》 pairing: best man! wooyoung x bride to be! reader
》 wc: 5.7k
》 plot: all his life, wooyoung chased after san’s shadow. as much as he loved his best friend, he also resented him for what he had. the car. the promotion. the respect and adoration. the girl. could wooyoung’s desperate desire to be as loved risk losing his best friend?
》 content: san and wooyoung are childhood best friends, reader is engaged to san, jealousy, cheating, betrayal, smut with angst, finance bros woosan, choking, cum eating, toxic insecure woo but we understand him okay
》 playlist: make u mine- blood orchid, new magic wand- tyler the creator, are we still friends?- tyler the creator, house of balloons- the weekend, psychokiller- artemas, southbound- artemas
a/n: hi. i've been working on this since july and im honestly sick of looking at it lol. life kinda sucks right now so im distracting myself again. I want to thank everyone who left feedback on my last fic. I read every single one and I truly appreciate it. I miss a lot of you. im sorry i still don't want a big presence on here. even though im posting this now, i still condsider myself inactive. thank you in advance for reading.
Wooyoung woke up to a stiff neck. He always slept in strange positions, often resulting in some body pains, but this morning, he truly felt like he had been hit by a truck. Slowly, he arose, stirring over his messy sheets, rubbing his tired eyes awake. His head was pounding from all the drinking the night before. He reached his hand out to the nightstand, relieved to see a half-filled glass of water waiting for him to drink. His hand stopped briefly when he noticed the photo frame sitting right next to it. He frowned.
It was an old picture of him and San from their first day of high school. San’s eyes were scrunched up as he smiled, his arm hanging over Wooyoung loosely. Wooyoung had the same neutral look he always did, neither smiling nor frowning. He remembered that day. Their moms wanted a photo of them together to mark their big day. San was happy to comply, but Wooyoung was slightly annoyed. He hated taking pictures.
And there it was. That pinch of regret stirred in his stomach as pieces of last night came into focus. He started to wish he had left himself a bottle of whiskey instead.
San and Wooyoung had been best friends their entire lives. From elementary school classrooms to dorming at college together, they had been through it all. Everywhere San went, Wooyoung followed. They went to the same university, interned at the same firm, and received similar job offers upon graduation. On the outside, their friendship was admirable. But Wooyoung knew better. Something was rotting between them since the moment they met, something San was too naive to notice.
Wooyoung couldn’t help but feel competitive around San. He had spent his whole life trying to surpass him in every category. When San joined the high school track team, Wooyoung followed and won a silver medal. When San decided he was going to major in finance, Wooyoung double majored in finance and economics. When San got an interview with one of the Big 4 companies, Wooyoung made the recruiter cum on his fingers until she reconsidered his application. And when San got a brand new BMW, Wooyoung got an Audi (used, though he’d never admit that to anyone).
Wooyoung never wanted to move so far away for college. He never wanted to study finance, nor did he ever picture himself slaving away for a private equity firm. The only thing he’d truly wanted, always, since the very beginning, was whatever San had.
San, who was always so beautiful without trying, so effortlessly charming and kind, and so disarmingly naive, walked through life with this radiant innocence that made people fall in love with him. The elders loved him. Professors adored him. Strangers trusted him. Lovers never forgot him.
Wooyoung, of course, loved him. He would do anything for San. Even kill for him. But he also resented him. It was a cruel contradiction. How could so much love be wrapped up in bitterness?
San had everything without trying. And Wooyoung, despite walking beside him every step of the way, always felt like he was falling behind. He could mimic San’s path, but he could never mimic San’s light. He questioned himself a lot about this. Was there a prize at the end of all this? Or was he just hopelessly chasing San’s shadow, ignoring the fact that he would never be as loved as him?
As the two grew into their late 20s, this silent competition of his had dwindled. Wooyoung didn’t care anymore. He didn’t care that San got a promotion or that he got the nice waterfront apartment lease everyone had been bidding on for the past 6 months. It seemed that the childish need to outdo him simply faded away.
That was, until he met her.
Y/N. San’s sweet, soft-spoken girlfriend who soon became his fiancée. She was one of the trustee’s daughters, someone San had met at a company party. The young lady had a smile that could stop Wooyoung in his tracks and a laugh that made his heart flutter. He told himself it was just a harmless crush, something fleeting and insignificant. But if he was honest with himself, he wasn’t sure whether he wanted her… Or if he just wanted to win.
Win over San? Win something that truly mattered? Something he wasn’t supposed to have but always wanted?
He tried to ignore the feeling at first. He was good at playing the loyal friend. But she made it harder with every laugh, every look, every accidental brush of her hand against his. Sure, they would flirt a little, as a joke, and sometimes he’d brush his fingers over her thigh during group dinners, but Wooyoung was always flirty with everyone; it didn’t mean anything. It was all just harmless fun.
But then, his gaze began to linger longer on her than it should have. He’d stare at her glossy lips every time she talked about the wedding, wondering what flavor her lip balm would taste like on his lips. It got to the point where he’d think about her late at night, with his hand reaching down past his waistband, wishing it were her making him feel good.
He knew it wasn’t all in his head. Sure, there were moments, quiet, almost too quick to notice, when she looked at him the same way he looked at her. Lips parted like she was on the edge of a confession, eyes pleading like she wanted more than a small conversation, as if there was something trapped behind them, something she wanted to say but couldn’t. Something she chose, again and again, to swallow instead.
Wooyoung’s attraction to her had reached a breaking point. It wasn’t a small crush. It was an obsession. It was about power. About proving to himself that he could take what San had and make it his own. Why did San get to have her anyway? He already had the apartment, the shiny new car, and the promotion. What else could he possibly need? The more he looked at them together, with her arms linked with his, lips curling up in soft laughter at his lame jokes, the more it enraged him. It just wasn’t fair. The line between desire and resentment had blurred long ago, and he wasn’t sure how much more of this he could take.
It all came to a head last night, after too many drinks at a friend’s dinner party and too little self-control. The jealousy, the longing, it all bubbled up inside him, and before he knew it, he was in the venue’s supply closet with his hard cock stuffed deep inside the bride-to-be.
He felt terrible. Not because he betrayed his best friend’s trust, but more so because he didn’t feel bad about it. He could still feel her on him, her soft skin slapping against his, how her shaky moans made his cock twitch inside her, how she kissed him so deeply and passionately as he came. He had never felt something like that before. They just made sense together, and he knew she felt it too. She was perfect in every way, yet she didn’t belong to him.
Wooyoung grabbed his phone, checking his notifications for any sign of her. But there was nothing. He opened the messenger app and tapped her contact name, staring at a conversation they had three weeks ago that he couldn’t remember.
Should I say something? He wondered. What would I even say? Are you upset? Do you hate me? Did San find out? Can I see you again?
Just then, a message bubble lit up his screen.
sannie >.<: hey, you still coming over for the game later?
sannie >.<: or is your ass still hungover?
Wooyoung groaned, rolling onto his side.
Right. Tonight was the housewarming. San had turned it into a game night, something casual with beer, snacks, and background noise from the TV, but clearly it was an excuse to show off the apartment he’d spent months putting together piece by piece. The apartment he now shared with her.
His chest tightened. For a moment, he considered saying no. It was Sunday after all. He could blame the hangover or the long work week ahead. He started typing out an apology, promising to come over another time, and hovered his thumb over the send button.
Then it hit him.
She’ll be there.
The thought cut clean through the nausea and the dull ache behind his eyes. He imagined her on that couch, walking barefoot across the floor, laughing at something stupid San said, trying her best to act like nothing had happened the night before. His thumb hesitated. Then he deleted the message.
Wooyoung typed a new reply.
me: yeah, yeah. I’ll be there.
me: give me a few
He stared at the screen after hitting send, his pulse picking up.
Wooyoung arrived just as the sun was dipping low, the hallway outside San’s apartment already smelling faintly of beer and wings. He paused before knocking, adjusting his jacket and brushing out his hair with his fingers, preparing himself. For a second, he considered turning around. Maybe she’d find him shameless for showing up like this so soon after what happened between them. Maybe he is shameless.
Suddenly, the door swung open, interrupting his thoughts.
“Woo!” San grinned, already holding a drink. “You made it!”
“Hey!” Wooyoung said easily. From the corner of his eye, he noticed the ring camera installed next to the door. Shit, did he see him playing with his hair?
The apartment was warm and lived-in. Shoes by the door that weren’t San’s. A throw blanket was folded neatly over the couch. Framed photos of people leaning against the wall, some of which he didn’t recognize.
“Can I get you a drink?” San asked, already settling into his position as a good host. “There’s beer and soda.”
“I’m good with just water.”
San disappeared into the pantry. Wooyoung’s eyes caught her immediately. She stood near the kitchen island, pouring drinks, her hair loose, sleeves pushed up her arms. She looked like she belonged here, the missing piece to the apartment that made it whole and complete. When her eyes met his, she froze for half a second too long before resuming with the appetizers. Wooyoung frowned.
San returned to the living room, tossing a water bottle to Wooyoung. “Drinks are there, food’s on the counter, game starts in ten. Mingi and the rest should be here any minute.”
Wooyoung nodded, holding onto the bottle mostly to give his hands something to do. He stayed seated on the couch as San switched the channel. His eyes would drift to the side, curious to see if she was looking at him, but she stayed standing with her back to him, busying herself with snacks.
The TV filled the silence with noise. Loud commercial breaks, fake excitement from the sports commentator. None of them was really watching.
When Mingi, Jongho, and Seonghwa arrived, the apartment grew louder, which helped Wooyoung feel more at ease, like the attention could lay off him for a while. Jokes flew between the boys. Mingi complained about the team lineup. San resumed his role as host effortlessly, moving between rooms, opening bottles, and explaining where things were.
At some point, without anyone acknowledging it, she sat down, close enough that Wooyoung could feel the warmth of her leg burning through the sofa cushion. He so badly wanted to look over at her, see her red cheeks once more, but his eyes remained on the TV, nodding along as the boys talked over the commentator.
But he couldn’t help it. Eventually, anytime San leaned over to shout at the TV, Wooyoung’s head tilted beside him just to spare a glance at her. He noticed the way she tucked her feet under herself, how her nose whistled with each inhale, the way she laughed quietly at Mingi’s dumb commentary, how she never once dared to even look at him.
He leaned back, arm stretched along the back of the couch, careful not to touch her, but close enough that she’d notice. His head dipped towards her ear, voice low enough so only she could hear him.
“You always this tense during games?”
She stiffened slightly, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m fine.”
He leaned closer. “Relax. I’m not gonna bite. Not here, at least.”
For the first time that night, she shot him a look, a warning to stop before someone noticed how weird they were being. Wooyoung thought it was well worth it.
“Chips are running low,” Jongho pouted at the nearly empty bowl. “Got any more?”
Suddenly, she rose to her feet, as if she was waiting for an excuse to get away. “In the pantry, I’ll go grab some.”
“I’ll help, think we need more drinks too,” Wooyoung said instantly, following her lead.
The pantry was small; there was barely enough space for two people. Wooyoung nudged the door closed behind them, not all the way, but just enough to carve out a pocket of quiet. He waited. She didn’t look at him; instead, she focused on stacking bags of chips in her arms like they required full concentration.
“You can’t just ignore me,” he said softly.
She didn’t miss a beat. “I’m not ignoring you.”
He huffed a quiet laugh. “You didn’t even say hi. Hurt my feelings a little.”
She shrugged and resumed her task.
He grew impatient. “Come on, Y/N. Just talk to me.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
She kept shifting around him, navigating the narrow space with precision, always just out of reach, like he was lava she had to avoid touching. When she brushed past him again, he caught her shoulder.
“About last night—”
She slammed him back against the shelves, her hand flying up to cover his mouth.
“Don’t,” she whispered sharply. “Not here. Not in my house. My fiancé is right outside. Are you insane?”
Right on cue, San’s shout echoed from the living room as their team scored. Wooyoung wrapped his fingers around her wrist and eased her hand away. Her skin was warm and soft. The kind of touch that lodged itself under his ribs.
“I doubt they can hear us,” he murmured.
She exhaled, visibly forcing herself to calm down. “Last night…” Her voice lowered. “It shouldn’t have happened. Everyone kept asking me about the wedding, the cake, the venue, the dress, and I was overwhelmed. San is overwhelming. I was drunk. I was alone. I was scared.”
She stopped and looked at him.
“And you were there,” she said quietly. “You asked if I was okay. I don’t know why I pulled you into that closet.”
Her gaze dropped down to her wrist. She noticed his hand still holding hers and pulled away as if burned, rubbing her knuckles, stepping back.
“I’m marrying San,” she said firmly. “We don’t need to talk about last night ever again. It’s best to forget all about it. For our sake…For San.” She said, her voice shaking.
For a second, something bitter rose in Wooyoung’s chest. Being something she reached for in a moment of weakness, and then shoved away. It made him feel used. Like loving someone like him was something to be ashamed of. He didn’t know what he was thinking when he stepped into the pantry with her. Maybe he was infatuated with the idea that he could be wanted so badly, against all odds, but he realized now he was only a fool for letting himself chase this fantasy. She needed him to think straight, and he could see it now. Engaging with this further could hurt the two people he loved most in this world. But then again, he remembered her breath hitching. The way she clung to him. How she didn’t hesitate. There was something there, and she was too scared to admit it.
Her eyes lifted to his, pleading with him.
“Right?” she asked. “Nothing happened?”
Wooyoung swallowed. He had a hundred things he wanted to say. But looking at her, cornered, terrified of her own honesty, he knew saying any of them would shatter her.
He cleared his throat.
“Right,” he said quietly. “Nothing happened.”
The bar was loud. Music thumped through the floors, people cheered at some game playing on the TV, and San and their friends were already half-drunk, laughing about something stupid, but Wooyoung barely heard any of it. He nursed his whiskey at the edge of their table, pretending to be part of the celebration, nodding at the right moments, smiling when he thought he was supposed to.
San dropped into the seat beside him, grinning, cheeks flushed from the alcohol and the attention.
“Woo,” he slung an arm around his shoulder, “Two more days, man. Two days and I’m a married man.”
“Yeah,” Wooyoung forced a smile. “Crazy how fast it’s coming.”
San laughed, not noticing the way Wooyoung’s jaw clenched. “I’m honestly so excited to get it over with, you know? She’s been so stressed these past few days, and it’s been hard seeing her like that, worrying over every little thing. But it’ll all be worth it. You’ll see, she’s gonna look stunning. She had her dress custom-made.”
Wooyoung nodded stiffly. “Right.” He took another sip of his whiskey, letting it burn down his throat. It had been over a month since he last spoke to her. A month since she stopped answering his messages, stopped reacting, stopped even pretending he existed. Every time his phone buzzed, his chest tightened before dropping again. He hated that he still checked. Hated how badly he wanted even one word from her. And now, he had to play the cheerful, supportive Best Man, and act like everything was okay, like his entire world wasn’t falling apart.
San nudged him with his elbow. “You good? You haven’t talked much since you came.”
Wooyoung set his glass down. “Sorry, man. I’m just…” He thought for a moment about what to say that could ease his suspicions. Not that San was a suspicious person to begin with. “It’s just crazy, you know? We were little kids playing tag, and now I’m the best man at your wedding. Time just really flies. It’s a lot to take in.”
San smiled at him, soft and nostalgic. “Yeah, it’s wild…hey, you never really told me what you thought about her. So tell me. Is she best man approved?” He said with a wink.
Wooyoung wanted to gouge his own eyes out. “Yeah, she’s great. You’re really lucky,” He said through gritted teeth.
San beamed. “I really am.” Then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, he added, “And I really want this for you too, you know? One day, you’ll find someone. Someone who drives you crazy enough to marry them.” He chuckled. “Maybe we’ll even have kids at the same time. They can grow up together as we did. Wouldn’t that be nice?”
Something sharp twisted in Wooyoung’s chest. He felt heat crawl up his neck, embarrassment mixing with irritation. He hated the way San said it, so casual and hopeful, like Wooyoung was just…behind. Like he needed reassurance that love would happen to him eventually. Like it hadn’t already happened and been ripped away without explanation.
Did San think he hadn’t tried? That he was incapable of being loved? That this was some missing piece he just hadn’t figured out yet?
His fingers curled around his glass. He swallowed hard and chased the feeling down with another drink. “Yeah,” he muttered, nodding like a good sport. “Maybe.”
San didn’t notice the tension. He never did. Mingi called his name from across the bar, and Seonghwa was already dragging him toward the pool table. San waved back at Wooyoung, shouting something about beer pong as he disappeared into the crowd.
Wooyoung was alone again.
His phone vibrated in his pocket. His heart jumped before he could stop it. He pulled it out too quickly, thumb hovering over the screen, then his face fell. Another useless app notification. Nothing from her.
He opened their message thread anyway. The screen glowed back at him, painfully empty on one side. His texts stacked neatly, unanswered, like proof he didn’t want but kept rereading. He scrolled, even though he already knew how it would end.
San’s laughter rang out somewhere behind him. Wooyoung clenched his jaw.
He chugged the rest of his whiskey, the alcohol doing nothing to stop the irritation buzzing under his skin. Couldn’t she even send one message? Just one? Instead, he was here, listening to people talk about weddings and futures, about finding someone, as if it were that simple. Maybe it was easy for people like San. But he wasn’t San. God, why did he have to fall for someone who wasn’t his?
Before he could talk himself out of it, he stood up, grabbed his jacket, and pushed through the crowd toward the exit.
His thoughts were already racing. He didn’t know what he was going to say to her, or if she’d even open the door. He just knew he couldn’t sit there anymore, pretending he was fine. He needed to know if he was just a moment of weakness or something more.
He was going to see her tonight.
Wooyoung stood in front of San’s flat, swaying slightly, breath fogging up the hallway air. He didn’t remember the cab ride, or leaving the bar, or the last three blocks he must’ve walked.
His finger jabbed the buzzer again. And again, impatiently waiting for her to open the door. He knew she was home.
Finally, the door cracked open.
She appeared in the doorway, hair messy from being home all night, eyes widening the second she recognized him. She stepped out into the hall, checking both sides like she expected San to be behind him.
“Wooyoung?” Her voice was soft and startled, as if she had just woken up. “What are you doing here?”
He swallowed hard, staring at her like he’d been underwater for hours and just found air.
“Where’s San?”
“He’s still at the bar with the others,” Wooyoung murmured, eyes never straying from hers. He took a step closer, the hallway light flickering above them.
“You haven’t answered any of my texts,” he said.
She crossed her arms, trying to look composed. “Well, I’ve been busy. I’m getting married in two days.”
He nodded slowly, drunk but still focused. “Yeah, yeah, the wedding, I’ve heard…you don’t look busy right now.”
She didn’t respond. Wooyoung stepped closer again, enough so that she had to tilt her chin up to look at him.
“Wooyoung…” she warned quietly.
He leaned one hand against the doorframe beside her head, trapping her without touching her. His voice was low, rough from whiskey and need.
“I tried to forget,” he said. “I really did…But I can’t.”
“Wooyoung,” she whispered, “you shouldn’t be here.”
“Why do you keep lying to me?”
She raised a brow. “What?”
“What you said that day,” his voice slurred, “that you didn’t know why you pulled me into that closet. That’s not true. There was a reason you pulled me in there with you. Don’t act like you don’t feel it too. When we’re alone together…You trust me. You trust me more than him.”
Y/n took a step back. “You really can’t do this here.” She warned, but it didn’t faze him.
“You can marry him if that’s what you want. I’ll watch you do it if I have to.” His voice broke. “Just don’t...don’t stand here and lie to me. Don’t tell me you don’t want me…not when I’ve wanted you this much for so long.”
Her chest rose haphazardly as she stared up at him, dumbfounded. It pained her to say it, but he left her with no choice.
“Okay, fine! I admit…there was a time when I maybe looked at you as something more…right before San, and I got serious. But Wooyoung, this is crazy. You can’t just show up at my doorstep like this. I’m getting married, and there’s nothing you can do to change that!”
Wooyoung blinked, her confession hitting him like a heavy blow he wasn’t expecting.
“I don’t want to change anything, y/n,” he whispered.
Before she could react, he dropped to his knees in front of her.
“Wooyoung, get up!” she hissed, glancing nervously toward the stairwell.
He looked up at her with glossy, pleading eyes. “I’m not asking you to leave him. I’m not asking you to choose me. Just…” His voice cracked. “Just give me one chance to show you what this could feel like if you didn’t push it away.”
Wooyoung sat pathetically at her feet, with his deep, sunken eyes gazing up at her. It was strange to see him this way, so vulnerable, so destroyed; his usual confidence and cocky attitude evaporated. Slowly, he leaned forward, pressing his face against her crotch, the warmth of his breath seeping through the fabric of her sleep trousers.
“Wh-what are you doing?” Her voice quivered. She could feel the wrongness of it all. Despite the feeling, her feet remained planted where they were.
Wooyoung's tongue flicked out, teasingly tracing over the cotton material, and a low, needy whine escaped his lips. He fluttered his eyes up at her, a blend of desperation and raw desire painting his features. "Please," he murmured, voice trembling. "I need it... Need to taste you, your sweet cum on my tongue."
All Wooyoung could feel was warmth. Warmth from her lips, warmth from her bare skin pressed up against his, warmth from being inside her all night. Just as he’d tire out, her legs would tighten around his hips and pull him in closer, encouraging him to keep going until he reached his peak. Then she’d pull his face in and kiss him sloppily until he started thrusting into her again, hips moving more needy and desperate the next time than the last.
“Fuck, Wooyoung!” She gasped, his cock milking out yet another orgasm from her. She had lost count of how many times she’s came like this, sprawled out on her back over the kitchen island while Wooyoung’s cock massaged into her over and over again. “P-please, don’t stop!”
Wooyoung chuckled into her neck, pressing soft kisses to her jaw. “You like my cock that much, baby?”
She moaned a weak yes, eyes following Wooyoung as he straightened his back and lined himself up with her once again. He rubbed his reddened tip against her swollen, wet cunt, the sudden taps to her clit making her jolt. Her eyes pressed shut, and her head tilted back, a silent plea for more.
For the first time in a while, she wasn’t thinking about San anymore. Her world, which he had engulfed, the wedding, their family, and their reputation no longer mattered. She felt so good, too good, and all she cared about now was Wooyong’s long, hard dick fucking her dizzy.
“..please..please, harder this time,” she croaked, her voice hoarse from dehydration. “Wanna cum on your cock.” She took his hand off her waist and guided it up to her neck, and Wooyoung immediately grasped around it, adding just enough pressure to make her lightheaded.
Wooyoung grinned. He’d always thought about what she was like during sex, how she liked to be fucked, since their initial encounter had been brief, but he never expected this from her. This classy, sophisticated little corporate princess, who secretly liked getting choked while she got fucked on her kitchen island in her perfect little apartment. He always pictured her and San having boring, vanilla sex, something he was never really interested in. It seemed they both had the same preferences.
He pushed into her once more, snapping his hips hard, just as she requested. He watched her eyes roll back into her head, smirking when a moan caught in her throat, as he gripped her neck tighter.
“Look how good you take me, you’re so tight…I could have you like this every day, you know?” He said softly. Before she could react, his hand left her neck, and he dragged his fingers down between her breasts, over her stomach, to finally her wet center. His thumb toyed with her puffy clit, forcing her to arch her back.
“Woo…don’t stop…I’m so close.” She huffed, her breathing growing more erratic the more he touched her.
His thumb tugged her clit around in hard circles. He could feel her walls tighten around him, pulling him in more. “Cum, baby, I wanna feel you let go on me.”
Sweat clung to her forehead, and strands of hair stuck to her damp skin. Her lips were parted as she caught her breath, chest rising and falling unevenly. There was a flushed warmth to her face that made her look almost feverish, worn out in the most beautiful way.
Wooyoung watched her for a moment, the sight pulling a quiet smile from him.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured.
He leaned down and pressed a quick, soft kiss to her lips, but she didn’t let him pull away. Her hand slid behind his head, fingers curling into his hair as she drew him back in. This time, the kiss lingered, deepening slowly as if neither of them was ready to part.
They shifted together on top of the island, bumping lightly against its edge as they moved, laughing between kisses. Their hands roamed each other’s bodies, holding onto each other like they had all the time in the world. Wooyoung was so happy in this moment.
Eventually, Wooyoung broke the kiss, his lips drifting from her mouth to her jaw, then lower. He left a slow trail of warm kisses across her collarbone and down her chest, taking his time until he reached the curve of her hip, where he paused for a moment, lingering there as his hand traced gently along her side.
“Woo,” She called.
“I’m right here,” He spoke softly. “I want to taste you.”
She pulled herself upright, staring down longingly at him as he brushed his lips against her inner thigh. She combed her fingers through his blonde hair, breath hitching once she felt the warmth of his mouth. His tongue separated her folds, and he explored her soft center with a groan.
“You’re so sweet,” he cooed, lapping at her wet, silky juices. It felt like a fitting reward, finally getting to taste the fruits of his labor. “I could spend all day between your thighs like this, if you’d let me.” As he sucked on her clit, he let her hold onto his hand tightly, helping to ground her.
The way he spoke to her made her feel butterflies in her stomach. She wanted to say that she’d like that, but the way his tongue danced around her sensitive clit made her a babbling mess, and instead, all she could think about was cumming on his hot tongue.
Wooyoung loved the sound of her soft moans. They had always gone straight to his head, making everything else fade away. That was why he noticed the moment they stopped. The change was immediate, like someone had cut the sound from a speaker.
Her hand slipped out of his at the same time.
“Why’d you stop—”
He lifted his head, expecting to see her looking down at him with that same dazed expression she’d had moments ago, eyes half-lidded, lips parted. Instead, her entire body had gone rigid. Her gaze wasn’t on him anymore. It was fixed on something in front of her.
Slowly, Wooyoung followed the direction of her eyes. The moment he saw him, something deep in his stomach dropped.
San stood in the doorway.
For a second, Wooyoung didn’t even recognize him. San’s face, usually so open, so bright, looked…wrong. Twisted with something unfamiliar on him. It was a mix of terror, disgust, and disbelief. And underneath all of it, something far worse.
Disappointment.
Their eyes met. Wooyoung froze. His mind went completely blank, like someone had wiped every thought from his head. He couldn’t move nor speak. He could hardly breathe.
San’s eyes lingered on him, taking in the sight of his fiancée’s cum smeared all over his best friend's lips.
Wooyoung’s heart started pounding in his ears. He waited for the explosion. For San to storm across the room and drag him up by the collar and punch him, scream at him. To call him every name he deserved. But San didn’t move. He just stood there, staring at him. And somehow that was worse. The look in his eyes didn’t hold any real anger. It held hurt. The kind of hurt that ran too deep for shouting.
San’s gaze shifted slowly from Wooyoung to his fiancée. Then back at him again. Like he was trying to make sense of something that didn’t make sense at all. Like he was asking himself if this was real, if his best friend could really betray him like this.
Fifteen years of friendship. And this was the moment it ended. San looked at them one last time before turning around and walking back out the door.
The quiet that followed was deafening. Y/N scrambled to pull her clothes back on, hands shaking as she cursed under her breath. A moment later, she rushed out after him, the door slamming behind her.
Wooyoung didn’t move. He was still on his knees, staring at the empty doorway like his brain hadn’t caught up to what had just happened.
His entire world had just detonated in front of him. San’s face kept flashing through his mind. That expression. The one he had never seen before, never in fifteen years. Not through the fights, breakups, stupid drunken arguments, or any of the messes they’d gotten into growing up.
Wooyoung had seen San angry before. But never like this. And the worst part was knowing he had put that look on his face.
Memories of their friendship started crashing into him one after another. San waiting for him outside their school when they were kids. San dragging him out for late-night ramen in college. San laughing so hard at his dumb jokes that he could barely breathe. San patting him on the shoulder earlier that night, talking about their kids growing up together as they had.
He had shattered the only real, meaningful connection he had in this life. All over his frail ego.
Wooyoung dragged a hand down his face, his stomach twisting in knots.
》 plot: you're mad at your boyfriend, and he is willing to do anything to make it up to you.
》 content: older jongho (40s), reader in her mid 20s, divorcee jongho with emotional baggage (yikes), scared of commitment (oof girl get out of there), established couple, cunnilingus, clit play, cum play, penetration, lying cowgirl, jongho big bawlz agenda, reader gets called baby a lottt
》 playlist: yes baby- madison beer
a/n: I'm not back. just felt like writing something. I still don't want to have much of a presence on here. I appreciate your feedback in advance.
You stormed up the stairs with great difficulty; the kitten heels you were once so excited to wear tonight soon made you regret ever buying them in the first place. Your heart hammered against your chest, the cosmopolitans from earlier burning through your veins and throwing off your balance.
You slammed the bedroom door and collapsed onto the bed, chest still rising in ragged, hot breaths. If Jongho had any sense, he’d leave you here to fume and sleep on the couch for the night. You didn’t want to see his face, not after the stunt he pulled. The thought of sleeping alone in the big bed gave you brief comfort until you heard his steady footsteps climbing the stairs.
The door creaked open. He slipped in quietly, his eyes searching for yours, but you kept your gaze fixed on the floor. He lingered at the threshold before you and let out a slow sigh. You braced for the usual. His irritatingly calm lectures about how you were overreacting and being overly sensitive, how you’ve made a scene over nothing, and whatever bullshit he could spew to divert the issue back to you. But instead, he crossed the room and sank to his knees. You could feel his fingertips softly brushing against your ankle as he gently unbuckled the straps on your heels.
You kicked his hands off you before turning your body away from him. “I can do it myself. I don’t need your help.” You said, your voice sharp like knives.
He sighed again, finally growing tired of your attitude. “When are you going to stop acting like a child?”
Your head whipped around. “A child?!” you spat. “When are you going to start acting like a grown-ass man?”
Jongho huffed, running a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. “I’m not the one throwing a tantrum over semantics. Seriously, Y/N, you’ve been acting like a brat all night and embarrassing me in front of all my work friends.”
You rolled your eyes at the mention of them, those men who couldn’t keep their eyes off you, whispering and smirking about the younger woman on his arm. You already knew what they were thinking. A young, twenty-something woman getting involved with a wealthy man in his 40s? There was no way you were safe from rumors. “Oh, please. You were embarrassed by me the second we walked in.”
Jongho furrowed his brows. “What are you talking about?”
You sat up, arms crossed tightly over your chest. “You introduced me as your girlfriend. Do you know how humiliating that sounds?”
He blinked at you, genuine confusion marking his features. “Well, aren’t you my girlfriend?”
You could feel the heat rising to your ears, ready to explode. “We’ve been together four years, Jongho. We live together. You’ve met my parents. I’m your emergency contact. ‘Girlfriend’ sounds so juvenile, so temporary, like a fling. People hear that and think we’re not serious, and I hate it. After everything, don’t you think I deserve to be called something more…mature? Partner, significant other, fiancé—”
You stopped yourself, cheeks burning as you felt Jongho’s wide eyes on you. You quickly looked away, cursing yourself for bringing up the F word. You knew Jongho was married before you met him. The divorce was messy, and it had done its damage. He never said it out loud, but you could tell his views on marriage had changed. Any time the topic came up, he’d shy away from it.
“That’s what this is about?” He said, “You want to get married?”
Your throat tightened. You’d imagined it countless times: walking toward him in a white dress, hearing him call you his wife. But suddenly the fantasy felt too heavy to admit.
“I don’t know,” you muttered. “I just don’t want people thinking I’m some college kid screwing her professor. Don’t you want us to be married one day?”
He didn’t answer right away. Instead, his hand brushed your ankle again. You watched as he slipped the heels from your swollen feet, lining them neatly to the side. “Your feet are so red,” he murmured, frowning as he rubbed the sore skin.
You yanked your leg back, anger flaring again. “You always change the subject whenever we talk about this.”
His face tightened with guilt. He hated having this conversation. He loved you, of course, he did. You had brought him back to life. Picked him back up and gave him a new purpose. He was forever grateful to you for that. But for the time being, he thought he was done with married life. Jongho struggled with commitment. He didn’t want to admit it, but he felt he’d curse you both if he proposed to you. Why ruin a good thing, anyway? What difference would marriage bring? You were together now, and that was all that mattered. But of course, he couldn’t tell you that. However, he still wanted to be honest.
“Oh, Y/N,” he said softly, running a hand along your leg reassuringly. “I love you. You know I’m serious about us. I just…I need time. Ten years of marriage…it changes you. I don’t know if I can give you the answer you want right now. But if it’s about what I call you, partner works. I can do that.”
You remained quiet, unsatisfied with his response. Why was this so hard for him? Was marrying you really that terrifying? Did he have that little faith in what you two had built these past few years?
His hand squeezed gently at your thigh, pulling you from your thoughts. “Hey,” he said, voice low, almost pleading. “Please don’t be upset about this.”
When you didn’t respond, he leaned closer. Goosebumps prickled along your skin as his warm lips grazed your knee, then pressed another kiss, and another, each one drifting higher. You kept your gaze fixed on the ceiling, determined to ignore his gentle touches.
“My beloved…my darling…my muse…” he murmured between kisses, his mouth pausing at the soft skin of your inner thigh. Your chest rose in a shaky breath, but you forced yourself to stay composed, refusing to give in so easily, even as your core twitched at his touch.
Each word tugged at your restraint, pushing you closer to surrender. “Y-you’re not listening to me..” Your breathing got heavier, and despite your efforts to hide it, Jongho noticed.
Giving up, you looked down at him, and the sight made your chest ache. Even with the faint wrinkles around his eyes and the etched lines at the corner of his mouth, he still had this cheeky, boyish charm that never failed to drive you crazy.
“...jongho, please, I’m not in the-”
His other hand pressed against your thigh, coaxing it open as he gently spread you apart. He never looked down. His gaze stayed locked on yours as his fingers tugged your dress higher, the fabric pooling at your waist.
His head dipped, lips brushing the inside of your thigh with another lingering kiss, but his eyes never strayed. That steady stare made your pulse quicken more than the warmth of his mouth ever could.
“…my baby…my sweetheart…” he whispered against your soft skin. His lips curved into the faintest smile as he kissed you slowly again, and again. “Whatever you want,” he breathed, “I’ll call you whatever you want me to.”
He traced his finger over your clothed slit, stopping exactly where your nub waited for him. He moved them in agonizingly slow circles, forcing you to bite back a moan. You knew what he was doing. It was the classic Jongho move- touching you in ways he knew you liked, making you feel so good to the point that you forget you were ever mad at him. Each time, you tried your hardest to resist, but even now, your brain was fighting with your hips.
Without thinking, you finally lost yourself, inching your hips closer to him and widening your legs ever so slightly. Jongho cracked a sly smile, pleased by how your body never denies him. His finger was now soaked with your juices, and he stayed focused on the wet patch staining your fabric.
As he pressed just the right pressure onto your clit, your head fell back past your shoulders, and a soft sigh escaped your lips. “Baby…I want you to call me baby.”
You could hear him chuckling. “Baby,” he spoke softly, almost like he was pouting, “you’re so wet…what are we gonna do about this, hmm?”
Jongho hooked a finger around your panties and pushed them to the side. His hot breath fanned over your exposed skin, making you buck your hips in anticipation. He pressed his hand on your thigh, locking you in place. “Hold on, baby, I just wanna look at it…”
Four years together, and you still felt shy in moments like this. “Jjongie, please,” you whined, cheeks burning from his gaze. Jongho ignored your sweet pleas. His fingers spread your puffy lips open ever so gently, watching your juices spill in awe. He massaged them slowly and with expert care, forcing a soft mewl out from your lips. You quivered once his tongue made contact, licking you in long, achingly slow drags that tested your patience.
Just then, he pressed his thumb to your needy clit, pulling it taut as he worked his tongue faster inside of you. “Yes..y-yes..” you moaned, your voice getting shakier. You rested back on your elbows, watching him in awe as he devoured you.
Jongho wanted to take his time with you. He could eat you out for hours just to make it up to you. It’s like he needed you to know how much you meant to him, especially since he was no good at expressing it to you in words during times like this. His lips found your now swollen nub, and he latched onto it tightly and sucked. You gasped at the suction, your hands reaching down to grab at his soft hair while anticipation filled your stomach.
