we're wrapping up our music month with the top 20 artists tumblr users are most engaging with based on user data; the musicians that spark a creative flame within us all. the music of tumblr wouldn’t be what it is without these creative masters of sound.
without further ado, the top artist of 2025-2026 was… Lana Del Rey! ever since "Video Games" dropped in 2011, Lana has been a tumblr mainstay. so ingrained with the girlblogging aesthetic, and with our platform, the lana stove is burning hotter than ever and we love to see it.
turns out tumblr truly transcends genres and labels as much as ever. must be a sign of the times...
20. Twenty One Pilots 19. Ethel Cain 18. Harry Styles 17. Hyunjin 16. SEVENTEEN 15. Sabrina Carpenter 14. Jung Kook 13. The Beatles 12. Bang Chan 11. ATEEZ 10. BTS 9. Taylor Swift 8. Hatsune Miku 7. Gerard Way 6. Vocaloid 5. ENHYPEN 4. Stray Kids 3. My Chemical Romance 2. TXT 1. Lana Del Rey
choi san. your hopelessly obsessed boyfriend. you ask one innocent question about what he does when you’re not around and immediately regret it .. or do you?
a/n : hi guys! after almost a year away, i figured my comeback should be the successor to my fic 'keep talking'. thank you for 800+ followers. i love yall
You’re wrapped around your boyfriend like a koala, half in his lap, half sprawled across his chest when the thought suddenly hits you.
You pull back, narrow your eyes, tilt your head all suspicious:
“Wait… when I’m not here… do you, like… get yourself off?”
San freezes mid–back rub.
“…Huh?”
“Answer. The question.”
Your eyes squint even harder.
He sighs, looks away, rubs the bridge of his nose.
“Baby, why would you ask me something like—”
“Cause I wanna know!”
He stares at you… then gives up.
“I watch our tapes.”
“Huh?”
“Our sex tapes.”
“San—”
“And I look at your Instagram pictures.”
“San.”
“And sometimes I screenshot your bikini photos before you delete them.”
“San???”
“And sometimes I use the ones where you’re adjusting your top because you always look flustered and—”
“Stop—”
He keeps going, dead serious, like he’s reading a grocery list:
“And that one video where you’re laughing and your boobs bounce a little? Yeah. That one goes crazy. Top-tier.”
“What????”
“And those mirror selfies where your hair is messy. And the ones where you’re not even trying. Those are the worst.”
He shifts under you, already getting hard just thinking about it.
You smack his chest.
“You’re SICK.”
He shrugs.
“I’m in love.”
You slap him harder.
“You’re DEPRAVED.”
Another shrug.
“You’re SEXY.”
You bury your face in your hands, dying.
He gently pulls them away, lowering his voice:
“You asked, baby. You really think I jerk off to random women? No. Everything I do, I do to you.”
He leans in, kissing your cheek, jaw, neck.
“And if you want… I can show you exactly how I do it.”
You slide off his lap just a little, sitting between his knees, eyes wide and way too curious for his sanity.
“…Show me, then.”
San blinks once. Twice.
His Adam’s apple jumps.
“…Yeah?” he asks, voice already dropping into that low, dangerous tone.
You nod.
He drags a hand down his face like he knows he’s about to ruin you with this demonstration alone.
“Okay,” he mutters, leaning back into the couch, legs spreading a little, “but don’t— don’t laugh. I’m serious.”
You bite your lip.
He sees it. He groans.
Then he slips a hand under the waistband of his sweats, pulls himself out, already half-hard from the conversation alone. His breaths get shaky, on purpose, because he knows you’re watching.
“Normally…” he starts, eyes flicking to yours, “…I start slow. Just— thinking about you walking around the house, tiny little outfit, pretending you’re not teasing me.”
His thumb glides over the tip spreading the precum, — and he sighs, deep, breathy, borderline whimpering.
You swallow so hard he hears it.
“And then,” he continues, pumping slowly, “I think about how you look when you ride me… all loud and needy…”
You shift on your knees.
He definitely notices.
His lashes flutter, and he lets out a soft, broken “mmh—fuck…”
You scoot closer.
He moans again, high, pretty, shameless, because he’s absolutely doing this on purpose now.
“You like watching me, baby?” he breathes out, jaw clenching, hips lifting into his own hand. “Yeah… you do…”
You nod, dazed.
He groans, throwing his head back for a second, biting his lip dramatically, exaggerating it because he knows it gets you.
Then he looks at you through heavy lids.
“You always make me this hard,” he whispers, voice cracking just a little. “Even when you’re not here.”
Your thighs press together.
He smirks, then lets out another deliberate whimper, soft and choked, like he knows it shoots straight into your bloodstream.
“Come here,” he murmurs, hand stroking himself faster. “If you’re gonna watch… watch up close.”
You crawl into his lap.
He pulls your hand to his stomach—
so warm, tense, shaking, and keeps moaning softly, messy and pretty, just for you.
He’s doing all of this on purpose.
You lean in so close he can feel your breath on his throat, eyes glued to every movement of his hand, every twitch of his stomach, every shaky inhale he lets slip.
And San loses his mind over it.
“Jesus…” he whispers, voice cracking when he looks down and sees your face—eyes blown wide, lips parted, studying him like he’s something you want to taste. “You’re really watching me like this…?”
You nod slowly. His chest stutters.
He bites his lip so hard a muscle in his jaw jumps.
“That’s— fuck— this is the hottest thing you’ve ever done,” he mutters, voice warm and breathless. He spreads his legs wider, giving you a better view, pumping his hand a little harder… slower… letting you see everything. “You’re looking at me like you wanna eat me alive.”
“San,” you breathe.
His eyes darken instantly.
“Oh my god…” he laughs under his breath, ruined already, “you’re obsessed with me.”
Your face heats.
He cups your chin with his free hand, forcing you to hold eye contact while the other keeps stroking, wet and filthy and slow enough to make your stomach twist.
“You like how I do it?” he whispers.
You nod. His smile is evil.
“You like seeing what I do when you’re not home?”
Another nod.
His grip tightens. His thighs flex under you.
“Y’know what I think about?” he murmurs, leaning closer until your noses almost touch. “You. On your knees. Mouth open. Eyes like that. Waiting for me.”
Your breath catches.
He groans.
“Keep watching,” he says, voice low and trembly. “Don’t look away. Not once.”
You don’t.
Your eyes track the movement of his hand, the veins on his forearm, the way his stomach tightens every time he pumps upward. He notices. He feels your stare. It makes him moan again—soft, involuntary, almost shy.
You whisper, barely audible:
“…You look so hot.”
He chokes on a breath. His hips jerk.
And his voice drops even lower, wrecked and proud and starving:
“Say that again.”
You whisper it again, slower. “So fucking hot.”
You slide closer—slow, curious, innocent in that way that makes his whole body seize up—and tilt your head.
“Can I help…?”
His hand falters on himself, eyes snapping to yours like you just offered him the cure to every problem he’s ever had.
“…yeah,” he whispers, voice already breaking, “yeah—baby, c’mere.”
Your smaller hand slips under his, replaces his stroke.
The second your skin touches him he whimpers—a real one, sharp and desperate, right against your neck.
“Oh—fuck—”
His head drops to your shoulder.
He’s trembling.
He grabs your wrist gently, guiding your rhythm, but you’re already doing it exactly how he likes—soft at the base, tight at the top, twisting up just a little—
“Baby,” he gasps, breath hitting your collarbone, “you’re—fuck—you’re so good at this—”
His hips buck into your palm.
His hand is gripping your thigh, hard enough to bruise.
You look up at him through your lashes and his knees actually shake.
“That’s it,” you whisper, teasing, “you like when I do it?”
He moans.
A pretty, broken, breathy sound right into your ear.
“I love—when you—help me—god—fuuuck”
He’s collapsing, chest heaving, face flushed, thighs tense beneath you.
The wet slick sound of your hand working him faster fills the room and he completely loses the last bit of control he had.
“Y/N—baby—oh my god I’m gonna cum—”
You tighten your grip, stroke him exactly how he likes—
His whole body jerks—
He lets out the most ruined groan you’ve ever heard—
And he finishes right into your hand, warm and messy and so much more than you expected.
He collapses into you, panting into your shoulder, completely melted.
Your sticky hand is still resting on him when he finally breathes again.
“…you’re gonna kill me,” he whispers, voice wrecked, trembling all over. “You’re actually gonna kill me.”
You hold your hand up— dripping.Absolutely covered in him. A warm, glossy mess.
Your eyes go wide on purpose.
“…San.”
He looks up from your shoulder, dazed, hair a mess, breaths still shaking.
And you wiggle your fingers.
“Look at this! You're. SO. Desperate.”
His whole face flushes scarlet.
“Baby—” he groans, grabbing your wrist to hide the evidence, “don’t… don’t say it like that…”
But you lean back, smirking like the menace you are.
“You made a huge mess. This is—San, this is ridiculous. You couldn’t even hold it for a second??”
He hides his face in your neck, mortified, whining like a grown man being scolded.
“You can’t tease me after what you just did to me,” he mumbles, voice muffled against your skin, “I warned you—I told you I was close—you kept going—baby, you know what you were doing—”
“No,” you say, faking innocence, showing your sticky palm again, “you’re nasty. Nasty. Look at this.”
He pulls your wrist down, panicked.
“Stop showing it to me!”
His voice cracks. “I know what I did!”
You laugh so hard he swats your thigh lightly, embarrassed, still breathless.
Then he looks up at you—eyes heavy, lips parted, totally ruined—and mutters:
“…clean your hand before you start teasing me again or I swear I’ll make an even bigger mess.”
OH.
You grab a warm towel and clean him up gently, slow little wipes that make him flinch because he’s still sensitive.
You purposely kiss the tip softly just to watch him jolt.
“Y/N—!”
You kiss it again..
He slaps a hand over his face.
“Stop… you’re gonna kill me…”
You hop off the bed, still glowing, still smug, and go to the mirror.
You clean yourself up too—wiping your mouth, fixing your hair—
But then curiosity hits.
You look at your fingers.
You look at him in the reflection.
You drag your tongue over them.
Slow.
Purposeful.
San’s jaw drops.
“…that tastes kinda good.
Somebody changed their diet. Good boy.”
His ears turn red.
“Why would you DO that?!”
You shrug in the mirror, wiping your lips.
“I was curious.”
“That’s not— you can’t just— you—”
He’s literally malfunctioning.
i also cannot stop thinking about the man thats making everyone gay
bf!san x f!reader
content: morning intimacy, clingy!san, munch!san, san loves talking to his girl(not you 1% of the time), oral, fingering, strong armsmsm...
wc: 1.5k
thinking about san...
you hated to be one of those girls, but your boyfriend was heaven.
he feels like his bones were made to accommodate the slope of your hands along his neck and along his mountainous shoulders. you liked stirring swirls with the tips of your acrylics into his messy black hair in the morning.
the sun streams through the half-broken blinds of your apartment, blanketing san in a patterned ray of light. his gentle eyes closed sleepily, practically purring at the feel of your hands and your body warmth beneath him. you lie with your back against the headrest, pillows stuffed beneath your lower back, whilst san lounges comfortably with his head in your lap.
his big, soft hands hold your thighs together like a pillow he fears will iceberg beneath his ear. the comforter is thrown haphazardly over your bed, the fitted sheet lifting off the corners of the mattress. proof of a… busy night.
every time you all but shift beneath him, he grumbles and holds your thighs together. “move again, and i’ll lock your legs together.”
tempting, but you did not need to rile him up this early in the morning. san was much like a cat. cute, fickle. particular.
you wont sit still? he'll do something to help you to relax.
the fingers on your thighs splay wider as if to grab more of your flesh, and he turns his head and begins dusting the tops of your thighs with kisses.
“my sweet, pretty girl.” san murmurs against your skin, a teasing, pouty tone to it. this is how it starts. with buttering you up.
he moves the blanket so his broad shoulders are exposed to the gold morning light, the grey tanktop doing little to hide the proof of his hard work. he can almost feel the way your eyes laser in on his back, and he can't help but smile as his wandering hands move to slip your panties down your legs smoothly. his warm kisses never cease, sensual and promising.
your hands slip away from his hair in surprise, and he nearly throws a fit as he grumbles and grabs your wrists and brings them back to the top of his head. his hands are back on your body in no time, holding both sides of your waist as you might melt through his fingers and massaging your hips with that perfect amount of pressure.
the feeling evokes a content sight out of you, and you find your upper body stretching subconsciously.
“there we go, big stretch, babydoll. good morning to you too,” san teases you with that stomach-flipping grin, and you narrow your eyes to tease him back. he, however, drags his worked, big hands down your waist, along the curve of your hips, back down to your thighs, where he wastes no time in spreading your legs in a way that can only be described as greedily.
“i wanna say good morning to her too…” he growls very quietly under his breath, hastily pushing your thighs back and up against your stomach. “she's always so happy to see me.”
the evidence of “her excitement” is clear: strings of arousal that cling to your lips, spread nice and pretty from the way san holds your legs open. his hands travel along your outer thighs, up your sides, all the while his head lowers between your thighs, eager.
“you were excited first,” you attempt to retort, to resume some semblance of control. you knew you had none; you were so weak for him. and when his heated tongue lay flat against your cunt, and his thumbs pressed into your lower stomach, you had only been proven right.
he squeezed your body like a stress toy, the muscles in his back twitching with every register of your taste. he moaned, so prettily. his mouth moved slowly and deliberately. leisurely, open-mouth kisses. deep, wide licks and hungry swallows. anyone he could tell he was doing it 100% for you would know he was lying if they saw and heard the way san was making out with your pussy.
your head falls back against the headboard, the bones in your legs liquefying as your boyfriend eats breakfast.
“hello, beautiful,” he purrs into a suckling kiss against your clit, and you feel an overwhelming mix of emotions come over you. you grip his hair harder, and he bites his bottom lip with a grin and a laugh as he spits between your pussy lips.
shame, embarrassment, arousal that burned too bright, it ached low in your stomach. you hated it when he talked to your cunt. but the way your stomach tightened in response spoke volumes every time.
when he starts kneading your lower stomach, deep and slow like he was working knots out of you, and gently kitten licking right under your clit, you pull his hair so hard he hisses in pain.
