrapped around my fingers like this. You know that, don’t you? You know how your cunt hugs them, sucks them in deeper and deeper, because you touch yourself, right?” 

You nod and Wonwoo allows it, won’t make you follow all of his rules until next time, until he’s sure you can handle it. 

“Did you touch yourself for me that night? After we met?” He asks softly, rewarding you with a tap right into your sweet spot when you cry out, “Yes!” 

“Did you say my name when you came?” His fingers pick up speed inside of you, fucking in and out to the beat of his own pounding heart. 

“Yes, Wonwoo,” you whimper, your hands twisting in the sheets above your head and your eyes squeezing shut before he pulls his fingers out and lands a wet smack on your inner thigh. You gasp and try to close your legs but Wonwoo is stronger than you, holds them open with both hands before leaning in close to kiss the stinging skin and say, “Keep your eyes on me.”

You nod tearily, holding his gaze as he sinks his fingers back inside of you and hovers close enough to your pussy that he’s sure you can feel his breath. He quirks his fingers up just as his tongue makes contact with your clit, and the way your lashes flutter but don’t fall brings a proud smirk to his face. 

“You’re a good listener, aren’t you?” He murmurs into your cunt. You start to answer but then he wraps his lips around your clit and sucks, and you shudder out a moan instead. The sound sends electricity zipping down his spine and straight into his cock, making it throb for you in his slacks. 

He ignores it, shifting to rest on his knees and sucking harder, grinding his fingertips up into your front wall so he can draw that same sound out of you again. He told you before that he wanted to hear every little noise he could pull from you, and he meant it, including noises that don’t come from your mouth. 

You’re getting so wet, he can hear it, his fingers squelching inside of you with every thrust, every curl. He doesn’t remember his past partners being so aroused, and he’s already obsessed, already dead set on making you fucking drench him. 

He knows all he needs to do is make you cum and you’ll give him exactly what he wants, so he taps into your g-spot with more force, fucking his fingers into you hard and fast until your cries reach a fever pitch and your back arches. He doesn’t stop, dragging you through your orgasm and pushing you further even as your cunt ripples and squeezes around his fingers, the sensation so intense he almost feels the phantom pulse of you around his dick, too. 

It makes him groan, a deep, dark sound muffled by your pussy, and that seems to be what sends you careening over the edge again, your thighs attempting to clamp shut around him. He lightly smacks one with his free hand, gripping the soft fat and pushing it up and out so he has enough room to work. The other settles on his shoulder but he doesn’t mind that, likes the weight of it, wants you to feel stable and secure as he takes you apart piece by piece. 

You’re writhing on his hand, just like he wanted, your gaze teary and nearly empty, like your beautiful brain is focused on him and him alone, and ohhhh, he likes that, he likes that a lot. He wants to wreck you, wants to leave you with nothing in your head but thoughts of him and when he’ll make you break again. 

He doesn’t know if you can, but he’s desperate to see you flood him, to make you squirt all over him, regardless of the fact that this shirt is dry clean only. He’ll scrub it out in the sink if he has to, doesn’t care what happens to the fibers if it means he can make you cum hard enough to ruin them. 

You’re getting close again, he thinks with lurid satisfaction, his hand a blur between your thighs. He pulls away to murmur, “Hold your leg for me,” waiting for understanding to spark in your eyes. You wrap your hand beneath your knee and manage a wobbly smile, and Wonwoo feels affection burst in his chest like a firework, his lips curving in response as he brings his now free hand to your cunt. 

His fingers push at the crest of your pussy, exposing your swollen clit for his thumb to cover, the pad of it pressing down and rubbing harsh circles. Your eyebrows furrow and your eyes water, your mouth stuck open on a needy moan that grows louder with every tap of your g-spot. It’s a whine soon enough, one that hitches in your throat as he fucks you with his fingers, and when he grinds his fingertips deep into you, he sees alarm grow in your eyes. 

You try to warn him but you can’t seem to speak, only blubbers of his name gracing his ears, making him grin ferally and say, “Don’t worry, baby, I want it to happen. I want you to fucking soak me, now.”

He honestly didn’t expect that to work but apparently, you can cum on command, or, as he tells himself, on his command, because you suck in a deep breath and keen for him. Your cunt flutters wildly around his fingers, clenching down on them and sucking them in before tightening to the point that he can’t move them, his fingertips locked into your sweet spot as you fucking gush. 

He can feel it spraying out onto his face and dampening his button down, arousal flowing out of you like a rushing river, making him groan out, “Fuck yes, just like that.” 

His voice is gravelly and low, desire deepening its pitch, and you shiver above him, though that may have more to do with the thumb still strumming your clit and the fingers still plugging you up. 

He could go again but he doesn’t want to push you too far this first night, doesn’t know where your limits lay or if you’re ready for him to find out for himself, so when your walls finally release his fingers, he slowly pulls them out and gently cups your pussy to help you calm down. 

He’s surprised when you speak, and even more shocked that it’s enough to make him laugh out loud. 

“All that and you didn’t even take my dress off,” you mumble, letting go of your thigh and reaching down to drift a hand over his hair, petting him like he’s an animal you’ve domesticated. 

Maybe he is, and maybe you have. You’re the only one that’s ever made him want to stay, to plant roots, to be domestic. 

Fondly, he says, “I did that on purpose. Now whenever you wear it, you’ll think about me.”

“I don’t need the dress to think about you, Wonwoo, I promise you that,” you hum, letting your eyes slip closed and missing the way his gaze fills with infatuation as he rests his cheek on your thigh and wraps his hands around your ankles. 

His glasses are splattered with you and so is the rest of him, his cock is hard and aching and leaky, and his knees are all but decimated from kneeling on your wood floor for so long, but Wonwoo has never been happier in his life. 

“Will you fuck me now?” 

His brows raise in disbelief, his fingers twitching on your legs, and he stands as quickly as he can manage, bracing one hand beside your head and taking hold of your chin with the other. You blink open your eyes to look at him, the haze in them just a bit clearer, though he’s sure your thoughts are still clouded with pleasure. 

“You still want me?” He asks in full seriousness, his dick pulsing at the thought of feeling your flawless cunt wrapped around it. 

“Yeah, you gonna make me beg?” You murmur, your gaze just a touch defiant. 

He wants to fuck that rebelliousness out of you. 

“I said I’d like to, didn’t I?” He responds slowly, greed simmering in his veins and surely obvious on his face. 

Your eyes narrow before you visibly collect yourself, finding that submissive side you seemed to lean into before. He watches as you let it take over, shrinking beneath him somehow, the expression on your face needy and compliant.

“Please Wonwoo, please give me your cock. I’ve thought about it since we met, since I noticed how built you were under that soaking white shirt. Your shoulders are so broad and your hands are so big and you’re so much taller than me. All I wanted was for you to pin me down and fuck me however you liked, and that’s still all I want.”

He sucks in a deep breath through his nose, carefully concealing how fucking wild your words make him feel. He needs to maintain this illusion of control or you’ll gain the upper hand, and he can’t let that happen. He’s already going to give you exactly what you want, he’ll die before he lets you be smug about it too. 

It takes everything in him but he manages to pull away, releasing your chin and standing at his full height, a smirk rising at the way your hands leave their place above your head to cling to him. 

“Get up. Take your dress off,” he commands stoically, backing up and giving you space to push off the bed onto your feet. Your hands tremble as you reach for the hem, and in a brief moment of tenderness, he covers them with his and lifts it with you, laughing and helping you wrench it off when it gets stuck at the elbows. 

He stops laughing when you fling the dress onto the chair in the corner of your room and stare up at him, clad in just your skewed panties and a little bitten off grin. His eyes fall to your breasts, the shape and weight of them immaculate, just begging for his mouth. He fully plans on worshiping them at the next possible opportunity, but he’s got a different goal in mind now. His hands gravitate to your hips, fingertips tucking in the waistband of your underwear and pulling them down before returning to push you gently toward the bed. 

“Lay down for me.”

Wonwoo doesn’t know why he’s being soft on you now. He’s still hard enough to cut glass but something in him just can’t be harsh when he feels like he does about you, especially after you already took what he gave you so well. Maybe it’s the vulnerable look in your eyes, maybe it’s the way his heart feels three sizes too big for his chest. 

But maybe it’s because when he looks back on your first time together, he doesn’t want it to look like his previous encounters. He wants it to look like a couple that loves each other, that knows they want to be together, that will make sacrifices for each other. 

Obviously, dominating you can still look like that, but right now his soul aches to be gentle with you. Emotionally, at least. 

He’s still going to fuck you into your mattress, he’ll just be kinder about it. 

You can tell that something has shifted in him and somehow it makes you even more pliant, your face open as you patiently wait for his next instruction. He doesn’t give one yet, reaching up to take his glasses off and wipe away the drying release with the edge of his button down before setting them on your night stand. 

He works on getting naked, swiftly unbuttoning his shirt and shrugging it off, carelessly letting it float down to the floor as he undoes his pants. He removes his socks next, pairing them up and dropping them to the side before pushing down his boxer briefs. 

It occurs to him that you haven’t talked about safety at all, and as he climbs over you, his thick, leaking dick dragging against your skin, he asks, “Do we need a condom?”

You swear under your breath and look down, biting your lip before whispering, “I’m not on birth control, and I have condoms but I honestly don’t think they’ll fit you. Do you have any?” 

He swears too, remembering the expired one in his wallet and sighing, “Not one that we could use. I get tested regularly and I’m negative for everything, but what do you wanna do?” 

“Um, well… I haven’t had sex since I last got tested and everything was clear, so what if you pull out? I track my cycle and I’m not ovulating right now.”

It’s risky, and sex without a condom isn’t something Wonwoo’s ever had, but he wants you more than anything, and he believes in his ability to honor your wishes and pull out when he needs to. 

“Let’s do that this one time, and I’ll get condoms for the future,” he agrees, smiling at the way your eyes get brighter when he says ‘future’. 

He settles back into his role seamlessly, though this time, he’s less domineering and more caring, to be sure. Your legs are already spread for him, but he slips his hands under your knees and tucks them up to your chest, resting your calves on his shoulders and setting one hand on the bed to hold himself up. 

The other reaches for his dick, and he fights back a shiver at the chill of his own touch, his perpetually cold hands freezing compared to his searing hot cock. He can’t help but lay it over your pussy, feeling his ears and the back of his neck tingle with a blush when he estimates where he’ll end inside of you. 

You squirm beneath him and he brings his hands back to your thighs, pulling his hips back enough to notch the head of his dick in your entrance before starting to push inside. You’re tight like this, all folded up, but your walls part to welcome him like he’s a missing piece of you, like he’s always been meant to fill you up when you’re empty. 

He moves slowly, not to tease you but to savor you, luxuriating in the feeling of your velvet heat, your perfect cunt as it forms around him. It could be minutes or hours before he bottoms out, but when he does, he almost can’t think, he’s so consumed by sensation. 

He closed his eyes without realizing it, and now he forces them open, only to find you already staring up at him, your gaze unwavering and your hands coming up to hold his where they push at your thighs. 

You seem breathless, and it’s probably partly due to the position but Wonwoo prefers to think it’s because you’re as overwhelmed as he is, so wrought with pleasure that it toes the line of pain. 

You’re still shorter than him, even like this, so he has to curve down to kiss you but it’s worth it because you bloom for him, moaning into his mouth and clenching around his cock when he glides his tongue against yours. With your lips still pressed to his, he draws his hips back a few inches, enough to feel air cling to the wetness on his cock, before thrusting inside sharply. His hips meet your ass with a loud smack, the only other noise in the room being your muffled whimpers and the wet sound of his lips moving against yours. 

Again, he pulls out, almost to the tip this time, and sends his hips forward, grunting at the feeling of your cunt embracing him. It’s perfection, you’re perfection, and he resolves to be nothing but perfect for you too. 

He swallows your sounds and categorizes them; you whimper when he pulls out far and thrusts in deep, moan when he just grinds himself into you, yelp when he fucks you with sharp, fast bucks of his hips. He follows their lead like he’s untying a knot or working through a maze, methodically dismantling you down to your nuts and bolts. 

You’re barely kissing him back when he finally derives the best combination of pace and depth, your lips quivering against his as you whine continuously, the pitch rising every time he reaches the end of you. Your eyes are open but they’re glazed over, and he can’t tell if he’s fucked you dumb or fucked you to tears but either way, it makes his lips stretch in a vicious grin. 

He loves kissing you but that’s not what’s happening anymore, so he pulls away and puts more of his weight on your thighs, using the leverage to fuck into you harder. He doesn’t go faster, knowing that if he does, this will end far sooner than he wants it to. 

He’d like to draw at least one more orgasm from you before he cums, and he can’t do that if he’s got even more friction on his cock. He’s a little surprised there is any with how wet you are, but you’re perfectly matched to his size so your walls grasp him tight every time he pulls back, the drag of them flawless on his sensitive skin. 

Your sounds are louder now that he’s not muffling them with his mouth, melodic in his ears and something he knows he’ll reproduce in his mind again and again, whenever he’s away from you and feeling particularly lonely. 

He’ll have to cut down on his traveling now that he’s got you, but that doesn’t scare him like it used to. Instead, he’s excited to have someone who makes him want to stay and build a home, build a life. He kind of feels like this is the first step, making you his and giving himself to you in return, and it’s enough to make his cock twitch and leak just a little bit of precum inside of you. 

He takes that for the warning it is, consciously veering away from thoughts of domesticity and belonging before dedicating the whole of his body to making you cum. He pushes away from you to sit up on his knees and haul your ass into his lap, your calves still resting on his shoulders and his dick just barely inside of you. 

He angles his hips and thrusts back in shallowly, no longer hitting as deep but aiming the head of his cock at that innervated patch inside of you. Your eyes grow wide and you suck in a deep gasp, your fingers clenching around his where they hold your legs, your reaction letting him know he’s got you. 

He fucks into that spot relentlessly, wondering if he can make you cum with just his cock. He stimulated your clit before too but you feel like you’re getting close, and he doesn’t want to change something trying to help only to hinder you instead. 

He doesn’t have much time to think before you’re crying out his name urgently, your tone plaintive and your voice thin. It sounds like you’re right on the edge, looks like it too, your brows screwed up in pleasure and your eyes bright with bliss. He’s almost as close as you are, his orgasm spooled up at the base of his spine and ticking like a time bomb, just waiting for him to let himself go. 

“Cum, baby,” he pants, hoping beyond hope that you’ll listen and obey just one more time. He doesn’t know how much longer he can hold on, prays that he’ll be able to endure the euphoria your climax will bring, that he won’t have to ruin it by pulling out while you’re deep in its thrall. 

But you do listen, thank fuck, you do, your eyes rolling back and your cunt clamping down on him in a vise grip, the sheer heat and wetness of you enough to pull a strangled groan from deep in his throat. It takes everything in him not to cum with you, the feeling incredible and the sight just as glorious, the impact of both beyond the realm of imagination. 

He lasts just long enough to get you through your aftershocks, his chest heaving for air as he makes himself pull out of the eden of your cunt. Blood rushes in his ears and fluffy cotton candy fills his head, his thoughts no more than paper airplanes gliding on a warm breeze. He watches his cum cover your perfect tits in white stripes, feeling as if he’s out of his body and out of his mind. 

Your hands squeeze his and you breathe his name, slowly pulling him back to you, like he’s a balloon that’s floated away and you’ve miraculously caught his string. You’re blurry in his vision and he can’t tell if it’s because he doesn’t have his glasses on or if he’s just crying, but either way he releases your legs and leans in close to see you better. 

You cup his cheeks and pull him into a soft kiss, the soothing, reassuring pressure bringing him back down to earth, back to you. He should be the one taking care of you right now, but he feels like he’s been cracked open, his soul and his heart bare, unprotected. 

“You’re okay,” you whisper, petting his cheekbones with your thumbs, and that’s what restarts him. 

He presses his lips to yours ardently, gathering up all of his feelings and pouring them into you, the intensity drawing a gentle sigh that travels from your mouth to his. He breathes it in before pulling away and focusing on you.

Lying down next to you, he pulls you into his arms, uncaring of the sticky cum that smears on his chest when your breasts press against him. He holds you for a while, until his heartbeat feels close to normal and his head feels close to clear. He’s about to drift off when he remembers how dirty you both still are.

“Do you want to shower?” He asks in a low voice, grinning at the way your face scrunches in displeasure at the thought before you look up at him and respond, “Are we going to fuck again tonight?” 

He thinks on it for a moment, weighing options and offering his opinion, “I don’t want to tempt fate too many times, so I think we should just go to sleep for now and go out for condoms and Plan B tomorrow morning. Then I’ll fuck you all day, if you want.” 

You smile serenely and nod, your eyes already half lidded with exhaustion. 

“Does that mean you do want to shower, then?” He confirms, his fingers drumming on your bare back. 

“Yeah,” you pout, obviously reluctant to get up and get clean. 

“I’ll go start it and come get you when it’s warm. Don’t worry, baby, I’ll do all the work,” he promises you, grinning when your pout stretches into a pleased little smile. 

He climbs out from under you and off the bed, walking on shaky knees to the bathroom, his soft cock hanging between his legs. He wonders if you have a washer, his shirt and boxers are not usable in their current state, but he can just use the sink if he needs to. He’ll have to go back to his hotel sometime tomorrow, to change and gather his things for his flight back home, and he’s already dreading the idea of it. 

It would be nice if he could get his film camera, maybe take a few pictures of you to tide him over until his transfer is finalized and he can find an apartment here. He feels like you’d be up for that, imagines photographing you in all kinds of positions and varying states of undress, safe in the knowledge that he can rent a darkroom and develop them himself. 

He struggles for a minute but figures out your shower eventually, turning it on and standing by until steam gathers on the mirror. He catches a glance at himself just before it fogs over, blushing at the image staring back at him. 

His lips are swollen and red, his cheeks flushed with exertion and joy, his eyes luminous for what feels like the first time in years. You’ve made your mark on him, tattooed him in gold, and he doesn’t think he’ll ever be the same. 

That’s not something he minds. He even finds himself smiling at the idea of rearranging his pieces to fit with yours, of making space in his life for you and Anubis to fill. 

When he leaves the bathroom to get you, the cat is laying on the dining table, sprawled out with his eyes closed, and Wonwoo breathes a sigh of relief. If he’s being honest, he forgot entirely that there was another being in this apartment, and he’s glad your activities didn’t seem to disturb him. 

He wants to smooth a hand down Anubis’s side but doesn’t want to wake him, so he stares at the cat for just a second longer before turning to your bedroom and poking his head through the door frame. 

You’re starfishing on the bed, his cum mostly dry on your tits and your eyes gently shut, and he can’t contain the laugh that bubbles out of his chest. 

Like mother, like son.

Wonwoo draws in a deep, centering breath as he raises the camera to his bespectacled eye, grateful not for the first time that he’s in the city of love. 

This will be the first proposal he’s photographed today, the third this week, and for someone who’s always thought he didn’t mind love, he finds himself unbelievably excited. 

He calls your name, watches dust motes float through a shining sunbeam as you stir in the bed you share, your tired gaze finding him before it lands on the book beside you. Or, more accurately, on the ring sitting on the book beside you. 

You draw in a sharp gasp, your eyes flying to his, and he depresses the shutter button just as your face breaks into a beam bright enough to rival a supernova. 

He thinks this will be his favorite photograph yet. 

AN: And the book was titled April Shower and it contains your love story as written by your best friend, the end 💖

“Prendi una stanza!” - "Get a room!"

“É la città dell'amore, Stefano, dacci una pausa!” - "It's the city of love, Stefano, give us a break!"

“Y/n? Vai avanti, caro!” - "Y/n? Carry on, dear!"

My Masterlist

#kaili 🪢 #svthub #k vanity #wonwoo fic #wonwoo fanfic #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo scenarios #wonwoo imagines #wonwoo smut #wonwoo x you #wonwoo x y/n #seventeen smut #seventeen fic #seventeen x reader #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen x you #seventeen x y/n #svt x reader #svt imagines #svt smut #svt fanfic #svt x you #svt x y/n #kpop oneshots #kpop smut #kpop fanfic #kpop scenarios

[sluttywoozi]

hello, I came running once I saw you were taking requests 😌 I just feel like joshua would be so extremely Down Bad for his partner. like even when they're YEARS into like, marriage - if they're going to a party and his partner is dressed up? man's weak in the knees istg 🥺

I love your style of writing so I would honestly be v v happy if you wrote this 😊❤️

Rating: M (18+) | Word Count: ~1.3k

Warnings: alcohol mention, horny and in love husband!joshua; swearing; kissing; dirty thoughts; spanking mention

Reader Notes: no specified pronouns or gendered terms; wears a dress, makeup, heels, lingerie; has breasts and a vagina

Playlist: Late To The Party by Kacey Musgraves and LOVE U by Monsta X

“Babe, are you almost ready?” Joshua hears you call from the bedroom. He’s still messing with his hair and you’ve been struggling to pick out your shoes for the last half hour, and he just knows there’s no way you’re getting to the party on time. 

“Yeah, honey, I just can’t get this one piece to lay right,” Joshua says, frustration evident in his voice. Your slippers slap on the hardwood as you make your way to the bathroom, coming to stand in front of him and lifting your hand to fix his hair. He stays still, just admiring you. 

You have the cutest look of concentration on your face, your fingers gentle and careful not to pull.

You’re in full makeup, your hair done up flawlessly, and your silk dressing robe is tied loosely, draping over your breasts in a way that has Joshua nearly drooling. Your lip is trapped between your teeth and he wants to bite it with his, but there’s no time. 

Fuck it, he thinks, wrapping his fingers around your wrist and pulling you closer, his other hand catching your hip to press you into his body. Dipping his head to kiss along your neck, he whispers into your skin, “What if we just … didn't go?”

You sigh in exasperation but wind your arms around his neck and sink one hand into the back of his hair, “Josh, we have to go. We skipped the last one, remember?”

Joshua groans into your collarbone, letting his body sag against you, “I just don’t feel like sharing you with anyone else tonight.”

Predictably, you melt into him, your nails scratching against his scalp and sending a shiver down his spine. He starts swaying you, pulling out all the tricks he knows to make you want to skip the party. 

