── established relationship, hard dom!hongjoong x fem!reader
“The hotel room is too quiet for how hard Hongjoong is fucking you.”
You thought you could handle him, but Hongjoong isn’t interested in making love tonight. He wants to break you down until you are nothing but a weeping, shaking mess in his hands. He has rules—be still, be quiet, don’t cum—and he is going to make sure you fail every single one of them just so he can punish you for it.
Genre: heavy smut, porn without plot
Trigger Warnings: explicit sexual content (mdni!), daddy kink (heavy), degradation & name calling (useless, pathetic, toy, slut, hole, sleeve), rough sex: (hair pulling, biting, bruising, aggressive thrusting), oral fixation (fingers in mouth, gagging, drooling), denial, edging, impact play (spanking, slapping), objectification, dacryphilia, exhibitionism (sex against a floor-to-ceiling window), body fluids (spit, tears, sperm on face/throat), multiple orgasms, overstimulation (reader says it hurts), brat taming, mild breath play, cock warming, squirting, breeding kink, creampie, traffic light system, breast play, deep subspace, reader’s fucked stupid, aftercare???
WC: 17.7k
Mon’s Note: i honestly don’t know what happened here. title is “empty headed” because that is literally me after writing this. no thoughts. head empty.
The hotel room is too quiet for how hard Hongjoong’s fucking you.
“Da‑daddy,” you moan as he pounds into you, your arms pinned tight behind your back in one of his hands.
“Fu—fuck.” Your own sounds fill the space along with the wet slap of skin, the headboard’s dull knock against the wall, the drag of sheets burning your knees. You’re clenching around him each time he hits that spot, lights blurring at the edges. Your thighs shake, your mouth stays open, wrecked sound spilling out with every thrust.
Hongjoong adjusts your hips the barest inch and the angle turns ruthless. The stretch sharpens and the friction is obscene. You swear. His breath ghosts your ear, calm where everything else is chaos.
“That’s it. Fucking take it.” His rings are cold against your wrists where he pins them, a bite that makes you clench harder.
“Fuck Joong—”
He stops. The shift is sudden—your body still clenching around his dick, desperate for friction that’s no longer there. His hand fists in your hair and jerks you up hard, arching your spine until your back meets his chest. One arm locks around your waist, ribs pressed to his forearm. The other grips your jaw, fingers pressing into the hinge until your mouth falls open.
You can feel his pulse against your cheek.
You can feel your own everywhere.
“What did you just call me?” His voice is low, dangerous, a heat against your ear. You feel it more than hear it, vibrating through your ribs where he’s got you pinned. The air is hot and thin.
Your breath comes shallow, uneven. “I—”
“Say it again.” Hongjoong’s hips shift, just enough to make you gasp, but he doesn’t move. Doesn’t give you what you need. His thumb drags across your bottom lip, smearing spit at the corner. “Go on.”
You swallow. Your pulse hammers against his palm. “Da—”
He tsks, the sound soft and cutting. His grip tightens on your jaw until your eyes sting. “Wrong answer.” His thumb pushes your chin up.
His hand slides from your jaw to your throat, not squeezing yet. “You know better.” The words are barely above a whisper, but they land heavy. He pulls out almost completely, the drag lighting every nerve, then slams back in without warning.
Your body jerks forward with the force, a broken cry tearing from your throat. The slap of skin is sharp. The mattress stutters under your knees, the headboard slams again.
“Daddy—” The word comes out garbled, desperate, exactly what he wanted to hear.
“Good girl.” His grip on your throat softens, becomes almost tender. “Again.”
“Daddy,” you gasp, the word punched out of you with another sharp thrust. Your fingers curl uselessly in his grip, your whole body wound so tight you think you might shatter. “Please—addy, I need—” Your own spit threads from your mouth to his thumb where it drags your lip and you taste metal from your bitten tongue.
Hongjoong’s laugh is dark, satisfied. “Need what, love?” The hand on your throat slides down to palm your breast, rolling your nipple between two knuckles until heat spikes. He pinches it and the pain blooms sweet and mean. “Use your words.” His breath hits damp hair stuck to your temple.
You moan uselessly, the sound ragged and broken. Words won’t come—just desperate, incoherent noise that makes him groan against your ear.
“That’s what I thought,” he murmurs, satisfaction dripping from every word. Your knees skid an inch on the sheet and his hand leaves your breast to clamps your hip and hauls you back so you feel the blunt head punch deep again. He holds you exactly where he wants you as he starts thrusting deep inside you. “Can’t even speak anymore, can you?”
You shake your head frantically, or try to—his hold on you barely allows the movement. Everything’s gone white‑hot and overwhelming, your body trembling in his arms as he takes you apart piece by piece. Your mascara is a damp smear at your lashes; a tear salt‑burns the corner of your mouth where it meets his thumb.
“Mmpf—please—” The words break on a sob as the tension coils impossibly tighter, your walls fluttering around him. Your thighs tremble uncontrollably. The mattress squeals. Hongjoong groans when your cunt strangles him, like the sound is dragged from somewhere he doesn’t show anyone.
“I’ve been a good girl, Daddy, please—” Your voice breaks on the words, desperate and pleading. “Please let me—fuc—k—let me cum, I need—”
“Not yet. Listen to yourself—messy little thing, slobbering on my hand and still trying to think you get a say.” His pace doesn’t falter, each thrust hitting that devastating spot that has your vision blurring. He changes nothing just to prove he controls everything. “You’ll cum when I say.”
“Daddy—” It’s a sob more than a word, your body trembling violently as you fight against the edge. “Please, I can’t—I can’t hold it—”
“Yes, you can. You’re a hole when I tell you to be a hole.” His lips brush your ear, voice dropping lower, amused and cruel. “Be useful.” His teeth take the soft flesh of your shoulder, a quick bite that stings and his tongue soothes, then he bites again, harder.
A broken whimper tears from your throat as tears prick at your eyes. “Yes—yes, I’ll wait—fuck—please—” The word breaks because he drives in meaner, holding you down with his forearm across your ribs until your breaths come shallow and quick.
“That’s all you’re good for, isn’t it? Taking.” The room narrows to the slick drag and the hot thud of him and the damp heat where your bodies meet. “Just a wet little thing I wreck.”
Your eyes sting, vision blurring as the first tear slips free. It tracks hot down your cheek, and Hongjoong’s rhythm stutters for just a beat like he’s savouring it. His grip on your jaw shifts, thumb catching the wetness before it falls to the sheet.
“Look at you,” he breathes, hungry. “Crying because you can’t keep up. Cock‑drunk already and I’m not even trying.” He drags the tear across your cheekbone, reverent and mean at once. “So fucking pretty when you beg with your eyes.” He licks the salt from his thumb, eyes fixed on your wrecked mouth. “Open that useless mouth and try again.”
Another tear follows, then another. A sob catches as he drives deeper. His groan vibrates against your spine. “Pathetic,” he murmurs, almost fond.
Hongjoong’s hand moves from your jaw to cup your face, fingers gentle even as his hips maintain their brutal pace. “Let me see what a mess you are.” He turns your face just enough to catch the tear‑tracks in the low light, pupils blown. “Crying so pretty on Daddy’s cock.”
The praise and the cruelty braid together and break something in you. “Please—” Your voice frays to a thread.
“So good for me,” he says, and then ruins it: “Good for nothing but this.” He catches another tear with his thumb. “My perfect little toy.” His palm slides down your belly, heat making your muscles jump. “Say it.”
“T—toy,” you gasp, shame and want tangling.
“Show Daddy how pretty you look when you break.” He hooks two fingers in the corner of your mouth, yanking it open so spit strings glitter from your lip. “There. Pretty mouth.”
His thumb presses your bottom lip then pushes past. Two fingers follow, flattening your tongue until drool pools at the corners of your mouth. “Keep it open,” he orders, voice rough. “Show me that useless tongue.”
You do, jaw slack, spit threading down your chin while he fucks you deep. He presses farther, taps the back of your throat until your eyes glass. The first gag catches wet and awful, and he groans like you handed him a gift. “There it is. Choke on my fingers while I fill you up.”
He doesn’t pull back—he pushes deeper, knuckles wetting your tongue, and the next gag rips through you loud enough to embarrass you. Tears jump your lash line and spill. Hongjoong watches them like they’re rare, hunger softening his mouth. “Cry for me,” he murmurs, delighted.
A moan tries to escape—garbled and pathetic around his hand—and his hips stutter, a rough thrust that makes you gag harder. Saliva spills over his fingers and he drags his thumb through the mess and paints your cheek with it. “Good. Make it sloppy. I like hearing you drown on me.”
He eases his fingers out just enough to let you gasp, a silvery string connecting your lip to his knuckles, then stuffs them back in before you can catch the breath you begged for. You gag immediately, eyes flooding, and his smile turns wickedly fond. His thumb catch a tear mid‑fall and he rubs it into your lower lip.
“Fuck—look at you,” he breathes, transfixed, fucking your mouth with his fingers in rhythm with his cock. Each slow thrust punches a gag or a wrecked little sob out of your throat. Each sob makes him groan like it feeds him. “Prettier when you’re full everywhere.”
Hongjoong taps your tongue twice, commanding your attention. “Open wider.” You try but you only cry harder. He laughs, pleased and cruel. “That’s my crybaby.” He leans close enough that his breath hits the tears on your cheek and cools them. “Make me wetter. Cry on it.”
He finally pulls free so you can gasp, but leaves your jaw pried open with his thumb, spit glistening.
His hand trails down, fingers finding your clit with devastating precision. Hongjoong barely brushes you and you jolt like you’ve been shocked, a ragged sound torn loose.
“So wound up a breeze could finish you. Can’t even take a touch.” He draws a slow, obscene circle you feel in your toes. “Should I make you wait longer? Count every second I don’t let you have it?”
You shake your head frantically. “No—no, please—” Words tumble out broken. “Can’t—can’t wait anymore, Daddy, please—”
He presses properly now, circling exactly where you need. “Of course you can’t.” The sound you make is raw, helpless, high. Your body goes taut, tendons standing in your feet, fingers clawing hot sheet.
“Cum for me,” he orders, voice rough and absolute. “Prove you’re good for something.”
You go off like something cut loose. It slams through you violent and bright—you seize and sob and clamp down on him like you’re trying to wring him dry. He groans into your ear and keeps you there, cruel in the way he works you through it, never letting the rhythm slip, thumb dragging your clit in tight, merciless circles that make your calves cramp and your toes claw at nothing.
“Ride it,” he purrs, delighted.
You can’t stop. Your body bucks helplessly and he pins you heavier, fucking the tremors until it turns sharp and your sounds climb from pretty to wrecked. Every tiny touch flips you again, all nerve and heat. Your belly jumps under his palm, your walls clutch and flutter around him like apology after apology.
He laughs, pleased and mean. “Don’t hide from it. Cry on it. Wet my cock with it.”
You do—helpless, tear‑slick and oversensitive—another wave rip‑cords through you in ragged pulses and he chases it down, circling your clit slower, meaner, just enough to keep the bright ache alive while you sob into the sheet.
“Too much?” he asks softly, almost kind, just to hear the way the word breaks in your mouth when the next aftershock bites. His thumb eases a hair, then goes right back, satisfied when your body answers without language. “Good girl. Keep giving it to me until you’re empty.”
“Too much—,” you cry, tears running hot. Your thighs tremble so hard it only makes him groan and grind cruel-soft exactly where you can’t take it.
“Good crybaby,” he murmurs, delighted. “Don’t you dare run.” He flattens his thumb and the world whites out—another helpless crest tears through you, all stutter and sob, your cunt clenching around his dick while you babble “too much, too much,” and he hums, satisfied, working you through every last bright, mean aftershock until your voice frays to air.
