a mafia!sehun scenario pt.1
(a combination of angst, smut and fluff. You have been warned.)
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Your red tartan shirt bristles behind you as you march, furious, towards the dancing neon lights that adulterate the street ahead of them. Kyungsoo had gone out. Again. Barley a week after promising to become less involved in mafia business and he’d slipped away from your shared apartment the second your back had been turned. Your brother’s lack of sincerity hurt, but what really fuelled your rage was the greater, heart-rendering betrayal you’d stumbled upon not an hour ago. Your boyfriend, well, ex-boyfriend, with his face buried between another’s woman legs. For weeks you’d suspected him of an affair, but to have it materialized in front of you had been too much to handle. You’d cried angry, shameful tears and stumbled home, in hopes of finding your older brother’s comfort and warmth. Instead, the house was cold and empty, and the nearest trace of your beloved big brother was a scrawled apology on a ripped piece of paper.
So yeah, you were pissed. And you weren’t about to let Kyungsoo get away with it. You knew how often he frequented this club, though you’d never actually visited it in person before, and that it was a place his gang would often strike deals with neighbouring groups.
You knew very little about Kyungsoo’s group, mostly because he refused to tell you anything or ever let you meet with any of the members. Not that you were exactly pleading for him to let you. He knew how much you hated that part of his life – the gangs, the money, the fights. You had no idea in what the hell he was involved in, but you knew it wasn’t even a little bit legal. He’d come home bloodied and bruised so many times that you were coming to be pretty handy with the makeshift doctor’s kit you kept underneath the kitchen sink. But no matter how many times you would complain about how this life was hurting him, he’d always simply reaffirm the same, undeniable truth – you needed the money. At which point, your yelling would abruptly cease, as you could offer no worthy response – he was right, you really, really needed the money.
You think however, slamming through the club’s dingy doors, that you’re not completely clueless about this part of Kyungsoo’s life. He’ll occasionally let slip some crucial piece of information that you’ve built up a fairly solid background. His gang – exo – run your area. They’re a group of 9 men and you think perhaps the leader was.. Suho, was it? Something like that. But you know that while they’re in control of the local area, they are not the absolute power at the front of it. They’re one of many gangs that help control the whole of Seoul for the big boss. That’s what you’ve taken to calling them, since Kyungsoo absolutely refuses to disclose any clues about their identity. You’re not aware of much else, other than that exo has had to regularly defend their territory lately, so Kyungsoo had been coming home more bloodied and bruised than ever. It worried you to no extent, but you knew that he would never leave his gang. Because as much as you were his sister, they were all his brothers, and his level of devotion to them ran deep. But he had swore he would spend less time out on these jobs, and the clear disregard for your wishes stung deep.
The club seems so busy that the walls themselves vibrate. Everywhere you turn, people slam against one another with shuddering fervour, and more than once you are jostled violently to the side. Craning your neck, you hope to catch a glimpse of Kyungsoo’s dark hair in the crowd, but with this many people and the twitching purple lights, it’s impossible to see. Your fists clench as you attempt to reign in your growing anger and, thinking you see an opening in the middle of the floor, you push towards it.
It takes a considerable time, but eventually you manage to squirm your way to the forefront of the crowd. In the middle of the floor, two boys dance opposite each other, mirroring the other’s moves in a routine like motion. Around them, the partygoers cheer ferociously and stomp their feet to the beat of the mismatched song. You sigh irritably and scan around the room. From this angle, you realize there is a seating area above the floor. It trails around the room with a number of plush purple comforters at different points, tables situated between them. You growl, realizing this is Kyungsoo’s likely location.
Your attention is drawn back to the boys for a moment as the audience’s approval rears up once again in thunderous applause. You cringe slightly, and then realize it is because the floor beneath them has opened up and is now sprouting water, soaking their clothes.
And yes, you’re angry, very much so, but, well you know how to appreciate a nice view, alright? You’re so lost in the fluidity of the dance for a moment, the stark contrast of the boy’s physiques and their opposing blonde and black hair that you fail to realize everyone around you has moved back, and that you are a definite two paces in front of the crowd with water sloshing at your ankles, impatient shouts ringing at your ears.