“You treat my pussy so good,” You blurted as you dissolved into pleasure. Jongho hummed at the comment, pressing soft kisses to your tender skin. He lifted his head once he was done, locking eyes with you. His lips glistened with your wet juices, a bit of drool dripping down to his chin. You chucked, reaching a hand out and wiping it away with the pad of your thumb. Jongho turned his head to kiss the side of your hand.
“Come here,” You whispered with need laced in your voice. He obeyed and leaned in, leaving a trail of kisses from your lower stomach up to your nipples, finally meeting your lips. You eagerly licked his lips, tasting yourself on him. Caressing his strong arms, you moaned, feeling the contrast of their softness and firmness. He pulled you closer, embracing you tightly, and you melted into his chest.
Jongho shifted, lying back against the headboard, and pulled you into his lap. Your back rested against his warm chest as he nipped at your neck. He dragged his thick cock over your slit, and you reached down, grasping his length, pumping and rubbing him against your clit.
"Fuck, baby,” he hissed, enjoying the sight of your tiny hand around his big cock. You guided him into your entrance, watching as he filled you. A gasp escaped your lips at the stretch, and you paused to adjust.
You kissed him deeply, biting his lower lip as you rolled your hips. Jongho responded by spreading your thighs, opening you wide. He held onto your thighs and thrust his hips, fucking you hard and deep, making you dizzy with pleasure.
Throughout the night, you cried out his name over and over again. Jongho was determined to fuck you until you broke, and it seemed he was going to get what he wanted. “You’re so loud, baby,” He teased. “Like my cock this much?”
He could feel you getting closer. Your pussy clamped around him so tight, it would be seconds before you met your release. As your climax approached, you felt his fingers grasp your chin, forcing you to look at him. He crashed his lips onto yours, growling, “Yes, baby, cream on it, I need it."
Your breath hitched as you came. Your juices mixed and flowed down your leg. “Jongho!” you cried. He held your hips, slowly moving you up and down his length, milking every drop.
Breathing raggedly, he stared down at your joined bodies as your cum leaked, dripping down his big balls. He chuckled, swirling his fingers through the mixture and rubbing it on your clit. “You came so much. I guess you're not mad anymore?”
It’s just not the same here anymore. All my moots are gone and it feels lonely. I haven’t been getting much feedback on my recent works and it makes me think I’m just not good enough. I don’t think I even like writing anymore. I don’t know. I started a new job and I’m busy now. I feel numb but also overwhelmed? I still love Ateez. So much so that I’m seeing them again this summer. I love being a fan and interacting with other fans but…I just don’t know if I want to be here anymore. Ever since I’ve come back from hiatus, I realized that this just isn’t good for my mental health.
I can’t say I’ll be gone forever. I may pop in here and there. But for the most part, I think I’m done. Thanks for these past 3 years and and goodbye ✌🏽
》 plot: For three years, Kang Yeosang was the quiet, obedient assistant to one of the most powerful women in tech—until she fired him with a cold, impersonal email. Drunk and furious, he confronts her at a bar, expecting to see the same ruthless CEO he once feared. Instead, he finds a woman exhausted by control, desperate to let someone else take over. Now, she’s offering him that power. Yeosang has spent years following orders—but can he step up and be the one giving them? And what happens when surrendering control turns into something neither of them can resist?
》 content: babygirl (2024) inspired, office sex, power dynamics, pet names (puppy), humiliation kink, submissive reader, face-fucking, shoe-grinding, cumplay, smut, comedy, this was written around Christmas time so it’s set around that time as well, also set in NYC
》 playlist: she's my collar- gorrilaz and kali uchis, leash- sky ferreira, crack baby- mitski, the perfect girl- mareux, closer- nine inch nails
Yeosang stared at his laptop screen, the faint glow of the monitor illuminating his face while all the color drained from it. His hands trembled slightly on the keyboard, his breathing growing shallow and uneven. Each word on the screen struck him like a dagger. He reread the message as if repetition might change its meaning.
Subject: Employment Termination
Dear Mr. Kang,
We regret to inform you that, due to recent budget cuts and ongoing concerns about your performance, we have made the difficult decision to terminate your employment with ChromaTech.
Please arrange to return all company property, including devices and ID badges, to our office as soon as possible. Alternatively, we can schedule a FedEx pickup from your home.
Your final paycheck will be processed and deposited later this week.
We appreciate your contributions to ChromaTech and wish you the best in your future endeavors.
Regards,
HR
The words blurred together as Yeosang's vision clouded, his mind racing to make sense of it all. Performance concerns? He clenched his fists, trying to suppress the surge of humiliation and anger that coursed through him.
This wasn’t just a job to him—it was stability, routine, a cornerstone of the life he’d painstakingly built through hard work and commitment. Now it was gone, reduced to a cold, impersonal email that left no room for explanation, no chance to plead his case.
Yeosang let his head fall into his hands, the faint whir of the laptop's fan echoing in the room. It all felt surreal to him like he woke up to find the ground had shifted beneath his feet, leaving him dangling over a dark abyss.
He looked over at his digital calendar, every hour clogged up with reminders, appointments, and deadlines for the next month and a half, all completely useless now. For the first time in years, he had no idea what he was supposed to do next.
The rest of the day passed in a hazy blur. Yeosang drifted from room to room in his cramped East Village apartment, his gaze occasionally landing on the precarious stacks of Amazon boxes littering the floor. A pang of regret twisted in his chest. He’d splurged on gifts for his friends, family, and—most indulgently—himself during the holidays, telling himself it was fine to celebrate, that he deserved all the latest new tech and shiny sneakers. Now, staring at his dwindling savings, the extravagance felt like a slap in the face. Great timing.
After scheduling the FedEx pickup and stuffing his work belongings into a battered cardboard box, he tossed it into the corner, out of sight but never out of mind. Every motion felt mechanical, his thoughts distant and dulled. He couldn’t sit in this suffocating silence anymore, couldn’t let the reality of his situation consume him.
Tomorrow was Thursday. No work, no obligations. Now he had all the time in the world and no idea what to do with it.
Fuck it, he thought. If life wanted to kick him while he was down, then he’d kick back, even if it meant getting obliterated in the process. Grabbing his coat, he made a decision. Tonight, he wasn’t going to sit in his misery. He was going to hit the fanciest bar he could find and drink himself into oblivion, maybe even pick up a cute girl to take home. Consequences could wait until tomorrow.
⸻
Yeosang slouched over the bar counter, his cheek nearly pressed against the cool wood, looking more like he was napping than nursing a drink. The Manhattan in his hand felt cold, its amber glow reflecting faintly in his tired eyes. He swirled the liquid absently, his thoughts as muddled as the cocktail before him.
He regretted coming here. Liquor wasn’t his thing—he’d always avoided it, telling himself he needed to stay sharp for work. But the truth was simpler: alcohol made him sleepy. One drink, and he’d be nodding off like some human embodiment of the Sleepytime Bear. There’s no way any girl would want to go home with him like this.
And yet, here he was, sipping on a cocktail he’d never had before tonight, all in the name of free will. He’d picked it for no other reason than its price tag—it was one of the most expensive options on the menu. If he was going to spiral, why not spiral in style? The bitterness of the drink soured his tongue, but he kept sipping, his mind already drifting into that hazy, detached state where everything felt just a little less sharp, a little more bearable. It wasn’t the escape he thought it would be, but for now, it was enough.
Yeosang had served you diligently for almost three years, though to him, it felt more like a decade. When he first got the position as Executive Assistant, he’d been thrilled—not for the prestige or the title, but for the hefty paycheck that came with it. A corporate job was soul-crushing, sure, but at least it paid handsomely for the privilege of grinding you into dust.
For three years, he’d been your shadow. He made your coffee just the way you liked it, meticulously scheduled and rescheduled your endless meetings, and trailed after you as you tore through Midtown in your impossibly dainty heels. Somehow, your So Kate pumps made you walk faster than him, even in his worn-out tennis shoes.
He picked up your dry cleaning, planned your trips down to the minute, and waited bleary-eyed at baggage claim after grueling international flights to haul your overweight suitcases to your hotel room. He booked your dinner reservations at trendy restaurants, juggling waitlists and cancellations like a magician. He prepared your reports and presentation notes, answered your emails, your calls, your texts—every last trivial thing—so the only task left for you was to look polished in your Banana Republic pencil skirt and flash a pretty smile at investors.
To everyone else, you were the epitome of success—the poster child for Women in Tech. An Ivy League graduate at the helm of one of the country’s biggest tech companies, you embodied the impossible standard, all while maintaining a buzzing social life, and an aura of poise that never cracked, no matter how demanding the circumstances. While others juggled, you danced, balancing it all with a grace that seemed almost superhuman. To the outside world, you weren’t just successful—you were aspirational, the kind of woman others admired, envied, and tried to emulate. But to Yeosang, you were a full-time job, a 24/7 whirlwind that consumed everything in its path, leaving him wiped out and drained.
Performance concerns. He knew exactly what that meant.
It had been a few weeks ago, late at night. You were stressed, working overtime in your office, which, of course, meant he had to stay late too. The request wasn’t anything unusual—just your evening coffee: Colombian roast, vanilla creamer, a delicate dusting of cinnamon powder on top. Simple enough.
He’d handed the mug to you with both hands, careful not to spill a drop. Then he lingered, waiting for you to assign something else. But you barely looked up, waving him off with a flick of your fingers. As he turned to leave, his eyes caught your reflection in the glass doors.
That’s when he saw it.
A look of disgust twisted your features as you took a sip, your lips curling ever so slightly in disapproval.
The memory of it hit him like a slap. At first, he hadn’t understood. But back at his desk, it came rushing back, sharp as a pin in his chest. Peppermint mocha.
He’d grabbed the festive creamer that someone had left on the kitchen counter instead of the usual vanilla you liked. It wasn’t intentional—just an absent-minded mistake made after hours of exhaustion. But in your world, there were no small mistakes.
And now, sitting alone at the bar with his life upended, that one moment felt emblematic of everything.
Okay, maybe it wasn’t just the peppermint mocha creamer.
His nerves had always been his downfall, often betraying him in the form of small but noticeable mistakes. A double-booked meeting here, a forgotten reservation there—usually because he was too busy helping you pick out a new pair of Christian Louboutins for your Paris trip, or researching market pricing for an upcoming presentation. There was also that time he missed a few typos in a report you handed to the company heads, which earned him a withering glare in front of the whole boardroom.
But could you really blame him? You treated him like he had six arms, and the ability to teleport with the speed of light when in reality, he was just one man. No matter how hard he worked, it was never enough. If he meticulously completed every task you gave him, you’d point out the smallest flaw. If he preempted your needs, you’d call him presumptuous. Every win felt hollow because you’d always point out what could have been done better. Pleasing you was like chasing a mirage—no matter how close he got, the finish line kept moving farther away.
Still, one thing was certain: the peppermint mocha creamer had been the final straw. A small, almost insignificant mistake in the grand scheme of things, but for you, it had been enough to seal his fate.
Yeosang's ears perked up, his sluggish thoughts snapping into focus at the sound of a familiar voice. He froze, the glass of Manhattan halfway to his lips, as he scanned the dimly lit bar. And then he saw you.
You were tucked into the corner booth, surrounded by a few friends, with a pink cocktail in your hand. The faint hum of laughter carried over the low jazz music, and you looked so relaxed, so carefree. It was as if nothing had happened—as if his world hadn’t just imploded because of you.
A spark of anger flared in his chest, simmering, then growing hotter with each passing second. How could you? How could you throw him away so carelessly and then go out for drinks, laughing and clinking glasses like it was any other night?
The more he thought about it, the angrier he got. He’d done everything for you. Everything. He’d missed his niece’s first recital because you needed him to oversee a last-minute report. He’d skipped Thanksgiving with his family because you insisted on an "urgent" trip to Japan that turned out to be nothing more than a glorified shopping spree. His love life? Nonexistent. How could he have one when you were the only woman in his life, demanding every ounce of his time, energy, and attention?
And now, here you were, sipping cocktails without a care in the world. You didn’t even have the decency to tell him to his face why you let him go. The least you could’ve done was look him in the eye and explain yourself, to acknowledge the years he gave you, the sacrifices he made.
Yeosang clenched his jaw, his grip tightening around the glass in his hand. He felt the weight of all those buried resentments rising to the surface, demanding release. For the first time in three years, he wasn’t going to stay silent.
Yeosang drained the last of his Manhattan, the liquid fire burning its way down his throat as if fueling his decision. The warmth spread through his chest, blurring the sharp edges of his hesitation. When he saw your friends stand to leave, laughing as they hugged you goodbye, he seized the moment. The alcohol coursing through his veins muffled his nerves, and the simmering anger propelled him off the barstool.
He approached you with purpose, his heart pounding harder with each step. He’d imagined this confrontation in his head for hours, maybe even years. But when you looked up, your eyes narrowing in confusion, it all dissolved.
“Yeosang?” you said, your tone laced with surprise as you squinted at him. “What are you doing here?”
For a moment, he froze, caught in the trap of your gaze. Then, the words tumbled out before he could stop them, anger surging past his control.
“An email? Really?” Yeosang spat, his voice cutting through the low hum of the bar. His eyes were dark with anger, his jaw clenched so tightly it looked like it might snap. “You couldn’t even— didn’t even have the decency to say it to my face? Are you that much of a coward?”
You stiffened, the weight of the bar patrons’ stares pressing down on you. You reached out toward him, your voice was soft but firm. “Hey, let’s calm down—”
“Don’t tell me to calm down!“ he roared, his words slurring slightly, his stance wobbly from the alcohol. “Three years! I gave you three years of nonstop devotion, and I don’t even get a proper goodbye? No thank you, no explanation? Do you know how much shit I had to sacrifice for you?”
His voice cracked, his frustration spilling out with every word. “You love parading around with this ‘girlboss,’ fearless woman-in-tech image, but you’re just a scared little girl. Too scared to even look me in the eye and tell me what I did so wrong that you had to hide behind HR to fire me!”
Your cheeks burned with embarrassment as you caught the awkward glances of nearby patrons, their murmured conversations stopping as they pretended not to eavesdrop. You pursed your lips, your patience snapping like a brittle thread. Grabbing his arm roughly, you dragged him out of the bar, ignoring his protests as the cold, snowy air hit both of you like a slap.
“You really wanna do this here?” you hissed, your voice low but sharp, cutting through the quiet of the empty street. “Fine. Let’s do this.”
Yeosang blinked at you, his anger simmering as he swayed on unsteady legs.
“You want to know why you were fired?” You stepped closer, staring him dead in the eye. “You’re a terrible listener. You fuck up my coffee order. You double-book meetings, forgot to confirm reservations, and just last month, you botched the presentation I needed for the board by misspelling half the client names. Do you know how humiliating that was for me?”
Your words hit him like gunshots, but you didn’t stop. “You don’t listen, Yeosang. You never pay attention to detail. I needed someone I could count on, someone who could make my life easier. I’m not asking for much. Instead, I got someone who left me to fix their mistakes half the time!”
Yeosang flinched at your words. But even as they sunk in, indignation burned in his chest. He didn’t believe he deserved this—not for the mistakes you listed, not for everything he had done for you.
He stepped closer, his dark eyes locking onto yours with a mixture of defiance and pain. The cold outside nipped at your skin, but the heat of his breath against your face made you hyperaware of the tension between you.
“I listen,” he said, his voice low but firm. “You’re just impossible to please.”
You opened your mouth to retort, but he didn’t let you.
“I double-booked your meeting one time because you refused to confirm your schedule with the finance group until the last minute. I misspelled the names on that report because the stupid intern—your intern—gave me an Excel sheet with half the names wrong. And reservations? You spring that shit on me while I’m busy walking your dog or picking up your overpriced $20 salad. And the coffee? The fucking coffee? Give me a break!”
His voice cracked with frustration, his breath coming faster now. “You act like I’m some incompetent idiot when all I ever did was clean up after your chaos. Do you know what it’s like working for someone who changes their mind every ten minutes, who expects you to read their mind and be three steps ahead all the time? No matter how much I did, no matter how fast or how perfectly, it was never enough for you! You are a soulless, narcissistic, she-devil, and you love making everyone around you miserable because nothing makes you happy!”
You were nose to nose with him now, the closeness electric and unnerving. Yeosang didn’t realize how close he had gotten until he could see every delicate detail of your face. But he didn’t back away. He didn’t want to.
For the first time, he felt taller, stronger, more in control. He wasn’t just the assistant trailing behind you, fetching your coffee and carrying your bags. Right now, you were the one looking up at him, your confidence faltering under the weight of his hard gaze.
Then, something shifted. His anger, which had been a roaring fire just moments ago, flickered and dimmed. His eyes dropped to your lips, noticing how you worried them slightly between your teeth. The cold had turned them soft, flushed red, quivering as though they couldn’t decide what to say next. He felt the heat in his chest start to dissipate.
“All I ever wanted was to please you, but you never gave me a chance” he murmured, his voice quieter now, almost soft. His words hung between you like a fragile thread, and he didn’t know whether to pull it tighter or let it snap.
His gaze met yours again, and for a brief moment, the tension shifted into something vulnerable. He remained where he stood, towering over you, suddenly feeling exposed, but the weight of his words lingered, heavy and unanswerable in the snowy silence.
You couldn’t explain it, but you liked this side of him. It was the first time you’d seen raw emotion in his face—anger, frustration, passion—it was fascinating. For as long as you’d known Yeosang, he had been quiet as a mouse, his replies clipped and deferential: Yes, ma’am. Right away, ma’am. Always composed, always distant, like a shadow that existed only to serve.
But now? Now he looked alive. His dark eyes burned with intensity, his lips still slightly parted from his impassioned outburst. You hated to admit it, but he looked almost…sexy? The sharp line of his jaw, the way his breath puffed in short bursts against the cold, the heat radiating off him even in the freezing air. And his voice—you liked how deep it gets when he’s mad. You liked it enough to disregard the she-devil comment. It almost delighted you. You liked being talked down to. Not enough people had the balls to do so.
“I can give you another chance…” The words slipped from your lips before you even realized you were speaking. Your tone was quieter, almost sultry, betraying the tug of something entirely outside good judgment. You had nothing but the liquor to blame. You tilted your head slightly, holding his gaze, the weight of your offer hanging heavy in the cold air.
“To please me, that is.”
His breath hitched, his eyes widening slightly before narrowing in confusion. The air between you crackled with tension, unspoken implications simmering beneath the surface. For a moment, you both just stood there, the snow falling softly around you, caught in an electric silence neither of you knew how to break.
After a moment of hesitation, Yeosang broke the silence. “Okay.”
⸻
"I'm not sure if I understand," Yeosang said slowly, blinking up at you. "Ma’am." The word left his lips instinctively, like muscle memory, but his voice was hesitant.
You sighed, shifting your weight against the desk, arms crossed. The two of you were alone in your office, the usual hum of the busy workday long gone. The only sound was the soft ticking of the wall clock and the faint buzz of the city outside.
He sat stiffly in your chair, the black leather cool against his back, making him even more uncomfortable. He didn't belong there—you both knew it. But this was an experiment, after all.
You tilted your head, your patience wearing thin. "It’s simple. I’m letting you be the boss today. You just have to tell me what to do, and I’ll do it." Your lips curled slightly. "And don’t call me Ma’am."
Yeosang swallowed, his getting throat dry. Power had never been something he craved. He had spent his life taking orders, following directions, and anticipating needs before they were spoken. Most people in tech burned out quickly, leaving to chase the dream of being in control, of being the one to give orders. That drive had never come to him. It wasn’t in his nature.
And yet, here you were, handing it to him.
His fingers curled against the leather armrests as he searched for something—anything—to say, his mind wading through unfamiliar territory.
"Then what do I call you?" he asked finally, his voice quieter now.
You held his gaze, a small smirk playing at the corner of your lips.
"Anything you want."
Yeosang mulled over your words, his mind scrambling to process what was happening. Call you anything he wanted? Tell you to do whatever he wanted? It was the kind of fantasy teenage boys dreamed about, yet his mind was a complete blank.
You sighed, exasperated by his hesitation. "Can I give you a suggestion?" You asked, stepping closer.
He nodded, swallowing hard, the words still stuck in his throat.
You leaned in slightly, your voice dipping just enough to make the hairs on the back of his neck stand. "Ask me to get on my knees."
Yeosang's breath hitched. His mind latched onto the words, turning them over, considering. Then, slowly, he nodded in agreement.
You chuckled. "You have to say the words, Mr. Kang."
His ears burned. "Oh, right," he said quickly, his voice a little too high, a little too quick. He cleared his throat. "Get on your knees."
The words felt foreign and awkward, but the way you looked at him made something tighten in his chest.
Mr. Kang.
No one had ever called him that before. It was always Yeo, Yeosang, or, on occasion, the intern—his young face fooling half the office into thinking he was some college kid on summer break. But Mr. Kang…He liked the way it sounded coming from your lips.
He sat frozen, watching as you slowly sank to your knees in front of him, settling neatly between his legs. His breath hitched, his pulse hammering against his skin.
You looked up at him, eyes glinting with something—Desire? Amusement? He couldn’t tell, but whatever it was, it left him breathless.
You waited, patiently, expectantly, your lips slightly parted as if anticipating his next command. You almost looked like an obedient little puppy, so much so that he almost called you pup.
Yeosang exhaled sharply, gripping the leather armrests as his mind raced. He was supposed to be in control. Supposed to be giving the orders. But right now, sitting in your chair, watching you kneel before him, it felt like he was the one unraveling.
“Take off your shirt.”
He was getting comfortable now. He watched as you unbuttoned your top and discarded it to the side, leaving you only in your lacy black push-up bra. You placed your hands neatly over your lap, patiently awaiting his next request. Yeosang was stunned at how easily and effortlessly you followed his instruction, not showing a single sign of shame as you undressed in front of your junior. He wondered how far he could take it.
“Take that off too.”
You unhooked the back part of your bra and tossed it to the side with your blouse, your hands returning to your lap.
Yeosang let himself relax into your chair, eyes fixed over your soft and bare skin. He bit the skin around his thumb, drinking in your physique. He wanted to touch them, knead them, feel their weight in his hands, but he kept himself restrained. He was growing to like this game and wanted to see what else he could make you do.
He licked his lips, finally settling on his next request. “Come here.”
You scooted closer to him, your eyes now level with his clothed cock.
“Kiss it.”
Without hesitation, you leaned forward, letting your lips trail slow, deliberate kisses along the outline of his growing bulge. You could feel the firmness of his balls from beneath the thick fabric, the desire to see them making your core ache with need. Glancing up through your lashes, you took in the sight of Yeosang already succumbing to the pleasure, his body relaxing into the chair, eyes dark with lust. He was undeniably beautiful, every feature accentuated by the flush of arousal, and the thought of pushing him to the edge, of watching him cum, was a temptation you could hardly resist.
You began palming his cock, feeling it stiffen just under your touch. “Can I please take it out, Mr. Kang?” You asked in an airless and sultry voice which no doubt made Yeosang feel weak.
Yeosang gripped the leather armrests and nodded. “Go on.”
With glee, you unbuttoned his pants and fished out his throbbing cock, his skin feeling warm and tender as you gave it a few lazy strokes. You leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to his blushing tip, the sudden touch making him hiss from his seat.
You giggled softly at his reaction, continuing to leave a trail of kisses on the sides of his cock, your hand gripping at the base. He felt so hot and heavy in your hand, and you were growing impatient for a taste.
“Put it in your mouth.”
You eagerly fed him into your mouth, the weight on your tongue already making you dizzy. You salivated around his length, a few dribbles of drool rolling down his shaft. Yeosang could feel himself twitching inside you. The sight of his uptight boss with her mouth so full of his cock made his head spin, all the hesitations and apprehensions he had in the beginning now dissipating while a hunger took over him.
“Now suck it.”
You began sucking at his head, the thickness of his hard cock proving to be a challenge, so much so that you could only really take the tip in your mouth. You grabbed onto the base with both hands, bobbing and slurping him as his breathing grew more unsteady. When you looked back up at him with your big, puppy-dog eyes, you were delighted to see that same Yeosang from earlier—the one with fire in his eyes, with furrowed brows and a sharp tongue, throwing demands and names at you without hesitation. Gone was the quiet, obedient assistant who trailed behind you like a shadow. In his place sat a man who, for the first time, wasn’t afraid to take up space. And you liked it.
“Fuck,” He moaned, “That’s it, that’s a good puppy…take all of me in that dumb little mouth, yeah, just like that.”
You loved hearing him coach you, loved when he called you a dumb little puppy. You could feel your wetness leaking through your stockings, a need aching so strongly between your legs that you had no choice but to grind yourself over Yeosang’s new shoes, your slick wet juices glistening over the rubber soles.
Yeosang was so far gone now, his only purpose left being to chase his high. His hands gripped your strands tightly to hold you in place. Before you knew it, he was thrusting himself into you, his whole length pushing down into your throat with no warning. He set a brutal pace, fucking your mouth with no mercy, reveling in your wet gagging sounds as he makes use of your throat.
“Fuck, I love fucking this little mouth,” He panted, “Good little slut, gonna take my cum? Gonna swallow all my cum down your little throat, huh?”
Tears streamed down your face as he ruthlessly plowed into your mouth. Despite his roughness, your body trembled with need, your hips continuing to grind against his shoes, desperate for release. Your muffled moans vibrate around his shaft, spurring Yeosang on as he chases his pleasure.
Yeosang gripped your hair tightly, thrusting and plunging his hard cock deeper into your eager mouth. For years, he dealt with your nonstop nagging and bitching, and he had to admit it was nice to finally get you to shut up, with a mouth full of his cock no less. “This is what you like, huh? You like being put in your place? Like being a little fuck doll for me?”
He punctuated his words with harsh snaps of his hips. The term fuck doll was enough to send you over the edge. Your hips stilled, your core tightening as you came, your moans muffled by his hard cock. A devilish grin spread across his face as he playfully tapped the tip of his shoe against your swollen clit, the jolt of overstimulation sending shivers cascading through you. He relished in the sight of you laid bare in vulnerability, a stark contrast to the composed persona you typically wore. “Such a mess for me” He sighed, satisfied with your mascara-stained cheeks and reddened, slobbery lips. “So, so pretty…”
You grunted with each thrust, the tight clutch of your throat milking his cock deliciously. You looked up at him with pleading eyes, silently begging for his cum as you took everything he gave you. Your tongue danced along his shaft, massaging the sensitive underside as he fucked your face with wild abandon. You swallowed around him greedily, your throat convulsing along his length as you strived to please him.
With a final hard thrust, Yeosang buried himself deep into your warm mouth and let go, flooding your throat with ropes of his hot cum. His breath hitched, a deep, guttural sound of pleasure escaping him as his seed spilled and trickled from the corners of your lips. With firm hands, he held your head snugly against him, grinding against your face as he emptied himself, savoring the sight of you taking every fervent drop.
Your eyes brimmed with tears as you took him deeper, the bittersweet taste of his seed offering a strange satisfaction on your tongue. As you pulled away with a soft pop, Yeosang gently traced your lips with the tip of his cock, leaving a glistening trail of his pearly essence. You couldn't help but lick your lips in delight, a soft moan escaping you as you savored his flavor.
Yeosang felt like he could cum again from watching you grind your cum-drenched face on his cock. You were so desperate, so depraved, he almost couldn’t believe this was you. The same career-driven CEO he had dutifully served, the woman who made decisions with razor-sharp precision, who commanded everyone’s attention with a snap of her fingers—this was what you secretly craved? To be stripped of control? To be the one taking orders instead of giving them? Who knew that the woman he had once feared, the one who dictated his every move, secretly longed to be a mindless servant, void of responsibility, bound by nothing but the will of someone else?
You gazed up at him adoringly, drinking at the sight of his ruffled hair, his heaving chest rising and falling as he caught his breath. The rawness of him, unfiltered and unrestrained, filled you with a thrill you hadn’t felt in so long.
To serve someone else for once.
To be the one waiting, watching, hoping for approval.
To do so well for someone that it left them utterly speechless.
It was nearly midnight now, and you had a meeting at 7 AM. You should have stopped, should have called it a night, and sent him home. But how could you now? Not when your body was buzzing with anticipation, not when you craved more—more of his voice, more of his praise, more of him.
You wanted to keep going. To do more for him. To hear him call you his good little puppy again.
Slowly, you pushed back onto your heels, your wide, eager eyes locking with his.
“What would you like me to do now, Mr. Kang?”
I would greatly appreciate reblogs with comments and replies. please consider giving feedback if you enjoyed this.
》 plot: every night this summer, you fantasized about your boss, Mr. Jeong. babysitting his adorable daughter all summer had turned your small crush on the young, single dad into a lust-filled infatuation. after an awkward encounter that left you both humiliated, you did your best to keep your distance at his daughter’s birthday party. that is, until fate trapped you in a bathroom with him while the party carried on outside.
》 content: oh boy, let's see, age gap, aged up yunho, virgin reader, reader lowkey down bad and porn-obsessed, bathroom sex, mirror sex, panties stay on!! grinding, cowgirl stand and carry, use of sir and good girl, filthy dirty talk, cum eating, cum facial, reader obsessed with his cum lol, thigh fucking, sucking his dick while he watches porn??? MONSTER CAWK YUNHO
》 playlist: prettiest virgin- agar agar, candy- doja cat, I fucking lust you- d'african, taste so good- sabrina claudio, less of you- omar apollo, real life- the marias
You promised yourself you wouldn’t do this again, but here you were, laying in bed with a vibrator cupped to your clit, eyes glued to your phone screen as you tapped on the first video in the big dick category. It took a while for the vibrator to buzz you the right way, but once you found your sweet spot, your head sank lower into your pillow and you had to bite your lip to keep any sounds from slipping out of your mouth. This was the fifth night in a row that you jerked off, and honestly, you were exhausted; Tired of waking up late because of your little late-night endeavors, tired of feeling gross each time your wetness leaked out and stained your panties during the day, and most of all, tired of being a virgin.
The video you were watching had your favorite pornstar in it. The guy himself wasn’t at all your type, but his cock was pretty. And big. It’s weird to admit, but this is how you imagined Mr. Jeong’s cock looked like. You had been babysitting Mr. Jeong’s six-year-old daughter for the summer while school was out. She was an angel. Hana reminded you a lot of Bubbles from the PowerPuff Girls cartoon, with her sweet little voice and sensitive nature. You loved spending time with her.
Yes, throughout the summer, you had developed a crush on Hana’s Dad. How could you not? He was everything a man ought to be— tall, handsome, and kind. His being a good father was just a plus in your eyes. He worked from home, so you’d see him occasionally throughout the day. During his break, he’d come downstairs from his home office to color with Hana for a few minutes. During lunch, you’d sit with them on the patio, watching with heart eyes as he wiped ketchup off of her little mouth.
Lately, your infatuation has become all-consuming, and you resorted to buying a vibrator from Amazon to help ease your frustrations. And that’s when this little habit of yours began. It felt odd, at first. You didn’t want to be the type of person who watches porn every night for hours, imagining your boss doing all these things to you. It just sort of happened. And instead of easing your frustrations, it made them worse.
You hated being a virgin. Vibrators weren’t enough. You, for lack of a better term, needed to be dicked down. Preferably by Mr. Jeong, but that would only happen in your wildest dreams. It wasn’t like he made it easy for you. Yesterday for example, when you were preparing Hana’s PB&J, Mr. Jeong reached over your head to grab a mug from the cupboard above you. “Behind you,” he alerted, his fingers grazing over your waist as he pulled his coffee mug out. You stood frozen, the place where he touched you burning hot on your skin.
Every time he touches you, whether it’s the accidental brush of his fingers when he hands you your check or the deliberate weight of his hand on your shoulder as he thanks you at the end of the day, it only makes you crave him more and more.
The video you were watching had an obvious size kink going on. The male pornstar was huge, and he was able to pick up his petite partner and fuck into her with ease. Your thighs clenched thinking about Mr. Jeong picking you up like that and pumping you up and down his length, stuffing just the tip of his big cock into you because that’s all that could fit. Your core tightened, and your orgasm was imminent, until…
It died. Your vibrator died.
“Oh, fuck off!” You cursed, slamming your head back into your pillow. Stupid cheap fucking vibrator. Here’s to another night of being a lonely, twenty-something virgin, going to bed unsatisfied and unwanted. You sighed, exasperated.
Mr. Jeong was older. You didn’t know much about his wife. It was a sensitive topic for him. And Hana was too young to remember her final moments. He couldn’t possibly want anything to do with you, and instead, you filled your head with unrealistic fantasies to keep yourself up at night and made yourself cum to them. Maybe you wouldn’t be so miserable if you were around more boys your age.
Too tired to continue with your fingers, you shifted to your side and tried to make yourself comfortable. It was 4 in the morning now, which meant you’d only get about 3 hours tonight. Just great, you thought to yourself, waiting for the exhaustion to finally lull you to sleep.
—
You were rather sluggish today, struggling to keep your eyes open as you drove to Mr. Jeong’s house. The cold brew you picked up before heading over there wasn’t much help. Instead, it just made you even more tired. I need to stop jerking off before bed, you told yourself. Luckily, it was Friday, which meant you had enough time to catch up on the lost hours of sleep this weekend.
You sighed as you measured out the detergent to wash Hana’s favorite tutu, the warm and fuzzy smell of fabric softener reminding you of your blanket at home, making you want to sleep even more. Hana got upset this morning before you dropped her off to ballet practice when some syrup from her drive-thru pancakes dripped onto her tutu. To quiet her tantrum, you promised her you’d go back home to wash it so it's nice and clean for her to wear when she comes back, and that you’d also bring her second favorite tutu for practice— a purplish-blue one with pink glitter dusted around it. It didn’t feel right just washing one piece of clothing, so you decided to go upstairs and quickly grab the dirty clothes from Hana and Mr. Jeong’s hampers.
You yawned as you made your way up the stairs, stopping by Hana’s room first. Her room was, as always, a chaotic mess—Barbie dolls and crayons scattered across the floor in colorful disarray, old juice boxes, and snack bags left forgotten on the desk. No matter how many times you tried to teach her the importance of cleaning up after herself, the lesson never seemed to stick. With a resigned sigh, you grabbed the clothes from her hamper and stuffed them into the laundry basket.
Leaving her room, you headed toward Mr. Jeong’s, but froze mid-step as a strange, muffled sound reached your ears from his office. At first, you assumed he was in a meeting, but as you drew closer, the noises grew more alarming—strained and uneven, almost as if he were in pain or… crying?
You gently set the laundry basket down on the floor, carefully tiptoeing toward the door. Pressing your ear against the cold, wooden surface, you strained to make sense of the muffled noises coming from inside. A sharp hiss followed by a low, frustrated “fuck” caught you off guard, making your breath hitch.
Startled, you raised a hand and knocked lightly on the door. “Mr. Jeong?” you called softly. No answer. Concern gnawed at you, and without thinking, you turned the knob. The door creaked as it inched open, the sound slicing through the stillness.
“Mr. Jeong, is everything—” you started, stepping inside.
Mr. Jeong swiveled in his chair, his face frozen in a mask of shock and embarrassment. The two of you stood locked in place as if time itself had come to a standstill. The only sounds in the room were the filthy, lewd moans of a woman coming from his computer. Your gaze dropped instinctively, trailing down his frame until your eyes caught on something in his lower half— his long slender fingers gripping tightly onto his erect cock.
“Y/N!” he exclaimed, his voice sharp with panic as he scrambled to pull his pants up, hastily stuffing himself back into his waistband. His movements were frantic, his face flushed a deep crimson. “I-I thought you were at the ballet school!”
Your cheeks burned with embarrassment, the heat rising so quickly you felt your face must be as red as his. “I-I was,” you stammered, your words tumbling out awkwardly as you tried to steady your voice. “But… Hana’s tutu got dirty, and I… I came back to grab another one…”
The porn video continued playing in the background, the sounds of the ridiculously wet blowjob making the awkwardness even more unbearable.
Mr. Jeong, finally snapping out of his daze, spun back to his computer and fumbled to exit the site, the click of the mouse unnervingly loud in the heavy silence. He turned back to you, his mouth opening as if to say something, but no words came. His expression was a mixture of shame and desperation, his face still a deep shade of red.