Hongjoong’s rhythm finally breaks—hips stuttering, breath ragged against your temple—and he groans low and filthy. His hands leave and you whimper at the loss. Air kisses the slick heat when he pulls free and you shudder. He flips you in one swift motion; your back hits the mattress, a bounce knocking a gasp out of you. The sheets are damp under your shoulder blades and the pillow is cool under fevered skin.
“Look at me.” Jaw tight, eyes wild, control fraying. A vein jumps in his neck. He looks like sin and victory.
“Hands above your head.” You obey, wrists crossing. “Don’t move.” His palm pins your wrists; the heel of it grinds the bones together until you whine. The other drops to his cock and works himself once, twice, your slick shines on his length.
“Eyes on me.”
“Fuck—” The word breaks as his release lashes hot across your stomach and chest. Cum splashes your throat, a line streaks your collarbone. He doesn’t look away from your face while he watches it drip. Ragged breath. Shuddering shoulders.
He drags two fingers through the mess and paints your lips with it, slow. He pushes his fingers past your tongue. “Suck it up like a good little slut.” You do, cheeks hollowing, and he hums approval when you gag around his knuckles then he pulls free with a wet pop.
Hongjoong smears the rest of his cum across your cheek and jaw, then rubs what’s left into your throat.
“Hands stay.” Your wrists ache deliciously. His palm presses your sternum, shortening your breath; he lifts it just enough to give you air, like charity. Then he kisses you deep, filthy, tasting salt and himself on your tongue. He palms the back of your thigh and hikes it high to his hip. “Round two,” he says like a sentence.
“No—no—” Your thighs slam shut on instinct, trembling violently. Oversensitive doesn’t begin to cover it—every nerve ending feels raw, exposed, like touching a live wire. Your knees knock together as you try to curl away, breath coming in short, desperate gasps.
Hongjoong’s hand catches your knee before you can fully close yourself off. His grip is firm but he doesn’t force—not yet. He watches you shake apart, eyes dark and assessing.
“Too much?” The question sounds almost curious, like he’s cataloging your limits for future reference.
“I can’t—” Your voice breaks on a sob. “Please, I need—just a minute—”
His thumb traces idle circles on your kneecap, a mockery of gentleness while your body still trembles from the aftershocks. “That’s not how this works, love.” He leans down, lips brushing your temple. “You don’t get to decide when we’re done.”
His hand slides up your thigh, not forcing your legs open yet, just resting there with casual ownership. “You know how we end things.” It’s not a question. His eyebrow arches, that familiar challenge, and your stomach drops because you do know. You know exactly what he’s waiting for.
The word sits on your tongue—red. Simple. Final. It would stop everything.
But it won’t come.
“No?” His thumb strokes once, twice, maddeningly gentle against your feverish skin. “Then I’ll make it easy for you.” His voice drops, taking on that edge that makes your pulse stutter. “Three seconds. Say it or I’m not stopping.”
Your breath catches. Every nerve ending screams that you can’t, that you’re too wrecked, too sensitive, too much—
“One.”
The word is right there. Red. Your lips part.
“Two.”
His fingers trail higher, barely a whisper of touch, and you tremble. Your mouth stays open, empty.
“Three.” He waits one more heartbeat, eyes locked on yours, searching. When nothing comes—when you just stare back at him, panting and wrecked and silent—something shifts in his expression. Satisfaction, dark and absolute. “That’s what I thought.”
“Let daddy in.”
Your thighs fall open slowly, a surrender that feels like defeat and relief tangled together. He drags the blunt head through your slick and slaps it against your clit—wet, obscene—once, twice, just to watch your whole body jump. When he pushes in—slow, deliberate, watching every micro-expression that crosses your face—the oversensitivity makes you keen, a broken sound that's half-sob, half-moan.
“Good girl,” Hongjoong murmurs, and doesn’t move. He stays buried to the hilt, making you feel every inch, every slow pulse. Your walls flutter around him and he hisses through his teeth. “Still.”
“Daddy—” You twitch, trying to adjust to the obscene fullness, and his hand clamps your hip hard enough to bruise.
“I said still.” His voice is steel. He shifts a mean millimeter deeper, a promise you’re going to hate loving. “You said you ‘can’t’ anymore? Cute.” He settles like a stake driven into the earth. “Then be useful.” Hongjoong’s hand lifts your thigh and hooks your knee higher, forcing the angle open until the stretch sits deep and electric. “Keep Daddy’s dick warm,” he says, bored and cruel.
Heat licks up your spine. Hongjoong doesn’t thrust. He doesn’t have to. You try to breathe around it. He shifts another millimeter—just a cruel reminder of his thickness—and the sound that leaks out of you is humiliating.
You twitch—instinct, pathetic—and his cock slides against a nerve that makes your whole body jolt. You try to chase it, hips rolling a greedy inch before you can stop yourself.
“Did I say you could move?” His voice cuts through the haze, razor-clean. His palm slams your hip back to the mattress, pinning you flat with bruising force. “Greedy little sleeve. One rule. You can’t even manage one.”
A wrecked whimper leaks out. The stillness is torture—every ridge, every vein, the obscene stretch of him pulsing inside you while your body screams to grind, to rub, to take. Your thighs tremble. Your toes curl like you’re trying to scratch at the air.
“Please—” you gasp, voice shaking. “I need—”
“You need?” He laughs, low and mean. “You need to learn to take what you’ve given.” His fingers dig into your hip, owning the flesh. “Move again and I pull out. I leave you empty and leaking with your little hole clenched around nothing. Is that what you want?”
“N—no, Daddy, please—”
“Then be fucking still.” He settles a breath deeper, a hateful inch that makes you sob, and holds you there like a knife sheathed to the hilt. “Keep me warm like I told you.” His mouth brushes your ear, the smile audible. “Stop acting like a desperate slut who can’t control herself.”
You feel the words burn through you; your walls flutter helplessly around him. You can’t stop the tiny drag of your hips—barely there, shameful—and he feels it immediately.
“Ah‑ah.” He smiles against your cheek.
“Please—” It scrapes out of you, ragged.
“Please what.” Flat as a verdict. “Use your stupid mouth.” His thumb strokes your jaw, mock‑gentle.
Your body shakes with effort. Your calves cramp. “Please—” The word fractures before it can form, dissolving into a sound that’s barely human—just need and surrender wrapped in breath.
The fullness skates the edge of too much; oversensitivity turns every slow beat into bright heat. Hongjoong only watches, pleased and dark, while you struggle to hold still around him. A whimper leaves you, broken and desperate.
“Quiet,” he says, almost bored. “Toys don’t whine.” He shifts deeper just to hear the noise you make. “Hands flat. Eyes open. Count your breaths if you need to. Don’t twitch.”
You count breaths because he told you to and lose the thread at eight, at nine, at nothing, because your body betrays you—tiny flutters you can’t control. Each one earns you a hum against your temple, a lazy squeeze at your throat that says he felt it.
“Pathetic,” he croons finally, sounding pleased.
“Daddy—” slips out again, ruined.
“What do you think you’re going to ask for? You’re full. You’re not getting more. You’re keeping me.”
“Please—”
“Please what?” His voice goes flat. “No babbling, no noise. Full sentence. Ask to be used.”
Shame burns hot. “Please use me, Daddy.”
“Mhm.” He rewards you with a single, slow grind that rolls through you like thunder, then stops dead. “Ask better.”
Your throat tightens. The words stick—humiliating—but his silence is worse, patient and hungry, like he has all night to watch you crack. “Please use me however you want, Daddy,” you whisper, voice breaking. “I’m yours—I’m just—please, I need you to—”
“Need me to what?” His thumb traces your bottom lip, almost tender in a way that makes you want to sob. “Say it clear or I’ll sit inside you and watch you shake until morning.”
“Please fuck me,” you gasp, shame scorching every syllable. “Please—use me like the toy I am. I can’t—Daddy, wreck me, please—”
“There it is.” His smile cuts wicked against your jaw. “See? Useless little mouth can learn.” He drags out of you slow—obscenely slow—until only the tip sits at your entrance. The loss rips a whimper out of you. “Since you asked nicely.”
He slams back in with no warning. Your toes curl hard enough to hurt. Your nails bite your palms. You don’t move. You don’t dare.
“Better,” he decides, and finally gives you motion—small, shallow, nothing like mercy. Short, ruthless strokes that never leave you, just rock deep enough to make your breath hitch on every one. “Count them.”
“One,” you whisper. “Two.” By four your voice shakes. By seven it thins to air. By ten you’ve lost the number and he has to murmur it for you against your mouth, amused.
“Ten,” he says, and nips your bottom lip. “Hopeless little counter.” He pulls out to the edge again and you whine without meaning to. He catches your chin hard. “What did I say about whining?”
“Toys don’t whine,” you breathe, panicked and obedient.
“That’s right.” He slides back in, the stretch a bright, tearing relief, and sets a new pace that is nothing like earlier—just deep and slow and devastating, like he’s proving he can keep you here forever.
You feel it rising again—desperation clawing up your throat, that helpless way your body starts chasing friction on its own. Your hips twitch forward, greedy without permission. His fingers bite down instantly.
“Stop.” Ice-cold.
But you don’t. You can’t. You’re wrecked and stupid with need, and your body rolls again—small, hungry little pulses that betray every order he’s given you. A whine slips out, high and broken.
“Daddy, please—I can’t—I need more, please—”
“You can’t?” His voice drops to something dangerous. “Or you won’t?”
“I can’t—” Another whimper. Your hips buck again, chasing the friction he’s withholding, and the sound that leaves you is pathetic. “Please, Daddy, I need—need you to move, need it harder, need—”
He goes dead still inside you. The absence of movement is worse than any punishment.
“Greedy little thing,” he says, tone flat with disappointment. “I give you my cock to keep warm and you can’t even manage that without turning into a whining, desperate mess.”
“I’m sorry—” You’re babbling now, words tripping over themselves. “I’m sorry, Daddy, please—just—please fuck me, I’ll be good—”
“You’ll be good?” He laughs—sharp, cruel, joyless. “You’re not being good now. You’re being a greedy slut who can’t follow a single fucking instruction.” His hand slides from your hip to your throat—fingers wrapping lightly. Your pulse hammers against his palm. “I don’t like you like this.”
It hits like a slap. Shame floods hot and immediate, and still your body trembles, still clenching around him, still needing.
“Please—”
“Please what? Please keep giving you what you clearly can’t handle?” He shifts just enough to make you whine, then stops again. “You’re not ready for more. You can’t even take what I’ve already given you without falling apart.”
“I can—I can take it—” Your voice breaks on a sob.
“No.” Firm. Final. “You can’t. Look at you. Shaking and whining and begging like you forgot how to be still.” His thumb strokes your throat once—almost gentle, which makes it worse. “I told you to be useful. Instead you’re being pathetic.”
The disappointment punches something open in your chest. You force yourself still—every muscle screaming—swallowing the whine clawing up your tongue. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, small and wrecked. “I’m sorry, Daddy.”
He watches you for a long, measuring beat. Then, slowly, he withdraws completely. The emptiness is a knife.
“Daddy—no—please—”
“Quiet.” The word drops like a brick. He stays out of you, cock wet against your slit, heat without mercy. “You want more when you can’t even fucking hold still?” His laugh is flat and ugly.
Your chest hitches. “Daddy, I—”
“Don’t talk.” He drags the swollen head through your slick once, slow, and you gasp like a drowning thing. The emptiness screams. “You don’t get my cock. You get consequence.”
