ᯓ TIE ME UP || kim jongseob (18+)
℘ — jongseob (종섭) x reader ▸ ⌜ 6.4k ⌟
synopsis ▸ you make a surprising discovery in your friend’s bedroom. you didn’t realize confronting him about it would put you in such a… bind.
δ — nsfw (mdni), smut, dom!jongseob, sub!reader, piwon cameo, bdsm, bondage, shibari, fingering, orgasm denial, light nipple play, unprotected sex, creampie, aftercare, pictures are taken
requested ▸ many people :’) ᯓ an — jongseob being the secret freak in piwon? of course i was going to hop on that
READ PART 2 HERE — MASTERLIST
“Jiung, open the damn door. I need to pee!”
“Well, so do I!”
You grunt out in frustration, banging on the door again but you get no response. “Damn it,” you mutter under your breath, cursing yourself for having that last beer as you look around the hall.
Jongseob’s door is cracked open. If you remember right, he has his own bathroom attached to his bedroom.
You don’t bother asking for permission; you’re well past those niceties and he’s too caught up in kicking Keeho’s ass in Mario Kart.
So you abandon your post by the powder room and shove your way into his bedroom frantically.
You only pause for a second to take in the surprisingly neat aesthetic of his room. But then your bladder pulses threateningly so you abandon your admiration and beeline to the door adjacent to the entrance.
As soon as you open the door, your stomach falls and peeing becomes the last of your worries.
You should’ve just waited for Jiung.
Because there, hanging from the curtain rod where curtains should be, are ropes and leather binds and—and fur-lined handcuffs?
They’re all black, some with silver hoops and rings, and the only thing going through your mind is who is stowing their bondage shit in Jongseob’s room?
Your first thought is immediately Soul, but then Soul would probably hang them around his apartment loud and proud.
Theo? No, also loud and proud.
Keeho doesn’t strike you as the type and Intak wouldn’t be the one doing the tying, unless he had them on the ready for his partners to use on him.
Jiung… is a bit of an enigma but he would be the type to lock this stuff away in a safe somewhere if he had people over.
Jongseob doesn’t have any other friends so that just leaves you with… Jongseob.
Your stomach falls again.
Is Jongseob a secret fucking freak?
The thought shakes you so violently that you jump back and slam the door shut.
You feel cold. And hot. And like you’re dizzy and about to fall. You need to get out of here.
So you book it out of his room, crashing right into Jiung as he steps out into the hall.
“Woah!” He exclaims, grabbing you by the shoulders and pulling you up to your feet when you nearly go tumbling down with him. “Bathrooms free, you can—are you okay?”
You blink up at his concerned eyes as he flattens his palm against your forehead.
“You look a little pale. Are you nauseous?”
You swat him away, stepping back and brushing yourself down as heat rises to your cheeks. “I’m fine,” you huff, shoving past him to go back into the ruckus in the living room.
Jiung follows after you. “Don’t you need to pee?”
But you don’t hear him anymore, your eyes immediately landing on where Jongseob is trying to sabotage Keeho by reaching over his own controller to fuck with him.
He looks so bright and cheery, giggling all sunshine and rainbows.
Definitely not like some sort of bondage master.
“Noona?” Soul asks from where he’s sitting on the couch. He holds a fresh beer can up to you in a silent offer.
You shake your head, slipping into the free spot beside him and Theo, on your other side, immediately takes his chance to throw his legs on your lap.
Your eyes stay on Jongseob. And your mind stays on thoughts of those ropes. On those ropes, in Jongseob’s hands. What he would do with them, who he would do those things to.
Safe to say, you go into a silent spiral. One that keeps you so preoccupied that you don’t even notice it when everyone has gotten up to leave.
“Hey,” Keeho’s voice rings, fingers snapping in front of your face. “We’re gonna head out. You stay here until you’re ready to drive home.”
You blink out of your daze, tilting your head up to look at him. “Huh?”
