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@cinnayuyu
welcome to the home of…
⋆CINNAYUYU ˚꩜｡𐔌՞. .՞𐦯⋆. 𐙚 ˚
19 year old who writes in her free time! i will focus on fluff, smut & smaus, but always mind the tags ! pleaseeee give me feedback, i don’t bite too hard
⤹ cinnas works
ateez 𓂃˖ ࣪⊹
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miscellaneous 𓂃˖ ࣪⊹
“always write. whether no one reads it, or you feel it’s not the best , write it anyways. - cinnayuyu
playing .° ༘⋆ 🎧ྀི 🖇₊˚ෆ [ nail #yves ]
satoru annoying his wife in the kitchen ୨ৎ
the kitchen smells like garlic, butter, and whatever expensive seasoning satoru bought last week because apparently “regular salt is boring.”
you’re standing at the stove stirring dinner while quietly regretting ever teaching your husband how to cook.
not because he’s bad at it, unfortunately, he’s annoyingly good.
but because now he treats the kitchen like his personal playground whenever you’re inside it.
“whatcha makin’?” satoru asks for the fourth time in ten minutes.
you don’t even turn around. “food.”
“woaah,” he gasps dramatically behind you. “really?”
you sigh. already, you can feel him hovering nearby.
he never just stands normally either. no. he leans against counters dramatically, stretches himself over your shoulder unnecessarily, or wraps himself around you like an oversized cat who thinks personal space is offensive.
today seems to be one of those days.
before you can react, long arms slide around your waist from behind, pulling you flush against his chest.
“satoru,” you warn immediately.
“what?” he hums innocently against your shoulder.
“i’m cooking.”
“and?”
“and you’re attached to me.”
“exactly.”
you close your eyes briefly. this man.
“go sit down.”
“don’t wanna.”
of course he doesn’t.
he rests his chin on your shoulder now, white hair tickling your cheek while he watches the pan like he’s genuinely interested in what you’re doing.
“…yer stirring too aggressively.”
you stop mid-motion, then slowly turn your head toward him.
“i’m sorry?”
“mhm,” he nods seriously. “the vegetables are scared.”
you stare at him flatly, he grins immediately.
there it is.
that stupid grin that says he knows exactly how annoying he’s being.
“you’re unbearable,” you mutter, turning back toward the stove.
“but ya love me.”
and you can’t even argue against it. because you do, way too much honestly.
you try focusing again, ignoring the way his fingers lazily tap against your stomach while he sways both of you side to side slightly.
for exactly twelve seconds.
then,
“baby.”
you sigh. “what.”
“kiss.”
“i’m cooking.”
“multitask.”
you snort despite yourself. instantly, he notices.
“there’s the laugh i wanted,” he says proudly.
you roll your eyes. “you’re acting like a child.”
“yeah, but i’m your child.”
“that is absolutely not romantic.”
“worked though.”
before you can respond, he suddenly steals the spoon from your hand.
“satoru-”
he takes a dramatic taste directly from it, humming thoughtfully like he’s judging a five-star restaurant.
“…needs more love.”
you blink.
“love?”
“mhm.”
“that’s not an ingredient.”
“sure it is.” he points the spoon toward you accusingly. “yer cooking while annoyed at me. the food can tell.”
you laugh again, quieter this time.
he’s impossible.
and somehow fully aware that making you laugh is exactly how he gets away with everything.
he beams the second he hears it, immediately tightening his arms around you.
“there it is.”
“you’re insane.”
“and yet ya married me anyway.”
fair.
you shake your head, reaching for the spoon again, but instead of giving it back immediately, he lifts it higher out of reach.
“satoru.”
“say please.”
you narrow your eyes. “i’m going to hit you with this pan.”
“violent. scary. terrifying even.”
“…satoru.”
he grins, then finally hands it back only to immediately steal a kiss from your cheek while you’re distracted.
you let out an annoyed sound, but he just laughs softly against your skin.
“worth it.”
you swear he gets clingier the longer you’re married. not less.
because now he follows you everywhere around the apartment like he physically cannot handle being more than three feet away from you.
and the worst part?
you’re used to it now.
used to the random kisses, the constant touching and the dramatic whining whenever you don’t give him attention immediately.
“baby,” he says again suddenly.
you point the spoon toward him threateningly. “if you ask for another kiss while i’m holding hot oil, i’m divorcing you.”
he gasps loudly.
“wow. so this is what our marriage has become?”
“you caused this.”
“false,” he says immediately. “i’m adorable.”
you finally turn toward him fully, raising a brow.
“…adorable.”
“mhm.”
“…not annoying?”
“both can exist.”
you hate that he’s right.
satoru notices your expression immediately and lights up like he’s won something.
“you think i’m cute.”
“i think you should leave my kitchen.”
instead of listening, he pulls you closer again, large hands settling against your hips this time.
then, without warning-
he buries his face into your neck dramatically.
“missed you today,” he mumbles.
your expression softens instantly.
ah.
there it is, underneath all the teasing, he just wanted attention.
you sigh quietly, setting the spoon down before reaching up to run your fingers through his hair.
immediately, he melts against you, completely.
“you saw me this morning,” you murmur.
“too long ago.”
“…you’re needy.”
“only for you.”
his voice is quieter now, warmer.
and suddenly the teasing husband act slips just enough for you to see the softer part underneath it.
the real part.
you smile despite yourself, scratching lightly against his scalp.
“okay,” you whisper. “you can stay.”
he lifts his head immediately, grinning like he just won the lottery.
“sick. what’re we making?”
a/n : first time writing for gojo 👀👀 yall is this mic on 👀👀. tysm for reading and other than that theres nothing more to add !!
𝐤𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐞, 𝐭𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐫, 2026. 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞, 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲, 𝐨𝐫 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐢.
"readers cheeks go red as she blushes" my black ass sitting over here like
Like don't play in my face
▶︎︎ Needy (starring . various jjk men)
synopsis . What happens when you come home late to them when they’re needy. pairings (separate) . Gojo x f!reader, Geto x f!reader, Toji x f!reader, Choso x f!reader, & Nanami x f!reader. content . afab!reader, non-curse au, neediness, dirty talk, jealousy, unprotected sex, established relationships, semi-public sex, finger sucking, masturbation, clit pinching, choking, oral sex, filth, possessiveness, slight throat fucking, manhandling, rough sex, breeding kink, dry humping, spitting, etc.
word count . 7.8k | author’s note: this is a repost from kamitv! i want all my works on one account so if this looks familiar, that’s why. banner art from “Infiltration! Agent on Edge”
☆ Gojo Satoru
“Fuuuuck, I missed you so much today,” He’d groan directly into your mouth, aching cock slipping in between your dripping folds ever so perfectly, “Missed’ this pussy, fuck.”
You’d let off a whine and your brows would pinch together at your boyfriend’s words, “I was only gone for an-, ahh! an hour longer, ‘Toru." Your cunt narrowed around his long cock as he continued pushing into you.
To come home to a needy Gojo always ended the same—you laid out on the nearest surface beneath him as he worked his dick inside you and forced you to tell him about your extended day.
“Mhmm, I know,” He’d frown as his sharp cerulean eyes bored down into your own carefully, “Felt like forever though,” Gojo explains, nudging himself in inch by inch, watching how your eyes flicker, and admiring the way your lips parted to release a sigh.
“You’re so-,” His hips roll down into you, and you moan at how his cock presses into the depths of your pussy—filling you up entirely, “Dramatic,” You finish, words coming out as a breathy moan.
Gojo bit his lower lip to conceal a smile. Oh how he loved watching your face contort into pleasure, he could watch the stress fading out of your eyes and being replaced with lust forever.
“M’not dramatic,” He huffs. The two of you were on your shared living room couch as he couldn’t even make it to the bedroom, needing to be inside you as quickly as possible.
Gojo’s got one hand intertwined with yours, pressing your fingers down into the soft couch cushion as he started working up a faster pace.
“I missed my girlfriend,” He groaned with his hips drawing back ever so slowly while listening closely to the loud squelch of your cunt once his cock pushes back in. Biting his lip yet again, he smirks a bit, “Seems like she missed me too.”
Your neck arches a bit and you moan, the sound like music to his ears. “Toru, hahh-, you’re so big,” You mumble out due to the sheer stretch of his cock.
He can’t help but crack a full smile, his mind spinning due to the feel of your plush walls pulsing around his veiny shaft. “Yeahh, but you take me so well every time, pretty girl,” Gojo praises, “Needy lil’ pussy’s always hugging my cock juuust right.”
Those lewd words of his make your face twist up but you can’t help but moan again as he slams down into you all at once.
“Hah, now tell me what held you up at work again?” Gojo requested amid his thrusts, despite watching you lose your breath.
You whine, “My coworker, mmgh! h-he-“
Gojo’s cock twitched inside you, shifting slightly and purposefully angling into your cervix, “He?”
“Mmh-, y-yes Satoru, he!” You cry out, your hand squirming beneath his as Gojo’s larger fingers squeeze yours, “He… aagnh, fuck-, he messed up on some-, nngh, paperwork,” You just barely manage out.
The man above you tilts his head, eyes narrowing, and thrusts growing heavier. He doesn’t say anything for a moment, just peers down at you with this look in his eyes.
You’d swear those blue irises of his were glowing with how intently he looked at you. Not that you were allowed much time to dissect that, seeing as Gojo began fucking his cock down into you all the more harsher.
The sloppy sounds of his thrusts echoed throughout the room, all of which were followed by your moans and pleas for him to slow down.
Gojo swiftly moved his free hand between your body and his, finding your clit without batting an eye and quickly pinching it. “So, another man kept you from me?” He eventually breathed out.
He sounded upset, which kinda explained why he was growing so rough with you—his angry cockhead pounding into your cunt so viciously, as if to remind you of who you belong to.
“Toruu,” You whimper, “P-Please-, he’s, aah! He’s just a coworker,” You tried your best to explain things to your lover but all your whines seemed to go through one ear and out the other.
Gojo rolled his eyes at you. “Yeah, a coworker who took up my girl’s time,” He argued, “Y’know what, call in sick tomorrow.”
“W-What?” You exhale heavily. With eyes as wide as ever, you couldn’t believe your boyfriend right now.
“W-What?” Gojo mocks you before you feel his thick cock slip impossibly deeper into you, “You heard me. I said call in sick,” He voiced out lowly. It was more of a command rather than a request at this point.
An airy little noise of disapproval leaves your throat, “Hhgn… I c-can’t just-,“ Thumb swirling over your clit as his dick continued to split you open, the feel of your cunt wetting up his cock even more served as a better answer than the verbal foolishness breaking past your lips. Then, your eyes rolled back as his pelvis clashed down into yours a bit harder, “Ohmygod-“
“You can,” Gojo protests, pulling his hips back until he nearly slid out of you. Then he’s drilling right back in such a feral way, as if he could never quite get enough.
“Toru,” You moan sweetly, his pupils dilating even more at the sound.
Even so, he has no plans on changing his mind, “Nah, it seems you forgot how I feel about other guys getting in the way of us,” Gojo grunts. The sound of his heavy balls smacking against your ass as he beat his lengthy cock deep into your pussy was overwhelming by this point.
Your legs quivered and your back arched up off the couch, “But h-he’s not-“
“Shut up,” Gojo cut off rudely. And you do, shutting your mouth obediently and whining instead to earn yet another praise. “Good girlll,” Then he let out a singular pant, and you swear you felt him in your stomach at that point, “Now hurry up ‘nd cum f’me, we gotta make up for lost time.”
☆ Geto Suguru
Who allows you to enter your shared home perfectly fine at first. He helped you take off your shoes, spoke to you in that soft tone as he requested an account of what happened during your long day, and was nothing short of gentle with you.
You should've known something was up though.
You had answered him honestly and explained how there was an error you had to stay in the office and fix, to which Geto would soothe you with his understanding nature and gentle words.
Yet, the very second you sigh a little too heavily for his liking, he was dragging you off to the bedroom and offering himself as a stress reliever.
“Suguruuu,” You mewl out, thighs spread over his handsome face, with his big hands latched to your legs and fingers pressing into your skin as he aids you.
Those pretty purple-hued eyes of his would gaze up into yours as you faced him, his tongue delving into your cunt and lapping up your sweetness into his mouth. His deep groans were like heaven against you.
"Use me, princess," Geto purred just before flattening his tongue against your dripping pussy and lapping it upward tenderly enough to have you twitching against it and squirming against his palms.
You pant heavily as your hips ground themself over the wet pink muscle below for more friction in the neediest of manners. Geto's thick fingers slid up along your body, caressing your tensed skin with his touch before he grabbed ahold of your hips and forced you to ride his face faster.
Although you couldn't see it, your boyfriend had been lifting his own hips into the air whilst feasting on your cunt like a man starved—his cock pressing against the fabric of his sweats and giving himself the slightest bit of friction needed.
A sticky swab of precum wet up his boxers where his tip was, his fat cock ever so very desperate for you. But, he'd force himself to wait since your pleasure was far more important at the moment.
Which is why his jaw drops a bit and his lips are cup your pussy—slurping your juices into his mouth and ignoring how some carelessly slipped out from the corner of his lips to dribble down his face. Not that he cared of course, especially not when you were above him, whining and moaning beautifully.
"Fuck Sugu-, that feels so good-, hhggn... ah!" You whine desperately above him. He's been at it for quite some time now, but his tongue is so damn skillful and long that you've lost all track of it.
Geto rears his head back only to spit a fat glob of saliva onto your cunt, "What a messy girl you are," He comments, breath tickling the insides of your thighs, "Drippin' all into my mouth even when I'm not even moving."
Then he's leaning up again, his lips pressing into your sensitive clit and making you jump at the contact. A jolt of pleasure shoots throughout your body as he continues to plant a bunch of messy kisses on your clit before suckling it into his mouth.
The tip of his tongue dashes around the sensitive bud, and you reach a hand down to curl your fingers into his hair as you roll your hips forward against his face for more.
"Mmmgh," Geto hums against you, "Yeahh, ride my fuckin' face, baby," He encourages, words making you impossibly wetter as you do exactly that.
His tongue sinks back down and slithers into your cunt, searing against your plush walls as he moaned into you. Your legs began to close around his head, and his fingers dig into your skin, "F-Fuck, m'gonna cum, Sugu."
He nods below you, lidded eyes revealing his zero intent on slowing down or stopping anytime soon. Your taste was too addicting to him, he could eat you out for hours and hours without ever getting tired.
Geto would have his mouth latched to your pussy until his jaw locked if you'd let him—and even then, he'd still keep going. You could squirt on his face, beg him to give you a break, or even try running pulling away from him, but he'd always drag you back to him, tell you to take it, and request that you wet up his face again 'n again until he's satisfied.
Even as you cum in his mouth, his dick is throbbing in his sweats, twitching all over the place as it aches to be inside you. When you finally come undone and begin to pant softly above him, that's when he slows down.
"You can give me one more, yeah?" Geto hums with a sly smirk on his face, having yet to move an inch away from your pussy.
You shake your head in protest, "M'tired Sugu..."
He frowns, "C'mon, you can't be tired after one orgasm. I thought we worked on that stamina of yours?" He whispered before turning to kiss the inside of your thighs.
Pouting, "I had a long day..." You explain.
"Uhuh, and I'm trying to relieve you, baby," He tells you with an innocent look on his face, "C'mon, gimme a few more 'nd then I'll leave you alone."
"Suguru... you never leave me alone afterward," You huff out as you recall all the past times this exact scenario has played out.
Geto snickers, "That's because I've got a needy girl who likes begging for my cock afterward."
"I-," Your frown deepens, "I do not..."
"Yeahh ya' do..." He argues, "But it's alright, I like it when you're all needy 'nd start beggin' for me."
With a slight groan, you shift above him a little, "...Shut up."
He tips his head back against the bed below and smiles, "Shut me up, c'mon. Put that pretty pussy on my mouth again."
Heat rushes to your face as he says that, and almost instinctively, you just listen to him and sit right back down on his welcoming mouth.
A loooong night was ahead of you.
☆ Toji Fushiguro
Oh, he hates when you come home late, as if he doesn’t do so himself all the damn time.
But the problem is that he’d be texting you throughout the day begging—no, never begging but, telling—or ordering you to come home. Plethoras of I need you’s & look at what you’re doin’ to me’s followed by roughly five images of his thick and aggravatingly hard cock would ping to your phone while you’re in the middle of a meeting you didn’t have to attend.
And yes, you’ve explained this to your impatient partner, Toji, but does he care? Of course not.
So that’s why when you finally come home, you could barely get into the house before he’s got that large, veiny hand of his wrapped around your throat, tugging you into your household and slamming your body back against the front door to close it.
“Toji-,“ You barely even get a chance to speak before he’s shoving his hot tongue into your mouth and shutting you up.
Your fiancé doesn’t care to hear your excuses; you’ve already texted them to him, so he’s grunting into your mouth, and his free hand is moving to lock the door you’re up against.
His lips are warm and heavy against you, cologne dizzying your senses, his bigger and much bulkier body pressing against you, and hand limiting your oxygen.
“Told’ you I fuckin’ needed you,” Toji grunted into your mouth as he trailed his touch down and around your body, quickly moving to grab a greedy handful of your ass, “Y’know how long I’ve been waitin’?”
You whine as his fingers curl into your asscheek, squeezing harshly before moving his lips to your jawline. “T-Toji, please, that meeting was—“
“Don’t care,” He hums casually as he dips further down and to the side of your neck, sucking eagerly at your skin, “Forty-five fuckin’ minutes I’ve been waitin’ for you.”
You roll your eyes, “You’re such a big baby,” You stammer out as his hand shifts to your hip. Then he tugs at you so that his one larger leg can press in between yours.
Toji scoffs against you and his hand leaves your throat, “I’m a big baby? Says the one who starts cryin’ from jus’ the tip.”
You grit your teeth, and your hands go to his broad shoulders, “I do not," You gasp, his bulky thigh pressing up against your clit, “You’re exaggerating.”
“Oh, am I?” Toji chuckles, pulling his head up so he can look at your face, “Look at’cha now, can’t even handle a couple of kisses without lookin’ all fucked out.”
You frown at the man, “You couldn’t even let me get past the damn door before your hands were all over m-“
He shuts you up by lifting a hand to shove two thick fingers into your mouth, “God, you talk too much.”
A pout pulls at your lower lip as his fingers sink deeper into your mouth and press down on the back of your tongue. Your eyes gloss over a little, and you gag.
His scarred lip pulls up into a smirk, “Look at that fuckin’ pout… Aww, you mad?” Toji taunts.
God, you cannot stand him.
Well, you can, that’s why you’ve got an engagement ring on your finger now—but still, he never fails to piss you off. And you’re pretty sure he likes pissing you off seeing as he clearly gets a kick out of seeing you upset.
You move to graze his fingers with your teeth, and he raises a brow.
“Don’t you fuckin’ dare.” Toji warns.
You groan against him before letting out a tired sigh and slithering your tongue in between the two fingers lodged in your mouth. He flashes a smile at you.
Then he nods approvingly, “Yeahhh, tha’s more like it.”
Oh, his cock was in pain due to how hard he was. And it doesn’t get any better when you pull your head back a little before pushing forward, sucking on his fingers like the obedient lil' fiancée he knows you to be.
Toji licks his lips in almost slow motion, “So fuckin’ sexy, doll. Y’know that right?”
You smile against his fingers briefly before you nod, “Mhmm…”
He sighs heavily as he watches you suck on him, cock twitching in his sweatpants every time you throat his fingers and bat those pretty eyes of yours at him.
Then, he practically loses his mind when you pull off with a loud pop before taking his wrist into your hands, spitting on the tip of his fingers, and then taking them right back into your mouth.
Toji 's words leave him all sleazily, “Nasty lil’ slut,” He huffs out, “Suckin’ on my fingers like it’s my cock. You’re enjoyin’ yourself, huh?”
You smile yet again and nod, “Mmh…”
“Fuck, keep lookin’ at me like that, ‘nd I’m gonna cum without even seein’ your pussy.” He warns.
That makes you far more eager than he expects you to be and you tilt your head to the side to really start sucking on his fingers like they’re his dick.
Then, you pull off for a moment just to speak, “Put three in my mouth,” You request, sticking your tongue out and watching how his lips part to nearly moan at your words alone.
Toji tips his head back ever so slightly, eyes getting lower as he shifts to hold three fingers to your lips, “You’re so fuckin’ nasty,” He whispers before pushing his digits in and feeling you hum against him, “Gonna make me cum from this, pretty girl…”
You twist your head a bit as you suck on him, running your tongue all in between his fingers, drool escaping out the corner of your lips, and one of your hands suddenly dropping from his wrists. Toji’s eyes flicker when your free hand grabs ahold of his cock through his clothes.
“S-Shit,” He hisses, “God, I love you.” Toji hums as your hand strokes his aching cock through his clothing.
You were all too perfect for him, sucking on his fingers, rubbing your palm against the outline of his clothes—he swears he’s never found himself about to cum from something so simple before.
It's almost embarrassing. Almost.
Your mouth furthers on his fingers and your hand moves to slip into his sweats, making his body jerk forward when you grab his thick cockhead and run your fingers over it so teasingly.
“Fuuuck,” He groans with his jaw going slack, “The hell would I do without you-, mgh,” He grunts deeply as you stroke his tip.
Toji’s hips buck into your touch, and he’s trying so hard not to moan—he was really aching for you more than he’d let on.
A messy slick of precum gets all over your hand, but it makes it easier for you to start jerking him off, your mouth still latched to his fingers for a moment before you pull off.
Then you kiss him and smile, “C’mon big guy, go ahead ‘nd cum f’me so you can fuck me properly.”
Oh, he practically loses his sanity at that. Body folding over toward you as he rests his forehead on your shoulder, Toji finally lets out that sexy moan he’s been keeping in.
You snicker as you jerk him off, and you can feel his cock throbbing in your hand, the messy sounds of your fingers sliding along his thickness filling the air.
Toji tilted his head and his lips pressed into your skin, but he didn't kiss you, just opened his mouth and panted, “M’so close, doll. Don’t stop, d-don’t you fuckin’ stop,” He demanded against your neck, breath heated and body tense because of you.
You smile, “You’re so needy, Toji…”
His teeth graze your neck for a moment as he nearly sinks them into your skin, “Don’t call me needy.”
“But you are,” You voice out so sensually that it makes his head spin.
Toji grunts, and you swear you hear a different noise almost escape the back of his throat as your hand squeezes his cock. “M’gonna fuck the shit outta’ you after this,” He huffs, “Gonna make sure you can’t even-, aagh… walk tomorrow.” He stammers out.
You move to whisper in his ear, “Mhm, I’m sure you will.”
“I’ll show you fuckin’ needy,” Toji utters through gritted teeth, your hand just jerking and jerking—his legs were starting to stiffen because of how good it felt.
“Stop talking and cum for me so you can fill me up,” You whisper teasingly.
Toji’s eyes roll back, “I’ll put a baby in you if you keep talkin’ like that.”
“Maybe I want you to,” You giggle.
Then your hand focuses on his leaking tip, and he just couldn’t take it anymore, groaning at both your skillful hand and your teasing words before creamy ropes of cum spurts out.
His hands ball into tight fists as he does so, and he pants heavily beside you. The sounds he let out were loud enough to let you know he really was worked up.
In one quick motion, he lifted his head from your shoulder and pressed his lips into yours one last time. Grunting, “Fuckin’ love you.”
And you’re smiling against him, “Mhm, love you too, ya’ big baby.”
Toji scoffs before pulling away from your lips, “Alright, call me a big baby one more time ‘n see what happens.”
You stare at the man, noticing the slight smirk he has, “But Toji, you are a big baby—never satisfied ‘til you get what you want.”
“Seems like you’ve got the roles here reversed, doll,” He huffs before pecking your lips one more time, “S’fine though, I’ll fix that soon enough.”
Gulp.
☆ Choso Kamo
Coming home late to your needy boyfriend is never a bad thing. If anything, you think you stay longer at work on purpose just to tease the man.
When you get home wee hours into the night, all the lights in the apartment would be off, there'd be practically no sound throughout the place, and you'd wonder if Choso was sleeping.
Of no surprise to you, he isn't when you make your way to the living room and see his legs sprawled out while he watches some show playing on the TV ahead of him. You'd carefully make your way around the couch and notice he's got his eyes shut, his head resting slightly back on the couch.
How cute, he'd fallen asleep waiting for you. So what do you do as his loving girlfriend? Well, you move to straddle him and take a very comfortable seat in his lap, his entire body jolting awake at your presence.
The smell of your perfume would seep into his nose, the feeling of your thighs spread over his would make his body tense, and the way you'd wrap your arms around his neck as he woke up would have him letting out a sigh of relief.
"Hi Cho," You'd greet so lovingly, voice caressing his ear just before you plant a cute lil' kiss near it.
Choso's hands move on instinct, two large pairs of fingers pawing at each side of your waist. Then, before he even gets a second to say anything, you're tipping your head down to kiss him on the side of his neck like you always do.
He groans immediately, and you feel his cock jump at the sudden kiss. Then he's gripping onto your waist tighter, "Missed you, baby." Choso tells you in that richly deep voice of his, the sound making you move against him.
Your kisses trail up, and you find yourself right below his jaw, "Missed you too, Cho."
He inhales sharply as you then lick him before sucking on his skin a little, "Yeah?" Choso teases, sleepily dragging his hands down and grabbing ahold of your hips before squeezing, "You stayed at work longer than normal..."
"I know, I know, m'sorry," You coo as you try to make up for it with the constant kisses to his neck. And he's so sensitive too, squirming all over the place as you do so. You could feel his dick growing beneath you, and the feeling only encouraged you to get more comfortable in his lap.
Then you lift your face from his neck and meet those low brown eyes of his, "Heard me? I said I'm sorry, Cho."
He stares at you for a long moment before cocking his head to the side, "Are you?"
You blink, "Of course I am!"
"Prove it to me, baby," He requests, voice as deep as ever.
You could feel your body getting hotter every time he spoke, the look in his eyes and the faint touch on you driving you crazy. "How do you want me to prove it to you, hm?" You ask softly.
Just as his voice made you ache, your voice made the tip of his cock leak. He's lifting his hips up into yours without a second thought, and he doesn't miss the way you gasp softly at his clothed cock pressing against your cunt.
"Ride me," Choso says calmly, "If you're sorry, make it up to me by making me cum."
You smile at the man, "That's it? Choso, you're acting like I haven't made you cum without even touching you before..."
He scoffs slightly as he leans back into the couch lazily—a sleepy, but sexy smile spreading across his face as he does so. “You tied me up, that was different, baby.”
Tilting your head, you smile back at him, “Was it?”
“Mhm, and when I say ride me,” Choso’s hands slither down along your legs before finding place on your thighs, “I mean just like this.”
You just stare with wide, confused eyes, “…What do you mean just like this?”
“Grind against me, princess.” He explains with a smug smirk on his face.
You frown, “Like a teenager, Cho? Why can’t we just-“
“I knew you weren’t sorry for staying out so later,” Choso cuts you off in a huff while turning his head off to the side to avoid your gaze.
Again, you stare at him all blankly—trying to figure out if he’s being serious right now or if he’s just teasing. But, based on the aching cock you’re sitting on top of and the way Choso’s fingers are holding your thighs, you get the idea that he’s anything but joking.
So, with a sigh, “Fine,” You tell him, earning his gaze back on you.
Choso comforts himself a bit more, slouching back into the couch further and rolling his hips upward to get comfortable. Though, his little movement only causes his dick to firmly press against your folds, making you soak your panties even more than you already had been.
The few layers between you and him weren’t really helping how stupidly aroused you both were. With a soft sigh escaping from your lips, you started off slow—gently rocking your hips forward as if to test the waters a bit.
Your boyfriend, Choso, quickly lets out a huff in reaction. Nothing could beat that teasing sensation of your clothed cunt rubbing against his aching boner. His eyes lowered, and despite the cute lil’ shade of red taking over his features, his fingers grasped at your thighs tighter than before.
“Yeahh, like that, baby,” He whispers.
You hum sweetly and lean forward, letting your chest press against his whilst your gaze met his lowered one, “This is all you want?”
Choso nodded carefully and licked at his lips as you just rocked your hips back and forth in the most mesmerizing way. You had the perfect rhythm with your hips, skillfully rolling your cunt in small circles over his cock and gasping every once in a while.
He soon let out a groan and tipped his head back, “Just… keep-, mmgh, keep doing that.”
You smile at your all-too-sensitive boyfriend before leaning forward and connecting your lips to his neck, “Choso… Baby,” You whine,” Are you really gonna cum from this?”
He barely even nods at your words, letting his hands slither further up your body and grab ahold of your waist once more, “F-Feels like you’re actually—fuckin’ me.” His voice husked out, deep but laced with the faintest whine just as you liked.
“Yeah?” You utter tauntingly. Then you moved even faster, rutting against his cock with more vigor as he humped up into you reactively.
“Hahh,” He whined at the sudden change in pace, “S-Shit, I… I wanna fuck you.”
You lick a long and almost languid stripe up along his neck, stopping at his jaw and giggling, “So fuck me, Cho.”
All that’s let out from him is a throaty sound before he’s flipping the two of you over, his much larger frame coming in between your legs as he stares down at you so very hungrily.
Then Choso’s drawing his hips back only a little before he mashes down into your clothed pussy, the outline of his dripping cock nudging right in between your folds and making your eyes flutter for a moment.
Choso shakes his head at you, “Why’d you come home s’late?” He mumbles.
You let out the faintest moan as he works up a needy pace of humping his dick against you. “C-Choso-“
“Answer my question,” He breathes out as he leans his face down to your aroused expression, “Hm? Why’d you come home late? Y’know I missed you, right?”
You nod, and he rolls his hips down into yours, cock mashing into your cunt and even grazing your clit, “Hahhh, I-I know Cho… I just-, mmh! Remember that promotion I told you about?”
He stares for a second before shrugging, “Yeah…”
“I needed to show… h-how serious I am about it,” You moan in the middle of your explanation, your jaw going slack as he then weighs his body down into yours a little, growing rougher.
“Is a promotion more important than me?” He huffs out through a gentle whisper.
Your head shakes, “No, of course n-not-“
“I texted you, baby,” Choso cuts off, his face growing closer, “Told you I needed you.”
“Cho-“
“Needed your cunt on me,” He huffs out mindlessly, “Needed this, aagh…” His words are emphasized with an uneven thrust against you.
Your body jerks a bit, and you have the most sinful expression painted across your face—almost as if you were getting fucked for real. Moaning, “Choso,” as he swiped a hand down and rubbed over your clit through your clothes.
“I missed her,” He hums, “Missed how she talks to me…” All whilst he rocked that thumb of his over your clit and continued rutting his cock down against you. You felt the weight and shape of it practically molding in between your folds, all the fabric in between the two of you growing wetter the more either of you moved. “You gonna cum f’me, baby?”
“Mhmm,” You whine as your hips lift into his motions.
Choso smiles, “C’mon then, give it to me so I can fuck you for real.”
His words went straight to your core, your body aching for the sweet release resting just at the tip of your senses. "Choso," You moaned in tandem with your steadily building release.
He nodded, his eyes never once leave yours, “Uhuh, keep sayin’ my name.”
You felt yourself arching into him, whimpering his name out as he continued to grind against you. The weight of his body alone could've been enough to get you off and yet somehow, there you were nearing your orgasm from the feel of his dick throbbing against you.
“Mhm, I’m right here, baby,” He coos lovingly, “Act like I’m inside you, cum just like you would on my cock, princess.”
And just like that, you were cumming, legs closing around your boyfriend as he watched your face and body twist up.
Then he started kissing your neck and sucking on your skin possessively, “That’s my fuckin’ girl,” He praised.
Once your body stilled, he leaned up and quickly pulled his shirt off, staring down at your wide, glossed over eyes. A heavy sigh leaves his lips as he hauls his hands down and tugs on his drawstring.
“Ready to see how much my cock missed you?” Choso teases one last time as he tauntingly pulls on the waistband of his sweats.
You just nod almost dumbly before peering up at him, “Mhm.”
Then he’s smiling again, “Alright but, don’t start cryin’ when you can’t take it anymore, ‘kay?”
☆ Nanami Kento
Okay, he’s literally the reason you come home late.
