#choi seungcheol fluff | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tick-tam · 5 hours ago

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I read this one after the other especially bcuz I liked your other work. I am so happy I checked this out. I love the concept and the execution is even better(both are amazing). The slight ways you inculcate the subtle traits and habits into the story. The love and understanding from all side. This has to be the sweetest mafia story excluding the violence. But still the kids really do bring a certain innocence. I hope everyone reading this decides to give this a try. A wonderful piece.

Finding Yourself - C.SC [Part 3]

🐢Who: Choi Seungcheol (Seventeen) x female reader 🐢What: 18+. Dark themes. Mafia au. Angst. Fluff. Suggestive. Slow burn. Mafia Boss Seungcheol. Single parent Seungcheol. Strangers to friends to lovers. Chan is reader’s little brother. Hansol is Seungcheol’s son. 🐢Word count: 13.7k 🐢Warnings: Characters with autism/ADHD. Selective mutism. Mentions and depictions of being overwhelmed/sensory overload and meltdowns. Mentions of smoking. Hospitalisation and medical stuff that will not be accurate (I have no experience with that other than TV shows). Blood and various injuries. Suggestive content & sexual conversations. Gang typical content: threats, violence, torture (including with water), weapons, injury, blood, morally fucked up characters, mentions of past forced sex work, death. Mentions of being branded. Degrading language, including mental disability slur. Mentions of past child abuse/abusive parents. Mentions of past forced medical sterilisation. Mentions of nightmares. Discussion of past murder-suicide. 🐢Summary:“In an attempt to protect your little brother, you run away from home and the gang your father forced you into as a teenager.

You truly thought you were done with that life. But months later, when members of the Centaurs gang find you and your brother squatting in their property mid gang-fight, they take you back to their headquarters and force you right back into it.

Suddenly, you find yourself living in the home of the leader of the oldest, most famous gang in the entire country, and you very quickly realise that he isn’t the ruthless monster everyone thinks he is.”

Minors do NOT interact, which means reblogging and/or commenting on this story. I WILL block any account that interacts without an age indicator in their bio.

Masterlist Finding Yourself Part 1 – Finding Yourself Part 2

A/N- Here is it! The third and final piece to Finding Yourself. I just want to take the chance real quick to say I genuinely never expected this story to receive the love it has, and I truly appreciate every single one of you who has commented/reblogged. Thank you for supporting this story.

Also, a giant thank you to my beabie @ourdawnishotterthanourday for being so supportive throughout the entire process of writing and posting this, and of course, taking the time to read this all and correct my often-atrocious grammar and dumbass way of speaking being reflected in my writing. Love you bby 💗

Disclaimer: Okay, so I feel like I need to point out that I do have both autism and ADHD, and I have done a lot of research around both during my own discovery/diagnosis periods; even now I’m constantly learning that more aspects of myself are very common in people with autism/ADHD so there is truth behind how the characters are portrayed in this fic. Yet, with that being said, both autism and ADHD are very vast in that you can have a room full of people with both disabilities and yet every single one of those people are incredibly different, which means that the characters in this story who have autism or ADHD are not accurate portrayals of every single person with either. There are 4 clearly stated autistic people in this fic throughout and they are each different personalities and how their disability affects them. So please don’t leave comments or send rude asks accusing me of misrepresentation or anything like that just because a character you’ve watched in a movie isn’t written the same as these characters, thanks.

Accidents happen, especially around children; you’re very aware of that and you’ve always said that you won’t blame anyone if Chan gets hurt due to a genuine accident. But saying it is one thing, remembering the words when faced with the sight that makes your heart momentarily stop beating is another thing entirely.

“Oh, come on, I’m the boss, baby, if I say that you can take five minutes off to make out with me in the backseat of my car, nobody can say shit,” Seungcheol murmurs against your ear, both of his hands firmly holding your hips to keep you pressed back against him, even as you try to return to work.

Roughly twenty minutes ago, you had joined Jihoon out the front of the garage as he took a mid-morning smoke break when Seungcheol happened to arrive to get his oil changed. You had taken charge of the simple task while the pair talked between them about the new cars due to come in any day now, as an upgrade for the current ones used to travel around the estate. The whole time, you could feel Seungcheol’s eyes glued to your ass as you bent over his car, and Jihoon obviously noticed too and wasn’t subtle about leaving you two in peace.

Now, Seungcheol is pressed against your back and trying to convince you to stay with him, which honestly, you want to do. But seeing the big, scary gang boss all whiny and needy just for you is very entertaining; so, you keep wiggling away, only to let him pull you back.

“Jihoon’s my boss,” you remind him with an innocent hum. “You’re my boyfriend.”

Seungcheol grins against your neck. “Yeah, I am,” he confirms, then abruptly turns you to pin between his body and the side of his car. “And you haven’t kissed your boyfriend yet today.”

“Haven’t seen my boyfriend until now,” you point out while running your hands over his arms in his leather riding jacket appreciatively. “Why are you wearing your bike jacket when you’re not going out on it today?”

“Because I’m a considerate boyfriend.” You raise a questioning eyebrow at him. “You very blatantly checked me out when I was wearing this the other day. You like me in this.”

“Like you out of it too.”

“Babe,” he complains. “Don’t wind me up; you know I wanna fuck you a fucking ridiculous amount, but we haven’t had the chance.”

“Almost a whole month together and you haven’t put your dick in me.” You tut disapprovingly. He makes a suffering sound and presses closer to you, while his hands smooth around your body to your back to pull you in at the same time as he gets nearer. “Haven’t even tried to either, but you always stop me.”

“I don’t want our first time to be rushed or anything, baby. I want to lay you out and fucking worship you,” he reasons in a quiet voice while leaning down to brush his nose against yours gently. “I want to be certain we’ll have no interruptions so I can focus entirely on you, like you deserve.”

“That does sound nice,” you concede in a thoughtful murmur that makes him hum approvingly before pecking your lips sweetly. “But also, so does getting fucked in general.” He sighs and slumps while giving you a flat, unimpressed look. “What? You never know what could happen! What if last night in the locker room was the only chance we have?”

“I’m pretty fucking sure I’ll get another chance that doesn’t involve fucking you against the lockers, sweetheart.”

“How sure?”

“Shut up,” he chuckles then tilts in to kiss you, uncaring for who is around or that his phone starts to vibrate in his jacket pocket pressed between your bodies.

Before you can even push him away to tell him to either answer the call or reject it as it’s annoying you, Jihoon bursts out of the garage frantically. “Pearl!” He runs over with his phone against his ear. “You need to get to house right fucking now.”

“What? Why?” You worry, nudging Seungcheol aside so that you can give Jihoon your full attention.

“Squirt’s hurt and-” he doesn’t get to finish talking before you yank open the driver’s door of Seungcheol’s car to start it up.

Seungcheol barely manages to run around and get in the passenger side before you’re pulling away, kicking up dust and gravel in your rush. With one hand, Seungcheol slams his door shut as he calls the gate security for the inner wall with the other hand and tells them to open the gate right now.

When you approach less than a minute later, you don’t have to slow down and can speed right through thanks to his forethought.

As you pull up to the house, the front door pulls open and Hansol’s terrified screaming reaches you despite the car still being tightly closed up.

Neither you nor Seungcheol think before getting out without putting the car into park or the handbrake on, so that you can run over to where Junhui is carrying a small figure towards you. Your whole body comes over cold as you register that it’s Chan in his arms. Your little brother, covered in blood.

Your little brother laid motionless in a hold that should be your own.

Seungkwan is rushing along at Junhui’s side while holding a wad of blood-stained cloth to Chan’s head, with his hands coated in your brother’s blood too. Though you barely register him, or Jeonghan on the porch with a screaming, writhing Hansol in his arms as the little boy tries to follow after his best friend.

All you can see is your precious little brother. Your too pale little brother. Your too still little brother.

“What happened?” You ask weakly as your shaking hands lift to touch Chan’s tiny dangling hand when Junhui passes by you to climb into the backseat of the car once Seungcheol opens the door. Seungkwan tries to follow, but you grab him by his jumper to shove him against the back of the car so he’s facing you. “I said what the fuck happened to my brother, Seungkwan?!” You demand, your gaze burning into his wet, scared one. You don’t know what your expression is doing but it must be something evil as the fear in Seungkwan's eyes grows when he takes in the fury on your face.

“H-he fe-fell down the fr-frame,” he stammers, blood-soaked hands trying to remove your grip on him but you’re holding on too tight, and his hands are too slippery; all he’s doing is smearing blood over your exposed arms. Your little brother’s blood.

“How?! Why the fuck weren’t you watching him and doing your fucking job, huh?!”

“That’s enough, baby, that’s enough,” Seungcheol says in a placating tone as he tries to pull you away from Seungkwan, but he’s being too gentle and refusing to use his strength against you. “I’m sure it was an accident; it wasn’t Kwan’s fault.”

“You wouldn’t fucking say that if it was Hansol!” You snap, shoving Seungcheol away and not paying attention to the fact he stumbles back having not expected you to push him so harshly. You turn back to Seungkwan and find him crying against the car, scared; both of your wrath, and for the little boy he truly utterly adores.

“I-I’m sorry!” He sobs. “I-I didn’t m-mean to le-let him get hurt! I’m sor-sorry!”

“You fucking should be,” you hiss and finally let him go to shove him aside, not caring that he falls to the stones harshly on his hands and knees. You don’t look at him and instead look in the car at Junhui. He nods at you, silently confirming that he’s got Chan safe in the back and allowing you to move to the driver’s door with the knowledge that your brother is as okay as he can be right now.

But before you can pull the door open, Seungcheol grabs you and opens the back door again to sit you inside. “I’m driving,” he declares and shuts the door before getting in the driver’s seat and immediately pulling away, even if his heart yearns to comfort his distraught, screaming son.

At least when he glances in the rearview mirror at the manor while driving away, he sees Seungkwan joining Jeonghan in trying to calm Hansol, and Seungcheol knows that his son is in good hands.

Seungcheol’s gaze flickers to you where you’ve taken Chan into your own arms, looking down at him with tears on your cheeks and whispering to him, pleading for him to wake up and not leave you alone. He presses down harder on the accelerator.

It’s hours before you leave Chan’s room; only once Jisoo has triple checked everything that the other doctors have done to stabilise your still unconscious brother and has run all possible tests, plus some more just to be safe.

Jisoo hadn’t been available when you had arrived at the hospital, he had been in the middle of assisting a surgery on another child, so although you wished the man had been the one to initially look after your brother, someone else had to do it.

Yet the moment Jisoo had checked his phone after the surgery and noticed Seungcheol’s text stating what had happened and the room Chan is in, Jisoo had rushed right over and took over from the others. All those he dismissed were grateful to not have to face S.Coups where the man remained in the corner, watching everything intently and only talking to tell the staff that he’ll foot the bill.

Still, it takes a while longer for you to feel able to leave your brother. Only once he has most of his colour back and Jisoo promises that Chan’s more than stable enough for you to get some air, do you step out of the room and leave Seungcheol to watch over your little brother while you go outside.

You’re barely out of the doors of the building before your legs grow weak as the adrenaline leaves you and takes all strength with it.

It’s quiet at this entrance as it’s not near the garden or main wings, so there’s no-one to watch as you drop to the ground and drag yourself a few metres over to the wall to lean your back against it as tears stream down your cheeks.

Not that you’d care if anyone saw you cry right now; you’re too worried that Chan won’t wake from his head wound, or that when he does, he will be permanently affected in a way that will make his life even harder. You’d do all you could for him, of course, and you’d love him all the same, nothing could make your love for your brother lessen. But you don’t want him to have to suffer more than he has from simply being born to parents who chose to abandon him due to a disability he never asked for.

All you want for him, all you’ve ever wanted for him, is a genuinely happy, healthy life and now you’re not even sure he’ll wake and get the chance to make one.

You have no idea how long you’re sitting there, crying into blood-stained hands, and getting smears of red over your cheeks, before you hear another person.

At first, you think nothing of the footsteps nearing from down the path and ignore it entirely. But then you hear a distinctive click and something hard presses against the top of your head firmly. Instantly, your tears cease as you’re faced with the reality that there’s a gun held to your head.

“Been looking for you,” the newcomer announces. Your blood runs cold as recognition settles in your mind and fear in your heart.

Why did he have to show his face now? You could deal with him at another point, in another place, but not right now. Not when your brother is so vulnerable. Not when you can’t take him and run as far and fast as you can until he’s hidden away somewhere safe.

Slowly, you lower your hands to your sides and start to tilt your head upwards. “Dad,” you mutter when he removes the gun to let you look up at where he’s standing in front of you, backlit by the early evening sun. Even with the light behind him and shadowing his face, you can see his sick grin.

“Oh, so you do know what fucking family you belong to, huh?” He moves aside his suit jacket as he puts the safety back on his gun, to tuck the firearm back in the holster and instead pulls out his favourite knife from the pocket he has sewn into all of his tailor-made suits to allow him to carry the lethal blade.

“How did you find me?” You ask, glancing around quickly and noticing the figures standing on guard at the other end of the path at the side of the building; the only entrance to this little area other than the building itself. You know he must already have men standing inside too, so that nobody walks out into the small yard while he’s here, confronting you with a knife.

“Got men posted all over,” he reminds you as he squats down in front of you and taps the knife against your bent knee mindlessly. “You know that. And I know that you’re the only fucking person other than me and Jisung who has access to as much information as someone’s clearly been giving out lately to have Centaurs fucking destroying my men, one group at a time. Gotta admit, kid, didn’t expect you to turn on me.”

“Then you’re even dumber than I thought.” As soon as the words are out of your mouth, he’s shoved you roughly against the wall and presses the sharp side of his blade against your throat. Even with the minimal pressure he’s using, you can feel your skin splitting under the knife’s edge, your blood trickling down to mix with Chan’s already staining the collar of your overalls.

“Fucking say that again, bitch,” he hisses in warning. “See where it fucking gets you.”

“If you wanted to kill me, you wouldn’t wait around,” you point out, talking carefully to not jog the knife against your throat and risk drawing more blood. “What do you want from me?”

“You are going to come back home and tell me every fucking thing you know about S.Coups and his pathetic gang.”

“What makes you think I know anything?”

“Don’t play innocent with me, bitch. You fooled me for thirty years, letting me think you’re stupid and unable to retain or understand important information, just to fucking stab me in the back and hide away.” He sneers at you and pulls his hand back, only to lift the knife and touch the tip against your left cheek just below your eye. “I didn’t fucking believe you would betray me. I thought family meant something to you, but my men sent me photos of you with S.Coups himself; being held in this hospital by my fucking enemy and I realised you have no fucking family loyalty.”

“You’re no family to me.”

“Mm, I can see that,” he watches as he lets the weight of his knife tilt enough to drag the blade down your tear-sticky, and already blood smeared, skin; scoring a thin line an inch or so long as you try not to wince at the pain of being cut over delicate skin, before he pulls the knife away entirely and looks at you properly. “But I know that idiot fucking child in there is.”

“He used to be important to you too.”

“Then I realised he’s a retarded little fuck and will never be of use to me. Except, to blackmail you.”

“If you hurt him-” you start to warn, glaring at the man as he gets up with an amused chuckle that makes you cut off.

“I won’t, if you come with me. I’ll pull back my men and even forget that the man I want dead is here without any guards and I could easily go in and spray the room with the motherfucker’s blood.”

“He’s a far more competent fighter than you’ll ever be, much younger too,” you goad, only to get his knife stabbed into your shoulder in retaliation. You immediately slap your hand over your mouth to stop the yell of pain leaving and being heard inside the building. The last thing you want is for an innocent person to hear and try to help only to get hurt. You’d rather just grit your teeth and bear the pain alone.

“Keep talking shit and I’ll go up there right fucking now and slit both their throats, and even that skinny fucker with them too. And the pretty doctor doting on your dumbass little brother,” he threatens, pulling the blade from your shoulder slowly, just to prolong the pain of the serrated edge of one side of the blade catching and dragging through the shallow amount of skin and flesh he imbedded it into.

Once the blade is out, you take a second to catch your breath, then lower your hand. “If I leave with you right now without fuss, you swear you’ll have all of your men retreat and not harm them? That you’ll leave them be until Chan has been discharged and is safe at home again?”

“Swear on your mother’s grave,” he retorts with a smirk as his empty hand presses over his equally empty heart.

“You never gave a fuck about her,” you hiss. “Swear on your own mother’s grave, or better yet, your own life; you’re the only person you truly give a fuck about, anyway.”

He sighs but concedes. “I swear on my life that I will pull all my men back and leave the retard alone if you come with me right now; I have no interest in him anyway.”

“And the others? Coups, the other man, and the doctor? You won’t touch them until Chan is home?”

“Yes, yes, whatever, just get your ass up now, I’m done talking here. I fucking hate hospitals.”

“I’m well aware,” you grunt as you get up, doing your best to not use your left arm as you don’t want to exacerbate the shoulder wound you feel oozing blood down your torso. “You’re the reason I almost died from a chest infection.”

“You got better.”

“No thanks to you.”

“Get over it, you’re a grown ass woman.”

“And I was eight fucking years old then!” You exclaim as you reluctantly take a step forward to walk at his side down the path. You’re glad that the weakness has left your body now, either thanks to the rest and air, or that there’s a much more imminent threat hanging over not just Chan’s head and forcing your body and mind to toughen back up to endure it and do what you need to.

As you get into the car with your father, you can only hope that Seungcheol will do what he once promised to and look after Chan without you around.

It’s strange being back in your family home. Strange to be marched past men you once worked with and trained alongside, only to now be strapped to a chair in the basement as your father watches his right-hand man pull out all the stops to torture you for information that you refuse to give.

“This is fucking ridiculous,” Jisung grunts when he gives up trying to get you to tell them how to work around the Centaur estate’s security in hopes that Vultures can sneak inside and slaughter the members in their sleep, something at least half of them will be doing right now.

You have no idea what the time is exactly, there isn’t a clock down here, or a window to see the progression of the sun and moon in the sky, but you know it’s been hours.

Vultures are known for their sick joy of slowly pulling apart their victims; it’s part of the reason for the name, after all. The other part is the tendency to cause havoc amongst other gangs to have them do most of the hard work, then swoop in at the last minute and take over. Like a vulture circling a struggling animal in the wild only to finish the job when the animal is too weak to go on. It’s a fitting moniker for your father, you think.

Although the man is more than capable of getting his hands dirty, he’s proven that many times, he often lets his right-hand man do most of the work and only steps in to finish the job if he deems it worth his time.

Up until now, he hasn’t deemed you worth his time.

Something about seeing the man remove his jacket, gun holster and shirt to leave him in his plain white tank top makes a sick sense of pride travel through you. For your dad to remove not just his suit jacket, but his shirt too so that they don’t get dirty, you know it means he has no intention of going easy on you and deems it necessary to get as dirty as possible. You’ve only seen him remove his shirt to work someone once before, and that hadn’t ended well for his victim.

You know that you won’t come out of this in one piece, if you even come out of it at all; but you don’t let that scare you, only strengthen your resolve to not give him a single piece of information about Seungcheol and his gang. There’s only so much torture he can force you through before death is the next step. At this point, you fear death far less than the thought of putting the family you’ve been making for yourself the past months at risk. It’s a no brainer, but your father is too pissed off to realise that.

“You trained me well, Uncle Jisung,” you tease as blood drips down your body from various open wounds, saliva, and blood blending together and spilling from your open mouth, nose too broken and swollen to be possible to breathe through. Though you think that maybe your jaw might be broken too, or at least fractured, based on the searing pain when you talk. Still, you persist.

“She’s right, you know,” Jisung comments as he drops down to sit on the stool your father previously occupied to watch.

Now, your dad is standing by the rack to decide which tool to use against you. There are a few new items hanging on display compared to when they took turns forcing you through torture training as a teen, but you’re not worried; you’ll withstand it all for the sake of those you love.

It’s only now, as you feel the sudden burning pain of a heated blade carving into your palm and sealing wounds shut to make sure they scar under your father’s guidance, that you realise that you do love the group of men and the little boy who have shown you what it means to be a family.

You love Mingyu for being the first person to ever truly be kind to you and Chan.

You love Junhui and his tendency to feed everyone at any chance he gets while cracking stupid jokes.

You love Seungkwan and his ability to remain calm even when Hansol has his energy bouts and Chan gets overloaded and has a meltdown. You regret how you treated him earlier and hope that he doesn’t hold it against you; you’d hate for the last time you saw him to taint his memories of you forever.

You love Jihoon and his straightforward method of talking and teaching you everything you’ve never before been allowed to know about mechanics and every tool he can get his hands on.

You love Seokmin and Soonyoung, for their endless optimism and joint skill of making everyone laugh.

You love Wonwoo, Minghao, Jisoo and Jeonghan, even if you don’t see them that often; but they’re always such gentle, supportive presences when you do, even with Jisoo and Jeonghan’s joint endless teasing of Seungcheol.

You love Hansol so fully that he was the first to enter your heart and make you realise that you want to extend your family to include him. You love how he has been the single best thing to happen to Chan in, perhaps, his entire life, and you know he will continue to be. You love him for being so gentle, yet not condescending, as he guides your little brother through life. You love him for loving Chan, and you truly hope with everything in you that the pair will always remain together and have one another to rely on.

And you love Seungcheol, maybe not in the romantic sense yet, but you think if given the chance, you would’ve fallen head over heels for the beautiful man with a heart so big and warm that you’ve never felt like there isn’t space for you there. You wish that you have more time with him, more time to learn how to love him with everything in you, but you don’t. You’ve never been a person to have regrets, but you think you will end your life with just one before a new day dawns.

You don’t scream as the knife drags through your skin; it truly doesn’t hurt that much, not when you think the pain centre of your brain has mostly shut down after these hours of torture. It hurts more to see the winged V being crudely carved into your skin as if the old brand on your thigh isn’t enough to prove the years of pain and suffering forced onto you from the man who was supposed to love and cherish you more than anyone in the world.

“I think she’s done,” Jisung comments, watching with a frown as your eyes glue unseeingly to your palm with no sign that you’re being carved and burned at once in the rest of you. “She’s shutting down, boss.”

“I’ll wake her the fuck up,” your dad seethes and throws the knife aside before walking behind you to the back of the room.

You don’t bother trying to follow him with your eyes, you can hear him running the tap and the water filling the bucket. You know what’s coming, yet when he stands in front of you and throws the bucket of ice-cold water at your face hard enough it stings, you’re still shocked by the temperature and sudden liquid.

Before you can finish gasping from the onslaught, he pulls your head back by his fist in your hair and shoves a soaked cloth into your mouth; forcing you to inhale freezing water, sucking it into your lungs and causing your body to shake and shudder as your lungs fight to expel the water yet only succeeding in gaining more cold liquid from the cloth. It’s not much water at all, only a little really, but you can’t breathe without dragging more droplets into your lungs and giving yourself no relief.

You try to force yourself to stop breathing, to calm down and press the cloth out of your mouth with your tongue, but you can’t. Your body is panicking from being unable to breathe, and you can’t tilt your head up with your dad’s fist in your hair, leaving your throat at an angle so awkward that you can’t even swallow to get the water down the correct pipe.

Just when you think you’re about to pass out as your vision grows blurrier than your facial and head injuries already have it, your dad lets you go and rips the cloth from your mouth.

Immediately, you double over as you try to suck oxygen into your lungs while drooling saliva and blood over the already blood-stained concrete between your spread feet.

“Now,” your father starts as he condescendingly pats the back of your head too harshly. “You’re going to tell me every fucking thing you know about Choi Seungcheol and his Centaurs, or you’re going to spend the rest of your life fighting for breath.” He walks away to grab the bucket from the floor ready to refill while you try your best to get enough breath to respond.

The moment your lungs are no longer screaming for oxygen, and you can breathe somewhat normally, you start to laugh and slowly look up, gaze locking with Jisung’s where the man is staring at you as if you’re some kind of unidentifiable creature he wishes he can escape and never see again.

“What the fuck?” He whispers. “Boss…I really don’t think she’s human.”

“Stop with your fucking bullshit!” Your dad exclaims and throws the first thing to hand, which isn’t the bucket of water, at Jisung. The man doesn’t move and accepts the wooden scrubbing brush to his head without complaint knowing that your dad would certainly punish him if he tried to dodge. You all learned that a long time ago and wear scars for proof.

“Just let me exorcise her, just once. You should’ve let me when she was a kid and then all this wouldn’t be happening,” Jisung reasons a little desperately, making you laugh harder.

“She’s not a fucking demon, I’d prefer she was one than a fucking retard,” your father grunts while resoaking the cloth with water from the bucket as he approaches you.

As he tips your head back ready to shove the dripping cold rag into your mouth, you grin as best as you can at him when your whole face hurts to move in any way. “How does it feel to have a retard be the reason half your gang’s dead, Vulture?” You taunt.

Just as he roughly presses the cloth to your open mouth, there’s a noise so loud from somewhere upstairs that all three of you look towards the ceiling in shock.

“Was that an explosion?” Jisung mumbles as he gets up to his feet, then steps back while ducking down instinctively when there’s another explosion, followed by the sound of gunfire. “Fuck, we’re under attack.”