Cursing at your own mindless ogling, you try to take advantage of the situation and glance up to see if you can better see Kyungsoo. However, as your eyes drift upwards, they connect with the blonde boy in front of you. His movements have paused, realizing your stance, and he seems to be assessing you, almost. His hair, wet and tousled, bats impatiently around his forehead, only lightly obscuring his dark eyes. The water drips untroubled down the long bridge of his nose and puckering over his full lips, before leading a dangerous path towards his lean and open chest. His attire, you note, leads very little to imagine, with his white shirt soaked through and ripped open, and his dark jeans equally distressed, clinging tight to his skin.
You snap out of your undignified gawking and clear your throat awkwardly, realizing he is smirking at you.
You’ve never been very good at holding the gaze of people so attractive they make your eyes hurt, so you look down immediately, blushing darkly. You hurry to stumble back into the safety of the crowd, but just as you begin to move, so does he. Suddenly, he seems to barrel towards you, as in, literally right towards you so that he is practically running at the crowd. Your eyes widen in considerable shock and you’re hurrying to distance yourself when he leaps into the air, twisting his limbs in a stance that frankly seems both unnatural and dangerous when-
He lands at your feet, on his knees, with his head hanging in front of you. The crowd roars their approval and, running his hands through his hair, he turns to look up at you, grinning this time. His boldness shocks you, though you can’t deny how attractive the sudden confidence is. You’re on the verge of grinning back when your eyes flick south again and realize the red ink on his shirt. Your eyes darken as you take it in, recognizing the same mark on Kyungsoo’s jacket at home. You know exactly what type of mark that is.
Of course. A man lands literally on his knees in front of you and he too, is involved in the mafia. What a blessed, blessed day.
Your interest evaporates instantly and you sigh audibly as he stands, especially when you realize his frame dwarfs your own. He blinks down at you, body still very, very close to your own and quirks an eyebrow at your admittedly not very club like attire.
“Enjoy the show?” He asks, eyes crinkled in a half smile as he leans down slightly.
You match his eyebrow quirk with your own and reaching your hand up, flick some of the water from his performance at his face.
“I’ve seen better.”
Over his shoulder you finally catch a glimpse of your traitorous brother, laughing loudly in a booth with a red haired man in front of him. Your earlier feelings of anger are quickly recalled at the sight, and glowering at the image, you shoulder roughly past the still-smirking man in front of you and slosh loudly through the water stage. You catch the grin of his dark haired partner as you do so, but make no effort to return such niceties – you are much, much too angry for that.
You land in front of your brother will a dull thud, water dripping from your jeans. He and the men around him turn to look at you in interest, but this quickly turns into panic as Kyungsoo realizes who it is standing, glowering in front of him.
“What the actual fuck Kyungsoo?”
He stumbles around to exit the booth and the members around him seem shocked at your tone. If you were perhaps calmer, more in control of your rational sense, you would perhaps note that these people around him are the infamous exo gang and have absolutely no clue as to who or what you are, or what you are doing.
“Y/n, calm down-“
“Don’t you dare!” You growl, snatching away from him as he attempts to placate your flailing limbs. In the process, your hand reaches up and strikes against his cheek, and though the men behind him make small sounds of outcry, he only stares at you.
“You promised me, you promised-“ Your voice continues to raise as your hysteria does, and now not only him, but the men around him reach forward to steady you.
“Little sister, you’re making a scene.” He mutters quietly, latching onto your wrist, a slight red blossoming on his cheek.
“Little sister? D.O, what’s going on?” From behind him a tall man asks, taking you in quietly. You glare at him in response, and his gaze hardens.
“D.O? D.O? Is that what they call you here?” You hiss. “Is this who you are, D.O?” You question sarcastically and his grip on your wrist tightens.
He leans toward you darkly, ignoring the questioning shouts of the men behind him.
“This is not a place for you, y/n. Go. Home.” He punctuates his last two words harshly, though you see the quick scan he does behind you and realize faintly, that a small crowd has gathered to spectate. Still, unwilling to back down, your matching dark eyes challenge his.
“Go with me.”
You realize that you have laid out a very clear and obvious choice in front of him, and so does he. His eyes widen slightly at what you appear to be asking of him, but you refuse to submit to the hurt that blossoms there. He watches you for a few moments longer before sighing angrily and releasing your wrist so abruptly that it seems to fling across the small space between you. He backs away from you and stands in front of the men in front of him, closer to them than he is to you.