Because, of course, working at the same company as your husband isn’t always the best idea. And yes, everyone knows Nanami hates working overtime.
But, when his pretty wife comes into his office after sending teasing messages for the past hour or so about getting home and taking a soothing bath together, Nanami finds himself straining through his clothes.
You had walked in with that tight pencil skirt and lowly unbuttoned blouse—a way of dressing you know drives him insane.
Then there’s your voice caressing his ear as you slither around his desk and wrap your arms around his neck, whispering an oh-so-sweet, “Need any help in here, sir?”
And you know what that honorific does to him when coming out of your mouth.
It all makes him shift in his seat, moving to lean over and rest his chin on his knuckles as he places his elbow on the armrest of his chair, “Yes, but not with anything on this damn screen,” Nanami huffs.
You smile, understanding exactly what he means by that, but deciding to play dumb anyway. Pressing your lips into his cheek, “Awh,” You coo, glancing over to the neatly assorted paperwork on his desk, “Then, could it be that pile of work you need help with? It is almost time to go.”
Nanami sighs and lifts his head from his hand, turning to look at you, whose eyes are busy elsewhere, “No, not that either,” He hums in that honeyed voice of his.
You turn to face him, your eyelids lowering as you find yourself a bit closer than anticipated, “Then what is it, Ken?” Your question comes off as innocent, and you tilt your head to feed into the ploy.
His eyes narrow at you, and he scans your expression momentarily. After which, his gaze meets yours, “You are so beautiful,” Your husband suddenly compliments.
And it never once fails to make your heart swell, and a smile brightens up your face, “Thank you, hun,” You say before moving to peck his lips, “But where is this sudden sentiment coming from, hm?”
Nanami leans toward your face a little just as you pull your lips off of his, and you find it so very endearing how clear it is what he wants from you. “I can’t compliment my wife?” He asks.
“You can.” Giggling, your hands retract from him as you stand up straight—watching how his expression sinks a little due to the loss of your touch, “But I’m just curious, is all…”
Your head turns to that stack of paperwork again, and you reach for the paper at the top of the pile, skimming over it as you do so.
Nanami watches, falling deeper in love with your every move and trying his best not to think with his cock and act on impulse—though he’d done it before, lord knows he wanted to bend you over his desk and-
“Ken, I thought we discussed this contract here,” You utter, breaking him from his lewd thoughts.
Nanami shakes his head and clears his throat. Then, he reaches a hand over and grabs a light hold of your free hand, trying to gain your attention, “We probably did, but,” You turn and look at him as he lifts your hand to his face and lands a kiss across your knuckles, “Can we please discuss that later?”
You gaze at your husband for a long moment, finally noticing the bulge in his pants. “Oh. Is that what you need my help with?” You emphasize as you place the paper in your hand and point to his crotch.
Nanami moves to intertwine his fingers with yours, “I know it’s unprofessional, but yes. Please?”
You turn your body to face him, and he tries to pull you closer, but you don’t move. “Ken... if I handle that now, we’ll be here longer than we’d like.”
He nods, “I’m aware.”
Frowning in disappointment at your impatient husband, you let off a sigh and push forward, stepping in between his legs. “I wasn’t aware I married such a needy man.” You tease as you draw your hand away from his.
Nanami quickly sits back in his seat, the chair creaking a bit as he does so. He’s got this almost pained look on his face, as if another second without you would kill him.
“Me? Needy?” Nanami huffs, clearly not aware of the look on his chiseled face.
You smile and begin to get down on your knees, the sight making his cock jump within his pants. “Yes, you.” You scoff, “Who else?”
Your husband parts his thighs further for you and smirks, “Between you and me, I am not the needy one in this relationship.”
You nod slowly as your fingers trail along his muscular thighs, the teasing movements causing his tip to drip so messily against his clothing. “So what do you call this then?” You utter, nodding your chin toward his erection.
Those delicate hands of yours trail up to his belt, and you begin to undo it so slowly that it pains him not to rush you. “You caused it,” Nanami argues.
You smirk, “That doesn’t answer my question, husband of mine.”
“Well, wife of mine, I don’t have time to answer questions right now,” He mocks, tipping his head to the side and watching you like a hawk as your hands finally near his cock, “I'm too hard to think straight.” He grunts.
And then finally, your hand is tugging his throbbing cock out, your eyes widening at the sight as if you hadn’t seen it a million times before. Nanami loves the way you admire him, though he just watches in awe at how your gaze travels along his thick and lengthy member, your mouth salivating in such a hungry way.
“C’mon, I don’t have all day…” Nanami rushes, to which you glance past his length and up at his face with a pout. “Oh, don’t look at me like that, we’ve already been here five minutes past our working hours.”
You snicker and lean your face close to his cock just to push your lips to his weeping and flushed tip, “And whose fault is that?” You whisper before you kiss him.
He inhales sharply enough for you to hear, “Yours,” Nanami groans out to you.
Your lips move to wrap around the tip of his cock, tongue quickly swiping in between his slit and making the man shudder above you. Then, you pull your tongue away and look up at him again, “Mine, he says…" You mock to yourself before tilting your head.
Then you’re trailing kisses down the side of his dick until you get to the base, gently sucking on the underside of his cock where he’s sensitive and earning a deep groan that makes your cunt throb.
“…As if you’re not the one begging me to suck you off,” You huff out.
Nanami lands a heavy hand down on your head as you shift to drag your tongue upward along his length until you get to his pretty pink tip, swiveling your tongue around it and pulling off slightly to spit onto it.
“Oh, don’t act like you didn’t want to do this,” Nanami argues back to you. Your gaze meets his, and he stares at the way you open your mouth slowly, but… not to say something back to him.
Instead, your mouth is closing around his cock before he has time to process—yet another groan leaves his lips and echoes throughout his office. Inch by inch by inch, your mouth furthers down his dick with no problem.
Even as his cock enters your throat and your lips reach his base, you don’t gag or even choke. Nanami’s eyelashes fluttered at the tightness of your throat around him, trying not to groan too much despite it being hard not to when your mouth was so warm and wet around him.
“Fuuck,” He curses deeply, fingers curling into your hair, “I trained this throat well, it seems…”
You whine against him, and his body twitches. Slowly, you start to lift your head before you work up a pleasurable pace of bobbing your head—sucking on his cock all too well.
Nanami’s free hand grips onto the edge of his armrest as you go to work on him, and his eyes begin to lift to the ceiling. Looking down at you with your mouth stuffed full of his cock would only lead him to cum too soon.
The wet sounds slipping from your mouth as you sucked and licked on his dick filled the air, your eyes lowering as pleasing your husband like this only turned you on more than you already were. The two of you had been teasing one another all day.
Even from earlier that morning, when Nanami woke you up by kissing your neck so lovingly, whispering sweet nothings against your skin in that deep and sexy morning voice of his. He’s had you working up since then, so now, you’re sucking him off like you want him to pass out from it.
And he might because goddamn your mouth is like heaven around him. Your head bobs and twists, your throat opening up to take him in deep every time you push down, and a moan vibrates against him as his hand tugs at your hair every now and then.
Then there’s your tongue, slithering up and down and left and right, slicking against each vein in such a way that tells him you remember every single one.
“Oh fuck,” Nanami curses yet again, hips unconsciously bucking up into your mouth for more, “So good… Your mouth feels so good on me, love.”
You give his cock one long and hard suck until you pull off with a loud pop, sticking your tongue out for a moment as you move a hand to jerk him off. “Yeah? Couldn’t wait til’ we got home, huh?” You tease.
He just shakes his head at you and watches through lidded eyes as you tap the tip of his fat cock on your tongue, smiling a little as you do so.
He pants, “Hahh… not when I have a perfect cocksleeve of a wife t’help me out…” Nanami says lowly.
And your face twists up at that, eyebrows pinching together slightly and pout pulling at your lower lip, “Ken…” You whisper, your hand tightening around his shaft as you give him quick pulls.
“M’sorry,” Nanami apologizes quickly, making you smile. “I-, aagh… I didn’t mean that….” He huffs out, clearly out of it as you jerk him off so perfectly, better than he ever could on his own.
You lean forward and purposefully suck on only his top, tongue lulling around it, in between his slit, pushing saliva out of your mouth and making it all the more messy before you pull him back into your mouth.
Then Nanami moans into the air, “Fuuck, n-no, I meant that…” He corrects, “You suck me off like a goddamn-“
You pull off for a second and smile, “Say it…”
“Whore,” Nanami grunts, and you moan as you sink your mouth down onto him again, making his abs tense up beneath his shirt.
Your eyes gloss over as you take him all the way in, closing your throat around his cock and practically sucking the soul out of him. Then your hands sneak down, and you cup his balls in your hand, feeling how some of the mixed saliva and precum has slipped down.
Nanami nearly kicks something as you do so, his head flying back as he moans out your name. The sound makes your pussy so unbelievably wet, eyes glancing up to get a good look at your husband, who was so close to finishing in your mouth.
Then you see him take a shaky hand and tug at that bright yellow tie of his, yanking it loose and messily unbuttoning some of the buttons on his shirt so that he could breathe properly.
Not that that really helps him escape that damn mouth of yours. As you lift your mouth to breathe, both of your hands move to make up for it, your lips and tongue focusing on his tip all over again.
“Fuck-,” Nanami’s breath hitches and his eyes begin to roll back, “Y-You’re gonna make me-,” He groans again as you slurp his tip into your mouth sloppily, hands twisting and tugging at his cock so damn deliciously that he actually does accidentally kick his desk in front of him.
There’s a thud that follows, but neither of you pays any attention to it. You’re too busy making his head spin with that mouth of yours, and Nanami’s trying not to-
Whatever the hell he was trying not to do, he does—an abrupt and warm load of cum shooting into your mouth. Nanami’s body hunches forward as he does so, almost as if he were trying to escape your mouth for a second.
Your hands only move out of the way, though, mouth sinking all the way down on his cock so that you don’t miss a single drop of him.
Nanami’s chanting your name lowly over and over as he cums, small little I love you’s, and you’re so perfect’s flowing out his mouth as he does so.
Once he’s done and you finally pull your lips off of his cock, you’ve got a mouth full of cum, and you purposefully don’t swallow yet. Looking up at your husband with wet eyelashes and batting them at him, you roll your tongue around in your mouth and show him what a mess he’s made in there.
Nanami practically chokes at the sight before averting his eyes, “Don’t do that…” He hums, “J-Just…. Swallow it.”
Your hands go to his knees, and you push up a little to lean toward his face, forcing him to look at you. Then, his eyes fall on your mouth, and he watches as you close it and gulp loudly, sticking out your tongue afterward for him with a cute ah sound following.
Nanami shakes his head at you and scoffs, “Nasty slut.” He degrades.
You flash him a smile and lean up for a kiss, “You know you love me that way,” You murmur as your lips near his.
With a sigh and a roll of his eyes, he moves a still shaky hand to your jaw and tugs your face to his, “I do. I really do,” Nanami says before kissing you passionately despite his taste on your tongue.
After which, he pulls away and gazes deeply into your eyes. You reciprocate the stare and even smile at him again.
He grins, “Promise I’ll thank you for this properly when we get home.”
You nod, “You better.”
“Mh,” He hums before tilting his head, “Or I could lay you out on this desk and repay you now?”
Blinking, you shrug, “Up to you, Ken.”
He stares for a moment, licking his lips at the thought of being between your legs. Then, he shakes his head, “Nope, I’ll make you wait until we get home.”
Your eyes go wide, “But-“
Nanami chuckles, “That’s what you get for calling me needy.”
perm multi tags:
@cupidstrace @navyllll @grignardsreagent @kingofpiratesiguess @etsuniiru @not-a-glad-gladiator @2kool4skoolll @daxphoriax @gorouenjoyer @blubearxy
@wonderfullymickey @iaintblockinnobody @kitassecretgf @iam-souless @nanamitiddiechomper @ohreallyfriend @withersworld @lilacsforveins @suguphile @megottheswaskikacooooke
@kvsqkiii @yourlocalcatscammer @lucy-lulu @sukubusss @sweetieelilii @lisabelhyhn @serenadesvt @riameriash @arminseas2 @palanggaaa
@cherslop @makingtimemine @theodoresvalentine @blcknebula @babblybebe @iluvatsumuuuui @remscreams @cursedkisss @jaibunni @blkkizzat
@a-jazzy-bee @miksde @zombiiesandmaltesers @sktvienna @dawnsoblivion @chloeee20 @naoybby @lateforlatte @lanamyersismywife
choso oh my fuck
happy mother's day to me as the eldest daughter of the house.
✦ . snow leopard hybrid! gojo is oh so pathetic.
satoru has been unbearable for three days. they say that's what happens during ruts, anyway - a change in behaviour. most felines get more aggressive, or even downright territorial.
satoru becomes clingy.
“baby,” satoru whines into the back of your neck, voice wrecked and raspy. “you’re doing this on purpose.”
you barely look up. “doing what?”
“that.” he buries his face against your shoulder, breathing you in. “smelling like that.”
you hum, and the sound nearly kills him. every instinct in his body is revolving around you until it borders on insanity, and you were ignoring him.
his large hands slide around your waist, body twisting on the couch until he's as comfortable as he can get. “sweets,” he mutters desperately, dragging his nose down the side of your throat. “c’mon. look at me.”
you sigh softly. perhaps in exasperation. it makes his pupils blow wide nonetheless. fuck. he inhales again, slower this time, nearly dizzy from your scent. warm skin and shampoo and something soft and uniquely you underneath it all that makes every predatory instinct in him spark alive.
mine. mine mine mine.
his teeth graze your shoulder before he can stop himself. “satoru,” you warn.
“i know,” he mumbles instantly, though his grip tightens. “i know, baby, i know.” for approximately twelve seconds, he behaves, then his body rolls off the couch, dropping between your legs, hands sliding lower and lower until you feel him grind against your calf with a frustrated noise.
“seriously?” you say flatly.
his tail wraps around your thigh possessively while he mouths at your neck again, slow wet kisses turning into little nips when you continue to ignore him. honestly, the lack of reaction from you might've been what drives him craziest. when you grumble his name again he grabs your thigh and presses his face into it. “need you,” he mutters against your skin.
“you’re dramatic.”
“m’ serious.” his tongue slowly drags up your bare leg and you twitch. there it is, finally - a reaction. his tail puffs instantly.
“there you are,” he breathes, sounding downright delirious. before you can answer he bites your thigh, just enough to make you jolt and glare down at him. “i’m being soooo good,” he insists while licking over the mark immediately after. “you don’t appreciate how good i'm being.”
“you say that like it’s reassuring.” satoru just grins lazily against your skin, sharp canines flashing, and when you jut your leg up just an inch, pressing against him harder, he lets out a groan so obscene it echoes through the apartment.
you stare at him. “..you’re unbelievable.”
“yeah,” he breathes, eyes half lidded while grinding against your leg shamelessly. “but you love me.”
his ears flick when your fingers finally slide into his hair. instantly, the man melts, a deep rumbling purr vibrating through his chest as he nearly collapses against you, licking slow stripes up the inside of your thigh.
you find the base of his ears, through the thick tufts of his white hair, and scratch. satoru's canines sink into the plush of your thighs, teeth dragging up, up, up until they're tearing a line through your shorts, ripping them off.
“satoru!” you scold, your protests promptly fading into soft little moans when he buries his face between your legs, blue eyes gone fully dark, spotted tail flicking rapidly behind him.
“m’ gonna be so good to you, sweets,” he rumbles against your core. “promise.”
Soft n’ sweet (or not!)
pairing: park seonghwa x fem!reader
genre: smut w/ minimal plot
warnings: minors dni !! absolutely no proofreading, meandom!seonghwa, sub!reader, healthy dose of degradeation and condescending seonghwa (YAY !!), overstimulation, unprotected sex (please wrap it before you tap it, fr people !!), light orgasm control, aftercare, petnames (sweet thing, pretty girl, baby, etc…), everything is consensual !!
w.c. 1.3k~
a/n: my first fic is finally done !! Thank you to the lovely @minkisdoll for helping me figure this all out. I hope you all enjoy it and feedback is more than welcome !!
Seonghwa loved lots of things that many would consider childish for his age. Legos, animal crossing, those silly little animal pens from souvenir shops, and so on. Bottom line was that if he found it cute, he had to have it. That’s how he found you. When you first met him, you were fresh out of college and had just moved to the city, and possibly the sweetest thing he’d ever seen. You were introduced to him via San, who happened to be a family friend of yours, and your mothers helped you reconnect once you moved out. You came over to their apartment for dinner one night, and left with a stomach full of takeout and Seonghwa’s number in your phone. He immediately took you under his wing, helping you around the house, showing you his favorite coffee shops, doing just about anything to help you settle into your new life…and into his.
It took him about a year to get you wrapped around his finger, but it wasn’t hard, he just wanted to take his time. He finally asked you out on a proper date, as his girlfriend, and within 3 weeks you were completely smitten. Finally his, another pretty thing to add to his world.
Then came the gifts. He’d buy just about any pretty little thing he saw and reminded him of you. Jewelry, trinkets, anything he deemed sweet enough for you. But by far, his favorite things to get you were plushies. Special edition jelly cats from cities he visited on schedules, his aniteez and mighteez characters, and he loved them so much because they were soft, like you. In fact, once you moved in with him, the plush toys nearly overtook the entire bed, to the point you had to buy a shelf just for them.
—☆ —☆ —☆ —☆ —☆ —☆ —☆ —☆—
Tonight, he bought your favorite takeout and big, stuffed rabbit. You’d had one of those horrible days, where it felt like nothing was going your way. The tears didn’t stop, and of course he was the first person on your mind. You had called him on your way home, and he was more than happy to take care of you, get you a little something to cheer you up.
“(name), what’s wrong my darling?” His voice was the first thing you heard as he watched you walk through the front door. You were already sniffling and mumbling out explanations, but he hushed you quickly, saying “it’s alright, just come lay with me.” You did exactly that. You quickly took your outside clothes off, changed into something more comfortable, and laid you head on his chest.
Seonghwa loved the feeling of caring for you, he just wanted to protect his baby from every bad thing in this world. But deep down, Seonghwa wanted to ruin you. He felt bad, tricking such a sweet little thing into thinking he was always gentle. Yet at the same time it felt way too good, knowing he was the one who’s arms you’d always fall into; the same arms that were now holding you down to your shared bed as he started kissing down your neck.
—☆ —☆ —☆ —☆ —☆ —☆ —☆ —☆—
“aww, you look so fucking pathetic right now, sweet thing…” he laughed at the sight of you sniffling into the stuffed bunny’s fur as he curled his fingers in and out of your pussy. “You do realize I haven’t even fucked you yet, right? And you’re already so messy for me…”
“hwa— s’ too much! Fuck, cumming!” You’d already lost track of how many times he’s made you cum on his fingers, 3? 4? 5? It was always like this, he was so unfair, coaxing you into overstimulation under the guise of “prepping” you. It wasn’t uncalled for, your boyfriend was well endowed to say the least, but did he really have to be so mean about it?
He finally pulled his hand away from your poor cunt, licking his fingers clean. “Gonna fuck you now, okay pretty girl?” You could already feel his head bumping against your entrance, and all you could do was nod dumbly into the plush toy.
“Nuh uh, what did I say…use your voice.” He took the plushy away from you, uncovering your tear streaked face. “Seonghwa, please, I need— fuck!” He smiled cruelly, pushing the rabbit back into your chest as he bottomed out in one, brutal thrust. He didn’t start moving just yet, letting the sting of the stretch subside. But once it did, he set a slow, deep pace that made your head feel all fuzzy.
“Seonghwa, seonghwa, seonghwa— please let me cum!” Your voice had been reduced to a syrupy sweet whimper, as sticky as the mess between your thighs. He was so pretty on top of you, moaning in your ear and mocking your silly little whines, licking your tears as they fell down your cheeks. Whatever it was that ruined your day felt so far away now…
“you look so precious right now, baby, letting me slut you out…moaning like a fucking pornstar” His soft features were now sharp, his dark eyes piercing into you heart. Through the hazy state of your brain, you couldn’t help but wonder: where had your soft, sweet boyfriend gone? But you didn’t have the time, or frankly the mental space, to worry about that. All you could do was beg and scream his name until your throat was raw. “Poor thing, you really wanna cum, huh? You’ll do it when I fucking say so.”
Your whimpers only got louder, and your pussy was clamping down on him like a vice. “You like it when I’m mean, don’t you? Answer me, baby…” he held on to your jaw, not tight enough to hurt you, but enough that your cheeks were squished by his fingers. He wasn’t letting up, grinding into you harder and faster, a hand reaching down to rub circles on your puffy clit, making it difficult for you to form coherent sentences.
“Mhm— Seonghwa, I can’t— Fuck, I’m gonna cum! Fuck!” Your orgasm hit you hard, so hard you feel like you’re going to pass out. Stars danced across your vision as your hands squeezed his shoulders, trying to get a grip back on reality. He was still fucking into you, brows knitted as he focused on reaching his own high.
“Such a filthy mouth for such a sweet girl, huh? Couldn’t even wait for me to say you could.” He cooed, sarcasm dripping from his tone. “But don’t worry…won’t be to hard on you tonight…”His voice was breathless, it was clear his orgasm was rapidly approaching.
“Gonna— Fuck, I’m gonna fill you up, darling” you just nodded, damn near sobbing into the stuffed rabbit from the overstimulation. With a final thrust, he came, pumping your cunt full. He touched his forehead to yours, and caught his breath before speaking again.
“you okay, baby? Was I too rough?” That soft, starry look returned to his eyes as he searched your own for any sign of discontent. You were much too far gone to answer properly, so you just nodded in response. He took the rabbit plushy away from you, and before you could complain, he lifted you in his arms and carried you off to the bathroom. It felt nice to be away from the now ruined sheets, but suddenly you could feel the sweat in every corner of your body, the uncomfortable stickiness in your cunt, eliciting a whine from your lips.
“you’re okay, pretty…I’m gonna get you cleaned up.” He pulled you closer to his chest, a clammy hand smoothing over your hair. He helped you shower, gave you one of his t-shirts to sleep in, and changed out the bedding. You finally ate the takeout he’d bought, and as you settled into the crisp, cool sheets, you reached for the stuffed rabbit. It still smelled like sex but it was so soft beneath your fingertips, soft like your skin beneath Seonghwa’s hands, soft like you, all pretty in his bed.
ddeonggrami 2026, do not publish or share to other platforms without permission.
taglist: empty !! (Send an ask to be added)
clingy san headcannons | 18+
divider crs: @doll-fairy @uzmacchiato
thinking of...
clingy san! who would have his hands hands on you no matter the situation, whether it be his hand underneath your shirt while cuddling, a hand on your waist in the store, or his head on your shoulder while you worked.
"you're so warm sweetheart,"
clingy san! who would frown when you hugged your plushies instead of him
"am I not enough for you?"
clingy san! who would absolutely get teary eyed when you got into an argument, apologizing no matter the circumstance.
"I'm sorry baby, I'm sorry, don't cry"
clingy san! who would pop one breast in his mouth when you ride him, caressing the other one tenderly to be any closer to you as physically possible
"mmm feels so good mommy, use me as much as you need"
clingy san! who would have you sit on the bathroom counter as you brushed your teeth, planting kisses all over your neck and arms.
"love to see my sweet girl taking care of herself"
clingy san! who would not let you lift a finger, even as much as to moisturize yourself after a shower
"just sit my pretty, and let me do it"
clingy san! who was completely devoted to your pleasure and always took care of you, letting you sit on his face after a long day, or pumping you full with his fingers during a relaxing bath.
"relax angel, I've got you,"
clingy san! who made sure others knew you were his, was always the first to comment under your posts, wearing coordinated outfits with you, and had your pictures all over his instagram page.
"that's my baby! (louder than everyone else)"
cinnawrites ™
вℓυѕнє∂ συт 2. 𓂃˖ ࣪⊹
ateez maknae line x fem! reader
synopsis | how the ateez maknaeline! reacts to you doing your makeup in front of them for the first time! some less infatuated than others, but the love is there ^~^ warnings | fluff, pet names, suggestive for woos if you squint.
hyung line here
choi san. | you were seated on sans' floor, all your products sprawled out on the ground. he himself, was in the kitchen, making you a drink as well as one for himself. you heard the blender going off as you applied the lip liner on the outline of your lips.
san turned the blender off and walked back to the room, both drinks in hand, careful not to spill. his smile reached his ears when he saw you on his floor, curlers in your hair, focused on lining your lips. he leaned down and planted a kiss on your head.
you smiled at him and his heart fluttered, basking in your beauty. "I know you just did your lips, but please drink a little, you're overheating," he said, tilting the straw towards your face. you leaned forward and took a long sip of the fruity concoction, tension leaving your body. san wiped the small bit left on your lips and cleaned his fingers with his tongue as if it was the most natural thing in the world. "thank you, baby," you beamed.
he sat in front of you, mirroring your criss cross position and watched attentively as he sipped his own drink. san enjoys indulging in anything you do, asking questions here and there about your products and how you were using them, as if it was routine. "is that the one Woo's girlfriend bought you? , "you're running low on that, I should get you some more".
he noticed you slightly struggling with your clusters, and he held the tray holding the individual pieces as the glue on them became tacky , as you applied each one. as you finished baking, like clockwork, he scooted closer to you and you handed him the black liner to apply it to your eyes and your waterline.
he cupped your chin and you tilted your face to give him easy access, sitting your hands on his thighs. he admired his work as you inspected it, impressed with his precision per usual. "I seriously love you, thank you baby," you leaned and placed a kiss on his jaw. he smiled, dimples accentuating as he scooted back and watched you finish up.
song mingi. | you and mingi had planned to go to dinner, but he had to finish a few things up at the studio so you ultimately decided to just meet him there. you started your makeup, but wanted the concealer to be more tacky, so you applied it and then grabbed the rest of your things to finish getting ready at the studio. once you arrived, you walked in to find mingi with his headphones on, focused as ever with the only light being the white fluroescent glow from his laptop as he faced the other side of the room. you swicthed the main light on and he groaned as he turned around. "hyung, what have i said about interrupting my flow sta-" and he was cut off by his own scream, causing you to drop your things.
"what the fuck mingi!," you said as you put your heart on your chest. "y/n?," he said as he tilted his head. you ignored him and picked up your things and set them on the table. mingi immediately took his headphones off and came over to clutch you, both arms holding you in place as he inspected your face. "who are you and what have you done with my y/n," he pleaded, drama queen as always. "mings, it's just concealer oh my god," you giggled as you swatted him away and sat down. mingi was still stuck in awe as he followed you to where you sat.
he watched you spritz your face with spray and start blending your face, watching the bright conealer blend into your skin tone. you glanced to your side to find his lip in an 'o' shape as he gawked at you. "this is the first and last time i do my makeup in front of you," you mumbled, not realizing he was scooting closer to you for a better view. "i wanna try," he said , already reaching for the triangle blender. you sighed, but indulged his curiosity. "okay, carefully tap it into this powder, press it on the back of my hand, and then apply it like this," you instructed him as he watched you do the left side.
you handed him the blender and the powder, allowing him to attempt it for himself. at first he grabbed too much powder and a cloud of it filled the air, causing you both to sneeze. "it's okay, just a little less," you laughed and fanned the powder away. he attempted it again, this time picking up the right amount and tapping off the excess on the back of his hand, per your instructions. he shuffled a little closer to you, now enveloping you with his scent as he held you jaw in place and tapped the powder underneath your eyes.
as your eyes were shut, you heard the door open as mingi continued to bake your face. "hey have you seen my-," hongjoong was cutoff by the sight before him. minigis hand kept firm on your jaw, but you felt him stop patting. "and I thought I've seen it all," hongjoong laughed and you heard a camera click. mingi grabbed a pillow nearby and chucked it at joong, careful not to mess up your face. "hi joong!," you said, eyes still closed.
"hey, y/n! are you sure you trust him doing that..?" he said with a laugh, and you could hear the glare on mingis face. "he's doing great, don't worry at all," you reassured him as you squeezed mingis thigh, and hongjoong said his farewells and left you to it, not before chucking the pillow back at mingi. mingi finished up your powder, and stayed to help you complete your makeup, learning every step and trick to doing your makeup, insisting on doing it for you every time moving forward.
jung wooyoung. | with wooyoung, personal space? we don't know her. and as always, he was clinging to you like no other. you had promised your girlfriends you'd have dinner with them, but as soon as you walked in the bedroom door, wooyoung was dragging you to the bed for mandatory cuddle time. "woo, baby i have to get ready now," you whined as you tried to pry from his grip, but to no avail. "i have to meet yves and chuu," you said but he only responded with a sound of disapproval. "woo, seriously i have to get up," you said, about to let up until he finally released you from his hold. but who would he be if he didn't sulk and throw a fit?
he began to huff and crossed his arms as he leaned against the headboard. "it's okay, if you didn't love me anymore you could've just said that," as he began to pout. you simply rolled your eyes and went to grab your makeup bag when an idea crossed your mind. you prepped your hair and grabbed all your essentials and brought them back to the room, where you found wooyoung exactly how you left him, little to your knowledge that he only put a pout back on his face when he heard you coming back. attention whore.
you crawled back to the bed and sat on his lap, carefully straddling him and began doing your routine, paying him no mind. he kept up his stubborn act but looked up at you as you applied products, intrigued by your actions. you on the other hand, saw right through his act and halted to smile at him, planting a peck on his cheek. a slight blush spread across his face that you pretended not to see as you returned to your makeup.
he finally let up and wrapped his arms around your waist and leaned his head on the headboard to properly watch you and you smirked to yourself. gotcha. he would leave little comments here and there, careful not to throw you off your routine. every once in a while, he would lean forward and pucker his lips, and you'd roll your eyes, feinging annoyance but still plant a kiss on his lips anyway.
he saw you pick up a black eye pencil and as you lifted it to your eyes, his eyes grew even wider with interest. "can i do it!!!," he exclaimed, and you paused to look at him. "woo…," you hesitated. "please? ill be careful!," he insisted, and how could you ever deny him? you adjusted yourself on his lap and handed him the pencil. he carefully cupped your chin and you closed your eyes to let him work, hands wrapped around his biceps. he precisely drew a wing on your lid and asked you open your eyes.
"okay, just trust me, okay?," he said as he placed the pencil on the inner corner of your waterline and asked you to close your eyes again. he felt you softly cling on to his biceps a little less and fully submit to him. when you closed your eyes again, he dragged the pencil from the inner corner of your waterline to the outer corner, creating a smoky undereye. he did the same on your other eye and finally set the pencil down. "okay open!," he said and you opened your eyes to find him beaming at you. "my pretty baby," he swooned and handed a small compact mirror for you to check out his work.
you gaped in awe at your eyes and how the small action created such a difference in your appearance. "i love it oh my gosh, thank you, thank you," you cheesed as you planted a kiss on his cheek. he leaned back again in satisfaction to watch you do the finishing touches on your routine, enjoying spending this time with you.
choi jongho. | you were sat at your vanity in your apartment, getting ready to go out. your music was cutoff by a incoming facetime call from jongho. you swiped the answer log and saw your boyfriend on the other end seemingly laying down. "hi honey, where are you going?," he said as he saw your hair done and with a fancy top on . "hi baby! i'm going to dinner with yves," you smiled. "you should apply more blush to your cheeks, love," he said. you tilted your head and he could see you pondering upon his suggestion. you put his words into practice and added a few more strokes of the blush to your cheekbones. "a little higher, since your cheekbones are more defined," he said and made a motion with his fingers to show you the placement.
you followed his movement and were surprised by the difference in your face. "wow, i didn't know you were a makeup guru, jjong," you said, impressed by his insight. he simply shrugged and continued to watch you doing your stepts, giving his insight where he could. "i think you should line your lips with brown instead of black," "maybe a little power on your smile lines, since you're such a smiley girl," he said, your heart blooming at the details he kept notice of when it comes to you.
he watched you hesitate to apply the loose powder, and squinted his brows. "what's wrong?". "recently, i've been struggling with the powder, and I feel like it starts to clump up after i apply the spray," you said, pouting your lips. he softly smiled and gave you a couple suggestions. you nodded your head as you tried one of the methods out, and immediately letting out a breath of relief once the powder remained flawless. "you're the best, seriously," you sighed. "you look beautiful angel. i'll be there to pick you up after the dinner, just call me". you thanked him and finished up your makeup, and held the phone up to show him the finished look.
cinnawrites ™
𝜗𝜚 cuteness aggression with nerdjo! (fluff)
more like this
ೃ࿔*:･
The paper of your meticulously highlighted notebook crinkles under your hand as you turn the page, pen caught between your teeth in thought. You keep getting distracted- you’re desperately trying to start on your essay, laptop balanced at your side on the bed, but your boyfriend keeps dragging you out of thought.