“Jongseob has your keys,” Theo says from behind him. “He’s under order not to give them to you when you don’t look like you’ll throw up on yourself.”
You open your mouth to protest but Keeho starts shoving Theo to the door where Jiung, Soul, and Intak are already wrapped up and ready to go.
“Wait, I can go home!” You try to argue and pull up to your feet, but a hand, slim and surprisingly strong, pushes on your shoulder to sit you right back down.
“You’re staying,” Jongseob says from behind you, before turning his attention to bid the others goodbye as they filter out of the apartment one by one.
And then you’re alone. With Jongseob.
Jongseob, the apparent bondage master.
Jongseob rounds the couch to tidy up the bits of his living room that are still left askewed even after the group effort to clean up.
And you watch him, his nimble fingers as he deftly fixes the position of his knick knacks on the coffee table and tv stand.
He’s always been good with his hands. You wonder if it’s because…
“I saw your bondage stuff in your bathroom,” you blurt against your will.
Jongseob freezes where he stands. Then he looks over his shoulder at you, and although he doesn’t look nearly as affected as you expect, there’s a tinge of red at the tips of his ear.
“What were you doing in my room?”
“Had to pee.”
He raises his brow. “Didn’t think to ask me first before going in there?”
You swallow, curling in on yourself at the reprimanding look in his eye. Does he look at his— stop.
“Sorry,” you say, then tack on like your brain just wants you to make everything worse than it needs to be. “Master.”
He glares at you before he moves on to fix the cushions of his couch. “You think it’s funny,” he says, watching you purse your lips to smother your giggle from the corner of his eye.
“No, not funny,” you say, wrapping your arms around your knees. “Just… shocked. You don’t seem like the type. You’re all shy and nerdy, ya know.”
Well, now that you think about it, it really always is the shy, nerdy type, isn’t it?
Jongseob seems to agree, if the little smirk he gets on his lips is anything to go by. “Believe what you want,” he says before moving on to his attached kitchen. “Tea?”
“I’m good.”
He’s being surprisingly casual about this. The Jongseob you know, or thought you knew, would stumble and babble his way through an embarrassed explanation.
But the way he just owns it is… a little headspinning. And it gets you thinking.
“So, are you a dom or a sub?”
You expect that to be his ticket to kick you out of his apartment.
But he answers with a calm, “I usually dom.”
“Ah.”
The whistle of the kettle takes over the silence as you’re left to your wandering thoughts.
“Can I try?”
There’s a clatter of glass against countertop then a sharp curse before a puzzled, “What?”
You rise to your knees on the couch, turning around to face his baffled expression on the other side of the counter that divides his kitchen and living room.
You didn’t even mean to ask it. But you can’t lie that your curiosity is killing you. You want to—no, need to see him in action.
“You heard me,” you state, folding your arms over the back cushions. “I want to try.”
He narrows his eyes at you. “This isn’t something you just try. Bondage is complicated, it’s not just some sex thing that you’re probably thinking it is.”
“Okay, then teach me.”
“Are you serious?”
“Deadly.”
He stares at you for a moment that stretches long enough to make you think that maybe this was a bad idea and you should just get up and run away.
But then he starts walking over to you, slow and leisurely as he eyes you to gauge just how serious you are, and the fact that it makes you feel a little bit like prey keeps you glued to your place.
He stops in front of you, placing hands on either side of you on the cushions. “Do you understand what you’re asking for?”
You swallow, unable to speak as you stare up at him, frozen under the intensity of his gaze. “Yes?” You not-so-answer.
“You want to try bondage?” He asks, raising a brow. “You want me to tie you up. Is that it?”
You take in a shaky breath, squirming in your spot. “I-I guess I just want to see you in action.”
“As a dom?”
“…I suppose.”
“And you’re willing to be my sub?”
You pause. You didn’t think about it like that. But now that you are thinking about it, the answer couldn’t come quicker.
“Yes.”
His brows raise, like he hadn’t expected such an emphatic answer. But a smile, small and satisfied, lifts on his lips.