“I’m so sorry,” you blurted out, your voice breathless and shaky as you struggled to compose yourself. The urge to flee was overwhelming. “I-I should get back to Hana. So sorry again!”
Without waiting for a response, you spun on your heel and hurried out of the room, heart pounding in your chest as you tried to process what had just happened.
—
You had worried earlier about how you’d make it through the day, feeling so drained and sluggish, but the shock from what happened had jolted you awake like a surge of electricity. Now, a different concern gnawed at you—whether you’d be able to sleep at all tonight. Embarrassment burned through you, and you were sure poor Mr. Jeong wanted to disappear off the face of the Earth after that moment.
Yet, despite yourself, your mind kept racing, replaying the image of his cock. It was so big. It was prettier than the pornstar’s you watch every night. It looked so firm in his hands, the tip flushed pink just like his cheeks. You wondered how it would feel between your legs. Would you even be able to take it? You had dildos in the past, but nothing more than the size of your palm.
“Cash or card?” Hana chirped, her cheerful voice snapping you out of the inappropriate thoughts swirling in your head about her dad.
“Hmm?” you mumbled, blinking down at her as she sat cross-legged on the carpeted floor. The living room was a mess, scattered with the colorful pieces of her cashier playset. She pointed at the small plastic credit card in your hand, her expression expectant.
“Oh, uh… I guess card?” you replied, handing it over. You watched as she swiped it through the toy terminal, her little hand expertly mimicking the action.
“Boo beep!” she said with a grin, the sound effects spot-on, before handing you back the card along with a tiny plastic milk carton. “Here you go!”
You couldn’t help but smile, her playful innocence pulling you further from your earlier embarrassment. “Thanks, Hana. Can I have a bag, please?”
“That’s fifty cents extra.”
“Little haggler, aren’t you?” You teased.
Suddenly, the sound of footsteps echoed down the stairs, pulling Hana’s attention away from the transaction. “Daddy!” she exclaimed joyfully, rushing toward Mr. Jeong and wrapping her tiny arms around his legs in a tight hug.
“Hey, peanut,” he greeted with a warm smile, scooping her up and planting a quick kiss on her cheek.
“Daddy, I did a pirouette today at practice! Wanna see?”
As Hana spun around, tripping over her own feet a couple of times, you gathered your things and stuffed them into your bag. You kept your eyes down, moving toward the door with a quiet sigh of relief. For once, you were thankful it wasn’t payday; no need to linger any longer, no forced small talk with Mr. Jeong. He seemed just as relieved as he tried his best to avoid you altogether.
“See you next week, kiddo,” you said, ruffling Hana’s soft hair before heading for the door.
“Wait, Daddy! Can Y/N come to my birthday party tomorrow?”
Mr. Jeong’s smile faltered, replaced by an uncomfortable glance in your direction. “Oh, um, well… why don’t you ask her, sweetie?” he said, quickly deflecting the question back to you.
Hana ran up to you, pressing her small body into your legs and looking up at you with those wide, pleading eyes. “Y/N, can you please please please come to my birthday party? There’s gonna be ice cream cake!”
The urge to say no was strong. You could sense Mr. Jeong’s discomfort, and honestly, you were looking forward to a quiet weekend away from him. But her hopeful gaze, the way her lips stuck out in a small, almost irresistible pout… it was too much to deny.
“Oh, well… I think I have to go somewhere this weekend and…” you started, but then her lower lip began to tremble, and you hated seeing her upset.
You let out a soft sigh, the words slipping out despite yourself. “I, uh, I guess I can come for a little bit.”
“Yay!” Hana cheered, her excitement spilling over as she jumped up and down. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
You exchanged a quiet good night with Mr. Jeong, the awkwardness lingering between you both, before disappearing into the warm summer night. The air was heavy as you made your way to your car, but your mind was racing.
As you sat behind the wheel, you cursed yourself under your breath. You should’ve held your ground, should’ve said no when you had the chance. But now… now you are going to a party with Mr. Jeong. How were you supposed to handle that? How were you supposed to navigate a whole afternoon, trapped in the same space with him, when the last thing you wanted was to face him after walking in on him jerking off earlier?
You huffed as you put your keys in the ignition. This was going to be a long weekend.
—
The next day came quickly, too quickly, and you dreaded the whole affair as you pulled up on the driveway. You showed up about thirty minutes later than the time on the invitation, hoping to blend into the chaos without much fanfare. Sure enough, no one seemed to notice.
The house was buzzing with activity. Little kids, probably Hana’s classmates and friends from ballet, darted around like wild animals, screaming and leaving a trail of toys and crumbs in their wake. You weaved through the commotion, making your way to the table piled high with brightly wrapped presents.
You set down your gift; a doll set Hana had been dreaming about for weeks. Suddenly, you felt a small squeeze at your leg. Looking down, you saw Hana beaming up at you, her arms wrapped around you in a tight hug.
“You came!” she squealed, bouncing with excitement.
“Of course I did. Happy birthday!” you said, smiling as you ruffled her hair.
“Come meet my friends!” she insisted, grabbing your hand before you could protest.
Hana dragged you into the backyard, where her friends were splashing in the pool, their parents sitting nearby and watching them like hawks. Hana proudly introduced you to two of her closest friends—“important friends,” as she whispered with a serious nod that made you chuckle.
As you chatted with Hana’s friends, you felt a familiar pull in the corner of your eye. Mr. Jeong stood near the grill, just within your peripheral vision. The moment you glanced in his direction, your heart gave a sharp tug. He was watching you.
Your breath caught, but just before you could process it, you quickly looked away, pretending to focus on the childlike conversation in front of you. As you nodded along, a thought crept in—was he still looking at you? The possibility made your skin prickle, a slow heat creeping up your neck, your pulse growing erratic. You fought the urge to glance his way again, but curiosity got the better of you. You glanced up again, a quick and casual move, but this time, he wasn’t looking anymore. He had already turned his attention to another parent, nodding along to whatever they were saying, sipping on his ice cold beer. Still, your skin tingled, like his gaze hadn’t fully left you.
The mix of the screaming children, the sun beating down on you, and the overwhelming energy of the party soon had you retreating. With a quick excuse, you headed for the shaded table, grabbing a Coca-Cola and savoring the brief moment of quiet.
You chugged the fizzy drink, the burn in your throat oddly satisfying as it momentarily cooled you off. As you set the half-empty can down, your ears caught snippets of a hushed conversation from the table next to you. Two women, likely mothers of Hana’s friends, were whispering, and one word made you tune in: Yunho.
“His wife passed away a few years ago, back when Hana was just learning to walk. Poor guy, raising her all on his own.”
“God, but he’s so cute, though,” the other one said, not bothering to lower her voice.
“I know, right? If I didn’t have Leo, I’d totally take him out for a spin.” They dissolved into giggles, clearly enjoying their little moment until their eyes flicked toward you.
You froze, caught mid-sip from your drink. The sudden attention made your cheeks warm as they realized you’d overheard them. One of the women quickly cleared her throat, trying to cover the awkwardness.
“So, which one’s yours?” she asked, her tone friendly, though her shoulders were tense—probably hoping you hadn’t heard the part where she casually considered sleeping with Mr. Jeong.
“Oh, none of them,” you replied, forcing a polite smile. “I’m Hana’s babysitter.”
You took another sip of your soda, trying to ignore the way the two women were looking at you. It was obvious they had some kind of assumption about you and Mr. Jeong, and it made your skin prickle with discomfort.
“Oh, I didn’t know Mr. Jeong had a babysitter,” the long-haired woman said, glancing at her friend with a knowing look.
You shifted under their stares, suddenly feeling like you were being sized up. They both looked down at your exposed legs, your flowy skirt just barely covering your knees. You knew what they were thinking. Their curiosity wasn’t just innocent small talk. It felt more like they were trying to figure out if you were a threat. A young, single dad and his younger, pretty babysitter? Sounded like an overdone porn plot.
You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could, your fingers anxiously slipped against your soda can, sending the cold, fizzy liquid spilling down the front of your shirt.
“Oh, shit—” You gasped, stepping back as the sticky sweetness seeped into the fabric.
The two women let out little gasps, covering their mouths, but neither of them moved to help.
“Ugh,” you muttered, shaking your hands off. “Excuse me.”
Quickly, you turned and made your way inside, walking past clusters of parents and kids until you reached the staircase. Your face was burning with frustration. This whole weekend was just one embarrassment after another. Everything had felt weird since yesterday. Mr. Jeong had been acting strange, you’d been acting strange, and now you had people assuming things about you that weren’t even true.
You climbed the stairs, the noise of the party fading as you finally reached the bathroom. With a sigh, you pushed the door open and slipped inside, shutting the door behind you.
The cold air from the vent hit your damp shirt, making the fabric cling to your skin uncomfortably. Grimacing, you pulled it over your head and tossed it onto the sink. You turned on the faucet, grabbing a towel to try and clean it before the stickiness set in.
As you rubbed at the stain, you caught your reflection in the mirror. Your cheeks were still flushed, your hair slightly messy from the heat outside. You looked… flustered. Not just from the soda incident, but from everything. From him. From the way he was staring at you, from the way you’d been thinking about him all day, despite knowing you shouldn’t. It was no surprise that you couldn’t sleep the night before, your hands stuffed inside your panties all night, forcing yourself to cum over and over as you thought about Mr. Jeong pumping his big hard cock after a long day. You couldn’t help but wonder what kind of categories he liked. MILF? Hentai? Gangbang? Did he have a favorite pornstar? You desperately wanted to know what he liked, how he liked it, his greatest desires. But what was the use? You were only driving yourself mad with these little fantasies.
You let out a deep breath, gripping the edge of the sink. Get it together.
Before you could pull yourself back to reality, you were startled by a sudden commotion outside of your door. And before you could even react, the door knob turned and the door creaked open.
Your heart jumped into your throat as Mr. Jeong stepped inside, his eyes focused on something behind him, mid-sentence. “I’ll be right there, just gotta take a leak—”
He stopped. Completely frozen.
His eyes landed on your bare skin, the lacy edge of your bra, the way the damp fabric of your shirt sat crumpled in the sink.
For a second, neither of you moved.
Then, as if snapping out of it, his eyes shot up to yours, and his face turned to that shade of red you’d seen before. “Shit” He spun around so fast he nearly slammed into the wall, and shut the door in front of him.
Your face burned with mortification. You grabbed your shirt, holding it up against your chest even though it was still wet. “What are you doing?” you whisper-yelled, trying to sound indignant, but your voice came out weaker than you wanted.
He ran a hand through his hair, his head still facing the door. “It wasn’t locked! And my friend is outside and—” He stopped himself, exhaling sharply. “Doesn’t matter. I’ll go.”
Silence lingered between you. You should’ve told him to hurry up and leave. Should’ve thrown something at him, and scolded him for barging in like that.
But you didn’t.
Instead, your pulse pounded in your ears as you watched the way his hands clenched at his sides, the way the muscle in the side of his jaw tensed. He was still standing there, motionless and breathing a little too hard, like he was trying really, really hard to control himself.
“…Are you gonna go?” you asked, your voice softer now.
Mr. Jeong hesitated, his hand lying still on the doorknob. He let out a shaky breath. “My friend is still out in the hall, maybe, I don’t know, I don’t want him to come in after me and see you. I’m just gonna give it another minute, just to be safe.” He whispered.
The bathroom felt impossibly small like the walls had closed in on you. The silence stretched, almost suffocating, broken only by the soft inhales through his nose and the distant chatter from the party downstairs. The faint drip of the faucet filled the space between you, but neither of you moved, let alone spoke.
It had only been a few seconds—maybe ten, maybe twenty—but it felt like minutes, like an eternity of you two just standing there, backs turned, bodies tense.
You both strained your ears, trying to pick up any signs of his friend lingering outside, but the house was too noisy, too alive with the sound of kids playing and parents chatting. There was no way to tell.
Then, slowly, almost hesitantly, he turned his head just enough to glance at you over his shoulder. His eyes lowered down to your body, just for a second, before he snapped his head forward again, almost too quickly, like he’d been caught looking.
His throat bobbed. “I think he might be gone,” he murmured. “I don’t hear anything.”
You nodded behind him, staying in place.
He exhaled deeply, his shoulders finally relaxing. “I’m really sorry,” he said, sounding defeated.
“It’s not your fault,” you replied, gripping your damp shirt tighter against your chest. “I’m sorry for snapping at you. I should’ve locked the door.”
“Right. Um… thanks,” he said. Then, after a pause, he added, “I also meant about yesterday. I feel so embarrassed. I hope that doesn’t make you feel uncomfortable about working for me. Hana really likes you.”
The mention of yesterday sent a small twist through your stomach. You swallowed. “I’m sorry for that too. I shouldn’t have walked in on you like that.”
He let out a short, breathy chuckle. “I guess we’re both just bad at locking doors. Makes us even.”
A small, nervous laugh slipped out of you, easing some of the tension in the room.
“And you don’t have to be embarrassed. Everyone does it—it’s normal,” you said, trying to reassure him, though you weren’t entirely sure why. Maybe to ease his discomfort. Maybe to ease your own.
He let out a low chuckle, the sound rumbling in his chest. “Oh yeah?” he mused, tilting his head slightly. “You jerk off in front of your babysitter too?”
The teasing tone in his voice made your cheeks warm up. But it was the way he turned then, fully facing you, locking his deep brown eyes onto yours, that made the air shift; buzzing with something neither of you acknowledged but both of you felt.
His smirk faded as quickly as it had come as if he suddenly realized how inappropriate his words were. But he didn’t apologize this time. And more importantly—he didn’t leave.
Your stomach twisted into knots again, breath growing heavier, shallower. Fuck. He was so hot. His sharp jawline, so strong and well-defined, tensed ever so slightly. His broad shoulders, so effortlessly commanding, made you feel smaller in the best way. And those eyes—deep, warm brown, always soft when he looked at Hana—weren’t so soft now. They were sharp, locked onto you with an intensity that made your pulse race. Even the faint crinkles near his eyes, the ones that usually appeared when he smiled, seemed more pronounced at this moment, only adding to how devastatingly beautiful he was.
You should have said something. You should have slipped on your cola-stained t-shirt and left the bathroom. But instead, you stood there, heart hammering in your chest, letting the weight of his gaze consume you. You couldn’t leave him. Not yet.
And then, without a second thought, you let your damp t-shirt slip from your fingers, the fabric pooling at your feet.
Mr. Jeong's gaze dropped to your cleavage, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. His initial serious expression made your heart flutter with uncertainty. Have you crossed a line? But then, his tongue darted out to wet his lips, and when his eyes met yours again, they held a spark that made your heart skip a beat. “What are you doing?” he asked, his voice a mixture of sternness and intrigue.
“I just want to help…” you replied softly, stepping closer with careful slowness. Each step brought you nearer until you were close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body. Your eyes locked onto his, filled with intent and a hint of mischief.
With a soft but bold touch, you reached out to cup his clothed cock, feeling its firmness beneath your palm. You applied a teasing pressure, grinding your hand against him. The sudden contact made him draw in a sharp breath, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment as he absorbed the sensation. “You didn’t get to cum last time, did you?” you murmured, your voice a sultry whisper that broke the tense silence between you.
His eyes opened slowly, a mix of desire and astonishment etched on his features. The initial hesitation seemed to melt away, replaced by a hunger that mirrored your own. He bit his bottom lip, trying to stop a moan from escaping. You could feel him hardening in your hand, his pant seam threatening to burst open.
As if all his restraint had snapped, he pressed one hand against the back of your head, fingers burrowing into your hair, while the other slid just under your chin, tilting your face up to meet his. He slammed his lips onto yours, finally giving in to the wild desire that had been simmering between you all day. Your lips moved messily while he grinded himself against your hand. “Fuck, you’re fucking crazy,” he said breathlessly into your lips, “And no, I didn’t, but I did think about creaming on your face before bed last night.”
You could already feel a wetness pooling between your legs, his words being the boost you so desperately needed to move forward. You kept kissing him hungrily while undoing his fly, his half-hard cock springing out in anticipation. You took him into your hand, your fingers barely meeting as you gripped around him, stroking him gently while he cursed into your mouth.
Mr. Jeong pulled away and spun you around in one swift move, pressing your body against his chest and trapping you in his embrace. Your hand remained obedient and eager, pumping his cock as his big hands roamed your body. One hand squeezed your breast, while the other slipped underneath your skirt. “Wore this skimpy little thing on purpose, didn’t you?” His words cascaded down your neck, “Little slut.”
You moaned softly as his fingers rubbed against your clothed clit, your sticky wet juices leaking through the fabric. Mr. Jeong gathered the front of your panties together and pulled with a force that made you gasp. The fabric wedged against your throbbing pussy, leaving you whimpering as you bucked your hips against the friction.
“Your so fucking wet, Y/N…” He teased, his lips pressed against your ears, sending a rush of butterflies in your stomach. “You liked what you saw yesterday, didn’t you? Couldn’t stop thinking about it, could you? Bet you came in on purpose, hmm? Heard what I was doing and wanted to help me cum?”
A deep, throaty moan escaped your lips. You loved the way he was talking to you, the way he reduced you to a horndog little pervert, and deep down, you knew it was true. You were addicted to the thrill of it all. “Yes, sir,” you whispered, your voice trembling with desire. “I wanna be your good girl, your slut. Wanna help you cum sir, please. Want your hot load on me. Please, sir, I need it.” Your words were an invitation, a desperate plea for the intense pleasure you’ve craved for so long, and you knew he couldn't resist.
Mr. Jeong shifted from behind you and you felt the warmth of his cock, a tantalizing tap against your cunt, which forced an excited yelp from your lips. His hand covered your mouth, a gentle yet firm reminder to keep quiet. “Don’t want anyone hearing us, do we baby?”
His cock was sandwiched between your sopping-wet folds and the tight fabric of your panties. The feeling was intoxicating, and you couldn’t help but grind your hot, eager pussy over his length. Your back rested against his chest, and you could feel his heart pounding in sync with your racing pulse. The fabric of your panties provided delicious friction, and you moaned softly into his hand, the sound muffled but still carrying the weight of your satisfaction.
You pressed your thighs together, squeezing his cock as you rode him, the sensation being too much for the both of you. “Fuck, baby, you’re gonna make me cum too soon,” He panted, his head falling forward and burying into your shoulder.
You grew restless, your grinding becoming faster and wild, the sounds of your quiet and desperate begging like music to his ears. “Please, sir, cum in my panties, I’ll be so good,” You pleaded with tears of pleasure streaking down your cheeks. The thought of walking around in his cum-soaked panties gave you a thrill. You could feel your clit pulsing as you rutted against his shaft, the sheer bliss of it beyond anything you’d ever experienced. “I’m gonna cum, sir, please…oh, fuck, I’m cumming!” You cried out, your body shaking with the force of your orgasm.
As your orgasm subsided, his cock still pressed against your swollen clit. You felt a numbness, a euphoric high that left you floating, your wetness a warm, inviting contrast to his hot, throbbing length. Shivers ran down your spine, and you felt like you were hovering, your consciousness detached from your body.
Mr. Jeong lifted you in his strong arms, carrying you like fragile glass. He brought you to the bathroom mirror, and as he held you up, you couldn't help but be amazed at the sight of his length against your body. It was almost surreal, the difference in scale, and you felt a mix of excitement and nervousness. He snaked a hand around your waist, pulling your panties to the side, exposing your wet, glistening cunt to the cool air. You shivered, feeling a rush of vulnerability. He slapped his cock against your wet cunt, grinning, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm.
“What are you doing, sir?” you asked shyly, your voice soft and hesitant. You had never experienced this position before, and the sight of your legs spread wide and your cunt so open and exposed made you nervous. Mr. Jeong's hands grasped under your thighs, supporting your weight, and you could feel his strength and his muscles bulging as he held you up. “I wanna see this little pussy take my big cock,” he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. “Wanna watch it stretch and take me deep.”
You gulped, your heart racing in your chest. You had never taken something this big before, and Mr. Jeong was indeed impressive. The thought of being stretched, of accommodating to his size, both excited and intimidated you. You wanted to tell him about your virginity, but the words caught in your throat. You didn't want to turn him off, and so you remained silent, your mind racing with a mix of emotions.
Noticing your worried glance reflected in the mirror, Mr. Jeong's eyes narrowed, a hint of disappointment creasing his features. “What's wrong, baby? You wanna stop?” he asked, his voice laced with concern.
“No,” you said quietly before reaching down to grasp his cock. With a firm grip, you began to work him up and down, the weight of his hard length in your hands making your pussy twitch. You pushed his cock against your entrance, the head pressing against your tight, virgin opening. “Please, sir,” you begged, your voice pathetically dry. “I want your cock inside of me. I want to feel you stretching me, filling me up. Wanna be good for you.”
The thought of giving up your virginity to him was both scary and exhilarating. You wanted to be his, to belong to him in the most intimate way possible. You pumped him desperately, your core aching to have him stuffed deep inside you.
The head of his cock pressed against your tight opening, and you could feel the stretch, the burning sensation of being filled for the very first time. A sob escaped your lips as Mr. Jeong slowly lowered you over his cock, the mirror reflecting it all. You watched in awe as his hot, throbbing rod disappeared inside your body, the sight of it stretching you, filling you, almost too much to bear.
“Fuck, you're so tight,” he grunted, his eyes wide with a mix of pleasure and awe. The sensation of being filled by his impressive size was intense, and you were intoxicated by a mixture of pain and bliss, the feeling making your mind numb. He was incredibly gentle at first, pushing just the tip of his cock into your walls, treating you with the utmost care. But as tension built within him, his eyes grew darker, a fierce lust taking over. With a sudden, primal urge, he began working you over his cock, pulling you up and down, your tight pussy gripping his length. You felt incredible to him, like a fleshlight come to life, and even he struggled to mask his moans as your body adjusted to his size.
The pain was fleeting, replaced by a deep, satisfying pleasure. “Oh god, sir” you whispered, your voice strained. “It feels so good. So full... Please, don't stop.” Your sweet pleas made his ears buzz, his stomach fluttering from just how sweetly you begged for more of him.
“God, you’re doing so good for me,” He praised, almost giddy with how effortlessly you fit him. His eyes never left the mirror, his thick bulge disappearing into your tight, wet pussy, a sight too mesmerizing to look away from. “Such a good girl…look so pretty on my cock” He huffed, “My little cumslut.”
His words sent a rush of heat to your cheeks, and you felt your pussy clench around him in response. You wanted him to keep talking dirty to you, to fill your ears with every filthy word and fantasy he had while pounding into you.
Mr. Jeong grew tired, and he placed you back on the ground, pushing your body down against the sink, the cold marble against your bare stomach sending a chill down your spine. He lifted your skirt, rubbing himself against your puffy pussy lips, the overstimulation driving you wild. You felt his cock, thick and hard, lining up with your hole, and you knew what was coming. Your mouth fell open in a silent gasp as he pushed into you in one swift, powerful motion, filling you up completely. He stilled his hips, giving your pussy a chance to adjust to his size, to wrap itself around him, to pulsate and invite him deeper. You were stuffed, every inch of your pussy filled with his cock, his balls swinging and slapping against your raw skin with each thrust.
With each snap of his hips, you cursed under your breath, your fingers gripping tightly to the sink as if it were your only anchor in this storm. "S-so big!" you yelped, your voice filled with a mix of awe and fear. Your body was now completely at the mercy of Mr. Jeong, his powerful strokes sending waves of pleasure and pain through your sensitive pussy.
As he continued to thrust into you, he brought one hand up, pressing his fingers against your mouth, effectively silencing your moans. "Gotta do something about that mouth, baby," he whispered, his voice low and dangerous. His fingers, still wet with your juices from before, found their way into your mouth, and you gladly accepted them, your lips closing around his digits. You moaned deeply, your tongue wrapping around his fingers, tasting yourself on them. You lost yourself in his touch, his hard cock massaging your gummy walls, his fingers probing and exploring your warm mouth, his lips licking and sucking your ear lobe as he whispered filth to you, bringing you to the brink of another orgasm.
As your eyes met your reflection in the mirror, you were struck by a sense of unfamiliarity. Your makeup was smudged and running, the black mascara staining your tears and streaking down your cheeks. Your hair was frizzy and chaotic, some sweat-drenched strands framing your face and sticking to your warm cheeks. Your lips looked wet and swollen as you gagged around Mr. Jeong’s long fingers, the saliva dripping down your chin. You loved it. You looked like a woman who had been pleasured beyond measure. There was an intoxicating power in seeing yourself like this, a power that made you feel alive and desirable. It reminded you of the pornstar Mr. Jeong was watching yesterday, her fucked-out expression now mirroring your own.
"Oh god, sir, it's too much!" you moaned, pulling his fingers out from your mouth. "I can't take it! I'm gonna cum again!"
“Fuck, me too,” He grunted as he pulled out of you, feeling the inevitable approach of his own release. Relief washed over you, your body weakening, your walls clenching and spasming around nothing. Mr. Jeong spun you around, placing a hand on the top of your head, pushing you to your knees just as your body swayed with the first waves of your climax.
As Mr. Jeong jerked himself off with his hand, his eyes never left your face, now a beautiful canvas covered in the ropes of his hot cum. Though still reeling from the intense orgasm he had just given you, you opened your mouth wide, obediently accepting his thick, white cum as it splashed over your tongue. The taste was both bitter and sour, but you loved it, a unique flavor that was all his.
You licked your lips, moaning softly as you savored his taste. You kissed his tender tip, running your tongue over his slit, relishing the feeling of his cum leaking out, warm and sticky.
With a playful smile, Mr. Jeong rubbed his tip against your lips, leaving a trail of cum as he did so. "Shit, baby, you look so pretty with my cum on your face," he said, his voice shaky with post-orgasmic delight. "My sweet little cumslut."
Taking him into your mouth once more, you swirled your tongue around his sensitive head, moaning from the taste and texture of his cum. You pulled off with a plopping sound, a satisfied smile on your face. "Taste so good, sir," you whispered, your voice filled with admiration and gratitude. "Thank you for letting me taste your cum.”
Mr. Jeong, clearly pleased with your gratitude, ran his fingers through your hair affectionately, gently tucking a strand behind your ear. Suddenly, there was a hard knock on the door, snapping you both out of your little daze.
“Yo, Yunho,” a voice called from the door. “Are you taking a shit? How much longer are you gonna be? Hana’s ready to cut the cake.”
Mr. Jeong flinched, his hands moving fast as he pulled his bottoms up, stuffing himself back inside like a guilty teenager caught red-handed. “Uh, just a minute! I’ll be right out!” he called back, voice strained.
The man sighed. “Alright, well, hurry up. The cake’s melting out here.”
You both snapped into action, scrambling to fix your clothes and smooth your hair. The rush of reality crashing back down made your heart pound even harder than before. Just as you were ready to bolt, Yunho suddenly froze, his expression shifting once he realized the mess he left on your face was still dripping down your cheeks.
Then, without a word, he grabbed a few squares of toilet paper and gently wiped the sticky white jelly from your flushed face. “Sorry,” he murmured, his fingers barely grazing your skin, his eyes burning with the same embarrassed, heated look from before.
Once you were clean, he lingered for a second too long, standing so close you could feel his breath on your lips. He parted his mouth as if to say something, anything, but nothing came out. Instead, his fingers anxiously tapped against his thigh, a nervous habit you had never noticed before.
“You should go first,” you said quickly, sensing the weight of the moment. “I’ll come down after.”
His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, then he nodded. “Thanks,” he muttered, stuffing his shirt back into his waistband before slipping out the door with hurried, uneven steps.
You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding and sank onto the toilet seat. The room still smelled faintly of him, and it felt unreal how fast the energy had shifted. Had he just been hit with regret? Was he now scrambling to shove this whole thing into a locked box in his mind? Now no longer in the heat of the moment, did he think what you two did was wrong? Were you going to get fired?
For the rest of the party, Mr. Jeong successfully avoided you. He busied himself slicing tiny squares of cake for the kids, nodding along to endless small talk with the other parents as if nothing had happened.
You took the hint, feeling a slight shame in your chest.
Slipping out early, you gave Hana a tight hug before heading back to your car. The second you settled into your seat, your phone buzzed in your pocket. With a sigh, you pulled it out, expecting something mundane.
But when you read the message, you couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at your lips.
Jeong Yunho: See you Monday ;)
—
Your sleep schedule had indeed improved, and you found yourself no longer relying on toys to satisfy your desires. The structure and routine of your new life, with Hana and Mr. Jeong, had brought a sense of balance and fulfillment. You enjoyed the daily interactions with Hana, whether it was playing frisbee in the backyard or teaching her simple math in her room. Your bond with her grew stronger each day, and you found great joy in being a positive influence in her life.
However, it was the Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays that held a special place in your heart. These were the days when you dropped Hana off at her ballet recitals, and while she was practicing her pliés and pirouettes, you would return to their home to tend to your other job.
Your knees were growing sore from scraping against the carpet under Yunho’s desktop table. Sounds of girls moaning emanated from his monitor. Though you were curious about what he was watching, you knew it was none of your business. Instead, you focused on the task at hand and wrapped your warm mouth over his throbbing cock, nestling yourself between his legs from under his desk. The width of his bulge filled your throat, and you gagged lightly, a sign of your complete submission to him.
Yunho, lost in the porno he was watching, seemed momentarily unaware of your presence. He was engrossed in the images on his screen, his eyes droopy and his breathing heavy. Your mouth bobbed up and down, your lips wrapping tightly around his shaft, and you could feel his excitement building. The sound of his moans mixed with the pornographic sounds on his computer made you clench around nothing, forcing you to slip your hand past your waistband.
As you continued to suck him, you could feel his hands running through your hair, gently guiding your movements. You massaged his warm balls with your free hand, feeling his cum bubbling up in his sack, and you knew it wouldn't be long before he released his load into your waiting mouth.
"That's it, baby," Yunho whispered, his voice soft yet dominant. “Keep that pretty mouth on me. So good…so, so good for me.”
I would greatly appreciate reblogs with comments and replies. please consider leaving feedback if you enjoyed this x.
》 plot: every night this summer, you fantasized about your boss, Mr. Jeong. babysitting his adorable daughter all summer had turned your small crush on the young, single dad into a lust-filled infatuation. after an awkward encounter that left you both humiliated, you did your best to keep your distance at his daughter’s birthday party. that is, until fate trapped you in a bathroom with him while the party carried on outside.
》 content: oh boy, let's see, age gap, aged up yunho, virgin reader, reader lowkey down bad and porn-obsessed, bathroom sex, mirror sex, panties stay on!! grinding, cowgirl stand and carry, use of sir and good girl, filthy dirty talk, cum eating, cum facial, reader obsessed with his cum lol, thigh fucking, sucking his dick while he watches porn??? MONSTER CAWK YUNHO
》 playlist: prettiest virgin- agar agar, candy- doja cat, I fucking lust you- d'african, taste so good- sabrina claudio, less of you- omar apollo, real life- the marias
You promised yourself you wouldn’t do this again, but here you were, laying in bed with a vibrator cupped to your clit, eyes glued to your phone screen as you tapped on the first video in the big dick category. It took a while for the vibrator to buzz you the right way, but once you found your sweet spot, your head sank lower into your pillow and you had to bite your lip to keep any sounds from slipping out of your mouth. This was the fifth night in a row that you jerked off, and honestly, you were exhausted; Tired of waking up late because of your little late-night endeavors, tired of feeling gross each time your wetness leaked out and stained your panties during the day, and most of all, tired of being a virgin.
The video you were watching had your favorite pornstar in it. The guy himself wasn’t at all your type, but his cock was pretty. And big. It’s weird to admit, but this is how you imagined Mr. Jeong’s cock looked like. You had been babysitting Mr. Jeong’s six-year-old daughter for the summer while school was out. She was an angel. Hana reminded you a lot of Bubbles from the PowerPuff Girls cartoon, with her sweet little voice and sensitive nature. You loved spending time with her.
Yes, throughout the summer, you had developed a crush on Hana’s Dad. How could you not? He was everything a man ought to be— tall, handsome, and kind. His being a good father was just a plus in your eyes. He worked from home, so you’d see him occasionally throughout the day. During his break, he’d come downstairs from his home office to color with Hana for a few minutes. During lunch, you’d sit with them on the patio, watching with heart eyes as he wiped ketchup off of her little mouth.
Lately, your infatuation has become all-consuming, and you resorted to buying a vibrator from Amazon to help ease your frustrations. And that’s when this little habit of yours began. It felt odd, at first. You didn’t want to be the type of person who watches porn every night for hours, imagining your boss doing all these things to you. It just sort of happened. And instead of easing your frustrations, it made them worse.
You hated being a virgin. Vibrators weren’t enough. You, for lack of a better term, needed to be dicked down. Preferably by Mr. Jeong, but that would only happen in your wildest dreams. It wasn’t like he made it easy for you. Yesterday for example, when you were preparing Hana’s PB&J, Mr. Jeong reached over your head to grab a mug from the cupboard above you. “Behind you,” he alerted, his fingers grazing over your waist as he pulled his coffee mug out. You stood frozen, the place where he touched you burning hot on your skin.
Every time he touches you, whether it’s the accidental brush of his fingers when he hands you your check or the deliberate weight of his hand on your shoulder as he thanks you at the end of the day, it only makes you crave him more and more.
The video you were watching had an obvious size kink going on. The male pornstar was huge, and he was able to pick up his petite partner and fuck into her with ease. Your thighs clenched thinking about Mr. Jeong picking you up like that and pumping you up and down his length, stuffing just the tip of his big cock into you because that’s all that could fit. Your core tightened, and your orgasm was imminent, until…
It died. Your vibrator died.
“Oh, fuck off!” You cursed, slamming your head back into your pillow. Stupid cheap fucking vibrator. Here’s to another night of being a lonely, twenty-something virgin, going to bed unsatisfied and unwanted. You sighed, exasperated.
Mr. Jeong was older. You didn’t know much about his wife. It was a sensitive topic for him. And Hana was too young to remember her final moments. He couldn’t possibly want anything to do with you, and instead, you filled your head with unrealistic fantasies to keep yourself up at night and made yourself cum to them. Maybe you wouldn’t be so miserable if you were around more boys your age.
Too tired to continue with your fingers, you shifted to your side and tried to make yourself comfortable. It was 4 in the morning now, which meant you’d only get about 3 hours tonight. Just great, you thought to yourself, waiting for the exhaustion to finally lull you to sleep.
—
You were rather sluggish today, struggling to keep your eyes open as you drove to Mr. Jeong’s house. The cold brew you picked up before heading over there wasn’t much help. Instead, it just made you even more tired. I need to stop jerking off before bed, you told yourself. Luckily, it was Friday, which meant you had enough time to catch up on the lost hours of sleep this weekend.
You sighed as you measured out the detergent to wash Hana’s favorite tutu, the warm and fuzzy smell of fabric softener reminding you of your blanket at home, making you want to sleep even more. Hana got upset this morning before you dropped her off to ballet practice when some syrup from her drive-thru pancakes dripped onto her tutu. To quiet her tantrum, you promised her you’d go back home to wash it so it's nice and clean for her to wear when she comes back, and that you’d also bring her second favorite tutu for practice— a purplish-blue one with pink glitter dusted around it. It didn’t feel right just washing one piece of clothing, so you decided to go upstairs and quickly grab the dirty clothes from Hana and Mr. Jeong’s hampers.
You yawned as you made your way up the stairs, stopping by Hana’s room first. Her room was, as always, a chaotic mess—Barbie dolls and crayons scattered across the floor in colorful disarray, old juice boxes, and snack bags left forgotten on the desk. No matter how many times you tried to teach her the importance of cleaning up after herself, the lesson never seemed to stick. With a resigned sigh, you grabbed the clothes from her hamper and stuffed them into the laundry basket.
Leaving her room, you headed toward Mr. Jeong’s, but froze mid-step as a strange, muffled sound reached your ears from his office. At first, you assumed he was in a meeting, but as you drew closer, the noises grew more alarming—strained and uneven, almost as if he were in pain or… crying?
