There’s no place else you’d rather be right now. Ever, even.
Jongho’s hands are warm against the skin of your back, tucked gently underneath your sweatshirt, as the two of you lie quietly together in the afternoon sunshine. His book lies forgotten on the floor next to the settee, as does your mug of tea, now cooling on the side table. You nestle in closer to his chest, nose brushing his collarbone, and you feel his contented sigh as his arms readjust minutely with you.
Despite the tranquility of everything, your heart is going a mile a minute. Now’s the perfect moment, you think. You should finally say it. Who cares if you’re first?
“What’s wrong?” He murmurs against your hair.
Uh oh. You tilt your head up slightly, and he leans back to meet your gaze.
“What do you mean?” You ask softly, stalling.
A wry smile plays in the corner of his mouth. “You’re mini-hyperventilating on me.”
You snap your mouth shut. Whoops.
“‘S the matter?” His voice is still peaceful, but the smile fades from his face.
You swallow hard. “Um. Nothing.”
He raises an eyebrow, and you sigh. Ah. You notice the shakiness to your breathing now.
“Nothing’s wrong,” you mumble, hiding against his chest again. “Really. Promise.”
He hums, the sound edged with skepticism, but he lets it pass.
You take another five minutes to build your courage up, consciously matching your breath to his.
“I love you,” you whisper so quietly even you can barely hear it in your own skull.
After the briefest pause, Jongho chuckles once, arms sliding to hold you tighter.
“I know.”
You blink, then raise your head to look at him again. There’s a dreamy look on his face.
“You told me in your sleep,” he whispers.
You’re pretty sure your heart stops beating. “I—what? When?”
He tucks you against him again, lifting a hand to sink his fingers into your hair. “Hm. A week ago, I think.”
“A week?”
He nods once, and you feel the warmth of his breath stirring against the top of your head.
“I didn’t know if it was just you dreaming,” he admits quietly. “I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
Figures you’d blab on yourself when unconscious. “…Oh.”
You both fall into silence again, listening to the faint chirp of birds through the open window. You watch the shadow of the tree branches dance gently on the floor next to Jongho’s book, leaves trembling with the slight breeze.
“Did I upset you?” He whispers.
“No,” you wheeze. You clear your throat and try again. “Uh, no. I’m kinda annoyed at myself, but it’s not your fault.”
“Don’t be annoyed,” he murmurs, and you feel his lips curve into a smile in your hair. His fingertips massage gingerly at your scalp. “I was glad you were asleep. I cried a little.”
Your head shoots up. “What?”
The tips of his ears tinge scarlet. “It was stupid. I was just…happy.”
You watch him worry his lower lip between his teeth.
“You’re not upset?”
He frowns slightly. “Why would I be upset?”
“I mean, it’s…” You frown, too. “I don’t want you to feel, like…burdened.”
His frown clears immediately, followed by a fond exasperation.
“Jagi,” he murmurs, studying your face with a little smile. “It’s not a burden to be loved back.”
You stop breathing for a second.
He laughs quietly, guides your head up just enough for him to kiss the tip of your nose. “Don’t tell me I wasn’t obvious.”
“I didn’t want to assume,” you insist, your heartbeat racing again for this entirely different reason.
“You’re allowed to assume,” he says, tucking you against him again. “You’re allowed to do anything. You hung every star in the sky.”
“God,” you rasp, and he laughs again when you bury your face against his neck and pepper it with kisses.
“I love you.”
He says it so simply, like the sky is blue and water is wet and nothing else matters in the world. You breathe deeply in and out, hooking your hand underneath his arm and resting it against his shoulder.
𝜗ৎ playback pussy's sequel, she's finally here. i swore may was going to be the month i took a small break, but i couldn't leave this doc alone (back into hibernation i go, for now). this can be read standalone, but for more context on their dynamics i rec reading pp too <33
Putting in your earrings has never presented more of a struggle until now.
You’re chipping the side of your nails, your ears are irritated, the stack doesn’t look good, and you can’t find your favorite hoops. In short, you’re a disaster, a silent one.
Because pissed is not the word, you're sure the word you’re looking for doesn’t exist.
You continue to put on your jewelry, give up on perfecting your earring stack–focus on your bracelet bangles instead. The led bathroom light at hotels always hides blemishes well, but you know the real look will be shown in the car mirror.
You look damn good regardless, and you’re about to make him sick to his stomach. You’re one to sweep things under the rug, but your blood is boiling, it matches the deep maroon of your dress. Your collarbones on display, a slit so high you think about pinning the threads together.
You go to clasp the necklace around your neck, you almost drop it after you’re hit with the most annoying memory.
The memory of walking in on Mingi getting his makeup done before a shoot, the artist engrossed in conversation with him, hands lingering too long on his jaw, his smile showing all thirty-two, her tripping over him, and her hands landing on his thighs.
The moment when Mingi glances up to see you holding his favorite soup and vitamin water, your ritual, your routine. He doesn’t acknowledge what just happened, doesn’t think it was a big deal. But you’re a girl, and you’re a girl with a very hot, very tall, very talented, lusted-after boyfriend.
This was definitely a big deal.
Mingi came home later that night, continued with the dismissal of it all. His words, “it’s just work, baby. No issues.”
You nod, turn back over in bed, you gave him no more words. He assumed all was well, that no response was a great response in his book. You fell asleep scheming as he joined you and engulfed you in his arms that night.
You try to push the memory to the back of your mind as you look at yourself again in the mirror, you’re genuinely satisfied with how you look. Is it a little skimpy for a company event? Possibly, maybe…but that’s not the point. The point is to see Mingi rage.
You arrive at the venue alone, you were gifted separate rooms for the event. While you love him, you’re grateful for the time spent apart. It’s very upscale, it’s the annual awards event, everyone is here. Flowy table cloths, organized cutlery, dimmed chandelier lights exude class in the air.
You’re already thinking about getting fast food afterwards because you know the finger food about to be served will not be filling in the slightest.
Tables are assigned, but artist partners are seated at the same table. You immediately glance over the makeup artist's table. Gross, and scan for the boy with blonde hair with light pink tips.
You find Mingi talking in a corner, a glass in his hand. Not sure who he’s conversing with, but he looks good. Hair has grown out longer, his suit fits him in all the right places, you’re salivating even when you’re supposed to be angry.
He still hasn’t looked your way as you still stand near the entrance until a hand graces your back, rings sending a shiver up your spine. The soft voice didn’t fall on deaf ears.
“Standing here like a deer in headlights, huh?” You could feel the smile in Hongjoong’s voice without turning around to even look at him.
“That obvious am I?”
“Very, come sit over here. Mingi is at the same table as me.” Hongjoong keeps his hand on the small of your back as he guides you to the table, pulls out your chair for you, and sits right next to you. His scent is intoxicating, always has been lately.
Chatter is loud around you, both sitting in silence as you make eye contact with Mingi, still standing in the corner. You look away immediately, you don’t smile, don’t flutter your lashes. Just a blank face is all he gets in your book.
You know it’s eating him up inside by the way his body glitches between leaving his current conversation or approaching your table. But the formality has to remain due to the fact that there are eyes everywhere, the media is everywhere, and your body language is not very inviting.
Time goes on for a little while in silence at the table, until Hongjoong turns towards you. You can tell he’s just as bored, just as unoccupied.
“I have a needle and thread in my jacket pocket if you need it.”
You furrow your eyebrows at him, confused. Give him a huh sound for him to elaborate a little further.
“That slit. Too high.” You laugh, genuinely. You know it’s high, but you know you’re not receiving an award, so there shouldn’t be as many eyes on you compared to the other people that are here.
“Bothering you?”
Hongjoong smirks, “a little.”
You lean in, “Tragic, hope you can find a remedy. Your needle and thread are not needed, dork.” Hongjoong laughs, leans back, and keeps his eyes on you. You match his intensity, the conversation flows, your laughs are free, the focus is all on him.
“You ever crave something so bad, like dessert or a fruit? Like I’d love some cherries right now.” Hongjoong asks the question, seriously, it’s not rhetorical. He asks while also trying to find the answer for himself.
You lean in, chuckle a bit, because cherries feel like such a random thing to crave right now. “I do, I crave lots of things. But I normally don’t wallow in the want of it. Pretty sure you could get some cherries somewhere around here.”
Hongjoong smiles and nods in agreement. “You’re right, you look like one. Looks like I found it–you look good tonight if someone hasn’t let you know already.”
Your pulse fastens, he’s smooth with his words. The only thing you can do is smile, because you’d be lying if you said you didn’t love the way he spoke.
Mingi still hasn’t come over to greet you or even sit down, he is constantly glancing over his shoulder to see you fawning over his bandmate. Memories of the three of you before flooding his mind aren't helping as he clutches his glass.
Hongjoong isn’t dumb, you never thought he was. He’s very quick to catch on to things, knows there’s something brewing underneath, but he’s not going to say a word because you’re beautiful and you’re paying attention to just him.
You’re both in the middle of laughing about when Jongho made Mingi chase their car when Hongjoong’s hand lands on your thigh. His hand lingers, seems not to care about any wandering eyes. You don’t pull away, you shift a little in your seat, his hand brushing your skin, the slit of your dress rising even more.
His hands are warm, dainty with rings adorning them. His fingers spread with a firm grip, if he holds on any longer, he may leave an imprint. You look down at his hand, tracing around his hand with your fingers. Your thighs subtly press together, Hongjoong takes note of it, the eye contact between you two lasts for about thirty seconds.
Thirty seconds of such charged energy, what you’ve created.
Mingi’s daily glance at you catches it, the way Hongjoong is leaning over, but his eyes, looking up at you, see the placement of hands. His jaw tightens, and he sets his drink down by a nearby podium. His body is completely tense, no longer relaxed, brushing it all off is not going to suffice much longer. You can feel it across the room, but you still don’t focus on Mingi, you hone all of your attention to Hongjoong.
At this point, Hongjoong is painfully aware of the energy bouncing off you two.
Mingi tries to catch your attention anytime he can, shifts in your peripheral vision constantly, talks a little louder than normal. You pay him no mind. You keep turning towards Hongjoong, you’ve scooted your chair so much it’s touching his.
“So any new gossip, any new love interest? I saw that rumor about you being with—”
Hongjoong stops you, fingers pressing into your leg as he talks. “Nope, just rumors…Not really interested.” He’s testing you, your reaction, seeing if what he’s doing is okay, also knows you asked him a loaded question.
From onlookers, it looks like two friends chatting it up. But between the three of you, you know it’s quite the opposite.
Your heart is racing, his touch bringing memories you haven’t acknowledged in a while. You’re suffocating, not in a bad way, but in a way of not knowing what to do. You stand from the table, smooth out your dress, huff out a bit of air. “Bathroom real quick, be right back.”
Hongjoong nods. He doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest, goes back to looking at his phone as you move through the standing crowds to find the bathroom.
You check yourself in the bathroom mirror, despite your blood rushing, you still look good. You have no clue when the actual announcing of the awards is going to start, and killing the time with Hongjoong has put you in a very, very tough predicament.
You’re in the bathroom longer than anticipated, Hongjoong stands up from his table to go find you, making sure no one has cornered you or to make sure you haven’t fallen into the toilet. The latter wouldn’t surprise him.
He’s nosy by nature, but so curious when it comes to you. He wants to know what’s really going on with you.
As you push the door open, you’re met with Hongjoong’s face, his hand up, looking like he was about to knock. You step back a bit as he caught you off guard, and the fact that it’s the women’s restroom. “You okay in here?”
You think for a second, you’re in private, and you can tell he’s offering an out that you’re not about to take. The tension is too much for you. “No–no. Not at fucking all.”
Hongjoong motions for you to step further into the bathroom some more, he steps fully in, closing the door behind him. He steps closer to you, concern in his eyes. “What’s going on? You’ve been in here for a bit.”
“Actually, nothing, nothing. I’m good. We should get back out there.” You’re lying, he knows it. Neither of you moves toward the door.
“No, we’re not doing this. What is it really? Mingi? Me?” Hongjoong’s voice has gone even softer, it cradles you in a way that makes you want to spill your guts to him. But your expression is what gives it all away, that all of this is about someone else and not him.
“Is this—” He starts, then stops. Moves closer to you. “Does he know?” You shake your head, shoulders kind of slouch over. Hongjoong pushes your shoulders back up, fixes your posture as his thumbs come up to brush over your cheeks.
You don’t push back, you lean into him, and your body language is all telling. Hongjoong feels it, he lets his hand linger, his eyes pouring into yours, red creeping up his neck and over his shirt collar.
“You said you’d wanted cherries, right? Would you eat one without permission even though the lips it’s meant for are standing out there?”
Hongjoong’s hand comes up to caress your collarbones, then moves up to gently squeeze your neck. He’s breathing hard, nose is flared as he bites his lip. His restraint is slipping away, but it’s completely gone when you go to smash your lips onto his.
Your tongues are tied when the swinging of the bathroom door is heard. Hongjoong didn’t lock it. The only thing locked is your eyes with Mingi’s.
Hongjoong’s back is to Mingi, but he can feel the looming presence behind him when he feels you pull back a bit. Knows it’s Mingi behind him, but he’s not profusely apologizing to you, he’s frozen, doesn’t move.
Mingi’s eyes immediately go dark. He doesn’t say anything, everyone is standing in silence. All you can feel is his fury, the possessiveness as he clenches his hands. The way he’s looking at the back of Hongjoong is nothing short of scary, his eyes don’t leave him.
Hongjoong slowly turns around, steps back a little to look at Mingi. He knows the line he’s crossing, Mingi had given permission before–not this time, and that’s where he fucked up. You have not moved a limb, part of you feels guilty, and the other part is turned on.
Mingi’s eyes do not leave either of yours as he reaches back to lock the restroom door, effectively trapping all of you together.
“Having fun, dear?” He looks directly at you, fingers motion for you to come. You don’t move, which makes him laugh a bit, he’s entertained and pissed at the same time. He then begins to walk past Hongjoong to get to you.
Mingi's hands wrap around your throat before you can even breathe. He’s mad, but the bulge in his pants also lets you know he’s fucking horny. His thumb presses harder against the evident vein in your neck, feeling your fast pulse.
“You think I didn’t see that shit?” His voice goes lower, “every single fucking second of it.”