“Do you trust me?”
This answer comes instinctively. “I do.”
His smile lifts higher. “Good,” he pauses, letting his eyes roam over your face for a moment. “And if things get… sexual?”
You frown, puzzled. “Isn’t bondage sexual?”
“Not inherently,” he says, folding his arms against yours and lowering just enough so you can feel his breath brush against you as he speaks. “It can be therapeutic for a lot of people. A way to relax, let go of power and responsibility.” He raises a hand to brush a stray strand of your hair back, his fingertips a light breeze against your prickling skin. “As the dominant, it’s my job to guide my submissive safely into that mindset. To let them relinquish power to someone they trust so they can just… be.”
Maybe it’s the cadence of his deep voice, or the soft way that he speaks, or the gentle way that his thumb caresses your cheek. But you think you can already feel the kind of power he can hold. The kind that brings people under. Because even just listening to him now, like he’s guiding you through this conversation, you feel some of the threads of your own control slip into his hand.
“Sometimes it’s just that,” he adds quietly, his finger tracing down the slope of your jaw before resting under your chin. “Sometimes it’s more.”
You feel stuck under his gaze, warm and all encompassing.
“It’s whatever you want,” he mumbles.
More. Your brain screams at you.
“I want more,” you say.
His fingers wrap around your chin in a grip that doesn’t feel as considerate as his words. You wonder distantly if you’ve gotten yourself caught in a trap.
“Good,” he murmurs, thumb digging into the divot under your lower lip, forcing your mouth to part for him. “I was wondering when the day would come.”
You don’t get the chance, or have much of a mind, to process what that might mean because you’re quickly reminded of your bladder issue.
“Bathroom,” you say, and it’s so abrupt that he stares at you before breaking into a soft laugh.
He lets go of you and steps back, but that cocksure smirk of his lies waiting on his lips. “Meet me in my room.”
You take your time in the bathroom to reel in your racing mind and your racing heart.
You’re about to fuck one of your best friends. At least, you think you are. You didn’t think it was something you wanted but now that you know it’s an option, it’s all that you can think of, all that you find yourself wanting as you pad down the hallway to his bedroom.
His door is cracked open. You don’t hear anything on the other side.
You expected him to be the type to have on a playlist. Well, maybe he does whenever he goes vanilla. Does he do vanilla? Or is he strictly—okay, now is not the time.
You shake your head, taking a steadying breath as you reach for the doorknob and step into the fate you’ve stumbled yourself into.
There’s rope on the bed. Four neat coils of sturdy black rope on the bed, just waiting for you. No sight of leather or silver rings or handcuffs.
Jongseob stands across the bed, leaning back against his dresser as he coils a fifth length of rope around his hand.
He looks up at you when you step through the door, smiling at the blank look on your face.
“Sit,” he tells you, nodding over to the empty space he left for you at the foot of the bed.
Even just that simple command has your head reeling. Are you really that easy?
You make your way over on weak knees, sitting yourself down and looking up at him across from you.
And suddenly this all starts to feel real and not just some distant fantasy that brewed in your head borne out of childish curiosity.
He leaves you stewing in your anticipation for a few moments longer as he wrings his hands around the rope, letting his eyes rake over you. Even the way he looks at you exudes a quiet sense of control. It’s not obvious, but it’s there. You feel it in the way he doesn’t let his eyes stray from you even once, no inkling of nervousness or otherwise from his end.
“Do you know what a safeword is?” Is what he finally says to you.
You watch the way his fingers work around the rope before he holds it casually at his front, waiting for your answer.
“Yes,” you say quickly when you realize you’ve taken too long.
He chuckles, a little amused. “Are you feeling shy?”
“No,” you snap, shuffling in your seat. You pout when he raises a disbelieving brow at you, twisting your hands in your lap. “Just didn’t think you’d actually agree.”
“We don’t have to go through with—“
“I want to,” you cut in.