You gently set the laundry basket down on the floor, carefully tiptoeing toward the door. Pressing your ear against the cold, wooden surface, you strained to make sense of the muffled noises coming from inside. A sharp hiss followed by a low, frustrated “fuck” caught you off guard, making your breath hitch.
Startled, you raised a hand and knocked lightly on the door. “Mr. Jeong?” you called softly. No answer. Concern gnawed at you, and without thinking, you turned the knob. The door creaked as it inched open, the sound slicing through the stillness.
“Mr. Jeong, is everything—” you started, stepping inside.
Mr. Jeong swiveled in his chair, his face frozen in a mask of shock and embarrassment. The two of you stood locked in place as if time itself had come to a standstill. The only sounds in the room were the filthy, lewd moans of a woman coming from his computer. Your gaze dropped instinctively, trailing down his frame until your eyes caught on something in his lower half— his long slender fingers gripping tightly onto his erect cock.
“Y/N!” he exclaimed, his voice sharp with panic as he scrambled to pull his pants up, hastily stuffing himself back into his waistband. His movements were frantic, his face flushed a deep crimson. “I-I thought you were at the ballet school!”
Your cheeks burned with embarrassment, the heat rising so quickly you felt your face must be as red as his. “I-I was,” you stammered, your words tumbling out awkwardly as you tried to steady your voice. “But… Hana’s tutu got dirty, and I… I came back to grab another one…”
The porn video continued playing in the background, the sounds of the ridiculously wet blowjob making the awkwardness even more unbearable.
Mr. Jeong, finally snapping out of his daze, spun back to his computer and fumbled to exit the site, the click of the mouse unnervingly loud in the heavy silence. He turned back to you, his mouth opening as if to say something, but no words came. His expression was a mixture of shame and desperation, his face still a deep shade of red.
“I’m so sorry,” you blurted out, your voice breathless and shaky as you struggled to compose yourself. The urge to flee was overwhelming. “I-I should get back to Hana. So sorry again!”
Without waiting for a response, you spun on your heel and hurried out of the room, heart pounding in your chest as you tried to process what had just happened.
—
You had worried earlier about how you’d make it through the day, feeling so drained and sluggish, but the shock from what happened had jolted you awake like a surge of electricity. Now, a different concern gnawed at you—whether you’d be able to sleep at all tonight. Embarrassment burned through you, and you were sure poor Mr. Jeong wanted to disappear off the face of the Earth after that moment.
Yet, despite yourself, your mind kept racing, replaying the image of his cock. It was so big. It was prettier than the pornstar’s you watch every night. It looked so firm in his hands, the tip flushed pink just like his cheeks. You wondered how it would feel between your legs. Would you even be able to take it? You had dildos in the past, but nothing more than the size of your palm.
“Cash or card?” Hana chirped, her cheerful voice snapping you out of the inappropriate thoughts swirling in your head about her dad.
“Hmm?” you mumbled, blinking down at her as she sat cross-legged on the carpeted floor. The living room was a mess, scattered with the colorful pieces of her cashier playset. She pointed at the small plastic credit card in your hand, her expression expectant.
“Oh, uh… I guess card?” you replied, handing it over. You watched as she swiped it through the toy terminal, her little hand expertly mimicking the action.
“Boo beep!” she said with a grin, the sound effects spot-on, before handing you back the card along with a tiny plastic milk carton. “Here you go!”
You couldn’t help but smile, her playful innocence pulling you further from your earlier embarrassment. “Thanks, Hana. Can I have a bag, please?”
“That’s fifty cents extra.”
“Little haggler, aren’t you?” You teased.
Suddenly, the sound of footsteps echoed down the stairs, pulling Hana’s attention away from the transaction. “Daddy!” she exclaimed joyfully, rushing toward Mr. Jeong and wrapping her tiny arms around his legs in a tight hug.
“Hey, peanut,” he greeted with a warm smile, scooping her up and planting a quick kiss on her cheek.
“Daddy, I did a pirouette today at practice! Wanna see?”
As Hana spun around, tripping over her own feet a couple of times, you gathered your things and stuffed them into your bag. You kept your eyes down, moving toward the door with a quiet sigh of relief. For once, you were thankful it wasn’t payday; no need to linger any longer, no forced small talk with Mr. Jeong. He seemed just as relieved as he tried his best to avoid you altogether.
“See you next week, kiddo,” you said, ruffling Hana’s soft hair before heading for the door.
“Wait, Daddy! Can Y/N come to my birthday party tomorrow?”
Mr. Jeong’s smile faltered, replaced by an uncomfortable glance in your direction. “Oh, um, well… why don’t you ask her, sweetie?” he said, quickly deflecting the question back to you.
Hana ran up to you, pressing her small body into your legs and looking up at you with those wide, pleading eyes. “Y/N, can you please please please come to my birthday party? There’s gonna be ice cream cake!”
The urge to say no was strong. You could sense Mr. Jeong’s discomfort, and honestly, you were looking forward to a quiet weekend away from him. But her hopeful gaze, the way her lips stuck out in a small, almost irresistible pout… it was too much to deny.
“Oh, well… I think I have to go somewhere this weekend and…” you started, but then her lower lip began to tremble, and you hated seeing her upset.
You let out a soft sigh, the words slipping out despite yourself. “I, uh, I guess I can come for a little bit.”
“Yay!” Hana cheered, her excitement spilling over as she jumped up and down. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
You exchanged a quiet good night with Mr. Jeong, the awkwardness lingering between you both, before disappearing into the warm summer night. The air was heavy as you made your way to your car, but your mind was racing.
As you sat behind the wheel, you cursed yourself under your breath. You should’ve held your ground, should’ve said no when you had the chance. But now… now you are going to a party with Mr. Jeong. How were you supposed to handle that? How were you supposed to navigate a whole afternoon, trapped in the same space with him, when the last thing you wanted was to face him after walking in on him jerking off earlier?
You huffed as you put your keys in the ignition. This was going to be a long weekend.
—
The next day came quickly, too quickly, and you dreaded the whole affair as you pulled up on the driveway. You showed up about thirty minutes later than the time on the invitation, hoping to blend into the chaos without much fanfare. Sure enough, no one seemed to notice.
The house was buzzing with activity. Little kids, probably Hana’s classmates and friends from ballet, darted around like wild animals, screaming and leaving a trail of toys and crumbs in their wake. You weaved through the commotion, making your way to the table piled high with brightly wrapped presents.
You set down your gift; a doll set Hana had been dreaming about for weeks. Suddenly, you felt a small squeeze at your leg. Looking down, you saw Hana beaming up at you, her arms wrapped around you in a tight hug.
“You came!” she squealed, bouncing with excitement.
“Of course I did. Happy birthday!” you said, smiling as you ruffled her hair.
“Come meet my friends!” she insisted, grabbing your hand before you could protest.
Hana dragged you into the backyard, where her friends were splashing in the pool, their parents sitting nearby and watching them like hawks. Hana proudly introduced you to two of her closest friends—“important friends,” as she whispered with a serious nod that made you chuckle.
As you chatted with Hana’s friends, you felt a familiar pull in the corner of your eye. Mr. Jeong stood near the grill, just within your peripheral vision. The moment you glanced in his direction, your heart gave a sharp tug. He was watching you.
Your breath caught, but just before you could process it, you quickly looked away, pretending to focus on the childlike conversation in front of you. As you nodded along, a thought crept in—was he still looking at you? The possibility made your skin prickle, a slow heat creeping up your neck, your pulse growing erratic. You fought the urge to glance his way again, but curiosity got the better of you. You glanced up again, a quick and casual move, but this time, he wasn’t looking anymore. He had already turned his attention to another parent, nodding along to whatever they were saying, sipping on his ice cold beer. Still, your skin tingled, like his gaze hadn’t fully left you.
The mix of the screaming children, the sun beating down on you, and the overwhelming energy of the party soon had you retreating. With a quick excuse, you headed for the shaded table, grabbing a Coca-Cola and savoring the brief moment of quiet.
You chugged the fizzy drink, the burn in your throat oddly satisfying as it momentarily cooled you off. As you set the half-empty can down, your ears caught snippets of a hushed conversation from the table next to you. Two women, likely mothers of Hana’s friends, were whispering, and one word made you tune in: Yunho.
“His wife passed away a few years ago, back when Hana was just learning to walk. Poor guy, raising her all on his own.”
“God, but he’s so cute, though,” the other one said, not bothering to lower her voice.
“I know, right? If I didn’t have Leo, I’d totally take him out for a spin.” They dissolved into giggles, clearly enjoying their little moment until their eyes flicked toward you.
You froze, caught mid-sip from your drink. The sudden attention made your cheeks warm as they realized you’d overheard them. One of the women quickly cleared her throat, trying to cover the awkwardness.
“So, which one’s yours?” she asked, her tone friendly, though her shoulders were tense—probably hoping you hadn’t heard the part where she casually considered sleeping with Mr. Jeong.
“Oh, none of them,” you replied, forcing a polite smile. “I’m Hana’s babysitter.”
You took another sip of your soda, trying to ignore the way the two women were looking at you. It was obvious they had some kind of assumption about you and Mr. Jeong, and it made your skin prickle with discomfort.
“Oh, I didn’t know Mr. Jeong had a babysitter,” the long-haired woman said, glancing at her friend with a knowing look.
You shifted under their stares, suddenly feeling like you were being sized up. They both looked down at your exposed legs, your flowy skirt just barely covering your knees. You knew what they were thinking. Their curiosity wasn’t just innocent small talk. It felt more like they were trying to figure out if you were a threat. A young, single dad and his younger, pretty babysitter? Sounded like an overdone porn plot.
You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could, your fingers anxiously slipped against your soda can, sending the cold, fizzy liquid spilling down the front of your shirt.
“Oh, shit—” You gasped, stepping back as the sticky sweetness seeped into the fabric.
The two women let out little gasps, covering their mouths, but neither of them moved to help.
“Ugh,” you muttered, shaking your hands off. “Excuse me.”
Quickly, you turned and made your way inside, walking past clusters of parents and kids until you reached the staircase. Your face was burning with frustration. This whole weekend was just one embarrassment after another. Everything had felt weird since yesterday. Mr. Jeong had been acting strange, you’d been acting strange, and now you had people assuming things about you that weren’t even true.
You climbed the stairs, the noise of the party fading as you finally reached the bathroom. With a sigh, you pushed the door open and slipped inside, shutting the door behind you.
The cold air from the vent hit your damp shirt, making the fabric cling to your skin uncomfortably. Grimacing, you pulled it over your head and tossed it onto the sink. You turned on the faucet, grabbing a towel to try and clean it before the stickiness set in.
As you rubbed at the stain, you caught your reflection in the mirror. Your cheeks were still flushed, your hair slightly messy from the heat outside. You looked… flustered. Not just from the soda incident, but from everything. From him. From the way he was staring at you, from the way you’d been thinking about him all day, despite knowing you shouldn’t. It was no surprise that you couldn’t sleep the night before, your hands stuffed inside your panties all night, forcing yourself to cum over and over as you thought about Mr. Jeong pumping his big hard cock after a long day. You couldn’t help but wonder what kind of categories he liked. MILF? Hentai? Gangbang? Did he have a favorite pornstar? You desperately wanted to know what he liked, how he liked it, his greatest desires. But what was the use? You were only driving yourself mad with these little fantasies.
You let out a deep breath, gripping the edge of the sink. Get it together.
Before you could pull yourself back to reality, you were startled by a sudden commotion outside of your door. And before you could even react, the door knob turned and the door creaked open.
Your heart jumped into your throat as Mr. Jeong stepped inside, his eyes focused on something behind him, mid-sentence. “I’ll be right there, just gotta take a leak—”
He stopped. Completely frozen.
His eyes landed on your bare skin, the lacy edge of your bra, the way the damp fabric of your shirt sat crumpled in the sink.
For a second, neither of you moved.
Then, as if snapping out of it, his eyes shot up to yours, and his face turned to that shade of red you’d seen before. “Shit” He spun around so fast he nearly slammed into the wall, and shut the door in front of him.
Your face burned with mortification. You grabbed your shirt, holding it up against your chest even though it was still wet. “What are you doing?” you whisper-yelled, trying to sound indignant, but your voice came out weaker than you wanted.
He ran a hand through his hair, his head still facing the door. “It wasn’t locked! And my friend is outside and—” He stopped himself, exhaling sharply. “Doesn’t matter. I’ll go.”
Silence lingered between you. You should’ve told him to hurry up and leave. Should’ve thrown something at him, and scolded him for barging in like that.
But you didn’t.
Instead, your pulse pounded in your ears as you watched the way his hands clenched at his sides, the way the muscle in the side of his jaw tensed. He was still standing there, motionless and breathing a little too hard, like he was trying really, really hard to control himself.
“…Are you gonna go?” you asked, your voice softer now.
Mr. Jeong hesitated, his hand lying still on the doorknob. He let out a shaky breath. “My friend is still out in the hall, maybe, I don’t know, I don’t want him to come in after me and see you. I’m just gonna give it another minute, just to be safe.” He whispered.
The bathroom felt impossibly small like the walls had closed in on you. The silence stretched, almost suffocating, broken only by the soft inhales through his nose and the distant chatter from the party downstairs. The faint drip of the faucet filled the space between you, but neither of you moved, let alone spoke.
It had only been a few seconds—maybe ten, maybe twenty—but it felt like minutes, like an eternity of you two just standing there, backs turned, bodies tense.
You both strained your ears, trying to pick up any signs of his friend lingering outside, but the house was too noisy, too alive with the sound of kids playing and parents chatting. There was no way to tell.
Then, slowly, almost hesitantly, he turned his head just enough to glance at you over his shoulder. His eyes lowered down to your body, just for a second, before he snapped his head forward again, almost too quickly, like he’d been caught looking.
His throat bobbed. “I think he might be gone,” he murmured. “I don’t hear anything.”
You nodded behind him, staying in place.
He exhaled deeply, his shoulders finally relaxing. “I’m really sorry,” he said, sounding defeated.
“It’s not your fault,” you replied, gripping your damp shirt tighter against your chest. “I’m sorry for snapping at you. I should’ve locked the door.”
“Right. Um… thanks,” he said. Then, after a pause, he added, “I also meant about yesterday. I feel so embarrassed. I hope that doesn’t make you feel uncomfortable about working for me. Hana really likes you.”
The mention of yesterday sent a small twist through your stomach. You swallowed. “I’m sorry for that too. I shouldn’t have walked in on you like that.”
He let out a short, breathy chuckle. “I guess we’re both just bad at locking doors. Makes us even.”
A small, nervous laugh slipped out of you, easing some of the tension in the room.
“And you don’t have to be embarrassed. Everyone does it—it’s normal,” you said, trying to reassure him, though you weren’t entirely sure why. Maybe to ease his discomfort. Maybe to ease your own.
He let out a low chuckle, the sound rumbling in his chest. “Oh yeah?” he mused, tilting his head slightly. “You jerk off in front of your babysitter too?”
The teasing tone in his voice made your cheeks warm up. But it was the way he turned then, fully facing you, locking his deep brown eyes onto yours, that made the air shift; buzzing with something neither of you acknowledged but both of you felt.
His smirk faded as quickly as it had come as if he suddenly realized how inappropriate his words were. But he didn’t apologize this time. And more importantly—he didn’t leave.
Your stomach twisted into knots again, breath growing heavier, shallower. Fuck. He was so hot. His sharp jawline, so strong and well-defined, tensed ever so slightly. His broad shoulders, so effortlessly commanding, made you feel smaller in the best way. And those eyes—deep, warm brown, always soft when he looked at Hana—weren’t so soft now. They were sharp, locked onto you with an intensity that made your pulse race. Even the faint crinkles near his eyes, the ones that usually appeared when he smiled, seemed more pronounced at this moment, only adding to how devastatingly beautiful he was.
You should have said something. You should have slipped on your cola-stained t-shirt and left the bathroom. But instead, you stood there, heart hammering in your chest, letting the weight of his gaze consume you. You couldn’t leave him. Not yet.
And then, without a second thought, you let your damp t-shirt slip from your fingers, the fabric pooling at your feet.
Mr. Jeong's gaze dropped to your cleavage, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. His initial serious expression made your heart flutter with uncertainty. Have you crossed a line? But then, his tongue darted out to wet his lips, and when his eyes met yours again, they held a spark that made your heart skip a beat. “What are you doing?” he asked, his voice a mixture of sternness and intrigue.
“I just want to help…” you replied softly, stepping closer with careful slowness. Each step brought you nearer until you were close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body. Your eyes locked onto his, filled with intent and a hint of mischief.
With a soft but bold touch, you reached out to cup his clothed cock, feeling its firmness beneath your palm. You applied a teasing pressure, grinding your hand against him. The sudden contact made him draw in a sharp breath, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment as he absorbed the sensation. “You didn’t get to cum last time, did you?” you murmured, your voice a sultry whisper that broke the tense silence between you.
His eyes opened slowly, a mix of desire and astonishment etched on his features. The initial hesitation seemed to melt away, replaced by a hunger that mirrored your own. He bit his bottom lip, trying to stop a moan from escaping. You could feel him hardening in your hand, his pant seam threatening to burst open.
As if all his restraint had snapped, he pressed one hand against the back of your head, fingers burrowing into your hair, while the other slid just under your chin, tilting your face up to meet his. He slammed his lips onto yours, finally giving in to the wild desire that had been simmering between you all day. Your lips moved messily while he grinded himself against your hand. “Fuck, you’re fucking crazy,” he said breathlessly into your lips, “And no, I didn’t, but I did think about creaming on your face before bed last night.”
You could already feel a wetness pooling between your legs, his words being the boost you so desperately needed to move forward. You kept kissing him hungrily while undoing his fly, his half-hard cock springing out in anticipation. You took him into your hand, your fingers barely meeting as you gripped around him, stroking him gently while he cursed into your mouth.
Mr. Jeong pulled away and spun you around in one swift move, pressing your body against his chest and trapping you in his embrace. Your hand remained obedient and eager, pumping his cock as his big hands roamed your body. One hand squeezed your breast, while the other slipped underneath your skirt. “Wore this skimpy little thing on purpose, didn’t you?” His words cascaded down your neck, “Little slut.”
You moaned softly as his fingers rubbed against your clothed clit, your sticky wet juices leaking through the fabric. Mr. Jeong gathered the front of your panties together and pulled with a force that made you gasp. The fabric wedged against your throbbing pussy, leaving you whimpering as you bucked your hips against the friction.
“Your so fucking wet, Y/N…” He teased, his lips pressed against your ears, sending a rush of butterflies in your stomach. “You liked what you saw yesterday, didn’t you? Couldn’t stop thinking about it, could you? Bet you came in on purpose, hmm? Heard what I was doing and wanted to help me cum?”
A deep, throaty moan escaped your lips. You loved the way he was talking to you, the way he reduced you to a horndog little pervert, and deep down, you knew it was true. You were addicted to the thrill of it all. “Yes, sir,” you whispered, your voice trembling with desire. “I wanna be your good girl, your slut. Wanna help you cum sir, please. Want your hot load on me. Please, sir, I need it.” Your words were an invitation, a desperate plea for the intense pleasure you’ve craved for so long, and you knew he couldn't resist.
Mr. Jeong shifted from behind you and you felt the warmth of his cock, a tantalizing tap against your cunt, which forced an excited yelp from your lips. His hand covered your mouth, a gentle yet firm reminder to keep quiet. “Don’t want anyone hearing us, do we baby?”
His cock was sandwiched between your sopping-wet folds and the tight fabric of your panties. The feeling was intoxicating, and you couldn’t help but grind your hot, eager pussy over his length. Your back rested against his chest, and you could feel his heart pounding in sync with your racing pulse. The fabric of your panties provided delicious friction, and you moaned softly into his hand, the sound muffled but still carrying the weight of your satisfaction.
You pressed your thighs together, squeezing his cock as you rode him, the sensation being too much for the both of you. “Fuck, baby, you’re gonna make me cum too soon,” He panted, his head falling forward and burying into your shoulder.
You grew restless, your grinding becoming faster and wild, the sounds of your quiet and desperate begging like music to his ears. “Please, sir, cum in my panties, I’ll be so good,” You pleaded with tears of pleasure streaking down your cheeks. The thought of walking around in his cum-soaked panties gave you a thrill. You could feel your clit pulsing as you rutted against his shaft, the sheer bliss of it beyond anything you’d ever experienced. “I’m gonna cum, sir, please…oh, fuck, I’m cumming!” You cried out, your body shaking with the force of your orgasm.
As your orgasm subsided, his cock still pressed against your swollen clit. You felt a numbness, a euphoric high that left you floating, your wetness a warm, inviting contrast to his hot, throbbing length. Shivers ran down your spine, and you felt like you were hovering, your consciousness detached from your body.
Mr. Jeong lifted you in his strong arms, carrying you like fragile glass. He brought you to the bathroom mirror, and as he held you up, you couldn't help but be amazed at the sight of his length against your body. It was almost surreal, the difference in scale, and you felt a mix of excitement and nervousness. He snaked a hand around your waist, pulling your panties to the side, exposing your wet, glistening cunt to the cool air. You shivered, feeling a rush of vulnerability. He slapped his cock against your wet cunt, grinning, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm.
“What are you doing, sir?” you asked shyly, your voice soft and hesitant. You had never experienced this position before, and the sight of your legs spread wide and your cunt so open and exposed made you nervous. Mr. Jeong's hands grasped under your thighs, supporting your weight, and you could feel his strength and his muscles bulging as he held you up. “I wanna see this little pussy take my big cock,” he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. “Wanna watch it stretch and take me deep.”
You gulped, your heart racing in your chest. You had never taken something this big before, and Mr. Jeong was indeed impressive. The thought of being stretched, of accommodating to his size, both excited and intimidated you. You wanted to tell him about your virginity, but the words caught in your throat. You didn't want to turn him off, and so you remained silent, your mind racing with a mix of emotions.
Noticing your worried glance reflected in the mirror, Mr. Jeong's eyes narrowed, a hint of disappointment creasing his features. “What's wrong, baby? You wanna stop?” he asked, his voice laced with concern.
“No,” you said quietly before reaching down to grasp his cock. With a firm grip, you began to work him up and down, the weight of his hard length in your hands making your pussy twitch. You pushed his cock against your entrance, the head pressing against your tight, virgin opening. “Please, sir,” you begged, your voice pathetically dry. “I want your cock inside of me. I want to feel you stretching me, filling me up. Wanna be good for you.”
The thought of giving up your virginity to him was both scary and exhilarating. You wanted to be his, to belong to him in the most intimate way possible. You pumped him desperately, your core aching to have him stuffed deep inside you.
The head of his cock pressed against your tight opening, and you could feel the stretch, the burning sensation of being filled for the very first time. A sob escaped your lips as Mr. Jeong slowly lowered you over his cock, the mirror reflecting it all. You watched in awe as his hot, throbbing rod disappeared inside your body, the sight of it stretching you, filling you, almost too much to bear.
“Fuck, you're so tight,” he grunted, his eyes wide with a mix of pleasure and awe. The sensation of being filled by his impressive size was intense, and you were intoxicated by a mixture of pain and bliss, the feeling making your mind numb. He was incredibly gentle at first, pushing just the tip of his cock into your walls, treating you with the utmost care. But as tension built within him, his eyes grew darker, a fierce lust taking over. With a sudden, primal urge, he began working you over his cock, pulling you up and down, your tight pussy gripping his length. You felt incredible to him, like a fleshlight come to life, and even he struggled to mask his moans as your body adjusted to his size.
The pain was fleeting, replaced by a deep, satisfying pleasure. “Oh god, sir” you whispered, your voice strained. “It feels so good. So full... Please, don't stop.” Your sweet pleas made his ears buzz, his stomach fluttering from just how sweetly you begged for more of him.
“God, you’re doing so good for me,” He praised, almost giddy with how effortlessly you fit him. His eyes never left the mirror, his thick bulge disappearing into your tight, wet pussy, a sight too mesmerizing to look away from. “Such a good girl…look so pretty on my cock” He huffed, “My little cumslut.”
His words sent a rush of heat to your cheeks, and you felt your pussy clench around him in response. You wanted him to keep talking dirty to you, to fill your ears with every filthy word and fantasy he had while pounding into you.
Mr. Jeong grew tired, and he placed you back on the ground, pushing your body down against the sink, the cold marble against your bare stomach sending a chill down your spine. He lifted your skirt, rubbing himself against your puffy pussy lips, the overstimulation driving you wild. You felt his cock, thick and hard, lining up with your hole, and you knew what was coming. Your mouth fell open in a silent gasp as he pushed into you in one swift, powerful motion, filling you up completely. He stilled his hips, giving your pussy a chance to adjust to his size, to wrap itself around him, to pulsate and invite him deeper. You were stuffed, every inch of your pussy filled with his cock, his balls swinging and slapping against your raw skin with each thrust.
With each snap of his hips, you cursed under your breath, your fingers gripping tightly to the sink as if it were your only anchor in this storm. "S-so big!" you yelped, your voice filled with a mix of awe and fear. Your body was now completely at the mercy of Mr. Jeong, his powerful strokes sending waves of pleasure and pain through your sensitive pussy.
As he continued to thrust into you, he brought one hand up, pressing his fingers against your mouth, effectively silencing your moans. "Gotta do something about that mouth, baby," he whispered, his voice low and dangerous. His fingers, still wet with your juices from before, found their way into your mouth, and you gladly accepted them, your lips closing around his digits. You moaned deeply, your tongue wrapping around his fingers, tasting yourself on them. You lost yourself in his touch, his hard cock massaging your gummy walls, his fingers probing and exploring your warm mouth, his lips licking and sucking your ear lobe as he whispered filth to you, bringing you to the brink of another orgasm.
As your eyes met your reflection in the mirror, you were struck by a sense of unfamiliarity. Your makeup was smudged and running, the black mascara staining your tears and streaking down your cheeks. Your hair was frizzy and chaotic, some sweat-drenched strands framing your face and sticking to your warm cheeks. Your lips looked wet and swollen as you gagged around Mr. Jeong’s long fingers, the saliva dripping down your chin. You loved it. You looked like a woman who had been pleasured beyond measure. There was an intoxicating power in seeing yourself like this, a power that made you feel alive and desirable. It reminded you of the pornstar Mr. Jeong was watching yesterday, her fucked-out expression now mirroring your own.
"Oh god, sir, it's too much!" you moaned, pulling his fingers out from your mouth. "I can't take it! I'm gonna cum again!"
“Fuck, me too,” He grunted as he pulled out of you, feeling the inevitable approach of his own release. Relief washed over you, your body weakening, your walls clenching and spasming around nothing. Mr. Jeong spun you around, placing a hand on the top of your head, pushing you to your knees just as your body swayed with the first waves of your climax.
As Mr. Jeong jerked himself off with his hand, his eyes never left your face, now a beautiful canvas covered in the ropes of his hot cum. Though still reeling from the intense orgasm he had just given you, you opened your mouth wide, obediently accepting his thick, white cum as it splashed over your tongue. The taste was both bitter and sour, but you loved it, a unique flavor that was all his.
You licked your lips, moaning softly as you savored his taste. You kissed his tender tip, running your tongue over his slit, relishing the feeling of his cum leaking out, warm and sticky.
With a playful smile, Mr. Jeong rubbed his tip against your lips, leaving a trail of cum as he did so. "Shit, baby, you look so pretty with my cum on your face," he said, his voice shaky with post-orgasmic delight. "My sweet little cumslut."
Taking him into your mouth once more, you swirled your tongue around his sensitive head, moaning from the taste and texture of his cum. You pulled off with a plopping sound, a satisfied smile on your face. "Taste so good, sir," you whispered, your voice filled with admiration and gratitude. "Thank you for letting me taste your cum.”
Mr. Jeong, clearly pleased with your gratitude, ran his fingers through your hair affectionately, gently tucking a strand behind your ear. Suddenly, there was a hard knock on the door, snapping you both out of your little daze.
“Yo, Yunho,” a voice called from the door. “Are you taking a shit? How much longer are you gonna be? Hana’s ready to cut the cake.”
Mr. Jeong flinched, his hands moving fast as he pulled his bottoms up, stuffing himself back inside like a guilty teenager caught red-handed. “Uh, just a minute! I’ll be right out!” he called back, voice strained.
The man sighed. “Alright, well, hurry up. The cake’s melting out here.”
You both snapped into action, scrambling to fix your clothes and smooth your hair. The rush of reality crashing back down made your heart pound even harder than before. Just as you were ready to bolt, Yunho suddenly froze, his expression shifting once he realized the mess he left on your face was still dripping down your cheeks.
Then, without a word, he grabbed a few squares of toilet paper and gently wiped the sticky white jelly from your flushed face. “Sorry,” he murmured, his fingers barely grazing your skin, his eyes burning with the same embarrassed, heated look from before.
Once you were clean, he lingered for a second too long, standing so close you could feel his breath on your lips. He parted his mouth as if to say something, anything, but nothing came out. Instead, his fingers anxiously tapped against his thigh, a nervous habit you had never noticed before.
“You should go first,” you said quickly, sensing the weight of the moment. “I’ll come down after.”
His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, then he nodded. “Thanks,” he muttered, stuffing his shirt back into his waistband before slipping out the door with hurried, uneven steps.
You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding and sank onto the toilet seat. The room still smelled faintly of him, and it felt unreal how fast the energy had shifted. Had he just been hit with regret? Was he now scrambling to shove this whole thing into a locked box in his mind? Now no longer in the heat of the moment, did he think what you two did was wrong? Were you going to get fired?
For the rest of the party, Mr. Jeong successfully avoided you. He busied himself slicing tiny squares of cake for the kids, nodding along to endless small talk with the other parents as if nothing had happened.
You took the hint, feeling a slight shame in your chest.
Slipping out early, you gave Hana a tight hug before heading back to your car. The second you settled into your seat, your phone buzzed in your pocket. With a sigh, you pulled it out, expecting something mundane.
But when you read the message, you couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at your lips.
Jeong Yunho: See you Monday ;)
—
Your sleep schedule had indeed improved, and you found yourself no longer relying on toys to satisfy your desires. The structure and routine of your new life, with Hana and Mr. Jeong, had brought a sense of balance and fulfillment. You enjoyed the daily interactions with Hana, whether it was playing frisbee in the backyard or teaching her simple math in her room. Your bond with her grew stronger each day, and you found great joy in being a positive influence in her life.
However, it was the Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays that held a special place in your heart. These were the days when you dropped Hana off at her ballet recitals, and while she was practicing her pliés and pirouettes, you would return to their home to tend to your other job.
Your knees were growing sore from scraping against the carpet under Yunho’s desktop table. Sounds of girls moaning emanated from his monitor. Though you were curious about what he was watching, you knew it was none of your business. Instead, you focused on the task at hand and wrapped your warm mouth over his throbbing cock, nestling yourself between his legs from under his desk. The width of his bulge filled your throat, and you gagged lightly, a sign of your complete submission to him.
Yunho, lost in the porno he was watching, seemed momentarily unaware of your presence. He was engrossed in the images on his screen, his eyes droopy and his breathing heavy. Your mouth bobbed up and down, your lips wrapping tightly around his shaft, and you could feel his excitement building. The sound of his moans mixed with the pornographic sounds on his computer made you clench around nothing, forcing you to slip your hand past your waistband.
As you continued to suck him, you could feel his hands running through your hair, gently guiding your movements. You massaged his warm balls with your free hand, feeling his cum bubbling up in his sack, and you knew it wouldn't be long before he released his load into your waiting mouth.
"That's it, baby," Yunho whispered, his voice soft yet dominant. “Keep that pretty mouth on me. So good…so, so good for me.”
I would greatly appreciate reblogs with comments and replies. please consider leaving feedback if you enjoyed this x.
》 pairing: frankenstein! s.mg x mortician! fem reader
》 wc: 4.0k
》 plot: in the wake of her husband’s tragic death, a grieving woman defies nature itself to bring him back. but the man she resurrects is not the same one she lost. his memories are wiped, his mind fragile, his body stitched together by her own desperate hands. as he relearns the world through her guidance, he begins to question the life she has confined him to and the strangeness of his appearance, unaware of the terrible truth she cannot bear to tell him.
》 content tags: frankenstein! mingi, mortuary school student! reader, story takes place in the 1800s, reader is low key manipulative but it’s okay because she’s still in grief, insecure mingi MY SHAAYYLAAA, smut, oneshot, angst, subby bby mingi, body worship, blowjob, riding, multiple orgasms, creampie, very sweet love making :(, this is for the REAL freaks, morally gray area warning, mentions of scars and stitches, this is heavily inspired by the movie Poor Things (2023).
》 song: frankenstein by rina sawayama
You were itching to go home. The streets were quiet, the cool night air nipping at your skin as you hurried along the cobbled path. But it wasn’t the cold winds that urged your hurried steps; You worried about Mingi. You knew he didn’t like it when you were away from him for too long. He’d grow lonely and bored, and each time you returned home late, you would find him sulking in your room, curled up in the corner, his silence like a quiet punishment. He never voiced his grievances out loud, but his sulking made his feelings clear.
Perhaps you had only yourself to blame. You spent too many hours in the library at the university, fingers ink-stained as you skimmed over anatomy texts and alchemical treatises. You should have been home with him, tending to the life you had so desperately clawed back from the grave.
At last, you reached the old manor. Fumbling with the iron key, you locked each of the heavy bolts behind you, securing the house as if the world itself might try to pry open the secrets hidden within. The wooden stairs creaked beneath your hurried steps as you made your way upstairs.
“Miiingii,” you called in a playful tone as you pushed open the door to your bedroom.
You found him lying on the bed, facing away from you. His back was stiff like a wall shutting you out.
“Mingi?” you tried again, softer this time. You crossed the room, settling onto the bed beside him. The mattress dipped under your weight, but he didn’t stir. Your fingers wove into his silky, dark strands, still holding on to the scent of lavender oil from the rinse you had given him the night before.
“I’m home,” you whispered.
You waited for him to turn toward you, but his body remained still.
You leaned closer, brushing your lips over his ear. “Dear, what’s wrong? Look, I brought you something special.” You rattled the small paper-wrapped bundle in your hands. “Figs, fresh from the market.”
His only response was a slow, quiet sigh.
You scooted even closer, resting your chin lightly on his shoulder. “Won’t you let me see you?” You pouted. “I missed you all day. You used to meet me at the door before I could even set down my books.”
Before, he would pull you into his arms the moment you stepped inside, clinging to you as if afraid you might vanish. His unrestrained affection had been overwhelming at times, but now, you almost longed for it. Now, he was different. More withdrawn. More aware. It almost scared you.
This wasn’t the Mingi you had first fallen in love with. That Mingi had been strong, independent, a force of nature. He was your guardian angel, your protector, the one who made you feel safe and loved in a cruel, heartless world. When he was taken from you, the emptiness was unbearable. Life without him was an unfathomable reality you refused to accept.
In your grief, you buried yourself in your books, drowning in theories, alchemical formulas, and desperate calculations that defied both God and nature. You searched for a way—any way—to bring him back. And in the end, you succeeded. But what returned wasn’t truly Mingi.
His body was whole, his limbs moved as they once had, but the man you knew was gone. His memories had been erased, his mind an empty slate, his gaze void of any recognition. He was like a newborn, unable to walk, to speak, to feed himself. And so, you taught him. Day by day, step by step, you guided him through life once more, as if he had been born again.
He clung to you and depended on you for everything. It was exhausting at times, but every time he looked at you, something inside you softened. He was here. He was with you. That was all that mattered. Or so you thought.
Now, looking back, you realize how much simpler things had been when he was still learning, when his world revolved only around you. He was different now. He had grown. He devoured your books, and pored over your notes, his mind hungry for knowledge. With every page he turned, every lesson he absorbed, he grew more aware. His mind was sharp, restless, and full of thoughts and questions. Questions you couldn’t bring yourself to answer.
Who was he?
What had happened to him?
Why wouldn’t you let him leave the manor?
You knew the truth was closing in. Soon, he would figure it out. But still, you tried to keep it from him for as long as you could. Because once he knew, you’d lose him forever.
You leaned in closer, nuzzling into the curve of his shoulder and neck. “Please say something,” You whined into his cool skin. “You’re making me sad.”
For a moment, he laid still, not letting your words tempt him. But soon, he gave in to your whines, sighing deeply before shifting onto his back.
