Yuyu ☀️

nsfw blog / 22

[jjonqseob]

bf texts with ateez PART 2

pairing: bf!maknaeline & f!reader

genre: smau and comedy

summary: the day after they got pegged by you

tws: swearing, mention of having sex and sex toys, mingi and woo just being freaks (like always), idk what else should I put here 😭

author's note: I had so much fun doing this omfg, english is NOT my first language, MDNI and enjoy :3

part 1

previously

masterlist

san

mingi

wooyoung

jongho

[ateezscupid]

Ateez Imagines: Getting pegged for the first time ♡

— Hyung Line: k.hj, p.sh, j.yh, k.ys

warnings ✩ pegging (obviously) sub!ateez, switch!fem reader, praise, degradation, dirty talk, edging, fingering (m receiving), handjob

tags ✩ @shinestarhwaa @felixs-voice-makes-me-wanna @starillusion13 @mingitheskzstan @jeonride @wooyoungisbaby @nyang3racha @hwakakeri @nnnarchives @ihavetoomanyfandomstobesane @v-lvs-yungi @hwashotcheeto @ja3hwa @kisaraginami @10nantscompanion @shhyesimmonroeagainpt2 @hwallazia @wisejudgedragonhairdo @10nantscompanion @hwashotcheeto @yeosang-dot-mp3 @akimkim @fruitcakebin @akimkim @k-pop-valda @onedumbho3 @yuyubeans @another-random-fanfic-blog @sinforsuccubus @/moonwalkerinaugust741 @yun-fangz @bnming @winklehwa @/meowmeeps @/kosmicbomb @lover-ofallthingspretty @writhingwrecked @jiwoongsblondehair @/ladymilkywayfortune

ATEEZ MASTERLIST / REQUEST

HONGJOONG

"Babe, I need to tell you something," Hongjoong said, his voice crackling with tension as he broke the silence of your cozy apartment. You looked up from your book, your eyes wide with curiosity. You’d known him for a while now, and when he talked like this, it was usually about something important.

"What's up?" you asked, setting your book aside and turning to face him.

Hongjoong took a deep breath. "You know how we've been trying new things in the bedroom?"

You nodded, your expression shifting to one of understanding. You’d been together for a year, and your relationship was marked by a spirit of adventure and openness. "Yeah, I've been lovin’ it," you said with a warm smile, reaching over to squeeze his hand.

"Well, I've been doing some reading," he began, his thumb tracing circles on your palm. "And I've been thinking about trying out some new kinks."

Your eyes lit up with interest. "Oh? What kind of kinks?"

"Well, there's one in particular," he said, his cheeks flushing slightly. "I've always been kind of curious about…pegging."

You leaned in, your curiosity piqued. "Pegging?"

"Yeah, y’know," he replied, a hint of shyness in his voice. "Like, when a girl uses a strap-on on a guy."

Your eyes grew even wider, and you couldn't help but chuckle a little. "Wow, that's..." you paused, searching for the right word. "Surprising."

"But you're cool with it?" he asked, hopeful.

You nodded, your smile never wavering. "If it's something you wanna try, then I'm all for it."

Relief washed over him. "Really?"

"Yeah," you said, your voice firm. "Long as we’re both happy and we both consent, I don’t see why not.”

Hongjoong felt his heart race. He'd been nervous about bringing this up, but your response was more accepting than he could have ever hoped for. "Thank you," he said, leaning over to kiss you. "Thank you so much."

Your eyes sparkled with excitement. "Luckily, I already own a strap-on," you revealed, your voice dropping to a seductive whisper. "I was just waiting for you to say something."

He pulled back, surprised. "You do?"

"Mmhmm," you nodded, your lips curling into a mischievous smile. "I picked it up a while ago, just to keep things interesting. The store I bought it from was having a sale, anyway.”

You decided to start slow, setting a date for your new adventure. The days leading up to it were filled with a mix of excitement and nerves. You talked about it in hushed tones, sharing your thoughts and expectations. You assured him that you’d be gentle, that you’d take it step by step, and that you could stop at any point if he felt uncomfortable.

On the day of your rendezvous, the tension in the air was palpable. You both agreed to set the scene, making your living room into a makeshift boudoir with candles and soft music. You wore a lacy lingerie set that made Hongjoong's pulse quicken, and you had the strap-on laid out on the bed, gleaming in the soft candlelight.

When the moment finally came, you approached him with the strap-on, your eyes locked on his. "Ready?" you asked, your voice a mix of excitement and concern.

He took a deep breath and nodded. "Yeah…yes, yeah," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "I'm ready."

You leaned over and reached for the bottle of lube on the side table. You squirted a generous amount onto your fingers, the sound echoing in the quiet room. You looked back at him, your eyes dark with anticipation. Slowly, you brought your hand to his backside, your touch sending shivers down his spine.

"Relax," you whispered, your breath hot against his ear. You began to circle his hole with one finger, applying gentle pressure. He tensed up at first, but your reassuring strokes and soft kisses along his neck helped him to ease into it. As you pushed your finger inside, he gasped, his body tightening around you. You waited for a moment, allowing him to adjust to the new sensation, before you started to move it in and out, the lube making it smooth and easy.

With each stroke, he felt himself relaxing more and more. He'd never felt anything like this before, but the pleasure was undeniable. He leaned into your touch, his cock growing harder by the second. He watched you in the mirror, your eyes focused and determined as you worked him open. It was a strange, vulnerable feeling, but it was also incredibly erotic, watching the woman he loved take control in such an intimate way.

As you added a second finger, he moaned, his eyes fluttering shut. The sensation was intense, but he was ready for more. He could feel your excitement building too, your breath quickening as you watched his reactions in the mirror. You leaned down and kissed him, your tongue dancing with his as you continued to prepare him for what was to come.

"Are you okay?" you asked, your voice soothing.

He nodded, his eyes still closed. "Y-Yeah," he breathed. "It feels... amazing."

You felt a thrill of triumph at his words. You’d read about the prostate, the male G-spot, and knew that if you could hit it just right, it would be an experience he'd never forget. You curled your fingers slightly and felt him jolt as you brushed against it. His eyes snapped open, and you watched in the mirror as his pupils dilated with pleasure.

"Oh, f-fuck," he murmured, his hips bucking involuntarily. You stilled your hand, giving him a moment to process the sensation. You could see the question in his eyes, the unspoken "W-What… was that?" But you just smiled and whispered,

"You're doing great," before resuming your slow, deliberate movements.

With each stroke, you grew bolder, applying more pressure to that sensitive spot. He was panting now, his body trembling with every touch. You could feel his muscles tightening around your fingers, and you knew he was close to the edge.

"Y-Y/n," he moaned, his voice strained. "I think I'm... I-I'm gonna..."

"Let go," you urged, your voice low and encouraging. "I've got you, baby."

And with that, you pushed your fingers a little deeper, your thumb pressing firmly against his prostate. The sensation was overwhelming, a wave of pleasure that crashed over him like never before. His body arched off the bed, his eyes squeezed shut as he let out a guttural cry. The orgasm was unlike any he'd ever experienced, a deep, intense release that seemed to start in his toes and work its way up through his entire body. He could feel the muscles in his ass clench around your fingers, his cock pulsing with every spurt of cum that painted the sheets.

When it was over, he collapsed back onto the bed, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. You gently withdrew your hand, a look of pure satisfaction on your face. "See?" you murmured, leaning down to kiss him softly. "It's all about exploration and trust."

Hongjoong nodded, his eyes still glazed over with pleasure. He could feel the sticky warmth of his release on his stomach, and his ass was still tingling from your expert touch. "Yeah," he managed to say, his voice hoarse. "It was... incredible."

Without wasting any time, you reached for the strap-on. You slipped it on with an air of confidence that made his heart race all over again. The sight of you, dressed in nothing but the lacy lingerie and the leather harness, was enough to make him hard once more. You grabbed his hips, your grip firm but gentle, and positioned yourself behind him. He could feel the coolness of the lubricated toy against his skin, and his nerves spiked in anticipation.

"Remember to breathe," you instructed, your voice calm and steady. "We're gonna take this slow."

He nodded, his eyes fixed on your reflection in the mirror. He watched as you pushed the tip of the strap-on against his now-sensitive entrance, applying just enough pressure to allow it to slide in. He gasped as you entered him, the feeling of fullness overwhelming. You waited for him to adjust before you started to move, your hips rocking in a slow, rhythmic motion.

The initial discomfort soon gave way to a building wave of pleasure. With every thrust, you hit that spot deep inside him that you’d found with your fingers, sending bolts of electricity through his body. He could feel his prostate swelling with each pass, the sensation growing more intense with every moment. He moaned, his hands clutching the bedsheets as he tried to hold on.

Your movements grew more deliberate, your breathing quickening as you found your own rhythm. You leaned over him, your breasts pressing against his back as you whispered sweet nothings into his ear. "Do you like it?" you asked, your voice a seductive purr.

"Y-Yes," he gasped, his voice strained. "Oh, G-God, yes-!”

Your eyes met in the mirror, and you gave him a wicked smile. "Good boy," you said, your voice dripping with desire. "Because I'm about to make you come again."

And with that, you picked up the pace, your hips slamming into him with more force. He didn't know how much more he could take, but he didn't want it to stop.

As you thrust into him, he reached down to stroke his cock, the sight of you taking him in the mirror pushing him closer to the edge. His orgasm built quickly, his body tightening as he neared the precipice. He watched as you pushed him over, your own climax written on your face as you moaned in pleasure. Your clit had been rubbing against the fabric of your underwear with each thrust.

Your bodies moved in perfect harmony, your cries of ecstasy echoing through the room. When you were both spent, you pulled out gently and removed the strap-on, collapsing beside him on the bed. You lay there for a moment, your hearts pounding in unison.

"That was..." he began, but the words failed him.

"Amazing,” you finished for him, your voice soft and filled with love. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

You held each other tightly, your breathing slowly returning to normal. It was a moment of pure intimacy, a new chapter in your sexual journey that had brought you closer than ever before. And as you lay there, tangled in the aftermath of your passion, you both knew that you were ready to explore whatever kinks and desires your hearts desired.

SEONGHWA

"Hey, Seonghwa," you called out, gout voice bubbling with excitement as you padded through the apartment in your socks. The floorboards were cool under your feet, a stark contrast to the warmth that suffused your cheeks. You had rehearsed this moment in your head for weeks, turning the words over and over until you were smooth as river stones.

Seonghwa poked his head out from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel. "Yes, dear?" he responded, the scent of simmering garlic and onions filling the air.

Your heart fluttered in your chest like a bird caught in a cage. You took a deep breath, your eyes locking onto his. "Can I help with dinner?" you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

He chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "You know I like cooking for you."

You nodded, feeling a mix of nervousness and anticipation. The kitchen was a cozy cocoon of warm light, the sound of sizzling oil and clinking pans creating a comforting backdrop to your evening ritual. You took a step closer, feeling the heat from the stove against your legs. "But I have a surprise for dessert," you said, your voice barely above a murmur.

Seonghwa looked at you, curiosity piqued. "Oh?"

Your hands trembled slightly as you reached for him, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind. You leaned in, your cheek against his back, and whispered, "I wanna… peg you."

The room went still, the only sound the persistent hiss of the stove. Seonghwa stiffened, the spatula hovering in the air. You could feel his heartbeat quicken against you.

The silence stretched on, thick and unyielding. You tightened your grip, your pulse racing.

Finally, he turned to face you, setting the spatula down with a clatter. His eyes searched yours, a question etched into the lines of his face. "You're sure?" he asked, his voice low and careful.

Your nod was firm, your eyes unwavering. "I’m asking you. Are you sure? I already have a strap-on.”

For a moment, the air between you two crackled with tension. Then, slowly, a smile spread across Seonghwa's face. He reached up, cupping your cheek with his hand. "Sure," he murmured, "But let's finish cooking first."

“Do you really wanna finish?” you tilts your head with a raised eyebrow, and he scoffs a bit, knowing you were right about him not wanting to finish cooking. The aroma of your dinner filled the room, but the anticipation of what was to come was stronger.

“I’ll just set a timer,” he says, turning back to the stove to do exactly that. The kitchen timer beeps obediently, acknowledging the temporary pause in your culinary endeavors. He turns back to you, his eyes smoldering with desire and a hint of apprehension. You can see he’s trying to keep his cool, but you know he’s just as eager as you are.

You move to the bedroom, the floorboards creaking under your weight as you leave the warm kitchen behind. The room is bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, a stark contrast to the harsh fluorescents of the university halls where your secret relationship had begun. The air is charged with excitement and nerves as you both stand before each other, the weight of your unspoken desires hanging in the air like a ripe fruit ready to drop.

Seonghwa’s eyes widen slightly when he sees the strap-on lying on the bed, gleaming in the candlelight. It’s a new toy, something you’d bought just for tonight. You’d done your research, watched videos, read articles – you wanted this to be perfect for both of you.

You sit on the edge of the bed, your knees touching. He takes your hand, stroking your knuckles with his thumb. “Are you nervous?” he asks, his voice gentle.

“A little,” you admit, your voice shaking. “Even though I’m the one who’s pegging you. So you should be nervous. But I trust you. And I know you’ll tell me if it’s too much.”

He nods solemnly, his eyes never leaving yours. “I’ve done my own research on this too… That’s why I’m not so nervous. And yes, I’ll tell you,” he promises.

You leaned in for a kiss, your lips parting slowly, tentatively. It’s a kiss filled with promise and love, a silent pact to explore this new part of your relationship together. His hand moves to the back of your neck, pulling you closer as your tongues dance together.

Breaking away, you grab the lube from the nightstand, your hand shaking slightly. You try to play it cool, but the excitement in your eyes gives you away. Seonghwa watches you, his own hands fumbling with his buttons, his shirt coming off to reveal his bare chest. You can't help but admire the way the candlelight plays off his muscles.

He lays back on the bed, the softness of the mattress enveloping him. You follow suit, kneeling beside him and gently guiding him to lie on his back. His eyes never leave yours as you straddle him, the warmth of your bodies melding together. The air in the room feels charged, as if the very molecules are vibrating with anticipation.

"I'll start with my fingers," you whisper, your voice barely audible over the thundering of your heart. You lean in, your breath hot against his ear, and he nods, his eyes closing in anticipation. You take a deep breath, your heart racing as you apply the lube to your fingers. You both tremble slightly, the moment feeling both surreal and incredibly intimate.

Your hand moves to his waist, sliding down to the button of his pants. He lifts his hips slightly to help you, and you feel his hardness against your palm. You take another deep breath, your pulse quickening as you unzip his pants. You’ve done this countless times before, but tonight it feels different – charged with a new kind of excitement.

With trembling hands, you slide his pants down, exposing his bare skin. He's already hard, his cock standing proudly against his stomach. You stroke it lightly, watching his face for any signs of discomfort or hesitation. His eyes are closed, his breathing deep and even.

"Ready?" you ask, and he nods, his eyes still closed. You smile, a mix of love and excitement lighting up your features and lean in to kiss him again. Your lips meet in a gentle, lingering kiss that seems to go on forever, your bodies speaking a language only you understand.

Your fingers trace a path down to his ass, the tip of one digit circling his hole. He tenses slightly, and you pauses, waiting for his signal. When he relaxes, You presses in, slow and steady, feeling him open up to you. The sensation is strange and thrilling, and you’re acutely aware of every little sound he makes, every twitch of his body.

Seonghwa's eyes fly open, and he looks at you, his pupils blown wide with arousal. "M-More," he whispers, his voice thick with need. You add another finger, your own heart racing in response to his. You’ve never felt so powerful, so connected to him.

The timer in the kitchen beeps, a jarring reminder of the dinner waiting for you. But neither of you care about the food anymore. You’re lost in a world of sensation, a place where only the two of you exist.

Your fingers dance around his prostate, finding the sweet spot with a precision that surprises even you. You can feel him tense and release, his breath hitching in his throat as you explore him. He gasps into Your mouth, the sound muffled by your kiss. His hand tightens around your wrist, urging you to go deeper, faster.

As you do, you wrap your other hand around his cock, your grip firm but gentle. You stroke in time with your fingering, feeling him throb against your palm. The rhythm builds, a crescendo of pleasure that threatens to overwhelm you both. You can feel him getting closer, his hips bucking up to meet your hand.

But you’re not ready for this to end yet. You pull your hand away from his cock, smiling at the whine of protest that escapes his lips. "Patience," you murmur, your voice low and seductive. You reach for the strap-on, your heart pounding in your chest.

Seonghwa watches you, his eyes glazed with desire. You slide the harness over your hips, adjusting it until it fits snugly. The feel of the cool leather against your skin sends a shiver down your spine. You’ve never felt so alive, so powerful.

The head of the dildo nudges against his entrance, and you feel his body tense. You pause, looking down at him, your breathing ragged. "Ready?" you asks, and he nods, his eyes never leaving yours.

Slowly, you pressed in, feeling the resistance give way as you fill him up. He gasps, his eyes rolling back in his head. The sound sends a thrill through you, and you starts to move, setting a rhythm that's both torturously slow and incredibly intimate.

His hands are on your hips, guiding you, urging you deeper. You can feel the warmth of his skin, the way his muscles clench around your fingers. You’ve never been so attuned to another person's body, so in sync with your needs.

You move together, the only sounds in the room your harsh breathing and the wet slap of skin on skin. His moans are music to your ears, and you knows you’re hitting all the right notes. The candles flicker, casting shadows across the walls, painting your bodies in a dance of light and dark.

As you pressed down on his prostate, he arches his back, his grip on your hips tightening. You can feel him getting closer, his muscles tensing around your fingers. You know he's close, so close, and you speed up, eager to watch him fall apart.

And then it happens. His whole body tenses, his eyes squeezed shut, and he cries out, his release spilling over your hand. You continue to move, letting him ride out the waves of pleasure, feeling his ass clench around your fingers.

When the spasms finally stop, you lean down to kiss him, tasting the salt of his sweat on his skin. He's panting, his chest heaving. You pull out, gently, and he relaxes, his eyes opening to meet yours. The look of pure ecstasy on his face is worth every nerve-wracking moment of anticipation.

You lie there, entwined in each other's arms, the candles burning low. The timer in the kitchen has long since stopped beeping, but the food is forgotten. This moment, this new chapter in your relationship, is all that matters.

Seonghwa's hand drifts down to your strap-on, his touch gentle and exploratory. "Your turn,"

YUNHO

The sun had dipped below the horizon, casting a warm orange glow over the city as Yunho pulled his motorcycle into the apartment complex's underground parking. He killed the engine and let out a contented sigh, feeling the gentle vibrations of the bike fade away. The smell of exhaust and leather filled the cool evening air, a stark contrast to the scent of blooming flowers that had been thick in the air during his ride. The world was quiet now, save for the distant echo of a closing garage door and the occasional murmur of a passing car.

As he climbed the stairs to the third floor, his thoughts drifted to his girlfriend, Y/N. He knew you’d be waiting for him, probably with dinner already made. You had a simple routine that he cherished. He reached for the door handle, the anticipation of your reunion making his heart race just a little faster.

When he stepped inside, the apartment was dimly lit, the only light coming from a couple of flickering candles scattered around the living room. You looked up from your book, your eyes sparkling with excitement. You set the book aside and slid off the couch, walking over to him in a way that made his knees feel a bit weaker than usual. You were wearing one of his old t-shirts, the fabric clinging to your curves in a way that made him swallow hard.

"You're back," you said, your voice a sweet purr that seemed to resonate through his entire body.

He nodded, smiling as he closed the door behind him. "Yeah," he said, his voice a little rougher than he'd intended. "Missed you."

Your smile grew mischievous as you stepped closer, your bare feet silent on the hardwood floor. "I missed you too," you murmured, reaching out to trace a line down his chest. "I've been thinking about something."

Yunho's eyes widened as you took his hand and led him to the bedroom. "What's that?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

You turned to face him, your expression a mix of excitement and nervousness. "I wanna peg you," you said, your cheeks flushing a delicate shade of pink. "I've been readin’ about it, and I think it could be amazing for us."

He blinked, taken aback by your sudden proposal. "Pegging?" he repeated, his mind racing. He'd heard of it before, but you’d never discussed it.

"Yeah," you said, your voice a little shakier now. "You know, I wear a strap-on and we can switch things up a bit."

Yunho felt a thrill of surprise, and a flicker of arousal at the thought of the power dynamic shift. He knew you were adventurous in bed, but this was a new level of intimacy you hadn't yet explored. He took a deep breath, looking into your eyes. "Okay," he said, his voice firm. "If it's something you really want to try, then let's do it."

Your face lit up, and you threw your arms around his neck, kissing him deeply. The scent of your perfume filled his nose, making him dizzy with desire. As you broke apart, you reached into your drawer and pulled out a velvet pouch. "I got this," you said, holding up a sleek black strap-on. "It's made of the softest material."

He took it from you, feeling the weight and the smoothness of it in his hand. His heart was racing now, a mix of nerves and excitement. Your eyes searched his face, looking for any sign of hesitation. "We can take it slow," you assured him, your voice gentle. "We'll use lube, and I'll be as careful as I can."

Yunho nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. He trusted you completely, and the thought of experiencing something new together was exhilarating. You undressed slowly, each piece of clothing falling to the floor like a silent promise of the intimacy to come. Your body was a vision, your skin glowing in the candlelight, and he felt his arousal growing as he watched you strap the device on.

You took his hand and led him to the bed, your bodies brushing against each other with every step. The anticipation was almost unbearable, his heart hammering in his chest. Your touch was gentle as you laid him down and began to stroke his cock, your other hand reaching for the lube. "I'll have to stretch you out first," you said, your voice low and seductive. "I'll use my fingers."

He nodded, his breath hitching as you squeezed a generous amount of lube onto your fingers. You leaned over him, your breasts brushing against his chest as you took his cock in your hand and began to work the lubricant around his opening. The coolness of the gel was soon replaced by the warmth of your touch, and he felt his body begin to relax, opening up to you. Your eyes never left his as you pushed one finger inside, your gaze filled with a mix of passion and concern.

The sensation was strange at first, a slight burn that quickly gave way to a fullness he'd never felt before. Your eyes searched his, gauging his reaction, and he nodded again, his voice barely a whisper. "Keep going."

With agonizing slowness, you added a second finger, your movements deliberate and precise. He could feel the muscles inside him stretching, accommodating you, and the sensation was both overwhelming and incredibly arousing. His cock grew harder in your hand, and he felt his body responding in ways he'd never expected. You worked him gently, your index finger circling his prostate as you stretched him wider, preparing him for what was to come.

The room was filled with the sound of your breathing, the occasional squeak of the mattress beneath you as you worked your fingers in and out of him. Your eyes never left Yunho's, watching for any sign of discomfort, your own arousal growing with every little gasp he made. You felt a thrill of power, of being the one in control, the one bringing him to new heights of pleasure. His trust in you was palpable, and it made your heart swell with love and desire.

Yunho's body tensed and then relaxed, his breaths growing shorter as you added a third finger. The initial burn had transformed into a deep, intense ache that was strangely pleasurable. He felt vulnerable, but safe in your care. Your eyes, usually so playful, were now focused and serious, and he knew you wouldn't push him further than he could handle. He nodded, his voice barely a murmur, "I'm ready."

You leaned in to kiss him, your tongue teasing his as you pulled your fingers out. You took the strap-on in your hand and positioned it at his entrance, the tip slick with lube. Yunho could feel his heart racing, the anticipation making him dizzy. You pressed it in gently, the soft material sliding in easily thanks to your careful preparation. He tensed for a moment, then sighed as you pushed it in deeper, filling him completely.

You took your time, exploring this new sensation together. You started with slow, shallow thrusts, your eyes never leaving his. You watched his face, studied his reactions, and adjusted your movements accordingly. Yunho's hand found yours, his fingers entwining with yours as you gripped the base of the strap-on. Together, you found a rhythm that made him moan, his hips rising to meet you.

The sensation grew, building like a crescendo inside him. The feeling of being filled by you, of you in control, was unlike anything he'd ever experienced. It was intimate and raw, and it was beautiful. His cock was rock-hard, begging for attention, and you didn't disappoint. You reached down, your hand wrapping around him, stroking him in time with your movements.