Hongjoong hasn’t moved, he chooses to wait and watch because he knows this dance, knows better than to speak first.
Mingi’s other hand slides down your side, his fingers catch on the slit of the dress, dragging it higher up your thigh. “This isn’t how it went down last time, baby.” Your breath hitches, the memory of being in this position before, but this time, there’s no kind of negotiation.
There’s no couch or soft blankets, a track on loop with your voice on it. Right now, it’s just cold tile, locked doors, and the threat of industry sitting outside the door. “Mingi–”
He cuts you off with his lips, his tongue enters without full permission, teeth catch your bottom lip enough to make you bleed. When he pulls back, your gloss is smeared all over his mouth.
“Don’t.” Mingi turns his head slightly, glancing back to Hongjoong, finally acknowledging his presence. “You. Come here.”
Hongjoong doesn’t move with hesitancy, he steps so close to you that you can feel the pure lust radiating off of him. His hands find your waist like he knows what sets you off, what gets you going, and the reality of it, he actually does.
Mingi sees it, how you move like familiars. The way Hongjoong’s fingers press into your hip, that spot that makes you a little whiny, and arch into the touch.
“You remember how she sounds.” Mingi’s voice is rough, you can tell he’s on edge.
Hongjoong gulps, Adam’s apple bobbing. “Yeah. I do.”
“Lovely.” Mingi’s hand slides from your throat down to your chest, palming your breast through the fabric. “Then you know what happens when she gets what she wants.”
You’re closer to the wall now, you head falls back against it as both of them close in on you. Mingi’s mouth is all over your neck, biting down hard. You won’t be able to go back into the award ceremony, he knows this. All the while, Hongjoong’s hand slips under the slit of your dress, trailing up.
“Guys–” You gasp, and Mingi lets out a laugh.
Mingi shuts you up, yanking down the top part of your dress, exposing your breasts, your necklace swaying back and forth between them.
“Fuck,” Hongjoong breathes out, eyes locked on your chest. His hand doesn’t falter, he cups your breast, thumb brushing over your nipple until it hardens under his touch, the coldness of the restroom adding to it all.
Mingi’s eyes zone in on Hongjoong’s movements, “You’re not shy anymore.”
“Mmm. Should I be?” Hongjoong’s voice stays steady as his other hand moves under your dress to graze the edge of your panties. You gasp, hips jerking. Mingi catches your chin, forcing you to look at him. “Eyes on me.”
Hongjoong doesn’t care, his fingers slip inside your panties, finding you already wet, and your eyes flutter shut immediately. “She’s leaking,” he murmurs. He drags two fingers through your folds, “just like last time.”
Mingi’s grip on your jaw tightens, “Don’t fucking compare.”
“How come?” Hongjoong’s fingers circle your clit, and you whimper. “Her body acts the same way, gets this wet when she’s between us.”
“Hongjoong.” Mingi puts his mouth back onto yours before you can even finish your sentence. His kiss is brutal while Hongjoong continues to scissor you with his fingers. You look like a mess, shaking already, and overwhelmed by the sensations.
Mingi pulls back, breathing hard. “You think you can make her cum before I do?”
Hongjoong’s eyes flash, then a quick smirk on his lips. “I swear I’ve already done that once before.”
Mingi goes still, his hand sliding down to grip your hip harder. “When?”
“Few weeks ago, actually.” Hongjoong’s fingers push inside you even more, and you cry out. “Came on my tongue while you were in that merch meeting or whatever.”
You’re blue in the face from the lack of air that just left your body, you’re shocked, but also laughing on the inside. Knows lying to Mingi makes him go harder, and that’s exactly what you want–what you need.
“Fuck you, fuck this.” Mingi yanks your dress up higher, exposing your legs completely. “She tell you that, or you just running your mouth?”
“She didn’t have to.” Hongjoong continues with his lie as he curls his fingers, hitting your spot. “I could taste how much she needed it.”
Mingi’s hand joins Hongjoong’s between your legs, both hands stretching you wider as fingers glide. You sob, you’re losing the muscle to stand up. “Mingi—fuck, I can’t.”
“Oh no no. Yes, the fuck you can.” His voice is harsh in your ear, “You wanted his attention so bad tonight. Guess what, sweetie—now you got both of us.”
Hongjoong’s thumb finds your clit while Mingi’s fingers pump inside you, they’re working together instead of against one another. Your thighs tremble, gasping as you struggle for air. “She’s close,” Hongjoong says as he watches your face with great intent. “Look at her.”
That only makes Mingi mad all over again. “You don’t get to make her cum I can tell you that much.”
“Then stop me.”
Mingi’s hand moves away and spins you around, making Hongjoong remove his hand. Mingi presses your chest against the wall, your dress bunches around your waist, ass on display for the both of them.
Mingi unbuckles his belt, the sound of the zipper being the loudest thing in the room. Hongjoong moves to your side, his hand sliding up your spine. “You good?”
You nod, and he leans in to kiss you while Mingi gets behind you. His cock presses against you, thick and hard as ever, and he pushes in without giving you any warning. You pull away from the kiss to scream his name when Mingi slams in.
“Yeah baby, say my name, not his.”
Hongjoong turns your face toward him again, making you maintain eye contact with him while Mingi fucks the living daylights out of you. He twiddles with your necklace as it sways back and forth from the rough pace Mingi has set.
“You’re so pretty like this.” Hongjoong whispers, breath hitting your face.
Mingi’s hand fists in your hair, messing up the careful style you put it in for the night. He yanks your head back some more, “This pretty is mine.”
“Then why’d she let me kiss her tonight?” Hongjoong’s voice almost sounds amused. “Why’d she let me touch her at that table?”
Mingi’s hips stutter, and he grits through his teeth. “Because she wanted to piss me off.”
“Did it work?”
“Fuck yes, it worked obviously.” Mingi’s voice cracks, “I hated watching you touch her, hated seeing her smile at you like that.”
Your heart is pounding, you wouldn’t be surprised if you saw it on the tile floor at this point. Hongjoong’s thumb brushes your lower lip, smudging the gloss even more. “She’s got you fucked up,” Hongjoong says softly.
“Royally fucked up.” Mingi agrees, and his pace doesn’t slow, his cock driving into you with no mercy. “And you’re not helping.”
Hongjoong looks at Mingi to smirk, “wasn’t trying to.”
You’re close, the pressure is building, walls constantly clenching around Mingi’s cock, he feels it, and his hand slides around to rub your clit in rough circles. “Cum for me, and only me.”
Hongjoong disregards his words. He moves to your neck, sucking hard. Trying to leave a mark that overlaps with Mingi’s. Hongjoong’s hand then goes to cover Mingi’s, pressing even harder against your clit. “You can do it for both of us.”
Your orgasm hits you hard, Mingi groans as you puls around him. He doesn’t last much longer as he spills everything he has inside you. Your legs shake, and Mingi rests along your back as his hands grip your hips.
Hongjoong steps back slowly, hand trailing down your arm before he lets go completely. His lips and face are left with the evidence of you.
Mingi pulls out carefully, the sound echoing. He adjusts your dress before turning you back around. His eyes are still dark like he’s not done, like there’s no way he’d stop right here. “We’re not finished,” his thumb brushes your swollen lip.
Hongjoong adds on, sitting on the opposite wall, watching everything unfold in front of him. “Didn’t think we were.”
“Go out first,” Mingi says to Hongjoong, “we’ll follow in a minute.”
Hongjoong fixes his collar and slips out the door without another word. The second it clicks shut, Mingi’s hand is back in your hair. He yanks you to face him directly. “Knees now.” Mingi takes off his jacket, puts it on the floor, points to where you need to be
You sink down slowly onto the cloth of his jacket. He’s still half hard, still slick with you and him, and the sight makes your mouth water. “Open up for me.” He doesn’t ease in, just pushes into your mouth till you’re gagging around him.
Your hands go straight to his thighs, nails digging in, but he doesn’t stop. He just holds you there as your eyes begin to water, makeup surely isn’t lasting.
“You wanted to make me so fucking jealous, to let him touch you like that–just a damn slut.” You can’t breathe, just gagging as he pulls back and thrusts deeper. Spit drips down your chin, he wipes some up with his thumb and pops it into his mouth, mascara’s running even more.
“Can you say anything? You were a fucking chatterbox at the table. Or are you too full of my cock right now?”
He pulls back to give you a small breath to speak, “It was worth it.” He pushes right back in, your throat burns, and your jaw aches, but you don’t pull away. You take it all.
When he pulls out completely, you’re gasping, drool and cum smeared across your lips, he tilts your chin up, forcing you to look at him.
“Shit. Go fix yourself,” he’s still angry, you can hear it in his voice, “then get back to the damn table.”
You nod, legs shaking as you stand, your reflection is scary to look at, it’s progressively gotten worse. Lips swollen, eyes glossed over, throat a fucking abstract painting. Mingi tucks himself back in, adjusting his shirt. “And don’t take too long.” He leaves right after.
You stand there for a moment, still tasting him on your tongue, until you get a text.
joong: vip lounge. upstairs, now
You don’t listen to Mingi out of pure rebellion, out of still being agitated. You head in the opposite direction from the main ceremony.
The lounge is dimmed, plush velvet couches. It’s meant for the donors and execs of the event, but it’s empty since everyone has filtered into the main room. You can hear the muffled sound of applause starting downstairs as you push open the door.
Hongjoong’s already inside, leaning against the back of the couch. He straightens when he sees you, eyes looking over your appearance that you put in no effort to fix.
“Fuck–” he breathes, “he really–”
You walk up to him, grab his tie, and pull him down into a kiss. He groans into your mouth, tasting Mingi on your tongue, and you feel him get harder. His hands find your waist, pulling you against him. “You taste like him,” he whispers, and he’s not complaining.
“I know. Now you’re going to make me taste like you.” You push him back onto the couch, his thighs spread and cock straining against his dress pants. You straddle him, and his hands grip your thighs.
You pull out your phone.
“What are you–”
You dial Mingi, and he picks up on the first ring. “Baby? Where are you? The ceremony’s starting—”
You lean forward and kiss Hongjoong slowly, tongue sliding against his while Mingi’s voice booms through the speaker. “Hello? You there?”
You pull back from Hongjoong’s mouth, breathless. “I’m here, honey.”
“Where the fuck did you go? I’ve been waiting–”
“Wanna hear something?” You interrupt his thoughts, tired of him having his way.
There’s a pause, then you can hear the weariness in his voice. “What?”
You set the phone down on the armrest, speaker on, and grind against Hongjoong’s cock. He hisses, hands tightening.
“I get to make my own special track now,” Hongjoong says, eyes locked on yours. He pushes your dress to expose the wet mess between your legs. Silence on the other end of the phone until Mingi speaks again. “Where the fuck are you?”
“Vip lounge,” you say, rolling your hips again. “Upstairs.”
“Don’t you dare.”
“You’re going to fucking listen.” Your hand slides down to palm Hongjoong through his pants, and he groans. “You’re going to sit through that ceremony and smile for the cameras while I let him fuck me. Understand?”
Barely audible over the phone, Mingi groans. “Fuck.”
Hongjoong’s hands are yanking your panties to the side, fingers sliding through your slick folds again. “Jesus, you’re so soaked still,” he says loud enough for the phone to pick up. “You this wet from him? Or from knowing he’s listening?”
“Both,” you gasp as two fingers push inside you. Through the phone, you hear Mingi’s sharp breath. Hongjoong pumps his fingers slowly, curling them upwards, and you whimper. “She’s dripping down my hand,” like he’s narrating an audiobook for Mingi, “clenching around my fingers. You should feel how tight she is.”
“Hongjoong—” Mingi’s voice is strained.
“What?” Hongjoong pulls his fingers out, sucks them clean. His eyes roll back, “fuck she tastes good. You already knew that, though.”
You fumble with his belt, can barely focus as you shake with need. He helps you to free his cock, he’s leaking and flushed. You wrap your hand around him, stroking, and he groans.
“She’s got her hand on my cock now,” Hongjoong says, head falling back again, “stroking me, fuck–tighter, baby, just like that.”
You listen and twist your wrist the way he likes, and precum beads at the tip, you swipe your thumb through it, bringing it to your lips.
“She just licked my precum off her thumb,” He’s still reporting everything with a wrecked voice, “while looking right at me.”
Through the phone, you hear someone speaking to Mingi. His voice is strained when he responds, “Yeah. I’m fine. Just give me a sec.”
You try your hardest not to laugh, you go to line Hongjoong up and sink down onto his cock in one motion. The sound you make is desperate and loud.
“Holy hell,” he chokes out. You start moving, riding him hard. Your dress is bunched up, tits bouncing in his face with every thrust, Hongjoong is going cross-eyed.
You’re so wet the squelches fill the room, you know Mingi can hear it through the speaker. “Hongjoong–” you gasp, “fuck you’re so deep.”
“Yeah?” he thrusts up to meet your pace, “tell him. Tell him how deep i am.”
“So deep,” you moan, much louder now. “Filling me up–fuck.”
Mingi makes a choked noise, Hongjoong’s hand comes up, wrapping around the necklace. It’s actually a necklace Mingi gifted you. He pulls it, using it as leverage to pull you down harder onto his cock.
“This his?”
You nod, eyes watering as he pulls tighter. “Damn. You really give no fucks.” He shifts you right away, flipping you onto your back, your legs wrap around his waist as he ruts into you deeper and harder. “Hongjoong, please–”
“Please, what?” He slows down, grinding deep as you whimper. “Say it loud enough for him to hear.”
“Please harder—fuck I need it.”
He slams so hard the couch moves against the floor, his hand finds your clit, and rubs. Through the phone, Mingi’s voice has little control, “Hongjoong–”
“She’s close. She’s about to cum on this cock.”
“No–” Mingi starts, but you’re already losing it. Your body arches off the couch, a broken scream ripping from your throat. Hongjoong groans as you clench around him. You sob through it, Hongjoong’s name on your lips over and over, he keeps fucking you through it.
“Hey Mingi, she just came so hard she’s crying by the way.” There are tears streaming down your face, and it doesn’t stop. Hongjoong pulls out and bends you over the arm of the couch, then slams in from behind.
“Oh fuck–” you gasp, hands trying to find something to hold onto.
“One more for me–give me one more.” He fucks you brutally, skin slapping, his hand comes down on your ass, and you moan.