“Babe, it’s Seungcheol’s birthday. He‘ll already be sulking about us being late. If we miss it altogether, he’ll skip our anniversary dinner out of spite and you know it.”

Joshua sighs, reluctantly releasing you because he does know Seungcheol, and he knows that the man is very specific about his expectations for birthday celebrations. 

He shifts his eyes to the ceiling, trying to find the will to leave the house, and reminds himself that Seungcheol is one of his best friends. He can beg you to stay in with him almost any other night, tonight is important and Joshua knows you both should be there. 

So, with a nod, he turns back to the mirror to finish his hair and you exit the bathroom to make a footwear decision. He can hear you talking to yourself, smiles at his own reflection in pure fondness for you. He’s always loved your little habits, they just make him feel… safe and happy. 

When Joshua married you, everyone joked that the small things he loves about you would become small things he hates about you, but he knows that could never happen. He fell in love with you over the little things, the way you think out loud, the way you fold your laundry, the way you hand out random compliments, the way you smile at everyone on the street, the way you ask how someone is and actually care about the answer.

He loves your absentminded singing, the fingers you trail over his back whenever you pass him, the little sticky note reminders he finds everywhere, the love notes you pack into his lunch box. 

Joshua loves everything about you, and somehow he knows he always will. 

And when he says everything, he means everything.

Even after (almost) five years of marriage, Joshua is still obsessed with you.

You’re the sexiest person he’s ever seen, and he honestly can’t believe he got you to tie yourself to him forever. Whenever he sees his ring on your finger, or watches you sign a check with your first name and his last, his heart flutters and heat floods his stomach, and he has to think unpleasant thoughts to calm himself down. 

It usually works, but it’s not right now, definitely doesn’t when you meander into the bathroom to pick out your earrings, clothed in your favorite dress. And fuck if it isn���t Joshua’s favorite dress, too. 

How could it not be, with the way it drapes over your body, the way the color stands out against your skin, and the smile you always wear with it?

The memories attached only make him love it more; he’s taken it off of you hundreds of times, in a dozen different ways, and he’s almost desperate to strip you of it now. 

The sultry look in your eyes tells Joshua you know this, and you know it’ll be the only thing on his mind the whole night.

As he’s laughing with his friends, he’ll be thinking about sliding the dress up your body slowly, mapping your curves with his hands. As he’s mixing drinks for the table, he’ll be imagining what your face would look like if he tore it off of you. As he’s toasting Seungcheol and trying to give a heartfelt speech, he’ll be picturing the lingerie he knows you’re wearing.

You have a lot of options, a whole drawer full, and Joshua will have no choice but to go through every possibility in his mind, just because he’s a thorough person. 

He already knows he’s fucked, knows he’ll be fighting for his life tonight, trying to keep from getting hard in front of literally everyone he knows, and your smirk says you know this as well.

It is so evil, so diabolical of you, to do this to him when you know he barely has the will to go to the party at all. 

But it’s also really sexy, so fucking hot that you tease him like this, that you know what works him up, what sends all the blood in his body down to his cock.

That’s what’s happening now as he watches you with hooded eyes, following your form as you lean in closer to the mirror and brace your hand on the vanity to carefully apply your lip gloss. 

Fuck, you could have done this literally anywhere else. You don’t even need a mirror, he knows you can swipe it on with your eyes closed.

You came in here just to torture him. 

Joshua wonders what your plan is, if you’re trying to get him to rip the dress off of you and fuck you right now on the tile, or if you want him to pull you into the bathroom at Seungcheol’s and bend you over the vanity, or if you’re hoping he’ll punish you after the party, make the skin of your perfect ass swell in the shape of his hands.

He’s honestly willing to do all three, and he knows the sight of you in this dress will be enough to get him hard time and time (and time) again tonight.

Joshua startles at the closing of a door, looking around the bathroom to find it empty.

Fuck, when did you even leave? Was he that distracted?

He can hear your heels clicking, your pace quick as you gather up everything you need to bring to the party. Joshua knows he should probably help you, but as it is, he’s not sure he can move.

His knees feel a bit weak after contemplating your possible plans, and his dick is throbbing in his slacks, pressing uncomfortably against the zipper. You call out, asking if he’s ready to leave yet, and Joshua mentally curses you, curses your nefarious heart and delicious body, then feels awful immediately, apologizing in his mind and willing his legs to move and his dick to soften.

Joshua’s almost successful, the print of his hard cock barely noticeable, his legs back online, when you add on, “I’ll suck your dick in the car if we leave in the next five minutes and you tell Cheol that we’ll be late.”

He runs.

Part 2

My Masterlist

#seventeen smut #svt smut #svthub #joshua x you #joshua x reader #✨emily answers✨ #✨emily writes✨ #thank you for requesting!! #had half of this in the drafts for like a month #and this was the perfect request to get me to finish it #so double thank you #kaili 🪢 #seventeen series #seventeen fic #seventeen x reader #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #husband!joshua

[sluttywoozi]

Whenever We Breathe Part Two

Summary: Wonwoo knows he's fucked up by avoiding you after you, him, and Seungcheol slept together. He doesn't know how exactly he can fix it, but he figures begging for your forgiveness might be a good start.

Rating: M (18+) | Word Count: ~5.1k (2k plot, 3.1k smut)

Part One

GN version

Warnings: not a threesome, best friends to lovers, swearing, pining, hurt/comfort, angry cheol (hot), shy switch wonwoo, weed mention, lots of talking during sex, grinding, cumming in pants, multiple orgasms, fingering, clit stim, oral f. rec., facesitting, slit/thigh fucking, condomless piv sex, creampie, cum eating, aftercare 

Reader Notes: she/her pronouns used, has vagina and breasts

Fuck, oh fuck, Wonwoo’s made a terrible mistake. 

He thought that day was the perfect opportunity to get to be with you without having to confess his feelings, but what he didn’t consider is that getting to be with you would make him want to be with you.

Wonwoo isn’t sure why that didn’t even cross his mind. Maybe because it was clouded with smoke and the disbelief you even said yes when Cheol made the offer?

God, it felt like a wet dream, literally, you were so wet, so fucking soft and hot and tight, and Wonwoo still regrets not coming inside you when he had the chance, especially since it was probably his last. 

He hasn’t seen you in weeks, and he misses you like hell. 

He supposes he can’t complain though, considering that it’s his own fault. 

Wonwoo’s been avoiding you, skipping your weekly best friends sleepovers, making up excuses for dinner invites, responding to your texts far too late for a conversation to be possible. 

He feels awful, and he knows you know he’s avoiding you, and he knows Seungcheol knows too. 

He might be ready to beat him up soon, if the glare he’s sending Wonwoo right now means anything. 

They’re sitting across from each other in the diner down the street from his apartment, and Seungcheol has been scolding him for the past seven and a half minutes. He only knows because he keeps glancing at the clock to escape Seungcheol’s glowering. 

Wonwoo honestly feels like he’s in the principal’s office, with the way Seungcheol has his hands folded (clenched) on the table and the way he’s being berated. 

“And if you didn’t think you could handle this, you shouldn’t have participated. You could have just watched, but no, you wanted to join and you wanted to go first, and now you haven’t seen her in weeks.”

Seungcheol takes a deep breath to continue, “Do you know how sad she is? She totally knows exactly what you’re doing, and she thinks it’s her fault. She thinks she did something wrong. We wanted her to feel better but you’re making her feel worse!” He finishes on a shout. 

Diners in the nearby vicinity shoot Seungchheol a look, and he raises his eyebrows in response, staring back until they look away. 

Normally, he’s much more polite, so Wonwoo must have really pissed him off. 

“I’m sorry, Cheol, I really thought I would be okay. I didn’t realize how bad it was until you made her look at me while you were-,” Wonwoo looks around and continues in a whisper, “Fucking her, which by the way, what the fuck was that?!” 

“What do you mean ‘what the fuck was that’?” Seungcheol mocks him.

“That was me making you realize how you feel! I knew you’d be jealous seeing me with her like that and I needed to rub it in so you’d finally fucking understand! You’re in love with her!” Seungcheol’s eyes are blazing, and Wonwoo’s starting to wonder if he should fear for his own wellbeing, but Seungcheol wouldn’t hurt him. He thinks.

He’s not ready to respond to that last part yet, needs some time to admit it to himself, but he knows he can’t just not say anything. 

Especially if he doesn’t want Seungcheol to launch himself over the table and throttle him. 

“I know I fucked up, and I’m sorry. To both of you. I’ll figure out how to fix it, I just need a bit more time,” Wonwoo pleads, trying to implore Seunngcheol to let him deal with this his own way. 

“I don’t know how much longer she’ll wait. She’s talking about joining the dating apps again.”

The food arrives but Wonwoo doesn’t notice. White noise fills his ears, and he feels very dizzy suddenly, bracing his hands flat on the table for strength. 

He tries not to remember all the short little dresses you’d wear on your internet dates, and the way you’d complain about their inability to make you cum, and the way he used to wish he even had the chance to fail. 

But now Wonwoo’s had the chance, and he didn’t fail, he was successful. He made you cum, multiple times, fuck, he even helped make you squirt! 

So honestly, what the fuck is he doing?

He is in love with you, and he can make you cum, and he’s your best friend, and you’re his. 

And now he’s starting to feel like the fuckup wasn’t when he slept with you, it was not taking the chance to tell you how he feels after.

Shit. 

How is he supposed to fix this?

Wonwoo has come up with a plan, and the first step is showing up at your apartment with your usual from the cafe you always go to together. 

The rain wasn’t part of the plan, but Wonwoo figures his pathetic appearance may actually help his case. 

He’s soaked to the bone, his glasses covered in drops of water, his body shaking like a leaf, his cold hands even colder than normal, but it’ll be worth it if you open the door. 

And that’s a big if, because Wonwoo knows you know it’s him, and he’s honestly not sure you’re going to let him inside.

He wouldn’t blame you, after the way he’s been ignoring and evading you for weeks, but he really hopes you’ll at least give him a chance to explain himself. 

He’s fully prepared to tell you everything, to lay his soul bare at your feet, to grovel on his knees for forgiveness, but he’s not too hopeful when you open the door and shout, “Are you fucking insane?”

You grab him by the collar and haul him inside, pointedly avoiding his gaze as you shut and lock the door before heading to the bathroom to grab him a towel. He drops the food and travel cup in your kitchen and waits for you to return. You stop at your bedroom on the way to get some clothes he’d left here, pointing at the bathroom until he obeys and scurries in, turning on the shower and starting to strip. 

You stand at the door with your arms crossed, glaring into the hallway and waiting for him to hand over his soaked clothes, and he tries to avoid looking at your ass in your little pajama shorts. Now simply is not the time.  

Not when Wonwoo’s never seen you so closed off before, to him at least. He worries he won’t be able to repair the rift he created between you, fears you won’t let him back in. 

He steps into the shower, the heat scorching his freezing skin, and he tries not to shy away from the steaming stream of water, lets it be punishment for hurting you like this. 

He stays until he can feel his fingers and toes again, then just a bit longer because he’s terrified to face you now that he knows you're sad and angry. 

Eventually, Wonwoo gets a bit too warm and knows he can’t put off explaining himself any longer. Shutting the shower off, he roughly towel dries his body and pulls on the clothes you brought him, shaking his hair out enough that it won’t drip onto his shoulders before cleaning off his glasses with the edge of the shirt. 

You’re puttering about in the kitchen, heating up the food he brought you, sipping at the drink, and whispering angrily to yourself, about him most likely. He doesn’t blame you, could curse himself too for mucking everything up this badly, and he can only hope you’ll let him tell you what happened. 

Wonwoo lets himself linger in the hall for just a few more seconds before taking a deep breath and shuffling into the kitchen with his head lowered in penance. He stays silent, senses your eyes on him and hears your movements stop, and almost wishes the ground would open up and swallow him whole. 

But, knowing he owes you this, Wonwoo raises his head and meets your eyes meekly. 

Fuck, you look so mad, and so hot. Under the anger and hotness is hurt, and he chooses to focus on that. 

“Well?” You begin flatly. “What do you have to say?”

“Um,” he clears his throat after squeaking on the first attempt, “I want to apologize, and beg you to forgive me, and also I should probably tell you something.”

You squint at him, tilting your head back to stare down your nose, and Wonwoo tries to pretend your derision doesn’t turn him on. 

“Go on, then,” you raise a brow, and Wonwoo lets out the biggest sigh of relief when he realizes you’re letting him explain himself. 

“Okay, apology first. Well, the apology will probably have some of the thing I need to tell you so I hope that’s okay,” you nod slowly in confusion. 

“I’m really sorry I shut down after we slept together. It was everything I ever dreamed of, except not really because I don’t just want to sleep with you, and also because Cheol was there, and I definitely didn’t dream about that. Not that I didn’t like it!” Wonwoo rushes to clarify, “It was great, and kinda nice not having to think for a bit, but when I pictured our first time, it was… just us.”

You stare at him, processing his words, your face softening incrementally, before you ask, “What do you mean, ‘everything you ever dreamed of’?” 

Wonwoo’s eyes grow wide, knowing he’s at the point where he’ll have to explicitly tell you his feelings. 

“Um, so the thing is I might possibly be in love with you and it’s also possible that after I got to be with you, I couldn’t stop thinking about being with you and made myself sad that I wouldn’t get to so I didn’t want to see you because whenever I thought about seeing you, all I could think about was being near you and touching you and getting to actually love you like I’ve always wanted to,” Wonwoo says in a rush, clenching his eyes shut at the end so he doesn’t have to see your face. 

You stay silent for a while, considering his jumbled confession. 

He peeks an eye open to find you deep in contemplation, your jaw set and your arms folded, and fears that he’s officially ruined the friendship. 

“You’ve always wanted to love me?” you ask softly, quietly, like you’re scared of the answer. 

He nods, keeps nodding, biting his lips between his teeth before speaking just as timidly, “Yeah, I’ve always loved you, sorry.”

Your face scrunches, eyes turning to a glare to hold the tears in, and you whine angrily, “Don’t be sorry, you idiot, I love you too even though you’re so fucking stupid.”

Wonwoo’s heart stutters, squeezes hard, then explodes, and he feels like he might pass out. 

“Do you need to sit down?” you ask tiredly, waiting for his dazed nod to roll your eyes and walk over, tugging him by the arm to sit on your couch before crouching in front of him. 

“You… love… me?” Wonwoo asks dumbly, eyes moving up sluggishly behind his glasses to find yours. 

“Yes, Wonwoo, I love you,” you confirm gently, speaking slowly so he can understand you through the fog your confession put him in, grasping his tepid hands with your own. 

“Wow, that’s so crazy,” he breathes, feeling almost as high as he did that day. 

“I know, right?” you agree, pulling him closer until he shuffles off the couch to sit on his knees in front of you. 

“So, what do we do now?” Wonwoo asks, truly having no idea. 

“Um, I mean we should probably date right? And tell Cheol so he’ll stop being pissed at you. And maybe also have sex without him.” 

Wonwoo loves those ideas, all three, but has a request for the order, “Can we do 1, 3, 2? He’s so mad at me and so scary, and I think I’ll have to grovel more for him to forgive me than I did for you.”

“Mmmmm I think you could afford to do some more groveling for me too, though,” you tease, playing with the collar of his shirt and smirking. 

He feels lightheaded again and hopes you’re saying what he thinks you’re saying.  

“Can I kiss you?” Wonwoo asks as he starts to lean in, waiting for you to tell him yes. 

“Yeah, I think that would be a good start,” you mumble as you press your lips to his, your sentence trailing off into his mouth. 

Wonwoo sighs, tracing your bottom lip with his tongue until you open for him, loosening his hands from yours so he can place both of them on your cheeks to pull you closer. You come willingly, climbing into his lap when he sits down and crosses his legs, straddling his hips and grinding down against his rapidly hardening cock. 

Fuck, the pressure and heat of you feel amazing. 

He hasn’t been able to jerk off as much as usual because when he closes his eyes, he can only see you, squirting and crying and writhing, and he cums way too fast for it to even be enjoyable.

He’s a bit scared that will happen with you, but he plans to make you cum a few times before he even gets his dick in you anyway, so it should work out fine. 

Or at least, that’s what he thought before you started touching him, running your fingers up and down his abs, palming his pecs, squeezing his deltoids, and shit your hands are so warm and so soft, and he’s wanted you to touch him like this for so long, and if you keep grinding on him like that he’ll-

“Fuck, stop, stop, stop, baby, you have to stop,” Wonwoo pants, stilling your hips with an iron grip, pushing them away from his dick. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask breathlessly, cupping his face and looking into his eyes even as he tries to avoid your gaze out of embarrassment. 

“I was just really, really, really close to cumming,” he whispers, pursing his lips and hoping you’re not judging him. 

“Oh. You don’t want to?” you sound confused, your brows furrowed and your hips twitching in his grasp. 

“Of course I don’t want to, I wanna be able to fuck you,” Wonwoo explains shyly. 

“Well, how long does it take you to go again?” 

Wonwoo can feel his ears turning red and his eyes wavering behind his glasses as he stares at you in awe. 

“Maybe fifteen minutes,” he replies, astonished. 

You grin, pull his hands from your waist to slide them up onto your breasts, and dig your hips into his. 

Wonwoo can’t stop himself from tipping his head back to rest on the couch, his neck suddenly too weak to hold up the weight as he feels himself start spiraling again. You’re so soft under his hands, so sweet, and Wonwoo wishes he could see you, starts tugging up your shirt until you get the hint and whip it over your head. 

Fuck, you’re not wearing a bra, just like last time, and he tells himself to surprise you at home more often, then remembers he’s your boyfriend now and he’ll get to see you like this whenever you want him to, and that’s enough to push him over the edge. 

His head spins as his cock jumps underneath you, spitting hot cum into his boxers, and he knows he’s being noisy, knows he’s groaning and moaning and possibly even whimpering your name, but he just can’t shut his mouth. 

It feels too fucking good, the first fulfilling orgasm he’s had since you slept together, and now he knows for sure that cumming by himself could never be as euphoric as cumming with you. 

His brain feels heavy, but empty at the same time, and his head tips forward to rest against your sternum as he catches his breath, air puffing out over your chest and raising goosebumps on your skin.    

“Quick question,” you start with a thready voice. “How did you cum that last time? Both of your hands were busy.” 

“I don’t know,” he tries to figure out how to answer without sounding pathetic. “I just- you- when you squirted, it was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my life, and I don’t know, it was like I blacked out, and when I woke up, my cum was drying on your stomach.”

Okay, so he still sounded pathetic, but you whine, almost like you… 

“Do you like that?” Wonwoo asks slowly, realization growing, “And you liked making me cum in my pants too, didn’t you?”

You squirm in his lap, and Wonwoo smirks, leans forward until you tip onto your back and he can plank above you. He drops a kiss to your nose and shifts up on his knees to yank his shirt off and push his wet boxers down, trying not to cringe at the cold air on his slick cock. 

“You like knowing what you do to me, huh?”

Wonwoo trails kisses down your neck, letting his tongue dip into the hollow space between your clavicles before grazing his teeth over your skin.

“Well, baby?” Wonwoo waits for you to answer.

You stare him down, biting your bottom lip and squirming slightly, before answering, “Yes, I like it, Wonwoo.” 

“I’ll tell you all about your effect on me then,” Wonwoo begins, nipping the spot where your neck meets your shoulder. 

“When you wear these tiny little pajama shorts at sleepovers, I have to keep a pillow in my lap all night, just because your thighs are out and pressed right up against mine,” he says through sucking kisses along your collarbone. 

He grins at your shiver, continues, “Sometimes, I can’t tell you’re not wearing a bra until you hug me, and when I feel your tits on my chest, I have to pull away because I get too hard to hide it.”

Sucking marks down your sternum, Wonwoo keeps going, “I always take the couch and let you have my bed, even when you offer to share, because I know I’ll wake up hard or with dried cum in my pants if I get to sleep next to you.”

He slides back up to your mouth, swallowing your moan and biting your lip between his teeth before sinking down your body again. 

“If you wake up hard tomorrow, can I suck your dick?” you ask, as if he’d say no, and he has to push his face into your stomach to contain the loud fuck he wants to let out. 

“Are you in my brain? How are you my walking wet dream?” Wonwoo almost sounds annoyed, frustrated, and his kisses turn to sucking bites, leaving indents of his teeth all over your soft skin. 

“Don’t get mad at me because you think I’m hot, that’s not fair!” you whine, arching your back into him and making his focus shift to your breasts. 

“You’re right, baby, I’m sorry,” he lavishes your tits in soft kisses, sucking alternately at your nipples and squeezing the plush flesh with his fingers. 

He presses his face into your chest and smushes your breasts against his cheeks, breathing you in, surrounding himself in you, and realizes there’s another way to be encompassed by you, a better way. 

“Will you sit on my face?” Wonwoo asks, a bit scared you’ll say no.

You look down at him, smile softly, and reply, “Sure.”

Fuck, Wonwoo thinks he might die.

He tries to smile back before laying down next to you, waiting for you to finish stripping and climb on. 

Shit, why didn’t he notice how wet your shorts were? There’s a visible dark patch, and he figures he was messy enough not to notice but fuck, is he noticing now. And of course, of course you’re not wearing panties. Wonwoo honestly thinks you were created to kill him. 

What a way to go though, he thinks, as you send him a shy grin and straddle his hips, shuffling forward on your knees until he can grab you by the hips and pull you up to his face. 

He groans when your scent hits him, groans deep in his chest, and you shiver at the air flowing over your soaked pussy. That makes you rest more of your weight on him, and Wonwoo can’t wait to drown in you. 

You’re still holding yourself up though, looking a bit nervous, and Wonwoo wraps his arms around your thighs so he can smooth his hands up and down the length of them, soothing you slowly until you relax enough for your folds to brush his lips. 

This is already the best thing that’s ever happened to him, and it only gets better when he rubs his nose over your clit and you grind into it. 

Flattening his tongue on your cunt, he drags it from your entrance to the top of your pussy, laving over your bundle of nerves before sliding back down to dip inside you. 

You taste even better than last time, no lingering traces of weed in his mouth to cloud your essence, and Wonwoo already knows he’ll do this every day if you let him. 

