Warnings: smut, unprotected sex (i better not catch you doing this), rough sex, dirty talk, dom!san, san has a very dirty mouth, he's slightly a criminal (at the end if you squint), slight manhandling, fingering, pet names (princess, baby, etc.), he's lowkey a tease, kissing, praise, biting, breeding kink, creampie, claiming, overstim, implied multiple rounds, lmk if i missed anything
A/N: First Ateez fic!!! This was written as a request from my beta @midnighthazee, so thank her. I plan on writing for all of the members in the future (very excited i have so many ideas), but I need to catch up on some other writing, so we'll see how that goes. Enjoy! :))
⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅-`✮´-⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅
You gripped the edge of the bed, knuckles white as your breath quickened. San’s hands, rough and commanding, mapped every inch of your skin with a slow, deliberate hunger.
You gasped when he found that sensitive spot along your hip, his mouth hot and unrelenting as he marked a trail up your ribs. The room was warm around you, your senses narrowing until all you could feel was his body heat against you.
He pinned your wrists above your head with one hand, the other sliding between your thighs. You arched into his touch, feeling desperate, a raw need pulsing through your veins.
His voice was low and soft, and sent a shiver down your spine. “Is this what you want?” The question was a tease. He knew exactly what you wanted.
You nodded, whining from his teasing, and he smiled. Two of his fingers pushed into you, and he moved them slowly, making sure to draw out the pleasure and stretch you out nicely.
“Look at me.” He said assertively, and your eyes snapped open. You hadn’t even realised you closed them, his fingers already being too much.
San’s gaze pinned you down as surely as his grip on your wrists, his eyes dark and hungry in the low glow of the room. You whimpered, grinding helpless into his hand, your thighs straining against his forearm as he fucked his fingers deeper, then curled them just right, just there–
He pulled them out.
“Not yet, baby,” he said, biting his lip and running his hands up and down your sides.
San let go of your wrists but you knew to keep them there. He loved the way you shuddered, lips parted in a desperate moan, the needy arch of your body so open for him.
“Please, San, please I need you to touch me,”
“I’m already touching you, Princess.”
His words made your stomach flip, the familiar name sending a wave of arousal through you. San watched your reaction with a little smirk, his thumb stroking your inner thigh, and extremely close to where you needed his cock.
You nearly sobbed with need, your hips rolling up, seeking friction, desperate to feel more of him.
He hummed, pleased by your helplessness, and let you squirm for a minute. “You’re so greedy for me,” he said quietly, his heavy-lidded eyes drinking in every inch of you spread out and begging under him. His fingers traced lazy circles over your skin, coaxing goosebumps to rise wherever he touched.
Then, finally, his hand drifted lower, knuckles brushing your swollen clit, teasing but not quite giving in.
You choked out his name, voice trembling, and he rewarded you with a gentle rub, slow and teasing, as if he had all the time in the world to drive you insane.
His other hand splayed across your ribs, pinning you in place, grounding you in the heat of his body. You writhed under him, wrists still obediently pressed into the mattress above your head, every muscle straining towards his touch.
“That’s it,” he whispered, mouth hovering close to your ear. “You’re so wet for me.”
You moaned and lifted your hips up, trying to get him to do something. Anything. He chuckled at your eagerness and finally took pity on you.
“You need my cock so bad, don’t you?”
You nodded, swallowing, your throat tight with anticipation. His body hovered over you, heat radiating off of him, the weight of his gaze making you clench around nothing.
“Use your words.”
“Yes, yes, please, yes,” you begged.
San pressed the head of his cock against you, and you whimpered, your hips immediately rising to meet his.
“No, no. Say it,” he whispered, his voice rough, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Tell me what you want.”
“I want you to fuck me,” you gasped, barely recognizing your own voice, “I want your cock, please, San, please–”
He groaned, pushing inside you slowly. The stretch made you cry out, your back arching off the bed as you clenched around him. Greedy and tight. His hands slid beneath your thighs, pinning you open, holding you right where he wanted you.
“That’s my girl,” he growled, thrusting deeper, filling you all the way. You felt every inch of him, thick and perfect, dragging against your walls as he started to move. Each slow and deliberate thrust sent sparks through your body, pleasure building deep and hot, your fingers curling into the sheets.
San’s hands kept you open, his pace unhurried – but sharp, savoring every shaky gasp he wrung from your lips. He leaned down, kissing you hard, teeth catching on your bottom lip, his tongue demanding, swallowing down every noise you made. Your body trembled with the force of his thrusts, each one a slow, punishing drag that made your vision blur with need.
You whimpered into his mouth, desperate, your legs shaking around his waist as he kept you pinned, open, and unable to move or think or breathe anything except for him. He rocked into you deeper, each push stealing all the air from your lungs.
His cock filled you perfectly, stretching you and making your ache and burn and crave more. His hands squeezed your thighs so hard you were sure there’d be bruises in the shape of his fingers tomorrow. He held you steady while he fucked you right into the mattress.
“Good girl,” he murmured, hovering over you, his voice all rough and dark. His hips rolled harder, a little faster, every stroke catching in just the right way. He was nudging the spot inside you that made your knuckles turn white and your hips jerk up, desperate for more.
You sobbed his name, high and pleading, and he groaned, his mouth moving down your neck. He sucked a bruise onto your throat, the mark joining the others already there from earlier in the night.
“You take me so well,” he whispered, and you could feel his breath against your skin. “So fucking needy for my cock, princess.”
You tightened around him and San’s eyes fluttered closed, his breath catching on a ragged moan. You clenched, greedy for every inch, and he rewarded you with a rough snap of his hips that made your vision blur.
You cried out, voice hoarse with your wrists still pinned obediently above your head. He fucked you harder, relentless now, every thrust sharp and deep, grinding right up against that sweet spot inside you until you saw stars.
“San, please, please, don’t stop,” you begged, all sense stripped down to this, this frantic heat, the raw stretch and drag of his cock splitting you open so perfectly. He leaned over you, caging you in with his arms, and bit down on your shoulder, leaving a mark that stung and throbbed in time with his pounding.
“You want it so bad, princess, you wanna get bred so fucking full, don’t you?” His words punched the air from your lungs; you nodded frantically, tears pricking the corners of your eyes from how good it felt.
San groaned, rocking into you, grinding his hips down so you could feel the thick press of him against your clit with every stroke. He was feral now, all that cutesy patience gone and replaced by pure hunger.
He was rutting into you like he needed to claim you, over and over. Each thrust was sharper, rougher, grinding your hips into the mattress until you ached everywhere, until you were gasping and crying out with every flex of his cock inside you.
San pinned your thighs further apart, unforgiving in his grip on you. His hands pressed into your skin so much you were sure you were littered in bruises from them. You whimpered at the slight ache of the forming bruises, but he fucked you through it, every moment making your pussy clamp down on him, greedy and desperate.
“You want me to breed you?” he growled, voice ragged and fucked-out. “Want me to fill you up, princess? Make you mine?”
“Yes,” you sobbed, the word torn out of you, your back arching off the bed. “Please, San, I want it – I want all of it, please, I want your cum inside me, I want you so fucking bad, please.”
He shuddered, hips stuttering then pounded you harder.
The bedframe rattled under the force of him. San’s cock drove into you, thick and relentless, and all you could do was cling to the sheets and take it. He fucked you like he was wild for it, like he needed you to remember how he felt inside you for days after.
Each thrust sent sparks through your body, the pleasure sharp, almost too much, but you wanted more – you wanted everything.
“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groaned, voice breaking as he bottomed out with every ruthless snap of his hips. Sweat dripped from his temple, landing on your chest, and his teeth grazed your neck, biting down hard enough to sting, to mark you.
Your body arched up, pushing your chest against him, needing every inch, every touch, every bruise.
His hands slid up, fingers digging into your waist, dragging you down onto his cock, making you take every inch. You sobbed his name, shameless, your pussy clenching around him, milking him. The burn and stretch built and built until you thought you’d break apart on it.
He bent lower, mouth hot against your ear. “You want my cum? You wanna get filled up, pretty girl? Gonna give you my kids.”
You whimpered, your eyes squeezed shut and nodding.
You didn’t even have words left, just the desperate, broken sounds that poured out of you as San’s cock drilled into you. He cradled your face in one of his hands, tilting your chin to force your eyes open. “Look at me, baby. Wanna see your face when I breed you.”
He slammed into you, his grip bruising as he ground down, fucking you right through the overwhelming pressure building in your core. Every thrust made you see white, your body taut and trembling beneath him.
“That’s it,” he grunted, the rhythm of his hips utterly merciless now. “So fuckin tight, squeezing me.” San was on the verge of finishing, you could tell by how vocal he was getting. “Gonna make me cum if you keep doing that, princess.”
You couldn’t even beg anymore – all you could do was cling to the mattress as he took you, sharp and needy. San’s eyes bored into yours and his mouth twisted in that cocky little smirk. He kissed you then, all teeth and tongue, swallowing your needy noises as he fucked you open.
You felt his cock pulse deep inside, the thick swell of him dragging hard against your walls, and knew he was close. He dropped his hand between your bodies, thumb rough and perfect on your clit.
He circled it, firm and relentless, sending shockwaves straight through your core. You couldn’t hold back – the sound that ripped from you was raw as it tore out of your lungs.
He fucked you like an animal, his hips snapping against yours, thumb grinding tight circles until you shattered for him.
You came with a sob, body seizing up so hard you thought you might snap the headboard from the force of your climax.
San groaned, guttural and hoarse, feeling you milk his cock, the way you clenched and fluttered around him as you lost yourself. He barely managed to keep himself upright, dropping his forehead to yours, sweaty and painting, his eyes wild and locked on your face.
“That’s it, fuck, just like that, squeeze me, baby,” he murmured, and you did – you couldn’t help it, gripping his cock so tight it nearly hurt, writhing under him as the pleasure crashed through you, over and over.
His thumb never let up, and you gasped, your hips jerking, every nerve ending lit up with blinding need. He swore under his breath, barely coherent, rutting into you with jerky, uneven thrusts as his cock twitched inside you.
There was a wild and rough sound in his throat as pressed in, grinding even deeper. The sudden, hot rush of his release spilled inside you, filling you up, thick and overwhelming. You cried out, the sensation so intense it blurred out everything but the hard, desperate pulses of his cock and the flood of warmth inside you.
