since youre okay with writing for hansoo..im sure this guy has a housewife kink or something. Like he gets hard thinking about us cooking or being all Domestic. So like i tought about him fucking us dumb on the dinning table because we were so good to him lately..djkdkd, maybe with some breeding kink too? :p
Han-soo x Fem!reader smut
breeding kink, housewife kink, rough table sex, hand on head, clit rubbing, neck biting/kissing/sucking, overstimulation, creampie(s), cum-dragging, and Hansoo obsessively fucking it back into you because he’s feral about keeping it inside you.
The house is quiet when he steps in.
The kind of quiet that makes Hansoo's skin prickle—not like the alleys of Seodaemun, where silence means ambush. No. This silence is warm. Safe. Full of you.
He unlaces his boots by the door, shrugs out of his jacket, and rubs a tired hand down his face. His fingers are still faintly stained with gun oil and dried blood.
Another meeting. Another payoff. Another man who had to be reminded who runs this side of town.
He was half-expecting to come home to darkness, a cold floor, and that creeping loneliness that always threatened to rot his insides.
But instead—
The lights are on.
The scent of stew wafts through the air. Gochugaru and garlic. Soy and sesame. Something bubbling on the stove. A soft radio hum in the kitchen.
And you’re there.
Wearing his old button-up and that apron that always makes his cock twitch, humming under your breath while you stir at the stove.
He freezes in the hallway, jaw clenching.
It’s too much.
The domesticity. The softness. The fact that after everything he’s done today—after the people he’s threatened, the money he’s laundered, the blood he’s washed off his hands—he still gets this.
You.
He doesn’t deserve you.
And it makes him want to ruin you.
You glance over your shoulder and beam. “You’re early.”
His voice comes out lower than he means it to. “You made all this?”
You nod, unfazed by the wild look in his eyes. “You missed dinner yesterday. I thought… you might want something warm.”
He walks closer. Slow. Like a man stalking prey.
“You folded the napkins,” he mutters.
You blink. “Yeah. Is that—bad?”
He says nothing.
Just crowds you from behind—broad chest pressed against your back, hand curling around your waist. You tense for just a second before relaxing into him. You always do. He exhales against your neck like he’s holding something in.
“I could kill someone over this,” he murmurs. “This apron. That stew. You humming to yourself like you’re not the only goddamn thing keeping me sane.”
“Hansoo…”
He tightens his grip, pulling you back against the hard line of his cock already straining in his cargos. “You do this on purpose.”
“No—” you start, but it’s too late.
He spins you around and kisses you like he’s starved—like your lips are the only softness he hasn’t already destroyed. Your hands grab his arms, your body molding against him without hesitation.
“I’ve been thinking about this all day,” he growls between kisses. “While dealing with pigs in uniforms, while breaking that bastard’s fingers in the warehouse—I was thinking about this. About you. Stirring stew like a fuckin’ wife.”
“I—I am yours, you know,” you whisper.
He growls.
And in the next breath, he’s got you bent over the table.
It happens fast—your hip bumps a bowl, a spoon clatters to the floor, your breath stutters from the roughness of it all. One strong hand pushes your head down onto the tablecloth. The other hikes up your skirt up past your ass and gives it a sharp slap.
He groans when he sees the slick already pooling between your legs.
“No panties,” he mutters. “You knew. You fucking knew.”
“I didn’t,” you gasp, cheek pressed against the table. “Hansoo—”
“You’re soaking,” he growls. “You’re fuckin’ dripping. This from cooking? Or from waiting for me to ruin you?”
He doesn’t wait for an answer.
He sinks to his knees behind you and spits on your cunt—filthy and loud—and he rubs it in with two thick fingers, spreading you open until you whimper.
“Fuckin’ soft,” he grits. “Fuckin’ mine.”
He stands, fists his cock—hard, flushed, already leaking—and lines up. One sharp thrust and he’s in, burying himself balls-deep in one savage stroke.
You cry out, and he presses harder on the back of your head.
“Stay down,” he growls. “Take it like you’re supposed to.”
He fucks you hard—hips snapping, pace brutal, filthy wet sounds echoing through the room as his cock punches into you over and over again.
You grip the table, legs trembling. “Hansoo—please—”
“You cook like a wife. Greet me like a wife. Spread your legs like a wife,” he pants. “Gonna fill you up like one too.”
He leans over you, teeth dragging along your neck, and bites.
You sob under him—half from pain, half from how close you are—and he feels it. His hand slides down, presses against your clit, rubbing rough and relentless.
“Come for me,” he snarls into your skin. “Soak my cock, baby. Come while I fill this pretty cunt with my cum—”
You shatter.
Your orgasm crashes through you, muscles clenching, thighs twitching, the heat in your gut snapping like a rubber band. You scream into the tablecloth as you gush around him, soaking both your thighs and his.
“Fuck,” he groans. “Fuck—”
He slams deep and cums, thick spurts spilling inside you, hips twitching as he empties himself with a deep, guttural growl. He stays buried for a moment, cock throbbing inside you, breathing ragged against your back.
You’re boneless under him, still gasping, pussy twitching with every pulse of heat inside you.
And then he pulls out.
His cum leaks out of you in a slow, sticky drip—hot and messy.
“No,” Hansoo mutters. “No. Fuck that.”
He gets back on his knees. Grabs your thighs. Spreads you.
And licks it up.
All of it.
Long, messy drags of his tongue from your slit to your clit—groaning at the taste of you both, tongue fucking the cum right back inside. When more drips out, he catches it in his mouth—spits it back in—then shoves it deeper with two fingers, working it into your fluttering hole until you’re whimpering and twitching all over again.
“H-Hansoo—too much—”
“I don’t give a shit,” he growls. “You’re gonna hold it. Every last drop.”
You can barely breathe as he fingers you again—deep and slow, thumb teasing your clit while your oversensitive cunt clenches and leaks and sucks him back in.
He grins darkly. “You feel that? That’s me. That’s mine.”
And then—like it’s nothing—he spits on his cock and shoves it back inside.
You scream.
“Gotta seal it in,” he pants. “Plug you up like a good little wife. Gonna fuck it deeper, make sure it takes.”
He fucks you slow now—dragging his cock in and out of your used, dripping hole, watching his cum spill and get sucked back in with every thrust. His hands stroke your waist. His mouth finds your neck again, kissing gently now. Reverent.
“You’re so good to me,” he murmurs. “So fucking good.”
You sob again—body exhausted, mind blank, stretched and filled and ruined.
He stays inside until he cums again.
Slower. Deeper. A low, guttural groan against your skin as he grinds into your ass and releases another hot load straight into your overstimulated cunt.
And this time—he doesn’t pull out.
He just leans over you, pressing lazy kisses along your spine, hands smoothing over your hips.
“Don’t move,” he whispers. “Keep it in.”
You’re too fucked-out to answer.
He chuckles—low and warm—and brushes your hair off your face.
“Stew can wait,” he murmurs, already hardening again. “I’m not done filling you yet.”
had a lil too much fun writing ts👅 been writing this since yesterday sigh
@gyumshot @iphezx @arbitrarykiwi @namsgyu