You smiled, relief washing over you as you looked at him. Even now, with shadows cast across his face from the flickering gaslight, his features brought you warmth, chasing away the cold that bit at you all night.
“There you are,” you said softly, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead before pressing a tender kiss to his lips. Mingi lay motionless, his eyes wide open, lips refusing to move with yours. You pulled away slightly, your brows drawing together. “What’s the matter?”
Mingi lowered his eyes, hiding from your gaze. “You said you’d be back before sunset. It’s past eleven.”
Your shoulders sagged, guilt settling heavily in your chest. You reached for his hand, but he didn’t take it.
“Oh, love, I’m sorry,” you murmured, your voice soft with regret. “Professor kept me longer than I expected. He needed my help with a post-mortem examination, an elderly man. His family wanted a full report before burial. By the time we were finished, I rushed to the library to work on my essay. I didn’t mean to stay out so late.”
Mingi said nothing, but the way his jaw tensed told you he was still upset. His fingers idly twisted at the hem of the blanket, his mind working through his thoughts.
You placed your fingers under his chin, tilting his face toward you, forcing him to meet your eyes. “I’m sorry, my love” you whispered, sincerely. “Please don’t be upset.”
His lips parted slightly, hesitating as if the words were too difficult to push out. Finally, he spoke.
“Why don’t you let me come with you to your lectures?”
Your heart clenched. You pressed your lips together, bracing yourself. “Mingi, we went over this—”
“I feel so lonely in this big, empty house,” he interrupted, his voice quieter now, but still laced with frustration. “Why can’t we at least take a stroll outside? Just once?”
You hesitated. The room was so quiet you could hear the soft creaking of the wooden beams overhead, the wind whispering through the cracks in the window.
He faced you now, his eyes dark and full with a heavy sadness. “Are you that ashamed of me?”
He spoke so quietly, yet his words struck you harder than any shout ever could. You steadied yourself as you spoke. “Ashamed of you?” You asked. “Why on Earth would I be ashamed of you, Mingi?”
“Because I’m a hideous monster!” he roared, his voice breaking. “My complexion is pale and gray, my body stitched together like some grotesque experiment gone wrong! I look like the creatures in those horrible Brothers Grimm tales!” He panted, his chest rising and falling unevenly. His gaze met yours, filled with raw, agonizing pain. “You’re ashamed to be seen with me. That’s why you keep me locked in here. Just admit it!”
Before you could reach for him, he shoved himself upright, his sudden movement forcing you back. His shoulders shook as he sucked in a ragged breath, but it did little to steady him. He turned away, his back to you, his head bowed as his body shuddered with suppressed sobs.
A hollow ache carved into your chest. You had seen him in so many states—curiosity, fascination, confusion, frustration—but never like this. Never so broken and angry.
You pushed yourself up, the bed frame creaking beneath you as you rose to your feet. Slowly, you tip-toed around the bed carefully, afraid he might flinch away. But he didn’t. He remained still, his head hanging low, shoulders trembling with each uneven breath.
Gently, you cupped his face in your hands, your thumbs brushing against his cold cheeks. His lashes, dark and wet with tears, fluttered as he hesitantly lifted his gaze to meet yours.
Your heart sank. “Oh, Mingi,” you whispered, the words carrying all the tenderness you could muster. “You are no monster.”
His lips parted, but no words came at first. He swallowed hard, his breath warm and shallow against your fingers.
“Yeah? Then what am I?” He asked in a low voice.
You held him tighter as if your grip alone could hold him together and ease the ache buried deep within him.
“You are my greatest love,” you said, your thumbs tracing slow, soothing circles against his skin. “My beating heart. My light, my darkness. My gentle giant.” You leaned in, your forehead resting against his, your breath mixing with his own. “My most beautiful creation.”
His lips quivered, his brows drawing together as more tears spilled down his cheeks. He searched your face as if trying to find some hidden deception in your words, but there was none. Only love.
“That’s why I have to keep you here,” You explained, your fingers ghosting over his cheek, tracing the faint lines of stitches that held him together. “You’re far too precious to me. What would I do with myself if you were to wander outside and hurt yourself, hmm?”
Your voice was gentle, but firm. A careful balance of love and control. “The world out there is dangerous and unpredictable. People wouldn’t understand you the way I do. They wouldn’t see you the way I do. But here… here, I can keep you safe. I can protect you. I can’t ever lose you, Mingi. You understand?”
The thought of you suffering because of him was far worse than any pain he could endure himself. He never wanted you to be hurting. His loneliness, his longing for the outside world, meant nothing if it meant keeping you safe. If staying within these walls was the price to keep you happy, then he would pay it willingly, again and again.
You felt his resistance softening, the tension in his shoulders easing beneath your touch. He nodded his head eagerly, convincing you that he understood. Yes, you were only protecting him. And where else would he need to be than be here with you?
Mingi buried his face into your chest, his breath warm against the fabric of your dress. His arms wrapped around you, desperately clinging onto you as if you might slip away on account of his emotional outburst.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice small and fragile. “I just… I look at myself, and I worry that I’m not enough for you.” His words muffled in the soft folds of your clothing.
You sighed, your fingers weaving through his dark hair, stroking it gently. You had known for some time that he struggled with his appearance. How he would glance at the mirror only to turn away, jaw tightening, shoulders slumping under the weight of his self-loathing.
It felt like a cruel joke, that you, with your flawless skin, and warmth and radiance, could love someone like him. It didn’t make sense to him. He was the beast, an unnatural creation held together by a thread. And you… you were his beauty. The light in his darkness. The one thing that made him feel human.
“How do you look at me and not run away?” His voice was raw with insecurity. He curled his fingers into the lacy fabric of your dress, gripping tightly, as if bracing himself for an answer he feared.
You didn’t hesitate. Gently, you cupped his cheeks, your thumbs reuniting with the cool, uneven texture of his skin, feeling the faint ridges of stitches beneath your fingertips. You lifted his face, urging him to meet your eyes.
“Because I love you,” you said, your voice filled with certainty. “You are my darling husband. Must I need any other reason?”
Your eyes searched his, willing him to believe you. To see himself the way you did. Not as something broken, not as something unnatural, but as yours. Entirely, unconditionally, yours.
Though you spoke fondly, your words didn’t land. Mingi’s brows drew together, his lips pressing into a thin line as doubt clouded his mind. No matter how many times you reassured him, no matter how gently you held him, he struggled to accept that someone like you could love someone like him.
You leaned in closer, your lips hovering just above his. "Let me show you," you murmured softly. Slowly, you closed the distance, capturing his lips with yours in a tender kiss. His initial hesitation melted away, replaced by a tentative hunger as he responded to your touch. His hands found your waist again, and he pulled you closer, the erratic beat of his heart thumping against yours.
As your kiss deepened, you felt Mingi's hands exploring, sliding up your back with a newfound confidence that sent shivers down your spine. It was as if his self-doubt unraveled with every touch you brought him. The way you melted into him, the breathy moans slipping past your lips, served as undeniable proof that you wanted him as much as he wanted you. And for the first time, he allowed himself to believe it.
You pulled back slightly, your eyes locking with his, silently asking for permission and offering reassurance. His gaze held nothing but trust and longing, a silent plea for you to continue, to take the lead.
Carefully, you began to undo the buttons of his shirt, your fingertips grazing over his bare skin. You pushed him gently down onto the mattress, a spark of desire burning in your lower abdomen as you climbed on top of him.
Your lips reconnected with his, and you couldn’t help but rut your hips, grinding yourself over his growing bulge. His moans vibrated against your lips, a low, primal growl that sent shockwaves through your body. He was always so reactive to your touch, his big body seemingly getting smaller as he melted just beneath you.
Your kisses trailed down his neck and over his exposed chest, lips lingering gently over the scars just above his heart. Your hands roamed over the hard plane of his muscles, tracing over the contours of his body with a light and playful touch. You could feel Mingi stirring beneath you, groaning as his big hands found their way to your hips, pulling you closer, wanting to feel every inch of your body against his. He moved you back and forth, a sticky wetness already staining his freshly worn trousers.
Mingi's head fell back, his eyes shutting tightly as you took his nipple into your mouth, suckling gently. His chest rose and fell rapidly, a mixture of pleasure and anticipation taking over as you played with his tender flesh, biting and pulling ever so slightly. A wanton moan escaped his lips, a low, pleading sound that filled you with glee.
“Y/N…” he whined, his voice soft and pleading. His hands rested on your shoulders, his fingers lightly gripping your skin, silently begging you for more. When you looked up at him, your mouth still busy on his nipple, you felt a rush of power. His hair was slightly disheveled, falling over his forehead in a way that made him look even more breathtaking. His eyes, wet and glassy, met yours, and his puffy lips were slightly parted, as if he was going to cry out your name again.
Your clothes had fallen to the floor, discarded in the heat of the moment. Your naked body, now warm and flushed, pressed against his own, his large frame resting back against your soft flesh. You kissed him passionately, your lips trailing down from his jawline until making home over his neck. Your hand reached around and stroked his hard cock, a gentle caress that made his hips buck.
"So pretty,” you breathed, your head resting against his shoulder as you studied his long length. “Every inch of you is a work of art, made just for me…Look how perfectly you fit in my hand."
His cheeks flamed at your words, his eyes lowering as he melted in your hand. Only you could say such filthy things to him and make it sound so eloquent. It made him wet, forcing a dribble of precum to escape his slit, which you thumbed over and circled against his throbbing head.
You then moved around his large frame until you were kneeled before him, dipping your head just enough to spit on his cock, his breath hissing as your saliva dripped down his shaft. Mingi watched intently, his breath catching as you took all of him into your mouth, your lips stretching wide around his girth. He whimpered at the sudden warmth of your mouth. His own hung open as he sat and watched in awe as you sucked and slurped him, making sure to give him all the attention he needed. His eyes rolled back, and for a moment he felt weightless, as if he was floating on a cloud, a strong bliss taking over his senses.
You bobbed your head and took him deeper, forcing your hair to fall forward and frame your face. Captivated by the sight, Mingi gently gathered your loose strands and tucked them behind your ear. He desperately wanted to tell you that you looked so beautiful at this moment, that he admired how hard you worked to make him feel good, but the words got stuck in his throat each time your throat gagged around him, so he kept tending to your hair, pulling the strands away from your eyes so they didn’t bother you. His touch, so tender and loving, made your heart flutter in your chest.
“You taste so good,” You moaned against his cock, gripping a hand tighter at its base. “I can’t get enough of you.” He shuddered as you traced wet kisses along his vein, your tongue exploring every ridge and curve.
Sucking on his tip, you pumped him up and down, your grip becoming even tighter. Mingi's eyes widened, and he shuddered again, unable to hold back any longer. His breath hitched, and his body tensed as a wave of relief washed over him.
With a powerful thrust, his cum shot into your mouth, filling it with his warm seed. You moaned, your eyes closing in satisfaction as you took him deep, a sensory overload that left him breathless.
Mingi turned a delightful shade of pink, embarrassed to see his cum dripping from your lips. It was adorable seeing him so flustered. He started to apologize and offered to get you a towel to spit on, but your actions left him speechless. You hummed in satisfaction, a deep, contented sound that turned his brain to mush. Without hesitation, you swallowed his load, licking your lips clean, a sign of your complete devotion to him.
You pressed a gentle kiss to his sensitive cockhead, a gesture that made him snap back to reality. Looking up at him, you saw his flushed, sweaty expression, and your heart skipped a beat. The sight of him, so vulnerable and raw, made you sigh in adoration.
"You're so handsome when you cum, honey” you whispered. “Such a good boy for me.”
He blushed, a subtle pink tinting his cheeks. He could feel your love radiating toward him, and it felt almost overwhelming, a beautiful connection that he just couldn’t describe. Something inside him ignited, both a hunger and a need to give back, to be the one to pleasure you. With a swift and gentle movement, he pulled you onto his lap, your bodies aligning perfectly like two puzzle pieces.
His lips crashed against yours, tasting his saltiness on your lips. You moaned, your arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him closer. The feel of his hard cock rubbing against your wet folds sent goosebumps all over your body, a delicious friction that had you wanting more.
Mingi pulled away, his eyes darting down to your wet heat, admiring how pretty your slick juices look all over his cock. Meeting your gaze, he spoke softly, his voice filled with undeniable want. “I want to make you feel good, Y/N. I want to be good for you…please, I’ll be so good.” It almost pained him to want you this way, to desire you this badly, and he needed your permission to put out this fire that burned within him.
Your heart bursted at his words, a rush of love and appreciation washing over you. You nodded, a subtle gesture of consent, and he smiled, a sweet, loving smile that melted your heart. He leaned in, his lips trailing kisses down your neck, his hands roaming all over your body before settling them at your waist. He guided you over his cock, and you sank down, gasping at the stretch. His brows furrowed with concern, a fleeting moment of worry before you leaned in and kissed him to reassure him. You rocked your hips back and forth, getting used to his length.
“Mingi,” You whined, your pace quickening as you found your rhythm. He was buried so deep inside of you that it made tears well in your eyes. You continued kissing him hungrily, your lips moving from his mouth to his neck, leaving behind a trail of purple bruises. His hands roamed your back, a comforting touch that contrasted his hardness that rocked inside of you. As you pulled away to catch your breath, you caught sight of Mingi's eyes, which were as teary as your own. His gaze was fixed on you, an intense lock that spoke volumes about the deep love that he undoubtedly had for you. You almost wanted to cup his sweet face and kiss away his tears.
Before either of you could speak, his grasp on your waist tightened, a silent plea for you to stay put. You felt his cum releasing inside you, a warm sensation that mixed with your own, filling you to the brim. You cried out, your eyes locked on his as you reached your climax. It all felt so overwhelming, but he worked you gently and slowly over his cock, bringing you down from your peak with a tender and caring touch.
Exhausted, Mingi collapsed against the bed, pulling you down with him. You tumbled forward, your body molding against his as you rested atop him, breathless and sweaty. With a soft hum, you began peppering his face with tender kisses over his eyelids, his cheeks, and the sharp line of his jaw; each one a silent prayer, a vow of devotion. Your fingers traced the familiar contours of his face as you sighed, content.
“My Mingi,” you whispered, a gentle smile curling at your lips. But then, a sudden darkness took hold of you.
He wasn’t your Mingi.
The man beneath you, holding you, loving you, was something else entirely. A being shaped by your grief, your desperation. A body stolen from the earth and brought back by your own hands. A carefully crafted illusion of the man you lost. And he had no idea, no idea that you stole him, reimagined him, all for your own selfish intentions.
The realization threatened to crush you, your chest tightening as the weight of the truth nearly pulled you from the moment.
Mingi, ever attuned to you, sensed the shift in your expression. His brows knit together as he reached up, his thumb gently brushing away a stray tear that had slipped down your cheek. Though he didn’t understand the sorrow behind it, he smiled softly, his eyes full of adoration, his love for you unshaken.
He pulled you closer, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead, anchoring you back to him.
“I love you so much, Y/N,” he whispered to you. And just like that, he drifted off to sleep, his own qualms put to rest, while yours just began to crack at the surface.
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It’s been so long since San's seen you like this. A breathless and writhing mess under him as he places messy kisses to your lips and chin. Your night shirt, which belonged to him initially, was pulled up to expose your soft flesh for him to grab at his will.
His busy and hectic idol schedule combined with your exhaustingly long office hours made it difficult to be intimate. For months now, San would lean in closer to you on the couch and massage your inner thighs to hint he was in the mood, only for you to shoot down his efforts with a simple “I just wanna watch this episode right now.”
Or it would be you, pecking your lips down his neck after he got in bed with you at the end of the day, to which he’d reply with a soft and defiant “I’m tired,” as he pulls the comforter over his face.
It wasn’t that the magic was gone. It was just hard to be on the same baseline. Tonight was no different, with San coming home from dance practice, and you coming home from working overtime. But something changed as you both got into bed. Maybe it was the way you looked so small in his big t-shirt, or maybe it was because of the post-dance practice adrenaline, but whatever it was, San was grateful and he wanted to make the most of it, the most of you.
“I need to hear you. It’s been so long.” He whispered, as he slipped his half-hard cock into your panties, your wetness enveloping him like a warm, welcoming embrace. The sensation made you jolt your hips up, the almost forgotten feeling of his warm bulge brushing against your clit overwhelming you, making you crave more. He took a break from kissing your lips so he could hear your pretty, angelic moans, your uneven breaths alone making his cock harden up.
Your pretty pink panties were already drenched, your juices coating his shaft as he grinded against your cunt. He liked seeing the outline of his cock inside your panties, like a clear, silken path on your silky skin.
“Sannie…” You whined, lifting a hand to rub his lower abs, his lazy strokes making your eyes flutter. You were both half asleep from the long work day, and it only heightened the sensations even more, every stroke against your clit sending waves of overwhelming pleasure throughout your body.
San grunted, his body tensing as his orgasm approached. He exploded over your cunt, your freshly worn panties now a messy, cum-stained piece of fabric. You let out a soft mewl as he pulled out, and he couldn't resist the urge to rub himself against your clothed pussy, the fabric so wet that it almost became transparent, revealing your perfect folds and swollen nub to him. “Mm, so messy baby,” He cooed, but he made no attempt to clean you up. Instead, he traced his thumb over your clothed clit, smearing his cum across your sensitive bud. You were so dirty now and it excited you both. San’s cock throbbed as he thought of your pretty pussy decorated with a mix of your combined juices.
Before you knew it, your panties were drenched in your own sweet release, a powerful squirt that left you weak in the knees. Your body shook, every muscle convulsing with pleasure as he slowly pushed your panties to the side, revealing your most sensitive spot to him. As you came down, San proved he was not finished with you yet, and he lined up his hardened cock with your dripping wet hole, the head teasing the entrance, ready to plunge into your warmth for the first of many times that night.
》 plot: every night this summer, you fantasized about your boss, Mr. Jeong. babysitting his adorable daughter all summer had turned your small crush on the young, single dad into a lust-filled infatuation. after an awkward encounter that left you both humiliated, you did your best to keep your distance at his daughter’s birthday party. that is, until fate trapped you in a bathroom with him while the party carried on outside.
》 content: oh boy, let's see, age gap, aged up yunho, virgin reader, reader lowkey down bad and porn-obsessed, bathroom sex, mirror sex, panties stay on!! grinding, cowgirl stand and carry, yunho basically using you like a fleshlight, use of sir and good girl, filthy dirty talk, cum eating, cum facial, multiple orgasms, reader obsessed with his cum lol, thigh fucking, sucking his dick while he watches porn??? MONSTER CAWK YUNHO
》 playlist: prettiest virgin- agar agar, candy- doja cat, I fucking lust you- d'african, taste so good- sabrina claudio, less of you- omar apollo, real life- the marias
You promised yourself you wouldn’t do this again, but here you were, laying in bed with a vibrator cupped to your clit, eyes glued to your phone screen as you tapped on the first video in the big dick category. It took a while for the vibrator to buzz you the right way, but once you found your sweet spot, your head sank lower into your pillow and you had to bite your lip to keep any sounds from slipping out of your mouth. This was the fifth night in a row that you jerked off, and honestly, you were exhausted; Tired of waking up late because of your little late-night endeavors, tired of feeling gross each time your wetness leaked out and stained your panties during the day, and most of all, tired of being a virgin.
The video you were watching had your favorite pornstar in it. The guy himself wasn’t at all your type, but his cock was pretty. And big. It’s weird to admit, but this is how you imagined Mr. Jeong’s cock looked like. You had been babysitting Mr. Jeong’s six-year-old daughter for the summer while school was out. She was an angel. Hana reminded you a lot of Bubbles from the PowerPuff Girls cartoon, with her sweet little voice and sensitive nature. You loved spending time with her.
Yes, throughout the summer, you had developed a crush on Hana’s Dad. How could you not? He was everything a man ought to be— tall, handsome, and kind. His being a good father was just a plus in your eyes. He worked from home, so you’d see him occasionally throughout the day. During his break, he’d come downstairs from his home office to color with Hana for a few minutes. During lunch, you’d sit with them on the patio, watching with heart eyes as he wiped ketchup off of her little mouth.
Lately, your infatuation has become all-consuming, and you resorted to buying a vibrator from Amazon to help ease your frustrations. And that’s when this little habit of yours began. It felt odd, at first. You didn’t want to be the type of person who watches porn every night for hours, imagining your boss doing all these things to you. It just sort of happened. And instead of easing your frustrations, it made them worse.
You hated being a virgin. Vibrators weren’t enough. You, for lack of a better term, needed to be dicked down. Preferably by Mr. Jeong, but that would only happen in your wildest dreams. It wasn’t like he made it easy for you. Yesterday for example, when you were preparing Hana’s PB&J, Mr. Jeong reached over your head to grab a mug from the cupboard above you. “Behind you,” he alerted, his fingers grazing over your waist as he pulled his coffee mug out. You stood frozen, the place where he touched you burning hot on your skin.
Every time he touches you, whether it’s the accidental brush of his fingers when he hands you your check or the deliberate weight of his hand on your shoulder as he thanks you at the end of the day, it only makes you crave him more and more.
The video you were watching had an obvious size kink going on. The male pornstar was huge, and he was able to pick up his petite partner and fuck into her with ease. Your thighs clenched thinking about Mr. Jeong picking you up like that and pumping you up and down his length, stuffing just the tip of his big cock into you because that’s all that could fit. Your core tightened, and your orgasm was imminent, until…
It died. Your vibrator died.
“Oh, fuck off!” You cursed, slamming your head back into your pillow. Stupid cheap fucking vibrator. Here’s to another night of being a lonely, twenty-something virgin, going to bed unsatisfied and unwanted. You sighed, exasperated.
Mr. Jeong was older. You didn’t know much about his wife. It was a sensitive topic for him. And Hana was too young to remember her final moments. He couldn’t possibly want anything to do with you, and instead, you filled your head with unrealistic fantasies to keep yourself up at night and made yourself cum to them. Maybe you wouldn’t be so miserable if you were around more boys your age.
Too tired to continue with your fingers, you shifted to your side and tried to make yourself comfortable. It was 4 in the morning now, which meant you’d only get about 3 hours tonight. Just great, you thought to yourself, waiting for the exhaustion to finally lull you to sleep.
—
You were rather sluggish today, struggling to keep your eyes open as you drove to Mr. Jeong’s house. The cold brew you picked up before heading over there wasn’t much help. Instead, it just made you even more tired. I need to stop jerking off before bed, you told yourself. Luckily, it was Friday, which meant you had enough time to catch up on the lost hours of sleep this weekend.
You sighed as you measured out the detergent to wash Hana’s favorite tutu, the warm and fuzzy smell of fabric softener reminding you of your blanket at home, making you want to sleep even more. Hana got upset this morning before you dropped her off to ballet practice when some syrup from her drive-thru pancakes dripped onto her tutu. To quiet her tantrum, you promised her you’d go back home to wash it so it's nice and clean for her to wear when she comes back, and that you’d also bring her second favorite tutu for practice— a purplish-blue one with pink glitter dusted around it. It didn’t feel right just washing one piece of clothing, so you decided to go upstairs and quickly grab the dirty clothes from Hana and Mr. Jeong’s hampers.
You yawned as you made your way up the stairs, stopping by Hana’s room first. Her room was, as always, a chaotic mess—Barbie dolls and crayons scattered across the floor in colorful disarray, old juice boxes, and snack bags left forgotten on the desk. No matter how many times you tried to teach her the importance of cleaning up after herself, the lesson never seemed to stick. With a resigned sigh, you grabbed the clothes from her hamper and stuffed them into the laundry basket.
Leaving her room, you headed toward Mr. Jeong’s, but froze mid-step as a strange, muffled sound reached your ears from his office. At first, you assumed he was in a meeting, but as you drew closer, the noises grew more alarming—strained and uneven, almost as if he were in pain or… crying?
You gently set the laundry basket down on the floor, carefully tiptoeing toward the door. Pressing your ear against the cold, wooden surface, you strained to make sense of the muffled noises coming from inside. A sharp hiss followed by a low, frustrated “fuck” caught you off guard, making your breath hitch.
Startled, you raised a hand and knocked lightly on the door. “Mr. Jeong?” you called softly. No answer. Concern gnawed at you, and without thinking, you turned the knob. The door creaked as it inched open, the sound slicing through the stillness.
“Mr. Jeong, is everything—” you started, stepping inside.
Mr. Jeong swiveled in his chair, his face frozen in a mask of shock and embarrassment. The two of you stood locked in place as if time itself had come to a standstill. The only sounds in the room were the filthy, lewd moans of a woman coming from his computer. Your gaze dropped instinctively, trailing down his frame until your eyes caught on something in his lower half— his long slender fingers gripping tightly onto his erect cock.
“Y/N!” he exclaimed, his voice sharp with panic as he scrambled to pull his pants up, hastily stuffing himself back into his waistband. His movements were frantic, his face flushed a deep crimson. “I-I thought you were at the ballet school!”
Your cheeks burned with embarrassment, the heat rising so quickly you felt your face must be as red as his. “I-I was,” you stammered, your words tumbling out awkwardly as you tried to steady your voice. “But… Hana’s tutu got dirty, and I… I came back to grab another one…”
The porn video continued playing in the background, the sounds of the ridiculously wet blowjob making the awkwardness even more unbearable.
Mr. Jeong, finally snapping out of his daze, spun back to his computer and fumbled to exit the site, the click of the mouse unnervingly loud in the heavy silence. He turned back to you, his mouth opening as if to say something, but no words came. His expression was a mixture of shame and desperation, his face still a deep shade of red.
“I’m so sorry,” you blurted out, your voice breathless and shaky as you struggled to compose yourself. The urge to flee was overwhelming. “I-I should get back to Hana. So sorry again!”
Without waiting for a response, you spun on your heel and hurried out of the room, heart pounding in your chest as you tried to process what had just happened.
—
You had worried earlier about how you’d make it through the day, feeling so drained and sluggish, but the shock from what happened had jolted you awake like a surge of electricity. Now, a different concern gnawed at you—whether you’d be able to sleep at all tonight. Embarrassment burned through you, and you were sure poor Mr. Jeong wanted to disappear off the face of the Earth after that moment.
Yet, despite yourself, your mind kept racing, replaying the image of his cock. It was so big. It was prettier than the pornstar’s you watch every night. It looked so firm in his hands, the tip flushed pink just like his cheeks. You wondered how it would feel between your legs. Would you even be able to take it? You had dildos in the past, but nothing more than the size of your palm.
“Cash or card?” Hana chirped, her cheerful voice snapping you out of the inappropriate thoughts swirling in your head about her dad.
“Hmm?” you mumbled, blinking down at her as she sat cross-legged on the carpeted floor. The living room was a mess, scattered with the colorful pieces of her cashier playset. She pointed at the small plastic credit card in your hand, her expression expectant.
“Oh, uh… I guess card?” you replied, handing it over. You watched as she swiped it through the toy terminal, her little hand expertly mimicking the action.
“Boo beep!” she said with a grin, the sound effects spot-on, before handing you back the card along with a tiny plastic milk carton. “Here you go!”
You couldn’t help but smile, her playful innocence pulling you further from your earlier embarrassment. “Thanks, Hana. Can I have a bag, please?”
“That’s fifty cents extra.”
“Little haggler, aren’t you?” You teased.
Suddenly, the sound of footsteps echoed down the stairs, pulling Hana’s attention away from the transaction. “Daddy!” she exclaimed joyfully, rushing toward Mr. Jeong and wrapping her tiny arms around his legs in a tight hug.
“Hey, peanut,” he greeted with a warm smile, scooping her up and planting a quick kiss on her cheek.
“Daddy, I did a pirouette today at practice! Wanna see?”
As Hana spun around, tripping over her own feet a couple of times, you gathered your things and stuffed them into your bag. You kept your eyes down, moving toward the door with a quiet sigh of relief. For once, you were thankful it wasn’t payday; no need to linger any longer, no forced small talk with Mr. Jeong. He seemed just as relieved as he tried his best to avoid you altogether.
“See you next week, kiddo,” you said, ruffling Hana’s soft hair before heading for the door.
“Wait, Daddy! Can Y/N come to my birthday party tomorrow?”
Mr. Jeong’s smile faltered, replaced by an uncomfortable glance in your direction. “Oh, um, well… why don’t you ask her, sweetie?” he said, quickly deflecting the question back to you.
Hana ran up to you, pressing her small body into your legs and looking up at you with those wide, pleading eyes. “Y/N, can you please please please come to my birthday party? There’s gonna be ice cream cake!”
The urge to say no was strong. You could sense Mr. Jeong’s discomfort, and honestly, you were looking forward to a quiet weekend away from him. But her hopeful gaze, the way her lips stuck out in a small, almost irresistible pout… it was too much to deny.
“Oh, well… I think I have to go somewhere this weekend and…” you started, but then her lower lip began to tremble, and you hated seeing her upset.
You let out a soft sigh, the words slipping out despite yourself. “I, uh, I guess I can come for a little bit.”
“Yay!” Hana cheered, her excitement spilling over as she jumped up and down. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
You exchanged a quiet good night with Mr. Jeong, the awkwardness lingering between you both, before disappearing into the warm summer night. The air was heavy as you made your way to your car, but your mind was racing.
As you sat behind the wheel, you cursed yourself under your breath. You should’ve held your ground, should’ve said no when you had the chance. But now… now you are going to a party with Mr. Jeong. How were you supposed to handle that? How were you supposed to navigate a whole afternoon, trapped in the same space with him, when the last thing you wanted was to face him after walking in on him jerking off earlier?
You huffed as you put your keys in the ignition. This was going to be a long weekend.
—
The next day came quickly, too quickly, and you dreaded the whole affair as you pulled up on the driveway. You showed up about thirty minutes later than the time on the invitation, hoping to blend into the chaos without much fanfare. Sure enough, no one seemed to notice.
The house was buzzing with activity. Little kids, probably Hana’s classmates and friends from ballet, darted around like wild animals, screaming and leaving a trail of toys and crumbs in their wake. You weaved through the commotion, making your way to the table piled high with brightly wrapped presents.
You set down your gift; a doll set Hana had been dreaming about for weeks. Suddenly, you felt a small squeeze at your leg. Looking down, you saw Hana beaming up at you, her arms wrapped around you in a tight hug.
“You came!” she squealed, bouncing with excitement.
“Of course I did. Happy birthday!” you said, smiling as you ruffled her hair.
“Come meet my friends!” she insisted, grabbing your hand before you could protest.
Hana dragged you into the backyard, where her friends were splashing in the pool, their parents sitting nearby and watching them like hawks. Hana proudly introduced you to two of her closest friends—“important friends,” as she whispered with a serious nod that made you chuckle.
As you chatted with Hana’s friends, you felt a familiar pull in the corner of your eye. Mr. Jeong stood near the grill, just within your peripheral vision. The moment you glanced in his direction, your heart gave a sharp tug. He was watching you.
Your breath caught, but just before you could process it, you quickly looked away, pretending to focus on the childlike conversation in front of you. As you nodded along, a thought crept in—was he still looking at you? The possibility made your skin prickle, a slow heat creeping up your neck, your pulse growing erratic. You fought the urge to glance his way again, but curiosity got the better of you. You glanced up again, a quick and casual move, but this time, he wasn’t looking anymore. He had already turned his attention to another parent, nodding along to whatever they were saying, sipping on his ice cold beer. Still, your skin tingled, like his gaze hadn’t fully left you.
The mix of the screaming children, the sun beating down on you, and the overwhelming energy of the party soon had you retreating. With a quick excuse, you headed for the shaded table, grabbing a Coca-Cola and savoring the brief moment of quiet.
You chugged the fizzy drink, the burn in your throat oddly satisfying as it momentarily cooled you off. As you set the half-empty can down, your ears caught snippets of a hushed conversation from the table next to you. Two women, likely mothers of Hana’s friends, were whispering, and one word made you tune in: Yunho.
“His wife passed away a few years ago, back when Hana was just learning to walk. Poor guy, raising her all on his own.”
“God, but he’s so cute, though,” the other one said, not bothering to lower her voice.
“I know, right? If I didn’t have Leo, I’d totally take him out for a spin.” They dissolved into giggles, clearly enjoying their little moment until their eyes flicked toward you.
You froze, caught mid-sip from your drink. The sudden attention made your cheeks warm as they realized you’d overheard them. One of the women quickly cleared her throat, trying to cover the awkwardness.
“So, which one’s yours?” she asked, her tone friendly, though her shoulders were tense—probably hoping you hadn’t heard the part where she casually considered sleeping with Mr. Jeong.
“Oh, none of them,” you replied, forcing a polite smile. “I’m Hana’s babysitter.”
You took another sip of your soda, trying to ignore the way the two women were looking at you. It was obvious they had some kind of assumption about you and Mr. Jeong, and it made your skin prickle with discomfort.
“Oh, I didn’t know Mr. Jeong had a babysitter,” the long-haired woman said, glancing at her friend with a knowing look.
You shifted under their stares, suddenly feeling like you were being sized up. They both looked down at your exposed legs, your flowy skirt just barely covering your knees. You knew what they were thinking. Their curiosity wasn’t just innocent small talk. It felt more like they were trying to figure out if you were a threat. A young, single dad and his younger, pretty babysitter? Sounded like an overdone porn plot.
You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could, your fingers anxiously slipped against your soda can, sending the cold, fizzy liquid spilling down the front of your shirt.
“Oh, shit—” You gasped, stepping back as the sticky sweetness seeped into the fabric.
The two women let out little gasps, covering their mouths, but neither of them moved to help.
“Ugh,” you muttered, shaking your hands off. “Excuse me.”
Quickly, you turned and made your way inside, walking past clusters of parents and kids until you reached the staircase. Your face was burning with frustration. This whole weekend was just one embarrassment after another. Everything had felt weird since yesterday. Mr. Jeong had been acting strange, you’d been acting strange, and now you had people assuming things about you that weren’t even true.
You climbed the stairs, the noise of the party fading as you finally reached the bathroom. With a sigh, you pushed the door open and slipped inside, shutting the door behind you.
The cold air from the vent hit your damp shirt, making the fabric cling to your skin uncomfortably. Grimacing, you pulled it over your head and tossed it onto the sink. You turned on the faucet, grabbing a towel to try and clean it before the stickiness set in.
As you rubbed at the stain, you caught your reflection in the mirror. Your cheeks were still flushed, your hair slightly messy from the heat outside. You looked… flustered. Not just from the soda incident, but from everything. From him. From the way he was staring at you, from the way you’d been thinking about him all day, despite knowing you shouldn’t. It was no surprise that you couldn’t sleep the night before, your hands stuffed inside your panties all night, forcing yourself to cum over and over as you thought about Mr. Jeong pumping his big hard cock after a long day. You couldn’t help but wonder what kind of categories he liked. MILF? Hentai? Gangbang? Did he have a favorite pornstar? You desperately wanted to know what he liked, how he liked it, his greatest desires. But what was the use? You were only driving yourself mad with these little fantasies.
You let out a deep breath, gripping the edge of the sink. Get it together.
Before you could pull yourself back to reality, you were startled by a sudden commotion outside of your door. And before you could even react, the door knob turned and the door creaked open.
Your heart jumped into your throat as Mr. Jeong stepped inside, his eyes focused on something behind him, mid-sentence. “I’ll be right there, just gotta take a leak—”
He stopped. Completely frozen.
His eyes landed on your bare skin, the lacy edge of your bra, the way the damp fabric of your shirt sat crumpled in the sink.
For a second, neither of you moved.
Then, as if snapping out of it, his eyes shot up to yours, and his face turned to that shade of red you’d seen before. “Shit” He spun around so fast he nearly slammed into the wall, and shut the door in front of him.
Your face burned with mortification. You grabbed your shirt, holding it up against your chest even though it was still wet. “What are you doing?” you whisper-yelled, trying to sound indignant, but your voice came out weaker than you wanted.
He ran a hand through his hair, his head still facing the door. “It wasn’t locked! And my friend is outside and—” He stopped himself, exhaling sharply. “Doesn’t matter. I’ll go.”
Silence lingered between you. You should’ve told him to hurry up and leave. Should’ve thrown something at him, and scolded him for barging in like that.