“She likes being spanked. Ooo Mingi, you got it good.” Mingi doesn’t answer, just breathes heavy through the phone. Hongjoong picks up the pace again, and you feel another orgasm coming. He overstimulates your clit, and you scream.
Hongjoong pumps you a few more times before he’s spilling inside you, you feel every pulse and twitch, making you clench around him again. For a moment, you can only hear the mingling of heavy breathing between the three of you.
Then downstairs, a loud sound of applause indicating someone has won an award. Hongjoong pulls out slowly, and you feel his cum start to drip down your legs. He collapses onto the couch, and you slump against the armrest, pure exhaustion.
You reach over with an unsteady hand, picking up the phone. Your voice is completely wrecked. “He just came inside me…I can feel it dripping out.” Then you hang up.
Hongjoong laughs beside you. “He’s gonna get you for that.”
mymingithingi: ur gonna quit fuckin playin w/ me.
You stare at the screen with a smile, heart still racing, cum sticky between your thighs, then you toss the phone onto the couch and close your eyes for a quick power nap.
Thirty minutes later, you’re back at the table. You’ve cleaned up as best as one could, given the circumstances. You fixed your lip combo, covered up the marks as best you could, smoothed down your dress, tamed your hair. But there’s no hiding the tremor in your hands and the way you walk like you still have a cock stuck up your ass.
Mingi’s still seated, doesn’t look at you when you sit down beside him. The ceremony’s still going, someone’s giving an acceptance speech.
Mingi’s hand slides under the table, finding your thigh. His grip is firm. “Smile, baby,” he says, deadly calm. “We’re being photographed.”
You smile, one flash and a click, then his hand moves higher, fingers pressing against the wet mess between your legs through your dress.
“You’re going to sit here,” he leans in like he’s whispering sweet nothings, “and feel him dripping out of you, and you’re going to think about what happens when we get home.”
You go still. His other hand comes up, adjusting your necklace, the one he gave you. The one Hongjoong used to leverage you with. Mingi straightens it carefully, gently, then leans in close enough so his lips brush your ear.
“At the end of the day, this is mine. And I’m going to remind you what the fucking definition of ‘mine’ means for the rest of the night.” He pulls back once more, smiles for the camera, and you realize your hands are shaking.
Across the table, Hongjoong catches your eye. He still looks a mess, hair messy and tie loose. Mingi notices, and his hand tightens around you.
“Both of you,” voice low enough that only you and Hongjoong hear. “When we leave here. Our place.”
Hongjoong only smiles, but your stomach is dropping into your ass. You thought tonight would get you even, would satiate your anger. Instead, you’ve made everything ten times worse.
★ synopsis:
choi soobin is the flawless boyfriend any family would adore—polite, thoughtful, and utterly respectful, winning every heart the moment he met your family as the ideal son-in-law who honors traditions.
a perfect man for the flawless, goody-two shoes daughter who never steps out of line.
★ pairing: sub!soobin x fem!reader
★ genre: smut (18+ mdni!) with a plot, established relationship
★ song reco: the killa (i belong to you) - tomorrow x together
★ status | word count: completed | 8.2k
★ao3: good boy
note: first soobin fic! got inspired by the fact that soobin just openly sharing multiple times to the whole world how soobmissive he is lmao
thanks again to all the engagements on my previous works!! i really really appreciate seeing people read them, leaving hearts, comments, reblogs!!
enjoy <3
Soobin’s car hummed through the three hours of quiet countryside roads, the occasional soft click of his turn signal, and the low murmur of whatever late-night ballad playlist he’d put on shuffle.
You were finally going home.
Not just any home—your family home, the two-story house with cream walls and a clay-tiled roof that hadn’t changed since you were small enough to hide under the dining table during thunderstorms.
Your mother had been relentless for weeks. Voice messages piled up, and the occasional guilt-trip text that read 'It’s been almost two years, and we still haven’t met him in person. Do you want me to die of curiosity?'
Soobin had laughed when you told him—nervous, dimpled, adorable—but the laugh hadn’t reached his eyes. He’d agreed, of course. He always agreed when you asked. But the closer the date got, the more you noticed the little tells.
The way he chewed the inside of his cheek when he thought you weren’t looking, the way his fingers drummed restlessly on the table when he video called in between rehearsals, the way he asked—twice—if your parents liked beef because he wanted to bring the right gift.
Now, as the late afternoon sun dipped low, your family’s house finally came into view at the end of the narrow lane. The same wooden gate your brothers used to climb as kids. The same porch light that had welcomed you back from every school trip, every late-night study session.
The car rolled to a gentle stop in the driveway. The engine ticked once, twice, then fell silent but he didn’t move to unbuckle right away.
You glanced sideways and caught the way his long fingers flexed around the steering wheel—knuckles pale, then flushed, then pale again.
He had worn something softer for the drive home: a white button-up with a black cardigan, dark loose jeans, and he wore his glasses instead of the usual contact lenses.
Even dressed down, he still looked unfairly expensive as if he belonged on a magazine cover rather than in your childhood neighborhood.
You reached over and brushed a stray lock of black hair off his forehead.
“You’re nervous,” you murmured, half-teasing, half-tender.
Soobin let out a small, nervous laugh that didn’t reach his eyes. “I’ve performed in front of thousands of people and I’m more scared of your mom right now than I ever was on any stage.”
You leaned across the console and kissed the corner of his mouth. “She’s going to love you. Everyone does.”
He exhaled through his nose, then nodded once like he was steeling himself for a performance he hadn’t rehearsed. The front door flew open before either of you could unbuckle.
Your mother stood on the porch in her favorite floral apron, arms already open. Behind her, your two older brothers loomed, identical smirks on their faces. Minho crossed his arms; Jaehyun tilted his head and mouthed pretty boy the second he spotted Soobin stepping out of the car.
Soobin bowed deeply then straightened and held out the small forest of shopping bags he’d insisted on carrying the entire three-hour drive.
“These are… for all of you” he said, voice soft but steady. “I didn’t know what would be appropriate so I, um, bought a little of everything.”
Your mother’s eyes widened at the Hanwoo beef gift set, then softened at the cordless back massager still in its sleek black box, and finally landed on the oversized bouquet of white peonies and pale pink roses.
She accepted everything with both hands despite being hesitant. “You didn’t have to bring anything,” she said, already tearing up. “Come in, come in. Both of you must be tired.”
Soobin bowed again shyly and followed you inside. The living room smelled exactly the way you remembered with the familiar faint citrus cleaner, your dad’s old tobacco pipe that he swore he’d quit using, and the sweet undertone of red bean simmering somewhere in the kitchen.
Your brothers immediately flanked Soobin like hawks. Minho clapped him on the shoulder hard enough to make the taller man jolt
“So you’re the guy who finally locked our little sister down.”
Jaehyun snorted. “Took you long enough to show your face.”
Soobin smiled politely showing off his dimples and answered every barrage of questions with quiet earnestness. Yes, he liked horror movies but got scared easily. No, he didn’t drink often because alcohol made his face red in thirty seconds. Yes, he really did cry during that one episode of that healing drama your mom loved and by dinner, your parents were already calling him “our Soobin-ah.”
You watched the entire scene unfold from across the table, chin in hand, warmth blooming behind your ribs. Soobin kept stealing glances at you—quick, needy little looks that said I’m trying so hard to be good for them.
After plates were cleared your mother brought out photo albums. Soobin leaned forward, elbows on knees, genuinely interested as your mom flipped through pages of you at five with pigtails and missing front teeth, you at twelve with braces and a soccer uniform two sizes too big, you at seventeen graduating high school with the same serious pout you still wore when you were concentrating.
“He’s so attentive,” your mother whispered to you later while Soobin was helping your dad carry dishes to the sink. “Look how he listens to your father. Most boys his age can’t sit still through stories like that.”
You only hummed, because you knew exactly why Soobin listened so intently. He liked being told what to do. He liked praise even more. And he liked it best when the voice doing the praising belonged to you.
You always thought it was funny how recently you’ve come to know that Soobin liked giving up control because in the beginning of your relationship, he had been the one who took charge.
Exactly a year had passed since you officially started dating by then—twelve full months of stolen moments carved out between his relentless schedules and your own life, of late-night calls where his voice came through cracked and exhausted, barely above a whisper because he didn’t want to wake the other members. Quick kisses in the back of tinted vans while the manager pretended not to notice, longer ones in empty practice rooms after everyone else had left, his back pressed to the mirrored wall and your fingers tangled in the damp hair at his nape.
You learned each other slowly, carefully—his favorite places to be touched, the way his dimples deepened when he was genuinely happy, the quiet way he’d blush when you caught him staring too long.
Those months felt almost fragile in their sweetness: hands brushing under blankets during movie nights, his head on your lap while you played with his hair until he dozed off mid-sentence, the shy way he’d text you good morning even when he’d only gotten three hours of sleep after a schedule.
Everything built gradually, like a melody finding its rhythm—tentative kisses turning into longer ones, clothes staying on a little less each time, whispered confessions in the dark about how much he liked just being near you.
And when things finally turned physical, he led.
He guided you with a gentle, steady confidence—eyes always searching your face for the slightest hint of uncertainty, pausing each time to let your gazes lock before continuing. He never hurried, never assumed; every caress felt like a careful invitation he already sensed you’d accept, yet he still waited for your quiet nod or the subtle tightening of your fingers against his skin to be certain.
The first time happened in his dorm while the others were out, during a late-night movie neither of you had really watched.
The screen had long since gone dark, the only light coming from the faint blue glow of his computer monitor and the city bleeding in through half-closed blinds. He kissed you slow and deep on the couch until your breathing turned uneven, until your hands were clutching the front of his hoodie like it was the only thing keeping you grounded.
His hands were careful at first, sliding under your shirt to trace the curve of your waist, thumb brushing the underside of your breast like he was asking permission with every touch. You arched into him, and that was all the answer he needed.
He pulled back just enough to look at you—eyes dark, searching, gentle.
“You sure?” he asked, voice low and steady, thumb brushing your cheek. “We don’t have to—”
You nodded, heart hammering so loud you were sure he could hear it. “I want to.”
That was all he needed.
He kissed you slow and deep, hands steady as he carried you to his bedroom and laid you on his bed, voice low and sure when he asked again if you were ready, if you wanted this.
You nodded and he took over—careful, observant, almost reverent. He undressed you like you were something fragile and precious, whispered your name like a prayer against your collarbone, set the pace with long, deliberate thrusts that made your toes curl and your breath catch.
The next few times followed the same pattern. He led quietly, confidently, always checking your eyes, always making sure you were with him. he’d press you against the bathroom counter, lift one of your legs over his hip, and fuck you slow and filthy while the mirror fogged up. In the backseat of his car after midnight drives he’d pull you into his lap, hands on your ass guiding you down onto him, letting you ride while he kissed your neck and whispered how pretty you looked falling apart.
He often flipped you onto your stomach and took you from behind with one hand braced beside your head, the other tangled in your hair just tight enough to make you arch. He’d pull your legs over his shoulders and fuck you slow and filthy until you were shaking, begging, coming so hard your vision whited out.
He always made sure you came first—twice, sometimes three times—before he finally let himself go, spilling inside you with a low, broken moan that vibrated against your collarbone.
He was good at it. Really good. Attentive. Thorough. Almost too perfect.
Until that one night, six months after your first time.
You were in his bedroom again, rain drumming against the windows as you kissing lazily on the bed. When you reached up, you caught both his wrists, and pinned them above his head against the headboard as you continued to make out.
He froze.
Not in fear—in something else.
His pupils blew wide. His breath stuttered. His hips lifted off the couch in one helpless roll, grinding his already hard cock against your thigh like he couldn’t stop himself.
You held him there and he didn’t fight it.
He melted.
Eyes fluttering shut, lips parting on a shaky exhale, chest rising and falling too fast. A soft, needy sound slipped out of him. It was barely there, but you heard it enough to make heat flood your core.
You rocked against him—slow, mean—feeling him throb through his sweats. He whimpered into your neck, hips chasing every drag of friction.
When you finally whispered “good boy” against his ear, he came.
Untouched.
Hard. Sudden. Mortified.
Hot pulses soaked through the fabric. His whole body jerked, a choked sob catching in his throat. He buried his face in your shoulder, cheeks burning against your skin, mumbling broken apologies.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—I couldn’t—” over and over and you just hummed, not really thinking much about it.
Maybe he was just too tense that night, you thought.
But he kept coming back for it.
The very next time you had sex he didn’t even try to take charge. He waited—eyes down, breathing shallow—until you told him exactly what to do. You made him kneel between your legs on the rug, hands behind his back, and watched him tremble while you rode his face until you came on his tongue.
Only then did you let him inside you—slowly, teasingly, making him hold still while you took what you wanted. He cried that time too—quiet, overwhelmed tears—when you finally let him move, when you told him he could come but only if he begged first.
After that, the dynamic flipped completely.
He liked when you chose the pace. Liked when you told him exactly how to touch you, how fast, how deep. Liked when you ignored his pleas until he was trembling, glassy-eyed, promising anything if you’d just let him come.
The taller he stood in public, the sweeter his dimples, the gentler his voice on camera, the more violently he unraveled the second you gave him an order in private.
He still towered over you, still had those long limbs and broad shoulders, still looked like the gentle, perfect boyfriend your mother would cry over. But alone, with your hand around his cock or your thighs bracketing his face or your voice in his ear calling him good boy—he became something else entirely. Something needy. Something yours.
That was when you realized that night on his bed had sealed it: he craved surrender far more than he craved control. The brief moment he’d taken the lead had been sweet, earnest, but it was clear he’d only done it because he thought that’s what you wanted.
But the second you took the reins back, he melted all over again, happier, needier, more himself.
Now, here he was in your family home’s living room speaking to your entire family like he was the most perfect son-in-law in the world. The conversation had slowly drifted to the usual conservative parental conversations eventually going to—toward marriage.
Your mother sighed, setting her teacup down with a gentle clink.
“You’ve been together for almost two years now,” she said, eyes shining with that particular mix of pride and mild accusation only mothers can perfect. “We were starting to think you’d never bring anyone home. I even told your father last month how maybe you were dating a ghost because we’ve never met your boyfriend.” She chuckled.
Your father gave a low, rumbling chuckle and nodded sagely.