Not intentionally! Satoru does love clinging to you at times, drawing the outlines of symbols on your palms while he mumbles under his breath and ignores the blush creeping up his cheeks at the proximity, but if you’re seriously studying? He plants himself farrrrr away and lets you work.
Which he’s doing now, long limbs tangled up at the foot end of the bed- he let you have the pillows- and tapping away on his keyboard. You’re only supposed to be taking a quick glance, but you just can’t resist staring.
He’s so pretty, you’re almost jealous; soft white hair cramped under his headphones, bright eyes narrowed behind his slightly wonky glasses. But there’s something off about his expression of concentrated serenity.
His lips are jutted out and just a little downturned, soft pink and the slight hint of shimmer from your lipgloss (from your pre-study kiss- he likes to keep up with tradition) more obvious than usual.
“Toru-“ you say, giggling, “are you... pouting?”
He whips his head up at the sound of your voice, slowly folding his headphones to sit on the bed next to him. “No?”
“You are.” You insist, smiling as you crawl over to him, “you so are!”
“I’m not?” He protests confusedly, “I completely understand this module, I can explain it to you easily- oh.” He says sheepishly, cheeks blushing, “umm... it’s my braces.”
You blink. “Your... braces? Do they hurt?”
“Yeah.” He says a little miserably, “got them tightened this morning. It hurts if I put too much pressure on them, so I have to hold my lips out.” Actually, now you’re up close, you can see- the metal shines through when he speaks, the plastic bands on the brackets a little brighter and a lot less faded.
New.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were getting them tightened?” You ask, holding his face in your hands absentmindedly as he replies. “I knew if I told you, you’d keep getting distracted from your work…” Satoru admits, “sorry, sweetheart. I just wanted you to focus.”
Your heart melts. God, he’s so cute- sitting there and suffering silently, wincing as the metal catches on his lips. You squish his cheeks a little, and the pout returns tenfold, big eyes gazing up at you, and you suddenly feel rather... agitated?
You almost start giggling hysterically, pressing a kiss to his forehead. Then his nose, then his eyelids, then his squished-up cheeks. Satoru looks perplexed.
“What… what are you doing?”
“You’re so cute!” You complain, slightly accusatorially, “it’s unfair.” He blushes at that, but doesn’t protest when you keep applying messy kisses across his face- well, everywhere except his mouth.
You’re almost violent in your affection, fighting down the squeals threatening to spill from your excited mouth as he sits there and lets you have your fun. You’d only just reapplied your lipgloss when you noticed the pout, so now Satoru’s face is quickly becoming a canvas.
Varying amounts of gloss spill over his skin, depending on how hard you pressed your lips down- the light shades of pink, simple and glittery, decorating his face in kiss marks, is enough to make you beam.
Held between your hands, your boyfriend’s rosy cheeks look rather similar to the strawberry mochi he devours in between lectures. Minus the powdered sugar, obviously.
“I could just eat you up.” You joke, thinking about the mochi and grinning at the dimple that appears when he shyly smiles back. “You’re soooo adorable-“
You’re so focused on cooing over his face that you don’t register the two hands sliding to cup your own face, a mirror of yours on his, and to softly pull you down into a gentle kiss. You lean into it happily, until he winces and pulls away.
“Sorry-“ he apologises profusely, “I want to kiss you, I really do, but… braces.”
You laugh and swing your feet to plant on the carpet below, standing. “Where are you going?” He asks, suddenly rather worried he’s accidentally annoyed you by pulling away and you’re about to find something to throw at him.
“The kitchen.” You say casually, “ice for your mouth. Then you can try and kiss me.”
Well, Satoru Gojo has never backed down from a challenge.
ೃ࿔*:･
masterlist
a/n: I wanna bite him
tags (open):
@yvannaille @f33bs @loverofladybugs @p3stop3sta @arabellasolstice @dreamcastgirl99 @what-the-jams @likstars @elenathriel @gyusheadphones @savagecatsuga @wqsrs @kakuthefish @megssleepygirl @olegirldowntheblock @sugerfilled @mershyjershy @1cckedheart @mimicosmos8 @destenyyyyy @icebearcucumber @satoru2716 @mebodys @megumisrighttoe @toesy3 @ivankinnieclatter @v4mp1r3b4tzz @a-court-of-smut-and-sluts @stqrgumi @skylaryippee @iridescentshine @hanges-wife
House Tour
hongjoong x reader
smut - mdni
word count: 8.9k
take your shoes off - boredom at your fashion designer boyfriend’s house leads to a very eventful night for the both of you.
TRIGGER WARNING: dom!hongjoong (maybe even mean), slightly bratty! reader (i can’t help it, it’s built in me), brattamer!hongjoong, dirty talk, swearing, begging, pet names (baby), kissing, unprotected p in v (do NOT), f receiving oral, choking, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, captain kink, crying, possessiveness, m receiving oral, crying, fluids mentioned, biting, teasing, scratching, submission, name calling, grabbing, praise (good girl), sharing clothes, bad humor
let me know if i missed any! i wrote this and kind of feel eh about it but like… i wrote it? so i might as well post it. okay, love you, bye! ♡
There were only so many ways to fill the time.
Tiktok and Youtube could only do so much before everything felt repetitive. One video would bleed into the next and you couldn’t separate storytimes from one another.
Doom scrolling was a bad habit, but you had been alone for so long now that even that couldn’t help keep your mind occupied.
Your friends were busy, all out having their own lives while you sat at your boyfriend, Hongjoong’s, house.
Alone.
Even he had a schedule. You knew he was a busy man, he had been meeting with designers to help make a second collection for his fashion brand. You didn’t fault him for that. You loved his work and you saw how happy it made him when his sketches came to life.
You loved seeing him happy.
You loved him.
But, at this current moment, you would do anything to have him by your side.
You didn’t have your car and you didn’t feel like spending whatever money it would take to go anywhere, not that you had any desire to go anywhere.
It had reached a point that your phone was so dry and you hadn’t had human interaction for hours that you were beginning to question if you were even still on Earth.
Or living.
There was even an hour when you had convinced yourself that you were actually in some sort of purgatory and that’s why you didn’t have the cell reception to receive any texts from anyone.
Before you could fully spiral and storm the neighborhood surrounding your boyfriend’s house to find some sort of life, he had sent you a text.
“Hmm, maybe people actually just hate me.” you questioned yourself before sliding to unlock your phone.
“My meeting ran a little late. I’ll be home soon, my love.”
That text came in nearly two hours ago.
You know because you had been patiently waiting in the living room, watching the clock to make sure you could meet him as soon as he walked in.
Yes, you were that bored.
Your head fell onto the back of the couch with a huff as you realized just how pathetic you probably looked. Like a dog waiting for its owner.
You pushed yourself from your relaxed position to make your way to his bedroom where you had been living in for this entire week.
He knew he’d have very little free time and wanted to see you as much as possible, so he asked for a long term sleepover. That way, every minute he had to himself you would be there and could spend as much time together without having to worry about picking you up or dropping you off.
He said that it was just a waste of precious time that you both could use to be together.
His house was exponentially better than yours, so it was a pretty easy answer.
Typically he wasn’t this busy, the two of you got to spend mornings and nights together and have little dates in between.
He had apologized at the start of the week, promising he’d do everything in his power to make it up to you the second he could.
You waved him off, you weren’t typically a clingy person but having your time limited with him had started to make your skin crawl.
You missed his cheesy jokes and his little ramblings about things he was working on.
You missed him explaining things that you would never use again in your life or be able to fully understand.
You missed him.
You would get maybe an hour or two tops with him every day when he got home before he was down for the count.
Once you reached the top of the stairs, your energy had drained. Your body felt tired and weak, as if your life source depended on those little interactions.
You felt needy and you hated it.
Worst of all, the two of you had barely been able to have any type of bedroom fun for the past few days. Which wasn’t helping.
Sex was never an issue in your relationship, he was very generous with making sure you were never hungry in that department. But with all his back to back meetings with artists and designers, he was always so exhausted when he did finally make it home.
And you weren’t selfish, you would never ignore his emotional state to satisfy your own needs.
In fact, you hadn’t really thought about it much until now.
But now that you had-
The sun was only just beginning to set outside, you figured it was still early enough that he wouldn’t mind a surprise for when he did eventually get home.
With newfound giddiness, you rushed to his bedroom and opened the top drawer in the dresser he had designated to your things.
He had offered to build you your own closet or give you his, but you figured that would be more of something that seemed logical if you were living there. Not just staying every once in a while.
You called it your dresser, but in reality, it was filled with things that Hongjoong had purchased for you.
When the two of you had first started seeing each other, you were a little hesitant whenever he decided to spend his money on you. You didn’t come from money and anytime anyone had “gifted” you something before, it came with conditions.
It took many, many politely rejected gifts and countless discussions about how much he genuinely enjoyed doing it for you to eventually give in.
And when you did, he went a little crazy.
You knew that half of the things you currently had your grubby little hands on were worth more than a month’s rent at your apartment.
Anytime you had worn something he had purchased, it always felt like it should’ve belonged to someone else. Someone who was worthy of it.
That also took some time (mixed with convincing) and praise from Hongjoong to help you get over.
You knew exactly what you were looking for, you were a woman on a mission.
He had gifted you a lingerie set months back that had yet seen the light of day. You promised to him you’d wear it on a special occasion, considering it was something that was meant to be worn under something. Not just on its own.
It was a black set, almost completely sheer apart from the lace brimming the tops of the bra and bottom of the panties. The same lace that matched the garter belt to connect to thigh high stocking.
He disagreed, but you laid out an entire storyline of how much better it would be if he was surprised by the set while he undressed you. Like unwrapping a gift.
He had offered to take you out that same night but you stood your ground. Calling him impatient and telling him good things come to those who wait.
But now?
Fuck waiting.
You were impatient and wanted a good thing to come now.
It took you no time to shed his shirt and replace it with the outfit, anxiously sitting on his bed as if he would walk in the second you were done.
Unfortunately for you, he hadn’t.
Unfortunately for you, his location hadn’t seemed to have moved from where it had been for the last few hours.
You sighed, flopping back onto the bed. Not only did you feel needy and impatient but now you were cold.
You turned your head to face the doorway of his closet, smiling as you thought of a new way to cure your boredom.
The lights immediately switched on the second your feet had touched the floor, wall to wall racks of his clothing surrounding you and the island in the center of the seemingly neverending closet space.
You knew that he had a lot of clothing, but this was more than you could possibly fathom.
“It’s like Mary Poppin’s bag, but in closet form.” you muttered to yourself as you picked a side and started looking through the racks.
Your fingers grazed over endless bundles of clothing, color coded suits with their matching pants hung alongside one another. You ran your hands down the line before stopping at a random red plaid jacket, quickly and carefully taking it from its hanger and throwing it on.
It hung from your shoulders, the extra material of the sleeves hanging over your hands as you sprinted to his floor length mirror. Your head tilted, “No, it should be black.”
You rushed to the section of black, using both your hands to separate the rack and take in each one.
“What would he even wear this to?” you asked, pinching a black and white checkered suit before pushing it away to reveal a black pinstriped one just behind it.
Your eyes lit up, placing it on you and heading back to the mirror.
“I should keep this.” you said, wrapping it shut before spinning and looking back at how it sat against your legs. “I feel like a mob boss.” you chuckled, your eyes scanning for the shelves of hats you knew he had.
You tried on a few different styles, creating characters for each one. You found a dark grey pageboy hat, one that you had seen him wear many times, placing it on your head before throwing your hair to the front of your shoulders.
“You come to me- on this- the day I am so bored and horny and ask me for a favor?” you mocked into the mirror, your lips downturned before taking a moment and walking to the island.
“Needs a tie.” you sighed, not even fully remembering why you had started this in the first place.
Black silk was a must, you decided, grabbing one at random and wrapping it around your neck.
You had seen Hongjoong do it enough times that it couldn’t have been that hard. Or so you thought.
You bit at your tongue, looping the material over itself and attempting to make it resemble somewhat of a knot. Your hair fell into your eyes as you grew increasingly frustrated, huffing as your hands slapped down against your bare thighs.
“Need a hand?” a voice came from behind you.
You screamed, shutting the jacket and spinning back to your very amused boyfriend leaning with his arms folded against the doorway. “Having fun?” he smirked, taking in your flustered state as you placed a hand to your chest to attempt to steady your heart.
“Don’t scare me like that!” you yelped, picking up a discarded hat and throwing it near his direction. Missing him completely.
He laughed, his face falling to the floor as he pushed himself from the frame. “I called for you many times. When you didn’t answer I assumed you were just sleeping up here but I see that is very much not the case.” he walked towards you, extending his arms to pull you into him.
He dug his nose into your hair, inhaling deeply while wrapping his arms tightly around your waist. “I missed you.” he mumbled against you.
“I missed you too.” You sighed happily, nuzzling your face against his chest.
Every hour of boredom erased from your mind for every second he held you.
“Miss me so much you wanted to be me?” he pulled back to smile down at you, a hand moving to grab at the loose tie around your neck. He idly knotted it as you watched him in awe. No matter how long the two of you had been together, you still felt like you were dreaming whenever you were this close to him.
You didn’t understand how someone could be this perfect, this handsome, this talented and want to be with you. The person who had just been doing bad mobster impressions in the mirror a few minutes ago.
“There. Now you’re me.” he beamed, trailing his fingers down the tie and against the front of the jacket. His eyes followed, “Although, I would probably be wearing pants.”
“If you wear what I have on under this suit, then we have to have a discussion on why I haven’t seen it sooner.” you breathe out a laugh, pulling yourself back to look at him directly.
He knitted his brows in confusion, tiling his head as he played with the end of the tie, “What do you-“
His sentence cut short at the sight of lace peaking just out of the lapel.
You could physically see his pupil dilate, his body frozen as his face straightened. He knew exactly what you had on. He was very aware of the lingerie set he constantly begged you to wear.
He didn’t beg for anything. Ever.
His fingers tightened a bit on the silk tie, “Open it.”
You knew that tone, that was his “I’m being polite now, but do not push it” tone. It was one of your favorite tones he had.
Your eager hands shook as you unhooked yourself from him to untuck the jacket from under your arms. His sharp intake of breath in time with the jacket falling open.
He groaned, “What did I do to deserve you?”
“I don’t know, but you must have been terrible in a past life.” you joked, pushing up on your toes as you wrapped your hands around the back of his neck.
“What I did back then is nowhere close to what I’m going to do to you now.” he cooed.
His lips crashed against yours, one hand pulling the tie to lift you up to him as the other found your hip. His fingers rubbed along the patterns of the lace as he brought your bottom lip between his teeth.
You gasped, his grip tightening as he pressed against you. He took the moment to slide his tongue into your mouth, massaging it against your own. His breathing had picked up, fingers bruising against the skin of your waist as he pulled back taking a string of saliva with him.
“I’ve been so selfish lately.” he stated softly, his nose tracing alongside yours as you whimpered in response. “You’ve been waiting here for me every day, taking the stress from my shoulders just by being yourself without a complaint.” he distanced from you, the tie lifting in his hand as he used it to walk you towards the island.
“You’ve been so good for me.” His voice was light, but his eyes were dark. He snapped his wrist towards his chest, flinging you into him by the neck as your hands caught on his biceps.
His face hovered above you, “I think you deserve a thank you, don’t you?”
You didn’t know what the thank you was but you nodded vigorously, excited to find out. He chuckled to himself, releasing the tie as it fell between your breasts. His hands traced down over your hips before back up to your waist, gripping it tightly and pushing you up to sit on top of the island.
You squeaked as your nearly bare ass hit the cool marble top of it, eyes wide as your hands continued to clutch to his body.
A smile tore across his face, his hands moving under his jacket to slide the material from your arms. It fell back against the island and he spread it out like a makeshift blanket behind you. “Lay back, baby, let Captain take care of you today.” his palm pressed against your chest to lay you flat.
You stopped yourself from giggling and kicking your feet, this was exactly what you wanted.
He wrapped his fingers around your right ankle, pressing his lips against it before going up to your calf, placing kisses up the line of your leg until he reached the top of your thigh highs. “You’re keeping these on.” His lips moved against your thigh, his hand unclasping the buckle from the garter. He repeated the same on the other side. You had to resist squirming, you knew doing so would only make him prolong doing anything at all.
Your patience was wearing very very thin and no matter how many times he tried to train you to be more submissive to him, there was a part of you that he could never contain. And you were doing everything in your power to push that side of you down.
“But these-“ his fingers hooked to the waistband of your underwear, “These are in my way.”
You exhaled shakily through your nose, your lips forming a pout as a whine slipped out.
He pulled them down at a snail’s pace, as much as you loved testing him. He loved to test you. To see how much he could get away with before you snapped, or just to test if you would snap.
It took a brat to be a good brat tamer.
“Something wrong?” he mocked innocence, tossing your panties to the floor before lowering himself to his knees. You didn’t have to look at him to know he was smiling, you could hear it in his voice. “It’s been a few days, I just want us to enjoy every minute of this.” His hands raked down the tops of your thighs, the subtle burn of his fingernails making you hiss through your teeth before pulling your lip between them.
“I’ve been begging you to wear this, and you decide to put it on when I’m not here?” he tsk’d, moving to lick a stripe from the inside of your thigh just to stop before where you wanted him most.
You whimpered, biting so hard on your lip you thought you’d draw blood. “I wanted to surprise you.” you managed to get out.
He hummed, “I think you were just horny and wanted to get your way. Isn’t that right?”
He moved to your other thigh, his teeth sinking into the flesh of it. Your hand reached to grip at his hair, fingers lacing between his messy locks. “I said, isn’t that right?” he repeated himself, tracing his tongue along his teeth marks.
You exhaled shakily, “Yes.”
He smiled against you, his face moving an inch closer to your core. “Were you feeling needy, baby?” he kissed the area, sucking your skin into his mouth.
You nodded, “Yes.”
Another inch closer, “You were missing me that badly?”
“Yes.”
Another inch, his nose just grazing your folds. He lifted a hand to spread you open with his fingers, groaning to himself as he took in how wet you were. “All this and I haven’t even touched you yet.” he laughed and you could feel his breath against you. The warmth made you shiver.
“It’s been a little bit, remind me, who makes you this wet?” he looked up at you and the sight alone could send you over the edge.
“You do.” you whispered, trying not to sound as desperate as you felt.
He lowered his brows, feigning confusion, “You, who?”
“Hongj-“ was all you could get out before his tongue found your clit. His arms hooked under your thighs swinging them over his shoulder and pulling you closer to his face.
He ate you like a man starved, inhaling as his face disappeared into your cunt. His tongue swiveled and swirled around your bundle of nerves, moaning into you to add extra vibration.
Your hand pulled at his hair, your head falling back as you back arched into him. That hat you wore sliding off and bouncing onto the floor.
He groaned, an arm moving up to grip the bottom of the tie and pull it to sit you forward. He removed himself, lips and chin glistening as he scowled at you, “Eyes on me.”
You placed your hands flat behind you to support yourself, nodding as he kept a hold on the tie. It tightened around your neck, cutting your airflow only slightly due to the soft material but it was enough to make your vision blur at the edges.
He dipped back in with the same speed, his lips smacking against you as you could feel yourself shuttered at the intensity of his stare alone.
His remaining hand dropped below your eyesight as you felt him slide a finger into you.
The moan you let out echoed in the vastness of the closet, your jaw dropping. He turned his hand to curl his finger up to graze your g-spot. You did all you could to keep yourself upright, your arms already on the verge of giving out.
His eyes gleamed as he watched you unravel before him, the bulge in his dress pants nearly ripping through the seams.
He watched as you gasped when he added a second finger and you could feel him smile into you. He pulled back as his fingers set a steady rhythm pumping in and out of you. “I missed those pretty sounds of yours.” he licked his lips causing you to whine.
He groaned, “That one’s good.”
His fingers curled into you, “But let me see if I can get my favorite.”
You had no time to brace yourself before he started rubbing against the sweet spot inside of you, his thumb coming up to circle around your bundle of nerves.
“Hongjoong.” you moaned, wanting nothing more than lay flat against the counter. Your arms shaking as you kept eye contact, the smirk on his face only making things worse.
“There it is.” he chuckled to himself but you could tell he wasn’t satisfied yet. “Let me hear that again.” he said before returning his tongue to replace his thumb, pulling the tie around your neck tighter towards him.
You felt yourself clamp around him so tightly you thought it’d cut off the circulation in his fingers. The only word you were able to get out was his name as you felt the build up of pleasure reaching its highest point.
“Fuck, Hongjoong, feels so good.” you spoke between breaths. He moaned into you, his fingers slowing as you squeezed around them.
He withdrew himself, your body aching at the emptiness just before you reached your orgasm. A whimper fell from you, eyes searching him wildly as he stood.
He fumbled to grasp his belt, hurriedly unbuckling it as he set his dick free from its restraint.
He leaned over you, his hand coming to wrap around your cheek as he mimicked your frown with a mocking tone, “What’s wrong, baby? You don’t want me inside you?”
You shook your head trying to hide your frustration as you licked your lips, “I was so close, Captain.”
“Isn’t it frustrating to not get what you want?” he faked sincerity, thumb moving down to press against your bottom lip.
You nodded, immediately bringing it into your mouth as your tongue wrapped around it.
“Now you know how I’ve felt waiting for you to wear this.” His eyes scanned over the outfit before looking down at your lips, watching as you sucked on the digit.
“Knew you’d look so pretty in it and it was just sitting in a drawer.” His other hand traced the strap of your bra, traveling behind you to unclasp it quickly.
He leaned forward to kiss along your jaw, “And seeing you in this with my jacket-“
He took in a deep breath, peppering open mouth kisses down your throat to your chest.
Your hand wrapped around the back of his neck, pulling him closer to you as he sucked your nipple. His teeth grazed it lightly, animalistic as he groaned against you.
“Love when you wear my things. Things I bought you. Things I make for you. I’m going to make you so many pretty things.” he spoke between licks.
“Love marking you. Letting everyone know your mine.” he said, biting down onto the soft skin of your breast.
You gasped, your nails digging into his shoulder as he laughed at the sensation.
“My beautiful baby.” he said, one hand pumping himself while the other drew you in closer by the small of your back.
You exhaled, his words going straight between your legs. You knew he was a territorial man, and you loved that about him. It made you feel safe. Protected. It also made you want to suck the soul out of him.
You bit your lip, feeling even more desperate to feel him. Your body missed him even when he was touching you. It wasn’t enough. It was never enough.
“All yours.” you spoke as his mouth found your neck again, one hand working on himself while the other grabbed at your chest.
You felt his body twitch against you, his hand moving faster on his dick. The tip leaking into his fist as he lifted his head to meet your gaze.
Your foreheads touching as his lips hung open, “Tell me again.”
“I’m yours, Hongjoong. Only yours.”
His lips found yours and you felt yourself melt into him. He always had the ability to take your breath away, his style of kisses varied but you felt his love for you in everyone. Everytime.
He pulled you towards the edge of the countertop, pressing his tip against your clit, slapping lightly against it from the movement of his hand.
You tried to reach down, to help him. You wanted to touch him, you wanted to make him feel good.
He bit your lip, “No touching, baby. Today is about taking care of you.”
You huffed, needy and pathetic as you tried it again. Hoping he would give in.
You should’ve known better.
He stopped, looking at you with an intensity that made your thighs clench around him.
“Did you not hear me?” his hand moved to the drawer beside your legs as you scrambled to try to explain yourself.
“I just want to make you feel good, Captain.” you pleaded hoping the nickname would soften his mood and reached again. His eyes shut as he took in a sharp breath. His fingers left his dick to wrap around your wrist and held it up to your face, opening his eyes to glare at you.
“Give me your other hand.” he demanded, scowling at you. You could tell the nickname had worked, but not in the way you wanted.
You knew not to make his wait, your other arm lifting shakily to meet the one he held.
He pulled another tie from the drawer, wrapping it around the both of them. The knot he formed digging softly into your skin as he moved to grab them both in one palm.
“You want to make Captain feel good?” he asked, his tone practically singsongy as his free hand moved back to press his tip against you, collecting your arousal.
You nodded, biting down onto your lip as your wrist twisted against the material. He raised them above your head, leaning forwards to push you both to lay back onto the counter. “Yeah?” he cooed, hovering over you.
“Yes, Captain. Please.” you whispered up at him.
“Then take everything I give you, like a good girl.” he said before pushing himself into your leaking hole.
The two of you moaned as he bottomed out. One hand restraining you while the other came to wrap around your hip. He pulled you down closer to sink into his lap, his forehead resting against yours as he whimpered.
“You’re pussy doesn’t want to let me go, baby.” he said as his hips moved back, slowly sliding inch by inch out of you while you laid with your jaw slack. “She’s needy, just like you.” His laugh broke into breaths as he pushed back into you. Your walls immediately squeezing around him.
“Fuck-“ he moaned, “Always so tight for me.”
Your toes curled as he pushed in so deeply you could feel him in your chest.
He held himself there, his breath hitting your face as he stood himself up. “Keep these here or you don’t cum.” he released his grip on your tied wrists before moving his hand to grab your waist fully.
You nodded, panting as you watched his eyes rake over your body. He looked back at you, “And keep your eyes on me.”
He pulled out of you again slowly, the sensation making you back arch as he groaned in response. “Do you know how hard it is to focus in meetings when I know I’m coming home to this?” he said, thrusting into you harshly. Your legs wrap around his back to try to stabilize yourself.
“Can’t pay attention to anything when I’m thinking about you waiting for me all doe eyed.” He set a pace, slamming into you with such consistent force you took your breath away. “Thinking about you walking around, wearing my shirts, laying in my bed. Fuck-“ he gritted through his teeth, “Wanting to be fucked. To be split open on my dick.” His voice broke into a whimper as you matched his pace with your hips.
“God, baby, you feel so fucking good.” he said softly, biting onto his lip as sweat formed across his forehead. “You make me feel fucking good.” he shifted himself to angle into you, hitting your sweet spot and making you cry out.
He laughed, honing in on making sure he hit it again and again, “Right there?”
You scrambled to speak, your throat dry as you breathed out a ‘yes’.
“Eyes on me, you look so pretty when you cum.” he removed a hand from your hip to pull you up by your tie. Your forehead fell against his shoulder as your lips immediately started working on the skin under his jaw.
He grabbed the back of your neck, making you face him as the new upright angle assured he wouldn’t miss your g-spot with every thrust.
You felt yourself squeezing around him as he pressed his thumb back into your mouth. Your tongue swirling around it on autopilot before he pulled it out and brought it between you to press against your clit.
Your breath hitched, forcing your eyes to stay open as you felt your orgasm building in the pit of your stomach. He groaned, feeling it too as your walls wrapped to form around him, “I’m not going to last much longer if you keep doing that.”
“Can’t help it, - feels so good.” You breathed, moving back to loop your tied arms around the back of his neck. His finger sped up, his dick twitching inside of you. “Yeah? Does my dick feel good?” he teased, his voice strained.
You nodded, keeping his eye contact, “You feel so good, Captain. You’re so big.”
His eyes rolled, moving his head to latch on your nipple. The extra sensation was almost overwhelming as you did your best to keep hold of his body as he slammed into you.
He sucked hickeys into the skin of your breast, his hips sputtering as his eyebrows furrowed. You could feel your limbs starting to go limp, pleasure taking over you as you tried to warn Hongjoong but no words came out.
Your orgasm hit you, your body trembling as he continued to fuck you through it. Your walls sucking him in so tightly that he followed immediately after with a whine. Unable to stop himself.
“Fuck-“ he groaned, cumming so hard that it began to leak out of you around his dick. “I couldn’t hold-“ you panted, your head falling against him as he brought a hand to hold you still against him. He kissed lazily at your temple, steadying his breathing as he nodded. “It’s okay, just-.” his body shook, his hand trailing softly on the soft skin of your back causing you to shiver. He moaned at your shutter, involuntarily causing you to flutter around his dick that sat inside of you.
He took a breath before continuing, “You’ll remember to tell me this time.”
You lifted your head with a desperate expression, feeling boneless as you felt him stiffen between your legs.
“Hongjoong-“ you tried as he shot you a warning look, withdrawing himself from you.
Before you could even begin to panic or question if you upset him, he lifted your hands from him and spun you over.
His suit jacket slid, the cold marble of the countertop against your nipples and heated skin made you his. Your hands were over your head again, your cheek resting against the surface as you felt him rubbing himself along your entrance.
“You wanted to cum so badly earlier, I’m just trying to give you what you want.” he feigned innocence, pushing himself back into you. The full feeling making your mouth water as you could feel yourself drooling onto the marble.
“I can’t-“ you tried, but his hand cracked against the side of your ass. “You can and you will. You wanted to make me feel good, right?” he stated more than asked, bouncing you off of him so hard you thought you’d give yourself a concussion.
Another slap, “Right?”
“Yes, yes, want to make you feel good.” you nodded frantically, the sensation of your nipples sliding against the cool marble making you practically purr.
“Why would we stop when you’re taking my dick so well, baby?” he pistoned into you, hitting spots inside you didn’t even know existed. You felt so full of him as he fucked his cum deep into you.
Your mind was blank, only able to focus on how good he felt in you.
“Look at you, so wrecked for me. Isn’t that right?” he laughed through pants, and you couldn’t even find the strength to respond. “Don’t tap out on me, if you don’t warm me this time we’ll just keep going until you do.” He threatened, and you snapped back knowing that he meant it.
“There she is.” he smirked, his hand smoothing over the inflamed skin of your ass. “You feel that good, baby?” he kneaded the skin, gripping it to use as a handle to slam you back against him.
You whined, “So big. So full.”
His fingers looped around the back of your tie, pulling your top half to his chest as he pushed further into you to assure you didn’t fall off the island. His other hand moved down to press against your lower stomach as he nipped at your ear, “You feel me here, don’t you??”
You shook your head, “In my throat.”
He chuckled, “Yeah?”
He moved to wrap his fingers around your neck, “Right here?”
He waited until you nodded in response before tightening his hold, your jaw dropping as you did your best to breathe.
His lips stayed pressed to your ear, making sure you heard every sound that you pulled from him. You pouted, you loved hearing him be so vocal. With every groan and whimper, you felt the band in your stomach get tighter.
He laughed softly, biting at your earlobe, “You have something you want to tell me?”
You knew he could feel you gripping him, but you could barely form words with his hand around your throat. You opened and closed your mouth, eyebrows knitting as he continued to push into you with mind numbing force.
His hips tilted to plunge into you so deep it took your breath away. His teeth found your shoulder, moaning into it as his speed picked up.
Your vision blurred, your tied hands coming up to grip at his hand as it immediately dropped from you. “Hongjoong-“ you gasped, pushing your ass against him, “Don’t stop, right there please.”
You felt him twitch, “Fuck Hongjoong please.”
“Please what, baby?”
You were panting, slamming yourself back to him as his fingers bit into your hips with a bruising force. You knew he wasn’t going to last that much longer either.
“Please. I’m gonna’ cum.” you managed to get out, your body arching as you felt yourself locking up.
He brought his finger to play with your oversensitive clit, tears forming at the corners of your eyes. You couldn’t form cohesive thoughts, just crying his name as he fucked you into the counter. Your hips smacking against the marble as his hips slammed into you.
“Good- girl.” he grunted, his fingers speeding up.
“Want this- everyday.” he said, his sweat dripping on to you as you responded with a moan. “Wanna’ come home and fuck you dumb. Wanna hear those pretty sounds.” you wished you could grab him, you wanted to touch him. To ground yourself as he bucked into you relentlessly, you felt overstimulated. Your body shivered against him as you felt your second orgasm approaching with his words.