But you didn’t.
Instead, your pulse pounded in your ears as you watched the way his hands clenched at his sides, the way the muscle in the side of his jaw tensed. He was still standing there, motionless and breathing a little too hard, like he was trying really, really hard to control himself.
“…Are you gonna go?” you asked, your voice softer now.
Mr. Jeong hesitated, his hand lying still on the doorknob. He let out a shaky breath. “My friend is still out in the hall, maybe, I don’t know, I don’t want him to come in after me and see you. I’m just gonna give it another minute, just to be safe.” He whispered.
The bathroom felt impossibly small like the walls had closed in on you. The silence stretched, almost suffocating, broken only by the soft inhales through his nose and the distant chatter from the party downstairs. The faint drip of the faucet filled the space between you, but neither of you moved, let alone spoke.
It had only been a few seconds—maybe ten, maybe twenty—but it felt like minutes, like an eternity of you two just standing there, backs turned, bodies tense.
You both strained your ears, trying to pick up any signs of his friend lingering outside, but the house was too noisy, too alive with the sound of kids playing and parents chatting. There was no way to tell.
Then, slowly, almost hesitantly, he turned his head just enough to glance at you over his shoulder. His eyes lowered down to your body, just for a second, before he snapped his head forward again, almost too quickly, like he’d been caught looking.
His throat bobbed. “I think he might be gone,” he murmured. “I don’t hear anything.”
You nodded behind him, staying in place.
He exhaled deeply, his shoulders finally relaxing. “I’m really sorry,” he said, sounding defeated.
“It’s not your fault,” you replied, gripping your damp shirt tighter against your chest. “I’m sorry for snapping at you. I should’ve locked the door.”
“Right. Um… thanks,” he said. Then, after a pause, he added, “I also meant about yesterday. I feel so embarrassed. I hope that doesn’t make you feel uncomfortable about working for me. Hana really likes you.”
The mention of yesterday sent a small twist through your stomach. You swallowed. “I’m sorry for that too. I shouldn’t have walked in on you like that.”
He let out a short, breathy chuckle. “I guess we’re both just bad at locking doors. Makes us even.”
A small, nervous laugh slipped out of you, easing some of the tension in the room.
“And you don’t have to be embarrassed. Everyone does it—it’s normal,” you said, trying to reassure him, though you weren’t entirely sure why. Maybe to ease his discomfort. Maybe to ease your own.
He let out a low chuckle, the sound rumbling in his chest. “Oh yeah?” he mused, tilting his head slightly. “You jerk off in front of your babysitter too?”
The teasing tone in his voice made your cheeks warm up. But it was the way he turned then, fully facing you, locking his deep brown eyes onto yours, that made the air shift; buzzing with something neither of you acknowledged but both of you felt.
His smirk faded as quickly as it had come as if he suddenly realized how inappropriate his words were. But he didn’t apologize this time. And more importantly—he didn’t leave.
Your stomach twisted into knots again, breath growing heavier, shallower. Fuck. He was so hot. His sharp jawline, so strong and well-defined, tensed ever so slightly. His broad shoulders, so effortlessly commanding, made you feel smaller in the best way. And those eyes—deep, warm brown, always soft when he looked at Hana—weren’t so soft now. They were sharp, locked onto you with an intensity that made your pulse race. Even the faint crinkles near his eyes, the ones that usually appeared when he smiled, seemed more pronounced at this moment, only adding to how devastatingly beautiful he was.
You should have said something. You should have slipped on your cola-stained t-shirt and left the bathroom. But instead, you stood there, heart hammering in your chest, letting the weight of his gaze consume you. You couldn’t leave him. Not yet.
And then, without a second thought, you let your damp t-shirt slip from your fingers, the fabric pooling at your feet.
Mr. Jeong's gaze dropped to your cleavage, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. His initial serious expression made your heart flutter with uncertainty. Have you crossed a line? But then, his tongue darted out to wet his lips, and when his eyes met yours again, they held a spark that made your heart skip a beat. “What are you doing?” he asked, his voice a mixture of sternness and intrigue.
“I just want to help…” you replied softly, stepping closer with careful slowness. Each step brought you nearer until you were close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body. Your eyes locked onto his, filled with intent and a hint of mischief.
With a soft but bold touch, you reached out to cup his clothed cock, feeling its firmness beneath your palm. You applied a teasing pressure, grinding your hand against him. The sudden contact made him draw in a sharp breath, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment as he absorbed the sensation. “You didn’t get to cum last time, did you?” you murmured, your voice a sultry whisper that broke the tense silence between you.
His eyes opened slowly, a mix of desire and astonishment etched on his features. The initial hesitation seemed to melt away, replaced by a hunger that mirrored your own. He bit his bottom lip, trying to stop a moan from escaping. You could feel him hardening in your hand, his pant seam threatening to burst open.
As if all his restraint had snapped, he pressed one hand against the back of your head, fingers burrowing into your hair, while the other slid just under your chin, tilting your face up to meet his. He slammed his lips onto yours, finally giving in to the wild desire that had been simmering between you all day. Your lips moved messily while he grinded himself against your hand. “Fuck, you’re fucking crazy,” he said breathlessly into your lips, “And no, I didn’t, but I did think about creaming on your face before bed last night.”
You could already feel a wetness pooling between your legs, his words being the boost you so desperately needed to move forward. You kept kissing him hungrily while undoing his fly, his half-hard cock springing out in anticipation. You took him into your hand, your fingers barely meeting as you gripped around him, stroking him gently while he cursed into your mouth.
Mr. Jeong pulled away and spun you around in one swift move, pressing your body against his chest and trapping you in his embrace. Your hand remained obedient and eager, pumping his cock as his big hands roamed your body. One hand squeezed your breast, while the other slipped underneath your skirt. “Wore this skimpy little thing on purpose, didn’t you?” His words cascaded down your neck, “Little slut.”
You moaned softly as his fingers rubbed against your clothed clit, your sticky wet juices leaking through the fabric. Mr. Jeong gathered the front of your panties together and pulled with a force that made you gasp. The fabric wedged against your throbbing pussy, leaving you whimpering as you bucked your hips against the friction.
“Your so fucking wet, Y/N…” He teased, his lips pressed against your ears, sending a rush of butterflies in your stomach. “You liked what you saw yesterday, didn’t you? Couldn’t stop thinking about it, could you? Bet you came in on purpose, hmm? Heard what I was doing and wanted to help me cum?”
A deep, throaty moan escaped your lips. You loved the way he was talking to you, the way he reduced you to a horndog little pervert, and deep down, you knew it was true. You were addicted to the thrill of it all. “Yes, sir,” you whispered, your voice trembling with desire. “I wanna be your good girl, your slut. Wanna help you cum sir, please. Want your hot load on me. Please, sir, I need it.” Your words were an invitation, a desperate plea for the intense pleasure you’ve craved for so long, and you knew he couldn't resist.
Mr. Jeong shifted from behind you and you felt the warmth of his cock, a tantalizing tap against your cunt, which forced an excited yelp from your lips. His hand covered your mouth, a gentle yet firm reminder to keep quiet. “Don’t want anyone hearing us, do we baby?”
His cock was sandwiched between your sopping-wet folds and the tight fabric of your panties. The feeling was intoxicating, and you couldn’t help but grind your hot, eager pussy over his length. Your back rested against his chest, and you could feel his heart pounding in sync with your racing pulse. The fabric of your panties provided delicious friction, and you moaned softly into his hand, the sound muffled but still carrying the weight of your satisfaction.
You pressed your thighs together, squeezing his cock as you rode him, the sensation being too much for the both of you. “Fuck, baby, you’re gonna make me cum too soon,” He panted, his head falling forward and burying into your shoulder.
You grew restless, your grinding becoming faster and wild, the sounds of your quiet and desperate begging like music to his ears. “Please, sir, cum in my panties, I’ll be so good,” You pleaded with tears of pleasure streaking down your cheeks. The thought of walking around in his cum-soaked panties gave you a thrill. You could feel your clit pulsing as you rutted against his shaft, the sheer bliss of it beyond anything you’d ever experienced. “I’m gonna cum, sir, please…oh, fuck, I’m cumming!” You cried out, your body shaking with the force of your orgasm.
As your orgasm subsided, his cock still pressed against your swollen clit. You felt a numbness, a euphoric high that left you floating, your wetness a warm, inviting contrast to his hot, throbbing length. Shivers ran down your spine, and you felt like you were hovering, your consciousness detached from your body.
Mr. Jeong lifted you in his strong arms, carrying you like fragile glass. He brought you to the bathroom mirror, and as he held you up, you couldn't help but be amazed at the sight of his length against your body. It was almost surreal, the difference in scale, and you felt a mix of excitement and nervousness. He snaked a hand around your waist, pulling your panties to the side, exposing your wet, glistening cunt to the cool air. You shivered, feeling a rush of vulnerability. He slapped his cock against your wet cunt, grinning, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm.
“What are you doing, sir?” you asked shyly, your voice soft and hesitant. You had never experienced this position before, and the sight of your legs spread wide and your cunt so open and exposed made you nervous. Mr. Jeong's hands grasped under your thighs, supporting your weight, and you could feel his strength and his muscles bulging as he held you up. “I wanna see this little pussy take my big cock,” he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. “Wanna watch it stretch and take me deep.”
You gulped, your heart racing in your chest. You had never taken something this big before, and Mr. Jeong was indeed impressive. The thought of being stretched, of accommodating to his size, both excited and intimidated you. You wanted to tell him about your virginity, but the words caught in your throat. You didn't want to turn him off, and so you remained silent, your mind racing with a mix of emotions.
Noticing your worried glance reflected in the mirror, Mr. Jeong's eyes narrowed, a hint of disappointment creasing his features. “What's wrong, baby? You wanna stop?” he asked, his voice laced with concern.
“No,” you said quietly before reaching down to grasp his cock. With a firm grip, you began to work him up and down, the weight of his hard length in your hands making your pussy twitch. You pushed his cock against your entrance, the head pressing against your tight, virgin opening. “Please, sir,” you begged, your voice pathetically dry. “I want your cock inside of me. I want to feel you stretching me, filling me up. Wanna be good for you.”
The thought of giving up your virginity to him was both scary and exhilarating. You wanted to be his, to belong to him in the most intimate way possible. You pumped him desperately, your core aching to have him stuffed deep inside you.
The head of his cock pressed against your tight opening, and you could feel the stretch, the burning sensation of being filled for the very first time. A sob escaped your lips as Mr. Jeong slowly lowered you over his cock, the mirror reflecting it all. You watched in awe as his hot, throbbing rod disappeared inside your body, the sight of it stretching you, filling you, almost too much to bear.
“Fuck, you're so tight,” he grunted, his eyes wide with a mix of pleasure and awe. The sensation of being filled by his impressive size was intense, and you were intoxicated by a mixture of pain and bliss, the feeling making your mind numb. He was incredibly gentle at first, pushing just the tip of his cock into your walls, treating you with the utmost care. But as tension built within him, his eyes grew darker, a fierce lust taking over. With a sudden, primal urge, he began working you over his cock, pulling you up and down, your tight pussy gripping his length. You felt incredible to him, like a fleshlight come to life, and even he struggled to mask his moans as your body adjusted to his size.
The pain was fleeting, replaced by a deep, satisfying pleasure. “Oh god, sir” you whispered, your voice strained. “It feels so good. So full... Please, don't stop.” Your sweet pleas made his ears buzz, his stomach fluttering from just how sweetly you begged for more of him.
“God, you’re doing so good for me,” He praised, almost giddy with how effortlessly you fit him. His eyes never left the mirror, his thick bulge disappearing into your tight, wet pussy, a sight too mesmerizing to look away from. “Such a good girl…look so pretty on my cock” He huffed, “My little cumslut.”
His words sent a rush of heat to your cheeks, and you felt your pussy clench around him in response. You wanted him to keep talking dirty to you, to fill your ears with every filthy word and fantasy he had while pounding into you.
Mr. Jeong grew tired, and he placed you back on the ground, pushing your body down against the sink, the cold marble against your bare stomach sending a chill down your spine. He lifted your skirt, rubbing himself against your puffy pussy lips, the overstimulation driving you wild. You felt his cock, thick and hard, lining up with your hole, and you knew what was coming. Your mouth fell open in a silent gasp as he pushed into you in one swift, powerful motion, filling you up completely. He stilled his hips, giving your pussy a chance to adjust to his size, to wrap itself around him, to pulsate and invite him deeper. You were stuffed, every inch of your pussy filled with his cock, his balls swinging and slapping against your raw skin with each thrust.
With each snap of his hips, you cursed under your breath, your fingers gripping tightly to the sink as if it were your only anchor in this storm. "S-so big!" you yelped, your voice filled with a mix of awe and fear. Your body was now completely at the mercy of Mr. Jeong, his powerful strokes sending waves of pleasure and pain through your sensitive pussy.
As he continued to thrust into you, he brought one hand up, pressing his fingers against your mouth, effectively silencing your moans. "Gotta do something about that mouth, baby," he whispered, his voice low and dangerous. His fingers, still wet with your juices from before, found their way into your mouth, and you gladly accepted them, your lips closing around his digits. You moaned deeply, your tongue wrapping around his fingers, tasting yourself on them. You lost yourself in his touch, his hard cock massaging your gummy walls, his fingers probing and exploring your warm mouth, his lips licking and sucking your ear lobe as he whispered filth to you, bringing you to the brink of another orgasm.
As your eyes met your reflection in the mirror, you were struck by a sense of unfamiliarity. Your makeup was smudged and running, the black mascara staining your tears and streaking down your cheeks. Your hair was frizzy and chaotic, some sweat-drenched strands framing your face and sticking to your warm cheeks. Your lips looked wet and swollen as you gagged around Mr. Jeong’s long fingers, the saliva dripping down your chin. You loved it. You looked like a woman who had been pleasured beyond measure. There was an intoxicating power in seeing yourself like this, a power that made you feel alive and desirable. It reminded you of the pornstar Mr. Jeong was watching yesterday, her fucked-out expression now mirroring your own.
"Oh god, sir, it's too much!" you moaned, pulling his fingers out from your mouth. "I can't take it! I'm gonna cum again!"
“Fuck, me too,” He grunted as he pulled out of you, feeling the inevitable approach of his own release. Relief washed over you, your body weakening, your walls clenching and spasming around nothing. Mr. Jeong spun you around, placing a hand on the top of your head, pushing you to your knees just as your body swayed with the first waves of your climax.
As Mr. Jeong jerked himself off with his hand, his eyes never left your face, now a beautiful canvas covered in the ropes of his hot cum. Though still reeling from the intense orgasm he had just given you, you opened your mouth wide, obediently accepting his thick, white cum as it splashed over your tongue. The taste was both bitter and sour, but you loved it, a unique flavor that was all his.
You licked your lips, moaning softly as you savored his taste. You kissed his tender tip, running your tongue over his slit, relishing the feeling of his cum leaking out, warm and sticky.
With a playful smile, Mr. Jeong rubbed his tip against your lips, leaving a trail of cum as he did so. "Shit, baby, you look so pretty with my cum on your face," he said, his voice shaky with post-orgasmic delight. "My sweet little cumslut."
Taking him into your mouth once more, you swirled your tongue around his sensitive head, moaning from the taste and texture of his cum. You pulled off with a plopping sound, a satisfied smile on your face. "Taste so good, sir," you whispered, your voice filled with admiration and gratitude. "Thank you for letting me taste your cum.”
Mr. Jeong, clearly pleased with your gratitude, ran his fingers through your hair affectionately, gently tucking a strand behind your ear. Suddenly, there was a hard knock on the door, snapping you both out of your little daze.
“Yo, Yunho,” a voice called from the door. “Are you taking a shit? How much longer are you gonna be? Hana’s ready to cut the cake.”
Mr. Jeong flinched, his hands moving fast as he pulled his bottoms up, stuffing himself back inside like a guilty teenager caught red-handed. “Uh, just a minute! I’ll be right out!” he called back, voice strained.
The man sighed. “Alright, well, hurry up. The cake’s melting out here.”
You both snapped into action, scrambling to fix your clothes and smooth your hair. The rush of reality crashing back down made your heart pound even harder than before. Just as you were ready to bolt, Yunho suddenly froze, his expression shifting once he realized the mess he left on your face was still dripping down your cheeks.
Then, without a word, he grabbed a few squares of toilet paper and gently wiped the sticky white jelly from your flushed face. “Sorry,” he murmured, his fingers barely grazing your skin, his eyes burning with the same embarrassed, heated look from before.
Once you were clean, he lingered for a second too long, standing so close you could feel his breath on your lips. He parted his mouth as if to say something, anything, but nothing came out. Instead, his fingers anxiously tapped against his thigh, a nervous habit you had never noticed before.
“You should go first,” you said quickly, sensing the weight of the moment. “I’ll come down after.”
His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, then he nodded. “Thanks,” he muttered, stuffing his shirt back into his waistband before slipping out the door with hurried, uneven steps.
You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding and sank onto the toilet seat. The room still smelled faintly of him, and it felt unreal how fast the energy had shifted. Had he just been hit with regret? Was he now scrambling to shove this whole thing into a locked box in his mind? Now no longer in the heat of the moment, did he think what you two did was wrong? Were you going to get fired?
For the rest of the party, Mr. Jeong successfully avoided you. He busied himself slicing tiny squares of cake for the kids, nodding along to endless small talk with the other parents as if nothing had happened.
You took the hint, feeling a slight shame in your chest.
Slipping out early, you gave Hana a tight hug before heading back to your car. The second you settled into your seat, your phone buzzed in your pocket. With a sigh, you pulled it out, expecting something mundane.
But when you read the message, you couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at your lips.
Jeong Yunho: See you Monday ;)
—
Your sleep schedule had indeed improved, and you found yourself no longer relying on toys to satisfy your desires. The structure and routine of your new life, with Hana and Mr. Jeong, had brought a sense of balance and fulfillment. You enjoyed the daily interactions with Hana, whether it was playing frisbee in the backyard or teaching her simple math in her room. Your bond with her grew stronger each day, and you found great joy in being a positive influence in her life.
However, it was the Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays that held a special place in your heart. These were the days when you dropped Hana off at her ballet recitals, and while she was practicing her pliés and pirouettes, you would return to their home to tend to your other job.
Your knees were growing sore from scraping against the carpet under Yunho’s desktop table. Sounds of girls moaning emanated from his monitor. Though you were curious about what he was watching, you knew it was none of your business. Instead, you focused on the task at hand and wrapped your warm mouth over his throbbing cock, nestling yourself between his legs from under his desk. The width of his bulge filled your throat, and you gagged lightly, a sign of your complete submission to him.
Yunho, lost in the porno he was watching, seemed momentarily unaware of your presence. He was engrossed in the images on his screen, his eyes droopy and his breathing heavy. Your mouth bobbed up and down, your lips wrapping tightly around his shaft, and you could feel his excitement building. The sound of his moans mixed with the pornographic sounds on his computer made you clench around nothing, forcing you to slip your hand past your waistband.
As you continued to suck him, you could feel his hands running through your hair, gently guiding your movements. You massaged his warm balls with your free hand, feeling his cum bubbling up in his sack, and you knew it wouldn't be long before he released his load into your waiting mouth.
"That's it, baby," Yunho whispered, his voice soft yet dominant. “Keep that pretty mouth on me. So good…so, so good for me.”
I would greatly appreciate reblogs with comments and replies. please consider leaving feedback if you enjoyed this x.
》 plot: For three years, Kang Yeosang was the quiet, obedient assistant to one of the most powerful women in tech—until she fired him with a cold, impersonal email. Drunk and furious, he confronts her at a bar, expecting to see the same ruthless CEO he once feared. Instead, he finds a woman exhausted by control, desperate to let someone else take over. Now, she’s offering him that power. Yeosang has spent years following orders—but can he step up and be the one giving them? And what happens when surrendering control turns into something neither of them can resist?
》 content: babygirl (2024) inspired, office sex, power dynamics, pet names (puppy), humiliation kink, submissive reader, face-fucking, cumplay, smut, comedy, this was written around Christmas time so it’s set around that time as well, also set in NYC
》 playlist: she's my collar- gorrilaz and kali uchis, leash- sky ferreira, crack baby- mitski, the perfect girl- mareux, closer- nine inch nails
Yeosang stared at his laptop screen, the faint glow of the monitor illuminating his face while all the color drained from it. His hands trembled slightly on the keyboard, his breathing growing shallow and uneven. Each word on the screen struck him like a dagger. He reread the message as if repetition might change its meaning.
Subject: Employment Termination
Dear Mr. Kang,
We regret to inform you that, due to recent budget cuts and ongoing concerns about your performance, we have made the difficult decision to terminate your employment with ChromaTech.
Please arrange to return all company property, including devices and ID badges, to our office as soon as possible. Alternatively, we can schedule a FedEx pickup from your home.
Your final paycheck will be processed and deposited later this week.
We appreciate your contributions to ChromaTech and wish you the best in your future endeavors.
Regards,
HR
The words blurred together as Yeosang's vision clouded, his mind racing to make sense of it all. Performance concerns? He clenched his fists, trying to suppress the surge of humiliation and anger that coursed through him.
This wasn’t just a job to him—it was stability, routine, a cornerstone of the life he’d painstakingly built through hard work and commitment. Now it was gone, reduced to a cold, impersonal email that left no room for explanation, no chance to plead his case.
Yeosang let his head fall into his hands, the faint whir of the laptop's fan echoing in the room. It all felt surreal to him like he woke up to find the ground had shifted beneath his feet, leaving him dangling over a dark abyss.
He looked over at his digital calendar, every hour clogged up with reminders, appointments, and deadlines for the next month and a half, all completely useless now. For the first time in years, he had no idea what he was supposed to do next.
The rest of the day passed in a hazy blur. Yeosang drifted from room to room in his cramped East Village apartment, his gaze occasionally landing on the precarious stacks of Amazon boxes littering the floor. A pang of regret twisted in his chest. He’d splurged on gifts for his friends, family, and—most indulgently—himself during the holidays, telling himself it was fine to celebrate, that he deserved all the latest new tech and shiny sneakers. Now, staring at his dwindling savings, the extravagance felt like a slap in the face. Great timing.
After scheduling the FedEx pickup and stuffing his work belongings into a battered cardboard box, he tossed it into the corner, out of sight but never out of mind. Every motion felt mechanical, his thoughts distant and dulled. He couldn’t sit in this suffocating silence anymore, couldn’t let the reality of his situation consume him.
Tomorrow was Thursday. No work, no obligations. Now he had all the time in the world and no idea what to do with it.
Fuck it, he thought. If life wanted to kick him while he was down, then he’d kick back, even if it meant getting obliterated in the process. Grabbing his coat, he made a decision. Tonight, he wasn’t going to sit in his misery. He was going to hit the fanciest bar he could find and drink himself into oblivion, maybe even pick up a cute girl to take home. Consequences could wait until tomorrow.
⸻
Yeosang slouched over the bar counter, his cheek nearly pressed against the cool wood, looking more like he was napping than nursing a drink. The Manhattan in his hand felt cold, its amber glow reflecting faintly in his tired eyes. He swirled the liquid absently, his thoughts as muddled as the cocktail before him.
He regretted coming here. Liquor wasn’t his thing—he’d always avoided it, telling himself he needed to stay sharp for work. But the truth was simpler: alcohol made him sleepy. One drink, and he’d be nodding off like some human embodiment of the Sleepytime Bear. There’s no way any girl would want to go home with him like this.
And yet, here he was, sipping on a cocktail he’d never had before tonight, all in the name of free will. He’d picked it for no other reason than its price tag—it was one of the most expensive options on the menu. If he was going to spiral, why not spiral in style? The bitterness of the drink soured his tongue, but he kept sipping, his mind already drifting into that hazy, detached state where everything felt just a little less sharp, a little more bearable. It wasn’t the escape he thought it would be, but for now, it was enough.
Yeosang had served you diligently for almost three years, though to him, it felt more like a decade. When he first got the position as Executive Assistant, he’d been thrilled—not for the prestige or the title, but for the hefty paycheck that came with it. A corporate job was soul-crushing, sure, but at least it paid handsomely for the privilege of grinding you into dust.
For three years, he’d been your shadow. He made your coffee just the way you liked it, meticulously scheduled and rescheduled your endless meetings, and trailed after you as you tore through Midtown in your impossibly dainty heels. Somehow, your So Kate pumps made you walk faster than him, even in his worn-out tennis shoes.
He picked up your dry cleaning, planned your trips down to the minute, and waited bleary-eyed at baggage claim after grueling international flights to haul your overweight suitcases to your hotel room. He booked your dinner reservations at trendy restaurants, juggling waitlists and cancellations like a magician. He prepared your reports and presentation notes, answered your emails, your calls, your texts—every last trivial thing—so the only task left for you was to look polished in your Banana Republic pencil skirt and flash a pretty smile at investors.
To everyone else, you were the epitome of success—the poster child for Women in Tech. An Ivy League graduate at the helm of one of the country’s biggest tech companies, you embodied the impossible standard, all while maintaining a buzzing social life, and an aura of poise that never cracked, no matter how demanding the circumstances. While others juggled, you danced, balancing it all with a grace that seemed almost superhuman. To the outside world, you weren’t just successful—you were aspirational, the kind of woman others admired, envied, and tried to emulate. But to Yeosang, you were a full-time job, a 24/7 whirlwind that consumed everything in its path, leaving him wiped out and drained.
Performance concerns. He knew exactly what that meant.
It had been a few weeks ago, late at night. You were stressed, working overtime in your office, which, of course, meant he had to stay late too. The request wasn’t anything unusual—just your evening coffee: Colombian roast, vanilla creamer, a delicate dusting of cinnamon powder on top. Simple enough.
He’d handed the mug to you with both hands, careful not to spill a drop. Then he lingered, waiting for you to assign something else. But you barely looked up, waving him off with a flick of your fingers. As he turned to leave, his eyes caught your reflection in the glass doors.
That’s when he saw it.
A look of disgust twisted your features as you took a sip, your lips curling ever so slightly in disapproval.
The memory of it hit him like a slap. At first, he hadn’t understood. But back at his desk, it came rushing back, sharp as a pin in his chest. Peppermint mocha.
He’d grabbed the festive creamer that someone had left on the kitchen counter instead of the usual vanilla you liked. It wasn’t intentional—just an absent-minded mistake made after hours of exhaustion. But in your world, there were no small mistakes.
And now, sitting alone at the bar with his life upended, that one moment felt emblematic of everything.
Okay, maybe it wasn’t just the peppermint mocha creamer.
His nerves had always been his downfall, often betraying him in the form of small but noticeable mistakes. A double-booked meeting here, a forgotten reservation there—usually because he was too busy helping you pick out a new pair of Christian Louboutins for your Paris trip, or researching market pricing for an upcoming presentation. There was also that time he missed a few typos in a report you handed to the company heads, which earned him a withering glare in front of the whole boardroom.
But could you really blame him? You treated him like he had six arms, and the ability to teleport with the speed of light when in reality, he was just one man. No matter how hard he worked, it was never enough. If he meticulously completed every task you gave him, you’d point out the smallest flaw. If he preempted your needs, you’d call him presumptuous. Every win felt hollow because you’d always point out what could have been done better. Pleasing you was like chasing a mirage—no matter how close he got, the finish line kept moving farther away.
Still, one thing was certain: the peppermint mocha creamer had been the final straw. A small, almost insignificant mistake in the grand scheme of things, but for you, it had been enough to seal his fate.
Yeosang's ears perked up, his sluggish thoughts snapping into focus at the sound of a familiar voice. He froze, the glass of Manhattan halfway to his lips, as he scanned the dimly lit bar. And then he saw you.
You were tucked into the corner booth, surrounded by a few friends, with a pink cocktail in your hand. The faint hum of laughter carried over the low jazz music, and you looked so relaxed, so carefree. It was as if nothing had happened—as if his world hadn’t just imploded because of you.
A spark of anger flared in his chest, simmering, then growing hotter with each passing second. How could you? How could you throw him away so carelessly and then go out for drinks, laughing and clinking glasses like it was any other night?
The more he thought about it, the angrier he got. He’d done everything for you. Everything. He’d missed his niece’s first recital because you needed him to oversee a last-minute report. He’d skipped Thanksgiving with his family because you insisted on an "urgent" trip to Japan that turned out to be nothing more than a glorified shopping spree. His love life? Nonexistent. How could he have one when you were the only woman in his life, demanding every ounce of his time, energy, and attention?
And now, here you were, sipping cocktails without a care in the world. You didn’t even have the decency to tell him to his face why you let him go. The least you could’ve done was look him in the eye and explain yourself, to acknowledge the years he gave you, the sacrifices he made.
Yeosang clenched his jaw, his grip tightening around the glass in his hand. He felt the weight of all those buried resentments rising to the surface, demanding release. For the first time in three years, he wasn’t going to stay silent.
Yeosang drained the last of his Manhattan, the liquid fire burning its way down his throat as if fueling his decision. The warmth spread through his chest, blurring the sharp edges of his hesitation. When he saw your friends stand to leave, laughing as they hugged you goodbye, he seized the moment. The alcohol coursing through his veins muffled his nerves, and the simmering anger propelled him off the barstool.
He approached you with purpose, his heart pounding harder with each step. He’d imagined this confrontation in his head for hours, maybe even years. But when you looked up, your eyes narrowing in confusion, it all dissolved.
“Yeosang?” you said, your tone laced with surprise as you squinted at him. “What are you doing here?”
For a moment, he froze, caught in the trap of your gaze. Then, the words tumbled out before he could stop them, anger surging past his control.
“An email? Really?” Yeosang spat, his voice cutting through the low hum of the bar. His eyes were dark with anger, his jaw clenched so tightly it looked like it might snap. “You couldn’t even— didn’t even have the decency to say it to my face? Are you that much of a coward?”
You stiffened, the weight of the bar patrons’ stares pressing down on you. You reached out toward him, your voice was soft but firm. “Hey, let’s calm down—”
“Don’t tell me to calm down!“ he roared, his words slurring slightly, his stance wobbly from the alcohol. “Three years! I gave you three years of nonstop devotion, and I don’t even get a proper goodbye? No thank you, no explanation? Do you know how much shit I had to sacrifice for you?”
His voice cracked, his frustration spilling out with every word. “You love parading around with this ‘girlboss,’ fearless woman-in-tech image, but you’re just a scared little girl. Too scared to even look me in the eye and tell me what I did so wrong that you had to hide behind HR to fire me!”
Your cheeks burned with embarrassment as you caught the awkward glances of nearby patrons, their murmured conversations stopping as they pretended not to eavesdrop. You pursed your lips, your patience snapping like a brittle thread. Grabbing his arm roughly, you dragged him out of the bar, ignoring his protests as the cold, snowy air hit both of you like a slap.
“You really wanna do this here?” you hissed, your voice low but sharp, cutting through the quiet of the empty street. “Fine. Let’s do this.”
Yeosang blinked at you, his anger simmering as he swayed on unsteady legs.
“You want to know why you were fired?” You stepped closer, staring him dead in the eye. “You’re a terrible listener. You fuck up my coffee order. You double-book meetings, forgot to confirm reservations, and just last month, you botched the presentation I needed for the board by misspelling half the client names. Do you know how humiliating that was for me?”
Your words hit him like gunshots, but you didn’t stop. “You don’t listen, Yeosang. You never pay attention to detail. I needed someone I could count on, someone who could make my life easier. I’m not asking for much. Instead, I got someone who left me to fix their mistakes half the time!”
Yeosang flinched at your words. But even as they sunk in, indignation burned in his chest. He didn’t believe he deserved this—not for the mistakes you listed, not for everything he had done for you.
He stepped closer, his dark eyes locking onto yours with a mixture of defiance and pain. The cold outside nipped at your skin, but the heat of his breath against your face made you hyperaware of the tension between you.
“I listen,” he said, his voice low but firm. “You’re just impossible to please.”
You opened your mouth to retort, but he didn’t let you.
“I double-booked your meeting one time because you refused to confirm your schedule with the finance group until the last minute. I misspelled the names on that report because the stupid intern—your intern—gave me an Excel sheet with half the names wrong. And reservations? You spring that shit on me while I’m busy walking your dog or picking up your overpriced $20 salad. And the coffee? The fucking coffee? Give me a break!”
His voice cracked with frustration, his breath coming faster now. “You act like I’m some incompetent idiot when all I ever did was clean up after your chaos. Do you know what it’s like working for someone who changes their mind every ten minutes, who expects you to read their mind and be three steps ahead all the time? No matter how much I did, no matter how fast or how perfectly, it was never enough for you! You are a soulless, narcissistic, she-devil, and you love making everyone around you miserable because nothing makes you happy!”
You were nose to nose with him now, the closeness electric and unnerving. Yeosang didn’t realize how close he had gotten until he could see every delicate detail of your face. But he didn’t back away. He didn’t want to.
For the first time, he felt taller, stronger, more in control. He wasn’t just the assistant trailing behind you, fetching your coffee and carrying your bags. Right now, you were the one looking up at him, your confidence faltering under the weight of his hard gaze.
Then, something shifted. His anger, which had been a roaring fire just moments ago, flickered and dimmed. His eyes dropped to your lips, noticing how you worried them slightly between your teeth. The cold had turned them soft, flushed red, quivering as though they couldn’t decide what to say next. He felt the heat in his chest start to dissipate.
“All I ever wanted was to please you, but you never gave me a chance” he murmured, his voice quieter now, almost soft. His words hung between you like a fragile thread, and he didn’t know whether to pull it tighter or let it snap.
His gaze met yours again, and for a brief moment, the tension shifted into something vulnerable. He remained where he stood, towering over you, suddenly feeling exposed, but the weight of his words lingered, heavy and unanswerable in the snowy silence.
You couldn’t explain it, but you liked this side of him. It was the first time you’d seen raw emotion in his face—anger, frustration, passion—it was fascinating. For as long as you’d known Yeosang, he had been quiet as a mouse, his replies clipped and deferential: Yes, ma’am. Right away, ma’am. Always composed, always distant, like a shadow that existed only to serve.
But now? Now he looked alive. His dark eyes burned with intensity, his lips still slightly parted from his impassioned outburst. You hated to admit it, but he looked almost…sexy? The sharp line of his jaw, the way his breath puffed in short bursts against the cold, the heat radiating off him even in the freezing air. And his voice—you liked how deep it gets when he’s mad. You liked it enough to disregard the she-devil comment. It almost delighted you. You liked being talked down to. Not enough people had the balls to do so.
“I can give you another chance…” The words slipped from your lips before you even realized you were speaking. Your tone was quieter, almost sultry, betraying the tug of something entirely outside good judgment. You had nothing but the liquor to blame. You tilted your head slightly, holding his gaze, the weight of your offer hanging heavy in the cold air.
“To please me, that is.”
His breath hitched, his eyes widening slightly before narrowing in confusion. The air between you crackled with tension, unspoken implications simmering beneath the surface. For a moment, you both just stood there, the snow falling softly around you, caught in an electric silence neither of you knew how to break.
After a moment of hesitation, Yeosang broke the silence. “Okay.”
⸻
"I'm not sure if I understand," Yeosang said slowly, blinking up at you. "Ma’am." The word left his lips instinctively, like muscle memory, but his voice was hesitant.
You sighed, shifting your weight against the desk, arms crossed. The two of you were alone in your office, the usual hum of the busy workday long gone. The only sound was the soft ticking of the wall clock and the faint buzz of the city outside.
He sat stiffly in your chair, the black leather cool against his back, making him even more uncomfortable. He didn't belong there—you both knew it. But this was an experiment, after all.
You tilted your head, your patience wearing thin. "It’s simple. I’m letting you be the boss today. You just have to tell me what to do, and I’ll do it." Your lips curled slightly. "And don’t call me Ma’am."
Yeosang swallowed, his getting throat dry. Power had never been something he craved. He had spent his life taking orders, following directions, and anticipating needs before they were spoken. Most people in tech burned out quickly, leaving to chase the dream of being in control, of being the one to give orders. That drive had never come to him. It wasn’t in his nature.
And yet, here you were, handing it to him.
His fingers curled against the leather armrests as he searched for something—anything—to say, his mind wading through unfamiliar territory.