“A good son-in-law should be responsible. Hard-working. Polite.” He turned his gaze to Soobin, “You seem to check all the boxes, Soobin-ah. Tall, handsome, manners like a textbook, and you even brought beef. That’s practically a marriage proposal in gift form.”
Soobin’s ears went from pink to full-on fire-engine red in record time. He bowed his head slightly, fingers twisting the napkin in his lap like he was trying to strangle it into submission.
“I—I’ll do my best to take care of her” he managed, voice soft but earnest. “Always.”
Your mother beamed, as she pressed a hand to her chest. “That’s all we ask. And of course…” She paused, folding her hands in her lap with the careful deliberation of someone about to drop a very polite bomb. “We raised her with certain values. You understand. Intimacy is for after the vows. We trust you both respect that.”
Soobin’s gaze snapped to you so fast it was practically audible. Wide. Panicked. Guilty as sin. You met his eyes and gave him the tiniest, calmest, most angelic smile you could muster and his Adam’s apple bobbed like it was trying to escape his throat entirely.
“Of course,” he croaked, voice so faint it barely cleared the rim of his teacup. “We… respect that very much.”
The words came out so strangled you had to press your lips together to keep from laughing outright. Under the table, you slid your foot along his calf—slow, deliberate—just to watch his shoulders jolt like he’d been tased.
Your mother beamed, completely oblivious to the silent implosion happening inches away. “Good. That’s good. I knew you were raised right.”
Your brothers, who had been mercifully quiet until now, exchanged a look before Minho, who had been pretending to scroll on his phone the whole time, finally looked up with a shit-eating grin.
“Yeah, Soobin-ah. Real upstanding guy. Bet you two just hold hands and pray together every night.”
Jaehyun snorted into his water glass and Soobin looked like he wanted the floor to open up and swallow him whole.
You had to press your lips together so hard your teeth hurt to keep from laughing out loud at the fact that your entire family was sitting here, your parents blissfully convinced that their precious daughter was still pure as the driven snow, while the boy they’d just declared 'son-in-law material' had spent the last year learning exactly how many times he could have that same daughter moan out his name.
Your mother, blissfully oblivious, reached over and patted his hand. “Such a good boy. We’re so happy you’re here.”
Soobin made a small, strangled noise that could have been “thank you” or could have been the sound of his soul quietly departing his body making you snort at his reaction.
It was nearly eleven when your mother finally stood, smoothing her apron with both hands like she was preparing to deliver a verdict.
“Too late to drive back now,” she declared. “You’ll stay the night. But the guest room is still full of boxes—we haven’t finished sorting that mess from the attic. Soobin-ah, the couch pulls out nicely. It’s quite comfortable.”
You spoke before he could even open his mouth. “He can sleep in my room. On the floor,” you added quickly, the picture of innocence. “I can put out extra blankets and a pillow. He won’t mind.”
Your brothers exchanged grins as your mother studied you both for a long, searching moment, lips pursed.“...Door stays cracked,” she said at last. “And I mean it. No funny business under this roof.”
Soobin bowed so deeply he nearly knocked his forehead on the table edge. “Yes, Thank you. I promise.”
You had to bite the inside of your cheek until you tasted copper.
Because little did they know the boy currently bowing ninety degrees and swearing chastity in your mother’s living room had, less than twenty-four hours ago, been crying into your neck while you rode him slow and mean on your apartment bed, begging you to let him come inside again even though you’d already edged him for forty minutes.
And your entire family was sitting here thinking he was the poster child for abstinence.
Oblivious.
Utterly, hilariously, wonderfully oblivious.
You stood, tugging gently on Soobin’s sleeve. “Come on. Let’s get you settled.”
He followed you down the hallway, clutching the small duffel bag he’d brought like it was a shield. The second your bedroom door closed behind you, he let out a long, shaky exhale that sounded like a balloon deflating.
You flicked the lock, heeding no mind to your mother’s reminder earlier. The soft click made him freeze and you turned, leaning back against the wood, arms crossed.
Soobin immediately dropped to his knees and began arranging the spare blankets into a neat pallet on the floor and you watched him for a moment—long back curved, careful hands smoothing the edges.
“What are you doing?” you asked.
He looked up, confused. “I—floor. Like I promised.”
You tilted your head. “You were so good tonight,” you said quietly. “So polite. So perfect.”
His shoulders dropped half an inch. “I was terrified.”
“I know.” You stepped closer, slow. “I could feel how hard you were trying. Every time Mom praised you I watched your thighs tense under the table.”
Soobin swallowed. “Don’t—don’t say that here.”
“Why not, baby?” You reached up and traced the line of his jaw with one fingernail. “You like being told you’re good, don’t you?”
He closed his eyes briefly. “Yes.”
You smiled. “And you like it when I tell you what to do.”
He inhaled shakily and nodded.
You slid your hand down, fingers curling loosely around his throat—not squeezing, just holding. His pulse thundered against your palm. “Then get on the bed.”
He hesitated. “We’re in your childhood bedroom.”
“Mhm.”
“Where you slept with stuffed animals.”
“Yup”
“Where you probably prayed before exams and cried over boy bands and—” He swallowed. “—and we shouldn’t be doing this here.”
You crouched in front of him, fingers catching his chin, tilting his face up. “Doing what?”
His voice cracked. “You know what.”
“Say it.”
He closed his eyes. “Sex. In your family home. On the same day they met me” He sighed. “Your family is literally—” He gestured vaguely toward the hallway. “—steps away. They think I’m sleeping on the floor. They think we’ve never—”
“—fucked?” you finished sweetly and he winced at the word, cheeks flaming.
“They think you’re still… innocent.” He continued.
You stepped into his space until your chests brushed. “Am I?” You asked and he shook his head. “And whose fault is that?”
His breath stuttered. “Mine.”
“Exactly.” You pushed up on tiptoe and spoke against the shell of his ear. “You took my innocence months ago, Soobin-ah. Remember? On your dorm bed. You fucked me so hard I swore I saw stars that night”
He made a small, wounded sound and you pulled back just enough to see his face—eyes glassy, lips parted. “And now you’re scared they’ll find out?”
He nodded frantically.You smiled wider. “Then you’d better be quiet.”
You walked backward toward the bed, tugging him with you by the front of his sweater and he followed like he was leashed. When the backs of your knees hit the mattress you sat, legs parted just enough that your skirt rode up your thighs.
Soobin stood between them, hands hovering uncertainly.“Strip,” you ordered. “Slowly. Fold everything neatly. You know how I like it.”
His fingers shook as he pulled the sweater over his head. Pale skin, long torso, faint definition that appeared only when he was tense. He folded the knit with care, placed it on your old desk chair. Pants next—slowly, belt sliding free with a soft metallic hiss. Boxers last. He hesitated there, eyes flicking toward the locked door.
You tilted your head. “Problem?”
“...They could hear.”
“They could,” you agreed. “If you’re loud.”
He exhaled through his nose, then pushed the fabric down. Cock already half-hard, flushed dark at the tip. He folded the boxers too, set them on top of the pile.
“Good boy,” you murmured and the praise hit him like a drug.
You patted the mattress beside you. “Lie down. On your back.”
He obeyed instantly, long limbs arranging themselves carefully so he wouldn’t take up too much space. You stood, peeled off your own clothes without ceremony—skirt, blouse, bra, panties—and left them in a careless heap. Soobin watched every movement with reverent hunger.
When you crawled over him he automatically lifted his hands to touch, then froze. You caught his wrists and pinned them above his head with one hand. “Did I say you could move?”
“No,” he whispered.
“Then don’t.”
You settled your weight across his hips, his cock laying hot and heavy against your stomach. You rocked once slowly, letting your folds glide along the underside of him without letting him slip inside. Soobin’s head tipped back into the pillow. A low, broken sound escaped his throat.
“Shh,” you reminded him, pressing two fingers to his lips. “They’ll hear”
He bit his lip so hard you thought it might bleed.
You rocked again, deliberately dragging your clit along the sensitive ridge under his tip. His hips jerked once unconsciously then froze when he realized what he’d done.
“Sorry,” he breathed. “Sorry, I—”
“Quiet.”
You leaned down and kissed him—deep, filthy, swallowing every tiny sound he couldn’t hold back. When you pulled away a thin string of saliva connected your mouths for a heartbeat before snapping.
“You’re already leaking,” you observed, reaching down to spread the bead of pre-cum across his tip with your thumb. “Already so close and I haven’t even let you in yet.”
“I—I can’t help it when you—” He cut himself off with a sharp inhale as you circled the head once, twice.
“Tell me why we shouldn’t do this.”
His voice cracked. “Because… your parents are down the hall. Because they think I’m respectful. Because they just lectured us about waiting until marriage. Because if they walk in—” His breath hitched. “—they’ll see their only daughter riding the man she brought home today on her childhood bed. They’ll see me inside you. They’ll know I ruined you.”
You clenched around nothing at his words.
“Ruined me?” you echoed sweetly. “You think you ruined me?”
He shook his head. “I—I didn’t mean—”
You sank down in one smooth, slow motion and Soobin’s mouth opened in a silent scream. Back arched off the mattress. Fingers white-knuckled gripping on the headboard.
You stayed still—letting him throb, letting him feel how tightly you gripped him, how wet you were from teasing him for so long.
“Look at me.”
He forced his eyes open. Tears were already clinging to his lashes.
“You’re in so deep,” you whispered. “I can feel you in my stomach. Right here.” You pressed his hand to your lower abdomen. “Feel that?”
He nodded—jerky, desperate.
“That’s you. Inside me. In the same bed where I used to sleep with my teddy bear and dream about getting into university. While your future in-laws sleep ten meters away.”
A tear slipped down his cheek and you rolled your hips once—small, cruel circles—and watched his face collapse.
“Quiet,” you reminded him again. “Remember?”
He whimpered—muffled, desperate—into the crook of his elbow and you began to move slow at first. Long, deliberate drags that let him feel every ridge, lifting until only the head remained inside, then sinking back down until your ass met his thighs. Every time you bottomed out his abs jumped. Every time you lifted he chased you with a helpless twitch of his hips—then caught himself and froze.
“You’re shaking,” you observed, bracing your hands on his chest. “Is it because you’re scared? Or because it feels too good?”
“Both,” he choked out.
You sped up—just enough to make the headboard tap once, softly, against the wall and Soobin’s eyes flew wide. “Don’t—the—the bed—”
You clamped a hand over his mouth.“Then control yourself,” you hissed. “Or do you want them to come running? Want your sweet, polite image shattered when they find you balls-deep in their daughter on her childhood mattress?”
He shook his head frantically against your palm as his cock jerked violently inside you. You laughed under your breath. “You like that idea, don’t you? Being forced to come while your whole body is screaming not to make a sound.”
He nodded frantically against your palm.
You rode him harder—still controlled, still measured, but deeper now. The wet sound of your bodies meeting was obscene in the quiet room. Every time you ground down his tip kissed your cervix and his thighs trembled.
“Look how hard you’re trying,” you cooed. “Look at your face—so red, so wrecked. You want to moan so badly, don’t you?” Another helpless nod.“But you won’t. Because you’re good. Because you want to please me more than you want to breathe.”
Tears slipped freely now, tracking down his temples. His hands stayed obediently above his head even though his fingers were now white-knuckled in the sheets. You leaned down until your breasts brushed his chest, lips grazing his ear.
“Come for me, Soobin-ah. Right now. Fill me up while your future in-laws sleep ten meters away. Do it quietly, like a good boy.”
His whole body tensed before you felt the first hot pulse deep inside—then another, and another. He came so hard his hips lifted off the mattress, pushing impossibly deeper.
A strangled, almost-silent sob tore from his throat and you swallowed it with your mouth over his. When the last tremor left him you stayed seated, letting him soften inside you while you kissed the tears from his cheeks.
“You did so well, baby” you whispered. “So quiet. So perfect.”He turned his face into your neck, breathing hard.
“I thought—I thought I was going to die.”
You laughed softly. “You didn’t.”
“I’m still inside you,” he mumbled, mortified all over again.
“I know.” You clenched deliberately around him making him whine helplessly.
You rolled your hips once more—just to feel him twitch—and lifted off just enough to watch the thick stripe of cum that followed. You scooped some with two fingers and brought them to his lips.
“Clean up your mess.”
He opened immediately, tongue curling around your fingers, eyes half-lidded and glassy with afterglow. When you pulled them free he whispered, “We’re going to hell.”
You kissed him slow and filthy. “Maybe,” you murmured against his mouth. “But at least we’ll go together.”
He pulled you back down, guiding you until you sank onto him again in one smooth, slick glide. He didn’t even try to pull out.
He just wanted to stay buried inside you, softening but still thick enough to stretch you, still leaking the last weak pulses of his release. His arms finally wrapped around your waist tentatively at first, like he was waiting for permission to hold you even now, then tightened when you didn’t push him away.
He buried his face in the crook of your neck, breathing hard against your skin, nose brushing the spot just below your ear that always made you shiver.
You carded your fingers through his damp hair, nails scraping gently against his scalp the way he liked.
“Sleep now,” you whispered. “We have breakfast with my family in six hours.”
He let out a pitiful, muffled groan into your neck, the sound half-exhausted, half-doomed.
The first pale gray light of dawn slipped through the curtains like an unwelcome guest, turning the room from deep indigo to muted silver. Your childhood bedroom looked almost innocent again in the soft morning glow—the faded star stickers on the ceiling, the neatly folded quilt at the foot of the bed, the small collection of childhood books still lined up on the shelf.
Almost.
Because Choi Soobin was still inside you. He hadn’t pulled out all night.
You apparently fell asleep like that—straddled across his hips, your chest pressed to his, his softening cock still nestled deep in the warm, messy aftermath of his release. Sometime in the small hours he’d hardened again inside you without either of you moving and you woke up briefly to the sensation of him thickening, stretching you open all over again while he slept, whimpering softly into your neck even in dreams.
You hadn’t let him slip out either and simply clenched around him once, twice, and drifted back to sleep with him trapped and throbbing. Now at 6:42 a.m., the house was beginning to wake and downstairs, a kettle clicked on, your mother’s soft humming to some old trot song can be heard as she made breakfast. Closer, the sound of slippers shuffling past your door, then your father’s low cough as he headed to the bathroom.
Soobin stirred beneath you, lashes fluttering as his eyes opened slowly—still glassy from last night, still red-rimmed from crying—and immediately widened in panic when he registered where he was. Who he was still buried inside.
