because sometimes, actions don't speak louder than words
OT8 x F!Reader
♡ — synopsis: how do the boys talk to you while they're hittin that shit crazy style
♡ — warnings: crazy dirty talk. i plead the fifth.
♡ — notes: thank you so much for 4k followers! this is a small token of gratitude, and if you've been on my blog for long enough, dirty talk is my favorite thing on earth, so heres some things i think the ateez men would say to you lovelies in bed <3
⌞They have something to say to you ...⌝
Hongjoong
Condescending, teasing, dumbifying, talks to you like you’re stupid.
"Your job is to lie there and pretend that pretty little brain of yours isn't there."
"You think you have half a mind to give me orders? What's gotten into my sweet little girl?"
"I can feel your heartbeat through your cunt, baby, you're so alive it makes me wanna fuck you to death."
"Don't give up now, pretty, show me what else you can do with that mouth other than run it.
"You're cumming? So soon? Such a sensitive pussy, you'll be a slick wreck before I even get my dick in you."
"Pretty baby loves when Daddy fucks her to sleep, hm? I kinda miss when you use that voice to scream for me."
"Stupid cunt can't stop drooling all over the place. She can't help it, baby, huh? Can she? Fix your face and answer me, slut."
"You have such a soft body; we're gonna see how much it can withstand."
"I don't think you understand how much you've fucked up letting a man like me get his hands on you."
"You're such a good listener when you're all fucked out, pretty girl. Don't worry, drift off. I'll use you until I think you've had enough."
Seonghwa
Gentle, coaxing, intense, talks to you like if he’s too harsh, you might break.
"Six. You're going to cum for me six times. I'm gonna get you there, baby, let me take care of you."
"You're so close, honey, focus. god you're so beautiful, it drives me insane."
"I love how my fingers get you excited, how they reach places you could only dream of touching."
“Is my gorgeous girl gonna cum for me? Yes, you are; don’t be shy.”
“I don’t mean to be so deep, baby, but you’ll be okay. You can take me, you always do like the angel you are.”
“Deep breaths, yes, that’s it. Feel me everywhere. Focus on feeling good; that’s all that’s ever mattered.”
“Open that pretty mouth, honey; I wanna hear those noises you make when you’re overstimulated.”
"Don't float away from me, come on. Snap out of it. Only 2 more to go."
"Please, bunny its the only thing I want, it's the only thing I need. Let me see those eyes when you cum. Don't look away."
"I just can't help it, baby, can't you go for 7? Please? Good girls always go above and beyond."
San
Encouraging, drunk, prideful, much like he’s overtly proud of how well you handle him
"That's it, talk to me, let me know what spots I'm touching."
"Mmm, fuck babydoll, your tummy's so soft, you smell so fucking good... you're perfect."
"I know it's a lot, but you got it, look at you... deep strokes. Don't let your body run from me, stay right there."
"I'm gonna get as many orgasms out of you as I can, hold back, and I'll force them out of you."
"You're so pretty- mwah!- so cute when I hit you deep baby, you look so blissed out."
"You take my dick like a champ, sweet girl. mhm, and you make me feel so good."
"Shh, suck on my fingers, like that. You have to be quieter, or the neighbors will complain about you again. I don't know what their deal is because you sound gorgeous."
"Take what you deserve, it's all for you. It's all for you... I'm so proud of you, baby."
"I love when you moan with your pussy in my mouth. Tell me more, sweetheart, let me hear what I'm doing to you."
"Right there? Hm? Yeah, I know. I know but 'm gonna fuck my shape into this pussy. I'm sorry, I know, keep cumming that's it. I'm not done yet."
Yeosang
Quiet, demanding, straightforward, much like he knows what he wants and always gets it
"Let me fuck you on your stomach, I know you'll cum the whole time if I do."
"C'mon get a grip, you're drooling all over my pillow, we just started, sweetheart."
"Keep your eyes on me. What did I say? Don't you wanna cum? I won't make you cum if you don't look at me."
"If you keep pushing back on my stomach, I'll bend you over and make you be still. Don't test me, love."
"You're not in charge here, sweetheart, lose the attitude before I fuck it out of you."
"I could do whatever I want to you, and you'd still thank me for it, wouldn't you, angel? My grateful girl, feel me give you what you need."
"You know how to do it, don't act like you don't. Smart girls like you shouldn't need reminders. Play with yourself, I'll wait."
"Why am I not moaning? Because I'm busy talking to you, angel. Don't be rude. Take this dick and talk to your boyfriend. You can multitask."
"I know I'm fucking you slow, but it's the only way you'll feel each and every part of me in that cunt. Dragging out your orgasms makes this so fun, pretty."
"If you pass out, I'll just fuck you back awake, I promise, baby. You won't miss me too much."
Yunho
degrading, objectively, mockingly, much like he knows better than you.
"You don't get to decide anything. I do what I want, and you'll like it anyway."
"Aw, fuck baby... those marks are gonna turn such pretty colors against your skin. Yeah, you'll wear them proudly for me?"
"Stupid slut, willing to humiliate yourself for me? Fuck you're addicting."
"Every time I slap you, you clench around my dick. That's kinda fucked up, baby. If I choke you, will you cum so hard you piss yourself?"
"Oh, but you like it this deep, baby. I know you, you like having your cunt stuffed full and your head emptied."
"Oh, you're so sad, beautiful. I love when you're sad, cause I can fuck it out of you, fuck you till you're so empty and all you can think of is me."
"Needy things like you need to be roughed up every once in a while, helps readjust that bratty attitude you like to get your way with."
"c'mon princess, tell me you love me. Tell me you love me, and I might kiss you. Would the bruises feel better if I kissed you?"
"Mm, I fucking love splitting this cunt open. So wet and so pretty, so beat up. What would you do without me?"
"You're learning so fast, baby, I bet you love that you can't cum without my permission. You are bound to me through your body."
Wooyoung
teasing, playful, bully-like, much like he finds your pleasure amusing
"C'mon say it into my mouth. 'Wooyoung...' like that. Let me taste my name on your tongue while I play with you."
"Good girl, good girl, yeah, you feel full? That's so cute, you have no idea all the things I can make you feel. i wanna drive you fucking crazy."
"You like when I whine for you. Pretty boy, pretty voice, yeah? You love being fucked by someone just as pretty as you."
"You're trembling, isn't that precious. Don't be so greedy, baby, I have all day to string you out."
"I know you're trying so hard for me to not cum, but I hate playing fair. I want you to fail. If I pinch your clit, will you fall apart?"
"Don't worry, I'll cover your mouth so you don't embarrass yourself. Yeah, there you go, now just focus on me hitting that spot."
"Let me see those pretty teeth you like to bite me with. Smile when I'm dicking you down, dollface, let me know that pussy feels good."
"You sure you don't like it when I make fun of you? My dick is so wet I keep slipping out. Mhm, I think someone likes being bullied."
"I love taking you against the wall. I can invade all your personal space, make you feel so trapped."
"I love it when you cum, and it makes me even fucking harder when I know you can't run from it."
Jongho
indifferent, lofty, careless, like he’s oblivious to the way he makes you feel
"I'm barely fucking you, and you seem so out of it. Don't tell me I've broken you."
"You don't know what's good for you, doll, c'mon let me do what I want. It might even feel good."
"You might be sore in the morning, but you're willing to make that sacrifice for me, aren't you, honey?"
"Hush, don't tell me you can't. No one wants to hear that, you can and you will."
"Why're you moaning so loud, hm? What if I grind into you? Will you quiet down?"
"C'mon, let's count, maybe it'll help you focus. Ground yourself, we've got a long way to go."
"You get so loud when I slap your clit, who knew you'd be so impolite. You hardly even fight, so pliant."
"You're mine. Your body does what I tell it to. Isn't that pathetic? So easily conditioned to me."
"Don't fight it, honey, cum. Let go so I can get back to teasing you until you cry. I love when you cry, it makes me so fucking hard."
Mingi
vulgar, unashamed, attentive, much like there’s no place he would rather be
"Oh, baby... feel every inch of me, arch that back, get me deeper. just like that."
"You're so small, I wanna crush you. You're so fucking cute, you make me lightheaded."
"I'm in your stomach? Oh, I'm sorry, baby. What if I pout? Will you forgive me? I'm so sorry. What if I pound that pussy harder, hm? How bout now, still mad at me, gorgeous?
"You're so warm around my dick... you're everything. Oh my fuck."
"Slow down? hm? Make me. Stop me, baby, you know what to do. I'm too heavy? not my problem."
"I'm not gonna hurt you, I'm gonna take my time with you. imma give it to you the way you like."
"Don't tap, no running. You feel too good, baby. You hear how wet you sound?"
"Feel my hands, I got you. I'm holding you, baby; you aren't going anywhere. Ride it out for me."
"Moan my name properly, c'mon. You choke every time I fuck back into you; you're making me sad here, beautiful."
"I am being nice to you, mami. There's nobody nicer than me who can make this pussy cream all over your sheets."
[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.
You’ve never asked him to choose you out loud. You assumed he would anyway. Until today, when someone else mistakes you for something temporary, and you decide to stop being patient and start being seen.
Pairing: Dom!Yunho x Brat!Reader
Tropes: Age-gap (40/mid-20s) Established Relationship. High Society Romance.
Genre: Smut. Hurt/Comfort. Fluff.
Warnings: explicit sexual content, dom!yunho, public sexual activity, power dynamics, spanking, dirty talk, sexual humiliation elements, unprotected sex, heel play, objectification, orgasm denial, impact play, degradation, exhibitionism, emotional vulnerability, crying, possessive behavior, jealousy, insecurity, emotional distress, miscommunication, perceived emotional neglect, relationship insecurity, fear of public perception, age-gap relationship, explicit language,
Word Count: 9.3k
a/n: i need everyone to know that i don't even like feet. at all. so naturally i wrote almost 10k words where they're basically a supporting character. and the whiplash of going from writing sub mingi to dom yunho should honestly be enough to give anyone a headache.
based on [this] request
masterlist
Yunho still believes in dating you. Not because the relationship needs saving. Not because he thinks grand gestures are the secret to lasting love. He simply refuses to let the person he loves become someone he only sees between meetings.