As if he could read your mind, his hand quickly ripped the tie from your wrist before coming to your chest to pinch your nipple. Your one hand stabilized yourself on the counter while the other moved back to dig into the back of his neck. Holding on for dear life.
“Hongjoong, gonna’ cum.” you got out, your head falling back against him.
“Cum with me, baby.” he repeated over and over, his fingers circling your puffy clit as he pushed into you with so much force you saw stars.
It hit you so hard that no sound came out of you, your mouth open as your walls milked his cock. His body fell forward into you as he groaned loudly.
The two of you just stayed like that, your body unmoving as his hips slowly continued to press into you. Fucking you through the aftershocks until his cum was sliding down your thigh.
He kissed your shoulder, muttering soft praises as his hips came to a stop. His forehead resting against your shoulder blade.
The only sound in the room was your broken breaths as you both tried to come back to reality.
He kissed your shoulder, his hands grabbing the counter on either side of you to push himself up.
He looked down at where he disappeared inside of you, laughing, “You ruined these pants.”
The black fabric was soaked, dripping with a mix of you and him. You scoffed, pressing your forehead against the marble, “You ruined those pants, you should’ve taken them off.”
“You want to say that again?” he amused, his finger ghosting over your overworked and sore bundle of nerves. Your body nearly jumped away from him, he laughed, pulling you back against him. “Don’t run, let’s just stay like this for a minute. You feel so good around me.”
“I swear to God, if you get hard again.” You deflated, your hand idly scratching at his scalp. He hummed, pushing further into you, “You make it so easy though.”
You gasped, pouting, “Please, I am a weak woman.”
He smiled into your skin, kissing your shoulder again.
After a minute he spoke again, “So, what do you think?”
You laughed, looking back at him, “You want ratings now?”
His fingers slapped against where he held your hip, shaking his head and he bit on his lip to stop his smile. “About what I said.”
“You fuck me like that and expect me to be able to hold conversation? What did you say?” you lifted yourself, sliding him out of you slightly. He pulled himself out completely, carefully turning you to sit on the counter and face him.
He combed through your damp hair, “Would you want that- me- everyday?”
“You’re asking if I’d fuck you everyday?” you questioned, laughing to yourself. It wasn’t far off from what you two usually did, apart from the last week.
His head fell forward, cheeks flushing, “No-“
He tucked himself back into his pants, not caring about the mess. He’d probably just buy new ones to replace them.
You pushed back the hair that had stuck to his forehead, He lifted his eyes to look at you, his lips forming a soft smile as he watched you.
“Would you- want to move in here- with me?” he asked quietly, his hand coming to wrap around yours. He moved it to kiss at the top of it, his eyes never leaving yours.
You felt your entire body flush, your heart feeling full as you looked at your usually cool and confident boyfriend. He watched you carefully, his demeanor becoming more and more nervous with every second that went unanswered.
“We’re going to need to clear some of this closet.” you smiled, your arms linking around his back as you looked around your surroundings.
He bit his bottom lip, his hands resting on your waist, “I’ve told you I’ll build you your own.”
“I mean in general, there are some questionable things in here.” you joked. He swore at you, his fingers tickling at your sides as you tried to slap him away.
He moved to lift you, bringing you into him as he carried you over to his bed. He placed you down before hovering over you, “So, is that a yes.”
“I would love to move in with you.” you grinned, your hand lacing in his hair as he moved down to kiss you softly.
His lips molding against yours, your tongue moving to trace along his top lip. He groaned, biting down on your bottom lip. Both of your breathing slowly increase in speed.
His hand trailed down your side as you moaned into him. “Still sensitive?” he mumbled into your lips.
You nodded a mixture of desire and defeat in your tone, “I can go again if you can.”
He grabbed your wrist, moving it to his erection and wrapping your fingers around it, “What do you think?”
You whimpered, remembering his size. Remembering how it just fit so snuggly in you moments ago. Your core is already throbbing despite its soreness.
You unzipped his pants and slid your hand into them. Your started working him slowly, his breath hitching as he fully moved on the bed. His legs came up to rest on top of the mattress.
You continued to pump him, watching his eyes flutter shut as you crawled to move between his legs.
Something shiny catching your eye.
“Hongjoong!” you yelped, causing him to spring into attention. You moved your hand to point down at his feet, “Take your shoes off!”
“You just decided to move in and you’re already making demands?” he laughed, kicking them off his feet and onto the floor before you slid his pants down to follow them.
“Regretting your decision already?” you asked, satisfied at the removal before leaning between his legs.
He laughed, his head resting against his headboard, “Alittle-“ before he could finish his thought, you wrapped your lips around him. Doing exactly what he had done to you earlier. Your tongue moving to circle his tip as you continued working him with your hand. He laughed gently, his eyes finding yours, “You brat.”
You pulled up to correct him, “Your brat.”
His fingers laced in your hair as you took him in your mouth, exhaling as he held it back from his view, “My brat.”
He groaned so strongly you felt it in your own chest. “My brat.” he repeated, as you hollowed your cheeks around him. Your head bobbed as you inched him further and further into your throat slowly.
His moans quickened, getting higher in pitch as they turned to whines. Once he bottomed out you swallowed around him, his hands stilling you as you remembered to breathe through your nose.
“Too good- too much.” he whimpered, “Need to cum in you again.”
The second his hands left your head, you slowly trailed back up his cock. Your tongue traces it as you reach the top. You sucked against his tip, his hips jutting upwards, “Baby, please.”
You cocked an eyebrow, he had never begged you in bed before.
Before you could move again, he looked down at you realizing what he had done, “Don’t even fucking think about it.”
His tone was stern enough to almost wipe any plan you began to formulate in your mind.
Almost.
You bat your eyes innocently up at him as you suck his tip back into your mouth. Your tongue licking the precum leaking from it.
You had been too obedient to him the last time around so you needed to remind him exactly who you were.
He hissed, his chest heaving as you repeated it one more time before releasing him with a pop. His dick slapping against his stomach.
“You want to be in control? Get up here and ride me.” his hand slid to slap lightly against your cheek. A warning for if you tried to do anything other than what he had said.
You nodded, moving your way up his body, kissing at his stomach and chest up to his neck. Your teeth grazed the skin below his ear as he lined himself up with your hole. The feeling alone is already making you wince.
You will be very sore tomorrow.
“I’ve fucked you dumb today, now I want you to do it to yourself.” he said before lifting his hips to enter you, his hand on your hips as he pushed you down to meet him. “Show me how much you love my dick.” he growled up at you, not moving an inch. He removed his hands from you, lacing them behind his head. You frowned, still taking in the stretch of him. “What’s wrong?” he spoke in a condescending tone, “You wanted to take charge a second ago.”
His voice made you clench, his upper half jutting forward at the sensation. “Oh I see-“ he said, his hands moving back to your hips. He lifted you with ease, sliding you up himself before pushing you back down slowly. “You really are my brat, aren’t you?” he asked, catching your open mouth as he continued to use you like a fleshlight.
You nodded, growing impatient at his pace, “I’m sorry, Captain. Please-“
“Oh, don’t worry, I’ll help you-“ he said before he slowly started grinding you faster against him but not nearly as fast as you’d like to be. “I’ll get you there, baby.” His hand fell to your clit, making you wince as it throbbed against him.
You knew neither of you would last very long, but his tone was certainly helping you. He doubled his speed, grunting as you could tell he was trying to hold himself back, You already started to clench around him, the build up beginning as you could help but smile through the overstimulation. Tears flowing down your face as you felt yourself reaching a third orgasm.
“Hongjoong- I’m gonna-“
At those words he ceased movement.
You whined, looking down at him with wide eyes.
“I said I’ll get you there, now take charge like you wanted.” he challenged you, his eyebrows raising as he smirked. His breathing was quick and you could tell that this was making him just as impatient as you were, but he loved to teach you a lesson. “Unless, you want me to do it?” he asked, raising himself to place a hand at the small of your back. He pushed up into you, his lips finding your chest as he kissed down it. “Beg me.” he said, his tongue trailing down to catch your nipple.
You pushed him down to rest against the headboard, not ready to give up yet. He watched you in amusement as you leaned back to place your hands on his knees. You moved your feet to lay flat on either side of his hips, lifting yourself before going back down. “You sounded so pretty when you begged, Captain. Why don’t you beg me?”
His face twisted, trying to keep calm as you began to bounce yourself on him. He groaned, biting down on his lip. You were panting, fucking yourself on him as you pinched at your nipple. “You told me to fuck you, I’m just being your good girl.” you breathed, the new angle hitting you in just the right spot.
He watched with angry eyes as your other hand trailed between your legs, his chest heaving as he smacked your hand before you could relieve yourself.
He pushed forward, slamming you onto your back and hovering over you.
His hand gripped your thigh, pushing your leg to rest against his chest as he buried himself deep inside of you. “You want me to beg? You think you can fuck yourself as good as I can?” his pace was already relentless, your mouth hanging open. He pinched your chin between his index finger and thumb, “Tongue.”
You happily stuck it out, too blissed out to care. He spit onto it, moving his hand to slap your jaw shut. “Swallow it.” you did, opening again to show your clean tongue.
“Why don’t you introduce yourself to the new neighbors?” he said, lifting your other leg and leaning his chest against them. His dick feeling so deep inside you, you thought it would come out of your mouth. You gasped, “Hongjo-“
“Louder.”
You whimpered, unable to do anything as he licked his fingers and pressed them against your clit. Your body jolted as he masterfully played your body like an instrument. “They can’t hear you, speak up.” he said, his hand slapping against your clit as you cried out.
“What? Did I finally fuck the attitude out of you?”
You squeezed him, causing him to inhale sharply. “No, you just like when I treat you like the slut you are.” he began to rub you again.
The pleasure verges on painful, feeling so full and so worked by him that you begin to cry. He pulled your legs off of him, placing them on either side of him as he sank down to meet you. His hips and fingers are still working you as if it was nothing. He kissed up your face, his tongue licking at the water that gathered on your cheeks.
“I’m the only one who can make you feel like this.” he said, his pace faltering as he twitched inside of you. “This is my pussy, not yours. Every inch of you belongs to me. Don’t forget that.” His words made your eyes roll, your walls squeezing around him as your vision went white. “Hongjoong- I’m gonna-“ you got out.
He laughed, “Let me feel my pussy milk me.”
That was all you needed, your head rolling back as you shook, crying out loud enough that the next neighborhood over could probably hear you. He fucked you through it, his movements sloppy as he came inside of you. Your insides pulling every string of cum from his throbbing dick as he fell on top of you.
“Fuck, baby.” he sighed, kissing any piece of skin he could reach in his flattened state.
You laughed, your head still spinning as you continued to flutter around him, “I know, I’m amazing.”
“If you’re trying to bait me, I think you’ve cleaned me out but we can try-“
“No!” you exclaimed, the idea of going again made you shuttered. Hongjoong hissed as the movement echoed on his dick still inside of you, “Baby.”
“You’re on top of me, I can’t do anything.” you groaned, as he attempted to lift himself before falling back on top of you.
He nuzzled his face into your chest, “I don’t think my bones work anymore, let’s just rest like this.”
“I want dinner.” you stated honestly, the workout you both endured leaving you dying of thirst and wanting food. Your stomach growling just at the mention of food.
“Do you think if I write it in the instructions, I can get the delivery guy to bring the food to us up here?” he questioned, his chin resting to look you in the eyes.
You hummed, contemplating the logistics of the situation. Your fingers running through his hair as he smiled softly at you, “I don’t know how good that’d be for your image.”
“So what if the delivery man sees my ass.” he teased, carefully withdrawing himself from you as he made his way to his closet.
You questioned how he was able to walk around, feeling as if every muscle in your body would melt if you attempted to do the same. He came back in a pair of sweats, fixing his t-shirt as he approached the bed with a second one.
He leaned down, extending his neck to you, “Grab on.”
Your hands slapped against him as he stood, lifting you to sit. He placed a hand against your back, using the other to throw the shirt on you before pressing his lips against your clammy forehead.
“I’ll draw you a bath and order some food.” he whispered, kissing you again.
You smiled, moving your head so you could catch his lips. “Is this the Kim House Standard that I should be expecting from now on?”
He mocked offense, backing from you, "You act like I don’t spoil you rotten.”
You giggled, watching as he made his way to the bathroom, laying back onto your bed. You looked at the ceiling and asked yourself how the hell you got this life.
Hongjoong returned, leaning against the bedroom door frame, “So, now that we’re going to be living together, am I going to hear more of those little impressions?”
“Only if you’re good.” you quipped back, closing your eyes before your body was dragged down the bed by your ankle.
Hang Up Your Heels
office employee!hongjoong x f!boss reader
summary: You have the entire office wrapped around your finger. Confident, hard working, and more than sure of your positon. You hold the power to do and say whatever you please. But, theres someone else. Someone else in the office who just might be able to knock you down a few pegs, and for some reason, the idea of being reminded that you are less than you think you are is positively riveting. And maybe for once, you could just lay back and let someone else do all the work…
warnings: so many hr violations, tension, drunken confessions, power dynamics, banter, microsoft ex*el(sorry), hongjoong is a tease, reader is overworked, pet names (ma'am, baby, sweetheart, etc.), dom!hongjoong, office sex, body worship, cocky joong (YES YESYES), unprotected sex, stress relief, whiny joong(YES YES YES X4), praise, oral (f!recieving), over the desk, manhandling, fingering, hair pulling, eye contact, cumming all over your stomach
wc: 10.1k
notes: i've been wanting to write something like this for months, and here it finally is, hongjoong fucking the stress out of his boss (you)
tracklist: the town, #icanteven, black milk
Deadlines to meet. Pitches to present. Meetings to schedule and papers to revise. You were drowning.
You pride yourself on your work ethic, and you rarely let yourself fall behind for anything, no matter what. But with the holidays rapidly approaching, the office would be closed for a few weeks, and things needed to be nipped in the bud before the new year.
Employees swarmed around the office, the clacking of keyboards and the clicking of metal shoe plates, the droning of the printers, and the whispers that flowed from grey cubicles swirled about the space as you stepped out of your office. You did your best to ensure your employees were not overworking themselves, that they got ample time off, and met deadlines without loss of sleep.
However, everyone was on a time crunch. People were planning family trips and making holiday excursions, and the whole office was a chaotic tumble, everyone frantically trying to wrap things up as soon as possible.
You thought that if you stared at Excel for one more second, you would throw your monitor out the 13th-story window. A coffee, that's all you needed right now.
Making a beeline for the break room, you strode past employees offering a curt good afternoon, your eyes drawn to the snow that swirled out the tall glass windows of the building. You stepped into the breakroom, thinking at first you might have had it to yourself so you could brew your coffee in silence before you went back to work.
“Are we allowed to bring Jell-O shots to the holiday party, Ms. L/N?”
Slowly, you closed your eyes and let your head tilt up to the ceiling, a heavy sigh escaping your lungs as annoyance already began to run its course through your veins. You walk forward towards the coffee maker on the counter, completely ignoring the presence of the man standing by the table.
You grab the container of coffee grounds and scoop some into the filter silently.
“Yoo hoo? Is this thing on?” He speaks again, and you almost spill the grounds.
“Why are you in here?” You ask him, switching on the coffee pot and picking at a hangnail.
“You didn’t answer my question,” he presses, and you watch as he leans his head over in your field of vision, a groan bubbling from your throat.
“No, Hongjoong. You cannot bring Jello shots to the holiday party. There will already be drinks provided.” You reluctantly turn your head to look at him.
All charming aura and confident attitude, Kim Hongjoong leans against the counter with a lazy smile, his eyes crinkling behind his glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. His dark hair framed around his face in a neat style, a few stray strands here and there that only added to his boyishness. His tie is loose, as always, and his fingers are clasped around a stir stick that he twirls in his hand. And as per usual, he’s giving you that knowing look. That look that always irritates the shit out of you.
Hongjoong was one of your best workers, and you admired his ethic to an extent. But that's as far as it could ever go. In any other department, he was truly insufferable. You almost think he’d make a great manager; he could annoy his employees to get work done just so they could get him to shut up.
He worked well. He met deadlines. He was funny sometimes. Charismatic, always willing to help. And you hated it. Hated him. You felt like he didn’t respect you. You felt like he was prancing around the office with the confidence of ten men, some idea planted in his head that he was above it all. Of course, you never asked him about it. It's just what you thought. You don't have control over him. He met deadlines, but not because of you. His boss. He threw amazing pitches, but not because of you. You felt as though you did not influence him in any way, shape, or form, even though he worked under you. And it drove you fucking crazy.
Always watching. Always whining. Always giving you new reasons to fire him, but you never do.
“Didn’t think so,” he chides, and you nibble on your bottom lip as you watch your coffee slowly drip into the pot. “Okay, how about a charcuterie board. Can I bring one of those?”
“There’ll be a notice of termination on your desk in 5 minutes if you don’t stop asking me stupid questions.” You snap lowly, tapping your fingers on the counter rhythmically, your eyes narrowing at the man in front of you.
His smile only grows and waves you off like he’s dismissing a compliment.
“Ma’am, you do know there's a no-flirting policy. Have some decorum.” You could hear the grin through his words, and you could only roll your eyes in response.
The annual holiday party rolled around at Christmas time. Just a few days before the company shut down until January. It was always a daunting task for you. Find caterers, book a venue, and invite everyone in the entire office. It always went the same: everyone would pregame, show up, get blacked out drunk, and then clock in the next morning with a hangover that could kill God. And nobody ever learned from their mistakes from the previous year because the pattern was continuous, and you were sure this year would be no different.
You never drank at the parties, well, at least not much. You were responsible, as you had to be in the office every morning, punctual and ready to grind for the last few days. Surprisingly, Hongjoong was similar to you in that fashion, staying sober enough to come in the next day, his best self.
But something about the stress that's been weighing you down this past year might urge you to indulge just a little more than usual this time around.
“I assume you’re all caught up.” You pick up the hot pot of coffee and pour it into your cup. You already knew the answer.
“Of course I am, do you even have to ask. That’s why I’m your favorite.” Hongjoong smiles widely and hands you 2 packets of hazelnut creamer and 4 packets of sugar. Just how you like it. You raise an eyebrow and snort, taking the additives and shaking the warm feeling that bloomed on the back of your neck. He was, in fact, not your favorite, but you wondered when he had the time to memorize how you liked your coffee.
“You’re really sure of yourself, Kim.” You tear open the packets and pour them into your cup.
Hongjoong slips the stir stick into his mouth, nibbling on the end gently. His eyes rake over your body for just a moment while you add more sugar to your coffee, his gaze stuttering where your stockings hugged the thickness of your thighs. “That's how I got this job, Ms. L/N.”
You reach for a stir stick, but Hongjoong tries to hand you the one he has. You made a face and reached past his outstretched hand to grab one from the box.
“Rude.” He whines, placing the stir stick back into his mouth. As you stir your coffee, Hongjoong’s eyes remained glued to your face, like he was waiting for you to turn back to him and satiate his attention. You sigh and finally turn to him, your hand on your hip and the stir stick swirling in your cup when you let it go.
“If you’re all caught up, then find something to do, or go home. I don’t really care. But you’re not gonna stand here and annoy me until I’m done with work.”
Hongjoong's smile slickens, like he senses the unease that stirs within you, an unease that he brought up. “I like looking at you, though.” He says simply, a tingle in his tone that makes your chest flutter quietly. “I can’t stay and stare at you until you go home?”
You close your eyes, take in a deep breath, and pick up your coffee cup. Hongjoong watches your every move like it was the most entertaining thing ever, and you hated his stupid, handsome face. It’d be much easier to deal with his bullshit if he were hard to look at.
“Hongjoong, you’re too pretty to be acting this way.” You deadpan, sipping your coffee, your eyes staying glued to his over the rim of your cup.
His eyes widen, and you see his throat bob as he swallows, clearly not expecting you to say something like that, but as he does, he recovers quickly, his sly grin returning promptly. “You think I’m pretty?”
You smile and raise your brows. “Well, yeah, I sure didn’t hire you for your personality.” You click your tongue and set your cup back down. “I can’t help but feel as though you think you’re above me.”
Hongjoong shakes his head slowly, a soft laugh slipping past his lips. “Oh, I would hate to give you that impression, ma’am. I have nothing but the utmost respect for you.” It doesn’t seem sincere; the playful glint in his eyes and the amused tone of his voice make you want to laugh harder.
“Do you have fun getting a rise out of me?” You ask, your eyebrows knit in discernment as you try to read his body, his expression, anything to just understand what he's thinking.
“Oh, absolutely, you make it really easy,” he grins, those beautiful teeth on display. You find your eyes wandering down to the thin vein that bulges on the side of his neck, how it disappears behind the collar of his dress shirt. It hugged him well, and you mentally shake those thoughts out of your head before they could go any further south.
“And you make it really easy to want to fire you.” You say half sincerely. And of course, all he does in response to your empty threat is laugh.
“Whatever you say, ma’am. Stats are on your desk. I finished them an hour ago. I hope they’re to your standards, as they usually are.” He winks at you, turning to pour himself a cup of coffee as well.
Your jaw clenches, and Hongjoong catches it, his tongue running over his teeth as he watches the way your body tenses in response to his nonchalance. You really do make it easy, but it's only because it was him. Hongjoong manages to irk you in a way that no other man has been able to before. You weren’t sure what it was about him; the air he radiated challenged you. Your authority, your patience, your body. He made you feel hot all over, whether it be his sly remarks that pissed you off, or the charming smiles he shot your way that made your heart skip.
Kim Hongjoong made your blood pressure rise in a way that was borderline unhealthy, but god, he was so fucking good at his job. It didn’t help that you did, in fact, like looking at him, and you almost thought that he knew that. That’s why he bothered you so much; he knew the effect he had on you.
An employee who intimidates his employer is a recipe for disaster, and the tension that charged between you two anytime you were in a room together dangerously intrigued you both. Yet, it was like you both couldn’t get enough. Neither one of you would say it, but it was there. And it was palpable.
“I’ll see you at the holiday party, Hongjoong.” You say with a note of finality, turning on your heel to walk out of the breakroom.
Hongjoong watches you walk away, his hand reaching out and switching the coffee pot to the warming setting. “Can’t wait,” he calls back, biting the end of the stir stick off with a quiet snap. “Maybe let loose this time around, ma’am. It might do you some good; you seem more stressed than usual.” Hongjoong’s tone had a ring of concern around it, and that alone made your skin prickle with irritation, and maybe something else.
You hoot out a laugh as the break room door shuts behind you, the hustle and bustle of the office flooding your ears once again.
You could let loose this year, take the night just to let out your nerves, and live in the moment. It probably wouldn’t hurt.
“Whoa, Ms. L/N, I didn’t mean this loose. How many fingers am I holding up?”
You squint your eyes and really look. “Seventeen.” You hiccup.
“That's not even humanly possible, ma’am.”
The party rolled around faster than you could even process, and before you knew it, you were wandering around the venue, glass of chardonnay in hand. Employees chatted loudly around you as you took in the grand space. Large chandeliers and glassy floors, everyone was dressed to a T, bright smiles and obnoxious laughter around every corner.
You wrapped your cardigan around your body tighter, not because you were cold, but parties had never been your thing. You had them organized for your employees because you knew they would appreciate it. They would often come up to you late into the execution, smelling of wine and drunk smiles on their faces as they thanked you profusely for not making their job a living hell, and then crying about how they are going to be late to work in the morning because of how shit faced they got.
It made you happy to see them living, one last hurrah before the holidays took their time and attention for the remaining weeks. Some of your male employees tend to get bold once the alcohol starts to flow, offering you a dance or even a ride home.
You always politely declined and never brought it up the next day to save them the embarrassment.
The stress of the year had really torn you down worse than usual. You weren’t sure if it was the developments the company had been pushing or maybe the fact that your mind had just been kind of scrambled the whole year, but in that moment, all you wanted to do was drink until you passed out. Not out of sadness or anything depressing, just to not have to think about having to walk into the office tomorrow morning and sit at your desk and drain your life away on Excel.
One glass of chardonnay turned into two, then three, then four… and before you knew it, you couldn’t see straight. The lights were too bright, and your body wracked with hiccups. You stumbled around the venue blindly, laughing at things that weren't funny and actually accepting dances from people.
That's when he found you, shit faced, sitting on the spiral stairs, your half-empty glass clutched tightly in your hand as you overlooked the swarms of drunken people.
“There she is!” Hongjoong says cheerily, walking over to you with a wide smile. It faltered slightly when he noticed how disoriented you looked, swaying on the steps slowly with the glass in your hand held loosely like you didn’t even know you were holding it.
“Hong– joong…” You sneer, words slurring as you raise your eyes to watch as he prances over to you. “Why are you here?”
He raised an eyebrow in confusion. “Um, I work here? From the looks of it, I’m glad I didn’t bring the jello shots; you seem drunk enough.”
You scoff and attempt to stand, placing your hand firmly on the railing and shooting to your feet clumsily. Hongjoong was quick to reach out and steady you, or you would have tumbled to the floor. “Don’t talk to me like that!” You mumble, the warmth of his hands on your bare arms spreading throughout your body. His fingers curl around your biceps, holding strong to keep you upright.
“W-Woah! Hold on now, you almost fell-”
You interrupt him, pulling your arms from his grasp. “I’m not a child, I can handle my alcohol.”
“Clearly not,” he mutters, a small smile on his lips, and he reaches forward and gently takes your wrists in his hands. “C’mon, let's get you off these stairs.” You pout, but you let him guide you off the stairs, following in clumsy movements as he walks you down the hallway where fewer people are gathered, away from the loud drunken craze in the main area.
He leans you up against the wall, placing his hand flat against the back of your skull to make sure you don’t bang it. “Alright, you need anything? Water, bathroom? You can yell at me some more if it’ll make you feel better.” His smile is genuine, his perfect teeth poking through his plush lips, his eyes low and soft; he looked at you like you were the only thing he saw. Or maybe it was the alcohol.
Your heels made you a little taller than him, your heavy eyes fluttering as you found yourself leaning your head down and resting your forehead against his shoulder. He stiffens slightly, the contact unexpected.
“You smell good.” You whisper, your breath fanning over his ear. Hongjoong couldn't help the laugh that bubbles from his chest.
“Oh wow, you’re really drunk, ma’am.” His hands clasp your shoulders and gently lift you back up so he can see your face. “When I said you should let loose, I didn’t mean drink yourself into a stupor.”
“Don’t tell me what to do.” You slur, raising your hand to gently push at his chest. “I’m your boss, that's my job…”
“You’re right, that is your job. But at the moment, you are in no shape to do your job.” He turns around to go fetch you a glass of water, but you reach out. You grab his wrist and shove his palm flat between your breasts, over your racing heart.
“Um-” Hongjoong starts, more than surprised at your sudden and strange move, but you beat him to it.
“Feel that?” You mumble softly, pressing his hand harder against your chest. “You piss me off so badly, Kim.”
Your brain is fuzzy, and you really have no idea what you’re doing at the moment, but it happens anyway. “You’re giving me grey hairs.” You sneer, your grip on his wrist tightening.
Hongjoong takes a step closer, embracing this strange choice you’ve made to make him feel your heart race beneath his palm. “I am?” He responds, and he smiles slightly, like he was getting a kick out of you acting so unlike you.
“You are.” You groan. “Kinda wanna fuck you too. But you don’t deserve that.” You let go of his wrist, and his hand falls away from your chest. You giggle and tilt your head back until he bumps against the wall.
“Maybe if you weren’t such an ass.” You speak loftily into the air with a heavy sigh. Hongjoong was at a loss for words, your confession floating around in his brain.
“That's a serious HR violation, Ms. L/N,” Hongjoong teases, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek as he takes in your drunken form with nothing short of pure amusement.
Your hand shoots out and grabs his tie, wrapping it around your hand and tugging him closer to you, so close your noses brush, and your wine-ridden breaths mingle in the quiet of the venue hall. “You’re a walking HR violation, Joong.” You whisper, the nickname new and sparking something fresh between you two.
“Always flirting with me, getting on my nerves, testing my patience.” You end every word with a sharp bite, tugging harder on his tie as a punctuation to each sentence. “And yet you never do anything about it.”
His eyebrow raises, then falls, slowly. “Do you want me to do something about it?” He purrs lowly, a warning in his tone. You took note of the connotations, but ignored them. Your eyes narrowed further.
“You wouldn’t dare.” You seethe, the alcohol makes you brave, and you decide now is the best time to test his limits, if he actually had any. “You dance around me, begging for my attention all the time. Joong wants the boss’s eyes on him at all times, yeah?”
He doesn’t speak, but his gaze shifts, cold yet heated. His hand twitched at his side, like he was restraining himself from grabbing something. He bites back what he really wants to say to you, opting for a more tame response.
“Can’t help it that you’re so responsive.” He hums deeply, testing the invisible barrier between you two, leaning in further, his lips mere millimeters from yours. “You choose to give me the time of day, ma’am. That's all on you.”
You curl your fingers further around his black tie, the fabric rough against your palm.
“You think you’re better than me, Hongjoong?” You question, your face heated, and your heart racing even faster.
Hongjoong only smiles, that stupid, knowing smirk, and runs his tongue over his teeth like he does when he knows he’s got the upper hand. Despite the position he’s in at the moment, with his tie in your grasp like you’ve got him on a leash.
“I’m not better than anyone, ma’am.” He replies indifferently. Then he leans in, pushing the boundaries and hovering his lips just shy of your ear. His breath seems cold in comparison to your hot skin. Your grip on his tie loosens.
“And neither are you.”
You both don’t move for a minute. He stays by your ear, his breathing steady as it fans over your neck. Your body tingles strangely, and a weird feeling pushes its way through your gut.
Then you speak, and maybe what you end up saying sets something into motion, but whether it was a mistake or not, you will learn in due time. You pull on his tie to drag him back in front of your face, your gaze momentarily flicking down to his lips before boring into his eyes like you were trying to kill him with looks.
“Actions speak louder than words, Kim. Stop playing games and make good on your words, or keep your mouth shut.” Your gaze is set hard, testing. Silence stretches between your way too close bodies. His breath fanning over your lips, his eyes half lidded, and his chest rising and falling with steady breaths.
The hustle and bustle of the party fades into background noise at this standstill, your skin buzzing alight with a new feeling. He was so close, you could feel the heat radiating off his body, smell his expensive cologne. He smelled like chocolate and wine, and it only made your head feel fuzzier.
Carefully, his hand lifts and cups over yours, prying your fingers from his tie. His hard gaze never falters, dragging your hand away until it falls back to your side.
“You’re drunk, (Name.)” he whispers, and his low tone sends a shiver down your spine. It’s the first time he’s ever called you by your name. “Lay off the wine for the rest of the night, will you?”
You click your tongue and push your body off the wall, Hongjoong taking a step back, the space between you two returning.
“All bark, and no bite.” You grumble, turning away and walking back into the main area of the party, your heels echoing off the shiny walls. Hongjoong watches your every step, his eyes dark and his lips pressed into a thin line. He watched until you disappeared around the corner. The gears in his head turned, a flush rising to the back of his neck.
He really wanted to keep his job, he really did. Hongjoong was a good man, and he would never take advantage of someone as drunk as you are.
But it took every fiber of his being not to drag you to the bathroom and fuck you over the counter until you lost feeling in your legs just to prove you wrong.
You wished the sun had just exploded that morning. Your hangover could indeed kill God. Your head pounded like steel drums, your eyes burned, and your stomach roiled. You dragged yourself to the office the next day, a hot coffee clasped between your cold hands. You remember the night before in bits and pieces, and when you stepped into the office, the vibe was the same.
Everyone sat at their desk, bags under their eyes, and a bottle of ibuprofen at the ready by their monitor. You mumbled a collective good morning to everyone before retreating to your office. Your office was warm, the hum of the heater working almost as a lullaby. Two more days until the holiday. That's all you needed to get through. Finalize some things, make sure holiday pay is at the ready. Prepare for the new year. You really wished you hadn’t even touched a wine glass last night.
Your computer mocked you the entire day, every clack of the keyboard like a nail in your skull. The screech of the printers makes you want to bang your head against the wall.
The bits in pieces you could remember last night were enough to keep you anxious all day long. His smell. That's the number one thing that stuck with you. Rich chocolate and a soft musk. Fruity wine and a gentle brush of clean linen.