The thin daylight making every detail brutally visible: the dried tear tracks on his cheeks, the faint bruises blooming on his lower lip from biting it raw, the way your inner thighs glistened with the evidence of how many times he’d spilled into you.
His cock twitched hard inside you and you smiled down at him, slow and sleepy and mean.
“Morning, baby,” you whispered, voice barely a breath.Soobin’s throat worked. He tried to speak—couldn’t. He tried again.
“We—we fell asleep like this,” he rasped, so quiet it was almost inaudible. “I’m still… inside you.”
“Mhm.” You rolled your hips once in a tiny, lazy circle making his whole body jolt, the bed frame giving the faintest metallic sigh.
Down the hall, footsteps paused and Soobin froze. His eyes went wide and his breathing stopped. The footsteps continued past your door, down the stairs and he exhaled shakily through his nose.
“Baby please—They’re awake. They’re right there—”
You leaned down until your lips brushed his ear. “And you’re still balls-deep in their daughter. Leaking again already. Look—” You lifted your hips just enough for him to see the thick, pearly ring of cum that had leaked out around his base overnight, coating his shaft, matting the dark hair at his groin. “—you filled me up so much it’s still dripping out. If anyone walked in right now…”
You sank back down slowly and Soobin’s head tipped back into the pillow. A silent, trembling whine vibrated in his throat. You pressed a finger to his lips.
“Shh. They’re gonna kill you if they see us like this” you joked and his eyes fluttered shut.
You kept your voice low, cruelly intimate. “My mom would see the tall, polite Soobin, the perfect boyfriend she cried happy tears over last night… naked under me, cock buried to the hilt in her only daughter’s cunt. Still hard. Still leaking. My thighs sticky with your cum. My bedsheets ruined. The same bed where I used to sleep hugging a teddy bear.”
Soobin’s cock jerked violently inside you—thickening, pulsing, threatening to spill again from nothing but your words and the terror. You clenched around him and he choked on a soundless sob.
“Or maybe it’s my dad,” you continued, rocking your hips in the tiniest, torturous rhythm. “He knocks once and opens the door before you can answer. Sees his future son-in-law crying, shaking, trying so hard to be quiet while he’s pumping another load into the girl they raised to wait until marriage. Sees how full I am. How stretched. How I’m dripping down your balls like a little whore.”
Downstairs, your mother called up the stairs—bright, cheerful. “Kids! Breakfast in a few minutes! Don’t sleep too late!”
Soobin’s fingers dug into your thigh as you moved slightly making the iron creak softly, but audible.
The faint clatter of plates being set on the table drifted up from downstairs, followed by your mother’s cheerful voice calling out again. “Five more minutes, you two! Don’t make me come up there!”
Soobin’s entire body went rigid beneath you.
“Please,” he whispered, voice cracking like a teenager caught with contraband. “I’m literally going to combust.”
You tilted your head, feigning innocence. “Combust? Or come again?”
His hips jerked involuntarily at the word pushing himself deeper and the bed gave another, traitorous creak. You both froze when your mother’s humming paused for half a second.
Soobin’s soul visibly left his body as his hands slapped over his mouth so fast it made a soft smack. His eyes were cartoonishly wide, pupils pinpricks of pure terror.The humming resumed.
You bit your lip to keep from laughing.
“See?” you whispered, grinding down once, making sure he felt every inch of how soaked you still were. “One more sound like that and she’ll come running with the broom she uses to chase stray cats. She’ll open the door and find you mid-orgasm, face buried in my neck, whimpering ‘sorry eomonim’ while you pump another load into me. ”
Soobin let out a muffled, hysterical little noise behind his palms—something between a sob and a laugh that had gone completely off the rails.
“I’m going to die,” he wheezed into his hands. “I’m actually going to die. Right here. Naked. Hard. Inside you. And the obituary is going to read ‘Choi Soobin, age 25, perished from mortification after being caught balls-deep in girlfriend’s childhood bedroom by future mother-in-law.’”
You couldn’t hold it in anymore as a soft snort escaped you. He peeked through his fingers again, horrified.
“Are you—laughing at me?”
“Yes,” you said, grinning so wide your cheeks hurt. “Because you’re literally crying and groaning while your dick is still twitching inside me.”
Another pitiful groan—long, drawn-out, dramatic. He dropped his hands and stared at the ceiling like he was praying for spontaneous teleportation.
“I should’ve slept on the floor,” he muttered. “I should’ve slept in the car. I should’ve slept in the neighbor’s shed. Anything but this.”
You rolled your hips again—slow, teasing, making sure the head of his cock dragged against that spot that always made his toes curl. He choked on air.
“But then,” you said sweetly, “I wouldn’t get to watch you fall apart like this. All red-faced and teary and groaning because you’re terrified my mom’s going to walk in and see her precious Soobin-ah turned into a whimpering, cum-dripping mess.”
Soobin’s head thumped back against the pillow.
“I hate you,” he whispered—voice cracking, no heat behind it at all.
“You love me,” you corrected, leaning down to kiss the tip of his nose. “And you’re going to quietly come again before we go downstairs. Or I’ll moan your name loud enough for the whole street to hear.”
His eyes snapped back to yours, wide and pleading.“Please don’t.”
You smiled. “Then be a good boy and stay still while I ride you slow.”
In that moment, your mother called again—brighter this time. “Breakfast is ready! Come down before it gets cold!”
Soobin let out one last, long, defeated groan—somewhere between despair and surrender—and buried his burning face in your neck.
“I’m so dead,” he mumbled against your skin. You laughed softly, already starting to move.
“Only if you’re loud,” you whispered and he whimpered as he tried—very, very hard—not to make another sound.
You let the moment stretch just long enough to watch Soobin’s resolve visibly crumble—his eyelashes fluttering, his breath hitching every time your hips rolled in that slow, torturous circle. He was still so sensitive that even the slightest clench made his thighs tremble beneath yours.
The slick heat between you was obscene—still full of him from the night before, still leaking slowly every time you lifted even a fraction. Each shallow roll dragged the head of his cock against that deep, swollen spot inside you, and you could feel him thickening again despite himself, stretching you open all over again like his body had forgotten how to stop wanting you.
You kept the rhythm cruelly unhurried. No hard thrusts. No frantic grinding. Just long, lazy drags that let him feel every inch of your walls fluttering around him, every tiny ripple when you clenched on purpose.
Soobin’s hand was clamped over his own mouth, knuckles white, eyes squeezed shut like he could will himself out of the situation through sheer force of embarrassment. His hips kept twitching upward anyway—tiny, helpless jerks he couldn’t control—chasing the friction even as tears slipped from the corners of his eyes.
“Please,” he managed again when he finally dared to lower his hand just enough to speak, voice cracked and trembling. “Please—slow down—I can’t—I’m gonna—”
You leaned in closer, lips brushing the shell of his ear, voice dropping to the softest, most dangerous whisper.
“I can’t slow down, baby”
His breath hitched—sharp, audible.
“My mom’s already called twice,” you continued, rolling your hips in that same torturous circle that made his cock drag right against the spot that always made his toes curl. “She’s going to come up if we take any longer”
Soobin made a sound that was half sob, half whimper—muffled against the heel of his own hand.
“You wouldn’t want that, would you?” you murmured, clenching around him on purpose, feeling the way he swelled even thicker inside you.
“You wouldn’t want her walking in right when you’re spilling another load deep in her daughter’s cunt. Right when you’re shaking and crying and filling me up so much it drips down my thighs onto the sheets she washed herself.”
His whole body jerked violenty. His free hand shot to your hip, fingers digging in like he was trying to anchor himself, trying to stop you, trying to hold on.
“No—no please—don’t—don’t say that—”
But his cock betrayed him completely. It throbbed hard, pulsing against your walls, the head nudging your cervix with every tiny movement. You could feel the fresh bead of pre-cum leaking into you, mixing with everything else, making every glide even slicker, even louder in the quiet room.
“You’re already so close,” you whispered, grinding down harder now, letting your clit rub against his pubic bone in tight, relentless circles.
You sank down fully again, grinding in tight little circles that rubbed your clit against his pubic bone and forced the head of his cock to kiss your cervix over and over.
A low, broken whimper tried to escape him as he clamped his own hand over his mouth so fast it made a soft smack. His eyes rolled back, tears gathering at the corners again, spilling over when you clenched hard around him once, then twice.
“I’m—fuck—I’m gonna—” The words were muffled against his palm, frantic and wrecked. “Please—please let me—please—”
You leaned down until your lips brushed his ear.
“Come,” you breathed. “Fill me again. Quietly. Like a good boy who doesn’t want his mother-in-law to hear how filthy he really is.”
That was all it took.
Soobin shattered.
His entire body seized—muscles locking, back arching off the mattress in a silent, violent curve. Hot, thick pulses flooded you—deep, endless, spilling so much you felt the warmth bloom inside you all over again, leaking out around his shaft in slow, obscene rivulets that dripped down his balls and soaked the already ruined sheets. His cock jerked hard with every spurt, grinding against your walls, pushing impossibly deeper like he wanted to stay buried forever.
He didn’t make a sound.
Not one.
Just silent, shaking sobs muffled into his own hand, tears streaming down his temples, chest heaving so violently you could feel every ragged breath against your breasts. His thighs trembled under you, hips twitching with aftershocks, cock still pulsing weakly inside the messy heat of your cunt.
You rode him through it—slow, gentle now—milking every last drop until he finally went limp beneath you, boneless, wrecked, utterly spent.
Only then did you still.
You kissed the stray tears from his cheeks, his eyelids, the corner of his trembling mouth.
“Good boy,” you whispered.
He whimpered—soft, broken, barely there.
Meanwhile downstairs the clatter of plates grew louder. Your mother’s voice floated up again, cheerful and oblivious.“Yah! You two! The eggs are getting cold! Minho already ate half the kimchi!”
Soobin made a sound that was equal parts strangled sob and hysterical laugh—muffled into the crook of your neck so it came out as a pitiful, vibrating hum against your skin. You pressed your lips to his temple, smiling so wide it hurt.
“Time’s up, baby.” You lifted off him in one smooth motion.
The wet, obscene sound of separation was loud enough in the quiet room that Soobin’s eyes snapped wide in fresh panic. A thick gush of cum followed immediately—hot, viscous, spilling out of you and dripping down his shaft, pooling on his stomach in a slow, pearly smear.
His cock twitched helplessly at the sudden emptiness, smearing the mess across his abs. He stared down at himself like he’d committed a war crime.
“Oh my god,” he whispered, voice cracking. “That’s… that’s a crime scene.”
You laughed under your breath and reached for the pack of wipes on your nightstand, wiping yourself quickly, then tossed the packet onto his stomach.
“Clean up. We have approximately ninety seconds before my mom starts yelling your name like you’re late for your own wedding.”
Soobin scrambled upright so fast the bed creaked again. He dabbed at the absolute disaster between his legs: thick streaks of cum still clinging to his inner thighs, smeared across his lower stomach, glistening on the base of his softening cock.
He looked down at himself and let out a sound that was half groan, half hysterical laugh.
“There’s so much,” he whispered, horrified. “How is there still this much? Did I black out and come three extra times in my sleep?”
You handed him a second wipe, shoulders shaking with silent laughter.
“Prioritize the important areas,” you teased before slipping into clean underwear and a loose sleep shirt, moving with the calm efficiency of someone who hadn’t just spent the night riding her boyfriend on her childhood mattress while her entire family slept ten meters away.
Soobin fumbled his boxers back on—wincing when the damp fabric clung to him—then yanked his sweatpants up so fast he almost tripped. He caught himself on the bedpost, breathing like he’d run a marathon.
You stepped close without a word as your fingers slid into his wrecked hair—still damp at the roots from sweat, strands sticking up in every direction like he’d been thoroughly loved and thoroughly ruined. You smoothed them down gently, almost tenderly, combing through the mess with slow, careful strokes while he stood frozen, chest rising and falling too fast.
You leaned in until your lips brushed the shell of his ear, voice dropping to the softest, most wicked murmur.
“I’d gladly clean it all up for you, you know,” you whispered, letting your breath ghost over his skin. “Every last drop. With my mouth. Slow. Thorough. Licking it off your thighs, your cock, your stomach… swallowing everything you left inside me and everything that leaked out.”
Soobin made a sound that was half gasp, half strangled yelp—high and desperate and completely involuntary.
His whole face ignited: ears scarlet, cheeks flaming, even the back of his neck turning a violent shade of red that crept down under the collar of his hoodie.
You kept fixing his hair as though you hadn’t just detonated a bomb in his brain—tucking a stray lock behind his ear, smoothing the front so he looked almost presentable again.
“But we don’t have time,” you added, lips still grazing his earlobe, voice sweet and regretful. “So you’ll just have to sit through breakfast like that, knowing exactly what I’d do if we had five more minutes…”
Soobin’s knees actually buckled for half a second and grabbed your waist to steady himself—fingers digging in like you were the only solid thing left in the world —then immediately let go as if touching you might burn him worse.
“You—” His voice cracked so hard it went up an octave. “You can’t just—say that—right now—”
“Smile pretty at the table,” you whispered as you kissed his cheek before opening the door.
The hallway smelled like sesame oil, toasted seaweed, and fresh coffee. Soobin followed half a step behind you, shoulders hunched, ears still scarlet, walking like a man who’d been sentenced to life imprisonment and was trying to look innocent on the way to the chair.
When you reached the bottom of the stairs, your mother turned from the stove, apron dusted with flour, smiling so wide her eyes disappeared into crescents.
“There you are! Soobin-ah, sit, sit—I saved you the biggest piece of egg omelette”
Soobin bowed, still ninety degrees, still textbook perfect, voice only cracking once. “Thank you”
Your father glanced up from his newspaper. “Slept well, son?”
Soobin’s smile was so brittle it could’ve shattered. “Yes, very… restful.”
Minho snorted into his rice bowl as Jaehyun kicked him under the table. You slid into the seat beside Soobin, thigh brushing his under the tablecloth. He jolted—just a tiny twitch—but kept smiling like his life depended on it.
Your mother set a steaming bowl in front of him. “Eat up. You’re too skinny. I’ll pack you some side dishes to take home later.”
Soobin nodded, murmured another “thank you,” and picked up his chopsticks with hands that were still trembling faintly. You reached under the table and squeezed his thigh once—firm, deliberate.