“Who’s the girl, D.O?” Someone asks from behind you and turning slightly, you realize a much larger crowd has gathered than you originally expected. You turn back to your brother, your palms clenched tightly together. He’s turned his back on you, leaning close to the tall man from earlier, who continues to stare at you tensely.
“She’s nothing.” Kyungsoo replies simply and, looking out across the crowd, smiles sardonically, rolling his eyes.
“As if I would associate with the likes of her.”
The crowd titters in cruel excitement behind you and hot, angry tears spring to your eyes. You scoff in disbelief and wonder how the situation escalated from bad, to worse.
He looks back at you once more and there’s a regretful understanding in his eyes, an almost tug in his limbs that make it seem as though he wants to approach you, but confirmed with a certainty that he won’t.
Overwhelmed with hurt, you turn on him and weave through the crowd who, having just witnessed your utter humiliation seem willing to leave room for your escape. This, small mercy you suppose you can appreciate.
Bursting out the doors of the club, you let out a sudden, feral scream. The hinges of the doors trickle shut behind you, but you ignore it, squatting to your knees and taking your head in your palms, willing the tears to stop.
You can’t believe Kyungsoo would willingly treat you this way. For a long time you’d regarded your brother as the one person in the world you felt you could rely wholly upon, who you were sure would never break or abuse your trust the way he had only moments ago. Your anger, while still present, is overwhelmed by the hurt of your brother’s disloyalty and your own humiliation at his hands.
Your inner monologue is interrupted as the doors once again swing open behind you. Initially, you take no interest in the likely drunk trespasser, expecting them to perhaps vomit in the muddy patch across from you before then stumbling back inside. Instead, slow, careful steps click against the pavement next to you and, spreading your fingers slightly, you realize a group of 3 men or so have come to gather around you.
You stop crying, and raise your head slightly. One directly ahead of you, one at each side. Your breath comes in quick, sudden gasps but you figure this is probably a good thing. They will not expect much of a girl who looks afraid.
(Though, you figure it’s probably important to note that you are very, very afraid anyway.)
A man with a dark suit, dark hair and darker eyes grins sardonically down at you. A cigarette dangles precariously from his lips and after a moment, he draws in a breath that seems almost laborious and crushes it under the heel of his shoe. He makes the sudden twist of his foot seem intimidating, and though he seems keen to maintain a supposed easy going stance, every inch of him stands firm and calculating.
After a moment’s pause, he squats down in front of you and pulls your hands away from your face, keeping them still in his palms. His hands are cold.
“And who might you be?” His words are smooth and clear, ringing out across the suddenly empty street.
Fighting hard to maintain a facade that doesn’t show how intimidated you have become, you raise your head higher, looking him dead in the eye.
“No one to you.” Your response is casual, cool, the opposite of what you feel in the moment.
He hums, the pressure on your wrists increasing slightly.
“No one to D.O either, apparently.”
You lose your composure for half a second, anger slipping through your eyes and he clicks his tongue, smiling.
“Ah, so sorry. Too soon?” His head tilts to side, mocking arrogance dripping from his every feature – the twist of his lips, the slight crinkle of his crescent eyes. Your fear is evident, but quickly overwhelmed by the irritation this man’s presence inspires.
“Is there a point to you speaking, or is it just that no one else wants to listen?”
The men to the side of you let out little chuckles, and he himself seems delighted by your notable indignation.
“Awfully brave thing to say of a girl who’s hands won’t stop shaking.” He holds up your trembling fingers as though to prove his point, loosely combining them with his for a second.
“It’s because I don’t find you attractive. I tend to get uncomfortable when ugly men insist of touching me.”
The men next to you really are laughing now, and though the man in front of you smiles still, he squeezes his fingers into your own harshly, so much so that you have to bite your lip to stop yourself from yelping in pain.
“But you didn’t mind when Kyungsoo touched you, did you? I bet you were loving it, his hands on you.” You attempt to back up slightly, disgusted by what he appears to be suggesting, but he doesn’t let you, snatching your body closer to his.
“That’s what you are isn’t it? I saw you on the floor too, standing closer so that little brat would come grind on you or some shit. I gotta say, you’re not very subtle about what you do, or what you are. But hey,” He pauses, reaching his hand to roughly tug your chin up to meet his, before letting his eyes travel slowly, leeching over your every curve and dip. He flicks his eyes up once more, settling on the disgust that screams in yours.