"Then what do I call you?" he asked finally, his voice quieter now.
You held his gaze, a small smirk playing at the corner of your lips.
"Anything you want."
Yeosang mulled over your words, his mind scrambling to process what was happening. Call you anything he wanted? Tell you to do whatever he wanted? It was the kind of fantasy teenage boys dreamed about, yet his mind was a complete blank.
You sighed, exasperated by his hesitation. "Can I give you a suggestion?" You asked, stepping closer.
He nodded, swallowing hard, the words still stuck in his throat.
You leaned in slightly, your voice dipping just enough to make the hairs on the back of his neck stand. "Ask me to get on my knees."
Yeosang's breath hitched. His mind latched onto the words, turning them over, considering. Then, slowly, he nodded in agreement.
You chuckled. "You have to say the words, Mr. Kang."
His ears burned. "Oh, right," he said quickly, his voice a little too high, a little too quick. He cleared his throat. "Get on your knees."
The words felt foreign and awkward, but the way you looked at him made something tighten in his chest.
Mr. Kang.
No one had ever called him that before. It was always Yeo, Yeosang, or, on occasion, the intern—his young face fooling half the office into thinking he was some college kid on summer break. But Mr. Kang…He liked the way it sounded coming from your lips.
He sat frozen, watching as you slowly sank to your knees in front of him, settling neatly between his legs. His breath hitched, his pulse hammering against his skin.
You looked up at him, eyes glinting with something—Desire? Amusement? He couldn’t tell, but whatever it was, it left him breathless.
You waited, patiently, expectantly, your lips slightly parted as if anticipating his next command. You almost looked like an obedient little puppy, so much so that he almost called you pup.
Yeosang exhaled sharply, gripping the leather armrests as his mind raced. He was supposed to be in control. Supposed to be giving the orders. But right now, sitting in your chair, watching you kneel before him, it felt like he was the one unraveling.
“Take off your shirt.”
He was getting comfortable now. He watched as you unbuttoned your top and discarded it to the side, leaving you only in your lacy black push-up bra. You placed your hands neatly over your lap, patiently awaiting his next request. Yeosang was stunned at how easily and effortlessly you followed his instruction, not showing a single sign of shame as you undressed in front of your junior. He wondered how far he could take it.
“Take that off too.”
You unhooked the back part of your bra and tossed it to the side with your blouse, your hands returning to your lap.
Yeosang let himself relax into your chair, eyes fixed over your soft and bare skin. He bit the skin around his thumb, drinking in your physique. He wanted to touch them, knead them, feel their weight in his hands, but he kept himself restrained. He was growing to like this game and wanted to see what else he could make you do.
He licked his lips, finally settling on his next request. “Come here.”
You scooted closer to him, your eyes now level with his clothed cock.
“Kiss it.”
Without hesitation, you leaned forward, letting your lips trail slow, deliberate kisses along the outline of his growing bulge. You could feel the firmness of his balls from beneath the thick fabric, the desire to see them making your core ache with need. Glancing up through your lashes, you took in the sight of Yeosang already succumbing to the pleasure, his body relaxing into the chair, eyes dark with lust. He was undeniably beautiful, every feature accentuated by the flush of arousal, and the thought of pushing him to the edge, of watching him cum, was a temptation you could hardly resist.
You began palming his cock, feeling it stiffen just under your touch. “Can I please take it out, Mr. Kang?” You asked in an airless and sultry voice which no doubt made Yeosang feel weak.
Yeosang gripped the leather armrests and nodded. “Go on.”
With glee, you unbuttoned his pants and fished out his throbbing cock, his skin feeling warm and tender as you gave it a few lazy strokes. You leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to his blushing tip, the sudden touch making him hiss from his seat.
You giggled softly at his reaction, continuing to leave a trail of kisses on the sides of his cock, your hand gripping at the base. He felt so hot and heavy in your hand, and you were growing impatient for a taste.
“Put it in your mouth.”
You eagerly fed him into your mouth, the weight on your tongue already making you dizzy. You salivated around his length, a few dribbles of drool rolling down his shaft. Yeosang could feel himself twitching inside you. The sight of his uptight boss with her mouth so full of his cock made his head spin, all the hesitations and apprehensions he had in the beginning now dissipating while a hunger took over him.
“Now suck it.”
You began sucking at his head, the thickness of his hard cock proving to be a challenge, so much so that you could only really take the tip in your mouth. You grabbed onto the base with both hands, bobbing and slurping him as his breathing grew more unsteady. When you looked back up at him with your big, puppy-dog eyes, you were delighted to see that same Yeosang from earlier—the one with fire in his eyes, with furrowed brows and a sharp tongue, throwing demands and names at you without hesitation. Gone was the quiet, obedient assistant who trailed behind you like a shadow. In his place sat a man who, for the first time, wasn’t afraid to take up space. And you liked it.
“Fuck,” He moaned, “That’s it, that’s a good puppy…take all of me in that dumb little mouth, yeah, just like that.”
You loved hearing him coach you, loved when he called you a dumb little puppy. You could feel your wetness leaking through your stockings, a need aching so strongly between your legs that you had no choice but to grind yourself over Yeosang’s new shoes, your slick wet juices glistening over the rubber soles.
Yeosang was so far gone now, his only purpose left being to chase his high. His hands gripped your strands tightly to hold you in place. Before you knew it, he was thrusting himself into you, his whole length pushing down into your throat with no warning. He set a brutal pace, fucking your mouth with no mercy, reveling in your wet gagging sounds as he makes use of your throat.
“Fuck, I love fucking this little mouth,” He panted, “Good little slut, gonna take my cum? Gonna swallow all my cum down your little throat, huh?”
Tears streamed down your face as he ruthlessly plowed into your mouth. Despite his roughness, your body trembled with need, your hips continuing to grind against his shoes, desperate for release. Your muffled moans vibrate around his shaft, spurring Yeosang on as he chases his pleasure.
Yeosang gripped your hair tightly, thrusting and plunging his hard cock deeper into your eager mouth. For years, he dealt with your nonstop nagging and bitching, and he had to admit it was nice to finally get you to shut up, with a mouth full of his cock no less. “This is what you like, huh? You like being put in your place? Like being a little fuck doll for me?”
He punctuated his words with harsh snaps of his hips. The term fuck doll was enough to send you over the edge. Your hips stilled, your core tightening as you came, your moans muffled by his hard cock. A devilish grin spread across his face as he playfully tapped the tip of his shoe against your swollen clit, the jolt of overstimulation sending shivers cascading through you. He relished in the sight of you laid bare in vulnerability, a stark contrast to the composed persona you typically wore. “Such a mess for me” He sighed, satisfied with your mascara-stained cheeks and reddened, slobbery lips. “So, so pretty…”
You grunted with each thrust, the tight clutch of your throat milking his cock deliciously. You looked up at him with pleading eyes, silently begging for his cum as you took everything he gave you. Your tongue danced along his shaft, massaging the sensitive underside as he fucked your face with wild abandon. You swallowed around him greedily, your throat convulsing along his length as you strived to please him.
With a final hard thrust, Yeosang buried himself deep into your warm mouth and let go, flooding your throat with ropes of his hot cum. His breath hitched, a deep, guttural sound of pleasure escaping him as his seed spilled and trickled from the corners of your lips. With firm hands, he held your head snugly against him, grinding against your face as he emptied himself, savoring the sight of you taking every fervent drop.
Your eyes brimmed with tears as you took him deeper, the bittersweet taste of his seed offering a strange satisfaction on your tongue. As you pulled away with a soft pop, Yeosang gently traced your lips with the tip of his cock, leaving a glistening trail of his pearly essence. You couldn't help but lick your lips in delight, a soft moan escaping you as you savored his flavor.
Yeosang felt like he could cum again from watching you grind your cum-drenched face on his cock. You were so desperate, so depraved, he almost couldn’t believe this was you. The same career-driven CEO he had dutifully served, the woman who made decisions with razor-sharp precision, who commanded everyone’s attention with a snap of her fingers—this was what you secretly craved? To be stripped of control? To be the one taking orders instead of giving them? Who knew that the woman he had once feared, the one who dictated his every move, secretly longed to be a mindless servant, void of responsibility, bound by nothing but the will of someone else?
You gazed up at him adoringly, drinking at the sight of his ruffled hair, his heaving chest rising and falling as he caught his breath. The rawness of him, unfiltered and unrestrained, filled you with a thrill you hadn’t felt in so long.
To serve someone else for once.
To be the one waiting, watching, hoping for approval.
To do so well for someone that it left them utterly speechless.
It was nearly midnight now, and you had a meeting at 7 AM. You should have stopped, should have called it a night, and sent him home. But how could you now? Not when your body was buzzing with anticipation, not when you craved more—more of his voice, more of his praise, more of him.
You wanted to keep going. To do more for him. To hear him call you his good little puppy again.
Slowly, you pushed back onto your heels, your wide, eager eyes locking with his.
“What would you like me to do now, Mr. Kang?”
I would greatly appreciate reblogs with comments and replies. please consider giving feedback if you enjoyed this.
》 plot: For three years, Kang Yeosang was the quiet, obedient assistant to one of the most powerful women in tech—until she fired him with a cold, impersonal email. Drunk and furious, he confronts her at a bar, expecting to see the same ruthless CEO he once feared. Instead, he finds a woman exhausted by control, desperate to let someone else take over. Now, she’s offering him that power. Yeosang has spent years following orders—but can he step up and be the one giving them? And what happens when surrendering control turns into something neither of them can resist?
》 content: babygirl (2024) inspired, office sex, power dynamics, pet names (puppy), humiliation kink, submissive reader, face-fucking, shoe-grinding, cumplay, smut, comedy, this was written around Christmas time so it’s set around that time as well, also set in NYC
》 playlist: she's my collar- gorrilaz and kali uchis, leash- sky ferreira, crack baby- mitski, the perfect girl- mareux, closer- nine inch nails
Yeosang stared at his laptop screen, the faint glow of the monitor illuminating his face while all the color drained from it. His hands trembled slightly on the keyboard, his breathing growing shallow and uneven. Each word on the screen struck him like a dagger. He reread the message as if repetition might change its meaning.
Subject: Employment Termination
Dear Mr. Kang,
We regret to inform you that, due to recent budget cuts and ongoing concerns about your performance, we have made the difficult decision to terminate your employment with ChromaTech.
Please arrange to return all company property, including devices and ID badges, to our office as soon as possible. Alternatively, we can schedule a FedEx pickup from your home.
Your final paycheck will be processed and deposited later this week.
We appreciate your contributions to ChromaTech and wish you the best in your future endeavors.
Regards,
HR
The words blurred together as Yeosang's vision clouded, his mind racing to make sense of it all. Performance concerns? He clenched his fists, trying to suppress the surge of humiliation and anger that coursed through him.
This wasn’t just a job to him—it was stability, routine, a cornerstone of the life he’d painstakingly built through hard work and commitment. Now it was gone, reduced to a cold, impersonal email that left no room for explanation, no chance to plead his case.
Yeosang let his head fall into his hands, the faint whir of the laptop's fan echoing in the room. It all felt surreal to him like he woke up to find the ground had shifted beneath his feet, leaving him dangling over a dark abyss.
He looked over at his digital calendar, every hour clogged up with reminders, appointments, and deadlines for the next month and a half, all completely useless now. For the first time in years, he had no idea what he was supposed to do next.
The rest of the day passed in a hazy blur. Yeosang drifted from room to room in his cramped East Village apartment, his gaze occasionally landing on the precarious stacks of Amazon boxes littering the floor. A pang of regret twisted in his chest. He’d splurged on gifts for his friends, family, and—most indulgently—himself during the holidays, telling himself it was fine to celebrate, that he deserved all the latest new tech and shiny sneakers. Now, staring at his dwindling savings, the extravagance felt like a slap in the face. Great timing.
After scheduling the FedEx pickup and stuffing his work belongings into a battered cardboard box, he tossed it into the corner, out of sight but never out of mind. Every motion felt mechanical, his thoughts distant and dulled. He couldn’t sit in this suffocating silence anymore, couldn’t let the reality of his situation consume him.
Tomorrow was Thursday. No work, no obligations. Now he had all the time in the world and no idea what to do with it.
Fuck it, he thought. If life wanted to kick him while he was down, then he’d kick back, even if it meant getting obliterated in the process. Grabbing his coat, he made a decision. Tonight, he wasn’t going to sit in his misery. He was going to hit the fanciest bar he could find and drink himself into oblivion, maybe even pick up a cute girl to take home. Consequences could wait until tomorrow.
⸻
Yeosang slouched over the bar counter, his cheek nearly pressed against the cool wood, looking more like he was napping than nursing a drink. The Manhattan in his hand felt cold, its amber glow reflecting faintly in his tired eyes. He swirled the liquid absently, his thoughts as muddled as the cocktail before him.
He regretted coming here. Liquor wasn’t his thing—he’d always avoided it, telling himself he needed to stay sharp for work. But the truth was simpler: alcohol made him sleepy. One drink, and he’d be nodding off like some human embodiment of the Sleepytime Bear. There’s no way any girl would want to go home with him like this.
And yet, here he was, sipping on a cocktail he’d never had before tonight, all in the name of free will. He’d picked it for no other reason than its price tag—it was one of the most expensive options on the menu. If he was going to spiral, why not spiral in style? The bitterness of the drink soured his tongue, but he kept sipping, his mind already drifting into that hazy, detached state where everything felt just a little less sharp, a little more bearable. It wasn’t the escape he thought it would be, but for now, it was enough.
Yeosang had served you diligently for almost three years, though to him, it felt more like a decade. When he first got the position as Executive Assistant, he’d been thrilled—not for the prestige or the title, but for the hefty paycheck that came with it. A corporate job was soul-crushing, sure, but at least it paid handsomely for the privilege of grinding you into dust.
For three years, he’d been your shadow. He made your coffee just the way you liked it, meticulously scheduled and rescheduled your endless meetings, and trailed after you as you tore through Midtown in your impossibly dainty heels. Somehow, your So Kate pumps made you walk faster than him, even in his worn-out tennis shoes.
He picked up your dry cleaning, planned your trips down to the minute, and waited bleary-eyed at baggage claim after grueling international flights to haul your overweight suitcases to your hotel room. He booked your dinner reservations at trendy restaurants, juggling waitlists and cancellations like a magician. He prepared your reports and presentation notes, answered your emails, your calls, your texts—every last trivial thing—so the only task left for you was to look polished in your Banana Republic pencil skirt and flash a pretty smile at investors.
To everyone else, you were the epitome of success—the poster child for Women in Tech. An Ivy League graduate at the helm of one of the country’s biggest tech companies, you embodied the impossible standard, all while maintaining a buzzing social life, and an aura of poise that never cracked, no matter how demanding the circumstances. While others juggled, you danced, balancing it all with a grace that seemed almost superhuman. To the outside world, you weren’t just successful—you were aspirational, the kind of woman others admired, envied, and tried to emulate. But to Yeosang, you were a full-time job, a 24/7 whirlwind that consumed everything in its path, leaving him wiped out and drained.
Performance concerns. He knew exactly what that meant.
It had been a few weeks ago, late at night. You were stressed, working overtime in your office, which, of course, meant he had to stay late too. The request wasn’t anything unusual—just your evening coffee: Colombian roast, vanilla creamer, a delicate dusting of cinnamon powder on top. Simple enough.
He’d handed the mug to you with both hands, careful not to spill a drop. Then he lingered, waiting for you to assign something else. But you barely looked up, waving him off with a flick of your fingers. As he turned to leave, his eyes caught your reflection in the glass doors.
That’s when he saw it.
A look of disgust twisted your features as you took a sip, your lips curling ever so slightly in disapproval.
The memory of it hit him like a slap. At first, he hadn’t understood. But back at his desk, it came rushing back, sharp as a pin in his chest. Peppermint mocha.
He’d grabbed the festive creamer that someone had left on the kitchen counter instead of the usual vanilla you liked. It wasn’t intentional—just an absent-minded mistake made after hours of exhaustion. But in your world, there were no small mistakes.
And now, sitting alone at the bar with his life upended, that one moment felt emblematic of everything.
Okay, maybe it wasn’t just the peppermint mocha creamer.
His nerves had always been his downfall, often betraying him in the form of small but noticeable mistakes. A double-booked meeting here, a forgotten reservation there—usually because he was too busy helping you pick out a new pair of Christian Louboutins for your Paris trip, or researching market pricing for an upcoming presentation. There was also that time he missed a few typos in a report you handed to the company heads, which earned him a withering glare in front of the whole boardroom.
But could you really blame him? You treated him like he had six arms, and the ability to teleport with the speed of light when in reality, he was just one man. No matter how hard he worked, it was never enough. If he meticulously completed every task you gave him, you’d point out the smallest flaw. If he preempted your needs, you’d call him presumptuous. Every win felt hollow because you’d always point out what could have been done better. Pleasing you was like chasing a mirage—no matter how close he got, the finish line kept moving farther away.
Still, one thing was certain: the peppermint mocha creamer had been the final straw. A small, almost insignificant mistake in the grand scheme of things, but for you, it had been enough to seal his fate.
Yeosang's ears perked up, his sluggish thoughts snapping into focus at the sound of a familiar voice. He froze, the glass of Manhattan halfway to his lips, as he scanned the dimly lit bar. And then he saw you.
You were tucked into the corner booth, surrounded by a few friends, with a pink cocktail in your hand. The faint hum of laughter carried over the low jazz music, and you looked so relaxed, so carefree. It was as if nothing had happened—as if his world hadn’t just imploded because of you.
A spark of anger flared in his chest, simmering, then growing hotter with each passing second. How could you? How could you throw him away so carelessly and then go out for drinks, laughing and clinking glasses like it was any other night?
The more he thought about it, the angrier he got. He’d done everything for you. Everything. He’d missed his niece’s first recital because you needed him to oversee a last-minute report. He’d skipped Thanksgiving with his family because you insisted on an "urgent" trip to Japan that turned out to be nothing more than a glorified shopping spree. His love life? Nonexistent. How could he have one when you were the only woman in his life, demanding every ounce of his time, energy, and attention?
And now, here you were, sipping cocktails without a care in the world. You didn’t even have the decency to tell him to his face why you let him go. The least you could’ve done was look him in the eye and explain yourself, to acknowledge the years he gave you, the sacrifices he made.
Yeosang clenched his jaw, his grip tightening around the glass in his hand. He felt the weight of all those buried resentments rising to the surface, demanding release. For the first time in three years, he wasn’t going to stay silent.
Yeosang drained the last of his Manhattan, the liquid fire burning its way down his throat as if fueling his decision. The warmth spread through his chest, blurring the sharp edges of his hesitation. When he saw your friends stand to leave, laughing as they hugged you goodbye, he seized the moment. The alcohol coursing through his veins muffled his nerves, and the simmering anger propelled him off the barstool.
He approached you with purpose, his heart pounding harder with each step. He’d imagined this confrontation in his head for hours, maybe even years. But when you looked up, your eyes narrowing in confusion, it all dissolved.
“Yeosang?” you said, your tone laced with surprise as you squinted at him. “What are you doing here?”
For a moment, he froze, caught in the trap of your gaze. Then, the words tumbled out before he could stop them, anger surging past his control.
“An email? Really?” Yeosang spat, his voice cutting through the low hum of the bar. His eyes were dark with anger, his jaw clenched so tightly it looked like it might snap. “You couldn’t even— didn’t even have the decency to say it to my face? Are you that much of a coward?”
You stiffened, the weight of the bar patrons’ stares pressing down on you. You reached out toward him, your voice was soft but firm. “Hey, let’s calm down—”
“Don’t tell me to calm down!“ he roared, his words slurring slightly, his stance wobbly from the alcohol. “Three years! I gave you three years of nonstop devotion, and I don’t even get a proper goodbye? No thank you, no explanation? Do you know how much shit I had to sacrifice for you?”
His voice cracked, his frustration spilling out with every word. “You love parading around with this ‘girlboss,’ fearless woman-in-tech image, but you’re just a scared little girl. Too scared to even look me in the eye and tell me what I did so wrong that you had to hide behind HR to fire me!”
Your cheeks burned with embarrassment as you caught the awkward glances of nearby patrons, their murmured conversations stopping as they pretended not to eavesdrop. You pursed your lips, your patience snapping like a brittle thread. Grabbing his arm roughly, you dragged him out of the bar, ignoring his protests as the cold, snowy air hit both of you like a slap.
“You really wanna do this here?” you hissed, your voice low but sharp, cutting through the quiet of the empty street. “Fine. Let’s do this.”
Yeosang blinked at you, his anger simmering as he swayed on unsteady legs.
“You want to know why you were fired?” You stepped closer, staring him dead in the eye. “You’re a terrible listener. You fuck up my coffee order. You double-book meetings, forgot to confirm reservations, and just last month, you botched the presentation I needed for the board by misspelling half the client names. Do you know how humiliating that was for me?”
Your words hit him like gunshots, but you didn’t stop. “You don’t listen, Yeosang. You never pay attention to detail. I needed someone I could count on, someone who could make my life easier. I’m not asking for much. Instead, I got someone who left me to fix their mistakes half the time!”
Yeosang flinched at your words. But even as they sunk in, indignation burned in his chest. He didn’t believe he deserved this—not for the mistakes you listed, not for everything he had done for you.
He stepped closer, his dark eyes locking onto yours with a mixture of defiance and pain. The cold outside nipped at your skin, but the heat of his breath against your face made you hyperaware of the tension between you.
“I listen,” he said, his voice low but firm. “You’re just impossible to please.”
You opened your mouth to retort, but he didn’t let you.
“I double-booked your meeting one time because you refused to confirm your schedule with the finance group until the last minute. I misspelled the names on that report because the stupid intern—your intern—gave me an Excel sheet with half the names wrong. And reservations? You spring that shit on me while I’m busy walking your dog or picking up your overpriced $20 salad. And the coffee? The fucking coffee? Give me a break!”
His voice cracked with frustration, his breath coming faster now. “You act like I’m some incompetent idiot when all I ever did was clean up after your chaos. Do you know what it’s like working for someone who changes their mind every ten minutes, who expects you to read their mind and be three steps ahead all the time? No matter how much I did, no matter how fast or how perfectly, it was never enough for you! You are a soulless, narcissistic, she-devil, and you love making everyone around you miserable because nothing makes you happy!”
You were nose to nose with him now, the closeness electric and unnerving. Yeosang didn’t realize how close he had gotten until he could see every delicate detail of your face. But he didn’t back away. He didn’t want to.
For the first time, he felt taller, stronger, more in control. He wasn’t just the assistant trailing behind you, fetching your coffee and carrying your bags. Right now, you were the one looking up at him, your confidence faltering under the weight of his hard gaze.
Then, something shifted. His anger, which had been a roaring fire just moments ago, flickered and dimmed. His eyes dropped to your lips, noticing how you worried them slightly between your teeth. The cold had turned them soft, flushed red, quivering as though they couldn’t decide what to say next. He felt the heat in his chest start to dissipate.
“All I ever wanted was to please you, but you never gave me a chance” he murmured, his voice quieter now, almost soft. His words hung between you like a fragile thread, and he didn’t know whether to pull it tighter or let it snap.
His gaze met yours again, and for a brief moment, the tension shifted into something vulnerable. He remained where he stood, towering over you, suddenly feeling exposed, but the weight of his words lingered, heavy and unanswerable in the snowy silence.
You couldn’t explain it, but you liked this side of him. It was the first time you’d seen raw emotion in his face—anger, frustration, passion—it was fascinating. For as long as you’d known Yeosang, he had been quiet as a mouse, his replies clipped and deferential: Yes, ma’am. Right away, ma’am. Always composed, always distant, like a shadow that existed only to serve.
But now? Now he looked alive. His dark eyes burned with intensity, his lips still slightly parted from his impassioned outburst. You hated to admit it, but he looked almost…sexy? The sharp line of his jaw, the way his breath puffed in short bursts against the cold, the heat radiating off him even in the freezing air. And his voice—you liked how deep it gets when he’s mad. You liked it enough to disregard the she-devil comment. It almost delighted you. You liked being talked down to. Not enough people had the balls to do so.
“I can give you another chance…” The words slipped from your lips before you even realized you were speaking. Your tone was quieter, almost sultry, betraying the tug of something entirely outside good judgment. You had nothing but the liquor to blame. You tilted your head slightly, holding his gaze, the weight of your offer hanging heavy in the cold air.
“To please me, that is.”
His breath hitched, his eyes widening slightly before narrowing in confusion. The air between you crackled with tension, unspoken implications simmering beneath the surface. For a moment, you both just stood there, the snow falling softly around you, caught in an electric silence neither of you knew how to break.
After a moment of hesitation, Yeosang broke the silence. “Okay.”
⸻
"I'm not sure if I understand," Yeosang said slowly, blinking up at you. "Ma’am." The word left his lips instinctively, like muscle memory, but his voice was hesitant.
You sighed, shifting your weight against the desk, arms crossed. The two of you were alone in your office, the usual hum of the busy workday long gone. The only sound was the soft ticking of the wall clock and the faint buzz of the city outside.
He sat stiffly in your chair, the black leather cool against his back, making him even more uncomfortable. He didn't belong there—you both knew it. But this was an experiment, after all.
You tilted your head, your patience wearing thin. "It’s simple. I’m letting you be the boss today. You just have to tell me what to do, and I’ll do it." Your lips curled slightly. "And don’t call me Ma’am."
Yeosang swallowed, his getting throat dry. Power had never been something he craved. He had spent his life taking orders, following directions, and anticipating needs before they were spoken. Most people in tech burned out quickly, leaving to chase the dream of being in control, of being the one to give orders. That drive had never come to him. It wasn’t in his nature.
And yet, here you were, handing it to him.
His fingers curled against the leather armrests as he searched for something—anything—to say, his mind wading through unfamiliar territory.
"Then what do I call you?" he asked finally, his voice quieter now.
You held his gaze, a small smirk playing at the corner of your lips.
"Anything you want."
Yeosang mulled over your words, his mind scrambling to process what was happening. Call you anything he wanted? Tell you to do whatever he wanted? It was the kind of fantasy teenage boys dreamed about, yet his mind was a complete blank.
You sighed, exasperated by his hesitation. "Can I give you a suggestion?" You asked, stepping closer.
He nodded, swallowing hard, the words still stuck in his throat.
You leaned in slightly, your voice dipping just enough to make the hairs on the back of his neck stand. "Ask me to get on my knees."
Yeosang's breath hitched. His mind latched onto the words, turning them over, considering. Then, slowly, he nodded in agreement.
You chuckled. "You have to say the words, Mr. Kang."
His ears burned. "Oh, right," he said quickly, his voice a little too high, a little too quick. He cleared his throat. "Get on your knees."
The words felt foreign and awkward, but the way you looked at him made something tighten in his chest.
Mr. Kang.
No one had ever called him that before. It was always Yeo, Yeosang, or, on occasion, the intern—his young face fooling half the office into thinking he was some college kid on summer break. But Mr. Kang…He liked the way it sounded coming from your lips.
He sat frozen, watching as you slowly sank to your knees in front of him, settling neatly between his legs. His breath hitched, his pulse hammering against his skin.
You looked up at him, eyes glinting with something—Desire? Amusement? He couldn’t tell, but whatever it was, it left him breathless.
You waited, patiently, expectantly, your lips slightly parted as if anticipating his next command. You almost looked like an obedient little puppy, so much so that he almost called you pup.
Yeosang exhaled sharply, gripping the leather armrests as his mind raced. He was supposed to be in control. Supposed to be giving the orders. But right now, sitting in your chair, watching you kneel before him, it felt like he was the one unraveling.
“Take off your shirt.”
He was getting comfortable now. He watched as you unbuttoned your top and discarded it to the side, leaving you only in your lacy black push-up bra. You placed your hands neatly over your lap, patiently awaiting his next request. Yeosang was stunned at how easily and effortlessly you followed his instruction, not showing a single sign of shame as you undressed in front of your junior. He wondered how far he could take it.
“Take that off too.”
You unhooked the back part of your bra and tossed it to the side with your blouse, your hands returning to your lap.
Yeosang let himself relax into your chair, eyes fixed over your soft and bare skin. He bit the skin around his thumb, drinking in your physique. He wanted to touch them, knead them, feel their weight in his hands, but he kept himself restrained. He was growing to like this game and wanted to see what else he could make you do.
He licked his lips, finally settling on his next request. “Come here.”
You scooted closer to him, your eyes now level with his clothed cock.
“Kiss it.”
Without hesitation, you leaned forward, letting your lips trail slow, deliberate kisses along the outline of his growing bulge. You could feel the firmness of his balls from beneath the thick fabric, the desire to see them making your core ache with need. Glancing up through your lashes, you took in the sight of Yeosang already succumbing to the pleasure, his body relaxing into the chair, eyes dark with lust. He was undeniably beautiful, every feature accentuated by the flush of arousal, and the thought of pushing him to the edge, of watching him cum, was a temptation you could hardly resist.
You began palming his cock, feeling it stiffen just under your touch. “Can I please take it out, Mr. Kang?” You asked in an airless and sultry voice which no doubt made Yeosang feel weak.
Yeosang gripped the leather armrests and nodded. “Go on.”
With glee, you unbuttoned his pants and fished out his throbbing cock, his skin feeling warm and tender as you gave it a few lazy strokes. You leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to his blushing tip, the sudden touch making him hiss from his seat.
You giggled softly at his reaction, continuing to leave a trail of kisses on the sides of his cock, your hand gripping at the base. He felt so hot and heavy in your hand, and you were growing impatient for a taste.
“Put it in your mouth.”
You eagerly fed him into your mouth, the weight on your tongue already making you dizzy. You salivated around his length, a few dribbles of drool rolling down his shaft. Yeosang could feel himself twitching inside you. The sight of his uptight boss with her mouth so full of his cock made his head spin, all the hesitations and apprehensions he had in the beginning now dissipating while a hunger took over him.
“Now suck it.”
You began sucking at his head, the thickness of his hard cock proving to be a challenge, so much so that you could only really take the tip in your mouth. You grabbed onto the base with both hands, bobbing and slurping him as his breathing grew more unsteady. When you looked back up at him with your big, puppy-dog eyes, you were delighted to see that same Yeosang from earlier—the one with fire in his eyes, with furrowed brows and a sharp tongue, throwing demands and names at you without hesitation. Gone was the quiet, obedient assistant who trailed behind you like a shadow. In his place sat a man who, for the first time, wasn’t afraid to take up space. And you liked it.
“Fuck,” He moaned, “That’s it, that’s a good puppy…take all of me in that dumb little mouth, yeah, just like that.”
You loved hearing him coach you, loved when he called you a dumb little puppy. You could feel your wetness leaking through your stockings, a need aching so strongly between your legs that you had no choice but to grind yourself over Yeosang’s new shoes, your slick wet juices glistening over the rubber soles.
Yeosang was so far gone now, his only purpose left being to chase his high. His hands gripped your strands tightly to hold you in place. Before you knew it, he was thrusting himself into you, his whole length pushing down into your throat with no warning. He set a brutal pace, fucking your mouth with no mercy, reveling in your wet gagging sounds as he makes use of your throat.
“Fuck, I love fucking this little mouth,” He panted, “Good little slut, gonna take my cum? Gonna swallow all my cum down your little throat, huh?”
Tears streamed down your face as he ruthlessly plowed into your mouth. Despite his roughness, your body trembled with need, your hips continuing to grind against his shoes, desperate for release. Your muffled moans vibrate around his shaft, spurring Yeosang on as he chases his pleasure.
Yeosang gripped your hair tightly, thrusting and plunging his hard cock deeper into your eager mouth. For years, he dealt with your nonstop nagging and bitching, and he had to admit it was nice to finally get you to shut up, with a mouth full of his cock no less. “This is what you like, huh? You like being put in your place? Like being a little fuck doll for me?”
He punctuated his words with harsh snaps of his hips. The term fuck doll was enough to send you over the edge. Your hips stilled, your core tightening as you came, your moans muffled by his hard cock. A devilish grin spread across his face as he playfully tapped the tip of his shoe against your swollen clit, the jolt of overstimulation sending shivers cascading through you. He relished in the sight of you laid bare in vulnerability, a stark contrast to the composed persona you typically wore. “Such a mess for me” He sighed, satisfied with your mascara-stained cheeks and reddened, slobbery lips. “So, so pretty…”
You grunted with each thrust, the tight clutch of your throat milking his cock deliciously. You looked up at him with pleading eyes, silently begging for his cum as you took everything he gave you. Your tongue danced along his shaft, massaging the sensitive underside as he fucked your face with wild abandon. You swallowed around him greedily, your throat convulsing along his length as you strived to please him.
With a final hard thrust, Yeosang buried himself deep into your warm mouth and let go, flooding your throat with ropes of his hot cum. His breath hitched, a deep, guttural sound of pleasure escaping him as his seed spilled and trickled from the corners of your lips. With firm hands, he held your head snugly against him, grinding against your face as he emptied himself, savoring the sight of you taking every fervent drop.
Your eyes brimmed with tears as you took him deeper, the bittersweet taste of his seed offering a strange satisfaction on your tongue. As you pulled away with a soft pop, Yeosang gently traced your lips with the tip of his cock, leaving a glistening trail of his pearly essence. You couldn't help but lick your lips in delight, a soft moan escaping you as you savored his flavor.
Yeosang felt like he could cum again from watching you grind your cum-drenched face on his cock. You were so desperate, so depraved, he almost couldn’t believe this was you. The same career-driven CEO he had dutifully served, the woman who made decisions with razor-sharp precision, who commanded everyone’s attention with a snap of her fingers—this was what you secretly craved? To be stripped of control? To be the one taking orders instead of giving them? Who knew that the woman he had once feared, the one who dictated his every move, secretly longed to be a mindless servant, void of responsibility, bound by nothing but the will of someone else?
You gazed up at him adoringly, drinking at the sight of his ruffled hair, his heaving chest rising and falling as he caught his breath. The rawness of him, unfiltered and unrestrained, filled you with a thrill you hadn’t felt in so long.
To serve someone else for once.
To be the one waiting, watching, hoping for approval.
To do so well for someone that it left them utterly speechless.
It was nearly midnight now, and you had a meeting at 7 AM. You should have stopped, should have called it a night, and sent him home. But how could you now? Not when your body was buzzing with anticipation, not when you craved more—more of his voice, more of his praise, more of him.
You wanted to keep going. To do more for him. To hear him call you his good little puppy again.
Slowly, you pushed back onto your heels, your wide, eager eyes locking with his.
“What would you like me to do now, Mr. Kang?”
I would greatly appreciate reblogs with comments and replies. please consider giving feedback if you enjoyed this.
》 plot: every night this summer, you fantasized about your boss, Mr. Jeong. babysitting his adorable daughter all summer had turned your small crush on the young, single dad into a lust-filled infatuation. after an awkward encounter that left you both humiliated, you did your best to keep your distance at his daughter’s birthday party. that is, until fate trapped you in a bathroom with him while the party carried on outside.
》 content: oh boy, let's see, age gap, aged up yunho, virgin reader, reader lowkey down bad and porn-obsessed, bathroom sex, mirror sex, panties stay on!! grinding, cowgirl stand and carry, yunho basically using you like a fleshlight, use of sir and good girl, filthy dirty talk, cum eating, cum facial, multiple orgasms, reader obsessed with his cum lol, thigh fucking, sucking his dick while he watches porn??? MONSTER CAWK YUNHO
》 playlist: prettiest virgin- agar agar, candy- doja cat, I fucking lust you- d'african, taste so good- sabrina claudio, less of you- omar apollo, real life- the marias
You promised yourself you wouldn’t do this again, but here you were, laying in bed with a vibrator cupped to your clit, eyes glued to your phone screen as you tapped on the first video in the big dick category. It took a while for the vibrator to buzz you the right way, but once you found your sweet spot, your head sank lower into your pillow and you had to bite your lip to keep any sounds from slipping out of your mouth. This was the fifth night in a row that you jerked off, and honestly, you were exhausted; Tired of waking up late because of your little late-night endeavors, tired of feeling gross each time your wetness leaked out and stained your panties during the day, and most of all, tired of being a virgin.
