Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/12452340.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      VIXX
  Relationship:
      Han_Sanghyuk_|_Hyuk/Jung_Taekwoon_|_Leo
  Character:
      Han_Sanghyuk_|_Hyuk, Jung_Taekwoon_|_Leo
  Additional Tags:
      Gender_or_Sex_Swap, Alternate_Universe_-_High_School, Oral_Sex
  Series:
      Part 2 of girls!AU_(VIXX)
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-10-22 Words: 4316
****** i'll be your daydream, i'll wear your favorite things ******
by inkin_brushes
Summary
     Taekwoon never wore skirts but she'd always suspected Sanghyuk would
     like it if she did.
Notes
     I was supposed to be working on mafia au (over a year in the making!
     still not even nearly finished!) but then Taekwoon in a skirt
     happened at VNL and Ela said Some Inappropriate Things and I screamed
     into the void for about 5 minutes and then wrote whatever this is.
     This fic is more words than I wrote in the entire month of September.
     Just a cool fact for you guys.
Taekwoon could count the number of times she’d worn a skirt or a dress on one
hand. The last time she’d been in middle school, and her mom had insisted for
school picture day. Taekwoon had ruined all the pictures by being highly
uncomfortable, which on her registered as grumpy. Her mom had learned her
lesson and Taekwoon had enjoyed her clothed-legged existence ever since.
But when she’d started dating Sanghyuk, a part of Taekwoon wondered— she knew
of girls he’d dated before her, and they were as different to her as chalk and
cheese. They were small things that wore dresses and make-up and had a sense of
humour that was logical and wasn’t half deadpan, half violence. And although
she knew that Sanghyuk loved her for who she was, and had extensive evidence
that he was attracted to her and her body, part of her still wondered.
She climbed out of her car, parked in Sanghyuk’s driveway, and shivered as the
cool, early spring air met the skin exposed underneath the black skirt she
wore, brushing just above her knee. Normally she would have parked on the
street but today Sanghyuk’s mom had taken the baby to a friend’s house for a
playdate (“What does a four month old need a playdate for,” Sanghyuk had said
incredulously, but was placated when Taekwoon pointed out they would not have
to babysit for once) and so Taekwoon had been able to park behind Sanghyuk.
She was grateful for that, because she didn’t want any of his neighbours seeing
her in a skirt. It was bad enough that Hakyeon had seen it on her in the store
changing room. The thought of Jaehwan peeking out of her window and spotting
her didn’t bear thinking about.
She knocked on the door and stood on the welcome mat and tried not to fidget.
Every passing second strengthened her growing sense of regret. Despite
Hakyeon’s enthusiasm, Taekwoon could not believe that this looked good, and she
was a little frightened that Sanghyuk would laugh at her. What if he thought
she looked ridiculous. What if this showed him what he was missing by dating a
girl who couldn’t look girly even when she tried, and he decided to ditch her
for someone more—
The front door opened. Sanghyuk saw her face, said, “How many times do I have
to say that you don’t need to knock,” saw her outfit, said, “What,” and then
fell silent. He stared.
Not entirely sure what to make of that reaction but feeling a little bolstered
by the way his eyes were decidedly lower than her belt, she said, “I can’t just
walk into your house, Sanghyuk.”
It was an argument they had at least once a week but this time he seemed like
he didn’t even hear her. He seemed transfixed. The breeze raked over her and
she shivered again and he jerked, like a puppet having its strings yanked. His
eyes jumped to her face. “Come in,” he said. “I’m— come in.”
She stepped into the house, which was pleasantly warm, and shrugged off her
jacket. She didn’t own the kind of delicate, pale-shaded spring coats that
Hakyeon seemed to have in abundance for outfits such as these, and so had been
forced to wear her leather jacket. Similarly, she was wearing a pair of
battered ankle boots, which she quickly left by Sanghyuk’s entryway.
Sanghyuk watched her the entire time, his gaze almost a physical presence
against her, from her stockinged toes to the rounded collar of her wine-red
sweater. She felt hot and flustered, certain she was blushing, her head ducked
down in an attempt at hiding her face behind her hair. When she peeked out at
him, his mouth was slightly open and she watched as he took a deep breath, the
air juddering in his chest.
She brushed past him into the lounge, where the television was showing an old
episode of Star Trek, the sound muted. The baby’s things were everywhere, and
Taekwoon felt a pang of disappointment that she would not get to see him today.
