Killing Stalking x Reader

Aftermath: Part 3 (Seungbae x reader)

You watched a fancam of an NCT dance performance, wiggling around in bed a little to try and copy their moves. Proving to be futile, you threw your phone across the comforter before settling yourself on the edge to watch Seungbae. You kicked your legs, hands under your thighs, and observed your boyfriend in his natural habitat oblivious to your curious behavior. He sifted through his drawers for his night clothes and turned around: noticing your innocently intrigued gaze, scoffing shortly and tussling your hair before he slipped into the bathroom. You took in the small place. You liked everything about it, it was so...Seungbae. Although you were deeply surprised at the lack of mess. Almost an hour had passed and Seungbae was still in the shower, the sounds of water ricocheting off the tub hummed throughout the walls. 

Seungbae had finally had the chance to be in private. His erection was aching in need all day. Even now, all he could think of was how you looked sprawled on his bed: (Thin/lean/thick) legs parted delicately, your (petite/curvy/muscular) body so perfectly molded into the mattress, hair splayed around you. Like Aphrodite come to life. It made him want to push you up against the wall and have his way with you as you begged him for more. He thought of your sweet face, the quiet of your features without malicious intent. Being an officer and witnessing so much heinousness, you were all he wanted to wake up to. He wanted you pressed up against him, wanted to trail ghostly kisses on every freckle and rough of flesh. Everything about you was killing him. He pressed his palm flat onto the shower wall panels, curling his fingers over the edge almost a metaphor for how close he was to falling into a chasm of pure ecstasy. His breath was quick, hand quicker as it continually rubbed his member in self-gratification. The shower head cascading hot water down into the crevasse. So warm. So good. He imagined it was you around him. Tight, tighter. Squeezing every ounce of life out of him. Breasts in his hands, your disembodied moaning in his ears. "Fuck, y/n," he whispered softly, biting his lip to heighten the tension down there. Fingers cramping as they sped up to catch up to his fantasy. But your womanly essence could not be imitated. Soon, he could feel the tidal wave of pleasure wash over him. Lowly groaning, he tried to hold onto the the image of you as he rode out his rapture. It all faded into blinding stars behind his eyelids, like the white noise of the shower. Like the white cum slipping through the drain.

You pounded on the door, "Seungbae-ya, I want to sleep so hurry up! What are you doing in there?" You squirmed and rubbed your legs together uncomfortably, "....Plus... I really need to pee!" There was no answer. "Okay then...I'm coming in. I'm closing my eyes!" You slipped into the small bathroom, "Hey, dummy, what's taking so long?" His heartbeat was just starting to slow down when he heard you. "Ya! Y/n, what are you doing? I'm naked!" His face was flushed; he must've been really mad right now. "Oh really, during a shower? I had no idea," you rolled your eyes. His face instantly fell, you actually shivered from it it was so serious. "Fine fine- I'm going! But hurry up, I need to use the bathroom- unless you want me peeing on a plant." You closed the door behind you, lolling your head back and groaning in annoyance. I wasn't sure my bladder would survive this relationship.

He leaned his head against the wall, embarrassed at his lack of control. Embarrassed by how much he wanted you, how much he needed you. He didn't even get to wash himself properly.

This was ironic considering how many opportunities he had to induce a seduction. Like that one time you'd clumsily sprayed yourself in water while doing dishes at your apartment, your white shirt had become near-transparent, revealing...things. The sexual tension had been palpable. Of course, he instead threw a towel at you and left you stunned as he exited your apartment. He wouldn't say he was sexually adept, but he'd had enough mindless sex at the local bar after stressful days of work, to know the basic "trigger points" on how to please his sexual partner. He wasn't nervous to do it with you, per say. He just wanted it to be at the right time. Being intimate with you wouldn't be like any of the one night stands he'd have after becoming intoxicated. He wanted to be sober enough to experience it completely. Your small fingers inside his callused hands. Every nook, every dimple, the salt of your sweaty skin, the silk of your pleasured sighs. He just didn't know when that would be, he wasn't very knowledgeable about relationships. And with the way things were going now, he'd figured it would just be hormone-fueled rabbit-fucking with you. Not exactly romantic.