It might just become his favorite hobby, if the way his cock is already hardening again says anything. 

He sucks your clit into his mouth, pulling you down harder on his face, wanting to smother himself in you, and slides two fingers inside you from behind. You clench down immediately, whimpering above him and sinking your hands into his hair to tilt his head back. 

He gets the hint, just holds his tongue out flat and lets you do what you want, lets you ride his face and his fingers, feels his cock jumping against his stomach. 

“Wonwoo, another, give me another, please,” you ask breathlessly, crying out when he tucks his ring finger inside of you too, and curls all three into the patch of nerves deep inside. 

He feels like he’s drowning in the best way, partially because you’re so wet, but mostly because he can’t hear anything, can’t see anything. All he knows is your pussy on his face and shit, he could probably cum untouched from this too. 

You break before he does though, bowing over him, and now he can smell your cunt and your hair and your skin, and thank fucking god you’re already shifting away from his tongue out of sensitivity because he seriously could cum right now. 

He helps you lift off of his face, and gazes fondly as you curl up on your side and catch your breath, staring incredulously at him. 

“How are you so good at that?” you demand, eyebrows scrunched and eyes boring holes into him.

“I’ve been dreaming about you sitting on my face for years, that’s probably it,” Wonwoo responds matter-of-factly, dodging the pillow you lob at him in retribution. 

“What, baby, you liked it before,” he laughs, avoiding the finger attempting to poke his belly.

“Yeah, that was before you made me cum so hard I lost all sense of time and space,” you mutter, shifting to rest on shaky elbows, staring at him contemplatively out of the corner of your eye. 

Wonwoo’s still trying to recover from your previous statement when you say, “I think I want you to bend me over the couch and fuck me from behind.”

He chokes, sputters on nothing but air and the need clawing up his throat, forces his eyes shut and curses you, curses you forever, but not really because he loves you too much and he does want to bend you over the couch and fuck you from behind. 

In fact, he thinks he’d both kill and die for the chance.

So he stands on wobbly knees, extends both hands towards you to pull you up, and drags you over to your couch. The arm is the perfect height for him to fold you over, and you pull a pillow to you so you have something to hold onto as he runs his cock up and down your slit. 

“Can I try something first?” Wonwoo asks tentatively, “I think you’ll like it.”

“Yeah, just don’t put anything in my butt, I’m not ready for that yet,” your voice is muffled in the couch, your ass tilted up, and Wonwoo smooths his hands up your back to squeeze your shoulders, then back down to push your thighs together. 

Placing each hand on a cheek, Wonwoo pulls your ass up and apart so you’re spread open, cunt glistening in the daylight, tempting him to take another taste. 

He’s always wanted to try this and never thought he’d have the opportunity, though, so he needs to make the most of it. 

And make the most of it he does, sliding his cock between your thighs and bumping the head against your clit, over and over and over, until your thighs glisten too and his dick is drenched in your wetness, until you’re squirming beneath his hands and whining, until he can see your entrance clench and release, tightening around nothing. 

He thinks he can make you cum like this, but honestly, he’s getting too close, and if he wants to fuck you tonight, he needs to do it now. 

Maybe he can hold out just a little bit longer though, he thinks, rubbing the head of his dick insistently on your clit until you claw at the couch and cum with a wail. 

“In me, get in me, Wonwoo, I swear I’ll-,” your voice cuts out when he sinks into you, stretching your pussy around his cock and bottoming out in one stroke. 

You squeak, and Wonwoo squeezes your ass in his hands before moving them to your hips and holding you to the arm of the sofa as he pulls back and thrusts in again. 

“Good?” he asks, waiting for you to respond, “Yes, Wonwoo, fuck yes,” before starting to pound you into the couch. 

You cry out every time he roots his cock inside you, and he moves a hand to press down on the small of your back, tilting your hips up more and angling his down, giving you searching thrusts until he hits something and you seize up around him. 

Targeting that spot each time, Wonwoo fucks in and out of you at a steady pace, ignoring the way his balls are already full and starting to draw up, wanting to get you there one last time before he cums. 

He knows just his dick won’t be enough, so he slides one hand around your hip and sinks it between your thighs, finding your clit with two fingers and starting the circles you seemed to like last time. 

Fuck, you get even tighter, and wetter, whining and wiggling under him, trying to meet his thrusts but he’s going too fast, too hard, and your walls start to spasm around him, arousal gushing out of you and dripping down his dick as you cum. 

And shit, Wonwoo wants to fuck you through it, he does, but he just can’t stop the tidal wave swallowing him, can’t stop the roaring in his ears or his eyes from squeezing shut, and he definitely can’t stop the way his cock twitches and starts to spurt white hot cum inside you.

It’s so much better than the orgasm he had before, and Wonwoo can’t stay standing, tips over until he’s spread out on top of you, his hip bones digging into your ass and his dick flooding you with what feels like weeks worth of cum. 

By the time his cock has stopped jumping in you, you’re reaching behind to poke at him, whispering in a strained voice, “Wonwoo, babe, can’t breathe.”

He blinks his eyes open, still dizzy from his orgasm, and lets his body melt to lay on the floor by the couch. You stay on the arm for a second, and Wonwoo has to close his eyes again when he sees his cum starting to drip out of you, white globs seeping from your entrance and sliding down your pussy.

“Can I-” Wonwoo starts, but you interrupt him, responding tiredly, “Yes, please do it, whatever it is. I already know I’ll like it.”

He crawls over, trying to steady his breathing, and spreads your cheeks again, opening up your stretched pussy even more. Your entrance is still fluttering, and your walls probably are too, and he needs to feel you on his tongue. 

He licks into you again, gathering up the cum on your swollen clit and guiding it back to your cunt, pushing it inside before lightly sucking at your entrance.

You still taste so good, even tinged with the salty bitterness of his cum, and he knows he’ll never get enough, shoves his tongue deeper, starts fucking you with it, rotates one hand so he can get his thumb on your clit, and with that, you tumble over the edge again.

Your walls weakly contract around his tongue, and he pets your bundle of nerves gently, bringing you down and licking you clean. 

Wonwoo lets you recover for a bit, but eventually suspects you can’t move so he wraps you up in his arms and hauls you off the couch, settling on the floor with you in his lap. 

“You okay, baby?” he asks, only a little bit concerned. 

“Yeah, I just… I think you broke me,” you mumble into his chest, fatigue obvious in your voice, and Wonwoo tries to hold in his giggle, tries to stop the pleased grin from spreading his lips, but he’s not successful, and you swat feebly at his chest. 

You get distracted by his pecs, caressing the firm muscle, and Wonwoo shivers, looking forward to coming up with more ways to distract you.

For now, he just tries to stand, finds his knees too shaky to carry both of your weight, and deposits you on the couch before hobbling away to get you a damp cloth and new pajamas.

He thinks he has another pair of boxers here too, and finds them in your top drawer along with some sweats and a big t-shirt for you. 

He cleans you up, wiping softly between your legs and making you promise to pee soon, before dressing you and himself and plopping down on the couch, pulling you into his arms. 

You’re warm, always so warm, and you smell so good, and Wonwoo loves you so much, and he remembers he doesn't have to hide it anymore. 

“I love you, baby,” Wonwoo murmurs into your hair, cupping your cheek in his hand and rubbing his thumb over your bottom lip. 

“Love you too, Woo,” you breathe, holding his gaze and puckering your lips to press a kiss to his thumb. 

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#wonwoo smut #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo x fem reader #wonwoo x female reader #wonwoo x you #wonwoo x y/n #seventeen smut #seventeen x you #seventeen x female reader #seventeen x y/n #svt smut #kpop smut #✨emily writes✨ #svthub #kaili 🪢

[sluttywoozi]

For Worse Or For Better | PART 2 OF 3

did i photoshop him a wedding ring mayyybe

Summary: Smutty part two of For Worse Or For Better! literally just sex, no plot to speak of

Rating: M (MINORS DNI) | Word Count: ~4.5k

Warnings: marriage kink, multiple orgasms, fingering in a car, thigh riding, marking, naked reader clothed wonwoo, big dick wonwoo, slightly possessive wonwoo, wap reader, oral virgin reader, oral (f rec.), mid sex safety talk, hard sex, wonu folds reader like origami, breeding kink, passing out after sex for like 3 seconds, lil crying, cum eating, aftercare

Wonwoo looks over at you in the passenger seat, his eyes tracing the line of your neck as you rest your head against the window. He’d fallen in love with you in moments just like this, in glances across the car at your sweet, sleepy face, in the gossip you eagerly relayed back to him, in the look you’d send him when he asked if you regret marrying him yet. 

Your denial holds more weight now, the soft shake of your head and the squeeze of your hand over his on the gear stick, the way you’d keep looking at him after, your gaze always finding the metal band on his finger. 

Wonwoo realizes now why you’d always sound a little wistful when he asked you that, even though you both knew he was joking. He also realizes how much it would have hurt him if you’d ever said yes. 

He can feel the tension seeping out of his marrow, his shoulders relaxing and his fingers loosening their white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel, as he reminds himself that’s something he doesn’t have to worry about anymore. 

But with the sudden relaxation comes heat too, when he thinks about your voice, your lips, forming the words, my husband, combined with the fact that you were talking about him.

Wonwoo is your husband, you’re his wife, and you both want it to stay that way. Sure, things happened a little out of order, but don’t relationship gurus always say you should date your spouse to keep a marriage strong? 

It’d be a lie if Wonwoo said he hasn’t thought about you in your pretty dresses, sitting across from him in a nice restaurant, alone, with no board or rivals around to impress. 

He wants to think about taking you on dates and to museums and coffee shops and antique stores, but now all he can think about is what could happen after those dates, what could happen tonight. The drive home has never felt so long, and when Wonwoo sees your knees bouncing in his peripherals, he moves the hand on the gear stick to lay gently on your thigh. 

It’s like you tense and relax at the same time, your knees stilling but your thighs clenching under his grip, and Wonwoo has to shift in the seat to try to adjust his dick, wincing at the press of the zipper. The silk of your dress is warm under his hand, thin enough to carry your body heat and to let him feel each little flex of your muscles. Wonwoo gives you a squeeze, pinky and ring finger brushing against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, and your hand covers his. 

He’s scared he moved too fast but you lift his hand enough to pull the skirt of your dress up, fabric gliding over your legs to puddle in your lap. Wonwoo can just barely see a glimpse of your panties, but he’s too concerned with watching the road to look closer, hopes he’ll get to see them once he finally gets you home. 

You apparently have plans for the interim, turning to look at him and whispering, “touch me?” as your hand drags his palm up up up to rest at the top of your thigh. Wonwoo’s breath catches at the heat radiating from between your legs and his pinky grazes your panties, dipping beneath the elastic to brush against you, where you’re soft and wet and hot. 

Wonwoo shudders, his other hand tightening its grip on the wheel, as his fingers delve deeper. His hand is trapped under the silk, too big to move much, but he’s able to slide his fingers down your slit, smear some of your wetness around as he slowly teases you open. Your thighs spread wider, giving him a bit more room to work, and he breathes out a shaky sigh when his finger glides over your clit and your hips buck. He wishes he had his other hand free to hold you down but for now, he presses harder and lets his fingers catch at your entrance, sinking one inside to the first knuckle. 

Fuck, Wonwoo’s already leaking precum into his expensive dress pants, just from this, just from one finger barely inside you. How’s he gonna last when it’s his dick? Fuck, should he be worried about this?

He decides to ignore it, to savor this moment, and, at your whine, lets his finger push all the way in. Your hips wiggle in the seat, trying not to grind into his hand, and just the thought of you riding his fingers has him sliding in another, curling his hand to press his digits deep inside and rub his palm against your clit. You move with his hand, sweet sighs leaving your lips to float around the car, and Wonwoo swears when he notices one side of your dress had slipped and you were squeezing your own breast. 

When did you even take your bra off? Are you a magician?

Wonwoo swiftly discards the thought; where your bra went doesn’t matter at all when he can see the curve of your breast in your hand and watch your other nipple pebble against the silk of your dress. 

You’re tensing around his fingers, gasping his name when he hooks them to press against the nerves inside, and Wonwoo already knows he won’t last tonight. 

Normally, that’s not a concern for him. 

There have been encounters in the past where Wonwoo’s lasted too long, just couldn’t quite get there before he tired his partner out, but he’s already throbbing and biting his lips to stifle the groans that are rising in his throat. Wonwoo hopes you’ll be okay with him making you cum a couple times first, just in case. 

Perhaps also because he’s been dreaming about it for months. 

He’d heard you touching yourself, late one night after getting up for a glass of water. Wonwoo didn’t linger or try to listen in further, but the fridge dispenser wasn’t loud enough to cover the little keening whimper that left you, sharp against the muffled gasps that had followed him down the hallway, and Wonwoo had to brace himself against the counter, press his hips into the marble until it hurt, turn his face into his shoulder to keep your name trapped inside his mouth. 

You’re gasping the same way now, your pussy swallowing his fingers deeper, your hand moving down to cover his and grind his palm into your clit harder, and Wonwoo truly fears he’ll cum with you when that whine starts building in your chest, starting as a moan and rising in pitch, getting higher and higher until you go soundless. 

Your cunt clenches in pulses, and Wonwoo waits for the right moment to slip in one more finger, spreading all three and fucking them in and out of your tightening walls. His cock jumps again when you whine his name and snap your thighs shut, twitches when you say it again, over and over and over, until your fingers wrap around his wrist and still his hand. 

Your cunt flutters around him, your clit throbbing under his palm, and Wonwoo pulls into the parking spot in a daze. You’re already more composed, righting the strap of your dress and gently withdrawing his hand from your underwear, unbuckling your seat belt so you can raise your hips and pull your panties down. You place them in his outstretched hand and press a kiss to his cheek before opening your door and getting out of the car. 

Wonwoo’s still trying to decide if he wants to put your panties in his pocket or in his mouth when his door opens and you duck your head in, staring at him with a mixture of amusement and concern. He looks back at you, mouth parted and fingers clenched tight around wet fabric, and wills himself to say something, anything. 

“Marry me?” Wonwoo breathes dumbly into the open air, lips pursing and eyes avoiding yours when he realizes what just left his mouth, but you laugh, responding, “Already did, babe, remember?” and lean down to unbuckle his seatbelt. 

He breathes in your scent, a combination of perfume and you, tinged with a hint of your wetness from the panties resting in his palm. It’s like he can taste you on his tongue, and Wonwoo finally climbs out of the car, taking your hand in his empty one and tugging you to the apartment, desperate to get his mouth on you. 

His fingers shake as they try to align the key, and you take it from his hands to unlock the door and pull him inside behind you. He stays close by as you fling your heels off, wrapping his arms around your waist and crouching when you lose a few inches in height so he can keep his mouth pressed to your neck, keep biting and sucking and licking, but you untangle yourself from him and take a step forward. 

Wonwoo tries to follow but stops short when your hands move up and tug at the bows on your shoulders that tie the straps of your dress together. The silk ripples as it slides down your body, lovingly caressing every curve to land in a pool at your feet, leaving you completely naked. 

Those ties were the only things holding your dress up? All night? Fuck fuck fuck. 

The apartment is dark but moonlight shines through the windows, illuminating your silhouette, and Wonwoo is bewitched, enthralled, mesmerized, by you. 

He feels like he should probably say something, do something, as you spin around to face him, but his mind blanks when his eyes land on all the naked skin in front of him. It’s like his brain is broken, and Wonwoo thinks he should be worried, should be embarrassed, by his reaction to you but you don’t seem to care. 

No, you just take his hands and walk backward, pulling him step by step to his bedroom and slowly pushing him down to sit on the comforter. Wonwoo stares up at you, his eyes wide behind his glasses and his mouth open, corners of his lips tensed as he tries to breathe, and you lean down to kiss him. 

This, he can do, Wonwoo thinks, returning the pressure and sighing into you, his hands rising to rest on your hips and bring you in closer. He jumps when his fingertips find bare skin, and the kiss grows ravenous as he comes back online, sliding his tongue into your mouth and groaning when it meets yours. 

Wonwoo honestly thinks he could kiss you forever, if oxygen wasn’t a requirement and you weren’t naked underneath his hands, but it is and you are,  so he pulls away, panting and digging his fingers into the plush skin of your hips as he drags you forward to settle in his lap. One of your knees lands between his, and he can feel the wet heat of your cunt through his pants when you rest your weight on his thigh. 

“Fuck, babe, you’re so wet. You’re soaking through the fabric,” Wonwoo moans in awe, pulling your hips down onto his thigh and tensing his muscles against you. 

“You’re CFO now, honey, you can afford dry cleaning,” you say breathlessly, breaking into a laugh when he slides his palms up to your waist and lets his fingers drift over your ribs. 

He uses your distraction to get your hips grinding against him, feeling the material of his pants get slick against his thigh as you start moving with him. Your cunt is throbbing, he can feel it with how tightly pressed your body is to his, and Wonwoo brings one hand back down to your hips to grip tightly and make you move faster. 

“Can you cum like this?” He asks hopefully, and you nod before he’s done talking, sagging forward to push your forehead into his shoulder and breathe wetly on his button down. 

“Make yourself cum then, go on, baby,” Wonwoo urges with a light tap to your ass. 

You whine, but move faster, rubbing your pussy on his thigh and whimpering when your hips find the perfect angle to get better pressure on your clit. Wonwoo helps you, wouldn’t just sit back on his hands and watch (this time, at least), lifts his knee in time with your thrusts until you’re almost bouncing on top of him. Your nails scratch at his shoulder, scraping against the pressed cotton, as you ride his thigh. 

He’s pretty sure you’re almost there, but he can feel you start to get frustrated when the friction alone isn't enough, so he slips two fingers inside you from behind and wraps his other arm around your waist to anchor you to him, tugging you back and forth until you break apart on top of him with a cry of his name. 

He’ll definitely need to send these out for dry cleaning, Wonwoo thinks, as he feels the wetness dripping out of your pussy onto his thigh, and makes a mental note to send your dress out too, now that it’s been on the floor for so long. 

You’re whimpering weakly into his neck, shivering in his arms, and Wonwoo can feel his cock straining in his pants. He wonders how many more orgasms you have in you; he still wants to eat you out, but he wants to fuck you too, and decides he might as well ask. 

“Baby,” Wonwoo murmurs into your hair, “do you want me to fuck you now, or do you think I could eat you out, then fuck you? Or are you tired? I can just run us a bath and we can go to bed, I know it’s been a long night.” 

“You wanna eat me out too?” You ask incredulously, leaning away to catch his eye. 

“Yeah, of course I want to eat you out, are you kidding?” Wonwoo feels so confused, why wouldn’t he want to get his mouth on you? Who wouldn’t kill or die for the chance?

Your exes apparently, Wonwoo discovers, as you explain shyly that no one has ever gone down on you before. 

He’s bewildered, appalled, horrified, that no one has done this for you. But he’s also a bit… pleased. 

Pleased that he’ll be the first to taste you, that his tongue will be the first you ever cum on, that he’ll be the first to ever learn you this way. It makes Wonwoo feel kind of wild, feral almost, as he stands and turns to set you on his bed, strips off his shirt and steps out of his pants, crawling on top of you to get a taste of your lips before moving down your body. 

He spreads your thighs, presses them into the bed to keep you open for him, and you squirm but hold his gaze, trusting him to take care of you. Wonwoo wants to just dive in, but it’s your first time so he goes slow, leaning in close to breathe on you for a bit, kissing and sucking marks into your hips, getting you used to having someone between your thighs like this. 

You’re bucking into him soon enough, sighing, “Just get on with it, Woo, please,” and you’ve never called him that before but he loves it, loves his name on your lips, moves his to your cunt and wraps them around your clit. 

You’re already whining, your hands sliding into his hair to press him deeper into your pussy, and fuck if that doesn’t make him harder, make him push his hips into the bed for some friction. 

It’s not enough, Wonwoo thinks gratefully, because he’s still worried about cumming too fast, still worried he’ll break as soon as he feels you around his cock. 

He may be even more concerned, now that he’s been inside you and felt you and smelled you, and fuck, now he’s tasting you which is just making everything worse. 

Wonwoo doesn’t mean that though, shit, feels euphoric as his tongue slides over you and his fingers sink back inside, as he curls them to grind into your g-spot and scissors them to spread you open for his cock. 

You’re getting close again already, Wonwoo can tell, your cunt clenching around his fingers and your clit pulsing under his tongue, and he looks up to find your teary eyes resting on him, half lidded and fluttering every time he sucks your bundle of nerves into his mouth. 

His free hand reaches up to pull one of yours out of his hair, tangling your fingers together then laying them on your hip, holding you down and holding you together as you shatter apart in his mouth. 

Wonwoo feels lightheaded, shivers running down his back when your nails scratch his scalp, groans building in his throat when you clamp down on his fingers, cock twitching against his stomach when you sigh his name. 

Wonwoo shifts up to hover over you, lightly pressing his lips to yours, and you lick into his mouth, chasing the taste of yourself. He stays there for a while, just kissing you, tasting you, loving you. 

Until your hips buck up to meet his and shit, even through his boxers, Wonwoo can feel the wet heat of your cunt. Your legs wrap around his hips, pulling him into you, and he wants to follow, but first he pulls away to work his boxers down, balancing on one knee and almost tipping over as he tries to kick them off. 

He bashfully turns back to you, a bit embarrassed after almost falling off the bed, but you’re not looking at his face, you’re looking at his dick. 

Wonwoo looks down too, glasses sliding on his nose, and scrunches his eyebrows a bit when he sees the nervousness and determination on your face. He’s not that big, he doesn’t think, can almost get his fingers to touch when his hand is wrapped around. Sure, he’s curved a bit, cock arching toward his stomach, and it would probably just about reach his belly button if it wasn’t so heavy, hanging between his legs as it is. 

You’re still looking though, and Wonwoo starts to get self conscious, one hand moving up to fix his glasses and the other down to cover what he can of his dick. Your expression clears up, and, blinking a few times, you reach out to take his free hand and pull him back on top of you. 

“Sorry for staring, you’re just… bigger than I’m used to. It’s been a while for me,” you explain, your tone reassuring as your thumb traces over his wrist. 