A tiny mischievous part of her wondered how Sanghyuk would react to the sight
of her in this skirt, holding a baby.
She perched on the side of the couch, knees together, feeling strangely prim.
She did not know what to do with her limbs in this outfit. Every movement felt
dangerous, accidental exposure at risk with every turn. On the way over she had
practised the things she wanted to talk about with him, rehearsing their
conversations in her head, but as usual, now she was here, all the words had
fled.
Sanghyuk, used to filling in her gaps, didn’t seem like he wanted to say
anything either. He kept sneaking side-glances at her as he puttered around the
room, picking things up and putting them away: his mom’s magazines into the
rack, the baby’s blocks into the box at the back of the room, his step-dad’s
slippers kicked under the couch. In between it all he kept looking at her — or
rather, looking at her legs, like her knees were particularly interesting.
Finally, when there was nothing else to occupy him, he said, in a slightly
strangled voice, “I didn’t know you owned a skirt.”
“It’s new,” she said. She actually did own skirts, usually given to her by
relatives her mom said were well meaning and Jaehwan said needed to stay in
their own lane. “I bought it last week with Hakyeon.” In a moment of confidence
that took even her by surprise, she stood up and spun in a little circle. “Do
you like it?”
She would have immediately felt dumb except that Sanghyuk swallowed audibly.
When he reached out and took her wrist, she let herself be tugged forward
easily. “It looks,” Sanghyuk said, and then was silent. He seemed to be
struggling for words. Taekwoon wasn’t sure she’d seen him like this when she
was fully clothed before. She’d suspected he would like the skirt, but this
went beyond all her expectations.
He put both hands against her waist. It should have felt like a safe place for
him to touch, but she sensed that it wasn’t; his hands seemed to burn through
the material separating skin from skin. “It looks amazing,” he said. “You look
amazing.”
She fit herself against his front, hiding her face against his shoulder. He
stroked a hand up and down her back, long sweeps in an attempt at soothing her.
“Why?” he asked quietly.
She tipped her head slightly to the side, her hair brushing his chin, a silent
repeated why in question back.
“Why are you wearing a skirt?” He stepped back and tipped her chin up so she
couldn’t hide away. “I know you don’t like skirts. You’ve complained about your
mom trying to make you buy one at least five times.”
Taekwoon shrugged, but he looked at her expectantly, which meant he was waiting
for her to give him a verbal answer. She tried to gather her thoughts together,
which was remarkably hard when he was still touching her chin gently. “Hakyeon
said it looked good,” she said eventually. “I felt— good when I put it on.”
Pretty, was how she’d felt, but it felt wrong to admit to it, like she was
play-acting at someone she was not. She was not pretty, she should not pretend
at it.
Sanghyuk’s eyes flickered down and then back up, but they snagged on her mouth.
She wet her bottom lip, a purely nervous reaction, but he exhaled shakily and
leaned in and kissed her chastely. “You should feel good,” he said. “You look—
how was it Jaehwan once put it? You could step on me and I would be grateful
for it.”
Genuine amusement bubbled up in her and Taekwoon laughed, which always made
Sanghyuk inordinately pleased, like he’d achieved something wonderful, and this
time was no exception. “I’d hoped you’d like it,” she said. “Hakyeon said you
might, when I asked.”
He shook his head, staring at her. “Taekwoon,” he said. “You literally look
like you stepped out of one of my wet dreams.”
Her blush was back, and with it her stomach decidedly rolled over in
embarrassment. “Oh,” she said, and then before she could respond further he was
kissing her, hard and hungry. It didn’t shock her anymore, being kissed like
this, not like the first time, but it still affected her. She clutched at his
shoulders and tried to not arch up into his body.
Sanghyuk eased back, broke the kiss by dragging her lower lip between his
teeth. Her breathing was loud in the quiet room, and ragged, like she’d already
run a marathon. He said her name very softly. She shivered and looked those
couple of inches up at him. His eyes were dark and not for the first time she
felt trapped by them. “You’re beautiful,” he said.
Taekwoon butted her head into his shoulder again. “Don’t,” she said.
She could not see or feel it but she knew he was smiling, it was obvious in his
voice when he said, “But you are.”
