still mad, still hard [ choi soobin ]
you discover your boyfriend gets incredibly turned on when you yell at him.
â content 2.1k words, 18+ [ MDNI! ], explicit sexual content, power bottom!male reader, submissive!soobin, degradation kink, handjob, big dick!soobin, edging, orgasm denial, soobin is a whole desperate and pathetic mess, begging, crying, overstimulation, power play.
the slam of the front door was like a gunshot in the quiet apartment. you didn't even bother to toe off your shoes, you just strode into the living room where the dim glow of the television illuminated your very tall, very guilty-looking boyfriend.
soobin was curled on the couch, trying so hard to look small, which was a feat for a man of his stature. his eyes, wide and doe-like, tracked you as you threw your bag onto the armchair.
"you," you started, your voice dangerously low, "have got to be fucking kidding me."
"baby, i can explainâ" he began, his voice a soft, placating rumble.
"explain?" you cut him off, a harsh laugh escaping you.
you were seeing red, the events of the evening replaying behind your eyes.
"explain what, soobin? explain how you thought it was a good idea to agree to a last-minute team dinner on the one night we've had planned for a month? for our anniversary? or explain how you 'forgot' to text me until i was already sitting at the restaurant, dressed up, waiting for you for forty-five minutes?"
you took a step closer, the floorboards creaking under your weight.
"my phone was blowing up with messages from the group chat. pictures of you all laughing, toasting. taehyun sent me a selfie with you in the background, looking like you were having the time of your fucking life. meanwhile, i'm sitting there looking like a complete idiot, telling the server my boyfriend is 'just running late'."
"baby i'm so, so sorry," he whispered, genuinely contrite.
soobin uncurled himself, sitting up properly. he was in his lazy, home clothes â a soft, dark grey hoodie and a pair of loose, light grey joggers.
"it was a huge client, the CEO showed up unexpectedly... i couldn't just leave. i panicked. i meant to text you, i swear, but my phone died andâ"
"don't," you held up a hand, silencing him.
the anger was a hot, tight coil in your chest.
"just don't. you have a charger at your desk. you could have borrowed a phone. there are a million excuses, soobin, and not a single one of them is good enough. this was important to me. we are supposed to be important to you. am i just an afterthought?"
your voice cracked on the last word, the hurt seeping through the fury. you were pacing now, running a hand through your hair.
"do you have any idea how humiliating that was? how fucking sad i felt? i left and just drove around for an hour because i didn't even want to come home to this. to you."
you stopped directly in front of soobin, looking down at where he sat. he pathetically was looking up at you, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. his eyes were shimmering, but there was something else in them... a strange, focused intensity.
you were too angry to place it.
"you're so unbelievably selfish sometimes," you seethed, leaning in, bracing your hands on the couch cushions on either side of his hips, caging him in. "you live in your own fucking little world, soobin, and the rest of us are just supposed to orbit around you and be happy with the scraps of your attention."
you were close enough to see the flutter of his pulse in his throat. his breathing had gone a little shallow.
and then, your eyes dropped.
there, tenting the soft, worn fabric of his joggers, was an unmistakable, hard ridge. it was prominent, thick, and straining against the loose material. your brain short-circuited for a long second, the torrent of your anger hitting a dam of pure, untainted confusion.
your eyes snapped back to soobinâs face.
the guilt was still there, but it was now warring with a deep, dark blush that spread from his neck to the tips of his ears. his lips were parted, his pupils blown wide. he wasn't just fucking hard â hell, he was painfully erect. and you knew for a fact he never wore boxers at home. the sight of him, the feel of him, was just a single, thin layer of cotton away.
the pieces clicked into place with an almost audible snap. the way he'd been watching your mouth as you yelled. the way he'd flinched, not in fear, but with a jolt of excitement every time you cursed his name. the intense, captivated look in his eyes.
soobin wasn't just taking his scolding.
he was getting off on it.
a slow, cold smirk spread across your lips. the anger was still there, a banked fire in your gut, but now it had a new, delicious fuel â vengeance. and control.
"oh my god," you breathed, the anger in your voice replaced by a tone of dawning, wicked revelation. "you fucking like this."
soobin's eyes squeezed shut in a wave of sheer embarrassment. "n-no, baby, i..."
you didn't let him finish. you brought your hand down, not on him, but beside him, palm flat on the couch, your face inches from his.
"don't you dare lie to me, soobin. look at you," your gaze deliberately traveled down his body again, lingering on the obvious bulge. "your dick is hard as hell because i'm screaming at you. is that it? you get turned on when i'm mad at you?"
a broken, pathetic whimper escaped his throat. it was all the confirmation you needed.
"you have a really, really fucked up kink, soobin," you murmured, your voice dropping to a husky, intimate register that was far more dangerous than your shouting had been.
you decided to play along â to take this newfound power and wield it.
slowly, so slowly it was agonizing, you brought your other hand to his thigh. you didn't even look at it; you kept your eyes locked on his, watching every micro-expression that flitted across soobinâs face. your fingers trailed up the inner seam of his joggers, feeling the heat of his skin through the fabric.
soobin shuddered violently, his whole body tensing.
"all that big talk," you whispered, your fingers inching higher. "all that 'i'm the hyung, i'll take care of you' bullshit... and what you really are is a desperate little thing who gets hard from being degraded by his boyfriend. isn't that right?"
you were now cupping his cock through his joggers. the heat was immense, the shape of him solid and heavy in your palm. he was already leaking â you could feel the damp spot forming on the cotton. soobin let out a choked-off moan, his head falling back against the couch, exposing the long, elegant line of his throat.