You shook, legs tight around his waist, clinging and desperate, the aftershocks hitting you again and again as his cock throbbed and dragged through your oversensitive walls. The slick, messy drag made you whimper, but he didn’t stop. He shivered above you, sweat cooling on his skin, mouth hot and open against throat as he bit down hard, marking you again.
He finally stilled, buried to the hilt, and you could feel the thick, aching fullness of him as you fluttered around him, still greedy. His body was heavy over you, pinning you in place, cock still deep and heavy inside you.
His breath was ragged as he calmed down, hands rubbing over your wrists comfortingly.
He kissed along your jaw, lazy and slow, his lips damp from sweat and your skin. You could feel the aftershocks still twitched in you, his cock still buried inside and keeping all of him plugged deep where you ached for it. He groaned like even now, your pussy was milking the last little bit from him. You felt him harden a little, which made your insides flutter.
San nuzzled your cheek with his voice sweet and soft again. “You did so well for me, princess. So fuckin pretty letting me fill you up.” He brushed your hair off your sweaty forehead, placing a gentle kiss there, but his hips lazily rocked, grinding his cock slow and heavy inside you.
“Wanna go again?” He asked.
__________________________
San didn’t raise his voice. He never had to.
The room went quiet as he walked in – conversations stopping, bodies straightening, and everyone’s attention on him.
He adjusted his cufflinks, a gift from his wife and a significant part of his outfit.
“Let’s start,” he said.
The large screen at the opposite end of the table lit up.
He wasn’t listening. He was currently looking at a photo you had sent him as soon as he sat down. He could feel himself harden in his pants – the sight of you in nothing but your ring in the mirror turning him on.
You were such a fucking tease.
He sent you a quick response of ‘Just wait until I get home, princess.’, and looked up at the analyst, interrupting him.
—————————
This might be continued in the future but for now what he does when he comes home is up to you. ☺️
Synopsis: You and Anton are enemies; the tension between you is constantly charged while competing, but when you're put in the same hotel for a competition, there's not much holding either of you back from breaking that tension.
WC: 5.8k
Warnings: smut, unprotected sex (don't do that), trash talk, dirty talk, competitive tension, sexual tension, swimmer anton, condescending Anton, kissing, bruising, fingering, anton is very well endowed, praise, slight degradation, profanity, begging, pet names (pretty girl, sweetheart, angel, etc.), breeding, creampie, overstimulation, forced orgasm, hinted somnophilia, lmk if i missed anything
A/N: First fic of the RIIZE masterlist, I wrote this a while ago, but I've been itching to share it. I'm very behind on my series, so I'm currently working on it...that being said...Idk when I'm gonna write my next RIIZE fic. Thank you, @midnighthazee, for beta reading.
⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅-`✮´-⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅
There were too many noises, the sounds of the whistle blowing through the air and the swimmers taking off into the water. There was chatter from each of the teams, making the environment seem louder.
Your coach turns to you to speak, getting his familiar pep-talk ready. “You’ve done this a hundred times. This isn’t anything new. Trust your start, keep your rhythm, and finish strong. You know you’re good — now just go out there and show it.”
You nodded curtly and walked over to your position, the tile beneath your feet is cold and slick with water, but you barely feel it. Your heartbeat is louder than the crowd now, thudding steadily in your ears as you step toward the block.
You exhale once, sharp and steady, then lift your gaze.
And there he is.
Anton is already at his block, rolling out his shoulders and infuriatingly calm – as he usually is before a race. His body is all lean lines and strong muscles, but tense. His teammates watch from behind him, trading jokes and last-minute advice, but Anton isn’t really paying attention to any of it.
He’s too busy looking at you.
It’s quick, a flicker of his attention locking onto yours almost like it's purely instinctual. His gaze makes a nauseous twist sit in your stomach. His lips lift just barely, an infuriating smirk on his face. Provoking you.
Maybe it was a challenge, maybe an invitation for something else. You couldn’t tell. You never could with him.
You force your chin up, refusing to be the one who looks away first. Not today. You held his gaze, refusing to let the flicker of smugness in his eyes burrow further beneath your skin. Anton didn’t blink, didn’t look away, not even when the starter's voice rang out in the humid air calling your attention.
His eyes narrowed slightly, sizing you up – likely to see if you were the same girl he had beaten last month. He seemed to think he had you all figured out when he broke his gaze and let out a little chuckle to himself.
The air was thick with the smell of chlorine and the adrenaline coursing through you.
The whistle blew, the shrill sound cutting through the strong tension between the two of you. You got into position, your muscles coiled tight and ready. For a half-second, your focus drifted back to Anton, the cocky little tilt of his head and the flex in his own muscles as he took position.
The buzzer sounded.
You launched yourself, the world narrowing down to the rush of air and the cold feeling of the water on your skin.
______
You barely had time to breathe and relish in your victory before Anton found you by the bleachers with your team. He started making his way over with the same infuriating smirk that was always on his face. Your skin was still wet as you met him halfway, not wanting your teammates to hear the bullshit he was most likely about to say.
“Congrats,” he drawled, voice low. “Didn’t think you had it in you. Must’ve been luck, hm?”
Gosh, he was insufferable. Your cheeks felt hot.
You glared, pretending you didn’t notice the way his gaze slid over you. You also pretended you didn’t notice the way your skin prickled, blaming it mostly on the water giving you temporary hypothermia.
“Luck?” you scoffed, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing you flustered. “You can call it whatever you want.” Your voice surprised you – a little more breathless than you intended, but solid.
Anton stepped closer, his presence cutting off the noise of the pool and the shouts of your teammates. You could smell the hint of chlorine and his body wash still clinging to him. For a second, you wondered if anyone was watching from the bleachers. If they could see your tense body language. It would be just your luck to have someone catch you even slightly flustered.
“Or maybe you’ve just been watching me too much,” you added when he didn’t respond, your chin lifted.
His mouth curved. It was most definitely a challenge. “Don’t flatter yourself,” he said softly, but his gaze lingered on your lips. “I just like knowing you’re not as good as me. Makes it easier to win.”
He was so close now, the heat of his body radiant against your skin. Your heart hammered in your chest, and you could feel it in your throat.
You knew the smart thing to do would be to brush him off and walk away, remind him that he’s just a smug asshole who has nothing better to do than annoy you. But you didn’t. You stood your ground, matched him glare for glare, your lips tingling from the way his eyes kept sweeping over them.
“Oh is that what happened today?” you sneered, the words coming out lower than you intended. “Becuase it looked like you were chasing me for a while there. Couldn’t catch up?”
He laughed, but the sound was softer than you’d expected. You saw his jaw flex, and for a moment the competitive edge in his eyes shifted to something else. Something heavier, darker, and more personal.
Before you could analyze the look in his eyes, your coach’s voice sounded in your ears, telling your team to pack it up so that you could head out.
Anton blinked slowly, a lazy grin curling at his lips before he stepped back, leaving you with your pulse jumping and a flush high on your cheeks. You turned and walked away, not daring to look over your shoulder even though you could feel his eyes burning between your shoulder blades.
Your team packed up, voices buzzing with post-race adrenaline and stupid gossip. The van ride back to the hotel was a blur of tired limbs and damp towels. Only when you stepped into the lobby did you realize Anton and his teammates were sprawled across the armchairs in the lobby, looking perfectly at home.
Of fucking course. Just your luck.
Your team found their own places to sit while your coach checked you in. You didn’t dare go anywhere close that asshole, but you could feel his heated gaze on you, never leaving.
Your coach walked back up to your group and started handing out room keys.
“Now, since there’s an odd number of us, someone gets their own room.” He grunted out. Your other teammates immediately started asking for it, not wanting to share a room with anyone else. You were too distracted by the gaze on you to partake in the begging.
“Now, now, I’m giving it to our winner for today. She deserves it.” He said, handing the key out toward you and snapping you out of your daze. You smiled tightly and took the key card from him, your other teammates jokingly booing at you. You laughed and flicked some of them off.
As you and your team walked up to your floor, you still felt those eyes on you, except this time you didn’t acknowledge him.
You made your way down the corridor, damp hair still slinging to your neck, the low hush of your teammates' voices fading behind you as you drifted further from their cluster. The key card was thick between your fingers and you spun it around and around, unable to keep the restless energy from your hands or the sense of being watched from crawling up your spine.
You told yourself you didn’t care. You had beaten him. You’d gotten the solo room. He could look all he wanted.
The hallway was quiet, carpet muffling your footsteps and the air thick with the lingering scent of pool chemicals and the faint trace of someone’s cologne. Maybe his. You shoved that thought right back down where it came from and pushed your door open.
The room was bright, a single bed crisply made, and silent except for the echo of your heart in your chest.
You kicked your shoes off, dropped your bag by the desk, and peeled off your jacket. The adrenaline from earlier was still slightly there, and you sighed as you checked your phone for any new notifications.
The knock at the door had your head snapping up from your phone to the door.
They’re already knocking at the door? You saw them two minutes ago.
When you got to the door you pulled on the handle and opened it, ready to make a teasing remark at your teammate about already missing you. Only it wasn’t your teammate. It was Anton.
He stood in your doorway, as if he belonged there. As if he’d been invited, when you both knew he hadn’t. He filled the space with unapologetic energy, one arm braced casually against the doorframe, his body still lean and strong and his hair slightly darker, like yours, from lingering moisture. The smell hit you: chlorine, the clean scent of his bodywash, and that cologne, subtle and sharp and unmistakably him.
You blinked. For a breathless second, neither of you spoke.
He smiled, slow and deliberate, with a hungry, slightly amused glint in his eyes. “Expecting someone else?” His voice was deep, edged with laughter.
You leaned your shoulder against the door, half blocking his view of the room. “You must be lost. The asshole convention’s down the hall.”
He huffed a short laugh, not moving. “I thought I’d congratulate you properly.” His eyes flicked from your face to your neck, to your collarbone. You felt the heat of his gaze like he was physically touching you. For a second, neither of you moved. The air between your bodies felt charged, riddled with tension and something else you couldn’t and didn’t want to name.
“Funny,” he said, his voice lowering. “But I’m right where I want to be.”