The world outside the bedroom faded away, replaced by the sound of your skin slapping together and your mingled gasps. Yunho's eyes rolled back in his head as you hit his prostate, sending waves of pleasure through his body. He could feel his orgasm building, a pressure that was both terrifying and incredible. "Y/N," he breathed, his voice ragged.

Your movements grew more urgent, your hips moving faster, and he knew you were close too with hoe your clit was rubbing against the inside of the strap-on. He watched you, the muscles in your arms tensing, your breath coming in pants. You leaned down, capturing his mouth in a kiss that was both tender and fierce, your tongues dancing together as your bodies moved in perfect harmony.

And then it was too much. Yunho's body arched off the bed, his orgasm tearing through him like a lightning bolt. He came hard, his cock pulsing in your hand as you continued to stroke him, your own body trembling with the force of your climax. You stayed like that for a moment, breathless and connected, before collapsing into a heap of tangled limbs and sated sighs.

The candles continued to flicker, casting shadows across the room, but you were lost in your own little world. You pulled the strap-on off, your body slick with sweat, and curled up next to him. "How was it?" you whispered, your voice filled with concern and excitement.

Yunho turned to you, a lazy smile spreading across his face. "Amazing," he murmured, brushing a lock of hair from your forehead. "I can't believe we've never done that before."

You grinned, your eyes sparkling. "There's so much more we can explore," you said, your voice filled with promise. "But for now, let's just bask in this."

And so you did, your bodies entwined, hearts racing, as you reveled in the afterglow of your shared experience. The air was thick with the scent of sex and candle wax, a testament to the uncharted territory you’d just explored together.

YEOSANG

"What's up with you and your weird fantasies?" you tossed your head back, letting out a peal of laughter.

Yeosang, caught off guard by your reaction, felt his cheeks flush. "It's not weird," he protested, his voice a tad defensive. "It's just something I've been thinking about."

You leaned forward, your eyes dancing with curiosity. "Okay, fine," you said, your smile teasing. "Tell me more."

He took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. "You know how we've been exploring different things in bed?" He paused, waiting for your nod. "Well, I read somewhere that pegging can be really intense for both parties. It's about trust and pushing boundaries, you know?"

Your expression grew thoughtful as you traced a finger along the rim of your wine glass. "I guess I can see that," you murmured, your gaze drifting off to the distant horizon. "But isn't it a bit... unconventional?"

"That's kind of the point," he replied, leaning in closer. "It's about trying new things together, growing closer."

The silence between you both stretched out, filled with unspoken questions and anticipation. Yeosang could feel the warmth of your skin and the sweet scent of your perfume, a delicate blend of vanilla and jasmine that always made his head spin. He waited for your response, his stomach in knots.

Finally, you took a sip of your wine, the red liquid leaving a trail of shimmer on your upper lip. "Alright," you said, your voice casual. “Cool. I’m pretty sure I bought a strap-on.”

Yeosang’s eyes widened. He hadn’t expected you to be so nonchalant about the whole thing. He felt his heart racing even faster, his mind racing with thoughts of what this could mean for your relationship.

"Where?" he managed to croak out, his voice thick with anticipation.

"In my drawer," you said, with a smirk. "I’ve had it for a while. You know, for when the mood strikes."

The revelation hit him like a ton of bricks. He had never thought you’d be so open to the idea, let alone already have the equipment. "Really?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

You nodded, your smirk growing into a full-blown smile. "Why not?" you said, reaching out to place a hand on his thigh. "I've always liked the idea of switching things up. It keeps things fresh, you know?"

Your touch sent a jolt of excitement through him. He had never felt more alive, more connected to you than he did at that moment. He took a sip of his own wine, trying to calm his nerves. "I just didn't know you were into that kind of thing," he admitted.

"Well, now you do," you said, your voice a purr. "And it's your lucky night, because I'm feeling particularly adventurous.”

The both of you finished your wine in silence, the anticipation hanging heavy in the air. Yeosang could feel his heart pounding in his chest, his body already reacting to the thought of what was to come. The candles flickered, casting shadows across the room that danced in time with your racing thoughts.

As you made your way to the bedroom, your hand slid into his, your grip firm and reassuring. You led him to the bed, where you pulled open the drawer and revealed the strap-on. It was sleek and black, with a curved shaft that gleamed in the soft light. Yeosang felt his stomach flip at the sight of it.

With a gentle touch, you began to undo his pants, your eyes locked onto his. He could see the excitement in you, the same thrill that he felt coursing through his veins. His shirt followed, and soon he was standing before you in just his boxers, his body trembling slightly.

You sat on the edge of the bed, your legs crossed. You reached out and hooked your fingers into the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down slowly. His erection sprang free, bobbing in the cool air. You took it in your hand, stroking it gently as you studied him. "You're so beautiful," you murmured, your voice low and sultry.

Yeosang felt a rush of love for you in that moment. He had never felt so exposed, so vulnerable, and yet so desired. You leaned in and kissed him, your tongue probing his mouth as your hand continued to work him. He could feel himself growing harder, his breath coming in short gasps.

When you broke the kiss, you slid your fingers down to his opening, gently pushing inside. He gasped, his eyes flying open. The sensation was new, a mix of pleasure and pressure that made him quiver. You moved your hand in a slow, steady rhythm, working him open as he grew more and more aroused.

Finally, you pulled away, your fingers glistening with lubricant. You stood up and put on the strap-on, adjusting it until it was snug. The sight of you, tall and confident, wearing the harness, was almost too much to bear. Yeosang couldn't help but stare, his body responding eagerly to the sight.

"Ready?" you asked, a wicked smile playing on your lips.

He nodded, unable to find his voice. You climbed onto the bed, straddling him. He could feel the head of the dildo pressing against him, the anticipation making him dizzy. You leaned down and kissed him again, your tongue dancing with his as you began to push inside.

The sensation was unlike anything he had ever felt before. There was pain, yes, but it was melded with a deep, intense pleasure that took his breath away. He clung to you, his nails digging into your back as you pushed deeper, your hips moving in a slow, steady rhythm that made him moan.

You took your time, letting him adjust to the feeling. You whispered sweet nothings into his ear, your breath hot against his skin. Yeosang could feel your love, your desire for him, in every stroke. It was as if you were claiming him in a way that no one ever had before.

As the initial shock subsided, Yeosang began to move with you, pushing back against you, meeting your thrusts with his own. The pain had morphed into something else, something primal and addictive. He never wanted it to end.

Your bodies moved together, a dance of love and lust that seemed to go on forever. Your hands roamed his body, your nails scraping against his skin, leaving a trail of fire wherever you went. Yeosang could feel his orgasm building, a pressure that grew with every thrust.

"H-Harder," he mumbled, his voice thick with pleasure. "P-Please, baby, harder."

You smile grew as you complied, your hips moving faster, more forcefully. The sound of your bodies slapping together filled the room, a symphony of passion that seemed to resonate in his very soul. Yeosang's eyes rolled back in his head as he lost himself in the sensation. He had never felt so alive, so wanted.

Whimpers and gasps escaped his lips as you pushed him closer and closer to the edge. He could feel every inch of you, the velvety softness of the dildo, the firmness of your thighs against his, the warmth of your breath on his neck. It was too much, and yet not enough.

"Oh god," he moaned, his hips bucking wildly. "It feels s-so good."

You leaned down, your breasts pressing against his chest, your breath hot in his ear. "You like it?" you whispered, your voice a seductive purr.

"Y-Yes," he whined, his voice high and needy. "I-I love it."

The words seemed to spur you on, your movements growing more erratic, more demanding. Yeosang could feel the tension coiling in his stomach, tightening like a spring ready to snap. He clutched at you, his nails digging into your flesh as he tried to hold on, to savor every moment of this newfound ecstasy.

And then it washed over him, a wave of pleasure so intense it was almost painful. He cried out, his body arching off the bed as he came, spilling his release between you. You didn't stop, your movements growing more frantic as you chased your own climax.

When you finally reached it, you collapsed on top of him, your breath coming in ragged gasps. You lay there, panting and sweaty, your hearts racing in time with one another's. Yeosang felt a sense of euphoria that was almost unbearable, his body still pulsing with the aftershocks of pleasure.

As you lay there, tangled in the sheets, you propped yourself up on one elbow, looking down at him with a glow in your eyes. "I knew you'd like it," you said, your voice filled with satisfaction.

He couldn't help but laugh, the sound muffled by the pillow beneath his head. "How could I not?" he replied, his voice still shaky. "It was... amazing."

You shared a smile, one that was filled with a newfound understanding, a deeper connection that transcended words. It was in that moment that Yeosang knew your relationship had reached a new level, one that was built on trust, love, and a willingness to explore the depths of your desires together.

And as you both lay there, your bodies still joined, the candles flickering out one by one, you knew that this was just the beginning of your journey into the uncharted territories of pleasure. The end of the night had brought you both closer than ever before, and the promise of a thousand more adventures lay just beyond the horizon of your passion-filled embrace.

[yuyueater]

𝐅𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥 — 𝐽𝑒𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑌𝑢𝑛ℎ𝑜.

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 ; Headcanons on how I think Yunho is as a feral boyfriend.

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ; Boyfriend!Yunho x Fem!Reader.

☆ — 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 272. ☆ — 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 : Smut. ☆ — 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : Jealousy, teasing, mention of having a baby, fingering intended, jerking off, creampies, headlock, oral (f!rec), mention of squirting, foot fetish, dick print, and fantasizing.

♡ — 𝐕𝐢𝐩 𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 ; @kissmatz @eggielix @miisanthropology @liaaaafixofff @chanscappuccino @eunseoksgirl @threepointstogryffindor @fixon-min send a ask to be added or removed!

A/N — I lwk forgot how to write 😭.

Feral!yunho who likes to tease you when he knows you can’t do anything about it.

Feral!yunho who tells you on a random tuesday that he wants to have a baby, all because he knows you’re ovulating.

Feral!yunho who likes when you sit in his lap while he’s gaming just to slip one hand inside your panties, he calls it ‘my stress relief’.

Feral!yunho who watches you get ready for the day, looking at you through the mirror like he wants to devour you whole.

Feral!yunho who likes to randomly facetime you just to make you watch him jerk off, all while knowing you’re out with friends.

Feral!yunho who goes through your following list and questions every male that’s on there.

— “I thought I told you, no other man.” “That’s literally my dad.” “I don’t care. No men means no men.”

Feral!yunho who puts you in mating press just to have the excuse of ‘not able to pull out in time’.

Feral!yunho who randomly puts you in a headlock throughout the day, just for another excuse to make you feel his bulge.

Feral!yunho who presses one hand on your lower stomach while he eats you out, he learned that it encourages a squirting response on accident one time and has done it ever since.

Feral!yunho who does suck your toes whenever you come home with a new pedicure.

Feral!yunho who wears grey sweatpants just to make his dick more noticeable.

Feral!yunho who likes to watch you swallow your drinks, just to simply think about the idea of you swallowing his cum.

[minkieater]

MINE | JEONG YUNHO

[yunho x fem!reader] yunho reminding you who the fuck you belong to | heed the warnings i’m not your mother: smut minors dni 18+, pwp, mean dom!yunho/hard dom!yunho, you call him sir, ownership, submission, desperation, p in v, oral m!receiving, facefucking, lots of heavy degradation, fingering, thigh fucking, orgasm denial/edging, restraining with a belt, pussy fucking (not inside☝🏻), lots of crying, cum eating, jealous yunho, he's not nice like at all. not even a little. another round to pregame aftercare. creampie. as always, let me know if i missed anything! wc 10.7k

⊹ ࣪ ˖ for my angel face lover girl @03jyh23, once the brainworms took over i really could not stop writing this. thank you for requesting, i hope i did mean dom jealous yun justice, i love playing with him. i feel like i had empty headed in my mind the entire time i wrote this, if you're reading this, please for the love of god read empty headed. my favorite joongie fic in the world, mon is so unbelievably talented & so inspiring, if you like even one sentence from this fic i promise you will devour mon’s. thats all, enjoy xoxo

You didn’t mean to piss him off.

Not really. 

But there’s something invigorating about watching his jaw tighten, a clench in the hinge that shows the structure of his face. The way his brows flatten, dark and heavy over his big, brown eyes, turning them three shades darker, more charcoal than chocolate. A hand through his styled hair, veiny fingers lost in black locks, mussing it to the point where the gel is rendered useless. Yunho angry was a sight to behold, exciting, magical; it brings out a completely different side of him, one you feared as much as you revered. 

Across the room in his dark suit, tailored to his perfect body, his shoulders sat squared, in perfect posture. Your dress matched, a long, navy gown, if anyone paid attention, they’d know you belong to him. You know you belong to him, Yunho knows you belong to him, Yeosang knows you belong to him, but somehow you think the message has been lost along the way. 

Deep red hair sitting perfectly over his cheekbones, hiding the birthmark beneath his eye you’ve seen a thousand times, Yeosang does look good. He always looks good, biceps stretching the sleeves of every shirt, filling out every pair of pants he owns like they were made for him, it doesn’t help that he has the most contagious laugh you’ve ever heard. A silly joke, a stupid one that left him snorting, made the laughter creep up from your chest and force its way out of your lips until you were folding forward, a hand clutching your stomach. 

He’s funny without even trying to be and you fall victim to it every time, every hangout, whenever you and Yeosang are in the same room. Yunho notices, of course he does, a sixth sense embedded in his veins that he says is named after you. Usually his jealousy with Yeosang is under wraps, he can see your friendship for what it is– but tonight of all nights, at the company gala where Yunho is receiving an award for his efforts, tonight is about him. And here you are, across the room, chopping it up with Yeosang instead of standing by his side so he can introduce you to everyone in the room. 

You can feel his stare, harsh eyes like blades cutting into your skin, it makes your spine straighten, your heels click together. Even without words you can feel his command, summoning you to him like there was a part of him inside your head, you excuse yourself from the circle of people you were conversing with and walk back to your boyfriend, a low rumble in your belly because you know exactly what’s awaiting you. 

Leaning over the tall, circular table dressed in a black tablecloth long enough that it touches the floor, one of Yunho’s knees is bent into it, his arms crossed over the surface. He watches you, eyes following your every step, aware of each person you pass like every one of them could be a threat. You keep your face innocent, your eyes big and doe-like, your hands politely holding your clutch in front of your body, a small smile on your face as you approach him at the table, nothing else on it besides two full glasses of prosecco. 

“Wipe that look off your face,” he says as soon as you can hear it, his voice low and stern, “damage is already done.”

Excitement blooms in your chest, you swallow down your smile. “What do you mean?”

He steps back from the table, picking up the flute of prosecco, holding it close to his chest. He shifts his view upward, examining the crowd, “You know exactly what I mean, stop pretending, you look stupid.”

You can’t fight the smile this time, throwing an elbow over the surface of the table with your clutch, leaning on it as you pick up the glass of prosecco instead. He turns to you, eyes slimming, “You’ve had enough.”

Your brows furrow, head tilting, “I’m not even tipsy–”

“I said you’ve had enough.”

Slowly, you set the glass back on the table, his tone was clean cut, no room for disobedience. You frown, ankles crossing beneath your gown, “I was just talking, Yunho.”

“Talking,” he repeats, a ghost of a smile clawing at his lips, “laughing, leaning into him like I don’t fucking own you.”

Your breath catches in your throat as the word leaves his lips, it always ignites something deep in your gut, turns your mind to fuzz. Ownership, being his, so deeply his you don’t need to think if you don’t want to, Yunho can see the warmth spreading through your body like your skin was transparent. 

He takes a step toward you, leaning down, breath ghosting the shell of your ear, “You belong to me. Never fucking forget it.”

You swallow, heart picking up speed in your chest, your voice is a little shakier than you want it to be as you whisper, “I could never forget that.”

Standing up tall again, he smiles like he remembered there’s other people in the room, “Good.” Turning his head to examine the crowd again, coworkers, staff, people who have all praised him tonight, congratulated him on his hard work. You drink in his figure, long legs that stretched on forever clad in navy, his suit jacket unbuttoned, showing the white button-up beneath. The tie that laid in the center, snug beneath his collar, just from a few words your mind escaped to the gutter, brain drifting to the things he could do with it. 

“Let’s go,” he says simply, turning toward you again. 

“Already?” You look around, standing straight, dessert hadn’t even been served yet. “I don’t think it’s appropriate–”

“I don’t give a fuck about what’s appropriate.” You’re lucky there’s no one around you to hear the sharp words leaving his lips, “I don’t care about this, and clearly neither do you if you’d rather go talk to Yeosang.”

“Yun–”

“Come,” the word is firm, a wall splitting your defense. He grabs your clutch from the table, tucking it beneath his armpit, placing his glass of prosecco delicately on the table, “We’ll make our goodbyes, I’ll text the driver.”

He shoots a quick text before laying a heavy hand on the small of your back, bringing you on his round of goodbyes where you smiled politely, shook hands, gave small hugs to every person you made eye contact with tonight– except Yeosang. You didn’t even meet his eye, standing off to the side while Yunho gave him a tight hug, a wide grin on his face like he wasn’t planning on tearing you apart the moment you stepped foot in your apartment. 

You didn’t talk on the drive home, in the backseat of a black car you didn’t know the name of, your driver nodding his head along to what was playing on the radio. A small, muted hum, it stood as background noise for your raging thoughts, adrenaline ripping your tummy to shreds as you wonder about what comes next. It’s rare for Yunho to react like this, he’s generally a grounded, secure man, he knows you’d never leave him, he knows you’d never cheat. He’s asked you the same rhetorical question a thousand times: Who could possibly be better than him?

No one. That person doesn’t exist. You love him too much to ever even consider someone else, he was too engraved in your being, the blood in your body circulated for him, your heart beats to the rhythm of his name. Yunho was everything, everywhere, he was half of your body, your soul. 

But he doesn’t play nice when it comes to his toys. 

He punched in the code to your apartment with steady hands, opening the front door softly, holding his arm out for you to walk inside first. Hanging your coat on the rack, there’s a pit in your stomach, a blooming warmth of fear and adrenaline beneath your skin. You begin, “Yunho, we shouldn’t have left, I was just talking–”

He’s at your back, hands on your hips, head standing tall above yours, “You think I give a fuck about what you were doing?” His voice is rough, gravelly, tone bleeding dominance, it makes your toes curl in your heels, back straightening against his presence. “I don’t care if you were giving him the fucking heimlich, you’re mine. Do you understand what that means?”

Your breath catches, fingers tingling at your sides, eyes wide as you stare at the pale yellow wall in front of you, art covering the walls. The paintings seemed to stare back, snickering at your disobedience, saying you reap what you sow. 

“Yes,” you whisper, accompanied by one singular nod.

“Yes what?”

You fight the sound that claws at your throat, “Yes, sir.”

“This body is mine,” his hands trail from your hips up to your waist, squeezing the skin beneath your gown before traveling up to your chest, holding his palms there to prove a point. “It belongs to me. Your pleasure, your pain, your actions, your mistakes, they’re all mine.”

His palms leave your chest to unzip the gown at your back, you can feel the chill of metal all the way down to the base of your spine. Pooling around your feet, you don’t move, back straight, chin held high, heels clicking together, presenting yourself for him how he taught you. Every bone in your body begged you to turn around and kiss him, you ached to touch him, to wrap your arms around him, to feel him inside you, curved and pulsing and hitting every spot that made you scream. When he steps around you, fear simmers, you come to terms with the fact that none of which is on the itinerary for tonight. 

Shoulders squared, jaw locked, eyes dark, brooding. He watches you, still fully clothed, shoes kicked off, his suit remains. His eyes drink in your naked figure, already well aware of the lack of anything beneath your form fitting gown, watching how your upper body expands with each breath, the tremble in your legs, the glint of nerves in your eyes, how you’re already struggling to keep still under his heavy stare. He watches like he’s mapping out a plan, debating what he’ll do to you, how loud he should make you beg, deciding what he’s in the mood for. 

He always wants obedience. Expects it. You’ve learned to not expect anything. 

“What do you think you deserve tonight?”

The question sets your body aflame. Meeting his eyes, you swallow, “I don’t deserve anything, sir.”

He nods slowly, arms crossing over his chest, he hums. “Do you think you deserve my cock inside you?”

He watches how your spine bends, the slightest movement. It tells him the words out of your mouth are a bold-faced lie, “No, sir.”

“Why not?”

You can feel the heat in the tips of your ears, embarrassment, guilt, it curls into the flame of arousal flickering brighter in your gut with every second he keeps his eyes on you. “Because,” you pause. His brows raise, waiting. Your voice cracks, “B-because I was, um– talking. To Yeosang.”

“Why are you stuttering?” He tilts his head a fraction of a degree. “You know what you did. Say it with your chest.”

“I was laughing,” you continue, feeling the sweat forming at your brow, the light of the foyer too warm, too bright. You swallow, “I was laughing with him when I should have been with you.”

He hums again, debating. “Do you think you deserve to cum at all?”

“Only if you think I deserve it, sir,” there’s a shakiness to your voice, one he knows all too well, it means please. 

He looks you up and down once. “Bedroom,” is the only thing he responds, a sharp word that sends your heeled feet clicking over hardwood to the room at the back of your apartment. The lights are dim, soft, misleading; the way it lays over your duvet, your furniture, a streak creeping into the bathroom, it breeds comfort. You’re scared you won’t get any tonight. 

“Kneel beside the bed, face it.” 

You wince when your knees splinter the hardwood beneath you. Back straight, hands flat on your thighs, you sit on your calves, ass just meeting the heel of your stilettos. He doesn’t smile, he doesn’t praise you for following directions, following order, he watches. 

One second, two, five, ten. Sitting on your shared bed, suit jacket discarded, knees spread, heels of his feet edged on the base. He pushes his sleeves up to his elbows before they meet his knees as he leans over his thighs, giving you a full view of his size above you. A display, one that makes you shiver every fucking time. 

“You disappointed me tonight,” his voice is low but his tone is calm and it’s worse than loud, edged, spit-soaked anger. “You know how to behave, you know better. Correct?”

“Yes, sir,” you nod once. 

“Do you have anything to say about your behavior tonight?”

“I’m sorry,” you mumble. His brow arches. Louder, you repeat, “I’m sorry for my behavior tonight, sir.”

He stares, waiting, watching. One second, two, five, ten.

“Save the apologies,” he stands, fingers working at the prongs of the black leather belt, so close to your face you almost flinch at his movement. “You’ll make it up to me properly.”

You nod, words breathy, “Yes, sir.”

With one step he’s behind you, you can feel him squat down just from the heat of him, you hear the metal of the belt buckle dragging against the hardwood floor, it makes your thighs clench together. His palms are warm when he wraps his long fingers around your arms, just above your elbows, he pulls them behind your back. Silently he wraps the belt around your wrists, tying it off securely, tight enough for you to feel the restriction but not enough to cut circulation. 

With another step he’s in front of you, veiny hands tugging at his tie, loosening it before throwing it, unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt. He works the fastening of his slacks open, fingers tugging down his zipper, with thumbs in the waistband of his briefs, he pulls them both down over his hips until they reach mid-thigh. Your eyes flicker upward to meet his gaze, holding a question in your stare– he’s not even hard yet. 

“Why are you looking at me?” His brows raise, “Do you not know what to do with a cock in your face?”

Your cheeks burn as you lift up, the tips of your toes meeting the hardwood, adjusting your height to meet his flaccid cock, there’s no hesitation as you bring your head forward, tongue poking out to catch the tip of him in your mouth. You hear the change in his breathing, a small, sudden intake of air, if it wasn’t so quiet in your bedroom you’re sure it would’ve gone over your head. 

The breath is enough praise to take him into your mouth with confidence, to massage your tongue slowly against the underside of him, you feel him expand; length doubling in size, the width of him stretching your lips, the weight heavy on your tongue. Slightly salty, the taste of skin, bland and neutral, he mutters a curse when you take him deeper, but you don’t struggle bobbing your head, working up a rhythm, your movement quickening with each run of your tongue over his ridged tip. 