Every time he walked past your office door that day, your eyes lingered, like you were trying to find the missing piece of a puzzle. You remembered the tickle of his dark, soft hair, his low, dangerous voice.
All the pieces you had gathered led you to one conclusion. You two got close somehow. Close enough to smell him, close enough to feel him. And it made your brain go haywire. The pieces you were missing had you on edge. What was said, what was felt. How far did it go?
You wouldn’t have to wonder for very much longer.
Slowly, one by one, employees file out of the building, heading home for the holidays. Computers shut down and cubicles cleaned out, the snow outside swirled louder as the sun continued to set after a long and grueling day. Everyone stopped by and wished you a happy holiday before heading off, to which you would smile and reciprocate, still somewhat battling a headache.
Silence gradually fell over the office as the evening dragged on, the words on your computer started to meld together, and you found your eyes wandering towards the grand glass windows of your office more often than not. You tapped your foot beneath your desk impatiently, and by 10 o’clock, you were the only one left in the office.
You sighed aloud, leaning back in your chair with your hands on your face, dragging them down exhaustedly. Your headache finally subsides as you wrap up final tasks.
Finally, you were done.
Then, your office door creaks open.
There he stands, hair a slight mess, his tie loose, and that little smile on his face. You groan really loudly this time, making sure your annoyance is very evident.
“You didn’t even bother to knock.” You bite, gathering files on your desk as you stand to put them away.
Hongjoong shrugs his shoulders like he couldn’t care less. “What, were you indecent or something?”
You snort out a quiet laugh as you shut down your monitor and gather pens. “What do you want? Everyone else has gone home. You should too.”
“I want to know why.” He says, stepping further into your office, the opaque door shutting behind him with a quiet click.
“Why has everyone gone home? It’s the holiday, Hongjoong-“
“I'm not trying to be funny.” Hongjoong continues to walk until he’s stood in front of your desk, and you cross your arms with a sigh as you look him over.
“Then what is it?” You deadpan, trying your best to push down the new fuzzy feeling that blooms quietly in your chest when he’s closer than usual. You needed to get out of the office right now, get away from him. Clear your head for the holiday.
“Why don’t I deserve it?” His eyelids lower, his hands plant firmly on your desk as he leans over it, his voice low as his fingers grip the edge of the cool wood.
You pause, confused. “What are you talking about?” Your voice shook slightly. You were confused, yes, but there was something in his voice when he spoke that made you think you had said something. Something that blurred boundaries.
“Last night. You said I don’t deserve it.”
You swallow, narrowing your eyes in an attempt to gain the room back. To take control.
“Deserve what, Kim-“
“To fuck you.”
Your breath catches. There it was. The push your brain needed to remember. The memories came flooding back, and Hongjoong could visibly watch your morale crumble as you remembered the things you said to each other, the way you touched him. He acted more professionally than you did when you talked to him in that hallway. How you challenged him.
“ ‘All bark and no bite,’ you had said.” He quotes you, his smile falling.
“I was drunk.” You reply, your fists clenching the pen in your hand. “I didn’t mean anything I said to you.”
“Drunk words are sober thoughts, right? You had to mean some of it.”
“I meant the parts about you being an insufferable ass.”
“I’m sure you did, you seemed very sure of yourself.” Using your own words against you. You bite your tongue.
“It’s not professional.” You reply curtly, as if it actually meant anything.
“Nothing that’s ever happened between us has ever followed along the lines of professional.” Correct once again.
“That’s all your fault, you’re always crossing lines.” You’re trying to be reasonable, but your words are empty.
“I didn’t know lines had been drawn.”
“Hongjoong.”
“(Name).”
You both stop and stare. You couldn’t win with him; he was right. The lines, if there had been any, had been blurred beyond recognition. In that office room, you were not employer and employee. You didn’t know what you were.
“I don’t know what you want from me.” You admit in defeat, dropping the pen on the desk with a clatter, your voice dropped to a low murmur. Hongjoong stands up straight and walks around your desk to stand in front of you. He walks close enough to you that you're forced to take a seat in your swivel chair. He stands there, his knees pressed against yours, before leaning down.
He grabs either side of your armrests, caging you in against the chair as he lowers his head to meet your eyes. “I want you to say what you want from me.” His hair falls over his eyes, his tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip, and his grip on the armrests makes the chair audibly creak.
He smelled too fucking good, and it was suffocating you. Your fists clenched in your lap as you craned your head to look up at him.
“Now that you’re sober.” He murmurs, leaning his head closer, so close his warm lips brush over your ear. “Clear-minded.” He moves his head to whisper in your other ear. “If you don’t think I deserve to fuck you…”
You don’t move, you don’t shy away from him. You don’t push him off. You stay dead still, your heart racing. He leans his head further in, and you could feel his lips press against the side of your throat, a whisper of a kiss against your warm skin that made your entire body erupt into a flurry of tingles. His hair tickles the side of your neck, and all you could see was his shoulder as he leaned over you.
“What can I do to convince you, ma’am?” He purrs against your throat, and you couldn’t help the small whine that slips from your lips. The wind outside howled, and the office felt like the heat was on full blast. You felt trapped, in the best way possible.
Hongjoong takes notice that you have yet to deny his advances, so he ups the ante. His hand on the left armrest lifts, gently brushing his fingertips over your wrist that lies on your lap, tickling patterns and circles.
Then he drops down, slowly running his fingers up the length of your clothed thigh. He pulls away from your neck to meet your eyes once again, his eyebrows lax. He catches the wanton look in your gaze, and it nearly undoes him.
“I could work a little harder just for you.” He whispers, a hint of a desperate whine at the lilt of his sentences. “Put in some extra hours, really put my all into those reports.”
His hand trails further up, now massaging your hip in slow strokes, gently gripping the flesh. “Or, I can get a little more hands-on.”
Up the side of your waist, crossing over to gently rub your lower tummy over your blouse. You fought not to melt at the feeling of his warm hand, but you were promptly losing the battle. “I could kiss those pretty lips until you forget that you could fire me at the twitch of a finger.”
Over your stomach, back to your side, dragging up your arm to your shoulder. “I could really blur those aforementioned lines, maybe even try to change your mind if you’d let me finger fuck you until your legs shake.”
He presses his lips against your temple as his hand finally finds its home at the nape of your neck, grabbing it and squeezing gently. “I could make you forget how to walk without even fucking you properly if you let me get my mouth on you.” His whispers make your stomach leap; his hand never ceases its massaging movement on the back of your neck. His fingers gently scrape your lower scalp, sending a pleasant sensation throughout your bones.
“Whaddya say, boss?” he smiles against your temple. Your hands that were previously clenched, you hadn’t even noticed that you had grabbed onto the collar of his shirt, effectively holding him in place above you as your breath fanned over the skin of his throat, excitedly.
When you finally speak, it's low, but confident enough.
“You’re still not doing anything, Hongjoong.” His hand on the back of your neck freezes.
“Actions speak louder than words.” You repeat one last time.
You feel his lips spread into a smile against your temple, then his fingers brush upwards, burying his hand in your hair. “You’re shaking.” He coos, and you feel his fingers curl, firmly gripping your hair at the scalp. “Clearly, my words affect you much more than you’d like to admit, ma’am.”
He yanks your skull back, forcing your head to crane upward, moving his head back before crashing his lips into yours without a warning. Heat blooms from where your lips touch, Hongjoong’s head tilted to kiss you messy and deep, and you let out a groan that could only be from satisfaction that falls down his throat. You grip his collar harder, his other hand on the armrest, moving to press down on your thigh. Hongjoong grins into the kiss, keeping your head at that angle, your noses bumping from the frantic movements.
The desperation, the tension, the anger, and the stress, all being released into a hungry, rule-breaking kiss that made your knees buckle. Hongjoong maneuvers your body up by your hair, forcing you to stand to follow his movements. He pushes you until your back is pressed against the tall glass windows, his lips never pulling from yours as he kisses you into a fever. His tongue melts with yours in a practiced dance, and your brain fogs as he presses his body against yours.
His hand slips from your hair and trails down your body, over your blouse, down to your skirt waistband. Then he pulls away, his lips leave yours as he sinks to his knees in front of you.
You watch, chest rising and falling with frenzied breaths as you brace your palms flat against the cold windows.
On his knees, Hongjoong’s hands trail down your legs, landing on the buckle of your shiny black heels. He makes slow work of his hands, gently undoing the straps of your heels and slipping them off your feet like they were made of glass. He kisses the side of your knee softly as he slips off the other shoe, setting them off to the side neatly.
Your stomach flutters at the carefulness of his actions, his eyes lifting to watch your watery gaze take in the sight below you. Then his fingers brush upwards, featherlight touches until they reach the welt of your left stocking.
His fingers slide beneath the sheer fabric as he slowly pulls it down your leg.
“Y’know…” he starts, right as he pulls the stocking completely off your body. His fingers moved to the right one. So slow, so teasing.
“You remember that one day, you came into the office, and for the very first time, you were wearing thigh-high stockings.” He slips off the second one, laying the pair next to your heels. His hands slid up the sides of your legs, feeling you shiver beneath his palms.
“I said something to you about them. About how I liked them.” Hongjoong’s hands slid beneath your pleated skirt, cupping either one of your thighs possessively. His fingers dip beneath the waistband of your panties, tugging at them teasingly.
“You gave me shit about me mentioning them. Telling me that I shouldn’t be paying attention to what you wear like that.”
He slips your panties over your thighs, down your legs, until they fall on the floor at your feet. Bare beneath your black skirt. His hand grips the underside of your left thigh, hiking it over his shoulder as he kisses the soft skin.
His other fingers gently brush through the wet mess you've made between your legs, and your breath catches in your throat at how easily his fingertips glide through the folds of your slick cunt.
“But I swear, every single fucking day since then-” he bunches your skirt up around your hips, pushing his face closer to your center, his fingers easily finding your clit and circling it oh so slowly.
“There hasn’t been a single time when you haven’t come to work wearing them.” His warm breath fans over your pussy, and you shiver, a whiny moan slipping from your lips.
“Lying through your teeth like that, chastising me for saying how pretty they looked on you.” Hongjoong grins, slipping his wet fingers into his mouth and licking your shiny arousal off of them with a greedy groan.
“When it's so obvious you’ve been wearing them every day just for me.” Then his mouth is on you. His tongue slips through you, parting your folds with a wet, loud slurp, and immediately your legs begin to tremble.
His hand keeps your thigh firm and hiked over his shoulder, his other hand gently massaging your hips while his mouth works wonders on you. Slipping his tongue up, circling your clit. Back down, drinking up each gush of arousal that spills from you. Suctioning his soft lips to the sensitive bud and burying his face so deep between your thighs, you were afraid he might not be able to breathe.
But he was moaning like he couldn’t get enough. The vibrations of his breathy keens sent shocks through your body, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thigh as he devoured, eating your cunt greedily like he had been dreaming about it for years.
You couldn’t control your moans, and they only spurred him on further, his tongue mapping out patterns. Listening to your noises and pinpointing what you liked so he could keep it up, keep you crying for him.
“Fuck…” he laughs against you, moving the hand on your thigh down to gently circle his finger around your entrance. “Taste so sweet, smell so good.” He laps at your clit hungrily, and you choke on a moan when you feel him slip a finger into your snug pussy, your warm walls pulsing around him. “Let's see if we can find that spot that’ll make you cry for me, yeah?”
He prods around, curling it, massaging, and when he feels your thigh tense and your breath shake, he knows he’s got it. “There she is.” Promptly, he slips another finger inside of you, pressing up and forward, rubbing pressured curves against that spongy spot deep inside of you, his mouth suctioned around your clit as his tongue draws patterns around it that make your gut twist.
“F-fuck-! Hongjoong!” You cry out, your hands flying to his mussed brown hair and burying your fingers into it at the scalp, grounding yourself so you don't buckle at the knees.
“I know, baby, I know.” He murmurs around your sensitive bud, his fingers moving deep inside of you in repetitive come-hither motions. Your head bangs against the cold glass, your back arching off of it as you take what he gives you with drunken earnestness.
“Let it all out, c’mon, big stretch sweetheart…” His hand moves away from your thigh and slides around to your lower back, pressing against it, forcing your arch further, stretching the tense muscles there as his fingers turn you inside out.
You groan, and he rewards your good listening with a nip to your clit. “That's it, I got you.” He reassures you, pressing your buttons and working you out, playing with you like it was giving him life. “Fuck you’re so pretty.” He slides his glasses off his face, all fogged up and starting to drip with your wetness, slipping them into his pocket.
Your nails scratch against his scalp, your jaw clenching as the pleasure rocks through you like electricity, your breath stuttering each time you feel his tongue slip over your clit, each time his fingers curl particularly hard.
Hongjoong catches the way your walls clench around his fingers, how your thighs vibrate, and your toes curl. “You close, ma’am?” He smiles around your clit, still in the mood to tease you even when he’s knuckle deep in your cunt.
“Yes, Hong–joong-!” you cry, tugging the hair at his scalp and pulling him deeper between your thighs. “Stop fucking around, please!”
Now that makes Hongjoong laugh. And then he’s growling, keeping up the persistent rhythm of his fingers and sucking your clit. “Never get to hear you say please… begging suits you, sweetheart, I could get used to that.”
He shakes his head back and forth, the friction making your head swim and your chest cave. Just when you’re so close to falling over the edge, Hongjoong pulls from you with a slick pop.
You groan in disappointment, and Hongjoong stands and swallows your complaints in a deep kiss, your own taste flooding your mouth. His tongue swipes over yours, letting you savor the flavor of your arousal. Allow you to relish in what he had done to you. How absolutely wet he’s made you. You listen as he unbuckles his belt with one hand, while the other grips the front of your throat.
“C’mon.” He groans against your mouth, and he's maneuvering you back over to the desk. You reach out your hands just as he pushes you down onto it, shoving the files off the surface onto the floor. Hongjoong flattens his hand against your back, dragging it up until it reaches the collar of your blouse.
“Arms.” He commands breathlessly, and you lift them, allowing him to slide the fabric over your head. Your skin is bare to him, his hand trails back down to unclasp your bra, and you help him slip it over your arms.
Hongjoong’s warm hands flatten against your shoulder blades as he keeps your front pressed down against the cold wooden desk. He drags his palms down, along your spine to where your black skirt hugs your hips. He leans his body over yours and presses wet kisses to the side of your neck, his hands roaming up and down your body like it belonged to him and him alone.
You could feel the rough cloth of his tie tickle the skin of your back. One hand leaves your body, and you could hear him shuffle his slacks down, and then you feel him. Your hips squirm as you feel the heat of his cock against your lower back.
You let out a needy whine, to which Hongjoong lifts his hand to your hair, burying his fingers into the locks, gripping it tight, and pulling your head back until you arch beautifully. Your skirt remaining bunched at your waist, you wince at the sting from him pulling your hair, forcing your neck to crane, almost far enough you could see the ceiling of your office.
“Fuck, wish you could see yourself right now.” Hongjoong’s other hand massages your hip, his nails lightly scratching against your goose-pebbled skin. He pulls his hips back until you can feel the fat, dripping tip of his cock slip between your lips, and he slowly drags his hips between your thighs, each slow thrust coating his length in your wetness and catching the friction of your clit.
“Bent over your own desk, wet and desperate.” he leans down and pulls your head farther back, pressing his lips flush against your ear and letting out a low, whiny groan right in your ear that makes your thighs clench around his cock.
“Driving me fucking crazy.” Your whole body shivers when you feel his blunt nails gently scratch against your scalp, unable to contain your pathetic whines.
“Please, Joong…” you cry quietly, pushing your hips back against him to try and coax him to finally slip inside of you. “Need you so bad, baby, please…”
You could feel his cock twitch between your thighs, and it made your chest swell with pride. No matter what position he had you in at the moment, you knew he was a sucker for your attention. For your praise.
“I want you to make me feel good.” You moan softly, and you feel his body curl further over yours, until you meet his eyes, your neck craned so far back it almost hurts. He looks down at you, and when you see him, you nearly unravel.
His face is flushed, his lips are spit-soaked and kiss swollen. His pupils are blown and his hair a hot mess. “Yeah, you want me, baby? Want me to make you feel sooo good?” You whine in confirmation, right as he leans in closer, his eyes boring into yours, nowhere to hide. All you could do was share his heated gaze. Feel a type of desire that was burning you alive from the inside out.
“Keep looking at me.” He commands breathlessly, and you feel his tip just barely breach your entrance. “Wanna see those pretty eyes cross when I stuff this pussy full of me.”
When he slowly pushes in, you realize it's much thicker than you could have ever guessed. Your mouth falls open in a gasp, and Hongjoong’s eyes stay on yours, barely blinking as his own lips part in satisfaction. His eyebrows knit in pure bliss as your warm, fluttering walls swallow him up. You choke out a broken moan at each inch that slips inside of you, and not even halfway in, and you feel so unbelievably full.
“Hongjoong…!” you gasp, and Hongjoong only nods in acknowledgment. Your vision goes blurry as he fills you up, and the grip on your hair only tightens as he feels you pulse around his cock.
“Sorry, sweetheart, I know it's big,” he purrs, the hand on your hip sliding up and down the side of your waist, coaxing you to relax so you could open up some more and let him slide all the way in.
“You’re so wet, though, making it so easy for me.” He kisses your forehead just as he pushes in a little more, met with a little less resistance. “God, you’re dripping everywhere.”
When he’s filled you to the hilt, you can no longer control your shaking, your body a shivering pleasure-ridden mess. You can feel his cock jump inside of you, holding still to try and calm his brain before he absolutely loses it and pounds you stupid over your desk.
“You’re so fucking tight, pretty.” Hongjoong laughs above you, and he slowly pulls his hips back, his thick girth dragging against your walls with a slick sound. You moan aloud, the fat tip of him perfectly sliding over that spot.
Then he slides right back in, a nice, long stroke that hits every angle just right. Hongjoong could hear it in your voice, how good you were feeling, and it was sending his ego through the roof.
“This what you needed?” He tugs your hair, just as your eyes begin to roll when he starts to set a slow, deep rhythm. Languid, heavy thrusts that forced you to really feel every inch of him gliding in and out of you.
He leans down to whisper in your ear, and you could catch low whimpers and the way his breath catches when your cunt squeezes around him when you hear his soft voice.
“Baby is sooo stressed.” He thrusts hard, just for a moment, smiling when you nearly yelp. Then he’s back at it slowly again. “Overworked and tired, and all this time. All this fucking attitude…” he kisses the shell of your ear and breathes in your scent, his body shaking like he was high off of your smell.
“And all you ever needed was for me to fuck it out of you, hm?” He pushes his cock in deep, then slowly rotates his hips in a heavy grind that makes your voice shiver when you moan.
Your hands grip the edge of the desk, and you swear you heard the wood splinter beneath your nails. Hongjoong leans away from your face to look down at where he sat inside of you, and you hear him growl above you and squeeze your hair.
“Shit, baby, you’re literally dribbling on the fucking floor.” He watches as he slips out of you, just leaving the tip inside, drunk over the way more of your arousal seems to flood out of nowhere and drip to the grey carpeted floor.
“Mmm… Joongie-!” You whine, and the hand on your waist travels to the small of your back, kneading and pressing, massaging the knot of stress out of it. All the while, his cock never stops moving, sliding in and out of you, dragging over your G-spot maddeningly, and it’s almost too much for you.
“Hold on, baby, work with me, okay?” His hand massages down until it cups the underside of your trembling thigh, pushing your leg up until it’s hiked over the desk.
The new angle is incredible, now pushing even deeper into your guts. You let out a low, drawn-out groan, Hongjoong’s heated palm squeezing and kneading your thigh as he held it up.
“There we go, that's better. Doesn’t that feel good, sweetheart?” He coos, and his tone sends shocks straight to your gut. You nibble on your bottom lip, each heavy glide of his hips making your desk creak quietly beneath your melting bodies.
Hongjoong’s hands were gripping the reins, fucking you deep and talking to you all sugar and cream, but his brain was reeling just as much as yours. “You don’t have to say anything honey, I can feel your pussy pulsing around me. I know what it needs, and you know I can give it to you just right.”
The satisfaction of finally putting you in your place, a beautiful, confident, powerful woman such as yourself, his boss, the woman who wrote his checks. Bent over, wood digging into your stomach as he pressed you against the desk, absolutely ravaging your crying pussy. And you were begging for it. Begging for him.
He was fucking loving it.
“Doesn’t it feel good to give up control?” He murmurs around lusty groans, feeling your stomach cave as he speeds up the pace of his thrusts, your wet sounds and your mingled moans bouncing off your office walls. “To not have to worry about meetings, or deadlines…”
His hand snakes around, and then your entire body jolts when his fingers press against your clit, rolling over it smoothly. “When all you have to do is lie down and fucking take it, nice and deep?”
Each brush of his cock against your G-spot, coupled with pressure on your clit made your brain short-circuit, and all you could do was moan pathetically, which apparently wasn’t good enough for Hongjoong.
The hand in your hair grips tighter and yanks your head far back, and his lips are pressed hard against your ear, his heavy breaths the only thing you could hear as he manhandled you as he saw fit. “I’m talking to you, boss.” He seethes against your ear, pushing up against your clit and leaving wet, warm kisses against the shell of your ear.
“Not a very good listener, are you, baby?” He clicks his tongue and rolls his hips deep into you, and you choke, your throat bobbing visibly with the way he forced your neck to crane at his whim.
“‘M sorry!” you gasp around a whiny moan, and Hongjoong’s cock twitches at the sound, a pained groan of a laugh coming from his throat.
“Fuck, honey…” he pulls his hand from your hair, and suddenly he slips out of you. You whine, feeling empty, Hongjoong groaning in tandem at the loss of warmth. But then he’s flipped you over, your back against the desk as he grabs your ankles and spreads them nice and wide. He slots his body between your spread thighs and slides the length of him through your soaked folds.
When you finally get to look at him, you whine loudly. His hair was so messy, his skin sweat slick. His tie hangs loosely around his collar, his blazer slipping off his shoulders, and the top buttons of his dress shirt are undone.
His hands keep you open as he quickly sheathes himself right back inside of you. He leans over your body and his hands hold either side of your head, keeping it still as he ruts his thick cock right back into you.
His nose brushes yours, keeping his frenzied eyes on yours as he slots his lips with yours, swallowing your moans and cries as he fucks you on your back.
“Say it again.” He groans into your mouth, his hips relentless as he ravages you in this new, exposing position. His hands are firm on either side of your face as he barely gives you any time to even breathe. “Say you’re sorry. Wanna look at you when you apologize to me.” You waste no time.
“I’m so sorry-! Joong-!” you moan down his throat, your hands flying around to cup the back of his neck, pressing his lips harder against yours. His hands warm on either side of your face make your brain fuzzy as he purrs and whines against your mouth with each thrust of his cock into your cunt.
“Again,” he whispers.
“I’m… fuck- sorry!” you cry.
“Again, baby again.” He whispers even lower, and your stomach clenches, like he tugged a string that was unraveling you from the inside out.
“I’m sorry Hongjoong!” He grins wickedly into your mouth, pulling away, a thin string of saliva snapping as he buries his face into the crook of your neck, letting out a low whine against your heated skin.
“Yeah, you are…” he whispers in your ear, and you feel that knot starting to form in your lower belly, the heat pooling tantalizingly.
You claw at his shoulders, whimpering out attempted warnings. “‘M c-close, close…” You fist the fabric of his blazer, your legs shaking as you focus all your attention on falling over that edge.
“You cumming, baby?” He coos into your ear, peppering kisses right below your lobe. You could only nod, your breath stuttering in your lungs as your orgasm crept up your back.
He keeps up that same angle, same pace, perfect, and helps you teeter closer to the edge. “Whenever you can.” He drawls, his hands staying on your face and turning your head to face him once again. His eyebrows furrowed, and his lips parted as he whined right against your mouth.
His eyelids are lowered, his gaze is focused. Like he’s trying to pick apart your expressions as carefully as he can. Read the glint in your eyes and the tremble of your lips. Swimming in the fucked out glaze of your teary eyes, the pleasure rendering you helpless beneath him.
His lips hover millimeters above yours, your heavy breaths kissing each other. You feel the thin soft skin of his lips brush over yours when he speaks, a whisper so low you can feel it in your gut.
“Cum for me whenever it feels right, baby, you can do it. Make it messy, okay? Don’t hold back.”
It was hard to deny when you had never felt an orgasm hit you this hard. Hongjoong tried telling you to breathe through it, but you physically couldn’t. It rocks your body hard, and you swear you hear the sound of his suit jacket ripping. But he pays no mind, kissing you with hungry fervor, slipping his tongue over yours, and drinking your loud moans greedily.
“That’s it, that’s it.” He instructs into the kiss, his hands keeping your head still as your body convulses and jerks beneath him. “Let me help you ride it out.”
His cock slows inside of you, long deep strokes, each kiss against your sensitive G-spot, making your mouth pool with saliva.
Before he could let himself fall apart inside of you, Hongjoong lifts off of your body, slipping his soaked cock out of you and letting it rest against your lower belly. Whining softly, he leans his head back, his hands coming down and cupping either one of your breasts, squeezing as he spills all over your stomach.
Pumping white ropes of cum all over your soft body, heady groans and purrs hitting your ears as he cums all over you, his chest heaving and his cock twitching against your stomach. His fingers pinch your nipples and roll them as he grinds slowly against the flesh of your tummy, slowing to a stop when he feels himself coming down.
“Holy fuck…” he sighs, leaning back down and grabbing the front of your throat, kissing you hungrily as his other hand massages your hip, helping you come down from your own high. “You’re unreal.” He whispers against your lips, grinning when you giggle in response.
“You’re lucky it’s the holidays and I’m feeling rather giving.” You tease, catching your breath and nudging your nose against his. “Or else this is a write-up.”
Hongjoong hoots out a laugh and gently massages right beneath your breasts. “You could fire me and blacklist me from every company within 100 miles, and I would still think it was completely worth it.”
“You’re lucky you’re my favorite.”
You could visibly see his eyes light up. “I thought you said I wasn’t!”
You shrug and kiss his nose. “I lied. But you can still be my favorite while also being an insufferable ass.”
Hongjoong tilts his head and smiles fondly. “I’ll work on that.”
“Please do.” You chide. “Make it a New Year’s resolution, I want to see improvements after the holiday.”
“Maybe I’ll make some steadier progress if you come over and help me work on it?” He wiggles his eyebrows, and you playfully smack his shoulder.
“We’ll see.” You sigh dramatically, but you couldn’t help the warm smile that damn near splits your face. “I’m still your boss, though, and you are on thin ice. Watch yourself, Kim.”
He stands and begins to walk to grab some things to clean up, raising his hand to salute cheekily.
“Yes, ma’am!” He shouts, and you roll your eyes.
HR seriously cannot find out about this, or else you’re both getting the boot.
And knowing Hongjoong, he’s definitely not going to make it easy on you.
“Ｅｍｐｔｙ Ｈｅａｄｅｄ” ── ｋ．ｈ．ｊ
── established relationship, hard dom!hongjoong x fem!reader
“The hotel room is too quiet for how hard Hongjoong is fucking you.” You thought you could handle him, but Hongjoong isn’t interested in making love tonight. He wants to break you down until you are nothing but a weeping, shaking mess in his hands. He has rules—be still, be quiet, don’t cum—and he is going to make sure you fail every single one of them just so he can punish you for it.
Genre: heavy smut, porn without plot Trigger Warnings: explicit sexual content (mdni!), daddy kink (heavy), degradation & name calling (useless, pathetic, toy, slut, hole, sleeve), rough sex: (hair pulling, biting, bruising, aggressive thrusting), oral fixation (fingers in mouth, gagging, drooling), denial, edging, impact play (spanking, slapping), objectification, dacryphilia, exhibitionism (sex against a floor-to-ceiling window), body fluids (spit, tears, sperm on face/throat), multiple orgasms, overstimulation (reader says it hurts), brat taming, mild breath play, cock warming, squirting, breeding kink, creampie, traffic light system, breast play, deep subspace, reader’s fucked stupid, aftercare??? WC: 17.7k
Mon’s Note: i honestly don’t know what happened here. title is “empty headed” because that is literally me after writing this. no thoughts. head empty.
The hotel room is too quiet for how hard Hongjoong’s fucking you.
“Da‑daddy,” you moan as he pounds into you, your arms pinned tight behind your back in one of his hands.
“Fu—fuck.” Your own sounds fill the space along with the wet slap of skin, the headboard’s dull knock against the wall, the drag of sheets burning your knees. You’re clenching around him each time he hits that spot, lights blurring at the edges. Your thighs shake, your mouth stays open, wrecked sound spilling out with every thrust.
Hongjoong adjusts your hips the barest inch and the angle turns ruthless. The stretch sharpens and the friction is obscene. You swear. His breath ghosts your ear, calm where everything else is chaos.
“That’s it. Fucking take it.” His rings are cold against your wrists where he pins them, a bite that makes you clench harder.
“Fuck Joong—”
He stops. The shift is sudden—your body still clenching around his dick, desperate for friction that’s no longer there. His hand fists in your hair and jerks you up hard, arching your spine until your back meets his chest. One arm locks around your waist, ribs pressed to his forearm. The other grips your jaw, fingers pressing into the hinge until your mouth falls open.
You can feel his pulse against your cheek.
You can feel your own everywhere.
“What did you just call me?” His voice is low, dangerous, a heat against your ear. You feel it more than hear it, vibrating through your ribs where he’s got you pinned. The air is hot and thin.
Your breath comes shallow, uneven. “I—”
“Say it again.” Hongjoong’s hips shift, just enough to make you gasp, but he doesn’t move. Doesn’t give you what you need. His thumb drags across your bottom lip, smearing spit at the corner. “Go on.”
You swallow. Your pulse hammers against his palm. “Da—”
He tsks, the sound soft and cutting. His grip tightens on your jaw until your eyes sting. “Wrong answer.” His thumb pushes your chin up.
His hand slides from your jaw to your throat, not squeezing yet. “You know better.” The words are barely above a whisper, but they land heavy. He pulls out almost completely, the drag lighting every nerve, then slams back in without warning.
Your body jerks forward with the force, a broken cry tearing from your throat. The slap of skin is sharp. The mattress stutters under your knees, the headboard slams again.
“Daddy—” The word comes out garbled, desperate, exactly what he wanted to hear.
“Good girl.” His grip on your throat softens, becomes almost tender. “Again.”
“Daddy,” you gasp, the word punched out of you with another sharp thrust. Your fingers curl uselessly in his grip, your whole body wound so tight you think you might shatter. “Please—addy, I need—” Your own spit threads from your mouth to his thumb where it drags your lip and you taste metal from your bitten tongue.
Hongjoong’s laugh is dark, satisfied. “Need what, love?” The hand on your throat slides down to palm your breast, rolling your nipple between two knuckles until heat spikes. He pinches it and the pain blooms sweet and mean. “Use your words.” His breath hits damp hair stuck to your temple.
You moan uselessly, the sound ragged and broken. Words won’t come—just desperate, incoherent noise that makes him groan against your ear.
“That’s what I thought,” he murmurs, satisfaction dripping from every word. Your knees skid an inch on the sheet and his hand leaves your breast to clamps your hip and hauls you back so you feel the blunt head punch deep again. He holds you exactly where he wants you as he starts thrusting deep inside you. “Can’t even speak anymore, can you?”
You shake your head frantically, or try to—his hold on you barely allows the movement. Everything’s gone white‑hot and overwhelming, your body trembling in his arms as he takes you apart piece by piece. Your mascara is a damp smear at your lashes; a tear salt‑burns the corner of your mouth where it meets his thumb.
“Mmpf—please—” The words break on a sob as the tension coils impossibly tighter, your walls fluttering around him. Your thighs tremble uncontrollably. The mattress squeals. Hongjoong groans when your cunt strangles him, like the sound is dragged from somewhere he doesn’t show anyone.
“I’ve been a good girl, Daddy, please—” Your voice breaks on the words, desperate and pleading. “Please let me—fuc—k—let me cum, I need—”
“Not yet. Listen to yourself—messy little thing, slobbering on my hand and still trying to think you get a say.” His pace doesn’t falter, each thrust hitting that devastating spot that has your vision blurring. He changes nothing just to prove he controls everything. “You’ll cum when I say.”