He choked on absolutely nothing and everyone looked at him. He coughed once, eyes watering.
“Hot,” he croaked. “The—the rice is hot.”
Your mother laughed fondly. “Careful, Soobin-ah. Blow on it first.”
You smiled sweetly across the table at her. “He’s very good at being careful,” you said.
Soobin’s chopsticks clattered against the bowl. Under the table, your fingers brushed higher—teasing the seam of his sweatpants where you knew he was still sticky, still sensitive, still half-hard from the memory of being buried inside you all night.
He stared straight ahead like a soldier facing a firing squad. Your mother beamed at both of you.“See? I knew he was perfect for you.”
Soobin let out a tiny, strangled sound that he tried to disguise as a laugh.
You leaned over and kissed his cheek—quick, innocent, daughterly.
“Eat your eggs, Soobin-ah,” you murmured, just loud enough for him to hear. “You’re going to need your energy.”
He closed his eyes for one long second. Then opened them again, picking up his chopsticks and finally started to eat.
Your entire family chattered around him—oblivious, happy, warm—while the boy they’d just declared their future son-in-law sat there with your cum still leaking out of you, his boxers damp, his dignity in tatters, and the most polite, doomed smile you’d ever seen plastered across his burning face.
And under the table, your foot nudged his ankle just once making him whimper—barely audible but he kept eating.
I reblogged this last month, tagged it, and said “might as well see if it works.” I used this video as a reference to find all the forms that i needed (which is A LOT, especially if you’re a dependent) and sent them through the mail, not really allowing myself to hope.
dude.
$2,714 of medical debt from my top surgery - gone. im shaking this was such a weight on me for 2 years and it fucking worked. what the fuck.
take your shoes off - boredom at your fashion designer boyfriend’s house leads to a very eventful night for the both of you.
TRIGGER WARNING: dom!hongjoong (maybe even mean), slightly bratty! reader (i can’t help it, it’s built in me), brattamer!hongjoong, dirty talk, swearing, begging, pet names (baby), kissing, unprotected p in v (do NOT), f receiving oral, choking, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, captain kink, crying, possessiveness, m receiving oral, crying, fluids mentioned, biting, teasing, scratching, submission, name calling, grabbing, praise (good girl), sharing clothes, bad humor
let me know if i missed any! i wrote this and kind of feel eh about it but like… i wrote it? so i might as well post it. okay, love you, bye! ♡
There were only so many ways to fill the time.
Tiktok and Youtube could only do so much before everything felt repetitive. One video would bleed into the next and you couldn’t separate storytimes from one another.
Doom scrolling was a bad habit, but you had been alone for so long now that even that couldn’t help keep your mind occupied.
Your friends were busy, all out having their own lives while you sat at your boyfriend, Hongjoong’s, house.
Alone.
Even he had a schedule. You knew he was a busy man, he had been meeting with designers to help make a second collection for his fashion brand. You didn’t fault him for that. You loved his work and you saw how happy it made him when his sketches came to life.
You loved seeing him happy.
You loved him.
But, at this current moment, you would do anything to have him by your side.
You didn’t have your car and you didn’t feel like spending whatever money it would take to go anywhere, not that you had any desire to go anywhere.
It had reached a point that your phone was so dry and you hadn’t had human interaction for hours that you were beginning to question if you were even still on Earth.
Or living.
There was even an hour when you had convinced yourself that you were actually in some sort of purgatory and that’s why you didn’t have the cell reception to receive any texts from anyone.
Before you could fully spiral and storm the neighborhood surrounding your boyfriend’s house to find some sort of life, he had sent you a text.
“Hmm, maybe people actually just hate me.” you questioned yourself before sliding to unlock your phone.
“My meeting ran a little late. I’ll be home soon, my love.”
That text came in nearly two hours ago.
You know because you had been patiently waiting in the living room, watching the clock to make sure you could meet him as soon as he walked in.
Yes, you were that bored.
Your head fell onto the back of the couch with a huff as you realized just how pathetic you probably looked. Like a dog waiting for its owner.
You pushed yourself from your relaxed position to make your way to his bedroom where you had been living in for this entire week.
He knew he’d have very little free time and wanted to see you as much as possible, so he asked for a long term sleepover. That way, every minute he had to himself you would be there and could spend as much time together without having to worry about picking you up or dropping you off.
He said that it was just a waste of precious time that you both could use to be together.
His house was exponentially better than yours, so it was a pretty easy answer.
Typically he wasn’t this busy, the two of you got to spend mornings and nights together and have little dates in between.
He had apologized at the start of the week, promising he’d do everything in his power to make it up to you the second he could.
You waved him off, you weren’t typically a clingy person but having your time limited with him had started to make your skin crawl.
You missed his cheesy jokes and his little ramblings about things he was working on.
You missed him explaining things that you would never use again in your life or be able to fully understand.
You missed him.
You would get maybe an hour or two tops with him every day when he got home before he was down for the count.
Once you reached the top of the stairs, your energy had drained. Your body felt tired and weak, as if your life source depended on those little interactions.
You felt needy and you hated it.
Worst of all, the two of you had barely been able to have any type of bedroom fun for the past few days. Which wasn’t helping.
Sex was never an issue in your relationship, he was very generous with making sure you were never hungry in that department. But with all his back to back meetings with artists and designers, he was always so exhausted when he did finally make it home.
And you weren’t selfish, you would never ignore his emotional state to satisfy your own needs.
In fact, you hadn’t really thought about it much until now.
But now that you had-
The sun was only just beginning to set outside, you figured it was still early enough that he wouldn’t mind a surprise for when he did eventually get home.
With newfound giddiness, you rushed to his bedroom and opened the top drawer in the dresser he had designated to your things.
He had offered to build you your own closet or give you his, but you figured that would be more of something that seemed logical if you were living there. Not just staying every once in a while.
You called it your dresser, but in reality, it was filled with things that Hongjoong had purchased for you.
When the two of you had first started seeing each other, you were a little hesitant whenever he decided to spend his money on you. You didn’t come from money and anytime anyone had “gifted” you something before, it came with conditions.
It took many, many politely rejected gifts and countless discussions about how much he genuinely enjoyed doing it for you to eventually give in.
And when you did, he went a little crazy.
You knew that half of the things you currently had your grubby little hands on were worth more than a month’s rent at your apartment.
Anytime you had worn something he had purchased, it always felt like it should’ve belonged to someone else. Someone who was worthy of it.
That also took some time (mixed with convincing) and praise from Hongjoong to help you get over.
You knew exactly what you were looking for, you were a woman on a mission.
He had gifted you a lingerie set months back that had yet seen the light of day. You promised to him you’d wear it on a special occasion, considering it was something that was meant to be worn under something. Not just on its own.
It was a black set, almost completely sheer apart from the lace brimming the tops of the bra and bottom of the panties. The same lace that matched the garter belt to connect to thigh high stocking.
He disagreed, but you laid out an entire storyline of how much better it would be if he was surprised by the set while he undressed you. Like unwrapping a gift.
He had offered to take you out that same night but you stood your ground. Calling him impatient and telling him good things come to those who wait.
But now?
Fuck waiting.
You were impatient and wanted a good thing to come now.
It took you no time to shed his shirt and replace it with the outfit, anxiously sitting on his bed as if he would walk in the second you were done.
Unfortunately for you, he hadn’t.
Unfortunately for you, his location hadn’t seemed to have moved from where it had been for the last few hours.
You sighed, flopping back onto the bed. Not only did you feel needy and impatient but now you were cold.
You turned your head to face the doorway of his closet, smiling as you thought of a new way to cure your boredom.
The lights immediately switched on the second your feet had touched the floor, wall to wall racks of his clothing surrounding you and the island in the center of the seemingly neverending closet space.
You knew that he had a lot of clothing, but this was more than you could possibly fathom.
“It’s like Mary Poppin’s bag, but in closet form.” you muttered to yourself as you picked a side and started looking through the racks.
Your fingers grazed over endless bundles of clothing, color coded suits with their matching pants hung alongside one another. You ran your hands down the line before stopping at a random red plaid jacket, quickly and carefully taking it from its hanger and throwing it on.
It hung from your shoulders, the extra material of the sleeves hanging over your hands as you sprinted to his floor length mirror. Your head tilted, “No, it should be black.”
You rushed to the section of black, using both your hands to separate the rack and take in each one.
“What would he even wear this to?” you asked, pinching a black and white checkered suit before pushing it away to reveal a black pinstriped one just behind it.
Your eyes lit up, placing it on you and heading back to the mirror.
“I should keep this.” you said, wrapping it shut before spinning and looking back at how it sat against your legs. “I feel like a mob boss.” you chuckled, your eyes scanning for the shelves of hats you knew he had.
You tried on a few different styles, creating characters for each one. You found a dark grey pageboy hat, one that you had seen him wear many times, placing it on your head before throwing your hair to the front of your shoulders.
“You come to me- on this- the day I am so bored and horny and ask me for a favor?” you mocked into the mirror, your lips downturned before taking a moment and walking to the island.
“Needs a tie.” you sighed, not even fully remembering why you had started this in the first place.
Black silk was a must, you decided, grabbing one at random and wrapping it around your neck.
You had seen Hongjoong do it enough times that it couldn’t have been that hard. Or so you thought.
You bit at your tongue, looping the material over itself and attempting to make it resemble somewhat of a knot. Your hair fell into your eyes as you grew increasingly frustrated, huffing as your hands slapped down against your bare thighs.
“Need a hand?” a voice came from behind you.
You screamed, shutting the jacket and spinning back to your very amused boyfriend leaning with his arms folded against the doorway. “Having fun?” he smirked, taking in your flustered state as you placed a hand to your chest to attempt to steady your heart.
“Don’t scare me like that!” you yelped, picking up a discarded hat and throwing it near his direction. Missing him completely.
He laughed, his face falling to the floor as he pushed himself from the frame. “I called for you many times. When you didn’t answer I assumed you were just sleeping up here but I see that is very much not the case.” he walked towards you, extending his arms to pull you into him.
He dug his nose into your hair, inhaling deeply while wrapping his arms tightly around your waist. “I missed you.” he mumbled against you.
“I missed you too.” You sighed happily, nuzzling your face against his chest.
Every hour of boredom erased from your mind for every second he held you.
“Miss me so much you wanted to be me?” he pulled back to smile down at you, a hand moving to grab at the loose tie around your neck. He idly knotted it as you watched him in awe. No matter how long the two of you had been together, you still felt like you were dreaming whenever you were this close to him.
You didn’t understand how someone could be this perfect, this handsome, this talented and want to be with you. The person who had just been doing bad mobster impressions in the mirror a few minutes ago.
“There. Now you’re me.” he beamed, trailing his fingers down the tie and against the front of the jacket. His eyes followed, “Although, I would probably be wearing pants.”
“If you wear what I have on under this suit, then we have to have a discussion on why I haven’t seen it sooner.” you breathe out a laugh, pulling yourself back to look at him directly.
He knitted his brows in confusion, tiling his head as he played with the end of the tie, “What do you-“
His sentence cut short at the sight of lace peaking just out of the lapel.
You could physically see his pupil dilate, his body frozen as his face straightened. He knew exactly what you had on. He was very aware of the lingerie set he constantly begged you to wear.
He didn’t beg for anything. Ever.
His fingers tightened a bit on the silk tie, “Open it.”
You knew that tone, that was his “I’m being polite now, but do not push it” tone. It was one of your favorite tones he had.
Your eager hands shook as you unhooked yourself from him to untuck the jacket from under your arms. His sharp intake of breath in time with the jacket falling open.
He groaned, “What did I do to deserve you?”
“I don’t know, but you must have been terrible in a past life.” you joked, pushing up on your toes as you wrapped your hands around the back of his neck.
“What I did back then is nowhere close to what I’m going to do to you now.” he cooed.
His lips crashed against yours, one hand pulling the tie to lift you up to him as the other found your hip. His fingers rubbed along the patterns of the lace as he brought your bottom lip between his teeth.
You gasped, his grip tightening as he pressed against you. He took the moment to slide his tongue into your mouth, massaging it against your own. His breathing had picked up, fingers bruising against the skin of your waist as he pulled back taking a string of saliva with him.
“I’ve been so selfish lately.” he stated softly, his nose tracing alongside yours as you whimpered in response. “You’ve been waiting here for me every day, taking the stress from my shoulders just by being yourself without a complaint.” he distanced from you, the tie lifting in his hand as he used it to walk you towards the island.
“You’ve been so good for me.” His voice was light, but his eyes were dark. He snapped his wrist towards his chest, flinging you into him by the neck as your hands caught on his biceps.
His face hovered above you, “I think you deserve a thank you, don’t you?”
You didn’t know what the thank you was but you nodded vigorously, excited to find out. He chuckled to himself, releasing the tie as it fell between your breasts. His hands traced down over your hips before back up to your waist, gripping it tightly and pushing you up to sit on top of the island.
You squeaked as your nearly bare ass hit the cool marble top of it, eyes wide as your hands continued to clutch to his body.
A smile tore across his face, his hands moving under his jacket to slide the material from your arms. It fell back against the island and he spread it out like a makeshift blanket behind you. “Lay back, baby, let Captain take care of you today.” his palm pressed against your chest to lay you flat.
You stopped yourself from giggling and kicking your feet, this was exactly what you wanted.
He wrapped his fingers around your right ankle, pressing his lips against it before going up to your calf, placing kisses up the line of your leg until he reached the top of your thigh highs. “You’re keeping these on.” His lips moved against your thigh, his hand unclasping the buckle from the garter. He repeated the same on the other side. You had to resist squirming, you knew doing so would only make him prolong doing anything at all.
Your patience was wearing very very thin and no matter how many times he tried to train you to be more submissive to him, there was a part of you that he could never contain. And you were doing everything in your power to push that side of you down.
“But these-“ his fingers hooked to the waistband of your underwear, “These are in my way.”
You exhaled shakily through your nose, your lips forming a pout as a whine slipped out.
He pulled them down at a snail’s pace, as much as you loved testing him. He loved to test you. To see how much he could get away with before you snapped, or just to test if you would snap.
It took a brat to be a good brat tamer.