You rolled your eyes, but the gesture felt weak even to you. Up close, his presence was suffocating. The width of his shoulders blocked out the hallway light. His arm, still braced against the doorframe, caged you even as you stood your ground.
“Congratulations delivered. You can go now,” you said, keeping your tone even, your chin up. But you didn’t close the door.
He tilted his head, studying you, and you realized he saw right through the confidence act. “You always this polite to your fans?” he asked, and the words made your skin crawl with irritation.
But you didn’t take the bait. Instead, you fixed him with that look you’d perfected over the years of racing side-by-side – sharp, unimpressed. He leaned in, just enough that you could see the pretty shade of brown in the details of his eyes, and for a moment you allowed yourself to breathe him in.
“Only the ones who lose as pathetically as you,” you shot back, the words coming out huskier than you meant. It was impossible to ignore the way his eyes darkened at that, the twitch of his jaw as he processed your nearness. He was so close you could count the freckles across his collarbone, could see the way his throat worked as he swallowed.
He didn’t move back, but stepped closer, shifting his weight so that his hips brushed the edge of the door. His arm remained above your head, effectively pinning you in place, but you didn’t shrink away. You could feel the tension in his stare.
It vibrated between you, not quite touching, but almost – like electricity.
You licked your lips. His gaze tracked it, sharp and intent. Every sensible thought in your head told you to make a snarky comment and slam the door in his face, but you just… didn’t. Maybe you liked the way the air got thick when he stepped this close, the way his voice dipped when he spoke to you, just for you. Even if every word was meant to rile you up.
You wondered if he could see your pulse beating in your throat. It felt obvious, loud, like it was beating for his attention.
Anton dropped his face a little nearer, the shadow of his jaw cutting a clean line only inches from yours. “Go on, then,” he murmured, voice low. “Prove you’re better, yeah?”
The words set something wild loose in your chest, and you felt something pulse inside you. You should’ve laughed. You should’ve pushed him out, locked the door and gone straight to the shower and then to bed. But here you were, pulling him into your room and slamming the door shut behind him.
He barely had a chance to react before you shoved him back, hard, the force of it sending his spine gently to the wall. You caught the flash of surprise in his eyes, but it only made his mouth curve higher. For a second, neither of you moved; you just stood together in that bright, silent room, close enough that your breaths mingled and the tension between you felt raw and almost physical.
He looked at you, really looked, heat pooling in his gaze, and you realized with a fierce jolt that he wanted this as badly as you did. You pressed forward, erasing the last bit of space, and kissed him.
It was nothing like you’d imagined—not soft, not tentative, but fever-hot and reckless, hungry and desperate and the taste of chlorine and him. He caught your lower lip between his teeth, sharp with need, and you felt his hands find your waist, fingers digging into your skin.
You let him, for just a moment, because it felt good and right and you wanted to hear what he’d do if you stopped pretending to hate his guts.
But you didn’t give him all the control – not for a second. You pushed up on your toes, kissed him harder, your mouth parting under his, and the soft surprised sound he made vibrated straight through your chest and down in between your legs.
His hands slid lower, splaying over your hips and dragging you flush against him, and you knew he was just as breathless and done for as you.
He kissed like he competed: relentless, greedy, all-consuming. He caught your bottom lip between his teeth, not gentle, and he groaned against your mouth, one palm fisting the back of your shirt to pull you impossibly closer.
The tension was so messy, and when your fingers tangled in his still-damp hair, tugging, he broke away just enough to let out a shaky breath against your cheek.
You didn’t wait for him to say anything clever. You nipped sharply at his jaw, felt the muscle tense under your teeth, and heart the way his breath hitched. He chased your mouth, catching it again, but you tugged him back by his hair and continued your attack on his neck.
You could feel the coiled tension in Anton’s arms, the way his fingers curled possessively around your hips, and the way his mouth kept trying to find yours hungrily.
“Didn’t expect this to be your way of proving you’re better,” he said, a smirk on his mouth and his voice soft against your ear, “is it my turn yet?”
You scoffed, let your teeth find his earlobe for just a second, sharp enough to make his take in a harsh breath, before you eased back just barely enough to meet his eyes.
Anton’s hands tightened on your hips once more, bruising, like he was fighting the impulse to just take. The thought made you feel hot and dizzy.
You wanted him, you wanted this, and the need was suddenly so sharp it scraped through your composure. You dragged Anton toward the bed, not caring how graceless it looked.
His lips were on yours again, and your hands yanked desperately at the hem of his shirt. He returned the favor, fingers rough and greedy, hauling your clothes over your head and discarding them somewhere behind you.
Everything was teeth and tongue and fumbling hands, hips bumping against the edge of the bed as the both of you reached for each other's bare skin. You laughed breathlessly when you finally got his shirt off, immediately eating him up with your eyes. You saw him half naked during competitions all the time, but it was different in this context – almost like you were truly seeing him.
His eyes were devouring you. His hands were already sliding up to your chest, groping you as if he needed to touch every inch at once. You were pressed so close there was no space left at all.
You felt Anton's fingers drag down your stomach, a rough, greedy slide that had you shivering and arching into his touch.
“Look at you, already desperate for it,” he murmured, a smug, dark laugh pressed against your neck. He didn’t wait for you to respond, just slipped his hand between your legs, cupping you through your underwear. His fingers stroked you, slow at first, then harder, until you gasped against his mouth.
“Knew you’d be greedy,” he said softly. “Could feel you looking at me all day. But I didn’t think you’d be this fucking wet, sweetheart.” The words made you clench around nothing, not even able to form a response, and when he finally slid your panties aside and pushed his fingers inside you, you nearly sobbed.
He stretched you ruthlessly, thumb rubbing hard circles and making you squirm. He ran his other hand down to your waist, pushing down and holding you in place.
“Please, I need- please…” you begged, needing him inside of you.
His lips turned up into that infuriating smirk you love. He could tell you just wanted him to fuck you already.
“I’ve gotta stretch you out first, angel. You can’t take all of me without it.” He said, so soft it was barely above a whisper. You couldn’t catch the hint of condescendence in his tone, you were too far gone already.
You whined and whimpered until you felt pressure building in your stomach. Anton’s fingers kept their steady pace, his thumb working those intense circles on your clit until you shattered against his hand, his voice gentle and reassuring in your ear.
“That’s right, show me how good you are. Bet you’ve never cum this fast for anyone else,” he breathed into your ear, and the words burned straight through you.
You arched helplessly, muscles clenching around his fingers, your body already trembling with aftershocks and the humiliation of how easy he made it look. But you didn’t care – you wanted more, all of it, especially when his mouth found yours again, almost tender now, as if he was tasting just how desperate you were.
You barely registered the way he manhandled you up onto the bed, dragging you higher so you sprawled beneath him, your legs open and shivering as he slotted his hips between them.
You could feel his cock, hard and heavy, pressed right against you through his still-clinging briefs. He made no secret of how desperate he was, grinding into you just once, slow, so you could feel every inch.
You reached for him without thinking, your fingers yanking the waistband down, impatient, and he let you, watching you through his lashes, his eyes heavy and blown as you freed him.
He groaned softly, the pleasure in his eyes so vivid and unrestrained in the way he looked at you. You wrapped your fingers around him before you even thought about it, desperate to feel his weight and how hard he was for you.
Anton was so thick and hot against your palm, and his hips jerked forward, the motion desperate and hungry.
“Fuck,” he muttered, barely more than a groan, and you felt it everywhere, your body tightening with a new frantic need to have him inside of you.
He caught your wrist and pinned it above your head, holding you there with holding you there with unsurprising ease. It was primal, the way he wanted to control the pace, and the way he didn’t want to give an inch without making you work for it.
He finally pulled your panties off, your wetness sticking to them and making them practically see through. He threw them where his pants were on the ground, smirking at you. “I’m keeping those for later.”
You rolled your eyes and tugged at his shoulders. “Just fuck me already. Please I’m so…please, Anton.”
He bit his lip at the sound of his name, the way it rolled off your tongue in that needy tone, and he swore he would’ve snapped and eaten you up right then and there if it weren’t for his impeccable control.
“Say it again for me.” He demanded. He definitely wasn’t asking, and he made that clear through the look in his eyes.
Your own eyes fluttered, breath sharp in your chest. “Anton,” you repeated, and it came out just as thin and just as desperate as the last time. “Please. I need you so bad.”
He looked at you like you’d never been rivals at all m and stripped away the last inch of space between you bodies. His hips slotted flush against yours. He lined himself up at your entrance, dragging his cock up and down your cunt, lubing himself up with all of your slick. You could feel the thick head of his cock pushing, just barely there, not enough, just a tease.
He leaned over you, his mouth grazing the edge of your jaw, his voice hungry and rough.
“Good girl.” The praise seared through your nerves. “You want it so bad, don’t you? Want me to fuck you so hard you can’t stand tomorrow?”
You nodded, too far gone for words. He grinned that pretty grin of his – all teeth and dimples – and bit his lip.
He pressed into you. The slight stretch burned, his fingers only helping so much from how thick he was.
You gasped, the sting of the stretch punching the breath out of you, his cock pressing into you slow and relentless. Anton watched you with a dark, greedy intensity, like he was cataloging every twitch, every whine, every whimper. He eased forward, sinking deeper, the drag of him inside you obscene.
Your thighs were shaking from how good he filled you up. His grip on your waist was bruising, and somewhere in the back of your mind you hoped the marks would show for more than just a few days.
“Fuck, you’re tight,” he groaned, his forhead pressing to yours. You could feel him trembling slightly, his restraint becoming thinner and thinner. He wasn’t gentle, but he didn’t rush, letting you feel every deserved inch as he bottomoned out, hips flush to yours, bodies fused together.
You clung to his shoulders, nails digging into his skin. He smirked, feeling your cunt squeeze impossibly tighter around him. It was taking every single atom in his body to not pound into you right then and there.
His hips have a shallow, testing thrust. The friction was dizzying; you arched into him chasing it, desperate for more.
“Look at my pretty girl, hm?” Anton murmured, voice thick with hunger. “Taking it so well for me.” His breath was hot against your cheek, his body bracketed over you. You wanted every bit of him. You wanted him to leave you shaking and full and ruined.
He pulled out to the tip, slow, and pushed back in so deep you thought he might be rearranging your guts. Each thrust was deliberate, hard enough to jolt the headboard and send a filthy noise into the echoey hotel room.