“Well don’t just fucking stand there, go find out who dares to come to my home!” Your dad demands, thankfully removing the cloth from your mouth as he uses his hand to gesticulate.

“I don’t need to go outside to know,” Jisung declares and turns to look at you. “They’re here for her.”

“No, there’s no fucking way S.Coups would launch an attack for a retarded whore,” he argues and lets you go to walk over and shove Jisung towards the door. “Stop being a pussy before I strap you to that chair and let her get her own back. You trained her yourself, remember.”

“Yes, sir,” Jisung concedes and rushes out of the room, making sure to lock it behind him to protect his boss as much as possible without being present.

“If you believe his words, you’re as stupid as I initially thought,” your dad taunts as he moves over to his belongings to retrieve his gun from the holster and tuck it into his waistband ready to use if the fight makes it down here.

You know that a part of him must think that there’s weight to Jisung’s assumption, that your father also believes, even a little, that Seungcheol has launched an attack on the Vulture’s headquarters to get you back. The realisation that he’s scared makes you laugh.

“Oh, daddy dear,” you sneer through blood coated lips. “I don’t think I’ve seen you scared before.”

“I’m not fucking scared. There’s no fucking way it’s Centaurs, just some pissy little gang with too much fire power for their own good. My men will deal with it while I finish what I started here.” He pulls the stool away from the wall and over to your side before sitting with the bucket between his feet to soak the cloth in the freezing water.

“Better make it count, you’re on limited time,” you remind and drop your head back to stare up at the ceiling.

He stares at you for a moment too long; the silence makes you glance at him and notice the growing fear on his features. He knows that if you’ve accepted him causing you to almost pass out with water tickling your lungs, that he truly is at the end of his time, both in regard to getting information from you, and his life.

“Cold feet, daddy?” You taunt, smirking when you hear yelling and gunfire getting louder, getting closer. “Tick tock, there’s no numbers left on the clock, time to make a decision.”

“If only I knew you’re this fucking tough and relentless, I would’ve rated you higher,” he mutters in stubborn admittance.

“If you had rated me higher from the start, things would be very different right now.”

“How different? You would’ve remained and not sold me out?”

“Only if you rated Chan the same.”

“That boy is fucking worthless; the sooner you learn and accept that, the better. You could be something special with your resilience and skills without him weighing you down.”

“Finally admitting that I’m useful for more than just seducing your enemies into a false sense of security?” You scoff a laugh. “Too fucking little too late, old man. I know my worth, always have despite how much you tried to literally beat me down, and it’s more than you’ll ever be worth.”

He glares at you. “You’ll never inherit all this; everyone who knows you’re my daughter is too loyal to me to let you take over.”

“Why would I want anything to do with this poor excuse of a gang when I’m by the side of the Choi Centaur?”

“So, you admit it, you’ve fucking sold yourself to him like some cheap, nasty whore.”

“No. He doesn’t own me in any way, but he’s accepted me and Chan entirely. He’s shown us what it’s like to have a real family.”

“He’s not your family, he’s not blood.”

“Blood means nothing when it’s spilled by the hands of those who are supposed to love you.”

With all of your injuries, you don’t hear anyone nearing the room, but your father clearly does as he pulls out his gun and aims at the door before there’s a loud bang and the door rattles in the doorframe.

“Time’s up,” you whisper tauntingly and only laugh when he brings his hand around to hit you hard enough in the face with the side of his gun that your head jerks back and your chair tips a little before falling forward again with a loud clunk. And something loosens.

While your father moves forward slightly and steadies the gun in both hands with eyes glued to the door, you blink through the blood trickling into your eyes and lean forward to peer down at your feet. It takes a lot of concentration and sheer will power before you can see clearly enough to realise that your limbs are no longer tied to the chair legs. The chains are still circling your ankles and pooling around your feet, but they’re no longer attached to the wooden legs of the chairs.

The pounding on the door doesn’t stop; someone is clearly trying to break it down, and judging by the way you can spot your father shuffling his weight from foot to foot just in front of you, he can tell that whoever is on the other side is close to getting in.

Part of you hopes it’s Seungcheol, but the other part of you hopes that it’s not; you don’t want him to be here risking his life when he’s got two young boys to look after.

Though you know that logically, Seungcheol will be right here with his men if this truly is the Centaurs skipping a whole bunch of steps in the plan that the two of you had made to destroy the Vultures. You both had wanted to make sure that by the time your father is dealt with, there is no chance of his underlings rebuilding up what he once had, so Seungcheol has been making carefully curated moves for the past two months to be thorough.

Although storming the Vultures’ headquarters and home was never part of the plan, you think it can be forgiven if Seungcheol has made the order to be ruthless with whoever they cross paths with and leave no man alive by the time the dust settles.

You wish you can see the look on your father’s face, that you can see the realisation setting in that it’s over for him as the door crashes to the floor to reveal the seething head of the Centaurs.

“Get the fuck away from her,” Seungcheol demands while stalking into the room. He’s covered in blood, some of which you can tell is his own based on the injuries on his body, but he’s upright and able to go on, so you don’t let yourself focus on it and worry. You need to keep your attention down on your own task, otherwise you fear you will lose the last grip on your consciousness that you’ve been fighting to hold onto since your father’s gun clad hand collided with your face.

“Come closer and I’ll shoot,” your father warns.

“Fucking do it, I’ll still rip your fucking throat out,” Seungcheol growls threateningly and steps closer, yet stops frozen in his tracks when your father moves his gun into his left hand and points it at you blindly.

You only notice because the barrel suddenly comes into your vision where you’re leaning forward with your head bent to watch as you wiggle your bare feet out from the chains as quietly as you can to not draw your father’s attention. The sudden weapon in your face makes you lean up a little and raise your head to look at your father, who is still looking at Seungcheol, and then the man himself, who is staring at you with pain and fear on his features; not for himself, but for you.

You don’t know what you look like, but your body has reached a cold numbness that you know means that you’re only conscious out of sheer spite; the moment you’re done, you know you’ll pass out. And frankly, at this point with all the injuries that have made a home of your body, you think you’ll be lucky to wake any time soon, if at all.

Although it takes more energy than you’d like to expel when you have other things to be doing, you do your best to smile at Seungcheol reassuringly. Somehow, it only makes his expression worsen.

With a little frown at your attempts to soothe the man failing, you turn your head back down, both to focus and because honestly, even holding your head up is too much for you to handle any longer. Your energy and strength are rapidly depleting.

You don’t have much time left.

“Just-just let her go, you’ve hurt her enough,” Seungcheol suddenly pleads, reluctantly looking back at your father. “Please, just don’t hurt her anymore.”

“Oh, are you weak for this dumb whore, S.Coups?” Your father mocks, gun wavering as he laughs.

You hear Seungcheol respond; hissing at your father about something or other; you assume he’s defending you, but everything sounds too muffled all of a sudden that you couldn’t make sense of his words even if you tried.

It’s now or never. There’s no time left.

Even though there’s still some chain left around your swollen ankles, you lift your legs as quickly as you can, ignoring that the rattling will alert the man in front of you of your movements, and bring your soles down against the back of his knees, knocking his legs out and sending him to his knees with what you’re sure would be a sickening crunch if you could hear clearly.

As it is, all you hear is a muffled bang before your legs wrap around him, to force his neck into the crook of your right knee and then your other free limb traps your own leg to keep your grip tight to choke the man.

There’s another bang and you see blood spurt up from your left knee, making you realise that both bangs were gunshots. As Seungcheol drops down in front of you to wrestle the gun from your father’s grasp, you rapidly look him over in concern as best as you can when your vision is rapidly turning black and your head spins.

“Baby,” he breathes out upon turning to you, tossing the gun away and pressing his hands against your stomach with wide eyes of fear. You blink at him and try to discern what he says next but he’s talking too fast, and a buzzing is growing in your ears. He removes one hand from your stomach to untangle your legs, prompting you to look at the lifeless figure with the bleeding hole in his head.

You hadn’t even heard the bang of Seungcheol shooting your father, ending the life of the man who spent three decades making your life a living hell. You always assumed you’d feel something the day your father died, relief, joy; but you don’t feel anything right now.

You let Seungcheol move your legs until your father’s corpse drops to the ground, and then Seungcheol is kneeling directly in front of you and pressing on your stomach again. Your head drops heavily to look at what he’s doing, and you now realise that the first gunshot must’ve entered you, even if you didn’t notice it. You’re too numb after everything to feel the pain, even now as you see your blood spilling out over Seungcheol’s hands.

“Oh,” you slur and force your head up with the last of your strength to ask the one thing you need to know before succumbing. “Chan?”

Seungcheol responds, opens his mouth to talk but you can’t hear a word he’s saying. His eyebrows furrow with worry before he nods rapidly, telling you that Chan is okay.

You just about manage a relieved smile before you let go.

The Choi estate hasn’t been this quiet in a long time.

The Centaurs haven’t faced such loss in so long that it touches every inch of the estate; from the entrance gates to the centre of the manor, no-one is left unaffected.

Although the Centaurs came out on top and entirely wiped out the Vultures two weeks ago, nobody has been able to celebrate the win when their numbers have dwindled enough to leave homes empty and rooms unoccupied all over the estate.

News of the battle at the Vultures’ estate had spread quickly, and although it’s not hidden information of the losses suffered amongst Centaurs, there has been an added respect and fear for the surviving gang members.

Seungcheol had gone in guns blazing and eradicated a giant pest from the country, not just the city. Vultures had their grimy talons all over the country and now, although Seungcheol hadn’t managed to send his men out to all of them to deal with them before the battle, nobody has heard anything about any Vulture since; and many have even switched sides to other gangs in hopes of gaining protection from Centaurs knowing that should they remain in their affiliation with Vultures, they won’t have their lives for much longer.

Many gifts and signs of support have arrived at the Choi estate over the past two weeks, but none make it to the manor; with Seungcheol not showing his face on the estate once in the two weeks, nobody has had the permission to send anything to the manor.

Although Mingyu is in charge when Seungcheol isn’t around, he hasn’t wanted to deal with any of that and has been entirely focused on handling everything for the gang itself; arranging funerals, overseeing the still ongoing work, supporting the men as best as he can with a guilt in his heart for not having been at the battle, even if it had been Seungcheol’s orders for Mingyu to remain and protect the estate. Mingyu thinks he’s the wrong person to comfort the men who returned when he hadn’t seen the bloodshed and faced injury himself.

At least Wonwoo, who had been at the battle, returned with only a few injuries and has been standing as Mingyu’s right-hand man, while the tall man is the pseudo leader until their true leader can face coming back when he saw so much loss that day. When he is still suffering so much.

They hope and send out prayers to deities that they don’t believe in that their leader will return to them soon; his son has been crying every day, begging for his father and little brother back while they can only do their best to soothe him and try to convince Seungcheol via call to come home, at least to hug Hansol.

But he doesn’t. He makes sure to tell Hansol that he loves him, and he will be home as soon as he can, but it’s not possible yet. Then he doesn’t answer another call until the same time the next day just to talk to his son and tell him he loves him. It’s a small relief, but a relief all the same that Seungcheol isn’t too gone that he won’t talk to his son.

It’s better than nothing, at least.

After a month, the Choi estate has healed enough that things are almost back to normal, at least as normal as they can be without the Choi Centaur around.

He came back once, just to fetch Chan’s turtle while Hansol was in a fitful sleep curled up in between Seungkwan and Jeonghan in his father’s bed. Seungcheol hadn’t possessed the strength to even look in on his son as he knew he wouldn’t be able to leave if he did, and he couldn’t risk it.

But now, after a month of watching Hansol get worse and worse with every passing day; refusing to take his medication and vitamins, barely eating or sleeping, and only talking to sob out pleas to bring his family back, Jisoo can’t let it continue and picks him up one day, even with the boy weakly fighting the hold, and carries him to his car.

“What are you doing? You know we can’t take him anywhere,” Seungkwan worries, but he’s not stopping Jisoo and climbs into the back of the car at Hansol’s side to strap him in while the boy cries and tries to go back into the house to wait for his father to return, but he’s too weak to do anything more than slap his hands against Jisoo’s strong arms as he’s held in place for Seungkwan.

“I’m doing my job as his godfather,” Jisoo grunts and moves back to shut the door and get into the driver’s seat.

“It’s okay, Solie, it’s okay, Uncle Soo is taking us somewhere. It’ll be fine, we trust Uncle Soo, don’t we?”

“Bu-but d-daddy!” Hansol wails, scrambling at the door but Jisoo has already put the child lock on so Hansol’s little fingers tugging at the handle doesn’t do a thing.

“I’m taking you to him,” Jisoo informs as he drives through the grounds.

Hansol immediately falls quiet and looks at Jisoo with wide, wet eyes. “T-to daddy?”

“Yes. It’s about time he sees what he’s doing to you; I should’ve done this already.” The doctor sighs regretfully, guilt heavy in his exhausted tone. “And I’m going to make you healthy again, okay? But you need to promise me you’ll eat, Sol.”

“I wi-will! I j-just wan-wanna see my da-daddy,” Hansol sobs.

“I know, buddy, I know.”

Seungkwan wraps his arms around the little boy to comfort him for the rest of the drive out of the estate and through the city.

Seungkwan doesn’t recognise the building they pull up to and grows confused yet remains quiet and simply gets out to follow Jisoo inside as the doctor carries the little boy.

It’s not until they’ve passed a few security checks and Jisoo has signed them in, that Seungkwan realises that this building is a very private hospital; so private that he didn’t even know that it exists until now.

Although Jisoo works at the main public hospital, he clearly has experience here as the staff greet him as Dr Hong and he walks confidently through the halls to a wing that is full of men who are somewhat familiar to Seungkwan. Some are in hospital wear and recovering from various injuries, and some are wearing dark clothing with obvious weapons attached to their bodies as they patrol the halls and stand alert at various intervals throughout the wing on guard.

“Who-who are they?” Hansol whispers, clutching Jisoo tighter as many of the men look in surprise at the little boy, clearly knowing who he is yet not having expected to see him here, before looking away respectfully.

“They’re part of daddy’s team; they’re here to guard everyone,” Jisoo answers without slowing as he leaves the busiest part of the wing behind and walks further away from the various men until the section that he stops in only has a couple of guards at the entrance of the hall at the opposite end. Jisoo puts Hansol down, then knocks on the door in front of them before sliding it open and leading the pair into the large room.

“What are you doing?” Seungcheol mutters from where he’s sprawled on one of the two hospital beds in the room with Chan laid on his chest fast asleep. His wide eyes dart from Jisoo to his son, then back and forth as Hansol rushes over, already sobbing and calling for them while tries to climb up. “Sol.”

“Daddy!” Hansol wails and crawls over to lay against him with his arm over Chan’s back to hug them both once Jisoo lifts the boy up onto the bed.

Seungkwan remains back, almost by the closed door, knowing that it’s not his place to be here and he certainly can’t go against his boss’ strict orders to keep Hansol at the manor and not disturb Seungcheol. But Jisoo has always been perhaps the only person, until you, who can dismiss Seungcheol’s words where Hansol is concerned.

Jisoo has been Hansol’s godfather since stepping into his life and it’s a position that Seungcheol respects too much, even if he’s not religious, that he will accept Jisoo’s actions knowing they’re what the doctor truly believes is best for the boy.

“Look at your son, Seungcheol,” Jisoo demands and Seungcheol winces, already staring at his son with pained, guilty tears in his eyes and his hand gripping onto his small body as tightly as he can without risking hurting the slim boy. “This is your fault; he’s not eating or sleeping because of you.”

“I’m so sorry,” Seungcheol whispers brokenly.

“You need to come home.”

“I can’t,” Seungcheol replies as he looks over to the other bed where you’re laid perfectly still as your body fights to heal while your mind refuses to come back. He doesn’t know if you will return to him, but he knows that Chan won’t leave your side and as the only adult the boy truly trusts, he can’t leave, as much as he wants to be with his son.

You trust Seungcheol to do right by your brother and he can’t let you down. He needs to show you that Chan has recovered from his head injury, and although the boy has withdrawn a lot and mostly just stares at you silently in wait for you to wake, he’s alive and healthy. You need to wake up and see that.

Seungcheol knows that if he went home and saw Hansol, he wouldn’t want to let him go. Now that he’s tucked up against him and already almost asleep just from being in his father’s safe hold and able to see Chan sleeping safely under his own hold, Seungcheol knows that he’s not going to be able to let him leave. He’s missed him too much; his heart has ached too much, but now it hurts a little less seeing Hansol.

Though the gaunt condition of his son does grip Seungcheol’s insides with guilt, more than he already feels from just knowing his son was suffering without him.

He knew it was an impossible decision to make, staying to support you and Chan, or going home to his son. He had tried to be logical about it; that Chan only has you and him to trust so much, whereas Hansol has ten men ready to do everything and anything to make him happy. But seeing Hansol’s condition now, Seungcheol wonders if he should’ve let his heart win, not his head.

“Get another bed in here and go get Hansol’s favourite blanket and supplies for him,” Seungcheol orders, looking at Jisoo and then Seungkwan, who nods quickly and backs out of the room.

“Finally, you’re not being a giant dumbass,” Jisoo sighs in relief and reaches out to squeeze Seungcheol’s arm in approval. “I’m getting him hooked up though, I don’t know the last time he ate a decent meal.”

“Thank you, Jisoo, seriously.”

“Just being a good godfather.”

“And friend.”

“Yeah, but I’m always that, I think it’s time I focus more on the godfather duties like I should’ve been. I should’ve brought him here much sooner.”

“Maybe, but I don’t think I would’ve accepted it so easily. I fucked up here, big time.”

“I think no matter what you chose to do, you would’ve fucked up. Abandoned one child for the sake of the other when neither deserves that and both need you.”

“Yeah,” Seungcheol tips his head back to stare at the ceiling and blink away the tears that trickle down his temples onto the pillow. “What do I do?” He whispers desperately, broken. “I-I can’t make the boys live in this room for the rest of their lives, but Chan won’t leave her and honestly, I don’t want to either.”

“It’s another impossible situation. But have faith, her vitals have been stable for a week straight; she’s breathing on her own and I have a feeling it’s only going to get better.”

“If you’ve jinxed it, I’m going to make you pay,” Seungcheol promises while turning his head to look at Jisoo, who just chuckles and pats his arm again. “I mean it.”

“Typical of you to only be superstitious when it suits you,” Jisoo tuts as he turns and heads to the door. “I’ll get that bed, and everything ordered, then I will be back.”

“Thank you.” Seungcheol watches Jisoo leave before he turns his head to kiss each slumbering boy on the head, then turns his head even further to look over at you. “Please wake up soon, sweetheart. I need you; our family needs you.”

It’s not dramatic when it happens, there are no racing monitors, no sudden jolts, just a flutter of eyes and a steady chest.

Everything aches and you’re oddly tired for just waking up, but you feel okay, all in all.

The sound of soft giggling draws your attention to where the two boys are sitting on the bed a few metres on your right. Hansol is reading to Chan, using all of his best voices and dramatic gestures to act out the story he’s reading from the book. Chan is utterly entranced, staring at Hansol with his mouth open in awe and big eyes glued to the older boy.

You can see the scar on Chan’s forehead, a scar that wasn’t there the last time you saw him conscious, and it makes you frown as you recall the condition you last saw your little brother in. Though, at least he’s awake and seems like his normal self now, judging by the sparkle in his eyes as he watches Hansol make fishie faces at him while pretending to swim.

Suddenly, Hansol glances past Chan to you and straightens with a gasp while dropping the book on his lap. “Aunt Pearl!”

Chan spins around and shrieks at the sight of you looking at them. He tries to rapidly get down but luckily, Seungcheol is already on his feet between the beds despite having been dozing on the other bed across the room until Hansol’s exclamation, so he grabs Chan before he can fall and carefully deposits your brother onto your bed to allow Chan to scramble forward to hug you tight.

“Careful, Squirt,” Seungcheol reminds, gently pulling back Chan with one hand as he stops Hansol climbing onto your bed with the other. But you weakly bat Seungcheol’s right hand away to pull Chan as close as humanly possible with the monitors attached to your body.

“I wanna hug her too!” Hansol whines.

“There isn’t space, she isn’t well enough to have you both on her right now,” Seungcheol reminds and picks up his son to hold and hug himself to try and comfort the seven-year-old’s sad frown away.

You want to argue with Seungcheol and tell him to hand over Hansol too, but you’re already feeling too weak just from wrapping your arms around Chan and you know you really don’t have the strength any longer. You lace your fingers together behind Chan so that your arms won’t fall when your eyes flutter closed, and sleep takes you seconds later.

“Aunt Pearl!” Hansol exclaims in worry, trying to lean forward towards you, but Seungcheol holds him tighter.

“She’s fine, she’s fine,” Seungcheol promises, putting one hand to Chan’s back when he starts to writhe and make distressed noises seeing your eyes closed again upon leaning up. “She fell asleep. Her body and mind need lots of rest to get better. Look, the monitors say everything is fine,” he reminds them while pointing to the monitors above the bed on the wall, prompting both boys to look up.

After spending the past two weeks in this room, they are both familiar enough with those monitors to know what they should look like, and seeing them now, they both relax.

“She’s just sleeping?” Hansol checks.

“Yeah, she’s just sleeping. How about you finish reading that book, yeah?” Seungcheol suggests as he puts Hansol down on the bed the boy has been sharing with Chan for two weeks now. Though he doesn’t try to remove Chan from you and instead carefully rearranges him into a position that he hopes won’t cause you any problems while still allowing Chan the range of motion to look at Hansol.

As Hansol picks the story back up from where he got to, Seungcheol climbs up onto the bed behind him to lay down with his gaze glued to you. Relief fills his chest from seeing you awake for the first time in six weeks, since he saw you pass out in the basement as he tried to stop the wound in your stomach from bleeding out.

There’s hope mixed in with that relief filling his body, hope that this means you will be able to return home soon; return to where you all belong, together.

Almost three months after last stepping foot in the manor, you finally return, though not on foot, much to your dismay.

Although you can walk, you’ve been put on rest by the doctors, Jisoo included, until your knee recovers more. You can’t truly blame them considering the fact you had been shot through it and your kneecap shattered to the extreme that they entirely replaced it with a synthetic one, leaving you with a consistent strange sensation in your knee and general constant aching they said may never leave. But still, you really wish you didn’t have to be wheeled around.

Though, having your strong boyfriend carry you when you refuse to use your wheelchair is a happy little advantage you discover over the first few days being home. You’re pretty sure that he knows you refuse on purpose sometimes, just so that he’ll pick you up in his strong hold and move you to where you want to go with a little smirk on his face as your hands appreciatively smooth over his bulging arms.

Part of you thinks that whatever happened to your head that day in the basement has seriously altered your brain chemistry because your libido has never been so active. What makes it worse is that even though Seungcheol is around the house more than he ever has been to keep an eye on you; while also making up for lost time with his son, he still refuses to have sex with you.

So, you endlessly pine, admittedly not so silently when you pout at him whenever he pulls away from a kiss too soon, but it falls on deaf ears, so you may as well be complaining to a brick wall.

Despite the never-ending simmering in your veins, you get better and better with every passing day.

But Chan, on the other hand, seems to be suffering in your place.

Since the four of you returned home, you’ve been sleeping in Seungcheol’s bed with him and the two boys in Hansol’s room. At first, all four of you had shared the bed, but then the boys moved into Hansol’s room and always seem to be so excited to share the bed and have endless sleepovers.

Yet, every single night, Chan wakes a few hours after going to sleep; screaming and writhing in fear that only settles once Seungcheol has fetched him and brought him to tuck up against your chest. Your tear-stained brother falls back to sleep only once he’s gently patted his hands over your face as if to check it’s really you and has his head resting on your chest to be lulled into slumber by your healthy heartbeat.

Come morning, Chan never remembers what happened or how he got to the bed, or Hansol sleepily joining at his father’s side not wanting to be alone and also to make sure that Chan is okay. So, as much as you want to ask Chan what happens, what his nightmares are about, you can’t because he truly doesn’t remember. Though, you think it’s pretty obvious that they’re always about losing you.

Seungcheol had told you that Chan had a lot of nightmares at the hospital; some were really bad and Seungcheol couldn’t calm him no matter what he tried, even putting Chan at your side hadn’t helped. So Seungcheol could only pace, bouncing Chan in his arms and rubbing his back like an unsettled baby until the boy wore himself out and passed out on Seungcheol’s shoulder.

Your heart aches for your little brother, and you wish you could do something to help, but other than giving him sleeping medication to make him sleep deeply enough that he isn’t plagued by nightmares, which is something you don’t want to do if you can help it, the only option is therapy. Though with Chan’s refusal to be far from either you or Seungcheol at any given point, you don’t think it’s a viable option. Plus, Chan has stopped talking to even Hansol, so you know that there’s not a chance in hell he’ll talk to a stranger.

You’re at a loss and can only hope that with time, your brother’s fear of losing you will lessen, and he can go a single night not at your side without waking in petrified tears.

At least Hansol is back to himself now, entirely healthy and sleeping as best as he can when Chan wakes him almost every night screaming. But at least he sleeps in on those mornings, both boys do, to catch up on the sleep they missed overnight.