“aww, baby, you’re making this so hard for me.” san pouts and one of his hands lightly smacks your stomach. “i'm tryna keep you clean, but you won't stop dripping all over the sheets, always so messy!”
you sniffle and moan, one of his hands falling away from your waist and slithering between your legs, gathering the stickiness he's pulled out of you all over his middle fingers.
your body twitches at the new touch, and san moans long and low around your clit as he slides his fingers knuckle deep inside you, quick to scrape against that spot, and stars were bursting at the back of your skull.
“d-oh fuck… s-san, mmm…” your words dissolved into mindless, blissful pleasure. a horny smile spreads across your lips as san pushes his fingers deeper into your cunt.
“my gorgeous, sloppy girl.” san slurs against your pussy, his eyebrows furrowing as he eats you like he was imagining it was your lips. his eyes close and his hand squeezes tighter, his thumb presses deeper. his fingers curl harder inside of you, his tongue turns merciless against your clit, and his moans drag feelings out of you that should be illegal.
for some reason, you just could not take it this morning; it all felt so intense for some unknown reason. your hips bucked against his mouth, his fingers repeatedly caught on the ridge inside of you, and your legs began to shake.
san pouts and clicks his tongue out of pity, moving his fingers in deep, wavelike strokes that made your throat feel like somebody was trying to pull it out of you through your stomach. “aww, babydoll, you’re shuddering. it feels so wrong when you cum without me kissing you.”
this is true. he loves to drink your noises when you cum, feel the warmth of your teeth as you shatter on his dick, fingers, abs… etc. he would normally abandon the meal and just finger you until you snap, but, god. he couldn't stay away from your pussy.
warm and sweet and wet. your plush thighs hugging his ears like muffs. your nails against his scalp like a reminder of how he makes you feel. he frowns, like some innocent, wronged cat whose tail you’ve stepped on. but the way his fingers curl and the way he kisses your clit tell different stories.
the hand still holding your waist, and effortlessly your body against the bed, lands another slap against your stomach, and your limbs jerk.
“c’mon, let go, sweet girl. cum. it'll feel so good if you do, and it’ll make me sooo happy,” and he really couldn’t help himself at this point. his lips suction to your clit one last time, pulling away with a wet pop, wasting no time and lifting himself and swallowing your parted lips in a heavy kiss.
his fingers fucked you faster, his thumb moving up to circle your slick clit in place of his unfair mouth. he nibbles your bottom lip with a grin and kisses you so deep with a desire to take you can’t find your breath.
“don't you wanna make me happy, babydoll?” he practically begs into your mouth, and everything inside of you screams to make your heaven of a boyfriend happy. you cum so hard you would’ve thought he was fucking you.
then again, that's how it is with san every single time, and you still haven't gotten tired of it. he just knows what to do, so assertive, so caring, such a man.
coming down from your high, your grip onto his tanktop and bury your face into his neck, huffing and puffing, whining softly as his fingers slowly circle inside of you, working it out as he whispers praises in your ear.
you breathe in the smell of his cologne from the day before, and it makes your stomach tingle. vanilla, whiskey, patchouli, something so intoxicating it's hypnotic. the sun paints his tanned skin a radiant gold, and suddenly you get overwhelmed with the urge to bite him.
you do. he complains with a return bite to your shoulder, and you moan in response. he pauses and licks the bite and smiles, squeezing your waist with anticipation.
you’ve riled him up again.
btw the fragrance im refrencing is nightclubbing by celine. he mentioned he wore it in an interview one time and im a huge fragrance nerd and the notes are so sexy
[yunho x fem!reader] yunho reminding you who the fuck you belong to | heed the warnings i’m not your mother: smut minors dni 18+, pwp, mean dom!yunho/hard dom!yunho, you call him sir, ownership, submission, desperation, p in v, oral m!receiving, facefucking, lots of heavy degradation, fingering, thigh fucking, orgasm denial/edging, restraining with a belt, pussy fucking (not inside☝🏻), lots of crying, cum eating, jealous yunho, he's not nice like at all. not even a little. another round to pregame aftercare. creampie. as always, let me know if i missed anything! wc 10.7k
⊹ ࣪ ˖ for my angel face lover girl @03jyh23, once the brainworms took over i really could not stop writing this. thank you for requesting, i hope i did mean dom jealous yun justice, i love playing with him. i feel like i had empty headed in my mind the entire time i wrote this, if you're reading this, please for the love of god read empty headed. my favorite joongie fic in the world, mon is so unbelievably talented & so inspiring, if you like even one sentence from this fic i promise you will devour mon’s. thats all, enjoy xoxo
You didn’t mean to piss him off.
Not really.
But there’s something invigorating about watching his jaw tighten, a clench in the hinge that shows the structure of his face. The way his brows flatten, dark and heavy over his big, brown eyes, turning them three shades darker, more charcoal than chocolate. A hand through his styled hair, veiny fingers lost in black locks, mussing it to the point where the gel is rendered useless. Yunho angry was a sight to behold, exciting, magical; it brings out a completely different side of him, one you feared as much as you revered.
Across the room in his dark suit, tailored to his perfect body, his shoulders sat squared, in perfect posture. Your dress matched, a long, navy gown, if anyone paid attention, they’d know you belong to him. You know you belong to him, Yunho knows you belong to him, Yeosang knows you belong to him, but somehow you think the message has been lost along the way.
Deep red hair sitting perfectly over his cheekbones, hiding the birthmark beneath his eye you’ve seen a thousand times, Yeosang does look good. He always looks good, biceps stretching the sleeves of every shirt, filling out every pair of pants he owns like they were made for him, it doesn’t help that he has the most contagious laugh you’ve ever heard. A silly joke, a stupid one that left him snorting, made the laughter creep up from your chest and force its way out of your lips until you were folding forward, a hand clutching your stomach.
He’s funny without even trying to be and you fall victim to it every time, every hangout, whenever you and Yeosang are in the same room. Yunho notices, of course he does, a sixth sense embedded in his veins that he says is named after you. Usually his jealousy with Yeosang is under wraps, he can see your friendship for what it is– but tonight of all nights, at the company gala where Yunho is receiving an award for his efforts, tonight is about him. And here you are, across the room, chopping it up with Yeosang instead of standing by his side so he can introduce you to everyone in the room.
You can feel his stare, harsh eyes like blades cutting into your skin, it makes your spine straighten, your heels click together. Even without words you can feel his command, summoning you to him like there was a part of him inside your head, you excuse yourself from the circle of people you were conversing with and walk back to your boyfriend, a low rumble in your belly because you know exactly what’s awaiting you.
Leaning over the tall, circular table dressed in a black tablecloth long enough that it touches the floor, one of Yunho’s knees is bent into it, his arms crossed over the surface. He watches you, eyes following your every step, aware of each person you pass like every one of them could be a threat. You keep your face innocent, your eyes big and doe-like, your hands politely holding your clutch in front of your body, a small smile on your face as you approach him at the table, nothing else on it besides two full glasses of prosecco.
“Wipe that look off your face,” he says as soon as you can hear it, his voice low and stern, “damage is already done.”
Excitement blooms in your chest, you swallow down your smile. “What do you mean?”
He steps back from the table, picking up the flute of prosecco, holding it close to his chest. He shifts his view upward, examining the crowd, “You know exactly what I mean, stop pretending, you look stupid.”
You can’t fight the smile this time, throwing an elbow over the surface of the table with your clutch, leaning on it as you pick up the glass of prosecco instead. He turns to you, eyes slimming, “You’ve had enough.”
Your brows furrow, head tilting, “I’m not even tipsy–”
“I said you’ve had enough.”
Slowly, you set the glass back on the table, his tone was clean cut, no room for disobedience. You frown, ankles crossing beneath your gown, “I was just talking, Yunho.”
“Talking,” he repeats, a ghost of a smile clawing at his lips, “laughing, leaning into him like I don’t fucking own you.”
Your breath catches in your throat as the word leaves his lips, it always ignites something deep in your gut, turns your mind to fuzz. Ownership, being his, so deeply his you don’t need to think if you don’t want to, Yunho can see the warmth spreading through your body like your skin was transparent.
He takes a step toward you, leaning down, breath ghosting the shell of your ear, “You belong to me. Never fucking forget it.”
You swallow, heart picking up speed in your chest, your voice is a little shakier than you want it to be as you whisper, “I could never forget that.”
Standing up tall again, he smiles like he remembered there’s other people in the room, “Good.” Turning his head to examine the crowd again, coworkers, staff, people who have all praised him tonight, congratulated him on his hard work. You drink in his figure, long legs that stretched on forever clad in navy, his suit jacket unbuttoned, showing the white button-up beneath. The tie that laid in the center, snug beneath his collar, just from a few words your mind escaped to the gutter, brain drifting to the things he could do with it.
“Let’s go,” he says simply, turning toward you again.
“Already?” You look around, standing straight, dessert hadn’t even been served yet. “I don’t think it’s appropriate–”
“I don’t give a fuck about what’s appropriate.” You’re lucky there’s no one around you to hear the sharp words leaving his lips, “I don’t care about this, and clearly neither do you if you’d rather go talk to Yeosang.”
“Yun–”
“Come,” the word is firm, a wall splitting your defense. He grabs your clutch from the table, tucking it beneath his armpit, placing his glass of prosecco delicately on the table, “We’ll make our goodbyes, I’ll text the driver.”
He shoots a quick text before laying a heavy hand on the small of your back, bringing you on his round of goodbyes where you smiled politely, shook hands, gave small hugs to every person you made eye contact with tonight– except Yeosang. You didn’t even meet his eye, standing off to the side while Yunho gave him a tight hug, a wide grin on his face like he wasn’t planning on tearing you apart the moment you stepped foot in your apartment.
You didn’t talk on the drive home, in the backseat of a black car you didn’t know the name of, your driver nodding his head along to what was playing on the radio. A small, muted hum, it stood as background noise for your raging thoughts, adrenaline ripping your tummy to shreds as you wonder about what comes next. It’s rare for Yunho to react like this, he’s generally a grounded, secure man, he knows you’d never leave him, he knows you’d never cheat. He’s asked you the same rhetorical question a thousand times: Who could possibly be better than him?
No one. That person doesn’t exist. You love him too much to ever even consider someone else, he was too engraved in your being, the blood in your body circulated for him, your heart beats to the rhythm of his name. Yunho was everything, everywhere, he was half of your body, your soul.
But he doesn’t play nice when it comes to his toys.
He punched in the code to your apartment with steady hands, opening the front door softly, holding his arm out for you to walk inside first. Hanging your coat on the rack, there’s a pit in your stomach, a blooming warmth of fear and adrenaline beneath your skin. You begin, “Yunho, we shouldn’t have left, I was just talking–”
He’s at your back, hands on your hips, head standing tall above yours, “You think I give a fuck about what you were doing?” His voice is rough, gravelly, tone bleeding dominance, it makes your toes curl in your heels, back straightening against his presence. “I don’t care if you were giving him the fucking heimlich, you’re mine. Do you understand what that means?”
Your breath catches, fingers tingling at your sides, eyes wide as you stare at the pale yellow wall in front of you, art covering the walls. The paintings seemed to stare back, snickering at your disobedience, saying you reap what you sow.
“Yes,” you whisper, accompanied by one singular nod.
“Yes what?”
You fight the sound that claws at your throat, “Yes, sir.”
“This body is mine,” his hands trail from your hips up to your waist, squeezing the skin beneath your gown before traveling up to your chest, holding his palms there to prove a point. “It belongs to me. Your pleasure, your pain, your actions, your mistakes, they’re all mine.”
His palms leave your chest to unzip the gown at your back, you can feel the chill of metal all the way down to the base of your spine. Pooling around your feet, you don’t move, back straight, chin held high, heels clicking together, presenting yourself for him how he taught you. Every bone in your body begged you to turn around and kiss him, you ached to touch him, to wrap your arms around him, to feel him inside you, curved and pulsing and hitting every spot that made you scream. When he steps around you, fear simmers, you come to terms with the fact that none of which is on the itinerary for tonight.
Shoulders squared, jaw locked, eyes dark, brooding. He watches you, still fully clothed, shoes kicked off, his suit remains. His eyes drink in your naked figure, already well aware of the lack of anything beneath your form fitting gown, watching how your upper body expands with each breath, the tremble in your legs, the glint of nerves in your eyes, how you’re already struggling to keep still under his heavy stare. He watches like he’s mapping out a plan, debating what he’ll do to you, how loud he should make you beg, deciding what he’s in the mood for.
He always wants obedience. Expects it. You’ve learned to not expect anything.
“What do you think you deserve tonight?”
The question sets your body aflame. Meeting his eyes, you swallow, “I don’t deserve anything, sir.”
He nods slowly, arms crossing over his chest, he hums. “Do you think you deserve my cock inside you?”
He watches how your spine bends, the slightest movement. It tells him the words out of your mouth are a bold-faced lie, “No, sir.”
“Why not?”
You can feel the heat in the tips of your ears, embarrassment, guilt, it curls into the flame of arousal flickering brighter in your gut with every second he keeps his eyes on you. “Because,” you pause. His brows raise, waiting. Your voice cracks, “B-because I was, um– talking. To Yeosang.”
“Why are you stuttering?” He tilts his head a fraction of a degree. “You know what you did. Say it with your chest.”
“I was laughing,” you continue, feeling the sweat forming at your brow, the light of the foyer too warm, too bright. You swallow, “I was laughing with him when I should have been with you.”
He hums again, debating. “Do you think you deserve to cum at all?”
“Only if you think I deserve it, sir,” there’s a shakiness to your voice, one he knows all too well, it means please.
He looks you up and down once. “Bedroom,” is the only thing he responds, a sharp word that sends your heeled feet clicking over hardwood to the room at the back of your apartment. The lights are dim, soft, misleading; the way it lays over your duvet, your furniture, a streak creeping into the bathroom, it breeds comfort. You’re scared you won’t get any tonight.
“Kneel beside the bed, face it.”
You wince when your knees splinter the hardwood beneath you. Back straight, hands flat on your thighs, you sit on your calves, ass just meeting the heel of your stilettos. He doesn’t smile, he doesn’t praise you for following directions, following order, he watches.