“Something wrong?” he mocked innocence, tossing your panties to the floor before lowering himself to his knees. You didn’t have to look at him to know he was smiling, you could hear it in his voice. “It’s been a few days, I just want us to enjoy every minute of this.” His hands raked down the tops of your thighs, the subtle burn of his fingernails making you hiss through your teeth before pulling your lip between them.
“I’ve been begging you to wear this, and you decide to put it on when I’m not here?” he tsk’d, moving to lick a stripe from the inside of your thigh just to stop before where you wanted him most.
You whimpered, biting so hard on your lip you thought you’d draw blood. “I wanted to surprise you.” you managed to get out.
He hummed, “I think you were just horny and wanted to get your way. Isn’t that right?”
He moved to your other thigh, his teeth sinking into the flesh of it. Your hand reached to grip at his hair, fingers lacing between his messy locks. “I said, isn’t that right?” he repeated himself, tracing his tongue along his teeth marks.
You exhaled shakily, “Yes.”
He smiled against you, his face moving an inch closer to your core. “Were you feeling needy, baby?” he kissed the area, sucking your skin into his mouth.
You nodded, “Yes.”
Another inch closer, “You were missing me that badly?”
“Yes.”
Another inch, his nose just grazing your folds. He lifted a hand to spread you open with his fingers, groaning to himself as he took in how wet you were. “All this and I haven’t even touched you yet.” he laughed and you could feel his breath against you. The warmth made you shiver.
“It’s been a little bit, remind me, who makes you this wet?” he looked up at you and the sight alone could send you over the edge.
“You do.” you whispered, trying not to sound as desperate as you felt.
He lowered his brows, feigning confusion, “You, who?”
“Hongj-“ was all you could get out before his tongue found your clit. His arms hooked under your thighs swinging them over his shoulder and pulling you closer to his face.
He ate you like a man starved, inhaling as his face disappeared into your cunt. His tongue swiveled and swirled around your bundle of nerves, moaning into you to add extra vibration.
Your hand pulled at his hair, your head falling back as you back arched into him. That hat you wore sliding off and bouncing onto the floor.
He groaned, an arm moving up to grip the bottom of the tie and pull it to sit you forward. He removed himself, lips and chin glistening as he scowled at you, “Eyes on me.”
You placed your hands flat behind you to support yourself, nodding as he kept a hold on the tie. It tightened around your neck, cutting your airflow only slightly due to the soft material but it was enough to make your vision blur at the edges.
He dipped back in with the same speed, his lips smacking against you as you could feel yourself shuttered at the intensity of his stare alone.
His remaining hand dropped below your eyesight as you felt him slide a finger into you.
The moan you let out echoed in the vastness of the closet, your jaw dropping. He turned his hand to curl his finger up to graze your g-spot. You did all you could to keep yourself upright, your arms already on the verge of giving out.
His eyes gleamed as he watched you unravel before him, the bulge in his dress pants nearly ripping through the seams.
He watched as you gasped when he added a second finger and you could feel him smile into you. He pulled back as his fingers set a steady rhythm pumping in and out of you. “I missed those pretty sounds of yours.” he licked his lips causing you to whine.
He groaned, “That one’s good.”
His fingers curled into you, “But let me see if I can get my favorite.”
You had no time to brace yourself before he started rubbing against the sweet spot inside of you, his thumb coming up to circle around your bundle of nerves.
“Hongjoong.” you moaned, wanting nothing more than lay flat against the counter. Your arms shaking as you kept eye contact, the smirk on his face only making things worse.
“There it is.” he chuckled to himself but you could tell he wasn’t satisfied yet. “Let me hear that again.” he said before returning his tongue to replace his thumb, pulling the tie around your neck tighter towards him.
You felt yourself clamp around him so tightly you thought it’d cut off the circulation in his fingers. The only word you were able to get out was his name as you felt the build up of pleasure reaching its highest point.
“Fuck, Hongjoong, feels so good.” you spoke between breaths. He moaned into you, his fingers slowing as you squeezed around them.
He withdrew himself, your body aching at the emptiness just before you reached your orgasm. A whimper fell from you, eyes searching him wildly as he stood.
He fumbled to grasp his belt, hurriedly unbuckling it as he set his dick free from its restraint.
He leaned over you, his hand coming to wrap around your cheek as he mimicked your frown with a mocking tone, “What’s wrong, baby? You don’t want me inside you?”
You shook your head trying to hide your frustration as you licked your lips, “I was so close, Captain.”
“Isn’t it frustrating to not get what you want?” he faked sincerity, thumb moving down to press against your bottom lip.
You nodded, immediately bringing it into your mouth as your tongue wrapped around it.
“Now you know how I’ve felt waiting for you to wear this.” His eyes scanned over the outfit before looking down at your lips, watching as you sucked on the digit.
“Knew you’d look so pretty in it and it was just sitting in a drawer.” His other hand traced the strap of your bra, traveling behind you to unclasp it quickly.
He leaned forward to kiss along your jaw, “And seeing you in this with my jacket-“
He took in a deep breath, peppering open mouth kisses down your throat to your chest.
Your hand wrapped around the back of his neck, pulling him closer to you as he sucked your nipple. His teeth grazed it lightly, animalistic as he groaned against you.
“Love when you wear my things. Things I bought you. Things I make for you. I’m going to make you so many pretty things.” he spoke between licks.
“Love marking you. Letting everyone know your mine.” he said, biting down onto the soft skin of your breast.
You gasped, your nails digging into his shoulder as he laughed at the sensation.
“My beautiful baby.” he said, one hand pumping himself while the other drew you in closer by the small of your back.
You exhaled, his words going straight between your legs. You knew he was a territorial man, and you loved that about him. It made you feel safe. Protected. It also made you want to suck the soul out of him.
You bit your lip, feeling even more desperate to feel him. Your body missed him even when he was touching you. It wasn’t enough. It was never enough.
“All yours.” you spoke as his mouth found your neck again, one hand working on himself while the other grabbed at your chest.
You felt his body twitch against you, his hand moving faster on his dick. The tip leaking into his fist as he lifted his head to meet your gaze.
Your foreheads touching as his lips hung open, “Tell me again.”
“I’m yours, Hongjoong. Only yours.”
His lips found yours and you felt yourself melt into him. He always had the ability to take your breath away, his style of kisses varied but you felt his love for you in everyone. Everytime.
He pulled you towards the edge of the countertop, pressing his tip against your clit, slapping lightly against it from the movement of his hand.
You tried to reach down, to help him. You wanted to touch him, you wanted to make him feel good.
He bit your lip, “No touching, baby. Today is about taking care of you.”
You huffed, needy and pathetic as you tried it again. Hoping he would give in.
You should’ve known better.
He stopped, looking at you with an intensity that made your thighs clench around him.
“Did you not hear me?” his hand moved to the drawer beside your legs as you scrambled to try to explain yourself.
“I just want to make you feel good, Captain.” you pleaded hoping the nickname would soften his mood and reached again. His eyes shut as he took in a sharp breath. His fingers left his dick to wrap around your wrist and held it up to your face, opening his eyes to glare at you.
“Give me your other hand.” he demanded, scowling at you. You could tell the nickname had worked, but not in the way you wanted.
You knew not to make his wait, your other arm lifting shakily to meet the one he held.
He pulled another tie from the drawer, wrapping it around the both of them. The knot he formed digging softly into your skin as he moved to grab them both in one palm.
“You want to make Captain feel good?” he asked, his tone practically singsongy as his free hand moved back to press his tip against you, collecting your arousal.
You nodded, biting down onto your lip as your wrist twisted against the material. He raised them above your head, leaning forwards to push you both to lay back onto the counter. “Yeah?” he cooed, hovering over you.
“Yes, Captain. Please.” you whispered up at him.
“Then take everything I give you, like a good girl.” he said before pushing himself into your leaking hole.
The two of you moaned as he bottomed out. One hand restraining you while the other came to wrap around your hip. He pulled you down closer to sink into his lap, his forehead resting against yours as he whimpered.
“You’re pussy doesn’t want to let me go, baby.” he said as his hips moved back, slowly sliding inch by inch out of you while you laid with your jaw slack. “She’s needy, just like you.” His laugh broke into breaths as he pushed back into you. Your walls immediately squeezing around him.
“Fuck-“ he moaned, “Always so tight for me.”
Your toes curled as he pushed in so deeply you could feel him in your chest.
He held himself there, his breath hitting your face as he stood himself up. “Keep these here or you don’t cum.” he released his grip on your tied wrists before moving his hand to grab your waist fully.
You nodded, panting as you watched his eyes rake over your body. He looked back at you, “And keep your eyes on me.”
He pulled out of you again slowly, the sensation making you back arch as he groaned in response. “Do you know how hard it is to focus in meetings when I know I’m coming home to this?” he said, thrusting into you harshly. Your legs wrap around his back to try to stabilize yourself.
“Can’t pay attention to anything when I’m thinking about you waiting for me all doe eyed.” He set a pace, slamming into you with such consistent force you took your breath away. “Thinking about you walking around, wearing my shirts, laying in my bed. Fuck-“ he gritted through his teeth, “Wanting to be fucked. To be split open on my dick.” His voice broke into a whimper as you matched his pace with your hips.
“God, baby, you feel so fucking good.” he said softly, biting onto his lip as sweat formed across his forehead. “You make me feel fucking good.” he shifted himself to angle into you, hitting your sweet spot and making you cry out.
He laughed, honing in on making sure he hit it again and again, “Right there?”
You scrambled to speak, your throat dry as you breathed out a ‘yes’.
“Eyes on me, you look so pretty when you cum.” he removed a hand from your hip to pull you up by your tie. Your forehead fell against his shoulder as your lips immediately started working on the skin under his jaw.
He grabbed the back of your neck, making you face him as the new upright angle assured he wouldn’t miss your g-spot with every thrust.
You felt yourself squeezing around him as he pressed his thumb back into your mouth. Your tongue swirling around it on autopilot before he pulled it out and brought it between you to press against your clit.
Your breath hitched, forcing your eyes to stay open as you felt your orgasm building in the pit of your stomach. He groaned, feeling it too as your walls wrapped to form around him, “I’m not going to last much longer if you keep doing that.”
“Can’t help it, - feels so good.” You breathed, moving back to loop your tied arms around the back of his neck. His finger sped up, his dick twitching inside of you. “Yeah? Does my dick feel good?” he teased, his voice strained.
You nodded, keeping his eye contact, “You feel so good, Captain. You’re so big.”
His eyes rolled, moving his head to latch on your nipple. The extra sensation was almost overwhelming as you did your best to keep hold of his body as he slammed into you.
He sucked hickeys into the skin of your breast, his hips sputtering as his eyebrows furrowed. You could feel your limbs starting to go limp, pleasure taking over you as you tried to warn Hongjoong but no words came out.
Your orgasm hit you, your body trembling as he continued to fuck you through it. Your walls sucking him in so tightly that he followed immediately after with a whine. Unable to stop himself.
“Fuck-“ he groaned, cumming so hard that it began to leak out of you around his dick. “I couldn’t hold-“ you panted, your head falling against him as he brought a hand to hold you still against him. He kissed lazily at your temple, steadying his breathing as he nodded. “It’s okay, just-.” his body shook, his hand trailing softly on the soft skin of your back causing you to shiver. He moaned at your shutter, involuntarily causing you to flutter around his dick that sat inside of you.
He took a breath before continuing, “You’ll remember to tell me this time.”
You lifted your head with a desperate expression, feeling boneless as you felt him stiffen between your legs.
“Hongjoong-“ you tried as he shot you a warning look, withdrawing himself from you.
Before you could even begin to panic or question if you upset him, he lifted your hands from him and spun you over.
His suit jacket slid, the cold marble of the countertop against your nipples and heated skin made you his. Your hands were over your head again, your cheek resting against the surface as you felt him rubbing himself along your entrance.
“You wanted to cum so badly earlier, I’m just trying to give you what you want.” he feigned innocence, pushing himself back into you. The full feeling making your mouth water as you could feel yourself drooling onto the marble.
“I can’t-“ you tried, but his hand cracked against the side of your ass. “You can and you will. You wanted to make me feel good, right?” he stated more than asked, bouncing you off of him so hard you thought you’d give yourself a concussion.
Another slap, “Right?”
“Yes, yes, want to make you feel good.” you nodded frantically, the sensation of your nipples sliding against the cool marble making you practically purr.
“Why would we stop when you’re taking my dick so well, baby?” he pistoned into you, hitting spots inside you didn’t even know existed. You felt so full of him as he fucked his cum deep into you.
Your mind was blank, only able to focus on how good he felt in you.
“Look at you, so wrecked for me. Isn’t that right?” he laughed through pants, and you couldn’t even find the strength to respond. “Don’t tap out on me, if you don’t warm me this time we’ll just keep going until you do.” He threatened, and you snapped back knowing that he meant it.
“There she is.” he smirked, his hand smoothing over the inflamed skin of your ass. “You feel that good, baby?” he kneaded the skin, gripping it to use as a handle to slam you back against him.
You whined, “So big. So full.”
His fingers looped around the back of your tie, pulling your top half to his chest as he pushed further into you to assure you didn’t fall off the island. His other hand moved down to press against your lower stomach as he nipped at your ear, “You feel me here, don’t you??”
You shook your head, “In my throat.”
He chuckled, “Yeah?”
He moved to wrap his fingers around your neck, “Right here?”
He waited until you nodded in response before tightening his hold, your jaw dropping as you did your best to breathe.
His lips stayed pressed to your ear, making sure you heard every sound that you pulled from him. You pouted, you loved hearing him be so vocal. With every groan and whimper, you felt the band in your stomach get tighter.
He laughed softly, biting at your earlobe, “You have something you want to tell me?”
You knew he could feel you gripping him, but you could barely form words with his hand around your throat. You opened and closed your mouth, eyebrows knitting as he continued to push into you with mind numbing force.
His hips tilted to plunge into you so deep it took your breath away. His teeth found your shoulder, moaning into it as his speed picked up.
Your vision blurred, your tied hands coming up to grip at his hand as it immediately dropped from you. “Hongjoong-“ you gasped, pushing your ass against him, “Don’t stop, right there please.”
You felt him twitch, “Fuck Hongjoong please.”
“Please what, baby?”
You were panting, slamming yourself back to him as his fingers bit into your hips with a bruising force. You knew he wasn’t going to last that much longer either.
“Please. I’m gonna’ cum.” you managed to get out, your body arching as you felt yourself locking up.