Taekwoon lifted a hand and pushed her fingers at his face until she found his
mouth. She meant to press her forefinger against his lips, that universal sign
for silence, but he caught it between his lips and before she knew it, he’d
sucked it into his mouth. She felt a sharp spike of arousal, which alarmed her.
She snatched her hand back but he would not let her step out of the circle of
his arms. Instead, he pulled her even closer, his eyes half-lidded.
“Taekwoon,” he said, nuzzling into her hair. He was almost crooning at her.
“Taekwoon, my Taekwoon. Will you let me show you how beautiful you are? Will
you let me touch you like you deserve? Please, Taekwoon, let me make me feel
good, like last time, you remember, don’t you—”
He nudged her backwards and she went, lost in the sound of his voice. When her
calves met the couch, he helped her sit down on it gently, which she was
grateful for, because her knees didn’t feel like they could support her weight
for much longer. Her legs fell open a little as she did, no longer prim,
feeling with a secret shame the damp patch in her underwear.
Sanghyuk sat down next to her and put a hand against her knee, fingers tilted
up her inner thigh. Although he was wearing jeans, it was obvious that he was
hard, and she kept her eyes averted. He leaned in and kissed her neck gently,
then her jaw, then her mouth, quickly turning it into a proper kiss, his hand
cupping her cheek. She had not realised that she’d begun to tense until she
felt herself relax again.
His hand went to the hem of her sweater and then under, pushing it up until his
fingers were against the bare skin of her side. He stroked his fingers, warm
and gentle, against her rib cage, still kissing her. She felt dizzy with it,
how good it always felt to have his mouth on hers, his hands on her skin.
“Lay back,” Sanghyuk murmured, breaking the kiss but keeping close enough that
their lips brushed. “Against the arm of the couch.”
She did so, dazed, following the instructions even as she said, “What are you—”
She broke off with a squeak as he lifted her legs up onto the couch after her.
Her knees pressed together almost instinctively, and she yanked the skirt down
towards her knees and held it there. She was not sure if his huff of breath was
a sigh or a laugh.
“Taekwoon,” he said, his hands against the underside of her knees. “Baby. Let
me—” He shifted on the couch so that he was kneeling by her feet, looking at
her expectantly. When she stared blankly at him, her face clearly on actual
fire, he kissed her left kneecap and said, “Don’t you want my mouth on you?”
She exhaled, her eyes closing at the memory of the last time he’d done this
(and the time before that, and before that, and—). Between her legs she was
throbbing, and yes, she wanted his mouth on her, she wanted it more than she
had the words to say. She could not ask for it. She could not even verbally
answer his question. But when he put his hands against her knees and pressed
lightly, she let her knees fall apart, which was answer enough for him.
He took a few moments to push her right knee up against the back of the couch,
her left foot pressed against the couch cushion, almost as though to brace her.
It made her feel stupid and self-conscious, so that Taekwoon almost missed it
when he kneeled between her legs and her skirt fell back against her hips,
exposing her — and the thigh highs she was wearing.
Sanghyuk groaned, and spread his own knees slightly, pressing a hand to his
crotch for a brief second. Then he touched the skin between the stockings and
her underwear, his fingers gentle against the pale skin. “Taekwoon,” he said.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
She could only wriggle in response. Most of her wanted to reach between her
legs and cover herself up.
“I thought they were nylons,” he said, running a fingertip under the band. It
was one of the most sensual things Taekwoon had ever felt and she couldn’t help
moaning softly. She’d thought they were nylons too, when she’d picked them up
in the store, thought they went all the way up. Decidedly unsexy. It had been a
comfort. But then she’d opened them and realized she’d made a mistake. She’d
bought them so she wouldn’t feel so exposed in the skirt, but when she’d put
them on this morning she’d felt even more on show. The skirt had been long
enough to hide that they stopped mid-thigh, which was the only reason she’d
left them on.
He kissed above the thigh high, then higher up, and higher, until his lips
brushed the material of her underwear. The skirt was meant to be a nice
surprise, not a prelude to this, so she hadn’t chosen her underwear with much
care. But even if she’d predicted this, it would have made no difference—
Taekwoon did not have any underwear that she considered particularly nice.
These, a pair of simple purple bikini briefs, were as good as it got.
Sanghyuk nudged her left knee with his shoulder, spreading her legs a bit
wider, then kissed her through her underwear. The warm feel of his mouth even
through that thin layer was shocking. And, oh, she realised suddenly how wet
she was, and he must be able to feel it, maybe even taste it — and while she
had that thought, he kissed her again, open mouthed this time, his tongue
licking against the already damp cotton.