“You can do better than that,” his tone is condescending, it makes your stomach drop. His hips buck into your mouth, cock reaching the back of your throat, making you gag, an ugly noise; his small hum of pleasure is worth a thousand words of praise.

“Is this what I have to do? Fuck your throat so you take me properly?”

Your eyes fill with salty tears as his cock fills your throat, you take him deeper, faster, nose meeting the tuft of hair at his base, inhaling, moaning, gurgling around him with each bob of your head. He groans, a hand coming up to meet your styled hair, ruining it as soon as his fingers tighten in your scalp. “Don’t cry, it’s pathetic, suck my cock like you mean it. Or do you want me to think you’d rather have your mouth on Yeosang?”

Your brows knit together and you hope it’s enough, that he sees the answer you can’t communicate. He hisses when you swallow around him, “He couldn’t fuckin’ handle you, couldn’t put you in your place, he wouldn’t know what to do with you. Do you understand? That you’re something that needs handling?”

You can’t answer– he knows you can’t answer, he isn’t expecting one, he knows your response. He flashes his teeth in a nasty grin when your tears spill, hot on your cheeks, streaking your makeup. “You need to be owned, need to be used, tied up with nothing left to do but take.”

The noise you make gets muffled by his cock, he hears it, his hips roll deeper into your throat, fingers gripping tighter at your scalp. 

“You love it, don’t you? When I use your mouth? Turn you into a toy?” You whine around his cock, drool gathering at the sides of your mouth, you can hear the squelch of spit. “I know you do, bet your thighs are stickin’ together already. Should I fuck them instead? Cum all over your legs while your little pussy begs me for attention? Begs me just to look at her?” 

Your eyelids flutter, eyes rolling back behind them, your thighs squeeze, wrists tugging at the leather binding them. His chuckle is dark, patronizing, when he speaks the words come out tighter, “Look at you, already begging for it when you can’t even talk. Is this what you wanted? Is that why I had to watch you flirt with my fuckin’ coworker? You needed a reminder that this is all you’re worth?”

Tears flow, makeup stinging your eyes, blurring your vision, his cock so heavy, so deep in your throat, each gag around him breeds more. His other hand meets your hair, rocking your head at the same pace of his hips bucking into your mouth, you breathe through your nose, your nails cut into your palms. 

“Fuck,” it’s sharp, under his breath. “There you go, make me fuckin’ cum, ‘s all this mouth is good for.” 

Drool spills from the corners of your mouth, dripping onto your thighs that start to shake, knees burning where they dig into the hardwood. You’re clenching around nothing with every other thrust, wishing he was fucking into your pussy with the brutal pace he’s using on your mouth. 

“Don’t you dare waste a single drop,” his voice is ragged like his breath, the only proof he was enjoying this. His palms meet your cheeks, forcing your eyes open so he can ask, “Do you hear me?”

Your eyelids flutter, ignoring the sting of tears your gaze darts upward to see his face, veiny forearms in your peripherals. Jaw slacked, cheeks splotched with pink, eyes so dark they’re burnt, pleasure etched in each line of his perfect face. His button-up splits at the hem, showing you the pocket of skin between, the veins that swim from his hipbones up to where they disappear behind the v of fabric swollen, prominent. 

“Gonna ruin this throat,” he uses pressure on your flaming cheeks, holding your head still as he fucks into your mouth faster, harder, ignoring how you choke around him. “Mine to do as I fuckin’ please.” 

Your face is covered by saliva, tears and melted makeup, bubbles of spit popping before they sink down your jaw, down your neck, between your breasts. The sounds you make around his cock are brutal; loud, wet, unbecoming– they push him over the edge.

He cums with a strangled noise like it was caught in his throat, his chin dropping to his chest, his eyes squeezed shut. Ropes of warmth shoot straight down your throat and you’re disappointed you can’t taste the salt, feel the slimy consistency as if it were intentional, like you fucked up so bad he was keeping his cum from you, too. You whimper when he pulls out, sucking in a needed breath, swallowing down the spit in your mouth, feeling the cool air of the bedroom brushing against the streaks of liquid on your body. 

You don’t move without direction. You don’t speak without order. 

He runs a hand through his hair, chest heaving beneath his shirt, he gives you no praise. He doesn’t even look at you kindly. He gives you a one-over, top lip lifting in distaste, “You’re a fucking mess. On the bed.” 

Your legs are wobbly beneath you as you climb onto the white duvet, hands still secured at the base of your spine, you lay on top of them, knees still burning, swollen, uncomfortable. He doesn’t get on the bed with you, he tugs you back down to the edge by your ankles, pushing your legs up until they’re dangling. Hands on your swollen knees, he parts them, ignoring the way you suck in a sharp breath. 

“Be quiet,” he’s staring between your legs, “I don’t want to hear a sound out of that mouth. Holes don’t speak.” You clench your jaw to keep it closed, thighs twitching. He continues, “Knew this slutty cunt would be soaked. ‘S all over your thighs, aren’t you embarrassed?”

You meet his eye, lips parted, but you don’t speak. His lips curve at the corner, “No? Proud of how wet you get from being used? Being nothing?”

He’s baiting you, you force your breath into submission, calm despite your heart pounding against your ribs, wild and arrhythmic. You clench around nothing, air catching on the wetness between your legs, coating your thighs, you’re not embarrassed. You could never be, not when his eyes light up, his lips curve, staring at you like he wants to do nothing less than devour you when you’re spread out for him like this. 

You’re built for him, by him, and he knows it. 

Warm palms sear your thighs, one sinking down your calf, fingers ghosting over one of your heeled feet. He pushes it forward, towards your chest, staring at the silver stiletto, finger following the shape of the arch, touching the pointed heel. Not even looking at you, keeping his eyes on your pedicure, he mutters, “These stay on.”

Your bottom lip quivers, trembles, fingers clawing at the mattress behind your back. His eyes find yours, “Being so obedient now, is this what happens when you’re guilty? When you know you fucked up? I get a sweet girl for once?”

Your entire body reacts to his words, a full-blown shiver that racks through you like a wave. His voice is a spell, his words are tantalizing, laced with sweetness, it throws your mind for a loop, you almost reply. Your lips open and then close, he grins like he knows he’s on the right track. 

His fingers wrap around your ankle, placing it over his shoulder, his other hand leaving your thigh to paint a finger through your folds. Your lips tighten, teeth clamping down, brows furrowing at the stimulation, noise climbing up your throat with claws bared. His touch leaves as quickly as he gives it, he brings his finger up past his lips, moaning at the taste, loud and obnoxious, “It’s too bad you don’t deserve my mouth, wanna eat her so bad. I think Yeosang would like the taste too, don’t you?”

Your jaw clenches, he stores the reaction. Bringing his hand back down to your center, he uses two fingers to spread your folds, watching as you clench around nothing, as your body begs for what your mouth isn’t allowed to say. He hums, leaning down, gathering spit in his mouth before shooting it straight onto your mound, your body jumps in response. With his thumb at your clit, he adds the smallest pressure to spread the slick, your lips part, a quiet gasp sneaking through. 

His eyes flicker upward, “Behave.” He rubs slow circles, barely any pressure, following your hips that buck into his hand, “Stop moving. Take it.”

Your face contorts, abdomen flexing, spine bending, teeth clamped down over your bottom lip. You try to keep your hips flush to the bed, you fail. His hand leaves your calf over his shoulder, falling to your belly, pushing down to keep you flat, “Right after I said you were being obedient, too. Shame.” 

His thumb leaves your clit to push two fingers inside and your elbows bend, hands sliding up your spine, pulling at the belt keeping you restrained. A desperate moan pushes past, hips jerking against his hand pinning you down, his name falls off your lips right after, “Yunho! Fuck, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

Lips pursed, his head shakes slowly, disappointed. Your body burns, hot with embarrassment, blood carbonated, sizzling with fear, your eyes stay blown wide, watching him calculate what comes next. He doesn’t react further, instead his fingers work you open, pads of his fingertips massaging against the spongy spot inside you, your breathing becomes verbal. Shallow, chest moving rapidly, wrists fighting against the restraint, it feels too good not to move. Not to react. 

He knows your weak points, knows your strengths; he uses them both to his advantage. 

“Do you think I’m doing this for your pleasure?” He doesn’t look up, voice steady, he watches how your slick gushes around his digits instead, how your core takes his fingers so easily, greedily. “I should shove my cock inside you without prep, that’s what you deserve for being a whore. But I decided to be kind, and this is how you repay me? By being greedy?”

You keep your lips glued together until his eyes meet yours, “Speak.”

“I’m sorry!” Your voice is pitched, face scrunched together, he can hear the shame in your voice, feel how your body disagrees. “I’m sorry, sir, I don’t deserve it, I- I, please just–”

“Shut up,” he cuts you off, “Forgot how fucking irritating it is to hear you whine.”

You feel the pressure in your face again, swimming up your sinuses, filling your waterline with salty heat. He doesn’t notice until your breathing breaks, tears already spilled, pleasure wound tight in the pit of your belly, below his palm that sits heavy and harsh. 

“You’re crying again?” He sounds bored, annoyed. “You’re useless, you know that? Can’t follow simple fuckin’ directions.” 

He sighs before he slips his fingers out, two hands finding the plush of your ass beneath your lifted thighs, pushing you up the bed. 

“Maybe you should fuck Yeosang,” he crawls on top of the mattress with you, fingers working his buttons open while you shake your head, tears falling silently, he stares at you with lifted brows like he couldn’t be more uninterested. “You’re nearing worthless at this point.” 

He throws the button-up off the bed, pulling his white tank over his head, his slacks and briefs already gone, discarded before your back hit the mattress. Face still reading uninterested, he grabs both of your legs by your ankles, throwing them over his shoulders as he spreads his knees, lowering himself until his eyes lock on your glistening folds. 

“You don’t deserve my cock,” he says it like it’s something you already know. A mewl stirs in your throat, you swallow it down as he wraps his fingers around the base, pushing it through your folds. “So fuckin’ wet, she’s begging for it. You think you deserve it?”

He looks up at you just to see you shake your head no, his eyes follow the way your tear-streaked cheeks shine in the dim light. 

Circling his tip over your clit, he asks again, “Not even the tip?”

You release a shaky breath, sniffing through your clogged sinuses, every bone in your body screaming yes, you’d beg for it, on all fours, you’d do anything for it. But that’s not what he wants to hear, so you shake your head once more.

“Alright,” he says it passively and it makes your brows knit together. Like if you said yes, he’d do it. 

Your lips part, face warped into confusion, voice coated in a cry, “W-wait.”

“No,” he moves one of your ankles to his other shoulder, crossing them, “You made your bed.”

“Yunho–”

His eyes flicker upward, warning enough, your lips smack together to silence yourself. The tip of his cock prods at the seam of your thighs, so thick and hot and wet it makes you squirm, ankles locking over his shoulder. He smacks the side of your thigh once, “Clench ‘em for me. Be a good sleeve.”

Your breath is shaky as you tighten your thighs, body rigid, wrists fighting their restraints. Tears spill hotter, heavier when he groans out in relief, cock passing between your thighs, so close to your aching cunt you can feel your composure getting pushed to its limit. One hand holds your ankles over his shoulder, the other squeezes one of your thighs, you watch how his abdomen flexes with each roll of his hips, how his throat bobs when his head falls back in pleasure. 

“Feels good,” his voice is gravelly, laced with arousal, his hips moving slow enough to draw out his own pleasure. You try to keep yourself tight, composed, enjoyable for him, but your patience is a thin band, one running taut too quickly. He picks up the pace, his hips smacking against your sensitive legs, they start to shake where they lay hooked over his shoulder.

“Stay still,” he gruffs out, “Stop shaking.”

A defeated cry escapes through your parted lips, mumbling a wilted, pathetic, “Please.”

He doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow, doesn’t address that you’ve spoken. You’re drifting as his grip turns tighter, fingers on your ankles, palm on your thigh, tight enough to bruise; his hips pick up speed, filling the room with the sound of skin smacking skin. You’re clenching around nothing again, so strung out and sensitive that the ripple of his cock between your thighs is close enough to friction. You can feel your pulsing clit, muscles tightening, heart picking up speed as it starts to feel somewhat pleasurable. Better than nothing, not nearly enough to get you off. 

He does a double take when he notices your brows knitted up, lips parted, breath layered. His laugh is punched, taunting, “You’re getting off on this?” A whimper escapes. “I thought I told you to keep your mouth shut. This is a punishment, not a fucking position.”

You seal your lips together again, your lashes becoming a waterfall, his hand leaves your thigh just to land against your skin heavier, harder, the sound striking through the room, nearly blending in with the sound of his hips against your thighs.

 “I’d be inside you if you listened. If you didn’t speak, if you didn’t flirt with my friend in front of my goddamn face,” his voice is as rough as his movements, he watches where his cock disappears, grinds his teeth when your thighs clench. “Can’t believe this is getting you off. Nothing but a cockhungry whore, doesn’t matter where I fuckin’ put it, does it?”

Your thighs clench again and he cracks ever so slightly, a splinter in his demeanor. The sound he lets out is pitched, something of a moan, small and wanting as he chases his release, “Fuck, almost as good as your pussy. Maybe I don’t need to use her at all anymore, maybe I’ll tape her shut.”

Another sob falls past your lips, head tilting to the side, “No.”

“No?” His eyes meet yours, “No?”

“I need you–”

“You’re mine,” his voice is harsher now, like you’ve finally hit a nerve. He pulls out, throwing your legs to the side, one arm scooping under you to flip you onto your stomach. Pulling you upright, on all fours, knees together, your face is buried in the bed, another sob cracking through your shaking body. “I’ll do whatever I want, this body is mine, you belong to me. You’re my property, when are you going to get that through your thick fucking skull?”

When his cock pushes past the seam of your thighs again, legs on either side of yours, it's lower. Farther away from your slippery cunt, skin still lubed up with how much you’ve spilled, his voice is edged as he lands a harsh smack on your ass, biting, “Squeeze your fuckin’ thighs, you can’t afford to disappoint me again.”

He holds his hands tight on your hips, steadying you, groaning low and long when he picks up the pace tenfold, harsher than the rhythm he was giving you before. He plants a foot on the bed, choking out a moan, “Gonna cum all over these thighs, this ass, then I’m gonna make you eat it.”

You moan, it’s a soft noise, too soft for how unforgiving he was at your backside. Your mind is cloudy, in your head, his degrading words are close enough to praise, your body responds. He lands another heavy smack to your ass, sending you deeper into the plush of the mattress, into the fuzz, you moan. 

He sounds almost surprised when he says, “That’s not a fucking reward, you’re disgusting.”

Your wrists pull at the belt, thighs clenching, another shameless moan pushing past your lips. His hips stutter, fingertips tightening at your hips, “Fuck, nasty fuckin’ thing.”

He slips from between your thighs, leaving them vibrating and hot. You can hear how fast his fist moves over his length, slick and wet, lewd, his groan is a stutter as he cums, thick ropes of white landing over your ass, your thighs, warm, heavy, you can’t help but moan at the feeling. Being marked, owned, being his, however he wants you, however he’ll have you. 

You hear him panting, tight breaths pushed from his lips, you know he’s staring, watching it drip, admiring the mess he made like it was art. With one hand still on your hip, he uses the other to wipe his painting off your skin, gathering it on his fingers, a glob of wet sticky warmth, your mouth waters knowing he’s about to feed it to you. 

Your thighs shake as he knocks your knees apart for stability, reaching one arm forward to wrap under your belly, pulling you upward. You whimper at the force but your body follows without hands to help you. 

“Here,” he sounds like he’s giving you a gift as your back hits his chest. He moves your hair out of your face, your jaw already pried open, he stuffs his cum-coated fingers past your lips and your eyes roll back. Salty, thick, nasty, you moan at how fucking dirty it feels, abdomen flexing because he’s finally giving you something. Mouth closing, tongue sucking his fingers clean, your thighs squeeze. 

“Good girl,” he whispers, “Eat it all, lick my fingers clean.” You moan again, eyes opening, low-lidded as you stare at him from under your brows, swallowing. His face scrunches, lips parting, “Fuck.”

He watches as your spit-stained mouth opens when he presses down on your tongue, no evidence of his release leftover. His fingers move slowly, spreading inside your mouth like he wanted to feel the texture of your tongue, they drag down until your bottom lip folds over, your own spit hitting your chin.

“So pliant,” he whispers, watching, analyzing, “You’ll let me do anything right now, won’t you?”

You whimper, so soft and light you barely register it came from you. His other hand wraps around your front, two fingers dipping between your legs, adding pressure to your clit. You fold, or try to, his other arm wraps around your front, forearm between your breasts, fingers landing steady at the base of your throat, holding you flush to him. 

“Still.” Despite the order being direct, his voice is calm, sweet almost, eyes dancing over your features, watching how your face contorts in pleasure. He keeps his pace slow, circling his fingers lightly, “Cum, just like this.”

Your instinct tells you not to trust his kindness, pressure building steadily at the base of your belly, but he works you so easily, even with small circles and light pressure, your body responds like a live wire, as if two light fingers were a vibrator on its highest setting. Your moans mix with tiny gasps, body fidgeting at the pleasure, so sensitive you think you might be running from it. 

He cooes, “Come on, baby. I’m letting you cum, might be the only orgasm I let you have tonight. Impress me.”

The need to deliver, obey, appease him is too embedded in you not to listen, even if you know better. You choke on a moan, reaching your peak quicker than you should, sounds climbing in staccato, so close you could fucking taste it– he rips his fingers away just as you approach the edge and you sob, body lurching forward, “No!”

He pulls you back against him, keeping you locked in place. He shushes you, running his hands over your skin, your thighs, your stomach, comforting touches that pull tears from your eyes for the third time. You choke on a cry, crumbling into him, leaning your weight against him. 

“So good for me,” he praises, voice candy-sweet. Confusion makes you whimper a mumble of his name. 

He waits until your twitching subsides, still brushing his fingers over your skin, soothing the loss until you’ve forgotten it. When your sobs quiet, your breathing evens a little more, he dips his fingers between your thighs again.

“Yunho!” You gasp, bucking against him, “T-too much.”

“Shut up,” he grinds out in your ear, “Take it.”

His fingers work quicker, more pressure, pleasure builds inside you like it never stopped.

“I can’t–” You hiccup, “Please let me cum, sir, p-please let me, I can’t take it–”

The arm that’s wrapped around your front reaches farther up until two fingers push past your lips, sitting heavy on your tongue like stone. You gag around the length of them, knuckles hooked between your teeth while his other hand works quicker, tighter circles on your clit.

“Don’t remember telling you to speak,” you feel his breath on your ear, words chopped, rough, mean. “I remember telling you not to make a fucking sound.”

You’re gurgling around his fingers, more ugly noises, you’re too close to care. Electricity zaps through every limb, legs trembling, hips bucking away from his fingers because you can’t handle the pleasure even if you need it. 

You’re babbling over the weight on your tongue, looking up at him with pleading eyes, mumbling begs in-between every gag, he stays focused on his fingers between your legs, pulling you as close as he can to the finish line. 

“Y’gonna cum?” His eyes finally meet yours, searching your face for the answer before you can make a sound. You nod, tongue flexing under his fingers, pressure built up so tight and heavy in your body you might blow if he doesn’t let you release. He leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead, so sticky sweet it makes you moan. His voice is sharp against your skin, “Slutty cunts don’t get to cum.”

There’s a millisecond to process his words before he rips his fingers away and that’s how long it takes for your sanity to slip. Sobs, real ones rip from your chest; ugly and booming, he lets your body go, lets you fall forward, flat against the mattress, wrists clawing at the belt, twitching and jerking so fucking shamelessly it makes Yunho smile. 

“Am I breaking you, baby?” He crawls on top of you, flipping you over like your dead weight means nothing to him. “Are you finally understanding what it means to be mine?”

The word yes leaves your lips between each sob like a chant, wrists aching beneath leather, your skin was probably inflamed and swollen by now from how much you’ve thrashed against the belt, but you don’t feel it, you don’t care. You need more. You need release.

He pushes your knees up, humming, ignoring your choked sobs like they didn’t exist. “You think Yeosang would want you like this?” He smacks his teeth, “A crying, begging whore? You think he’d touch this slutty, swollen cunt?”

“No! I’m s-sorry,” you hiccup, sounding so distraught it’s almost deranged, “Please.”

“Please what?” His cock lays heavy over your leaking cunt, reaching well over your pubic bone, it makes your trembling worse. “What are you asking me for?”

“I– I–”

“Shut up,” he lowers his grip down to your thighs, the sensitive part on the inside, rutting his hips ever so slightly against your folds. Your head tilts back, letting out a sound of tight pleasure mixed with frustration, his cock on you isn’t enough. You need him inside.

“He wouldn’t touch you with a ten-foot pole,” he continues, wrapping his fingers around the base of his length, adding pressure as his hips rut against you again. “This pussy is used. I’ve ruined it for anyone else, ruined you.”

Your spine bends at his words as he works up a rhythm, pace combined with the added pressure, his cockhead runs over your swollen clit with each thrust, it’s almost enough for you to start climbing again. You moan out in relief, in euphoria, just from having him on you. 

His grip tightens on your thigh, “You like that? Being ruined? Like the idea of another man being repulsed by you?”

“Yes,” your face contorts, tears hot in the lines stretching across your skin, breath ragged, hips bucking against him when his rhythm slows.

He curses under his breath as he feels you clench, “Of course you do. This pussy only wants me. Trained to only respond to me.”

“Yes,” a little louder, laced with your climbing pleasure, “Only you.”

“Don’t cum.” You watch his knuckles turn white at the base of his cock. “You haven’t earned it yet.”

“Please!” You cry, so completely at his mercy, body shaking, heels piercing your thighs with each roll of his hips. “Please l-let me, I’ll be good– I’ll listen, I won’t ever look at him again–”

Your fingers curl into the duvet beneath you, pleasure, desperation, the stimulation you’re getting from his cockhead over your clit is enough, it’s fast enough, he said no. He’s focused on your core, how his cock slides against your slick, how it bubbles and swirls around your folds with each thrust of his hips.

 “Yunho,” you cry, a little louder, more severe, “Inside, p-please!”

He grits through tight teeth, “Shut the fuck up.”

Your body locks, bones feeling tight, stuck to each muscle like one look from him had turned you to stone. Small, stuttered breaths escape you one after another, rising in pitch, he can feel the stemming pleasure in your gut, he knows it’s building, he can see it on your face. 

You’re close, but he’s closer. He takes the chance, fucking into his fist before his cock meets the wet heat your folds, he grunts out a curse, fingers so tight around your thigh it hurts.

“You wanna cum?” His eyes flicker upward and your heart stops dead in your chest. 

“Y-Yes– Yes Yunho, please, I’ll do anything–”

“Beg for it.”

Incoherent babbles disguised as pleas, nothing more, a display of desperation that was music to his ears. His hips stutter with each whimper, each whine, the wetness on your cheeks, your body that’s steaming under his touch, it’s so hot his stomach curls with his approaching orgasm.

He chokes on a groan, “You’re so fucking stupid, you don’t learn. Nothing but a dumb, desperate whore.”

You moan and he gasps, thighs twitching as he ruts into his fist like an animal, fucking himself through the orgasm that leaves your cunt, your belly, your thighs covered in cum, his third orgasm. Your knees tie together, a sob so defeated and tired ripping from your gut, your cunt pulses, he can see it. He can’t stop himself from pushing his cock inside.

“Yunho!” You all but whisper, wrecked voice bouncing off the walls, body thrashing against him. 

He moans, small but there, it’s suffering and overstimulated. Your wrists burn, halfway up your back, arched so high the leather doesn’t touch you. You can feel your tears pooling in your ears, sobbing in relief and satisfaction and sheer fucking pleasure. 

He doesn’t move. He sits there, face tied together in overstimulation, lips caught between his teeth, fingers holding onto your legs for purchase like he might die if he didn’t grab onto you with all his strength. 

“Please,” you cry, “Move.”

His jaw clenches, breathing manual, chest rising and falling so heavily you regret the word as soon as it passes through your lips. 