He stops, nodding as he licks his tongue over his smile. “Okay. Then in the case that you do want to stop at any point, we need a system. Do you know the traffic light system?”
“I do.”
He nods, moving over to place the final coil of rope with the others on the bed. “Explain it to me,” he says before moving back with his hands in his pockets.
You don’t know how he’s being so casual about this. But his nonchalance to it all makes you feel hot, makes that pressure between your hips grow present.
“When you ask me for a colour, I answer with green, yellow, or red,” you start, and only when he nods do you continue, “Green for go, yellow for slow, red for stop.”
“Good,” he says with a smile, and even just that bit of approval makes your heart flutter. “Do you know what shibari is?”
“I do.”
“That’s what I’ll be doing to you tonight.”
You glance to your left at all the coils of rope he’s got splayed out beside you. “So no leather, no chains?”
“Not tonight,” he says and that implication goes lost on you when he leans against his dresser, nods his chin at you, and says, “Take off your clothes.”
Your breath hitches, cheeks burning hot. Right. This is happening.
You take a steadying breath before you rise to your feet, reaching for the hem of your shirt. You meet his eyes a final time before you pull it off your body.
His gaze stays locked on you as you undress, and you wouldn’t think he was affected at all by his impassive expression if it weren’t for the tinge of red on his cheeks and the hard bob of his Adam’s apple.
You leave your clothes at the corner of his bed, not yet meeting his eye as you wait for further instruction.
“Good,” he breathes as he makes his way closer, reaching around you to pick up a coil of rope that he unwinds and folds in half. “Turn around.”
Again, the simple instruction leaves you feeling more affected than you should. You do as you’re told regardless.
“Hold your arms up and out,” he murmurs, humming in approval when you do.
You feel him step closer, the heat of his body like a physical weight against your bare skin. Then he reached around you to wrap the first length of rope around your upper chest, tying it at your back. It’s firm against your skin, but not uncomfortable or scratchy like you’d expected.
You feel his finger slip between your skin and the rope before tugging to test its sturdiness.
“Not too tight?” He asks and you shake your head.
“No,” you mumble. “It… actually feels nice.”
His palm presses into the side of your waist as he reaches around you to pick up another coil of rope. “That’s good,” he hums before the warmth of his hand is gone and the new stretch of rope comes around you.
Each new knot and loop that he adds to your body leaves you feeling more and more like you’re slipping further under his hand. You start to understand what he’d been trying to explain; the expulsion of power, and the appeal behind the notion.
All you can do is stand there as he puts together what can only be explained as a harness around your chest and your shoulders in intricate, symmetric shapes. He moves around your body here and there to check his knots and keep track of his work, all concentrated and stern the way he works his nimble fingers around you.
He takes this seriously. It makes you feel more at ease.
“Colour?” He asks you when he’s done with your chest, and it takes you a moment to get your senses together to answer.
“Green.”
He hums then uses his hands to bring your arms down. He picks up the third coil of rope and uses it to tie your upper arms down to the loops made at the sides of your upper torso, elbows bent to bind your forearms and hands together at your back.
His work is sturdy. There’s not much space for any movement when you give the binds an experimental tug.
“You okay?” He asks when he notices you wriggling.
“Y-Yeah, just…” You flush, relaxing under the ties. “Impressed.”
He smirks softly as he comes to stand in front of you, hooking his finger under the rope between your breasts and tugging lightly to test it. His eyes take you in, lingering at your chest before he reaches for another rope. You feel hot all over, exposed like this under his prying eyes.
The heat of his hand brushes against your thigh. “Part your legs a little for me,” he says gently, and you quickly comply, watching him as he snakes the rope around your legs and hips, framing your ass and your cunt, circling around your upper thighs.
It takes great effort to hold in your noises when you feel his hands nearly brush against the intimate parts of you. There’s no doubt you’re wet already, way too turned on than you should be with just some rope around your body. But you don’t need him to know that.
He does the fifth and final rope in intricate knots to connect the ones between your chest and your thighs, wrapping everything up in a neat little design that you can’t really see.