You clung to him, nails raking his shoulder blades, and he groaned at the sting, rutting against you harder. The world blurred to the heat of his skin, the weight of his body on yours, and the slick friction with every roll of his hips.
You tried to fight the sounds spilling from your lips, but it was useless – the moans, the needy, desperate whimpers. Anton ate up every sound, his mouth finding your neck, biting just enough to make you gasp and clench around his pulsing cock.
“Wanna fill you up so bad. You like this don’t you?” he panted against your throat. He was getting talkative, and that made you think maybe he was going to cum soon. “I know you do, baby. I know.”
You shuddered, unable to hide it, your legs locking hard around his waist. You wished you could say something – beg for something, dirty talk to him too – but nothing was making its way out of your mouth except the punched out little moans from his deep thrusts.
The sound you made on a particularly harsh thrust was almost embarrassing, but Anton drank it in, his hips grinding deep and slow, the drag thick and obscene. He kept you pinned with one big hand, the other moving possessively over your throat and jaw. Not tight, just enough to remind you who had you, who was inside you, stretching you so wide it left you breathless.
“You’re so needy for it, fuck. You keep squeezing me like that, I’m gonna cum.”
You tightened around him again, just to feel how his hips stuttered inside you, his control fraying with every wet, slick thrust. You wanted to see him lose it, wanted to ruin him the way he’d already ruined you, so you let your hips rock up, catching the thick grind of his cock just perfectly. The sound he made was so raw, desperate.
“Yeah?” you whispered, voice trembling but so fucking proud. “You gonna cum inside me, Anton?” You said his name like a taunt – or a promise – your lips brushing his jaw, your tongue flicking out to taste the salt and sweat where his pulse pounded.
“Angel,” he gritted out, mouth hungry on your neck. “You feel so good, you have no idea.” He moaned, hand tightening at your throat just slightly, his big palm spanning across your jaw and cheek as he fucked into you rougher, harder, like he needed to imprint you on every part of his body.
Anton’s other hand tightened on your hip, possessive. “You gonna take it for me?” he rasped against your mouth, his breath coming out in rough pants. “Let me fill you up?”
You nodded, dizzy, your entire body strung out and your mind gone with all of your thoughts.
He watched you through hooded, hungry eyes, the lines of his face sharp with focus and something primal. He wanted you full and messy and gasping, and he wasn’t shy about it. With every thick, punishing thrust, he brought you closer to the edge, body pinning you hard to the mattress, his voice rough, but with a certain softness to it, in your ear.
“That’s it, fuck…Let me feel you.” His hand slid from your throat to your jaw, his thumb pressing at the corner of your mouth, demanding, obsessive, yours to bite or suck or moan around if you dared.
You did, lips parting so he could press his thumb inside. You sucked at it, greedy, eyes fluttering shut from the obscene pleasure of being taken this way, and Anton nearly came inside you right then and there.
He swore, voice guttural against your skin, and the pace of his thrusts stuttered for a split second as you sucked at his thumb, greedy and shameless. He seemed to savor it, every slick pull of your mouth, and his hips surged forward with a new, frenzied need. The way he filled you was devastating and relentless – a slow, thick grind that made your entire body tighter in anticipation.
“Such a good fucking girl, hm? So pretty, so fucking needy for me.” he whispered, forhead pressed to yours, obsession and awe wound together in every syllable.
“Don’t stop, fuck, please- don’t stop.” You begged, your words slurring together and barely making it out of your mouth. You were so close to coming and you could tell it would be intense.
The tension inside you built sharp and unyielding, pleasure turning molten, until you could barely hold yourself together. Anton’s body pressed you down, thick cock stretching you so perfectly, and the bed creaked beneath every rough thrust. His thumb dragged out from your mouth, wet with your spit, and he pressed it to your lips, watching the way you chased the touch, needy and shameless.
The only sound in the room was broken breathing and the slap of skin, the wet pulse of your cunt around him, and the way you whimpered when he hit just right, over and over. You were making him lose his control and his restraint with every squeeze.
“Listen to yourself,” Anton panted, his fingers digging deeper into your hip. “You’re soaking for me, I can hear your pretty pussy leaking for me.”
You whimpered, the shameful sound muffled by his hand as your body seized suddenly, pleasure snapping so hard you almost sobbed. Anton felt you clamp down and only rutted deeper, his hips never faltering, cock grinding against the spot inside you with brutal, perfect certainty.
“Fuck that’s it. Knew you’d cum for me, but I didn’t think you’d fall apart this easy,” he taunted, voice rough, and his lips dragging a filthy smile across your jaw.
You couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, not when the aftershocks were already too much. Your thighs shook, muscles fluttering uncontrollably, but he didn’t give you a moment to recover.
Instead, his fingers slid down, rubbing your clit mercilessly, circling fast and slick and mean. You jerked, crying out loudly and trying to squirm away, but Anton pinned you flat with his weight, pushing harder. “Sensitive now, aren’t you? Bet you can’t take it, yeah?” he crooned, his hand working you while his cock drove in and out.
The pressure building in your stomach exploded again, your cunt getting even wetter, helpless under the overstimulation. Anton’s laugh was low in your ear as he forced you through another, even harsher orgasm.
You writhed, sobbing into his shoulder, everything inside you seizing hard as the orgasm washed over you, pussy fluttering and squeezing around Anton’s cock. He fucking loved it. You could hear it in the way he let out a ragged, triumphant sound. You could feel it in the way his hips ground deeper, reducing to let you go.
“Fuuuck, that’s it, just like that,” he choked, voice full of awe and hunger. “You’re milking me, sweetheart. Squeezing my cock so fucking perfect.”
You couldn’t breathe, your nails scraping down his back again as he pounded you through every single trembling aftershock. He didn’t show you any mercy, fucking you even harder, the slap of skin echoing in the hotel room, the sound obscene.
“Taking it so good, baby. You were made for this, weren’t you?” His hand slid up, cupping your jaw, thumb stroking your cheek and wiping your tears away.
And then he reached up, found your hands gripping tight onto the sheets, and tangled his fingers with yours above your head. His grip was so sure, so grounding, you would have gasped at the intimacy of it if you were present instead of your brain being so fuzzy.
His pace stuttered, and you felt him shudder above you, holding you through the way his body tensed, every muscle straining and trembling as he fucked you even harder, chasing his own orgasm.
“I’m gonna fill you up, just like you want, Angel. Gonna make sure you know just who you belong to.” he growled, voice harsh and shaking slightly. His cock throbbed inside you, thick and perfect and sensitive.
Your whole body arched to meet him, and you could feel his control slipping, unraveling right where you wanted him.
He slammed into you, harder and harder, his rhythm erratic now and his breath ragged at your ear. “Fuck, fuck, you feel so good,” he gasped, every word running straight through you. “You’re gonna take it, yeah? Gonna let me give you all my cum?”
You nodded, choking on a moan, your whole body seizing as his hips stuttered inside you one last time and he thrust into you one more time, his cock hitting so deep he touched your cervix.
The moan he let out was animalistic and guttural, filling the room with raw noise. His body trembled over yours as he came, cock pulsing inside you, spilling himself deep where you ached for it. You felt every spasm of his, and the way he ground his hips down to make sure you took every desperate drop, like he wanted to fucking drown you in it.
He stayed inside you, not loosening his hold on your hands, his forehead pressed into your neck and both of you panting like you’d just raced the length of the pool. Your whole body trembled, and you felt like the aftershocks were never ending.
You could sense he was about to pull out, but you needed to be close to him. You couldn’t let him go just yet – not when he had just filled you up like he was trying to impregnate you.
You freed your hands from his and wrapped your arm around his back, tugging him closer. “Don’t pull out. Wanna stay like this, want you to make sure your cum doesn’t go to waste.”
His cock twitched violently at that, and he let out a groan, his teeth gritted together like he was in pain. “Don’t say shit like that, Angel,” he said. It was already taking everything in him not to get hard again and fuck you through the night.
But you liked the way his pulse jumped under your palm, the way his cock twitched inside you, overstimulated but still greedy for more. You wrapped your thighs tighter around his hips, locking him to you and not letting a single drop escape.
You shouldn’t have said it, but you couldn’t help the way you ached, the way you’d take him over and over if he wanted. You wondered if he could tell, or if he’d just assumed you’d be done after that. But you weren’t. Every inch of you was perfectly sore, oversensitive, still trembling from the aftershocks of him, and yet, still greedy for whatever came next.
Anton buried his face in your neck, breathing hard. His cock throbbed once inside you, a deep, hungry pulse. “You’re trouble,” he muttered, that pretty smirk on his lips.
You stroked a slow line down his back. “If you get needy again…you can use me. Even if I’m asleep. Just wake me up, or don’t. I don’t care.”
His breath stuttered, and you felt the way his whole body tensed, the way his cock tried to harden inside you again at the promise. He pressed his lips to your jaw lingering there, claiming you with the press of his body and the heat in his eye.
“Careful,” he whispered, “I might take you up on that.”
And if anyone would have told you last week that you’d end up sleeping with Anton from the rival swim team you would have laughed so hard you probably would have suffocated. Because the chances of you falling into bed with that annoying asshole of a man? Impossible.
Synopsis: You've been craving Chan's attention. What better way to get it than by being a brat? He puts you in your place.
Warnings: Smut, unprotected sex (don't do that pls), slight dom/sub dynamics, reader seems kinda annoying (she just wants dick rlly), spanking, profanity, rough fucking, bent over a table type smut yk, Chan's dick is big (are we surprised), oral (m. receiving), fingering, one teeny little slap on readers vagina, teasing (also m. receiving)
A/N: I wrote some smut for you guys :). I haven't written smut in a while. I haven't written literally anything in a while. I just finished my homework and decided to dedicate my precious sleep time to writing this. Hope you enjoy. It's not beta read, so mistakes are all my fault.
SKZ Masterlist
⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅-`✮´-⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅
It started with the coffee.
You knew he liked it plain in the morning, no sugar, no cream. So when you handed him his mug with a too-innocent smile, he didn’t notice right away – until his first sip.
He froze mid-swallow. “Why is this so…sweet?”
You leaned casually against the counter, sipping your own drink. “Thought you could use a little variety.” You shrugged.