“I can’t take it,” you continue through the regret, another mistake. “I’m yours, Yunho, I- I belong to you, I’m your whore, your sleeve–”

“If you were my fucking whore you wouldn’t disobey me,” he grits out, you can feel his thighs shaking, but he adjusts himself to fuck into you properly. “Say it if you need to, but you’ve taken it before and I know you can take it again.”

The word is nowhere near your tongue and he knows it. 

“Quit crying, then,” he moves his hands, fingers sinking beneath your back to hold your waist, thumbs sliding where they slipped through his cum on your sides. “I’m tired of hearing it. You’re getting what you want.”

“I want to cum,” you cry out, you’re sure you’ve broken skin at the heel of your palms from how hard your nails have cut into them, you can barely feel the sting. His fingers bruise your back, keeping you still, forcing you to take it as he slips out agonizingly slow, and pushes back inside. 

“I don’t think you deserve it,” he sounds unaffected by being inside you, like fucking your thighs really was the same, if not better. Your sobs reflect the thought, feeling so used, full of shame; the flame of desire that dwells within your gut is nowhere close to being smothered, you need more, you need to be full of him, you need to cum around his cock. 

“Ple– ase,” you choke on the word, “Y-Yunho, please.”

“Pussy missed me,” he sounds like he’s reminiscing, “Listen, she’s suckin’ me in.”

You hear it then, the squelch, the ungodly sound of his cock sliding into you fluidly. You wallow in it, the humiliating noise, the feeling of him running over that spot with every thrust, filling you up like he’s carved himself space inside you, whittled at your womb until you could take him and him only. 

“There you go,” it’s not praise, it’s relief, “Finally giving up. So much better when you’re easy.”

There’s nothing left inside you but sound, desperate and aching, it fills the room on top of the sound of his hipbones slapping against your thighs, the room sounding wet and disgusting. Pressure builds, steady and true, his rhythm daunting, pushing you closer to an edge you don’t know if he’ll let you fall off of. 

“This is all you need,” his voice sounds heavier, layered with pressure, “My cock fucking you full. You don’t need to think, don’t need to breathe, you don’t need to be.” 

You breathe out a noise, a babble about getting close, he doesn’t hear it. You sink deeper into the haze with each thrust, consumed by pleasure, cheek sliding against the duvet every time his cockhead kisses your cervix. 

“You all dumb for me?” You can hear his smile, “Fuck, are you finally broken, baby? Feel nothing but me? Thinking of nothing but me?”

The leather binding your wrists feels miles away. You’re reaching, he knows it.

His hips snap against yours, so brutal and unforgiving, pleasure is an unwrapped gift with how your orgasm hits, catching you off guard. The sound that rips through you is deafening, limbs thrashing against the duvet, your restraints, it’s too late for him to slip his cock out. He knows it, even if he does it anyway, you cry out, hips bucking against nothing searching for friction to extend your orgasm as long as you can. 

He doesn’t speak when he flips you over. His hands are rough, movements quick, his cock splits you open the moment your knees hit the mattress. You don’t get a second to feel relief.

“You’re nothing but a greedy fucking whore,” each word is punched, animalistic, angry and ragged; your spine bends toward him, cunt clenching around him, toes digging into the heels on your feet. He pushes you down with one hand, “Keep that fucking back down.”

“Again,” you cry, weak and desperate, “Again.”

He’s fucking you like he hates you, like your pleasure meant nothing to him. Brows furrowed, jaw sharp like a blade, he’s angry as his cock drills inside you, chest red and splotchy, sweat beading down his mismatched skin. 

“Shut the fuck up,” he growls, “Stupid bitch, you’re only making it worse for yourself.”

“I’m sorry–”

He lands a sharp smack to your ass, “Don’t fuckin’ apologize. Deal with the consequences.”

“I’m sorry!” It’s louder this time, strained. Your hips fuck back, knees buried in the bed for stability, “I need you, I need it, I need to cum again, please– please Yunho, I’ll–”

He reaches down to push your face into the mattress, “I told you to shut the fuck up, listen for once in your goddamn life.”

Mouth meeting cotton, you can’t catch your breath, shins kicking against the mattress. His pace is angry, brutal, you can feel yourself falling apart, pleasure and pain melting together, desperation and satisfaction blending into one. Your head feels fuzzy again from the loss of air, cloudy in a way that means submission, your body softens.

He lets go of your head to grab onto the belt with one hand, pulling you up, back level with your hips, your sobs becoming verbal once again. Your head hangs low, deadweight for him to hold.

“Say you’re sorry.”

Light, airy, your cloudy eyes meet the duvet, “I’m s-sorry–”

“Say it like you fucking mean it.”

You wince, “I’m so sorry, sir.”

His voice sounds rigid, like he might cum again. “Tell me what you are.”

The answer comes easy, “I’m a whore.”

He lands a sharp smack to your ass, “You’re less than that.”

“I’m n-nothing,” you whimper, “A h-hole, a sleeve.”

He lets go of the belt and you fall against the mattress, a rough sound muffled as your chest hits cotton. He flattens you with his palms, lowering his weight over your back until his skin sticks to yours, he slides one arm beneath you, under your chest, cupping your jaw with one huge palm. He guides your head to the side to see him, sweaty and angled and fucked out, but he rounds out when he sees you– face flushed, wet with saliva, tears, splotched and messy, your eyes glossy and huge and somewhere else. 

He starts rolling his hips into you again, slower, just as damning, “You’re missing something.”

Your brows furrow, clenching around him, mewling out something incoherent before asking, “M-missing?”

He rolls his hips, cock brushing over that spot, you shake against him, body trembling. He bites his lip roughly like he’s forcing himself into composure before he asks, “Who’s hole? Who’s sleeve?”

“Y-Yours!” You’re scrambling to correct your mistake, “I’m y-yours. Your whore, your hole, your sleeve. Yours to use.”

He moans, soft and wilted and fucking angelic. His rhythm doesn’t falter, patient but aimed, like he wanted you to feel every inch, every vein. You can’t move, stuck under his weight, held in his palm, your face forms to gratification, lips open but silent, eyelids fluttering, you feel like you’ve given him all of you. Your pleasure, your pain, he holds it all in the palm of his hand, he holds you like you’re something sacred. 

“Made for me,” his voice is quieter, soft at the edges. “Only I could love you like this. Broken, small.” He drops into just above a whisper, “Ruined.”

“Please,” you whisper, a single tear running down your cheek, “Cum inside me.”

Hot salt meets his fingers, his grip tightens ever so slightly, cock twitching inside you. “Cum for me first. Show me how well you listen.”

Your brows furrow, instinct at war with his tone, his words. Even if you don’t know how honest he is, your body reacts, rutting against his thrusts, clenching around his length that sails over the front of your walls with purpose. Climbing, reaching, you stare into his dark, focused eyes, softly whimpering, “Yunho.”

“I got you, I’ll let you,” he encourages, his tone not fully sweet. “Just this once.”

Your body trusts him, enough that your peak approaches in a cloudy haze; you tremble in pleasure, choking on a cry, crumbling against his arm that holds you still, steady, safe. 

“Fuck,” it’s a hot word in your ear, “So fucking tight.”

His hips pick up and you move, tears falling hot again, overstimulated and forced in a cycle of pleasure, your wrists pull, your legs thrash, your whines pick up, his grip tightens on your jaw. 

“Want me to fill this pussy up?” His breathing is as verbal as his question, “You think you deserve it?”

“Yes,” you answer in a cry, “I do, I do, please– inside, sir, Yunho, please–”

He gruffs out a noise squeezed from his throat, hips smacking against your skin, stuttering. His fingers push up on your jaw until it closes, silencing you with fingers pressed in your face, his head dipping low as he chases his orgasm. 

“Slutty fucking cunt,” he growls out, lips just grazing your shoulder he lifted, “No you don’t.”

You don’t process the rejection as he lifts himself, you turn over with haste in the second it takes to settle, pleas on your tongue; he’s already crawling over you, knees beside your shoulders, fist wrapped around his cock. 

“Yunho, no–”

“Learn from this.” He pumps his length with fervor, knuckles white, hips bucking into his own hand. “Remember this the next time you think about giving my property away.”

You don’t know how you have any more tears to give. Sucking down air, body thrashing beneath his thighs that pin you down, you wail. He watches, lips parting, brows furrowing, like your face and your pain was getting him off, it doesn’t take long until he’s groaning, cock spilling ropes of white onto your cheeks, your nose, your hair, your chest. 

Heartbreak blooms. Chest cracking, you succumb to the tears, slipping from your half-open eyes down to the streaks of white on your face, mixing into salty, thick heat. You might be talking, repetition of no filling the air like it’d rewind time, convince him to fill you up again and leave his mark behind. 

He takes his time crawling off you, turning you halfway, one hand skillfully prying the belt undone. Your arms are free but you can’t feel the air on your wrists, even as he moves them in front of you. Sitting beside you he lifts your wrists, checking them, moving the pads of his thumbs over your swollen veins on the inside. 

“Fist,” it’s soft; a direct order, one without malice. You barely hear it over your cries, but you flex your fingers, make a fist, he nods once in approval, thumbs ghosting over the red, broken crescents in the heels that your nails left behind. 

Tangling his fingers with yours, it’s not a show of affection, he moves your wrists in a circular motion, clockwise, then counter-clockwise, watching your face for any sign of pain or discomfort. There’s none, other than your dejected cries, he knows you well enough to know the difference. 

Laying your wrists softly beside you, he crawls downward, lifting one leg, untying the buckle at your ankle. He slips your heel off your foot, pressing a kiss to the underside of your toes, another to your ankle. He moves to the other after gently laying your leg down, repeating the process, his lips soft against your skin.

He leans forward again, stretching his legs out beneath him, slinging an arm under your shoulders to tuck you into his chest. Your forehead meets his skin, wet and sticky with sweat, his cum, saliva; being eased into comfort after so long of not having it just makes you cry harder. He lets you release, one hand in your scalp, the other grazing your back, he doesn’t speak until your sobs lower, when you’ve reached a point that you have nothing else to spend. 

“You did so well for me,” he whispers, lips softly meeting your roots. “Took everything I gave you, I’m so proud of you.”

All you can respond is a whimper, soft and light, the only sound you have left inside. Exhaustion lays heavy like a blanket, its weight on your eyelids, on your legs, in the arches of your feet. 

“I’m gonna go get you some water.” 

Your shaky arms reach, neck bending, holding him close with your palm on his waist. Meeting his eye, seeing him, you hope he can see the not yet in your eyes. His face deflates into roundness as his thumb meets your cheek, wiping slick off your skin that’s gone cold by now. His eyes sparkling and soft, he’s in caretaker mode– the doing after he takes, you aren’t ready for it yet. You need him. 

His eyes flicker to your lips and he can feel the way you bend for him, into him, asking for it without saying a word. His lips meet yours with delicacy, a soft graze of his lips before you part for him, beckoning for more. He lets his lips mold with yours, open and sweet, no haste, gradual and slow, his hands exploring your skin, your palm reaching upward to cup his cheek. 

“One more,” you whisper into his mouth, using all your might to form words. Your ankle hooks over his back, a shaky breath escaping you when your body meets the cold slick of his spent length. He hisses at the friction, head beginning to shake, you cut him off before he can speak. “Please.”

His eyes study your face for a moment. “You can handle it?”

“I need it,” your voice cracks on the second word. “Need to feel that you love me.”

His brows furrow, “Baby.”

“Yunho,” you whimper in the same tone, “Please.”

He catches your lips in a kiss and you’re not met with any more haste than before. It’s slow, passionate, he’s burning words onto your tongue, making you feel it instead of him saying it. He reaches down between your bodies, pumping his cock once, twice, pushing a small sound into your mouth, one you swallow down, tucking it beside your heart. Running his tip through your folds, you brace yourself, legs already shaking, bruised and battered and still aching for more. 

You wince as he starts pushing inside, his lips meet your jaw. On your sides, facing each other, you throw your arms over his shoulders, his hands sinking down around your waist, from how close you lay there’s barely any room for him to feed you a full thrust. He tries, grinding his cock against that spot inside you, eating every soft, wrecked moan you spill. 

“I love you so much,” he finally says, “Every inch of you, every part of this body.”

You whimper, fingers curling into his hair with no force, succumbing to the pleasure, the slight sting of overstimulation. 

“You take everything,” he whispers, lips against your cheek, you feel his breath, the severity of his words. “Do so fucking well for me every time. I need you.” Your heart jumps, clenching around him, pressure stemming. He repeats, voice a little louder, “I need you, love you s’much, ‘d do anything for you.”

Your hands drop to his shoulderblades, nails sinking in, breath growing heavier, a soft moan slipping past your lips, into his mouth. You whimper, voice cracking, “I’m sorry.”

“I know,” his fingertips curl into your back, “I know, baby.”

“I love you,” your voice cracks again, breath going uneven, he kisses you softly. 

Your hips move with his, meeting each roll, the slick sound of your still-soaked center a symphony in your dimlit bedroom. He hears when your breathing shifts, as you start to climb. “Yes,” he encourages, voice dripping in praise, “Cum for me, baby, you deserve it. Did so good for me.”

Your breath hitches, hips twitching against him, he rolls into you a little harder. He kisses you, tongue sloppy inside your mouth, tasting everything you’d given him tonight, taking responsibility for it all. He turns you just slightly, angling you onto your back a little more so he can piston his hips higher, against that spot inside you. Your leg dangles, leaving your body spread and open, so trusting it makes his stomach do a flip. He presses two fingers against your clit, rubbing quick, tight circles.

He knows you’re seeing stars by the loud, pitched cry from your throat, he curses under his breath, “C’mon, cum for me. Give it to me, let me have it, I need it.”

Your spine bends on command, thighs shaking, pleasure washing over you in tremors. Eyes squeezing shut, he kisses your unmoving mouth, fingers working your clit, fucking you through it, extending your release, pulling it deeper, hotter, longer. 

He kisses your cheek when a tear slips out, wiping his upper lip with his tongue. Your face is bent up in pleasure, eyes big and doe-like, pupils dilated. You mumble, voice little and weak, “Please cum inside me.”

His pace quickens, chasing instead of supplying, voice caught in his chest. You kiss him again, sloppier, moaning into his mouth as he fucks into you steadily, fingers curling into his hair while you fuck him back. He chokes on a moan, hand splayed across your abdomen, hips losing their rhythm before he stutters, legs shaking, spilling everything that’s left inside him to give. 

Winded, breathing heavy, Yunho’s spent. There’s nothing but the sound of your breath in the room, he keeps his cock inside you until it’s soft and even then you wait until discomfort knocks on your door to part. 

“Can I clean you up?” He asks into the silence, palm still heavy over your sticky stomach. 

You moan your disagreement. “We need to shower.”

He rolls over, pressing a soft kiss onto your cheek, “Are you strong enough to?”

Your head turns, meeting his eye, a smile curving your lips to a singular degree. “I don’t really have a choice. You came on me twice– three times?”

He plants his palms on either side of your head, eyes meeting the ceiling in thought. “Mouth, thighs, stomach, face, inside. Three.” 

You throw your arms over his shoulders, bringing him down to kiss you. A soft, quick peck, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he smiles into your lips, “I’ll carry you and clean you, you don’t have to do anything. I’ll change our sheets, we’ll eat something, watch our show…”

You nod slowly, brain drifting. From the most vulnerable part of your foggy mind comes a question, voice thin as you ask, “You know I don’t want Yeosang, right?” 

His eyes flicker over your face, searching for the emotion that asked the question.

“Of course,” he replies, full of confidence, already spitting quick reassurance, “We’re perfect. I’m not angry at you, I’m not upset with you, I don’t have any feelings that will fester over tonight. Are you okay? Did I push you too far?”

You shake your head, “No.” Biting your lip, they scrunch to one side. “I’m okay, I just… Don’t stray too far away from me tonight. Please.”

He leans down to press another kiss on your forehead, “I won’t leave your side. I promise.”

masterlist

[teaxtease]

₊˚.༄ ATEEZ brand new

💌 request: ‘could you make fake texts where reader asks if they can try something new in bed (can be anything really) via text because reader is too shy to ask in person?’

note: ask and you shall receive! i’m lowkey going through my inbox instead of studying for finals… anyway, requests are open.

warnings: nsfw. mentions of edging, face sitting, choking, overstimulation, restraints, whipped cream (?), slapping, and chokeholds. one playful mention of religion in seonghwa’s.

[alanasdesire]

Freak For You

[MASTERLIST]

pairing: idol bf!hongjoong x gf!fem!reader

genre: smut

synopsis: Behind closed doors, the dynamic between you and your boyfriend, Hongjoong, completely flips. To the rest of the world, he is the charismatic and commanding presence on stage, but in the private sanctuary of your relationship, he gladly surrenders that control.

warning(s): Dom!reader, oral (f receiving), overstimulation, fingering, teasing, marking, riding, sub!joong, face riding, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, begging, dirty talk, marking, praise kink, choking, rough sex, etc.

Song: freak for you by Haiden Henderson

--------------------------------------------------------

The heavy click of the front door locking felt like the official end of the world outside.

To millions of fans, Hongjoong was a force of nature—commanding, hyper-focused, and completely in control of every stage he walked onto. He carried the weight of a leader, a performer, and an icon, moving through the world with a sharp, untouchable precision that left people breathless.

But the moment the two of you crossed the threshold into the quiet sanctuary of the apartment, the suffocating pressure of his public life simply evaporated.

He didn't say a word as he shed his heavy leather jacket, tossing it carelessly onto a nearby chair. When he turned back to look at you, the sharp, intense gaze he used to hold entire stadiums captive was completely altered. The fierce, unyielding edge was gone, replaced by a quiet, heavy focus meant entirely for you.

Hongjoong took a slow step forward, his movements deliberate but entirely devoid of the authority he wore like armor out there. He stopped just inches away, looking down at you through the dark bangs falling over his forehead, his breathing already shallow.

Without you having to say a single word, he sank slowly onto his knees right there on the floorboards, his hands resting flat against his thighs. He tilted his head up, his sharp jawline defined under the soft evening light, looking up at you with absolute, unblinking devotion.

"Tell me what to do," he murmured, his voice a low, gravelly rasp that betrayed just how desperately he had been waiting for this exact moment all day.

You didn't answer right away. Instead, you took a slow, deliberate step closer, letting the tips of your boots brush against his knees. The faint friction made him track your movement, his chest rising and falling in a slightly quicker rhythm now, though he didn't dare move an inch without your permission.

Slowly, you reached down, your fingers sliding beneath his chin. You tilted his head back, forcing his gaze to hold yours completely. The contrast was striking—this was the man who, just hours ago, had a stadium of thousands hanging on his every word. Now, he was looking up at you, completely vulnerable, his lips slightly parted as a quiet, trembling breath escaped them.

"Did you behave today?" you asked, your voice low and even, dripping with an easy authority that made a visible shiver run down his spine.

Hongjoong swallowed hard, his throat bobbing against your fingertips. He leaned into your touch just a fraction, a subtle, desperate plea for closer contact that he tried to restrain. "Yes," he rasped, his eyes dark and wide, entirely focused on you. "I did exactly what I was supposed to. I promise."

"Good." You let your thumb trace the sharp line of his jaw, watching the way his eyelashes fluttered at the praise. "Because you don't have to be the leader in here, Hongjoong. You don't have to carry anything."

A soft, broken sigh left his lips at your words, the tension draining from his shoulders as he fully surrendered to the weight of your command. He reached up, his hands hovering just an inch away from your waist, waiting, begging with his eyes for the permission to touch you.

"Please," he whispered, his voice cracking slightly under the weight of how badly he wanted to please you. "Just tell me how you want me."

You let the silence stretch between you, enjoying the way his breathing hitched under the weight of his own anticipation. His hands remained frozen, hovering just off your hips, trembling slightly with the effort of keeping himself back until you gave the word.

"Hands on the floor, Joongie," you commanded softly, using the nickname like a velvet leash. "Don't touch me until I say so."

He didn't hesitate for a single second. His hands dropped instantly to the floorboards, planting firmly on either side of your boots. He bowed his head slightly, exposing the pale line of his neck, completely compliant. The utter lack of hesitation from someone so powerful outside these walls sent a sharp thrill right through you.

Slowly, you stepped out of your boots, the quiet thud of the leather hitting the floor the only sound in the room. You moved backward, sinking onto the edge of the plush bed, looking down at him from your new vantage point.

"Come here."

Hongjoong looked up, his eyes dark, heavily hooded, and entirely consumed by you. He crawled forward on his hands and knees, slow and deliberate, never breaking eye contact until his chest brushed against the mattress between your parted knees. He rested his chin on your thigh, looking up at you like a devotee at an altar, completely at your mercy.

You slid your fingers into his soft, dark hair, gently gripping the roots. Not enough to hurt, but just enough to let him know exactly who held the reins. His eyes closed, a low, needy hum vibrating against your leg at the sudden contact.

"You look so beautiful like this," you murmured, tilting his head back to expose his throat. "So eager to please."

"I am," he choked out, his hands now resting flat on the mattress on either side of your hips, still strictly obeying the command not to touch you directly. His gaze locked onto your lips, his breathing ragged. "Please. Let me do something for you."

You let your fingers tighten just a fraction in his hair, keeping his gaze locked onto yours. The sheer desperation rolling off him was palpable, a heavy tension that filled the space between you. He looked completely undone already, and you hadn't even let him touch you yet.

"Since you've been so good," you purred, your voice dropping to a velvety whisper.

Slowly, you eased your grip on his hair, sliding your hand down the side of his neck, your thumb tracing over his pulsing artery before hooking under the collar of his shirt. You shifted back into the mattress, parting your knees a fraction wider, inviting him into the space.

"You can touch me now," you murmured. "Take off my clothes. Slowly."

A ragged exhale broke from Hongjoong's lips, a sound of pure relief and intense hunger. His hands, finally released from their restraint, moved instantly. They slid up the denim of your jeans, his palms hot and slightly damp against your skin, tracing a path up to your waist. He didn't rush—even in his eagerness, he obeyed the command to be deliberate, his fingers trembling slightly as he worked at the button and zipper of your pants.

He leaned forward, shifting his weight onto his knees on the bed, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he slid the fabric down your hips. His hot breath brushed against your collarbone, sending a fierce shiver through your entire body.

"You're so perfect," he muttered against your skin, his voice muffled but entirely breathless. "Thank you... thank you for letting me."

Once the barrier of your clothes was gone, he didn't immediately go further. Instead, he stayed exactly where he was, hovering over you, looking down at your body with a reverence that bordered on worship. His hands came up to frame your waist, his thumbs smoothing over your hip bones, leaving burning trails in their wake.

You raised your hips slightly, hooking your legs around his waist to pull him closer, but you kept your hands flat against his chest, holding him back just enough to keep yourself in control.

"Look at me, Joongie," you commanded softly.

He lifted his head instantly, his pupils so blown out that the dark irises were almost entirely swallowed up. His lips were parted, a thin sheen of sweat glistening on his forehead.

"Down," you said, nodding toward the space between your thighs. "Show me exactly how much you wanted this all day."

Hongjoong’s chest heaved with a heavy, ragged breath as your command settled over him. For a fraction of a second, his gaze dropped to the space between your thighs, a dark, intense hunger flaring in his eyes before he looked right back up at you, silently asking for that final, silent confirmation.

When you gave him a slow, single nod, he moved.

He slid down the length of your body, his hot palms sweeping down your outer thighs to gently urge your knees wider apart. He settled between them on his knees, moving with a reverence that made your pulse skyrocket. The cool air of the room hit your bare skin, but it was immediately replaced by the radiating heat of his body as he leaned in.

Hongjoong didn't rush. He hovered just inches away, his breath ghosting over your sensitive skin, making you twitch beneath him. He looked up one more time, his dark bangs falling into his eyes, completely glassy and utterly devoted.

"Tell me if it's too much," he whispered, his voice incredibly low, gravelly, and entirely stripped of any pretense. "Tell me exactly how you want it."

"Just start, Joongie," you breathed, your hands reaching up to grip the headboard behind you as the anticipation became almost too much to bear.

He let out a soft hum against your skin, a vibration that made you gasp, before his lips finally made contact.