“Oh. It’s been a while for me too,” Wonwoo admits, “I’ve honestly been a bit scared that I’d cum as soon as you let me inside,” his voice trails off at the end, finishing off in a whisper. 

“Is that why you made me cum three times?” you ask with a giggle, your fingers squeezing his shoulders and massaging at the knots you find. Wonwoo gasps in mock offense, bracing himself on one hand to press the other to his heart. 

“I made you cum three times because I wanted to,” he leans in closer, whispers, “lovely wife of mine,” into your lips, punctuating his words with a kiss. 

You shiver against him, hitching your thighs up on his hips and pulling him down into you. His dick grazes your pussy, and you’re sopping wet and so so warm that Wonwoo almost lets himself slide right in before he remembers. 

“Do you want me to use a condom?” Wonwoo asks, suddenly terrified that he doesn’t have any. It might kill the mood if he has to run and buy some, but he’ll do it if you-

“No, implant and all negative, you?” 

“Same. Well, not the implant but the-“

“Yeah, babe, I got it, can you put your dick in me now, please?”

Wonwoo whines into your shoulder, begs the universe for strength, and starts feeding his cock into you. 

He’s never fucked raw before, and the feeling around his dick isn’t all that different but the feeling in his heart is entirely new. Wonwoo just feels so close to you like this, your walls hugging him, your arms wrapped around his neck, your thighs pressing into his sides. He’s obsessed already. 

Then again, maybe that’s just a you thing. 

Yeah, Wonwoo’s pretty sure it is, because you clench around him and he can already hear the roaring in his ears, his balls drawing up and his cock getting even harder, somehow. Fuck, he knew he wouldn’t last. 

He just wants to make you cum one more time, just once more, and tries to steel himself as he starts thrusting in and out of you. You’re clinging to him so tightly, your pussy stretching around him as he pushes inside, trying to suck him back in every time he leaves. He’s about to give in, just stay buried in you, but he hears that tell-tale gasp and knows he needs to hold out just a bit longer. 

Wonwoo hopes he’s not fucking you too hard, pulls back and slows down a bit to check, but you groan at him and dig your nails into his shoulders until he gets the message and speeds back up. 

Note to self: trust you to tell him if you don’t like something. 

And it’s a note Wonwoo keeps in mind, as he rises up on his knees to haul your ass into his lap, moving a leg onto each of his shoulders and fucking into you harder, his hips slamming against your ass, his cock bullying through your tightness to reach deeper and deeper inside. 

You cry out with every thrust, swearing and sighing and cursing his name, gasping when he moves his hands to the back of your knees, pushing down on them to arch your hips up. His cock grinds into your g-spot relentlessly, and he knows he can make you cum again, has to, because he’s not sure he can hold off any longer. 

if he could just get his fingers on your- oh! maybe he can…

Wonwoo moves fast, shifting both of your legs onto his left shoulder, wrapping that arm tight around your thighs, and reaches his right hand around to wriggle between your legs, just enough to slide his fingertips over your clit. 

Shit, you’re already wetter, and now Wonwoo can fuck in and out of you with enough power to jostle your whole body on the bed. Your hands fly up to brace against the headboard, your torso stretching enticingly, and Wonwoo is hypnotized by the way your breasts bounce, your nipples pebbling in the cool air. He can’t believe he hasn’t gotten his mouth on them yet, but he reminds himself to focus on making you cum, now. 

He could always suck and bite and squeeze your tits until you’re crying tomorrow, right? 

Or anyday, everyday, after that, because Wonwoo’s your husband and shit that’s almost enough to end him. 

His fingers roll desperately over your clit, and Wonwoo’s about to start begging you to cum when your back arches and you shout, voice rising into a loud whine. Your cunt clenches around him, and he fucks you through it, bending down until he’s close enough to kiss you, sucking your sounds (and your tongue) into his mouth. 

You’re still cumming when Wonwoo feels your hands in his hair, and you whimper, “please, baby,” into his mouth, and that’s what does him in. 

He hisses a fuck that ends in a suspiciously sob-like sound and his elbow starts to give out, letting his body press right up against yours. Wonwoo can feel the strain in your thighs and wants to move, doesn’t want to hurt you, but shit, he‘s cumming, he’s cumming, he’s cumm-

Wonwoo’s head spins as he pulls his face away from your neck, wiping at his cheek with a palm and cringing when he sees that it’s wet, and hears a muffled, “Baby? Wonwoo, honey, are you okay?” 

He tries to nod but his head feels like it’s stuffed with cotton, and he realizes he’s still folding you in half, so he climbs up off of you and slowly brings your legs down, massaging up your thighs as he pulls out of you. 

Your lips quirk petulantly at the emptiness, and Wonwoo smiles down at you sweetly before gathering up his cum with two fingers and pushing it back inside. He doesn’t go too deep, keeps his fingers together, not wanting to add to your future aches, and the sleepy grin you send him makes him lean back down to press his lips to yours in a slow kiss. 

Your cunt clenches around him, and Wonwoo’s smirk breaks the kiss, giggles caught in his chest but dying to escape. You whine in aggravation, shoving at his shoulder until he rolls off of you and falls onto his back, belly laughing into the cold night air with his fingers still stuck halfway inside you. 

“Wonwoo, I can’t believe you’re laughing at me after we just had sex for the first time as husband and wife!” You wailed in fake outrage, real tears rising to your eyes as you attempt to hold in your own laughter. 

You break when he stops laughing and his fearful eyes fly to yours, obviously unaware you’re joking. 

Wonwoo blinks, and starts cautiously laughing with you, each ha tinged in worry. You just shake your head and pull him into a kiss, nipping his bottom lip before soothing the sting with your tongue. 

His breath turns thready, corners of his mouth pinching again, and his eyebrows pinch too when you grab his wrist to slide his fingers out of you, suck them clean with your mouth, then climb off the bed and walk serenely to the bathroom. 

Wonwoo just lets his head drop back and his eyes fall closed, his limbs spreading out on the sheets as he tries to catch his breath. 

He hears your slides squeak out of the bathroom, and blinks behind his glasses to watch you approach with your cat pajamas on and a damp bamboo pad in hand, one from the set that you normally use for your face. He cleans himself off but his confusion must show, because you shrug a bit defensively and say, “They’re softer!”

Wonwoo melts, vows to send it out for dry cleaning too, and wiggles into the boxers as you crawl into bed next to him. You’d grabbed your sleep mask too, apparently, and tug it on before nestling into his shoulder and resting your cheek on his chest. 

He can feel your smile grow when he whispers, “Love you,” feels your ring finger tap on his chest, the metal band warm on his skin, and grins in the dark when he feels you whisper it back. 

AN: okie dokie so with this, im considering For Worse Or For Better complete! im a slut for fake marriage au and domesticity so this was super fun, thank you @lenireads for requesting it!

Part Three

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[sluttywoozi]

For Worse Or For Better Part Three

Summary: Wonwoo's got a big question to ask his wife.

Rating: M (18+ MDNI) | Word Count: ~3.5k

Part One | Part Two | Alternate Part Two

Warnings/Notes: fem reader, set six months after part two, not as edited as normal, food cooking and eating, fingering, clit stim, piv sex, bulge kink, breeding kink (no impreg), lmk if i forgot anything

Wonwoo can feel your eyes on him from where you stand in the kitchen. He’d just come out of the shower and attempted to help you with dinner, but you (gently) swatted his hand away from the seasoning rack with a wooden spoon before he could touch anything. So, he accepted his exile and took a seat on the couch. 

From here, he can’t watch you cook unless he turns his head, which is probably for the best.

Something about seeing you dance around the kitchen, singing over the soup and shaking your ass when you thought he wasn’t looking, always got him going. Maybe it’s because that was the start of him falling for you, maybe it’s the way your ass looks in those tiny shorts, maybe it’s how your singing voice kinda sounds like your sex voice. 

And the way you move throughout the whole process? It's like a dance, and your timing is always perfect. 

Just now, you’d made it to the fridge and back in fifteen seconds, grabbing exactly what you needed without a second glance and returning just in time to turn the soup down as it came to a boil. 

Wonwoo doesn’t know why exactly but it does something to him. 

You’re just so natural when you cook; you always know exactly what you’re doing, even without a recipe. 

Especially without a recipe, he thinks. You’re much more confident when you get to decide what goes in and how and when. He’d learned that with the first (and only) Hello Fresh meal box he ordered for you. You’d read over the recipe at least fifteen times and made yourself too nervous to even start. 

Wonwoo canceled the subscription that night and brought the box of ingredients over to Seokmin’s the next day. He’d returned with a gift card to your favorite italian market and all was right in the world. 

He’s pulled from his thoughts when you bounce down onto the couch and throw your legs onto his lap, Mr. Mittens and Queen Bea immediately jumping up to lay on your stomach. His hands move instinctively to hold you, thumb rubbing over your ankle and ears red like a stoplight. 

“Soup just needs to simmer for ten minutes,” you explain, letting yourself fall to your back on the couch, your eyelids fluttering shut. Your breathing gets a bit deeper, not enough for him to think you’re sleeping, just enough for him to know you lied about not being tired. 

Wonwoo’s never more frustrated at his absolute ineptitude in the kitchen than times like these. He wishes he could cook for you, wishes he could care for you in this way, wishes he could take some of the load off. But it’s truly a disaster every time, and whenever he tries, the both of you end up tired and starving. 

He hasn’t told you, wanting to preserve the surprise, but he’s been secretly taking cooking classes for weeks at a local test kitchen. It was daunting at first, being in a kitchen without you around, but he pushed through and recently, he’s even gotten kind of… okay at it? The dishes he makes (under the chef’s careful supervision) are edible and even, dare he say, enjoyable sometimes. 

Wonwoo’s not ready for you to know though, needs to perfect your favorite meal first, and he hopes he’ll have it down by your birthday. It’ll be the first you’ve ever shared with him, and nearly a year to the day since he’d met you and married you, and he wants it to be special. He has a lot of plans for that night, plans that include an engagement ring and two tickets to Paris, and it all needs to be perfect. 

For now, he’ll just trace your soft skin with his fingers and eat your delicious food and make sure the kitchen is spotless after every meal. 

You’ll be home from class soon, and Wonwoo’s a whirlwind of anxiety and speed as he flits around the kitchen, checking temperatures and stirring sauces and lighting candles. The table is already set, your wine glass adorned with a charm and the ring he’d painstakingly picked out, and Wonwoo’s trying to pretend he’s not about to have a cardiac event while he waits for you. 

Everything’s done, and as perfect as he can possibly make it, and he hears the key turn in the lock just as he’s setting the main dish down on the table. 

You look beautiful, sighing as you hang your keys on the shelf and shed your coat, your pumps kicked off immediately and your hands reaching up the back of your shirt to undo your bra. You remove it somehow, an ability Wonwoo has always marveled at, and tiredly make your way down the hallway towards him, stopping short when you see the dining table and Wonwoo standing nervously next to it. 

He’d changed into a different suit, the one he wore to the company gala that had changed everything, and you tear up before you even catch sight of the wine glass held in his hand. 

You float to him, walking your way straight into his chest and wrapping your arms around his waist, and, hugging you back with his free arm, he presses a kiss to the side of your head and whispers, "Hi baby, happy birthday."

Queen Bea yells a meow, weaving through your feet and rubbing up against you until you break away from Wonwoo and lean down to pick her up, scritching her under the chin and letting her jump from your arms when she starts wriggling away. 

You sigh, “Thanks, honey,” and faceplant into his chest again, and Wonwoo worries you won’t be up for a dinner like he’s got planned tonight. He’d be a bit disappointed but he just wants to make you happy, so if you decide to throw your jammies on and watch White Collar for the fifth time, he’ll support you. 

“You look so handsome and you smell so good and I love you so much, let me go put my dress on, I’ll be right back,” you mumble into his pecs, and he releases you and watches with fondness as you stumble to the bedroom. 

You emerge with tired eyes and messy hair, clad in the silk dress you’d worn that night, and Wonwoo doesn’t think he’s ever seen anyone prettier in his life. Pressing a kiss to his cheek, you take the wineglass and swallow a big gulp with a hum, barely noticing the clinking of the ring against the base of the glass. 

He’ll let you see it on your own time and pulls out your chair, gently pushing it back in once you sit and lay the napkin down on your lap. Your eyes rove over all of the steaming plates and dishes, growing wide when you look around and don’t see any takeout containers. 

“Where’d all this come from, babe?” you ask, confusion quirking your brow though you pick up the fork as Wonwoo serves you. 

He bites his lips before answering excitedly, “I made it!”

You pause with a bite inches from your lips, your mouth open and your eyes caught on him. Eyeing your fork pensively, you observe the way he’s nearly vibrating in his chair and slowly place the fork in your mouth, keeping your gaze on him as you chew. Your eyes narrow, your brows furrowing, and Wonwoo feels his heart drop into his stomach. Fuck, you hate it, it’s awful, he’s poisoned you, he’s poisoned his wi-

“What the fuck, Wonwoo, this is fucking delicious!” you breathe, still glaring at him as you bring another bite to your mouth, chewing suspiciously. 

He feels like he could fly, but also like he could sweep all his work off this table and fuck you stupid on it, so he settles for beaming and saying, “I’ve been taking classes, I wanted to surprise you for your birthday! Do you like it?”  

You lay a hand on his arm and swallow with a dreamy sigh before responding, “Wonwoo, I love it, I would kiss you if my mouth wasn’t so busy.”

He smiles his most pleased smile and dances in his chair, serving himself and letting out a low woah when he tastes the food he’d made. 

Of course Wonwoo tasted it while he was cooking, but the end result is so much better than he expected and now he knows why you were suspicious. It is good, and he makes a mental note to send flowers both to the chef who taught the classes and to Mingyu for recommending them. 

You take a sip of wine, the ring still unnoticed, and Wonwoo starts to feel a bit antsy. He’s not sure how to draw attention to the charm without being completely obvious, and he wants to know what you’ll say! Based on the past six months, he’s fairly sure you’ll say yes but there’s always the chance you won’t.

Wonwoo thinks he’d be able to bear it if you said no (lie). 

You chat about your day through bites of food and hums, trying a bit of each dish and complimenting every one, finishing off your wine and holding your glass out for more when he offers. It must have been a tough lecture today, and Wonwoo remembers that you had a meeting with your thesis advisor too, and asks how it all had gone. 

You groan, your head tipping back before you tell him that you’re on track to graduate but that you’ll need to rework your thesis a bit and you’re dreading finding more sources. He can’t do much to help besides offering you his hand and promising to go to the library with you whenever he can, but that seems to be enough and you relax with a squeeze of your fingers around his. 

You’re on your third glass and Wonwoo’s on his second, the both of you delightfully tipsy as you finish up dinner. He figures it you haven’t seen the ring yet, tonight’s not the night, and rises to start clearing the table. 

You stand to help, pulling the strap of your dress back up when it slips and following him to the kitchen with all the dishes you can carry, wine glass held in the crook of your arm. 

You pack away the leftovers while Wonwoo sheds his jacket and rolls up his sleeves, donning the dishwashing gloves before starting to wash up. He can feel your fond gaze on him and soon enough, your hands wind around his stomach and your body presses to his back in a hug. He squeezes your arms with his elbows and carries on with the washing, moving with you when you start to sway to the music you’d turned on. 

Wonwoo’s still in disbelief a bit that he gets to be so domestic with you after six months of dreaming about it, of you cooking alone and him washing the dishes alone, of not being able to touch you or love you out loud, and suddenly, he’s desperate for you to see the ring, so he asks, “Can you take the charm off of your glass? I can’t with the gloves.”

You hum and let go of his abdomen, trailing a hand around his waist as you move to his side and take the wine glass carefully. You blink sleepily as you bring it closer to your face, freezing when you catch sight of what’s attached to the charm. 

“Wonwoo… is this-,” you begin slowly, too slowly for Wonwoo, and he interrupts you, “It’s a ring. An engagement ring. I know we did the married part already but I- I never actually got to ask you.”

Your lip quivers, your eyebrows screwing up as your watery eyes meet his, your hand clutching the glass so tightly he fears the stem will break. With shaky fingers you remove the charm and hand him the ring, the metal cool in his palm and the tile hard under his knee as he kneels and looks up at you. 

You’re already holding out your hand, bouncing on the balls of your feet and beaming tearily at him, and Wonwoo takes a deep breath before whispering, “Baby, I love you more than anything. Will you please stay married to me?” 

You shriek a giggle and wiggle your fingers, inching closer to him as you nearly shout, “Yesyesyesyesyes, Wonwoo, yes!” 

The laugh bubbles up out of his chest along with all of the stress and fear he’d felt leading up to this moment, and he slides the ring on your fourth finger with confidence, catching you when you drop down and straddle his knee. Your hands fly to cup his face and pull him into a deep kiss, your tongue swiping along his bottom lip and sliding inside his mouth when he opens for you with a groan, clumsily setting his glasses on the counter and shifting so he can sit cross legged on the floor and tug you into his lap. 

Wonwoo can already feel his dick swelling in his dress pants, the zipper pressing uncomfortably against his hardening length when you grind down. He doesn’t mind, your heat is enough to distract him and he realizes he can feel it, feel your wetness starting to seep into the material, and slides his hand up your thigh to cup you, his palm meeting your bare pussy. 

“Fuck, have you been naked under this dress the whole time?” he breathes on a moan, two fingers sinking inside you with ease and his thumb starting to glide over your clit when you nod with a smirk. 

You’re so warm and fucking soaking wet already, and Wonwoo’s so obsessed with you, so lucky to be your husband, so ecstatic you want to keep being married to him, and he’s not sure he can wait. He wants to be inside you right now, needs to feel your heat wrapped around him, needs to be close to you, so he slides another finger inside and spreads them, rubbing insistent circles around your clit with his thumb until you cry out and your walls start to flutter around his digits. 

Wonwoo fucks you with his fingers through your orgasm, thrusting in and out of your clenching pussy and pushing through the tightness when you squeeze down harder, his fingertips hooking into your g-spot and drawing the pleasure out. 

You’re whining, shaking under his touch, and he tugs at one tie on your shoulder until the bow comes loose and your dress dips to expose your breasts, dropping his head to wrap his lips around a nipple and start working you up to a second climax. It’s easy, always easy after the first and with just a few more curls of his fingers and a bit more pressure on your clit, you’re pulsing around him again, whining into his neck and jerking your hips into his hand. 

Your hands shoot down to undo his pants, pulling his cock out and shoving your dress up enough to line him up and sink down, your pussy swallowing his whole cock in one swift motion. 

It normally takes Wonwoo a bit longer to work his way inside you and the molten velvet that suddenly surrounds him has his head spinning, lost in you and the heat of your cunt. You start moving immediately, hips swiveling and breasts bouncing and Wonwoo leans back, braces himself on one hand and pulls you closer to his chest with the other, holding you to him as he starts fucking into you harshly. He bottoms out with each thrust, your pussy so slick that wetness splatters his cloth covered thighs every time he drives himself into you and your head tips back, your plush lips opening on a long moan, your voice wavering with the rhythm of his hips. Fuck, you’re so-

“You’re so fucking pretty, baby, my pretty little wife, shit,” Wonwoo groans, his chest rumbling against yours and he really wishes he could feel your warm body against his, feel your nipples dragging against his skin, feel your soft breasts pressing into pecs, and he tries desperately to unbutton his shirt but finds his fingers aren’t working. He’s almost frantic with the desire to feel you, fingertips scrabbling at the buttons before he gives up, grunts a fuck it, and rips his dress shirt open and off, pings echoing around the kitchen as the buttons fly against the cabinets.  

You moan and tighten around him, your pussy clamping down, sucking his cock deeper, and Wonwoo just can’t get close enough so he wraps both arms around you and shifts forward until he can fuck you into the tile, tattered cotton shoved underneath you so your bare back doesn’t touch. 

He lifts your legs into the crooks of his arms and bends over you, folding you in half and placing his palms by your shoulders, thighs nearly straddling yours as he drives his hips into you. Wonwoo’s face is inches from yours like this, and he can watch every flutter of your eyelashes, every quiver of your lips, every twitch of your brow while he fucks you. 

Your arms weakly twine around his neck and you cry out with every thrust, the noise punched out of you by his cock and when his stomach presses flat to yours, he swears he can feel something bumping against him. There’s not enough space in his brain to think too much about it, his mind reeling with every sound you make, every expression that crosses your face, every clench of your perfect pussy around his throbbing cock. 

On the next dig of his cock into you, Wonwoo angles his hips up just a bit and feels that bumping again, realizes it’s his fucking dick he can feel through the muscle and fat of your tummy, and thank fuck you’re cumming because he is too, his cock jumping and swelling and flooding you with searing hot cum. Your walls pulsate around him, milking his dick of every drop until it coats the base in a ring of white, his still hard length plugging you up and keeping the rest inside you even as your tight cunt tries to push him out. Your eyes are squeezed shut, your mouth stuck open in a silent scream, and when he roots his cock deep inside of you one last time, you suck in a wet gasp and flutter your damp lashes open to look up at him. 

Wonwoo returns your gaze, his eyes half lidded and his face slack with pleasure, lungs expanding and contracting rapidly against yours as he tries to catch his breath. You send him a sleepy smile and crane your neck up to peck his nose, making him chuckle and press his forehead into your sternum, sighing at the feeling of your fingers running through his hair and scratching at his scalp. He could fall asleep like this, wants to, but he’s still got you twisted up like a pretzel and you must be getting uncomfortable by now so he pulls back slowly, releasing your legs and rubbing over your thighs as he starts to withdraw his cock from you.

Your hands shoot down to his hips and drag them back into you, and Wonwoo looks up in question and concern just before you whine, “It’ll be so messy,” with a pout. 

You’re right, and Wonwoo knows neither of you will want to clean cum off of marble, so he scoops your hips up into his lap and tugs the shirt down to lay under your ass, setting you down and gently pulling out, his cum dribbling out of you and onto the cotton. 

He shakily helps you up, his knees not much stronger than yours, and lets you stumble off to start the shower while he cleans and disinfects the floor. 

Gasping when he realizes he still hadn’t told you about the tickets to Paris, or the month-long trip around Europe he’s got planned for your graduation, Wonwoo speeds to the bedroom to place the tickets on top of the pajamas you’d set out. 