His brow furrowed. “Variety? I almost spit it out, baby. It tastes like straight sugar.”
“Then you’d have ruined my floors,” you said lightly, ignoring the way his eyes narrowed.
“You’re ridiculous,” he muttered, setting the mug down.
You just hummed, your smirk promising you weren't done.
The second instance happened later. While he was trying to pack up some things for the day, you claimed the couch – and his phone.
“Where’s my phone?” he called from the bedroom.
“Safe,” you replied.
“Safe?” he appeared in the doorway, suspicious.
You were lounging on the cushions, scrolling through something with exaggerated focus. “I’m just checking your playlists. Making sure you’re not secretly listening to anything embarrassing.”
“Baby. Give it back, please.”
You tapped the screen a few more times, clearly not in any rush. “Hmm…nope. Nothing scandalous. But your taste is boring.”
He walked over, palm out. “Phone.”
You raised a brow, holding it out hesitatingly before he snatched it out of your hand with a chastising look, quickly turning around and heading back to the bedroom.
The third time, he broke. By the time you were ready to leave, he’d already endured three more of your little “games” – including taking his favorite jacket “because it looked better on you” and changing the music in the apartment to something you knew he didn’t like.
And now… the car keys.
You were holding the car keys just out of reach while leaning against the hallway wall.
“You gonna hand those over?” he asked, palm out.
You twirled the keys around one finger, the faint jingle making his jaw tighten. “I could, but I like seeing you ask so nicely.”
“We’re already late,” he said, stepping closer. Threatening.
You cocked your head, lips curling. “Then you’d better convince me.”
“Keys. Now.”
You twirled them around your finger, the metallic jingle echoing between you. “What’s the magic word?”
His brows lifted, incredulous. “You’re pushing it.”
“Mhm.” The keys dangled just above his shoulder as you stretched your arm up. “Say please. Or – better yet – say ‘You’re the prettiest, sweetest, most adorable girlfriend in the world.’”
He stared at you, and you could almost see the wat in his expression – half tempted to laugh, half ready to end this game on the spot. “You really enjoy making me work for it don’t you?”
Your grin widened. “Of course. You get this look when you’re annoyed. It’s really hot, honestly.”
He stepped in, bracing one arm against the wall beside you. “You’re unbelievable.”
“I prefer ‘charming.’”
“That’s not what I'm calling you right now.”
You tipped your chin up, eyes sparkling. “Then what?”
“A brat.”
Your heart gave a quick, traitorous flutter. “Guilty.” You said, with a teasing smile.
His other hand slid up your hip, fingers pressing lightly as he leaned closer. “Keep pushing,” he murmured, “and you're gonna find out how I deal with brats.”
“Promise?” you ask, watching his eyes darken.
The air between you tightened, charged. You could feel the keys still warm in your palm, but neither of you were thinking about the car anymore, and he was no longer playing this game with you.
In a flash, he was on you, pinning you against the wall with his body, one hand gripping your chin firmly.
“I’ve had it with your attitude,” he scoffed, his eyes flashing with a deep hunger – dark and dangerous. “You’ve been a brat all day, and I put up with it. But I’ve reached the end of my patience, baby.”
He spun you around, and you could faintly hear the sound of the keys hitting the ground. He brought his hand down on your ass with a stinging slap.
He leaned in, close to your ear, and you could feel yourself starting to soak through the nice panties you wore tonight. “You wanna know how I deal with brats?” He asked, punctuating his words with another slap. “Need to learn your place, hm? You wanted my attention that badly?”
You found yourself arching into his slaps and his touches, whimpering and moaning helpless as he reduced you to a quivering, pliant mess.
Finally, when your ass was aching and hot from his punishing attention, he slid a thick finger down your front and past your panties.
“Already so wet for me, baby,” he taunted, adding a second finger when he deemed you stretched out on the first one enough – his hand curling them just right. “Looks like you enjoyed your punishment, yeah?”
You could only moan in response, lost to the overwhelming sensations of his fingers inside of you and his dirty words in your ear. He worked you expertly – knowing your body inside and out – until you were writhing and begging for more.
Just when you thought you couldn’t take it anymore, he withdrew his fingers and stepped back, not before landing a light smack to your dripping cunt.
“On your knees,” he commanded, voice rough with lust. “I wanna put that smart mouth of yours to good use.”
Shakily, you complied, dropping to the floor and reaching for his belt. You freed his throbbing cock, your mouth watering at the size of it.
Before you could even think to take it in your mouth, he fisted a hand in your hair and pulled you forward, forcing his length past your lips.
You gagged slightly as he hit the back of your throat, tears streaming down your face as he used your mouth for his pleasure. But despite the rough treatment, you couldn’t help the surge of arousal that flooded through you. Being used so roughly, so utterly at his mercy, was the most intensely erotic experience of your life. And he knew it.
He fucked your face mercilessly, holding your head in place as he pounded into your throat. You struggled to breathe around his thick cock, saliva dripping down your chin as he took what he wanted. When he finally pulled out, you gasped for air, coughing and sputtering.
But there was no respite to be found. He lifted you up and pushed you toward the table, bending you over it, and pressing the thick head of his cock against your entrance. You tensed, knowing he would stretch you out so deeply.
"Relax, baby," he breathed in your ear, one hand massaging your sensitive clit. "I know it will be tight, but you can take me. I'll make it fit, yeah?"
Trusting his words, you tried to relax as he pushed forward, slowly working his cock into your hole. The stretch was incredible, bordering on painful as he inched deeper and deeper inside you. But the combined stimulation of his fingers on your clit and the fullness of his cock made you feel so incredibly full and complete.
Finally seated fully inside you, he paused, giving you a moment to adjust to his size. He felt so big no matter how many times he had fucked you. Then he started to move, withdrawing almost completely before slamming back in. You cried out at the sudden penetration, back arching as he set a hard, fast pace.
The table shook and creaked beneath you as he pounded into your willing body, grunting and groaning with the force of his thrusts. The slight pain quickly gave way to intense pleasure as your walls stretched and adjusted around his girth, each intense stroke hitting that deep spot inside you.
"That’s it, take it," he groaned, angling his hips to hit that spot over and over. "This is what brats like you need, hm? To be used and thoroughly fucked into your place."
His words pushed you over the edge, your orgasm crashing through you like a tidal wave. Your inner muscles clamped down around him like a vice as you came harder than you ever had before, wave after wave of ecstasy rolling through you.
He followed seconds later, burying himself deep as he exploded inside you. You felt the heat of his cum flooding you, marking you as his in the most primal way possible.
You stayed locked together for long moments afterwards, both breathing hard as you came down from your highs. Finally, he pulled out and helped you stand on wobbly, fucked out legs.
"Lesson learned?" he asked softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face with a soft smile on his.
You could only nod, still trying to catch your breath. His smile widened then, looking satisfied and smug.
"Good girl," he praised, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. "Now, go wait in the bathroom while I order some food. I’ll be there to clean you up in a few minutes, okay?”
You nodded again, smiling gently at him.
As you headed for the bathroom, you couldn't help but smirk to yourself. You may have started the day as a brat, but you were ending it thoroughly conquered and owned.
Warnings: smut, unprotected sex (i better not catch you doing this), rough sex, dirty talk, dom!san, san has a very dirty mouth, he's slightly a criminal (at the end if you squint), slight manhandling, fingering, pet names (princess, baby, etc.), he's lowkey a tease, kissing, praise, biting, breeding kink, creampie, claiming, overstim, implied multiple rounds, lmk if i missed anything
A/N: First Ateez fic!!! This was written as a request from my beta @midnighthazee, so thank her. I plan on writing for all of the members in the future (very excited i have so many ideas), but I need to catch up on some other writing, so we'll see how that goes. Enjoy! :))
⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅-`✮´-⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅
You gripped the edge of the bed, knuckles white as your breath quickened. San’s hands, rough and commanding, mapped every inch of your skin with a slow, deliberate hunger.
You gasped when he found that sensitive spot along your hip, his mouth hot and unrelenting as he marked a trail up your ribs. The room was warm around you, your senses narrowing until all you could feel was his body heat against you.
He pinned your wrists above your head with one hand, the other sliding between your thighs. You arched into his touch, feeling desperate, a raw need pulsing through your veins.
His voice was low and soft, and sent a shiver down your spine. “Is this what you want?” The question was a tease. He knew exactly what you wanted.
You nodded, whining from his teasing, and he smiled. Two of his fingers pushed into you, and he moved them slowly, making sure to draw out the pleasure and stretch you out nicely.
“Look at me.” He said assertively, and your eyes snapped open. You hadn’t even realised you closed them, his fingers already being too much.
San’s gaze pinned you down as surely as his grip on your wrists, his eyes dark and hungry in the low glow of the room. You whimpered, grinding helpless into his hand, your thighs straining against his forearm as he fucked his fingers deeper, then curled them just right, just there–
He pulled them out.
“Not yet, baby,” he said, biting his lip and running his hands up and down your sides.
San let go of your wrists but you knew to keep them there. He loved the way you shuddered, lips parted in a desperate moan, the needy arch of your body so open for him.
“Please, San, please I need you to touch me,”
“I’m already touching you, Princess.”
His words made your stomach flip, the familiar name sending a wave of arousal through you. San watched your reaction with a little smirk, his thumb stroking your inner thigh, and extremely close to where you needed his cock.
You nearly sobbed with need, your hips rolling up, seeking friction, desperate to feel more of him.
He hummed, pleased by your helplessness, and let you squirm for a minute. “You’re so greedy for me,” he said quietly, his heavy-lidded eyes drinking in every inch of you spread out and begging under him. His fingers traced lazy circles over your skin, coaxing goosebumps to rise wherever he touched.
Then, finally, his hand drifted lower, knuckles brushing your swollen clit, teasing but not quite giving in.
You choked out his name, voice trembling, and he rewarded you with a gentle rub, slow and teasing, as if he had all the time in the world to drive you insane.
His other hand splayed across your ribs, pinning you in place, grounding you in the heat of his body. You writhed under him, wrists still obediently pressed into the mattress above your head, every muscle straining towards his touch.
“That’s it,” he whispered, mouth hovering close to your ear. “You’re so wet for me.”