He started with slow, agonizingly soft kisses along the inside of your thigh, marking his way upward with deliberate patience. Every press of his lips was hot and damp, a deliberate slow-burn torture that had you arching your hips off the mattress in a silent plea for more. But he held your hips down firmly with his large hands, his fingers digging into your skin just enough to anchor you, keeping you exactly where he wanted you to be.

When his tongue finally flicked against your center, a sharp, breathless cry escaped your throat.

Hongjoong groaned against you at the sound, the praise fueling him instantly. His pace picked up, his tongue moving in long, deliberate strokes that had your fingers tightening around the headboard until your knuckles turned white. He knew exactly what he was doing, swirling and pressing with a devastating rhythm that had you completely at his mercy.

"Hongjoong..." you gasped out, your head tossing back against the pillows.

Hearing his name unraveled whatever restraint he had left. He used his fingers to part you further, exposing you completely to his heat.

His mouth became hungrier, his suction deeper, a soft, wet sound filling the quiet room as he worshipped you.

He swirled his tongue over your clit while simultaneously sliding two fingers inside you, the sudden fullness making your eyes snap open.

"Ah! Joongie—"

You looked down, your vision blurry, only to find him looking right back up at you. Even with his mouth buried against you, his dark, blown-out eyes never left your face.

He watched every single expression of pleasure cross your features, drinking in the sight of you coming apart under his touch, completely satisfied to be the one on his knees making it happen.

The sudden fullness of his fingers inside you, paired with the relentless, soaking friction of his tongue, had you arching wildly off the mattress. Your hips stuttered against his mouth, but Hongjoong’s grip on your thighs only tightened, holding you perfectly steady against the onslaught.

He didn't miss a single beat. His fingers curled inside you, finding the exact angle that made your toes curl, while his thumb applied a heavy, rhythmic pressure to your clit.

"Too fast?" he murmured against your skin, his voice muffled, hot, and vibrating directly against your center. He didn't slow down, his eyes locked onto yours, completely dark and pupils fully blown. He was reading every twitch of your muscles, every ragged hitch in your chest.

"No—don't stop, Joongie, please," you choked out, your voice breaking as the coiled tension in your lower stomach tightened down to a sharp, unbearable point.

A muffled, deeply satisfied growl rumbled in his throat at your begging. The sound was pure submission, yet the sheer intensity of his pace felt utterly dominant as he drove you closer to the edge. He increased the friction, his tongue swirling in relentless, soaking circles while his fingers moved in a swift, demanding rhythm inside you.

The quiet room was filled with the wet, heavy sounds of his devotion and your own breathless, unraveled cries. You were completely at his mercy, your hands gripping the headboard so tightly your arms trembled.

"Look at me," you gasped, your vision swimming.

He immediately tilted his head up slightly, never stopping his hands or his mouth, looking up at you through his damp bangs. His lips were wet and glistening, his jaw tense with the effort of holding his own desire back just to give you everything first. The absolute worship in his eyes was the final fuse.

"Hongjoong—I'm going to—"

"Go," he rasped out against you, his fingers flexing deeply inside you one more time. "Come for me, sweetheart. Let me feel it."

The peak hit you like a wave, a violent, blinding rush of heat that fractured your vision. You screamed his name, your hips spasming uncontrollably against his face as the first hard ripples of your orgasm tore through you.

Hongjoong didn't pull away. He drank in every single drop of your pleasure, burying his face directly into your heat and riding out the waves with you.

His fingers stayed buried deep inside you, curling gently to catch every internal contraction, anchoring you to the bed as your body trembled and finally, slowly, began to come down.

He stayed right there for a long, quiet minute, his face buried against your inner thigh as your breathing gradually slowed from a ragged pant to a steady, heavy rhythm. The tension had completely melted out of your muscles, leaving you tingling, warm, and entirely pliant against the sheets.

Slowly, Hongjoong pulled back. He slid up the mattress, his movements heavy and loose, until he was hovering over you once again.

He looked completely wrecked in the best possible way. His dark bangs were damp, clinging slightly to his forehead, and his lips were flushed and glistening under the dim light.

The intense, hyper-focused gaze he usually held was entirely gone, replaced by a soft, heavily hooded look of pure contentment. He rested his forearms on either side of your head, taking care not to put all his weight on you, but staying close enough that you could feel the frantic, rapid thumping of his heart against your chest.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, his voice incredibly rough and gravelly. He leaned down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your temple, then your cheek, before resting his forehead against yours. "So beautiful when you take everything from me."

You let out a soft, breathy laugh, your hands lazily sliding up his chest to wrap around the back of his neck. Your fingers tangled in his hair, gently tugging to make him look at you. "You did so good, Joongie."

A visible shiver ran through him at the praise, a quiet, needy whimper catching in his throat. He shifted his hips against yours, and the heavy, rigid heat pressing against your thigh was a stark reminder that despite everything he had just given you, he hadn't touched himself once.

He was completely at his limit, his chest heaving as he stared down at you with a desperate, unspoken plea.

"Can I..." He swallowed hard, his throat bobbing as he struggled to find his words, completely unraveled by your touch. "Please. I want to be inside you so bad."

You arched your hips up slightly, feeling the friction of his weight, and smiled when a low growl rumbled deep in his chest at the movement.

"Take off your shirt," you commanded softly, sliding your hands down to his waist. "And then you can have exactly what you want."

Hongjoong didn’t need to be told twice. He sat back on his heels instantly, his fingers hooking into the hem of his white graphic tee. With one swift, fluid motion, he pulled it over his head and tossed it blindly onto the floor, exposing the sharp, tense lines of his chest and shoulders. His skin was slick with a thin sheen of sweat, gleaming under the low light of the room.

He didn't wait. He leaned back down over you, his bare chest pressing against yours with a heat that felt almost electric.

"Now," he gasped out, his hands framing your face, his thumbs smoothing over your cheekbones with a desperate intensity. "Please, tell me I can."

"Now, Joongie," you whispered.

He let out a ragged, broken sound—halfway between a sigh and a sob of pure relief. He reached down, his fingers guiding himself to your opening, which was still slick and sensitive from before. He paused for just a fraction of a second at your threshold, his eyes locked onto yours, silently checking one last time that you were ready to let him lose control.

When you wrapped your legs tightly around his waist, pulling him down, Hongjoong sank into you in one deep, slow push.

The sudden fullness made your eyes snap wide, a breathless gasp escaping your lips. Hongjoong groaned deeply, the sound vibrating right against your collarbone as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. He went entirely still for a moment, his muscles shaking with the sheer effort of restraining himself as your body tightly accommodated his weight.

"God, you feel so good," he choked out, his voice completely wrecked. "So tight. So hot."

Slowly, he began to move. He pulled back just enough before driving deep again, establishing a slow, heavy, agonizingly perfect rhythm. He wasn't the leader right now; he was completely at the mercy of the friction, his hips stuttering slightly whenever your hands tightened on his bare back, digging your nails into his shoulders.

Every time he pushed deep inside you, a soft whimper left his lips. He was entirely unraveled, giving up every ounce of his usual composure, completely content to let you hear just how weak he was for you.

The slow, agonizingly deep rhythm quickly began to fraction. As the heat built between you, Hongjoong’s composure fractured entirely, his breath turning into short, ragged gasps against your ear. Every time his hips met yours, a low, desperate sound tore from his throat—a raw vocalization of how deeply he was losing himself in you.

"Look at me," you choked out, your hands sliding up his slick back to grip the damp roots of his hair.

He lifted his head instantly, his face flushed and his eyes completely dark, wide with an intense, unblinking focus. There was no stage persona left, no guarded expression—just pure, unadulterated vulnerability. He was looking at you as if you were the only thing keeping him grounded in the universe, entirely dependent on your expression for his next breath.

"Faster, Joongie," you commanded, your voice strained under the tightening coil in your stomach.

The permission broke the final thread of his restraint. His pace turned urgent, hard, and unyielding, driving into you with a relentless fervor that had the headboard knocking rhythmically against the wall. The wet, heavy friction filled the quiet room, a devastatingly loud testament to his surrender.

"Ah, god—sweetheart," he gasped out, his jaw clenching tightly as his movements grew slightly wilder, his hips stuttering against yours. He was chasing the edge blindly now, his fingers digging into the mattress on either side of your head, muscles in his arms tensing until they trembled violently.

You wrapped your legs higher around his waist, locking him in, arching your hips to meet every deep, frantic thrust. The sudden shift in angle pushed you both right over the precipice.

"Hongjoong—" Your voice broke on his name as the second wave of your climax hit, tight internal contractions clamping down around him.

The feeling of you coming apart around him ruined whatever control he had left. Hongjoong let out a loud, broken cry, his head falling back as his eyes closed.

He delivered three more deep, desperate thrusts before embedding himself completely inside you, his entire body locking up as a heavy, shuddering release tore through him. He spilled inside you, his chest heaving violently against yours as his pulse ran completely wild.

The heavy, frantic thumping of his heart gradually slowed against your chest, the loud, echoing sound of his breathing filling the quiet room as the aftershocks of his release slowly subsided. Hongjoong stayed buried deep inside you for a long moment, completely spent, his forehead resting heavily in the crook of your neck as his muscles finally unlocked from their tight tension.

Slowly, with an almost agonizing gentleness, he shifted his weight. He pulled back, a soft, quiet gasp escaping his lips at the sudden loss of contact, and rolled onto his side right next to you on the tangled sheets.

He didn't let you go, though. The moment he settled, his arm slid around your waist, pulling your back flush against his bare chest. He buried his face in the damp hair at the back of your neck, his breath still hot and slightly uneven against your skin.

"Don't move," he murmured, his voice incredibly rough, deep, and completely laced with exhaustion. He tightened his grip around your middle just a fraction, pulling you so close there wasn't a single inch of space left between you. "Just stay right here."

You reached down, wrapping your fingers over his hand where it rested flat against your stomach. His skin was warm, his fingers still trembling slightly from the sheer intensity of the last hour.

Out there, the world was waiting for him—schedules, cameras, stadium lights, and the relentless pressure of being the perfect leader. But in the quiet dark of the bedroom, with the door locked and your hand in his, he didn't have to carry any of it. He was completely stripped bare, entirely yours, and perfectly content to let you hold the reins until the morning came.

--------------------------------------------------------

@alanasdesire

All rights reserved. Do not repost. Do no translate.

[minkieater]

SWEET LIKE HONEY 🍯

[ex-husband!wooyoung x ex-wife!reader] third & final part of the wifey trilogy | smut minors dni 18+ pinv, creampie, dirty talk, talk of pregnancy, wooyoung is a little shit, beautiful loving sex that will make u want to rip ur hair out | wc 9.8k i cant believe this mini series is finally over, i had so much fun writing it, thank you for reading and interacting with me and keeping me motivated to write more. i appreciate every single one of you, and your words matter. please enjoy and happy spring xoxoxo 🐝

“Did you know mommy’s sick?”

Just past five thirty on a Tuesday night Wooyoung finished eating dinner with Kyungmin, a meal he threw together quick and easy after he picked his son up from after-school care. Standing at his kitchen sink, he turned around to eye his eight year old with a singular eyebrow raised. “Sick?”

“She keeps throwing up,” Kyungmin, eyes focused on his screen laid on top of the kitchen island counter, didn’t spare Wooyoung a glance as he spoke. “All. Day. Long. Yesterday, she threw up while she was driving me home from school.”

Wooyoung fully turned around at that, brows knitted together, kitchen sink still running, the titanium holding three more dishes he still had to wash. “While she was driving? Or did she pull over?”

His son looked at him with such an incredulous look it made Wooyoung feel a little stupid for asking the question. With a little giggle, Kyungmin answered, “She pulled over, duh.”

“Okay, attitude,” Wooyoung couldn’t help being amused whenever he saw you in your son, even if he thinks Kyungmin is all him. Sitting in the same clothes he wore to school today, a tee shirt, loose jeans that Wooyoung bought him, his favorite Elsa and Anna socks, his eyes went right back to his tablet, the case bright green against the deep granite countertop. “Did she go to the doctor?”

His kid shrugged. 

“Kyungmin,” Wooyoung’s tone was stronger, asking for his son’s attention. The boy lifted his eyes away from his screen as Wooyoung asked, “Has she said anything about it?”

“Just said she’s sick,” Kyungmin shrugged again, sounding irritated that Wooyoung was taking him away from his screen time, “she told me not to tell you.”

Wooyoung’s smirk was anything but involuntary. His son, indeed. “But you’re telling me anyway?”

“It’s stinky,” he uttered, crinkling his nose as he said it. A little quieter, a little smaller, he mumbled, “And it’s scary.”

“Don’t be scared,” Wooyoung soothed, turning off the kitchen sink before leaning his elbows on the granite, leaning over the countertop so he can be eye-to-eye with his son. “Mommy’s okay, I promise.”

Kyungmin lifted his eyes, a twinkle of fear swirling in whiskey, eyes that were identical to his own. He whispered, “How do you know?”

It made sense then, why he hasn’t been served papers. Even if it fills him with hope, he knows there’s a long fucking way to go before actual progress is made, although it’s already been over two months since that dreadful night on your living room floor. He expected to be served within two weeks, maybe three, but nine have passed and nothing, not a whisper about his least favorite word that starts with D. 

God knows he hasn’t brought it up. 

“Because daddy’s always right,” Wooyoung gleamed, and the smile made the corner of Kyungmin’s lips curve upward. Wooyoung’s head tilted, “Aren’t I?”

Kyungmin shook his head, “No.”

“Boo,” Wooyoung’s lip lifted, dragging out the word in a sneer. “Come on, I was right this morning when I said making bunny ears with your shoe laces is easier, right?” Kyungmin’s lips pursed like he was trying to fight his smile from growing. Wooyoung made his way around the kitchen counter, coming up behind Kyungmin, “And I was right earlier when I said you’re still ticklish, wasn’t I?”

His hands jumped for Kyungmin’s sides, and his heart sang listening to his son’s loud, wild giggles. He stopped tickling to wrap his arms around him in a tight hug, planting a kiss to the top of his head. “Daddy’s always right, and I said mommy’s gonna be just fine, so trust me, okay?”

Just fine. Nine weeks of pick-ups, drop-offs, damn near silent, everything was so fucking far from fine he’s barely slept in weeks. He finally came clean with his therapist, who he hoped and prayed had something legally binding her from reporting his lawyer in some way, which might be the result of leftover anxiety from doing such a thing in the first place. 

He should have waited. He probably shouldn’t have done it at all, but he did, and he should have fucking waited to tell you. If you’re pregnant, which he’d place a million dollar bet on if you’re throwing up–if this pregnancy was anything like your pregnancy with Kyungmin–he could have waited until you were farther along. Hell, he could have waited until the baby was born. 

Any time would have been better than the time he chose. When you two were on better terms, smoother terms, he should have told you then. When it might’ve felt like everything was falling into place. Instead he ripped things apart all over again, and now they’re worse than they were to begin with and fuck he was back to square one or even something worse than that. 

His therapist wouldn’t agree with any of that, but whatever. He’s losing his mind. But the little boy in his arms is keeping that singular thread of rationality stronger than steel. 

“Come on, stinky, shower time.”

“I’m not stinky,” Kyungmin huffs, “you’re stinky. You smell like… you smell like my butt.”

Wooyoung raises his brows at the little’s head tipped backward into his stomach, “So your butt is stinky?”

Kyungmin smiles, “No.”

“Okay, so maybe we’ll go to bed early tonight, since you forgot how to make sense,” he lifts his son by his armpits onto the floor, and the tablet dangles from his right hand, which Wooyoung scoops up with his own. “This screen is frying your stinky brain.”

“You have a stinky brain,” Kyungmin points, then turns on his heel, giggling just as wild and just as loud all the way to the bathroom. 

“This stinky brain created you,” Wooyoung calls after him. “If I’m stinky, you’re stinky!”

“You’re the stinky one!” 

Wooyoung can’t help the snort that rips from his nose as he throws the tablet onto his couch, making his way towards the bathroom in the middle of the singular hallway in his entire apartment. Almost-bachelor-pad, Yunho and Aurora had called it. “Then I’ll take a shower after you, stinky boy. Do you need help with the faucet?”

“Yes, please!”

His smile doesn’t leave the entire time he’s in the bathroom. Turning on the faucet to the right temperature, helping Kyungmin with his shirt that got stuck going over his head, even smelling Kyungmin’s stinky socks that really were fucking stinky. Hearing his son laugh again, his favorite sound in the world, he remembers the days he could hold the boy over one forearm like it was yesterday.

Fuck, and he might have another? Another shot at creating a life? Hearing his baby laugh for the first time? Take their first steps? Hear their first word? Another child to see himself in, to see you in, a life created by both of you, by the time he’s spread out on the couch half-listening to Kyungmin singing a song from Kpop Demon Hunters, somehow he mindlessly got his phone out, your contact information on the screen. 

Somehow. 

You don’t pick up on his first try. So he calls again. 

“Is Kyungmin okay?”

You sound like summertime. Even if your voice is ebbed in panic, burnt at the edges like you’re trying to contain the flame, you sound like the morning of August twenty-third, the morning he met you, fifteen years ago.

“He’s fine–”

“What do you want?”

The flame burns freely once more. 

He didn’t really think this far. Tongue-tied, he sputters over his next words, “I- um, just- uh–”

“Wooyoung,” your voice is stern, a warning. It doesn’t help how each one of his limbs has seemed to lock up. “What do you want?”

“You.” Fuck his brain and his vocal chords for not working as a team. He lets the following pause settle, hoping you’d take it as a joke, at least. If this was a month ago you would’ve hung up as soon as he said Kyungmin’s fine. 

“Well you fucked that up,” you say matter-of-factly, as if he didn’t know it down to his very fucking soul. Closing his eyes, bringing his palm to his forehead, he sighs. “Is there anything in particular that requires you calling my phone at six o’clock on a Tuesday?”

“Am I allowed to talk to you?”

“No.”

“What?” There’s a part of him that feels like throwing the same tantrum Kyungmin threw yesterday. “Why not?”

“Because you’re a deceitful, selfish asshole, and a pain in my fucking ass.”

His lips thin, face going flat. Can he blame any of this on pregnancy hormones yet?

“Look–”

“No.”

“Please–”

“No.”

“Holy shit can I please just fucking–”

“No.”

And the line runs dead. Sighing, he runs a hand through his hair, throwing his phone on the couch beside him. He groans after watching it bounce to the floor, sinking deeper into the tough, barely broken-in cushions, knees spreading, he’s really fucking close to throwing that tantrum. 

According to all known laws of aviation, there is no way a bee should be able to fly.

Its wings are too small to get its fat little body off the ground.

The bee, of course, flies anyway because bees don't care what humans think is impossible.

Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Yellow, black.

Ooh, black and yellow!

Let's shake it up a little.

Barry! Breakfast is ready!

Coming!

Hang on a second.

Hello?

Barry?

Adam?

Can you believe this is happening?

I can't.

I'll pick you up.

Looking sharp.

Use the stairs, Your father paid good money for those.

Sorry. I'm excited.

Here's the graduate.

We're very proud of you, son.

A perfect report card, all B's.

Very proud.

Ma! I got a thing going here.

You got lint on your fuzz.

Ow! That's me!

Wave to us! We'll be in row 118,000.

Bye!

Barry, I told you, stop flying in the house!

Hey, Adam.

Hey, Barry.

Is that fuzz gel?

A little. Special day, graduation.

Never thought I'd make it.

Three days grade school, three days high school.

Those were awkward.

Three days college. I'm glad I took a day and hitchhiked around The Hive.

You did come back different.

Hi, Barry. Artie, growing a mustache? Looks good.

Hear about Frankie?

Yeah.

You going to the funeral?

No, I'm not going.

Everybody knows, sting someone, you die.

Don't waste it on a squirrel.

Such a hothead.

I guess he could have just gotten out of the way.

I love this incorporating an amusement park into our day.

That's why we don't need vacations.

Boy, quite a bit of pomp under the circumstances.

Well, Adam, today we are men.

We are!

Bee-men.

Amen!

Hallelujah!

Students, faculty, distinguished bees,

please welcome Dean Buzzwell.

Welcome, New Hive City graduating class of 9:15.

That concludes our ceremonies And begins your career at Honex Industries!

Will we pick our job today?

I heard it's just orientation.

Heads up! Here we go.

Keep your hands and antennas inside the tram at all times.

Wonder what it'll be like?

A little scary.

Welcome to Honex, a division of Honesco and a part of the Hexagon Group.

This is it!

Wow.

Wow.

We know that you, as a bee, have worked your whole life to get to the point where you can work for your whole life.

Honey begins when our valiant Pollen Jocks bring the nectar to The Hive.

Our top-secret formula is automatically color-corrected, scent-adjusted and bubble-contoured into this soothing sweet syrup with its distinctive golden glow you know as... Honey!

That girl was hot.

She's my cousin!

She is?

Yes, we're all cousins.

Right. You're right.

At Honex, we constantly strive to improve every aspect of bee existence.

These bees are stress-testing a new helmet technology.

What do you think he makes?

Not enough.

Here we have our latest advancement, the Krelman.

What does that do?

Catches that little strand of honey that hangs after you pour it.

Saves us millions.

Can anyone work on the Krelman?

Of course. Most bee jobs are small ones.

But bees know that every small job, if it's done well, means a lot.

But choose carefully because you'll stay in the job you pick for the rest of your life.

The same job the rest of your life? I didn't know that.

What's the difference?

You'll be happy to know that bees, as a species, haven't had one day off in 27 million years.

So you'll just work us to death?

We'll sure try.

Wow! That blew my mind!

"What's the difference?"

How can you say that?

One job forever?

That's an insane choice to have to make.

I'm relieved. Now we only have to make one decision in life.

But, Adam, how could they never have told us that?

Why would you question anything? We're bees.

We're the most perfectly functioning society on Earth.

You ever think maybe things work a little too well here?

Like what? Give me one example.

I don't know. But you know what I'm talking about.

Please clear the gate. Royal Nectar Force on approach.

Wait a second. Check it out.

Hey, those are Pollen Jocks!

Wow.

I've never seen them this close.

They know what it's like outside The Hive.

Yeah, but some don't come back.

Hey, Jocks!

Hi, Jocks!

You guys did great!

You're monsters!

You're sky freaks! I love it! I love it!

I wonder where they were.

I don't know.

Their day's not planned.

Outside The Hive, flying who knows where, doing who knows what.

You can't just decide to be a Pollen Jock. You have to be bred for that.

Right.

Look. That's more pollen than you and I will see in a lifetime.

It's just a status symbol.

Bees make too much of it.

Perhaps. Unless you're wearing it and the ladies see you wearing it.

Those ladies?

Aren't they our cousins too?

Distant. Distant.

Look at these two.

Couple of Hive Harrys.

Let's have fun with them.

It must be dangerous being a Pollen Jock.

Yeah. Once a bear pinned me against a mushroom!

He had a paw on my throat, and with the other, he was slapping me!

Oh, my!

I never thought I'd knock him out.

What were you doing during this?

Trying to alert the authorities.

I can autograph that.

A little gusty out there today, wasn't it, comrades?

Yeah. Gusty.

We're hitting a sunflower patch six miles from here tomorrow.

Six miles, huh?

Barry!

A puddle jump for us, but maybe you're not up for it.

Maybe I am.

You are not!

We're going 0900 at J-Gate.

What do you think, buzzy-boy?

Are you bee enough?

I might be. It all depends on what 0900 means.

Hey, Honex!

Dad, you surprised me.

You decide what you're interested in?

Well, there's a lot of choices.

But you only get one.

Do you ever get bored doing the same job every day?

Son, let me tell you about stirring.

You grab that stick, and you just move it around, and you stir it around.

You get yourself into a rhythm.

It's a beautiful thing.

You know, Dad, the more I think about it,

maybe the honey field just isn't right for me.

You were thinking of what, making balloon animals?

That's a bad job for a guy with a stinger.

Janet, your son's not sure he wants to go into honey!

Barry, you are so funny sometimes.

I'm not trying to be funny.

You're not funny! You're going into honey. Our son, the stirrer!