Which is how you end up here. The restaurant glows with warm amber light reflected across crystal glasses and polished cutlery. Conversations dissolve beneath soft piano music, waiters glide silently between tables, and every detail, from the pressed linen to the wine list, whispers the kind of quiet luxury people spend weeks trying to reserve.
Yunho booked it the moment he found an evening that belonged to neither work nor obligation. Not because it's exclusive. Because he missed you.
Across the table, you shift for what must be the third time since sitting down. His eyes flick briefly beneath the table before returning to your face.
"The shoes?"
You sigh dramatically. "They're trying to kill me."
"They look beautiful."
"They're weapons."
"They're beautiful weapons."
You can't help smiling.
"You say that because you're not the one wearing them."
"No." His gaze lingers for just a heartbeat longer than necessary, warm enough to make your cheeks threaten a blush. "I'm the one who gets to look at them."
You shake your head, hiding your smile behind your wine glass.
The conversation slips easily into familiar territory after that. His latest project. Your week. A trip the two of you keep promising to plan and never quite finding the time for.
Somewhere in the middle, you mention a singer that's apparently impossible to escape these days.
Yunho frowns thoughtfully.
"I've never heard of them."
You look at him over the rim of your glass.
"You're making your age very obvious tonight."
"I've spent forty years carefully building that privilege."
"You could at least pretend to know."
"I could." A beat. "I'd rather have you explain it."
You laugh quietly, shaking your head.
"You're impossible."
"So I've been told."
There's something wonderfully unfair about the way he says it. Completely unbothered. Never defensive. Never trying to convince you he's younger than he is. He wears the years between you with the same quiet confidence he wears one of his tailored suits, as though neither has ever occurred to him as something needing justification.
You tease him because it's easy. He lets you because he likes the sound of your laugh.
By the time your starters appear, you've somehow moved from music to books to the strange corners of the internet that never seem to find their way onto Yunho's phone.
He only understands about half of what you're talking about. You know because he tells you. And yet he never stops listening. His attention never wanders.
Every now and then, you catch him looking at you over the candle between you. Not saying anything. Just watching with that quiet, unwavering fondness that has always belonged to the two of you.
It never feels like being observed. It feels like coming home.
The interruption slips so easily into the evening that, at first, you don't think anything of it.
"Yunho?"
He looks up.
For the first time all night, surprise brightens his face before settling into a smile you haven't seen since you walked into the restaurant.
"...Wow." He stands almost instinctively. "It's been years."
She laughs as she steps closer, arms already opening. Yunho returns the hug without hesitation, one hand resting briefly against the middle of her back before they separate again. Easy. Familiar. The kind of greeting that belongs to people who've crossed paths enough times for formality to disappear.
"You look exactly the same."
"So do you."
"No chance."
"I've become a much better liar."
He laughs, and something inside you softens.
Of course he knows people. He's spent twenty years building a career that seems to exist somewhere between boardrooms, charity galas and airports. It would be stranger if old acquaintances didn't recognize him.
She fits naturally into that world. Elegant dress. Confident smile. Around his age. The sort of woman who never looks intimidated by expensive restaurants because she's been having dinners like these for years.
They fall into conversation without effort. Fundraisers. Old colleagues. Someone retiring. Someone getting married. Names you've never heard and places you've never been.
You let yourself fade into the background for a while, content to listen. You know Yunho likes introducing people properly rather than interrupting conversations halfway through. He'll get there.
"I haven't seen you at anything lately," she says eventually.
"I've been hiding."
"Still?"
He smiles.
"Work."
She shakes her head, pretending to be disappointed.
"What a shame."
There's something in the way she says it that makes you glance up. Not inappropriate. Just interested. Interested enough that, without realizing it, you find yourself waiting.
Surely now. Surely this is where Yunho smiles, reaches across the table, brushes his fingers against yours and says the simplest sentence in the world.
I'm here with my girlfriend.
He doesn't. Instead, he answers whatever she'd asked next, completely unaware that you've stopped following the conversation.
You tell yourself not to be ridiculous. He's just being polite. Another minute passes. She laughs again.
"So you finally found a reason to leave the office?"
"I try."
"I was beginning to think you'd married your work."
"I've considered divorcing it."
She laughs harder than the joke deserves. You smile politely. Still waiting. Still giving him the chance. Then, almost as an afterthought, she turns to you.
"And you?"
You blink. "Sorry?"
"What do you do?"
You answer, and she listens with genuine interest. She asks about your work, compliments it, tells you it's impressive.
For one brief moment, the knot inside your chest loosens. Then she looks back at Yunho.
"You've always had good taste." He raises an eyebrow. "In people," she clarifies with a smile. "You always surround yourself with interesting company."
Yunho nods once.
"I've been lucky."
Lucky. That's all. No glance toward you. No quiet smile that says she's mine. No effortless correction. Nothing.
The conversation moves on, but something inside you doesn't. Because the awful part isn't that she's flirting. The awful part is that she has absolutely no reason not to. She's speaking to a man she believes is single. And the only person who could have told her otherwise keeps choosing not to.
When she finally excuses herself, her fingers brush lightly over his sleeve.
"You should come to the gala next month."
"We'll see."
"I'd love to catch up properly."
Her smile lingers for a heartbeat longer before she disappears into the restaurant. Yunho watches her leave with the absent familiarity of someone remembering an old colleague. Then he sits back down, reaches for his wine and smiles to himself.
"She's exactly the same as she was ten years ago."
"Mhm."
You smile because smiling costs less than speaking. Because saying what you're actually thinking would ruin the evening.
"As I was saying..." He settles back into his chair, picking up the conversation exactly where he'd left it. "The board wants to move the launch to September, which makes absolutely no sense because we'd have to renegotiate every supplier."
His voice fades into the background. You hear it. You just aren't listening anymore. Not really. You're still sitting at the same table as him, but your mind is trapped five minutes in the past, replaying every smile, every laugh, every opportunity he had to choose you out loud. All you can think is how easy it would've been. One sentence. One look. One absentminded reach for your hand.
Anything that said she's with me. Instead, for ten long minutes, you felt like the centerpiece on the table. Beautiful. Expensive. And entirely decorative. Less like the woman sharing dinner with him and more like someone who happened to be sitting at his table.
"That's nice."
Yunho pauses. He mistakes the tightness in your voice for exhaustion. Or maybe he notices it and decides to give you space. Either way, he lets it pass.
"I wouldn't call it nice."
You blink, as though you've only just remembered he's speaking. "What?"
"I asked what you thought."
You shrug lightly. "I think you should do whatever makes you happy."
His brows knit together.
"Dove."
"Hm?"
"I stopped talking about work a while ago."
"Oh." You take another sip of wine, buying yourself a second. "I must've missed it."
His eyes stay on you. Long enough that you almost think he's going to ask what's wrong. Long enough that a tiny, hopeful part of you waits for him to.
Instead, a waiter stops beside the table. Perfect. This is the moment you decide you’re done being mature. Which is unfortunate. Because you’re usually very good at it.
You look up with a smile so bright it surprises even you.
"Sorry," you say, almost apologetically. "Can I ask you something?"
He's young. Pretty in the effortless way university students always seem to be.
You ask about the desserts. Then whether the cocktails are actually worth ordering. Then which dish he likes best.
He answers easily. You laugh at one of his jokes. It isn't even that funny.
Yunho watches the exchange in silence. Not because there's anything inappropriate about it. Because there isn't. Which somehow makes the knot in your chest tighten even more. You're doing exactly what he did. Being polite. Being friendly. Nothing more.
When the waiter finally excuses himself, Yunho doesn't say anything straight away. He waits until the young man disappears around the corner. Only then does he look at you.
"What was that?"
You tilt your head. "What was what?"
"You've asked him more questions in two minutes than you've asked me all night."
"I was being polite."
"You were interviewing him."
"He seemed nice."
"I'm sure he did."
You smile into your glass. "I liked his smile."
Silence. You don't need to look up to feel his eyes on you. When you finally do, his expression has changed almost imperceptibly. Not jealousy. Confusion.
"You liked his smile."
"It was a nice smile."
He studies you for a long moment. Like he's waiting for the punchline. Like he's convinced this version of you can't possibly be real. Eventually he shakes his head, choosing not to take the bait.
"So..." he tries again, "I was thinking maybe we could..."
You pick up your phone. His voice stops. You unlock it. Scroll. You couldn't say what you're looking at if someone asked. The screen is just somewhere else to put your eyes.
"Dove."
"Hm?"
"Put the phone away."
"Why?"
His patience holds. Barely.
"Because I'm talking to you."
You don't look up. "So?"
The word hangs there. Small. Careless. Sharp enough to cut.
"So..." He exhales slowly, choosing every word with visible effort. "I'd appreciate it if you listened."
You laugh quietly. "I listened to her."
Silence. Real silence. The kind that empties the space around it.
"...What?"
You finally meet his eyes. "I listened very politely."
Something flickers across his face. Not understanding. Recognition.
"You've been upset ever since she left."
"I'm not upset."
"No?"
"No."
"You've barely looked at me."
"I've looked at you loads."
You punctuate the sentence by stealing a bite from his plate. Not because you're hungry. Because it's his. Because you know he'll stop you.
His fingers close gently around your wrist before your fork reaches the food. Not enough to hurt. Just enough to make you stop. He looks down at your hand. Then back at you.
"...Really?"
You smile with infuriating sweetness. "I wanted to know if yours tasted better."
"You ordered the exact same thing."
"It does."
"Dove..."
"It tastes different."
"It's the same recipe."
"It isn't."
"It objectively is."
"It isn't to me."
He lets go of your wrist with a slow breath, rubbing a hand across his mouth as though he's physically trying to hold onto the last thread of his patience.
"You are being impossible."
"I'm eating dinner."
"No." His eyes don't leave yours. "You're trying to punish me."
The words catch you off guard. For just a second. Long enough for him to notice.