He heads to the bathroom and catches sight of you through the fogged up glass doors. You’re wearing nothing but your wedding and engagement rings, and Wonwoo’s eyes slide down your body with the suds, loving gaze lingering on all his favorite spots. He watches you as he strips absentmindedly, awed that he gets to have this, have you, every day. 

And now that you’ve said yes, he gets to have you for the rest of his life, too. 

AN: Okieeee im gonna take a lil break to deal with some things and hopefully come back with chapters of it's nice to have a friend and part three of like a cowboy

i might check tumblr periodically but i won't be around much, please be kind to me in the meantime!

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[sluttywoozi]

For Worse or For Better | PART 1 OF 3

Prompt: this marriage was supposed to be a scam but, but listen, 

For: @lenireads

Rating: T || Word Count: ~3000

Warnings: fake marriage au, strangers to spouses to lovers, wine and champagne drinking, food mention, swearing, flirty/sexist comments from men (unseen but mentioned), attempted unwanted touching of the waist (reader stops it and its not a huge plot point), wonwoo is oblivious, kissing, some suggestiveness but not as much as is normal for me sorryyyy, this is a full on romcom just so yall know

Reader Notes: in grad school, i say wife multiple times, girlfriend once, and cleavage once, wears a dress and heels, receives flirty/sexist comments from men (briefly mentioned), attempted unwanted touching of the waist (reader stops it and its not a huge plot point)

Wonwoo has no idea what he was thinking when he asked you to marry him.

All he knows is that late one night, after a few too many whiskeys, his boss told him he’d never get on the board if he didn’t settle down. All the execs were traditionalists, apparently, and wanted to give the position to someone who’d use it to support a family.

Wonwoo tried to argue, tried to explain that he didn’t see himself settling down, that he was the right person for the position, that cats should count as family. 

Nothing got through, and that night, Wonwoo poured his boss into a cab and left work feeling defeated. 

Mingyu called, picked up on the exhaustion in his voice, and offered to bring food over and brainstorm ideas. Now, Wonwoo doesn’t normally go to Mingyu for ideas, just out of self-preservation, but he was feeling a little desperate. 

He’d been working toward this position for five years now - starting in the mailroom and moving up step by step, with Chief Financial Officer as his end goal. It was finally in his sights, but one pesky little factor was keeping him from reaching CFO, and he knew that rat bastard Alan Connor was vying for the position too.

Connor was already engaged to a nice woman named Helen, and if Wonwoo didn’t figure something out, he’d be glaring at Alan over a celebratory dinner. And he knew the douche would request seafood, knowing full well Wonwoo hates it and would have to pick at the sides like a peasant. 

No, Wonwoo simply could not allow it.

He supposes that’s why he listened when Mingyu mentioned knowing someone trying to avoid international tuition for their Master’s Program. And he listened when Mingyu said they’d considered getting married to obtain citizenship. And he listened when Mingyu offered to put him in contact with them, saying that you could solve your problems together. 

The next thing he knew, Wonwoo was standing next to you in front of the minister, sliding a ring on your fourth finger to the tune of Mingyu’s loud weeping in the aisle behind him. 

It was awkward at first.

Wonwoo had a spare room and you were looking for a place to stay, so the logical decision was for you to move in with him.

You were like a ghost the first few weeks, staying in your room most of the time, mainly emerging to cook or get water. It was only after he got takeout for the fifth night in a row that you appeared in the kitchen, telling him that if he wouldn’t let you pay rent he could at least stop getting delivery and let you cook for him. It made sense to say yes at the time - Wonwoo was getting tired of eating nothing but restaurant food, and you would be cooking for yourself anyway, so it wouldn’t be hard to double the portion. 

That was Wonwoo’s first mistake. 

Well. 

Second, probably, after marrying you in the first place. 

Because agreeing to your proposal meant he came home to delicious smells and soft music and you, dancing in the kitchen in your pajamas, with a glass of wine in one hand and a wooden spoon in the other. It was so heartwrenchingly domestic that Wonwoo started wondering why he didn’t want a family in the first place. 

It got worse when his cats started liking you more than they liked him. Maybe it’s because you’re so warm, both in personality and body temperature. Maybe it’s because you were home more often than he was, doing online temp work until your citizenship went through and your tuition was adjusted. Maybe it’s because you were happy to pet them until they were tired of affection, or because you let them sleep on you, or because you spoke to them so sweetly. 

Wonwoo’s not sure, but he does know he literally felt his heart clench in his chest the first time he walked in on you cradling Mr. Mittens like a baby.

Queen Bea was wrapped around your shoulders like a fur stole, and your fingers were running up and down Mr. Mittens’ stomach, his purrs audible from the front door. He’d stopped in his tracks, eyes wide behind his glasses, breath caught in his throat, because Mr. Mittens didn’t even let Wonwoo hold him like that. 

(Mr. Mittens had been adopted to help soothe Wonwoo’s anxiety, but he discovered soon after that Mr. Mittens himself had even worse anxiety, and thus entered into their lives Queen Beatrice, his emotional support cat’s emotional support kitten, who now runs the entire household)  

Then you started school, and Wonwoo announced to the company that he’d gotten married to his long-term girlfriend. The financial advisors at your university were a bit suspicious at the sudden change in your marital status, and he had colleagues asking him left and right what you looked like and for cute photos from the vacations he’d lied about going on with you. It was starting to make him nervous, and it must have been obvious to you because you had the genius idea of staging couple photos.

You disappeared and came home one Saturday afternoon with various outfits and props, plus Mingyu in tow to act as your cameraman, and off you all went.

(Gyu’s a self-proclaimed Instagram whore so he had a lot of ideas, and knew spots all over the city that could be passed off as more exotic locales)

Wonwoo felt so stupid after for thinking it would be a safe outing, that he wouldn’t be put further at risk of falling for you with every snapshot of you kissing him on the cheek or wrapping a scarf around his neck or staring at him like you love him. You dragged him all over the city that day, your hand warm in his, Gyu trailing behind the two of you and shooting Wonwoo eyebrow wiggles every time he turned around. He felt like such a newlywed, posing for pictures with you on his arm, and it just made things all the more dangerous for him.

But it worked, the pictures got the financial aid office off your back and got him in closer with his superiors, and Wonwoo learned nothing.

(Conveniently, one of the places you’d fakecationed was where the President had honeymooned)

For posterity, Wonwoo set his favorite photo from that day as his lockscreen, and stubbornly ignored the butterflies that rose in his stomach every time he checked his phone. 

It got a bit more difficult when the board started asking why Wonwoo didn’t bring you to any company functions.

There were… a lot. 

And before, Wonwoo hadn’t felt the need nor the desire to attend the many dinners and parties and cocktail hours the board paid for, but now, he had a wife. Wonwoo had a wife. 

And Alan Connor didn’t, yet. It was time for you to start making appearances, and the excuse that you were studying for an exam or working on a paper could only pass for so long, so Wonwoo dragged you with him to the next dinner party. 

That turned out to be a great decision because not only were Connor and Helen unable to attend, but you, Wonwoo discovered, were a natural at charming old traditional dudes and their wives.

You had knowledge on seemingly every topic, and you had the whole table leaning in to hear your every word without coming off like a know it all. You fielded the flirty (and sometimes sexist) comments from the men with grace, subtly twisting their words to compliment their wives instead, leaving the women blushing and hiding smiles behind cloth napkins.

You were a revelation, honestly, and even got the board to help clean up at the end of the night without twisting any ears. It was the most fun Wonwoo had ever had at a company function, and he resolved to bring you to every possible one after. 

Which was yet another mistake, because Wonwoo had failed to consider the possibility that he’d be charmed too, by your intelligence and kindness and wit. And he was charmed, beyond belief, falling deeper with every outing and falling harder with every sleepy smile you’d send him from the passenger seat afterwards, the way you’d pad into the living room, makeup gone and hair loose, pajamas on and arms ready to snuggle. 

With Queen Bea and Mr. Mittens. Not with Wonwoo. 

Never with Wonwoo. 

It was getting harder to pretend he didn’t wish it was him you pulled into your arms at the end of the night. 

And now here Wonwoo is, staring at you from across the ballroom, his eyes tracing the line of your neck and his smirk hiding behind a champagne glass as you tilt your head back to fake laugh at his coworker.

The crystal chandelier refracts flecks of light on you, golden beams dancing on the soft skin exposed by your slip dress, and Wonwoo tries not to let his eyes linger too long on how the silk fabric drapes over your chest, glides down your body, outlining everything he gets to see but not touch.

His only consolation is that you don’t let anyone else touch either, and he smiles secretly when he sees you grab the touchy asshole’s wrist before his hand can land on your waist, flicking it away from you with disdain. Wonwoo’s first move as CFO will be convincing the board to transfer that guy to Alaska.

You turn on your stilettos to stalk toward him and Wonwoo tries to compose himself, smoothing down the lapels of his suit and straightening his tie, hoping you didn’t notice him watching the interaction.

“Hi honey,” you breathe, then hiss through teeth clenched into a smile, “I swear to all that is holy, if one more of your bastard colleagues tries to feel me up, I will be sending this pointy ass heel through their foot.” 

Wonwoo laughs, gives you explicit permission, and tries to pretend your rage doesn’t turn him on before wrapping a loose arm around your waist and guiding you over to the champagne table. God knows the both of you could use another glass. 

His eyes shift behind his glasses, trying not to follow the drop that slipped past your lips and is currently trailing down your neck, descending toward your chest rapidly. It will show up on the silk, and you’ll be annoyed he didn’t tell you, but he can’t find it in himself to say anything or to stop the drop rolling into your cleavage. You must feel the chill, because you catch it daintily with a cocktail napkin before it gets that far, and he looks away just in time to see Alan Connor storming over. 

“You’re getting the promotion, dickhead, congratu-fucking-lations,” Connor all but shouts at Wonwoo, voice barely low enough to avoid attracting attention. 

“What do you mean? How do you know?” Wonwoo can’t keep the excitement out of his voice and glances over at you only to find you still glaring at Connor for calling him a dickhead. He feels his heart swell and can’t suppress the fond smile rising on his face, feeling so lucky to have a fake-wife as protective as you. 

“You just had to get married before me, didn’t you? Do you know how long I’ve been planning this? How hard it’s been to put up with her?” his rival seethes, chest rising and falling rapidly, face reddening with rage. 

Now Wonwoo really doesn’t know what Connor’s talking about. 

“Put up with who?” You say in unison with Wonwoo and look over to him with a little smile, your eyes glittering. You sound a bit more suspicious than Wonwoo, who sounds more bewildered than anything. 

“Helen! She’s not my fucking fiancée, she’s an actress, you idiots,” he grits out with derision, “I hired her to pretend to be engaged to me so those old bastards would give me the promotion! I was willing to fake a goddamn pregnancy if it got me CFO,” Connor shouts, gesturing wildly, eyes bulging. 

Wonwoo and you are both struck silent. He can feel his heart pounding, both at the fact that he’s going to be the new Chief Financial Officer and at the fact that Connor has been faking his relationship too. Not as well as Wonwoo was, apparently, if he dislikes Helen this much. 

You barely have time to gather yourselves before another voice booms out above all the chatter stirred by Connor’s outburst. 

“Alan Connor. Thank you so much for reassuring me the board made the correct decision. I expect your letter of resignation on my desk tomorrow morning,” President Laybourne states jovially, though his eyes are burning with ire. 

Connor pales, “Bu-but sir, tomorrow’s Saturday! Can we just discuss this like civilized adults, please?”

His pleas are unsuccessful. 

Wonwoo tries not to feel smug as he watches his former enemy be escorted from the hall by security, coughing to cover the laugh attempting to escape him when Connor shoves the guard's hand off his shoulder and shouts, “I can walk by myself!”

The fear rises within him again when the president lingers, eying you and him and the way you stand so close together. Wonwoo doesn’t know when it happened but your hand is entwined with his, fingers tangled together, and your other hand is clutching at his forearm, wrinkling his suit. 

“Well, I guess the cat’s out of the bag,” the president chuckles. “Get it? Because you have cats.” 

Wonwoo laughs much too loud, and he can feel your nails digging into his skin even through the wool of his jacket, telling him to tone it down. 

“Yes, we do have cats,” Wonwoo agrees breathlessly, nodding his head until his glasses start to slip down his nose and your hand appears to still his head and gently push the frames back up to rest correctly. 

President Laybourne eyes him again before continuing, “The promotion is yours, Mr. Jeon. Welcome to the Board of Directors,” he finishes with a smile and his hand primed for a shake. 

Wonwoo tries to compose himself, gently freeing his fingers from yours and wiping his hand off on his pant leg, just in case it’s gotten sweaty, before taking the other man’s hand and firmly shaking it once. Wonwoo’s hand searches for yours as soon as he lets go, probably clutching your fingers tight enough to cut off circulation. 

“You know, I always thought there was something off about Alan and Helen. They seemed…  a bit too fake, a bit too perfect,” the president shakes his head, staring into the distance. “I just didn’t feel like they loved each other, not like Marci and I do. Not like you and your wife do,” he finishes with a clap on Wonwoo’s shoulder that nearly knocks him over before saying goodnight and returning to his wife. 

“Well, now we can never get divorced,” Wonwoo jokes. 

You laugh, saying, “That’s fine with me,” under your breath, and Wonwoo laughs too, before he processes your words and starts to feel like he might die. 

“What? What did you say?” He asks, somewhat desperately, nearly out of his mind with hope. 

Your eyes grow wide, your mouth snapping shut, and you rush out in one breath, “Um, nothing, I’m gonna go see if they put out more of those spring rolls, I’ll be right back!” 

You try to spin and speed away, but Wonwoo is faster than you and catches you by the elbow gently before you can run to the snack table. 

Your eyes won’t meet his, and he ducks and moves around trying to catch your gaze before you finally turn back to him, and he begs, “No, please, tell me what you said.” 

Wonwoo knows he looks pathetic, practically panting and imploring you with his eyes to be honest, his brows pinched so close together they’re skewing his glasses, but he doesn’t care.

If you said what he thinks you said, it will change everything. 

You gnaw on the inside of your bottom lip, looking at him through the sides of your eyes, before your shoulders lose all their tension and you sigh, “I said it would be fine with me. If we never got divorced.” 

You sound defeated and small, like this is something you’ve been holding back, and Wonwoo feels all the air in his lungs exit in a whoosh before both hands fly up to cradle your face and pull you into a searing kiss, months of pent up love and adoration and fondness and lust pouring from his lips into yours. Your shoulders bunch up a bit and your hands move to cover his, and Wonwoo fears for a second that you’ll pull away, tell him that wasn’t what you meant, but you just pull him closer, kissing him back until you’re breathless too. 

Eventually, Wonwoo realizes both that you need air and that you’re at a public function hosted by the company of which he’s just been made Chief Financial Officer, and gently detaches from you. He stays close though, can’t bear to go further than a few inches, and you stare into his eyes before breathing out, “Should we go home? I think we should go home.”

Wonwoo nods before you’re done talking, and he makes straight for the exit on light feet before you veer to the side, tugging him towards his colleagues, and he’s grateful you remembered that the two of you should say your goodbyes. 

He’s as quick as he can be about it, shaking hands and accepting toasts, and when he hears you tell everyone how proud you are of him, knowing you mean it, his heart starts swelling. 

Then Wonwoo hears you say, “My husband and I should be getting home, have a great night!” and something else starts swelling too.

(His dick. Wonwoo is talking about his dick. Oh you got it? Good.)

AN: hiiii so this was a sleepover fic turned oneshot for the lovely @lenireads who was the first person to join my taglist!! thank you so much for supporting me and i hope you enjoy!! there will be a smutty part two, don't worry!!

PART TWO

ALTERNATE ENDING

taglist: @confusedbansheee @junhui-recs @burningupp-replies @heeseung-lover686 @favehoshiposts @gyvswhore @jaysawake (unable to tag) @1004luvangel @bangchanbabygirlx @Baldi-2 (i know you filled out the taglist again but i still cant tag u for some reason im so sorry) @just-here-to-read-01 @gaebestie @noryyyyyyyyy @heavenly-mobo @smalliechelle @shuabby1994 @snowgirlfallen @noraehey @swinterr @fr0g-filez

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#wonwoo fluff #wonwoo smut #wonwoo x fem reader #wonwoo x female reader #wonwoo x reader #svt fluff #svt smut #seventeen fluff #seventeen smut #seventeen au #seventeen #svt #svt au #✨emily writes✨ #svthub #lowkey mingyu is a genius and this was his scheme and it all worked perfectly according to plan #kaili 🪢

[sluttywoozi]

i want to ride dk's pretty face so bad

with that nose of his? he'd be the best pussy eater in svt change my mind

Pairing: lsk x fem!reader

Rating: M (18+ MINORS DNI) | Word Count: ~2.7

Warnings: porn mention, slightly softdom reader but there’s not much of a dynamic here, fingering (f. receiving), face sitting, squirting, cum eating (yours and his), flash of cockwarming at the end, pussy drunk seokmin

Seokmin lays on his back, fingers tapping on his stomach and mind wandering, while you finish up your nightly routine in the bathroom. He's a bit nervous which isn’t abnormal for him, but the reason he's nervous is definitely new. 

Seokmin wants to ask you something, and he isn’t sure how you’ll respond. You're always enthusiastic and confident in the bedroom, happy to take charge or happy to let him lead, but tonight, he wants to ask you to do something you’ve never done before, with him anyway. 

It started when he was away, missing you and hoping porn would fill the void while you were unavailable for a call. It normally wasn’t enough, the sounds weren’t right and the girls didn’t look like you, and his imagination was great, but not good enough to pretend it was him and you and not two random people. That night though, he stumbled on something that made him harder than he could normally get without you around, something that made him cum so fast it was almost unsatisfying. But then he imagined doing it with you and he was hard again, jerking his cock almost frantically and picturing the view he would have if it was you. The second time around, he came hard enough to make his vision white out and his head spin. 

Seokmin was almost embarrassed by his reaction to the video, and furtively added it to his bookmarks then tried to forget it. He couldn’t though, and now here he is, twiddling his thumbs and trying to calm his racing heart while he works up the nerve to ask you to sit on his face. 

He's already shamefully hard just thinking about it, and there's no way he could hide it from you unless he rolls onto his stomach.

Seokmin's already tried that and the friction just made him more sensitive and needy, so he stays on his back and reminds himself that you love him and you’d never be mean to him (in a way he didn’t like, that is). 

The bathroom light switches off and you appear in the doorway, face fresh and dewy from your skincare and a sleepy smile stretching your lips. Seokmin can tell when exactly you notice his hard on, because your eyebrows raise and your smile becomes a smirk that just makes him harder. He presses his head into the pillow and whines, shy in front of you even after all this time, moving his hands to cover himself. You’re quicker than him though, and before he knows it you’re crawling onto the bed to straddle his thighs and settle yourself on his dick. 

You’re so hot already, Seokmin can feel you even through three layers of fabric, and he can’t stop his hands from flying to your hips to pull you down harder against him. You can make him cum like this and you both know it, have washed enough sheets to last a lifetime, but that’s not what he wants tonight, so he stills your hips with an iron grip and takes a deep breath. 

You stare down at him quizzically, opening your mouth to ask him what’s wrong, when he blurts out, “sit on my face, please?”

The smirk freezes on your face, your eyes growing wide and your fingernails digging into his chest in a way that makes him buck up into you, before you gather yourself and ask calmly, “say that again, Minnie?” 

Seokmin blanches at the thought of having to say that sequence of words again, but you’ve always been a stickler for communication in bed and he knows you’re not trying to embarrass him. So, he gulps and kneads at the flesh of your hips like a stress ball, before repeating himself, “Honey, will you please sit on my face?” 

Your smirk becomes a smile again and you narrow your eyes at him, starting a slow, deep grind again with your hips. Seokmin doesn’t have it in him to make you stop again, it just feels too good and if this is all he gets tonight, he’ll go to sleep happy. 

“How long have you been thinking about this?” You ask slyly, like you know it’s been months and just want to hear him say it. 

“Uhm, not that long,” Seokmin lies, his eyes shifting and corners of his mouth drawing down into a grimace. One of your hands smooths from his chest to gently hold his jaw and force him to make eye contact with you, your gaze penetrating and all knowing. 

“Okay so, maybe since I was gone,” Seokmin exhales in a rush, unable to break eye contact with you and knowing better than to lie again. Your nails scratch over the stubble on his jaw, like a reward, and he leans into your touch unconsciously.

“Thank you for telling me, baby,” You breathe as you bend down to place a whisper of a kiss on his lips. He arches up into your lips, trying to coax you to kiss him harder, like you mean it, but you pull away, and Seokmin swallows his disappointed groan. 

He can’t swallow the exultant whine that leaves him, though, when you sit up on your knees to slowly tug your pajama shorts down. His eyes track the fabric as it moves, exposing more and more of your luscious skin until his fourth favorite part of your body is revealed (heart, eyes, lips, pussy).

Seokmin can see you glistening already, your folds spread with the way you’re straddling him, and his hands slide from your hips down to your cunt, thumbs pulling your lips further apart. He glides them up and down your slick center, dipping both into your entrance and gathering more wetness to smooth over your clit. He keeps one there, thumb rubbing over your bundle of nerves and fingers stretched over your hip to press into your skin. His other hand moves down, middle and ring finger slipping into you with ease, and Seokmin bites back a moan when you start moving on his hand. 

You’re so wet, he can hear the squelch over your breathing, and he can’t help but groan when he slides another finger into you and starts spreading you open. You’ve always opened up so beautifully for him, and Seokmin almost forgets what exactly he’d been after when you’d first sat down on him. You haven’t forgotten though, and you grab his wrist with one hand and sit back up on your knees, pulling his fingers from you. He tries to wrench his arm from your grasp to get a taste but you grip tighter, your nails pressing into his skin and making his dick twitch, and you raise a brow before asking softly, “I thought you wanted me to sit on your face, Minnie?”

Seokmin sucks in a gasp, swearing he can taste you on his tongue already, and nods frantically with a plea in his eyes and blown out pupils. He’s not above begging, he knows you know, and he honestly doesn’t think he’d mind doing it right now if it means he can get your pussy in his mouth. 