“Do you want Daddy to go find himself another hole?” His words hit like acid, eating under your skin. “A quiet one. An obedient sleeve that doesn’t twitch, doesn’t whine, doesn’t make me repeat myself like I’m training a puppy.”
“No—” It tears out of you, small and panicked. “No, Daddy, please—”
“No?” Hongjoong sounds almost curious, like he’s already halfway out the door. “Because you’re not acting like you want to keep me. You’re acting like a spoiled toy that forgot what it’s for.”
“I do—I want to keep you—” Your voice breaks. “Please don’t—I’ll be good, I promise—”
“You promised to stay still five fucking minutes ago and look where that got us.” His thumb drags across your bottom lip, cruelly tender. “Maybe I should find a hole that knows how to listen. One that doesn’t babble, doesn’t beg, and doesn’t forget every rule the second it gets full.”
The image scalds—him leaving you empty and shaking while he goes somewhere else—and the sob that rips free is ugly.
“Please, Daddy—please—I’ll do better, I swear—don’t leave, please don’t, I need you—”
“Need me?” His voice goes flat. “You need to learn to fucking behave.” He drags the head of his cock on your swollen clit like a threat and your body jerks up desperately. “See? Even now you can’t stay still.”
“I’m sorry—I’m sorry—” Tears slip hot into your hair. “I’ll be good, I promise, please just—stay—”
“One. More. Chance.” Soft and lethal. “You twitch, you whine, you breathe wrong—and I’m done with you tonight. I’ll go find that quiet hole, and you can hump the sheet and think about why I left.”
The burn in your eyes sharpens.
“Say the rule.”
You swallow. “Keep—keep you warm.”
“At a minimum.” He taps the head against your clit again—light, mean—once. Your twitch and his hand locks your pelvis to the mattress with bruising pressure. “And you couldn’t even fucking do that.”
“I’m sorry,” you whisper, shaking.
“I don’t want sorry. I want silent, still, useful.” He lays the fat tip at your entrance and holds it there. “Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to keep me right here and not twitch. You breathe wrong, we reset. You beg wrong, we reset. You whine, you don’t get me at all.”
“Daddy—”
“Start.” His thumb presses your throat, not choking, just owning. “Five breaths.”
You count, voice wrecked and tiny. One. Two. Your body claws for friction and he hears the minuscule drag in your hips like it’s a confession.
“Reset,” he says, bored. The head lifts off you. The loss is a knife. He sets it back and you whine before you can strangle it.
“Reset.” He smiles without warmth.
Shame burns through you. “Please—” You bite it off and force your lungs to move. One. Two. Three. At four he ghosts the head forward—no entry, just stretch on the skin—and you hiccup a sound you barely recognise.
“Reset,” he repeats, almost amused now. “We’d be done by now if you weren’t such a needy fuckup.”
“I can do it.”
“Doubt it.” He pats your cheek condescendingly. “But try again.”
You count, lips trembling. One. Two. Three. Four. Five.
He stares down at you, unimpressed. “Now thank me for not fucking you.”
The sentence scrapes your throat raw. “Thank you for not fucking me, Daddy.”
He hums, pleased—and disappointed anyway. “Again, like you mean it.”
“Thank you for not fucking me,” you rush the words out, “For making me still. For making me useful.”
“Finally.” The head presses, a murderous inch, then stops dead inside—no thrust, just fullness that feels like a verdict. You choke on a sound; his fingers tighten on your jaw.
“Now you hold me there and you don’t move,” he says, low and lethal.
Your body locks into place, every muscle screaming against the stillness. The stretch sits there—barely inside, not enough, too much—and he doesn't move. Just watches you shake around that single cruel inch, his expression flat and clinical, like he's studying how long it takes before you break again.
He watches your thighs quiver around that single inch like he’s timing a lab experiment. “Three breaths,” he says, voice clinical. “Earn another inch.”
You breathe. One. Two. On three your belly flutters; he feels it. The head slides in a second inch and stops dead. You whimper through your teeth.
“Again. Three.”
You make it, barely—every nerve screaming—and he feeds you another inch like he’s measuring with a ruler. “See?” he murmurs, disappointed anyway. “When you shut up and follow orders you almost pass for useful.”
“Daddy—”
His palm covers your mouth, not to mute, to own.
He waits, indifferent to the shake, then seats the rest in a slow, inevitable push and locks your hips to the mattress. Utterly full. Utterly still.
“There.” His fingers tap your jaw, condescending. “Now ask me for nothing.”
You swallow hard, nod against his palm because language might ruin you. He smiles—cold, pleased—and starts the smallest motion imaginable, a cruel internal drag that never lets you chase. Your body tries anyway. He feels the microscopic reach.
“Aaand there she is,” he sighs, disgusted.
“On your fucking knees,” he says, voice flat and final. “Ass up.”
He pulls out completely—the emptiness is brutal—and you scramble to obey, limbs clumsy with need. Your knees hit the mattress, your chest drops, and you arch your back the way he likes, presenting yourself like an apology.
“Higher.” His palm cracks across your ass—sharp, unforgiving—and you gasp, lifting until your spine curves obscene. “There. Now stay exactly like that and think about why you're here instead of full of my cock.”
The air feels too cold on your exposed cunt. You hear him move behind you, deliberate and unhurried, and the anticipation is its own kind of torture. His hand smooths over the curve of your ass once—almost tender—then his palm comes down again, harder. The sound cracks through the room.
“Count.”
“One,” you breathe, shaking.
Another, lower—right on the tender hinge where ass meets thigh. You jerk, then wrench yourself back into place.
“Two—”
“Louder. Like you fucking mean it.”
The next lands before your mouth can catch up. You yelp. “Three!”
“Better.” He pauses, fingers trailing through the slick mess between your thighs, not giving you anything, just reminding you what you're not getting. The touch is featherlight—clinical, almost—and it makes you ache harder than if he'd pressed down with intent. Your clit throbs where his knuckles barely graze it, swollen and desperate, and the emptiness inside you feels like a wound. Every nerve ending screams for more.
“Why are you here?”
“Because I couldn’t stay still—couldn’t—”
“Because you’re greedy.” The slap is vicious and precise. “Four.”
“Four,” you sob.
“Because you take what I give you and immediately beg for more like it’s not enough.” His hand comes down again, twice in quick succession, and you lose count, scrambling to catch up.
“Five—six—“
“Pathetic.” He sounds disgusted and pleased at the same time. His knuckles skim the burn, then slide meanly through your slick, circle your clit once and abandon it like a test you failed. The touch makes you clench around nothing, empty and aching, every nerve ending screaming for more pressure, more contact, more of him. The abandonment feels like a punishment you can’t name—your body chasing something he’s already taken away. “Still dripping. Still desperate. Still not listening.”
“I’m sorry, Daddy—”
“You will be.” His fist knots in your hair, yanking your face off the sheet. “We keep going until your body remembers how to obey. You twitch or gasp wrong, we reset to one.”
The next strike lands; you choke the whimper into your teeth and hold. “Seven!”
“Let’s see you make it to ten without falling apart.”
Eight snaps high on the curve; nine brutal on the sit spot. You bite the inside of your cheek until you taste iron and force the numbers out steady—“Eight. Nine.”—and you don’t move.
Ten comes down perfect, right where it hurts prettiest.
“Ten.” Your voice is raw but even. Silence drops heavy around it.
“Look at that,” he murmurs, palm smoothing over the heat, reverent like he’s polishing his work. “Directions aren’t complicated when you’re not busy failing.”
His fingers trace the marks he’s left, then slide lower, through the slick mess between your thighs. You bite down hard on your lip to keep from making a sound, from pushing back into his touch.
“Don’t you dare chase,” he says softly.
You lock your hips but Hongjoong rewards you with nothing. Then—finally, cruelly—one slow circle on your clit that makes your calves charlie-horse and your lungs forget.
You wait. You hold perfectly still, thighs shaking, breathing shallow through your nose. You wait for the praise—for him to tell you you’re good, that you’ve finally done it right, that you’ve earned something. The silence stretches. His thumb stays maddeningly light, circling without pressure, and the words don't come.
They’re not coming.
The realisation settles cold in your chest even as heat coils tighter in your belly. He’s not going to give it to you.
“Please,” you whisper, a thread. “Please tell me I did good.”
Hongjoong’s hand stills. The silence stretches, and you feel the weight of his gaze on you.
“Ask properly.”
You swallow hard, forcing the words out even as shame and need tangle in your chest. “Please, Daddy. Please tell me I’m good. I need to hear it. I need to know I did well.”
His thumb resumes—tight, deliberate circles that you meet with perfect stillness because you want the words more than air. “You want praise?” he asks, almost curious. “After the shitshow you put on?”
“I made it to ten,” you rasp. “I stayed still. I didn’t move.”
“You finally did what you were told,” he concedes. Pressure sharpens and every muscle in you locks so you don’t grind into it. “Miracles.”
“Please,” you breathe. “Please, Daddy—”
“Shut the fuck up,” Hongjoong says, voice flat. His thumb stops mid-circle and lifts off entirely. “I didn’t ask for begging. I asked for obedience.”
The loss of contact is devastating. You bite back a whimper, holding position even as your thighs shake.
“You think making it to ten earns you anything?” He sounds almost bored now, disgusted. “That’s the bare minimum of not being completely fucking useless.”
Your eyes burn. You keep your face pressed to the sheet, don’t move, don’t speak.
“You want praise for doing what you should’ve done the first time?” His hand comes down once more on your ass. “For finally shutting up and following a simple fucking instruction?”
Silence. You don’t answer because he didn’t ask a question you’re allowed to respond to.
“That’s what I thought.” His fingers trail back between your thighs, maddeningly light, and you hold so still you forget to breathe. “You don’t get praise for meeting expectations. You get my cock when you exceed them.” His voice drops, cruel and clinical. “And you? You’re so far below the bar I’d need a fucking shovel to find where you started. You think ten slaps and some tears make you special? You’re not even average. You’re just finally less of a disappointment than you were five minutes ago.”
His fist knots in your hair again and yanks you upright—sharp, brutal—until your spine arcs and your knees scream against the mattress. Your scalp burns; your throat opens on a gasp you can’t swallow back.
“Look at me.” His voice is low, final. You force your eyes open, vision blurred, and meet his gaze. It’s flat. Clinical. Like he’s deciding whether you’re worth the effort.
“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” He tightens his grip until tears spring hot and immediate. “Attention. Validation. My fucking time.”
You can’t nod—his hold won’t let you—so you whisper it, wrecked. “Yes, Daddy.”
“Then stop fucking wasting it.” He drags you closer by the hair, your body folding backward, chest exposed, throat vulnerable. “Stop begging for praise you haven’t earned. Stop moving when I tell you to be still. Stop acting like you don’t know exactly what I expect from you.”
He releases your hair and you collapse forward, gasping. Before you can catch your breath, his hands are on your hips, hauling you upright and off the bed entirely. Your legs don’t work right—numb and shaking—but Hongjoong doesn't care, dragging you across the room until your palms hit cold glass.
“Hands flat,” he orders, positioning you facing the window. The city glitters below, oblivious. “Don’t you fucking move them.”
You press your palms to the glass, the chill biting into your overheated skin. The window is floor-to-ceiling, and you’re on the twentieth floor—exposed, visible if anyone bothered to look up. The thought makes your stomach drop.
“Daddy—“ you start, voice thin with panic.
“I don’t remember asking you to speak.” His hand lands between your shoulder blades, forcing your chest forward until your breasts press flat against the glass. The cold shocks through you, nipples hardening instantly, and you gasp at the contrast. “You wanted my attention? Congratulations. Now everyone down there gets a front-row seat to what happens when you finally shut the fuck up and do what you’re told.”