"I haven't argued with you once," you say quietly.
"You don't have to." His voice drops lower. "You've spent the last fifteen minutes trying to make me feel something."
You force another smile.
"What exactly am I trying to make you feel?"
"I don't know." There's frustration there now. Real frustration. "That's the problem."
He leans back, studying you with the same expression he wears when something at work refuses to make sense. Like he's looking at all the pieces and none of them fit.
"I know you." His voice softens despite himself. "This..." His eyes search yours. "...isn't you."
Something twists painfully inside your chest. You could tell him. You could end this right now. You could say, You made me feel invisible. Instead, you swallow it. Smile. Tilt your head.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
And for the first time all evening, Yunho stops trying to continue the conversation. Because whatever happened to the woman he walked into this restaurant with, he has no idea how to reach her anymore.
You know you're being unfair. You know this isn't you. But the version of yourself that spent the last ten minutes feeling invisible is louder than the one who usually knows better.
You just want him to look at you.
You casually drop your napkin and bend down to retrieve it, taking just a second longer than necessary to adjust the strap of your heel. When you straighten again, Yunho is already looking at you.
"Something wrong?" you ask, all innocent eyes.
"Nothing," he replies, a little too quickly.
"Hm."
You smooth your napkin back across your lap as though you've finally decided to behave. Yunho almost believes it. Then you reach for the dessert menu.
"I think I'm getting dessert."
"We haven't finished dinner."
"I like planning ahead." Your finger drifts lazily down the list before you smile to yourself. "This one sounds nice."
Yunho doesn't even look.
"What one?"
"The vanilla mille-feuille." You tilt the menu toward yourself. "I've heard the chef is very generous with the cream."
His fork stops halfway to his mouth.
"Dove."
"What?" You glance up. "I like cream."
His jaw flexes. "You know exactly what you're doing."
"I do?" Your eyebrows lift with practiced innocence. "I'm ordering dessert."
"You haven't ordered anything."
"I'm thinking about it."
His jaw tightens.
"Think about something else."
You hum as though you're genuinely considering the suggestion.
For a heartbeat, neither of you speaks. Around you, cutlery clinks against porcelain, conversations drift lazily through the restaurant, and somewhere a bottle of wine is uncorked.
Only your table feels painfully quiet. You smile into the menu.
"I just want something sweet."
His eyes finally meet yours. "You are testing my patience."
"No." You lower the menu carefully. "I'm participating in the conversation."
"Dove."
"You said I wasn't talking enough."
"I also said to behave."
"I am."
"You've never looked less convincing."
The corner of your mouth twitches.
"Really?" you say with a shrug, crossing your legs slowly under the table, letting your foot brush against his calf. "I'm just enjoying dinner."
His breath hitches at the contact, and he pulls his leg away slightly. "Don't."
"Don't what?" you ask, voice dropping to a whisper as you lean closer. "Don't touch you? Don't talk about dessert? Don't breathe?"
"You're playing games," he accuses, but his voice has lost some of its edge.
"I'm just being myself," you reply with a small smile, tracing patterns on the tablecloth with your finger. "Unless you'd prefer I be more like her?"
Yunho's jaw tightens at the mention of the other woman. "That's not what I said."
"Then what did you mean?" you challenge, your foot finding his leg again and staying there this time.
For the first time that evening, something flashes across Yunho's face. Not anger. Not yet. Impatience. The kind that only exists because he cares enough to keep trying. And somehow, that only makes some childish, wounded part of you decide that's still not enough.
You let your other foot join the first, the expensive Louboutins he bought you last month now hidden under the tablecloth. The ones he always says make your legs look endless. The ones he loves seeing you in when he's buried inside you.
"Dove," he warns, his voice tight.
"Yunho," you mimic, your voice syrupy sweet as you apply more pressure with your foot. "Problem?"
Your pointed toe traces the seam of his trousers until you reach his balls. You press gently, just enough to make him shift in his seat. His knuckles turn white on his fork, but he doesn't look away from you.
Yunho keeps acting as if everything is normal. But his jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. He has a thing for your heels, always has. The way they look on you, the sound they make on marble floors, the marks they sometimes leave on his thighs when you're riding him.
"Behave," he grunts under his breath.
You blink innocently. "I am behaving."
His eyes darken. "No, you're not."
You smirk slightly. "Don't you like it?"
Yunho doesn't push. Not yet. Because you’re in public. Because he trusts you. Because he likes it when you want him. Because maybe you're just having fun. And god help him, because his dick is already responding to your touches.
"Remember when you fucked me in these?" you whisper, leaning forward. "How you said they should've been illegal?"
Yunho remembers. He also remembers paying for them. Looking back, he should've left them in the shop.
He grows increasingly tense. Because this isn't you. Because something is wrong. Because you’re choosing a spectacularly inconvenient time to express it. And because despite his concern, he's getting painfully hard.
Then you cross the line. Not maliciously. Desperately, your foot travels higher, the pointed toe now rubbing against his length. You can feel him twitch and grow under your touch. His jaw clenches, but he doesn't look away from you. He's trying to win this silent battle, trying to pretend you're not affecting him.
"Stop," he mouths, his eyes dark with fury and arousal.
You just smile, rubbing your foot against him in slow, torturous circles. "Make me."
His hand shoots out under the table, fingers wrapping around your ankle in a grip that's both punishing and possessive.
"Enough," he growls, his voice low and dangerous. "You need to stop."
His voice is low enough that nobody else hears it. You do.
The hand around your ankle loosens almost immediately, his fingers sliding away as though he's only just realized how tightly he'd been holding you. The warmth of his palm lingers against your skin for a second longer than the touch itself.
Neither of you moves. Neither of you says anything. The restaurant keeps existing around you. Glasses clink. Someone laughs two tables over. A waiter walks past carrying a bottle of wine as if the world hasn't just tilted on its axis.
Yunho looks at you. His breathing is uneven. His jaw is locked so tightly you can see the muscle jump beneath his skin. There is still frustration written all over his face, but underneath it, buried somewhere deeper, is something that twists painfully in your chest.
Worry. Not embarrassment. Not annoyance. Worry.
He pushes his chair back.
"Come with me."
You don't answer. He leans down instead, close enough that only you can hear him.
"Now."
The word isn't loud. It doesn't need to be. Yunho has never raised his voice at you. He doesn't have to.
You stand without another argument. His hand finds your wrist first, then slips lower until it settles against the small of your back, guiding you through the restaurant with a firmness you've never felt from him before. Every step keeps you tucked against his side.
The walk feels endless. Your heels catch against the polished floor more than once, forcing you to stumble to keep up with his pace. Usually he'd notice. Usually he'd slow down immediately, his hand tightening instinctively around yours before asking if your feet hurt.
Tonight he doesn't. Not because he doesn't care. Because his mind is somewhere else entirely.
"What were you thinking?"
His voice is quiet. Controlled. Which somehow makes it worse.
You swallow. "I don't know."
A humorless laugh escapes him through his nose.
"Clearly."
The word lands harder than if he'd shouted. You flinch.
The bathroom door clicks shut behind you, sealing away the music, the conversations, the comfortable illusion that tonight had started as a date.
Silence settles immediately.
Yunho turns to face you. His tie sits slightly crooked. His hair is messier than it was twenty minutes ago. The picture of composure is still there, but only if someone doesn't know where to look.
You do. His jaw is set so tightly it almost hurts to see. For a long moment, he simply looks. Like he's trying to recognize you again.
"Explain."
"I..."
Nothing.
He waits. Not impatiently. Expectantly. When you still don't answer, he exhales through his nose, rubing a tired hand across his face.
"Talk to me."
You stare at the floor.
"I didn't like her."
"I gathered that."
"You were flirting with her."
His expression doesn't change. "No."
"You were."
"I wasn't."
"You laughed at everything she said."
"I was being polite."
"You hugged her."
"She hugged me."
"You let her touch you."
"And?"
The question lands harder than if he'd argued. You stare at him.
"You never stopped her."
For the first time, Yunho goes quiet. Not because he doesn't have an answer. Because he's finally hearing the one thing you've been trying so desperately not to say. He studies your face for a long moment before speaking again.
"...There it is."
Your throat tightens.
"What?"
"That's what this has been about."
You look away before he can see your eyes burn. He notices anyway. He takes one slow step closer.
"Dove." You keep staring at the floor. Another step. "Look at me."
You hate how difficult that suddenly is. When your eyes finally lift to his, your voice comes out so much smaller than you intended.
"You never told her."
A small crease appears between his brows.
"Told her what?"
"That I was your girlfriend."
Silence. Real silence. Yunho blinks once. Not because he's caught. Because the thought genuinely never crossed his mind. You let out a brittle laugh.
"...See?"
"Dove."
"No."
You shake your head before he can interrupt.
"She looked at me like I was... I don't know... your assistant. Someone you brought because you didn't want to eat alone."
His face changes. Just enough.
"I don't care what she thought."
"I do."
The words break apart on the way out.
"I do because you never gave her a reason to think anything else."
Yunho's shoulders still. His eyes search yours. Not defensive. Thinking. Working backwards through the evening. Then, very quietly...
"Is that what you believed?"
You don't answer. Because answering would make it real. He watches you for another second. Then your whisper finally comes.
"Sometimes..." Your voice almost disappears. "Sometimes it feels like you keep me separate."
He doesn't answer. Which somehow hurts even more. Instead, he closes his eyes. Only for a heartbeat. When they open again, something inside them has shifted.
You fill the silence yourself. "Maybe you're embarrassed."
His head lifts. "No."
"Maybe you don't want people wondering why you're dating someone younger."
"Dove."
"Maybe you think they'll look at you and..."
"Stop."
The word lands like stone. Certain. He closes the distance between you in two measured steps, stopping just close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from him. One hand wraps gently around your forearm. Grounding. Not restraining. His thumb strokes your skin once.
"Don't do that."
Your eyes finally spill over. "Do what?"
His own jaw tightens.