“I’m certainly not complaining. I respect a girl who knows exactly what she is – a dirty, little who-“
He doesn’t get to finish his monologue because, having heard enough of just exactly what he perceives you to be, you lurch forward bite harshly into the soft skin of his cheek. He yells in pain but you grind your teeth until you feel the blood spurt up in between them. He slams his palms against your face and the two men at your side rear you up and away from him. Breathing heavily, you spit out the blood in your mouth onto the street.
“Bitch.” He hisses, pressing his fingers to the blood trailing down the side of his face.
You hum in agreement and lean forward in your captors grip slightly. “And one that would never fuck you.”
His smiles and laughs are gone now. He takes two steps toward you before pushing open his jacket slightly to reveal a glint of metal against his hip.
“Maybe I ought to teach you a little les-“
The doors behind you slam open as Kyungsoo launches himself at one of the men holding up your arms. Beside you, the tall man from earlier does the same. And then, all at once the men you had seen sitting in the club seem to trickle out on the street beside you, taking up equally defensive positions.
Your arms now free, Kyungsoo takes a moment to look up from his attacker and shift his head frantically down the side of the street.
You nod back quickly, but, turning back to the bleeding man in front of you as he faces off with the red haired man you’d seen your brother laughing with earlier, you can’t resist pulling the pepper spray Kyungsoo had insisted you carry from your pocket, and unloading the contents of it on his face. He shouts in pain as it sprays into his eyes and, satisfied, you drop the empty can and sprint off down the street.
“Dick!” And really, as you shout it, you’re unsure who it is you’re shouting it at.
As it turns out, you are even less athletic than you previously thought, and that was already pretty bad. So you’re not running for long when you slip into a small, decrepit alleyway and lean down in an attempt to catch your breath.
Your hand is spread over your stomach and your hair bats impatiently around your eyes when you jump at the intrusion of a rich voice ahead of you.
“Is this how you usually spend your Friday nights?”
You turn your head slightly and notice him, still damp from his performance as he leans against a wall and takes you in.
“Well, this is more of a Saturday night thing but, well I’ve had a rough week.”
The corners of his lips tug in a half moon smile and he takes a few more, easy steps toward you. You lift up your palm suddenly in an attempt to maintain a barricade.
“Listen, I’ve really had my fill of all and any of the male species tonight, so if you’re planning on intimidating me, d’you think we could, you know, move it to tomorrow night or something?” You huff and he’s really smiling now, eyes crinkling.
“But don’t you already have Saturday plans?” He asks, his head tilting to the side.
Despite yourself, despite the overall shitty nature of today and despite that little red inking on his shirt, you feel the laughter bubble in your chest.
It expands until you’re heaving through the chuckles, ignoring the tears that stream down your cheeks. You sigh, leaning back on your heels and sliding against the wall until you’re sitting, legs propped out in front of you. You hear him as he walks towards you and, as he comes closer, you loll your head to the side to look up at him. He blinks down at you, smiling gently, before he sighs loudly and slumps down next to you.
He nudges his knee against yours slightly and though you know you should probably attempt to create some space between you, remind yourself that not only is he a stranger, he is the worst kind of stranger, you can’t seem to muster the energy to pull away.
“What happened?” You sigh, drawing up your knees to rest your head on them.
You lapse into a comfortable silence for a moment before he mimics your position, resting his head so that you both blink at one another, each taking the other in.
“I have a serious question.”
You steel yourself, nodding.
“Why’d you flick water in my face?”
“Maybe I was displeased with your performance.”
“No, that’s not it.” His eyes twinkle with a childish mischief. “I saw you looking.”
You scoff, raising your head. “Looking at what?”
He raises his eyebrows, again repeating your motions. He gestures down to himself, over his still open shirt and dark jeans. “All. Of. This.”
You roll your eyes, but your grin does not falter.
“I was looking at the other one.”
“You’re a terrible liar.”
You pause, feigning shock.
“You don’t know. I could be a terrible truth teller.”
“That’s not a thing.”
“100% a thing.”
“Doesn’t sound like a thing.”
“It’s a thing!”
His grin widens and he tilts his head further, regarding your now ruffled exterior. After a moment’s pause, he sticks out his hand towards you.