Those few hours with the boys fast asleep morning and night are the only times you and Seungcheol get to be entirely alone, which doesn’t make much of a difference as mostly, you simply carry on like normal, just with more kissing as you don’t have to worry about the boys seeing.

But sometimes, it means Seungcheol wakes you with soft, minty kisses to your cheek and coaxes you into the bathroom half asleep where you let him brush your teeth then strip you down to place into the large bathtub of perfectly warm, soothing scented water.

At first, he had been shy about stripping with your sleepy, yet very interested, gaze stuck on his body. But after you’d pointed out that he’s now seen you naked many times from being the one to wash you at the hospital for almost three months, he sucked it up and quickly got naked to join you in the tub to hold you and enjoy the peaceful early mornings with you.

Of course, you had tried to initiate some physical intimacy a few times, but by now, you’ve given up and just enjoy the calm of a quiet house with him as you softly talk about things that neither of you think to ask or bring up at other times.

It’s like these mornings in the tub leaning into one another open you both up, heart and mind, and allow you to discuss topics that are usually silently left out of sight. Mostly, you talk about your pasts, your families, and the fucked-up shit you’ve both done being raised in ruthless gangs. Comparing scars both figuratively and literally.

“This one,” Seungcheol murmurs, tracing his fingers over a scar barely visible behind your left ear.

“Mm, I don’t know,” you admit; a worryingly common response for both of you when the other questions scars that you can’t recall the root of. You both have too many scars, too much trauma to remember it all clearly. “How old does it look?”

Seungcheol hums thoughtfully and leans in closer to peer at the scar. “Very.”

“Maybe from torture training.”

“I hate that they did that to you.”

“So did they, in the end. The very thing they taught me is the same thing that made me able to withstand all the shit they did that day in the basement.”

“They didn’t even want you, why did they fucking punish you like that for leaving?” He grunts and nuzzles into your messily tied up hair for his own comfort. He does that a lot; gets closer to you when he’s upset about your past, how you were treated. He knows that you don’t hold on to anything in the past, and those things that linger in your mind you fix however you can; like how you treated Seungkwan that day even if Seungkwan had tried to bat away your apology and insisted you didn’t need to say sorry when he didn’t hold it against you. So Seungcheol doesn’t do it for your sake, but entirely his own; to soothe his aching heart at the thought of all you were forced to endure, all the scars on your skin that he wishes you never had to gain.

“They weren’t punishing me,” you point out, earning a confused noise. “They wanted information on you, the estate.”

“What?” He straightens up and holds your face to turn you to look at him. “They tortured you like that to get information out of you?” You nod. “Fuck, I’m so sorry, baby.”

“It’s fine, I’d endure anything to protect my family.”

Seungcheol’s expression softens before he leans in to press a tender kiss to your lips. “I hope you never have to face anything like that again.”

“Me too, I don’t think the doctors will be impressed if they have to give me another fake kneecap.”

Seungcheol laughs and shakes his head a little yet says nothing more and just settles back down with you in his arms.

You sit for a little while longer before a question you’ve been wondering for a long time comes to your mind. “Cheolie?” He hums to show that you’ve got his attention, not that it was anywhere but on you already. “What happened to your parents?”

“Ah, I guess you were bound to ask one day,” he understands with a sigh. “I don’t know the details, nobody does really, and I really don’t want to know either. I just know I came home one day and found my dad’s body on the floor outside of the kitchen with the door closed, his gun in one hand and a note in the other addressed to me.”

“What did it say?”

“That he had to take his own life because he knew he wouldn’t be able to live without my mother, or the guilt of knowing that in a moment where his mind had run away, he killed her. He told me not to go into the kitchen and to call his right-hand to deal with their bodies, and that from now on, it’s all mine.”

“Oh…”

“Mm, yeah, despite what people think, I didn’t murder my own fucking father to get all this quicker. I didn’t even want it really. I always wished they would pop out another kid and last long enough that the kid would be an adult by the time I had to take over, just so I could pass it right over to them. But I was twenty when they died and no kid in sight.”

“You didn’t want the gang?”

“No, I knew what all this meant; the danger and pressure of leading the Centaurs. I never wanted it, but I didn’t have a choice.”

“Couldn’t you have passed it to his right-hand, or someone else who knows how to run it all?”

“Technically, I suppose I could’ve, but my family started this gang centuries ago; back when they used to ride horseback and gained the name for how in tune with their horses they were, how no-one could beat a Choi on horseback. It’s a legacy and even though part of me hates it all, all the blood on my family’s hands, I’m also too proud of all my ancestors built and kept going for these years that I can’t let it go.”

“Hansol will inherit it.”

“Oh, I purposely misspelled his name on his birth certificate, so he has a valid excuse not to if he doesn’t want to.”

“You did what?” You sputter a laugh and look at him. “You misspelled his name?”

“Yeah, you didn’t know that?”

“I’ve never seen his name written down.”

“Oh, well, yeah, Choi is C-H-O-I but his is C-H-W-E.” You can’t help but laugh again. “It’s kind of stupid, huh?” He chuckles and pulls you back against his chest, tucked up under his right arm side by side.

“It is, but it also makes sense. Has he questioned it?”

“Yeah, I blamed his mother being American and barely knowing Korean.” You can only laugh harder. “He’s asked for me to change it to the correct spelling, but I told him I can’t do that, I only get one chance to name him, and I used it up so it’ll have to wait until he’s an adult and can do it himself.”

“Oh, that’s kind of evil, but also genius.”

“I have my moments.”

“You do,” you agree and shuffle around so that you can face him. “I was wondering if you’ll do something.”

“What?”

“Adopt Chan with me.” Seungcheol’s eyes widen in surprise. “I don’t want either of us to be associated with our father anymore so I want to change his surname and well, I’m going to adopt him anyway, so he’s legally under my care and if you adopt him with me, he can take your family name. We can spell it C-H-W-E and Hansol can officially have that little brother he wants.”

“Are you serious?” He whispers and you nod. “He would legally be our son.”

“Well…legally I guess, but I’m his sister and I have no intention of changing my title to mama, I think that’d probably be a little weird. You’d still be his Sunny.”

“His what?”

“Oh, I didn’t tell you that?” Seungcheol shakes his head slightly, looking a little baffled. “He struggles to say Seungcheol, so he’s been calling you Sunny since pretty much the start.”

“Oh…that’s so fucking cute.” He grins.

“It is,” you agree. “Suits you, cutie Cheolie.”

“Ah, shut up,” he blushes and tries to turn you away from him so you can’t see his shyly pinkened cheeks, but you refuse and instead climb onto his lap. “Baby,” he warns, gripping your hips to keep your body on his lower thighs and prevent you getting closer.

“What?”

“Don’t play innocent, you can’t sit on me when we’re naked, it’s too risky.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it, you don’t wanna fuck me.” You roll your eyes with a long-suffering sigh.

“That’s really not the issue here. I’ve given up on getting to make our first time how I wanted to back then, we never have time to. And you were right, we never know what’s going to happen and I’m not going to blue ball myself for the sake of being a romantic sap.”

“What?” You deadpan. “Are you saying that there is no viable reason we haven’t already fucked?”

“It’s risky, we only have alone time and privacy in here and it’s not possible to put a condom on under water, not that I have any in here anyway.”

“We don’t need that,” you wave a dismissive hand and try to move closer, but he grips you tighter. “Cheol, come on, before the boys wake.”

“Sweetheart, I don’t want to risk it.”

“Risk what? You know my health; you know I don’t have anything transmissible!”

“I do,” you immediately lean back from him with a concerned expression. “Not like that, I worded that really fucking wrong. I have no diseases or anything either, all good to go in that sense.”

“Okay, then what do you mean?”

“I don’t want to have another baby.”

“Great, I don’t want one either, glad we cleared that up.”

“Baby,” he groans and pushes you even further away when you try to get closer, making you give up and slump against the side of the tub on your right.

“I just want your cock, why are you so mean to your girlfriend, Choi Seungcheol?” You complain forlornly.

“Trust me, I want to give it to you, but I don’t want to risk getting you pregnant, baby.”

“Ohhh,” you finally understand what he’s been trying to say and straighten up. “I’m sterile.”

“What?”

“Medically, dad sent me to do it as soon as I was old enough, he didn’t want me to breed and sully the family name further than my existence already does.”

He gawps at you appalled. “What the fuck? Your dad forced you to have that done?”

“Yeah, but I’m honestly glad now, even if I hated him for it as soon as I realised what he had done to me. I used to want kids, but then I realised that I’d be bringing a child very likely like me into this world and I don’t want to force that on anyone. I’ve faced enough shit being born with a disability I have no control over that I wouldn’t wish it on anyone, especially another innocent kid.”

“Oh…I see.”

“Yep. So, gonna fuck me now?”

“Fucking hell,” he exhales and slumps a little as he closes his eyes for a moment. “You really do have a one-track mind when sex is mentioned.”

“It’s you, I’ve never cared for it before, but I really want your cock, Cheolie.”

“What time is it?” You look over at his phone on the counter beside the tub and read the time out to him, letting him know that you definitely have time before the boys should wake up.

Before you’ve even turned to face him, he’s pulling your body right up against him with every intention of finally giving you what you’ve been wanting for months now.

Over time, Chan’s nightmares lessen, and he opens back up.

It starts with him talking to Hansol one day out of the blue; almost a complete sentence that makes Hansol bounce excitedly and run to tell you as soon as Chan is occupied again.

Then a few weeks later, Seungcheol walks into the playroom while you’re sitting with the boys playing a board game and hears Chan talking away and tries to leave rapidly so as to not discourage your brother, yet he falls and draws attention. Chan simply gets up and walks over to check on Seungcheol with a soft “you okay, Sunny?” and ever since, he’s talked to Seungcheol at every opportunity and the man never fails to give him his attention with big, awe filled eyes.

The very first time Chan talks to Seungkwan, the man has to leave the room, overcome with emotions and cries happily into Junhui’s chest as the cook pouts, wishing to be blessed with Chan’s voice too.

And Junhui is the next person Chan talks to, then Mingyu, then all of the other men one by one until his voice can be heard happily yelling and giggling with Hansol all around the house with no fear of who will hear him.

Though, he still goes nonverbal sometimes, so everyone in the house learns sign language. With everyone trying their best and often opting to use sign language instead of talking, you all pick it up quickly. It becomes so natural to walk past rooms with silent conversations happening within, even without Chan present.

So much has changed in the house and although you had been worried that it would be too much for the occupants, you can’t deny that everyone seems to be so happy and content with the changes, enough that you even admit to them all over dinner one day that you’re autistic too, which most of the men are simply pleased that you trust them enough to tell them.

However, Jihoon is utterly bewildered by the news. Apparently, he thinks you two are very similar in many ways, so he truly didn’t expect to hear you say as much, yet his own words just lead the men to teasingly suggest he see a professional and get his own diagnosis.

Then a few days later, Jihoon approaches you with some papers shyly and asks you to sit with him in his office, where he shows you the papers: print outs and research about autism in adult males. There are a lot of sections highlighted or circled and when you ask, he tells you those are the bits he relates to, so he thinks that maybe the guys might be right and he’s autistic too.

Though even after talking to him and walking through it all with Jihoon and telling him some bits of what it’s like for you, much of which he relates to, he decides not to get an official diagnosis. He says it’s enough to just know and have you to talk to and finally understand why his mind works in ways he once thought were normal yet discovered in his adult life aren’t typical for every person like he assumed.

When Jihoon tells the group a few nights after making his decision to not get a diagnosis, they all look at him in surprise and admit they were joking but they’re happy for him and glad he finally feels like he knows himself better.

Which is something you think is constantly happening with you too; that every now and then since moving into this house all those months back, you discover something new about yourself, something you had never been allowed to learn before coming here.

You now know that you do love cars; the mechanics of them and working out how to fix them all like a giant 3D puzzle that you could spend hours mulling over with Jihoon without either of you noticing the time fly by.

You now know that despite what your father tried to drill into you, you are fully capable of loving and being loved; your found family proves that every single day just by accepting you in your entirety.

And perhaps most importantly, you now know that even if you’re still figuring things out, even if you spend the rest of your life finding out who you are little by little, it’s okay. No matter what version of you wakes up in the morning, there can be another version of you by the time you go to sleep.

Some days, the version of you that you wake with struggles a lot, and some days you don’t struggle at all. Some days you think you’ve got yourself all figured out only to realise the next day that you don’t know yourself as well as you thought you did.

But every day, you know that it’s okay; it’s okay to struggle and to not understand, it’s okay to have days where you don’t feel right in your own skin and where you feel like you never will feel right, because they don’t last forever. They come and go, just like the sun and moon, they rise and fall, leave and come back; sometimes they’re gone for longer, other times they remain for longer. But you know that for every bad day, every struggle, there will also be good.

You’re learning a lot about yourself and the world around you and you hope that through it all, through all you discover, you will be able to remember at your core that every version of yourself is completely valid, and no matter what you were once told and tricked into believing for so long, you are not worthless in any way.

You are worth more than the cruel words of an irrelevant asshole and so long as you remember that and keep those words burning bright in your chest, you will always be able to rise above whatever life throws at you and keep moving forward to learn exactly who you are.

No matter what this big, often painfully cruel world forces upon your weary shoulders, as long as you stay true to who you are, you will always be okay in the end.

Don’t forget to reblog if you liked to help spread the story and let others read it too! And don't be shy to leave comments or send an ask so I can see your thoughts 🥺 💖

Permanent taglist: @okiedokrie, @tusswrites, @svtiddiess, @codeinebelle

Finding Yourself taglist: @syluslittlecrows, @gaslysainz, @whoisbaek15, @cherry-zip, @minhui896, @choco-scoups, @coupsvi, @reiofsuns2001

#svt #svt fic #scoups #choi seungcheol #choi seungcheol x reader #choi seungcheol fluff #choi seungcheol fanfic #scoups x reader #scoups fluff #seungcheol x reader #mafia au #mafia svt

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hoshifighting · 6 months ago

Text

bsf!seungcheol watching you ride a dildo

— where your bestfriend!seungcheol wants his shirt back, but he searches for it inside the wrong drawer.

WARNINGS: +18, smut, sex toys, ''cock'' riding, clit stimulation, lub, voyeurism?, fingering, penetrative sex, reader feels the ''real thing'' after, dildo sucking, dirty talk, choking, overwhelming.

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

“yo, y/n, where’s that shirt i left at yours the other day? the black one, with the holes,” seungcheol’s voice booms from your bedroom, and you can hear him already rummaging through your wardrobe like it’s his own. typical. you’re still in the bathroom, pulling a shirt over your head, eyes rolling at how this guy feels so at home in your space, no hesitation.

“it’s in the drawer, you dumbass,” you yell back, adjusting your shirt in the mirror, not giving it a second thought.

and then it hits you.

oh fuck. that drawer. the one you’ve recently swapped out for all your, uh, extra stuff. your eyes widen, and a bolt of panic shoots through your veins. not the t-shirts and gym clothes drawer anymore, no—your sex drawer now, fully stocked and thriving.

you bolt out of the bathroom, hair still a mess, nearly tripping over your own feet, “seungcheol, no! wait—”

too late. he’s standing there, drawer halfway open, a look of pure shock frozen on his face. it’s like time slows down and you can almost hear the dramatic, “dun-dun-dunnnn” playing in the background as his eyes lock on something you really didn’t want him to see.

the dildo. baby pink. glittery. silicone, with a ridiculously realistic head.

“what... the… fuck,” he mumbles, staring at it like it’s an alien. his hand’s on the drawer handle, and he’s so still, like he can’t quite process what’s in front of him. if it was just the lube, or even the handcuffs, maybe you could’ve salvaged this situation. maybe. but nope, he’s standing there like he’s seen the holy grail, except it’s your new glitter dildo, glistening under the light like a perverse disco ball.

you skid to a stop, face burning up. “cheol, no—don't—” but he’s already got it in his hand, holding it up like it’s some kind of trophy. a fucking trophy.

he gives it a little shake, slapping it against his palm with a dumb grin. “y/n… never pegged you for a glitter girl. this—” he waves it around, the thing jiggling like some obscene party favor. “—is this what you’re into now? pink, sparkly dicks?”

you slap your hand over your face, mortified, “it’s new! i—it’s not even—i haven’t—just give it back, jesus christ!”

but he’s inspecting it now, like he’s doing some kind of in-depth analysis. his eyebrows raise, and he looks from it to you, back to it. “it’s not that big, though, right? not thicker than me, at least.” he looks way too smug for your liking, like he’s just cracked some inside joke.

“cheol!” you squeal, lunging forward to grab it, but he pulls it out of reach, shaking his head like you’re a kid trying to snatch candy from a shelf.

“nah, nah,” he chuckles, “hold up, hold up. i just… i just didn’t expect this from you. like, c’mon, this? you could’ve called me. i would’ve come running, y’know. no need to settle for this sparkly piece of shit.”

you’re fully red now, your fingers gripping his forearm as you try and close the drawer with your hip, but he keeps it open, the dildo still in his grip. “cheol, i swear to god, give it back.”

he twirls it like it’s a damn baton, slapping it lightly against his hand again. “so, like... is it better than the real thing? huh?”

“no, oh my god, no! i haven’t even—just—shut up!” you try again to snatch it back, but he’s stronger than you and absolutely milking this moment.

“mmm,” he hums, biting the inside of his cheek like he’s deep in thought, “i bet you’ve been riding this thing at night, hm? fuckin’ bouncing on it, lights out, all alone in this big-ass bed…” his words trail off, teasing, and you want to crawl into a hole and die, right there.

“cheol, stop, i’m not—i haven’t even used it yet, okay?” you sputter, still trying to grab it, but your words only seem to encourage him.

“oh? you haven’t? huh… well,” he holds it up, wiggling it under the light, “why don’t you show me how you would? like, y’know, ride it for me.” the way he says it, dead serious, makes you stop. his voice drops lower, and suddenly the room feels hotter. “c’mon, y/n. don’t be shy. give me a little demo.”

“cheol, stop it. i’m already embarrassed enough,” you say, feeling your breath catch in your throat. your cheeks burn. he just grins, settling back into the chair at your vanity, his eyes practically glinting.

“don’t be shy now,” he says, but you can hear the tease dripping from every word. his back rests against the wall, arms lazily crossed, as if he’s got all the time in the world to watch you squirm. you can’t even deny the flutter of heat that’s been coiling inside you since this whole thing started.

you let out a shaky breath, reaching for the lube, the sound of the cap clicking open feeling way too loud in the stillness of the room. you get on your knees, your fingers tremble as you coat the bottom of the dildo with it, sticking it to the floor, the suction strong as it holds in place. every nerve in your body is hyper-aware of his eyes on you. watching. waiting.

you slowly tug down your shorts and panties, trying to shield yourself as much as possible, your oversized shirt covering your lower half. it’s stupid to feel shy now, considering what you’re about to do, but you still shake your head when he says, “take that shirt off too.”

“n-no,” you stutter, cheeks flushing. you glance at him through your lashes as you start to spread the lube on the dildo, your hand sliding up and down, coating it thoroughly. the way you grip it, the slow strokes—it’s almost automatic, the sight of it in your hand makes his jaw clench, and you can practically hear his breath catch.

he shifts in his seat, eyes glued to the movement of your hand. he swallows thickly, his gaze darkening, and you can see the tension building in his body. it’s not just teasing anymore—he’s feeling this, just as much as you are.

“fuck,” he mutters under his breath, his eyes not leaving the way your hand moves, the way the lube makes the dildo glisten. for a split second, it’s like he can’t even blink, like if he does, he might miss something.

you feel your body flush even more, and you bite your lip as you spread your legs slightly, reaching down with your lubed-up fingers to ease yourself open. “look away for a sec,” you mumble.

he scoffs, eyes narrowing, but he closes them. still, you know better than to think he’s not peeking—there’s no way he’s fully shutting you out. and sure enough, you catch him with one eye cracked open, watching, his arms crossed over his chest trying to look calm and shit, but his body clearly stiffen up. the slick sounds of your fingers working you open fill the air, and you can’t help the small whimpers that escape your lips. each one seems to hit him like a punch, his eyes flickering, the sound driving him crazy.

you can feel your own wetness mixing with the lube as you stretch yourself, prepping so you can sit on it. your breath hitches as you pull your hand away, finally sitting back up on your knees. “i’m gonna… i’m sliding on it now,” you whisper, like saying it aloud makes it even more real.

his—both—eyes snap open at that, and he leans forward, elbows resting on his knees, staring hard. “yeah? let me see,” oh, he had his soothed voice, and you can feel the his gaze on you.

your body trembles as you line yourself up, one hand braced on the floor in front of you for support as the other lined the toy. the first contact makes you bite your bottom lip, your pussy lips parting as you sink down, the head of the dildo stretching you slowly. you let out a soft moan, your body reacting to the stretch, the feel of the silicone sliding inside.

“shit,” you breathe out, your head falling forward as you lower yourself further, taking more of it in—the cool, smooth silicone pushing into you, the lube making everything slick and easy. the way it presses against your inner walls has you clenching around it, your muscles pulsing as you adjust.

you can feel seungcheol’s eyes on you, locked onto the way your body reacts, the small tremors running through you. his fingers twitch, his hands squeezing each other so tightly you swear his knuckles are turning almost purple.

he’s almost breathless from just watching. you feel so full, the stretch making your hips shake as you rock slightly, sliding the dildo deeper inside. the pressure builds as your pussy hugs the toy, the texture of it rubbing against you in all the right places.

your shirt brushes against the floor as you lean forward, hips grinding down, taking the dildo all the way in. your hand clutches the floor for balance, the other gripping your thigh as you start to move, slowly at first, testing how much you can take. each slide has you gasping, your wetness mixing with the lube, creating obscene, slick sounds that echo through the room.

seungcheol’s eyes are practically burning holes into you, his breath coming out in short, shallow pants. you can feel his tension, his need to see everything, to watch every reaction, every twitch of your body as you ride the dildo.

“c’mon… let me see your face, baby,” he sulks in a greedy way.

but you shake your head again, hiding behind your hair, your chest heaving as the pleasure builds, too shy to meet his gaze. your pussy tightens around the toy as you rock your hips, the friction making your thighs shake, your moans escaping louder now, uncontrollable.

he leans in even closer, eyes dark and heavy, and it feels like he’s about to explode just from watching. his voice drops, “take that shirt off.”

“cheollie…” your voice cracks, finally looking at him for the first time since you started riding the toy. the moment your eyes meet his, the intensity nearly floors you. he’s been watching you with such focus, so goddamn turned on, and you can see it all over his face—his chest heaving, his lips slightly parted, the eyebrows knit together.

he’s so still for a second, but his eyes flick down to where the toy disappears inside you, watching how your pussy swallows the dildo, and it’s like he can’t hold it in anymore. “lift it up a little, just a little,” he says.

with a shaky breath, you slowly raise the hem of your shirt, pulling it up until it rests just under your belly button, feeling the cool air against your sopping cunt. the moment he sees you fully exposed, he lets out a low groan, like he’s moaning right along with you. his eyes are glued to the way your body moves, the way your slick drips down onto the floor as you rock your hips harder.

“fuck, you’re dripping all over,” he mutters, his eyes flicking between your face and the obscene sight below you. you’re too overwhelmed to even process the words fully, but when you feel his gaze lingering a bit too much, like he’s inspecting every little detail, you can’t help but try to hide again.

you quickly cover yourself with your hand, right over your clit, your other hand flying to the floor to support yourself as your head falls back, mouth open as a loud moan escapes. it’s getting too good now, the way the toy presses up against your walls.

you circle your clit with the hand covering you, the added stimulation making your moans uncontrollable, rolling your hips harder and faster on the dildo. “fuck, cheol… oh my god…” your voice is all breathy and desperate, and you can feel his eyes on you, burning, drinking in every reaction.

he leans forward again, elbows resting on his knees, his voice dropping even lower, almost a growl. “does it feel good, baby? look at you, fucking yourself like that. is it really better than the real thing?”

you shake your head, gasping for air, unable to form any real words as your hips move on their own, chasing the high that’s building. his voice is like gasoline on a fire, making everything burn hotter, the pleasure consuming you. you can't even look him in the eye, too mortified by how good this feels, by how badly you want more, maybe how badly you want... him?

“ride it like it’s me,” he rasps, and you almost choke on your own breath at the words. “pretend it’s my cock you’re bouncing on. ride it like you’d ride me.”

your whole body freezes for a second, the words sinking in, and your mind spins, caught between the fantasy and the reality of what’s happening. the thought of him, of riding him instead of the toy—it makes you instantly clench around the soft silicone.

you breathe in sharply, your chest heaving as you press your hand back on the floor, leaning forward. the angle change gives him the perfect view, your ass sticking out behind you, uncovered, as you start to bounce on the dildo, your knees moving in and out as you grind down harder. your moans grow louder, more desperate.

he groans softly, watching the way your body moves, the way you tremble and gasp. “shit, look at you… would you ride me like that?” his voice is so velvety. and its doing things to you. “would you moan even louder for me?”

the thought of it, of him underneath you, of riding him instead, has you spiraling. your mind can’t shake the image of his cock inside you, of bouncing on him just like this. the fantasy is too vivid, too real, and your body reacts before you can stop it. your hips slam down onto the toy harder, your moans growing higher in pitch, louder, uncontrollable.

he bites his lip, his eyes locked on the way you grind down on the dildo. his hand slides inside his sweatpants, gripping his cock, stroking himself in time with your movements, his breath coming out in shallow, desperate pants.