He brought his finger to play with your oversensitive clit, tears forming at the corners of your eyes. You couldn’t form cohesive thoughts, just crying his name as he fucked you into the counter. Your hips smacking against the marble as his hips slammed into you.
“Good- girl.” he grunted, his fingers speeding up.
“Want this- everyday.” he said, his sweat dripping on to you as you responded with a moan. “Wanna’ come home and fuck you dumb. Wanna hear those pretty sounds.” you wished you could grab him, you wanted to touch him. To ground yourself as he bucked into you relentlessly, you felt overstimulated. Your body shivered against him as you felt your second orgasm approaching with his words.
As if he could read your mind, his hand quickly ripped the tie from your wrist before coming to your chest to pinch your nipple. Your one hand stabilized yourself on the counter while the other moved back to dig into the back of his neck. Holding on for dear life.
“Hongjoong, gonna’ cum.” you got out, your head falling back against him.
“Cum with me, baby.” he repeated over and over, his fingers circling your puffy clit as he pushed into you with so much force you saw stars.
It hit you so hard that no sound came out of you, your mouth open as your walls milked his cock. His body fell forward into you as he groaned loudly.
The two of you just stayed like that, your body unmoving as his hips slowly continued to press into you. Fucking you through the aftershocks until his cum was sliding down your thigh.
He kissed your shoulder, muttering soft praises as his hips came to a stop. His forehead resting against your shoulder blade.
The only sound in the room was your broken breaths as you both tried to come back to reality.
He kissed your shoulder, his hands grabbing the counter on either side of you to push himself up.
He looked down at where he disappeared inside of you, laughing, “You ruined these pants.”
The black fabric was soaked, dripping with a mix of you and him. You scoffed, pressing your forehead against the marble, “You ruined those pants, you should’ve taken them off.”
“You want to say that again?” he amused, his finger ghosting over your overworked and sore bundle of nerves. Your body nearly jumped away from him, he laughed, pulling you back against him. “Don’t run, let’s just stay like this for a minute. You feel so good around me.”
“I swear to God, if you get hard again.” You deflated, your hand idly scratching at his scalp. He hummed, pushing further into you, “You make it so easy though.”
You gasped, pouting, “Please, I am a weak woman.”
He smiled into your skin, kissing your shoulder again.
After a minute he spoke again, “So, what do you think?”
You laughed, looking back at him, “You want ratings now?”
His fingers slapped against where he held your hip, shaking his head and he bit on his lip to stop his smile. “About what I said.”
“You fuck me like that and expect me to be able to hold conversation? What did you say?” you lifted yourself, sliding him out of you slightly. He pulled himself out completely, carefully turning you to sit on the counter and face him.
He combed through your damp hair, “Would you want that- me- everyday?”
“You’re asking if I’d fuck you everyday?” you questioned, laughing to yourself. It wasn’t far off from what you two usually did, apart from the last week.
His head fell forward, cheeks flushing, “No-“
He tucked himself back into his pants, not caring about the mess. He’d probably just buy new ones to replace them.
You pushed back the hair that had stuck to his forehead, He lifted his eyes to look at you, his lips forming a soft smile as he watched you.
“Would you- want to move in here- with me?” he asked quietly, his hand coming to wrap around yours. He moved it to kiss at the top of it, his eyes never leaving yours.
You felt your entire body flush, your heart feeling full as you looked at your usually cool and confident boyfriend. He watched you carefully, his demeanor becoming more and more nervous with every second that went unanswered.
“We’re going to need to clear some of this closet.” you smiled, your arms linking around his back as you looked around your surroundings.
He bit his bottom lip, his hands resting on your waist, “I’ve told you I’ll build you your own.”
“I mean in general, there are some questionable things in here.” you joked. He swore at you, his fingers tickling at your sides as you tried to slap him away.
He moved to lift you, bringing you into him as he carried you over to his bed. He placed you down before hovering over you, “So, is that a yes.”
“I would love to move in with you.” you grinned, your hand lacing in his hair as he moved down to kiss you softly.
His lips molding against yours, your tongue moving to trace along his top lip. He groaned, biting down on your bottom lip. Both of your breathing slowly increase in speed.
His hand trailed down your side as you moaned into him. “Still sensitive?” he mumbled into your lips.
You nodded a mixture of desire and defeat in your tone, “I can go again if you can.”
He grabbed your wrist, moving it to his erection and wrapping your fingers around it, “What do you think?”
You whimpered, remembering his size. Remembering how it just fit so snuggly in you moments ago. Your core is already throbbing despite its soreness.
You unzipped his pants and slid your hand into them. Your started working him slowly, his breath hitching as he fully moved on the bed. His legs came up to rest on top of the mattress.
You continued to pump him, watching his eyes flutter shut as you crawled to move between his legs.
Something shiny catching your eye.
“Hongjoong!” you yelped, causing him to spring into attention. You moved your hand to point down at his feet, “Take your shoes off!”
“You just decided to move in and you’re already making demands?” he laughed, kicking them off his feet and onto the floor before you slid his pants down to follow them.
“Regretting your decision already?” you asked, satisfied at the removal before leaning between his legs.
He laughed, his head resting against his headboard, “Alittle-“ before he could finish his thought, you wrapped your lips around him. Doing exactly what he had done to you earlier. Your tongue moving to circle his tip as you continued working him with your hand. He laughed gently, his eyes finding yours, “You brat.”
You pulled up to correct him, “Your brat.”
His fingers laced in your hair as you took him in your mouth, exhaling as he held it back from his view, “My brat.”
He groaned so strongly you felt it in your own chest. “My brat.” he repeated, as you hollowed your cheeks around him. Your head bobbed as you inched him further and further into your throat slowly.
His moans quickened, getting higher in pitch as they turned to whines. Once he bottomed out you swallowed around him, his hands stilling you as you remembered to breathe through your nose.
“Too good- too much.” he whimpered, “Need to cum in you again.”
The second his hands left your head, you slowly trailed back up his cock. Your tongue traces it as you reach the top. You sucked against his tip, his hips jutting upwards, “Baby, please.”
You cocked an eyebrow, he had never begged you in bed before.
Before you could move again, he looked down at you realizing what he had done, “Don’t even fucking think about it.”
His tone was stern enough to almost wipe any plan you began to formulate in your mind.
Almost.
You bat your eyes innocently up at him as you suck his tip back into your mouth. Your tongue licking the precum leaking from it.
You had been too obedient to him the last time around so you needed to remind him exactly who you were.
He hissed, his chest heaving as you repeated it one more time before releasing him with a pop. His dick slapping against his stomach.
“You want to be in control? Get up here and ride me.” his hand slid to slap lightly against your cheek. A warning for if you tried to do anything other than what he had said.
You nodded, moving your way up his body, kissing at his stomach and chest up to his neck. Your teeth grazed the skin below his ear as he lined himself up with your hole. The feeling alone is already making you wince.
You will be very sore tomorrow.
“I’ve fucked you dumb today, now I want you to do it to yourself.” he said before lifting his hips to enter you, his hand on your hips as he pushed you down to meet him. “Show me how much you love my dick.” he growled up at you, not moving an inch. He removed his hands from you, lacing them behind his head. You frowned, still taking in the stretch of him. “What’s wrong?” he spoke in a condescending tone, “You wanted to take charge a second ago.”
His voice made you clench, his upper half jutting forward at the sensation. “Oh I see-“ he said, his hands moving back to your hips. He lifted you with ease, sliding you up himself before pushing you back down slowly. “You really are my brat, aren’t you?” he asked, catching your open mouth as he continued to use you like a fleshlight.
You nodded, growing impatient at his pace, “I’m sorry, Captain. Please-“
“Oh, don’t worry, I’ll help you-“ he said before he slowly started grinding you faster against him but not nearly as fast as you’d like to be. “I’ll get you there, baby.” His hand fell to your clit, making you wince as it throbbed against him.
You knew neither of you would last very long, but his tone was certainly helping you. He doubled his speed, grunting as you could tell he was trying to hold himself back, You already started to clench around him, the build up beginning as you could help but smile through the overstimulation. Tears flowing down your face as you felt yourself reaching a third orgasm.
“Hongjoong- I’m gonna-“
At those words he ceased movement.
You whined, looking down at him with wide eyes.
“I said I’ll get you there, now take charge like you wanted.” he challenged you, his eyebrows raising as he smirked. His breathing was quick and you could tell that this was making him just as impatient as you were, but he loved to teach you a lesson. “Unless, you want me to do it?” he asked, raising himself to place a hand at the small of your back. He pushed up into you, his lips finding your chest as he kissed down it. “Beg me.” he said, his tongue trailing down to catch your nipple.
You pushed him down to rest against the headboard, not ready to give up yet. He watched you in amusement as you leaned back to place your hands on his knees. You moved your feet to lay flat on either side of his hips, lifting yourself before going back down. “You sounded so pretty when you begged, Captain. Why don’t you beg me?”
His face twisted, trying to keep calm as you began to bounce yourself on him. He groaned, biting down on his lip. You were panting, fucking yourself on him as you pinched at your nipple. “You told me to fuck you, I’m just being your good girl.” you breathed, the new angle hitting you in just the right spot.
He watched with angry eyes as your other hand trailed between your legs, his chest heaving as he smacked your hand before you could relieve yourself.
He pushed forward, slamming you onto your back and hovering over you.
His hand gripped your thigh, pushing your leg to rest against his chest as he buried himself deep inside of you. “You want me to beg? You think you can fuck yourself as good as I can?” his pace was already relentless, your mouth hanging open. He pinched your chin between his index finger and thumb, “Tongue.”
You happily stuck it out, too blissed out to care. He spit onto it, moving his hand to slap your jaw shut. “Swallow it.” you did, opening again to show your clean tongue.
“Why don’t you introduce yourself to the new neighbors?” he said, lifting your other leg and leaning his chest against them. His dick feeling so deep inside you, you thought it would come out of your mouth. You gasped, “Hongjo-“
“Louder.”
You whimpered, unable to do anything as he licked his fingers and pressed them against your clit. Your body jolted as he masterfully played your body like an instrument. “They can’t hear you, speak up.” he said, his hand slapping against your clit as you cried out.
“What? Did I finally fuck the attitude out of you?”
You squeezed him, causing him to inhale sharply. “No, you just like when I treat you like the slut you are.” he began to rub you again.
The pleasure verges on painful, feeling so full and so worked by him that you begin to cry. He pulled your legs off of him, placing them on either side of him as he sank down to meet you. His hips and fingers are still working you as if it was nothing. He kissed up your face, his tongue licking at the water that gathered on your cheeks.
“I’m the only one who can make you feel like this.” he said, his pace faltering as he twitched inside of you. “This is my pussy, not yours. Every inch of you belongs to me. Don’t forget that.” His words made your eyes roll, your walls squeezing around him as your vision went white. “Hongjoong- I’m gonna-“ you got out.
He laughed, “Let me feel my pussy milk me.”
That was all you needed, your head rolling back as you shook, crying out loud enough that the next neighborhood over could probably hear you. He fucked you through it, his movements sloppy as he came inside of you. Your insides pulling every string of cum from his throbbing dick as he fell on top of you.
“Fuck, baby.” he sighed, kissing any piece of skin he could reach in his flattened state.
You laughed, your head still spinning as you continued to flutter around him, “I know, I’m amazing.”
“If you’re trying to bait me, I think you’ve cleaned me out but we can try-“
“No!” you exclaimed, the idea of going again made you shuttered. Hongjoong hissed as the movement echoed on his dick still inside of you, “Baby.”
“You’re on top of me, I can’t do anything.” you groaned, as he attempted to lift himself before falling back on top of you.
He nuzzled his face into your chest, “I don’t think my bones work anymore, let’s just rest like this.”
“I want dinner.” you stated honestly, the workout you both endured leaving you dying of thirst and wanting food. Your stomach growling just at the mention of food.
“Do you think if I write it in the instructions, I can get the delivery guy to bring the food to us up here?” he questioned, his chin resting to look you in the eyes.
You hummed, contemplating the logistics of the situation. Your fingers running through his hair as he smiled softly at you, “I don’t know how good that’d be for your image.”
“So what if the delivery man sees my ass.” he teased, carefully withdrawing himself from you as he made his way to his closet.
You questioned how he was able to walk around, feeling as if every muscle in your body would melt if you attempted to do the same. He came back in a pair of sweats, fixing his t-shirt as he approached the bed with a second one.
He leaned down, extending his neck to you, “Grab on.”
Your hands slapped against him as he stood, lifting you to sit. He placed a hand against your back, using the other to throw the shirt on you before pressing his lips against your clammy forehead.
“I’ll draw you a bath and order some food.” he whispered, kissing you again.
You smiled, moving your head so you could catch his lips. “Is this the Kim House Standard that I should be expecting from now on?”
He mocked offense, backing from you, "You act like I don’t spoil you rotten.”
You giggled, watching as he made his way to the bathroom, laying back onto your bed. You looked at the ceiling and asked yourself how the hell you got this life.
Hongjoong returned, leaning against the bedroom door frame, “So, now that we’re going to be living together, am I going to hear more of those little impressions?”
“Only if you’re good.” you quipped back, closing your eyes before your body was dragged down the bed by your ankle.
genre: angst, action, drama, enemies to lovers (eventual smut! ;))
wc: ongoing.
|| SYNOPSIS: The Black Fever is not a gentle legend, nor a tavern song: it is a name that runs across the waves like a curse, a shadow that cuts through the mist and leaves behind the silence of those who never returned. And when you find yourself dragged away from your orderly life, from your family name, from the certainties that have always kept you fixed in the proper place, you understand that there is no longer a “before” to cling to. They are not heroes. They are not saviors. And they have no intention of making you feel safe. The problem is that when the sea chooses, it demands.
|| WARNINGS! n$fw, smut, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT eventual smut, slow burn, lots of teasing, mentions of assassination, thievery, pirate stuff, violence, alcohol, fembodied reader, polyamory, fluff, relationships, pirate of the carribbean fanfiction inspo, pirate!Hongjoong, pirate!Seonghwa, pirate!Yeosang, pirate!San, pirate!Wooyoung, pirate!Mingi, pirate!Jongho, pirate!Yunho
|| REMINDER: my works do not represent the irl members in any way, this is purely a work of FICTION.
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