She whimpered. One hand clutched the couch cushion underneath her, the other
she wanted to put into his hair but didn’t feel brave enough so she merely
fisted it in her skirt against her hip. Sanghyuk sat back and hooked his thumbs
into the sides of her underwear and began to slowly drag them down over her
hips and thighs. She’d expected him to take the thigh highs off too, but
instead he very careful navigated over them so that they were not disturbed.
Once her underwear was over her ankles he tossed it aside with a careless hand.
It was worse than she expected, to lay there fully clothed except for her
underwear. Not bad-worse, though. It was hard to feel bad when Sanghyuk was
looking at her in that way, like he wanted to devour her. The first couple of
times she’d felt frightened by that look, but now it made her feel powerful.
Taekwoon could make him do anything when he was like this, she knew, could ask
anything of him. She had not yet located the confidence inside her to do so,
but the knowledge was still there.
He kissed her inner thigh again, spread her legs even wider, and then licked at
her with the flat of his tongue, slow, not delving inside, just teasing. She
moaned, her hips shifting, tilting without conscious thought to give him better
access. Sanghyuk pulled back, lips shining, to grab a nearby throw pillow which
he somewhat jerkily stuffed under her hips. Taekwoon squeaked over the
manhandling, feeling truly exposed, and Sanghyuk hummed, a smug, pleased sound,
and bent to her again. He pressed an open-mouthed kiss against her, just as
he’d done through her underwear, but this time she was all bare skin.
Taekwoon jerked in surprise over the sensation, over Sanghyuk’s tongue pressing
against her clit for a brief second. She squeezed her eyes shut, face burning,
and covered her mouth with her hand as she couldn’t stop herself from gasping.
He pushed his tongue inside her a little, lapping softly at where she was so
wet, and then moved up so that he was circling her clit with the tip of his
tongue, teasing. It was all teasing.
Waiting for the actual touch to come was agonizing. She could not beg for it,
and he knew that, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t take his time with it
anyway. He enjoyed dragging it out, now that he knew she would come at the end
of it. Back when they first tried this, things had been difficult because she’d
had trouble relaxing enough for him to even get a finger inside her, and it had
taken thirty minutes for her to come even then. Now, it would take more than
five minutes only if he wanted it to.
He flicked his tongue over her clit, quick movements that felt like torture and
made her squirm pathetically. She did not know what the noises she was making
could be categorized as, but she was sure they were embarrassing. Somehow the
hand that she had decidedly not put into his hair found its way there anyway,
fingers bent slightly as if to grip. She didn’t push at him, closer or away,
simply kept her hand threaded through the strands of his hair. It was
grounding, somehow.
“Sanghyuk,” she whispered, her voice barely more than a breath. He gave a soft
groan, breath ghosting over the tenderest part of her, and then closed his
mouth around her clit, sucking more gently than she would have expected. Heat
washed over the surface of her skin, and she cried out softly, squirming
against the couch, not sure if she wanted to flee or stay right here. When he
did it again, she sobbed and tilted her hips up into his mouth again, too far
gone to feel her usual shame by now.
There was no rhythm that she could make out, no rhyme or reason for what he
chose to do from one moment to the next. It made it impossible to prepare
herself for it, one way or another. She couldn’t brace for it, but neither
could she revel in any one sensation before it was taken away. Which was
probably the point.
When his teeth grazed over the hard nub of her clit, she sobbed out, “Sanghyuk,
Sanghyuk, please,” and her legs tried to close without her meaning them to. It
was meant to convince him to have mercy on her, let her come, but without
pulling his mouth away from where he was sucking erratically on her clit, he
pushed her knees further up and out, exposing her even more, and she was
helpless to resist, pinned down, trapped between his mouth and the couch. He
snaked his hand up and under the hem of her sweater and across stomach, her
ribcage, and it was like pure electricity, like her skin sparked at his touch.
Her entire body felt pulled tight and sensitive, too sensitive. “No,” she
moaned, but arched into the hand that cupped her breast. He would have known
she would not be wearing a bra, she so rarely did. It was a fact he’d once said
drove him to constant distraction.
His thumb circled her hardened nipple as his tongue did the same to her clit.