“fuck, you’d feel so good on me,” he groans, his hand moving faster as he strokes himself. “i bet you’d be so tight, so wet for me. you’re already dripping everywhere, baby… fuck, just thinking about it is making me lose it.”

you’re barely coherent at this point, your mind clouded by the sound of his voice, by the way the toy stretches you just right. the wet sounds of your pussy sliding up and down the dildo fill the room, mingling with your moans and his ragged breathing.

“cheol… i’m… i’m so close,” you manage to gasp out, your body trembling as you push yourself closer to the edge.

his eyes darken even more, his jaw clenched tight. “yeah? gonna cum for me?” his voice is strained.

he moves before you can even catch your breath, standing up from the chair, your hips still working on the dildo, but now, sitting straight again, and you can barely focus as he steps closer, towering over you even as he kneels down, his hands gripping your shoulders firmly.

“cheol, i—” you don’t even get the chance to finish before his hands push you down, forcing your body to slide deeper onto the dildo. you gasp, eyes widening as the toy sinks so deep inside you that it steals the air from your lungs, making you feel it so deep inside you. your hands fly to his chest, gripping his shirt tightly as you tremble against him, the fullness making it impossible to move.

your head falls forward onto his chest, whimpering as your body starts to shake. the pressure is unbearable, the dildo pressing so deep inside you that it makes your whole body seize up. and then he presses you down even further, his hands now gripping your hips, pushing you until the toy is buried to the hilt, the balls of the toy pressed on your clit, you lose it.

“CHEOL! i’m—oh my go-o-d,” you cry out, your whole body convulsing as your orgasm hits, this one even harder than any other. your hands claw at his shirt, your face pressed against his chest as you cum, trembling uncontrollably. you can’t think, can’t breathe, and he holds you through it, keeping you pinned down, making sure you feel every second of it.

he doesn’t say a word, just watches you with that hungry look in his eyes, his hands never leaving your hips as your body shakes against him.

the pleasure finally start to ebb, and you’re left panting, your body slumping against him, completely spent.

he lifts your face gently, his fingers under your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. “look at me,” he whispers, his breath hot against your lips, and before you can react, he’s kissing you, desperate, all tongues and messy breaths. the taste of him fills your senses, his lips devouring yours, his hands sliding up your body to cup your face.

the kiss is all heat, your head spinning as you melt into him, moaning into his mouth as his tongue tangles with yours. he pulls away just enough to catch his breath, his forehead resting against yours. “you’re so fucking perfect, you know that?”

you can barely respond, still lost in the fog, but then he’s pulling you up, guiding you to the edge of the bed. your knees hit the floor as he bends you over the corner, your chest pressed into the mattress, and you can feel him behind you, his hands gripping your hips as he positions himself.

“can i baby? can i?” he growls, and you nod weakly, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you brace yourself. he presses the tip of his cock against your entrance, and the second he starts to push inside, you gasp, your hands clutching at the sheets. he’s so much thicker than the toy, so much warmer, so much real.

“fuck, cheol… it’s so… so big,” you moan, your voice shaky, and he chuckles darkly, his hands tightening on your hips as he pushes deeper.

“you can take it, pretty,” he mutters, his voice strained. “look at how well you’re taking me already, fuck… you’re so wet. such a perfect pussy,”

you can feel every inch of him, the way he pushes you open, the heat of his cock filling you in a way that’s completely different from the toy. the fullness making your head spin, but it feels so fucking good at the same time.

he starts to move, slow at first, letting you adjust to the thickness of him, but soon he’s fucking you harder, each thrust making your body yank forward, your moans getting louder with every snap of his hips.

and then he reaches behind him, grabbing the dildo, and you feel his hand slide around to your face. “open your mouth,” he orders, and you obey, your lips parting as he presses the toy against them. “suck on it.”

you moan around the toy as he slides it into your mouth, the taste of the lube mixed with your own slick coating your tongue. the act of it is so filthy, so wrong, but it turns you on even more, the feeling of his cock fucking you from behind while you suck on the dildo making your whole body burn.

“that’s it, baby, just like that,” he groans, his voice thick with lust. “fuck, you’re so fucking hot… i can’t believe how good you look right now, sucking on that while i fuck you.”

your eyes roll back as he fucks you harder, the sound of your moans muffled by the toy in your mouth. the way he’s talking to you, the dirty words spilling from his lips, makes your whole body tingle with arousal.

“you like this, huh? you like being fucked like this?” he growls, his pace quickening, his cock slamming into you with each thrust. “i bet you’d love to have my cock in your mouth instead, wouldn’t you? bet you’d choke on it, make those pretty little sounds for me.”

you whimper around the dildo, nodding weakly, your body shaking with pleasure as he fucks you harder, deeper. the pressure is building again, that familiar heat pooling in your core, and you know you’re close, so fucking close.

“gonna cum again, huh?” he grunts, his voice tight. “fuck, i can feel it. you’re so close, baby. just let go. let go f'me...”

your body spasms violently, and you barely register the way your throat tightens around the dildo as he pushes it deeper. for a moment, everything goes hazy—your head spinning from the overstimulation, your knees shaking beneath you. the sensation of being so full, of having him inside you while the dildo stretches your throat, sends you into a dizzying spiral, leaving you shaking.

your face falls onto the mattress, your body too weak to hold you up anymore. you can feel him pulling out of you, the sudden emptiness making you shiver, and then he moans—and you hear the sound of his cum, warm and wet against the floor.

he pulls the dildo from your mouth, and you gasp for air, your chest heaving as you struggle to catch your breath. your throat feels raw, hoarse from the way you had been gagging around the toy, but you can’t even focus on that, still reeling from the power of your orgasm. your throat burning from how deep the dildo had gone.

he’s still kneeling behind you, his hands resting on your hips as he leans forward, his breath hot against the back of your neck. “you’re so fucking hot,” he murmurs. “you should’ve seen yourself, baby. you looked so fucking good riding that dildo like that... i cant wait to see you riding me, real, real.”

you shudder at his words, a faint whimper escaping your lips. your body is still trembling, you feel weak and shaky, but the way he’s talking to you—so dirty—it makes your head spin all over again. his hands sliding up your back, his fingers tracing the curve of your back, his hands sliding down to your ass, giving it a firm squeeze. “i want you to be that horny for me all the time. i want you to think about this every time you touch yourself from now on.”

you groan, burying your face deeper into the mattress, your heart pounding in your chest. he pulls back slightly, his fingers gently tugging at your hair until you turn your head to look up at him. you close your eyes, your breath still coming in shallow gasps as you try to calm down.

“cheol…” you whisper, your voice hoarse, “i don’t… i don’t think i can move…”

he chuckles softly, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your back. “you don’t have to move, baby,” he says, his voice gentle now, softer than before. “just relax. you did so good for me… just rest.”

you nod weakly, him putting you fully on the bed so you can lay fully, your body sinking into the mattress.

“you okay?” he asks quietly after a few minutes, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from your face.

you nod again, your voice barely above a whisper. “yeah… just… tired.”

he smiles, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your temple. “good. you deserve to rest after that.” he stays close, his warmth comforting against your skin, and you feel his lips curl into a smile against your forehead. it feels so fucking good. and you know, deep down, that this won’t be the last time something like this happens.

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mejaemin · 3 months ago

Text

trained him well - choi seungcheol

wc: 0.8k

summary: chan calls about his relationship problems, surfacing memories of a time where seungcheol used to cause the same trouble

warnings: light cursing, suicide mention (as a joke), fluff, cuddling, pet names

an: i literally just wrote this in like 30 minutes bc i got random inspo for it. i lowk hate doing things like this, including readers from one fic in one with a “different reader” but i felt like it’d be fun to do this pov !!! i hope evb enjoys my coups debut !!!

(this is a second pov to my other work 6 hours !!! i don’t think it’s necessary to read it but things would probably make a little more sense if you did)

───── ⋆⋅ ⊹ ⁺ 𐔌 ᩧ ຼ ͡ ৯ ♡໒⁀ ᩧຼ ꒱ིྀ ⁺ ⊹ ⋅⋆ ─────

you’re laying with seungcheol in bed, his obnoxiously loud snores filling the room as he sleeps on top of you. his cheeks are puffy and smushed, and his lips are parted with the way he rests his head on your chest. every once in a while he’ll subconsciously snuggle into you a little more when he feels your nails scrape his scalp, soothing him even when he’s in his dreamland.

it’s your boyfriend’s day off, the office going on a company wide vacation for some holiday. all of his friends have off too, and after their late night celebration yesterday he’s been sleeping all morning into the afternoon. you couldn’t complain, knowing that with your allergies to working this fits right in with your everyday routine. his body is heavy on top of yours, going fully dead weight in his slumber but it’s just the right amount of pressure to feel comfortable, lulling you back to sleep.

just as your mind slips from its last bit of consciousness, it’s brought right back by the loud, annoying screech of a phone ringing. sifting through the sheets for whoever’s it is, you pull out seungcheol’s phone. it’s chan who’s calling, and you really couldn’t be bothered to let your boyfriend know, especially when his ringtone didn’t even wake him up. declining the call, you set it back down and try going back to sleep before it rings again.

accepting defeat, you gently push the man’s shoulder. “cheollie, get up..” you whine, just as displeased as he is when he picks his head up.

he squints, looking up at you. “hm?” he looks incredibly displeased, and you almost want to pinch his cheeks at his furrowed brows and pout.

“chan is calling.” you hand him his phone, and he sighs heavily at the disturbance.

“so? i’m too tired for this-“ the call ends, having taken to long to pick up. it starts right back up again, his caller id paired with a photo of him while drunk filling the screen.

“that’s the third time, honey. maybe you should answer?”

he sighs, letting his head fall back down against you before putting it on speaker next to his face. their conversation is brief, seungcheol too comfortable and tired to keep it up any longer than necessary. it makes you laugh, chan whining and panicking as he vents to the elder about his relationship issues. apparently he’s been given the silent treatment, and he’s so distressed he could ‘actually throw up’ over it. your boyfriend asks why, and when he learns how stupid the situation is, yet eerily similar to one he’s been in before, the only advice he can give is “you did that to yourself, man.”

truthfully, the situation is a bold parallel to one you and your boyfriend have been in yourselves. chan ate the last of his girlfriend’s food, and is now receiving the silent treatment among other consequences. though, you’re different now, and your cheollie knows better than to mess with you or get you angry. sometimes, you think he’s actually scared of you when you’re mad. regardless, chan’s predicament makes you laugh, feeling relief that you don’t experience stuff like that anymore.

he eventually hangs up the phone, turning to you. “how familiar does that sound, hm?”

you hum, “it sure is similar to how we used to be, isn’t it?” he nods, “you wouldn’t do that to me now though, right?”

your expression turned serious, and he’s almost too quick to nod and kiss the clothed skin between your breasts in confirmation. “of course not, i’d never eat your food, baby. now, should i actually call his girlfriend, or..?” he trails off, now feeling almost as if he’s in trouble too, uncertain as to whether or not he should meddle in their issues.

you nod, shrugging. “go ahead, i don’t see why not.”

he nods, reopening his phone to search for chan’s girlfriend’s contact. once he finds it, he calls her and reluctantly relays the news. he reiterates as many times as possible that he’s on her side, agreeing that chan is wrong and he’s only relaying his ‘dying message’ they share a laugh, and she apologizes for dragging him into their mess. you say hello as well, laughing about the similarity together before the call ends.

he throws his phone to the other end of the bed, sighing as he finally relaxes into your skin again. “i’m so happy that’s over. i was scared as if i was the one who did something..”

you kiss his crown, his face hidden in your body. “you’d never, though. i trained you well, didn’t i?” you giggle, running a hand over his hair like you would to a pet.

he nods. “after that one time where you literally sent death threats, i nearly had a heart attack. and getting silent treatment? don’t even get me started, not talking to you for three days straight over a donut had me almost killing myself. i definitely know better than to fuck with you like that.” he goes on, already in a nervous ramble at the idea of receiving a punishment like that again. you may have been a little harsh, but that’s what happens when your girlfriend’s buttons get pushed. at least he’s better now, and isn’t making mistakes like his friend lee chan.

───── ⋆⋅ ⊹ ⁺ 𐔌 ᩧ ຼ ͡ ৯ ♡໒⁀ ᩧຼ ꒱ིྀ ⁺ ⊹ ⋅⋆ ─────

#mejaemin #seventeen #svt #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #scoups #scoups x reader #s.coups #s.coups x reader #choi seungcheol #choi seungcheol x reader #scoups fluff #s.coups fluff #choi seungcheol fluff

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zeroseuniverse · 16 days ago

Text

Lovesick Fool

Word count: 1.3K Summary: “But you’re so huggable,” he murmured, tucking his face into the crook of your neck. “Boss,” Wonwoo finally spoke, sounding both resigned and mildly entertained. “We were in the middle of something.” “Yeah,” Vernon chimed in. “You were just threatening some guy’s entire bloodline, remember?” Pairing: S.coups x reader

Taglist: @haaruki @agaha127 @zaycie @sh0dor1 @tinyelfperson @lezleeferguson-120 @ltfirecracker

Navigation

The name Choi Seungcheol carried weight. It was spoken in hushed whispers, feared by enemies, and respected by allies. He was the leader of the most powerful gang in the city—ruthless, cunning, and absolutely untouchable.

But when you walked into the room?

“Baby!” His entire face lit up like a lovestruck teenager, and his men immediately braced themselves for the inevitable shift in atmosphere.

Gone was the terrifying gang leader who could make a man disappear with just a look. In his place was a doting, borderline clingy boyfriend who had absolutely no shame in displaying his affection for you.

You barely had time to react before Seungcheol had crossed the room in long strides, sweeping you into his arms. “You’re finally here,” he sighed against your hair, holding you tight like he hadn’t seen you in months instead of a few hours.

From their spots around the room, his men exchanged knowing looks. Jeonghan rolled his eyes while Mingyu struggled not to laugh. “Here we go again,” Joshua muttered under his breath.

“Cheol,” you giggled, nudging him. “I’m literally right here, you don’t have to suffocate me.”

“But you’re so huggable,” he murmured, tucking his face into the crook of your neck.

“Boss,” Wonwoo finally spoke, sounding both resigned and mildly entertained. “We were in the middle of something.”

“Yeah,” Vernon chimed in. “You were just threatening some guy’s entire bloodline, remember?”

Seungcheol barely spared them a glance. “And? That can wait.” He pulled away just enough to cup your face, his thumb stroking your cheek with so much tenderness it was almost jarring. “Have you eaten today?”

Minghao sighed. “It’s like watching a tiger turn into a house cat.”

Seungcheol ignored them, waiting for your answer with absolute sincerity. You smiled, placing your hands on his chest. “I did, don’t worry.”

“Good,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

Meanwhile, the poor man who had been at the receiving end of Seungcheol’s threats was still tied to a chair, watching the entire scene unfold with pure disbelief. “Are we just going to pretend this is normal?” he blurted out.

Jun patted his shoulder. “Oh, you have no idea.”

The man tied to the chair looked around, completely baffled by the situation. One moment, he was about to wet himself under Choi Seungcheol’s glare—the next, the feared gang leader was melting into a doting mess over you, his entire demeanor softer than a marshmallow left in the sun.

“What the hell…” the man muttered, looking at the rest of the gang. “This ain’t normal.”

Jeonghan smirked. “Oh, it’s very normal.”

Joshua crossed his arms. “You just happen to be lucky enough to witness it firsthand.”

Before the man could fully process what they meant, Seungcheol finally turned his attention back to him. He still had one arm wrapped around your waist, keeping you close as he regarded the trembling man with the cold indifference he was known for.

“Now,” Seungcheol said, his voice shifting from lovestruck to lethal in an instant. “Where were we?”

The man flinched. “Y-You were threatening to—”

Seungcheol sighed dramatically, resting his chin on your head. “You know, I was really angry earlier. But now that Y/N’s here, I’m feeling generous.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Generous, huh?”

“Mhm.” Seungcheol’s fingers lazily traced patterns on your waist, and his men exchanged glances, knowing exactly what was coming. “I’ll let you decide what happens to him.”

The man’s eyes widened in horror. “What?! Why—”

“You should be thanking her,” Seungcheol cut him off with a smirk. “She’s the reason you still have a chance to walk out of here.”

You hummed in thought, tapping your chin as you pretended to contemplate. The man paled. He had no idea who you were, but the fact that you held this much sway over Choi Seungcheol meant you were just as dangerous.

Or worse—you were the weakness.

And Seungcheol was completely unashamed of it.

“I say let him go,” you finally decided with a smile. “I don’t think he’s brave enough to cross you again, right?”

The man frantically nodded. “Never! I swear!”

Seungcheol sighed, looking like he was only agreeing because you asked. “Fine.” He flicked his wrist, and Wonwoo moved to untie the man. “But if I see your face again, I won’t be so nice.”

The man scrambled to his feet the moment he was freed, bowing repeatedly before bolting out of the warehouse like his life depended on it.

Mingyu whistled. “That guy’s never gonna sleep right again.”

Seungcheol, completely unbothered, turned his full attention back to you, his smile soft. “You wanna get something to eat?”

“You were just interrogating someone,” Vernon deadpanned.

“And now I’m done,” Seungcheol replied smoothly. “Let’s go, baby.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “Fine. But you’re paying.”

Seungcheol grinned, pressing a kiss to your cheek before taking your hand and leading you out.

His gang stared after the two of you, shaking their heads.

“Absolutely whipped,” Minghao muttered.

“The scariest part,” Joshua said with a laugh, “is that he doesn’t even care.”

Seungcheol kept a firm but gentle grip on your hand as he led you out of the warehouse, completely unfazed by the stares of his men. He was Choi Seungcheol—the name that sent shivers down people’s spines, the leader who could crush his enemies without blinking.

And yet, here he was, grinning like a fool just because you agreed to dinner with him.

As you reached his car, he opened the door for you with an exaggerated flourish. “Your chariot awaits, my love.”

You gave him a look. “You just threatened a man’s entire existence ten minutes ago.”

“And now I’m taking my favorite person out to eat. I’m a man of many talents.” He winked before shutting the door behind you.

Once he slid into the driver’s seat, he reached over to buckle your seatbelt for you—something he always did, much to the amusement of his gang. He was perfectly capable of ordering people around to do his bidding, yet he insisted on personally making sure you were safe.

“You know, your guys are going to start thinking I have too much power over you,” you teased.

Seungcheol smirked as he started the engine. “Oh, they already do. And they’re right.”

You scoffed. “That’s dangerous for someone like you.”

He shot you a glance, his gaze fond but laced with something deeper. “Not when it’s you.”

The drive to the restaurant was peaceful, a stark contrast to the chaos that usually surrounded his life. Seungcheol made sure to keep one hand on the wheel while the other rested on your thigh, his thumb tracing idle patterns against your skin.

By the time you arrived, it was clear that Seungcheol had no interest in keeping a low profile. The restaurant—one of the most exclusive in the city—was filled with high-profile figures, some of whom stiffened the moment they spotted him walking in.

It wasn’t just fear—it was respect.

But Seungcheol didn’t pay them any mind. His entire focus was on you, pulling out your chair before taking the seat across from you. “Order whatever you want,” he said. “Not that I wouldn’t force the owner to make something off-menu if you asked.”

You shook your head with a laugh. “You really have no shame.”

“Not when it comes to you.”

The two of you settled into easy conversation, though you couldn’t help but notice how some people kept sneaking glances at your table—some out of curiosity, others in outright disbelief.

The Choi Seungcheol they knew was a terrifying force to be reckoned with. The man sitting across from you? He was currently pushing a plate toward you with a pout.

“Try this,” he insisted. “It’s good.”

“I have my own food, Cheol.”

“But this is better.”

You rolled your eyes but leaned forward to take a bite, much to his satisfaction.

Across the restaurant, a group of men who had been in very tense negotiations with Seungcheol earlier that week were watching in shock. One of them leaned forward.

“That’s him, right?”

“Yeah.”

“The same guy who almost shattered my kneecaps?”

“Yep.”

“...And he’s feeding his girlfriend like a lovesick idiot?”

“Apparently.”

“...Should we still be scared of him?”“Oh, absolutely.”

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seungcheorry · 5 months ago

Text

seungcheol hums when he sees you falling asleep beside him.

"babe...", he softly calls you, shaking your arm. "you didn't take off your makeup."

it's your turn to hum, pressing your face into the pillow.

"i'll do it tomorrow, it's just some mascara."

"it can be bad for your eyes", seungcheol insists. "use my remover, it's on the cabinet."

"i'll do it tomorrow", you repeat, mumbling as your body tries to relax to go to dreamland.

you hear seungcheol sigh, coming closer to you and pulling you into his arms. his pouty, pinkish lips rest against your forehead, before moving to your nose, under your eye, your cheek...

finally, you sigh too, slowly opening one of your eyes to look at him. seungcheol is so close, his nose inches away from your face - and big, wet lips still in a pout.

"please?", he says really low.

yet another sigh from you, as you nod and make him let go of you.

"that's my baby", a smile. "i'll be waiting for you.

a/n: i forgot to take off my makeup last night. (:

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nerdycheol · 21 days ago

Text

Just One More (I Swear!)

Pairing: Seungcheol x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Humor, Established Relationship

wc: 650 words

Summary: You just want to keep kissing your boyfriend, and Seungcheol pretends to suffer. (he does not!!)

“Babe, seriously—”

“Just one more,” you insist, leaning in before Seungcheol can finish his sentence. Your lips press against his in a quick, warm kiss, and you feel him sigh against your mouth.

“That’s what you said ten kisses ago,” he mumbles as you pull away, his hands already resting on your waist.

You shrug, eyes twinkling. “Yeah, and I meant it every time.”

Seungcheol shakes his head, amusement flickering in his dark eyes. “You have a problem.”

“A you problem.”

“Me?” He laughs, tilting his head back. “I’m literally sitting here, minding my own business—”

“Oh, please.” You roll your eyes before leaning in again, catching his lips in another kiss, this one longer. His hands instinctively tighten around your waist, pulling you closer, and for a second, you think he’s about to kiss you back properly—but then he pulls away with an exaggerated groan.

“Baaaaabe—” he drawls, falling back onto the couch like he’s being tortured.

“What?” You blink innocently, hovering over him. “You don’t like kissing me?”

Seungcheol opens his mouth, probably to tease you, but then you pout—big, dramatic, bottom-lip-jutting-out pout. He pauses. You see the moment he falters, his eyes flickering to your lips before he exhales sharply.

“…That’s not fair.”

You grin. “I know.”

You don’t wait for him to complain again before kissing him once more. It’s soft and slow this time, your hands sliding up to cup his face, thumbs brushing over his jawline. You feel the way his body relaxes under you, the way his fingers dig into your hips as he lets himself melt into it.

And just when he starts to tilt his head, deepening the kiss—

You pull away.

Seungcheol lets out the biggest whine you’ve ever heard, his grip on your waist tightening. “Oh, come on.”

You giggle. “What?”

“That was mean.”

You feign innocence. “What was?”

“You know what.” His eyes narrow, but there’s no real anger behind them, only a frustrated kind of fondness. “You can’t just kiss me like that and then stop.”

“Like what?” You bat your lashes. “I was just giving you ‘one more’ like I said.”

Seungcheol groans, dropping his head back against the couch. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Unfortunately.”

You gasp dramatically. “Oh? Unfortunately?”

Before you can roll off him in mock offense, he grabs you, flipping you onto your back in one smooth movement. His weight settles over you, pinning you down, and suddenly, he’s the one smirking.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Your breath catches slightly. “Uh—”

“Oh, now you have nothing to say?” His voice drops slightly, teasing. “That’s cute.”

You glare at him. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t,” he mimics your tone perfectly, grinning.

And then, before you can protest, he kisses you. Properly. Deep, warm, slow, like he’s trying to make you forget about every other kiss before this.

When he finally pulls away, you’re breathless.

“…Okay, yeah,” you admit, dazed. “Maybe that was a little better.”

Seungcheol chuckles. “Now you’re satisfied?”

“…No.” You grin, tugging him back down.

He doesn’t complain this time.

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lololololchips · 1 year ago

Note

OOOOH COULD I REQUEST CHEOL WITH A BOSSY SPOILED BRAT OF A PRINCESS <333

heyyyy:)) i couldn’t be bossy IM SORRY😭😭 but here it is loolz hope u like it!!

Choi Seungcheol || being spoiled by s.coups texts

genre: fake texts, one shot au, fluff

warnings: cursing, fem pronouns, rich ass cheol (are we surprised??), fluffly sigh i need him so bad yall

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mochacoda · 2 months ago

Text

python | csc

Pairing: Choi Seungcheol x GN!Reader

Synopsis: When you broke up with your boyfriend to work in a different country, you didn't expect to see him ever again. But when you transfer to your company's Seoul branch four years later, the department head is your ex, and he’s made it his objective to make your life a living hell for leaving him all those years ago.