"Don't tell me what I think." A beat passes between you. "Don't tell me what I feel." His voice is still calm. Still measured. But it cracks ever so slightly around the edges. "Especially when you're so wrong."
You don't argue. You don't defend yourself. Because for the first time that evening, you hear your own words the way he heard them. And they're ugly. You weren't accusing him. You were telling him you'd believed, even for a little while, that the man who loves you was ashamed to stand beside you.
The fight drains out of you all at once, leaving nothing behind except embarrassment and the quiet realization of how badly you've needed him to understand.
Yunho sees it happen. He watches your shoulders fold inward. Watches your eyes drop. Watches the bravado disappear as quickly as it arrived. And in that instant, the irritation he's been carrying since the restaurant slips away almost completely.
Because you were never trying to make him miserable. You were trying, desperately and terribly, to ask one question you didn't know how to put into words.
His hand loosens around your arm. His shoulders drop with a tired exhale. When he speaks again, the steel is still there. But now it's wrapped around something infinitely softer.
"...Do you really think so little of me?"
The question steals the air from your lungs. Not because he's angry. Because he's hurt. Because beneath every stern word since you walked into this bathroom had been something else entirely.
Fear. Fear that something had happened to you. Fear that he'd somehow missed it. Fear that the woman he loves had spent an entire dinner convincing herself she wasn't enough.
You drop your eyes.
"I'm sorry."
"No." His voice is gentle now. "I am sorry."
You look back up confused. He reaches out then, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His fingertips linger for just a second against your cheek, almost hesitant after everything that was said.
"I don't talk about my private life at work."
You frown. "I know."
"No." His thumb strokes your cheek once. "I mean..." He searches for the right words, his eyes never leaving yours. "I don't talk about it. Ever."
The confession sounds strangely vulnerable coming from him. Yunho always knows what to say. Except now.
"I don't talk about my parents. I don't talk about my brother. I don't talk about holidays." A faint smile pulls at one corner of his mouth, humorless this time. "Half the people I work with barely know anything about me."
You listen quietly. Because it's true. You've heard him dodge personal questions before. Seen him redirect conversations so smoothly people never realized he'd done it. You'd just never put yourself in that category.
His hand slips from your cheek to the side of your neck, warm against your skin.
"I've spent years building that habit." His thumb moves absentmindedly beneath your ear. "So naturally..." He lets out another slow breath. "I did the same thing tonight."
Your chest tightens. He isn't defending himself, he's retracing his own steps, trying to find the moment he got it wrong.
A sad smile tugs at one corner of his mouth.
"I thought I was protecting my peace." His gaze softens. "I didn't realize I was asking you to carry the cost of it."
Something inside you gives way. Not all at once. Quietly. Like ice finally cracking under spring sunlight.
"I should've seen it," he murmurs. "I should've realized what that looked like from where you were standing. I should've introduced you." Your eyes close for half a second. "I should've made it obvious."
The first tear escapes before you can stop it. Yunho catches it with the pad of his thumb almost instinctively. Not because he found the perfect explanation. Because he isn't looking for one. He's simply standing in front of you, taking responsibility for a hurt he never intended to cause.
"I'm sorry, Dove."
You laugh weakly through the tears.
"You never apologize."
"I do."
"No, you don't."
"I do," he repeats softly. "When I'm wrong."
The corner of your mouth lifts despite yourself. Relief flickers across his face so briefly you almost miss it. He studies you for another moment, then sighs, the last of the tension leaving his shoulders.
"You scared me tonight." The confession is barely above a whisper. "I didn't know who I was sitting across from."
Shame crashes over you all over again.
"I'm sorry..."
"I know."
He doesn't answer right away. Instead, he leans forward until his forehead rests lightly against yours. The contact is warm. Familiar. The kind that always slows your breathing before you even realize it's happening.
Then he kisses you. Softly. Nothing like the way he kissed you earlier. Nothing demanding. Nothing that steals the air from your lungs. Just a slow press of his lips against yours, gentle enough that it feels less like desire and more like reassurance.
I'm still here.
When he pulls away, he doesn't move far. One hand is still cradling your jaw, his thumb absentmindedly stroking your cheek as though letting go isn't something he's ready to do yet.
"You really aren't embarrassed?" you ask quietly.
The question slips out before you can stop it. You regret it immediately. Yunho's eyebrows draw together so quickly it almost hurts to watch.
"Embarrassed?" He searches your face as if he's trying to understand how your mind could've built that conclusion. "Of you?" He lets out a quiet, disbelieving breath.
His other hand comes up to cup your face, leaving you held between both of his palms as though you're something far more fragile than either of you would like to admit.
"Are you out of your mind?"
Heat rushes to your cheeks. You want the floor to open beneath your feet.
"I just..."
The words refuse to come. Instead, another question does. Quieter this time.
"You still love me?"
Yunho simply stares. Not because he's offended. Because he genuinely can't believe that's the question you've been carrying around.
"That's your question?"
You look away instantly. "I shouldn't have asked."
"No." His fingers guide your face back toward him before you can hide. "You don't get to run away now."
His thumb brushes beneath your eye again, wiping away another tear before it falls.
"After everything we've just talked about..."
He smiles then. Small. Disbelieving. So full of affection it makes your chest ache.
"I love you." Simple. Certain. No hesitation. "I loved you when we walked into that restaurant." His thumb strokes slowly across your cheek. "I loved you while you spent an hour driving me out of my mind." The corner of his mouth twitches despite himself. "And I'm still standing here loving you now." Your breath catches. "There isn't a room in this world where I'd be embarrassed to stand beside you."
His forehead rests lightly against yours.
"If anything..." He continues with a quiet smile. "I'm usually wondering what I did to deserve being the man who gets to walk in with you."
Your eyes close. Not because you're crying anymore. Because your heart simply doesn't know what to do with that.
"You are not something I hide." A beat. "You are the best part of my life."
The silence stretches comfortably between you. This one doesn't hurt. This one heals.
Then Yunho leans forward, pressing a lingering kiss against your forehead. Another against your temple. One more against your cheek, each one slower than the last, as though he's trying to erase every ugly thought you'd carried into this room.
You smile despite yourself. It lasts all of two seconds. Because when he leans back, there's something new in his expression. The misunderstanding is gone. The hurt has been named. You've forgiven each other.
Which means there's only one thing left to deal with. The spectacular disaster you created out there. And judging by the look Yunho gives you, you're not getting away with that conversation quite so easily.
"You caused me a great deal of trouble tonight."
The words aren't harsh. They're quiet. Which somehow makes them impossible to hide from.
You drop your gaze. "I'm sorry."
"I know." His hand finds yours again, turning it over gently until your fingers rest against his palm. "I forgive you."
Hope flickers across your face. Then he continues.
"But forgiveness doesn't erase the problem."
Your breath catches. You look back up at him. His expression is unreadable. Calm. Patient. Completely in control again.
"What... problem?"
Yunho pulls your hand and places it against the obvious tension beneath the expensive fabric of his trousers. Heat rushes into your face as you inhale sharply.
"Oh."
"Oh?" Yunho lets out a quiet, disbelieving laugh. "You knew exactly what you were doing."
You immediately look away.
"I said I was sorry."
"You did." His fingers tighten around yours, pressing your palm more firmly against the hardness beneath his trousers. "And I accepted your apology."
You swallow. "Then...?"
"Then we address the consequences." His voice drops lower.
He steps closer. Your back finds the wall. Not trapped. Just nowhere else you'd rather be. Yunho reaches up, thumb brushing lightly across your jaw. Patient. Composed. Entirely too in control.
"You started this, Dove." His eyes darken. "Now you're going to finish it."
You bite your lip. "Here?"
"Where else?" His thumb traces your bottom lip. "You wanted to play games in public. Let's see how well you play when the stakes are real."
Your knees feel weak. "Yunho..."
"Unless you'd rather I take care of this myself?" He challenges, his voice low and rough. "But I don't think that's what you want, is it?"
You shake your head slowly, unable to form words.
"No." His hand moves from your jaw to the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair. "I didn't think so."
He leans in closer, his breath hot against your ear. "You wanted my attention? You have it. All of it. Now, are you going to fix what you broke?"
You nod, your heart pounding. "Yes."
"Good."
The word has barely left his mouth before he's pulling you toward him.
One hand remains firm around the back of your neck, fingers spread wide beneath your hair. The other lands at your waist with enough certainty to steal the breath from your lungs, drawing you flush against him in a single, decisive movement.
"Now, be a good girl and show me how sorry you really are. Come here."
It's the last warning you get.
His mouth crashes into yours. The kiss is deep before you have time to think, your startled gasp swallowed immediately as he claims the space between your lips. There isn't an ounce of hesitation in him now. No careful testing. No gentle reassurance. Every slow, measured restraint he's held onto since dinner seems to disappear into the kiss instead.
Your fingers instinctively clutch at the front of his jacket, wrinkling the expensive fabric beneath your fists as your balance disappears beneath the force of him.
Yunho doesn't let you drift away. His hand tightens at your waist, keeping you exactly where he wants you, his breathing rough against your cheek every time the kiss breaks for the briefest heartbeat before he finds your mouth again. Like he's still angry. Still relieved. Still trying to convince himself you're here and that you're finally letting him in.
By the time he finally pulls back, neither of you is breathing properly. He doesn't give you room to recover. His forehead settles against yours almost immediately, his grip on your waist never loosening, your bodies still pressed together so completely you can feel the rise and fall of every uneven breath.
His eyes stay closed for a long moment.
"So stubborn," he murmurs, the words almost disappearing between your mouths.
His thumb presses once against your side, firm enough to remind you exactly whose arms you're standing in.
The silence between you changes. The misunderstanding is gone. The tenderness is still there, buried somewhere beneath everything else. But what hangs between you now is heavier. Tighter. The kind of tension that makes the room suddenly feel too small to contain either of you.
Before you can smile, before your arms can find their way around his neck, his hands shift. One slides to the small of your back. The other gently catches your wrist. With one smooth movement, he turns you until your back meets his chest.
His body follows yours immediately, close enough that you feel the warmth of him through the fabric of your dress as he guides you forward. Two careful steps. Then your thighs meet the cool marble of the sink, and he stops behind you.