One second, two, five, ten. Sitting on your shared bed, suit jacket discarded, knees spread, heels of his feet edged on the base. He pushes his sleeves up to his elbows before they meet his knees as he leans over his thighs, giving you a full view of his size above you. A display, one that makes you shiver every fucking time.
“You disappointed me tonight,” his voice is low but his tone is calm and it’s worse than loud, edged, spit-soaked anger. “You know how to behave, you know better. Correct?”
“Yes, sir,” you nod once.
“Do you have anything to say about your behavior tonight?”
“I’m sorry,” you mumble. His brow arches. Louder, you repeat, “I’m sorry for my behavior tonight, sir.”
He stares, waiting, watching. One second, two, five, ten.
“Save the apologies,” he stands, fingers working at the prongs of the black leather belt, so close to your face you almost flinch at his movement. “You’ll make it up to me properly.”
You nod, words breathy, “Yes, sir.”
With one step he’s behind you, you can feel him squat down just from the heat of him, you hear the metal of the belt buckle dragging against the hardwood floor, it makes your thighs clench together. His palms are warm when he wraps his long fingers around your arms, just above your elbows, he pulls them behind your back. Silently he wraps the belt around your wrists, tying it off securely, tight enough for you to feel the restriction but not enough to cut circulation.
With another step he’s in front of you, veiny hands tugging at his tie, loosening it before throwing it, unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt. He works the fastening of his slacks open, fingers tugging down his zipper, with thumbs in the waistband of his briefs, he pulls them both down over his hips until they reach mid-thigh. Your eyes flicker upward to meet his gaze, holding a question in your stare– he’s not even hard yet.
“Why are you looking at me?” His brows raise, “Do you not know what to do with a cock in your face?”
Your cheeks burn as you lift up, the tips of your toes meeting the hardwood, adjusting your height to meet his flaccid cock, there’s no hesitation as you bring your head forward, tongue poking out to catch the tip of him in your mouth. You hear the change in his breathing, a small, sudden intake of air, if it wasn’t so quiet in your bedroom you’re sure it would’ve gone over your head.
The breath is enough praise to take him into your mouth with confidence, to massage your tongue slowly against the underside of him, you feel him expand; length doubling in size, the width of him stretching your lips, the weight heavy on your tongue. Slightly salty, the taste of skin, bland and neutral, he mutters a curse when you take him deeper, but you don’t struggle bobbing your head, working up a rhythm, your movement quickening with each run of your tongue over his ridged tip.
“You can do better than that,” his tone is condescending, it makes your stomach drop. His hips buck into your mouth, cock reaching the back of your throat, making you gag, an ugly noise; his small hum of pleasure is worth a thousand words of praise.
“Is this what I have to do? Fuck your throat so you take me properly?”
Your eyes fill with salty tears as his cock fills your throat, you take him deeper, faster, nose meeting the tuft of hair at his base, inhaling, moaning, gurgling around him with each bob of your head. He groans, a hand coming up to meet your styled hair, ruining it as soon as his fingers tighten in your scalp. “Don’t cry, it’s pathetic, suck my cock like you mean it. Or do you want me to think you’d rather have your mouth on Yeosang?”
Your brows knit together and you hope it’s enough, that he sees the answer you can’t communicate. He hisses when you swallow around him, “He couldn’t fuckin’ handle you, couldn’t put you in your place, he wouldn’t know what to do with you. Do you understand? That you’re something that needs handling?”
You can’t answer– he knows you can’t answer, he isn’t expecting one, he knows your response. He flashes his teeth in a nasty grin when your tears spill, hot on your cheeks, streaking your makeup. “You need to be owned, need to be used, tied up with nothing left to do but take.”
The noise you make gets muffled by his cock, he hears it, his hips roll deeper into your throat, fingers gripping tighter at your scalp.
“You love it, don’t you? When I use your mouth? Turn you into a toy?” You whine around his cock, drool gathering at the sides of your mouth, you can hear the squelch of spit. “I know you do, bet your thighs are stickin’ together already. Should I fuck them instead? Cum all over your legs while your little pussy begs me for attention? Begs me just to look at her?”
Your eyelids flutter, eyes rolling back behind them, your thighs squeeze, wrists tugging at the leather binding them. His chuckle is dark, patronizing, when he speaks the words come out tighter, “Look at you, already begging for it when you can’t even talk. Is this what you wanted? Is that why I had to watch you flirt with my fuckin’ coworker? You needed a reminder that this is all you’re worth?”
Tears flow, makeup stinging your eyes, blurring your vision, his cock so heavy, so deep in your throat, each gag around him breeds more. His other hand meets your hair, rocking your head at the same pace of his hips bucking into your mouth, you breathe through your nose, your nails cut into your palms.
“Fuck,” it’s sharp, under his breath. “There you go, make me fuckin’ cum, ‘s all this mouth is good for.”
Drool spills from the corners of your mouth, dripping onto your thighs that start to shake, knees burning where they dig into the hardwood. You’re clenching around nothing with every other thrust, wishing he was fucking into your pussy with the brutal pace he’s using on your mouth.
“Don’t you dare waste a single drop,” his voice is ragged like his breath, the only proof he was enjoying this. His palms meet your cheeks, forcing your eyes open so he can ask, “Do you hear me?”
Your eyelids flutter, ignoring the sting of tears your gaze darts upward to see his face, veiny forearms in your peripherals. Jaw slacked, cheeks splotched with pink, eyes so dark they’re burnt, pleasure etched in each line of his perfect face. His button-up splits at the hem, showing you the pocket of skin between, the veins that swim from his hipbones up to where they disappear behind the v of fabric swollen, prominent.
“Gonna ruin this throat,” he uses pressure on your flaming cheeks, holding your head still as he fucks into your mouth faster, harder, ignoring how you choke around him. “Mine to do as I fuckin’ please.”
Your face is covered by saliva, tears and melted makeup, bubbles of spit popping before they sink down your jaw, down your neck, between your breasts. The sounds you make around his cock are brutal; loud, wet, unbecoming– they push him over the edge.
He cums with a strangled noise like it was caught in his throat, his chin dropping to his chest, his eyes squeezed shut. Ropes of warmth shoot straight down your throat and you’re disappointed you can’t taste the salt, feel the slimy consistency as if it were intentional, like you fucked up so bad he was keeping his cum from you, too. You whimper when he pulls out, sucking in a needed breath, swallowing down the spit in your mouth, feeling the cool air of the bedroom brushing against the streaks of liquid on your body.
You don’t move without direction. You don’t speak without order.
He runs a hand through his hair, chest heaving beneath his shirt, he gives you no praise. He doesn’t even look at you kindly. He gives you a one-over, top lip lifting in distaste, “You’re a fucking mess. On the bed.”
Your legs are wobbly beneath you as you climb onto the white duvet, hands still secured at the base of your spine, you lay on top of them, knees still burning, swollen, uncomfortable. He doesn’t get on the bed with you, he tugs you back down to the edge by your ankles, pushing your legs up until they’re dangling. Hands on your swollen knees, he parts them, ignoring the way you suck in a sharp breath.
“Be quiet,” he’s staring between your legs, “I don’t want to hear a sound out of that mouth. Holes don’t speak.” You clench your jaw to keep it closed, thighs twitching. He continues, “Knew this slutty cunt would be soaked. ‘S all over your thighs, aren’t you embarrassed?”
You meet his eye, lips parted, but you don’t speak. His lips curve at the corner, “No? Proud of how wet you get from being used? Being nothing?”
He’s baiting you, you force your breath into submission, calm despite your heart pounding against your ribs, wild and arrhythmic. You clench around nothing, air catching on the wetness between your legs, coating your thighs, you’re not embarrassed. You could never be, not when his eyes light up, his lips curve, staring at you like he wants to do nothing less than devour you when you’re spread out for him like this.
You’re built for him, by him, and he knows it.
Warm palms sear your thighs, one sinking down your calf, fingers ghosting over one of your heeled feet. He pushes it forward, towards your chest, staring at the silver stiletto, finger following the shape of the arch, touching the pointed heel. Not even looking at you, keeping his eyes on your pedicure, he mutters, “These stay on.”
Your bottom lip quivers, trembles, fingers clawing at the mattress behind your back. His eyes find yours, “Being so obedient now, is this what happens when you’re guilty? When you know you fucked up? I get a sweet girl for once?”
Your entire body reacts to his words, a full-blown shiver that racks through you like a wave. His voice is a spell, his words are tantalizing, laced with sweetness, it throws your mind for a loop, you almost reply. Your lips open and then close, he grins like he knows he’s on the right track.
His fingers wrap around your ankle, placing it over his shoulder, his other hand leaving your thigh to paint a finger through your folds. Your lips tighten, teeth clamping down, brows furrowing at the stimulation, noise climbing up your throat with claws bared. His touch leaves as quickly as he gives it, he brings his finger up past his lips, moaning at the taste, loud and obnoxious, “It’s too bad you don’t deserve my mouth, wanna eat her so bad. I think Yeosang would like the taste too, don’t you?”
Your jaw clenches, he stores the reaction. Bringing his hand back down to your center, he uses two fingers to spread your folds, watching as you clench around nothing, as your body begs for what your mouth isn’t allowed to say. He hums, leaning down, gathering spit in his mouth before shooting it straight onto your mound, your body jumps in response. With his thumb at your clit, he adds the smallest pressure to spread the slick, your lips part, a quiet gasp sneaking through.
His eyes flicker upward, “Behave.” He rubs slow circles, barely any pressure, following your hips that buck into his hand, “Stop moving. Take it.”
Your face contorts, abdomen flexing, spine bending, teeth clamped down over your bottom lip. You try to keep your hips flush to the bed, you fail. His hand leaves your calf over his shoulder, falling to your belly, pushing down to keep you flat, “Right after I said you were being obedient, too. Shame.”
His thumb leaves your clit to push two fingers inside and your elbows bend, hands sliding up your spine, pulling at the belt keeping you restrained. A desperate moan pushes past, hips jerking against his hand pinning you down, his name falls off your lips right after, “Yunho! Fuck, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
Lips pursed, his head shakes slowly, disappointed. Your body burns, hot with embarrassment, blood carbonated, sizzling with fear, your eyes stay blown wide, watching him calculate what comes next. He doesn’t react further, instead his fingers work you open, pads of his fingertips massaging against the spongy spot inside you, your breathing becomes verbal. Shallow, chest moving rapidly, wrists fighting against the restraint, it feels too good not to move. Not to react.
He knows your weak points, knows your strengths; he uses them both to his advantage.
“Do you think I’m doing this for your pleasure?” He doesn’t look up, voice steady, he watches how your slick gushes around his digits instead, how your core takes his fingers so easily, greedily. “I should shove my cock inside you without prep, that’s what you deserve for being a whore. But I decided to be kind, and this is how you repay me? By being greedy?”
You keep your lips glued together until his eyes meet yours, “Speak.”
“I’m sorry!” Your voice is pitched, face scrunched together, he can hear the shame in your voice, feel how your body disagrees. “I’m sorry, sir, I don’t deserve it, I- I, please just–”
“Shut up,” he cuts you off, “Forgot how fucking irritating it is to hear you whine.”
You feel the pressure in your face again, swimming up your sinuses, filling your waterline with salty heat. He doesn’t notice until your breathing breaks, tears already spilled, pleasure wound tight in the pit of your belly, below his palm that sits heavy and harsh.
“You’re crying again?” He sounds bored, annoyed. “You’re useless, you know that? Can’t follow simple fuckin’ directions.”
He sighs before he slips his fingers out, two hands finding the plush of your ass beneath your lifted thighs, pushing you up the bed.
“Maybe you should fuck Yeosang,” he crawls on top of the mattress with you, fingers working his buttons open while you shake your head, tears falling silently, he stares at you with lifted brows like he couldn’t be more uninterested. “You’re nearing worthless at this point.”
He throws the button-up off the bed, pulling his white tank over his head, his slacks and briefs already gone, discarded before your back hit the mattress. Face still reading uninterested, he grabs both of your legs by your ankles, throwing them over his shoulders as he spreads his knees, lowering himself until his eyes lock on your glistening folds.
“You don’t deserve my cock,” he says it like it’s something you already know. A mewl stirs in your throat, you swallow it down as he wraps his fingers around the base, pushing it through your folds. “So fuckin’ wet, she’s begging for it. You think you deserve it?”
He looks up at you just to see you shake your head no, his eyes follow the way your tear-streaked cheeks shine in the dim light.
Circling his tip over your clit, he asks again, “Not even the tip?”
You release a shaky breath, sniffing through your clogged sinuses, every bone in your body screaming yes, you’d beg for it, on all fours, you’d do anything for it. But that’s not what he wants to hear, so you shake your head once more.
“Alright,” he says it passively and it makes your brows knit together. Like if you said yes, he’d do it.
Your lips part, face warped into confusion, voice coated in a cry, “W-wait.”
“No,” he moves one of your ankles to his other shoulder, crossing them, “You made your bed.”
“Yunho–”
His eyes flicker upward, warning enough, your lips smack together to silence yourself. The tip of his cock prods at the seam of your thighs, so thick and hot and wet it makes you squirm, ankles locking over his shoulder. He smacks the side of your thigh once, “Clench ‘em for me. Be a good sleeve.”
Your breath is shaky as you tighten your thighs, body rigid, wrists fighting their restraints. Tears spill hotter, heavier when he groans out in relief, cock passing between your thighs, so close to your aching cunt you can feel your composure getting pushed to its limit. One hand holds your ankles over his shoulder, the other squeezes one of your thighs, you watch how his abdomen flexes with each roll of his hips, how his throat bobs when his head falls back in pleasure.
“Feels good,” his voice is gravelly, laced with arousal, his hips moving slow enough to draw out his own pleasure. You try to keep yourself tight, composed, enjoyable for him, but your patience is a thin band, one running taut too quickly. He picks up the pace, his hips smacking against your sensitive legs, they start to shake where they lay hooked over his shoulder.
“Stay still,” he gruffs out, “Stop shaking.”
A defeated cry escapes through your parted lips, mumbling a wilted, pathetic, “Please.”
He doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow, doesn’t address that you’ve spoken. You’re drifting as his grip turns tighter, fingers on your ankles, palm on your thigh, tight enough to bruise; his hips pick up speed, filling the room with the sound of skin smacking skin. You’re clenching around nothing again, so strung out and sensitive that the ripple of his cock between your thighs is close enough to friction. You can feel your pulsing clit, muscles tightening, heart picking up speed as it starts to feel somewhat pleasurable. Better than nothing, not nearly enough to get you off.
He does a double take when he notices your brows knitted up, lips parted, breath layered. His laugh is punched, taunting, “You’re getting off on this?” A whimper escapes. “I thought I told you to keep your mouth shut. This is a punishment, not a fucking position.”
You seal your lips together again, your lashes becoming a waterfall, his hand leaves your thigh just to land against your skin heavier, harder, the sound striking through the room, nearly blending in with the sound of his hips against your thighs.
“I’d be inside you if you listened. If you didn’t speak, if you didn’t flirt with my friend in front of my goddamn face,” his voice is as rough as his movements, he watches where his cock disappears, grinds his teeth when your thighs clench. “Can’t believe this is getting you off. Nothing but a cockhungry whore, doesn’t matter where I fuckin’ put it, does it?”
Your thighs clench again and he cracks ever so slightly, a splinter in his demeanor. The sound he lets out is pitched, something of a moan, small and wanting as he chases his release, “Fuck, almost as good as your pussy. Maybe I don’t need to use her at all anymore, maybe I’ll tape her shut.”
Another sob falls past your lips, head tilting to the side, “No.”
“No?” His eyes meet yours, “No?”
“I need you–”
“You’re mine,” his voice is harsher now, like you’ve finally hit a nerve. He pulls out, throwing your legs to the side, one arm scooping under you to flip you onto your stomach. Pulling you upright, on all fours, knees together, your face is buried in the bed, another sob cracking through your shaking body. “I’ll do whatever I want, this body is mine, you belong to me. You’re my property, when are you going to get that through your thick fucking skull?”
When his cock pushes past the seam of your thighs again, legs on either side of yours, it's lower. Farther away from your slippery cunt, skin still lubed up with how much you’ve spilled, his voice is edged as he lands a harsh smack on your ass, biting, “Squeeze your fuckin’ thighs, you can’t afford to disappoint me again.”
He holds his hands tight on your hips, steadying you, groaning low and long when he picks up the pace tenfold, harsher than the rhythm he was giving you before. He plants a foot on the bed, choking out a moan, “Gonna cum all over these thighs, this ass, then I’m gonna make you eat it.”
You moan, it’s a soft noise, too soft for how unforgiving he was at your backside. Your mind is cloudy, in your head, his degrading words are close enough to praise, your body responds. He lands another heavy smack to your ass, sending you deeper into the plush of the mattress, into the fuzz, you moan.
He sounds almost surprised when he says, “That’s not a fucking reward, you’re disgusting.”
Your wrists pull at the belt, thighs clenching, another shameless moan pushing past your lips. His hips stutter, fingertips tightening at your hips, “Fuck, nasty fuckin’ thing.”
He slips from between your thighs, leaving them vibrating and hot. You can hear how fast his fist moves over his length, slick and wet, lewd, his groan is a stutter as he cums, thick ropes of white landing over your ass, your thighs, warm, heavy, you can’t help but moan at the feeling. Being marked, owned, being his, however he wants you, however he’ll have you.
You hear him panting, tight breaths pushed from his lips, you know he’s staring, watching it drip, admiring the mess he made like it was art. With one hand still on your hip, he uses the other to wipe his painting off your skin, gathering it on his fingers, a glob of wet sticky warmth, your mouth waters knowing he’s about to feed it to you.
Your thighs shake as he knocks your knees apart for stability, reaching one arm forward to wrap under your belly, pulling you upward. You whimper at the force but your body follows without hands to help you.
“Here,” he sounds like he’s giving you a gift as your back hits his chest. He moves your hair out of your face, your jaw already pried open, he stuffs his cum-coated fingers past your lips and your eyes roll back. Salty, thick, nasty, you moan at how fucking dirty it feels, abdomen flexing because he’s finally giving you something. Mouth closing, tongue sucking his fingers clean, your thighs squeeze.
“Good girl,” he whispers, “Eat it all, lick my fingers clean.” You moan again, eyes opening, low-lidded as you stare at him from under your brows, swallowing. His face scrunches, lips parting, “Fuck.”
He watches as your spit-stained mouth opens when he presses down on your tongue, no evidence of his release leftover. His fingers move slowly, spreading inside your mouth like he wanted to feel the texture of your tongue, they drag down until your bottom lip folds over, your own spit hitting your chin.
“So pliant,” he whispers, watching, analyzing, “You’ll let me do anything right now, won’t you?”
You whimper, so soft and light you barely register it came from you. His other hand wraps around your front, two fingers dipping between your legs, adding pressure to your clit. You fold, or try to, his other arm wraps around your front, forearm between your breasts, fingers landing steady at the base of your throat, holding you flush to him.
“Still.” Despite the order being direct, his voice is calm, sweet almost, eyes dancing over your features, watching how your face contorts in pleasure. He keeps his pace slow, circling his fingers lightly, “Cum, just like this.”
Your instinct tells you not to trust his kindness, pressure building steadily at the base of your belly, but he works you so easily, even with small circles and light pressure, your body responds like a live wire, as if two light fingers were a vibrator on its highest setting. Your moans mix with tiny gasps, body fidgeting at the pleasure, so sensitive you think you might be running from it.
He cooes, “Come on, baby. I’m letting you cum, might be the only orgasm I let you have tonight. Impress me.”
The need to deliver, obey, appease him is too embedded in you not to listen, even if you know better. You choke on a moan, reaching your peak quicker than you should, sounds climbing in staccato, so close you could fucking taste it– he rips his fingers away just as you approach the edge and you sob, body lurching forward, “No!”
He pulls you back against him, keeping you locked in place. He shushes you, running his hands over your skin, your thighs, your stomach, comforting touches that pull tears from your eyes for the third time. You choke on a cry, crumbling into him, leaning your weight against him.
“So good for me,” he praises, voice candy-sweet. Confusion makes you whimper a mumble of his name.
He waits until your twitching subsides, still brushing his fingers over your skin, soothing the loss until you’ve forgotten it. When your sobs quiet, your breathing evens a little more, he dips his fingers between your thighs again.
“Yunho!” You gasp, bucking against him, “T-too much.”
“Shut up,” he grinds out in your ear, “Take it.”
His fingers work quicker, more pressure, pleasure builds inside you like it never stopped.
“I can’t–” You hiccup, “Please let me cum, sir, p-please let me, I can’t take it–”
The arm that’s wrapped around your front reaches farther up until two fingers push past your lips, sitting heavy on your tongue like stone. You gag around the length of them, knuckles hooked between your teeth while his other hand works quicker, tighter circles on your clit.
“Don’t remember telling you to speak,” you feel his breath on your ear, words chopped, rough, mean. “I remember telling you not to make a fucking sound.”
You’re gurgling around his fingers, more ugly noises, you’re too close to care. Electricity zaps through every limb, legs trembling, hips bucking away from his fingers because you can’t handle the pleasure even if you need it.
You’re babbling over the weight on your tongue, looking up at him with pleading eyes, mumbling begs in-between every gag, he stays focused on his fingers between your legs, pulling you as close as he can to the finish line.
“Y’gonna cum?” His eyes finally meet yours, searching your face for the answer before you can make a sound. You nod, tongue flexing under his fingers, pressure built up so tight and heavy in your body you might blow if he doesn’t let you release. He leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead, so sticky sweet it makes you moan. His voice is sharp against your skin, “Slutty cunts don’t get to cum.”
There’s a millisecond to process his words before he rips his fingers away and that’s how long it takes for your sanity to slip. Sobs, real ones rip from your chest; ugly and booming, he lets your body go, lets you fall forward, flat against the mattress, wrists clawing at the belt, twitching and jerking so fucking shamelessly it makes Yunho smile.
“Am I breaking you, baby?” He crawls on top of you, flipping you over like your dead weight means nothing to him. “Are you finally understanding what it means to be mine?”
The word yes leaves your lips between each sob like a chant, wrists aching beneath leather, your skin was probably inflamed and swollen by now from how much you’ve thrashed against the belt, but you don’t feel it, you don’t care. You need more. You need release.
He pushes your knees up, humming, ignoring your choked sobs like they didn’t exist. “You think Yeosang would want you like this?” He smacks his teeth, “A crying, begging whore? You think he’d touch this slutty, swollen cunt?”
“No! I’m s-sorry,” you hiccup, sounding so distraught it’s almost deranged, “Please.”
“Please what?” His cock lays heavy over your leaking cunt, reaching well over your pubic bone, it makes your trembling worse. “What are you asking me for?”
“I– I–”
“Shut up,” he lowers his grip down to your thighs, the sensitive part on the inside, rutting his hips ever so slightly against your folds. Your head tilts back, letting out a sound of tight pleasure mixed with frustration, his cock on you isn’t enough. You need him inside.
“He wouldn’t touch you with a ten-foot pole,” he continues, wrapping his fingers around the base of his length, adding pressure as his hips rut against you again. “This pussy is used. I’ve ruined it for anyone else, ruined you.”
Your spine bends at his words as he works up a rhythm, pace combined with the added pressure, his cockhead runs over your swollen clit with each thrust, it’s almost enough for you to start climbing again. You moan out in relief, in euphoria, just from having him on you.
His grip tightens on your thigh, “You like that? Being ruined? Like the idea of another man being repulsed by you?”
“Yes,” your face contorts, tears hot in the lines stretching across your skin, breath ragged, hips bucking against him when his rhythm slows.
He curses under his breath as he feels you clench, “Of course you do. This pussy only wants me. Trained to only respond to me.”
“Yes,” a little louder, laced with your climbing pleasure, “Only you.”
“Don’t cum.” You watch his knuckles turn white at the base of his cock. “You haven’t earned it yet.”
“Please!” You cry, so completely at his mercy, body shaking, heels piercing your thighs with each roll of his hips. “Please l-let me, I’ll be good– I’ll listen, I won’t ever look at him again–”
Your fingers curl into the duvet beneath you, pleasure, desperation, the stimulation you’re getting from his cockhead over your clit is enough, it’s fast enough, he said no. He’s focused on your core, how his cock slides against your slick, how it bubbles and swirls around your folds with each thrust of his hips.
“Yunho,” you cry, a little louder, more severe, “Inside, p-please!”
He grits through tight teeth, “Shut the fuck up.”
Your body locks, bones feeling tight, stuck to each muscle like one look from him had turned you to stone. Small, stuttered breaths escape you one after another, rising in pitch, he can feel the stemming pleasure in your gut, he knows it’s building, he can see it on your face.
You’re close, but he’s closer. He takes the chance, fucking into his fist before his cock meets the wet heat your folds, he grunts out a curse, fingers so tight around your thigh it hurts.
“You wanna cum?” His eyes flicker upward and your heart stops dead in your chest.
“Y-Yes– Yes Yunho, please, I’ll do anything–”
“Beg for it.”
Incoherent babbles disguised as pleas, nothing more, a display of desperation that was music to his ears. His hips stutter with each whimper, each whine, the wetness on your cheeks, your body that’s steaming under his touch, it’s so hot his stomach curls with his approaching orgasm.
He chokes on a groan, “You’re so fucking stupid, you don’t learn. Nothing but a dumb, desperate whore.”
You moan and he gasps, thighs twitching as he ruts into his fist like an animal, fucking himself through the orgasm that leaves your cunt, your belly, your thighs covered in cum, his third orgasm. Your knees tie together, a sob so defeated and tired ripping from your gut, your cunt pulses, he can see it. He can’t stop himself from pushing his cock inside.
“Yunho!” You all but whisper, wrecked voice bouncing off the walls, body thrashing against him.
He moans, small but there, it’s suffering and overstimulated. Your wrists burn, halfway up your back, arched so high the leather doesn’t touch you. You can feel your tears pooling in your ears, sobbing in relief and satisfaction and sheer fucking pleasure.
He doesn’t move. He sits there, face tied together in overstimulation, lips caught between his teeth, fingers holding onto your legs for purchase like he might die if he didn’t grab onto you with all his strength.
“Please,” you cry, “Move.”
His jaw clenches, breathing manual, chest rising and falling so heavily you regret the word as soon as it passes through your lips.
“I can’t take it,” you continue through the regret, another mistake. “I’m yours, Yunho, I- I belong to you, I’m your whore, your sleeve–”
“If you were my fucking whore you wouldn’t disobey me,” he grits out, you can feel his thighs shaking, but he adjusts himself to fuck into you properly. “Say it if you need to, but you’ve taken it before and I know you can take it again.”
The word is nowhere near your tongue and he knows it.
“Quit crying, then,” he moves his hands, fingers sinking beneath your back to hold your waist, thumbs sliding where they slipped through his cum on your sides. “I’m tired of hearing it. You’re getting what you want.”
“I want to cum,” you cry out, you’re sure you’ve broken skin at the heel of your palms from how hard your nails have cut into them, you can barely feel the sting. His fingers bruise your back, keeping you still, forcing you to take it as he slips out agonizingly slow, and pushes back inside.
“I don’t think you deserve it,” he sounds unaffected by being inside you, like fucking your thighs really was the same, if not better. Your sobs reflect the thought, feeling so used, full of shame; the flame of desire that dwells within your gut is nowhere close to being smothered, you need more, you need to be full of him, you need to cum around his cock.
“Ple– ase,” you choke on the word, “Y-Yunho, please.”
“Pussy missed me,” he sounds like he’s reminiscing, “Listen, she’s suckin’ me in.”
You hear it then, the squelch, the ungodly sound of his cock sliding into you fluidly. You wallow in it, the humiliating noise, the feeling of him running over that spot with every thrust, filling you up like he’s carved himself space inside you, whittled at your womb until you could take him and him only.
“There you go,” it’s not praise, it’s relief, “Finally giving up. So much better when you’re easy.”
There’s nothing left inside you but sound, desperate and aching, it fills the room on top of the sound of his hipbones slapping against your thighs, the room sounding wet and disgusting. Pressure builds, steady and true, his rhythm daunting, pushing you closer to an edge you don’t know if he’ll let you fall off of.