Content: Angst, Fluff, Comfort | Exes to Lovers | Office AU

Tags: emotions, miscommunication, heartache, workaholic!seungcheol, insecure reader, drinking, crying, begging, petnames (sweetheart, love), konglish w/ translations, no "y/n," this is for everyone who voted for cheol in the poll, loosely connected to too nice (joshua)

Word Count: 10.2K

Masterlist

“I hate him,” you seethe, your fists balled up, crumpling your rejected proposal. “God, I hate him.”

Your coworker, Joshua Hong, looks up from his cubicle with raised eyebrows. “Who?”

You breathe in deeply, willing your rage to dissipate at the sight of his confusion. Poor Joshua doesn’t deserve your anger. “No one,” you say, clenching your jaw.

Open-mouthed, Joshua blinks rapidly, eyes flitting over to glance at the office you had just walked out of. The door to the room is marked with a name plate that has 최승철 [Choi Seungcheol] in bold, gold letters.

“I’m fine,” you insist, hands uncrumpling the document you had just attacked.

“Uh, okay?” he says with a healthy dose of doubt, elongating the “o” in “okay.”

“I just—” you begin, then immediately shut your mouth. “Ugh, forget it.”

It’s one thing to crumple a proposal up, and another thing to start bad-mouthing your boss out in the open. You throw the tattered outline onto your desk, then plop yourself onto your chair. You rub your temples, and then mutter under your breath, “How did I get here?”

“Good question,” Joshua laughs. “Company synergy?”

You groan, “Don’t ever say that word again in my presence.”

“Mmh,” he says, walking over to your cubicle. “You won’t have to worry about my presence in a few months.”

“Don’t remind me,” you sigh, dropping your head in your hands.

Joshua would be leaving the Seoul branch and transferring to the New York branch in a few weeks.

Curse your company for its commitment to “workplace synergy,” swapping out a handful of employees across all departments in its international branches every few years. If it hadn’t been for this horrible program, you wouldn’t be here right now.

You want to rip out your own hair, at this point.

How did it even get to this? You shut your eyes, thinking back to older times.

When you first got a job offer at the New York branch of your dream company, your initial reaction was elation. Your second? Doubt. Leaving Seoul was almost unthinkable, not to mention the fact that you’d be leaving your boyfriend behind, too.

For the first few days after hearing back from the recruiter, you knew you’d accept, but kept the news to yourself. You’d heard of so many horror stories about long-distance dating, and after a long period of consideration, you wondered what the point was.

You knew your boyfriend—really knew him. You knew he’d make sacrifices for you at the expense of himself, and it was impossible for you to accept bogging him down with a 14 hour time difference. He’d stay up waiting for your calls, instead of getting much needed rest. He’d worry about you all the time, checking the weather in Manhattan instead of Seoul and calling you constantly instead of his family and friends. He’d wait on you for as long as you needed, in an almost obsessive way, thinking it could make up the difference in distance. But he deserved someone who could love him in person, all of the time.

It’d be better for Seungcheol if you just let him go, freeing him to focus on what mattered more to him. Like work.

He loved you too much to break things off with you himself, so it was better that you did it. For his own good.

That’s what you told him, at least.

────୨ৎ──── Four Years Ago

“Cheol,” you said, teary-eyed. “Cheol, look at me.”

Seungcheol stared blankly at the ground, face frozen.

“Please?” your voice cracked.

“Who are you to tell me what I can and can’t handle?” he suddenly choked out, eyes flashing with hurt. His hands clenched, like he was holding himself back from saying more.

You swallowed thickly, reaching for his arm. “Cheol, I—”

“Don’t call me that,” he said, snatching his hand away from you.

────୨ৎ────

But you had hidden the real reasons for the breakup.

Because, deep down, you had always suspected otherwise. Somehow, everything had just become so complicated. Loving Seungcheol—which had once been something as easy as breathing—had become a dull pain in your chest, clouding your every thought with insecurities.

Even from the start of the relationship, you’d loved him more, anyway. Back then, you didn’t mind it because you loved him so much, and he was always so, so sweet to you. But around the time of the job offer, paranoia had reared its ugly head, kicking your uncertain thoughts into overdrive.

It was obvious that he didn’t really love you anymore. While you were job seeking, he was distracted. Always checking his phone, not really listening to what you had to say. He made time for you, but he didn’t necessarily make you feel like he loved you as deeply as you did him—it didn’t feel like he was the same guy that you started dating.

Something about his actions just felt like he did them to claim that he loved you, rather than because he actually loved you. His actions were laced with a kind of surface level, superficial quality.

He’d take you out to a fancy dinner, open the door for you, pay for the meal, drive you home—all the gentlemanly things he did when you started dating, too. But on the car ride there and back, and while sitting down eating together, he wouldn’t remember the things you had said about the little things happening in your life—a major change, when compared to the start of your relationship.

And sure, he didn’t have an obligation to remember your next door neighbor's name. But shouldn’t he remember your favorite kind of pie, or your closest cousin’s name? Shouldn’t he just know not to check his phone every time it pings with a new email, or leave you to eat your stupid expensive pasta alone as he takes a call outside?

It was almost like Seungcheol had fallen out of love with you, but was staying with you out of some kind of obligation to continue what he had started? That was your only explanation for why he’d spend time with you, but wouldn’t pay close attention to the things you said. Every Thursday was movie night, and in hopes of trying to keep him away from work, you let him choose the movie every time. But what use was that, when he spent more time looking at his phone than the TV—and more importantly, you, for that matter?

You’d been dating a ghost of a man. While you loved him, he tolerated you.

If the two of you stayed together when you went abroad, he’d probably double down on texts, but he wouldn’t really remember anything you’d said if you mentioned details about them in calls.

You didn’t bring any of these fears up to him, because you knew that he would continue to deny it. In fact, you’d imagined it in your head so much that you could see it when closing your eyes to sleep. If you confronted him, he’d deny that he didn’t love you anymore. But he’d be staring at the ground instead of looking at you. He wouldn’t admit that he was only with you because he enjoyed the consistency of your affection, and because he somewhat pitied you—and most importantly to him, because he wanted to prove to himself that he chose correctly when he started dating you.

The pain of watching the love of your life push down his repulsion just to be with you was decidedly more horrifying than the pain of breaking up with him altogether.

Right before ending things, it had occurred to you that Seungcheol might not have ever loved you in the first place, and that just hammered in the idea that you were making the right decision. He’d get over the breakup fast. He’d probably be thankful for it in a few years, even. If you saw him again, you’d both probably laugh, and in his head, he’d realize that he was grateful that you ended things so that he could focus on his real love, his career.

If you were honest with yourself, you would admit that there was a bit of selfishness driving the breakup, as well. There was no way you could handle Seungcheol sacrificing things for you—if he lost sleep over you, if he worried about you, if he was distracted by you—because you knew he wouldn’t be doing it for love.

Because he only ever cared out of a superficial need to prove to himself that he made the right decision in asking you out all those years ago. Not because he really loved you.

Yes, he probably never loved you, and he would never know the real reason why you ended things.

────୨ৎ──── Four Years Ago

“You give up so easily,” he spat out. “Was I nothing to you?”

Tears were running down your face. “Don’t. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

Seungcheol laughed, then buried his head in his hands. “God, to think I almost—”

He stopped, jaw tightening, then shook his head like he couldn’t believe it.

────୨ৎ────

A hand comes down sharply on your desk, jolting you awake.

“Sleeping while on duty?”

Wide-eyed, with tear-stained cheeks, you look up to face your ex-boyfriend. “부장님! [Department Head!]”

Upon seeing your red-rimmed eyes, Seungcheol falters.

Swiping at your under eyes quickly, you bow your head to him slightly. “I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.”

He swallows roughly, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. He opens his mouth, like he’s about to ask you why you were crying, and your heart drops.

You will crumble if you hear the tone of voice he had used when you broke up with him.

“Excuse me,” you blurt with choked words.

You don’t dare to look at his eyes. Instead, you get up from your seat, then immediately flee to the bathroom.

────୨ৎ──── Four Years Ago

“You can focus on work, now,” you squeaked out.

Seungcheol scoffed again, a cruel sound of disbelief. “What makes you think I give a damn about work right now?”

“Don’t you? Always?” you sniffled.

His eyes flashed with something you couldn’t quite describe. He seemed angry, but not just at you. At himself, too—his hands were balled into fists at his sides, fingernails digging sharply into his palms. His throat bobbed, and you could see the intense restraint he was forcing on himself. He opened his mouth with a sharp breath, then closed it again, as if he wanted to say something but stopped himself.

────୨ৎ────

You stare with glassy eyes at yourself in the mirror, trying to calm your racing heart down. It would be alright. You would be alright.

If you just focused on your work, it would be fine.

Leaving the bathroom, you square your shoulders. You’ll draft up a new proposal that suits his standards, and you’ll do it so excellently that he can’t possibly reject it.

Hours later, and you’re standing outside Seungcheol’s office again. Taking a deep breath, you walk in without knocking or announcing yourself.

The stack of papers trembles in your hands as you place them on Seungcheol’s desk. You keep your expression blank, steadying your breath, willing yourself not to let any emotion slip. “This is the revised proposal.”

Seungcheol doesn’t look up immediately. He takes his time flipping through the pages, his expression unreadable. The tension in the room is suffocating, thick with words left unsaid from years ago. You stand stiffly, waiting, watching the way his fingers drag across the paper. Finally, he exhales sharply and sets the proposal down.

The room is unbearably silent as the question of approval hangs in the air. Your heart pounds so loudly you swear he can hear it.

He should say no immediately. It would be the easiest answer. The logical one. The one you expect.

But he hesitates.

His fingers curl against the polished surface of his desk, and his gaze lingers on the documents in front of him for just a second too long. It’s subtle—anyone else might not notice—but you do. His mask falters. Just a flicker.

And for a split second, you let yourself hope.

Then, his jaw tightens. His hands retreat beneath the table, as if physically pulling himself back. When he finally speaks, his voice is steady, controlled, and restrained—nothing like the eager, puppy-like man you knew him as when you first started dating.

“We’ll have to decline,” he says, and it’s final. Unshakable. Like he hadn’t wavered at all.

You nod stiffly, as if you hadn’t just watched something slip through his fingers. As if it hadn’t slipped through yours, too.

“Decline?” you blurt.

His face remains impassive. “Yes.”

You blink at him, momentarily stunned. You had anticipated that he would be difficult, but this—it’s too fast, too dismissive.

You steel yourself. “Why?”

“It’s not good enough.”

Your fingers clench around the hem of your blazer. “Can’t you separate private and work life?”

He meets your gaze, eyes dark and cool. “I am.” His voice is devoid of any warmth. “I don’t care. Your proposal is bad.”

The words strike harder than they should, more than just a professional critique. A cruel, deliberate dismissal. You know it’s personal—for the past two weeks that you’ve been at the Seoul branch, it has always been personal when it comes to him. Your blood simmers.

“I see.” You force your voice to remain level. “Would you like to point out what’s wrong with it?”

His lips press into a thin line. “No.”

A sharp, bitter laugh escapes you. “Of course not.”

Seungcheol leans back in his chair, arms crossing over his chest. “Four years ago, you didn’t choose me. So why should I choose your useless proposal?”

The shift is abrupt, the air sucked out of the room in an instant. Your nails dig into your palms.

“I have never loved anyone more than I loved you.” The words leave your lips before you can stop them, the truth of them ringing through the silence.

He scoffs, but there’s a flicker of something in his eyes, something raw. “You left me,” he says, voice edged with something dangerously close to hurt. “You. Left. Me.”

Your breath shudders. “You left me first.”

He leans forward, eyes searching yours, like he’s daring you to take it back. “How?” His voice is quieter now, but no less intense. “How did I leave you, when I was the one you abandoned in Seoul?”

Your vision blurs slightly. This. This is why it never worked between the two of you. He’s too bull-headed to even consider that he was in the wrong.

You shake your head. “Why didn’t you fight for us?”

His jaw tightens. “Why didn’t you?”

A bitter taste coats your tongue. “You gave up so easily.”

His eyes flash. “No,” he says sharply, “you’re the one who brought up work all the time.”

Your hands tremble. “Because if it wasn’t about work, you wouldn’t talk to me!”

That stuns him. His mouth opens slightly, but nothing comes out. His brows knit together, the first crack in his mask of indifference.

You exhale shakily, pressing forward. “Because if I talked about anything else, I knew you wouldn’t listen,” you whisper, voice breaking. “I knew I’d be talking to a man who loved the idea of me more than he actually loved me.”

Seungcheol flinches as if you had struck him. His throat bobs, hands clenched into fists on top of his desk. “That’s not true,” he grits out, but there’s something in his voice—something unsteady, like the words are slipping through his fingers before he can stop them.

“Isn’t it?” you press. His breathing turns uneven, his jaw tightening like he’s physically holding himself back.

“You made me feel like I was a burden,” you continue, the words tumbling out, years of buried pain unraveling in real time. “Like you had to tolerate me between meetings and emails. Like being with me was just another responsibility to check off your list.”

He exhales sharply, like the air’s been knocked out of his lungs. His fingers twitch, gripping the desk so tightly that his knuckles go white. “That’s not—” He stops, biting his tongue, like even he can’t bring himself to finish that sentence.

A bitter laugh escapes you. “You don’t even believe yourself, do you?”

Seungcheol stands abruptly, chair scraping against the floor, his composure unraveling before your eyes. “I worked so damn hard for us,” he says, voice raw.

Your voice is small. “I never asked you to.”

His lips part, and for the first time since you stepped into his office, his expression isn’t blank or cold—it’s vulnerable. And it terrifies you.

His expression cracks, pain flickering through his eyes. “I was trying to build a future for you,” he says, voice raw, desperate. “For us.”

“You were so busy planning a future that you forgot to love me in the present.”

A tense silence falls between you, the weight of the past pressing down on both of you like an unbearable force. His breaths are uneven, his knuckles white from how tightly he’s gripping the edge of his desk.

Finally, he exhales, a bitter, tired laugh leaving his lips. He looks down at the proposal—still sitting there, untouched, still rejected.

“This meeting is over,” he mutters, his voice hoarse.

Your heart clenches painfully, but you nod, blinking rapidly to push back the tears. Without another word, you turn on your heel and walk out, leaving behind the shattered remnants of everything you once were.

When you get back to the safe haven that is your apartment, you retrace everything he had said. Or, rather, the accusations he had thrown at you.

“You left me.”

“I was the one you abandoned in Seoul.”

“Why didn’t you fight for us?” “Why didn’t you?”

“I was trying to build a future for you. For us.”

Your heart strangely aches, remembering how shaken he looked when you called out his workaholic behavior. You had blamed him for the end of it all, but it takes two to end a relationship. Why didn’t you fight harder for him, back then?

────୨ৎ──── Four Years Ago

You’re alone now. It’s what you wanted. To be free from the self-doubt that loving Seungcheol had drilled into you.

Your chest constricted so tightly, you couldn’t breathe.

────୨ৎ────

Two days after the disastrous office meeting, you’ve somehow managed to have the misfortune of sitting in front of your ex-boyfriend at a steakhouse for work. The restaurant is dimly lit, the low hum of conversation and clinking glasses filling the space. Your body practically vibrates from the tension.

You can see Seungcheol’s gaze turn sharper every time he looks at you, and it makes it all the more insulting when he immediately brightens at Director Chun. You chug another glass of wine, hoping the buzz will numb the annoyance bubbling within you.

“Thank you, Director,” you say, reaching over the table to shake your superior’s hand. “It was a pleasure.”

“No, thank you, Team Leader,” he chuckles. “We’re lucky to have such competent, young people working for us. I’m sure the Brennans will be thrilled to see this project come to a close so quickly.”

Seungcheol laughs. “We’re lucky to have you, Director.”

It’s so fake, you’re itching to get rid of the stupid grin off his smug face.

“I’m sorry I have to leave so soon,” the director continues. “I’ll see you two back at the office?”

“Of course,” you say, standing up and bowing to him as he gets up from his seat.

When the director finally leaves, you can’t help but clench your fists. Wanting to relieve the tension in your poor tendons, you reach for the wine bottle, refilling your glass for the nth time tonight. The rest of the restaurant is loud, but it is far too quiet in your corner of the room.

Now you’re alone with Seungcheol.

The air crackles with an unspoken tension, thick and suffocating. Seungcheol, across from you, has his fingers curled tightly around the stem of his wine glass. His knuckles are practically white, the pressure of his grip betraying the storm raging inside him.

He hasn’t touched much of his food, and barely spoke beyond a few clipped replies to you. He had really only responded to Director Chun all night. But it’s nothing new. You have long learned to recognize this silence; it’s the same, bitter one that had stretched between you in the months before you left him.

You don’t know why you told Joshua you could handle going to this. Why, after everything, did you let Seungcheol pull you into a setting so painfully intimate, so reminiscent of the past? The last time the two of you were in a restaurant like this, he had left for 40 minutes to take a call outside.

Seungcheol swirls his drink absentmindedly, watching the ice shift in the glass before finally speaking. “You look well.”

You let out a breathy laugh, shaking your head. “Small talk? Really?”

His jaw tightens, and he sets his glass down with a quiet thud. “Would you rather we skip the pleasantries?”

“I’d rather we not pretend this is anything other than what it is.”

“And what is it?”

You lift your chin. “You tell me.”

Seungcheol exhales sharply, dragging a hand through his hair. He looks at you—really looks at you—for the first time since you sat down, and it sends a shiver down your spine. It’s the same expression he made when you were in his arms, four years ago.

The one that made you feel like the only person in the world. The one that he used to assure you that he loved you.

And you hate yourself, because you can’t help but remember that he looked so good when he was yours. Worse, you can’t help but notice how he’s still devastatingly handsome.

Only now, his gaze is shadowed with something darker. Something unresolved.

“You know, when you told me you wanted to end things, I could’ve accepted it,” he says, voice steady, but his fingers twitch slightly against the edge of the table.

You swallow roughly.

“I could’ve accepted it if you said you just fell out of love with me,” he continues, “But then.” He takes a deep breath. “But then, you told me it was for my own good. That I wouldn’t be able to handle long distance.”

Your hands grip your wine glass. You want to say something, but you don’t know where to even start.

“You told me you loved me, and then…” he trails, before shakily saying, “abandoned me, because I couldn’t handle it?” He dips his head low, hands joining like he’s about to make a prayer.

“Cheol, I—”

“Don’t. Just don’t.”

Seungcheol stares intensely at his half-eaten steak, a strand of hair coming down from his forehead to poke at his eyes. Despite yourself, your hand instinctively lurches to tuck it behind his ears, before you quickly jolt it back. A cloud of shame begins to envelope your mind. It’s not fair. Why does your body remember him so well, even after he broke your heart?

He takes a shaky breath before speaking again. “And you know what? That…that wasn’t even the worst part.” Choked up, he takes a deep breath and clenches his hands into fists to ground himself before continuing. “What’s worse, was what you said at the end.”

You furrow your brows, thinking back to all those years ago, right after you told him that he could finally focus on his work, and right before you walked away from him.

────୨ৎ──── Four Years Ago

“I’m sorry for wasting your time,” you whispered. You didn’t dare to look at him. “I’m sorry I made you miss that convention for my birthday.” You sniffled, voice breaking. “You shouldn’t have had to do that. I’m sorry I made you watch those stupid movies, and that I made you go out when you didn’t want to. I should’ve been more considerate of your dreams, Cheol. I’m sorry, I’m sorry I only realized it now. I should’ve—”

You exhaled deeply, blinking your newest tears away. They fell down your cheeks in streams. “You won’t have to worry about that kind of useless stuff anymore, okay? You don’t need to deal with me anymore. I’m sorry you had to handle all of that for so long. I, I really lo…”

You bit down on your lower lip, blinking desperately to get rid of your blurry vision. “I hope you get into the accelerator, Cheol. I know how hard you’ve worked for it. If anyone can do it, it’s you.”

One last time, you smiled at him weakly, not meeting his eyes. “Goodbye, Cheol.”

And then you turned your back from him, walking away from the love of your life, partly because you really did wish him well on his startup journey, and mostly because you knew he was only with you out of obligation to himself—because he never loved you, anyway.

────୨ৎ────

“Oh,” you say, eyes feeling strangely prickly.

“I love—I loved you,” Seungcheol says, clutching his chest. He exhales roughly. “Did you not… see that?”

You blink rapidly.

His throat bobs as he swallows, eyes darting away for a brief moment. “I had plans for us,” he admits, voice quiet but strained.

At the sight of his clear pain, your stomach twists uncomfortably. “Plans?”

He nods slowly, still refusing to meet your eyes. The candlelight on the table flickers between you, casting shadows that dance across his face, highlighting the tension in his furrowed brow.

His mouth parts as if he’s about to say something—something important—but then he stops himself.

You reach across the table instinctively, your fingertips grazing his wrist. “Seungcheol. Don’t do this to me.”

He tenses beneath your touch but doesn’t pull away. Instead, he finally looks at you, and the sheer weight of emotion in his gaze nearly knocks the breath from your lungs. There is so much in his eyes—anger, regret, sadness, and a deep emotion you haven’t dared call love in years. All tangled together in a way that makes it impossible to separate one from the other.

“I was going to propose to you,” he confesses, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your breath hitches. For a second, the world tilts, the steady hum of the restaurant fading into white noise. You blink, your mind scrambling to process the weight of his words. “What?”

Seungcheol lets out a short, humorless laugh, shaking his head as if mocking himself. “I had the ring. I had everything planned out.” He exhales sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. “I was just… waiting for the right time.”

A sharp, painful lump forms in your throat. “Cheol—”

“But you left before I could,” he cuts in, his voice breaking at the edges. His eyes are glassy now, raw with unshed emotion. “You thought…you thought I didn’t love you enough. But I did. I loved you so much I—” He sucks in a shaky breath, his hands balling into fists on the table. “I was trying so hard to build a future for us. I wanted to give you everything.”

Tears burn behind your eyes, and your hands are still on his arm, but they’re shaking. “I didn’t need ‘everything,’” you whisper. “I just needed you.”

His face crumples for a split second before he forces his expression blank again. “I thought I was doing the right thing.”

Silence stretches between you, thick with everything you had never said to each other. The weight of missed moments, of love given but not received in the way it was needed, settles over the two of you like a monstrous thunderstorm.

You nearly choke on the sob threatening to break free from your throat. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

His voice is hoarse, like he has swallowed glass. “Would it have changed anything?”

You want to say yes. You want to believe that if he had just told you, things would have been different. But deep down, you aren’t sure. Because the truth was, you had already been slipping away from each other long before you had walked out the door.

You had told him you were leaving him so he could focus on his work. You had told yourself you were leaving him because he didn’t love you anymore. So, would you have really believed him if he had proposed to you? You’re not sure, but there’s no point in analyzing the hypothetical what-ifs, really.

Because now, looking at the man who had once been your world, you wonder if you had ever really left him at all.

────୨ৎ──── Three Years Ago

It was Seungcheol’s birthday. It hit you while you were at the grocery store, in the fresh produce section.

You saw cherries.

You cried.

Later that day, your finger twitched over his contact on your phone, before falling to your hips.

He was probably busy. He hadn’t texted or called you since the breakup, after all. He definitely wouldn’t want to hear from you even if he wasn’t busy, anyway.

“I’m sorry,” you said out loud, knowing that the person who needed to hear it most wasn’t there. “I miss you. Happy birthday.”

────୨ৎ────

You blink, and suddenly you’re outside. There’s a chilly wind blowing against you, making you shiver. When you try to take a step forward, you find your body is too sluggish to move much.

“You’ve had too much to drink,” Seungcheol says concernedly, his warm, strong hands finding an all too familiar spot against your waist.

“I’m fine,” you say, though your teetering body suggests otherwise.

Somewhere between watching Seungcheol laugh at Director Chun’s obviously not funny jokes and trying to give your hand something to do instead of ball into fists hearing his confession, you had drunk far too much of the expensive bottle of wine that the director had bought for the three of you.

Seungcheol says your name like it’s a warning, tone firm.

But you can’t help but laugh. You’re too close to him now. And oh, he’s so warm. Instinctively, your body presses against him, because it’s familiar and comforting and something you’ve subconsciously been craving for the past four years with every fiber of your body.

“I missed you,” you blurt.

Seungcheol swallows roughly.

“Fuck, don’t…” He can’t even bring himself to finish the sentence. “How did you get here? Taxi?”

You shake your head. “Too much money. Subway.”

“I’ll take you home, okay? Where are you staying now?” He squeezes your waist.

“Mmh.” Thinking, you close your eyes, fully leaning into his touch.

Three days ago, the company told you to move out of the original apartment they’d placed you in two weeks ago, and although you’d memorized how to get to your new place using the subway, you had yet to memorize the exact address. You’d always looked at your phone to double check, thinking that you’d be fine if you were stranded, since you’d always have your phone on you. Unfortunately, though, you hadn’t considered that you’d be lost if your phone died.