Then, as he slowly rolled his thumb across her nipple, his mouth turned gentle
too, his tongue soft and teasing. In a way, it was almost worse, because she
was too close for this. This would merely keep her on the edge, and he would
know that.
She tightened her hand in his hair, pulling, and then let go, slightly
horrified at herself. But it worked, and he sucked hard at her clit, his tongue
flicking against it in short movements. “Ah,” Taekwoon cried out, aching so
badly, clenching on nothing. “Your fingers— please, please Sanghyuk—”
The hand that was not under her shirt, the one that had been holding her hips
steady, left her suddenly. He shifted, moving, and she held her breath for a
moment but then he slid a two fingers into her and she moaned thickly at the
stretch, hips actually lifting off the couch to meet the intrusion. “Yes, yes,”
she gasped, “oh, Sanghyuk, oh—” Sanghyuk pulled his fingers out only to pump
them back in, his tongue an unrelenting pressure against her clit, and her
orgasm shuddered through her, Sanghyuk’s name a mantra on her lips.
He moved his finger in and out of her almost lazily as she clenched on them,
still playing with her clit with his tongue, until she was trembling and trying
to push his head away, oversensitive. Only then did he pull his fingers out and
sit back. His lips were swollen and slick and when he saw her looking, he
licked the moisture off his bottom lip. She shut her eyes, cheeks burning,
trying to catch her breath.
When she opened them again, he was watching her, still kneeling between her
legs, his hand rubbing slow circles against the crotch of his tented jeans. She
held out a hand, needing him closer. He crawled forward, her knees either side
of his hips, and kissed her with the kind of soft, open affection she’d come to
expect from him after one or both of them had come. She could taste herself in
his mouth, something she was starting to become used to.
Taekwoon let her hand trail down as they kissed, touched the button of his
jeans uncertainly. Sanghyuk broke the kiss to mutter, “Yes, yeah,” and then sat
back to unbutton his jeans and kick them off. She expected his underwear to
follow but he simply eased them down so that his cock was free. Sometimes the
size of him still took her by surprise. He stroked himself slowly, almost
absently. He was watching her again, looking at her like he couldn’t quite
believe what he was seeing.
Shlyly, not able to say the words out loud, she tipped her hips in a silent
invitation. She would not come again, but she still liked to feel him inside
her. He shuddered and gripped the base of his cock, eyes fluttering shut for a
moment.
When he opened them again, he gave her a wry smile. “You overestimate me if you
think I could even last long enough to get inside you,” he said. “The way you
look right now— fuck, Taekwoon.”
Suddenly feeling self-conscious, she pushed herself up so that she was sitting
up against the arm of the couch and then reached for him again. He crowded in
close, burying his face into her shoulder. He took her smaller hand and wrapped
it around his cock, covered it with his own for a second. She let him thrust
into her fist, slowly at first and then quicker, his breathing growing faster
against her neck.
“Love this,” he gasped, his hands going under her sweater again, fingers
spreading against her waist. “Love you, fuck, Taekwoon— you’ll be the death of
me— better than I could daydream— think about you all the time, I can’t—”
He thrust up, his cry as he came in her hand muffled wet against her neck. It
was unpleasantly hot and sticky against her fingers but she still felt so
powerful. She had not known sex would be like this, a messy experience that she
would still have control over. She understood more and more Sanghyuk’s
frustration of a few months back, when she had been scared and unsure but not
willing to express what she wanted or needed — and she knew that he had not let
her see even half of what he must have felt inside.
He took her hand again and wiped it against the front of his underwear, smiling
at her. She couldn’t help but smile back, which just made his smile grow wider.
“You threw my underwear across the room,” she said.
“Mm, you didn’t need it,” he said. He smoothed his hands up her calves, sliding
over the silky thigh highs. “I like the skirt. I like these,” he added, his
touch remarkably erotic for someone touching below her knees.
“I hoped you would,” she whispered.
“I like your normal clothes too,” he said. “Maybe we can keep these for, mm,
special occasions.”
She nodded and cupped his jaw as he leaned in for a kiss. It was slow, steady,
the kiss that made her chest feel full of all the things she had not said yet
which he said so easily. When he drew back he murmured into her ear, “I’d like
to fuck you in that skirt at some point though.”
She smushed his face into the back of the couch and tried to not die of
embarrassment as his laughter filled the room.
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