His breath is hot against your ear as he leans in closer, caging you against the window. “Look at them. All those people going about their boring little lives, and if even one of them glanced up right now, they’d see you—spread out, dripping, desperate. They’d see exactly what kind of slut you are. The kind who begs for cock pressed against a window twenty floors up.”
He grinds his hips forward slightly, not entering yet, just letting you feel the threat of it. “Think about it. Some guy walking his dog. Some woman coming home from work. And there you are—tits against the glass, ass out, waiting to be fucked like you’re on display. Like you’re a show I’m putting on for the whole goddamn city.”
He kicks your feet apart, wider than stable, until you’re on display—open, vulnerable. His hand trails down your spine, over the burning marks on your ass, then lower.
“Stay exactly like this,” he says, voice deadly calm. “Hands on the glass. Don’t move. Don’t make a sound."
You feel him line up behind you, the blunt pressure of his cock against your entrance. Your breath fogs the window. Every instinct screams to push back, to take what you need, but you lock your muscles and hold.
“Everyone can see you,” he says, breath hot against your ear as he leans over you, caging you between his body and the glass. “See how desperate you are.”
The angle is punishing. He bottoms out so deep you feel it in your throat then he pulls to the edge and shoves back in in one rude stroke. Your gasp splashes white on the glass. Hongjoong watches it bloom and fade and times the next thrust to erase it. He does not tease. He does not test. He just takes—hips snapping in a pace with no mercy—each impact a proof that your body belongs exactly where he’s putting it. When your thighs start to shake he only tightens his hand at your hip, grinding you into the glass so the cold bites your nipples and the heat bites everywhere else
Your reflection stares back at you—fucked out, wrecked, mouth open on silent gasps you’re not allowed to voice.
“This is what you needed,” he continues, rhythm brutal and unrelenting. “Not praise. Not softness. Just someone to put you exactly where you belong and fuck the desperation out of you until you remember how to behave.”
Your legs are shaking so hard you can barely stand, but his grip on your hips is iron, holding you in place, keeping you upright and on display as he uses you against the window.
You’re e so full. The stretch is devastating—not painful, but so complete it rewires every nerve ending, makes you hyperaware of every inch of him inside you. Your body clenches reflexively, trying to adjust, and the friction makes your breath stutter. He’s so deep you feel it in your stomach, a pressure that borders on too much but somehow isn’t enough.
The heat of him is overwhelming. You can feel every throb, every shift of his hips, the way he fills every space until there’s nothing left but him. Your walls flutter around his length, trying to accommodate, trying to hold on, and the sensation makes your head spin.
You feel owned. Claimed. Like your body was made specifically for this—for him to fill and use and shape however he wants. The thought makes you clench again, and you hear his breath catch behind you.
Hongjoong’s hand clamps your hip and drags you back onto him while his mouth finds the slope where neck becomes shoulder. He bites—hard, deliberate—until your breath splinters on the glass, then sucks wickedly slow to pull the bruise up dark and pretty. “Mine,” he says into the mark, not for you, for the mirror of your face in the window.
Rings grind into your skin as his fingers hike your waist higher, leaving crescent dents along your side. He shifts his grip to your ass and you almost hiss—the flesh is still burning from before, hypersensitive—but he doesn’t care, squeezing until your skin crests his knuckles. Then he smacks the same handprint in place—once, twice, a third time—each impact landing on already-raw skin that makes you gasp sharp and broken into the glass.
His mouth trails lower, teeth scraping the curve where your shoulder meets your throat. He sucks hard enough to sting, working the skin until you feel the heat bloom under his lips. When he pulls back, you know there's a mark—dark and obvious, a claim you'll see tomorrow and every day after until it fades.
“Everyone’s going to know,” he murmurs against your skin, moving to a new spot. His teeth catch again, sharper this time, and you whimper before you can stop yourself. He doesn’t scold you for it. Instead, he hums, pleased, and works his way across your throat, your collarbone, the top of your shoulder—each love bite deliberate, territorial. His tongue soothes over the marks before his teeth return, and the contrast makes you dizzy. Your reflection in the glass shows the trail he’s leaving. A constellation of bruises that spell out exactly who you belong to.
“Prettier when you bruise,” he murmurs, and you feel him smile against your throat. He shoves your wrists wider on the glass, laces his fingers over yours so you can’t hide the way you shake, and fucks you harder—short, piston drives that press your chest flat and stamp the rhythm into your spine. Your breath paints messy halos on the pane. Hongjoong leans forward and bites your ear, low laugh ugly against your skin.
His mouth moves to the curve of your neck, lips dragging slow over the sensitive skin just below your ear. The gentleness is unexpected—devastating. Your body doesn’t know what to do with tender after brutal, and the contrast hits like a live wire. He kisses once, soft, then again lower, and your breath catches wrong in your chest.
“Daddy—“ you try to warn him, but it comes out broken.
“Quiet,” he murmurs against your throat, and kisses you again. His lips are warm, almost reverent as they trail down to your shoulder, and the rhythm of his hips never falters—still deep, still unrelenting, but now paired with this impossible softness that’s unraveling you faster than anything brutal ever could.
It builds wrong. Too fast. You weren’t ready for it—one second you’re holding on, the next you’re free-falling, your orgasm slamming into you without warning. Your whole body locks up, spine arcing away from the glass as the pleasure rips through you in violent, uncontrollable waves. He feels the clamp coming—a greedy, panicked grab—and rips out in one brutal drag.
The world snaps wrong. Heat turns to air, slick to cold, friction to nothing. Your cry out raw and too loud, fog exploding across the glass in a white star. Your thighs slam together on instinct and find only his palm, flat and merciless, forcing your knees wide again. Everything skids, your body still pitched for impact while the impact is gone, nerves misfiring, the ache in your belly pitching higher with nowhere to go. Your clit throbs, your calves seize, your nipples spark on the pane.
“Did I say you could cum, you filthy slut?” His voice is ice and venom.
”Please-” Your voice cracks into a ragged wail you can’t swallow. The sound embarrasses you even as it keeps coming-thin, high, animal-your chest scraping the glass as you shudder.
“Shut your fucking mouth.” Hongjoong’s hand clamps your jaw brutal and drags your open mouth to the window so you hear yourself against the pane-hot breath, pathetic little whimpers bouncing back. “Disgusting. Look at this mess.” Two fingers slide through the slick pouring out of you and slap your clit mean, the sting bright and metallic and your whole body jerks like a current ran through you. “Dripping like a bitch in heat. You’re fucking pathetic.”
He does it again-lighter, crueler-just enough to sharpen the ache and keep it blooming. “Greedy cunt couldn't wait, could she?” The cold on your front feels like punishment, the heat at your back feels like a dare. You can taste blood where you bit your tongue, you can feel his ring scrape your hip as he drags your pelvis higher and pins you there, open and empty and shaking. “Worthless little whore. Can’t follow one simple fucking rule.”
“Could’ve asked. Could’ve been good. But no-you had to be a desperate fucking cumslut,” he snarls at your reflection, voice dripping contempt. He paints your hipbone with your own slick like a stripe, degrading, then presses his thumb into the fresh bruise on your shoulder hard enough to make you gasp. “Now hold it and suffer.”
Your body argues in every language it has—fluttering, pleading squeezes at nothing, a pulse between your legs that hurts, a tremor you can’t stop—while he gives you exactly no motion where you need it and too much where you can’t take it. He bites the hinge of your jaw, sucks until colour swells up pretty and dark, and when your breath stutters toward that helpless climb again, he taps your clit once—just once—and the wave collapses with a sob that fogs the glass and runs. “Filthy fucking thing. This is what disobedient sluts get.”
Your body is betraying you—hips rolling in tiny, desperate circles even though he’s not inside you anymore, chasing friction that isn’t there. The orgasm he denied you earlier left everything raw and oversensitive, and now every nerve ending is screaming for release. Your clit throbs in time with your pulse, swollen and aching, and the emptiness inside you feels like a physical wound.
You can feel it building again—that terrible, inevitable climb. Your thighs are shaking so hard they might give out. Heat pools low in your belly, coiling tighter with each ragged breath. It’s different this time—sharper, more desperate, edged with something that feels dangerously close to panic because you know what happens if you fall over without permission.
“Daddy—please—” Your voice cracks on the plea. “I need—I can’t—”
The pressure builds and builds, your body pulled taut as a wire, every muscle locked in anticipation of a release you’re not allowed to have. You’re so close it hurts—that edge right there, shimmering just out of reach, and your body keeps reaching for it anyway, mindless and greedy and completely beyond your control.
His fingers barely touch your clit, just the ghost of pressure—and begin to circle with agonising slowness. Not enough to give relief, just enough to make everything worse. Each lazy pass sends sparks shooting through your nerves, stoking the fire instead of quenching it.
“You gonna try cumming again without permission?” His laugh is cruel against your ear, all sharp edges. His hand spreads over your throat, thumb under your jaw to keep your face to the window, forcing you to watch yourself fall apart. “Be still. Feel every second of what you don’t deserve. Feel it, you needy little whore.”
Your body doesn’t listen—can’t listen. The orgasm crashes through you anyway, ripping a broken cry from your throat as you clench and pulse around nothing. Your legs give out completely, only his grip on your throat keeping you upright against the glass as pleasure tears through you in waves you can’t control.
“Did I fucking say you could?” Hongjoong’s voice is ice.
Your vision blurs with tears—shame and oversensitivity and the cruel ache of cumming empty. “I’m sorry—I’m sorry—I couldn’t—”
“Pathetic.” He releases your throat and you crumple, legs buckling, but he catches you by the hips before you hit the floor.
Hongjoong peels you off the window by the back of your neck and walks you to the bed like he owns the hinge of every joint. The mattress hits the backs of your knees, he doesn’t guide you down so much as throw you, a bounce knocking a breathless sound out of you.
His hand cracks across your face—not hard enough to hurt, but sharp enough to snap your attention back to him. The sting blooms hot across your cheek, shocking you into stillness.
“Eyes on me,” he commands, voice low and dangerous. “Don’t you dare look away.”
He slaps you again—same cheek, harder this time—and the sound that rips from your throat is pure, shameless need. A moan, broken and desperate, that makes his eyes go dark.
“Fuck,” he breathes, almost reverent. His thumb traces the reddened skin, the heat of it blooming under his touch. “You like that, don’t you?”
Before you can answer, he slaps you again—lighter this time, almost playful—and watches your pupils blow wide. “Yeah,” he confirms, reading your body like a book he’s memorised. “You fucking love it.”
He’s on you a second later—knee between yours, shoving them wide—hands mean on your hips as he lines up and drives in with one brutal stroke that punches the air out of you.
“Quiet,” he snaps, palm clamping over your mouth. “Swallow it.”
Your moan dies behind his hand, trapped in your throat where it burns. No easing, no rhythm—just slam, slam, slam—his pelvis clapping your thighs, the headboard starting to complain in hard little knocks that match your pulse. The angle is obscene with your hips tipped; each drag feels like he’s stripping you to the studs and hammering you back together wrong. Every sound you want to make gets caught behind his palm, building pressure in your chest until you’re choking on your own desperation.
“Look at me,” he grits. You do—eyes glassy—and it only makes him rougher. Heat builds thick and fast in your belly again, that off‑the‑cliff drop, the ache and burn at your clit. The sounds are wet and humiliating and loud, but your moans stay trapped—swallowed down like he ordered, leaving only the whimpers that leak through your nose and the desperate way you’re breathing against his palm.