"Hands on the counter," he commands, his voice a low rumble against your ear.
You comply, your palms flat on the stone, your heart hammering against your ribs.
"You are a dangerous woman," he mutters against your shoulder before he bites down harshly, teeth sinking into skin where your dress won't cover it.
"Yunho," you whimper softly.
"Spread your legs," he commands.
You don’t have time to comply. He kicks your feet apart with his own, widening your stance.
His gaze drops to your feet, still encased in the shoes he bought you.
"Still wearing these," he murmurs, his voice rough with desire. "The ones that were torturing me all night. Every time you crossed your legs, every time you tapped that fucking heel against the table... I wanted to bend you over right there."
His hands are rough as they hike your dress up, bunching the fabric at your waist. The cool air hits your exposed skin.
"Look at you," he murmurs, his gaze predatory in the mirror. "All dressed up, and so beautiful but so, so misbehaving."
"Sorry," you whisper, your voice shaky.
His hand comes down hard on your ass. The sharp smack echoes in the tiled room. You cry out, more from surprise than pain.
"Louder."
"Sorry!" you repeat, stronger this time.
Another smack, this one on the other cheek, leaving a warm sting. "Good girl."
His hand comes down twice more in rapid succession, the sharp smacks echoing in the tiled room. Your flesh stings when he digs his nails into the sensitive skin, scratching hard enough to leave faint pink trails that make you whimper.
Yunho hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties. Instead of sliding them down, he grips the delicate lace and pulls with brutal force.
The fabric tears with a sharp sound, your knees trembling at the violence of it. Before you can collapse, he bucks his hips forward, pinning you more firmly against the cold marble of the sink.
"I'll be keeping these," he states. "A reminder for you to behave next time we're out."
He spreads your ass cheeks, exposing you completely.
"Teasing me all night got you this wet? Such a messy girl for me."
He spits, watching the saliva trickle down your cleft before using two fingers to rub it over your clit and entrance. You push back against his hand, a desperate whine escaping your lips.
"Ah ah," he tuts, withdrawing his hand. He brings his glistening fingers to your mouth, his eyes locked on yours in the mirror. "Open. Taste yourself."
You obey, parting your lips as he slides his fingers into your mouth. You suck greedily, swirling your tongue around them, tasting your own arousal, mixing itself with the wine from dinner. His eyes darken as he watches you.
"Fuck," he groans, pulling his fingers from your mouth with a wet pop. "You don't get to dictate the pace. Not tonight. Tonight, I use you."
The sound of his belt buckle clinking open makes your heart race. Then the slow rasp of his zipper being lowered follows, each tooth releasing with agonizing slowness that has you trembling with anticipation.
He frees himself with one hand, the other pressing down firmly between your shoulder blades, keeping you bent over. He rubs the head of his cock through your wetness, coating himself in your arousal but not entering.
"Please, Yunho," you beg, trying to push back onto him.
He delivers another sharp slap to your ass.
"I said no."
He lines himself up with your entrance and, without warning, slams into you in one brutal thrust.
You both groan. He's impossibly deep like this, the angle unforgiving. The marble digs into your thighs with the force of his entry.
He gives you no time to adjust, setting a punishing rhythm from the start. Each thrust is hard, fast, designed to stake a claim. The sound of skin slapping skin is obscene, mixing with your helpless whimpers and his low grunts.
Your high heels tremble dangerously beneath you, the stiletto points scraping uselessly against the tile as your legs struggle to support you under the force of his movements.
He captures one of your wrists, twisting it behind your back and pinning it there. He uses the leverage to push you further down, until your face is inches from the mirror, your breath fogging the glass.
His other hand finds your hair, winding it around his fist. He pulls, just enough to arch your back and force you to look at your reflection in the mirror.
"Watch," he growls, his hips never ceasing their assault. "Watch me fuck you. See how you take it? How desperate you are for my cock?"
Your eyes are glassy with tears of pleasure and pain, your mouth slack.
He looks so powerful behind you, his expression dark with lust, his expensive suit still perfectly tailored and pristine while you’re a mess beneath him.
"You teased me all night," he pants, his grip on your hair tightening. "Rubbing your little foot on my dick. Making me hard in front of everyone. This is what you wanted, isn't it? To be fucked like the little brat you are?"
"Yes!" you cry out. "Yes, I'm sorry!"
"You will be." He releases your hair only to grab your hip, his fingers digging into your flesh as he pistons into you. Your legs start to shake, but he continues his relentless pace, driving into you again and again.
He lowers his body, the expensive fabric of his suit brushing against your back as he leans down.
His tongue traces a path up your spine, making you shudder. He licks the exposed skin of your neck, then bites down on your earlobe, just enough to make you gasp.
Then he places his lips against the back of your head, not kissing, just pressing there to keep you in place and muffle his own moans.
"Fuck," he grunts against your hair, his voice muffled. "So tight. So perfect for me."
He presses a soft peck to your hair before straightening up, his gaze fixed on where you two are connected. His hand comes down hard on your ass once again. Then he grips the reddened flesh tightly, spreading your cheeks apart to watch himself disappear inside you with each powerful thrust.
Your forehead presses against the cool glass of the mirror, eyes closed as you focus on the sensation of him filling you so completely.
Each thrust sends waves of pleasure through your body, his length hitting that perfect spot inside you that makes the coil in your stomach tighten, ready to snap.
"I'm gonna… Yunho, I'm close..."
"No, you're not."
With a sudden, cruel movement, he pulls out of you completely, leaving you empty and aching. You cry out at the loss, your body trembling with the denied release.
"Yunho, please..."
"Please what?" he growls, wrapping his hand around his slick cock and stroking himself a few times. Your juices glisten on his length in the dim light.
"You don't get to come yet. You haven't earned it. You're going to take what I give you, and you're going to thank me for it."
His hand comes down hard on your left cheek, then your right, two rapid, harsh smacks that echo in the tiled bathroom.
The sharp sting makes you gasp, your flesh blooming red under his touch. He soothes the burning skin with his large palms, the contrast of roughness and tenderness making your head spin.
"Such a pretty color on you," he murmurs appreciatively before gripping your hips again.
He slams back into you without warning, even deeper than before. Your legs nearly give out. He slows his pace slightly, making each thrust more deliberate, more punishing.
"You wanted to act like a bitch? Fine. Now you're getting fucked like one. No relief. Just me, using this tight little pussy until I'm satisfied."
The bathroom door swings open. You freeze, a gasp caught in your throat as humiliation washes over you. Through the mirror, you see the woman from earlier pause in the doorway, her eyes wide with shock.
Your hands fly back, trying to push Yunho away, to create any distance between your bodies, but your arms feel like lead.
His arm circles your chest, pulling you upright against him until your back is flush with his chest. The new angle allows him to drive into you even deeper, his hips snapping with more intensity.
Defeated, you rest your head on his shoulder, your eyes rolling back involuntarily, your mind going blank with overwhelming pleasure. You can't think, can't speak. You can only feel him filling you so good.
"Don't get embarrassed now," Yunho snarls in your ear, his thrusts never faltering. He doesn't even look at the intruder. His eyes are boring into yours in the mirror, a silent, possessive challenge. "Let her see who makes you feel this good. Let her see what my woman looks like when she's being properly fucked."
Your hand shoots out, gripping his wrist desperately to maintain your balance as your knees threaten to give out. Your other hand presses flat against the sink surface, fingers splayed wide as you try to anchor yourself.
The woman watches for another second before muttering an apology and backing out quickly, pulling the door closed behind her.
Yunho lets out a dark chuckle. "Good girl. You did so well."
When one particularly loud moan escapes, he covers your mouth with his hand.
"Shhh, baby. I know, believe me, I know." He groans low when you squeeze around him involuntarily. "You know I love hearing you, dove, but I'd rather not have security escort us out of a restaurant I spent three weeks getting reservations for."
Then he replaces his hand with two fingers in your mouth. You immediately suck and lick them, drool falling down your chin. He bites his own lip as he watches you, his eyes dark with hunger.
"Fuck," Yunho groans, his eyes darkening with pure devotion and angry lust. "That's it. So pretty."
He guides your chin toward the mirror, forcing you to look at your reflection.
"Look at you," he murmurs against your temple. "So beautiful when you're falling apart for me."
Your body is like putty against him, your dress disheveled with one strap fallen down your shoulder, your hair a mess, mascara smudged beneath your eyes.
He removes his fingers from your mouth, slick with your saliva, and traces them over your lips.
"Watch," he commands softly.
Then his hand slides down your body, finding your clit. He begins circling it, watching how easily you respond to his touches in your reflection with such intensity it feels like he's devouring you. Your hips buck against his hand, against his cock still buried inside you.
"Now, since you were so good... you can come," he pants against your lips. "Come for me, Dove. Squeeze my fucking cock."
That's all it takes. Your orgasm tears through you, violent and overwhelming. You scream his name, your body convulsing as your vision whites out.
He follows you over the edge a minute later with a guttural groan, burying himself to the hilt as he spills inside you, hips jerking with the force of his release.
He grabs your hair, pulling just enough to tilt your head back. He cradles your face with his other hand, forcing you to meet his gaze as he continues to thrust through his orgasm.
"I love you," he breathes, desperate and raw. "God, I love you so much." he grunts as he pulses inside you.
"Love you too," you whisper, tears in your eyes. "So much."
Before you can say more, his mouth crashes against yours. It's not a kiss of gentleness, but of raw, overwhelming need. It's sloppy and desperate, filled with spit and drool as your tongues clash.
He kisses you like he's trying to breathe you in. It's uncoordinated and filthy, a perfect counterpoint to the tender words just spoken, a testament to the storm of emotions raging between you.
He stays there for a moment, breathing heavily against your mouth, the only sounds in the room your ragged breaths.
Then, as quickly as the intensity began, it softens. He pulls out gently, and you feel his warmth leave you. He uses a handful of tissues to carefully clean you up, his touch impossibly tender now.