"please," he begged, his voice ragged.
"please, what?" you asked, applying the faintest pressure.
you still weren't moving your hand, just holding him, letting him feel the weight of your touch and the deprivation of any real friction.
"use your words, soobin. you were so good at making excuses earlier. now you can't even form a sentence?"
"please... touch me," he sobbed, his hips giving a tiny, involuntary jerk upwards into your still hand.
"i am touching you," you said flatly, deliberately misunderstanding him.
"no... properly. please. i'm sorryâi'm so sorry for everything, just... please, baby."
the 'baby' did something to you. the anger flared again, hot and possessive. his apology didn't get to be the key to his pleasure â no, not yet.
with a final, lingering look at his utterly wrecked expression, you finally moved. you hooked your fingers into the waistband of his joggers and tugged it down in one instant, rough movement.
his cock sprang free, and the sight was always a little breathtaking. he was big, thick and veiny, curving slightly upwards. the head was a flushed, dark red, gleaming with pre-cum, and it bobbed against his stomach, looking painfully neglected. a thick vein ran along the underside, pulsing with his frantic heartbeat.
you spit directly into your palm, the act crude and deliberate, and watched his eyes darken with want. you didn't break eye contact as you wrapped your hand around his cock.
the sound soobin made was pure relief â a loud, broken moan that seemed to be torn from the depths of his soul.
"fuckâyes... oh, my god."
his large hands, which had been gripping the couch cushions, flew to you. one tangled in the fabric of your shirt, the other clawed at your shoulder, clinging to you as if you were the only solid thing in a spinning world.
soobin was so much taller than you, yet in this moment, he felt small and completely at your mercy.
you started to stroke him, your grip firm and sure.
you knew soobinâs body, you knew the rhythm he liked, the twist of his wrist that made his eyes roll back. but you weren't going to give him that â not fully. you set a slow, maddening pace, your hand moving from the base to the tip with intentional, almost clinical slowness.
"you make such pretty noises for me," you observed, your voice still cold despite the heat of him in your hand. "so loud. the whole building can probably hear how much of a slut you are only for my hand."
"o-only for you," he babbled, his hips stuttering, trying to fuck up into your fist for more friction, more speed. "only ever for youâbaby, i swear."
you tightened your grip, forcing his hips to still.
"did i say you could move?" you growled.
soobin shook his head frantically, tears of overstimulation and frustration gathering in the corners of his eyes. "n-no. iâm sorryâso sorry."
you resumed the slow, torturous strokes.
his moans became higher pitched, more desperate. his whole body was trembling, his knuckles white where he gripped you. he was babbling a stream of consciousness â your name, pleas, curses, declarations of love.
"i'm so close, baby, so close. p-please don't stop, please, godâi'm gonna cum," he choked out, his back starting to arch off the couch.
the signs were all there : the tightening of his stomach, the way his cock seemed to swell just that final fraction in your hand, the absolute desperation in his voice.
just as you felt the first inevitable pulse at the root of his cock, the moment his orgasm became a physical certainty, you changed your grip. you moved your thumb and pressed it firmly down on the slit of his cockhead, right over that hypersensitive frenulum.
and you didn't stop stroking.
the effect was instantaneous and catastrophic for him.
a sharp, pained scream ripped from soobinâs throat, a sound of pure, agonizing sensory overload. his body seized up, bowing off the couch, but his orgasm was trapped, blocked by the pressure and the relentless, stimulating motion of your hand. it was the sensation of being forced to the very peak and then held there, suspended in a state of unbearable, excruciating pleasure and pain.
"no, no, no, baby, i-it's too muchâ" he sobbed, tears now streaming freely down his face.
he was thrashing, but you held him down with your body weight, your hand never ceasing its slow, cruel rhythm.
"p-please, oh my god, it feels so good, it hurts so good! let me cum, please, i need to cum for youâi'll be so good, i promise!"
his begs were music to your ears. the angry, possessive part of you purred in satisfaction. this was his punishment. this was the consequence.
and then, as abruptly as it started, you let go.
your hand left his cock completely.
you stood up, slowly wiping your wet, sticky hand casually on soobinâs joggers.
you looked down at the devastating scene you'd created â soobin was a sobbing, shuddering mess on the couch, his cock still achingly hard and dripping, his whole body trembling with the need for a release that was now violently out of reach.
he blinked up at you, his face a mask of confused, devastated betrayal.
"w-what... why did you stop?" he whimpered, his voice hoarse.
you slowly leaned down, picked up your bag from the armchair, and slung it over your shoulder. you looked him dead in the eye, the cold anger from the beginning of the night back in your gaze, now sharpened by a cruel, knowing edge.
"because i'm still so fucking mad at you, soobin."
you turned and walked towards the bedroom, just leaving him there, panting and crying on the couch.
"wait! no, pleaseâcome back!" his voice cracked, desperate and broken. "please, baby, don't leave me like this! make me cum, please, i'll do anything, i'll be so good, i'll make it up to you, i swear, just please, let me cum! pleaseâŠ"
his begs echoed after you as you closed the bedroom door, leaving him in the dim, silent living room with nothing but the ache you'd given him.
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