“This is all you need,” his voice sounds heavier, layered with pressure, “My cock fucking you full. You don’t need to think, don’t need to breathe, you don’t need to be.”
You breathe out a noise, a babble about getting close, he doesn’t hear it. You sink deeper into the haze with each thrust, consumed by pleasure, cheek sliding against the duvet every time his cockhead kisses your cervix.
“You all dumb for me?” You can hear his smile, “Fuck, are you finally broken, baby? Feel nothing but me? Thinking of nothing but me?”
The leather binding your wrists feels miles away. You’re reaching, he knows it.
His hips snap against yours, so brutal and unforgiving, pleasure is an unwrapped gift with how your orgasm hits, catching you off guard. The sound that rips through you is deafening, limbs thrashing against the duvet, your restraints, it’s too late for him to slip his cock out. He knows it, even if he does it anyway, you cry out, hips bucking against nothing searching for friction to extend your orgasm as long as you can.
He doesn’t speak when he flips you over. His hands are rough, movements quick, his cock splits you open the moment your knees hit the mattress. You don’t get a second to feel relief.
“You’re nothing but a greedy fucking whore,” each word is punched, animalistic, angry and ragged; your spine bends toward him, cunt clenching around him, toes digging into the heels on your feet. He pushes you down with one hand, “Keep that fucking back down.”
“Again,” you cry, weak and desperate, “Again.”
He’s fucking you like he hates you, like your pleasure meant nothing to him. Brows furrowed, jaw sharp like a blade, he’s angry as his cock drills inside you, chest red and splotchy, sweat beading down his mismatched skin.
“Shut the fuck up,” he growls, “Stupid bitch, you’re only making it worse for yourself.”
“I’m sorry–”
He lands a sharp smack to your ass, “Don’t fuckin’ apologize. Deal with the consequences.”
“I’m sorry!” It’s louder this time, strained. Your hips fuck back, knees buried in the bed for stability, “I need you, I need it, I need to cum again, please– please Yunho, I’ll–”
He reaches down to push your face into the mattress, “I told you to shut the fuck up, listen for once in your goddamn life.”
Mouth meeting cotton, you can’t catch your breath, shins kicking against the mattress. His pace is angry, brutal, you can feel yourself falling apart, pleasure and pain melting together, desperation and satisfaction blending into one. Your head feels fuzzy again from the loss of air, cloudy in a way that means submission, your body softens.
He lets go of your head to grab onto the belt with one hand, pulling you up, back level with your hips, your sobs becoming verbal once again. Your head hangs low, deadweight for him to hold.
“Say you’re sorry.”
Light, airy, your cloudy eyes meet the duvet, “I’m s-sorry–”
“Say it like you fucking mean it.”
You wince, “I’m so sorry, sir.”
His voice sounds rigid, like he might cum again. “Tell me what you are.”
The answer comes easy, “I’m a whore.”
He lands a sharp smack to your ass, “You’re less than that.”
“I’m n-nothing,” you whimper, “A h-hole, a sleeve.”
He lets go of the belt and you fall against the mattress, a rough sound muffled as your chest hits cotton. He flattens you with his palms, lowering his weight over your back until his skin sticks to yours, he slides one arm beneath you, under your chest, cupping your jaw with one huge palm. He guides your head to the side to see him, sweaty and angled and fucked out, but he rounds out when he sees you– face flushed, wet with saliva, tears, splotched and messy, your eyes glossy and huge and somewhere else.
He starts rolling his hips into you again, slower, just as damning, “You’re missing something.”
Your brows furrow, clenching around him, mewling out something incoherent before asking, “M-missing?”
He rolls his hips, cock brushing over that spot, you shake against him, body trembling. He bites his lip roughly like he’s forcing himself into composure before he asks, “Who’s hole? Who’s sleeve?”
“Y-Yours!” You’re scrambling to correct your mistake, “I’m y-yours. Your whore, your hole, your sleeve. Yours to use.”
He moans, soft and wilted and fucking angelic. His rhythm doesn’t falter, patient but aimed, like he wanted you to feel every inch, every vein. You can’t move, stuck under his weight, held in his palm, your face forms to gratification, lips open but silent, eyelids fluttering, you feel like you’ve given him all of you. Your pleasure, your pain, he holds it all in the palm of his hand, he holds you like you’re something sacred.
“Made for me,” his voice is quieter, soft at the edges. “Only I could love you like this. Broken, small.” He drops into just above a whisper, “Ruined.”
“Please,” you whisper, a single tear running down your cheek, “Cum inside me.”
Hot salt meets his fingers, his grip tightens ever so slightly, cock twitching inside you. “Cum for me first. Show me how well you listen.”
Your brows furrow, instinct at war with his tone, his words. Even if you don’t know how honest he is, your body reacts, rutting against his thrusts, clenching around his length that sails over the front of your walls with purpose. Climbing, reaching, you stare into his dark, focused eyes, softly whimpering, “Yunho.”
“I got you, I’ll let you,” he encourages, his tone not fully sweet. “Just this once.”
Your body trusts him, enough that your peak approaches in a cloudy haze; you tremble in pleasure, choking on a cry, crumbling against his arm that holds you still, steady, safe.
“Fuck,” it’s a hot word in your ear, “So fucking tight.”
His hips pick up and you move, tears falling hot again, overstimulated and forced in a cycle of pleasure, your wrists pull, your legs thrash, your whines pick up, his grip tightens on your jaw.
“Want me to fill this pussy up?” His breathing is as verbal as his question, “You think you deserve it?”
“Yes,” you answer in a cry, “I do, I do, please– inside, sir, Yunho, please–”
He gruffs out a noise squeezed from his throat, hips smacking against your skin, stuttering. His fingers push up on your jaw until it closes, silencing you with fingers pressed in your face, his head dipping low as he chases his orgasm.
“Slutty fucking cunt,” he growls out, lips just grazing your shoulder he lifted, “No you don’t.”
You don’t process the rejection as he lifts himself, you turn over with haste in the second it takes to settle, pleas on your tongue; he’s already crawling over you, knees beside your shoulders, fist wrapped around his cock.
“Yunho, no–”
“Learn from this.” He pumps his length with fervor, knuckles white, hips bucking into his own hand. “Remember this the next time you think about giving my property away.”
You don’t know how you have any more tears to give. Sucking down air, body thrashing beneath his thighs that pin you down, you wail. He watches, lips parting, brows furrowing, like your face and your pain was getting him off, it doesn’t take long until he’s groaning, cock spilling ropes of white onto your cheeks, your nose, your hair, your chest.
Heartbreak blooms. Chest cracking, you succumb to the tears, slipping from your half-open eyes down to the streaks of white on your face, mixing into salty, thick heat. You might be talking, repetition of no filling the air like it’d rewind time, convince him to fill you up again and leave his mark behind.
He takes his time crawling off you, turning you halfway, one hand skillfully prying the belt undone. Your arms are free but you can’t feel the air on your wrists, even as he moves them in front of you. Sitting beside you he lifts your wrists, checking them, moving the pads of his thumbs over your swollen veins on the inside.
“Fist,” it’s soft; a direct order, one without malice. You barely hear it over your cries, but you flex your fingers, make a fist, he nods once in approval, thumbs ghosting over the red, broken crescents in the heels that your nails left behind.
Tangling his fingers with yours, it’s not a show of affection, he moves your wrists in a circular motion, clockwise, then counter-clockwise, watching your face for any sign of pain or discomfort. There’s none, other than your dejected cries, he knows you well enough to know the difference.
Laying your wrists softly beside you, he crawls downward, lifting one leg, untying the buckle at your ankle. He slips your heel off your foot, pressing a kiss to the underside of your toes, another to your ankle. He moves to the other after gently laying your leg down, repeating the process, his lips soft against your skin.
He leans forward again, stretching his legs out beneath him, slinging an arm under your shoulders to tuck you into his chest. Your forehead meets his skin, wet and sticky with sweat, his cum, saliva; being eased into comfort after so long of not having it just makes you cry harder. He lets you release, one hand in your scalp, the other grazing your back, he doesn’t speak until your sobs lower, when you’ve reached a point that you have nothing else to spend.
“You did so well for me,” he whispers, lips softly meeting your roots. “Took everything I gave you, I’m so proud of you.”
All you can respond is a whimper, soft and light, the only sound you have left inside. Exhaustion lays heavy like a blanket, its weight on your eyelids, on your legs, in the arches of your feet.
“I’m gonna go get you some water.”
Your shaky arms reach, neck bending, holding him close with your palm on his waist. Meeting his eye, seeing him, you hope he can see the not yet in your eyes. His face deflates into roundness as his thumb meets your cheek, wiping slick off your skin that’s gone cold by now. His eyes sparkling and soft, he’s in caretaker mode– the doing after he takes, you aren’t ready for it yet. You need him.
His eyes flicker to your lips and he can feel the way you bend for him, into him, asking for it without saying a word. His lips meet yours with delicacy, a soft graze of his lips before you part for him, beckoning for more. He lets his lips mold with yours, open and sweet, no haste, gradual and slow, his hands exploring your skin, your palm reaching upward to cup his cheek.
“One more,” you whisper into his mouth, using all your might to form words. Your ankle hooks over his back, a shaky breath escaping you when your body meets the cold slick of his spent length. He hisses at the friction, head beginning to shake, you cut him off before he can speak. “Please.”
His eyes study your face for a moment. “You can handle it?”
“I need it,” your voice cracks on the second word. “Need to feel that you love me.”
His brows furrow, “Baby.”
“Yunho,” you whimper in the same tone, “Please.”
He catches your lips in a kiss and you’re not met with any more haste than before. It’s slow, passionate, he’s burning words onto your tongue, making you feel it instead of him saying it. He reaches down between your bodies, pumping his cock once, twice, pushing a small sound into your mouth, one you swallow down, tucking it beside your heart. Running his tip through your folds, you brace yourself, legs already shaking, bruised and battered and still aching for more.
You wince as he starts pushing inside, his lips meet your jaw. On your sides, facing each other, you throw your arms over his shoulders, his hands sinking down around your waist, from how close you lay there’s barely any room for him to feed you a full thrust. He tries, grinding his cock against that spot inside you, eating every soft, wrecked moan you spill.
“I love you so much,” he finally says, “Every inch of you, every part of this body.”
You whimper, fingers curling into his hair with no force, succumbing to the pleasure, the slight sting of overstimulation.
“You take everything,” he whispers, lips against your cheek, you feel his breath, the severity of his words. “Do so fucking well for me every time. I need you.” Your heart jumps, clenching around him, pressure stemming. He repeats, voice a little louder, “I need you, love you s’much, ‘d do anything for you.”
Your hands drop to his shoulderblades, nails sinking in, breath growing heavier, a soft moan slipping past your lips, into his mouth. You whimper, voice cracking, “I’m sorry.”
“I know,” his fingertips curl into your back, “I know, baby.”
“I love you,” your voice cracks again, breath going uneven, he kisses you softly.
Your hips move with his, meeting each roll, the slick sound of your still-soaked center a symphony in your dimlit bedroom. He hears when your breathing shifts, as you start to climb. “Yes,” he encourages, voice dripping in praise, “Cum for me, baby, you deserve it. Did so good for me.”
Your breath hitches, hips twitching against him, he rolls into you a little harder. He kisses you, tongue sloppy inside your mouth, tasting everything you’d given him tonight, taking responsibility for it all. He turns you just slightly, angling you onto your back a little more so he can piston his hips higher, against that spot inside you. Your leg dangles, leaving your body spread and open, so trusting it makes his stomach do a flip. He presses two fingers against your clit, rubbing quick, tight circles.
He knows you’re seeing stars by the loud, pitched cry from your throat, he curses under his breath, “C’mon, cum for me. Give it to me, let me have it, I need it.”
Your spine bends on command, thighs shaking, pleasure washing over you in tremors. Eyes squeezing shut, he kisses your unmoving mouth, fingers working your clit, fucking you through it, extending your release, pulling it deeper, hotter, longer.
He kisses your cheek when a tear slips out, wiping his upper lip with his tongue. Your face is bent up in pleasure, eyes big and doe-like, pupils dilated. You mumble, voice little and weak, “Please cum inside me.”
His pace quickens, chasing instead of supplying, voice caught in his chest. You kiss him again, sloppier, moaning into his mouth as he fucks into you steadily, fingers curling into his hair while you fuck him back. He chokes on a moan, hand splayed across your abdomen, hips losing their rhythm before he stutters, legs shaking, spilling everything that’s left inside him to give.
Winded, breathing heavy, Yunho’s spent. There’s nothing but the sound of your breath in the room, he keeps his cock inside you until it’s soft and even then you wait until discomfort knocks on your door to part.
“Can I clean you up?” He asks into the silence, palm still heavy over your sticky stomach.
You moan your disagreement. “We need to shower.”
He rolls over, pressing a soft kiss onto your cheek, “Are you strong enough to?”
Your head turns, meeting his eye, a smile curving your lips to a singular degree. “I don’t really have a choice. You came on me twice– three times?”
He plants his palms on either side of your head, eyes meeting the ceiling in thought. “Mouth, thighs, stomach, face, inside. Three.”
You throw your arms over his shoulders, bringing him down to kiss you. A soft, quick peck, “I love you.”
“I love you too,” he smiles into your lips, “I’ll carry you and clean you, you don’t have to do anything. I’ll change our sheets, we’ll eat something, watch our show…”
You nod slowly, brain drifting. From the most vulnerable part of your foggy mind comes a question, voice thin as you ask, “You know I don’t want Yeosang, right?”
His eyes flicker over your face, searching for the emotion that asked the question.
“Of course,” he replies, full of confidence, already spitting quick reassurance, “We’re perfect. I’m not angry at you, I’m not upset with you, I don’t have any feelings that will fester over tonight. Are you okay? Did I push you too far?”
You shake your head, “No.” Biting your lip, they scrunch to one side. “I’m okay, I just… Don’t stray too far away from me tonight. Please.”
He leans down to press another kiss on your forehead, “I won’t leave your side. I promise.”
» summary: sexual frustration is a curse, and it's plagued you. you can't even begin to recall the last time you orgasmed—weeks, maybe even months ago? you're desperate. so what if one night, the night where you finally feel close to finishing, your neighbor goes and fucks it all up by being loud? well, you go over to his apartment and give him a heavy tongue lashing, of course. except, what happens when he decides to return the favor...