You hesitate, eyes flickering between his hand and loopy red handwriting barely visible in the light of the dumpster. After an awkward pause, you figure your night can’t really get much worse than it already has and well, he did make you laugh. You slip your hand into his gently, noticing that it is surprisingly warm and immediately worrying that your palms are sweaty.
“Y/n.” You respond, sighing.
Dropping your hand, he leans his head back against the wall again, closing his eyes briefly. You study him as he does so, your eyes canvassing along the general slump of his arms as they rest against his knees, the slack in his strong jaw.
“You look tired.” You observe meekly, and his eyes flicker open, familiar smile finding his lips once more.
“I am exhausted.” He grunts slightly, twisting his body to face you.
“You uh, I mean, you don’t have to stay here with me, if you’re tired.” You stumble over your words, suddenly embarrassed. “Actually, why are you here?” You enquire, gesturing around the dimly lit alleyway.
He shrugs, and his eyes cloud over for a second.
“My friends got in a fight.” He mutters. You regard him quietly, with not a small ounce of curiosity.
“You’re not gonna fight with them?” You enquire, and if on cue, his phone buzzes loudly in his pocket. He barley glances over at it before, reaching into his jacket, he flings it across the space and it lands with a dull smack against the wall, crumbling on the cracked pavement. You do not flinch.
Turning to look at you, his gaze seems much more intense, much more sudden than his previous teasing looks. You think that you should probably look away, that this interaction has become much more serious than either of you intended for it to be but, always curious, you do not.
“I’m tired of fighting with them.” He mumbles, almost meekly, as though he is ashamed of what he is saying.
“Do they know that?” You approach carefully and when his gaze finds yours, it is light again, infused with teasing.
“They would, but unfortunately I’m a terrible truth teller.”
You snigger slightly and he responds as such, blinking at you still.
You exhale loudly, eyes wondering over the starless night above you.
“My brother hurt my feelings.”
You grunt the words out forcefully, tasting them like bile in the back of your throat. He responds gently, carefully as you had done only moments ago.
“What happened?” He tries again, and you blink the tears out of your eyes, your breath catching slightly.
“I just-“ You break away, squeezing your eyes shut tightly. “It’s just been a shitty night.”
You feel his eyes on you as you struggle to regain your composure, and furiously blink away the tears that so desperately want to fall. You hear the slight shift as movement as slowly, he leans closer to you. When you don’t pull away, he continues to shift, until his head rests carefully on your shoulder.
The gesture is a little strange and made awkward by how much taller he is than you. He has to shift quite far down the wall for his head to reach your shoulder, so he is practically lying beside you. He doesn’t seem to quite know how the rest of his body should face, because his long limbs hang nervously by his sides, as though you will jump away at any moment.
Despite this, and all the circumstances around the uneasy embrace, you appreciate it, and the hesitant warmth that scatters from his body to yours. You smile gently and rest your head against his, wanting somewhat to place your hand over his, but worrying that this will perhaps be too much. So instead, you inch your pinkie finger towards his, until they brush gently against the other. For a while, you both sit like this, leeching onto the other in the bristling of the slight spring chill and each enjoying the comfort of one another’s company.
“Thank you.” You murmur, and though he doesn’t respond, he turns your hand over slightly so that he is tracing small, nonsensical patterns on your palm, humming quietly as he does so.
You spend a while there with each other, until eventually the dark night gets darker, and the chill around you becomes too insistently bitter to ignore. You raise your head slightly and his movements on your hand cease. He raises his head to look up at you earnestly and in that moment, in that one, gullible moment, you make a decision.
“You wanna go get a drink?” You blurt out suddenly and he lifts his head from your shoulder, surprised.
“A… drink?” He draws out and you nod, perhaps a little too furiously, in an attempt to dispel some of your nervousness. It doesn’t work and a slow, easy grin slips onto his lips.
“I mean – I’m just- not that you have to or anything like that – I just thought maybe you would uh- right, yeah, so I’m just gonna leave now.“ You stand up, your cheeks flaming as you stumble over your words. A drink? Really? Why not just scream that you want to do him right here in this alleyway? You groan internally, and his playful laughter bubbles up beneath you.
You go to walk away and quickly you realize he is lumbering beside you.
“So, where we going?” He asks. You turn to him, surprised, and slow your scurrying pace to a standstill in front of him.
“You know, to drink?” He teases, mimicking drinking from a glass. You scoff slightly, surprised, and pleasantly so.