It looks like he won’t need to though, because you shuffle forward to box his head between your knees, and Seokmin thinks he must’ve died and gone to heaven or nirvana or the good place or wherever because his next inhale smells like you and he can feel the soft skin of your thighs caress his ears. This is already better than his wildest dreams and he thinks if you suffocated him in your cunt right now he’d just thank you and ask for more. You’re still holding his wrist in your hand and you lean back, twisting around to tug the sheets and his boxers down before wrapping his still wet-with-you hand around his cock. You squeeze your hand over his once, turning your eyes to him and saying gently, “keep your hand there, okay, Minnie? If you need me to stop, just move it to my hips.” 

You start inching down, stopping just before Seokmin can get his lips on you and he knows he needs to answer you, knows you’re looking for confirmation but all he can do is nod. His nose brushes your clit and he can feel you shiver around him, and suddenly your thighs relax and he’s enveloped in you. He can’t hear anything but your panting and the blood rushing through his ears, his eyes fighting to stay open through the onslaught of bliss as he stretches his tongue out to slide through your folds. 

You taste exquisite, like always, but it’s different this time. Different when he’s surrounded by you like this, your pussy dripping into his mouth and your scent filling his nose and your weight on top of him, pressing him down into the bed and making him feel so safe and warm and loved. 

Seokmin feels like he could cum just from this, just from all the sensations washing over him right now, and he wants to move his hand from his cock because it’s making everything harder (literally) but he knows you’ll stop and he’d rather die than lose this right now. 

He can’t get enough, tongue dipping into your entrance gently before he loses all sense of self and just licks right into you ravenously, his nose bumping into your clit in time with his tongue, and he feels your hands delve into his hair, clenching tightly. Your cunt clenches too, pulsing around him and sending a shudder down his spine that he feels in his balls, and he realizes that it’s entirely possible he will cum from this.

Probable, even. 

Seokmin doesn’t care, can’t care, when you start leaning into his movements and whimpering higher than he’s ever heard you, your fingers massaging his scalp and tilting his head back so you can get the perfect angle. He groans into you, loving that you’re taking what you want, dreaming about you using him like this again and again and again. 

He shouldn’t get ahead of himself though, not before you’ve even cum once, so he stretches his tongue as far as it can go, tensing it inside you and grinding his nose into your clit. He can’t breathe, but who needs oxygen when he can taste your pussy on the air and feel your wetness sliding down his chin in rivulets to gather in the dip of his collarbones.

You’re crying now, Seokmin thinks, but isn’t sure because he might be crying too and all he can feel is you, your cunt on his face and your hands in his hair and your walls squeezing around his tongue. He can feel your clit throbbing on his nose, growing hard and swollen, and he slides his tongue out of your pussy to suction his mouth around you, bringing his free hand up to sink three fingers back into you from behind. Your hips jerk on top of him, and now he’s sure he’s crying, as you grind your pussy down into his mouth and start riding his fingers.

Seokmin can tell you’re getting close, knows you just need one tiny little push, and taps the tip of his tongue into your clit while curling his fingers into the rough patch inside you. Your thighs shudder around his ears, your cries reaching a fever pitch, and he feels you shatter on top of him, your wetness gushing out around his digits.

He pulls his fingers out and swiftly replaces them with his tongue, opening his mouth wide to catch everything leaking from you as he swirls your own wetness over your clit. You’ve never cum this hard before, except when he’s been edging you for hours, and Seokmin feels his mind go fuzzy as he drinks you in. 

His fingers don’t stop though, and your orgasm doesn’t either, his tongue licking at your walls and seeking out more of the slickness dripping from within. Your back bows, your hair tickling at his forehead and your thighs twitching, as he drags you towards another climax. Normally, you need a bit of downtime before going again but he can already feel your walls quivering, your clit pulsing on the bridge of his nose, and he knows it won’t take long to break you again. 

Seokmin digs his nose into your folds, rubbing the tip insistently at your clit and sliding his fingers back in alongside his tongue. Your cunt sucks him in deeper and he angles his chin up, shifting his jaw to rub over your perineum as he thrusts in and out, his tongue flicking between to draw more of your taste into his mouth.

You’re so wet he thinks he could fit a fourth finger, but decides to save that for next time because he can feel you nearing the crest again, feel your pussy clamp down so tight he can’t move his fingers. He curls them instead, squeezing his tongue through the spaces between and pushing his nose into your clit so hard he hears your muffled scream even through the thighs pressing over his ears. 

It’s enough to make you cum again, and you collapse over him as your pussy floods his fingers and his mouth, his gasping breaths puffing out against your folds while the slickness seeping from you drips down his neck onto the sheets. Your cunt is still pulsing around him and Seokmin’s never felt more out of his body, out of his mind, as his hips arch up into the hand around his cock and he breaks too. His cum shoots out, painting his stomach white and dribbling into the grooves of his abs, his dick twitching in his grasp and throbbing with the heartbeat he can feel in his throat. 

Seokmin is still coming back to himself when he realizes he really can’t breathe, and, as it seems you’re incapable of moving, shimmies down the bed to escape your thighs. He sits up, feeling your release drip down his neck to mix with his, and you roll onto your back in time to see him gather some up with two of his fingers and slide them into his mouth. Your whine is louder than his, even though you’re not the one with the most immaculate flavor of all time exploding on your tongue, and he decides that you deserve to taste it too. So he dips back into the mess on his stomach and takes your face in his hand, locking his eyes with yours as he pushes his thumb between your lips to pull your jaw down, sliding his fingers inside to press on your tongue. You close around him, your eyes fluttering shut as you grasp his wrist in your hand and suck his fingers deeper into your mouth. 

Seokmin’s spent cock twitches against his hip, and he forces himself to breathe through the shudder rolling down his spine as you lick between his fingers, his brain screaming that he’d just done the same, except both were inside of you. 

Nothing could ever be better than this, Seokmin thinks, until he’s sinking into the hot bath with your back against his chest and his cock buried deep within you, your breaths evening out until he knows you’re sleeping peacefully. He can hear the sheets tumbling in the wash, feel your heart thud against his, see your breasts rise and fall, and leans his head back to join you in slumber, knowing the buzz of the washer will wake you both before the bath gets too cold. 

AN: heyyy…. idk if u just wanted to chat about this but i had to write it so i hope thats okay! i know there's plenty of facesitting + seokmin fics out there but one more can never hurt so here we go! thank you for coming into my inbox ily!!

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#seventeen #svt #seventeen smut #svt smut #seokmin smut #dk smut #seokmin x reader #seokmin x female reader #dk x reader #dk x you #seokmin x you #✨emily writes✨ #✨emily answers✨ #kaili 🪢

[sluttywoozi]

Angel Kisses | Sleepover Fic #5

For: @yeritheloml

Pairing: Wonwoo x gn!reader

Prompt: when we kiss I feel like I'm floating, like literally gravity stopped working on me please don't let go?? also another kiss wouldn't hurt just saying + Oh My!

Rating: T

Word Count: ~1200

Notes: some kissing, drug mention, wisdom teeth fic

Wonwoo’s forehead thunks against the window of the car, startling him awake, the siren song that had lulled him to sleep still echoing in his mind. His face feels numb, his eyes bleary, and his heavy, cotton stuffed head lolls to the side. What might be an angel greets him, and his eyes blow wide open behind his glasses, brain screaming oh my oh my oh my oh my. He didn’t know angels could drive, but maybe they’re not supposed to because the car skips over a curb and Wonwoo jostles side to side, ability to stabilize himself lost. The car stops for some reason, and the angel glances over at him, and Wonwoo can feel his heart thumping in his chest, getting faster and faster the longer you stare. 

Your hand leaves the steering wheel, moving toward his face, and he leans closer out of instinct, laying his cheek in your palm and gazing at you. The sun shines into the window from behind you, bathing you in light, giving you a halo, and Wonwoo’s suspicions are confirmed. He’s not sure why an angel is driving him, or where he’s going, but maybe he’d died while getting his wisdom teeth out, and heaven had an uber system? He doesn’t really care either way, thinks he’ll be alright as long as he gets to keep staring at you; the crinkle of your nose, the curve of your cupid’s bow, the angle of your collarbones. 

Wonwoo’s obsessed already, can’t take his eyes off of you, and now he worries you might be a demon. You’re just too beautiful, you smell too sweet and sound too melodic, and you’re looking at him like you love him, which must be a trap. 

But you smile at him, brush your thumb over his cheek, and Wonwoo decides he doesn’t need to know what you are if it means you’ll keep touching him like this. Your other hand comes up, finger sweeping under his eye and pulling away to reveal an eyelash resting on the pad of your index. You stare at him expectantly, and Wonwoo lets out a quiet oh, closing his eyes to make a wish and pursing his lips to blow it away. It’s still there when he opens his eyes, and he tries again, but can’t tell if his mouth is even moving or if air is coming out, and he tries to pout at you, telling you without words that he can’t feel his lips. 

Your hand leaves his face to smack your forehead, and Wonwoo groans out a disapproving sound, grabbing your chin in his fingers to pull your face down so he can kiss the spot you’d just hit. He can’t really make his lips move and they kind of smush against your skin, but you giggle anyway, tilting your chin out of his loose grip to press your lips against his, and now Wonwoo knows he’s made it to heaven.

He’s floating already, outside of his body and outside of his mind, everything going numb except for the few points of connection he has with you. His eyes stay closed when you pull away, still feeling like he’s defying gravity, but he’s brought out of it when he hears you say his name. 

Wonwoo’s eyes blink open to watch how your mouth forms around the letters, entranced by the movement of your lips, enamored by the shape they make on the last syllable. Pouted slightly, opened just big enough for his finger or his tongue, pushed out like you’re begging for another kiss.

He doesn’t have the willpower to resist, figures if he’s gotten this far he can push his luck a little, and leans in to kiss you again, sucking your plush bottom lip into his mouth to glide his tongue over it. You whimper into his mouth a bit, and Wonwoo tries to kiss you harder, but you catch his jaw in your palm, push him from you gently, thumb reaching over to rest on the seam of his lips. He tries to nip at your skin, but finds he can’t control his teeth, so he just gazes at you, breathes against your thumb until you remove it with a hazy look in your eyes. 

“I’m not making out with you while you’re high, babe,” you chuckle, grinning more when he tries to pout. 

“I’m not high, I don’t do drugs except for that one time and it was an accident!” Wonwoo protests desperately. 

“Honey, I know you don’t do drugs, but you had sur-”

“Who even puts weed in brownies, they’re perfect just as they are!” Wonwoo continues, as if you hadn’t spoken at all, caught up in the memory of Jeonghan, Joshua, and Cheol’s first party in their new apartment. 

“I agree, babe, but if you remember, I wouldn’t make out with you then either,” you remind him. 

“You were there?! Are angels allowed to go to parties?” Wonwoo asks, absentmindedly and a bit scandalized. 

“They are if you’re their boyfriend,” you say teasingly, “now come on, we’ve been home for like four minutes.”

Wonwoo doesn’t hear the last part though, still caught on the word boyfriend, caught on you saying he’s your boyfriend. 

He must take too long to respond to you, because you shake your head with a smile, reaching your hand down next to his hip to unbuckle his seatbelt. He gasps at your proximity, wishes you’d come closer, but you move further away instead, opening your car door and hopping out. He didn’t even realize you’d turned the car off, and he feels the sun hit the back of his head suddenly, twists around to squint into the brightness of the open door.

You’re standing there, framed again by sunlight, and Wonwoo feels his head swim, dazed at your beauty. He doesn’t really know what to do, feels frozen by the love bubbling up inside of his chest, wonders if his knees will be able to hold the weight of his overgrown heart. He finds they do though, as you pull him out of the car and tug his arm over your shoulder, walking him inside with a hand holding tight to his waist and fingers clenched in his tshirt.

There’s pictures all over, ones of you and him, ones of you and him and your friends, ones of you and him and your families, and Wonwoo suddenly knows exactly where he is and remembers exactly who you are. 

“Baby, it’s youuuu,” he exclaims, shifting the arm on your shoulder to wrap around your neck and tug you close, his other arm coming up to wind around you and anchor you to his chest. You giggle into his neck, and Wonwoo can feel your warm breath against his skin and the way your lips stretch into a smile, and a twin grin rises on his face.

He feels something rub on his ankle, so he pulls away and looks down to see a small cat weaving its way in to sit between you and him. His mouth drops open, eyebrows raising to hide in his bangs, and he sinks down to the floor, pulling you with him. 

“Who is this?” Wonwoo breathes excitedly at you, and your face screws up in bemusement and fondness. 

“This is our cat, babe.”

“We have a CAT?!” 

tagging: @lenireads @confusedbansheee @junhui-recs @burningupp-replies @heeseung-lover686 @favehoshiposts @gyvswhore @jaysawake (unable to tag) @1004luvangel @bangchanbabygirlx @baldi-2 (unable to tag) @monamonay @dontyouthinkiknowhoiam @just-here-to-read-01 @gaebestie

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#wonwoo x reader #wonwoo x you #wonwoo x y/n #jeon wonwoo #wonwoo fluff #wonwoo #svt fluff #seventeen fluff #svt #seventeen #✨emily's sleepover✨ #✨emily writes✨ #kpop fluff #seventeen imagines #kaili 🪢

[sluttywoozi]

Rating: M (18+) | Word Count: ~3k

Summary: Progamer!wonwoo is having a minor breakdown in a closet pre-tournament. Good thing you know the perfect good luck charm for him!

Warnings: smut (MINORS DNI), swearing, oral (wonu receiving), fingering, nipple play, mention of bruising, semipublic sex, unprotected sex (reader and wonu are in a committed relationship and only sleep with each other and reader is on birth control sooo), tiny flash of pain kink, wonu likes your thighs

Reader Notes: no gendered pronouns used but reader has vagina and breasts

Wonwoo’s taking deep breaths in the closet when he feels his phone buzz, knowing it could only be you. He’d turned notifications off for everyone else, he didn’t want anyone distracting him or worsening his already frazzled nerves. He can’t believe this day has come so soon; he almost doesn’t feel ready though he knows he did everything he could to prepare. 

Today is The Tournament. 

Despite his confidence in his skill and that of his teammates, he knows there’s a chance his team will lose today. This match isn’t very important in the grand scheme of things, they’ve already qualified for _World and this score won’t count towards his Sector 17 standings, but Wonwoo is more nervous than he’s ever been. 

He wishes he wasn’t, he wishes he didn’t still care so much, he wishes he had more time. But it’s too late now and he needs to compose himself, because soon, he’ll come face to face with them. 

His ex-team. The team he started with his best friend and the stray nerds they picked up along the way. The team that he built from the ground up. The team that kicked him to the curb without a second thought. 

Wonwoo knows his team could lose today because he grew up with his opponents. Hell, he taught half of them how to play. 

Of course, that didn’t matter to them when they mutinied against him, but that’s okay. 

Really. 

His phone buzzes again, pulling him from his thoughts. Pressing his forehead into the wall just a bit longer, he sighs before checking to see what you’d said. 

babe where are u? 

are you okay?

Nervous as he is, Wonwoo can’t stop the smile that spreads across his face. He should’ve known you’d be worrying about him, you’d been there through the fallout and know what today means to him. 

He pushes up his glasses and the sleeves of his hoodie, sending you directions to the storage closet he’s hiding in. He makes sure to use landmarks, knowing you’re directionally challenged and liable to get lost. He’s not yet done enough wallowing to leave the dark space to find you.  

Now that he knows you’re on your way, some of his energy returns. He doesn’t like to be anxious or nervous in front of you, but he knows, at this point, you’re the only one who can help. 

Bouncing in his vans, Wonwoo tries to fix his hair, knowing it’s been smushed by the wall and not wanting you to see him anxious and messy. He thinks he’s getting there when there’s a knock on the door. Gentle as it was, he still jumps, and his hand flies up and out of his hair, undoing his progress. 

He opens the door a sliver, peeking out to see your concerned face. He opens it a bit more, grabbing your hand through the crack and pulling you in quickly. 

A bit too quickly, apparently, because you stumble on your feet and into his chest. His arms wrap around you and he laughs, stabilizing you and then squeezing a bit, just for fun. You swat at his chest and whine, “don’t laugh, it was your fault!”

He just laughs more, and you can’t hold your pout for long before your giggles join his. Nerves momentarily forgotten, he leans down to kiss you, having missed you for the 15 minutes he’d been hiding. You bite down on his lip unexpectedly, making him breathe out a bit of a moan and grip onto you tighter. 

The kiss gets deeper than he intended but he can’t complain, not when you’re sucking on his tongue like this and he can feel your heartbeat against his. His glasses slip down his nose with the movement of his mouth and you push them back up for him, stroking his cheeks with your thumbs and making his heart clench. 

He loves how you care for him, it shows in everything you do, even in moments like this. 

Especially in moments like this, he thinks, as you sink down to your knees, trailing your fingers over the logo on his hoodie as you go. He’s trying not to hyperventilate, growing harder in his jeans when you press your hand to him, thumb unerringly finding the head of his dick. 

He can’t believe you’re doing this, here, now. You barely even kiss him in public, knowing that he gets shy and can’t handle more than a peck before he’s hiding his face in sweater paws. But here you are, kneeling on the ground and looking up at him with an eager smile and a building full of people just a door away. 

He tries to take a steadying breath but as soon as your fingers find his button and zipper, his knees get weak. He has to shuffle backwards to lean against the wall, lips pursing and head tilting back to escape the image of you crawling on your knees toward him. He’s already embarrassingly hard, he doesn’t need to make it worse. 

With his eyes closed, your hand around him shocks him into a loud moan. You accidentally dig your nails into his hip, making him yelp and get harder, and you giggle before reminding him that he needs to be quiet. 

He’s nodding, he thinks, but honestly doesn’t know because suddenly your hot mouth wraps around the head of his cock and you start feeding him down your throat. He chokes down a moan when you choke on him, and tries desperately to keep his hips from bucking into you. You start bobbing your head, fucking him with your mouth and moaning, sending vibrations down his cock and into the depths of his stomach. Breathing shakily, he brushes your hair away from your face and tucks it behind your ear, resting his hand on your neck. 

Which was a bad decision, a bad, bad decision because now he can feel your throat working around his cock with his hand, and he’s suddenly ridiculously close to the edge. 

“Baby, baby, wait!“ He groans out, knowing that if your mouth doesn’t leave him in the next minute, he’ll cum. You pull off with a sticky pop, your lips glistening and plush in the low light, and Wonwoo has to close his eyes again. Your thumbs run back and forth over his hips as he tries to gather himself, his gasping breaths loud in the small room. 

You smile fondly up at him, and he can feel his heart flip, nearly in disbelief that you love him enough to get on your knees for him in a dirty hall closet and grin about it. 

“You good?” You ask teasingly, and he nods profusely before shaking his head. Your eyebrows convey your confusion and he rushes to explain himself. 

“Please, can I fuck you?” He breathes out, “please, baby, I wanna be inside you so bad.” 

He can feel his dick pulsing and his heart racing, knowing you might say no. Wonwoo would be happy, grateful even, to finish in your mouth but all he can think about right now is the way your soft thighs feel around his hips and the velvet heat of your cunt. 

You don’t contemplate for long before reaching a hand up to him. He takes it in his own, pulling you up and pulling you closer, before cradling your face in both hands. He leans down, immediately pushing his tongue between your lips so he can chase the taste of himself in your mouth. 

Walking forward, he presses you against the opposite wall, hands moving down your body to pull at your shirt. 

“Wonwoo, we don’t have time to take everything off,” you gasp out, presumably distracted by his lips on your neck and the path they’re taking further and further down. 

He must look as crestfallen as he feels because you sigh dramatically and raise your arms, face flat but eyes shining. He lets out a quiet little yay and tugs the shirt over your head, careful not to stretch the collar or mess up your hair. His hands fly behind your back to unclasp your bra and as soon you shrug the straps off, he leans down to take a nipple into his mouth. 

He sucks hard, laving his tongue over the bumps and sinking his teeth into you a little. His fingers roll the other, tugging lightly before trailing down your stomach to hook into your jeans. He tries to wiggle his fingers inside but the waistband is too tight and he lets out a huff of frustration around your nipple. Pulling off, Wonwoo focuses on your button and zipper, undoing both and yanking them off, along with your underwear. They catch on your shoe and you have to brace yourself on his shoulder but soon enough, he’s got you naked. 

He can see the wetness glimmer between your thighs and whines deep in this throat, fingers diving into your folds and seeking out your clit. His other hand pulls your thigh up around his hip and you lean against the wall, muffling your moan against the back of your hand as he gives your clit a quick swipe. His fingers delve deeper, one sliding inside and, when he feels how wet you are around him, another joining, then a third. His heart is pounding, ears ringing with your sighs and fingers curling inside of you, so enraptured he almost forgets the goal here. 

“Are you ready, baby? Think you can take my cock now?” 

His fingers find that rough patch inside of you and rub insistently, and your hips jerk against his hand. You whimper loudly and his other hand flies up to cover your mouth, “Baby, if you can’t be quiet, I can’t fuck you.”

You’re nodding, eyes teary and breath quick against his palm, and he removes it to pull your other leg up around his waist, bracing you against the wall. He curls his fingers one last time before sliding them out of you and wrapping them around his dick, stroking once to get it slicked up. Grinding the head against your clit a little, he smirks when you swallow a whine and let out a small please. Wonwoo doesn’t make you beg often, and he won’t now, but hearing you plead for him sends a wave of heat through his belly that makes his cock twitch. 

Notching the head at your entrance, he starts pushing in. Your slick walls pulse around him, sucking him in as you moan lowly. Wonwoo groans deep in his chest, feeling his breath hitch when he bottoms out inside of you and you clench down on him. Locking his eyes with yours, he checks in and you nod, thrusting your hips against his and making him gasp. 

He pulls his hips as far back as your legs around him allow, and sinks into you again, bending his knees a little. Wonwoo loves fucking you like this; it’s the perfect angle for him to hit your g-spot with each thrust and he gets to feel your thighs tighten around him and quiver as you get closer. 