"Can't have my perfect girl leaking all over her pretty dress," he teases softly.
He helps you stand, your legs trembling, and pulls your dress back down into place. He turns you to face him, his hands cupping your cheeks as he wipes away the tear tracks and smudged mascara with his thumbs.
"I've got you," he murmurs, pressing soft kisses to your forehead, your nose, your lips. "You did so good for me. So perfect."
He helps you fix your hair then. The same fingers that had tangled mercilessly through it only minutes ago now move with impossible care, smoothing down loose strands before tucking them neatly behind your ear.
He straightens the stubborn strap back to your shoudler, brushes an invisible crease from your waist, then steps back to inspect his work with quiet satisfaction.
Only after deeming you presentable again does he adjust his own tie and smooth his jacket, slipping effortlessly back into the composed man who walked into the restaurant.
"There."
Your hand flies instinctively to your shoulder.
"Oh, absolutely not."
Yunho catches your wrist before your fingers reach the mark. His mouth twitches.
"You did that."
"I think it suits you."
You glare at him. He doesn't look remotely sorry. A quiet laugh rumbles in his chest as he leans in, pressing one last lingering kiss to your forehead.
"My beautiful girl."
The words settle warmly beneath your ribs.
"So now you'll fuck me in public," you murmur, "but I'm not allowed to hide the evidence?"
His smile is small. Unapologetic.
"No."
The answer is so simple, so certain, that your heart forgets how to beat for a second.
When you step back into the restaurant, Yunho reaches for your hand without hesitation. His fingers weave through yours naturally, like they've done it a thousand times before. Firm enough that you couldn't pull away if you wanted to. Gentle enough that it feels less like possession and more like certainty.
You barely make it a few steps before your free hand flies to your shoulder.
"This is awful."
A quiet laugh escapes him.
"You seemed very enthusiastic about it five minutes ago."
"Yunho."
His smile only deepens. You try to pull your hair over the marks blooming across your skin. Yunho simply brushes it back over your shoulder again, his fingertips lingering for the briefest second.
"Stop."
"No."
"They're going to see."
His eyes flick toward you, warm with something that makes your chest tighten.
"I know."
You stare at him. He doesn't elaborate. He doesn't need to. The meaning settles somewhere beneath your ribs before you can stop it.
Then you see her. Still sitting at her table. Still talking to the people around her. Your entire body locks.
"No."
Yunho doesn't even slow down.
"No."
"Dove."
"I am not walking past her."
"You are."
"I'll die."
"You won't."
You make one last pathetic attempt to hide behind him, but he only chuckles softly, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze before lifting it between you. His lips brush across your knuckles. Your breath catches.
Before you can recover, he leans down and presses another absentminded kiss against your temple as you walk, the gesture so effortless it almost feels unconscious. Like this is simply what he does when you're together. Like loving you has become muscle memory.
The woman looks up. Recognition flashes across her face. Her eyes fall to your joined hands. To the kiss. To the way Yunho never once lets go of you.
Heat rushes to your cheeks so quickly you're convinced the entire restaurant can feel it. But Yunho keeps walking as though nothing remarkable has happened, guiding you back to the table with the same calm confidence he'd walked in with an hour earlier.
This time, however, he pulls your chair out first.
His hand lingers briefly against the back of your seat before he walks around to his own, settling opposite you with infuriating composure.
You reach for your wine immediately. Desperately, because you need it. Bad.
"You never finished your risotto."
You blink over the rim of your glass.
"That's your concern right now?"
"It’s expensive."
You stare at him, waiting for the joke. It never comes. His mouth twitches just enough to betray him as he reaches for his own wine.
Around you, the restaurant carries on exactly as it had before. Cutlery clinks against porcelain. Conversations overlap. Someone laughs near the window. You're convinced every single one of them knows.
Yunho, meanwhile, opens the dessert menu as though the last twenty minutes never happened. He flips a page, the corners already beginning to curl beneath his fingers.
"So," he says, glancing up briefly. "Do we want the tiramisu?"
You swirl the last of your wine around your glass.
"Do we?"
His mouth twitches.
"Good point." He turns another page. "Chocolate soufflé?"
You don't answer. You simply keep looking at him. Long enough that he eventually lowers the menu, meeting your eyes over the edge of it.
"What?"
You tilt your head, pretending to consider the question.
"I kind of hate you."
A quiet smile pulls at one corner of his mouth. Small. Certain.
"No," he says. "You really don't."
You roll your eyes, but the warmth in your chest betrays you before your face can.
For the first time all evening, silence settles comfortably between you. No misunderstandings hiding beneath it. No sharp edges waiting to catch. Just the familiar quiet that has always belonged to the two of you.
You shift in your chair, wincing almost imperceptibly as the heels remind you how long you've been wearing them.
Yunho notices immediately. His eyes drop beneath the table for half a second before returning to your face.
"They're hurting."
It isn't a question. You sigh dramatically.
"A little."
Without another word, he extends one hand beneath the tablecloth, palm open.
"Give me your foot."
You eye him suspiciously.
"...Didn't we already establish that was a terrible idea?"
A slow smile appears at the corner of his mouth.
"Which is why I'm asking for your foot." His eyes meet yours. "Not your ideas."
Heat creeps up your neck.
"Yunho."
"I'm choosing to believe you've learned from the experience."
You wisely keep your mouth shut. Judging by the look in his eyes, the only thing Yunho enjoys more than winning is watching you realize you've lost.
His hand pats his thigh twice, waiting patiently. "Foot."
You know that tone. The one that isn't asking because it already knows you'll give in.
With an exaggerated sigh, you shift in your seat. One leg first, then the other. A moment later, both feet are on his lap. The movement is practiced. Unremarkable between you now, which is its own kind of problem.
"This time I'd like you to keep it above my knee."
You nearly choke on your wine.
"Yunho."
"Too soon?"
You can hear the smile in his voice long before you see it.
His hand settles around your ankle, thumb pressing slow circles into the sore skin. Then, almost absent-mindedly, his fingers find the tiny buckle fastening your heel.
You frown.
"...What are you doing?"
"Fixing the problem."
Before you can protest, he unfastens the delicate strap with practiced fingers, easing the shoe from your foot as carefully as though it were made of glass. He sets it beside his leg beneath the table, then repeats the motion with the other one.
The relief is immediate. A quiet breath escapes you before you can stop it. Yunho pretends not to notice.
He simply settles both of your bare feet across his lap again, one broad hand wrapping gently around your arches while his thumb works patiently at the muscles that have been aching since you left the apartment.
It's so automatic. So unceremonious. Like this isn't an act of devotion at all, just another item on the list of ways he takes care of you.
You watch him for a long moment. He doesn’t look up. That, more than anything, makes you smile.
“You’re being weird.”
"Hm?"
"You're... affectionate."
That earns you his attention. He looks up from the menu, genuinely considering the accusation.
“I’m always affectionate.”
You give him a look.
"You are." You hesitate, searching for words that don't sound quite so vulnerable. "Just... not where people can see."
Something shifts in his expression. Because he's realizing you aren’t accusing him. You’re simply telling him how lonely you felt.
His hand stays on your ankle.
“Maybe I should’ve been.”
The words are quiet enough that no one else could hear them. They don't sound like an apology. They sound better than one.
Across the room, your eyes catch the woman for just a second. Her eyes dip beneath the table for just a moment, lingering where Yunho's hand rests around your ankle as though it's the most natural place in the world for it to be.
For a heartbeat, you wait for the embarrassment to come. It doesn't. You look back at him instead.
"So. Chocolate soufflé then?" Yunho asks.
"Get both," you murmur, nodding toward the menu.
His grin is immediate. "I was hoping you'd say that."
You laugh, shaking your head as his thumb absentmindedly traces another circle over your skin.
Dessert arrives a few minutes later. Your feet never leave his lap. Neither does his hand.
Conversation returns as though it had never been interrupted. Work. Travel. Which wine is better. Ordinary things. Comfortably ordinary.
And somewhere between the first spoonful of tiramisu and the last sip of wine, you realize the knot in your chest is gone. Not because the evening had been perfect. Because when it stopped being perfect, the two of you chose each other anyway.
WARNING : actual p*rn links (be careful what you watch, i am not responsible for your media consumption), 5 links for each member, anal, squirting, fingering, riding, LOTS of doggy, some really rough ones, throat fucking, sub! idol (mostly wooyoung lowk), overstim, edging, even more!!! be careful!!!
a/n : you MUST be logged into x (twitter) to watch
THIS WORK IS WRITTEN BY A MINOR, BLOCK IF UNCOMFORTABLE!!!
★ seonghwa. p ⋆·˚ ༘ *
perv! seonghwa loves watching your tits bounce while he fucks you <3
should've known those fishnets drive him fucking crazy 😵💫
he likes showing you off and playing with your cunt in front of the members
"you said you could take it, baby"
he thinks you look so pretty sloppily making out with his dick <3
★ hongjoong. k ⋆·˚ ༘ *
he's fallen asleep on the couch, again, so you decide to wake him up with a treat
just him.
"keep going baby, good girl"
he's got you bent over the couch in the studio- letting off some steam
it's only right to help his baby out after letting him use your ass, right?
★ yunho. j ⋆·˚ ༘ *
yunho makes you take his fingers before he stuffs you with his cock
it's halloween and yunho sent you this video, followed by a text that says "be ready."
this.
yuyu loves to see how far he can push his baby <3
he's so mean :( not stopping until you beg him to
★ yeosang. k ⋆·˚ ༘ *
splitting you open on his cock is his favorite past time
stupid boy should've kept his mouth shut, now he's getting his throat fucked
long distance christmas present
finally letting him cum after teasing for hours
in the dorm w college student! yeosang
★ san. c ⋆·˚ ༘ *
he loves making you squirt
he can't help but want to breed you, even when it's 5am and he's fighting with jet-lag
"nu-uh, baby, don't fucking run from it"
making out with your cunt
"how're you gonna take my cock if you can't handle my fingers, baby?"