You moaned and lifted your hips up, trying to get him to do something. Anything. He chuckled at your eagerness and finally took pity on you.
“You need my cock so bad, don’t you?”
You nodded, swallowing, your throat tight with anticipation. His body hovered over you, heat radiating off of him, the weight of his gaze making you clench around nothing.
“Use your words.”
“Yes, yes, please, yes,” you begged.
San pressed the head of his cock against you, and you whimpered, your hips immediately rising to meet his.
“No, no. Say it,” he whispered, his voice rough, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Tell me what you want.”
“I want you to fuck me,” you gasped, barely recognizing your own voice, “I want your cock, please, San, please–”
He groaned, pushing inside you slowly. The stretch made you cry out, your back arching off the bed as you clenched around him. Greedy and tight. His hands slid beneath your thighs, pinning you open, holding you right where he wanted you.
“That’s my girl,” he growled, thrusting deeper, filling you all the way. You felt every inch of him, thick and perfect, dragging against your walls as he started to move. Each slow and deliberate thrust sent sparks through your body, pleasure building deep and hot, your fingers curling into the sheets.
San’s hands kept you open, his pace unhurried – but sharp, savoring every shaky gasp he wrung from your lips. He leaned down, kissing you hard, teeth catching on your bottom lip, his tongue demanding, swallowing down every noise you made. Your body trembled with the force of his thrusts, each one a slow, punishing drag that made your vision blur with need.
You whimpered into his mouth, desperate, your legs shaking around his waist as he kept you pinned, open, and unable to move or think or breathe anything except for him. He rocked into you deeper, each push stealing all the air from your lungs.
His cock filled you perfectly, stretching you and making your ache and burn and crave more. His hands squeezed your thighs so hard you were sure there’d be bruises in the shape of his fingers tomorrow. He held you steady while he fucked you right into the mattress.
“Good girl,” he murmured, hovering over you, his voice all rough and dark. His hips rolled harder, a little faster, every stroke catching in just the right way. He was nudging the spot inside you that made your knuckles turn white and your hips jerk up, desperate for more.
You sobbed his name, high and pleading, and he groaned, his mouth moving down your neck. He sucked a bruise onto your throat, the mark joining the others already there from earlier in the night.
“You take me so well,” he whispered, and you could feel his breath against your skin. “So fucking needy for my cock, princess.”
You tightened around him and San’s eyes fluttered closed, his breath catching on a ragged moan. You clenched, greedy for every inch, and he rewarded you with a rough snap of his hips that made your vision blur.
You cried out, voice hoarse with your wrists still pinned obediently above your head. He fucked you harder, relentless now, every thrust sharp and deep, grinding right up against that sweet spot inside you until you saw stars.
“San, please, please, don’t stop,” you begged, all sense stripped down to this, this frantic heat, the raw stretch and drag of his cock splitting you open so perfectly. He leaned over you, caging you in with his arms, and bit down on your shoulder, leaving a mark that stung and throbbed in time with his pounding.
“You want it so bad, princess, you wanna get bred so fucking full, don’t you?” His words punched the air from your lungs; you nodded frantically, tears pricking the corners of your eyes from how good it felt.
San groaned, rocking into you, grinding his hips down so you could feel the thick press of him against your clit with every stroke. He was feral now, all that cutesy patience gone and replaced by pure hunger.
He was rutting into you like he needed to claim you, over and over. Each thrust was sharper, rougher, grinding your hips into the mattress until you ached everywhere, until you were gasping and crying out with every flex of his cock inside you.
San pinned your thighs further apart, unforgiving in his grip on you. His hands pressed into your skin so much you were sure you were littered in bruises from them. You whimpered at the slight ache of the forming bruises, but he fucked you through it, every moment making your pussy clamp down on him, greedy and desperate.
“You want me to breed you?” he growled, voice ragged and fucked-out. “Want me to fill you up, princess? Make you mine?”
“Yes,” you sobbed, the word torn out of you, your back arching off the bed. “Please, San, I want it – I want all of it, please, I want your cum inside me, I want you so fucking bad, please.”
He shuddered, hips stuttering then pounded you harder.
The bedframe rattled under the force of him. San’s cock drove into you, thick and relentless, and all you could do was cling to the sheets and take it. He fucked you like he was wild for it, like he needed you to remember how he felt inside you for days after.
Each thrust sent sparks through your body, the pleasure sharp, almost too much, but you wanted more – you wanted everything.
“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groaned, voice breaking as he bottomed out with every ruthless snap of his hips. Sweat dripped from his temple, landing on your chest, and his teeth grazed your neck, biting down hard enough to sting, to mark you.
Your body arched up, pushing your chest against him, needing every inch, every touch, every bruise.
His hands slid up, fingers digging into your waist, dragging you down onto his cock, making you take every inch. You sobbed his name, shameless, your pussy clenching around him, milking him. The burn and stretch built and built until you thought you’d break apart on it.
He bent lower, mouth hot against your ear. “You want my cum? You wanna get filled up, pretty girl? Gonna give you my kids.”
You whimpered, your eyes squeezed shut and nodding.
You didn’t even have words left, just the desperate, broken sounds that poured out of you as San’s cock drilled into you. He cradled your face in one of his hands, tilting your chin to force your eyes open. “Look at me, baby. Wanna see your face when I breed you.”
He slammed into you, his grip bruising as he ground down, fucking you right through the overwhelming pressure building in your core. Every thrust made you see white, your body taut and trembling beneath him.
“That’s it,” he grunted, the rhythm of his hips utterly merciless now. “So fuckin tight, squeezing me.” San was on the verge of finishing, you could tell by how vocal he was getting. “Gonna make me cum if you keep doing that, princess.”
You couldn’t even beg anymore – all you could do was cling to the mattress as he took you, sharp and needy. San’s eyes bored into yours and his mouth twisted in that cocky little smirk. He kissed you then, all teeth and tongue, swallowing your needy noises as he fucked you open.
You felt his cock pulse deep inside, the thick swell of him dragging hard against your walls, and knew he was close. He dropped his hand between your bodies, thumb rough and perfect on your clit.
He circled it, firm and relentless, sending shockwaves straight through your core. You couldn’t hold back – the sound that ripped from you was raw as it tore out of your lungs.
He fucked you like an animal, his hips snapping against yours, thumb grinding tight circles until you shattered for him.
You came with a sob, body seizing up so hard you thought you might snap the headboard from the force of your climax.
San groaned, guttural and hoarse, feeling you milk his cock, the way you clenched and fluttered around him as you lost yourself. He barely managed to keep himself upright, dropping his forehead to yours, sweaty and painting, his eyes wild and locked on your face.
“That’s it, fuck, just like that, squeeze me, baby,” he murmured, and you did – you couldn’t help it, gripping his cock so tight it nearly hurt, writhing under him as the pleasure crashed through you, over and over.
His thumb never let up, and you gasped, your hips jerking, every nerve ending lit up with blinding need. He swore under his breath, barely coherent, rutting into you with jerky, uneven thrusts as his cock twitched inside you.
There was a wild and rough sound in his throat as pressed in, grinding even deeper. The sudden, hot rush of his release spilled inside you, filling you up, thick and overwhelming. You cried out, the sensation so intense it blurred out everything but the hard, desperate pulses of his cock and the flood of warmth inside you.
You shook, legs tight around his waist, clinging and desperate, the aftershocks hitting you again and again as his cock throbbed and dragged through your oversensitive walls. The slick, messy drag made you whimper, but he didn’t stop. He shivered above you, sweat cooling on his skin, mouth hot and open against throat as he bit down hard, marking you again.
He finally stilled, buried to the hilt, and you could feel the thick, aching fullness of him as you fluttered around him, still greedy. His body was heavy over you, pinning you in place, cock still deep and heavy inside you.
His breath was ragged as he calmed down, hands rubbing over your wrists comfortingly.
He kissed along your jaw, lazy and slow, his lips damp from sweat and your skin. You could feel the aftershocks still twitched in you, his cock still buried inside and keeping all of him plugged deep where you ached for it. He groaned like even now, your pussy was milking the last little bit from him. You felt him harden a little, which made your insides flutter.
San nuzzled your cheek with his voice sweet and soft again. “You did so well for me, princess. So fuckin pretty letting me fill you up.” He brushed your hair off your sweaty forehead, placing a gentle kiss there, but his hips lazily rocked, grinding his cock slow and heavy inside you.
“Wanna go again?” He asked.
__________________________
San didn’t raise his voice. He never had to.
The room went quiet as he walked in – conversations stopping, bodies straightening, and everyone’s attention on him.
He adjusted his cufflinks, a gift from his wife and a significant part of his outfit.
“Let’s start,” he said.
The large screen at the opposite end of the table lit up.
He wasn’t listening. He was currently looking at a photo you had sent him as soon as he sat down. He could feel himself harden in his pants – the sight of you in nothing but your ring in the mirror turning him on.
You were such a fucking tease.
He sent you a quick response of ‘Just wait until I get home, princess.’, and looked up at the analyst, interrupting him.
—————————
This might be continued in the future but for now what he does when he comes home is up to you. ☺️
Synopsis: You know better than to use your own money when you have Jeongin's to spend. He teaches you a lesson about it.
WC: 4.5k
Warnings: smut, unprotected sex (no), profanity, praise, condescending jeongin, office sex, sugar daddy dynamics, clothed sex, wet and messy (slightly), kissing, marking, biting, creampie, implied bruises, fingering, slight overstimulation, very, very mild aftercare, slight slander of the color orange, breeding, jeongin has a big dick, pet names, lmk if i missed anything
A/N: This was supposed to come out around Christmas...as you can see, that didn't work out. But it's here now! I wrote most of it A WHILE ago, but I just had to find the motivation to finish it up, so here we are. Thank you, @midnighthazee, for beta reading. Enjoy :))
SKZ Masterlist
⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅-`✮´-⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅
You couldn’t feel your face the second you stepped out of your driver's car and into the mid-December assault of the marquette galleria’s parking lot. The driver, Jay, closed the door behind you and walked you to the entrance door, opening it for you.
Every pillar surrounding the entrance of the mall was decorated in gold garland and peppermint striped bows, and you were visibly more content in the warmth of the luxurious mall. The music system was already broadcasting “Santa Baby” at a respectable volume, and somewhere near the escalators, a gingerbread booth was pumping the scent into the spacious mall.