You're gonna be a stirrer?

No one's listening to me!

Wait till you see the sticks I have.

I could say anything right now.

I'm gonna get an ant tattoo!

Let's open some honey and celebrate!

Maybe I'll pierce my thorax. Shave my antennae. Shack up with a grasshopper. Get a gold tooth and call everybody "dawg"!

I'm so proud.

We're starting work today!

Today's the day.

Come on! All the good jobs will be gone.

Yeah, right.

Pollen counting, stunt bee, pouring, stirrer, front desk, hair removal...

Is it still available?

Hang on. Two left!

One of them's yours! Congratulations!

Step to the side.

What'd you get?

Picking crud out. Stellar!

Wow!

Couple of newbies?

Yes, sir! Our first day! We are ready!

Make your choice.

You want to go first?

No, you go.

Oh, my. What's available?

Restroom attendant's open, not for the reason you think.

Any chance of getting the Krelman?

Sure, you're on.

I'm sorry, the Krelman just closed out.

Wax monkey's always open.

The Krelman opened up again.

What happened?

A bee died. Makes an opening. See? He's dead. Another dead one.

Deady. Deadified. Two more dead.

Dead from the neck up. Dead from the neck down. That's life!

Oh, this is so hard!

Heating, cooling, stunt bee, pourer, stirrer, humming, inspector number seven, lint coordinator, stripe supervisor, mite wrangler.

Barry, what do you think I should... Barry?

Barry!

All right, we've got the sunflower patch in quadrant nine...

What happened to you?

Where are you?

I'm going out.

Out? Out where?

Out there.

Oh, no!

I have to, before I go to work for the rest of my life.

You're gonna die! You're crazy! Hello?

Another call coming in.

If anyone's feeling brave, there's a Korean deli on 83rd that gets their roses today.

Hey, guys.

Look at that.

Isn't that the kid we saw yesterday?

Hold it, son, flight deck's restricted.

It's OK, Lou. We're gonna take him up.

Really? Feeling lucky, are you?

Sign here, here. Just initial that.

Thank you.

OK.

You got a rain advisory today, and as you all know, bees cannot fly in rain.

So be careful. As always, watch your brooms, hockey sticks, dogs, birds, bears and bats.

Also, I got a couple of reports of root beer being poured on us.

Murphy's in a home because of it, babbling like a cicada!

That's awful.

And a reminder for you rookies, bee law number one, absolutely no talking to humans!

 All right, launch positions!

Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz! Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz! Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz!

Black and yellow!

Hello!

You ready for this, hot shot?

Yeah. Yeah, bring it on.

Wind, check.

Antennae, check.

Nectar pack, check.

Wings, check.

Stinger, check.

Scared out of my shorts, check.

OK, ladies,

let's move it out!

Pound those petunias, you striped stem-suckers!

All of you, drain those flowers!

Wow! I'm out!

I can't believe I'm out!

So blue.

I feel so fast and free!

Box kite!

Wow!

Flowers!

This is Blue Leader, We have roses visual.

Bring it around 30 degrees and hold.

Roses!

30 degrees, roger. Bringing it around.

Stand to the side, kid.

It's got a bit of a kick.

That is one nectar collector!

Ever see pollination up close?

No, sir.

I pick up some pollen here, sprinkle it over here. Maybe a dash over there, a pinch on that one.

See that? It's a little bit of magic.

That's amazing. Why do we do that?

That's pollen power. More pollen, more flowers, more nectar, more honey for us.

Cool.

I'm picking up a lot of bright yellow, Could be daisies, Don't we need those?

Copy that visual.

Wait. One of these flowers seems to be on the move.

Say again? You're reporting a moving flower?

Affirmative.

That was on the line!

This is the coolest. What is it?

I don't know, but I'm loving this color.

It smells good.

Not like a flower, but I like it.

Yeah, fuzzy.

Chemical-y.

Careful, guys. It's a little grabby.

My sweet lord of bees!

Candy-brain, get off there!

Problem!

Guys!

This could be bad.

Affirmative.

Very close.

Gonna hurt.

Mama's little boy.

You are way out of position, rookie!

Coming in at you like a missile!

Help me!

I don't think these are flowers.

Should we tell him?

I think he knows.

What is this?!

Match point!

You can start packing up, honey, because you're about to eat it!

Yowser!

Gross.

There's a bee in the car!

Do something!

I'm driving!

Hi, bee.

He's back here!

He's going to sting me!

Nobody move. If you don't move, he won't sting you. Freeze!

He blinked!

Spray him, Granny!

What are you doing?!

Wow... the tension level out here is unbelievable.

I gotta get home.

Can't fly in rain. Can't fly in rain. Can't fly in rain.

Mayday! Mayday! Bee going down!

Ken, could you close the window please?

Ken, could you close the window please?

Check out my new resume. I made it into a fold-out brochure. You see? Folds out.

Oh, no. More humans. I don't need this.

What was that?

Maybe this time. This time. This time. This time! This time! This... Drapes!

That is diabolical.

It's fantastic. It's got all my special skills, even my top-ten favorite movies.

What's number one? Star Wars?

Nah, I don't go for that... kind of stuff.

No wonder we shouldn't talk to them. They're out of their minds.

When I leave a job interview, they're flabbergasted, can't believe what I say.

There's the sun. Maybe that's a way out.

I don't remember the sun having a big 75 on it.

I predicted global warming. I could feel it getting hotter. At first I thought it was just me.

Wait! Stop! Bee!

Stand back. These are winter boots.

Wait!

Don't kill him!

You know I'm allergic to them! This thing could kill me!

Why does his life have less value than yours?

Why does his life have any less value than mine? Is that your statement?

I'm just saying all life has value. You don't know what he's capable of feeling.

My brochure!

There you go, little guy.

I'm not scared of him.It's an allergic thing.

 Put that on your resume brochure.

My whole face could puff up.

Make it one of your special skills.

Knocking someone out is also a special skill.

Right. Bye, Vanessa. Thanks.

Vanessa, next week? Yogurt night?

Sure, Ken. You know, whatever.

You could put carob chips on there.

Bye.

Supposed to be less calories.

Bye.

I gotta say something. She saved my life. I gotta say something.

All right, here it goes.

Nah.

What would I say?

I could really get in trouble. It's a bee law. You're not supposed to talk to a human.

I can't believe I'm doing this. I've got to.

Oh, I can't do it. Come on!

No. Yes. No. Do it. I can't.

How should I start it? "You like jazz?" No, that's no good.

Here she comes! Speak, you fool!

Hi!

I'm sorry. You're talking.

Yes, I know.

You're talking!

I'm so sorry.

No, it's OK. It's fine.

I know I'm dreaming. But I don't recall going to bed.

Well, I'm sure this is very disconcerting.

This is a bit of a surprise to me. I mean, you're a bee!

I am. And I'm not supposed to be doing this, but they were all trying to kill me.

And if it wasn't for you... I had to thank you. It's just how I was raised.

That was a little weird. I'm talking with a bee.

Yeah.

I'm talking to a bee. And the bee is talking to me!

I just want to say I'm grateful.

I'll leave now.

Wait! How did you learn to do that?

What?

The talking thing.

Same way you did, I guess. "Mama, Dada, honey." You pick it up.

That's very funny.

Yeah.

Bees are funny. If we didn't laugh, we'd cry with what we have to deal with.

Anyway... Can I... get you something?

Like what?

I don't know. I mean... I don't know. Coffee?

I don't want to put you out.

It's no trouble. It takes two minutes.

It's just coffee.

I hate to impose.

Don't be ridiculous!

Actually, I would love a cup.

Hey, you want rum cake?

I shouldn't.

Have some.

No, I can't.

Come on!

I'm trying to lose a couple micrograms.

Where?

These stripes don't help.

You look great!

I don't know if you know anything about fashion.

Are you all right?

No.

He's making the tie in the cab as they're flying up Madison.

He finally gets there.

He runs up the steps into the church.

The wedding is on.

And he says, "Watermelon?

I thought you said Guatemalan.

Why would I marry a watermelon?"

Is that a bee joke?

That's the kind of stuff we do.

Yeah, different.

So, what are you gonna do, Barry?

About work? I don't know.

I want to do my part for The Hive, but I can't do it the way they want.

I know how you feel.

You do?

Sure.

My parents wanted me to be a lawyer or a doctor, but I wanted to be a florist.

Really?

My only interest is flowers.

Our new queen was just elected with that same campaign slogan.

Anyway, if you look... There's my hive right there. See it?

You're in Sheep Meadow!

Yes! I'm right off the Turtle Pond!

No way! I know that area. I lost a toe ring there once.

Why do girls put rings on their toes?

Why not?

It's like putting a hat on your knee.

Maybe I'll try that.

You all right, ma'am?

Oh, yeah. Fine.

Just having two cups of coffee!

Anyway, this has been great.

Thanks for the coffee.

Yeah, it's no trouble.

Sorry I couldn't finish it. If I did, I'd be up the rest of my life.

Are you...?

Can I take a piece of this with me?

Sure! Here, have a crumb.

Thanks!

Yeah.

All right. Well, then... I guess I'll see you around. Or not.

OK, Barry.

And thank you so much again... for before.

Oh, that? That was nothing.

Well, not nothing, but... Anyway...

This can't possibly work.

He's all set to go.

We may as well try it.

OK, Dave, pull the chute.

Sounds amazing.

It was amazing!

It was the scariest, happiest moment of my life.

Humans! I can't believe you were with humans!

Giant, scary humans!

What were they like?

Huge and crazy. They talk crazy.

They eat crazy giant things.

They drive crazy.

Do they try and kill you, like on TV?

Some of them. But some of them don't.

How'd you get back?

Poodle.

You did it, and I'm glad. You saw whatever you wanted to see.

You had your "experience." Now you can pick out yourjob and be normal.

Well...

Well?

Well, I met someone.

You did? Was she Bee-ish?

A wasp?! Your parents will kill you!

No, no, no, not a wasp.

Spider?

I'm not attracted to spiders.

I know it's the hottest thing, with the eight legs and all. I can't get by that face.

So who is she?

She's... human.

No, no. That's a bee law. You wouldn't break a bee law.

Her name's Vanessa.

Oh, boy.

She's so nice. And she's a florist!

Oh, no! You're dating a human florist!

We're not dating.

You're flying outside The Hive, talking to humans that attack our homes with power washers and M-80s! One-eighth a stick of dynamite!

She saved my life! And she understands me.

This is over!

Eat this.

This is not over! What was that?

They call it a crumb.

It was so stingin' stripey!

And that's not what they eat.

That's what falls off what they eat!

You know what a Cinnabon is?

No.

It's bread and cinnamon and frosting. They heat it up...

Sit down!

...really hot!

Listen to me!

We are not them! We're us.

There's us and there's them!

Yes, but who can deny the heart that is yearning?

There's no yearning. Stop yearning. Listen to me!

You have got to start thinking bee, my friend. Thinking bee!

Thinking bee.

Thinking bee.

Thinking bee! Thinking bee! Thinking bee! Thinking bee!

There he is. He's in the pool.

You know what your problem is, Barry?

I gotta start thinking bee?

How much longer will this go on?

It's been three days! Why aren't you working?

I've got a lot of big life decisions to think about.

What life? You have no life!

You have no job. You're barely a bee!

Would it kill you to make a little honey?

Barry, come out. Your father's talking to you.

Martin, would you talk to him?

Barry, I'm talking to you!

You coming?

Got everything?

All set!

Go ahead. I'll catch up.

Don't be too long.

Watch this!

Vanessa!

We're still here.

I told you not to yell at him.

He doesn't respond to yelling!

Then why yell at me?

Because you don't listen!

I'm not listening to this.

Sorry, I've gotta go.

Where are you going?

I'm meeting a friend.

A girl? Is this why you can't decide?

Bye.

I just hope she's Bee-ish.

They have a huge parade of flowers every year in Pasadena?

To be in the Tournament of Roses, that's every florist's dream!

Up on a float, surrounded by flowers, crowds cheering.

A tournament. Do the roses compete in athletic events?

No. All right, I've got one.

How come you don't fly everywhere?

It's exhausting. Why don't you run everywhere? It's faster.

Yeah, OK, I see, I see.

All right, your turn.

TiVo. You can just freeze live TV? That's insane!

You don't have that?

We have Hivo, but it's a disease. It's a horrible, horrible disease.

Oh, my.

Dumb bees!

You must want to sting all those jerks.

We try not to sting. It's usually fatal for us.

So you have to watch your temper.

Very carefully.

You kick a wall, take a walk, write an angry letter and throw it out. Work through it like any emotion: Anger, jealousy, lust.

Oh, my goodness! Are you OK?

Yeah.

What is wrong with you?!

It's a bug.

He's not bothering anybody.

Get out of here, you creep!

What was that? A Pic 'N' Save circular?

Yeah, it was. How did you know?

It felt like about 10 pages. Seventy-five is pretty much our limit.

You've really got that down to a science.

I lost a cousin to Italian Vogue.

I'll bet.

What in the name of Mighty Hercules is this?

How did this get here? cute Bee, Golden Blossom, Ray Liotta Private Select?

Is he that actor?

I never heard of him.

Why is this here?

For people. We eat it.

You don't have enough food of your own?

Well, yes.

How do you get it?

Bees make it.

I know who makes it! And it's hard to make it!

There's heating, cooling, stirring. You need a whole Krelman thing!

It's organic.

It's our-ganic!

It's just honey, Barry.

Just what?!

Bees don't know about this! This is stealing! A lot of stealing!

You've taken our homes, schools,hospitals! This is all we have!

And it's on sale?! I'm getting to the bottom of this.

I'm getting to the bottom of all of this!

Hey, Hector. You almost done?

Almost.

He is here. I sense it.

Well, I guess I'll go home now and just leave this nice honey out, with no one around.

You're busted, box boy!

I knew I heard something.

So you can talk!

I can talk. And now you'll start talking!

Where you getting the sweet stuff? Who's your supplier?

I don't understand.

I thought we were friends.

The last thing we want to do is upset bees!

You're too late! It's ours now!

You, sir, have crossed the wrong sword!

You, sir, will be lunch for my iguana, Ignacio!

Where is the honey coming from? Tell me where!

Honey Farms! It comes from Honey Farms!

Crazy person!

What horrible thing has happened here?

These faces, they never knew what hit them. And now

they're on the road to nowhere!

Just keep still.

What? You're not dead?

Do I look dead? They will wipe anything that moves. Where you headed?

To Honey Farms. I am onto something huge here.

I'm going to Alaska. Moose blood, crazy stuff. Blows your head off!

I'm going to Tacoma.

And you?

He really is dead.

All right.

Uh-oh!

What is that?!

Oh, no!

A wiper! Triple blade!

Triple blade?

Jump on! It's your only chance, bee!

Why does everything have

to be so doggone clean?!

How much do you people need to see?!

Open your eyes!

Stick your head out the window!

From NPR News in Washington,

I'm Carl Kasell.

But don't kill no more bugs!

Bee!

Moose blood guy!!

You hear something?

Like what?

Like tiny screaming.

Turn off the radio.

Whassup, bee boy?

Hey, Blood.

Just a row of honey jars, as far as the eye could see.

Wow!

I assume wherever this truck goes is where they're getting it. I mean, that honey's ours.

Bees hang tight. We're all jammed in.

It's a close community.

Not us, man. We on our own. Every mosquito on his own.

What if you get in trouble?

You a mosquito, you in trouble. Nobody likes us. They just smack. See a mosquito, smack, smack!

At least you're out in the world. You must meet girls.

Mosquito girls try to trade up, get with a moth, dragonfly. Mosquito girl don't want no mosquito.

You got to be kidding me!

Mooseblood's about to leave the building! So long, bee!

Hey, guys!

Mooseblood!

I knew I'd catch y'all down here.

Did you bring your crazy straw?

We throw it in jars, slap a label on it, and it's pretty much pure profit.

What is this place?

A bee's got a brain the size of a pinhead.

They are pinheads!

Pinhead.

Check out the new smoker.

Oh, sweet. That's the one you want. The Thomas 3000!

Smoker?

Ninety puffs a minute, semi-automatic. Twice the nicotine, all the tar. A couple breaths of this knocks them right out.

They make the honey, and we make the money.

"They make the honey, and we make the money"?

Oh, my!

What's going on? Are you OK?

Yeah. It doesn't last too long.

Do you know you're in a fake hive with fake walls?

Our queen was moved here. We had no choice.

This is your queen? That's a man in women's clothes! That's a drag queen!

What is this?

Oh, no!

There's hundreds of them!

Bee honey.

Our honey is being brazenly stolen on a massive scale!

This is worse than anything bears have done! I intend to do something.

Oh, Barry, stop.

Who told you humans are taking our honey? That's a rumor.

Do these look like rumors?

That's a conspiracy theory. These are obviously doctored photos. How did you get mixed up in this?

He's been talking to humans.

What? Talking to humans?!

He has a human girlfriend. And they make out!

Make out? Barry!

We do not.

You wish you could.

Whose side are you on?

The bees!

I dated a cricket once in San Antonio. Those crazy legs kept me up all night.

Barry, this is what you want to do with your life?

I want to do it for all our lives. Nobody works harder than bees!

Dad, I remember you coming home so overworked

your hands were still stirring. You couldn't stop.

I remember that.

What right do they have to our honey?

We live on two cups a year. They put it in lip balm for no reason whatsoever!

Even if it's true, what can one bee do?

Sting them where it really hurts.

In the face! The eye!

That would hurt.

No.

Up the nose? That's a killer.

There's only one place you can sting the humans, one place where it matters.

Hive at Five, The Hive's only full-hour action news source.

No more bee beards!

With Bob Bumble at the anchor desk. Weather with Storm Stinger. Sports with Buzz Larvi. And Jeanette Chung.

Good evening. I'm Bob Bumble.

And I'm Jeanette Ohung.

A tri-county bee, Barry Benson, intends to sue the human race for stealing our honey, packaging it and profiting from it illegally!

Tomorrow night on Bee Larry King, we'll have three former queens here in our studio, discussing their new book, classy Ladies, out this week on Hexagon.

Tonight we're talking to Barry Benson.

Did you ever think, "I'm a kid from The Hive. I can't do this"?

Bees have never been afraid to change the world.

What about Bee Oolumbus? Bee Gandhi? Bejesus?

Where I'm from, we'd never sue humans.

We were thinking of stickball or candy stores.

How old are you?

The bee community is supporting you in this case, which will be the trial of the bee century.

You know, they have a Larry King in the human world too.

It's a common name. Next week...

He looks like you and has a show and suspenders and colored dots...

Next week...

Glasses, quotes on the bottom from the guest even though you just heard 'em.

Bear Week next week! They're scary, hairy and here live.

Always leans forward, pointy shoulders, squinty eyes, very Jewish.

In tennis, you attack at the point of weakness!

It was my grandmother, Ken. She's 81.

Honey, her backhand's a joke!

I'm not gonna take advantage of that?

Quiet, please.

Actual work going on here.

Is that that same bee?

Yes, it is!

I'm helping him sue the human race.

Hello.

Hello, bee.

This is Ken.

Yeah, I remember you. Timberland, size ten and a half. Vibram sole, I believe.

Why does he talk again?

Listen, you better go 'cause we're really busy working.

But it's our yogurt night!

Bye-bye.

Why is yogurt night so difficult?!

You poor thing. You two have been at this for hours!

Yes, and Adam here has been a huge help.

Frosting...

How many sugars?

Just one. I try not to use the competition.

So why are you helping me?

Bees have good qualities. And it takes my mind off the shop. Instead of flowers, people are giving balloon bouquets now.

Those are great, if you're three.

And artificial flowers.

Oh, those just get me psychotic!

Yeah, me too.

Bent stingers, pointless pollination.

Bees must hate those fake things!

Nothing worse than a daffodil that's had work done.

Maybe this could make up for it a little bit.

This lawsuit's a pretty big deal.

I guess.

You sure you want to go through with it?

Am I sure? When I'm done with the humans, they won't be able to say, "Honey, I'm home," without paying a royalty!

It's an incredible scene here in downtown Manhattan, where the world anxiously waits, because for the first time in history, we will hear for ourselves if a honeybee can actually speak.

What have we gotten into here, Barry?

It's pretty big, isn't it?

I can't believe how many humans don't work during the day.

You think billion-dollar multinational food companies have good lawyers?

Everybody needs to stay behind the barricade.

What's the matter?

I don't know, I just got a chill.

Well, if it isn't the bee team.

You boys work on this?

All rise! The Honorable Judge Bumbleton presiding.

All right. Case number 4475,

Superior Court of New York,

Barry Bee Benson v. the Honey Industry is now in session.

Mr. Montgomery, you're representing the five food companies collectively?

A privilege.

Mr. Benson... you're representing all the bees of the world?

I'm kidding. Yes, Your Honor, we're ready to proceed.

Mr. Montgomery, your opening statement, please.

Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, my grandmother was a simple woman. Born on a farm, she believed it was man's divine right to benefit from the bounty of nature God put before us.

If we lived in the topsy-turvy world Mr. Benson imagines, just think of what would it mean.

I would have to negotiate with the silkworm for the elastic in my britches!

Talking bee!

How do we know this isn't some sort of holographic motion-picture-capture Hollywood wizardry?

They could be using laser beams! Robotics! Ventriloquism! Cloning! For all we know, he could be on steroids!

Mr. Benson?

Ladies and gentlemen, there's no trickery here. I'm just an ordinary bee. Honey's pretty important to me. It's important to all bees. We invented it! We make it. And we protect it with our lives.

Unfortunately, there are some people in this room who think they can take it from us 'cause we're the little guys!

I'm hoping that, after this is all over, you'll see how, by taking our honey, you not only take everything we have but everything we are!

I wish he'd dress like that all the time. So nice!

Call your first witness.

So, Mr. Klauss Vanderhayden of Honey Farms, big company you have.

I suppose so.

I see you also own Honeyburton and Honron!

Yes, they provide beekeepers for our farms.

Beekeeper. I find that to be a very disturbing term.

I don't imagine you employ any bee-free-ers, do you?

No.

I couldn't hear you.

No.

No. Because you don't free bees. You keep bees. Not only that, it seems you thought a bear would be an appropriate image for a jar of honey.

They're very lovable creatures. Yogi Bear, Fozzie Bear, Build-A-Bear.

You mean like this?

Bears kill bees!

How'd you like his head crashing through your living room?! Biting into your couch! Spitting out your throw pillows! OK, that's enough. Take him away.

So, Mr. Sting, thank you for being here. Your name intrigues me. Where have I heard it before?

I was with a band called The Police.

But you've never been a police officer, have you?

No, I haven't.

No, you haven't. And so here we have yet another example of bee culture casually stolen by a human for nothing more than a prance-about stage name.

Oh, please.

Have you ever been stung, Mr. Sting? Because I'm feeling a little stung, Sting. Or should I say... Mr. Gordon M. Sumner!

That's not his real name?! You idiots!

Mr. Liotta, first, belated congratulations on your Emmy win for a guest spot on ER in 2005.

Thank you. Thank you.

I see from your resume that you're devilishly handsome with a churning inner turmoil that's ready to blow.

I enjoy what I do. Is that a crime?

Not yet it isn't. But is this what it's come to for you? Exploiting tiny, helpless bees so you don't have to rehearse your part and learn your lines, sir?

Watch it, Benson! I could blow right now!

This isn't a goodfella.

This is a badfella!

Why doesn't someone just step on this creep, and we can all go home?!

Order in this court!

You're all thinking it!

Order! Order, I say!

Say it!

Mr. Liotta, please sit down!

I think it was awfully nice of that bear to pitch in like that. I think the jury's on our side.

Are we doing everything right, legally?

I'm a florist.

Right. Well, here's to a great team.

To a great team!

Well, hello.

Ken!

Hello.

I didn't think you were coming.

No, I was just late I tried to call, but... the battery.

I didn't want all this to go to waste,

so I called Barry. Luckily, he was free.

Oh, that was lucky.

There's a little left. I could heat it up.

Yeah, heat it up, sure, whatever.

So I hear you're quite a tennis player. I'm not much for the game myself. The ball's a little grabby.