The video you were watching had your favorite pornstar in it. The guy himself wasn’t at all your type, but his cock was pretty. And big. It’s weird to admit, but this is how you imagined Mr. Jeong’s cock looked like. You had been babysitting Mr. Jeong’s six-year-old daughter for the summer while school was out. She was an angel. Hana reminded you a lot of Bubbles from the PowerPuff Girls cartoon, with her sweet little voice and sensitive nature. You loved spending time with her.
Yes, throughout the summer, you had developed a crush on Hana’s Dad. How could you not? He was everything a man ought to be— tall, handsome, and kind. His being a good father was just a plus in your eyes. He worked from home, so you’d see him occasionally throughout the day. During his break, he’d come downstairs from his home office to color with Hana for a few minutes. During lunch, you’d sit with them on the patio, watching with heart eyes as he wiped ketchup off of her little mouth.
Lately, your infatuation has become all-consuming, and you resorted to buying a vibrator from Amazon to help ease your frustrations. And that’s when this little habit of yours began. It felt odd, at first. You didn’t want to be the type of person who watches porn every night for hours, imagining your boss doing all these things to you. It just sort of happened. And instead of easing your frustrations, it made them worse.
You hated being a virgin. Vibrators weren’t enough. You, for lack of a better term, needed to be dicked down. Preferably by Mr. Jeong, but that would only happen in your wildest dreams. It wasn’t like he made it easy for you. Yesterday for example, when you were preparing Hana’s PB&J, Mr. Jeong reached over your head to grab a mug from the cupboard above you. “Behind you,” he alerted, his fingers grazing over your waist as he pulled his coffee mug out. You stood frozen, the place where he touched you burning hot on your skin.
Every time he touches you, whether it’s the accidental brush of his fingers when he hands you your check or the deliberate weight of his hand on your shoulder as he thanks you at the end of the day, it only makes you crave him more and more.
The video you were watching had an obvious size kink going on. The male pornstar was huge, and he was able to pick up his petite partner and fuck into her with ease. Your thighs clenched thinking about Mr. Jeong picking you up like that and pumping you up and down his length, stuffing just the tip of his big cock into you because that’s all that could fit. Your core tightened, and your orgasm was imminent, until…
It died. Your vibrator died.
“Oh, fuck off!” You cursed, slamming your head back into your pillow. Stupid cheap fucking vibrator. Here’s to another night of being a lonely, twenty-something virgin, going to bed unsatisfied and unwanted. You sighed, exasperated.
Mr. Jeong was older. You didn’t know much about his wife. It was a sensitive topic for him. And Hana was too young to remember her final moments. He couldn’t possibly want anything to do with you, and instead, you filled your head with unrealistic fantasies to keep yourself up at night and made yourself cum to them. Maybe you wouldn’t be so miserable if you were around more boys your age.
Too tired to continue with your fingers, you shifted to your side and tried to make yourself comfortable. It was 4 in the morning now, which meant you’d only get about 3 hours tonight. Just great, you thought to yourself, waiting for the exhaustion to finally lull you to sleep.
—
You were rather sluggish today, struggling to keep your eyes open as you drove to Mr. Jeong’s house. The cold brew you picked up before heading over there wasn’t much help. Instead, it just made you even more tired. I need to stop jerking off before bed, you told yourself. Luckily, it was Friday, which meant you had enough time to catch up on the lost hours of sleep this weekend.
You sighed as you measured out the detergent to wash Hana’s favorite tutu, the warm and fuzzy smell of fabric softener reminding you of your blanket at home, making you want to sleep even more. Hana got upset this morning before you dropped her off to ballet practice when some syrup from her drive-thru pancakes dripped onto her tutu. To quiet her tantrum, you promised her you’d go back home to wash it so it's nice and clean for her to wear when she comes back, and that you’d also bring her second favorite tutu for practice— a purplish-blue one with pink glitter dusted around it. It didn’t feel right just washing one piece of clothing, so you decided to go upstairs and quickly grab the dirty clothes from Hana and Mr. Jeong’s hampers.
You yawned as you made your way up the stairs, stopping by Hana’s room first. Her room was, as always, a chaotic mess—Barbie dolls and crayons scattered across the floor in colorful disarray, old juice boxes, and snack bags left forgotten on the desk. No matter how many times you tried to teach her the importance of cleaning up after herself, the lesson never seemed to stick. With a resigned sigh, you grabbed the clothes from her hamper and stuffed them into the laundry basket.
Leaving her room, you headed toward Mr. Jeong’s, but froze mid-step as a strange, muffled sound reached your ears from his office. At first, you assumed he was in a meeting, but as you drew closer, the noises grew more alarming—strained and uneven, almost as if he were in pain or… crying?
You gently set the laundry basket down on the floor, carefully tiptoeing toward the door. Pressing your ear against the cold, wooden surface, you strained to make sense of the muffled noises coming from inside. A sharp hiss followed by a low, frustrated “fuck” caught you off guard, making your breath hitch.
Startled, you raised a hand and knocked lightly on the door. “Mr. Jeong?” you called softly. No answer. Concern gnawed at you, and without thinking, you turned the knob. The door creaked as it inched open, the sound slicing through the stillness.
“Mr. Jeong, is everything—” you started, stepping inside.
Mr. Jeong swiveled in his chair, his face frozen in a mask of shock and embarrassment. The two of you stood locked in place as if time itself had come to a standstill. The only sounds in the room were the filthy, lewd moans of a woman coming from his computer. Your gaze dropped instinctively, trailing down his frame until your eyes caught on something in his lower half— his long slender fingers gripping tightly onto his erect cock.
“Y/N!” he exclaimed, his voice sharp with panic as he scrambled to pull his pants up, hastily stuffing himself back into his waistband. His movements were frantic, his face flushed a deep crimson. “I-I thought you were at the ballet school!”
Your cheeks burned with embarrassment, the heat rising so quickly you felt your face must be as red as his. “I-I was,” you stammered, your words tumbling out awkwardly as you tried to steady your voice. “But… Hana’s tutu got dirty, and I… I came back to grab another one…”
The porn video continued playing in the background, the sounds of the ridiculously wet blowjob making the awkwardness even more unbearable.
Mr. Jeong, finally snapping out of his daze, spun back to his computer and fumbled to exit the site, the click of the mouse unnervingly loud in the heavy silence. He turned back to you, his mouth opening as if to say something, but no words came. His expression was a mixture of shame and desperation, his face still a deep shade of red.
“I’m so sorry,” you blurted out, your voice breathless and shaky as you struggled to compose yourself. The urge to flee was overwhelming. “I-I should get back to Hana. So sorry again!”
Without waiting for a response, you spun on your heel and hurried out of the room, heart pounding in your chest as you tried to process what had just happened.
—
You had worried earlier about how you’d make it through the day, feeling so drained and sluggish, but the shock from what happened had jolted you awake like a surge of electricity. Now, a different concern gnawed at you—whether you’d be able to sleep at all tonight. Embarrassment burned through you, and you were sure poor Mr. Jeong wanted to disappear off the face of the Earth after that moment.
Yet, despite yourself, your mind kept racing, replaying the image of his cock. It was so big. It was prettier than the pornstar’s you watch every night. It looked so firm in his hands, the tip flushed pink just like his cheeks. You wondered how it would feel between your legs. Would you even be able to take it? You had dildos in the past, but nothing more than the size of your palm.
“Cash or card?” Hana chirped, her cheerful voice snapping you out of the inappropriate thoughts swirling in your head about her dad.
“Hmm?” you mumbled, blinking down at her as she sat cross-legged on the carpeted floor. The living room was a mess, scattered with the colorful pieces of her cashier playset. She pointed at the small plastic credit card in your hand, her expression expectant.
“Oh, uh… I guess card?” you replied, handing it over. You watched as she swiped it through the toy terminal, her little hand expertly mimicking the action.
“Boo beep!” she said with a grin, the sound effects spot-on, before handing you back the card along with a tiny plastic milk carton. “Here you go!”
You couldn’t help but smile, her playful innocence pulling you further from your earlier embarrassment. “Thanks, Hana. Can I have a bag, please?”
“That’s fifty cents extra.”
“Little haggler, aren’t you?” You teased.
Suddenly, the sound of footsteps echoed down the stairs, pulling Hana’s attention away from the transaction. “Daddy!” she exclaimed joyfully, rushing toward Mr. Jeong and wrapping her tiny arms around his legs in a tight hug.
“Hey, peanut,” he greeted with a warm smile, scooping her up and planting a quick kiss on her cheek.
“Daddy, I did a pirouette today at practice! Wanna see?”
As Hana spun around, tripping over her own feet a couple of times, you gathered your things and stuffed them into your bag. You kept your eyes down, moving toward the door with a quiet sigh of relief. For once, you were thankful it wasn’t payday; no need to linger any longer, no forced small talk with Mr. Jeong. He seemed just as relieved as he tried his best to avoid you altogether.
“See you next week, kiddo,” you said, ruffling Hana’s soft hair before heading for the door.
“Wait, Daddy! Can Y/N come to my birthday party tomorrow?”
Mr. Jeong’s smile faltered, replaced by an uncomfortable glance in your direction. “Oh, um, well… why don’t you ask her, sweetie?” he said, quickly deflecting the question back to you.
Hana ran up to you, pressing her small body into your legs and looking up at you with those wide, pleading eyes. “Y/N, can you please please please come to my birthday party? There’s gonna be ice cream cake!”
The urge to say no was strong. You could sense Mr. Jeong’s discomfort, and honestly, you were looking forward to a quiet weekend away from him. But her hopeful gaze, the way her lips stuck out in a small, almost irresistible pout… it was too much to deny.
“Oh, well… I think I have to go somewhere this weekend and…” you started, but then her lower lip began to tremble, and you hated seeing her upset.
You let out a soft sigh, the words slipping out despite yourself. “I, uh, I guess I can come for a little bit.”
“Yay!” Hana cheered, her excitement spilling over as she jumped up and down. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
You exchanged a quiet good night with Mr. Jeong, the awkwardness lingering between you both, before disappearing into the warm summer night. The air was heavy as you made your way to your car, but your mind was racing.
As you sat behind the wheel, you cursed yourself under your breath. You should’ve held your ground, should’ve said no when you had the chance. But now… now you are going to a party with Mr. Jeong. How were you supposed to handle that? How were you supposed to navigate a whole afternoon, trapped in the same space with him, when the last thing you wanted was to face him after walking in on him jerking off earlier?
You huffed as you put your keys in the ignition. This was going to be a long weekend.
—
The next day came quickly, too quickly, and you dreaded the whole affair as you pulled up on the driveway. You showed up about thirty minutes later than the time on the invitation, hoping to blend into the chaos without much fanfare. Sure enough, no one seemed to notice.
The house was buzzing with activity. Little kids, probably Hana’s classmates and friends from ballet, darted around like wild animals, screaming and leaving a trail of toys and crumbs in their wake. You weaved through the commotion, making your way to the table piled high with brightly wrapped presents.
You set down your gift; a doll set Hana had been dreaming about for weeks. Suddenly, you felt a small squeeze at your leg. Looking down, you saw Hana beaming up at you, her arms wrapped around you in a tight hug.
“You came!” she squealed, bouncing with excitement.
“Of course I did. Happy birthday!” you said, smiling as you ruffled her hair.
“Come meet my friends!” she insisted, grabbing your hand before you could protest.
Hana dragged you into the backyard, where her friends were splashing in the pool, their parents sitting nearby and watching them like hawks. Hana proudly introduced you to two of her closest friends—“important friends,” as she whispered with a serious nod that made you chuckle.
As you chatted with Hana’s friends, you felt a familiar pull in the corner of your eye. Mr. Jeong stood near the grill, just within your peripheral vision. The moment you glanced in his direction, your heart gave a sharp tug. He was watching you.
Your breath caught, but just before you could process it, you quickly looked away, pretending to focus on the childlike conversation in front of you. As you nodded along, a thought crept in—was he still looking at you? The possibility made your skin prickle, a slow heat creeping up your neck, your pulse growing erratic. You fought the urge to glance his way again, but curiosity got the better of you. You glanced up again, a quick and casual move, but this time, he wasn’t looking anymore. He had already turned his attention to another parent, nodding along to whatever they were saying, sipping on his ice cold beer. Still, your skin tingled, like his gaze hadn’t fully left you.
The mix of the screaming children, the sun beating down on you, and the overwhelming energy of the party soon had you retreating. With a quick excuse, you headed for the shaded table, grabbing a Coca-Cola and savoring the brief moment of quiet.
You chugged the fizzy drink, the burn in your throat oddly satisfying as it momentarily cooled you off. As you set the half-empty can down, your ears caught snippets of a hushed conversation from the table next to you. Two women, likely mothers of Hana’s friends, were whispering, and one word made you tune in: Yunho.
“His wife passed away a few years ago, back when Hana was just learning to walk. Poor guy, raising her all on his own.”
“God, but he’s so cute, though,” the other one said, not bothering to lower her voice.
“I know, right? If I didn’t have Leo, I’d totally take him out for a spin.” They dissolved into giggles, clearly enjoying their little moment until their eyes flicked toward you.
You froze, caught mid-sip from your drink. The sudden attention made your cheeks warm as they realized you’d overheard them. One of the women quickly cleared her throat, trying to cover the awkwardness.
“So, which one’s yours?” she asked, her tone friendly, though her shoulders were tense—probably hoping you hadn’t heard the part where she casually considered sleeping with Mr. Jeong.
“Oh, none of them,” you replied, forcing a polite smile. “I’m Hana’s babysitter.”
You took another sip of your soda, trying to ignore the way the two women were looking at you. It was obvious they had some kind of assumption about you and Mr. Jeong, and it made your skin prickle with discomfort.
“Oh, I didn’t know Mr. Jeong had a babysitter,” the long-haired woman said, glancing at her friend with a knowing look.
You shifted under their stares, suddenly feeling like you were being sized up. They both looked down at your exposed legs, your flowy skirt just barely covering your knees. You knew what they were thinking. Their curiosity wasn’t just innocent small talk. It felt more like they were trying to figure out if you were a threat. A young, single dad and his younger, pretty babysitter? Sounded like an overdone porn plot.
You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could, your fingers anxiously slipped against your soda can, sending the cold, fizzy liquid spilling down the front of your shirt.
“Oh, shit—” You gasped, stepping back as the sticky sweetness seeped into the fabric.
The two women let out little gasps, covering their mouths, but neither of them moved to help.
“Ugh,” you muttered, shaking your hands off. “Excuse me.”
Quickly, you turned and made your way inside, walking past clusters of parents and kids until you reached the staircase. Your face was burning with frustration. This whole weekend was just one embarrassment after another. Everything had felt weird since yesterday. Mr. Jeong had been acting strange, you’d been acting strange, and now you had people assuming things about you that weren’t even true.
You climbed the stairs, the noise of the party fading as you finally reached the bathroom. With a sigh, you pushed the door open and slipped inside, shutting the door behind you.
The cold air from the vent hit your damp shirt, making the fabric cling to your skin uncomfortably. Grimacing, you pulled it over your head and tossed it onto the sink. You turned on the faucet, grabbing a towel to try and clean it before the stickiness set in.
As you rubbed at the stain, you caught your reflection in the mirror. Your cheeks were still flushed, your hair slightly messy from the heat outside. You looked… flustered. Not just from the soda incident, but from everything. From him. From the way he was staring at you, from the way you’d been thinking about him all day, despite knowing you shouldn’t. It was no surprise that you couldn’t sleep the night before, your hands stuffed inside your panties all night, forcing yourself to cum over and over as you thought about Mr. Jeong pumping his big hard cock after a long day. You couldn’t help but wonder what kind of categories he liked. MILF? Hentai? Gangbang? Did he have a favorite pornstar? You desperately wanted to know what he liked, how he liked it, his greatest desires. But what was the use? You were only driving yourself mad with these little fantasies.
You let out a deep breath, gripping the edge of the sink. Get it together.
Before you could pull yourself back to reality, you were startled by a sudden commotion outside of your door. And before you could even react, the door knob turned and the door creaked open.
Your heart jumped into your throat as Mr. Jeong stepped inside, his eyes focused on something behind him, mid-sentence. “I’ll be right there, just gotta take a leak—”
He stopped. Completely frozen.
His eyes landed on your bare skin, the lacy edge of your bra, the way the damp fabric of your shirt sat crumpled in the sink.
For a second, neither of you moved.
Then, as if snapping out of it, his eyes shot up to yours, and his face turned to that shade of red you’d seen before. “Shit” He spun around so fast he nearly slammed into the wall, and shut the door in front of him.
Your face burned with mortification. You grabbed your shirt, holding it up against your chest even though it was still wet. “What are you doing?” you whisper-yelled, trying to sound indignant, but your voice came out weaker than you wanted.
He ran a hand through his hair, his head still facing the door. “It wasn’t locked! And my friend is outside and—” He stopped himself, exhaling sharply. “Doesn’t matter. I’ll go.”
Silence lingered between you. You should’ve told him to hurry up and leave. Should’ve thrown something at him, and scolded him for barging in like that.
But you didn’t.
Instead, your pulse pounded in your ears as you watched the way his hands clenched at his sides, the way the muscle in the side of his jaw tensed. He was still standing there, motionless and breathing a little too hard, like he was trying really, really hard to control himself.
“…Are you gonna go?” you asked, your voice softer now.
Mr. Jeong hesitated, his hand lying still on the doorknob. He let out a shaky breath. “My friend is still out in the hall, maybe, I don’t know, I don’t want him to come in after me and see you. I’m just gonna give it another minute, just to be safe.” He whispered.
The bathroom felt impossibly small like the walls had closed in on you. The silence stretched, almost suffocating, broken only by the soft inhales through his nose and the distant chatter from the party downstairs. The faint drip of the faucet filled the space between you, but neither of you moved, let alone spoke.
It had only been a few seconds—maybe ten, maybe twenty—but it felt like minutes, like an eternity of you two just standing there, backs turned, bodies tense.
You both strained your ears, trying to pick up any signs of his friend lingering outside, but the house was too noisy, too alive with the sound of kids playing and parents chatting. There was no way to tell.
Then, slowly, almost hesitantly, he turned his head just enough to glance at you over his shoulder. His eyes lowered down to your body, just for a second, before he snapped his head forward again, almost too quickly, like he’d been caught looking.
His throat bobbed. “I think he might be gone,” he murmured. “I don’t hear anything.”
You nodded behind him, staying in place.
He exhaled deeply, his shoulders finally relaxing. “I’m really sorry,” he said, sounding defeated.
“It’s not your fault,” you replied, gripping your damp shirt tighter against your chest. “I’m sorry for snapping at you. I should’ve locked the door.”
“Right. Um… thanks,” he said. Then, after a pause, he added, “I also meant about yesterday. I feel so embarrassed. I hope that doesn’t make you feel uncomfortable about working for me. Hana really likes you.”
The mention of yesterday sent a small twist through your stomach. You swallowed. “I’m sorry for that too. I shouldn’t have walked in on you like that.”
He let out a short, breathy chuckle. “I guess we’re both just bad at locking doors. Makes us even.”
A small, nervous laugh slipped out of you, easing some of the tension in the room.
“And you don’t have to be embarrassed. Everyone does it—it’s normal,” you said, trying to reassure him, though you weren’t entirely sure why. Maybe to ease his discomfort. Maybe to ease your own.
He let out a low chuckle, the sound rumbling in his chest. “Oh yeah?” he mused, tilting his head slightly. “You jerk off in front of your babysitter too?”
The teasing tone in his voice made your cheeks warm up. But it was the way he turned then, fully facing you, locking his deep brown eyes onto yours, that made the air shift; buzzing with something neither of you acknowledged but both of you felt.
His smirk faded as quickly as it had come as if he suddenly realized how inappropriate his words were. But he didn’t apologize this time. And more importantly—he didn’t leave.
Your stomach twisted into knots again, breath growing heavier, shallower. Fuck. He was so hot. His sharp jawline, so strong and well-defined, tensed ever so slightly. His broad shoulders, so effortlessly commanding, made you feel smaller in the best way. And those eyes—deep, warm brown, always soft when he looked at Hana—weren’t so soft now. They were sharp, locked onto you with an intensity that made your pulse race. Even the faint crinkles near his eyes, the ones that usually appeared when he smiled, seemed more pronounced at this moment, only adding to how devastatingly beautiful he was.
You should have said something. You should have slipped on your cola-stained t-shirt and left the bathroom. But instead, you stood there, heart hammering in your chest, letting the weight of his gaze consume you. You couldn’t leave him. Not yet.
And then, without a second thought, you let your damp t-shirt slip from your fingers, the fabric pooling at your feet.
Mr. Jeong's gaze dropped to your cleavage, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. His initial serious expression made your heart flutter with uncertainty. Have you crossed a line? But then, his tongue darted out to wet his lips, and when his eyes met yours again, they held a spark that made your heart skip a beat. “What are you doing?” he asked, his voice a mixture of sternness and intrigue.
“I just want to help…” you replied softly, stepping closer with careful slowness. Each step brought you nearer until you were close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body. Your eyes locked onto his, filled with intent and a hint of mischief.
With a soft but bold touch, you reached out to cup his clothed cock, feeling its firmness beneath your palm. You applied a teasing pressure, grinding your hand against him. The sudden contact made him draw in a sharp breath, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment as he absorbed the sensation. “You didn’t get to cum last time, did you?” you murmured, your voice a sultry whisper that broke the tense silence between you.
His eyes opened slowly, a mix of desire and astonishment etched on his features. The initial hesitation seemed to melt away, replaced by a hunger that mirrored your own. He bit his bottom lip, trying to stop a moan from escaping. You could feel him hardening in your hand, his pant seam threatening to burst open.
As if all his restraint had snapped, he pressed one hand against the back of your head, fingers burrowing into your hair, while the other slid just under your chin, tilting your face up to meet his. He slammed his lips onto yours, finally giving in to the wild desire that had been simmering between you all day. Your lips moved messily while he grinded himself against your hand. “Fuck, you’re fucking crazy,” he said breathlessly into your lips, “And no, I didn’t, but I did think about creaming on your face before bed last night.”
You could already feel a wetness pooling between your legs, his words being the boost you so desperately needed to move forward. You kept kissing him hungrily while undoing his fly, his half-hard cock springing out in anticipation. You took him into your hand, your fingers barely meeting as you gripped around him, stroking him gently while he cursed into your mouth.
Mr. Jeong pulled away and spun you around in one swift move, pressing your body against his chest and trapping you in his embrace. Your hand remained obedient and eager, pumping his cock as his big hands roamed your body. One hand squeezed your breast, while the other slipped underneath your skirt. “Wore this skimpy little thing on purpose, didn’t you?” His words cascaded down your neck, “Little slut.”
You moaned softly as his fingers rubbed against your clothed clit, your sticky wet juices leaking through the fabric. Mr. Jeong gathered the front of your panties together and pulled with a force that made you gasp. The fabric wedged against your throbbing pussy, leaving you whimpering as you bucked your hips against the friction.
“Your so fucking wet, Y/N…” He teased, his lips pressed against your ears, sending a rush of butterflies in your stomach. “You liked what you saw yesterday, didn’t you? Couldn’t stop thinking about it, could you? Bet you came in on purpose, hmm? Heard what I was doing and wanted to help me cum?”
A deep, throaty moan escaped your lips. You loved the way he was talking to you, the way he reduced you to a horndog little pervert, and deep down, you knew it was true. You were addicted to the thrill of it all. “Yes, sir,” you whispered, your voice trembling with desire. “I wanna be your good girl, your slut. Wanna help you cum sir, please. Want your hot load on me. Please, sir, I need it.” Your words were an invitation, a desperate plea for the intense pleasure you’ve craved for so long, and you knew he couldn't resist.
Mr. Jeong shifted from behind you and you felt the warmth of his cock, a tantalizing tap against your cunt, which forced an excited yelp from your lips. His hand covered your mouth, a gentle yet firm reminder to keep quiet. “Don’t want anyone hearing us, do we baby?”
His cock was sandwiched between your sopping-wet folds and the tight fabric of your panties. The feeling was intoxicating, and you couldn’t help but grind your hot, eager pussy over his length. Your back rested against his chest, and you could feel his heart pounding in sync with your racing pulse. The fabric of your panties provided delicious friction, and you moaned softly into his hand, the sound muffled but still carrying the weight of your satisfaction.
You pressed your thighs together, squeezing his cock as you rode him, the sensation being too much for the both of you. “Fuck, baby, you’re gonna make me cum too soon,” He panted, his head falling forward and burying into your shoulder.
You grew restless, your grinding becoming faster and wild, the sounds of your quiet and desperate begging like music to his ears. “Please, sir, cum in my panties, I’ll be so good,” You pleaded with tears of pleasure streaking down your cheeks. The thought of walking around in his cum-soaked panties gave you a thrill. You could feel your clit pulsing as you rutted against his shaft, the sheer bliss of it beyond anything you’d ever experienced. “I’m gonna cum, sir, please…oh, fuck, I’m cumming!” You cried out, your body shaking with the force of your orgasm.
As your orgasm subsided, his cock still pressed against your swollen clit. You felt a numbness, a euphoric high that left you floating, your wetness a warm, inviting contrast to his hot, throbbing length. Shivers ran down your spine, and you felt like you were hovering, your consciousness detached from your body.
Mr. Jeong lifted you in his strong arms, carrying you like fragile glass. He brought you to the bathroom mirror, and as he held you up, you couldn't help but be amazed at the sight of his length against your body. It was almost surreal, the difference in scale, and you felt a mix of excitement and nervousness. He snaked a hand around your waist, pulling your panties to the side, exposing your wet, glistening cunt to the cool air. You shivered, feeling a rush of vulnerability. He slapped his cock against your wet cunt, grinning, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm.
“What are you doing, sir?” you asked shyly, your voice soft and hesitant. You had never experienced this position before, and the sight of your legs spread wide and your cunt so open and exposed made you nervous. Mr. Jeong's hands grasped under your thighs, supporting your weight, and you could feel his strength and his muscles bulging as he held you up. “I wanna see this little pussy take my big cock,” he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. “Wanna watch it stretch and take me deep.”
You gulped, your heart racing in your chest. You had never taken something this big before, and Mr. Jeong was indeed impressive. The thought of being stretched, of accommodating to his size, both excited and intimidated you. You wanted to tell him about your virginity, but the words caught in your throat. You didn't want to turn him off, and so you remained silent, your mind racing with a mix of emotions.
Noticing your worried glance reflected in the mirror, Mr. Jeong's eyes narrowed, a hint of disappointment creasing his features. “What's wrong, baby? You wanna stop?” he asked, his voice laced with concern.
“No,” you said quietly before reaching down to grasp his cock. With a firm grip, you began to work him up and down, the weight of his hard length in your hands making your pussy twitch. You pushed his cock against your entrance, the head pressing against your tight, virgin opening. “Please, sir,” you begged, your voice pathetically dry. “I want your cock inside of me. I want to feel you stretching me, filling me up. Wanna be good for you.”
The thought of giving up your virginity to him was both scary and exhilarating. You wanted to be his, to belong to him in the most intimate way possible. You pumped him desperately, your core aching to have him stuffed deep inside you.
The head of his cock pressed against your tight opening, and you could feel the stretch, the burning sensation of being filled for the very first time. A sob escaped your lips as Mr. Jeong slowly lowered you over his cock, the mirror reflecting it all. You watched in awe as his hot, throbbing rod disappeared inside your body, the sight of it stretching you, filling you, almost too much to bear.
“Fuck, you're so tight,” he grunted, his eyes wide with a mix of pleasure and awe. The sensation of being filled by his impressive size was intense, and you were intoxicated by a mixture of pain and bliss, the feeling making your mind numb. He was incredibly gentle at first, pushing just the tip of his cock into your walls, treating you with the utmost care. But as tension built within him, his eyes grew darker, a fierce lust taking over. With a sudden, primal urge, he began working you over his cock, pulling you up and down, your tight pussy gripping his length. You felt incredible to him, like a fleshlight come to life, and even he struggled to mask his moans as your body adjusted to his size.
The pain was fleeting, replaced by a deep, satisfying pleasure. “Oh god, sir” you whispered, your voice strained. “It feels so good. So full... Please, don't stop.” Your sweet pleas made his ears buzz, his stomach fluttering from just how sweetly you begged for more of him.
“God, you’re doing so good for me,” He praised, almost giddy with how effortlessly you fit him. His eyes never left the mirror, his thick bulge disappearing into your tight, wet pussy, a sight too mesmerizing to look away from. “Such a good girl…look so pretty on my cock” He huffed, “My little cumslut.”
His words sent a rush of heat to your cheeks, and you felt your pussy clench around him in response. You wanted him to keep talking dirty to you, to fill your ears with every filthy word and fantasy he had while pounding into you.
Mr. Jeong grew tired, and he placed you back on the ground, pushing your body down against the sink, the cold marble against your bare stomach sending a chill down your spine. He lifted your skirt, rubbing himself against your puffy pussy lips, the overstimulation driving you wild. You felt his cock, thick and hard, lining up with your hole, and you knew what was coming. Your mouth fell open in a silent gasp as he pushed into you in one swift, powerful motion, filling you up completely. He stilled his hips, giving your pussy a chance to adjust to his size, to wrap itself around him, to pulsate and invite him deeper. You were stuffed, every inch of your pussy filled with his cock, his balls swinging and slapping against your raw skin with each thrust.
With each snap of his hips, you cursed under your breath, your fingers gripping tightly to the sink as if it were your only anchor in this storm. "S-so big!" you yelped, your voice filled with a mix of awe and fear. Your body was now completely at the mercy of Mr. Jeong, his powerful strokes sending waves of pleasure and pain through your sensitive pussy.
As he continued to thrust into you, he brought one hand up, pressing his fingers against your mouth, effectively silencing your moans. "Gotta do something about that mouth, baby," he whispered, his voice low and dangerous. His fingers, still wet with your juices from before, found their way into your mouth, and you gladly accepted them, your lips closing around his digits. You moaned deeply, your tongue wrapping around his fingers, tasting yourself on them. You lost yourself in his touch, his hard cock massaging your gummy walls, his fingers probing and exploring your warm mouth, his lips licking and sucking your ear lobe as he whispered filth to you, bringing you to the brink of another orgasm.
As your eyes met your reflection in the mirror, you were struck by a sense of unfamiliarity. Your makeup was smudged and running, the black mascara staining your tears and streaking down your cheeks. Your hair was frizzy and chaotic, some sweat-drenched strands framing your face and sticking to your warm cheeks. Your lips looked wet and swollen as you gagged around Mr. Jeong’s long fingers, the saliva dripping down your chin. You loved it. You looked like a woman who had been pleasured beyond measure. There was an intoxicating power in seeing yourself like this, a power that made you feel alive and desirable. It reminded you of the pornstar Mr. Jeong was watching yesterday, her fucked-out expression now mirroring your own.
"Oh god, sir, it's too much!" you moaned, pulling his fingers out from your mouth. "I can't take it! I'm gonna cum again!"
“Fuck, me too,” He grunted as he pulled out of you, feeling the inevitable approach of his own release. Relief washed over you, your body weakening, your walls clenching and spasming around nothing. Mr. Jeong spun you around, placing a hand on the top of your head, pushing you to your knees just as your body swayed with the first waves of your climax.
As Mr. Jeong jerked himself off with his hand, his eyes never left your face, now a beautiful canvas covered in the ropes of his hot cum. Though still reeling from the intense orgasm he had just given you, you opened your mouth wide, obediently accepting his thick, white cum as it splashed over your tongue. The taste was both bitter and sour, but you loved it, a unique flavor that was all his.
You licked your lips, moaning softly as you savored his taste. You kissed his tender tip, running your tongue over his slit, relishing the feeling of his cum leaking out, warm and sticky.
With a playful smile, Mr. Jeong rubbed his tip against your lips, leaving a trail of cum as he did so. "Shit, baby, you look so pretty with my cum on your face," he said, his voice shaky with post-orgasmic delight. "My sweet little cumslut."
Taking him into your mouth once more, you swirled your tongue around his sensitive head, moaning from the taste and texture of his cum. You pulled off with a plopping sound, a satisfied smile on your face. "Taste so good, sir," you whispered, your voice filled with admiration and gratitude. "Thank you for letting me taste your cum.”
Mr. Jeong, clearly pleased with your gratitude, ran his fingers through your hair affectionately, gently tucking a strand behind your ear. Suddenly, there was a hard knock on the door, snapping you both out of your little daze.
“Yo, Yunho,” a voice called from the door. “Are you taking a shit? How much longer are you gonna be? Hana’s ready to cut the cake.”
Mr. Jeong flinched, his hands moving fast as he pulled his bottoms up, stuffing himself back inside like a guilty teenager caught red-handed. “Uh, just a minute! I’ll be right out!” he called back, voice strained.
The man sighed. “Alright, well, hurry up. The cake’s melting out here.”
You both snapped into action, scrambling to fix your clothes and smooth your hair. The rush of reality crashing back down made your heart pound even harder than before. Just as you were ready to bolt, Yunho suddenly froze, his expression shifting once he realized the mess he left on your face was still dripping down your cheeks.
Then, without a word, he grabbed a few squares of toilet paper and gently wiped the sticky white jelly from your flushed face. “Sorry,” he murmured, his fingers barely grazing your skin, his eyes burning with the same embarrassed, heated look from before.
Once you were clean, he lingered for a second too long, standing so close you could feel his breath on your lips. He parted his mouth as if to say something, anything, but nothing came out. Instead, his fingers anxiously tapped against his thigh, a nervous habit you had never noticed before.
“You should go first,” you said quickly, sensing the weight of the moment. “I’ll come down after.”
His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, then he nodded. “Thanks,” he muttered, stuffing his shirt back into his waistband before slipping out the door with hurried, uneven steps.
You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding and sank onto the toilet seat. The room still smelled faintly of him, and it felt unreal how fast the energy had shifted. Had he just been hit with regret? Was he now scrambling to shove this whole thing into a locked box in his mind? Now no longer in the heat of the moment, did he think what you two did was wrong? Were you going to get fired?
For the rest of the party, Mr. Jeong successfully avoided you. He busied himself slicing tiny squares of cake for the kids, nodding along to endless small talk with the other parents as if nothing had happened.
You took the hint, feeling a slight shame in your chest.
Slipping out early, you gave Hana a tight hug before heading back to your car. The second you settled into your seat, your phone buzzed in your pocket. With a sigh, you pulled it out, expecting something mundane.
But when you read the message, you couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at your lips.
Jeong Yunho: See you Monday ;)
—
Your sleep schedule had indeed improved, and you found yourself no longer relying on toys to satisfy your desires. The structure and routine of your new life, with Hana and Mr. Jeong, had brought a sense of balance and fulfillment. You enjoyed the daily interactions with Hana, whether it was playing frisbee in the backyard or teaching her simple math in her room. Your bond with her grew stronger each day, and you found great joy in being a positive influence in her life.
However, it was the Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays that held a special place in your heart. These were the days when you dropped Hana off at her ballet recitals, and while she was practicing her pliés and pirouettes, you would return to their home to tend to your other job.
Your knees were growing sore from scraping against the carpet under Yunho’s desktop table. Sounds of girls moaning emanated from his monitor. Though you were curious about what he was watching, you knew it was none of your business. Instead, you focused on the task at hand and wrapped your warm mouth over his throbbing cock, nestling yourself between his legs from under his desk. The width of his bulge filled your throat, and you gagged lightly, a sign of your complete submission to him.
Yunho, lost in the porno he was watching, seemed momentarily unaware of your presence. He was engrossed in the images on his screen, his eyes droopy and his breathing heavy. Your mouth bobbed up and down, your lips wrapping tightly around his shaft, and you could feel his excitement building. The sound of his moans mixed with the pornographic sounds on his computer made you clench around nothing, forcing you to slip your hand past your waistband.
As you continued to suck him, you could feel his hands running through your hair, gently guiding your movements. You massaged his warm balls with your free hand, feeling his cum bubbling up in his sack, and you knew it wouldn't be long before he released his load into your waiting mouth.
"That's it, baby," Yunho whispered, his voice soft yet dominant. “Keep that pretty mouth on me. So good…so, so good for me.”
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