★ mingi. s ⋆·˚ ༘ *
he loves when you get so brainless you suck on anything you can get your mouth on
you didn't believe your best friend when she said he would rearrange your guts
"keep that arch baby"
mingi gets off to a video of yunho fucking you (poly! yungi)
you're not selfish
★ wooyoung. j ⋆·˚ ༘ *
wooyoung loves a good fight for dominance even if he wins every time
he looks so pretty cumming on his tummy
pretty boy misses you on tour
wooyoung loves being sandwhiched between you and san
you distract your gamer boyfriend mid-match until he completely falls apart.
𝓬𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 2.9k words, 18+ [ MDNI! ], explicit sexual content, heavy overstimulation, crying, spit as lube, multiple orgasms in a row, semi-public (mic is on), handjob, blowjob, begging, yunho is a trembling & whimpering mess, cum swallowing, grinding, body convulsions, hypersensitivity.
you're sprawled across the bed, chin propped on your palm, watching the back of yunho's head with an expression that's slowly curdling from patience into something sharper.
he's been at it for three hours.
three hours of him hunched over his gaming chair, headset clamped over his ears, fingers dancing across his keyboard like you don't even exist in the same room. the occasional curse slips out — "oh, that's bullshit" — or a sharp laugh when one of his friends says something stupid; you can hear them through the back of yunho’s headset, tinny and distant, a whole world you've been locked out of since eight pm.
and it's almost eleven now.
you've tried everything; you brought him a snack an hour ago — you set it on his desk, let your fingers trail across his shoulders, but yunho only mumbled "thanks, baby," without even looking away from his damn monitor. you'd stood behind him for a solid minute, watching the back of his neck, the way his muscles shifted under his loose t-shirt.
nothing, not even a glance.
you tried sitting on the bed and just... existing, prettily so. you're in one of yunho’s hoodies and nothing else, legs bare, socks with cute little hearts on them. usually that's enough to make him drop everything, usually he'd be on you within seconds, all long limbs and eager hands.
but valorant has your boyfriend in a chokehold tonight, and frankly, you're tired of competing with a video game.
so you wait, you watch, and you plan.
yunho's got this thing he always does when he's focused — his tongue pokes out just slightly, wetting his lower lip, and his eyebrows pinch together. he's so so beautiful like this, all sharp concentration, but you want him beautiful in a different way; you want him wrecked.
you slide off the bed quietly, padding across the carpet until you're right behind his chair. he doesn't notice. of course he doesn't notice; his friends are yelling something about a rotate, and yunho's voice is all clipped efficiency:
"i'm anchoring, i'm anchoring, just push—"
you drop your hands onto his shoulders.
yunho startles, just a little.
"oh—hey, baby. one sec," his eyes never leave the screen.
you don't say anythin, you simply start kneading the tension out of his trapezius muscles, slowly and cautiously. yunho’s shoulders are tight as rocks under your palms, and you feel him exhale as your thumbs dig into a knot.
"that's nice," he murmurs. "feels good."
you lean down, mouth brushing the shell of his ear.
"yeah?"
yunho shivers; you feel it travel down his spine, but his hands keep moving on the keyboard, and his brown eyes stay fixed on that glowing rectangle of chaos.
you could cry from frustration, but instead, you get creative.
your hands slide down from yunho’s shoulders, over his chest, dragging slow across his pectorals; you can feel his heartbeat under your palm — steady, but picking up just a little.
your fingers find the hem of his t-shirt and slip underneath, skating across the warm skin of his stomach.
yunho's breath hitches.
"babe, i'm in the middle of—"
"i know," you say sweetly against his ear. "you're doing so so good, yun."
his stomach tenses under your touch.
you slowly trace the lines of his abdominals, feather-light, watching yunho’s grip tighten on his mouse. his character on screen does something jerky — misses a shot, probably, and one of his friends groans over comms.
"yunho, what the hell was that?"
"nothing," he says, voice slightly strained. "misclick."
you smile, and your hands drift lower, thumbs hooking into the waistband of his gray joggers; they're soft, slightly worn, and they hang low on his hips, and it’s so fucking hot—
"baby," his voice has a warning edge now, but it's shaky. "can this wait? we're in overtime."
you don't answer, you simply slip one of your hand under the waistband, palm flattening against his lower belly, fingers trailing through the fine hair below his navel.
yunho is already half-hard; you can feel it, the way his cock twitches against your questing fingers, the way his hips push forward just a little, involuntarily.
"oh," you breathe. "someone's distracted."
yunho's jaw clenches. his character is standing still in a corner of the map, and his teammates are yelling at him.
"yunho! move! they're pushing A!"
your boyfriend forces his hands to move. you watch his fingers fumble on the keyboard, and something hot curls low in your belly. he's trying so hard to focus. it's adorable.
your hand dips lower, wrapping around his half-hard length through his boxers. he's warm, already leaking a little, and you stroke him once — slow, measured, from base to tip.
yunho makes a sound. it's barely a whimper, swallowed down fast, but you hear it, and your body responds instantly, a rush of heat spreading through your core.
"shh," you whisper. "don't want your friends to hear, do you?"
he shakes his head, a tiny, frantic movement. his ears are now completely red; you can see the flush creeping down his neck, disappearing under his t-shirt collar, and he's gripping his mouse so hard his knuckles are white.
you pull your hand out of his joggers, just for a moment, and yunho makes a confused, almost wounded noise — but then you're hooking your fingers into the waistband and tugging down just enough to free him.
yunho’s cock springs up, flushed and already leaking, the tip shiny and pink. he's not fully hard yet but he's close, and god, you love this part, you love watching him get there.
you spit into your palm, and you hear yunho's breath catch as you wrap your hand around him again, slick and warm.
"oh," yunho breathes. "oh—fuck."
"language," you tease, but your voice is lower now, rougher.
you start stroking him properly, slow and firm, twisting your wrist at the top the way you know he likes, and yunho's hips naturally buck into your hand.
his character is still standing in that corner, and someone on his team is screaming about a spike.
"yunho, what the fuck are you doing?"
"i—" his voice cracks. "i got—someone's at the door, hold on—"
he's lying, and it's terrible. you're both aware of how terrible it is, but you don't call him out, you just keep stroking him, steady and unrelenting, and watch him fall apart in real time.
yunho’s thighs are trembling; you can feel it through the fabric of his joggers, the way his muscles keep twitching, fighting the urge to just shove back from the desk and drag you onto his lap. but he doesn't. he stays in his chair, hands still on keyboard and mouse, because he's stubborn and competitive and he really wanted to win this game.
well… too bad for him.
you speed up just a little, and your thumb swipes over yunho’s slit, spreading the slickness there, and your boyfriend makes a sound that's almost a sob.
"baby, please," he whispers, just loud enough for you to hear.
"please what?" you ask innocently, still stroking, still watching the way his stomach is clenching and unclenching.
yunho doesn't answer, because he can't.
one of his friends is yelling something about a flank, and yunho forces his character to move, running him across the map in a straight line that makes no tactical sense. he's not even trying anymore, he's just going through the motions, and you can feel how close he is — the way his cock is throbbing in your hand, the way his breath is coming in short, sharp pants.
"you're gonna cum," you murmur. "aren't you, baby?"
yunho nods frantically.
his bottom lip is caught between his teeth, and his eyes are glassy, staring at the screen without really seeing it.
"not yet," you decide, and you let go.
yunho actually chokes; it was a desperate, punched-out sound that he tries to turn into a cough.
"what—why—"
"i want to taste you."
you don't wait for permission, you simply drop to your knees behind yunho’s chair, nudging his thighs apart with your shoulders, and then you're leaning in, your mouth closing over the head of your boyfriend’s cock. yunho tastes like salt and skin, that familiar warmth that makes your mouth water.
you swirl your tongue around the tip, lapping up the precum that's beaded just there, and yunho's whole body convulses.
"oh my god," he gasps. "oh my god, oh my god—"
"quiet," you remind him, pulling off just enough to speak. "mic."
yunho slaps a hand over his own mouth, and his pretty eyes are huge, panicked and desperate all at once, and you don't give him time to recover; you take him deeper, sinking down until he hits the back of your throat, and you hear the muffled sound of his scream behind his palm.
his hand flies off the keyboard. his character is running into a wall now, and one of his friends is saying something like:
"yunho, are you okay? your character's just—"
but yunho doesn't answer. hell, he can't.
you're bobbing your head now, setting a rhythm that's relentless, your hand wrapped around the base of his cock to stroke what your mouth can't reach. you're messy about it; spit is dripping down your chin, down his length, and you don't care at all. you just want to make him fall apart.
and he completely is.
yunho’s thighs are shaking violently, his hips jerking up into your mouth even though he's clearly trying to stay still. his hand is still clamped over his mouth, but the sounds are escaping anyway — whimpers, high and desperate, barely muffled by his palm. his other hand is still on his mouse, but he's not moving it; he's just gripping it like a lifeline, knuckles white, his whole arm trembling.
you pull off with a wet sound, just to watch him, just to see the way his chest is heaving, the way his eyes are screwed shut, tears clinging to his lashes.
"look at me," you say.
he does. yunho’s eyes open, and they're so blown out you can barely see the brown. his lips are wet and parted, and there's a tear already tracking down his cheek.
"so pretty," you tell him. "you're doing so well."
he shakes his head frantically.
"i can't—i'm gonna—"
"i know."
you take him back in your mouth before he can finish, and this time you don't hold back; you suck him like you mean it, hard and fast, your throat working around him, and you feel the exact moment he breaks.
yunho cums with a strangled cry, muffled by his own hand, his whole body arching up out of the chair. his release hits the back of your throat, hot and thick, and you swallow it down without stopping, without slowing, even as his hips are jerking and his thighs are trembling and he's making these broken, keening sounds that you know his friends can probably hear.
but you don't stop.
yunho's hand drops from his mouth.
"wait—wait, please, i just—"
but you keep going.
your tongue drags slow and flat over the head, and the noise yunho makes isn't human; it's a raw, punched-out gasp that cracks in the middle, and his whole body seizes — not just a flinch, but a real convulsion, spine bowing forward, shoulders hunching, his hips snapping back like he's trying to escape. but the chair traps him. there's nowhere to go.