When he’s done, he moves to stand in front of you, letting his eyes drink you in.
“You look pretty like this,” he murmurs, hands brushing down your body before settling at your hips.
You make a soft, inadvertent noise when his fingers hook under the rope just to feel and appreciate his work.
“How’s it feel?” He asks you, one hand sliding up your body to cup under the swell of your breast.
It’s a simple touch that makes you want nothing more than for him to keep touching you, to take advantage of you in a state like this. Like you’re presented to him, all for his own pleasure.
“Feels good,” you murmur. “Green.”
He hums, satisfied. He moves his hand up, kneading your chest before pressing his thumb into your nipple. You gasp at the sensation as he starts to languidly circle it to a stiff peak.
“You’re a lot more pliant than I thought you’d be,” he muses, lifting his other hand to give your other breast the same attention. “I thought I’d have to teach you some manners.”
You swallow down a moan but it comes out in a whine anyways when he pinches your nipples, tugging at them once before his hands settle on your waist again.
“Wanna be good,” you manage to say, and the way he smirks at you gives you the ridiculous urge to drop to your knees and call him master.
“Yeah?” He asks, tongue flicking over his lower lip. “Wanna be a good girl for me?”
The words rush to your head and make your needy cunt throb. You nod immediately, never mind the fact that it’s probably pathetic how quickly you’re giving into him.
His fingers dig into your flesh between the ropes. “Use your words, pretty girl.”
“Yes,” you say immediately. “Wanna be good for you.”
“Good,” he whispers, eyes darkening as they rake down your figure again. “Lets start by getting you on the bed, hm?”
You nod and he moves around you, taking hold of the knot between your shoulder blades to steer you onto the bed, guiding you to the head of it before he handles you onto your side.
You go willingly, not that you have much of a choice under all the binds. But you welcome the lack of choice, the lack of a need to do anything. Because Jongseob is there to do it for you.
“Can I take a picture?” He suddenly asks you. You follow him with your eyes as he rounds to the foot of the bed, his eyes not leaving you once. “A Polaroid. Just one without your face. If you decide you don’t like it after everything then you can burn it.”
The thought of Jongseob wanting to have you immortalized like this does questionable things to your mindset. And you don’t hate the idea of seeing what you look like through his eyes.
So you agree. “You can.”
He doesn’t waste time, digging out his camera from his dresser before he steps back into place.
“Say cheese,” he teases once he lifts the camera, pointing his lens at you.
You giggle softly, complying despite it being completely useless as he snaps the picture.
You blink your eyes clear of the flash as he rounds the bed and places the camera and printed film on his bedside table.
Distantly, you wonder just how many pictures he has like that in his collection.
You don’t get much time to mull over it when he knees his way onto the bed. It hits you that he’s still fully dressed in his dark slacks and oversized black button up, and you’re only in rope.
It feels a little humiliating. And it only makes you more wet.
Without another word, Jongseob puts his hand on your hip and rolls you as far onto your back as he can given that your arms are in the way.
He seems completely mesmerized by the sight of you on his bed like this, eyes greedy as they drink you in.
“I couldn’t be more glad for someone invading my privacy,” he mutters under his breath, sliding a hand under your thigh to part your legs.
You hiss at the cold brush of air as you’re exposed. He only grins when he catches sight of the state you’re in.
“Looks like I’m not the only one either,” he chuckles.
You mewl in embarrassment, turning your head to bury into his pillow but he catches your chin, turning you not-so-gently to bring your eyes back to him.
His smile is gone, replaced by a stern, hard look that does nothing to help the mess between your legs.
“Eyes on me,” he tells you, right before he passes two of his fingers through your slick folds.
The feeling it sends through you feels all the more intense than it normally would from something so simple.
You gasp, body jerking under your binds when his fingers swipe through again to gather your slick. When your head tries to fall back, his grip on you tightens to bring your rolling eyes back onto him.