A punched out cry leaves you every time the head of his cock taps that spot, and he has to cover your mouth again. He uses his own lips this time, tugging at your bottom lip with his teeth and swallowing your sounds. He’s pounding into you now, groaning lowly and squeezing your hips in his hands. Your flesh dips beneath his fingers and Wonwoo knows you’ll have bruises later; he’d feel bad if he didn’t also know how much you love it. 

His head is starting to feel fuzzy, from a lack of oxygen or blood or his approaching climax, probably all three, and he moves his fingers down to rub at your clit. You’re gasping into his mouth, eyes clenched shut and tears lining your lashes, and he needs you to finish soon because he refuses to cum first. 

Your thighs start their tell-tale quivering, muscles tensing beneath skin and hugging him tighter, and Wonwoo almost sighs in relief. He’s not sure how much longer he can last; he’s been on the edge since you dropped to your knees and your wet heat is dragging him closer at what feels like the speed of light. 

When he feels your walls start fluttering around him, Wonwoo knows you’re almost there and doubles down, circling your clit with two fingers and bucking into you as hard as you can take. You pull your mouth away from his and bury your head in his neck, biting down on his hoodie to stay quiet as he fucks you into the wall. 

Wonwoo sucks in a breath when you clench down on his cock so fucking hard he can’t even pull out and cum with a keening wail. He swears quietly, feeling your walls milking him and sucking him in even deeper somehow, catalyzing his own climax. He drops his head onto your chest, gasping wetly against your sternum before wrapping his mouth around a breast to muffle himself. He groans as his cock jumps inside you, hot cum shooting out in ropes and mixing with your wetness to seep out around where he fills you. His eyes fall shut as his mind blanks and he feels at peace for the first time in weeks. 

He comes back to himself slowly, feeling your ribs expand as you attempt to catch your breath. He releases your breast from his mouth and kisses a path up your chest, ending at your lips where he gives you a sweet, chaste kiss. You’re starting to kiss him back when your phone rings, buried under your jeans and lighting up through the fabric. He pulls away from you, catching your grimace at the emptiness and pecking your forehead before he lets you down. He keeps his hands around your waist until you’re steady on your feet, watching as you walk over to grab your phone on shaky legs. 

He has to avert his eyes when you bend over because he can see his cum leaking out of you and starting to trickle down your thighs and he really can’t afford to get hard again right now. He’s shaking out your shirt, trying to get all of the dust and crumbs off of it because he knows they bother you, when you let out a triumphant cackle. 

“30 minutes on the dot! Do I know us or do I know us,” You say smugly, hands on your hips and eyes shining, unashamed of your nakedness. 

Wonwoo doesn’t know what the fuck you’re talking about so he just looks at you, nose scrunched and glasses askew. 

You say nothing, pulling wet wipes out of the pocket of your jeans and cleaning his dick up before tucking it away and redoing his pants. You pull tissues out next, dabbing at his face and the back of his neck before gently taking off his glasses and cleaning them, with a new tissue thank god.

He doesn’t really know what to do here so he just lets you do your thing, you obviously have a plan considering how prepared you are. His vision returns as you place his glasses back on his face and fix his hair, straightening out his hoodie. Your eyes narrow and your lips purse as you tug at the strings until they’re even, face clearing when you deem him presentable. You bounce up on your toes to give him a peck, grinning and turning him towards the door. 

He takes an uncertain step forward, looking back at you to make sure he was following your unspoken instructions. He jumps when you tap him on the ass to encourage him further, hands shooting back to cover himself and walking closer to the door. 

His hand wraps around the handle and he looks back at you one more time, asking dumbly, “What do I do now?“ 

Your lips stretch into a confident grin, sparkling eyes staring back at him, and say, “Win your tournament, babe. You’ve got your good luck charm.” 

Biting his lips and nodding, he’s about to open the door when he realizes he needs just a bit more luck, crossing the small space between you quickly and claiming your lips in a kiss. He feels your warm hands cradle his face as you kiss him back, and he has never been more in love. 

Standing with his team, Wonwoo waits to shake hands with his ex-teammates. He rubs his cold hands together before sticking them in the pocket of his hoodie, hoping to warm them up. His right hand catches on fabric, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. It doesn’t feel like the fleece lining of the sweatshirt and he’s wondering if it’s a dryer sheet when his fingers brush over what feels like lace. His eyes blow wide open behind his glasses and he tries to control his breathing as he realizes just what’s in his pocket. 

Your panties. 

You’d left your panties in his pocket. And they’re your favorite pair, judging by the little bows on the sides. 

He’s struggling to keep his composure, looking up to find his ex-best friend approaching, hand outstretched. Wonwoo says nothing as he shakes the bastard’s hand with the same one that had just touched your panties, fighting a smug smile.  He’s about to move on to the next loser when he hears, “Hey, do you remember y/n? Talk about the one that got away, huh?”

He can’t fight the smirk now, and just backs up slowly, hands in his pocket and rubbing the lace of your panties between his thumb and forefinger. He’s barely turned around when he feels you crash into him, shouting your congratulations and kissing him wherever you can. He just smiles and says, “All thanks to my good luck charm,” before wrapping his arm around your waist and steering you out. Making sure his ex-best friend catches the JEON printed across your shoulders, Wonwoo presses a kiss to the side of your head and looks forward to celebrating with you (again and again and again).

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a/n pt 2: hellooooo! thank you so much for reading! pleeaaase come talk to me I want to know your every thought!

#wonwoo smut #jeon wonwoo smut #svt smut #seventeen smut #progamer wonwoo #gamer!wonwoo #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo x female reader #wonwoo x fem reader #kpop smut #✨emily writes✨ #kaili 🪢

[sluttywoozi]

For Worse Or For Better Alternate Ending

Summary: Wonwoo just can't wait after hearing you call him your husband. Good thing he knows about a conference room on this floor that's always left unlocked.

Rating: M (18+) | Word Count: ~3.2k

Part 1

Warnings: semipublic sex, dom/sub themes, kissing, swearing, marriage kink, petnames, oral m and f. rec., multiple orgasms, fingering, big dick wonwoo, bit of size kink, unprotected piv sex, brief bulge kink, MINORS I WILL BLOCK YOU WITHOUT REMORSE

Reader Notes: called wife, wears dress/heels/makeup, has vagina and breasts, wap

Once the necessary goodbyes have been said, Wonwoo grips your hand tighter in his and practically drags you toward the ballroom doors, making you power walk in your stilettos to keep up with him. 

He pushes the doors open, tugging you through behind him and hearing nothing but your breathing as the doors shut. There’s no one around, for now, and when you turn left, making for the exit, Wonwoo banks right. 

There’s a conference room on this floor, Wonwoo knows from five years of sneaking away from this party to scream inside his head and then nap for fifteen minutes. Tonight, he hopes to make you scream instead. 

Not too loud though, Wonwoo thinks nervously, knowing he hasn’t been formally promoted yet. 

He can feel your confusion, even as you match his fast pace, and waits to explain until he’s pulling you into the conference room. 

It’s golden in here too, warm lighting and a massive oak table with a dozen chairs situated around it. One wall has a mirror, vintage glass and a black iron frame, and Wonwoo is shocked when he sees himself. 

He’s flushed, panting, hair rumpled, glasses so far down his nose they’re almost useless, his tie is loose, uneven, and he can feel parts of his dress shirt starting to stick. 

You, however, look radiant. 

You glow in the gilded light, skin shimmering and silk dress shining, and Wonwoo feels breathless as he stares at you. 

Your reflection stares back, hand still clasped tightly in his and eyes filled with questions. 

He answers them with a heated look, pulling you into a kiss, backing up to lean against the table, tugging you by the fabric over your stomach until you step forward and stand between his legs.

Wonwoo can feel you inching closer, your warm, soft stomach pressing into his hips and making him gasp into your mouth. 

The kiss gets messier, Wonwoo’s hand smoothing down your body to rest on your waist, pulling you up tight against his body as he pushes away from the table. 

You stumble back in surprise, accidentally yanking him down by the tie held in your hand, but Wonwoo takes the opening, rotating your bodies so you’re the one against the table instead. 

Your legs spread instinctively as he pushes one of his between them, keeps his head bent low even though you’d let go of his tie already, presses sucking kisses to your chest and pushes his thigh against your clothed cunt. 

Wonwoo can’t get close, stopped by the unyielding fabric of your dress, but it’s enough to make you whine and push back, legs spreading wider as you rest more of your weight on the table. 

He wants to just hoist you up to sit on the wood, but feels like first, he should maybe probably ask if he can fuck you on it. 

“Babe, do you want- could we-“ Wonwoo groans, head butting your sternum, glasses pressing into the bridge of his nose uncomfortably. 

“Yes, you can fuck me on this table,” you sigh happily. 

“Really? I didn’t even have to beg or anything,” Wonwoo breathes, digging his fingers into your waist, silk bunching under his hands. 

“Honestly,” you start a bit apprehensively, “I’ve been thinking about it all night. You were so hot glaring at that guy when he almost touched me and you look so broad in this suit.” 

Your voice sounds dreamy, your eyes distant as your fingers mess with the buttons on his shirt, but when you kick your heels off and brace your palms on the table to hop up, Wonwoo stops you.

“Can I…,” he turns you gently, catching your eyebrows rising in pleasant surprise as you allow yourself to be bent over the table. 

Fuck, you look amazing like this, just like he knew you would. 

The side of your face is resting on the oak, your hazy eyes staring at him over your shoulder, breasts pressed against the surface and spilling out of the side of your dress. His breath catches when he sees your hands above your head, your arms straight and your fingers woven together. 

He didn’t even need to ask, and Wonwoo can feel his dick throb in his pants at the fact that you’re so eager to please him. 

It’s like you know how already, know what he wants from you and what he wants to do to you, and you’re only too happy to give it to him. 

It makes Wonwoo’s head spin, and he absentmindedly trails his fingers down your spine, callused tips catching on the delicate fabric of your dress. When he reaches your hips, his fingers clench in the material and start drawing it up, revealing your legs inch by inch as the hem of your dress glides over your skin. 

Wonwoo’s breathing gets faster with every bit of flesh uncovered, stutters when your plush thighs and the cute crease where they meet your ass are unveiled, and one hand drops to dig his fingers in, pulling your ass cheek to the side to expose your wet panties. 

You’re wearing a thong, and Wonwoo’s torn between ripping it off of you and dropping to his knees to suck your clit through the fabric. 

He goes with Option B, setting his glasses on the table and sliding down your body quickly, his hands spreading you open and his tongue gliding between your thighs. He groans at your taste, at the heat of your cunt, at the way you tremble under his hands, and licks deeper, his tongue finding your entrance and pushing inside. 

You whine above him, your knees shaking and trying to close, and Wonwoo shifts one hand to the inside of your thigh to hold your legs open. He soon grows tired of tasting you through the fabric and tugs your panties down roughly, leaving them around your knees and licking into you. 

It’s like you bloom, your body melting into the table and your folds opening to his tongue, cunt weeping and sweet sighs leaving your relaxed form. Wonwoo feels drunk as he glides his tongue through your wetness, sighs into your pussy and breathes you in, dips a finger into your entrance, sinking it inside when you whimper a please.

You’re searing hot, your walls sucking his finger deeper and clenching already, and Wonwoo slides another inside, marveling at how your cunt embraces them. He wonders if he could get four fingers in you, keeps that thought in his back pocket for the time being, scissors the two inside to make room for a third. 

Your hips are jerking against the table, into his mouth and then away, almost like you can’t handle what he’s giving to you, so he decides to give you more, curls his fingers until he finds your g-spot, grinds deeply into the patch of nerves and sucks your clit into his mouth until you cum, your cries muffled by your hand. 

Wonwoo wishes he could hear you, but knows keeping quiet is for the best, rewards you for doing it yourself by swirling his fingers over your clit and shoving his tongue inside you. 

He can taste you better like this, feel your walls on his tongue, how they squeeze down around him through the waves of your climax, and already knows that feeling you on his cock will be better than he ever could have dreamed it would be. 

And Wonwoo has been dreaming about it, about you, ever since he heard you touching yourself late one night a couple months ago. He’d woken up thirsty, headed to the kitchen to grab a glass of water, and heard soft gasps coming from under your door. He worried for a second that you were crying, but Wonwoo figured it out when you broke into a low moan, and his cock responded before he could even try to calm down.

He’d walked down the hall in a daze, filled a glass with water until it spilled over, his brain replaying the moan. He’d almost dropped the glass altogether when you let out a keening whimper, and he realized that must be what you sound like when you cum. He’d managed to set the glass down on the island before desperately pressing his hips into the marble, willing his dick to stop jumping and leaking precum into his boxers. The gentle sighs that followed your whimper made him turn and shove his mouth into his shoulder, trying to keep your name from escaping in a sigh of his own. 

But Wonwoo doesn’t have to swallow your name down this time, breathes it into your pussy as he licks between his fingers, slides his tongue inside you again, reaching deep and fucking you with the wet muscle and immediately sending you spiraling towards another climax.

It doesn't take much to send you over the edge again, just a few strokes of his fingers on your clit and his tongue pushing through your tightness, before you break with a cry of his name, whined into the crook of your elbow to keep your voice from echoing in the small room. 

Wonwoo stays on his knees for a second, just admiring you, wetness dripping down your thighs and your pussy still clenching, before rising to his feet and wiping his face off with a sleeve. He leans over your body, resting his chin in the bend between your neck and shoulder before pressing kisses along your jaw, listening as you try to catch your breath. 

“How are you feeling, baby? Ready to go home?” Wonwoo asks softly into your neck. 

You twist to look at him, disappointment clear on your face, “I thought you were gonna fuck me on the table.”

Wonwoo balks a little, expecting you to be too sensitive after two orgasms so close together, tells you so, to which you roll your eyes and say, “I would tell you, don’t worry.”

He nods, unbuckling his belt and unbuttoning his pants, and pulls his cock out, gaze focused downward and missing the way your eyes widen in delight and determination. 

He tells himself not to worry and places a hand on each hip, his thumbs angled down to pull you apart so he can watch as his cock sinks into you slowly. 

You’re squirming already, whimpering into the table, and Wonwoo wants to stop and check in, but you said you’d tell him if something was wrong, and he knows he can trust you to do so. 

Your walls are tight around him, snug enough he wonders if he should’ve made you cum again before fucking you, but the way you push back with a whine of his name tells him you like it. 

He bottoms out after a few minutes, his balls pressed to your ass, his cock deep deep deep inside, and he wonders if it’s been as long for you as it has for him, or if you’re always this fucking tight.

Either way, it’s not like Wonwoo minds. 

He loves it, in fact, loves stretching you open on his dick, making room inside you with each thrust, feeling your walls relax more and more until he can fuck you like he wants, and it’s so much better than he dreamed, so much better than he could have imagined. 

Now, you’re so wet Wonwoo fears he might slip out, digs his fingers into the flesh of your hips to anchor himself to you, makes sure he stays buried in your soaking cunt, and starts pounding you into the table.

He pulls your hips back into every thrust, not wanting you to wake up with a line of bruising tomorrow, and the punched out gasp that leaves you every time he drills into your pussy has him feeling like he could float away. 

Your nails claw at the table, cunt fluttering around him and trying to suck him in deeper, and he moves one hand from your hip to wrap around your abdomen, groans far too loud in the empty room when he feels it. 

His cock is rooted so deep inside you, he can feel himself in your stomach, the head thumping into his palm with every thrust. 

Fuck, Wonwoo could cum just at the thought. 

He’ll try to hold back though, wants to get you there one more time before he lets go, crouches at the knee a bit to thrust right up into your g-spot and shifts the hand on your hip down to your clit, holding you to him tightly with an arm wrapped around you. 

Your body is so warm against his, so soft, and Wonwoo can’t get close enough, bends over you on the table to press kisses along your bare back, sucks marks into the nape of your neck. 

He can hear your sounds better like this, the ones you’re trying to muffle, and he breathes, “kiss me,” into your cheek, waiting for your head to turn before capturing your lips with his, sliding his tongue into your mouth, swallowing your moans and sighs. 

Wonwoo almost feels euphoric, finally tasting the noises he’d heard that night, the noises he’s been dreaming of for months, the noises he hears in his head when he’s got his hand on his cock and you on his mind. 

He can’t get enough, circles your clit with two fingers, groans into your mouth when you seize up around his dick, could cry when that whimper starts up in your throat and you shatter around him.  

Your walls convulse, shuddering around his length and sucking him in deeper, squeezing his dick so hard he can’t breathe, and he can feel your slick dripping down his balls, hopes it doesn’t stain his pants too noticeably, thanks himself for shoving your dress up and out of the way. 

Wonwoo steels himself, trying desperately not to cum inside you because you hadn’t discussed that, and it takes all of his strength not to let the clenching of your walls drag him under too. 

You’re panting into his mouth, your lashes lined with tears and your cheek hot against his, and Wonwoo has never been so in love. 

Until you push him out of you with a hand on his hip and turn, dropping to your knees and looking up at him with half-lidded eyes, whisper, “Cum in my throat.” 

Your hair is messy, your skin glimmering in the golden light, makeup smeared just a bit, and when you look up at him like that, opening up and letting your tongue fall out just a little, Wonwoo can’t resist. 

His thumb traces over your bottom lip, dips inside your mouth to pull your jaw down a bit further, and starts feeding his cock into your mouth. 

It’s a tight fit, but you do your best to swallow around him, Wonwoo can tell, and he’s honestly overjoyed with what he’s already gotten, could cum now if you told him to, but your eyes glaze over, and he thinks you just might want him in your mouth a bit longer. 

He’s happy to give you that, can hold out until you’re ready, until you’re satisfied. 

Maybe he can’t, though, Wonwoo thinks, clenching his eyes shut because if he looks at you any longer, it’ll be the end of him. 

You’re just so beautiful, so alluring, on your knees for him like this, your lips stretched around his dick, nails digging into your knees, eyes watery and staring right up into his, and Wonwoo can’t hold it in anymore. 

“Fuck, baby, you’re being so good for me,” he groans through gritted teeth, a last ditch effort to stay quiet, “you’re my perfect baby angel, aren’t you? My beautiful fucking wife, shit.”

His hands slip down, one around the back of your neck and one on your face, thumbs tracing your skin, not moving you, just holding you, feeling you. 

You’re so warm, always so warm, and Wonwoo is drawn to you like a moth to a lightbulb, gravitates around you, seeks out your heat without even realizing. 

He can have it now, have you now, and Wonwoo’s heart thumps in his chest when he realizes he’ll finally be the one you’re snuggling at night, the one you kiss before bed, the one who gets to sleep next to you (and stalwartly refuses to accept the fact that he’s been jealous of his own cats this whole time). 

Your throat shutters around his cock, wet heat compressing around him, and when you whimper, it travels all the way from the head of his scalp, goosebumps rising nearly as quickly as his climax did, and he groans, feeling his dick twitch in your mouth before white noise overtakes his mind. 

Wonwoo whines as his cock spurts ribbons of white hot cum down your throat, blood roaring loud in his ears, and he curls into himself, curls over you, has to brace his hands on the table so he doesn’t collapse while you suck him dry. 

He’s still gasping for breath as you stand up and duck your way out of under his arms, righting your dress and dabbing at your mouth with a cocktail napkin you pull from your clutch. You reapply your lipstick and fix your hair in the mirror, and by the time his brain is working again, you look entirely composed.

Completely unruffled, as if he hadn’t just made you cum three times in a conference room at his company’s annual ball. 

Wonwoo looks at the pair you make in the mirror, and it’s hot as fuck, honestly. The dichotomy of you, polished and poised, next to him, winded and rumpled, makes his heart beat faster.

His glistening cock is still softening against the fabric of his slacks, and you smile sweetly at him, stepping back into your heels and clicking over to wipe his dick off with another napkin, tucking him back into his pants and doing them up, your nails tickling his stomach as you buckle his belt.

Smoothing up his torso with your hands, you rebutton the few at the top that had come undone and straighten his suit jacket, flattening the lapels and gazing at him with sparkling eyes. 

“I’m so in love with you,” Wonwoo says breathlessly, “And I have been for so long, it’s almost embarrassing.”

You beam as you carefully slide his glasses onto his flushed face, “We can be embarrassed together, then.” 

Wonwoo’s sure the gears working in his brain are obvious by the look on his face, and he knows the relief is once he figures it out, can feel each tensed muscle easing, feel his lungs take in more air than they have in months. 

It’s palpable, the weight that’s been lifted off his shoulders, and your expression softens before you snuggle up close and pull him into a hug. You sway him lightly, and Wonwoo is horrified to feel tears prickling in his eyes, presses his face into your shoulder to stave them off, sighs into your skin when you just hold him tighter. 

He knows you’ll have to leave this room eventually, sneak down the hallway and pray nobody asks any questions.

He'll somehow have to gather himself enough to get the car from the valet and drive home, but for now, Wonwoo doesn’t need anything but this, anything but you. 

AN: sooo i know i called this an alternate ending but it's actually the original ending! the story felt a bit too sweet to have them fuck at the hotel so i made them go home, but couldn't stop myself from writing this anyway hehe

Part Three

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[sluttywoozi]

Request: softdom!lino + praise kink for @smalliechelle

Summary: Minho can tell what kind of mood you’re in, and he’s more than happy to give you exactly what you need.

Rating: M (MINORS STAY AWAY)

Word Count: ~2500

Warnings: softdom!minho, light subspace, praise kink, breast and nipple play, wap reader, fingering, clit stim, oral (m and f receiving), unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, mention of overstimulation, gentle face fucking, not much aftercare

Reader notes: vagina and breasts, ungendered and gendered petnames used (baby, sweetheart, good girl), gets teary eyed but doesn’t legit cry

Minho tries not to sigh as his phone buzzes again, knowing it’s likely a text from you. It’s not that he’s annoyed, because he loves when you’re needy like this, but he does wish you could be up front about what you want. He can tell you’re in one of your moods, the one where you want his attention, want him to talk to you and love you and touch you, and he doesn’t mind, likes it even, but things would be easier if you’d just tell him.

He can work with this though, responds patiently to every text and meme and voice note, and starts plotting.

He’s just pulling into the driveway when you spill out of the front door and skip over to the car. You must be worse off than he realized if you’d been waiting for him like this, and Minho starts to feel a bit guilty that he’d taken his time getting home.