“Have you ever noticed people seem to make really rash, dumb choices when they’re drunk?” He interrupts, eyes skimming briefly over yours.
With a surge of confidence, you gnaw on your lip slightly, and follow his dark eyes with your own brazenly.
“Oh, I’m counting on it.”
Things progress very quickly after that. As it is, it turns out you and Sehun do not require many drinks at all to make thoughtless, impulsive choices, and you’re barely tipsy as you stumble through the door of his apartment, his lips connected to yours.
It’s a decision you know you’ll regret in the morning, a very, very silly decision that neither of you should be making. Still, as his long fingers press gently against your ribcage, his leg pushing between the two of yours, it’s not one you can seem to pull yourself away from.
His movements are tender as he touches you, careful in a way that drives you to the brink of insanity as you just want more and more of him. He presses you against a wall, arms caging either side of you as his mouth works languidly against yours, peppering your lips with gentle kisses until your mouth slips open against his and his tongue slips against yours. You groan slightly, and you reach out your hands to brush over his cheeks, before smoothing down the sharp angles of his body until you reach his waist, at which you pull him flush against you.
He chuckles slightly, as the movement nudges his mouth away from yours so that he instead breaths hotly on your neck. You both take a moment to breathe, before he reaches down and tugs meekly on your thighs. You twine your calves easily around his waist as his lean fingers spread across your legs, moving his right hand up to your neck to brush away loose strands of hair and the collar of your shirt, sucking lightly on the skin there. You bite back a moan and your back curls against the wall, pushing your breasts against him. He lets out a ragged breath and pulls away from you suddenly.
“We can still… stop if you want.” He hums slightly, hands suddenly hesitant against your thighs. You frame his face with your hands and press your lips firmly against his, much harsher than he had done. He grunts slightly in surprise and fists his hand in your hair as he returns the kiss with just as much fervour. You take the chance to stretch your arms out slightly behind you, peeling away your tartan shirt and letting it drop to the floor, leaving you in a loose tank top. You pull away, and skirt a thumb over his swelled bottom lip, before pressing insistent kisses against his jaw.
“I don’t… wanna stop.” You mumble and you think you hear him curse slightly under his breath. He tilts your chin up and reclaims your mouth, pressing against the sliver of skin exposed where your tank top has ridden up.
He readjusts his grip and pushes away from the wall. Surprised at the action, you press your head into the space between his shoulder and neck and, as he walks, push at the jacket on his shoulders. It slips from him easily and you lean back up to kiss him again, your hands resting at the nape of his neck.
You’re unaware you’ve reached a bedroom until he settles beneath you, bringing you down so that you’re sitting on top of him. You shift slightly so that your legs are on either side of him, and press against his crotch. He pulls away from you, moaning out your name quietly and you smirk, pleased at your apparently significant effect on him. You tilt your head down to nip at his neck before reaching down to pull on the ruffled white shirt he wears, pushing it over his head. It lands with a wet thump against the floor and as you turn to laugh slightly, Sehun takes the opportunity to flip you over, so that he hovers, shirtless above you. You press your hands against his back and his own palm flattens against your stomach. Instead of removing your flimsy top, his fingers crawl beneath it, reaching up over your stomach and fluttering over your ribcage before falling on top of your bra.
You grunt and flop beneath him, throwing your fist against the bed sheet.
“Don’t tease.” You huff and he chuckles at your frustration, before helping you remove the top. He pushes you further against the bed and crawls over you, until your head rests carefully on the navy blue pillow and he marvels down at you, smiling gently.
“Are you sure?” He whispers against your collarbone and you almost whine at him to hurry up already. He seems to sense your exasperation though, because he makes quick work of removing his own jeans before then pulling off yours, kissing along your legs as he does so. When he pulls down your underwear, his fingers press into you slowly, and he appears about to add his mouth too when you shake your head, pulling his face up to yours.
“Later.” You gasp and he nods, settling over you once more, fingers curling inside you. Again you slam your fist against the bed sheets and let out a loud groan, roughly pulling his head down against your own. He removes his fingers and you shudder at the loss of contact, but then his hands are slipping underneath you to unclasp your bra (and really, you have to take a moment to appreciate how quickly he does remove it, because you’ve been wearing one for years and it still takes you some time in the morning). Immediately his hand is on your chest, rubbing slowly against your breast. You throw your head back against the pillows but it smacks against the headboard instead, and you groan at the sharp gasp of pain.