That hard expression stays on his face as he watches you intently, taking in every shift in your expression.
“Colour.”
It takes you a second to process but you whimper out an emphatic, “Green.”
He hums, then uses his slick covered fingers to start circling your clit.
Your body trembles under the sensation, short moans leaving your lips but you don’t make the mistake of trying to look away from him again.
He lets go of your chin, opting instead to hold up your thigh when your legs try to close.
“You’re dripping so much already,” he says with a small smirk, eyes shifting back down to your twitching cunt. “Just from being tied up?”
You whine, starting to writhe as his fingers pick up the pace, flicking rapidly against your throbbing nub. “Can’t—nngh—help it.”
“Of course you can’t.” He laughs, short and low. “Keep your legs apart.”
You don’t get much time to process the order before he lets go of your thigh, his hands shifting so the thumb of his left finds its way to your clit while the middle of his right starts teasing at your entrance.
Your legs move to close at the sudden onslaught of simulation but one of his hands comes down on your inner thigh with a sharp smack that has you yelping, a stinging sensation left lingering on that sensitive skin.
“What did I say?” He snaps at you and you whimper, forcing your legs open, struggling to keep your bleary eyes open and on him. “Good.” His hands move back to your cunt but they remain still. “Colour?”
You swallow. Your entire body trembles but it’s nothing if not excitement and anticipation for more.
“Green,” you breathe and his fingers spur back to life, thumb circling your clit in quick, tight circles as his finger starts pushing into your hole.
You don’t bother trying to stifle the whines and gasps that tumble from your lips, knowing he’d probably reprimand you if you tried.
Your body lies taut under the ropes, twitching and writhing uselessly. It’s just like you wanted; you’re left pliant for him to use however he likes.
His finger sheathes fully inside of you, staying pushed in for a moment before he starts to slowly fuck it in and out. The filthy sounds from how slick you are makes you want to turn and hide and close your legs, but you don’t.
You stay good, keeping yourself open for him as he fingers you towards your climax with an almost clinical focus with his eyes latched onto the way your pussy swallows him in.
“Fucking gushing around me,” he mutters, slowing his fingers down just to watch how your slick gathers at the base of his knuckles.
Then he pulls out and instead pushes two of his long fingers all the way in.
You moan, head rolling back, but he doesn’t reprimand you this time, too focused on fucking you with his fingers. He doesn’t stop this time, working his way up to eventually push three fingers into you.
The stretch is mind-numbingly good, better than anything you’ve been able to do to yourself and far better than anyone else has ever done for you.
Maybe it's the situation. Maybe it’s the position he has you in. But whatever it is, it drives you to your climax faster than normal.
You clench around his fingers, and he sees it in the way that you flutter around each thrust that you’re close.
“Close already?” He asks with a crooked grin, seeming all too pleased with himself. “I just got started.”
You whine, hips jerking under him when his thumb presses into your clit. “S-Seob, please, don’t stop, ‘m gonna…”
Your words give way to high, frantic whines as he pushes you right to the edge.
Only to pull away as soon as you were about to tip off.
You cry out in frustration when the warmth of his fingers pull away and you’re left empty and pulsing around nothing.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” he says, looking down at you with a smile that is anything but warm. “Did you think you were at liberty to tell me what to do?”
Your veins run cold at the sudden shift in his tone. It’s icy, just like his gaze as he looks down at you. It’s rampant with a hunger of his own, but it’s a hunger to see you ruined than to fuck you the way you want.
He clicks his tongue. “Guess you do need to be taught a thing or two.”
Before you know it, you’re on your knees. He uses the robes to grab and move you, pushing your face down into your pillow with one hand on the rope between your shoulders while the other drags your hips up.
He lets out a breath, slow and shaky, at the sight of you being presented to him like this.
“You were made to be put like this, weren’t you?” He coos, large hand cupping your ass, fingers digging into the soft flesh.
He hooks his fingers under one of the ropes framing your cunt, tugging at it to pull you flush against the hard ridge of his boner through his slacks. He grinds forward with a breathy groan, pushing him further into you.