“Daddy—” It’s a sob more than a word, your body trembling violently as you fight against the edge. “Please, I can’t—I can’t hold it—”
“Yes, you can. You’re a hole when I tell you to be a hole.” His lips brush your ear, voice dropping lower, amused and cruel. “Be useful.” His teeth take the soft flesh of your shoulder, a quick bite that stings and his tongue soothes, then he bites again, harder.
A broken whimper tears from your throat as tears prick at your eyes. “Yes—yes, I’ll wait—fuck—please—” The word breaks because he drives in meaner, holding you down with his forearm across your ribs until your breaths come shallow and quick.
“That’s all you’re good for, isn’t it? Taking.” The room narrows to the slick drag and the hot thud of him and the damp heat where your bodies meet. “Just a wet little thing I wreck.”
Your eyes sting, vision blurring as the first tear slips free. It tracks hot down your cheek, and Hongjoong’s rhythm stutters for just a beat like he’s savouring it. His grip on your jaw shifts, thumb catching the wetness before it falls to the sheet.
“Look at you,” he breathes, hungry. “Crying because you can’t keep up. Cock‑drunk already and I’m not even trying.” He drags the tear across your cheekbone, reverent and mean at once. “So fucking pretty when you beg with your eyes.” He licks the salt from his thumb, eyes fixed on your wrecked mouth. “Open that useless mouth and try again.”
Another tear follows, then another. A sob catches as he drives deeper. His groan vibrates against your spine. “Pathetic,” he murmurs, almost fond.
Hongjoong’s hand moves from your jaw to cup your face, fingers gentle even as his hips maintain their brutal pace. “Let me see what a mess you are.” He turns your face just enough to catch the tear‑tracks in the low light, pupils blown. “Crying so pretty on Daddy’s cock.”
The praise and the cruelty braid together and break something in you. “Please—” Your voice frays to a thread.
“So good for me,” he says, and then ruins it: “Good for nothing but this.” He catches another tear with his thumb. “My perfect little toy.” His palm slides down your belly, heat making your muscles jump. “Say it.”
“T—toy,” you gasp, shame and want tangling.
“Show Daddy how pretty you look when you break.” He hooks two fingers in the corner of your mouth, yanking it open so spit strings glitter from your lip. “There. Pretty mouth.”
His thumb presses your bottom lip then pushes past. Two fingers follow, flattening your tongue until drool pools at the corners of your mouth. “Keep it open,” he orders, voice rough. “Show me that useless tongue.”
You do, jaw slack, spit threading down your chin while he fucks you deep. He presses farther, taps the back of your throat until your eyes glass. The first gag catches wet and awful, and he groans like you handed him a gift. “There it is. Choke on my fingers while I fill you up.”
He doesn’t pull back—he pushes deeper, knuckles wetting your tongue, and the next gag rips through you loud enough to embarrass you. Tears jump your lash line and spill. Hongjoong watches them like they’re rare, hunger softening his mouth. “Cry for me,” he murmurs, delighted.
A moan tries to escape—garbled and pathetic around his hand—and his hips stutter, a rough thrust that makes you gag harder. Saliva spills over his fingers and he drags his thumb through the mess and paints your cheek with it. “Good. Make it sloppy. I like hearing you drown on me.”
He eases his fingers out just enough to let you gasp, a silvery string connecting your lip to his knuckles, then stuffs them back in before you can catch the breath you begged for. You gag immediately, eyes flooding, and his smile turns wickedly fond. His thumb catch a tear mid‑fall and he rubs it into your lower lip.
“Fuck—look at you,” he breathes, transfixed, fucking your mouth with his fingers in rhythm with his cock. Each slow thrust punches a gag or a wrecked little sob out of your throat. Each sob makes him groan like it feeds him. “Prettier when you’re full everywhere.”
Hongjoong taps your tongue twice, commanding your attention. “Open wider.” You try but you only cry harder. He laughs, pleased and cruel. “That’s my crybaby.” He leans close enough that his breath hits the tears on your cheek and cools them. “Make me wetter. Cry on it.”
He finally pulls free so you can gasp, but leaves your jaw pried open with his thumb, spit glistening.
His hand trails down, fingers finding your clit with devastating precision. Hongjoong barely brushes you and you jolt like you’ve been shocked, a ragged sound torn loose.
“So wound up a breeze could finish you. Can’t even take a touch.” He draws a slow, obscene circle you feel in your toes. “Should I make you wait longer? Count every second I don’t let you have it?”
You shake your head frantically. “No—no, please—” Words tumble out broken. “Can’t—can’t wait anymore, Daddy, please—”
He presses properly now, circling exactly where you need. “Of course you can’t.” The sound you make is raw, helpless, high. Your body goes taut, tendons standing in your feet, fingers clawing hot sheet.
“Cum for me,” he orders, voice rough and absolute. “Prove you’re good for something.”
You go off like something cut loose. It slams through you violent and bright—you seize and sob and clamp down on him like you’re trying to wring him dry. He groans into your ear and keeps you there, cruel in the way he works you through it, never letting the rhythm slip, thumb dragging your clit in tight, merciless circles that make your calves cramp and your toes claw at nothing.
“Ride it,” he purrs, delighted.
You can’t stop. Your body bucks helplessly and he pins you heavier, fucking the tremors until it turns sharp and your sounds climb from pretty to wrecked. Every tiny touch flips you again, all nerve and heat. Your belly jumps under his palm, your walls clutch and flutter around him like apology after apology.
He laughs, pleased and mean. “Don’t hide from it. Cry on it. Wet my cock with it.”
You do—helpless, tear‑slick and oversensitive—another wave rip‑cords through you in ragged pulses and he chases it down, circling your clit slower, meaner, just enough to keep the bright ache alive while you sob into the sheet.
“Too much?” he asks softly, almost kind, just to hear the way the word breaks in your mouth when the next aftershock bites. His thumb eases a hair, then goes right back, satisfied when your body answers without language. “Good girl. Keep giving it to me until you’re empty.”
“Too much—,” you cry, tears running hot. Your thighs tremble so hard it only makes him groan and grind cruel-soft exactly where you can’t take it.
“Good crybaby,” he murmurs, delighted. “Don’t you dare run.” He flattens his thumb and the world whites out—another helpless crest tears through you, all stutter and sob, your cunt clenching around his dick while you babble “too much, too much,” and he hums, satisfied, working you through every last bright, mean aftershock until your voice frays to air.
Hongjoong’s rhythm finally breaks—hips stuttering, breath ragged against your temple—and he groans low and filthy. His hands leave and you whimper at the loss. Air kisses the slick heat when he pulls free and you shudder. He flips you in one swift motion; your back hits the mattress, a bounce knocking a gasp out of you. The sheets are damp under your shoulder blades and the pillow is cool under fevered skin.
“Look at me.” Jaw tight, eyes wild, control fraying. A vein jumps in his neck. He looks like sin and victory.
“Hands above your head.” You obey, wrists crossing. “Don’t move.” His palm pins your wrists; the heel of it grinds the bones together until you whine. The other drops to his cock and works himself once, twice, your slick shines on his length.
“Eyes on me.”
“Fuck—” The word breaks as his release lashes hot across your stomach and chest. Cum splashes your throat, a line streaks your collarbone. He doesn’t look away from your face while he watches it drip. Ragged breath. Shuddering shoulders.
He drags two fingers through the mess and paints your lips with it, slow. He pushes his fingers past your tongue. “Suck it up like a good little slut.” You do, cheeks hollowing, and he hums approval when you gag around his knuckles then he pulls free with a wet pop.
Hongjoong smears the rest of his cum across your cheek and jaw, then rubs what’s left into your throat.
“Hands stay.” Your wrists ache deliciously. His palm presses your sternum, shortening your breath; he lifts it just enough to give you air, like charity. Then he kisses you deep, filthy, tasting salt and himself on your tongue. He palms the back of your thigh and hikes it high to his hip. “Round two,” he says like a sentence.
“No—no—” Your thighs slam shut on instinct, trembling violently. Oversensitive doesn’t begin to cover it—every nerve ending feels raw, exposed, like touching a live wire. Your knees knock together as you try to curl away, breath coming in short, desperate gasps.
Hongjoong’s hand catches your knee before you can fully close yourself off. His grip is firm but he doesn’t force—not yet. He watches you shake apart, eyes dark and assessing.
“Too much?” The question sounds almost curious, like he’s cataloging your limits for future reference.
“I can’t—” Your voice breaks on a sob. “Please, I need—just a minute—”
His thumb traces idle circles on your kneecap, a mockery of gentleness while your body still trembles from the aftershocks. “That’s not how this works, love.” He leans down, lips brushing your temple. “You don’t get to decide when we’re done.”
His hand slides up your thigh, not forcing your legs open yet, just resting there with casual ownership. “You know how we end things.” It’s not a question. His eyebrow arches, that familiar challenge, and your stomach drops because you do know. You know exactly what he’s waiting for.
The word sits on your tongue—red. Simple. Final. It would stop everything.
But it won’t come.
“No?” His thumb strokes once, twice, maddeningly gentle against your feverish skin. “Then I’ll make it easy for you.” His voice drops, taking on that edge that makes your pulse stutter. “Three seconds. Say it or I’m not stopping.”
Your breath catches. Every nerve ending screams that you can’t, that you’re too wrecked, too sensitive, too much—
“One.”
The word is right there. Red. Your lips part.
“Two.”
His fingers trail higher, barely a whisper of touch, and you tremble. Your mouth stays open, empty.
“Three.” He waits one more heartbeat, eyes locked on yours, searching. When nothing comes—when you just stare back at him, panting and wrecked and silent—something shifts in his expression. Satisfaction, dark and absolute. “That’s what I thought.”
“Let daddy in.”
Your thighs fall open slowly, a surrender that feels like defeat and relief tangled together. He drags the blunt head through your slick and slaps it against your clit—wet, obscene—once, twice, just to watch your whole body jump. When he pushes in—slow, deliberate, watching every micro-expression that crosses your face—the oversensitivity makes you keen, a broken sound that's half-sob, half-moan.
“Good girl,” Hongjoong murmurs, and doesn’t move. He stays buried to the hilt, making you feel every inch, every slow pulse. Your walls flutter around him and he hisses through his teeth. “Still.”
“Daddy—” You twitch, trying to adjust to the obscene fullness, and his hand clamps your hip hard enough to bruise.
“I said still.” His voice is steel. He shifts a mean millimeter deeper, a promise you’re going to hate loving. “You said you ‘can’t’ anymore? Cute.” He settles like a stake driven into the earth. “Then be useful.” Hongjoong’s hand lifts your thigh and hooks your knee higher, forcing the angle open until the stretch sits deep and electric. “Keep Daddy’s dick warm,” he says, bored and cruel.
Heat licks up your spine. Hongjoong doesn’t thrust. He doesn’t have to. You try to breathe around it. He shifts another millimeter—just a cruel reminder of his thickness—and the sound that leaks out of you is humiliating.
You twitch—instinct, pathetic—and his cock slides against a nerve that makes your whole body jolt. You try to chase it, hips rolling a greedy inch before you can stop yourself.
“Did I say you could move?” His voice cuts through the haze, razor-clean. His palm slams your hip back to the mattress, pinning you flat with bruising force. “Greedy little sleeve. One rule. You can’t even manage one.”
A wrecked whimper leaks out. The stillness is torture—every ridge, every vein, the obscene stretch of him pulsing inside you while your body screams to grind, to rub, to take. Your thighs tremble. Your toes curl like you’re trying to scratch at the air.
“Please—” you gasp, voice shaking. “I need—”
“You need?” He laughs, low and mean. “You need to learn to take what you’ve given.” His fingers dig into your hip, owning the flesh. “Move again and I pull out. I leave you empty and leaking with your little hole clenched around nothing. Is that what you want?”
“N—no, Daddy, please—”
“Then be fucking still.” He settles a breath deeper, a hateful inch that makes you sob, and holds you there like a knife sheathed to the hilt. “Keep me warm like I told you.” His mouth brushes your ear, the smile audible. “Stop acting like a desperate slut who can’t control herself.”
You feel the words burn through you; your walls flutter helplessly around him. You can’t stop the tiny drag of your hips—barely there, shameful—and he feels it immediately.
“Ah‑ah.” He smiles against your cheek.
“Please—” It scrapes out of you, ragged.
“Please what.” Flat as a verdict. “Use your stupid mouth.” His thumb strokes your jaw, mock‑gentle.
Your body shakes with effort. Your calves cramp. “Please—” The word fractures before it can form, dissolving into a sound that’s barely human—just need and surrender wrapped in breath.
The fullness skates the edge of too much; oversensitivity turns every slow beat into bright heat. Hongjoong only watches, pleased and dark, while you struggle to hold still around him. A whimper leaves you, broken and desperate.
“Quiet,” he says, almost bored. “Toys don’t whine.” He shifts deeper just to hear the noise you make. “Hands flat. Eyes open. Count your breaths if you need to. Don’t twitch.”
You count breaths because he told you to and lose the thread at eight, at nine, at nothing, because your body betrays you—tiny flutters you can’t control. Each one earns you a hum against your temple, a lazy squeeze at your throat that says he felt it.
“Pathetic,” he croons finally, sounding pleased.
“Daddy—” slips out again, ruined.
“What do you think you’re going to ask for? You’re full. You’re not getting more. You’re keeping me.”
“Please—”
“Please what?” His voice goes flat. “No babbling, no noise. Full sentence. Ask to be used.”
Shame burns hot. “Please use me, Daddy.”
“Mhm.” He rewards you with a single, slow grind that rolls through you like thunder, then stops dead. “Ask better.”
Your throat tightens. The words stick—humiliating—but his silence is worse, patient and hungry, like he has all night to watch you crack. “Please use me however you want, Daddy,” you whisper, voice breaking. “I’m yours—I’m just—please, I need you to—”
“Need me to what?” His thumb traces your bottom lip, almost tender in a way that makes you want to sob. “Say it clear or I’ll sit inside you and watch you shake until morning.”
“Please fuck me,” you gasp, shame scorching every syllable. “Please—use me like the toy I am. I can’t—Daddy, wreck me, please—”
“There it is.” His smile cuts wicked against your jaw. “See? Useless little mouth can learn.” He drags out of you slow—obscenely slow—until only the tip sits at your entrance. The loss rips a whimper out of you. “Since you asked nicely.”
He slams back in with no warning. Your toes curl hard enough to hurt. Your nails bite your palms. You don’t move. You don’t dare.
“Better,” he decides, and finally gives you motion—small, shallow, nothing like mercy. Short, ruthless strokes that never leave you, just rock deep enough to make your breath hitch on every one. “Count them.”
“One,” you whisper. “Two.” By four your voice shakes. By seven it thins to air. By ten you’ve lost the number and he has to murmur it for you against your mouth, amused.
“Ten,” he says, and nips your bottom lip. “Hopeless little counter.” He pulls out to the edge again and you whine without meaning to. He catches your chin hard. “What did I say about whining?”
“Toys don’t whine,” you breathe, panicked and obedient.
“That’s right.” He slides back in, the stretch a bright, tearing relief, and sets a new pace that is nothing like earlier—just deep and slow and devastating, like he’s proving he can keep you here forever.
You feel it rising again—desperation clawing up your throat, that helpless way your body starts chasing friction on its own. Your hips twitch forward, greedy without permission. His fingers bite down instantly.
“Stop.” Ice-cold.
But you don’t. You can’t. You’re wrecked and stupid with need, and your body rolls again—small, hungry little pulses that betray every order he’s given you. A whine slips out, high and broken.
“Daddy, please—I can’t—I need more, please—”
“You can’t?” His voice drops to something dangerous. “Or you won’t?”
“I can’t—” Another whimper. Your hips buck again, chasing the friction he’s withholding, and the sound that leaves you is pathetic. “Please, Daddy, I need—need you to move, need it harder, need—”
He goes dead still inside you. The absence of movement is worse than any punishment.
“Greedy little thing,” he says, tone flat with disappointment. “I give you my cock to keep warm and you can’t even manage that without turning into a whining, desperate mess.”
“I’m sorry—” You’re babbling now, words tripping over themselves. “I’m sorry, Daddy, please—just—please fuck me, I’ll be good—”
“You’ll be good?” He laughs—sharp, cruel, joyless. “You’re not being good now. You’re being a greedy slut who can’t follow a single fucking instruction.” His hand slides from your hip to your throat—fingers wrapping lightly. Your pulse hammers against his palm. “I don’t like you like this.”
It hits like a slap. Shame floods hot and immediate, and still your body trembles, still clenching around him, still needing.
“Please—”
“Please what? Please keep giving you what you clearly can’t handle?” He shifts just enough to make you whine, then stops again. “You’re not ready for more. You can’t even take what I’ve already given you without falling apart.”
“I can—I can take it—” Your voice breaks on a sob.
“No.” Firm. Final. “You can’t. Look at you. Shaking and whining and begging like you forgot how to be still.” His thumb strokes your throat once—almost gentle, which makes it worse. “I told you to be useful. Instead you’re being pathetic.”
The disappointment punches something open in your chest. You force yourself still—every muscle screaming—swallowing the whine clawing up your tongue. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, small and wrecked. “I’m sorry, Daddy.”
He watches you for a long, measuring beat. Then, slowly, he withdraws completely. The emptiness is a knife.
“Daddy—no—please—”
“Quiet.” The word drops like a brick. He stays out of you, cock wet against your slit, heat without mercy. “You want more when you can’t even fucking hold still?” His laugh is flat and ugly.
Your chest hitches. “Daddy, I—”
“Don’t talk.” He drags the swollen head through your slick once, slow, and you gasp like a drowning thing. The emptiness screams. “You don’t get my cock. You get consequence.”
“Do you want Daddy to go find himself another hole?” His words hit like acid, eating under your skin. “A quiet one. An obedient sleeve that doesn’t twitch, doesn’t whine, doesn’t make me repeat myself like I’m training a puppy.”
“No—” It tears out of you, small and panicked. “No, Daddy, please—”
“No?” Hongjoong sounds almost curious, like he’s already halfway out the door. “Because you’re not acting like you want to keep me. You’re acting like a spoiled toy that forgot what it’s for.”
“I do—I want to keep you—” Your voice breaks. “Please don’t—I’ll be good, I promise—”
“You promised to stay still five fucking minutes ago and look where that got us.” His thumb drags across your bottom lip, cruelly tender. “Maybe I should find a hole that knows how to listen. One that doesn’t babble, doesn’t beg, and doesn’t forget every rule the second it gets full.”
The image scalds—him leaving you empty and shaking while he goes somewhere else—and the sob that rips free is ugly.
“Please, Daddy—please—I’ll do better, I swear—don’t leave, please don’t, I need you—”
“Need me?” His voice goes flat. “You need to learn to fucking behave.” He drags the head of his cock on your swollen clit like a threat and your body jerks up desperately. “See? Even now you can’t stay still.”
“I’m sorry—I’m sorry—” Tears slip hot into your hair. “I’ll be good, I promise, please just—stay—”
“One. More. Chance.” Soft and lethal. “You twitch, you whine, you breathe wrong—and I’m done with you tonight. I’ll go find that quiet hole, and you can hump the sheet and think about why I left.”
The burn in your eyes sharpens.
“Say the rule.”
You swallow. “Keep—keep you warm.”
“At a minimum.” He taps the head against your clit again—light, mean—once. Your twitch and his hand locks your pelvis to the mattress with bruising pressure. “And you couldn’t even fucking do that.”
“I’m sorry,” you whisper, shaking.
“I don’t want sorry. I want silent, still, useful.” He lays the fat tip at your entrance and holds it there. “Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to keep me right here and not twitch. You breathe wrong, we reset. You beg wrong, we reset. You whine, you don’t get me at all.”
“Daddy—”
“Start.” His thumb presses your throat, not choking, just owning. “Five breaths.”
You count, voice wrecked and tiny. One. Two. Your body claws for friction and he hears the minuscule drag in your hips like it’s a confession.
“Reset,” he says, bored. The head lifts off you. The loss is a knife. He sets it back and you whine before you can strangle it.
“Reset.” He smiles without warmth.
Shame burns through you. “Please—” You bite it off and force your lungs to move. One. Two. Three. At four he ghosts the head forward—no entry, just stretch on the skin—and you hiccup a sound you barely recognise.
“Reset,” he repeats, almost amused now. “We’d be done by now if you weren’t such a needy fuckup.”
“I can do it.”
“Doubt it.” He pats your cheek condescendingly. “But try again.”
You count, lips trembling. One. Two. Three. Four. Five.
He stares down at you, unimpressed. “Now thank me for not fucking you.”
The sentence scrapes your throat raw. “Thank you for not fucking me, Daddy.”
He hums, pleased—and disappointed anyway. “Again, like you mean it.”
“Thank you for not fucking me,” you rush the words out, “For making me still. For making me useful.”
“Finally.” The head presses, a murderous inch, then stops dead inside—no thrust, just fullness that feels like a verdict. You choke on a sound; his fingers tighten on your jaw.
“Now you hold me there and you don’t move,” he says, low and lethal.
Your body locks into place, every muscle screaming against the stillness. The stretch sits there—barely inside, not enough, too much—and he doesn't move. Just watches you shake around that single cruel inch, his expression flat and clinical, like he's studying how long it takes before you break again.
He watches your thighs quiver around that single inch like he’s timing a lab experiment. “Three breaths,” he says, voice clinical. “Earn another inch.”
You breathe. One. Two. On three your belly flutters; he feels it. The head slides in a second inch and stops dead. You whimper through your teeth.
“Again. Three.”
You make it, barely—every nerve screaming—and he feeds you another inch like he’s measuring with a ruler. “See?” he murmurs, disappointed anyway. “When you shut up and follow orders you almost pass for useful.”
“Daddy—”
His palm covers your mouth, not to mute, to own.
He waits, indifferent to the shake, then seats the rest in a slow, inevitable push and locks your hips to the mattress. Utterly full. Utterly still.
“There.” His fingers tap your jaw, condescending. “Now ask me for nothing.”
You swallow hard, nod against his palm because language might ruin you. He smiles—cold, pleased—and starts the smallest motion imaginable, a cruel internal drag that never lets you chase. Your body tries anyway. He feels the microscopic reach.
“Aaand there she is,” he sighs, disgusted.
“On your fucking knees,” he says, voice flat and final. “Ass up.”
He pulls out completely—the emptiness is brutal—and you scramble to obey, limbs clumsy with need. Your knees hit the mattress, your chest drops, and you arch your back the way he likes, presenting yourself like an apology.
“Higher.” His palm cracks across your ass—sharp, unforgiving—and you gasp, lifting until your spine curves obscene. “There. Now stay exactly like that and think about why you're here instead of full of my cock.”
The air feels too cold on your exposed cunt. You hear him move behind you, deliberate and unhurried, and the anticipation is its own kind of torture. His hand smooths over the curve of your ass once—almost tender—then his palm comes down again, harder. The sound cracks through the room.
“Count.”
“One,” you breathe, shaking.
Another, lower—right on the tender hinge where ass meets thigh. You jerk, then wrench yourself back into place.
“Two—”
“Louder. Like you fucking mean it.”
The next lands before your mouth can catch up. You yelp. “Three!”
“Better.” He pauses, fingers trailing through the slick mess between your thighs, not giving you anything, just reminding you what you're not getting. The touch is featherlight—clinical, almost—and it makes you ache harder than if he'd pressed down with intent. Your clit throbs where his knuckles barely graze it, swollen and desperate, and the emptiness inside you feels like a wound. Every nerve ending screams for more.
“Why are you here?”
“Because I couldn’t stay still—couldn’t—”
“Because you’re greedy.” The slap is vicious and precise. “Four.”
“Four,” you sob.
“Because you take what I give you and immediately beg for more like it’s not enough.” His hand comes down again, twice in quick succession, and you lose count, scrambling to catch up.
“Five—six—“
“Pathetic.” He sounds disgusted and pleased at the same time. His knuckles skim the burn, then slide meanly through your slick, circle your clit once and abandon it like a test you failed. The touch makes you clench around nothing, empty and aching, every nerve ending screaming for more pressure, more contact, more of him. The abandonment feels like a punishment you can’t name—your body chasing something he’s already taken away. “Still dripping. Still desperate. Still not listening.”
“I’m sorry, Daddy—”
“You will be.” His fist knots in your hair, yanking your face off the sheet. “We keep going until your body remembers how to obey. You twitch or gasp wrong, we reset to one.”
The next strike lands; you choke the whimper into your teeth and hold. “Seven!”
“Let’s see you make it to ten without falling apart.”
Eight snaps high on the curve; nine brutal on the sit spot. You bite the inside of your cheek until you taste iron and force the numbers out steady—“Eight. Nine.”—and you don’t move.
Ten comes down perfect, right where it hurts prettiest.
“Ten.” Your voice is raw but even. Silence drops heavy around it.
“Look at that,” he murmurs, palm smoothing over the heat, reverent like he’s polishing his work. “Directions aren’t complicated when you’re not busy failing.”
His fingers trace the marks he’s left, then slide lower, through the slick mess between your thighs. You bite down hard on your lip to keep from making a sound, from pushing back into his touch.
“Don’t you dare chase,” he says softly.
You lock your hips but Hongjoong rewards you with nothing. Then—finally, cruelly—one slow circle on your clit that makes your calves charlie-horse and your lungs forget.
You wait. You hold perfectly still, thighs shaking, breathing shallow through your nose. You wait for the praise—for him to tell you you’re good, that you’ve finally done it right, that you’ve earned something. The silence stretches. His thumb stays maddeningly light, circling without pressure, and the words don't come.
They’re not coming.
The realisation settles cold in your chest even as heat coils tighter in your belly. He’s not going to give it to you.
“Please,” you whisper, a thread. “Please tell me I did good.”
Hongjoong’s hand stills. The silence stretches, and you feel the weight of his gaze on you.
“Ask properly.”
You swallow hard, forcing the words out even as shame and need tangle in your chest. “Please, Daddy. Please tell me I’m good. I need to hear it. I need to know I did well.”
His thumb resumes—tight, deliberate circles that you meet with perfect stillness because you want the words more than air. “You want praise?” he asks, almost curious. “After the shitshow you put on?”
“I made it to ten,” you rasp. “I stayed still. I didn’t move.”
“You finally did what you were told,” he concedes. Pressure sharpens and every muscle in you locks so you don’t grind into it. “Miracles.”
“Please,” you breathe. “Please, Daddy—”
“Shut the fuck up,” Hongjoong says, voice flat. His thumb stops mid-circle and lifts off entirely. “I didn’t ask for begging. I asked for obedience.”
The loss of contact is devastating. You bite back a whimper, holding position even as your thighs shake.
“You think making it to ten earns you anything?” He sounds almost bored now, disgusted. “That’s the bare minimum of not being completely fucking useless.”
Your eyes burn. You keep your face pressed to the sheet, don’t move, don’t speak.
“You want praise for doing what you should’ve done the first time?” His hand comes down once more on your ass. “For finally shutting up and following a simple fucking instruction?”
Silence. You don’t answer because he didn’t ask a question you’re allowed to respond to.
“That’s what I thought.” His fingers trail back between your thighs, maddeningly light, and you hold so still you forget to breathe. “You don’t get praise for meeting expectations. You get my cock when you exceed them.” His voice drops, cruel and clinical. “And you? You’re so far below the bar I’d need a fucking shovel to find where you started. You think ten slaps and some tears make you special? You’re not even average. You’re just finally less of a disappointment than you were five minutes ago.”
His fist knots in your hair again and yanks you upright—sharp, brutal—until your spine arcs and your knees scream against the mattress. Your scalp burns; your throat opens on a gasp you can’t swallow back.
“Look at me.” His voice is low, final. You force your eyes open, vision blurred, and meet his gaze. It’s flat. Clinical. Like he’s deciding whether you’re worth the effort.
“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” He tightens his grip until tears spring hot and immediate. “Attention. Validation. My fucking time.”
You can’t nod—his hold won’t let you—so you whisper it, wrecked. “Yes, Daddy.”
“Then stop fucking wasting it.” He drags you closer by the hair, your body folding backward, chest exposed, throat vulnerable. “Stop begging for praise you haven’t earned. Stop moving when I tell you to be still. Stop acting like you don’t know exactly what I expect from you.”
He releases your hair and you collapse forward, gasping. Before you can catch your breath, his hands are on your hips, hauling you upright and off the bed entirely. Your legs don’t work right—numb and shaking—but Hongjoong doesn't care, dragging you across the room until your palms hit cold glass.
“Hands flat,” he orders, positioning you facing the window. The city glitters below, oblivious. “Don’t you fucking move them.”
You press your palms to the glass, the chill biting into your overheated skin. The window is floor-to-ceiling, and you’re on the twentieth floor—exposed, visible if anyone bothered to look up. The thought makes your stomach drop.
“Daddy—“ you start, voice thin with panic.
“I don’t remember asking you to speak.” His hand lands between your shoulder blades, forcing your chest forward until your breasts press flat against the glass. The cold shocks through you, nipples hardening instantly, and you gasp at the contrast. “You wanted my attention? Congratulations. Now everyone down there gets a front-row seat to what happens when you finally shut the fuck up and do what you’re told.”
His breath is hot against your ear as he leans in closer, caging you against the window. “Look at them. All those people going about their boring little lives, and if even one of them glanced up right now, they’d see you—spread out, dripping, desperate. They’d see exactly what kind of slut you are. The kind who begs for cock pressed against a window twenty floors up.”
He grinds his hips forward slightly, not entering yet, just letting you feel the threat of it. “Think about it. Some guy walking his dog. Some woman coming home from work. And there you are—tits against the glass, ass out, waiting to be fucked like you’re on display. Like you’re a show I’m putting on for the whole goddamn city.”
He kicks your feet apart, wider than stable, until you’re on display—open, vulnerable. His hand trails down your spine, over the burning marks on your ass, then lower.
“Stay exactly like this,” he says, voice deadly calm. “Hands on the glass. Don’t move. Don’t make a sound."
You feel him line up behind you, the blunt pressure of his cock against your entrance. Your breath fogs the window. Every instinct screams to push back, to take what you need, but you lock your muscles and hold.
“Everyone can see you,” he says, breath hot against your ear as he leans over you, caging you between his body and the glass. “See how desperate you are.”
The angle is punishing. He bottoms out so deep you feel it in your throat then he pulls to the edge and shoves back in in one rude stroke. Your gasp splashes white on the glass. Hongjoong watches it bloom and fade and times the next thrust to erase it. He does not tease. He does not test. He just takes—hips snapping in a pace with no mercy—each impact a proof that your body belongs exactly where he’s putting it. When your thighs start to shake he only tightens his hand at your hip, grinding you into the glass so the cold bites your nipples and the heat bites everywhere else
Your reflection stares back at you—fucked out, wrecked, mouth open on silent gasps you’re not allowed to voice.
“This is what you needed,” he continues, rhythm brutal and unrelenting. “Not praise. Not softness. Just someone to put you exactly where you belong and fuck the desperation out of you until you remember how to behave.”
Your legs are shaking so hard you can barely stand, but his grip on your hips is iron, holding you in place, keeping you upright and on display as he uses you against the window.
You’re e so full. The stretch is devastating—not painful, but so complete it rewires every nerve ending, makes you hyperaware of every inch of him inside you. Your body clenches reflexively, trying to adjust, and the friction makes your breath stutter. He’s so deep you feel it in your stomach, a pressure that borders on too much but somehow isn’t enough.
The heat of him is overwhelming. You can feel every throb, every shift of his hips, the way he fills every space until there’s nothing left but him. Your walls flutter around his length, trying to accommodate, trying to hold on, and the sensation makes your head spin.
You feel owned. Claimed. Like your body was made specifically for this—for him to fill and use and shape however he wants. The thought makes you clench again, and you hear his breath catch behind you.
Hongjoong’s hand clamps your hip and drags you back onto him while his mouth finds the slope where neck becomes shoulder. He bites—hard, deliberate—until your breath splinters on the glass, then sucks wickedly slow to pull the bruise up dark and pretty. “Mine,” he says into the mark, not for you, for the mirror of your face in the window.