Sehun stills, gasping before moving his hand to cradle the back of your head gently, lust quickly overcome with concern.
“Ah, y/n, are you alright?” He whispers and you wince slightly, but nod. You stare at him for a moment, his knuckles running softly against the back of your head. The concern in his face surprises you, but makes you feel good in a way you cannot explain. You skim your hand over his jaw and his gaze is drawn back to yours, wherein he blinks down at you with a firm sense of tenderness. You smile, and lean up to press a chaste kiss against his lips, hand still smoothing down his jaw. When you pull away, his eyes are soft, face settled in a small grin as he runs his hand through your hair.
“Do it now.” You whisper, wracked by a sudden eagerness to have him thrusting into you. He nods slightly, and leans down to kiss you again, before reaching into a draw and rolling a condom onto himself. You place your head back on the pillows as he braces above you. After a moment, he pushes into you, and you emit a high pitched gasp, your walls settling around him. He waits a moment too long to move, and you have to kick his shin slightly to signal that you’re ready. He huffs out a laugh and slowly begins to press into you, hands fisted in the sheets next to your head as he builds up a steady rhythm. Of all the boys you’d ever had sex with (which, admittedly, was really not that many) you’d always been pretty quiet in bed– sure, it’d felt good when they’d moved inside you, but it hadn’t exactly been earth shattering. But Sehun. The way he thrusts into you is, frankly, ridiculous. With every smooth roll of his hips he seems to find a different sweet spot and when you’re a moaning mess beneath him, he adds two fingers. You yelp, body twisting unnaturally beneath him, but he just keeps going, a thin layer of sweat forming on his chest. You lean up, trying to match his rhythm and he kisses you roughly, lips slanting over yours, your moans meeting in a mismatched choir.
It’s not long before the familiar pleasure begins to build, and by his sudden alternating change in pace you sense he’s close too. His hand gropes your chest and he leans down, taking your nipple in his mouth and just like that, you’re a goner. You’re on the verge of a scream as you come around him and he all about collapses on top of you, thrusting out his own orgasm. Your hands link as you both ride out your highs, Sehun sucking on your chest.
Spent, he pulls out of you slowly and tosses the condom into a bin beside him, his body flopping down next to yours. You throw your arm over your eyes, trying to calm your ragged breath as he does the same.
Silence settles around the two of you, panting, sweaty and naked in his dark sheets. Embarrassed, you wonder if, now that you’re finished, he expects you to leave. You shift away from him slightly, moving to the edge of the bed when he rolls over to his side and gets out the bed. You rush to do the same, shuffling awkwardly on the wooden floors.
You watch his figure retreat to a small wooden closet in the corner of the room and bite your lip, shifting your hands to cover your exposed breasts.
“Uh, should I-“ You begin, but are halted as, after having pulled on a set of loose tracksuit bottoms, he begins toward you, a shirt in his grasp. You raise your eyebrows questioningly, but he just gestures for you to hold your arms to the side. You do so, a little reluctantly, and he pulls the shirt onto your shoulders, humming.
He kneels to do up the buttons and as he finishes, pulls you toward him to place a soft kiss on your clothed stomach. Unsure of how to react, your hands simply hover above his tousled blonde hair.
He stands once more and intertwines his hand with yours, pulling you back toward the still–warm bed. He pushes you onto the sheets gently before then following suit. You turn on your side and he carefully places his hand on your waist, shifting a little closer.
“Is this… is this okay?” He mumbles and turning your head to face him, you nod slightly. Reassured, he smiles and moves closer, arms pressing more firmly around you.
“Don’t go.” He says and you face him once more, tilting your head in confusion. “In the morning, don’t go.” He elaborates and you smile softly. Instead of answering, you lean forward to press a tender kiss on his lips, and then his cheek. His eyes closed, he lets out a small contented sigh and you turn back around, closing your eyes.
He presses a soft kiss onto your head and, choosing not to think of what will happen in the morning, you clear your mind, and drift into a tranquil sleep.
((pls forgive any spelling/grammar errors as it is 1am and I cannot find the energy to check this. Also, I am a holy untouched virgin so idk how accurate the smut is but???? enjoy??? if you’d like a part 2, lemme know!))