“That’s not an address, sweetheart.” He inhales sharply, realizing his mistake after it leaves his lips.

“I’m sorry,” you say with a frown, tears welling in your eyes. “Don’t remember.”

Here you were, wasting his time again. You’d left him four years ago because you were a hindrance to his career, and now you’re doing it again. Old habits die hard, don’t they?

You sniffle, “I’ll sober up soon, don’t worry. You can just leave me here. I’ll walk to the subway.”

Seungcheol’s throat bobs. “Hey, hey, don’t be sorry. I got you, okay? I’ll take you back to my place, if that’s okay?”

You nod, your voice small. “Okay.”

He breathes a sigh of relief.

Before you know it, Seungcheol has escorted you into the passenger seat of his car, and you’re on your way back to the house you had called your home only four years ago.

“Did you miss me?” you ask childishly, staring at the driver with sleepy eyes.

His Adam's apple bobs up and down.

For a moment, you don’t think he’ll answer. But then, he says softly, “I did.”

“Oh,” you say, and then you feel your eyelids get heavier. You let them close.

Right before you fall asleep, you catch him whispering something that sounds a lot like, “I missed you so much, sweetheart.”

────୨ৎ──── Six Months Ago

You blinked rapidly. “In the fall?”

“Yes,” Director Chun said. “I’ll be heading over to the Seoul branch as well, for a few months at the very least. I promise you’ll be under one of our best. Department Head Choi Seungcheol is known for being collaborative. I’m sure the synergy will be great between the two of you.”

You froze. Surely, not.

“Choi Seungcheol?” you asked breathily.

“Yes. Do you know each other?”

“No,” you said, far too quickly.

“Ah, I see. Perhaps he was impressed by the work you did with the Jeons,” the director said with a smile. “He requested you directly.”

Oh.

────୨ৎ────

Sleep is supposed to be relaxing, isn’t it? So why does it feel like your chest is going to cave in on itself, like a big boulder has plopped itself down on you?

You open your eyes quickly, only to be met with a mess of short, dark brown hair.

You try to blow on the hair, only to feel it enter your mouth. It’s horribly dry.

“Ack,” you spit.

And then it occurs to you that your hair has never tasted like this, or looked like this, for that matter.

You try moving one of your arms to get rid of the annoying strands, only to find that it has also been rendered immobile. You tense your core, trying to flop like a worm, but it’s of no use.

You furrow your brows, straining as hard as you can, but nothing happens.

For a moment, you wonder if you’re having a nightmare.

And then the boulder moves.

Your eyes widen into saucers. There’s only one explanation for this. You’ve only ever known one man who gives bear hugs in his sleep like this.

“Choi Seungcheol?”

“Fuck,” it groans. “Thought I told you not to call me that, sweetheart.”

You close your eyes, wondering if you’re still dreaming. But when you open them again, you see Seungcheol’s face.

Sleep lines are adorning his left cheek, and he blinks at you slowly. His pink lips are turned down in a slight pout, and the sight of him is so adorable, it makes you want to scream.

“Did you…” you pause, mind racking an explanation. “Fall asleep on top of me?”

“You said you were cold,” he says slowly, eyes half-closed, voice deep.

“Oh,” you say, then flush, feeling heat rush up the back of your neck and reach your ears. Trying to avoid eye contact with him, your eyes stray to your collarbone, and you see that you’re still wearing last night’s clothes. “Wait, did you let me into your bed with dirty clothes?”

“Mmph,” he says, rubbing his face into the crook of your neck.

“Wow,” is all you can manage. He never let you do that when you were dating.

“Go back to sleep, love,” Seungcheol mumbles.

“Can’t breathe, Cheol,” you groan, patting his back. “Too heavy, baby.”

He groans but shifts off of you, then cuddles up next to you, hands finding your waist immediately. “Five more minutes.”

“Mmh,” you sigh contentedly.

And as you close your eyes again, it occurs to you that Seungcheol is your ex, and that the two of you are definitely doing things that exes should not be doing.

────୨ৎ──── Two Weeks Ago

You folded your pride. You extended an arm out to him first.

“Department Head Choi Seungcheol, it’s a pleasure to work with you.”

You spat his first and last name out like venom, knowing all too well that he hated being called by his full name.

He stared at your outstretched hand, then scoffed.

Fuck.

────୨ৎ────

When you wake up again, you’re alone in Seungcheol’s bed. Out of habit, your arm moves to pat the other side of the bed.

For a moment, your mind flashes back to the lonely mornings you had with him four years ago. The days when the first thing you did after waking up was to check the other side of the bed, only for it to be cold. The hope of it all had fractured your heart slowly, but surely.

But today, for some reason, Seungcheol’s side is lukewarm.

Confused at the lingering warmth, you sit up in his bed, rolling back the covers.

Is it possible that he’s still here?

Then, you smell the distinct scent of ramen through the door to his room, which has been left slightly ajar. Planning on checking the kitchen, you move to get off the bed. But before your feet reach the ground, Seungcheol walks in.

He’s holding a tiny desk, the kind made for breakfast in bed. On it is a bowl of steaming ramen and a glass of water.

“Morning,” he says with a shy smile, and oh—oh, it’s so full of endearment and joy and hope, of all things.

God, something about it is just so, so pure and domestic, it makes your chest constrict. Seungcheol had never made you breakfast in bed when you had dated, because he had always been the first to leave in the morning.

But here he is, like he plans on making up for everything starting now.

And with how bright his smile is, your heart is aching to just let him.

“Is this… for me?” you ask in a small voice. Of course, it can’t possibly be for anyone but you, but something in you wants Seungcheol to admit it.

Seungcheol nods.

“Thank you,” you say.

“Ramen’s your favorite hangover meal, right?”

You nod slowly, and Seungcheol grins, like he’s proud of himself for getting it right. But something about it pokes a nerve. What use is there in remembering it now, when you’re not together anymore?

He watches you eat slowly, and you raise your eyebrows at the taste.

“It’s really good,” you say between bites, giving a thumbs up.

“Good,” he says, making intense eye contact with you.

He’s completely focused on you, phone and computer completely out of sight, and it makes you squirm. Now that his attention is on you without any distractions, it’s too easy to see how gorgeous he is.

You flush under his attention. “Stop looking at me,” you mumble.

“Don’t wanna,” he says dreamily, lying on his stomach on the bed, looking up at you with doe eyes.

You giggle, covering your face with your hands in embarrassment.

Seungcheol reaches out to swat your hands away from your face, taking the opportunity to hold your hands. When you look at him again, you’re taken aback by how serious he suddenly is.

Your laughter fades.

He takes a deep breath, and your heart sinks. You already know what he’s going to say.

“Can we… try ag—”

“Cheol,” you gently cut him off, withdrawing your hands from his familiar grasp. “Let’s not… we’re not…”

“Why not?” He looks at you innocently, with wide eyes.

You take a shaky breath. “I can’t do this again, Cheol. It’s not good for me, and it’s not good for you.”

At first, he just blinks at you, as if he misheard. But then, something in his expression hardens. “Who says you’re not good for me?”

“What?”

“Who says you’re not good for me?”

“Cheol,” you say with a sigh. “Let’s not do this again. It’s not gonna work.”

“Who says?” his voice breaks.

────୨ৎ──── One Week Ago

“Again,” he said dryly. “Redo the business model.”

You held back your anger. “Yes, Department Head Choi Seungcheol. Is there anything else you would like me to do?”

“Care more,” he said.

You frowned. “I have my full focus on this project, sir.”

“Care more,” he repeated.

────୨ৎ────

“I’ve changed,” he says frantically. “I can prove it to you, I promise.”

Your chest constricts.

“I won’t ever let you be lonely again, I promise. I won’t let it happen, I swear. I’m so, so sorry I hurt you back then, but I’m not the same man you left. I will never hurt you again.”

You swallow roughly, the ramen leaving a salty aftertaste in your mouth.

“Seungcheol…”

He shuts his eyes tightly, like you’ve wounded him.

“Please, call me Cheol again. Please, I can’t stand to hear you call me that.”

“It’s your name,” you tell him gently.

“No, it’s not. To you, I’m Cheol,” he insists stubbornly, crossing his arms. You have to remind yourself to breathe at the sight. Since when was his body so defined? You have to look away from his pronounced biceps to regain your will.

“Look at me,” he says with a frown. You obliged and he continues, “Sweetheart, please. I promise I will never hurt you again. Please, please, take me back.”

On the bed, he’s kneeling now, hands drawn together as if in deep prayer.

“I won’t let work get in the way of loving you. It was horrible and so stupid of me and I’m so, so sorry but it was only when I lost you that I realized I forgot what the point of working was. It was to provide for you, and I couldn’t do that if you were gone because I didn’t properly show you the love you deserved. I’m so, so sorry, my love. Please give me another chance?”

Seungcheol looks at you with so much sadness, but the history you had with his ghost makes you unsure about what to do.

“I don’t know, Cheol…”

He smiles weakly, resigned. “At least you’re back to calling me Cheol, though. Right?”

You nod slowly.

All of a sudden, Seungcheol lights up, like a last-minute godsend of an idea came to his mind. “If it’s too hard to say yes now, how about taking it slow?”

“What does that mean?” His definition of taking it slow probably isn’t like yours.

“I can take you out on some dates, and then you could decide?”

Your heart sinks. He’s so hopeful—eyebrows raised, eyes wide, mouth parted.

You don’t know if you have it in you to say no.

You press your lips together.

Seungcheol must have sensed danger in your face, because he immediately interjects with a rushed confession before you even open your mouth.

“I love you. So much. I loved you then, and I loved you after you left, and I love you now. There was no one after you, you know?” He looks a bit crazed, hands scrunching the blankets roughly.

Your heart jolts.

He continues, “You were everything to me—and still are. There wasn’t a single day that I didn’t think about you. But I couldn’t bring myself to reach out because I thought you hated me.”

He’s not exactly wrong. You did hate him. Then again, there’s a fine line between love and hate. Both are powerful emotions that require you to care about the person in question.

“I even quit the startup because I realized it had eaten up all my time, ‘cause it had taken you away from me.”

You gasp. This was the answer to why Choi Seungcheol, self-made entrepreneur who insisted on refusing to work for anyone but himself, had strangely become the department head of a company that he never had a hand in creating.

“I was,” he sighs self-deprecatingly, “unemployed for a while. Until I heard you were working here, and then I made it my mission to climb the ranks until I could ask for you to get transferred to Seoul. And when you accepted, I was so…”

Your heart breaks a little for him.

“I thought it was a sign.” Hesitantly, he clarifies, “That you might want to try again.”

You inhale sharply. There he goes, again. Talking so sweetly. Back then, that was all he ever did to show you that he loved you. It wasn’t enough then, so why would it be enough now?

At your silence, Seungcheol hangs his head, and your fingers twitch, wanting to reach out to him.

Except it’s different now, isn’t it? He’s finally doing all the things you once wished he would. Isn’t that what you wanted from him? You don’t trust him yet. But he’s trying, now, and every muscle in your body aches with an impossibly deep desire to pull him into your arms.

You exhale, and out with your breath goes your final worries.

Your lips part before you’ve fully decided what to say.

"Okay."

It’s barely a whisper, but it might as well be a strike of thunder with the way Seungcheol’s head snaps up. His eyes widen, mouth parting like he’s afraid he misheard you.

"Okay?" His voice trembles, cautious, like one wrong move could shatter whatever fragile thing is forming between you.

Your throat tightens. The weight of this—of him—presses down on you, but you nod anyway.

For a second, he doesn’t breathe. Then, his face crumples, and the sheer relief in his expression makes something in you splinter. His hands twitch where they rest on the blankets, like he wants to reach for you but doesn’t dare. He’s waiting—because this time, he knows he has to let you come to him.

And you do.

Slowly, hesitantly, you lean forward. His breath hitches, but he doesn’t move away. Your forehead brushes his, a soft press that feels like a heartbeat between you. You feel the warmth of his skin, the way his breath mingles with yours in the inches of space that remain.

Seungcheol exhales shakily, like he’s been holding it in for years. His hands hover near your waist, unsure, unsteady. He doesn’t pull you closer—he’s learned now—but he craves it.

Your eyes flutter shut, leaning into his touch, telling yourself it’d only be for a second. Just long enough to let yourself feel him, really feel him, without the weight of the past crushing you.

His voice is barely above a whisper, breath fanning across your lips. “Sweetheart…”

You could fall apart at the way he says it, so quiet, so reverent—like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he speaks too loud.

Your heart aches for more, but your mind reminds you of how he had left scars in your heart. For now, this form of affection would have to be enough.

After a few minutes in his arms, you reluctantly pull away to check the address of your new apartment on your finally-charged phone. Seungcheol drops you off, walking you to your door. You don’t invite him in, and he doesn’t ask. But something about the way he looked at you, right before you walked inside your apartment, lingers in your mind long after he leaves. He’d looked at you like you’d hung every glittering star in the sky.

Four years ago, you had decided that this gaze was something he’d manufactured while putting up with you. Maybe, you were wrong.

────୨ৎ────

Seungcheol keeps his promise of taking things slow. He’d arranged for you to meet him at a cafe the next day, and he’s already there when you get there. It’s a small, cozy place tucked into a quieter part of the city, the kind with warm lighting and the scent of freshly ground coffee drifting in the air.

You hesitate for a second when you see him through the window, seated at a booth near the back, fingers idly tapping against the ceramic cup in front of him. Then, before you can second-guess yourself, you push open the door.

His eyes meet yours instantly, and for a moment, he looks breathless—like he’s just as nervous as you are. But then he smiles. It’s a tiny, careful thing, but it makes your heart drum a little faster anyway. As you approach, he stands up, hand on his heart.

“Hey,” he says, voice soft, like he’s afraid to scare you away.

“Hey,” you reply, sliding into the seat across from him.

The booth is familiar. For a second, you’re struck by the memory of late-night conversations, of stolen kisses over half-finished drinks. You really were deep in love, back then.

You shake the thought away as Seungcheol gestures toward the counter.

“Still the same order?” he asks, the corner of his mouth lifting in something that isn’t quite a smirk but close enough that you recognize it as one of his signature expressions. You raise an eyebrow.

“You think I’d change it?”

“I don’t know,” he admits, tilting his head slightly. “A lot of time has passed.”

You exhale a small laugh. “Yeah, well. Some things stay the same.”

Something shifts in his gaze, a flicker of relief, of hope, before he nods. He waves down a barista and places the order without hesitation—exactly how you like it. When the cup is finally set in front of you, you find yourself staring at it for a beat too long, a strange warmth pooling in your chest.

“Thanks,” you murmur, wrapping your fingers around the cup.

Seungcheol watches you, his own drink forgotten, but he doesn’t push. Instead, he leans slightly forward, forearms resting on the table as he asks, “So, what’s new?”

You take a sip, letting the warmth settle in your stomach before answering. “Well, I have a wedding to go to next month.”

His eyebrows lift slightly, intrigued. “Oh?”

“Yeah. My coworker from the New York branch, Lee Chan, is getting married next month. I gotta fly out for it.” You swirl your drink absentmindedly, watching the steam curl into the air. “It’s kind of crazy. Feels like yesterday he was complaining about bad Tinder dates, and now he’s getting married.”

Seungcheol huffs a small laugh. “Guess he finally found the right person.”

“Yeah,” you say, a little softer. “Guess he did.”

There’s a pause, and you realize that for all the implications, for the way the topic is naturally leading to the idea of a plus one, you don’t bring it up. And, notably, neither does he. The question lingers, unspoken but present. Instead, Seungcheol shifts the conversation.

“You still baking?”

You groan, dragging a hand down your face. “If you can even call it that.”

He grins. “That bad?”

“Worse.” You sigh dramatically. “I was trying to perfect my chocolate chip cookies, right? Like, I found this recipe online, and it looked completely foolproof. But somehow, I nearly burned down my apartment.”

His amusement vanishes instantly. “What?”

“I mean, not literally,” you backtrack quickly, waving a hand. “But there was a lot of smoke. And my oven might hate me now.”

Seungcheol’s brows furrow in concern. “That apartment’s new, isn’t it?”

You nod. “Yeah, company orders. Still trying to get used to it.”

He exhales through his nose, tilting his head as he studies you. “Isn’t it hard? Being in such an unfamiliar place?”

You blink, caught off guard. “Oh, uh, I guess?”

His tone is casual—too casual—but you’re not oblivious. You see the way he watches you intently, the way he’s gauging your reaction. He thinks he’s being subtle, but it’s clear what he’s hinting at. Someday, maybe you won’t have to be in an unfamiliar place. Maybe you could come back home, to me.

You let out a small breath, looking down at your drink. “It’s fine,” you say after a moment. “It’s just an adjustment.”

Seungcheol doesn’t push, but his fingers tighten slightly around his cup. “If you ever need anything…”

“I know,” you say, and you mean it. Because for the first time in a long time, it feels like he actually means it, too.

The conversation shifts again, moving from baking disasters to random anecdotes about work, about old stories that slip out without either of you realizing. And throughout it all, you notice something: Seungcheol is listening.

Not just nodding along, not just waiting for his turn to speak. He’s really listening—leaning in, responding at the right moments, his gaze locked on yours with a kind of attentiveness that makes your stomach flip in a way you don’t want to acknowledge yet.

It’s different. He’s different.

And maybe, just maybe, that’s why this doesn’t feel like a mistake.

Fuck, do you love him, still?

────୨ৎ────

After the weekend cafe date with Seungcheol came the work week, much to your displeasure. Today has been an especially exhausting day. The kind that seeps into your bones, weighing down your limbs, making even the simple act of unlocking your apartment door feel like a chore. You barely manage to kick off your shoes before collapsing onto the couch, groaning into the cushions.

You didn’t even hear your phone buzzing at first. It takes a few rings before you muster enough energy to blindly fumble for it.

“Hello?” Your voice is muffled, with your face buried against the pillow.

“You sound dead,” comes Seungcheol’s voice, laced with amusement but tinged with concern.

“Feel like it too,” you groan. “Long day.”

There was a pause on the other end. Then, softly, “Have you eaten?”

“I had lunch,” you say.

Another pause. Then, decisively, “I’m coming over.”

“What? No, you don’t have to—”

“Too late. I’m already on my way.”

And just like that, the call ends. You blink owlishly at your screen, a bit too drained to call him back in protest.

Twenty minutes later, a knock comes from your door.

When you open it, Seungcheol stands there, hair still slightly tousled from the wind outside, carrying a takeout bag in one hand and a six-pack of your favorite drinks in the other.

“You used to drink these when you were stressed,” he says, holding up the pack as if that explains everything.

Your heart does something funny in your chest, but do your best to ignore it. Instead, you step aside, letting him in for the first time.

Seungcheol makes himself comfortable in your kitchen, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. He unpacks the food and searches for utensils without asking you for help. And before you know it, you’re sitting at your small dining table, warm food in front of you, while he nudges a drink toward your hand.

The silence is comfortable. You didn’t realize how much you needed this until now—until the tension in your shoulders starts to ease, until the simple act of eating next to someone who cares about you makes the world feel a little less heavy.

At some point, you sigh, rolling your neck to work out a kink. You hadn’t meant for it to be noticeable, but Seungcheol caught it immediately. Without a word, he shifts his chair closer and places a warm hand against your shoulder, thumb pressing gently into the tension there.

You freeze.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs, voice softer now. “I got you. Just relax.”

And somehow, without even thinking, you do.

It isn’t grand, or dramatic, really. It’s just the quiet comfort of someone who knows you better than you thought he did. Who is all of a sudden remembering the little things, after all these years. He eases the weight of the world off your shoulders without even trying.

You don’t pull away.

And neither does he.

────୨ৎ────

A week later, and the workday is winding down. But the plans you’ve been looking forward to—a nice dinner that feels like a step forward, another stitch in the frayed edges between you and Seungcheol—suddenly teeter on the edge of collapse.

You’re gathering your things when Director Chun steps into the office, looking around before his gaze lands on Seungcheol.

"Department Head Choi Seungcheol," Chun calls, his voice even but firm. "I need you to stay back for a bit. The New York office just called me about a misalignment between Mr. Han’s vision and the work we submitted to their team. We need to smooth it over before tomorrow morning. I estimate it won’t take very long."

Your breath catches. Director Chun always sugarcoats things. It wouldn’t be just a couple more minutes, it’d be several hours of extra work.

It’s just a few words, a simple request by the director. But it’s enough to send you spiraling.

Because you've been here before.

You know how this story ends.

Your grip tightens around the strap of your bag as a million thoughts flood in, rapid and overwhelming. He’s going to say yes. Of course, he’s going to say yes.

Work will always come first. It always has, always will.

He’ll put you second again, and you’ll be left waiting, just like before.

The words you want to say—please don’t go, pick me, just this once—stick like molasses to the back of your throat.

You can’t stay here to hear him confirm it. You can’t bear to watch it happen all over again.

You walk away before Seungcheol answers the director, your feet carrying you toward the stairwell in a daze. The second the heavy door shuts behind you, a shaky breath escapes your lips. Your fingers press against your temples as you squeeze your eyes shut, willing away the sting that threatens to turn into tears.

Your chest constricts so harshly, you think you might be having a heart attack.

It shouldn't hurt this much.

But it does.

The past and present blur together in your mind—memories of cold dinners, of unanswered texts, of waiting and waiting and waiting. Until you stopped waiting altogether.

Why on earth did you think that things would be any different, now?

The door swings open with a rush of air.

"Sweetheart?"

Your stomach drops.

Seungcheol steps inside, eyes scanning the dimly lit stairwell before landing on you. His brows pull together in concern as he closes the distance between you.

"Hey," he murmurs, reaching out hesitantly. "What’s wrong?"

You shake your head, stepping back before his fingers can brush against your arm. "You don’t have to be here, Cheol."

He frowns. "What are you talking about?"

Defeated, you let out a humorless laugh, gesturing vaguely. "You don’t have to chase after me just to make me feel better about you choosing work over dinner. I get it. I know how this goes."

A pause. Then, softly, "Is that what you think happened?"

The sincerity in his voice makes you falter.

You blink at him, your heart pounding, confusion creeping in through the cracks of your resolve. "What do you mean?"

Seungcheol exhales, running a hand through his hair before stepping closer. This time, you don’t move away.

"I told Director Chun I couldn’t stay," he says, voice steady. "I told him I had a prior commitment, and that I wasn’t going to break it."

Your eyes widen comically. "What?"

His lips twitch into something that’s not quite a smile, but close. "I said no, sweetheart. I told him I had somewhere more important to be."

More important.

Your throat tightens.

"You—" The words catch, and you have to stop yourself from immediately replying, trying to process it. "You said no?"

"I did." His gaze softens, the weight of the moment settling between you. "I told you I wouldn’t let work come between us again."

His voice is quiet, but it carries years’ worth of unspoken apologies.

Of love that had once been misplaced, misdirected, but never truly lost.

Your eyes flicker over his face, searching. And the truth is written in the way he looks at you—open, unwavering, as if he’s willing you to believe him.

And you do.

It’s terrifying how easily you do.

The wall you’d built, the one meant to protect you from this very moment, begins to crumble under the warmth in his gaze.

Your breath shudders. "Cheol…"

His hand lifts, hovering near your cheek, close enough that you can feel the heat of it but not touching. His wide, sparkling eyes look eagerly into yours—giving you the choice, letting you decide.

Your chest tightens at his cute patience, the silent question lingering between you.

The space between you grows smaller.

You don’t know who moves first, but suddenly, you’re impossibly close, the tips of your noses nearly brushing. His breath fans over your lips, and your eyes flutter shut.

He doesn’t move to kiss you, but that’s okay. Because you’re finally ready to cross that line.

Tilting your chin up into him, your lips meet, and the warmth of him grounds you in a way that nothing else ever replaced, or ever could. His lips are so, so, soft, and as he melts into the kiss, he lets out a small content sigh. Everything about him is familiar, and yet, somehow different. It’s charged with a kind of electric buzz, the tension from the past weeks finally coming to a head.

For a moment, the world is still. You only see Seungcheol.

Then, in a voice so soft it almost disappears into the quiet of the stairwell, Seungcheol parts from your lips for just a centimeter, whispering, "I meant what I said. You don’t have to worry anymore. I’m 110% for you, I love you."

You close your eyes, exhaling against his skin, relishing his touch. And you say the next words with a full chest, “I love you so much, Cheol.”

Because for the first time in a long time, you believe him.

Masterlist

Author's Note: did u get the title?? seungcheol's the python bc he makes ur chest constrict and love is hard and hurts us sometimes anywayz happy valentines day <3

Disclaimer: nothing i write is representative of how svt acts off camera, take their names as stand-ins for oc's!!

Taglist: @syluslittlecrows - @junplusone - @fragmentof-indifference - @junniesoleilkth - @woncheecks - @peachypie97 - @viciousdarlings - @11zzyy - @thepoopdokyeomtouched - @dmstoyangyang - @christinewithluv - @snowcake666 - @rjreins - @namk00kie - @homelouisgirl - @slvrstrs - @jimintopiaaaa - @coupshour - @babycaratdeul

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ode2cheol · 4 months ago

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ꪮ౿ i’ll do it for you

➺ your boyfriend offers to help you dry and brush your hair before bed

➺ wc around 750 ,, this is self indulgent sorta kinda? warnings, none just fluff

“want me to do it for you?”

you looked up at the mirror seeing the reflection of your boyfriend leaning against the bedroom doorframe while sporting an amused grin.