Rings grind into your skin as his fingers hike your waist higher, leaving crescent dents along your side. He shifts his grip to your ass and you almost hiss—the flesh is still burning from before, hypersensitive—but he doesn’t care, squeezing until your skin crests his knuckles. Then he smacks the same handprint in place—once, twice, a third time—each impact landing on already-raw skin that makes you gasp sharp and broken into the glass.
His mouth trails lower, teeth scraping the curve where your shoulder meets your throat. He sucks hard enough to sting, working the skin until you feel the heat bloom under his lips. When he pulls back, you know there's a mark—dark and obvious, a claim you'll see tomorrow and every day after until it fades.
“Everyone’s going to know,” he murmurs against your skin, moving to a new spot. His teeth catch again, sharper this time, and you whimper before you can stop yourself. He doesn’t scold you for it. Instead, he hums, pleased, and works his way across your throat, your collarbone, the top of your shoulder—each love bite deliberate, territorial. His tongue soothes over the marks before his teeth return, and the contrast makes you dizzy. Your reflection in the glass shows the trail he’s leaving. A constellation of bruises that spell out exactly who you belong to.
“Prettier when you bruise,” he murmurs, and you feel him smile against your throat. He shoves your wrists wider on the glass, laces his fingers over yours so you can’t hide the way you shake, and fucks you harder—short, piston drives that press your chest flat and stamp the rhythm into your spine. Your breath paints messy halos on the pane. Hongjoong leans forward and bites your ear, low laugh ugly against your skin.
His mouth moves to the curve of your neck, lips dragging slow over the sensitive skin just below your ear. The gentleness is unexpected—devastating. Your body doesn’t know what to do with tender after brutal, and the contrast hits like a live wire. He kisses once, soft, then again lower, and your breath catches wrong in your chest.
“Daddy—“ you try to warn him, but it comes out broken.
“Quiet,” he murmurs against your throat, and kisses you again. His lips are warm, almost reverent as they trail down to your shoulder, and the rhythm of his hips never falters—still deep, still unrelenting, but now paired with this impossible softness that’s unraveling you faster than anything brutal ever could.
It builds wrong. Too fast. You weren’t ready for it—one second you’re holding on, the next you’re free-falling, your orgasm slamming into you without warning. Your whole body locks up, spine arcing away from the glass as the pleasure rips through you in violent, uncontrollable waves. He feels the clamp coming—a greedy, panicked grab—and rips out in one brutal drag.
The world snaps wrong. Heat turns to air, slick to cold, friction to nothing. Your cry out raw and too loud, fog exploding across the glass in a white star. Your thighs slam together on instinct and find only his palm, flat and merciless, forcing your knees wide again. Everything skids, your body still pitched for impact while the impact is gone, nerves misfiring, the ache in your belly pitching higher with nowhere to go. Your clit throbs, your calves seize, your nipples spark on the pane.
“Did I say you could cum, you filthy slut?” His voice is ice and venom.
”Please-” Your voice cracks into a ragged wail you can’t swallow. The sound embarrasses you even as it keeps coming-thin, high, animal-your chest scraping the glass as you shudder.
“Shut your fucking mouth.” Hongjoong’s hand clamps your jaw brutal and drags your open mouth to the window so you hear yourself against the pane-hot breath, pathetic little whimpers bouncing back. “Disgusting. Look at this mess.” Two fingers slide through the slick pouring out of you and slap your clit mean, the sting bright and metallic and your whole body jerks like a current ran through you. “Dripping like a bitch in heat. You’re fucking pathetic.”
He does it again-lighter, crueler-just enough to sharpen the ache and keep it blooming. “Greedy cunt couldn't wait, could she?” The cold on your front feels like punishment, the heat at your back feels like a dare. You can taste blood where you bit your tongue, you can feel his ring scrape your hip as he drags your pelvis higher and pins you there, open and empty and shaking. “Worthless little whore. Can’t follow one simple fucking rule.”
“Could’ve asked. Could’ve been good. But no-you had to be a desperate fucking cumslut,” he snarls at your reflection, voice dripping contempt. He paints your hipbone with your own slick like a stripe, degrading, then presses his thumb into the fresh bruise on your shoulder hard enough to make you gasp. “Now hold it and suffer.”
Your body argues in every language it has—fluttering, pleading squeezes at nothing, a pulse between your legs that hurts, a tremor you can’t stop—while he gives you exactly no motion where you need it and too much where you can’t take it. He bites the hinge of your jaw, sucks until colour swells up pretty and dark, and when your breath stutters toward that helpless climb again, he taps your clit once—just once—and the wave collapses with a sob that fogs the glass and runs. “Filthy fucking thing. This is what disobedient sluts get.”
Your body is betraying you—hips rolling in tiny, desperate circles even though he’s not inside you anymore, chasing friction that isn’t there. The orgasm he denied you earlier left everything raw and oversensitive, and now every nerve ending is screaming for release. Your clit throbs in time with your pulse, swollen and aching, and the emptiness inside you feels like a physical wound.
You can feel it building again—that terrible, inevitable climb. Your thighs are shaking so hard they might give out. Heat pools low in your belly, coiling tighter with each ragged breath. It’s different this time—sharper, more desperate, edged with something that feels dangerously close to panic because you know what happens if you fall over without permission.
“Daddy—please—” Your voice cracks on the plea. “I need—I can’t—”
The pressure builds and builds, your body pulled taut as a wire, every muscle locked in anticipation of a release you’re not allowed to have. You’re so close it hurts—that edge right there, shimmering just out of reach, and your body keeps reaching for it anyway, mindless and greedy and completely beyond your control.
His fingers barely touch your clit, just the ghost of pressure—and begin to circle with agonising slowness. Not enough to give relief, just enough to make everything worse. Each lazy pass sends sparks shooting through your nerves, stoking the fire instead of quenching it.
“You gonna try cumming again without permission?” His laugh is cruel against your ear, all sharp edges. His hand spreads over your throat, thumb under your jaw to keep your face to the window, forcing you to watch yourself fall apart. “Be still. Feel every second of what you don’t deserve. Feel it, you needy little whore.”
Your body doesn’t listen—can’t listen. The orgasm crashes through you anyway, ripping a broken cry from your throat as you clench and pulse around nothing. Your legs give out completely, only his grip on your throat keeping you upright against the glass as pleasure tears through you in waves you can’t control.
“Did I fucking say you could?” Hongjoong’s voice is ice.
Your vision blurs with tears—shame and oversensitivity and the cruel ache of cumming empty. “I’m sorry—I’m sorry—I couldn’t—”
“Pathetic.” He releases your throat and you crumple, legs buckling, but he catches you by the hips before you hit the floor.
Hongjoong peels you off the window by the back of your neck and walks you to the bed like he owns the hinge of every joint. The mattress hits the backs of your knees, he doesn’t guide you down so much as throw you, a bounce knocking a breathless sound out of you.
His hand cracks across your face—not hard enough to hurt, but sharp enough to snap your attention back to him. The sting blooms hot across your cheek, shocking you into stillness.
“Eyes on me,” he commands, voice low and dangerous. “Don’t you dare look away.”
He slaps you again—same cheek, harder this time—and the sound that rips from your throat is pure, shameless need. A moan, broken and desperate, that makes his eyes go dark.
“Fuck,” he breathes, almost reverent. His thumb traces the reddened skin, the heat of it blooming under his touch. “You like that, don’t you?”
Before you can answer, he slaps you again—lighter this time, almost playful—and watches your pupils blow wide. “Yeah,” he confirms, reading your body like a book he’s memorised. “You fucking love it.”
He’s on you a second later—knee between yours, shoving them wide—hands mean on your hips as he lines up and drives in with one brutal stroke that punches the air out of you.
“Quiet,” he snaps, palm clamping over your mouth. “Swallow it.”
Your moan dies behind his hand, trapped in your throat where it burns. No easing, no rhythm—just slam, slam, slam—his pelvis clapping your thighs, the headboard starting to complain in hard little knocks that match your pulse. The angle is obscene with your hips tipped; each drag feels like he’s stripping you to the studs and hammering you back together wrong. Every sound you want to make gets caught behind his palm, building pressure in your chest until you’re choking on your own desperation.
“Look at me,” he grits. You do—eyes glassy—and it only makes him rougher. Heat builds thick and fast in your belly again, that off‑the‑cliff drop, the ache and burn at your clit. The sounds are wet and humiliating and loud, but your moans stay trapped—swallowed down like he ordered, leaving only the whimpers that leak through your nose and the desperate way you’re breathing against his palm.
Hongjoong’s close—you can feel it in the way his breathing saws, in the vicious set of his mouth, in the way his rhythm goes intent and ugly, grinding at the end of each thrust like he’s carving his name into the spot that makes you see static. His hand stays firm over your mouth, forcing you to take it in silence, to keep every wrecked sound locked inside where only you can feel how thoroughly he’s breaking you apart. You catch the first stutter in his hips and reach for him without thinking, greedy, pleading.
“Don’t.” The word is a snarl. He stuffs you full and holds there, cock thick and pulsing inside you, then drags out slow enough to scrape sparks and snaps back in hard enough to jolt your spine. “You don’t deserve Daddy’s cum.”
The sentence lands like a slap. Heat spikes behind your eyes; your body clenches around him in panicked apology.
“Please—” you manage against his palm, the word muffled and desperate.
“You need to learn.” Another slam—deep, punishing—and the next rolls through you like thunder, heavy grind at the end that drags a high, torn sound from your throat.
Your hands scramble for purchase on his shoulders, nails digging in, but he catches both wrists in one hand and pins them above your head. His other hand finally leaves your mouth.
“Please,” you sob, shameless now. “Please fill me—please let me have it—I’ll hold it—I’ll be good—”
He laughs—short, cruel—breath burning your cheek. “Will you?” His hand slides to your throat, thumb under your jaw to tilt your face up so he can watch you fall apart. “Say it properly.”
“Please, Daddy,” you gasp, voice breaking on the word. “Please cum inside me. I need it. I need you. I’ll keep it. I’ll—” Your voice knifes up because he grinds just right and the lights stipple again. “Please—I’ll be useful—please—”
His control frays; you feel it in the nasty little shiver that runs through him, in the way he clamps your hip like it’s the only thing stopping him from painting you from the inside. He bares his teeth, eyes sharp and dark. “Beg better.”
“Please—use me properly—mark me from the inside—please, Daddy—”
“Mhm.” The sound is a threat and a promise. He slams you deeper, deeper, harder—headboard knocking time, breath brutal at your ear—then rips out at the last second and fists himself once, twice, the wet slick of you shining his length while you wail.
“No—no, please—" The words tumble out desperate and broken. You reach for him with shaking hands, shameless now, all pride dissolved. “Please fill me up—mark me—use me—” You’re babbling, hips canting up obscenely, trying to tempt him back.
His eyes darken as he watches you fall apart, a cruel smirk playing at his lips. “Look at you,” he breathes, voice dripping with condescension. “Begging like a bitch in heat.” His fist keeps working himself, slow and deliberate, making you watch every stroke.
Your thighs spread wider without him asking, presenting yourself like an offering. “Please cum in me—I'm begging—I'll do anything—” Tears stream down your face, your voice cracking. “Need to feel you—need Daddy’s cum so bad—please don’t waste it—please use my hole.”
“Shut the fuck up.” His voice is dead calm, which makes it worse. “You think you deserve Daddy’s cum?" He laughs—short, cruel. “No. You’re going to lie there empty and watch me waste it. Watch what you don’t get to have.” His eyes are vicious, mouth twisted. “Pathetic little cumslut can’t even follow simple fucking rules. Open your eyes wider. I want you to see every drop you’re not getting.”
“Please, Daddy,” you sob, voice breaking on every word. “Please use your cumslut—please fuck me —I’ll be so good—I’ll take everything—please.”
You look at him—eyes glassed, mouth open, body clenching on nothing—while he edges himself cruelly, letting every half-breath of relief flash and die on his face. He squeezes himself hard, strangling the tremor, and lets the edge bleed away while you sob beneath him, trembling empty and open.
His hand fists in your hair, “What are you?"
“A slut,” you whimper, shame burning through you.
“A what?” He pulls harder, making you gasp.
“A pathetic slut—Daddy’s pathetic slut—”
“That’s right.” He releases your hair with a shove, letting your head fall back against the mattress. “And you love it,” he continues, voice dark with satisfaction. “Love being Daddy’s desperate fucktoy. Love being used and degraded and filled up like the greedy whore you are.”
“Yes,” you sob, because it’s true, because you can’t deny it when your body is still trembling with need.
“Tell me what you are.”
“I’m Daddy’s greedy whore,” you gasp out, shame and arousal twisting together. “I’m a desperate cumslut—I’m pathetic—I need you—”
“Fucking right you do.”
Then he flips you onto your stomach before you can process it, one hand shoving between your shoulder blades to pin you flat. The sheets are hot against your cheek, your breath trapped in the mattress.
“Stay down," Hongjoong orders, voice low and mean behind you. You feel him shift, feel the mattress dip as he repositions, and then his hands are on your hips, dragging them up, arching your back until you’re presented exactly how he wants you. You’re face-down, ass up, completely exposed with no way to see what he’s doing, no way to brace for what comes next. Your fingers twist in the sheets.
“Daddy—” you start, voice muffled.
“No,” he cuts you off. “You don’t get to look at me. You don’t get to see if I’m close. You just take what I give you and be grateful.”
He lines up and shoves in without warning, the angle deeper like this, meaner. Your cry gets swallowed by the pillow as he sets a brutal pace, hips slamming against your ass with each thrust. The sound is obscene—skin on skin, the wet slide of him inside you—and you can’t see any of it, can only feel and hear and drown in it.
“You’re lucky Daddy loves your hole,” he growls, and the words hit like a brand. His hand comes down hard on your ass, the sharp crack echoing in the room. The sting blooms hot and immediate, and you whimper into the pillow.
“Lucky I don’t leave you empty and aching.” He punctuates it with another thrust, deeper, meaner, grinding at the end until you’re sobbing. “This greedy little cunt,” he mutters, almost to himself. “Always so desperate for me. Always begging so pretty.”
“Say it,” he demands. “Say you’re lucky.”
“I’m—I’m lucky,” you gasp out, voice wrecked and muffled. “I’m lucky Daddy loves my—”
“Louder.”
“I’m lucky Daddy loves my hole,” you sob, shame and arousal twisting together until you can’t tell them apart.
“That’s right.” His rhythm turns vicious, each thrust punching the words back into you. “Don’t you forget it.”
“Please, Daddy—please—I'll do anything—I'll be so good—please just fill me—please cum inside me—” You sob again, pushing back against him even though you know better, trying to take him deeper. His breath hitches and you chase it, sensing weakness.
His hand finds your clit immediately, two fingers pressing down with just enough pressure to make you jolt. “This what you needed?” he asks as he starts to rub tight, mean circles that have you gasping.
“Yes—fuck—yes, Daddy—” You can barely get the words out, your whole body arcing up into his touch. His fingers work your clit in ruthless little circles while he fucks into you, the dual sensation making your vision blur at the edges.
“Gonna make you cum on my cock this time,” he growls. “Gonna feel you squeeze me while you fall apart.” His fingers speed up, the pressure perfect and devastating, and you’re already so close you can taste it.
“Please—Daddy—I can't—” Your voice breaks, thighs shaking so hard you can barely hold yourself up. The pressure builds too fast, too much, coiling tight in your belly until it feels like something’s going to snap.
“You can,” he snarls, “You will. Show Daddy what a good little slut you are.”
The angle shifts just enough and suddenly you’re there again—past the point of holding back, past the point of control. Your orgasm slams through you with brutal force, and this time it’s different. Wetter. Your whole body locks up as you gush around him, soaking his cock, the sheets, making a mess you can’t stop even if you wanted to. The sound that rips from your throat is inhuman.
“Fuck—” Hongjoong chokes out, and his rhythm shatters. “Fuck—that’s it—” He feels you clenching and pulsing around him, feels the hot rush of your release, and it destroys him. Three more brutal thrusts and he’s gone, slamming deep and grinding as he finally, finally fills you. You feel every pulse, every throb as he empties himself inside you, his groan low and wrecked against your spine.
His hips stutter through the aftershocks, grinding shallow like he can’t bear to pull out yet. Your body is still twitching, still clenching around him in weak little aftershocks while his cum starts to leak out around where you’re joined. He stays buried deep, breathing hard against your shoulder blade.
“Good girl,” he finally murmurs, voice hoarse. “Such a good fucking girl for me.”
He doesn't pull out. Instead, his hips roll forward again, fucking his cum deeper into you, the obscene wet sound making you whimper. “One more,” he growls against your ear, his voice rough and commanding. “Give me one more.”
“Daddy—I can’t—” Your voice breaks, oversensitive and wrecked, every nerve ending screaming. It hurts—the drag of him inside you feels like fire, too much sensation on already brutalised nerves. You try to squirm away but his grip on your hips is iron.
“You can.” His hand slides back to your clit, fingers still slick, and starts those same ruthless circles. The first touch makes you sob—it’s too much, bordering on painful, your body trying to reject the stimulation. “You’re going to cum on my cock again with my cum inside you. Going to make a bigger mess.”
The sensation is overwhelming—too much, too sensitive—and it hurts. Each thrust feels like he’s grinding against raw nerves, the wet slide obscene and filthy but painful in its intensity. You can feel his cum leaking out around him, coating your thighs, but all you can focus on is how much your body is screaming at you to stop.
“Daddy—please—it hurts—” you sob, tears streaming down your face.
Hongjoong stills immediately. Completely. His fingers freeze on your clit, his hips lock in place, and the sudden absence of movement is almost jarring after the relentless intensity.
“Colour,” he demands, voice cutting through the haze with sharp clarity. “Give me your colour right now.”
You’re gasping, trying to process the question through the overwhelming sensations coursing through your body.
“Green,” you manage to choke out between sobs.
“Don't lie to me.”
“Green,” you repeat, more firmly this time despite how wrecked your voice sounds. “Promise—it's green—just hurts—overwhelming— don’t stop”
“I know,” he murmur gently, his hips moving again. “I know it hurts, baby. Just breathe through it.”
You try to obey, gasping for air, and somewhere in the burning oversensitivity, something shifts. The pain doesn’t disappear, but it starts to blur at the edges, transmuting into something else. Your body adjusts to the intensity, and suddenly the hurt starts to feel good—sharp and bright and desperate.
“Feel that?” he asks, grinding deep. “Feel how full you are? That’s all Daddy’s cum, and you’re going to squeeze it out when you cum again.”
“Please—” The word comes out broken because you don’t even know what you’re begging for anymore. His fingers work your clit with practiced cruelty, and the oversensitivity that was making you sob is suddenly driving you higher. You can feel it building again—impossibly, devastatingly—your wrecked body finding another peak despite everything.
“That’s it,” he encourages, voice dark with satisfaction. “Knew you could take it. Feel you getting close again. Such a greedy little thing. Can’t get enough of daddy’s cock, can you?”
“No—no, I can't—” you gasp, pushing back against him mindlessly. The pressure builds impossibly fast, sharp and brutal and bright now instead of painful. Every nerve that was screaming in protest is now singing, driving you toward the edge with vicious intent.
“Come on,” Hongjoong growls, his fingers pressing harder, circling faster. “Give it to me. Show Daddy what a mess you can make.” His cock grinds deep, hitting that devastating angle. “Cum on Daddy’s cock right fucking now.”
Your body obeys before your mind catches up, the orgasm ripping through you with devastating force. You clench around him so hard it hurts, your walls spasming and tightening in a vice grip. The sound you make is broken and desperate, somewhere between a scream and a sob.
“Fuck—” Hongjoong chokes out, his rhythm faltering. “Fuck—you’re so tight—” His voice breaks on the last word because you’re squeezing him so hard he can barely move, your body milking him with each brutal pulse. “Gonna make me—fuck—”
He doesn’t get to finish the sentence. Your cunt clamps down on him one more time and it destroys him completely. He slams deep with a guttural groan, grinding against you as he cums again, harder this time, filling you even fuller. You feel every throb, every pulse as he empties himself inside you for the second time, his whole body shuddering against your back.
“That's my good girl,” he gasps out, voice wrecked. “Making such a pretty mess for Daddy. So fucking tight—milked it right out of me.”
You gush again—harder this time, wetter—your body wringing itself out around him in pulsing waves while his cum floods you. The release is so intense it borders on violent, liquid heat flooding between your legs, soaking everything. You feel it run down your thighs, hear it drip onto the already-ruined sheets, and the humiliation of it only makes you clench harder, forcing more of his release to leak out around where you’re joined.
“There it is,” Hongjoong breathes, reverent and filthy at once. “So fucking messy for me.” His hips keep grinding shallow, working you both through it, forcing every last drop out while you shake and sob beneath him. “Such a good little squirter. Making Daddy so proud.”
Your whole body goes limp, muscles giving out completely. You collapse face-first into the mattress, boneless and used, trembling with aftershocks. Hongjoong finally stills, cock still buried deep, and lets his weight settle against your back. His breathing is ragged against your neck.
“Perfect,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your sweat-slick shoulder. “You did so fucking perfect, baby. Squeezed me so tight I couldn’t help it.”
You can’t move, can’t think, can barely breathe. The sheets beneath you are soaked—cum and your own release mixing in a cooling puddle. Hongjoong shifts slightly, cock still buried deep, and you whimper at the oversensitivity. You can feel how full you are, how much he’s filled you, and it leaks out in thick rivulets with even the smallest movement.
When he finally pulls out, the loss is immediate and devastating. You whine—high and broken—feeling unbearably empty after being so full. His cum starts to leak out in earnest now, thick and warm, dripping down your thighs in slow rivulets. The sensation makes you shudder.
“Shh,” Hongjoong soothes, his hand stroking down your spine. He shifts his weight, hands sliding under your shoulders as he carefully rolls you onto your back. Your body settles against the mattress, and you feel more of his cum leak out with the position change, thick and warm between your legs.
“There we go,” he murmurs, settling between your spread thighs. “Look how much Daddy filled you up. So much it can’t even stay inside.”
You whimper, hips twitching uselessly, body still trying to clench around nothing. The emptiness feels wrong after everything, like you’ve been carved hollow. More of his release spills out with each aftershock, and you can feel it cooling on your skin.
“So pretty like this,” he murmurs, almost to himself. “All fucked out and dripping. Made such a mess of you.” His thumb drags through the slickness, spreading it further, and you keen at the oversensitivity. “My perfect mess.”
You can’t form words, can only lie there trembling while he touches you with a gentleness that feels almost cruel after everything.
“Good girl,” he whispers, and the praise makes something warm bloom in your chest despite your exhaustion. Your body is wrecked, oversensitive, every nerve ending raw and singing. But when his fingers brush over your entrance again, gathering more of the mess he’s made, you find yourself pushing back into the touch despite the sensitivity.
“Oh?” Hongjoong’s voice lifts with surprise, his fingers stilling. His eyes darken as he watches you move against his hand—mindless, instinctive—seeking more despite everything. Despite being so thoroughly fucked out that coherent thought is impossible. “Still greedy for it, baby? Even with that pretty head all empty?”
You can't answer with words—don't even fully understand the question—but your body knows. Your hips roll weakly against his palm, chasing the touch with clumsy desperation. A soft whine spills from your lips, needy and thoughtless. Parts of you crave the continued touch. The emptiness feels worse than the sting.
“Greedy thing,” he murmurs, but there’s wonder in it now, not just teasing. His fingers slide through the mess again, more deliberately this time, and you whimper. “Even after I fucked you senseless. Even after you came so hard you soaked the sheets twice. You still want Daddy’s touch.”
“Puh—please,” you manage, the word barely forming through drool-slicked lips, voice completely destroyed and slurred beyond recognition.
Hongjoong’s expression shifts—something possessive and tender at once. “Okay, baby,” he soothes. “Daddy’s got you. Always got you.” His fingers circle your entrance gently now, gathering the cum that’s still leaking out and pushing it back inside with careful pressure. The sensation makes you gasp, oversensitive but good, filling that devastating emptiness just slightly.
“There,” he whispers. “Is that what you needed? To stay full?”
You nod frantically, pushing against his hand, and he obliges—two fingers sliding in deeper, keeping his release inside you. The stretch is almost too much on your abused walls, but it’s what you want. What you need.
“Such a good girl,” he praises softly. “Taking everything Daddy gives you and still asking for more.”
His fingers work slow and steady inside you, and something in your brain just... shuts off. The constant buzz of thoughts, the ability to form coherent words—it all dissolves into nothing but sensation. Your mouth falls open, soft moans spilling out with each gentle thrust of his fingers.
“There she goes,” Hongjoong murmurs, watching your expression go slack with satisfaction. “There’s my girl. Nothing left in that pretty head but how good Daddy makes you feel, huh?”
You can’t even nod properly, just a loose movement of your head, eyes unfocused and glassy. Another moan slips out, breathy and mindless. His fingers curl slightly and your hips twitch, but there’s no urgency to it—just your body responding on pure instinct while your mind floats somewhere far away.
“Look at you,” he says softly, almost reverent. “Fucked you so good you can’t even think anymore. Just my empty-headed baby now, aren’t you?”
“Mm,” is all you can manage, the sound quiet and blissed-out. Your eyes flutter, struggling to focus on his face. Everything feels distant and warm, your body heavy and pliant beneath his touch.
“That’s right,” Hongjoong coos, his free hand stroking your cheek. “Don’t need to think. Just need to feel. Just need to let Daddy take care of you.” His fingers maintain that slow, gentle rhythm, keeping you full, keeping you floating. “Such pretty sounds you’re making. Can’t even form words anymore, can you?”
You shake your head—barely—another soft moan falling from your parted lips. The oversensitivity has melted into something dreamlike, each movement of his fingers sending lazy waves of pleasure through your wrung-out body. There’s no edge to chase anymore, no building tension—just the mindless contentment of being touched, being full, being his.
“Perfect,” he whispers. “Absolutely perfect like this.”
His hand slides up from your hip, palm warm against your ribs as it travels higher. When he cups your breast, thumb brushing over your nipple, you keen—high and broken. The sensitivity is different here, less raw but somehow more direct, each touch shooting straight through you.
“So responsive,” Hongjoong murmurs, watching your face as he rolls your nipple between his fingers. Your back arches weakly, pushing into the touch despite your exhaustion. “Even here. Every part of you is so fucking sensitive for me.”
His fingers inside you curl slightly in time with the pinch of his other hand on your nipple, and the dual sensation makes your eyes roll back. Another mindless moan falls from your lips, your body responding without thought, without control.
“That’s it,” he coos, switching to your other breast, palm kneading gently before his fingers find that peaked bud. “Just feel it, baby. Don’t think. Just let Daddy play with you.” He tugs slightly and you whimper, hips twitching against the fingers still buried inside you. “So pretty when you make those sounds.”
His touch alternates between gentle and firm—thumbs circling your nipples, palms pressing against the soft weight of your breasts, fingers occasionally pinching just hard enough to make you gasp. Each touch keeps you floating in that mindless space, pleasure washing over you in slow, lazy waves.
“Could play with these all day,” he murmurs, dipping his head to press a kiss to the curve of your breast. “Watch you fall apart from just this.” His tongue flicks out, circling your nipple before his lips close around it, and you gasp—the wet heat of his mouth making everything sharper, more intense.
Hongjoong sucks gently, tongue working the sensitive bud while his fingers continue their slow rhythm inside you. Your hands find his hair, holding on weakly, not pulling—just needing something to anchor you. When he grazes his teeth across your nipple, your whole body jolts, a strangled sound escaping you.
“Good girl,” he whispers against your skin. “Taking everything so well. My perfect, empty-headed doll.”
Your thighs shake harder now, trembling under his attention, muscles twitching with aftershocks that won’t stop. Each suck of his mouth, each curl of his fingers inside you makes them quiver more violently, until you can’t keep them still even if you tried.
“Joong,” you whimper, his name barely coherent, your voice destroyed and small. His mouth releases your nipple with a wet pop, switching to the other side, and the attention makes your back arch off the mattress weakly. “Can’t—too much—”
“Shh, I know, baby,” he soothes, releasing your breast to press kisses along your sternum. His fingers slow inside you, gentling their rhythm as your thighs continue to tremble uncontrollably. “But you’re doing so well for me. Just a little more, okay? Let me take care of you.”
You nod weakly, unable to do anything but submit, your body no longer your own—just something for him to play with, to care for, to keep floating in this mindless space. Your thighs won’t stop shaking, trembling against his sides as he settles between them again, and you can feel more of his cum leaking out despite his fingers still working to keep it inside.
“One more, baby,” he whispers against your lips. “Give Daddy one more and then I’ll let you rest.”
You manage to look at him through heavy-lidded eyes, vision blurred and unfocused. It takes effort to keep them open, each blink longer than the last. His face swims above you, features soft and concerned, and you can barely make out the dark intensity of his gaze.
“There you are,” he murmurs, his free hand cupping your face, thumb stroking your cheekbone. “Stay with me, baby. Just a little more. Can you do that for Daddy?”
You try to nod, but your head feels impossibly heavy, movements sluggish and uncoordinated. Another weak sound escapes you as his fingers curl inside you, and your eyes threaten to slip closed.
“Eyes on me,” Hongjoong coaxes gently, tapping your cheek to keep you present. “Want to see you when you fall apart one more time. Need to watch my baby come undone.”
It takes everything you have to keep your gaze on him, eyelids fluttering with the effort. His fingers work inside you with deliberate care, coaxing your body toward that edge one more time despite your exhaustion.
“That’s my good girl,” he praises softly. “Keep those pretty eyes on me.” His thumb finds your clit, circling with barely-there pressure, and your mouth falls open on a silent cry. “Almost there, baby.”
His hand moves from your face to slide two fingers past your parted lips. The touch is unexpected, gentle but insistent as they press against your tongue. Your eyes widen slightly, trying to focus on him through the haze.
“Suck,” Hongjoong commands softly, his voice dropping lower. “Show Daddy how good that mouth can be.”
You obey automatically, lips closing around his fingers, tongue working weakly against them. The taste is clean, just skin and the faint salt of sweat, and something about the act—the fullness in your mouth matching the fullness between your legs—makes you whimper around his fingers.
“Pretty,” he murmurs, watching your lips wrap around his digits with dark satisfaction. “Such a perfect mouth. Takes everything I give you so well.” His fingers inside you curl harder and you moan around the ones in your mouth, the sound muffled and desperate.
He pushes them deeper, making you gag slightly, and your eyes water as you struggle to accommodate them. “Shh, relax,” he soothes, easing back just enough. “Just like taking my cock. You can do it.” The comparison makes you clench around his other hand, and he groans. “Feel that? Your body knows what it wants.”
His thumb on your clit presses firmer now, circling with intent, and you keen around his fingers. Drool starts to leak from the corners of your mouth as you struggle to keep sucking, your jaw slack and uncoordinated. Everything is too much—the stretch in your mouth, the fullness between your legs, the relentless pressure on your clit.
“So messy,” Hongjoong says with satisfaction, watching the spit drip down your chin. “Can’t even keep it together anymore, can you? Just my brainless little toy.” He pulls his fingers from your mouth with a wet sound, dragging the saliva down your neck, your chest, leaving a glistening trail. “Open.”
You obey without thought, mouth falling open, tongue out. He leans down and spits directly onto your tongue, the act filthy and possessive, and you moan at the degradation of it. “Swallow,” he commands, and you do, throat working visibly.
“Good fucking girl,” he praises darkly. His fingers push back into your mouth, pressing down on your tongue, keeping your mouth open and exposed.
Your hand moves without thought, fingers wrapping weakly around his wrist. You pull it down, guiding it to your throat, settling his palm against the vulnerable column of your neck. The request is silent but unmistakable.
Hongjoong’s eyes darken immediately, understanding flickering across his face. “Yeah?” he asks, voice dropping lower. “Want Daddy’s hand around your throat while he makes you come?”
You nod as much as you can with his hand there, a desperate whimper escaping you. His fingers curl around your neck—not squeezing yet, just holding, the weight of his palm a promise.
“Please,” you manage, the word barely a whisper, and that’s all he needs.
His hand tightens around your throat, pressure building slowly, controlled. Not enough to cut off your air completely—just enough to make each breath something you have to work for, something you have to earn. The restriction sends your body into overdrive, every nerve ending lighting up as his fingers inside you curl relentlessly and his thumb grinds against your clit.