"s’too much," yunho wheezes.
his hands fly down to your head, but his fingers don't push you, they just tangle in your hair, gripping hard, knuckles pressed against your scalp.
"s’too much, baby, please—"
you ignore him, and you suck gently, just the tip, and yunho’s thighs slam together around your ears; you have to push them apart again with your forearms, and you feel the muscles there jumping, spasming, completely out of his control.
"i can't—" his voice breaks into a real sob, wet and loud, and you hear one of his friends on the mic go quiet for a second.
"yunho? dude, you okay?"
you've taken him deeper again, and his hips are twitching in these short, jerky little thrusts that he's clearly not deciding to do. his body is just doing things now. his stomach keeps clenching and unclenching under his shirt, and you watch a bead of sweat roll down his temple, catching in his eyebrow.
you pull off to breathe, and the sound yunho makes is almost angry, and so so so desperate.
"please," he gets out. "please, it's so much—it's so much—"
your hand wraps around him again, loose and wet, and you don't move it, you just hold him, feel how hard he's trembling.
"i'm gonna die," yunho whispers, and his voice is tiny.
you laugh softly and lean back in, and this time you don't even take him all the way; you just mouth at the side of his shaft, lips dragging over the sensitive skin, and yunho jerks so hard his elbow knocks his water bottle off the desk. it hits the floor with a loud thunk, but neither of you look at it.
you can feel him softening a little, his body trying to retreat from the overstimulation, but you don't let up.
no, instead, you lick a slow stripe from the base of his cock to tip, and yunho’s breath hitches into a rhythm that's not breathing anymore — it's just gasping, open-mouthed and wet, his chest heaving like he's been running.
"one more," you say against his skin.
"i can't," he gets out, but his voice cracks on the vowel. "i can't, i literally cannot—"
you take him back in your mouth, just the head, and you suck.
it's not hard, it's almost gentle, but it's too much for him now, and you feel it the second his body gives up fighting. his whole frame goes rigid first — every muscle locked, his hands fisting in your hair hard enough to sting — and then he shatters.
it's not a normal orgasm; there's barely anything left, just a weak pulse, a few drops of fluid that you taste more than feel, but yunho’s body doesn't care.
he convulses like he's having a seizure, hips bucking off the chair, back arching so hard his shoulder blades press together. his mouth falls open in a silent scream, no air left to power it, and then the sound comes after — a raw, guttural cry that tears out of his throat and doesn't stop.
yunho’s legs kick out; one of his feet catches the desk leg, and the whole thing rattles.
his mouse skitters off the pad, his keyboard clacks as his chest slams into it, and he's still shaking, still convulsing, little aftershocks rippling through his thighs and his stomach and his hands, which are still twisted in your hair, holding on like you're the only solid thing in the room.
you stay where you are, mouth soft around his cock, but you’re not moving, you’re simply waiting.
it takes a long time for the spasms to slow down.
yunho’s breathing is all over the place — three short inhales, one long shuddering exhale, then nothing, then a gasp like he forgot how to breath. his long fingers loosen in your hair one by one, and his hand falls limp against the side of your face, palm sweaty and trembling.
you pull off slowly, carefully, and yunho’s whole body flinches at the loss of contact.
"hey," you whisper. "baby, you're okay."
he's not okay.
yunho’s is wrecked — tears and snot and spit all smeared together, his lips chapped and bitten raw. his eyes are half-closed, unfocused, the pupils still blown wide, and there's a wet patch on his shirt collar from where he's been crying.
you sit back on your heels and just look at him.
he's still shaking; little tremors, constant, running through his shoulders and his hands. yunho’s chest is hitching with these tiny, involuntary sobs that he doesn't seem to be aware of anymore. his character is dead on the screen — you notice distantly that his team lost, that the defeat screen is glowing on the monitor — but neither of you care.
finally, finally, you stand up.
you reach out and brush the damp hair off yunho’s forehead, and he flinches at your touch, too sensitive, still. but then he leans into it, just a little, his eyes flutter closed.
"baby," you say softly.
"you're mean," he whispers, his voice is completely destroyed, raw and cracked.
yunho just lies there, breathing in shaky hitches, while you stand up and grab a towel from the bathroom to clean him up. you're gentle this time, wiping away the mess, and he hisses when you brush against his cock but doesn't pull away.
you're tucking him back into his joggers when you hear it; a small, tinny voice from his headset.
"uh... yunho? dude, your mic is still on."
yunho's eyes snap open, and all the blood drains from his pretty face, then rushes back twice as fast, turning him crimson from his chest to his hairline.
"oh my god," he whispers.
you bite your lip to keep from laughing, you really do.
"oh my god," yunho says again, louder this time.
and you can hear his friends in the headset — someone is wheezing, someone else is saying; "i'm never letting him live this down," and the third person just keeps repeating "i heard everything, everything, i need therapy—"
yunho rips the headset off and throws it onto the desk, and he buries his face in his hands, shoulders shaking, and you can't tell if he's crying or laughing or both.
"i'm never playing with them again," yunho says, muffled. "i'm moving to a new country. i'm changing my name."
you climb into his lap, ignoring his weak little protest, and wrap your arms around his neck. yunho still trembling, still so so so oversensitive, but he holds you back, completely burying his face in your shoulder.
"you lost your game," you say, pressing a kiss to his temple.
"i don't care about the fucking game."
you grin. "good. because i want round two."
yunho groans, but his hips twitch against yours, and you feel him start to stir again, and you know he's definitely going to let you ruin him all over again.
pairing. bf!ateez x reader
cw. none
notes. i'm so ateezpilled rn so pls enjoy this humble offering. still getting back into the groove of posting so bear with me <3 we will slowly but surely get back into zone!! credit to the og posters of these adorable babies btw! reblogs and comments are appreciated <3
You woke up first, still tangled in Yunho’s arms on his bed, his face buried in your shoulder, hair messy, breathing slow and warm against your neck.
You tried moving. Huge mistake. His arms tightened around you instantly. Like a seatbelt.
“No,” he mumbled, eyes still closed.
“Stay.”
“Yunho, I need to pee.”
“No.”
“Babe—”
He groaned, loosened his grip just enough for you to slip out… but the moment her warmth left his chest…
He woke up.
Eyes half-open. Groggy. Confused. Disoriented. Very much puppy mode. The ‘wait, where is my oxygen?’ look.
You walked towards the bathroom, still tying your robe, when you heard something behind you.
Soft footsteps. Shuffling. Low whining.
You turned around and face palmed.
Your six-foot-two boyfriend in pajamas was following you. All sleepy and disheveled yet still effortlessly good looking at 7am in the morning.
His hair sticking up in twenty directions making him look more puppy-er than usual. Your blanket still wrapped around his shoulders like a cape.
A feral golden retriever that had imprinted on his mate.
You blinked, “Why are you following me?”
He blinked back, like the question was offensive. How dare you ask that question?
“…Because you left.”
“I’m going to the bathroom.”
“I’ll wait outside.”
“No, you won’t.”
He nodded stubbornly. “Yes, I will.”
You squinted. “Are you… pouting?”
He immediately shook his head. He absolutely was pouting.
He padded after you all the way to the bathroom door, blanket trailing on the floor. When you tried to close said bathroom door, his fingers slipped into the doorway.
“Baby.”
“What?”
“I miss you.”
“You saw me thirty seconds ago!”
“I still miss you.”
You groaned, but not really complaining. “You’re impossible.”
He leaned his forehead against the doorframe, groggy and adorable.
“Come back quickly,” he murmured. “I can’t function alone yet.”
You laughed so hard that you nearly forgot why you went in there.
By breakfast time? Yunho was already in maximum Feral Puppy Boyfriend mode.
You headed to the kitchen. Yunho was exactly one step behind you.
No, not beside you. Nope, not even near you. God, never in front of you. Right behind you. Wherever you went.
You opened the fridge. He peered over your shoulder. You went to the sink. He followed. To the coffee machine? He kissed your cheek. You reached for a mug. He grabbed it for you like a loyal but unhinged butler. “I’ll get it for you baby!”
San passed by the kitchen, rubbing his eyes. Stopped and stared. Half in disbelief, half in judgment.
“…Why the hell is he like this? Bro it’s 7 in the morning.”
You poured juice. “I don’t know.”
Yunho, still glued behind you, muttered, “I want cuddles.”
By the others start waking up, Yunho still stuck by you. Nothing new. Just their Yunho being a baby to his girlfriend in their home. Totally a normal Sunday. One by one, they wandered in, completely used to this nonsense.
Wooyoung walked in, too happy with life, immediately screamed, “Good morning—OH MY GOD HE’S IN PUP MODE.”
“Someone get the spray bottle.” Mingi cackled while receiving a glare from his bestie.
Hongjoong, absolutely done with this madness, rubbed his temples and waved the others off, “Leave him. He’s harmless until noon.”
Yeosang deadpanned, “That’s a lie. He bit me once.”
“He doesn’t bite. He nibbles.”, Hwa corrected, stirring his coffee, smiling apologetically at you, “You okay, sweetheart?”
Jongho walked in last with San back hugging him, “Hyung, let the poor girl breathe.”
You turned to look at Yunho. Only for him to tightened his hold around your waist, blanket swallowing both of you now.
“Don’t listen to them, baby,” he mumbled into your neck.
“I’m good. I’m warm. You’re warm. Everything is perfect.”
You giggled softly, patting his cheek before giving him a peak on the lips.
“My clingy puppy.” He made a sound. A little whimper.
The boys all screamed internally. Gagged internally. Or externally, seeing Hongjoong cringed at the affection early in the morning.
Wooyoung shrieked, shaking San by the shoulders, “That’s it. She broke him. He’s never coming back.”
Yunho nuzzled into your neck, finally awake enough to smirk. That cocky smirk that always made you want to either smack him or kiss him. Or both to be honest.
“If she calls me that again,” he murmured against your skin, “I’m carrying her back to bed.”