“Feel that?”
You whimper, rolling your hips back for more of that pressure but he only pulls back with a chuckle.
“You’re a needy thing,” you hear him mumble, followed by the sound of his belt and zipper coming undone.
You wait with bated breath as you listen to the shuffle of clothes, aching more and more with each second that goes by that your needy cunt goes neglected.
“Seob,” you whine when nothing still happens.
“Thought you wanted to be a good girl, hm? Good girls are patient.”
You let out a frustrated breath that borders on a sob, turning to bury your face further into his pillow as you lay there, waiting.
Until you feel the blunt head of his cock press right against your clit.
You bristle, but his hands bear down on your hips to hold you still as he clicks his tongue. “You’re flighty. Colour?”
“Green,” you muffle out, not even bothering to hide the desperate tone in your voice.
He chuckles at it, starting to guide his cock through the slick mess of your folds though not yet sating your ache to be filled.
But you don’t dare make a peep about it, afraid that he would just string it out even longer if you did.
So you just take it as he traces his tip through every crevice of your cunt, pushing against your entrance just to pull away and guide himself down to your clit, circling you there, then gliding all the way back up to the base before repeating it in a torturous routine.
It’s a mind reeling game that leaves you panting and quivering and dripping for five, ten, however many minutes as he just teases you like this.
It doesn’t matter that he’s desperate to sink his aching cock into the warm, velvety walls that are literally weeping for him. He needs to know that you understand just how this works.
When it seems that you do, when you’re just whining mindlessly and drooling into his pillow and just taking his teasing with no complaints, he finally gives in.
He presses in, just until the tip, and pauses, watching as your pliant body seems to liven back up under the stretch, bristling under the binds.
You whimper his name so softly, but that’s all that comes. No begging for more, no trying to fuck yourself back on to him. Just simple reaction to whatever he’s giving you, with no other choice but to just take it.
“Good girl,” he breathes, manic at the prospect of breaking you in so easily, before he lets himself sink all the way in.
You moan, loud and broken at the feeling of finally being stretched to the brim.
There’s no more waiting. He starts fucking you with intent, holding on to the knots keeping your arms together as he drives his cock into you at a steady pace.
He’s long and curved perfectly to brush against that sweet spot in you with each precise thrust, pushing you closer to your lost climax quicker than you could’ve hoped for.
You lay there and take it, sobbing his name into the pillow as you take every bit of overwhelming pleasure.
He breathes your name, quiet and reverent as he fucks you at a relentless pace. “So good,” he gasps, his free hand coming around to tweak at your nipple, his pace never once wavering. “Taking me so well, aren’t you?”
“Good,” your mumble and he has to strain to hear your muffled, fucked out voice. “F’r you.”
It makes him manic.
His cock pulses inside your gummy walls and he curses, his pace starting to falter. “Fuck, pretty, ‘m gonna cum,” he breathes. He’s about to pull out, picturing the image of his cum trickling against your back, a stark colour against the black ropes, when your voice cuts in.
“In me…” You muffle through your sobs. “Seob—in me…”
And fuck, who is he to deny a pretty beggar?
He groans, plastering himself to your back, both hands clutching onto your tits as he drives his cock into you with a renewed force.
“Cum with me,” he breathes into your hair, and it’s enough to have you pulsing around him, enough to have him spilling inside of you.
He collapses from the effort, grunting as he milks every bit of himself into you, arms coming down to wrap around your waist as he rocks you both through the high.
The moment stills, a tangle of breathless bodies and heated air.
He wants to just lay there and bask in the afterglow, but he knows he has work to do, especially when he feels you go limp in his arms.
Slowly, he pulls out, hissing from the sensitivity before laying you on your side and lifting off of you.
But as soon as he detaches from you, you bristle with a whine, eyes going wide and panicked as they search for him through the blur.
“Seob? No, don’t,” you whimper, reaching out to clutch at him.