While there were a few kids, most of the people here were adults with too much money to spend and too much time on their hands. That probably describes you pretty well right now.
Jeongin had texted you a list of gifts that you mentioned you wanted to buy– typed, numbered, punctuated, and in perfect organization. He had given you his card and said to buy a few gifts and whatever else you wanted to buy.
First stop: Valentino to get a small gift for your best friend.
You navigated the small crowd of people in the mall – it was busy today – and made sure Jay kept close to you so that you didn’t lose each other.
Valentino didn’t have many people in it at the moment, which was good for you because you could shop in peace without hearing the complaining of bored rich people. A saleswoman came up to you with a bright smile.
“How can I help you today?” she asked, and you smiled just as brightly back to her and responded.
“I’m just looking for the Garavani Pearl Earrings? Preferably the ones with the blue crystals.”
“Of course! Follow me.”
She led you over to one of the display cases, only having three pairs of earrings in it, and taking out the earrings.
“These ones?” she asked, presenting them to you.
“Yes. How much would they be?” You asked her. They looked more expensive in person.
“This pair is 950.”
You nodded and she brought you to the counter to have you pay. You gave her Jeongin’s card and walked out of the store after you finished the transaction. Jay offered to carry the small bag it was in and you handed it to him.
You lingered at the threshold of the store trying to text Jeongin a photo. He didn’t respond. You figured he was most likely in a meeting.
You checked the list again:
2. Sister – clothes, nothing orange.
3. Mother – locket, gold.
4. Jeongin’s mom – leather handbag, something spacious but not too big.
You scrolled your thumb down the list, lips pursing as you maneuvered back into the mall’s slow-moving current. The warm air was stifling after being in the mall for more than 20 minutes.
Jay adjusted his pace to match yours, Valentino bag swinging lightly from his arm. You caught the sight of your reflection in the polished glass of a jewelry shop and gave yourself a quick once-over: presentable, and almost festive.
The next stop was the women’s section of an upscale boutique that already looked disappointing. You passed a row of mannequins draped in sequined dresses and tailored jackets. Your sister despised orange. It looked like a freaking pumpkin patch in this store. Guess you’ll be moving on.
You drifted into a store that looked promising, guided by instinct and the memory of your sister’s style. The sales associate approached, but you waved her off with a polite smile and started scanning the racks yourself. There was a cashmere sweater in a gentle blue, cropped and flowy.
There were rows of silk scarves in floral patterns. You held up a navy pleated skirt and eyed it critically. Maybe. Maybe not.
Your phone buzzed, but it was just a spam notification. Jeongin, predictably, was silent. You let the phone drop back into your pocket, thumb lingering on the cool edge for a moment longer, as if you might miss Jeongin’s text. He didn’t, of course. He never did during meetings.
You tucked the blue sweater over your arm, glancing around at the tidy rows of winter pastels and neutrals. No orange in sight, thank God.
You debated for a moment, then snatched a pleated white skirt to go with the cashmere. A classic and safe choice. Extra bonus: it’s not orange.
At checkout, the sales associate folded the pieces in crisp tissue, their practiced hands, moving with efficient grace, and slid the glossy bag across the counter. You thanked her, took the handles, and handed the bag to Jay with a light smile.
The mall was more crowded now. People milled in slow, heavy clusters, weighed down by puffy coats and bags, some trailing expensive perfume, others just trailing the cold air from outside.
You steered through them, ignoring the repeated chorus of holiday pop and the scent of cinnamon wafting from a cart near the escalators.
You checked your list again, fingers hovering over the next item. Gold locket for your mom. As you walked, your gaze drifted past a jewelry store window glittering with gold. The displays shimmered, catching the light and reflecting it across the shiny white floors. You paused at the entrance, letting the warmth and lights draw you in.
Inside, glass cases lined the walls. Diamonds peeked from their velvet backgrounds, and the gold was so shiny it could’ve been blinding if the sun hit it just right. You decided this was the perfect place to find your mother’s locket.
Jay kept to your left, unobtrusive with the shopping bags on his arm multiplying. You drifted toward the cases, scanning for lockets. The saleswoman, older with an amazing sense of style, gestured toward a display, not even asking what you were there for.
Three gold lockets, all classic. One shaped like a heart with a delicate engraving curling around the edge. Another was oval, mirror-polished, and looked very vintage. The last, a round locket with a tiny star etched at the center. You weighed them in your hand after she took them out of the display glass for you.
The round one felt like the best option. A little different from the standard lockets, but it felt right.
“I’ll take this one,” you said, voice low. The saleswoman nodded, gloved fingers handling the locket with care. You watched her tuck it into its designated velvet lined box, and wrap it in two layers of red tissue, then settle it into a gift bag that shimmered gold and white.
A small pair of aquamarine diamond studded earrings caught your attention and you asked for those to be packed up as well before paying.
You exchanged a smile as she told you your total and ran Jeongin’s card again, a smooth practiced motion, and took the little bag from her, the weight of the locket oddly satisfying in your hand. Jay’s arm was ready, and you slid the bag into his growing collection.
Back in the main corridor, every surface glowed with reflected holiday lights, and your boots tapped on the buffed tiles as you navigated through the crowd. You checked the last line of Jeongin's list with a sort of anticipatory relief that this trip was almost over: his mother, a handbag, nothing enormous but with room to spare.
It wasn’t that you didn’t like shopping for people, especially for Christmas, but the air was starting to get stuffy with all of the people pouring into the mall. And you’ve had your fair share of stuck up people today already.
This mall had at least two or three boutiques with the right sort of bags, and you let yourself be pulled toward the one that looked the least intimidating. The displays inside were comfortable but not overwhelming, and the shelves were lined with leather in soft taupes, cool greys and deep winter green.
You remembered what Jeongin’s mother liked – nothing flashy, nothing too trendy, but something you’d call timeless. The third bag you touched was perfect. It was structured with pebbled black leather, gold hardware, spacious interior, but still elegant. You tried it on your own arm, checking the mirror with a little nod.
That was easy.
The sales associate was polite and quick in your transaction and before you knew it you were out of the store.
The immediate release of tension in your shoulders as you mentally checked off the last item on your list was almost euphoric. Jay fell in quietly beside you, arms now lined with glossy ribboned bags.
Your phone buzzed again. Reflexively, you checked the screen. Still nothing from Jeongin. A tiny, useless twinge. You slipped it away and kept moving. It was even more crowded than before, and you had to ask yourself why every single person in the country was at the mall right now.
You didn’t know what compelled you to slow near the glass railings that circled the second floor as you were headed towards the nearest exit, but you found yourself stopping. The view from the second floor was full of light and motion.
Jay stood silent beside you, attentive but not too much in your space. He could probably tell you were on the verge of being overstimulated – this information stopping him from his usual conversation with you.
He waited, arms still full with shopping bags as you leaned against the glass. Maybe you lingered because you were suddenly in no rush. Maybe there was comfort in watching the passing of strangers, all of them searching for something. Or maybe you were waiting for Jeongin’s name to finally light up your phone, just once, just to say he’d seen your photo, or he'd noticed you finished the list.
He didn’t, of course.
You rubbed your thumb over the edge of your phone.
It was a little pathetic, how much you wanted Jeongin to notice. You felt unnecessarily needy for no reason, but you shook it off, pushed yourself upright, and decided that if you were going to wait for him, you might as well make the best of it.
Jeongin’s card was warm in your wallet, but you’d brought your own today, tucked precisely where he told you not to use it. He was so annoyingly generous, always insisting you never spend a cent unless it was his. But you wanted something just yours.
You steered yourself toward a little perfume boutique – a favorite of yours. The glass bottles gleamed under the soft lights of the boutique. You chose the small one, dainty and expensive, slipped it into your palm, and paid with your own card.
He probably wouldn’t even care, you told yourself. If he did, he’d forgive you. It was just a tiny thing.
You slipped the bag with the perfume into the plethora of shopping bags in Jay’s hands. He guided you to the car, and the heat in the backseat was a relief after the bright, overstimulated noise of the mall. Your bags rustled as you settled in, and soon the city blurred by in streaks of light and cold air.
When you reached the house, Jay swept the bags into the foyer and you shed your coat, placing it in the closet. You barely had a second to breathe before Jay quietly nodded you in the direction of Jeongin’s office.
The door was open. He was already waiting.
His eyes flicked up from a tablet the instant you stepped in. “How was shopping today, baby?”
“It was good. I got all the things on my list.” you said quietly, walking over to sit on the leather couch on the left side of the room. “You didn’t see my texts?”
“I’m sorry, my love. I was in a meeting all morning and I just ended the call.” he said, apologetically, but there was something in his eyes that you couldn’t place.
You stood up and walked toward him slowly, stopping right in front of him and standing in between his legs as he turned in his chair toward you.
He didn’t really bother hiding the heat in his gaze as he looked up at you. The air thickened with tension, but you couldn’t tell why.
“You know…I noticed you used your own card, baby.” His tone was soft, but there was an edge to it. “Want to tell me why you thought that was necessary?”
Your cheeks burned. You met his eyes and reminded yourself of what you said before; he probably won’t even care; he’ll forgive you.
“How did you know?”
He smiled. It was slow and almost feral looking, and he placed his hands on your wait, pulling you down onto his lap. You went easily and placed your hands on his shoulders.
His grip got tighter as he pulled you in closer to him. “Because I always know, princess. And there’s no universe where you spend your own money while you’re mine, you understand? That’s not how this works.”
You opened your mouth, but he was already leaning in, voice dropping. “I’m here to take care of you. That means you don’t use your card for anything. You want something, you use mine. Always.”
His hand brushed your jaw, thumb tilting your chin gently. “Or do I need to show you how things work in this house? Hm?” He asked condescendingly, his voice low and sending shudders through your body. “Should I remind you how much I like spoiling my girl?”
You swallowed, heat gathering in your stomach as he gripped your chin harder. “Say it, baby.”
You whispered, “I’ll use your card.”
His smile grew, a deep, satisfied curl that made your breath catch in your throat. His thumb swept over your lower lip, coaxing it open, and his other hand anchored you tighter to his lap, as if to remind you exactly where you belonged.
“That’s my good girl,” he murmured, lips ghosting close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath. “Don’t make me repeat myself again, yeah?”