» genres + warnings: college au, neighbor trope (they lowkey don't like each other until they do), reader's SUPER mean to yunho at first, yunho calls reader a bitch (only once), teasing, LOTSSS of dirty talk, heavy make-outs, grinding, yunho's an eater, pussy rubbing w/ tip (NO PENETRATION), dom!yunho, sub!reader (reader gets whipped into shape), yunho basically c*ms all over reader's cunt, lust-drunk yunho, lust-drunk reader, small depiction of "choking", overstimulation, verrryyy breif mingi cameo
» w.c: 9k
» a/n: so, i'm actually obsessed with this concept, #loveit #holyshitthisissodirty #wet
"yeah baby? you almost there? come on, hurry and finish."
as the video progresses, you grip your phone tighter. the random man continues to spill out sweet nothings, fueling your desire.
he's positioned upright in a chair, rubbing his cock feverishly with a heaving chest. you almost mimic his breathing as simultaneously, you quicken the pace on your clit.
your headphones perfectly encapsulate the low, sultry voice he speaks to you in, and a brisk shudder over takes you.
with a slight thrash to your body, you widen and close your legs against the soft bed. your fingers work at maintaining the pleasure pulsing throughout your core, while the desperation fills your stomach.
fuuck. you're so close this time. you just know it.
so what if all of the other attempts this past week has been an utter fail? you just know this time will be different.
a low whine buzzes from your lips and briefly your eyes shut, "awww....mmmm. yes. oh fuck, i'm..." you keep on whispering to yourself.
the speed you’re producing is so intense, it practically has your pelvis rocking alongside the rhythm. no true thoughts resided in your head—simply the absolute need to finish blares in the forefront of your mind.
by now, the man on your screen appears to also be close, with how his body starts to convulse, "baby—shit. i can feel the cum about to rush out. fucking hell, i'm gonna cum. i'm gonna cum."
and right as his torso stiffens and the milky load begins to spill out, a loud thump from outside of your headphones makes you nearly drop your phone smack dab onto your face.
“holy-!” you jolt from the noise, putting an immediate halt to your movements down below. quickly, you pause the video as you remain still, trying to process what the hell that noise was.
there’s a pause.
after a second, you think you’re okay to start up again; however, another roaring bang echoes in from your left, and this time, you let your phone fall down next to you while you scramble to yank off your headphones.
when yet another sound is made from the other side of your wall, you find yourself shooting up from your bed. breathing heavy from adrenaline, you hear from a distance slight murmurs being muffled by the division—but oh god, do you know them all too well.
eyes narrowing, you try to focus in on the voice. there’s more murmuring followed by a heinous cackle, one that resembles a hyena. then shortly after, an even louder thud flows into your room and at this point, you’re absolutely triggered.
this bastard.
“i’m gonna kill him.” the words are tight and menacing as immediately, you throw the blankets away from your body and scoot out of bed.
fuming, you grab your sleep shorts from the floor and yank them up your legs, before jamming your feet into nearby slippers. you throw on the tank top just left in your bed, and soon you’re stomping out of your bedroom.
ooh, that freaking bastard. words can't even begin to describe how pissed you are. any chance at you having the perfect orgasm—long gone. the feeling between your legs—your pleasure and desire—instantly dissipated. what remains is raging hot aggression, the kind that you can feel radiating from your core.
little grumbles leave your mouth as you now pass by your living room, a nearby clock reading, ‘1:47 AM’. just the sight of the time makes your eye twitch, and after swiping your keys from their place holder, you swiftly beeline out your apartment door, making sure to end with a harsh slam.
it takes 0.2 seconds before you’re standing in front of your neighbor’s door, harshly knocking at it. there’s no breaks, just continuous, rapid banging.
tiny comments flow from your mouth, "swear this stupid idiot.....god, i’m gonna.....he's so dead..."
from the other side, you hear footsteps approaching, along with quiet mumbles and a laugh. you’re still pounding at the door until there's a soft click and it gets thrown in.
there stands your idiotic neighbor—jeong yunho—holding the door propped open with one hand and a phone to his ear with the other.
he's lost in conversation, his gaze to the floor and a short smile present. he hasn’t registered who's here yet. though, once he briefly glances up, yunho's whole demeanor begins to change. he sees you, pissed, sticking out your hip and crossing your arms.
“oh……" yunho's face sinks in on himself, mouth now slightly parted. he casts a look away as his expression turns stoic, "uh. yeah, i’m gonna have to call you back.”
as you wait for him to hang up, foot tapping to count the seconds, you couldn’t help the way your eyes fleet around to examine his sleep attire. it looks so similar to yours.
a black tank top that hugs his torso and basketball shorts that hang loosely off his waist. usually when you come over here, he's decked out in a large sweatshirt plus sweatpants. at some point, you started to think that's all he owned. but, clearly not.
when your eyes skip over to the arm on the door, you could see his bicep flexing from how hard he gripped the wood. and close to that, you peep the messy state his hair is in, all curly and tussled.
after observing his face, you start to realize you've been ogling at him for too long. so, you force yourself to look away and pick up an interest in the carpet you're standing on. god, does he just piss you off. you can't even stand the sight of him.
a harsh sigh leaves your throat and you start to roll your neck around in frustration. can he just hurry up?
yunho grimaces softly at your outburst before returning to his friend. he listens intently to what's being said, part of him also trying to mask the irritation pricking at his skin, "hmm? yeah, i guess. just be quick about it."
a low voice is on the other end, you register, evident by the deep laugh he produces. you can't really make out anything being said, but after sneaking a glance at yunho, you assume a question’s being asked.
he's giving it some careful thought. his head shifts up a tiny bit, eyes moving around the ceiling as he thinks. but, really, the moment you swiftly hold up your nails to randomly inspect them, that's when he's able to dart his eyes down to your distracted body and give the question true thought.
he's watchful of your next-to-nothing clothing, and how it outlines every part of you. the small buds poking through your tank top fabric, proving that you're not wearing a bra. your smooth thighs that are held close together. he's observant of everything.
however, when you shake your shoulders back and throw your hand down, it quickly snaps yunho out of his mild trance. in one motion, he sweeps his attention away from you and clears his throat.
“okay, i’m not even gonna think about what you just asked—no, seriously i’ll call you back later. i’m hanging up now.”
he wastes no time in dropping his hand and ending the call. then, as he peers upwards, ready to formally address you—well, you make sure to beat him to it
your head is cocked to the side as an icy tone slips out, "finally. i was starting to get impatient."
blinking, yunho stares at you briefly before inhaling a long breath. he can already tell how the rest of this conversation is going to go, judging by your already snippy attitude.
"i'm sorry about that. the phone call ran a little longer than i-"
"frankly, i don't give a fuck about that," you cut him off, body instantly tensing up from just how annoyed you are, “have you lost your goddamn mind? it is the middle of the night, why the hell are you being so loud? again?"
fuck him. his body expels a quiet sigh as his tall figure hunches down slightly, "i was just...rearranging some furniture."
this time, your words are more clipped, "and you couldn't have waited until morning? are you a fucking idiot?"
it takes everything in yunho to keep his composure.
lately, every single time you come knocking at his door to complain, this is usually how it goes. you storm over, beat at his door, then berate him for about 5 minutes before walking away and slamming your door shut. every. single. time.
he wonders where this anger came from all of sudden, the hostility. you hadn’t always been this grumpy, but for the past week, it’s like you’d just decided to hate his guts. even in passing, like when riding the elevator or entering the apartment together, you always wear a scowl around him. like it's now been permanently etched into your face.
seriously, what’s your deal?
when you make a particularly frustrated groan half-way through your rant, it's then yunho comes back to reality.
"this is my third time coming over here in a week. my third time. but somehow, there’s always some stupid fucking excuse as to why you’re being so damn loud," you sneer, not even able to recount all of the other dumb reasons he's given you thus far, "do you think i enjoy this? having to tell you to shut up every other day?"
his face reactively tilts down as a dry scoff flies out. sorry, but he doesn't really want to deal with all of this tonight. if that makes him apathetic towards your situation, oh well—so be it.
before he knows it, a snarky remark comes flying out, "well, you have been making it a habit lately, so i'm sure you must find some enjoyment in being a bitch. right?" he ends off with a straight face and condescending shrug.
oh.
in a flash, the blood flowing through you turns cold. your eyes go bewildered from his dig at you and you change your stance to somewhat cage him in. you notice he doesn’t move away from you, but that didn’t stop you from still trying to size him up—if that’s even possible.
“listen to me, jeong yunho,” your voice starts off unusually low, and surprisingly, yunho seems to respond well to it, “i don’t want to come back here ever again. so either you shut the actual fuck up for good, or i’m calling our landlady next time and i’m going to have your ass finally evicted.”
after you finished, an overbearing silence takes over. there are so many things yunho could say to you right now. his mind is racing a mile a minute, and yet his mouth remains closed as his eyes begin to lower. his hand is starting to shake from squeezing the door so hard.
eventually he drops his arm, right as you take a few steps back. you both have this lingering tension in the air, almost as if you two are secretly trying to zap each other with the charged energy. before you walk off, you make sure to eye yunho up and down with an obvious snarl.
“you got that?”
his eyes wander around your stature, and once he makes eye contact with you, he breathes in deeply, “you know, it’s always such a pleasure whenever you visit. really, you should do it more often. tomorrow night, maybe?”
his tone couldn’t be laced with any more sarcasm. and to that, you simply begin to walk away, not forgetting to throw a, ‘fuck off,’ over your shoulder.
yunho waits until you’re close to your door before calling out to you one last time, “get some good sleep. or else tomorrow, you're gonna wake up cranky again. and we don't want that, now. ”
you flip him off clear as day, and then with a tight grip on your handle, you slam the door shut. shortly after, you hear your neighbor’s own door close just as aggressively.
now that you’re in the comfort of your own space, you finally let out the whiny squeal built up from the interaction, “ugh!”
fuck, he gets underneath your skin in a way you’ve never experienced before. the anger makes your body tingly all over, lighting up each and every part of you. you’re on fire.
kicking off your slippers, you don’t even care where they land. you toss your keys in any direction when passing your kitchen table. upon entering your room, you immediately begin to strip because for some reason, the clothes were becoming too constricting.
once you’re in your underwear, your body flops down backwards onto the bed, your breasts to the ceiling. chests huffing, you still feel your heart thumping from the events earlier, but also from the sheer frustration coursing through your veins.
frustrated that you’ve had to deal with jeong yunho for the past week, and absolutely nothing has changed. frustrated that no matter what the circumstance is, he manages to get you heated like no other. frustrated that you missed out on what would’ve been your best orgasm as of late, if only he just...wasn’t your neighbor.
you roll over to your side, staring blankly at the wall. as unfortunate as it is, you can’t control who your neighbors are—meaning the irritation you feel is just a consequence of poor residency. but, you absolutely could’ve relieved at least your sexual frustrations. and you had been so close too. a silent huff fills the room as a pout grows on your lips. what are you going to do?
because even if the feeling in your core has long disappeared, internally, there's still this lingering itch needing to be satiated. it's buried deep down, but it's there. you can sense it. you breathe out another groan and soon find yourself shifting to your backside once again. the feeling is definitely there. it just needs to be reactivated.
so without much thinking, you pick up your phone from wherever it was around your bed, and begin tapping aimlessly on the screen. the video you had been previously watching is immediately pulled up, though you're not in the mood for it anymore. you’re craving something else.
after searching and scrolling around the website, another intriguing video catches your eye, and in one swoop you click on it. after so many fails and empty climaxes, you have a last resort in mind to finally cure your desire—but, it's one you were trying to avoid.
already connected to your headphones, the video starts to play and quickly you lean over to your bedside drawer. it's not a hard find, your little pink rose toy, as it’s tucked away in its usual corner. the last time you had used it...maybe five months ago? six? you can't exactly pinpoint it, you just know it's been a while.
you roll back over to your bed, your eyes scanning it wearily, "mmmm...."
you don't know what's wrong with you. you really have no idea. but a while ago, you learned that your clit is extremely sensitive. and it was because of this toy. the first time you had used it, not only did you nearly piss yourself (genuinely), your orgasm also came in six minutes.
it had buzzed, sucked, and pulsed your cunt in a way you've simply never experienced before, and honestly, you hated how quickly it made you finish. on top of that, you were left feeling raw and overstimulated afterwards, trembling in your bed once it was over. ever since then, you've opted to use your fingers, something that gives you time to fully enjoy the experience.
however, tonight is different. you've tried everything already, but to no avail. you're needy. you're desperate. you want to get this over with. if that means you'll be finishing in basically five minutes—then so freaking be it.
not wasting another second, you quickly begin to toss on your headphones and immediately the sounds of a male moaning enters your head. you pick up your phone in one hand, and reposition the vibrator in the other.
your knees instinctively rise up as you move your body around in order to find the perfect position. when you believe you’ve achieved it, you use your thumb to press down on the small button which turns on the rose.
although the sound is silent to you, the buzzing that's instantly felt in your palm makes you shiver. nearly a whimper topples out of you from just pure anticipation of what's to come. steadily, you move the toy down, all the while your eyes remain glued to the scene.
the new man is needy, just like you. he's gripping and palming himself over his clothed erection, causing the once lost feeling to be reignited inside you. a slow throb pulses through your core. the moment the vibrator touches your own clothed sex, a tiny moan shoots out. already, you feel the vibrations hitting you in all the right places, and you're not even bare.
you press it down a little harder into your clit, the sensation now overtaking your whole cunt. shuddering, you allow yourself to adjust to the pace, but not for very long. without fail, your hips begin to gradually buck against it as the rose works itself into your slit.
your teeth goes to tug onto your lower lip, and momentarily your eyes flutter close, "oh my god."
you have to stop your back from arching off the bed, that's how good it feels. you keep the toy close to your sex, and even start to circle it around your underwear to produce more ripples of pleasure throughout.
and with each surge of pleasure, there's a reactive noise to go along with it. you notice you're more vocal than usual, but truly it's because you can't help it. that's what makes using this toy so dangerous.
another low whimper fills your ears as this time, the man starts to slowly bring out his cock. he's not in a rush. no, he’s barely touching himself, yet he’s still squirming around as if anything more would be too much. like any small movement would cause himself to cum on the spot. the sight of him just turns you on even more.
by now, you're full on humping yourself into the vibrator, even though you haven't touched yourself naked with it. you're too nervous that once you do, you'll be seriously cumming and shooting out liquids all over the place. the barricade of your underwear is enough for you. you still feel on the edge of an orgasm.