“it’s alright, cheol. i’ve got it.” you shook your head, begrudgingly leaning over in the vanity chair to plug your hairdryer in.

drying your hair at night was tedious which is why you hated it so much. seungcheol learnt this pretty early on in your relationship after you spent the night at his place, which is now the both of yours’, for the first time.

“let me.” you felt a presence behind you, a comforting one because that’s what seungcheol is to you - comfort. he reached over, gently taking the hairdryer from your hands and putting it to the medium heat setting because, while you wished you could put it to the lowest and avoid heat damage to your hair, it was unbearable before bed.

seungcheol gently parted your hair, taking care in drying your hair and handling the strands in the most delicate way that should be foreign to someone who was so strong.

“thanks baby.” you spoke, voice barely above a whisper. “you really don’t have to though.”

seungcheol huffed in amusement. “you’re saying that but i feel like you’d ignore me all night if i stopped.”

“you’re making me seem like i’m always petty.” you chuckled, looking at him through the mirror. he was exaggerating, you knew he never meant any of the teasing insults he threw at you.

“you’re beautiful like this,” he started, sighing while looking between your reflection and the top of your head, “all tired and stuff.”

“you have a way with words.” you giggled teasingly, “thank you though, you’re too nice to me sometimes. i’ll get a big head because of you.”

he scoffed and took a break from drying your hair to pinch your arm lightly, almost like he was insulted at the idea that you being complimented too much could ever be bad. if it was up to seungcheol, you’d walk around thinking you were the prettiest thing on earth because that’s what he saw you as, since the minute he first met you.

“there’s no such thing as ‘being too nice’, idiot. i’m your boyfriend.” seungcheol murmured, turning the hairdryer off and grabbing your comb to start brushing your now dry hair.

“my boyfriend who calls me an idiot.” you feigned offence, wincing slightly when he tugged at a more stubborn knot and smiling when he rubbed your scalp gently while whispering a soft apology.

“where’s that oil you usually use?” you looked up at his question, wordlessly reaching for the hair oil that sat on the vanity and handing it to him. it was almost empty now. seungcheol had gotten it for you about a year ago from japan, you’d have to order it again later.

your boyfriend rubbed a little into his hand then started rubbing it into your hair. you laughed at the motions, he was getting it everywhere and nowhere all at once, looking down at you through the glass with a gummy smile at your laughter.

he picked the comb up again, brushing through your hair more carefully now and blinked up at your reflection proudly when he combed through all the knots.

“i could be a hairstylist,” he joked, braiding your hair in something that was messy and would definitely fall apart later but you didn’t have the heart to point it out. “i’ll do the members’ hair for the next comeback.”

“i think jihoon’ll run out of the dressing room before you get the chance, babe.” you chuckled, melting when he pressed a soft kiss to your cheek.

“maybe but that won’t stop me. now up, let’s go to bed.” he gently ushered you away from the vanity and onto the bed, ignoring your protests of needing to put your skincare on.

“all of that slimy stuff won’t do a thing anyway.” he pouted, burying his head in your neck and laying over you while half heartedly pulling the blanket over your bodies.

“says the model for a skincare brand.” you scoffed lighthearted, bringing your hand up to scratch his scalp in a way he always liked.

“shut up and go to bed, darling.” he drawled, chuckling tiredly against your skin. seungcheol lifted his head and kissed your lips softly, whispering when he pulled back “i love you.”

“i love you too, cheol.” you smiled, cuddling closer to the warmth of his body.

#seventeen x reader #seventeen fluff #seventeen x you #seungcheol x y/n #choi seungcheol x reader #choi seungcheol fluff #choi seungcheol imagines #seungcheol x you #seungcheol x reader #scoups x reader #scoups fluff #scoups x y/n #scoups x you #seungcheol fluff

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wheeboo · 8 months ago

Text

for a moment, forever | choi seungcheol

SYNOPSIS. in which while shopping for wedding dresses for your best friend, you can't help but want to try one on too. PAIRING. choi seungcheol x gn!reader (ft. jihyo from twice as reader's engaged best friend) GENRE. fluff, established relationship WARNINGS. mild cursing, terms of endearment, reader wears a wedding dress, cheol doesn't show up until like halfway into the fic HAHAH WORD COUNT. 2.2k

notes: this is lowkey me describing my dream dress if i do somehow get married lmao so also self indulgent too ig, and it was fun searching up dresses! this also reminds me of that one scene from extraordinary attorney woo. if u know u know :') happy belated bday cheol <3

[02:39PM | y/n] should be done with jihyo's appointment in a few hours!! you can pick me up then bub❤️

[2:41PM | cheol 💕] Sounds good, my love. I'll see you then 😊

"Wait, oh my God, that one is beautiful!"

"Right?!" Jihyo exclaims eagerly before swiping to the next photo in her camera roll, on it displayed a gorgeous mermaid wedding dress that she had saved from Pinterest. "Okay, not sure if I like the mermaid ones but this was one was too pretty to not be saved."

"You can always ask to try one on too. I still think you'd rock whichever one you put on," You tell her, lacing an arm around hers as the two of you approach the bridal boutique that was just around the corner. "I still can't believe you're getting married."

When you and Jihyo exchange knowing glances with each other, squeals of excitement escape both of you. It feels surreal, almost like a dream knowing that your best friend is about to walk down the aisle and take her first steps into married life. Just ahead of the two of you, the bridal boutique gleams with soft lights and elegantly displayed gowns in the windows.

As you both step inside, the cozy warmth of the boutique wraps around you, and a subtle, lingering floral scent and delicate perfume fills the air. The interior is enchanting yet inviting, with a variety of dresses arranged by style. The boutique's consultant greets you both with a welcoming smile, and after a brief chat and a rundown of the different options, she leads you to a private area where Jihyo can begin her fitting.

You follow Jihyo as she naturally gravitates towards the gowns on display. You can tell she's already picturing herself in each dress. It's a bit overwhelming being surrounded by so many intricately designed dresses, like you've walked straight into a world of fairytale. Lace, satin, tulle𑁋every fabric imaginable seems to be represented here.

While helping Jihyo pick out some dresses, you can't lie that some have caught your eye more than you can admit. Knowing that one day these dresses will be worn by someone on of the most important days of your life fills you with awe. The thought makes your heart full, and briefly, you can't but help but imagine yourself walking down the aisle one day.

For a moment, your mind flickers to the thought of Seungcheol, and your heart does a jump.

One particular white tulle, floral embroidered dress with off-shoulder sleeves catches your attention. It's a perfect blend of elegance and romance. You let your hand run over the delicate embroidery, marvelling with admiration at the elaborate details caressed over every inch of it. The floral patterns are so finely crafted that they seem to bloom like real flowers right out of the fabric.

"Y/N, you need to try that on right now!"

You turn swiftly at the sound of Jihyo's commanding voice. "What? No, I can't𑁋"

"Come on, please!" Jihyo urges insistently while holding just about a dozen dresses in her hands. "It's so beautiful!"

"But this is for your special day, not𑁋"

"Honey, you and Seungcheol have been together for so long now, and sooner or later, you're going to have your special day too. Just try it on for fun, and I’d love to see how it looks on you!"

Okay, she really didn't have to bring up Seungcheol like that, but now you can't get it out of your head. An odd, fluttery feeling bursts in your stomach on top of the embarrassment crawling up your neck.

"Fine," You relent with a playful look. "But I'll do it after you try on all your dresses. Once again, today is for you, missy."

A wide grin spreads across her face as she shuffles towards the fitting room. "It's a deal!"

The next hour or so you spend lounging on the couch as Jihyo tries on dress after dress. Each one seems to bring out a different side of her: from elegant to dramatic, playful to sophisticated. You can’t help but laugh and cheer her on, snapping pictures and videos to capture every moment. You also help with various aspects of the fittings, from adjusting straps to even adding the veil on her head.

"You look like a princess!" You exclaim, clapping your hands as she twirls in a voluminous ball gown in front of the mirror.

"I feel like one!" Jihyo giggles, even doing a dramatic hair flip to add for an endearing touch.

The last one that she tries on is a mermaid dress with stunning lace detailing and a long, flowing train that spreads across the floor like ocean waves. As she steps out of the fitting room, the dress hugs her curves perfectly, and she looks every bit of a confident, radiant bride shining in her own element.

"Girl," You gasp out, voice full of awe. "that dress was made for you. You look absolutely stunning!"

Jihyo gazes at herself in the mirror. "Really?"

"Yes!" You claim, and you almost want to cry thinking about your best friend walking down the aisle. "I can so picture you walking down the aisle in this, holy shit."

Jihyo chuckles bashfully at your reaction.

"I'm going to be a bride," she says aloud, somewhat to herself and in a way announcing to the world too, before turning to you with a gleeful expression. "I'm going to be a bride!"

[04:45PM | cheol 💕] Are you done, sweetheart? I got to leave work earlier and just arrived at the place. Might come in since it's boiling outside 😅

"I really don't know about this𑁋"

"Come on, just try it on!" Jihyo nudges you ever so slightly to the fitting room, the dress trembling in your grasp. "This will be us doing some early preparations for your wedding, 'kay?"

Reluctantly, you find yourself stepping into the fitting room, the dress in your hands feeling both light and heavy at the same time. Taking a long, deep breath, you start to change into the dress as the consultant comes to your side to assist.

At first, the fabric feels odd against your skin, the delicate embroidery and soft tulle brushing against your shoulders as you put on the dress. The off-shoulder sleeves fit surprisingly snug when you slip them through your arms. The floral patterns seem to come alive right before your eyes, just like they had when you first saw the dress.

You take the first glance of yourself in the mirror in the fitting room, and it's almost as if you've been kicked in the gut and all the words had left you.

"Wow," You whisper to yourself, doing a small spin to see how the dress looks, and it feels absolutely magical to be the one wearing this dress right now.

Scrambling slightly, you look around your scattered belongings on the floor for your phone, knowing that you just have to capture this very moment before you would have to take the dress off.

But you can't find your phone anywhere.

"Crap, where did I put it?" You mumble annoyedly, having to move your dress around to get a better look, yet you still don't see it. Did you leave it outside? "Hey, Jihyo! If you're out there, can you pass me my phone?"

No response.

"Jihyo?"

Still no response.

Deflating your shoulders, you decide you might as well step outside to retrieve it.

"I didn't think the dress would fit this good. It's a bit heavier than I thought but I think I could manage𑁋"

And then you freeze, almost as if you were caught red-handed committing some sort of heinous crime, because Seungcheol is standing not that far away from you, eyes wide with disbelief and mouth dropped down to the floor at the sight of you wearing the wedding dress.

For a few moments, it's like the world stops as well, and you start to feel a little self-conscious under his gaze.

"Cheol? What are you..." Then you look down at yourself and the dress you were wearing. "You're here earlier than I-I thought, I should go change𑁋"

Seungcheol blinks back to reality from your words. "Wait, no, don't move, please."

He keeps his eyes locked on you, his gaze moving from your face, to the way the dress hugs and accentuates your figure in all the right ways, then back up again. You can practically see the gears turning in his head. You can't help but feel a blush creeping up your cheeks as you stand there, awkwardly holding the hem of the dress in your sweaty hands.

You can hear your heart pounding in your chest. This is not how you imagined seeing Seungcheol after Jihyo's appointment. You were expecting a casual, friendly greeting, maybe a quick kiss, and then a drive home. But this... this is different. You've been with Seungcheol for years, but he's staring at you like he's seeing you for the first time.

"Wow, I..." He scratches the back of his neck sheepishly before placing his hands in his pockets. "You're fucking breathtaking, honey."

Your cheeks burn brighter than ever, some sort of choked sound leaving you at his bluntness. You glance down at the dress, then back at Seungcheol.

"You... You think so?" You ask, voice timid and tainted with unsureness.

"Think so?" he repeats, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "I know so. I can't take my eyes off you."

A rush of heat climbs up your neck as you avert your eyes away, pretending to adjust the hem of the dress, fingers clumsily tugging at the material. The dress suddenly feels suffocatingly hot and you don't know how much more you can take.

His eyes still don't leave you even when he steps closer, the features of his face softening into simply an adoring look.

You could feel your feet melting into the ground below. "Cheol, I should really go change𑁋"

"Not yet," he says firmly, and you stay put. "Just let me look at you for a little longer, please?"

That familiar, pleading tone to his voice makes your heart run laps in your chest and causes your knees to feel like jelly. He takes a few more steps towards you, and before you know, he's standing right in front of you, half-lidded eyes flickering between yours and your lips. He takes a hand out of his pocket and reaches out to gently cup your face, letting a finger trace slowly over your cheek, leaning in just close enough to whisper in your ear.

"I can't wait to marry you."

His words come out so quiet that you're barely able to hear it. And before you can respond, some loud, marching footsteps snaps you out of thought.

"Y/N! Look at this, I found the perfect veil for you!" When Jihyo sees you and Seungcheol, she stops short in her tracks, glancing at the sight of you in the dress and Seungcheol standing in front of you appearing as if he was just two seconds away from kissing you.

You clear your throat loudly, stepping away from Seungcheol and towards Jihyo.

"You found a veil for me?" You ask her.

"Yeah, put it on!" Jihyo hands you the dainty veil. "I went through hell trying to find a good one and I think this one works perfectly."

You feel Seungcheol's eyes on you as you carry the veil towards the mirror and carefully place it over your head. The light, airy fabric showers down around you, complementing the elegant gown. As you adjust the veil to your liking, you catch a glimpse of your reflection and can't help but smile. You see Seungcheol in the mirror as well, staring at you with an intense gaze of admiration.

And when you turn around, Seungcheol thinks you look more beautiful than what his imagination could possibly give him. He has to bite at his bottom lip in order to suppress some of the giddiness threatening to spread throughout his body, and the thought of seeing you again in a wedding dress makes him almost dizzy.

You're like an angel who has stepped foot into his world. The dress houses your wings and the veil is your halo. It's a perfect vision of the future he’s been dreaming about for so long it nearly makes him burst; a reality that he never thought he'd be seeing so soon.

He's going to marry you𑁋he knows he will. He knew that from that moment you first smiled at him back in your freshman year English class, all because you both simply made unexpected eye contact while you were introducing yourself. He knew it even more when he embarrassingly fell on his ass during a university soccer game and your laugh was the only sound that he could hear.

This is his first peek of forever with you, and he can't wait for it to all come true.

Seungcheol faintly hears you ask what he thinks about it, and only the heavens know how much he wants to answer by putting that ring stashed in the depths of his bedside drawer on your finger right then and there. But there's a time and place for everything. He has to make sure everything is perfect first.

So, yeah, he should really get to planning. And right now seems like a good start.

taglist (open) ʚɞ @haowrld @icyminghao @slytherinshua @jeonride @eternalgyu

@lockburn-castle @vrnism @weird-bookworm @ryuwonieebae @wonwooz1

@mark-geolli @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @aaniag @wootify @carlesscat-thinklogic23

@phenomenalgirl9 @mirxzii @bookyeom @parkjennykim @melodicrabbit

@bewoyewo @honglynights @bananabubble @treehouse-mouse @starshuas

@totomoshi @armycarat2612 @etherealyoungk @maesvtr0 @gigification

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daisymbin · 5 months ago

Text

[10:47] - girldad!seungcheol

warnings: reader referred to as "mommy", this is fluff please lets not be perverted 🙄😹

check out my masterlist! // cheol's m.list

“appa!” your 4 year old called in a small voice.

“yeah, sweetheart?” seungcheol glanced up from his phone, his attention fully on her now.

“who do you love more? me or mommy?” she asked, her tone curious but a little serious, as if this was a big question.

seungcheol raised an eyebrow, his lips curving into a playful smile. “what kind of question is that?” he teased, holding his arms out to her. "you know i love the both of you very much!"

“but who do you love more?” she asked again, her voice insistent, as if she really needed to know the answer.

he thought for a moment, looking down at her tiny face. "well," he said as he picked her up & settled her on his lap, "i love you so, so much, my little sunshine, but mommy... i think i love her just a tiny bit more."

her eyes widened as she processed this, her little lip jutting out into a slight pout as an immediate reaction. oh, she's definitely his daughter, alright. "why? why do you love mommy more?"

"because," he said, leaning down and pulling his 4 year old onto his lap, "mommy’s my partner, my best friend. we’ve been through so much together, and i love her in a special grown-up way. we've been together for years! without mommy, we wouldn't be here."

"we?" she asked.

"yes baby, you wouldnt be here if mommy hadn't been my best friend & partner, & I wouldn't be happy like i am today! can you imagine your loving, handsome daddy being sad, crying and alone?"

she sat there for a moment, clearly deep in thought. then, her frown softened, and she gave him a big smile. “but you still love me a lot, right?”

“of course i do,” he replied, ruffling her hair. “i love you more than anything, you’re my sweet little girl.”

she nodded eagerly, her pout completely gone now. “okay, daddy, i love you too!”

seungcheol grinned playfully, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "really? who do you love more? me or mommy?"

she paused, giving him a serious look before bursting out laughing as she looked up at you as you stepped in, "mommy!!!" she screamed

seungcheol laughed along with her, squeezing her a little tighter as he realised 2 things.

1: he can't tell if his daughter was answering his question or greeting his wife, but seungcheol tells himself, sometimes, it's better not to know.

& 2: he can't lie, even to his own daughter. he just loves you so much.

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dokries · 16 days ago

Text

things seventeen take pride in doing for their partners

pairing: seventeen x gender neutral reader

genre: fluff, established relationship

word count: 2.2k

warnings: mentions of food, some kissing

author note: hello! i’m alive!! thank you anon for requesting this, and i’m so sorry it took…literally 5 months to write this 😭 i hope you enjoy it though! thank you to my awesome friends who helped me write this <3 (honestly i have no idea where so much for chan came from but extra chan love!!)

masterlist

seungcheol (s.coups) - buying you groceries

⟢ seungcheol is a provider, and he’d love to be the one getting you things, especially if it was something as important as groceries.

⟢ he’d totally just text you for a list, and expect you to just tell him exactly what you wanted—plus later, you’d get a bunch of pictures asking which brand or version you wanted of something to make sure he doesn’t get the wrong thing.

⟢ he’d want to pay for most, if not all of it—but he wants you to be comfortable with what he does, so you could both figure out who’s paying for it (though he’d definitely make sure to pay for the small things at least).

⟢ he has his card (and wads of cash) and he’s not afraid to spend it on you—in fact, he prefers it that way.

⟢ it’s even better when you’re with him, since you can spend time together and do something essential (and perhaps it gives him a glimpse of what’ll come down the line, once you’re both older).

jeonghan - getting you the hot gossip from work

⟢ jeonghan is…honestly, he’d make sure he picks up all the gossip for himself—and for you both to discuss later.

⟢ he wouldn’t be nosy per say…he’d just keep his ears open when there were people around talking, okay? it’s not his fault they’re so loud.

⟢ and of course, he’d retell it to you in such a way that you couldn’t help but be completely immersed in the drama because his manager is dating who?

⟢ there’s multiple lines of gossip that you both follow based on who you’re talking about, and each week there’s at least one debrief session where the two of you sit down on the couch and you just absorb the information he gives you.

⟢ he’s glad to see the different expressions you make, and it makes him happy to see you so interested in something he’s telling you about, even if it’s something horrendous about his co-worker—and then when you snuggle up next to him, ready to fall asleep he gives you a small smile and pats your head in contentment.

jisoo (joshua) - buying you flowers or little trinkets

⟢ i think that while joshua’s love language is more like quality time, he seems like the type of person to also buy you flowers every few weeks—or whenever the flowers he previously got you wilt.

⟢ he’d totally get a bouquet for you and a flower for himself to make sure he knew exactly when to get you some new ones.

⟢ obviously, it’ll be your favourite flowers! or just ones that remind him of you, depending on the week.

⟢ if you’re allergic to flowers, he’d get you chocolate or something else you really like—it doesn’t have to be exclusively flowers :>

⟢ he’d see little deer characters and think it would remind you of him, so he would drop them over at your place so you’d always have a way to remember him! (you’d definitely have a little deer and cinnamoroll collection at home somewhere).

junhui (jun) - cooking for you

⟢ even though jun is busy, he knows you are too, so he makes sure to make dinner for you when you get home.

⟢ he immediately rushes you out of the kitchen when you try to help and shushes your protests.

⟢ he’d beg you to just let him cook for you—unless you really wanted to cook yourself. at that point, he would make sure to be the trustiest assistant chef you’ve ever had, just to make it a little easier.

⟢ he just enjoys seeing you have something he made for you and the smile you give him afterwards always makes it worth it.

⟢ if he’s not there for dinner, he makes sure to leave a packaged meal for you in the fridge, complete with a sweet sticky note telling you to eat well and text him a cat meme when you see it.

⟢ he’d make sure to note down your favourite foods, and try to remake some of the things you’ve liked when you both go out on dates to make you happy—because it makes him happy too.

soonyoung (hoshi) - bringing you snacks when you’re busy

⟢ if soonyoung noticed you hadn’t gotten up to get food or drink water in a while, he would come in himself, giving you a plate of fruit or whichever snack you liked the most with a water bottle to keep by your side as you worked.

⟢ he’d do this even in the late hours, when you were studying for an exam or an important report for work, and give you something sweet as a treat—and a reminder that no matter what happens, he cares.

⟢ if you didn’t mind, he’d just sit with you in the same room and do something else to pass the time so you wouldn’t feel alone.

⟢ if he couldn’t be with you but knew you were working or studying long hours, he’d get food delivered to you—or deliver it to you himself again, showing up on your doorstep later at night, hoping a hug and a good meal will energize you.

wonwoo - fixing all your tech issues

⟢ honestly, this is something he’d be really good at.

⟢ like yes, he’s good at so many other things but as soon as you run into any problem whatsoever, he’d know how to help—even if he did have to watch a youtube tutorial or read a guide for your tv.

⟢ he’d fix his glasses right after he managed to fix that weird glitch where your google results were all in a different language or your phone would keep shutting down on you.

⟢ would definitely guide you through fixing anything if he couldn’t be there, and wake up sleepily to facetime so he could see the problem—his glasses askew and his bed hair on full display.

⟢ wonwoo would be proud to call himself your tech guy, especially if it made you smile—and besides, he’s happy he can help you with any challenges, even if it’s something simple.

jihoon (woozi) - planning surprise dates

⟢ jihoon, honestly, spends a lot of time on his own in the studio, and while you visit, he really knows he needs to get out of his second home sometimes—and a date with you is a good way to do that.

⟢ he’d do it shyly, calling you up to first ask if you were busy, and then ask if you could come meet him at the studio (he…can’t drive, otherwise he would pick you up.)

⟢ it’d be nothing much in his eyes: a stroll at a park nearby, learning something new, going out for dinner—simple things that were better when he did them with you.

⟢ sometimes he’d just show up at your home with flowers, his face red, since he’d been encouraged by soonyoung to do so and be “more romantic for once!” (or at least, that’s how soonyoung saw it. he didn’t really know about the archive of songs that jihoon had written inspired by you, and you had only seen a few of them anyway.)

⟢ he’d always make sure to look into places where you would be interested so you could go together, and he could watch you be entertained by something you wanted to do—even if it wasn’t something he would do himself.

seokmin (dokyeom) - notes of encouragement

⟢ seokmin’s the type of person to send long, long texts about how much he loves you and how proud he is of you every so often, especially if you’re busy and he can’t see you as much as he wants to!

⟢ he’d leave little notes around the kitchen after weekly movie night, so that when you wake up the next morning, he can see your reaction when you see his shameless puns on the colourful paper—which are all definitely related to whatever you watched. or you know, dad jokes. one of the two.

⟢ if he ever brought you lunch while you were out, he’d leave a little note telling you to eat well and message him so he knows you’re doing okay!

⟢ he wants to make sure you know you’re loved and when you write your own notes for him, he just about melts, giving you a gentle peck on the forehead and a long hug until you both end up giggling.

mingyu - fixing things around the house

⟢ yes, he may be clumsy but mingyu is always volunteering to build you new furniture or fix things you (or he) has broken.

⟢ every so often, he’ll just scan through the entire house under the pretense of cleaning for you when you’re busy, and creates a mental list of what to do. it’s like he’s trying to sneak around but it doesn’t really work because it’s so obvious where his gaze is.

⟢ he also loves to help you rearrange furniture too! like your own little interior design helper except you only pay him in cuddles on the couch…wherever you two put it.

⟢ would totally text you pictures of furniture if he goes to ikea and asks if you want them so he can just buy them for you (and so you can have a little date at home building whatever it is).

minghao (the8) - watering your plants / taking care of your pets

⟢ he would show up early at your door, ready to help out if he was available—and something he would always do is take care of your babies (plants and/or pets!)

⟢ he’d water your plants for you, leaving a note to remind you to not do the same later, and hum to them to help them grow faster and stay healthy.

⟢ he’d also make sure to help out with grooming or feeding a pet—whatever you needed so you could focus on yourself first.