You just seem happy he’s back though, throwing your arms around his neck and pulling him into a hug, and he tries not to press his hips into your stomach but your body is so close to his and he just knows you’re already wet.

Fuck, you get so wet when you feel like this, get so soft and sweet, and all you want is to do what he asks, make him happy, because you know he’ll take care of you.

It’s heady, having that kind of power and control, and using it all to make you feel good is what makes him feel good. Most of the time, he doesn’t even feel the need to cum, takes you there enough times for the both of you, but you always insist on it.

He doesn’t mind, obviously.

Minho pulls back from the hug enough to kiss you breathless, and grabs your hand to tug you into the house. He brings you straight to the bedroom, not seeing the point in wasting any more time when he knows exactly what you need.

He starts stripping, smiling when you follow his lead, and his eyes rove over your skin as more and more comes into view. Your body always takes Minho’s breath away, the angles and curves and softness that all join perfectly to form you, and he steps out of his pants to get closer.

You stay in place, ready for him to tell you what he wants you to do, and sigh as his hands settle on your waist, his palms brushing up and down your sides and his fingers digging into your ribs. He presses too hard for his touch to tickle, and you shiver when he leans down to lay kisses along your neck, stopping to nip your collarbone and continuing on to suck your nipple into his mouth.

One hand rises to cover your other breast, just letting you feel the warmth of his palm, until you whine and arch your back to prompt him to move. Minho allows it, doesn’t feel like making you wait today, rolls your nipple with his fingers, nips at the one in his mouth, presses his teeth into the flesh and waits for the shiver. It rolls down your spine, leaving your body lax, and he wraps his free arm around your waist to hold you up, pulling you tighter against him.

His mouth leaves you with a wet pop and moves to bite little marks around your breasts, trailing over to the other side to lick at your nipple and suck it between his lips until it’s as puffy and slick as its twin. You shift under his hands, already desperate for his attention to move between your thighs, and Minho’s hand slides back to your stomach to push you down onto the edge of the bed.

He drops onto his knees, his hands smoothing along your thighs, and asks softly, “Spread your legs for me, baby?”

You comply immediately, sliding your knees wide enough apart for his shoulders to fit, and Minho breathes, “good girl,” into your pussy as a reward. He usually likes to tease you a bit, but you’re so eager today, so needy and wet already, and all he wants is your taste in his mouth. He licks right into your pussy, his tongue gliding between your folds to open you up further, and drags his eyes up your body to find your hands braced on the bed and your head tilted back.

That won’t work for him, and you know this, so he moves his mouth to nip at the sensitive skin of your thigh, getting your attention.

“Baby, can you look at me?” he waits for your head to lift and your gaze to meet his before sliding his tongue over your clit. Your eyes get hazy, your breathing quickening, and Minho sinks a finger into your cunt as he pulls off of you to say, “I want you to keep your eyes on me, okay, sweetheart? You know I like to look at you, you’re too fucking pretty not to.”

Your pussy clenches around his finger, then again around the second that slides in next to it, and he crooks them, rubbing against the patch of nerves inside you until more of your wetness coats his fingers and one of your hands flies to his hair. He always lets you touch, loves your hands on him too much to make you keep them to yourself, but he doesn’t let you guide him. He can tell you want him to go faster, make you cum, but your first release is always powerful and he wants to properly build you up. If he goes too hard now, you won’t cum as easily later, and he plans to get at least two more out of you today.

He’ll give you a bit more though, let you push his face into your cunt, because you like to pretend you’re in control of him sometimes, even though you both know that’s not the case.

Also because Minho likes having your pussy on his face, sue him.

You definitely won’t, but you might threaten a lawsuit if he doesn’t let you cum soon, so he fucks you harder with his fingers and sucks your clit into his mouth. Your back arches, your breasts heaving with your gasps, but you keep looking at him, keep up the eye contact, and Minho groans deep in his chest as you throb around him and cum with a shout of his name. Your clit pulses under his tongue, your pussy tightening on his fingers, and wetness seeps out around them, dripping down his wrist.

He pulls away, licking you off his hand, and rises to take his boxers off and climb on top of you on the bed. You’re still perched at the edge, and Minho feels so big looking down at you like this, leaning closer and closer until you’re pressed flat on the mattress. He’s straddling you, your legs still spread under his, and he rearranges you so your thighs can hitch around his waist and he can grind his dick into you. One hand lands on your hip and the other braces next to your head, his elbow shaking a bit when his dick comes into contact with you. The head bumps over your clit and you buck into him, coating him in your slick, making him groan and press his lips to yours.

“Shit, you’re so hot, baby, fucking soaking me. So good, so so good for me, fuck,” Minho breathes into your mouth, and you shiver, whimpering, “Will you fuck me now? Please Minnie, I wanna feel you.”

He’d been thinking about pushing your thighs together, fucking your slit, rubbing the head of his cock on your clit until you came, but he just can’t resist you when you ask so nicely. Minho doesn’t feel like he should either, only wants to give you what you want, make you feel good under him, so he notches his dick in your entrance and starts pushing in.

He normally stretches you out a bit more, and you need a second to adjust to the bulk of his cock, but you still smile tearily up at him, wrapping your arms around his neck and bringing him down into another kiss. He grins against your lips, pulls his hips back and sinks in, again and again and again, until he can glide in and out of you with no friction.

You whine under him, your hips moving with his, your back arching, your breasts pressing into his chest. He can feel your nipples pebble against his skin, and shifts one hand up, pulls away enough to get his fingers around you, tugs and twists and rolls your nipple until you’re writhing. Your pussy tightens around him, sucking him in deeper and making him groan into your mouth, and fuck, he wants to make you cum again.

Minho thinks you’re ready, thinks you could take it this early and still be good to go when he wants you to give him another, so he rises off of you and sits on his knees, freeing up his other hand to move to your clit, swirling quick, concentrated circles until your cunt seizes around him.

You’re louder and wetter this time around, your pussy locking up on his dick, your voice flowing into the room through sobs and swears and calls of his name as you cum. He fucks you through it, pushes through the squeezing of your walls to angle the head of his cock into your g-spot, calls you his sweet fucking baby when you whimper a bit pitifully and start shaking under him.

Minho knows you can take it, knows you want to take it, and pinches your clit between two knuckles, fucking in and out of you harder, until you break apart around him again. Your thighs judder against his hips and tears gather on your eyelashes, and Minho knows you’ve had enough. Sometimes you like to be overstimulated, and if you were in a different headspace he’d keep going, wring two or three more from your gushing cunt, but not today.

Today, Minho slowly pulls out, releases your clit and smooths his hands up your body, pausing to lick his fingers then wipe them off on the sheets, and cups your face in his palms so your gaze finds his again.

“You good, baby? Feel better?” He asks gently, “want me to get the shower going?”

You blink up at him, just taking him in for a second, before answering, “No, I want you to cum in my mouth, please.”

Minho stares down at you, his cock jumping against your thigh, still covered in your wetness and leaking precum onto your skin, and considers your words.

He loves your mouth on him, he does, almost as much as he loves getting his mouth on you, but this was supposed to be just for you, just about giving you what you need.

However, if you’re asking him this, then that means you need it, right?

“Hmm, I don’t know baby, aren’t you tired?” Minho asks carefully, knows the answer but wants to hear you say it.

“No, Minho, I’m not tired,” you whine, “I just want your dick in my mouth, do you have a problem with that?”

He laughs at you, shaking his head with fondness before climbing up your body to straddle your shoulders, sighing, “Alright, sweetheart, here you go. Be a good girl and make me cum.”

You tilt your head up, licking at the head of his cock before opening wide and swallowing down as much of him as you can fit. His hips buck, and he tries his hardest not to fuck his cock into your throat before you’re ready, but shit.

Your pussy is always Minho’s first choice but there’s something about your mouth, something about the way you look up at him with watery eyes, your plush lips straining around the base of his cock, your throat working around him, that has him ready to cum already.

He can hold out a bit longer though; you’d asked for his cock in your mouth and that’s what you’re going to get, damn it, so he bites his lip and asks, “Want me to fuck your mouth, sweetheart?”

You nod dumbly, swallowing around his dick, making him twitch and groan, and he pulls his hips back slowly, enraptured by the drag of your lips against his skin as his cock leaves your mouth. He slides back in just as slowly, building up a sedate rhythm and keeping your eyes locked with his. Your eyelashes flutter and you choke a bit when he taps the back of your throat, so he doesn’t go as deep on the next thrust, but that makes you whine, and the vibrations travel up his dick straight to his stomach, and he can feel that pool of heat growing.

Minho knows he’s close, warns you with his hand on your cheek, tilts your face up so he can get that last little bit deeper, and grinds out your name through gritted teeth as he cums.

Your throat convulses around his length as his cum floods your mouth, and the grateful whine that leaves you makes his hips jerk and his cock jump. That just makes you whimper more, your eyes shining and your throat vibrating around him, and his head feels too heavy for his neck, suddenly buzzing with white noise.

Minho still feels dizzy as he pulls his cock out of your mouth, climbing off your body to flop on his back and pull you into his chest. He swipes his thumb over your lips, gathering the spit and cum up before wiping it off on the sheets, ignoring your reproachful look.

He leans in to press his mouth to yours for an open, wet kiss, sighs out, “Thank you, baby, that was fucking amazing, you’re so good to me.”

“Mmmm, thank you, Min. You always give me exactly what I need,” you respond sleepily, your cheek resting on his chest, the movements of your jaw tickling him as you speak.

“Yeah, I am pretty nice, huh?” He says smugly, catching your hand before it can swat his chest and bringing it up to his mouth to kiss your palm and each fingertip before twining your fingers together with his.

“Wanna order food?” He asks, and your head shoots up so you can beam excitedly at him, reaching up and over to grab your phone from the nightstand and pass it to him, before snuggling your face back into the crook of his shoulder.

AN: hiii! super excited to share this, as it’s my first foray into writing for stray kids! I def don’t know them as well as I do seventeen and ateez but this was a super fun challenge and im happy with how Lino’s characterization came out ☺️

en eternal thank you to @sluttywonwoo for being my Lino consultant and for the plot idea! this would not exist without her 💖

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[sluttywoozi]

Fresh Eyes | Sleepover fic #4

For: @ficrecsiguess thank you for requesting this and for supporting me!! 

Pairing: Seokmin x reader (reader has boobs)

Prompt: I didn't know you wore glasses and I'm thinking normal and platonic thoughts about you right now I swear

Rating: M 

Word Count: ~1300

Content Notes: food mention, wine and beer, swearing, Seokmin’s shy horny thoughts, suggestive ending, newly established relationship, first sleepover

Seokmin’s been staring at you for… awhile. He knows he should look away, remembers how Jeonghan had told him to play it cool at first, but he just can’t help it. He hasn’t been with you long, certainly not long enough to get over the fact that you want to date him, that you even said yes when he’d finally gathered up the courage to ask (well, shout). He still can’t believe you’re here, at his apartment, sitting on his couch in your pjs, close enough he can feel your body heat and smell the night cream you’d put on. 

You’re still staring at the TV, halfway through Meet The Robinsons and swiftly approaching Seokmin’s favorite part, but he can’t tear his eyes away from you. He’s just never seen you like this before, so comfy and cozy and domestic, and it makes his heart race. 

He’d near died when you first walked out of the bathroom. 

Seokmin got ready for bed faster than you, just changing, scrubbing his face, and slapping on some moisturizer, so he’d waited for you on the couch with the movie queued up. His stomach was full, still warm from the ramen you’d shared at his favorite stall, brain still buzzing a bit from the beer, heart feeling fit to burst just from time spent alone with you. He was a bit nervous; you’d never slept over before, and he was going over the list of everything that could make you never want to again. What if he snores, or thrashes in bed, or has a nightmare, or steals all the blankets, or wakes up ha-

The door opened then, and Seokmin was so lost in thought, he’d just about jumped out of his skin before turning to greet you. The smile froze on his face, his eyes growing wide and his breath getting faster, when he caught sight of you. His eyes had traveled from toes to head; socked feet hidden in cushy slippers, cute pajamas draped over your body, the shape of your breasts identifiable through your shirt. Fuck, you weren’t wearing a bra, but Seokmin didn’t let his eyes linger, couldn’t if he wanted to be able to sit next to you for the next two hours without a pillow in his lap. It only got worse the further up his gaze traveled though, catching on the curve of your collarbones and line of your neck, the sheen of your freshly moisturized face, finally landing on the glasses sitting primly on your nose. 

God, Seokmin had felt like he couldn’t breathe; he had no clue you wore glasses, had never seen you in them before, and he’s not sure why but you looked the hottest you ever have to him. Obviously, he’s always thought you were adorable, hot, cute, sexy, beautiful, wonderful, miraculous, but something about seeing you like this got him going. Your pajamas weren’t revealing, looked more comfortable than anything he owned, and your breasts normally didn’t get to him this much, get him this hard, but the combination of it all, plus the glasses perched on your face? Seokmin didn’t stand a chance. 

After what felt like a lifetime to him (but was likely only a few seconds), you’d smiled back sweetly and headed to the kitchen to grab a glass of wine. He had just enough time to compose himself and drape the blanket over his lap before you’d returned, holding out a beer for him in one hand and a glass of white in the other. He’d already brought over all the snacks, arranged them carefully on the coffee table in order of saltiness to sweetness, and you sunk down on the couch with a sigh. You’d sat close to him, nestled in the crook of the arm he’d left up, the fabric of your pajamas brushing against his, and it had taken Seokmin the first quarter of the movie to relax enough to drape his arm around your shoulder. 

That’s where it sits now, his fingers absentmindedly tracing up and down your bicep, your head resting in the crook of his neck. Seokmin loves this, wants to pull you even closer, but he’s not sure if he should yet. He’s still a bit shy about touching you like he wants to, scared of overwhelming or annoying you, so he’s been following your lead, but he can’t wait to get to the stage where you and him both know you’re allowed free reign. Seokmin thinks he’s been pretty obvious that you can touch him however and whenever and wherever you want, but he’s considering telling you just to be sure. 

He’s just opened his mouth to say it when you sit up a bit and look at him, eyelashes fluttering behind your glasses, your lips parted to speak as well. He snaps his mouth closed, teeth clacking together audibly, and stares at you, waiting. 

“Can we rearrange a little bit? I wanna lay down,” you say softly. Seokmin nods swiftly, shuffling forward off the couch a bit and gesturing over his body to indicate you can move him, and you take the offer for what it is. 

Your hands push him to lean back until he’s horizontal, propped up slightly by a pillow and the arm of the couch, and you pull at his legs until he’s lifted them onto the cushions. You climb in between his knees, spreading them slightly and sitting down, and rotate to press your back to his chest. Seokmin leaves his legs bent, cradling your hips between his thighs, as you take hold of one arm to wrap it around your waist and the other to lay over your chest. His elbow bends, resting between your soft breasts, and his fingers wrap around your shoulder, thumb caressing the curve of your neck. He can feel every inch of you, holding you like this, and prays to whoever’s listening that he won’t get hard, knowing you’d be able to feel it. 

The movie plays in the background, but Seokmin can’t hear it, isn’t watching. He’s too focused on you, on watching your expression change from above, his heart fluttering at how your glasses move when your nose scrunches in a laugh. He doesn’t even notice the movie ending, because his eyes have caught on the rise and fall of your chest, fabric shifting over your breasts with the movements, your nipples pebbling just a bit with the friction. He knows he’s getting hard, can feel the blood rushing down and filling up his dick, and the pressure of your body against his is only making everything worse. Seokmin panics a bit, knows there’s no way you can’t feel it, and tries to shift his hips away from you. 

He hasn’t made much progress, only gaining a few inches, when you turn in his arms, tilting your head back to smirk at him. Now his eyes are stuck on the curve of your lips, and when you open them to talk, his gaze flies up to meet yours. Your eyes shine behind the glasses, playful and teasing, and he barely processes it when you say, “ready for bed?”

His cheeks grow hot, embarrassment and want burning a hole in his stomach, and he’s halfway through an apology when you tug the hand wrapped around your waist down to rest on your pelvis. You open your thighs a bit more, and Seokmin thinks he knows where this is going but is terrified to hope. He inches his fingers down, eyes still locked with yours, and waits for you to breathe, “you can touch me.”

His hand slides lower, underneath the elastic of your pajama bottoms, and he can’t stop the buck of his hips beneath you when his palm finds the heat between your legs. 

“Yeah,” Seokmin pants against your forehead, “I think I’m ready for bed.”

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[sluttywoozi]

woozi thighs

i think about them all the time

#✨emily answers✨ #kaili 🪢 #gonna make this my lock screen as soon as the semester ends #em’s ults

[sluttywoozi]

happy 4k (again skdjf, i'm back as promised)!! lately i can't stop thinking about yonghee and begging... idk what he's begging for but i need to see the man beg

hi bestie! you always keep your promises ily 💖💖💖

Rating: M (18+) | WC: ~1k

Warnings: begging, mention of edging, grinding, clit stim, unprotected sex, yonghee cums inside

“You could try asking nicely,” you remind him, your hands planted on his stomach and your cunt hot on his dick. 

“Please!” Yonghee strains, his back arching as he tries to control the bucking of his hips. “Please, just put it in! Just a little, you don’t even have to do the whole thing, ju-just the tip.”

Normally, he’s not one for stuttering, or begging, but you just do something to him. Whenever you take control like this, it lets him feel unhinged, uninhibited, unrestrained. He knows he doesn’t have to worry about anything because you’ll take care of him, and that allows him to ask for exactly what he wants. Or beg for it, he supposes. 

It’s been hours, he thinks. Then again, maybe it’s just been five minutes. Time doesn’t feel real, and neither does Yonghee, not after how long you’ve been edging him. It’s not even that you won’t let him cum, it’s that you won’t let him inside of you. You just keep saying, “Soon,” as if that helps anything, leaving him to writhe beneath you and, fuck, is he tearing up? 

He’s never been this far gone before, but you’ve never held out like this. All you’re doing is grinding on his cock, just shifting your wet cunt back and forth on top of him and gasping every time the head bumps your clit. He could do so much better, could fill you all the way up and get his fingers on you instead, but you’d told him to keep his hands to himself and Yonghee is nothing if not a good listener.

He’s the best listener, so when you tell him, “Beg some more, and maybe I’ll sit down on your cock like you want,” he listens. 

“Baby, please, I’ve been so good. I‘ve stayed so hard for you, haven’t I? And, and I’ve kept my hands to myself, just like you said. Just like you said. Please, just put me in already, I need to feel you.”

“And how, exactly, do I feel?”

“So fucking wet, and hot, like goddamn heaven. When I get to be inside you, I never wanna leave. I wish I could feel you on me all the time, wish I could wake up inside of you and go to sleep inside of you and live inside of you. Fuck baby, your cunt is my favorite place in the world, you know that,” he pants brokenly, his words slurring together just like his thoughts, everything feeling warm and thick and syrupy when you notch the head of his cock at your entrance. 

“Yes, yes, yes, yesyesyesyesyses, thank you, fuck, baby, thank you,” he cries, head spinning, as your cunt swallows his dick. You’re just like he described, soaked and searing, and already, he’s close. But, just as long as you’ve been teasing him, you’ve been teasing yourself, so he grits his teeth and clenches his eyes shut against the intoxicating image of you as you ride him, holding off his orgasm as long as he can. 

He can’t hold off the moans that escape every time you bounce on his cock, though. They echo through the bedroom, his voice shot, and start to sound more and more like whimpers with each thrust. He doesn’t care, can’t care about anything but the feeling of you wrapped around him and hugging him so fucking tightly, and again, his mouth turns into a faucet that can’t be shut off. 

“Please, can I touch you? You’re so perfect, you take me so perfectly, I wanna make you cum, now,” he begs, his fingers twisted up in the sheets and his biceps flexing as he fights to keep his hands above his head. 

“I wanna feel you cum around me, I fucking love how you squeeze me and hold me and keep me, I want you to keep me, please let me-,”

“Yes, Yonghee, you can touch me, do whatever you want,” you cry, your voice breathy and your thighs trembling. Yonghee’s hands fly down to steady them, his fingers digging into the flesh greedily before gliding up to hold your hips in place above him. He fucks up into you, reveling in the sharp gasp torn from your throat, and thrusts one, two, three times, before he loses himself in you. You’re flaming hot around him and he can hear how wet you are with every buck of his hips, and each time he gets to feel you is better than the last. Somehow, he knows there won’t be a threshold. 

When you slide a hand down between your thighs, he pushes it away with one of his own, his thumb slipping into your folds to find your clit. Normally, he loves watching you but he’d said he wants to make you cum and if you help, it doesn’t count. He picks up speed, touching and fucking you harder until you start to pulse around him, and when he hooks his hips up on the next stroke and you keen, he knows he’s got you. He pounds into that spot, his lips twitching into a smirk as you fall apart above him, gushing and clenching around his dick. 

His smirk doesn’t last and neither does he, his head dropping into the sheets as he cums with a groan. He can feel you pulsing, feel your cunt sucking his cum deeper and deeper inside until it has nowhere left to go. Forcing his eyes open, he watches as it pools around your entrance, coating the base of his cock in a ring of white. 

You collapse into him, pressing kisses to his neck and murmuring words he can’t understand into his skin. He thinks he can make out, “Love you,” “You’re so hot,” and “Can I suck your dick tomorrow morning?” 

His responses are, “Love you more,” “You’re hotter,” and “Yes, please.”

Yonghee supposes asking nicely does work. 

#cix fic #yonghee fic #yonghee smut #cix smut #cix fanfic #yonghee fanfic #yonghee x you #yonghee x reader #yonghee x y/n #cix x reader #cix x you #cix x y/n #✨emily writes✨ #✨emily answers✨ #kaili 🪢

[sluttywoozi]

minghao def eats pussy like he lives and dies for it that man is a fiend

he absolutely does, those plump perfect lips work hard af and that sharp tongue is always ready to take you apart

#✨emily answers✨ #kaili 🪢

[sluttywoozi]

hoshee hochi hoshie 🐹🐯

hoshee hochi hoshie 🐹🐯

#✨emily answers✨ #kaili 🪢 #maybe hoshee hochi hoshie will be our live laugh love