That's where I usually sit. Right... there.

Ken, Barry was looking at your resume, and he agreed with me that eating with chopsticks isn't really a special skill.

You think I don't see what you're doing?

I know how hard it is to find the right job. We have that in common.

Do we?

Bees have 100 percent employment, but we do jobs like taking the crud out.

That's just what I was thinking about doing.

Ken, I let Barry borrow your razor for his fuzz. I hope that was all right.

I'm going to drain the old stinger.

Yeah, you do that.

Look at that.

You know, I've just about had it with your little Mind Games.

What's that?

Italian Vogue.

Mamma mia, that's a lot of pages.

A lot of ads.

Remember what Van said, why is your life more valuable than mine?

Funny, I just can't seem to recall that! I think something stinks in here!

I love the smell of flowers.

How do you like the smell of flames?!

Not as much.

Water bug! Not taking sides!

Ken, I'm wearing a Chapstick hat!

This is pathetic!

I've got issues!

Well, well, well, a royal flush!

You're bluffing.

Am I?

Surf's up, dude!

Poo water!

That bowl is gnarly. Except for those dirty yellow rings!

Kenneth! What are you doing?!

You know, I don't even like honey! I don't eat it!

We need to talk! He's just a little bee!

And he happens to be the nicest bee I've met in a long time!

Long time? What are you talking about?! Are there other bugs in your life?

 No, but there are other things bugging me in life. And you're one of them!

Fine! Talking bees, no yogurt night...

My nerves are fried from riding on this emotional roller coaster!

Goodbye, Ken.

And for your information, I prefer sugar-free, artificial sweeteners made by man!

I'm sorry about all that.

I know it's got an aftertaste! I like it!

I always felt there was some kind of barrier between Ken and me. I couldn't overcome it.

Oh, well.

Are you OK for the trial?

I believe Mr. Montgomery is about out of ideas.

We would like to call Mr. Barry Benson Bee to the stand.

Good idea! You can really see why he's considered one of the best lawyers...

Yeah.

Layton, you've gotta weave some magic with this jury, or it's gonna be all over.

Don't worry. The only thing I have to do to turn this jury around is to remind them of what they don't like about bees.

You got the tweezers?

Are you allergic?

Only to losing, son. Only to losing.

Mr. Benson Bee, I'll ask you what I think we'd all like to know.

What exactly is your relationship to that woman?

We're friends.

Good friends?

Yes.

How good? Do you live together?

Wait a minute... Are you her little... bedbug?

I've seen a bee documentary or two. From what I understand, doesn't your queen give birth to all the bee children?

Yeah, but...

So those aren't your real parents!

Oh, Barry...

Yes, they are!

Hold me back!

You're an illegitimate bee, aren't you, Benson?

He's denouncing bees!

Don't y'all date your cousins?

Objection!

do not kill me keep your pitchforks at home. happy april fools motherfuckers

[yuyurie]

ATEEZ members having a boner while being away from you.

I said “while being away” but some of these actually felt like them being needy in general. I appreciate every like, comment and reblog, thank you all so much. Have fun reading!

Ateez x fem reader

[yourfavtangerine]

Cold as snow - part 2

Snow leopard hybrid!Hongjoong x human!reader

Hybrid AU, slow burn, smut, angst, fluff

Wc:~6.5k

You can find part 1 here !!

Warnings: angst & trauma recovery (ptsd nightmares, fear of abandonment, emotional breakdowns), possessive/territorial behavior, jealousy, violence (home invasion, fight, injury, self-harm references, smut, rut sex, knotting, breeding kink/talk, multiple rounds, biting/marking, tail play, creampie, blood, hurt/comfort (yes it's a lot of warnings)

The apartment no longer felt like a museum of careful distance. Four months had passed since that heated night on the couch and the space had transformed into something warmer, lived-in, undeniably yours. Yet beneath the new domestic rhythm, shadows still lingered, long and sharp like snow leopard claws.

You woke to the familiar weight of Hongjoong draped across your back, his tail curled possessively around your thigh even in sleep. His breath was warm against your nape, hair spilling over the pillow like fresh powder. The first few weeks after he’d claimed you, he’d barely let you out of arm’s reach. Now it was routine: he slept pressed against you, one arm slung over your waist, ears twitching at every distant siren or neighbor’s footstep.

You shifted carefully. His ears flicked forward and a low, sleepy rumble vibrated through his chest.

"Too early" he murmured, voice gravel-rough from disuse overnight. His nose nudged the mating mark he’d left on your shoulder, a faint scar now, but one he still licked every morning like a ritual.

"Work" you whispered, threading fingers through his hair. "Shift starts at seven."

His tail tightened. "Call in sick."

You smiled despite yourself. "I can’t. Director Park already has me on thin ice."

Hongjoong’s purr faltered. He lifted his head, glacial eyes sharp even in the pre-dawn light filtering through the curtains. "Because of me."

"Because of us" you corrected gently.

He didn’t argue. Instead he rolled you beneath him in one fluid motion, caging you with strong arms. His gaze dragged down your body, lingering on the bruises and bite marks that never quite faded anymore, before he dipped his head and pressed slow, deliberate kisses along your collarbone. The scent of cedar and cold mountain air filled your lungs as he rubbed his cheek against your skin, freshening his mark.

"Mine" he growled softly, the word more habit than threat now.

You tilted your head to give him better access.

He lingered there longer than usual, tongue tracing the scar until your skin tingled. Only when your alarm finally blared did he release you with a reluctant huff, ears pinned back in displeasure.

Breakfast was a shared ritual now. You chopped vegetables at the counter while Hongjoong perched on the island stool, tail swaying lazily. He still refused most human foods, but he’d grown fond of watching you cook, especially when you let him "help" by stealing bites of raw meat from the cutting board.

Today he was restless. His ears kept swiveling toward the balcony door and his claws flexed against the marble countertop.

"Nightmare again?" you asked quietly, sliding a plate of seared beef strips toward him.

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead he dragged you closer by the waistband of your sleep shorts, burying his face against your stomach and inhaling deeply.

"Fighting ring" he muttered finally. "Chains. Lights. The handler with the pole… he laughed when I bit him."

Your hand found the base of his ear, stroking gently. A deep purr rolled through him despite the tension in his shoulders.

"You’re safe now" you whispered. "Here. With me."

He nodded against your shirt but didn’t pull away until the purr steadied. Small breakthroughs like this still felt precious, moments where the wary, caged predator softened into something almost domestic.

You left for work with his scent heavy on your skin. He’d made sure of it, rubbing his wrists along your arms and neck before you reached the door. A silent claim for anyone at the shelter who might forget.

The whispers started the moment you stepped into the staff lounge. "Did you hear? She actually kept the snow leopard"

"HK-0047? The one who almost killed Choi?"

"Insane. Park’s furious."

You kept your head down, pouring coffee like the rumors didn’t burn. Director Park had been watching you closer since the adoption. Surprise welfare inspections had already happened twice. The latest report on your desk yesterday had been blunt: "Ongoing concerns regarding adopter suitability for high-risk hybrid. Recommend mandatory progress evaluations."

You crumpled the memo in your fist before anyone could see.

The day dragged. Two new intakes: a pair of traumatized otter hybrids, kept you busy until late afternoon. When your phone buzzed with a message from home, your heart skipped.

From Hongjoong: Front door smells wrong. Come back soon.

He rarely texted. You’d bought him a phone months ago mostly for emergencies, but he preferred waiting by the door like a sentinel.

You clocked out early.

The apartment hallway carried a faint trace of unfamiliar scent: sterile, official. Welfare department. Your stomach twisted as you unlocked the door.

Hongjoong was waiting just inside, back pressed to the wall, tail lashing violently. His ears were flat, pupils blown wide. The moment you stepped in he pulled you against his chest, arms wrapping tight, nose pushing into your hair.

"Two of them" he growled. "Human male and female. Said they needed to assess living conditions. I let them look. Didn’t touch anything. But they smelled like the shelter. Like cages."

You hugged him back, rubbing slow circles between his shoulder blades until the tension eased.

"I’m sorry. I should have warned you inspections might continue."

He pulled back just enough to look at you. "They asked how often you restrain me. If I’ve bitten you recently." His gaze dropped to the visible mark on your neck. "I wanted to show them exactly how you let me bite."

A tired laugh escaped you. "That would’ve gone well."

Hongjoong didn’t smile. He guided you deeper into the apartment, tail still curled around your wrist. The space looked pristine, he’d even fluffed the couch cushions, but you could see the faint gouges where his claws had dug into the doorframe while he waited.

That evening you tried something new. "Let’s go for a walk. The park across the street. After dark, when it’s quiet."

His ears perked slightly, though suspicion lingered in his eyes. "Outside?"

"You’ve been cooped up too long. Just ten minutes. I’ll stay right beside you."

He agreed, but not without first scent-marking you again, thoroughly. By the time you stepped into the elevator he’d rubbed against your sides so insistently you smelled like a walking snow leopard territory marker.

The night air was cool. Hongjoong stayed glued to your side, one hand fisted in the back of your jacket, the other flexing at his side. His ears swiveled constantly, catching every rustle of leaves and distant car horn. But when you reached the small wooded section of the park and moonlight filtered through the trees, something in him shifted.

He stopped beneath an old oak, tilting his head back to stare at the sky. His tail stilled. For a moment the city faded and you glimpsed the wild creature he might have been: hair glowing, powerful shoulders relaxed, eyes reflecting starlight.

"Smells like home" he whispered. "Not the mountains exactly… but closer."

You leaned against the tree beside him. "We could go someday. Real snow. Somewhere remote."

His hand found yours, claws carefully retracted. "You’d do that? For me?"

"I’d do anything for you."

A genuine purr rumbled out: loud, unrestrained. He turned and nuzzled into your neck right there under the trees, licking over your pulse point until your knees weakened.

Back home the mood stayed soft. You cooked together: him handing you ingredients, you letting him taste the sauce straight from the spoon. He purred the entire time, a constant low vibration that made the kitchen feel smaller, warmer.

Later, curled on the couch with a drama playing quietly, Hongjoong’s head rested in your lap. You stroked between his ears while his tail draped across your thighs.

Peaceful moments like this made the shadows feel distant.

Until your phone rang. Unknown number. You almost ignored it, but something made you answer.

A gravelly voice spoke without greeting. "Tell the snow cat we haven’t forgotten him. The raid took a lot from us. He still owes blood."

The line went dead.

Hongjoong sat up slowly, ears pinned, eyes glowing with old fury. "Who?" he asked, voice dangerously calm.

You swallowed. "Someone from the fighting ring. They know you’re out."

His claws unsheathed, digging into the cushion. The peaceful purr from minutes ago was gone, replaced by a low, warning growl that rattled the windows.

"They won’t touch you" he said. "Not while I’m breathing."

You reached for him, but he was already standing, pacing the length of the living room with fluid, predatory grace. The domestic house cat from dinner had vanished. In his place stood the fighter who had survived four years in a concrete box.

The fragile rhythm you’d built suddenly felt paper-thin.

That night his nightmares returned worse than ever. He woke snarling, claws slashing at invisible handlers, nearly catching your arm before he recognized you. The apology that followed was frantic: grooming licks across every inch of skin he could reach, tail wrapped so tightly around your waist it left faint marks.

You held him through it, whispering reassurances until dawn.

But as sunlight crept across the floor, your phone buzzed again. A message from Director Park: Mandatory welfare review scheduled for next week. Bring Hongjoong. Do not be late.

Hongjoong read the message over your shoulder, chest pressed to your back, arms caging you against the counter.

"They want to take me back" he said flatly.

You turned in his arms, cupping his face. "They won’t. I won’t let them."

His forehead dropped to yours. The purr that finally returned was shaky, uncertain.

"I’m trying" he whispered. "To be good for you. To be… enough."

"You are more than enough."

Yet as he kissed you, slow and deep, tasting of fear and fierce love, you felt the shadows lengthening. Old ghosts from the fighting ring reaching out. The shelter system closing in. The constant battle to prove that a broken snow leopard deserved the home you’d fought to give him.

Hongjoong pulled back, eyes burning with protective fire. "Let them come" he growled softly. "I’ve waited years for something worth fighting for."

He kissed the mating mark on your shoulder one last time, sealing the promise.

The welfare review was scheduled for a Thursday morning. You had spent three sleepless nights preparing: cleaning every surface until it gleamed, printing adoption papers and medical records, rehearsing calm answers to every possible question. Hongjoong watched you from the couch with flat ears and a tail that never stopped twitching.

"They’re going to take me" he said on the morning of the review. His voice was quiet, stripped of its usual growl. He stood by the window in black sweatpants and one of your oversized hoodies, hair still messy from your fingers the night before. "I can smell it on you. Fear."

You crossed the room and cupped his face. "They won’t. I have rights. You have rights now."

His laugh was bitter. "Rights." He leaned into your touch anyway, eyes closing as you scratched behind his tufted ears. "I had rights in the fighting ring too. Look where that got me."

The drive to the shelter was silent except for the low, anxious rumble in his chest. His hand stayed clamped around your thigh the entire way, claws pricking denim but never breaking skin. When you pulled into the staff parking lot, two welfare officers were already waiting, clipboard in hand, expressions professionally blank.

Director Park stood behind them, arms crossed. His gaze flicked to Hongjoong with poorly concealed distaste.

The evaluation lasted four grueling hours. They interviewed you separately, then Hongjoong. They inspected the apartment photos you’d brought, asked invasive questions about your sex life, your sleeping arrangements, how often he "displayed aggressive behaviors."

Hongjoong sat through it with rigid posture and minimal words until one officer asked if he felt safe in your home.

His eyes snapped up. "Safer than I ever felt in yours."

They didn’t like that.

At the end of the review, the senior officer delivered the verdict with clinical detachment. "Given Subject HK-0047’s documented history of severe aggression and the recent anonymous threat reported to authorities, we’re mandating a two-week observational hold at the sanctuary for re-evaluation. This is standard protocol for high-risk cases."

You argued. You shouted. You threatened legal action and called every contact you had. None of it mattered. Two security hybrids, large bear mixes, escorted Hongjoong to a transport van while he stared at you with betrayed eyes.

"Don’t" he warned when you tried to reach for him. "Don’t make this harder."

The van doors closed. You stood in the parking lot watching red taillights disappear, feeling like your chest had been clawed open.

The two weeks without him were hell. You threw yourself into work, picking up extra shifts, volunteering for night inventory, anything to avoid the empty apartment that still smelled like cedar and snow. At night you slept in his hoodie, clutching the blanket he’d claimed months ago. His scent was already fading.

When the day finally came to collect him, you arrived early. Hongjoong was waiting in the intake room, thinner, eyes shadowed. Fresh scratches marked his forearms, self-inflicted, you suspected. The moment the release papers were signed he stood, but he didn’t run to you. He walked slowly, tail low, shoulders hunched like he was bracing for another blow.

The car ride home was worse than the ride there had been.

"You chose your job" he said suddenly, staring out the window. "Again."

"I fought for you every single day..."

"But you still work there." His voice cracked. "The same place that wanted me dead. The same place that locked me in a box for years. You go back every morning like nothing happened."

You gripped the steering wheel tighter. "It’s how I can afford to keep you safe. The apartment, food, lawyers if we need them..."

"I don’t need lawyers. I need you." The last word broke.

When you reached home he went straight to the couch and curled into the corner, back facing the room. No purring. No nuzzling. Just silence.

The regression was brutal.

Over the next week Hongjoong barely spoke. He ate only when you forced food in front of him. He stopped sleeping in your bed, choosing instead the far end of the couch or the floor of the spare room. When you tried to touch him he would flinch or pull away with a low warning growl. Once, when you reached for his hand, he snapped, literally, teeth clicking shut inches from your fingers.

"Don’t" he snarled. "I’m not your tame little pet anymore."

You recoiled, heart hammering. The pale scars on your collarbone from months ago suddenly itched.

Furniture suffered. One night you came home to find the scratching post in splinters and deep gouges in the coffee table. He didn’t apologize. He simply watched you clean it up with hollow eyes.

Then the clouded leopard came back.

His name was Minho, barely nineteen, still skittish, with faded bruises from his previous adoptive family. The shelter had called you in desperation; no one else had experience with him. You couldn’t say no. Not when he cried in the carrier, ears flat against his head.

You brought him home on a Tuesday evening. Hongjoong was waiting by the door like always. The moment he caught the younger hybrid’s scent his entire body went rigid.

"No" he said flatly.

"Hongjoong, he has nowhere else-"

"I said no." His tail lashed hard enough to knock a lamp off the side table. It shattered. He didn’t flinch. "You bring him here after everything? After they took me away? You still choose them."

Minho whimpered from inside the carrier. You set the carrier down gently and turned to your snow leopard. "This isn’t choosing. He was abused. I can help him heal for a few weeks until we find a permanent home. That’s my job."

"Your job" Hongjoong echoed, voice dripping acid. "Always your job. Never me. Never us."

He stormed into the bedroom and slammed the door so hard the frame cracked.

Minho stayed in the spare room that night. You slept on the couch. Hongjoong didn’t come out until long after you’d left for work the next morning.

The jealousy festered. Hongjoong began lurking near the spare room door whenever you were inside with Minho. He would pace the hallway, low growls rumbling continuously. When you emerged smelling like clouded leopard fur and milk, Hongjoong would corner you in the kitchen, pressing you against the counter, nose buried in your neck as he tried to overwrite the scent with his own. But he wouldn’t kiss you. Wouldn’t purr. Just aggressive, desperate scent-marking that left you bruised and aching.

"You let him sleep in your arms once" he hissed one night, claws pricking your hips. "I remember. You think I forgot how that felt?"

"I was just doing my job" you whispered.

"I’m not your job?" His laugh was broken. "I’m your burden."

The fracture deepened every day.

The breaking point came on a rainy Friday night.

You returned from a long shift to find the apartment in chaos. Couch cushions shredded. Your favorite mug smashed. And Hongjoong’s phone lying on the floor with a single note typed on the screen: I’m too broken for this. You deserve better. Don’t look for me.

Your heart stopped. You ran into the storm without a jacket, calling his name down empty streets. Rain soaked you instantly. Every shadow looked like his hair. Every alley made your chest ache with terror.

You found him at the edge of the park where you’d taken that first walk months ago. He was crouched under the same oak tree, soaked, ears flat, tail wrapped around himself. His claws dug deep into the wet earth.

You approached slowly. "Hongjoong."

He didn’t look up. "Go home."

"I’m not leaving without you."

"Why?" He finally lifted his head. Rain mixed with tears on his face, something you’d never seen before. "Why keep fighting for something that keeps hurting you? I destroyed the apartment. I scared the kid. I nearly bit you again. I’m exactly what they said I was. Dangerous. Irredeemable."

You knelt in the mud in front of him, ignoring the cold seeping through your jeans.

"Because I love you" you said fiercely. "Not the safe version. Not the healed version. You. The one who survived four years in hell. The one who waited for me outside that glass every day. The one who’s terrified of losing the only home he’s ever had."

His breath hitched. You reached out slowly and cupped his wet cheek. "I will always choose you. Even when it’s hard. Even when the system tries to take you. Even when you push me away. Forever doesn’t mean only the good days, Hongjoong. It means all of them."

He broke. A raw, choked sound tore from his throat as he lunged forward, wrapping around you so tightly you could barely breathe. His face buried in your neck, fangs grazing skin without breaking it, body shaking with silent sobs. The rain poured harder but neither of you moved.

"I’m scared" he admitted against your skin, voice muffled. "Every day I’m scared you’ll wake up and realize I’m not worth the fight."

"You are worth everything."

He pulled back just enough to kiss you: desperate, messy, tasting of rain and salt. His tail curled around your waist, anchoring you to him. When he finally drew away, forehead pressed to yours, some of the ice in his eyes had thawed.

"I don’t want to run anymore" he whispered.

"Then don’t." You stroked his soaked hair. "Come home. We’ll fix the couch. We’ll find Minho a better place. We’ll fight the system together. But no more leaving."

He nodded, ears twitching forward slightly.

Back at the apartment he helped you clean in silence, though his hands still trembled. Later, after Minho was settled and the worst of the mess was cleared, Hongjoong pulled you into the bedroom. He didn’t initiate sex, just held you under the covers, body curled protectively around yours, tail draped over your hip.

"I meant it" he murmured into your hair as sleep finally claimed him. "Forever. Even when I’m broken."

You kissed the top of his head, feeling the steady rumble of his purr start again for the first time in weeks.

"Forever" you promised.

The heatwave hit Seoul like a slap. Temperatures climbed to 38°C by midday and the apartment’s old air conditioner rattled uselessly against the thick, humid air. Even with every window cracked and fans running on high, the space felt like a sauna. You came home from the shelter drenched in sweat, shirt sticking to your back, only to find the living room empty and unnervingly quiet.

"Hongjoong?" you called, kicking off your shoes.

No answer. But the scent in the air had changed: thicker, darker, laced with something musky and fever-hot that made your pulse jump.

You found him in the bedroom, door half-shut, lights off. He had dragged every blanket and pillow into a makeshift nest on the floor beside the bed. Hongjoong lay curled in the center of it, shirtless, sweat-slick hair plastered to his forehead. His ears were pinned flat, tail lashing restlessly against the sheets. The moment you pushed the door open his head snapped up, eyes glowing with something wild and barely contained.

"Get out" he growled, voice shredded.

You froze in the doorway. "What’s wrong?"

His claws dug into the mattress. "Rut. First real one since… since before the shelter." He squeezed his eyes shut, body shuddering. "It came on fast. Too fast. You need to leave. Lock the door. Don’t come back until it’s over."

You stepped inside instead.

Hongjoong snarled, low and warning. "I said get out! I won’t be gentle. I won’t be me. I’ll hurt you-"

"You won’t" you said softly, closing the door behind you. The heat in the room was stifling, rolling off him in waves. "I’m not leaving you to suffer alone for days."

He laughed, broken and bitter. "You don’t understand. This isn’t like before. This is… instinct. I’ll knot you. I’ll bite. I’ll say things-" His hips jerked involuntarily against the nest, a helpless grind that made him hiss through his teeth. "Please. I waited years in a cage. Don’t make me lose control with the only person who matters."

You knelt at the edge of the nest. Sweat already beaded on your skin. "Then lose control with me. I trust you."

His eyes snapped open, pupils blown wide, only a thin ring of brown left. For a long second he just stared, chest heaving. Then something in him snapped.

He moved faster than you could track, strong hands grabbing your waist, dragging you into the nest with him. Fabric tore as he ripped your shirt open, mouth latching onto your neck with a desperate groan. The bite wasn’t gentle; fangs sank in just enough to sting, marking over the old scar as fresh heat flooded your veins.

"So mine" he rasped against your skin. "Been holding it back for weeks. Smelling you every day. Other hybrids on your clothes. Couldn’t take it anymore."

You gasped as his hands shoved your pants down, claws carefully retracted but still scraping deliciously. The air felt too thick, too hot, but his body against yours was hotter. He flipped you onto your back in the nest, hovering above you with trembling arms. His hair curtained around your face.

"Last chance" he growled.

You pulled him down by the back of his neck and kissed him hard.

That was all the permission he needed.

Hongjoong devoured you. His mouth claimed yours with bruising force, tongue sliding deep while his hands mapped every inch of sweat-slick skin. He tore the rest of your clothes away, then shoved his own sweatpants down, freeing his cock already flushed dark, leaking, the base beginning to swell with the promise of a knot.

He didn’t tease. He pushed your thighs apart and slid two fingers into you without warning, curling them instantly against that spot that made your back arch. A deep, satisfied purr-rumble tore from his chest when he found you already wet.

"Always so ready for me" he muttered, adding a third finger, stretching you. "Gonna fill you up. Gonna breed this pretty pussy until it takes."

The filthy words sent heat spiraling through you. You rocked against his hand, moaning his name. He licked the sweat from your throat, then lower, sucking hard on one nipple while his tail curled around your thigh, holding you open.

When he finally replaced his fingers with his cock, he thrust in with one powerful snap of his hips, burying himself to the hilt. You cried out at the sudden fullness. He didn’t pause: couldn’t. He fucked you hard and deep, hips snapping with desperate rhythm, the wet slap of skin echoing in the stifling room.