Hongjoong’s close—you can feel it in the way his breathing saws, in the vicious set of his mouth, in the way his rhythm goes intent and ugly, grinding at the end of each thrust like he’s carving his name into the spot that makes you see static. His hand stays firm over your mouth, forcing you to take it in silence, to keep every wrecked sound locked inside where only you can feel how thoroughly he’s breaking you apart. You catch the first stutter in his hips and reach for him without thinking, greedy, pleading.
“Don’t.” The word is a snarl. He stuffs you full and holds there, cock thick and pulsing inside you, then drags out slow enough to scrape sparks and snaps back in hard enough to jolt your spine. “You don’t deserve Daddy’s cum.”
The sentence lands like a slap. Heat spikes behind your eyes; your body clenches around him in panicked apology.
“Please—” you manage against his palm, the word muffled and desperate.
“You need to learn.” Another slam—deep, punishing—and the next rolls through you like thunder, heavy grind at the end that drags a high, torn sound from your throat.
Your hands scramble for purchase on his shoulders, nails digging in, but he catches both wrists in one hand and pins them above your head. His other hand finally leaves your mouth.
“Please,” you sob, shameless now. “Please fill me—please let me have it—I’ll hold it—I’ll be good—”
He laughs—short, cruel—breath burning your cheek. “Will you?” His hand slides to your throat, thumb under your jaw to tilt your face up so he can watch you fall apart. “Say it properly.”
“Please, Daddy,” you gasp, voice breaking on the word. “Please cum inside me. I need it. I need you. I’ll keep it. I’ll—” Your voice knifes up because he grinds just right and the lights stipple again. “Please—I’ll be useful—please—”
His control frays; you feel it in the nasty little shiver that runs through him, in the way he clamps your hip like it’s the only thing stopping him from painting you from the inside. He bares his teeth, eyes sharp and dark. “Beg better.”
“Please—use me properly—mark me from the inside—please, Daddy—”
“Mhm.” The sound is a threat and a promise. He slams you deeper, deeper, harder—headboard knocking time, breath brutal at your ear—then rips out at the last second and fists himself once, twice, the wet slick of you shining his length while you wail.
“No—no, please—" The words tumble out desperate and broken. You reach for him with shaking hands, shameless now, all pride dissolved. “Please fill me up—mark me—use me—” You’re babbling, hips canting up obscenely, trying to tempt him back.
His eyes darken as he watches you fall apart, a cruel smirk playing at his lips. “Look at you,” he breathes, voice dripping with condescension. “Begging like a bitch in heat.” His fist keeps working himself, slow and deliberate, making you watch every stroke.
Your thighs spread wider without him asking, presenting yourself like an offering. “Please cum in me—I'm begging—I'll do anything—” Tears stream down your face, your voice cracking. “Need to feel you—need Daddy’s cum so bad—please don’t waste it—please use my hole.”
“Shut the fuck up.” His voice is dead calm, which makes it worse. “You think you deserve Daddy’s cum?" He laughs—short, cruel. “No. You’re going to lie there empty and watch me waste it. Watch what you don’t get to have.” His eyes are vicious, mouth twisted. “Pathetic little cumslut can’t even follow simple fucking rules. Open your eyes wider. I want you to see every drop you’re not getting.”
“Please, Daddy,” you sob, voice breaking on every word. “Please use your cumslut—please fuck me —I’ll be so good—I’ll take everything—please.”
You look at him—eyes glassed, mouth open, body clenching on nothing—while he edges himself cruelly, letting every half-breath of relief flash and die on his face. He squeezes himself hard, strangling the tremor, and lets the edge bleed away while you sob beneath him, trembling empty and open.
His hand fists in your hair, “What are you?"
“A slut,” you whimper, shame burning through you.
“A what?” He pulls harder, making you gasp.
“A pathetic slut—Daddy’s pathetic slut—”
“That’s right.” He releases your hair with a shove, letting your head fall back against the mattress. “And you love it,” he continues, voice dark with satisfaction. “Love being Daddy’s desperate fucktoy. Love being used and degraded and filled up like the greedy whore you are.”
“Yes,” you sob, because it’s true, because you can’t deny it when your body is still trembling with need.
“Tell me what you are.”
“I’m Daddy’s greedy whore,” you gasp out, shame and arousal twisting together. “I’m a desperate cumslut—I’m pathetic—I need you—”
“Fucking right you do.”
Then he flips you onto your stomach before you can process it, one hand shoving between your shoulder blades to pin you flat. The sheets are hot against your cheek, your breath trapped in the mattress.
“Stay down," Hongjoong orders, voice low and mean behind you. You feel him shift, feel the mattress dip as he repositions, and then his hands are on your hips, dragging them up, arching your back until you’re presented exactly how he wants you. You’re face-down, ass up, completely exposed with no way to see what he’s doing, no way to brace for what comes next. Your fingers twist in the sheets.
“Daddy—” you start, voice muffled.
“No,” he cuts you off. “You don’t get to look at me. You don’t get to see if I’m close. You just take what I give you and be grateful.”
He lines up and shoves in without warning, the angle deeper like this, meaner. Your cry gets swallowed by the pillow as he sets a brutal pace, hips slamming against your ass with each thrust. The sound is obscene—skin on skin, the wet slide of him inside you—and you can’t see any of it, can only feel and hear and drown in it.
“You’re lucky Daddy loves your hole,” he growls, and the words hit like a brand. His hand comes down hard on your ass, the sharp crack echoing in the room. The sting blooms hot and immediate, and you whimper into the pillow.
“Lucky I don’t leave you empty and aching.” He punctuates it with another thrust, deeper, meaner, grinding at the end until you’re sobbing. “This greedy little cunt,” he mutters, almost to himself. “Always so desperate for me. Always begging so pretty.”
“Say it,” he demands. “Say you’re lucky.”
“I’m—I’m lucky,” you gasp out, voice wrecked and muffled. “I’m lucky Daddy loves my—”
“Louder.”
“I’m lucky Daddy loves my hole,” you sob, shame and arousal twisting together until you can’t tell them apart.
“That’s right.” His rhythm turns vicious, each thrust punching the words back into you. “Don’t you forget it.”
“Please, Daddy—please—I'll do anything—I'll be so good—please just fill me—please cum inside me—” You sob again, pushing back against him even though you know better, trying to take him deeper. His breath hitches and you chase it, sensing weakness.
His hand finds your clit immediately, two fingers pressing down with just enough pressure to make you jolt. “This what you needed?” he asks as he starts to rub tight, mean circles that have you gasping.
“Yes—fuck—yes, Daddy—” You can barely get the words out, your whole body arcing up into his touch. His fingers work your clit in ruthless little circles while he fucks into you, the dual sensation making your vision blur at the edges.
“Gonna make you cum on my cock this time,” he growls. “Gonna feel you squeeze me while you fall apart.” His fingers speed up, the pressure perfect and devastating, and you’re already so close you can taste it.
“Please—Daddy—I can't—” Your voice breaks, thighs shaking so hard you can barely hold yourself up. The pressure builds too fast, too much, coiling tight in your belly until it feels like something’s going to snap.
“You can,” he snarls, “You will. Show Daddy what a good little slut you are.”
The angle shifts just enough and suddenly you’re there again—past the point of holding back, past the point of control. Your orgasm slams through you with brutal force, and this time it’s different. Wetter. Your whole body locks up as you gush around him, soaking his cock, the sheets, making a mess you can’t stop even if you wanted to. The sound that rips from your throat is inhuman.
“Fuck—” Hongjoong chokes out, and his rhythm shatters. “Fuck—that’s it—” He feels you clenching and pulsing around him, feels the hot rush of your release, and it destroys him. Three more brutal thrusts and he’s gone, slamming deep and grinding as he finally, finally fills you. You feel every pulse, every throb as he empties himself inside you, his groan low and wrecked against your spine.
His hips stutter through the aftershocks, grinding shallow like he can’t bear to pull out yet. Your body is still twitching, still clenching around him in weak little aftershocks while his cum starts to leak out around where you’re joined. He stays buried deep, breathing hard against your shoulder blade.
“Good girl,” he finally murmurs, voice hoarse. “Such a good fucking girl for me.”
He doesn't pull out. Instead, his hips roll forward again, fucking his cum deeper into you, the obscene wet sound making you whimper. “One more,” he growls against your ear, his voice rough and commanding. “Give me one more.”
“Daddy—I can’t—” Your voice breaks, oversensitive and wrecked, every nerve ending screaming. It hurts—the drag of him inside you feels like fire, too much sensation on already brutalised nerves. You try to squirm away but his grip on your hips is iron.
“You can.” His hand slides back to your clit, fingers still slick, and starts those same ruthless circles. The first touch makes you sob—it’s too much, bordering on painful, your body trying to reject the stimulation. “You’re going to cum on my cock again with my cum inside you. Going to make a bigger mess.”
The sensation is overwhelming—too much, too sensitive—and it hurts. Each thrust feels like he’s grinding against raw nerves, the wet slide obscene and filthy but painful in its intensity. You can feel his cum leaking out around him, coating your thighs, but all you can focus on is how much your body is screaming at you to stop.
“Daddy—please—it hurts—” you sob, tears streaming down your face.
Hongjoong stills immediately. Completely. His fingers freeze on your clit, his hips lock in place, and the sudden absence of movement is almost jarring after the relentless intensity.
“Colour,” he demands, voice cutting through the haze with sharp clarity. “Give me your colour right now.”
You’re gasping, trying to process the question through the overwhelming sensations coursing through your body.
“Green,” you manage to choke out between sobs.
“Don't lie to me.”
“Green,” you repeat, more firmly this time despite how wrecked your voice sounds. “Promise—it's green—just hurts—overwhelming— don’t stop”
“I know,” he murmur gently, his hips moving again. “I know it hurts, baby. Just breathe through it.”
You try to obey, gasping for air, and somewhere in the burning oversensitivity, something shifts. The pain doesn’t disappear, but it starts to blur at the edges, transmuting into something else. Your body adjusts to the intensity, and suddenly the hurt starts to feel good—sharp and bright and desperate.
“Feel that?” he asks, grinding deep. “Feel how full you are? That’s all Daddy’s cum, and you’re going to squeeze it out when you cum again.”
“Please—” The word comes out broken because you don’t even know what you’re begging for anymore. His fingers work your clit with practiced cruelty, and the oversensitivity that was making you sob is suddenly driving you higher. You can feel it building again—impossibly, devastatingly—your wrecked body finding another peak despite everything.
“That’s it,” he encourages, voice dark with satisfaction. “Knew you could take it. Feel you getting close again. Such a greedy little thing. Can’t get enough of daddy’s cock, can you?”
“No—no, I can't—” you gasp, pushing back against him mindlessly. The pressure builds impossibly fast, sharp and brutal and bright now instead of painful. Every nerve that was screaming in protest is now singing, driving you toward the edge with vicious intent.
“Come on,” Hongjoong growls, his fingers pressing harder, circling faster. “Give it to me. Show Daddy what a mess you can make.” His cock grinds deep, hitting that devastating angle. “Cum on Daddy’s cock right fucking now.”
Your body obeys before your mind catches up, the orgasm ripping through you with devastating force. You clench around him so hard it hurts, your walls spasming and tightening in a vice grip. The sound you make is broken and desperate, somewhere between a scream and a sob.
“Fuck—” Hongjoong chokes out, his rhythm faltering. “Fuck—you’re so tight—” His voice breaks on the last word because you’re squeezing him so hard he can barely move, your body milking him with each brutal pulse. “Gonna make me—fuck—”
He doesn’t get to finish the sentence. Your cunt clamps down on him one more time and it destroys him completely. He slams deep with a guttural groan, grinding against you as he cums again, harder this time, filling you even fuller. You feel every throb, every pulse as he empties himself inside you for the second time, his whole body shuddering against your back.