Oh, you’re gone.
He immediately lowers himself down, tucking his body over you and brushing your sweaty hair out of your face. “I’m right here, pretty. Not going anywhere. Just gonna get these ropes off of you, okay?”
It takes a moment for the words to process, but when they do, he goes to work, making sure to stay as physically connected to you as possible even if it is just a clumsy press of bodies.
The ropes come off of you one by one, and he drops them to the floor without care. It doesn’t even bother him that he’ll have to wash them again today.
He soothes his hands over your arms when he gets them free, almost mourning having to undo all his work—you looked so pretty under all of it—but he hopes he’ll get to keep his picture at least.
Actually, he hopes he’ll get to have you like this again. But that’s a worry for after, because you’re starting to doze off already and he can’t have that just yet.
Once you’re free of the ropes, he gently tugs your body to lay on your back, the movement shaking you awake.
“Don’t fall asleep on me yet,” he says, watching you blink your eyes open for him. “Good, just like that.”
He smiles fondly when you drop your face into his chest, scratching into your hair affectionately before he reaches over you for the wet wipes he keeps at his bedside.
Cleaning you up is a bit of a task when you keep flinching away and swatting at him but once it’s done, he tucks you against his chest and under the blanket.
“You’re a freak.”
Okay, maybe you’re not that under.
“Oh yeah?” He asks with a cocky grin. “You seemed to like it though.”
You lift your head to glare at him, your previous daze seeming faraway. “I’m sorry, has anyone not liked that?”
He shrugs. “Some don’t.” He doesn’t know what to make of the slow blink you give him. “What?”
“You’re a slut,” you say simply.
He laughs, knowing you well enough to know it’s not malicious. A little judgemental, maybe, but he’s judged you about your sex life before so he’s not one to speak.
“I suppose I am,” he says sheepishly, dropping his head back to look up at the ceiling.
“…What’s with the cuddling?”
“Aftercare.”
“Ah.”
“Hate it?”
You shuffle further into his arms and he takes that as your silent answer. He holds you close, relishing in your warm skin against his.
After another silent moment, his eyes drift over to the Polaroid that waits at his bedside table. He itches to reach over and take a peak. But he won’t until—
“You can keep the picture,” you tell him, like you’re reading his mind. “But you show it to anyone and I’m telling Shota his best friend is a huge freak.”
“Shota?” Jongseob snorts. “Who the hell do you think got me into this in the first place?”
There’s silence. Then you bristle, pushing yourself off of him to sit up and stare down at him with wide eyes. “What?”
“Honour code,” he says cheekily, pretending to zip his lips shut. “Freaks don’t divulge each other's freak practices.”
You drop back down beside him with an exasperated sigh. You shouldn’t be that surprised. “Do I even want to know?”
He hums, chewing on his lip as a distant thought forms in his head. “Maybe another time.”
read part 2 (ft. soulseob)
taglist: @jellyybelly, @jseobbie, @tintedsvn, @seobjecttt, @stxrxyyz, @hxraiiii, @peachy-x-k33n, @choxochip, @ozzysoatsolivesandpasta, @boptak, @peonyjoo, @kittyshotak, @oyasumiaikko, @straystar-8, @aalyluvz, @evemds, @willowedjelly, @velvetjoong, @seonghwaswifeuuuu, @delicatechris, @orchidves, @lycxee, @girlcrushd, @halaziasupremacy, @chandlxa, @soulssnucky, @snyngjhn, @jiungs-wednesdaygirl, @leleluvrs, @princessthelsa, @nichozzystuffs, @mo8ny4951, @rockstartaeyang, @shmooooo, @cherryyberry1 @keymeadoww @1007-human @p1issocool @tikfreakingtak @liveyourownlife4good @angelcakesunoo @nota10butadefinite8
message me or comment to be added to my taglist! 𓆩⟡𓆪 check out my masterlist for my other works
1 reblog/comment = 1 virtual kiss <3
© jiuchip