"Fuck, so tight. So perfect," he snarled, fangs grazing your collarbone. "Gonna knot you. Keep you full of me for days."

You dug your nails into his back, legs wrapping around his waist. His tail slid higher, the soft, fluffy tip brushing teasingly over your clit with every thrust. The dual sensation: his thick cock stretching you and the silky tail stroking you, pushed you over the edge fast. You came with a broken moan, clenching around him.

Hongjoong growled in triumph but didn’t slow. He fucked you through it, then flipped you onto your stomach, pulling your hips up and slamming back in from behind. The new angle made you see stars. His chest pressed to your back, teeth sinking into your shoulder as he rutted into you with feral intensity.

By the time his knot began to catch on every thrust, you were shaking, oversensitive and pleading. He reached around to rub your clit with two fingers, purring hot against your ear.

"Come again. Want to feel you milk my knot."

You shattered a second time as his knot swelled fully, locking him deep inside. Hongjoong roared: raw, primal, grinding against you as he came in thick, endless pulses, flooding you until it leaked around his knot. The heat of it, the pressure, the way his body trembled against yours, left you boneless.

But he wasn’t done.

The rut held him for hours. He stayed locked inside you for nearly forty minutes, licking lazily at the fresh bite marks on your shoulders and neck while his knot pulsed. When it finally went down he pulled out only to flip you again, this time pulling you on top so you could ride him. His hands gripped your hips hard enough to bruise as he guided you, eyes half-lidded with lust and something deeper.

"Look at me while you take my cock" he demanded.

You did. Sweat dripped down your bodies. The heatwave outside was nothing compared to the inferno between you. He came again like that, knot swelling as you ground down on him, his tail wrapping around your waist to hold you flush while he pumped you full.

The second day blurred into a haze of sex and tenderness.

He took you against the wall, in the shower (which did nothing to cool you both), bent over the kitchen counter when you tried to bring water and food. Every surface carried his scent and yours. He marked you constantly: rubbing his wrists and cheeks over your skin, licking every inch, biting fresh claims across your breasts and inner thighs.

Between waves he grew softer. He’d curl around you in the ruined nest, purring loudly while grooming your hair with careful licks. He fed you water and pieces of fruit by hand, nuzzling your stomach with something like awe.

"Want it to take" he whispered once, palm spread over your lower belly. "Want to see you round with my kits. Want a family that’s ours."

You stroked his ears, exhausted and glowing. "One day. When we’re ready. When you feel safe."

His eyes shimmered. "You make me feel safe. Even like this."

On the third morning the fever finally broke.

Hongjoong woke curled tightly around you, knot gone, cock soft against your thigh. The apartment smelled like sex and sweat and him. Sunlight filtered through the curtains, gentler now as the heatwave eased.

He stared at the marks covering your body: bites, bruises, claiming scrapes and his ears flattened with guilt.

"I hurt you" he whispered, voice hoarse.

You cupped his cheek. "You didn’t. I wanted it. I wanted all of you."

He buried his face in your neck, inhaling deeply. The purr that rolled through him was softer than it had been in days: content, grateful. He spent the next hour in pure aftercare: licking every mark with soothing strokes of his tongue, massaging sore muscles, carrying you to the shower and washing you gently with cool water. His hands lingered on every curve, reverent now instead of desperate.

Later, wrapped in fresh sheets on the bed (the nest had been destroyed beyond saving), he pulled you against his chest. His tail draped over your hip, fingers tracing lazy patterns on your back.

"I was scared you’d see the monster and leave" he admitted quietly. "The fighting ring… they forced ruts sometimes. For shows. I never wanted you to see that side of me."

You kissed his collarbone. "I love every side of you. The fighter. The scared one. The one who purred while I cooked. The one who knotted me so full I still feel you."

His purr deepened, rumbling through both of you. "I don’t want to go back to the shelter ever again" he said. "Not even for a day. I want to build something real with you. A life. Maybe… someday help other hybrids who have nowhere else."

You smiled against his skin. "We’ll fight for that. Together."

He tilted your chin up and kissed you slow, deep, no heat of rut left, only love and quiet promise.

The apartment was a wreck. Furniture scratched, sheets ruined, air still heavy with the scent of three days of claiming.

The weeks following Hongjoong’s rut were quieter, softer around the edges. The apartment still carried the faint musk of days spent locked together, but the frenzy had settled into something steadier. He touched you constantly now: small brushes of his tail against your calf while you cooked, his cheek rubbing along your shoulder when you passed each other in the hallway, fingers laced tightly even while watching television. The pale scars and fresh bite marks across your body had become badges he traced with reverent claws every night.

Yet the peace was fragile.

It shattered on a humid Tuesday evening.

You were unlocking the apartment door when Hongjoong’s low, dangerous growl rolled from inside. The sound raised every hair on your arms. You pushed the door open to find three men standing in your living room. Two were large wolf hybrids in dark suits, the third a scarred human with cold eyes and a tattoo of interlocking chains on his neck: the same symbol from the old Incheon fighting ring reports.

Hongjoong stood between them and you, ears pinned flat, fangs bared, tail lashing like a whip. His claws were fully extended.

"They broke in" he snarled. "Said I still belong to them. Property."

The human smiled thinly. "HK-0047 was one of our best earners before your little raid. Blood debt still stands. We’ve got paperwork from before the sanctuary laws changed. He’s unregistered stock. Legally ours to reclaim."

Your blood ran cold. You stepped forward despite Hongjoong’s warning growl. "Get out of my home."

One of the wolf hybrids cracked his knuckles. "Make us, little human."

What happened next was a blur of violence. Hongjoong exploded forward in a silver streak, tackling the nearest wolf with a roar that shook the windows. Claws slashed. Furniture overturned. You grabbed the heavy metal lamp from the side table and swung it hard into the second intruder’s knee. The human pulled a syringe, probably the same tranquilizers used in the old fights, but Hongjoong’s tail whipped around his wrist, snapping bone with a sickening crack.

Security from the building arrived minutes later, drawn by the noise. The intruders fled, but not before the leader spat a final threat: "This isn’t over. Court date’s already set. He’ll be back in the ring where he belongs."

That night Hongjoong wouldn’t let you out of his arms. He paced the ruined living room with you pressed to his chest, licking frantically at your neck, wrists, anywhere he could reach, as if reaffirming you were still his. His purr was fractured, more vibration of fear than comfort.

"I won’t go back" he whispered against your hair. "I’d rather die free than fight in a cage again."

"You’re not going anywhere" you promised, holding his face. "We’ll fight this. Legally. Together."

The next morning you quit your job at the shelter.

Director Park didn’t hide his relief. "It was only a matter of time. That hybrid was always going to drag you down."

You looked him dead in the eye. "He saved my life more times than you’ll ever know. Keep your cage. We’re building something better."

Legal fees drained your savings fast. You hired the best hybrid rights lawyer you could afford; an older red panda hybrid named Attorney Seo who specialized in fighting ring survivors. She took one look at Hongjoong’s records and shook her head.

"This won’t be easy. Pre-law ownership documents are tricky. But his growth, your relationship and his willingness to testify could turn it."

Preparation consumed the following month. Hongjoong’s nightmares returned with a vengeance. He’d wake up snarling, claws buried in the mattress, then immediately seek you out, curling around your body like a living shield. During the day he trained himself to speak clearly about his trauma, practicing testimony in front of the mirror while you sat on the bed offering gentle corrections.

"I was forced to fight" he recited one evening, voice steady despite the way his tail trembled. "I killed because they would kill me if I didn’t. But I never wanted it. Not once."

You pulled him into your arms afterward, kissing the tension from his ears until he purred.

Court day arrived under gray skies.

The courtroom was packed: reporters, hybrid activists, a few shelter colleagues who had quietly supported you. Hongjoong wore a simple black button-up and slacks you’d chosen together. He looked devastatingly beautiful and heartbreakingly nervous, ears twitching at every camera flash.

The syndicate’s lawyer painted him as a dangerous animal: violent history, aggression reports, the attack on you months ago. They presented old fight footage. The room murmured uncomfortably.

Then it was your turn. You took the stand and told everything: the day you’d stopped his euthanasia, the long silence after his attack, the slow rebuilding of trust, the rut, the love that had grown through every fracture. Your voice only shook once, when you described finding him in the rain ready to run because he thought he was too broken for you.

When Hongjoong took the stand, the room fell completely silent. He looked small for the first time, powerful snow leopard reduced to a survivor on a wooden chair. His tail curled tightly around his own ankle. His eyes found yours in the gallery and held. "I was taken as a cub" he began, voice low but clear. "Trained with pain and starvation. I survived by becoming what they wanted. When the sanctuary took me, they planned to kill me because I was too angry to fix. She..." He looked at you again. "She saw something else. She gave me a home when no one else would. She stayed even when I hurt her. Even when I pushed her away."

His claws flexed against his thighs.

"I’m not property. I’m not a fighter anymore. I’m hers. And she’s mine. I want to build a life with her. Help other hybrids who are still trapped. I’m asking the court to let me choose my future."

The silence that followed was deafening.

Attorney Seo’s closing argument was sharp and passionate. Evidence of the syndicate’s ongoing illegal operations was presented. Your financial records showing you’d sacrificed your career. Medical reports proving Hongjoong’s improved mental health under your care.

The judge deliberated for three hours.

When she returned, the verdict was clear. "Subject HK-0047 is hereby granted full hybrid citizenship rights. All prior ownership claims are nullified. The court recognizes the adoptive bond and recommends ongoing monitoring only for the first year. Case closed."

The courtroom erupted. Hongjoong vaulted over the barrier in one fluid leap and pulled you into his arms, burying his face in your neck as cameras flashed around you. His purr was loud enough to drown out the noise, tail wrapped so tightly around your waist it was almost painful.

"You did it" you whispered, tears streaming.

"We did it" he corrected, voice thick.

Two weeks later you drove through winding mountain roads, snow beginning to fall in soft flurries. Hongjoong’s face was pressed to the passenger window, eyes wide with wonder. He had never seen real snow outside of grainy shelter documentaries.

The cabin you’d rented was small and perfect: wooden beams, a stone fireplace, wide windows overlooking white-covered pines. No city noise. No cameras. Just silence and wilderness.

On the third night, under a sky thick with stars, you held a private mating ceremony. No officials. No guests. Just the two of you.

You stood barefoot in the snow wearing a simple white sweater and sweatpants. Hongjoong wore black, hair loose and glowing under moonlight. He carried a small blade you’d sterilized earlier.

He went first. With careful precision he pressed the blade to his palm, drawing a thin line of blood. Then he did the same to yours. You pressed your palms together, blood mixing as snowflakes landed on your joined hands.

"I claim you" he said solemnly, voice carrying through the cold air. "Not as property. As my mate. My home. My future. In blood and snow and everything that comes after."

You repeated the words back to him, tears freezing on your lashes.

Then he kissed you: slow, deep, tasting of blood and forever. His tail curled around your leg as he lowered you into the soft snow, body covering yours. This time there was no rut frenzy, only reverence. He made love to you under the stars, slow rolls of his hips, whispered "I love you"s between kisses, fangs grazing but never breaking skin again.

Afterward he wrapped you in blankets on the cabin porch, purring loud and steady while snow fell around you.

"I want to open a sanctuary" he said quietly, chin resting on your head. "Small. Just for the ones who were like me. The ones they wanted to put down. We could do it together."

You smiled against his chest. "We will. We’ll make sure no one else waits four years behind glass."

He nuzzled your mating mark, the fresh ceremonial scar now joining the others.

For the first time since you’d met him through reinforced glass, Hongjoong’s eyes held no shadows. Only snow, starlight, and boundless future.

"Forever?" he asked, the old insecurity still faintly there.

You kissed him softly.

"Forever."

Forever

Thank you to all those who waited for part 2!!

@sky1302 @ni-ki-fan @seonghwaswifereal @aer1z @kibs-and-bits @francenemolove @svnbangtansworld

[kisssan]

thinking about ... mingi and how easily he breaks under your touch .ᐟ

the shift from "big bad wolf" to "needy adorable chick" happens the exact moment your fingers meet the nape of his neck.

MINGI is massive as he occupies the whole bed, his broad and muscular chest heavy against yours as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. between his size and that naturally intimidating aura he carries in public, anyone else would think he’s the one in control.

but right now, he’s just your oversized, drowsy boy, melting into the mattress with his lower half settled snugly between your thighs.

"mmh… baby, keep doing that," he rumbles, the deep vibration of his voice buzzing directly against your collarbone.

you smile, dragging your nails down the broad expanse of his back. it doesn't matter if you just got a fresh nail set or if they’re long or short, almond or square shape — your boyfriend is utterly obsessed with the way you touch him. your fingertips trace the dip of his spine, the sharp nails catching just enough to leave light red tracks across his warm skin. you keep the pace slow, steady, and mesmerizing, fully intending to put the big guy straight to sleep. but then, the rhythm of his breathing changes.

instead of softening into slumber, mingi lets out a ragged hitch of a breath. his hips give a sudden twitch, pressing his heavy and semi-hard erection right against your lower stomach.

"mingi," you tease softly, dragging your nails just a little deeper, tracing a circle near his lower back. "i thought you were tired."

"i was," he whines, and god, the contrast of that deep voice making such a pathetic, high-pitched sound is enough to make your own pussy ache. lifting his head, eyes tired but full of hunger and neediness. "your hands... they just feel too good. please…"

he doesn't wait, because the impatient side of him takes over. mingi reaches down, blindly fumbling with his sweatpants and shoving them past his hips, freeing himself. he’s too desperate, but pins your wrists above your head for a second, kissing you messily, before he shudders and slides one hand back down to grip your thighs and pull down your shorts. positioning himself, the already leaking tip of his cock brushing against your entrance.

"ah, fuck, wait– " mingi gasps, his entire body locking up. you choose that exact moment to break one hand free from his loose grip, reaching up to bury your nails firmly into the meat of his shoulder, dragging them down his back like a cat scratching on a wooden door.

the stimulation is an instant overload. mingi lets out a breathy whimper, his back arching slightly, and before he can even push himself inside you, his body betrays him. a thick rope of semen shoots out, painting your lower abdomen and the space between you in hot and messy spurts.

he collapses instantly, his forehead dropping heavily against your shoulder as he pants, completely spent and trembling from head to toe.

"oh," you blink, feeling the mess he just made, then up at his burning and completely flushed face. "well, that was fast."

"s-shut up," mingi groans, hiding his face in your neck out of pure embarrassment, though his hips still twitch weakly against yours. "it’s your fault... you shouldn't have scratched me like that."

you just chuckle, wrapping your arms back around his massive frame and dragging your cat-like claws gently over his lower back again. he lets out another tiny, defeated whine, completely at your mercy.

"come on, big boy," you tease, a low laugh vibrating in your chest as you nudge his hip. "you're not giving up on me already, are you? you didn't even last a minute."

mingi groans, his entire face burning red against your neck. he tries to hide, whining at the playful mockery, but you aren't done. sliding your hand up his back, your fingers curling as you dig firmly into the thick muscle of his shoulder. it’s a silent demand, pressing him right against where you need him the most.

"you can't just leave me like this, mingi. look at the mess you made." you drag your nails downward, making him shiver. "let's give it a retry before i tell the boys how you won't participate in no nut november, again.”

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, LOU <3 i wish you all the best, i love you so much and i hope you will have the greatest birthday ever !! @way2jellyous never stop being an icon twinski *explodes into confetti*

© KISSSAN do not copy, repost or modify my work.

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[jeongyuyu99]

Hard Sub!Yeosang thoughts

I would like to discuss Yeosang as a sub. I’ve had this idea since the beginning of the evening.

Tag: petnames, choking, oral (F receiving), leash/collar, choking, being mean, hair pulling, slapping, finger sucking, pegging, crying. Not all worked out just some drabbles form me :)

Yeosang would have two sides.

Your lovey dicey best boy who wants to do everything for you.

A brat. Who is bratty to get you to be more rough.

He loves it when you treat him like your personal boytoy, calling him handsome, pretty boy, good boy, darling, all those names.

He loves when you tangle your fingers in his long hair as he kisses down your body.

He loves it even more when he’s eating you out.

Hands pressed against your thighs to keep them open while he eats you out like a man starved. Lee a tight grip on his hair and he’ll be moaning, sending vibrations all through your core.

He wants to be ordered around and he’ll do so gladly.

You want to ride him? Sure go for it.

Want him to do all the work? He will!

Do you know those slip chain collars? Which you have to put in each other and if you pull on one side the collar tightness? YES!

He loves them. You have hearts on each side so you turn the chain once around your hand and PULL.

He’ll be whimpering and begging in no time.

You can be a lil mean to him, go ahead. Go bite.

HOW-EVER

This sweet lil yeosangie, oh boy he can be a brat too.

Telling you you’re too slow.

Saying that you’re not even trying and he could do better.

“You call that sucking? I can do much better then that,”

“You’re in charge? Yeah right,”

“You don’t even have it in you to fuck me,”

“Harder! Don’t be weak”

Lets be real he just wants you to rough him up.

And please- please-

Do it.

If he gets bratty like this, do the chain again, but tighter. Hold it with everything.

When he’s being mouthy, grab his throat and squeeze. He’ll loose his words for a few seconds as you force him to look up at you.

Be aware: he will get this snarky lil grin.

When he tries to be all that again, just shove your fingers in his mouth.

Careful; he might bite.

If he does tho- it means be mean.

You’ve known him for a while, sometimes Yeosang wants you to rough him up so much to get the brattiness out of him.

So if he does bite your fingers, slap him across the cheek

He’ll hiss, hand flying to his cheek immediately- but his entire body will feel hot.

Then, grab his chin again, and tell him “if you think you’re so much better. Show me. Suck,” and shove your fingers back into his mouth.

He’ll moan, fingers wrapped around your wrist as he takes your fingers fully in his mouth.

Omg sit on his face and ride his face. He loves this so much. And tug his hair. A. Lot.

When he’s bratty, it’s the perfect time to peg him. He wouldn’t want it all the time, but it is the perfect time to put him in his place.

But even if your riding him or fucking him. He’ll get to a point of crying.

You broke him.

And he’s happy about it.

He’ll be crying and begging you to stop, but he doesn’t really want you to stop, does he?

… ANYWAY

Just some thoughts lol!

[belongjoong]

yunho is definitely into the whole “give me head while i play the game” concept

even with your tongue just circling his tip, he has a hard time hiding his soft whimpers from the other players

he even gets desperate between matches and grabs a handful of your hair, fighting the urge to force you to choke on his length

“that pretty mouth feels so good, baby”

[uumiuyu]

please? || j.yh drabble

pairing: afab!reader x boyfriend!yunho

genre: smut, light fluff, porn without plot

synopsis: you spend a lazy day inside with your lover.

word count: 1,052

warnings: breastfeeding, lactation, tit job, cum eating, use of pet names, a sprinkle of begging , dacryphilia & olfactophilia (minimal proofread)

a/n : this is a special gift for my best friend’s birthday!teehee enjoy ^_^

the pads of your fingers rested onto his scalp, soothingly adding pressure. his body visibly relaxed. his eyes closed, exhaustion slipping away from him.

he nuzzled into you a bit more, your body heat drawing him deeper.

yunho’s nose buried into the crook of your neck, his chest rumbling when he inhaled you.

your aroma is soft and sweet, making his mouth water. he held back a whimper, trying to contain himself.

but the more of you he smelled, the harder his cock became.

he’s always had a thing for the way you’ve smelled.

the way your natural scent mixed with the nuttiness of your milky pistachio fragrances made him crave you daily.

but right now.. his cravings were raging.

inhale, exhale he patterned.

he started to grow restless, his lower body moving out of habit as his excitement grew.

the soft grunts hit your ears, drawing your eyes straight to the stiffness that was hitting your thigh.

“do you need something, love?” you questioned, pulling his head from your neck to meet his face.

his eyes softly opened, lightly glossed over with a look that made you pity him.

those puppy eyes, and those gentle cheeks flushed with red.

“i need you..” he finally voiced .

his hips are grinding against you a bit more forcefully now, his head falling back into your neck.

“please.. wanna taste you.” he says giving a light lick to your neck, making you gasp softly.

it takes little to nothing for you to give in.

your free hand reached for the hem of your top, lifting it just enough to free one of your breasts.

your nipple hardens as the cool air hits it. a bead of milk pools at the tip of your nipple, threatening to drip.

yunho wouldn’t dare let that go to waste.

he immediately latched onto your chest, curling his tongue to catch the creamy droplet in its entirety.

you hummed in pleasure, the feeling of the milk leaving your breast relieving your mind.

“it’s good baby, yeah?” you cooed.

your hand found its way to the back of his head, pushing him down more on your tit.

yunho suckled and swallowed down your supply with a burning passion, audible whimpers falling from his now swollen lips.

“mmm~ s-so fucking good..” he mewled, milk dripping down his chin.

you watch in awe as the gentle giant feasts on you.

your silky fluid was his favorite libation.

intoxicating him with every sip.

his rock solid dick frotted inside his boxers, pre cum leaking onto your thigh. his whimpers turning into throaty moans.

his pot was bubbling fast, and you didn’t want him to topple over.

not like this at least.

“want me to help you with this?” you asked, palming the underside of his cock with slight pressure.

he pulls out of his subtle trance, unlatching from your tit with a popping noise from his mouth.

“please?~ want it so bad ~” he begged, his hips bucking into the warmth of your hand.

you nod your head softly, your heart swelling at just how needy he was.

you scoot down towards the bottom of the bed, making your way in between his legs.

yunho’s chest rises up and down, biting the back of his hand to calm himself.

he could cum just from pure excitement. he didn’t even realize how bad he needed you until now.

and being softened around you makes him even more aroused.

you finally remove your shirt before you reached for the top of his underwear.

you pulled them down just enough for his throbbing cock to slap onto his tummy.

he whimpers at the sensation, finally feeling some relief from his soiled garments.

you watch him squirm underneath you, impatient waiting for your next move.

your poor puppy was just.. suffering. you know for a fact he could erupt at any minute.

so you gave him his well deserved treat.

you grabbed the shaft of his aching cock, and placed it between your cleavage.

you wasted no time, squeezing your tits together and fucking him with them.

the sudden change of pace caused him to belt out moans like song chords. sweet, erotic music to your perverted ears.

“yes~ shit baby~!”

his red swollen tip found solace on your tongue, the texture of your taste buds adding to his pleasure.

your drool mixed with the breast milk pooling at the base of his cock, making things extra wet .

yunho’s brain filled with fuzz. his head tossed back, blabbers of pure bliss spilled from his mouth carelessly.

the head of his cock throbbed in your mouth, his shaft twitching vigorously on your chest.

you knew he was close.

“is my puppy gonna cum for me?~” you question teasingly with his tip on your lips, looking up at his pathetic state.

“mmh~ s-o close! keeping going nnngh~” he choked out through whimpers, tears brimming his eyes.

you picked up the pace even more, slamming your tits down on thighs, squeezing him tighter than ever.

he wailed, his pleasure becoming too much to hold back. his head tossed back and forth, squeezing his eyes shut.

the knot in his stomach finally unraveled.

“im cumming! aah~!!” he cries out, his body convulsing.

thick ropes of cum decorate your tits, some of it catching onto your lips. you slow down your movements on his shaft, milking out whatever he had to give.

yunho lets out a big heavy sigh before he goes limp. you give his tip a small peck before letting him go.

you make your way up to meet his face tomato flushed face, wet from tears that he couldn’t hold back.

small thank yous fell from his lips, along side more tears. you kissed them away, calming him down some.

you licked the remnants of him off your tits, before finding yunho’s lips.

you drew him in for loving kiss, swapping his fluids between your tongues, before you both swallowed.

you lips left yunho’s, trailing a small string of spit.

he moans softly, missing your plush lips on his.

you gave a small grin before you laid underneath him, wrapping his arm around you to resume the cuddling that was interrupted previously.

the soft breathing from you both became white noise that filled the room, helping reach slumber that awaited.