“That's my good girl,” he gasps out, voice wrecked. “Making such a pretty mess for Daddy. So fucking tight—milked it right out of me.”
You gush again—harder this time, wetter—your body wringing itself out around him in pulsing waves while his cum floods you. The release is so intense it borders on violent, liquid heat flooding between your legs, soaking everything. You feel it run down your thighs, hear it drip onto the already-ruined sheets, and the humiliation of it only makes you clench harder, forcing more of his release to leak out around where you’re joined.
“There it is,” Hongjoong breathes, reverent and filthy at once. “So fucking messy for me.” His hips keep grinding shallow, working you both through it, forcing every last drop out while you shake and sob beneath him. “Such a good little squirter. Making Daddy so proud.”
Your whole body goes limp, muscles giving out completely. You collapse face-first into the mattress, boneless and used, trembling with aftershocks. Hongjoong finally stills, cock still buried deep, and lets his weight settle against your back. His breathing is ragged against your neck.
“Perfect,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your sweat-slick shoulder. “You did so fucking perfect, baby. Squeezed me so tight I couldn’t help it.”
You can’t move, can’t think, can barely breathe. The sheets beneath you are soaked—cum and your own release mixing in a cooling puddle. Hongjoong shifts slightly, cock still buried deep, and you whimper at the oversensitivity. You can feel how full you are, how much he’s filled you, and it leaks out in thick rivulets with even the smallest movement.
When he finally pulls out, the loss is immediate and devastating. You whine—high and broken—feeling unbearably empty after being so full. His cum starts to leak out in earnest now, thick and warm, dripping down your thighs in slow rivulets. The sensation makes you shudder.
“Shh,” Hongjoong soothes, his hand stroking down your spine. He shifts his weight, hands sliding under your shoulders as he carefully rolls you onto your back. Your body settles against the mattress, and you feel more of his cum leak out with the position change, thick and warm between your legs.
“There we go,” he murmurs, settling between your spread thighs. “Look how much Daddy filled you up. So much it can’t even stay inside.”
You whimper, hips twitching uselessly, body still trying to clench around nothing. The emptiness feels wrong after everything, like you’ve been carved hollow. More of his release spills out with each aftershock, and you can feel it cooling on your skin.
“So pretty like this,” he murmurs, almost to himself. “All fucked out and dripping. Made such a mess of you.” His thumb drags through the slickness, spreading it further, and you keen at the oversensitivity. “My perfect mess.”
You can’t form words, can only lie there trembling while he touches you with a gentleness that feels almost cruel after everything.
“Good girl,” he whispers, and the praise makes something warm bloom in your chest despite your exhaustion. Your body is wrecked, oversensitive, every nerve ending raw and singing. But when his fingers brush over your entrance again, gathering more of the mess he’s made, you find yourself pushing back into the touch despite the sensitivity.
“Oh?” Hongjoong’s voice lifts with surprise, his fingers stilling. His eyes darken as he watches you move against his hand—mindless, instinctive—seeking more despite everything. Despite being so thoroughly fucked out that coherent thought is impossible. “Still greedy for it, baby? Even with that pretty head all empty?”
You can't answer with words—don't even fully understand the question—but your body knows. Your hips roll weakly against his palm, chasing the touch with clumsy desperation. A soft whine spills from your lips, needy and thoughtless. Parts of you crave the continued touch. The emptiness feels worse than the sting.
“Greedy thing,” he murmurs, but there’s wonder in it now, not just teasing. His fingers slide through the mess again, more deliberately this time, and you whimper. “Even after I fucked you senseless. Even after you came so hard you soaked the sheets twice. You still want Daddy’s touch.”
“Puh—please,” you manage, the word barely forming through drool-slicked lips, voice completely destroyed and slurred beyond recognition.
Hongjoong’s expression shifts—something possessive and tender at once. “Okay, baby,” he soothes. “Daddy’s got you. Always got you.” His fingers circle your entrance gently now, gathering the cum that’s still leaking out and pushing it back inside with careful pressure. The sensation makes you gasp, oversensitive but good, filling that devastating emptiness just slightly.
“There,” he whispers. “Is that what you needed? To stay full?”
You nod frantically, pushing against his hand, and he obliges—two fingers sliding in deeper, keeping his release inside you. The stretch is almost too much on your abused walls, but it’s what you want. What you need.
“Such a good girl,” he praises softly. “Taking everything Daddy gives you and still asking for more.”
His fingers work slow and steady inside you, and something in your brain just... shuts off. The constant buzz of thoughts, the ability to form coherent words—it all dissolves into nothing but sensation. Your mouth falls open, soft moans spilling out with each gentle thrust of his fingers.
“There she goes,” Hongjoong murmurs, watching your expression go slack with satisfaction. “There’s my girl. Nothing left in that pretty head but how good Daddy makes you feel, huh?”
You can’t even nod properly, just a loose movement of your head, eyes unfocused and glassy. Another moan slips out, breathy and mindless. His fingers curl slightly and your hips twitch, but there’s no urgency to it—just your body responding on pure instinct while your mind floats somewhere far away.
“Look at you,” he says softly, almost reverent. “Fucked you so good you can’t even think anymore. Just my empty-headed baby now, aren’t you?”
“Mm,” is all you can manage, the sound quiet and blissed-out. Your eyes flutter, struggling to focus on his face. Everything feels distant and warm, your body heavy and pliant beneath his touch.
“That’s right,” Hongjoong coos, his free hand stroking your cheek. “Don’t need to think. Just need to feel. Just need to let Daddy take care of you.” His fingers maintain that slow, gentle rhythm, keeping you full, keeping you floating. “Such pretty sounds you’re making. Can’t even form words anymore, can you?”
You shake your head—barely—another soft moan falling from your parted lips. The oversensitivity has melted into something dreamlike, each movement of his fingers sending lazy waves of pleasure through your wrung-out body. There’s no edge to chase anymore, no building tension—just the mindless contentment of being touched, being full, being his.
“Perfect,” he whispers. “Absolutely perfect like this.”
His hand slides up from your hip, palm warm against your ribs as it travels higher. When he cups your breast, thumb brushing over your nipple, you keen—high and broken. The sensitivity is different here, less raw but somehow more direct, each touch shooting straight through you.
“So responsive,” Hongjoong murmurs, watching your face as he rolls your nipple between his fingers. Your back arches weakly, pushing into the touch despite your exhaustion. “Even here. Every part of you is so fucking sensitive for me.”
His fingers inside you curl slightly in time with the pinch of his other hand on your nipple, and the dual sensation makes your eyes roll back. Another mindless moan falls from your lips, your body responding without thought, without control.
“That’s it,” he coos, switching to your other breast, palm kneading gently before his fingers find that peaked bud. “Just feel it, baby. Don’t think. Just let Daddy play with you.” He tugs slightly and you whimper, hips twitching against the fingers still buried inside you. “So pretty when you make those sounds.”
His touch alternates between gentle and firm—thumbs circling your nipples, palms pressing against the soft weight of your breasts, fingers occasionally pinching just hard enough to make you gasp. Each touch keeps you floating in that mindless space, pleasure washing over you in slow, lazy waves.
“Could play with these all day,” he murmurs, dipping his head to press a kiss to the curve of your breast. “Watch you fall apart from just this.” His tongue flicks out, circling your nipple before his lips close around it, and you gasp—the wet heat of his mouth making everything sharper, more intense.
Hongjoong sucks gently, tongue working the sensitive bud while his fingers continue their slow rhythm inside you. Your hands find his hair, holding on weakly, not pulling—just needing something to anchor you. When he grazes his teeth across your nipple, your whole body jolts, a strangled sound escaping you.
“Good girl,” he whispers against your skin. “Taking everything so well. My perfect, empty-headed doll.”
Your thighs shake harder now, trembling under his attention, muscles twitching with aftershocks that won’t stop. Each suck of his mouth, each curl of his fingers inside you makes them quiver more violently, until you can’t keep them still even if you tried.
“Joong,” you whimper, his name barely coherent, your voice destroyed and small. His mouth releases your nipple with a wet pop, switching to the other side, and the attention makes your back arch off the mattress weakly. “Can’t—too much—”
“Shh, I know, baby,” he soothes, releasing your breast to press kisses along your sternum. His fingers slow inside you, gentling their rhythm as your thighs continue to tremble uncontrollably. “But you’re doing so well for me. Just a little more, okay? Let me take care of you.”
You nod weakly, unable to do anything but submit, your body no longer your own—just something for him to play with, to care for, to keep floating in this mindless space. Your thighs won’t stop shaking, trembling against his sides as he settles between them again, and you can feel more of his cum leaking out despite his fingers still working to keep it inside.
“One more, baby,” he whispers against your lips. “Give Daddy one more and then I’ll let you rest.”
You manage to look at him through heavy-lidded eyes, vision blurred and unfocused. It takes effort to keep them open, each blink longer than the last. His face swims above you, features soft and concerned, and you can barely make out the dark intensity of his gaze.
“There you are,” he murmurs, his free hand cupping your face, thumb stroking your cheekbone. “Stay with me, baby. Just a little more. Can you do that for Daddy?”
You try to nod, but your head feels impossibly heavy, movements sluggish and uncoordinated. Another weak sound escapes you as his fingers curl inside you, and your eyes threaten to slip closed.
“Eyes on me,” Hongjoong coaxes gently, tapping your cheek to keep you present. “Want to see you when you fall apart one more time. Need to watch my baby come undone.”
It takes everything you have to keep your gaze on him, eyelids fluttering with the effort. His fingers work inside you with deliberate care, coaxing your body toward that edge one more time despite your exhaustion.
“That’s my good girl,” he praises softly. “Keep those pretty eyes on me.” His thumb finds your clit, circling with barely-there pressure, and your mouth falls open on a silent cry. “Almost there, baby.”
His hand moves from your face to slide two fingers past your parted lips. The touch is unexpected, gentle but insistent as they press against your tongue. Your eyes widen slightly, trying to focus on him through the haze.
“Suck,” Hongjoong commands softly, his voice dropping lower. “Show Daddy how good that mouth can be.”
You obey automatically, lips closing around his fingers, tongue working weakly against them. The taste is clean, just skin and the faint salt of sweat, and something about the act—the fullness in your mouth matching the fullness between your legs—makes you whimper around his fingers.
“Pretty,” he murmurs, watching your lips wrap around his digits with dark satisfaction. “Such a perfect mouth. Takes everything I give you so well.” His fingers inside you curl harder and you moan around the ones in your mouth, the sound muffled and desperate.
He pushes them deeper, making you gag slightly, and your eyes water as you struggle to accommodate them. “Shh, relax,” he soothes, easing back just enough. “Just like taking my cock. You can do it.” The comparison makes you clench around his other hand, and he groans. “Feel that? Your body knows what it wants.”
His thumb on your clit presses firmer now, circling with intent, and you keen around his fingers. Drool starts to leak from the corners of your mouth as you struggle to keep sucking, your jaw slack and uncoordinated. Everything is too much—the stretch in your mouth, the fullness between your legs, the relentless pressure on your clit.
“So messy,” Hongjoong says with satisfaction, watching the spit drip down your chin. “Can’t even keep it together anymore, can you? Just my brainless little toy.” He pulls his fingers from your mouth with a wet sound, dragging the saliva down your neck, your chest, leaving a glistening trail. “Open.”
You obey without thought, mouth falling open, tongue out. He leans down and spits directly onto your tongue, the act filthy and possessive, and you moan at the degradation of it. “Swallow,” he commands, and you do, throat working visibly.
“Good fucking girl,” he praises darkly. His fingers push back into your mouth, pressing down on your tongue, keeping your mouth open and exposed.