"hmm...hmm...fuck, 'm almost there." your face is a mess right now, you already know. the small grunts you're letting out overrun your mouth. the shallow breaths you’re emitting. all of it attests to how much of a mess you are.
you can't control anything that's happening. not the way your hips are chasing after the vibrations, nor the way your eyes squint open to see the man jerk himself off. his cock is even twitching from each stroke, like it's ready to explode any moment.
you groan a little louder, "holy...fuck. oh, fuck. gonna cum soon. mmm....gonna...cuh—"
- beeeeep -
a text notification comes popping in from the top of your screen, followed by another. you skim over them, stopping all movements plus the video. once you register what was said, as well as who sent them, it makes your heart fall to the pit of your stomach.
jeong yunho
2:14 AM
i think i understand why you've been so moody lately
you’re just a little frustrated, aren’t you y/n?
focus blurred, you quickly exit out of the video, going to fully open up the texts. meanwhile, the vibrator lays lonely between your legs as it continues to suction on your clit in a way that has you lightly jerking around.
your eyes narrow, “stupid fucking a-asshole.” straight away, the pads of your fingers type out a short message. just have to get this over with.
y/n
2:16 AM
i don’t know what you’re talking about
before you can even leave the message log, your neighbor is already producing another text.
jeong yunho
2:16 AM
yeah, the vibrator isn’t all that quiet
embarrassment rushes to your face, your hand shooting down towards the toy. you skittishly remove it from yourself and quickly power it off, then throw it to the other side of your bed, “shit!”
you’re so screwed. oh fuck, you’re so screwed. yunho is never going to let this go, you can already foresee it, and just that thought alone is enough to make your cheeks burn. how humiliating.
jeong yunho
2:17 AM
why’d it stop? did you come already?
weird, i didn’t hear it
“what’s his problem?” running a hand over your face, you hold back a groan that truly wants to escape out of you. are you stupid? had you really been that loud? you don’t think you were, but, god, somehow he still heard you.
with your face all scrunched, shame overtaking your expression, you bring your fingers forward again to begrudgingly type out a response.
y/n
2:19 AM
what are you even saying right now?
again, i have no idea what you’re talking
you can’t let him know the truth. in your mind, all you can do right now is just deny.
….deny…deny….de…ny…?
jeong yunho
2:20 AM
yeah?
you don’t remember moaning over and over again just now? whining about how you’re almost there?
that you’re so close to cumming?
i mean, you just said it, how can you not remember?
your face shrinks while reading the string of questions. well, fucking hell. what more could you say now? he basically called you out and quoted you verbatim. slowly, your eyes shut and you take steady breaths. oh wow. your heart is nearly pounding out of your chest right now. you can feel it.
but furthermore, you feel so exposed. so vulnerable. especially since it’s him who heard it. fuck, why him? to make matters worse, there’s not much you can even say to refute his messages. at this point, he knows, really knows. so, how do you respond?
y/n
2:22 AM
fuck off
yunho
2:22 AM
the walls aren’t thin, i’m sure you of all people would know
y/n
2:22 AM
jeong yunho, fuck off
jeong yunho
2:23 AM
i could hear you so clearly. you sounded needy
like you were gonna finish at any second, but didn’t, yeah?
you never orgasmed?
even with your cold replies, how is that he still has more to say? that more messages continue to flood in? your moods already been killed, but now it feels torturous to sit here and just take it.
y/n
2:24 AM
i’m not talking about this anymore
you glance off to the side as the vexation travels through you. part of you debates if you should just go ahead and block him—rid yourself from this nonsense. he's toying with you right now. obviously. and you're sick of it.
you fix your fingers to get ready and block him for good, when a vibration buzzes in your hand.
jeong yunho
2:26 PM
but you're still frustrated, right?
you know, if you really need help, i can come over
reading that makes you audibly gasp. what is happening? now, you feel like he's just saying anything.
y/n
2:28 AM
stop it
you're not being serious
scowling, you adjust your back against the bed. what a stupid joke. stupid jeong yunho, with his stupid joke. your eyes look up to your ceiling, mind wandering. he doesn't mean what he's saying...you know he doesn't. he's just messing with you, as always.
until his other message comes through.
jeong yunho
2:28 AM
i promise you i am
it really doesn't have to mean anything either. im just offering some help.
after seeing that, your face bucks backwards. where is this even coming from? you're so confused.
jeong yunho
2:29 AM
so can i come over?
yeah, you aren't sure what sort of game he's trying to play, but you're not falling for this.
y/n
2:30 AM
absolutely not
you’re not coming anywhere near me
there’s a brief pause before he types another response.
jeong yunho
2:31 AM
oh yeah? what about inside of you?
your eyes nearly bulge out of your head. WHAT. instinctively, you bring a hand up towards the wall. two loud smacks are given to the hard surface as you try your hardest to slow down your breathing. holy—what the actual fuck is wrong with him?
from the other side, a subtle laugh reverbs through the wall, and you resist the urge to beat harder on the surface. shortly after, another message comes through on your phone.
jeong yunho
2:34 AM
sorry, guess that was too much lol
but i’m being serious, y/n
no wonder why you’ve been so bitchy lately, you’re just sexually frustrated. and clearly you need help.
reading the latest text has you scoffing, though some cold sweats begin to drip from your forehead. because how was he able to read you so well? yeah, maybe you’ve been a tad bit snappier with him recently, but that could be for any reason! you didn’t like how easily he figured you out, especially since you are sexually frustrated. and it’s bad.
even then, you find yourself with your guard up still. he may be able to call out your problem, however, that doesn’t mean you want—jeong yunho of all people—to fix it. he’s your annoying, dumbass neighbor. what all does he know?
as you permanently shut down whatever the proposition was in your head, you also force yourself to ignore the slight twinge your belly does. you’d be lying if you said there wasn't a small part of you affected by his words. wondering, what exactly is he offering right now?
no.
shaking your head, you tighten the pressure against your legs as you prepare to type out one final message.
y/n
2:37 AM
for the last time, no.
just leave me alone
with that, you turn off your phone. another buzz comes through, but you don’t even check it. you’re so over it—over him.
turning, you try to find a comfortable spot on your back, panting slightly from pure anxiousness. your heart feels like it's about ready to explode from his words.
'you know, if you really need help, i can come over'
reactively, a hallow laugh tumbles out from you, eyes closing briefly. because seriously, what is the matter with him? he's ridiculous. always saying the crudest, most dumbest things. but now, it's truly gone too far.
your eyes crack open and then you decide to adjust over to your side, facing away from your phone. your mind starts to wander to all the events from tonight.
the night had started off so good.
the sensation just pouring through your core the first time you started masturbating. god, did it feel amazing. even when that attempt at an orgasm failed, the same pleasure was quietly still there. silently waiting for its chance to finally spill over.
but, it never did.
rounds after rounds—even with jeong yunho's interruption—you never came. it's been a week of this. and now, you're just done. you've decided that this rut you're in has gotten the best of you.
you don't know how long you'll be suffering, with the subtle ache pulsing away in your core. hopefully with time, it'll go away.
a sudden vibration makes your skin jump. turning around, you spot your phone inches away from you, the screen lighting up. yunho's contact pops up from afar.
eyes low, you stare at the phone. your brain is scattered, and yet, a recurring thought keeps coming back to you.
should you do it?
you've literally tried everything. fingers, pillow humping, fisting. even the rose toy, which usually has you cumming in genuine seconds, couldn't get you off, and frankly, you don’t want it to anymore. you're stuck.
you blink your eyes a few times.
what all would he even do?
you don't think you'd want to go...all the way with him. just something to help alleviate your pressure. and nothing that would last too long, you had to be up early in the morning. quickly, a blush overtakes your face as you start to feel embarrassed by your thoughts. but...anything is better than nothing, right?
"oh, god..." your stomach churns when you reach out to grab your phone.
unlocking it, you see the latest messages from your neighbor were attempts at trying to sway you. still, you disregard them. you've made up your mind now.
with a burnt face, you type out a simple: 'fine, come over', all the while you try your hardest to calm down your nerves.
he replies back in an instant, but you've already powered off your phone, stomach full of butterflies at the thought of jeong yunho taking care of your problem.
yet, when you start to truly think about how jeong yunho will take care of this problem, an immediate pulse hits you hard in your center.
before you even have a chance to react to the sensation, rapid knocking emerges from the distance. your stomach sinks to your ass, as you frantically work to put your tank top back on. then, you leap out of bed.
you don't even have time to reconsider this idea, with how swiftly you glide out of your bedroom and across the living room. you're scared the moment you start to think about this, you'll back out. and deep down, you know you don't want to do that. not when another chance has literally thrown itself at you.
only an idiot would pass this up.
once you reach your front door, you don't even check your peephole. with a quick twist of the handle, you open the wooden door inwards, and there stands jeong yunho on the other side.
his body looms over yours as he leans against the door frame. although he's still wearing the same outfit from earlier—the tank top and shorts combo, there's no longer an annoyed expression to accompany it. no, there's something entirely new.
his eyebrow's are furrowed, indicating slight confusion. there's a sprinkle of curiosity within his eyes, and below that, the corners of his mouth are turned smugingly upward. but all over, yunho has a faint red hue coating his face, like he's also nervous for what's to come.
for a short second, neither of you say anything. a quiet staring contest is what you both have. there's a look to yunho's eyes that makes you want to clench your stomach. bouncing your eyes back and forth between his gaze.
until unexpectedly, he clears his throat and tilts his head to the side, "crazy, now the roles are reversed. hold on—should i start yelling at you too? throw in some degradation while i'm at it?"
you see him trying to hold back a grin as he stifles out a laugh. his eyes are crinkled and dimples are showing, all the while you begin to lower your gaze. haha, so funny.
eventually, your face straightens out into a deadpan, "shut up."
yunho continues to laugh, body shaking as he chuckles, and without thinking, you lunge to grab at his chest, "just get in here."
bunching up his tank top, you yank him inside your apartment. he enters with a stumble, with you only releasing him when he's few inches behind you.
more laughter is coming from the tall boy, and while you hear him trying to regain his balance, you stay facing forward with a hand on the door. part of you is still contemplating if you should go through with this whole thing, and yet the other part is yelling at you to stop making things so complicated.
both sides are clawing at you, though once you take a deep breath, a brief moment of clarity hits. you use your courage to push the door close, now trapping you both inside.
you slowly turn around towards yunho. he's already taken off his slippers and placed them onto the nearby rack, waiting for you to make the next advancements. a small smile remains on his face.
okay, this is serious. your vision darts off to the corner, fingers reaching to play with the hem of your tank top, "uhh...so..." there's a pause, "bedroom's just down the hall."
yunho now regards you with a mildly confused face, raising an eyebrow. he's definitely sensing a change in your attitude from just moments ago. you fidget once more with your shirt, the silence becoming too deafening for you. ultimately, you decide to proceed forward towards the narrow hallway.
at least, until a hand catches you in place.
"not so fast...where do you think you're going?" yunho's voice piques up at the end as he starts to bring you back, his grip firm and tight. you're tripping over your own feet and only stop once you're placed directly in front of him.
you don't look up at him, even though you feel his eyes burning deeply into your scalp. the spot where he's touching you starts to heat up, and all you begin to think about is how hot his touch will feel other places. oh, god. now you really can't look at him anymore, your face feels completely flushed.
yunho's aware of his hold on you, though he doesn't try to remove it. his eyes remain on you and how he can tell you're deliberately avoiding eye contact. he's never seen you so shy before, he realizes. so timid. it's almost a complete turn around from how you've been acting this past week—hell, even the past three months he's known you.
he's realizing that you're truly nervous, and god does he like that. eyelids fluttering, yunho feels little tingles start to spread all over his body.
"hey," his tone is more serious, but you sense a hint of playfulness somewhere, "y/n, you gotta look at me when i'm trying to talk to you."
the moment he addresses you, your body erupts into shivers. as your head stays lowered, your eyes slowly work their up till their peering through your eyelashes.
"what do you want?" your voice is a buzzed whisper.
"are you nervous?" his hand shifts up from your arm to now your shoulder, "you're acting so different."
you want to shrug him off of you and back away, though the slight squeeze he has on you keeps you from doing so. instead, you feel that area begin to heat up, your attention remaining on him.
"i'm not nervous," how you managed to say that without stuttering—you don't know either, but your heart feels like it's gonna explode, "i'm just not used to....this."
he mulls over your words, lips pursing in somewhat agreement, "hmm, yeah. i can see that. i don't usually call my neighbors over for a late night session either.
your face lightly scrunches, "i didn't really call you ov-"
"i don't want you to worry, though," ignoring you, he shifts his hand once again until it's resting near the nape of your neck, fingers curled over it, "i know you think i'm just gonna go in that room, fuck you a couple of times, then leave."
his vulgar words shock you. expression now stunned, your breathing turns heavy as he travels his hand towards the front of your neck, now placing a soft clasp around your throat, "but i won't do that to you. i told you i'm here to help. here for you."
gradually, the hard look in your eyes begins to melt. your face becomes more relaxed, and yunho notices this.
"what, you like this? my hand around your throat?" he mumbles out.
you're dazed, lips slightly parted from the quiet gasps you're taking in. he cocks his head to the side as he watches your changing face.
"mmm, i kinda like seeing you in this state," his eyes rake around your features, whole time you stare back weakly, "can't really call me an idiot anymore, can you?"
you try to speak, but yunho instantly hushes you quiet. he's stroking his thumb up and down your smooth skin as he leans in just a tiny bit.