You nodded your head, a small motion, and your pulse fluttered in your throat. You could feel the intensity rolling off him, possessive and adoring all at once. And it made you want to melt into him. His hands slid down, palms flattening against your hips, guiding you until you could feel how much he wanted you.
His mouth caught yours in a deep claiming kiss that made your whole body get hot. You couldn’t focus as his hands guided your hips to roll deeply into his. He pushed his way between your lips, tasting you, teasing you, and making you forget about the world outside his office.
When he broke away, his lips were wet and his gaze was even darker. His hand trailed up your thigh, fingers pressing in slow, deliberate circles where your skirt had ridden up.
“I like it when you listen,” he said. His lips trailed to your neck, marking you and making you let out soft pants. He pulled back and placed a quick on your lips. “But I like it even more when you remember you belong to me, baby.”
You should have known you liked it so much, the way Jeongin made you feel owned. It was embarrassing, almost, how quickly you melted into him.
He cupped the back of your thigh and hauled you closer, grinding you down into him as his mouth hovered just over yours. You could smell his cologne, and it made your knees weak, sharp and expensive and so utterly him.
“Want you to remember it every time you even think about swiping your card,” he murmured, his words low and heavy and hot against your lips. His hands moved under your skirt, brushing close to the hem of your panties, and you shivered in anticipation. Let me remind you properly, sweetheart.”
You whimpered, involuntarily, and he grinned against your neck, biting down just hard enough to leave and ache before soothing it with his tongue. Your hands fisted in his shirt, desperate for leverage, for contact, for anything that might ground you in the rising heat of his touch.
Jeongin's hands were everywhere, greedy but unhurried. He bunched your skirt at your waist, leaving you bare in his lap, and the office felt so incredibly hot with the way he touched you, calm but so possessive.
Every feather like skim of his knuckles down your thigh, every inch he exposed, made you dizzy with want. You could feel the heat of him through the fabric of your panties, his fingers tracing the soft edge, not quite touching where you ached for him, but close enough to make you strain toward his hands.
Something about the way he held you in that moment, skirt rucked high on your waist, legs spread over his lap, fueled the thrill of being wanted – of being owned.
He tongues at your jaw, teeth catching on your skin, and you whimpered again, hips rocking against his thigh. The friction was immediate and perfect, but not nearly enough. Not in the way you needed it.
“Look at you,” Jeongin rasped, voice rough in your ear, “all desperate over some kissing.” His palm pressed flat against your lower back, arching you into him until you were grinding shamelessly and chasing every last ounce of friction.
He loved the way you responded to him, the way you lost yourself in the smallest touch. His fingers finally slipped beneath your panties, skimming over the slick heat between your legs, and you gasped, the sound muffled against his shoulder.
Jeongin’s breath shuddered, his grip on his own desperation and control slipping away.
His fingers worked you open slowly and knowingly, and the heat between your legs only spiked higher with every stroke. You exhaled into his shirt, dizzy, and your heart was thumping in your ears.
He loved the way you responded to him, loved how wet you already were for him, and his breath hitched as he dragged his thumb in a gentle pressure right over your clit.
“Always so wet for me,” he groaned, his fingers curling inside you, the heel of his palm pressing in just the way he knew you liked. “You like it when I take care of you, don’t you? When I spoil you like this?”
You nodded, barely able to form words, every thought burned away by the pleasure blooming low in your belly. You tightened around his fingers, and he growled softly, possessive, rolling his hips under you so you could feel just how hard he was for you.
“Want to hear you say it,” he whispered, his voice thick, and his fingers working over your clit in insistent circles. The pleasure was a hot, heavy ache and winding tighter with every motion.
Your head fell back, lips parted, and you exhaled a shaky, desperate sound.
“I love it,” you breathed, barely more than a whisper. “I love it when you take care of me, Jeongin. Only want you to spoil me.”
He cursed softly, praise spilling from his lips as he plunged his fingers deeper, the wet sounds of your arousal filling the air. He filled you so perfectly, thumb never leaving your clit, forcing you higher and higher, grinding you down against his hand and his cock straining under you.
“That’s right, baby. That’s all you need to do. Let me make you feel good,” he murmured, hot against your ear, his tone dark and reverent. “Don’t want you thinking about anything else. Just want your pretty head empty for me.”
You whimpered, hands fisting into his shirt, hips jerking helplessly as he worked you faster, harder.
You could feel yourself unraveling in his lap, every muscle tight and trembling, your whole body burning for him. He wanted you ruined and needy. Completely his.
His mouth found yours again, hungry and wanting to take everything you had to give. You gasped, nearly crying out as he circled your clit with precision.
His grip on you tightened, holding you steady. The way he watches you – it was almost predatory, his eyes dark and hungry, drinking in every whimper and shudder that went through your body.
“That’s it, pretty girl. Let me see you,” he rasped, words hot against your lips, and you did, nearly shaking a pliant in his lap, your toes curling as you chased the rhythm of his touch. The pleasure was everywhere and overwhelming, the pressure winding itself so tight in your stomach it ached.
You clung to him, nails digging into his shoulders, your entire body straining toward the edge.
His mouth found its way toward your jaw and down to your neck, where he kissed and sucked. You whined at the feeling before letting out a loud moan when you felt his teeth bite at your neck.
He licked over the mark and moved his mouth back to kiss you. His hands moved their way to his waistband, tugging his pants open just enough to get his dick out.
He was already extremely hard, flushed and thick in his hand, and you let out a needy sound at the sight of it so close and so obviously wanting you. He gripped your waist, grinding you down over him, and the friction caught perfectly on your clit, making you whimper and arch into his chest.
“Lift up for me, sweetheart,” Jeongin breathed, voice rough with want, and you did, rising over his lap with your skirt bunched high and your panties already soaked. He pulled them aside with a practiced touch, his knuckles dragging over your slick. His cock pressed against your entrance.
“Go on, baby. Take what you need,” he coaxed, guiding you down, and you sank onto him, inch by inch, the stretch making your vision blur for a second.
He filled you completely, so deep, and you clung to him, gasping as he bottomed out inside you. His mouth curled into a satisfied smirk against your jaw.
“Fuck, you feel good,” he groaned, his hands bracing your hips, holding you open for him as you started to move.
You rocked into him and Jeongin groaned lowly. “You gonna work for it?”
The heat of Jeongin’s hands on your hips steadied you as you sank all the way down, taking him deep until you were full, so full it felt like he was the only thing holding you together. The pressure made your breath hitch and you could feel every throb of him inside you, every flutter of your own pulse.
His eyes were fixed on you, dark and hungry, watching the way your body trembled as you settled into his lap. The way he filled you was overwhelming, but you loved it. You loved the way he stretched you open and made you feel owned and possessed.
His hands flexed at your waist, guiding your motions, but never fully taking control – not yet. He wanted you to work a little, to prove that you were his good girl.
“Look at you, baby,” Jeongin murmured, voice low and just a little rough, “taking me so well. My perfect girl.” He dragged a thumb across your cheek, the softness a stark contrast to the hardness inside you. “You like being full of me, don’t you?”
You nodded, dizzy with how good he felt inside you. You could barely let your words out. “Yes. So much.”
He grinned, that cocky, dangerous tilt of his lips that made you clench around him.
You could tell his restraint was breaking, his hips thrusting up into you every so often. You clenched around him again and whined, the movement causing him to groan and grab your hips tighter.
He kissed you again as he finally started thrusting up into you at a rough pace. You could barely keep up with his lips on yours and the constant moans and whines you were letting out didn’t help.
The friction between you was less and less as he pounded into you, your slick practically leaking out of you with how much there was. You were gonna cum soon. You could feel it building and building and the pressure was so intense you wanted to curl in on yourself.
You couldn’t hold it anymore, the relentless pace of his hips and his hands guiding you, the filthy, wet sounds of skin and need filling the air – it all had you right on the edge.
Your body tensed, thighs shaking where they braced against him, and still he didn’t let up. Every thrust hit that perfect, sensitive spot that made your vision blur and your mind go empty.
“Come on, pretty girl,” Jeongin growled, voice dark and thick against the shell of your ear. “Let go for me. Show me how good I make you feel.”
You whimpered, the sounds loud and constant, and your nails dug into his shoulders, desperate for something to anchor you. His cock filled you so perfectly, stretching you and holding you right there, and when his thumb pressed down against your clit again, you shook through your orgasm.
It was blinding and the pleasure slamming through you in waves left you clinging to him for dear life. Your walls pulsed around him, so tight, and he moaned as his hips stuttered up into you.
“Thats it,” Jeongin groaned out, his hips slamming into you harder as he got closer. You felt every punishing snap of his hips, the sound and heat of it echoing between your thighs and through his office.
Jeongin’s grip was so tight and greedy, pulling you down with every thrust, making sure his cock hit deep and perfect, right where still throbbing and fluttering from your orgasm.
You couldn’t breathe or think, not with the way he was fucking you, rough and hungry and overstimulating you. He held nothing back now, the force of his need slamming into you.
Your gasps felt so loud in your ears, the little sounds only making him go harder and faster.
He buried his face in your neck, his teeth scraping your skin again, and you felt his breath stutter. “Fuck, you feel so good,” he rasped, voice gone ragged and dark. “So fucking perfect for me. Mine.”
His hands splayed wide on your ass, keeping you open and driving his cock into you until you were stretched to your limit.
His hips thrusted into you two more times before he stilled, a guttural groan ripped from his throat, his fingers definitely leaving bruises on you as he twitched inside you and filled you up.
You collapsed against him, your whole body slack as you felt his cum leaking out of you. Jeongin held you there, both of you breathing hard. His hands gentled, smoothing over your thighs, up to your lower back, claiming you with his touch even as you melted in his.
He pressed a lingering kiss to your temple, his lips so soft and so intimate it made your heart. “That’s my girl,” he breathed, still a little rough and hoarse. “So fucking perfect for me.” There was pride in his words, and it made you shiver.
You clung to him, your cheek pressed to his shoulder. He smelled so good, expensive and familiar, even after fucking the thoughts out of you.
You could feel his heartbeat, fast and heavy under your palm. Neither of you moved for a long moment, wrapped up in each other, the only sounds being your breathing and the distant noise of the house settling.