Your hand moves without thought, fingers wrapping weakly around his wrist. You pull it down, guiding it to your throat, settling his palm against the vulnerable column of your neck. The request is silent but unmistakable.
Hongjoong’s eyes darken immediately, understanding flickering across his face. “Yeah?” he asks, voice dropping lower. “Want Daddy’s hand around your throat while he makes you come?”
You nod as much as you can with his hand there, a desperate whimper escaping you. His fingers curl around your neck—not squeezing yet, just holding, the weight of his palm a promise.
“Please,” you manage, the word barely a whisper, and that’s all he needs.
His hand tightens around your throat, pressure building slowly, controlled. Not enough to cut off your air completely—just enough to make each breath something you have to work for, something you have to earn. The restriction sends your body into overdrive, every nerve ending lighting up as his fingers inside you curl relentlessly and his thumb grinds against your clit.
“That’s it,” Hongjoong growls, watching your face flush darker as the oxygen thins. “Give it to me. Come for Daddy one more time.” His grip shifts slightly, thumb pressing against your pulse point, and he can feel your heartbeat racing beneath his palm. “Feel how hard your heart’s pounding for me? Your body knows who it belongs to.”
Your vision starts to blur at the edges, stars dancing across your sight as the pleasure builds impossibly higher. His fingers don’t let up, working you with practiced precision, and you’re teetering right on that edge—desperate for release but unable to tip over without his permission.
“So fucking beautiful like this,” he murmurs, voice rough with awe and desire. “Completely at my mercy. Taking everything I give you so perfectly.” His hand loosens slightly, letting oxygen rush back in, and the sudden clarity makes everything sharper. “You'’re doing so well, baby. So good for Daddy. Just let go—I’ve got you.”
The praise combined with the pressure returning to your throat is what breaks you. The orgasm hits different this time—slower, deeper, rolling through you like a wave pulling you under. Your mouth opens on a silent scream, no sound escaping with his hand locked around your throat, and the deprivation makes everything more intense.
“Perfect,” Hongjoong breathes, watching you fall apart beneath him. “That’s my perfect girl. Look at you—so beautiful when you come for me. Did so fucking well, baby.” His hand stays firm on your throat through every wave, controlling even this, drawing it out until you’re shaking uncontrollably.
When he finally releases your throat, you don’t even gasp for air. Your body just goes limp, every muscle surrendering at once. Your eyes slip closed despite trying to keep them on him, and the last thing you register is his voice—distant, concerned—calling your name.
“Baby? Hey—” Hongjoong’s hand immediately cups your face, patting your cheek gently. Your head lolls to the side, body completely unresponsive. You’re still breathing—he can see your chest rising and falling—but you’re utterly gone, consciousness slipping away into the exhaustion he’s wrung from you.
“Fuck,” he mutters, but there’s no panic in it. Just concern mixed with something like awe. He carefully withdraws his fingers from inside you, and you don’t even twitch at the loss. More cum leaks out onto the sheets, but you’re too far gone to notice or care.
He shifts immediately into caretaker mode, moving with practiced efficiency. His hand stays on your face, thumb stroking your cheekbone as he checks you over. Your pulse is steady under his fingers when he presses them to your throat—the same throat he was just restricting. Your breathing evens out into something deeper, more peaceful.
“Did so good,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Too good. Gave me everything.” There’s pride in his voice, but also guilt—he pushed you right to your absolute limit and over it.
He stays close, watching the slow rise and fall of your chest, making sure you’re really okay. After a moment, he tries again, voice soft but insistent. “Hey. Baby, come on.” His hand cups your jaw, thumb brushing across your cheek. “Need you to wake up for me.”
You don’t respond, body still limp and unmoving. He sighs, shifting to sit beside you, one hand sliding to your shoulder to shake you gently. “Can’t let you sleep yet. We need to get you cleaned up first.”
Still nothing. Your breathing stays deep and even, completely out of it. Hongjoong’s expression softens, guilt flickering across his features again. He really wore you out this time.
“Okay,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you. “Guess we’re doing this the hard way.” He slides one arm under your shoulders, the other beneath your knees, lifting you carefully against his chest. Your head lolls against his shoulder, body pliant and unresisting.
He carries you toward the bathroom, your weight comfortable in his arms. “You’re going to be so mad at me later if I let you sleep like this,” he says quietly, nudging the bathroom door open with his foot. “All sticky and messy. You’ll complain for days.”
He sets you down carefully on the edge of the tub, one hand staying on your shoulder to keep you upright while he reaches for the faucet. Your head tips forward, chin nearly touching your chest, and he has to catch you before you slump completely.
“Baby,” he tries again, patting your cheek a bit more firmly. “Come on. Just need you awake enough for a bath. I’ll do everything else.” The water starts running, warm steam beginning to fill the small space as he tests the temperature.
Your eyelids flutter—barely, but it’s something. A soft, incoherent sound escapes you, and Hongjoong takes it as a victory.
“There you are,” he encourages, both hands cupping your face now, lifting your head. “Let’s get you in, okay?” He helps you into the tub, supporting your weight as he eases you down into the warm water. The heat envelops you immediately, and you let out a small, contented sigh.
He kneels beside the tub, one hand still steadying you, about to reach for the washcloth when your fingers weakly grasp at his wrist.
“With you,” you mumble, eyes still closed, the words barely coherent but unmistakable.
Hongjoong’s expression softens immediately, a quiet laugh escaping him. “Yeah? Want me to get in with you?” He doesn’t wait for another response—just climbs into the tub behind you, pulling you back against his chest. His arms wrap around you, steadying you in the water, and you let out a small, satisfied hum as you melt into his warmth.
“Stay still,” he murmurs against your skin, voice soft and gentle—so different from how he sounded minutes ago. His lips press to your shoulder, kissing over the marks he left there. Some are already darkening into bruises, others are just faint impressions of his teeth. He maps each one with careful attention, like he’s cataloging the evidence of what he did to you.
You lean back into him, boneless and pliant, letting him support your weight completely. The warm water laps around you both as he reaches for the washcloth, soaping it up with one hand while the other stays wrapped around your waist.
“You’re going to be so sore tomorrow,” he says quietly, dragging the cloth along your arms with gentle strokes. His lips find the curve of your neck, pressing soft kisses to the red marks his hand left on your throat. “I’m sorry, baby.”
“Don’t be,” you mumble, the words thick and drowsy. “Wanted it.”
He makes a soft sound—half laugh, half sigh—and kisses the bruise at the junction of your neck and shoulder, the one from his teeth. “I know you did. Doesn’t mean I can’t take care of you after.” The washcloth moves to your chest, your stomach, washing away the sweat and evidence of everything that happened.
His other hand comes up to tilt your head to the side, giving him better access to your neck. He kisses every mark there too, lips tender against the sensitive skin. “So pretty,” he whispers. “Even covered in bruises. Especially covered in bruises.”
You hum contentedly, eyes still closed, completely surrendered to his care. His hands are so gentle now—washing you clean, touching you like something precious. The contrast makes your chest ache in the best way.
“I love you,” you murmur, barely audible.
Hongjoong's hands still for just a moment before continuing their careful work. “I love you too,” he says against your shoulder, punctuating it with another kiss. “So much. Even when I’m mean to you.”
Especially when he’s mean to you, maybe—but that’s something you both understand without saying.
He brings the cloth to your inner thighs, cleaning away the evidence of your releases, his movements are especially gentle, aware of how sensitive you must be.
“Almost done,” he murmurs, pressing another kiss to your shoulder. The washcloth moves down your legs, over your calves, taking his time to make sure he’s gotten everything. You feel yourself drifting again, lulled by the warmth of the water and his tender care.
When he’s finished, he sets the washcloth aside and just holds you for a moment, his arms wrapped securely around your waist. You can feel his heartbeat against your back, steady and reassuring.
Something stirs in your chest—gratitude, affection, love.
With effort, you turn your head slightly, just enough to press your lips to his cheek. It’s a soft kiss, lazy and uncoordinated, but full of feeling.
Hongjoong goes still, then lets out a breath that sounds almost like relief. His arms tighten around you, pulling you closer against him. “What was that for?” he asks quietly, though there’s a smile in his voice.
“Thank you.”
His hand comes up to cradle the back of your head, turning to press his own kiss to your temple. “Don’t thank me for taking care of you,” he says softly. “That’s my job. Especially after I’ve wrecked you like that.” But his voice is warm, fond, and you can hear how much your simple gesture affected him.
You shift in his arms, turning more fully despite the exhaustion weighing down your limbs. The movement sends water sloshing gently against the sides of the tub, but Hongjoong adjusts easily, his hands sliding to your waist to help stabilise you as you face him.
His eyes meet yours—dark and searching, still carrying traces of the intensity from before but softened now with concern and affection. You lift one hand, fingers trembling slightly as they trace the line of his jaw, then cup his cheek.
“Hey,” he whispers, his own hand coming up to cover yours against his face. “You okay?”
Instead of answering, you lean in and kiss him. It’s slow and deep, nothing like the desperate, hungry kisses from earlier. This one is grateful, reverent—a thank you and an I love you and an I trust you all wrapped into one. Your lips move against his with deliberate tenderness, and you feel him sigh into it, his body relaxing as he kisses you back with equal softness.
His arms wrap around you properly now, one hand sliding up to cradle the back of your head while the other stays secure at your waist. He angles his head to deepen the kiss just slightly, still gentle but more present, more him. When you finally pull back, it’s only enough to rest your forehead against his, both of you breathing the same air.
You catch the softness in his expression—the way he’s looking at you like you’re something precious—and a small, teasing smile tugs at your lips despite your exhaustion. Your fingers trace lazy patterns on his chest.
“You know,” you murmur, voice still thick with exhaustion but laced with amusement, “for someone who just fucked me unconscious, you’re being awfully soft right now. What happened to the mean Joong from like ten minutes ago?”
Hongjoong’s eyes narrow slightly, though there’s a smile tugging at his lips. “Are you complaining?”
“No,” you say, still trailing your fingers down his chest lazily. “You’re just being so sweet.”
His eyes narrow slightly, though there’s amusement flickering in them. “You want him back? Because I can arrange that.”
“Mm, no,” you hum, leaning in to press a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I like this version too. All gentle and worried about me.” Your smile turns a little wicked. “It’s cute.”
“Cute,” he repeats flatly, though you can see the way his lips twitch like he’s fighting a smile.
“Very cute,” you confirm, your fingers walking up his chest to tap against his collarbone. “Taking care of me, kissing all the marks you left, being so—” You pause, pretending to search for the word. “—domestic.”
Hongjoong’s hand slides up to catch your wrist, his grip firm but not rough. “You’re lucky you can barely move right now,” he says, voice low, “or I’d remind you exactly how un-cute I can be.”
You laugh—soft and breathless—and let yourself collapse back against his chest. “See? Cute. You’re threatening me while holding me in a bubble bath.”
He groans, but his arms wrap around you again, pulling you close. “You’re impossible,” he mutters against your hair, but there’s no heat in it. Just fondness, and maybe a little exasperation. His hand strokes down your back in slow, soothing motions. “Rest. You’ve earned the right to be a brat for a few minutes.”
“Only a few minutes?” you tease, already feeling yourself starting to drift again.
“We’ll see how long my patience lasts,” he replies, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. But his tone is warm, and you know he’s not actually annoyed. If anything, he sounds relieved that you’re coherent enough to give him a hard time.
You shift again, the water rippling around you as you turn to face him fully. His hair is damp, some strands clinging to his forehead, others pushed back haphazardly. His eyes are dark and deep, watching you with that same careful attention he always has, like you’re the only thing that matters.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he murmurs, close enough that your breaths mix. His thumb strokes your cheek like he’s checking you’re really here.