"you're so cute, y/n. just the face you're making, it's so..."
he's only inches from you, you can feel his breath hit your face. oh, god. and he's coming closer towards your lips. his eyes are low, mouth hanging, waiting to take in yours.
you close your eyes in anticipation, but at the last second, he curves your face.
his mouth goes to the shell of your ear instead, just barely touching, "go take us to the bedroom now."
his words pour into your head as a near whimper dribbles out of you. he backs away with the same heated look in his eye, while you're completely disoriented. he takes his hand away from you, and with a small stagger you turn around and lead him down the hall.
what fucking spell did he just put you under? your head is mush. you can't think straight. the throb in your core is practically beating at you, and it's making you even more dizzy. the moment you step foot into your nightly lit bedroom, you're immediately twisting to face yunho. oh, you're done for.
he's trailing in behind you, his walk a bit different from yours. he ambles up to you, though when you briefly glance down at his shorts, there's an obvious bulge sticking out of the fabric. your eyes widen, but yunho's calling your name to recapture your attention.
he stops in front of you, eyes heavy with lust, "just looking at you got me so hard."
"yunho," you say with whine. your neck is craned upward to look at his face.
"so fucking hard." he repeats, tone even lowered. his hand comes back up to your nape, and you watch him lean down, "i can't even concentrate."
your eyes bounce back and forth between his gaze and his lips. you want to beg for a kiss. beg for him to finally end this tortured pain you're in. but instead, you part your lips and lower your eyes, signaling to him that you're ready. desperation fills your expression, and yunho is drinking every bit up.
he watches your hazy state, how quickly you fell apart for him. what an absolute turn around from how you were acting earlier in the night. you're just a mindless doll at this point. so ready to be completely ruined by him.
thinking this, a low groan escapes his throat, "god, you're so good to me."
his mouth drops slowly before enveloping yours with a greedy kiss—finally. he takes your lips hungrily as you tilt your head for a better taste. the two of you stumble back slightly until the bed grazes the back of your knees. he grips the back of your neck harder.
the intensity of the kiss has you levitating. slow pants start to leave your mouth, only to get swallowed up by yunho’s mouth. he’s coming at you, hard, as if he’s been deprived for so long. you slip a bit of your tongue into his mouth which sends a shudder down his back. as payback, when yunho’s lips come down on yours again, he grazes your bottom lip with his teeth.
you whimper. you two are completely enamored with one another. all thoughts have left your head and you're left with a desire that's practically eating you alive.
his lips part from yours once more, "fuck. can't wait for you to make such big mess on me."
he breathes heartily then captures your mouth, the two of you sharing another kiss. swiftly, he breaks away, "gonna make you cum so hard."
he uses all of his weight in the next kiss he gives you. yunho begins to lower you further into the mattress, the two of you not releasing. the bed squeaks from the added pressure, until eventually you're laying down on your back. and a genuine whimper buzzes out of you. you're dying within his grasp.
he’s pulling your lips harshly within his, groaning and mumbling more dirty words. the hand behind your neck shifts towards your front, him pressing down into your throat. that makes you whine. the noise bellows out of you, only for yunho to shut you up with a rough kiss. god, you're so loud. he thinks to himself.
still passionately making out, his pelvis starts to rock between your legs. he's so fucking turned on right now. his bulge rolls deep into your underwear, your pussy creating the perfect crevice for him. the new friction makes you see stars. so much is happening right now: the kissing, his hand on you, the way he's grinding into you, all of it has your senses on overload.
then, he rips himself away. he slides his hand up to underneath your chin and forcefully turns your face away. he goes to the side of your neck—kissing, sucking, and licking around your skin. you can already feel the hickies starting to form.
"need to leave a reminder for you," his words fall onto your neck, and all you could do is moan, "you're gonna remember this night."
he places a few more hickies on you.
releasing his hand, he starts to travel down your body. he kisses and licks along your sternum, before stopping at your breasts. his eyes flicker up to your lust-out expression, taking a brief pause. you wait anxiously for his next move.
"want me to suck on them?" his voice is just barely audible. you quickly shake your head 'yes'.
his gaze drops down to your tits. your hard nipples poke out of the fabric of your tank top. they're practically begging for stimulation. he leans in close to your buds, and gives one of them a quick flick of his tongue.
"oh, god." your body stutters from the sensation.
intrigued by your response, he leans over to quickly lick at the other bud, you reacting the same way. you are just so fucking sensitive, he's noticed. everything he's done so far has you damn near falling apart.
he keeps this in mind as he keeps working his way down. he gives you kisses against your stomach which causes butterflies to erupt and your belly to convulse slightly.
soon, he's at your underwear. you're quivering, body squirming, just waiting for him. but, he doesn't proceed. he sits a bit longer. your underwear is a cute color, a pretty shade of purple. and it holds your cunt so well.
"so pretty," muttering, he dips down to place a soft peck at the top of your underwear, "oh my—are you twitching right now?"
he calls you out with tiny grin. he's watchful of your current demeanor. you've already shut your eyes. it'd been too much to see yunho do this to you. with each little touch he's given you, your body reacts like it's never experienced this before. your short breaths fill the room, and you think anything else will make you cry. you really are a mess.
"just...just do something," you whine, "please, yunho."
and with that, he's instantly gliding your underwear off of you, throwing it wherever on the ground. he grips your knees and pushes them further back as now, he gets the best view of your needy cunt.
you're glistening, wetness coating your lips like someone had just drenched water on you. he swears he even sees your hole lightly opening and closing, basically asking for it to be stuffed.
a groan trickles from lips, "why is your cunt so perfect? it's just begging for me to ruin it." he takes his fingers from off of your knee and runs them up and down your slit.
"gah—yunho!" wailing, your pussy immediately clenches from his movement.
"you're like a toy, holy shit," he does the motion again, except this time he makes sure to end with slow circles at your clit, "your body listens to me so well, like the good toy you are."
a string of slickness leaks from your entrance. oh, man. you can already sense your sensitivity getting the best of you. he's only just now started stimulating your cunt, but it feels like too much already.
"you twitch on command. leak on command," in a swift motion, he brings his head down to lay his tongue on your sex, starting from your wet entrance and ending at the top. he whispers out the next part, "can i make you cum on command?"
when he moves his hand away to do the same action again, your eyes roll into the back your head. yunho grips your knees again, his face buried deep between your legs. he gives a hearty lick to your cunt once more, then another, then another.
"mmmm, fuck. yunho, this....this feels so good." you're lightly jerking, hips involuntarily moving. he use this as motivation.
his jaw flexes open, taking in a greater amount. soon, his licks turn into large kisses. he's conscious of the fact that you're on edge. he feels you moving around in his grasp. he's determined to make you finish, now.
mouth fully between your cunt, he swirls his tongue deeply into it. ripples of pleasure come bursting through your core, shooting up through your veins, before ending at your head. you feel faint.
your hips push harder against his face, and a noise quickly starts up. a squelching sound rings through both of your ears as your wet pussy begins to mix with yunho's mouth. it sounds disgustingly wet—but, you love it. you feel so dirty, so nasty, but that just turns you on even more.
your juices turn frothy and bubbles out from the side of yunho's face. when realizing this, he groans inside your sweet clit. it vibrates you in a way that makes you quiver. you let out a throaty moan and he starts to speed up his pace.
"oh, oh—i think i'm close." you huff, chest rising up and down sporadically. god, you're so close.
yunho hums at your words, but to be honest, he's too drunk off your taste to really hear you. he's too far gone. more sloppy kisses are given to your cunt. they're sloppy, filthy—disgusting. so much so that he starts to shake his head in circles, just to give an extra sense of pleasure. the other secret reason, he freaking loves how wet his face feels from your dripping cunt. he wants it permanently on his face.
he goes in faster. you're already whining, wailing out desperate cries. it truly is too much. the build up from earlier to now, you don't even know how you were able to last this long. though, it's going to be over soon.
and soon hits you faster than you could've ever expected.
you don't even know what triggers it—probably everything—but in an instant, your body quickly convulses and your eyes go white. your orgasm hits you stronger than you've ever felt before.
"ah—fuck! oh, god!"
yunho clamps down onto you when he feels you orgasming, his mouth slurping and licking all over your pulsating core. he feels even more liquid gush out, only adding to the mixture he's created. he guzzles it all down, just everything is so messy.
you continue to thrash around, part of you trying to break free from his grasp while the other part does nothing but let your rapture wash over you. eventually, your body calms down, your movements slowing to a halt. even as you try to regain your composure, yunho's still going at you as if he's starved. now, you're going into overstimulation territory.
"ahhh, yunho," glancing down, your voice is weak when you address him, "mmm, you can stop now. i'm done."
he drinks up your pussy one last time, before parting dramatically. he's pushes himself up, so now you can fully see his face. and god, is it glimmering in wetness. but, before you can even comment on his current state, yunho's already pulling down his shorts.
your eyebrows scrunch, "what are you doing?" although your brain is still foggy from your intense finish, you still have some awareness.
his shorts drop to his knees along with his boxers, and you're left wide-eyed. he's huge. and you mean huge. his thick cock stands up perfectly, reaching all the way to his stomach. his tip is a dark pink color and you swear you see little drips falling from his slit.
yunho sighs a relief at finally being able to free himself, "y/n, i already promised i wouldn't fuck you. we can save that for another time."
another time? if even possible, your eyes open wider. what does he mean another ti—
"but, fuck, i really need to do this," his hand comes up to aimlessly stroke away at his cock, his pelvis grinding slowly into his palm, "i won't stick it in, i promise. just need to feel your sweet cunt on me again. i feel so close."
your breath hitches. is he suggesting what you think he's suggesting?
"you...wanna...?"
"is that okay?" he asks quietly, his hand squeezing harder around his base.
you knew how dangerous of a request this is. even if he wasn't going to insert it, you knew lust can make people do anything. but then, why does the thought sound so good?
"i'm already sensitive..." you try, barely. you can already imagine what it must feel like, and the thought gets you horny all over again.
"i'll be quick, i promise," he says firmly, already lowering his body to be close to yours, "i can already feel my cum about to shoot out. just want something to stimulate it."
his face stops right in front of yours as you feel his tip just barely graze your cunt. you hold back another moan.
"i can do it?" he asks once more, this time looking into your eyes. you stare back at his large, brown gaze, and instinctively, you whimper out a 'yes'.
he's quick to grab his cock, now positioning it to where his shaft lays beautifully along the crevice of your pussy. earlier it had just felt so good, he knew he needed to do it again.
your pussy wraps around his skin, enveloping his warm cock. yunho's already buzzing with tingles that travel up around his body. and then, he begins moving.
he rocks his erection between your lips, starting off ever so leisurely. he's getting a feel of your bare cunt running up and down him. you bite your lip to hold back a scream. you're too overstimulated for this, him rubbing his cock against you in this way. your eyelids flutter as your breathing turns ragged.
"oh my—fuck, y/n. i'm gonna cum. shit, your….your cunt's gonna make me me..."
he speeds up his hips, him full on grinding his length into your pussy. holy fuck, did he make the best decision. his mind becomes clouded, his breathing turning hard. as for you, well you've already check out, with just how sensitive you are. and yet somehow, you feel yourself working up to another orgasm.
he digs his hips deeper and deeper, his cock rolling along your clit. his tip would pass by your bud, giving it the perfect stimulation. he's so close. so damn close. he's practically fucking your cunt right now. and you're just taking it so well.
it wasn't until his final buck, in which a creamy, white load comes foaming out from the top. it lands directly at the bottom of your stomach, but then starts to seep down to your precious slit. feeling the viscous liquid, a smaller, less dramatic orgasm takes over you—yet it still had you quaking.
your pussy begins squeezing and pulsating yet again, which just milks yunho's fat cock even more. the two of you moan simultaneously, you both shaking and twitching against one another.
and that's how this night ends.
what once started out as your terrible attempt at the perfect orgasm, ends with you actually achieving it—twice. on top of that, it was all done thanks to your stupid, idiot neighbor, who's currently passed out next to you.
finally. after this long, eventful night, are you able to sleep peacefully, even with jeong yunho curled up right beside you.
- Bonus -
it's been 2 weeks since that night with yunho and you have absolutely no idea where two's current relationship stands. through it all, he'll always be your idiotic, annoying neighbor—the one who keeps you up late at night.
except for now, he's been keeping you up late for a different reason.
*
*
*
*
jeong yunho
11:13 PM
y/nnnnn, can you come over right now?
i need help :(
you grimace at the texts sent, you dropping down your pencil to focus on them. you're currently sitting at your desk, trying to prepare for an exam you have coming up.
y/n
11:14 PM
but you just texted me this morning???
how could you possibly need help again??
what the hell? he's never texted you twice in one day about this.
jeong yunho
11:14 PM
ugh, i know and normally i don't even get hard again after i cum
but god, i literally couldn't stop thinking about the way your mouth felt around me this morning
started daydreaming about it and got a boner LOL
"aww, yunho!" moaning, you silently curse his idiotic brain, head drooping. this isn't the first he's asked you to take care of a problem caused by his stupid thoughts. you've already told him to learn how to control them!
and unfortunately, you're not available for him.
y/n
11:16 PM
oh my god
sorry but i can't right now, studying for a test
jeong yunho
11:16 PM
oh boooooo
you're a smart girl, i know you'll ace it
y/n
11:17 PM
wanna know how i get this smart? by studying
jeong yunho
11:18 PM
but y/n it's so painful
my cock's throbbing for you
look
sent image
reluctantly, you open the picture. it's of his erection protruding through his grey sweatpants. you can tell he doesn't have any underwear on from how large he looks in the photo, and also by the fact there's small specks of dark grey splattered near the top. his pre-cum.
shit. you really should not have opened this.
jeong yunho
11:19 PM
need you so bad
please, help me
you bring your bottom lip inwards to chew on it. you really need to study, and you know this. but, fuck, he looks so good right now. the noises—the whimpering—he made for you earlier this morning resurface to your head, and now you're even more conflicted.
another text from yunho comes through.
jeong yunho
11:22 PM
it'll be the neighborly thing to do ☹️
oh, please. your eyes roll at that. he's been throwing this phrase around about a week after you two started fooling around with each other.
ugh, what an idiot.
y/n
11:23 PM
you know what? fine, here i come
truthfully, you were convinced since the beginning, you just wanted to see how far he would go. you shoot up from your desk and grab your phone, feeling your core already tingle at what's to come.
you begin to make your way out of your bedroom when another buzz comes through.