“That’s it,” Hongjoong growls, watching your face flush darker as the oxygen thins. “Give it to me. Come for Daddy one more time.” His grip shifts slightly, thumb pressing against your pulse point, and he can feel your heartbeat racing beneath his palm. “Feel how hard your heart’s pounding for me? Your body knows who it belongs to.”
Your vision starts to blur at the edges, stars dancing across your sight as the pleasure builds impossibly higher. His fingers don’t let up, working you with practiced precision, and you’re teetering right on that edge—desperate for release but unable to tip over without his permission.
“So fucking beautiful like this,” he murmurs, voice rough with awe and desire. “Completely at my mercy. Taking everything I give you so perfectly.” His hand loosens slightly, letting oxygen rush back in, and the sudden clarity makes everything sharper. “You'’re doing so well, baby. So good for Daddy. Just let go—I’ve got you.”
The praise combined with the pressure returning to your throat is what breaks you. The orgasm hits different this time—slower, deeper, rolling through you like a wave pulling you under. Your mouth opens on a silent scream, no sound escaping with his hand locked around your throat, and the deprivation makes everything more intense.
“Perfect,” Hongjoong breathes, watching you fall apart beneath him. “That’s my perfect girl. Look at you—so beautiful when you come for me. Did so fucking well, baby.” His hand stays firm on your throat through every wave, controlling even this, drawing it out until you’re shaking uncontrollably.
When he finally releases your throat, you don’t even gasp for air. Your body just goes limp, every muscle surrendering at once. Your eyes slip closed despite trying to keep them on him, and the last thing you register is his voice—distant, concerned—calling your name.
“Baby? Hey—” Hongjoong’s hand immediately cups your face, patting your cheek gently. Your head lolls to the side, body completely unresponsive. You’re still breathing—he can see your chest rising and falling—but you’re utterly gone, consciousness slipping away into the exhaustion he’s wrung from you.
“Fuck,” he mutters, but there’s no panic in it. Just concern mixed with something like awe. He carefully withdraws his fingers from inside you, and you don’t even twitch at the loss. More cum leaks out onto the sheets, but you’re too far gone to notice or care.
He shifts immediately into caretaker mode, moving with practiced efficiency. His hand stays on your face, thumb stroking your cheekbone as he checks you over. Your pulse is steady under his fingers when he presses them to your throat—the same throat he was just restricting. Your breathing evens out into something deeper, more peaceful.
“Did so good,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Too good. Gave me everything.” There’s pride in his voice, but also guilt—he pushed you right to your absolute limit and over it.
He stays close, watching the slow rise and fall of your chest, making sure you’re really okay. After a moment, he tries again, voice soft but insistent. “Hey. Baby, come on.” His hand cups your jaw, thumb brushing across your cheek. “Need you to wake up for me.”
You don’t respond, body still limp and unmoving. He sighs, shifting to sit beside you, one hand sliding to your shoulder to shake you gently. “Can’t let you sleep yet. We need to get you cleaned up first.”
Still nothing. Your breathing stays deep and even, completely out of it. Hongjoong’s expression softens, guilt flickering across his features again. He really wore you out this time.
“Okay,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you. “Guess we’re doing this the hard way.” He slides one arm under your shoulders, the other beneath your knees, lifting you carefully against his chest. Your head lolls against his shoulder, body pliant and unresisting.
He carries you toward the bathroom, your weight comfortable in his arms. “You’re going to be so mad at me later if I let you sleep like this,” he says quietly, nudging the bathroom door open with his foot. “All sticky and messy. You’ll complain for days.”
He sets you down carefully on the edge of the tub, one hand staying on your shoulder to keep you upright while he reaches for the faucet. Your head tips forward, chin nearly touching your chest, and he has to catch you before you slump completely.
“Baby,” he tries again, patting your cheek a bit more firmly. “Come on. Just need you awake enough for a bath. I’ll do everything else.” The water starts running, warm steam beginning to fill the small space as he tests the temperature.
Your eyelids flutter—barely, but it’s something. A soft, incoherent sound escapes you, and Hongjoong takes it as a victory.
“There you are,” he encourages, both hands cupping your face now, lifting your head. “Let’s get you in, okay?” He helps you into the tub, supporting your weight as he eases you down into the warm water. The heat envelops you immediately, and you let out a small, contented sigh.
He kneels beside the tub, one hand still steadying you, about to reach for the washcloth when your fingers weakly grasp at his wrist.
“With you,” you mumble, eyes still closed, the words barely coherent but unmistakable.
Hongjoong’s expression softens immediately, a quiet laugh escaping him. “Yeah? Want me to get in with you?” He doesn’t wait for another response—just climbs into the tub behind you, pulling you back against his chest. His arms wrap around you, steadying you in the water, and you let out a small, satisfied hum as you melt into his warmth.
“Stay still,” he murmurs against your skin, voice soft and gentle—so different from how he sounded minutes ago. His lips press to your shoulder, kissing over the marks he left there. Some are already darkening into bruises, others are just faint impressions of his teeth. He maps each one with careful attention, like he’s cataloging the evidence of what he did to you.
You lean back into him, boneless and pliant, letting him support your weight completely. The warm water laps around you both as he reaches for the washcloth, soaping it up with one hand while the other stays wrapped around your waist.
“You’re going to be so sore tomorrow,” he says quietly, dragging the cloth along your arms with gentle strokes. His lips find the curve of your neck, pressing soft kisses to the red marks his hand left on your throat. “I’m sorry, baby.”
“Don’t be,” you mumble, the words thick and drowsy. “Wanted it.”
He makes a soft sound—half laugh, half sigh—and kisses the bruise at the junction of your neck and shoulder, the one from his teeth. “I know you did. Doesn’t mean I can’t take care of you after.” The washcloth moves to your chest, your stomach, washing away the sweat and evidence of everything that happened.
His other hand comes up to tilt your head to the side, giving him better access to your neck. He kisses every mark there too, lips tender against the sensitive skin. “So pretty,” he whispers. “Even covered in bruises. Especially covered in bruises.”
You hum contentedly, eyes still closed, completely surrendered to his care. His hands are so gentle now—washing you clean, touching you like something precious. The contrast makes your chest ache in the best way.
“I love you,” you murmur, barely audible.
Hongjoong's hands still for just a moment before continuing their careful work. “I love you too,” he says against your shoulder, punctuating it with another kiss. “So much. Even when I’m mean to you.”
Especially when he’s mean to you, maybe—but that’s something you both understand without saying.
He brings the cloth to your inner thighs, cleaning away the evidence of your releases, his movements are especially gentle, aware of how sensitive you must be.
“Almost done,” he murmurs, pressing another kiss to your shoulder. The washcloth moves down your legs, over your calves, taking his time to make sure he’s gotten everything. You feel yourself drifting again, lulled by the warmth of the water and his tender care.
When he’s finished, he sets the washcloth aside and just holds you for a moment, his arms wrapped securely around your waist. You can feel his heartbeat against your back, steady and reassuring.
Something stirs in your chest—gratitude, affection, love.
With effort, you turn your head slightly, just enough to press your lips to his cheek. It’s a soft kiss, lazy and uncoordinated, but full of feeling.
Hongjoong goes still, then lets out a breath that sounds almost like relief. His arms tighten around you, pulling you closer against him. “What was that for?” he asks quietly, though there’s a smile in his voice.
“Thank you.”
His hand comes up to cradle the back of your head, turning to press his own kiss to your temple. “Don’t thank me for taking care of you,” he says softly. “That’s my job. Especially after I’ve wrecked you like that.” But his voice is warm, fond, and you can hear how much your simple gesture affected him.
You shift in his arms, turning more fully despite the exhaustion weighing down your limbs. The movement sends water sloshing gently against the sides of the tub, but Hongjoong adjusts easily, his hands sliding to your waist to help stabilise you as you face him.
His eyes meet yours—dark and searching, still carrying traces of the intensity from before but softened now with concern and affection. You lift one hand, fingers trembling slightly as they trace the line of his jaw, then cup his cheek.
“Hey,” he whispers, his own hand coming up to cover yours against his face. “You okay?”
Instead of answering, you lean in and kiss him. It’s slow and deep, nothing like the desperate, hungry kisses from earlier. This one is grateful, reverent—a thank you and an I love you and an I trust you all wrapped into one. Your lips move against his with deliberate tenderness, and you feel him sigh into it, his body relaxing as he kisses you back with equal softness.
His arms wrap around you properly now, one hand sliding up to cradle the back of your head while the other stays secure at your waist. He angles his head to deepen the kiss just slightly, still gentle but more present, more him. When you finally pull back, it’s only enough to rest your forehead against his, both of you breathing the same air.
You catch the softness in his expression—the way he’s looking at you like you’re something precious—and a small, teasing smile tugs at your lips despite your exhaustion. Your fingers trace lazy patterns on his chest.
“You know,” you murmur, voice still thick with exhaustion but laced with amusement, “for someone who just fucked me unconscious, you’re being awfully soft right now. What happened to the mean Joong from like ten minutes ago?”
Hongjoong’s eyes narrow slightly, though there’s a smile tugging at his lips. “Are you complaining?”
“No,” you say, still trailing your fingers down his chest lazily. “You’re just being so sweet.”
His eyes narrow slightly, though there’s amusement flickering in them. “You want him back? Because I can arrange that.”
“Mm, no,” you hum, leaning in to press a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I like this version too. All gentle and worried about me.” Your smile turns a little wicked. “It’s cute.”
“Cute,” he repeats flatly, though you can see the way his lips twitch like he’s fighting a smile.
“Very cute,” you confirm, your fingers walking up his chest to tap against his collarbone. “Taking care of me, kissing all the marks you left, being so—” You pause, pretending to search for the word. “—domestic.”
Hongjoong’s hand slides up to catch your wrist, his grip firm but not rough. “You’re lucky you can barely move right now,” he says, voice low, “or I’d remind you exactly how un-cute I can be.”
You laugh—soft and breathless—and let yourself collapse back against his chest. “See? Cute. You’re threatening me while holding me in a bubble bath.”
He groans, but his arms wrap around you again, pulling you close. “You’re impossible,” he mutters against your hair, but there’s no heat in it. Just fondness, and maybe a little exasperation. His hand strokes down your back in slow, soothing motions. “Rest. You’ve earned the right to be a brat for a few minutes.”
“Only a few minutes?” you tease, already feeling yourself starting to drift again.
“We’ll see how long my patience lasts,” he replies, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. But his tone is warm, and you know he’s not actually annoyed. If anything, he sounds relieved that you’re coherent enough to give him a hard time.
You shift again, the water rippling around you as you turn to face him fully. His hair is damp, some strands clinging to his forehead, others pushed back haphazardly. His eyes are dark and deep, watching you with that same careful attention he always has, like you’re the only thing that matters.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he murmurs, close enough that your breaths mix. His thumb strokes your cheek like he’s checking you’re really here.
“Like what?” you ask while your fingers starts tracing idle circles on his chest.
His gaze narrows, suspicious. “Like you’re about to start something.”
You tilt your head, considering him with exaggerated seriousness. “Maybe I am.”
A quiet, disbelieving laugh slips out of him. “You can barely keep your eyes open.”
“And yet,” you say, letting your fingers trace his jaw again, feather-light, “you’re still watching me like you’re trying to figure out what I’m thinking.”
His hand closes around your wrist—not tight, not controlling. Just there. Grounding. Possessive in a way that doesn’t hurt.
“I don’t have to figure it out,” he says. “I know you.”
“Oh?” You lean in, just enough to brush your mouth against the corner of his—almost a kiss. Almost. You stop a heartbeat short, letting him feel the tease in the pause. “Then tell me.”
His eyes drop to your lips. “Don’t get cocky,” he warns, but the warning sounds thin, like it’s already losing.
You hum, pretending to think about it. “I’m not cocky.”
He gives you a look that says liar.
You meet it without flinching. “I’m just… curious.”
“About what?” he asks, voice low.
You press a soft kiss to his cheek, then his jaw, then the place under his ear where you know it makes him go quiet. You feel his breath hitch, and it makes you brave.
“About how long it takes,” you murmur against his skin, “before you stop being sweet and start being mean again.”
He exhales a laugh—one of those quiet ones that means he’s trying not to show how much you got to him. His hand slides to the back of your neck, thumb brushing your pulse. “You’re teasing me,” he says.
You blink slowly, innocent on purpose. “Am I?”
He leans in, close enough that his nose brushes yours. “You should rest.”
You let your smile widen, just a little. “Make me.”
His gaze drops, then returns to your eyes, darker now. “Careful.”
You press a final kiss to his lips—soft, brief, unhurried—then pull back before he can deepen it.
“Or what?” you whisper.
He looks at you for a long second, like he’s deciding how honest to be. Then he tucks you closer, forehead to yours, and his voice goes quieter.
“Or I’m going to stop pretending I’m patient.”
You sigh like you’re satisfied with that answer, and let your eyes fall closed, still smiling.
“Mm,” you hum. “There you are.”
His jaw ticks. You feel it more than see it—the subtle shift in his expression that says you’re walking a line.
“You’re pushing,” he says quietly.
“Am I?” you ask again, tone dripping with false innocence. Your fingers trail down his chest, nails dragging just lightly enough to make him inhale sharp. “I’m just sitting here. Being good.”
“You don’t know how to be good,” he mutters, but there’s heat creeping into his voice now, the kind that makes your pulse kick up.
You tilt your head, letting your smile turn sharper. “That’s not true. I was very good earlier. You said so yourself.”
His hand tightens on your waist—just enough to make you aware of it. “That was different.”
“How?” you challenge, leaning in until your lips brush his ear. “Because you were in charge?”
Hongjoong goes still. Dangerously still. The kind of stillness that means you’ve officially gotten under his skin.
“Baby,” he says, voice dropping into that low register that usually makes you shut up and listen. But right now, it just makes you bolder.
“What?” you ask sweetly, pulling back to look at him with wide, innocent eyes. “I’m just asking questions.”
His thumb presses into your hip—not hard, but deliberate. A warning. “You’re being a brat.”
“Me?” You press a hand to your chest in mock offence. “I would never.”
“Liar,” he says flatly.
You bite your lip to keep from grinning too wide. “Prove it.”
His eyes flash. “You really want to do this right now?”
“Do what?” you ask, all fake confusion as your fingers walk up his chest again, tracing the line of his collarbone. “I’m just sitting here in this nice bath you drew for me, being so grateful—”
“—being a pain in my ass,” he interrupts, but there’s a crack in his composure now. You can see it in the way his gaze drops to your mouth, then back up. In the way his grip on you shifts, like he’s deciding whether to pull you closer or push you away.
You lean in, close enough that your breath ghosts over his lips. “You love it,” you whisper.
He stares at you for a long moment, expression unreadable. Then, slowly, deliberately, he smiles—and it’s not the soft, fond smile. It’s the dangerous one. The one that means you’ve successfully woken up the version of him that doesn’t play nice.
“Okay,” he says simply. His hand slides up to cup your jaw, thumb brushing your bottom lip. “You want to be a brat? Go ahead. But don’t complain when I remind you what happens to brats who push too far.”
Your stomach flips—half anticipation, half genuine thrill. You should probably back down now. You’re exhausted, barely recovered, and you know he’s serious.
But instead, you smile back at him, just as sharp. “Promises, promises.”
His eyes narrow. “Last chance.”
You press a quick, teasing kiss to his lips—there and gone. “Make me stop.”
He exhales slowly through his nose, like he’s physically restraining himself. “You’re going to regret this.”
“Maybe,” you say, trailing your fingers down his chest again, slower this time. “But that sounds like a future me problem.”
Hongjoong’s eyes sharpen. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?” you ask, innocent as a knife. “Use your words.”
His jaw ticks. For a second you can see the exact moment his patience runs out.
Then he moves.
His hand slides from your jaw to the back of your neck, grip firm enough to make your breath catch. “You want me to use my words?” he says, voice dropping low and dangerous. “Fine. Stop teasing me before I forget I was trying to be gentle with you.”
You roll your eyes at him, the gesture slow and deliberate—practically daring him to do something about it.
His grip tightens fractionally. “Did you just—”
“What?” you interrupt, blinking up at him with exaggerated innocence. “I didn’t do anything.”
“You rolled your eyes at me.”
“Did I?” You tilt your head, playing dumb.
Hongjoong’s stare lingers, heavy and unimpressed, like he’s deciding how much patience you’re allowed to borrow before he takes it back with interest.
“Yeah,” he says quietly, almost thoughtful. “You did.”
Before you can respond, he shifts—slow, deliberate—until you’re pressed back against the edge of the tub, his body caging yours.
He kisses you then—deep and consuming, the kind that steals the air from your lungs and replaces it with heat. His hand tightens at the back of your neck, holding you, and you can’t do anything but take it. His mouth moves against yours like he’s proving a point, like he’s reminding you who’s in control here, and it works. God, it works.
When he finally pulls back, your eyes are half-closed, breath coming in short, uneven gasps. You feel dazed, unsteady, like the world tilted and forgot to right itself.
He’s watching you, and there’s that smirk—slow, satisfied, dangerous. “Is this what you wanted?” he asks, voice low and rough.
You nod, still catching your breath, unable to form words yet.
His smirk deepens. “Yeah,” he murmurs, thumb brushing your swollen bottom lip. “That’s what I thought.”
i literally need everyone to read this masterpiece, pun intended
hey there, summerboy!
𝜗𝜚 Summer is finally here! But trying to take pictures of the beach is easier said than done, what with waiting for the heat haze to die down and all. So when a hot surfer named Satoru Gojo suddenly shows up out of nowhere, seawater dripping down his unfairly toned body, maybe you should kick your summer off with some coastal cardio.
content: smut, surferboy!Gojo, semi-public sex, hints at the next chapter, oral (f. recieving), p in v, making out, standing sex, praise, mutual orgasm, nipple play, creampie
wc: 2.5k
series masterlist
part one | >> (coming Friday)
Summer break is in full swing- the grains of pale sand beneath your towel are almost sizzlingly hot as the beach simmers under the heat haze, a sandy mirror to your skin under the sun. A single bead of sweat pools at your neck and drips between your collarbones; you should really be in the shade, but the polaroid you’re trying to take is more important than potential heatstroke.
Your skin, now glistening with a thin sheen of sweat and just a little darker than it was when you initially spread out your towel, might digress- but whatever.
The photo album you’re attempting to fill is sitting mostly blank and empty at home, sheafs of white pages sitting idle and waiting; hopefully, by the end of summer, you’ll have it almost full. The aim is to take a photo of virtually anything- you, the beach, the sky, food- but it’s easier said than done, apparently.
None of the pictures your camera feeds out to you are good enough. They’re either too sunny, poorly angled, or focus too much on the sand as opposed to the gloriously blue range of foamy sea you’re trying to capture forever upon glossy paper.
“Too bright. Again.” You sigh, regretfully tossing the most recent photo to the side. Maybe you’ll use it as a filler background in your photo album, along with a leftover receipt or something similar. The camera angles up again, held in your hands as you squint.
Your hand is positioned over the lens, in an attempt to shield the glass from the sun- it’s promising, more promising than any of the others, the sea and sand in perfect ratios.
Until the sun disappears altogether.
The frown on your face spells annoyed confusion- until:
“Heyyy, what’re you doing? You’re gonna burn with only that bikini on.”
You grimace, and mentally prepare to slide off your now too-dark sunglasses to the sight of just another sleazy beachgoer; instead, you’re smacked right in the shiny pupils with a complete wall of pale skin.
You gape. Holy shit- his abdomen is completely defined, perfect ridges of muscle you instinctually want to rake your nails down lead up, up, up to his arms, flexing just a little. And further up still, his face; sharp, mildly boyish grin tugging at his lips before you get to the eyes hidden behind darkened lenses.
You can see from here how blue they are, bright and electric and almost too much for you to gaze up at. “Hey.” He says, and you jump as he clicks his fingers in front of your face. “You’re staring, pretty. Not that I mind, but at least try to be subtle.”
He winks and it almost knocks the breath out of your lungs.
“I was-“ you start, thickly swallowing down the sudden wave of saliva slicking your mouth at the sight of the man’s happy trail, “-I was trying to take a picture, but you’re blocking out the sun with your surfboard.”
He smiles sharply, blue eyes brightening behind his round sunglasses. “Oops. Sorry.” He’s clearly not apologetic at all, trunks slung criminally low upon his lean hips as he runs a large hand through the salt-sprayed tufts of white sprouting from the crown of his messy head.
“Asshole.” You mutter under your breath, preparing to bundle up your towel and sign the entire attempt off as a bad idea, camera already slung in your tote.
“Gojo, actually.” He beams, “or Satoru. And it’s wayyyy too bright right now to even bother getting your little camera out.”
“I’ll just tan instead, then.” You snap at him, but he doesn’t seem to care at all- in fact, Gojo’s eyes just burn brighter, something intense and dazzling that rakes over your bare skin and makes you feel hotter.
Seriously, who gave him the nerve?
Annoyance bubbling more in hot veins as you lie on the sand, your heart starts doing traitorous things as you eye up the subtle flex of Gojo’s biceps when he swaps the hand holding onto his board.
He crouches down to your level, cerulean irises inconspicuously tracing the curve of your tits and the bead of sweat disappearing in the valley between them. “I could think of a better way to pass the time, if you’re interested.”
You gape, scandalised- there’s a slew of insults forming at the back of your throat, until you remember the entire conversation you’d had with Nobara the day before and you start to wonder.
“Geez, there’s a shortage, seriously.” She’d groaned over the phone, “the most we have is Yuji, and nobody wants to fuck him after he comes out of the sea- seriously, he looks drowned. Somebody should tell him.”
“Mmm.” You’d sympathised, coating your nails in a thin layer of glossy polish. “I’m going down to the beach tomorrow, just to take photos-“
“I can’t.” Nobara sighs, “busy. Buttttt, if you find a hot surfer, make sure to fuck him, m’kay?”
You’d laughed then at her stupid joke- she’s right, you’ve never seen a hot surfer up close- but now there actually was one in front of you, dripping seawater from his infuriatingly nice hair as more disappeared between his hips, who are you to deny your friend’s wish?
You sigh and thread your fingers with his waiting hand. “Okay.”
You’d half been expecting Gojo to drag you down into the sea’s foamy embrace, but he leads you somewhere different. A little alcove, hidden away from the rest of the beach but just as pretty, sand soft and warm beneath your feet. Or should you say foot, considering the other is propped loosely over Gojo’s shoulder.
“S’that tanning oil on your thigh, or are you just that wet?” He giggles, lips moving between your legs as he fingers your flimsy bikini bottoms to the side.
“Shut up.” You grit, tone lacking any real bite as your hips grind down onto his pink tongue, “f-faster.”
“Ooh, eager.” Gojo grins, thumb rolling over your clit as he shuffles closer on the beach to stuff his greedy mouth across the plane of your soppingly wet cunt. “I should’ve spoken to you sooner.”
“Huh?“ Your question comes out dazed, slurred by the lips sucking below.
He doesn’t bother replying, just flattens his tongue against you and drags it slowly. A moan echoes out of his throat, humming melodically against your sensitive skin and the flimsy attempt at control your tugging hand is presenting.
It should be criminal how good he looks between your thighs, your hand loosely tugging at snowy white hair while he keeps eye contact. How he’s so shameless is beyond you, eyes boring into yours as his tongue flicks through you.
Gojo pats your thigh as he stands, cock straining against his expensive-looking blue trunks. You aren’t quite sure how you’re distinguishing between expensive and cheap swimwear, but everything on Gojo looks expensive somehow- the glossy black lenses of his sunglasses, the way his voice drips from his mouth like sticky honey you want to lick up.
He loops your thighs beneath his hands. “Tuck.”
You do as asked, legs hitching up around his hips and your back flat against the rock. “Good girl.” He mutters, patting your ass lightly and grinning when he notices the way your pupils blow at the praise.
Your bikini is barely covering anything, your chest shoved into the eyeline of Gojo’s sunglasses, the patterned material designed for lazy tanning and not… this.
And Gojo takes full advantage of the slipping, skimpy pieces of fabric, wrapping his lips around your chest and mouthing softly at the skin. You whimper embarrassingly quickly, looping your arms around his neck when he switches sides to lavish attention on your other nipple.
“Hurry up.” You say, voice wobbling just a little when his tip rolls over your clit.
“Wait, I’m enjoying this.” Gojo groans against your sternum, “your tits are so pretty. Kept staring at ‘em on the beach.”
You flush. “You perv.”
He tilts his head to the side, pressing his mouth to your neck and suckling. “Couldn’t help it.”
He slicks himself up, fiddling with the hem of his trunks until they’re no longer an obstruction- and pushes in slowly. It makes your skin flare, hotter than it was under the beating sun even when you’re shaded by the rock. “Fuckkk,” he moans, “so tight-“
Your nails scrabble at his shoulders, milky skin painted with lines of red. “What did you- hnngh- mean, you should’ve spoke to me sooner?”
“What? Oh, yeah.” He grins dreamily, already lost on the feeling of your warm pussy clamping down on him, “saw you earlier, when I was walking to the sea- you were still messing with your camera then.”
The camera now lies gently placed upon the sand beside you, watching unseeingly as its owner gets fucked by a cocky surfer against a rock. Fuck, Nobara’s gonna flip! - you think vaguely, a smug smile tugging at your lips before it’s wiped clean off by a particularly mean thrust.
His skin tastes like seawater when you lean forwards, pressing your weight against his chest to rock downwards onto his cock. “Oh-!” You gasp quietly, hips jerking when he shifts his footing to hit just a little deeper.
“You feel- fuck- like, really good.” He laughs breathlessly, almost disbelieving as he stares into your eyes and flattens his hands against your skin.
The sun shines down on you, adding more heat you really don’t require. Your bodies are coated in a thin sheen of sweat, building over your skin and shimmering as Gojo fucks into you.
The waves on the beach are a calm, quiet contrast to the lewd moans bubbling up from your throat, catching on Gojo’s ears and making him redouble his efforts.
The breath inside your heaving chest is knocked from you, Gojo’s dripping tip mazing at your sensitive walls and just throbbing maddeningly away inside you.
The feeling is addictive- he fits perfectly, the raised veins settling around his length prodding at spots you didn’t even knew you had. His noises are just as addictive too, every moan setting something alight within your body’s reward pathway and spurring you on to clench down, squeezing his groans out of him.
“Hah- you’re pretty-“ Gojo pants into your ear, fingers still gripping at your flesh clamingly, “soooo pretty, m’glad he didn’t get to you first-“
He punctuates the ‘he’ with a particularly brutal slap of his hips on yours, fingers digging into your skin seemingly tighter in what feels to you like an unspoken claim.
You don’t get to ask who 'he' is, brow furrowed in sugarcoated confusion, because Gojo’s deft fingers start rubbing wonky, sloppy shapes on your clit and your brain blanks.
“Oh.” You moan dumbly, head tipping back onto the flat surface the rock provides. You’re lucky it’s smoothed over, eroded from centuries of tumultuous sea air and rising ocean tides, because with the jolting you’re experiencing your back would be ruined.
Although, it may as well be ruined- your coherency certainly is, a sparkly pool of drool forming on your tongue as the surfer you just met fucks you into oblivion.
His sunglasses slip down his nose, and you frustratedly push them up to sit wonkily in his hair. They’re slanted, the expensive-looking arms crooked as they grab at his ears, but Gojo only smiles.
“Th-thanks, baby.”
Almost in gratitude, he shoves his face forwards into your tits again. Without the barrier of his glasses, he can press his mouth against you even flusher, nip at your skin and leave marks.
Your spine curves up slowly, a pretty arch that makes Gojo groan when you inadvertently push your chest against his face more. It’s a telltale sign of your impending orgasm, you know, and the whines slipping out make it even more obvious.
“M’gonna- Satoru-“
“Yeah, I know.” He breathes, looking up to reveal the most gorgeous glimpse of cerulean, “with me, okay?”
You nod vehemently, eyes screwing up and your bare chest pushed closer towards his face as you arch up, stomach knotting and unknotting itself as you cum, hair plastered to your face.
He curses when he spills inside you, thick globs that soak your already ruined bikini bottoms and splurge out onto his cock. The sea laps on in the background, soothing waves a balm to your overstimulated head.
“You can take your photo now.” Gojo observes, tucking himself away and holding onto your unsteady arm.
“What?”
“Look, the sun’s moved.” He grins, rows of perfect teeth glinting as he guides you by your upper arms to look. “See?”
“Oh!” You blink before lifting your camera back up, squinting again into the eyepiece. “Wait, can you hold your surfboard for the picture? Thank you!”
He does as asked, laughing when you line up the shot of the mid-afternoon sun dazzling on the sea, surfboard just peeking into the corner of the polaroid. You beam when the camera spits the film out at you, glossy and perfectly captured.
“Satoru! Where are you?” Somebody yells- a man, and Gojo’s friend judging by the way he playfully rolls his eyes at you.
He looks down at the picture held in your hand. “Wow, good shot.”
You grin, just slightly fucked out and tired, but a glow pulling at you nonetheless. “Thanks.”
“Satoru!” The man yells again, “what are you doing?”
“Sorry…” Gojo sighs, tucking his surfboard under his arm. “Gotta go. Nice talking to you, though!”
You watch him bounce off along the sand, reinvigorated, and wince at the bright, fresh marks clinging to his back in nail-shaped crescents.
Later, in a half-effort to cool yourself off, you find yourself bobbing alone in the sea as your skin breathes in the salt. The waves are peaceful, reaching up to your shoulders as you float around aimlessly in your bikini.
You squint. “Is that…”
There, walking along the shore, is Satoru Gojo- practically glowing from the salt spray (amongst… other things, you think with a flush) and chatting animatedly to a long-haired man beside him.
Without thinking, he lifts the hand not grasping his drippingly wet surfboard and waves cheerily at you; you return it shyly, eyes still locked on the man silently smirking at the nail marks rippling down Gojo’s porcelain back.
What was it Gojo had said? Something about a mysterious “he” not getting to you first? It clicks then, your cheeks burning even as you sink further into the cooling water. Whatever Gojo is speaking about as they pad across the sand, his friend isn’t listening.
He’s looking at you, eyes upturned as he smiles casually, silently, along with whatever Gojo jokes about. They narrow in on you, bobbing in the sea, and your skin feels hot for the first time since you dipped into the water.
His inky black hair spills across his tanned shoulders, surfboard under his toned arm, and he winks directly at you.
Hm.
series masterlist | check out the photo album! | regular masterlist
a/n: first part posted, and I'd loveee to hear everybody's initial opinions!! I'm super excited to post all of these <3 As always, comments are appreciated, mwah!!
series tags (open): @angieunknown @sugarrie @sukunasl-ttywh0re @themoonknowsyourname @rengoatku @tellria @immortalkyodii @xxvendettaxx @iiamethereal @kaylarilla @shinrjj @patty2191 @tacitgrl @jetaimepark @sukunasrealgf @ilovebeansyay @kensqueent @spacesavvy @starlingy @kangpae08 @rvxtz @meikozzus @formula14life @megumiguro @bubblemgumjellyfish @notdafy @crystalmoonprismpower @v3rdee @lilfluffybunny @camswrld @eviewond3r @hanges-wife @sweetiibunny @birkinzz @sugarpiehoneybun @mimimochis
OH MY GODDDD BUSTED EVERYWHERE
jjk men + your shikigami
Synopsis: you sent over a cute shikigami to your overly powerful and capable boyfriend during a mission/battle Characters: gojo, geto, nanami, toji, choso, sukuna and yuta (as guest!) Format: SMAU
[an] i originally would've used pokemon as shikigamis but wth
[an] I wasn't gonna add yuta anymore but i thought it would be hilarious to have the massive rika react to a cute creature
unfortunately I’m not nonchalant, I will set you on fire
#sendbiceps - feeling bad? maybe some biceps can make it all better? these guys are willing to comply. -> SMAU FICS MASTERLIST!
a/n : heh, shoulda seen me as i went thru pinterest to find these.
i tried to make this as gender neutral as possible! sorry if i messed it up i tried my best
also idk if anyone else is on the taglist... lmk u wanna be here!!
TAGLIST <3 : @ram3nsukuna