⟢ if you don’t have either, well he’d take care of the sleepy you by making sure you get through your morning swiftly and happily.

⟢ he’d be proud of making sure you were alright in the mornings, despite how hard it could be some days.

seungkwan - making sure you’re active

⟢ seungkwan loves to do sports and go on hikes and the such, and i think that he would want you to be with him!

⟢ obviously, he wouldn’t force you to but hey, you do need to stay active, and it’s better if it’s with him than on your own—plus, it’s more fun by his side.

⟢ he would totally buy you matching jackets to go hiking in, and always pick activities that you’re comfortable with doing.

⟢ he lights up every time you would say you’re having fun and would run over and give you a quick kiss before continuing your badminton match.

⟢ once you’re both tired out, it’s time for cuddles on the couch…and maybe a quick cheesy rom-com where you can both make fun of the protagonists.

⟢ eventually, he can see the difference in your strength and stamina, and it reminds him to keep working hard too, because you do the same for him.

hansol (vernon) - remembering you

⟢ hansol is a bit of a forgetful guy but he would never forget you (well, for the most part at least; he still has his moments).

⟢ you’re brought up casually in most conversations he has simply because you’re so important to him that you can be brought up anytime.

⟢ everything and anything ends up reminding him of you, even if it’s not meant to. he’d tell you about most of them because he loves getting a text back full of love, or a smile on your face as a reply.

⟢ even if you’re not present, he’s always hyping you up without realizing.

⟢ with you, he’s always sending you cat memes and posts in general saying “us” or “u n me fr”

⟢ he takes pride in simply knowing you, and having the ability to be around you so much :)

chan (dino) - driving you around

⟢ we’ve all seen the dingo video where chan drives a fan somewhere, right? yeah that’s him on the daily with you.

⟢ you’re his passenger princess !! (gender neutral <3) and he makes sure you know it, always offering you a ride no matter where you need to go!

⟢ the grocery store? your friend’s house? the optometrist? [insert any ridiculous place he doesn’t need to accompany you to]? he’s already waiting for you outside.

⟢ this goes even if you’re fully capable of driving yourself because he knows it can be tiring getting on the road some days, but he’ll always brave the bad traffic if it’s for you.

⟢ knight in shining armour? no, he’s your knight in a really nice car, one that, in his mind, has your name all over the passenger seat.

⟢ other than that though, he would offer to take you for a late night drive often, with your choice of music on the aux as he drives you over to a spot he researched about weeks ago because it was the perfect couple spot (at least, that’s what it is according to google).

⟢ he’d have a huge smile on his face every time you waved at him before opening the door and plopping in right next to his side, where he could sneak glances at you while waiting for the light to turn green.

thank you for reading ‎♡ - moon :>

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hoshifighting · 1 month ago

Text

— Synopsis: Where you “unfortunately” caught your best friend's roomate—your unsaid enemy—masturbating in their shared apartment. — WC: 4.6k — WARNINGS: smut, monster cock!seungcheol, explicit language and content, overstimulation, dry fucking, oral as a tongue massage (f. receiving)—a reward <3, body fluids (cum), dry humping, cock riding, dumbfication, degradation, aftercare, exhaustion, and DIRTY TALK.

here’s how it always goes with seungcheol:

you walk into a room, he immediately finds something to scoff at. maybe it’s the way you dress, maybe it’s the way you talk, maybe it’s just the fact that you exist in his general vicinity. but it doesn’t matter what you do—he hates you. or, at the very least, that’s what he insists on showing you.

joshua, your best friend and possibly the only person in the world who can tolerate both of you without losing his mind, always tells you to be the bigger person. “he’s not that bad,” he says, as if seungcheol didn’t practically hiss at you last week for sitting on his side of the couch.

but whatever. you don’t go out of your way to piss him off, and he doesn’t go out of his way to be nice. that’s just the way it is.

which is why you hesitate when joshua calls you:

“i swear, i wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important. i left my keys at your place before i flew out, remember?”

“okay, but i literally don’t want to step foot in his apartment,” you stress, cringing at the thought.

“it’s my apartment, too,” joshua deadpans.

you groan, already feeling a headache coming on.

“just go in, grab the folder on my desk, and leave,” he insists. “cheol probably won’t even be home.”

which is how you find yourself standing outside their apartment door, holding joshua’s keys and hyping yourself up like you’re about to enter enemy territory. which, in a way, you are.

you unlock the door, push it open,

and immediately wish you hadn’t.

seungcheol. on the couch. fisting his cock.

your brain short-circuits. like, full shutdown, blue screen, cease all functioning mode.

the man is spread out—legs wide, head tipped back, theres a drop of sweat that drips from his neck aand land in the middle of his chest. hes exposing his toned abs that clench with every up and down of his hand. and his cock is huge. thick from the base to the top and flushed deep red at the tip, veins prominent as his fist works over it.

he’s so lost in it that he doesn’t even register your presence at first, not until he finally cracks his eyes open and sees you standing there, frozen stunned into silence.

the next few seconds happen in slow motion.

his eyes widen. his entire body stiffens. his hand stops.

“WHAT THE FUCK—”

seungcheol scrambles to cover himself, reaching for the nearest thing—which, unfortunately for him, is a shirt that does nothing to hide the absolute tent he’s pitching. his face goes red, splotchy from the neck up, and he looks so flustered that for a split second, you almost feel bad.

“why the fuck are you here?!” he practically barks at you, voice ragged from whatever the fuck he was doing before you ruined his life.

you blink, still processing the image that’s now burned into your brain for eternity. “uh. joshua?”

“what about joshua?!”

“he… he needed a document.”

seungcheol lets out a sound that is so frustrated, so exasperated, that it almost doesn’t register as human. “and you didn’t think to knock?!”

“why would i knock?! i didn’t think anyone would be jerking off in the living room like a fucking pervert—”

“IT’S MY APARTMENT.”

“IT’S JOSHUA’S TOO.”

“HE’S NOT HERE.”

“WELL, NEITHER AM I, NOW.” you turn on your heel, hand reaching for the doorknob. “i’ll just get the doc later—”

but before you can escape, he rasps, “don’t you dare tell joshua about this.”

you pause. smirk. oh, this is fun.

back still facing him, fingers still wrapped around the doorknob. you should leave. should pretend none of this ever happened. but something—some sick, wrong part of you—doesn’t want to.

so you turn. lean back against the door. cross your arms.

“what?” he snaps, shifting on the couch, the shirt still pitifully draped over his lap.

you tilt your head, dragging your gaze slowly down his body—his hard nipples, the taut muscles in his arms, the way his thighs tense like he’s fighting the urge to close them. you can see the way he twitches under the shirt.

“you’re still hard,” you note, your voice syrupy sweet, but your eyes gleam meanly.

seungcheol tenses. “so?”

“so… you’re mad at me for walking in,” you say, cocking a brow, “but you’re still hard as fuck.”

he grits his teeth, but his silence is loud as hell.

so you take a step forward. just one.

his breath hitches.

“cheol.” you coo at him. “you sure you hate me?”

he glares, but it’s weaker now, faltering under your scrutiny. you can see it—the slight tremor in his fingers, the way his pulse jumps in his throat, the way he’s not telling you to stop.

so you take another step.

and another.

until you’re standing right in front of him, the shirt the only barrier between his cock and your eyes.

his jaw tightens. “don’t.”

“don’t what?” you murmur, reaching forward to trace your fingers over his wrist—the one that was just wrapped around his cock. “don’t call you out? don’t get closer? don’t—”

in a flash, he grabs your wrist, yanking you down.

you gasp as you land on his lap, his hands firm on your hips, his cock pressing against your ass through the thin barrier of the shirt and your clothes.

his lips are right by your ear when he growls, “don’t fucking test me.”

you shiver, but you’re not scared, you’re thrilled.

so you shift, pressing back against him, and smirk when he lets out a sharp breath through his nose.

“or what?” you whisper.

his grip tightens. “you really wanna find out?”

your fingers curl into his hair, tugging just enough to make him hiss.

“yeah,” you breathe, lips brushing his jaw. “i do.”

he snaps.

the shirt under you is gone.

his mouth crashes into yours, hot and angry, his hands gripping your waist like he’s trying to burn the shape of you into his palms. his teeth nip at your bottom lip, his tongue prying your mouth open, swallowing the gasp you let out when his fingers dig into your hips.

you grind down, moaning into his mouth when you feel just how fucking thick he is, leaking against your skirt.

his hands are rough when he yanks your skirt up, bunching the fabric around your waist with no intention of letting it fall back down. you barely have a second to breathe before his fingers push past your thighs, finding the front of your panties hooking his thumb into the damp fabric and pulling it to the side.

the rush of cold air makes you gasp, thighs trying to snap shut, but his thighs pins them open. and maybe, he has a shred of decency in him, because he lets out a low breath and murmurs, “this is gonna be rough.”

no warning. just that.

you should stop him. you should tell him to go slow, to prep you, to at least spit on it—but you don’t, you need to feel this big cock stretching you until every single thought inside your head gets completely erased.

there’s no lube, no prep besides the mess between your thighs, just the torturous process of sinking down.

seungcheol watches all of it. watches the way your lips part, how your lashes flutter, how your nails dig into the skin of his shoulders the lower you go. he’s leaning back against the couch, one hand gripping the plush of your ass, the other wrapped around his base, guiding you onto him like you’re something delicate. like he’s trying to help.

but he’s not.

because he knows what he’s doing when he taps his cockhead against your clit first, dragging the tip through your slick, coaxing out little whimpers that make him smirk. he knows what he’s doing when he presses up, just the tip slipping inside, barely enough to be satisfying but more than enough to make your thighs twitch.

your breath catches in your throat, your whole body twitching up as you take the next inch too fast. your brain is empty, your body is working on instinct, thighs shaking as you brace yourself against him, trying—failing—to push down further.

and he sees it. sees how you’re struggling, sees how your muscles twitch like you’re about to give out, sees how you want to take it but your body is fighting the stretch.

so he helps.

his hands clamp down on your waist.

and then he slams you down.

the sound that leaves your throat is so ruined that he cant help but feel a bit of compassion.

because suddenly you’re full. suddenly you’re sitting completely in his lap, completely engulfed in him, your thighs flush against his, his cock buried so fucking deep that you can feel it pressing up against every nerve inside you.

but when you try to move, try to lift yourself even an inch—nothing.

your thighs won’t cooperate. your muscles won’t listen.

you can’t move.

“oh?” seungcheol tilts his head, smug grin curling at his lips as he grinds up, watching the way your mouth falls open at the sensation.

“too big for you, baby?”

you whimper.

“thought so.”

and then he takes control, because you can’t move—so he does it for you. his hands lift you effortlessly, dragging your hips up before slamming you back down, setting the pace, forcing your body to take what it’s given.

and you can’t think straight anymore. every thrust knocks the air from your lungs, every time he slams you down it punches little whimpers from your throat that only make him hungrier.

“awww… thought you were so tough. but you can’t even fuck yourself on my cock, huh?”

you cry out, body giving up, melting against his chest as you desperately try to follow his rhythm, hips twitching with little, pathetic attempts to keep up. your body isn’t even yours anymore—just a toy, something for seungcheol to use, something he’s breaking in with every brutal roll of his hips.

his fingers dig into your waist, gripping you so tight it hurts, but the pleasure drowns it out. you’re so deep into it, into him, that every ounce of shame has left your body, every shred of dignity gone. because you can’t do anything but take it, can’t do anything but let him use you like you were made for this.

he tilts his head, watching you fall apart, watching how your thighs tremble with every slap of his hips against yours.

“damn,” he laughs, licking his lips, voice mocking. “you’re making such a fucking mess of yourself.”

you whimper, forehead pressing against his collarbone.

and then he grabs your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“mm-mm, don’t hide now,” he says, smirking. “be a good girl and let me see that dumb little face while i ruin you.”

a sob rips from your throat, high-pitched and wrecked.

he groans, grinding up into you.

“fuck. bet the neighbors can hear you, huh? joshua’s gonna be so fucking embarrassed when he gets a noise complaint for his dumb little best friend getting dicked down like a whore.”

your whole body jerks, a whimper escaping your lips at the humiliation, the filth dripping from his tongue.

and he sees it.

his grin turns cruel.

“oh, you like that?” he taunts, thrusting up so deep your back arches. “you like knowing that you’re loud enough to make it everyone’s fucking problem? that you’re such a good little fucktoy for me that i can’t even keep you quiet?”

you nod, because you can’t lie. his fingers tighten around your jaw, his lips brushing against yours as he coos.

“poor little thing.”

he thrusts up again, so hard, so deep that your whole body bounces, hands scrambling against his chest, voice cracking in a choked-out sob.

and he moans, deep and satisfied, because you’re so fucking perfect for him. because your body is his to use, to mold, to ruin.

“joshua’s gonna kill me c-cheol.”

his hips snap up again, knocking the breath from your lungs.

“but you’ll tell him it was worth it, won’t you, baby?”

he smooths one over your back, pressing down so your tits rub against his burning skin, while the other stays firm on your hip, keeping you still. your body jerks with every pulse of his cock inside you, twitching as you flutter around him, so overstimulated you can’t tell where the pleasure starts or ends.

“s-seungcheol—” his name is nothing but a broken cry, muffled against his neck, but he’s relentless. he doesn’t even let you finish, just shifts his knees slightly and thrusts up into you with all the power in his core.

“fuck,” he hisses when you clamp down, crying out into his skin, and he wraps an arm fully around you to hold you up. “shh, baby, you’re being so loud.”

his hand snakes up your back, fingers tangling into your hair, forcing you to lift your head. you meet his gaze, and it knocks the breath from your lungs. he looks fucked, mouth parted, sweat dripping from his hairline, chest heaving, but he still manages to look at you like he’s about to devour you whole.

“c’mon,” he coos, tilting his head, his grip tightening just enough to make your scalp tingle. “tell me it was worth it. tell me how good my cock is.”

he punctuates it with a sharp snap of his hips and you keen, trying to lift yourself, trying to relieve some of the intensity, but your thighs betray you. seungcheol laughs, breathless but smug, and his fingers press bruises into your skin as he maneuvers you like you weigh nothing.

“see? can’t even move, huh? my poor baby,” he murmurs, voice syrupy sweet, his free hand cupping your cheek now. “you’re just gonna sit here and take it like the perfect fucktoy you are.”

heat prickles at your skin at the words, your brain too fogged up to be embarrassed, too fucked out to do anything but let him guide you. he rocks you against him, making sure you feel every inch of him dragging against your walls, rubbing at all the right places, pressing into you deeper than you thought was even possible.

“you take me so well, baby,” he praises, leaning in to press his lips against yours, just enough to tease. “so fuckin’ tight, so warm—fucking heaven.”

his hand slides between your bodies, two fingers finding your swollen, neglected clit, rubbing slow, deliberate circles over it. the sensation makes your thighs twitch, your nails dig into his back, a fresh wave of tears pooling at the corners of your eyes.

“shhh, i got you, baby,” he whispers, kissing your jaw now, your temple. his fingers on your clit work in time with the slow, torturous grind of his hips. “i got you, yeah? you gonna cum for me? hm?”

he kisses you full on the mouth when you sob, swallowing the sound like he wants to keep it forever. and then he speeds up just a little, rolling your clit with more pressure, meeting every rut of your hips with a firm thrust up.

you shatter.

your whole body seizes, a strangled moan tearing from your throat as you clamp down so tight on him that it sends him tumbling over the edge with you. he groans, long and low, holding you so tight against him that you can feel every pulse of his cum inside you, hot and deep. his hips jerk once, twice more before he stills, forehead pressed against yours as you both gasp for air.

it’s quiet for a moment, the only sounds are the distant hum of the city outside the window, and the soft squelch when he finally shifts, making you both moan.

your body trembles like a leaf caught in the wind, and seungcheol drinks it in, the heat of your overstimulated form twitching against his chest as he presses slow, lingering kisses into the curve of your neck. his lips move down, sucking at the pulse point that hammers beneath your skin. your breath stutters. his fingers, nails just barely grazing, trail down the arch of your spine, featherlight but enough to make you shiver. you barely even realize you’re moving, the last bit of strength in your boneless limbs used to weakly push yourself up, to let his cock slip free from where it’s buried inside you.

the second it leaves you, your body gives out. you collapse right into his chest, heavier than before, spent and trembling, the exhaustion hitting all at once. you can’t even pretend to be embarrassed about it. you just sigh, your lips brushing the base of his throat as you settle against him, body limp.

seungcheol holds you steady with both hands, like he’s afraid you might melt right into the couch and disappear. his broad palm cradles the back of your head, fingers splaying across your scalp, scratching at your roots. he keeps the other hand wrapped around your waist, thumb stroking absentmindedly against your ribs. the tension in his body hasn’t left yet. his shoulders are still tight. you know him well enough to know what’s coming before he even says it.

“you good?”

you hum in response, nuzzling into his chest as your fingers curl weakly against his pecs. “just a little sore.”

he exhales through his nose. shifts beneath you. you can feel his fingers flex where they rest on your waist, like he wants to squeeze but holds himself back. then, with zero effort, he grips the back of your neck and lifts you up, just enough to force you to look at him. your lids are heavy, half-lidded, dazed, and fuck, that shouldn’t make him feel so possessive, but it does.

his thumb sweeps across your cheek, his jaw tensing. “shit. i’m sorry,” he murmurs, eyes scanning over your features like he’s searching for anything more than just exhaustion. “lemme take care of you, hm?”

you don’t have it in you to resist, don’t even want to. you let him move you, let him handle you like you weigh nothing as he lifts you from his lap and shifts you onto the couch, laying you down as if you’re something delicate. and maybe you are, now, after the way he ruined you. maybe that’s why you don’t fight him when he presses your thighs apart, watching as they just fall open on their own, spread wide like a doll.

you don’t have the strength to do much else than whimper softly as his thumbs spread you further, gaze locked onto your swollen cunt, still so slick from where he fucked you. his jaw clenches.

you don’t even get a warning before he moves in, before his hands grip your thighs to keep them open as he dives between them, mouth sealing over your clit in one slow stroke of his tongue.

you jolt, a weak little gasp punching from your lungs. your fingers barely find the energy to tangle into his hair, and the grip is nowhere near as firm as it usually is, but he groans anyway. whether it’s from the feeling of your grip or from the way you instantly react to him, you don’t know. but he doesn’t stop.

his tongue moves slow, warm and so fucking wet as he licks broad, flat strokes over your sensitive flesh, working you open again with patience. he isn’t trying to overstimulate, isn’t trying to get you off again—though you can already tell it wouldn’t take much. his focus is entirely on easing the ache, on massaging every tender inch of you with his mouth, his lips, his tongue.

“feels good?” his voice is muffled against you, but it vibrates in just the right way.

you nod, breath hitching when he sucks your clit into his mouth, tongue rolling it in slow circles. your body twitches, heat curling at the base of your spine. “cheol…”

he moans against you, and presses you down harder against his face. your hips jump, an embarrassing whimper breaking free as his tongue dips lower, tracing around your entrance before dragging back up, collecting every bit of slick along the way.

you whine, fingers curling tighter in his hair. he doesn’t tease. doesn’t prolong it. just keeps his pace slow and steady, gentle enough to soothe, firm enough to keep you on the edge of something, even if you’re too sensitive to chase it. and if the way he’s grinding his hips into the couch tells you anything—it’s that he’s just as affected as you are.

he’s not eating you out to get himself off, but fuck if it isn’t working.

the obscene sounds of his mouth working between your thighs filling the entire apartment, mixing in with your breathless moans and the way he groans right into your cunt. you don’t even have it in you to be embarrassed about the way your cum is smeared all over his chin, his jaw, his cheeks—how it drips down onto the couch below with every intentional roll of his tongue against your entrance.

his tongue works in circles, pressing flat to your hole before dragging up again, tasting every bit of your arousal as it gushes out onto his lips. his mouth is open the entire time, tongue rolling and flicking, nose nudging against your clit as he angles his head lower. he flattens his tongue, groaning as he drags it up through your folds before plunging it into you, so messy that you swear you see white behind your eyelids.

your back arches, chest rising in sharp, hiccupped gasps, every single nerve in your body on flames. your thighs twitch in his grasp, and he squeezes them tighter, keeping you spread open just for him. his hands slide up, one wrapping firmly around your waist, keeping you pinned in place, while the other travels up, up—his fingers finding the stiff peaks of your nipples.

your eyes snap open, a gasp catching in your throat as he rolls one between his fingertips, twisting just enough to make your eyes roll. you swear you hear him chuckle against you, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

“breathe,” he murmurs, lips brushing against your clit before sucking it between his teeth, tongue rolling in lazy, teasing circles on the swollen bud. “breathe for me, baby.”

you try. you really do. but the way his mouth moves, the way his fingers tweak and pull, it’s too much. you’re spiraling. you feel another orgasm creeping up so fast it steals the air right out of your lungs.

he sees it. he knows.

his grip tightens on your thigh, his tongue flicking faster, working you open as his free hand continues to play with your tits, kneading the soft flesh, fingers rolling your nipples in rhythm with the lazy grind of his tongue against your clit.

your moans turn high-pitched, desperate. your body twists beneath him, unable to keep still as the pleasure builds, climbing higher and higher.

but then—a whimper.

not from you.

from him.

you force your heavy lids open, head lolling to the side as you try to focus on him. and fuck, the sight that greets you is almost enough to make you cum then and there.

seungcheol is rutting against the couch. grinding, fucking humping it like a damn dog, his hips rolling in slow thrusts, his rock-hard cock straining against his stomach, smearing precum all over his abs and the fabric beneath him.

he whimpers again, this time louder, his brows furrowed, his breath coming in short, uneven pants.

“fuck,” he groans, mouth still pressed against you, voice muffled by the way his tongue keeps working you over. he pulls back just enough to speak, his lips glistening, his chin soaked. his eyes are dark, glassy, pupils blown wide as he looks up at you. “can’t—fuck, i can’t stop. you taste too good.”

your chest tightens, a desperate, aching cry slipping from your lips as you clutch at his hair, thighs twitching in his grasp. “cheol—gonna—gonna cum, oh my god—”

he moans, actually fucking moans, his hips grinding down harder against the couch as he redoubles his efforts, tongue circling your clit in precise, teasing flicks, his fingers pinching your nipples just hard enough to send you over the edge.

your body locks up. your back arches. your mouth falls open, a silent scream tearing from your throat as your orgasm crashes over you, all-consuming.

seungcheol doesn’t stop. doesn’t slow down. he works you through it like it’s his mission, licking you clean, his tongue rolling over your entrance, collecting every last drop as your body trembles violently beneath him.

your chest heaves, your vision blurring, but even through the haze, you can feel him still grinding against the couch, still so fucking hard and desperate, all because of you.

your brain is slow. dial-up connection slow. everything feels like it’s underwater, your body floating somewhere between consciousness and the best orgasm-induced coma of your life. it’s warm, so warm, like your body is still riding out the fever of your high, tongue pressed against the roof of your mouth, throat dry, muscles heavy like they’re full of sand.

you don’t even remember when it happened—when you blacked out, when you got moved. just flashes of cool wipes dragging over your skin, a damp cloth pressed between your thighs, seungcheol’s hands gentle, careful, murmuring something you were too gone to comprehend. like déjà vu, like something out of a dream.

but you’re awake now. sort of. and you’re in his bed.

the sheets are soft, cool against your fevered skin, and it feels so good that you can’t help the tired, pleased moan that slips past your lips, involuntary, barely conscious.

but it’s enough to make him look at you.

you blink, vision still a little hazy, but yeah, that’s definitely seungcheol, sitting at his desk, dressed in a loose shirt and sweats, hair damp, probably from a shower. there’s a slight smirk on his lips, but his eyes are soft as they sweep over you, taking in the way you’re still half-buried in his sheets, limbs heavy, body relaxed.

then it hits you.

the documents.

joshua.

fuck.

your eyes widen, and you jolt up too fast, regretting it immediately when the soreness between your thighs protests, a sharp ache shooting up your spine. “fuck—”

seungcheol’s already up, one hand pressing to your shoulder, guiding you back down before you can do any more damage. “hey, hey, relax. you’re gonna hurt yourself.”

“the—documents,” you mumble, eyes fluttering shut again as the exhaustion creeps back in. “joshua.”

he chuckles, and you open your eyes just in time to see him shaking a small stack of papers in his hand. “yeah, yeah. i got it. sent them over while you were passed out.”

you frown, groggy. “i was supposed to send them.”

“and joshua needs to get used to me handling shit for you,” he says, grinning as he sets the papers down. “besides, he’d probably prefer not to get another noise complaint under his name.”

your face heats up instantly. “oh my god.”

“mhmm,” seungcheol hums, tilting his head. “wanna know how loud you were?”

“no.”

he laughs, reaching out to brush a stray strand of hair from your face, thumb tracing your cheek. “then go back to sleep, baby.”

you glare at him. or, at least, you try to. it’s weak, and he knows it, because all it takes is one more stroke of his thumb before your eyes flutter shut again, body sinking further into his bed.

yeah. you can fight him about the joshua thing later. maybe. probably not.

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