“Like what?” you ask while your fingers starts tracing idle circles on his chest.
His gaze narrows, suspicious. “Like you’re about to start something.”
You tilt your head, considering him with exaggerated seriousness. “Maybe I am.”
A quiet, disbelieving laugh slips out of him. “You can barely keep your eyes open.”
“And yet,” you say, letting your fingers trace his jaw again, feather-light, “you’re still watching me like you’re trying to figure out what I’m thinking.”
His hand closes around your wrist—not tight, not controlling. Just there. Grounding. Possessive in a way that doesn’t hurt.
“I don’t have to figure it out,” he says. “I know you.”
“Oh?” You lean in, just enough to brush your mouth against the corner of his—almost a kiss. Almost. You stop a heartbeat short, letting him feel the tease in the pause. “Then tell me.”
His eyes drop to your lips. “Don’t get cocky,” he warns, but the warning sounds thin, like it’s already losing.
You hum, pretending to think about it. “I’m not cocky.”
He gives you a look that says liar.
You meet it without flinching. “I’m just… curious.”
“About what?” he asks, voice low.
You press a soft kiss to his cheek, then his jaw, then the place under his ear where you know it makes him go quiet. You feel his breath hitch, and it makes you brave.
“About how long it takes,” you murmur against his skin, “before you stop being sweet and start being mean again.”
He exhales a laugh—one of those quiet ones that means he’s trying not to show how much you got to him. His hand slides to the back of your neck, thumb brushing your pulse. “You’re teasing me,” he says.
You blink slowly, innocent on purpose. “Am I?”
He leans in, close enough that his nose brushes yours. “You should rest.”
You let your smile widen, just a little. “Make me.”
His gaze drops, then returns to your eyes, darker now. “Careful.”
You press a final kiss to his lips—soft, brief, unhurried—then pull back before he can deepen it.
“Or what?” you whisper.
He looks at you for a long second, like he’s deciding how honest to be. Then he tucks you closer, forehead to yours, and his voice goes quieter.
“Or I’m going to stop pretending I’m patient.”
You sigh like you’re satisfied with that answer, and let your eyes fall closed, still smiling.
“Mm,” you hum. “There you are.”
His jaw ticks. You feel it more than see it—the subtle shift in his expression that says you’re walking a line.
“You’re pushing,” he says quietly.
“Am I?” you ask again, tone dripping with false innocence. Your fingers trail down his chest, nails dragging just lightly enough to make him inhale sharp. “I’m just sitting here. Being good.”
“You don’t know how to be good,” he mutters, but there’s heat creeping into his voice now, the kind that makes your pulse kick up.
You tilt your head, letting your smile turn sharper. “That’s not true. I was very good earlier. You said so yourself.”
His hand tightens on your waist—just enough to make you aware of it. “That was different.”
“How?” you challenge, leaning in until your lips brush his ear. “Because you were in charge?”
Hongjoong goes still. Dangerously still. The kind of stillness that means you’ve officially gotten under his skin.
“Baby,” he says, voice dropping into that low register that usually makes you shut up and listen. But right now, it just makes you bolder.
“What?” you ask sweetly, pulling back to look at him with wide, innocent eyes. “I’m just asking questions.”
His thumb presses into your hip—not hard, but deliberate. A warning. “You’re being a brat.”
“Me?” You press a hand to your chest in mock offence. “I would never.”
“Liar,” he says flatly.
You bite your lip to keep from grinning too wide. “Prove it.”
His eyes flash. “You really want to do this right now?”
“Do what?” you ask, all fake confusion as your fingers walk up his chest again, tracing the line of his collarbone. “I’m just sitting here in this nice bath you drew for me, being so grateful—”
“—being a pain in my ass,” he interrupts, but there’s a crack in his composure now. You can see it in the way his gaze drops to your mouth, then back up. In the way his grip on you shifts, like he’s deciding whether to pull you closer or push you away.
You lean in, close enough that your breath ghosts over his lips. “You love it,” you whisper.
He stares at you for a long moment, expression unreadable. Then, slowly, deliberately, he smiles—and it’s not the soft, fond smile. It’s the dangerous one. The one that means you’ve successfully woken up the version of him that doesn’t play nice.
“Okay,” he says simply. His hand slides up to cup your jaw, thumb brushing your bottom lip. “You want to be a brat? Go ahead. But don’t complain when I remind you what happens to brats who push too far.”
Your stomach flips—half anticipation, half genuine thrill. You should probably back down now. You’re exhausted, barely recovered, and you know he’s serious.
But instead, you smile back at him, just as sharp. “Promises, promises.”
His eyes narrow. “Last chance.”
You press a quick, teasing kiss to his lips—there and gone. “Make me stop.”
He exhales slowly through his nose, like he’s physically restraining himself. “You’re going to regret this.”
“Maybe,” you say, trailing your fingers down his chest again, slower this time. “But that sounds like a future me problem.”
Hongjoong’s eyes sharpen. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?” you ask, innocent as a knife. “Use your words.”
His jaw ticks. For a second you can see the exact moment his patience runs out.
Then he moves.
His hand slides from your jaw to the back of your neck, grip firm enough to make your breath catch. “You want me to use my words?” he says, voice dropping low and dangerous. “Fine. Stop teasing me before I forget I was trying to be gentle with you.”
You roll your eyes at him, the gesture slow and deliberate—practically daring him to do something about it.
His grip tightens fractionally. “Did you just—”
“What?” you interrupt, blinking up at him with exaggerated innocence. “I didn’t do anything.”
“You rolled your eyes at me.”
“Did I?” You tilt your head, playing dumb.
Hongjoong’s stare lingers, heavy and unimpressed, like he’s deciding how much patience you’re allowed to borrow before he takes it back with interest.
“Yeah,” he says quietly, almost thoughtful. “You did.”
Before you can respond, he shifts—slow, deliberate—until you’re pressed back against the edge of the tub, his body caging yours.
He kisses you then—deep and consuming, the kind that steals the air from your lungs and replaces it with heat. His hand tightens at the back of your neck, holding you, and you can’t do anything but take it. His mouth moves against yours like he’s proving a point, like he’s reminding you who’s in control here, and it works. God, it works.
When he finally pulls back, your eyes are half-closed, breath coming in short, uneven gasps. You feel dazed, unsteady, like the world tilted and forgot to right itself.
He’s watching you, and there’s that smirk—slow, satisfied, dangerous. “Is this what you wanted?” he asks, voice low and rough.
You nod, still catching your breath, unable to form words yet.
His smirk deepens. “Yeah,” he murmurs, thumb brushing your swollen bottom lip. “That’s what I thought.”
Stepping over the boundary of 'friends' is your forte. The two of you are always meddling into the grey area where there’s no fine line between flashing each other for fun and actually hanging out. Just walking in on one of your conversations feels like an echo chamber of gradually lame inside jokes and dirty innuendos. So it’s no surprise that you’re video calling him at 2 in the morning with a hand preoccupied. Besides, a bit of cyber sex is nothing compared to whatever you and Beomgyu share with each other.
╰┈➤MDNI - NSFW content ahead...
…or in simple words…ғᴡʙ!ʙᴇᴏᴍɢʏᴜ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ft. fwb!Taehyun
ᝰ.ᐟ wc - 20.6k
warnings!! and mentions!! switch!gyu (predominantly sub leaning) x reader, mutual masturbation, unprotected p in v, riding, sex over the phone and video calls, fwb!Taehyun x reader smut scene, sexual jokes, voyeurism, minor jealousy, fingering, oral!m rec, handjob, cum eating, instances where reader's sex tapes are shared, profanities, petnames, praise kink, whiny gyu agenda, creampie, light pinching and dacryphilia, gyu and reader work at a store <3
tyunningism's note: Very much delayed ackkk I'm sorry! But my Beomgyu redemption fic is finally here, and I hope my readers enjoy this new work hehe <3 (I have to add Taehyun in everywhere, he just reminds me so much of the virgin formula tyun and I love it gosh)
Beomgyu’s heard it all before. You know, the short-lived but nevertheless ‘juicy’ details of your private life. From dick size right down to the wacky kinks, he’d need another set of hands to count all your misfortunes and jackpots when it comes to your pound-town of a bed. That’s what six months of being packed with you into working the 5 to 9 shift has bestowed upon him: a listening ear to your oversharing. If only… he could put all that effort into his scut work instead of blabbering back about twice as much.
Normally, any other person has a secret they’d carry to the grave without making a peep; in his eyes you’re totally transparent. You wear your heart on your sleeve all year round, and your tits, but that came from you, not him. Even so, Beomgyu had to learn the hard way that trusting friends with secrets is a fragile concept he shouldn’t underestimate. The time Kai snooped through his phone ended up with his nudes on the screen and his best friend retching on the floor mere seconds later. He doesn’t need to get into the gritty details to explain that it was a tough pill to swallow. He figured it’d be better to speak with no filter than be caught trying to filter it out for everyone’s sake.
Being so open with each other never failed to lift a burden off your chests though. Whether it was about a customer giving either of you the hots, or the other end of the extreme, in which you’d both cuss out any of the pricks you encountered behind their back. It just never crossed his mind that your oversharing sessions could ever… backfire.
“Didn’t see you pay for that at the till.”
He raises his head just enough to narrowly avoid a sure-to-be-sore collision with the upper shelf, eyebrows raised as he turns towards the scoff in your voice. You didn’t need to point a finger directly at it for him to realise you’re doubting the opened can of beer that’s magically found its way in his hands.
“Awh-fuck. Must’ve picked it up without thinking after I restocked the beverages.” Beomgyu gives a half laugh, transcending back into the low hum his voice is permanently altered to whenever he’s lost sleep.
You’re hauling another crate of vitamins and over-the-counter pills when it lands with a thump on the floor, wiping your forehead glistening with mild sweat with the back of your hand. “Yeah, you look like you need it.” Your thumb rubs over the braille on the packaging as you set the boxes of pills on the shelves. “Haven’t seen you look so shit since Kai crashed your Ford.”
Standing around with a can of beer while you worked your back out trying to fill up the very back of the shelves only made him feel worse. He rubs his temples and takes the first sip of the night, knowing that glugging it down would only make the pounding in his head worse. “I-I know I usually talk more. Sorry, this must be bori—"
“Usually you don’t make stupid mistakes like dumping all of the Viagra stock on the shelf that clearly reads ‘vinegar’ Gyu.” It’s obvious you had more to pick on him for, but the shortage of breath from having to squat and stand up to empty the crate onto the shelves is tedious work. “It’s like you read condoms instead of condiments on the aisle sign.”
He blinks twice, then tightens his grip on the can until the metal indents with his fingers, and takes a larger sip.
“You actually did, didn’t you?” A kick to the half-full crate, mounted with piles of painkillers, causes it to slide across and land before his feet. “You’re lucky the pharmacists haven’t caught your ass for that.”
“Sounds like you’re saying I need another drink.” A lazy smile unfolds over his face, enough to flash his teeth but not enough to drawl out the endearing smile lines you’re used to seeing. Until disaster strikes again, and suddenly the tired lean of his head against the shelf is too much weight, knocking the vitamin gummies at the very top down to the floor.
“I’m saying that you should clock out early and sleep. I’ll cover for both of us for the rest of the shift, and I’ll pay for the beer since I love you so much.” Jokingly, your shoulder nudges his as you stack his crate of toothpaste onto your crate of vitamins.
Saying ‘love you too’ feelings-free wasn’t difficult back then, not like it is now. His throat dries up not because he’s exhausted and dehydrated, but because he’s never hid anything from you when you’re so used to sharing everything with each other.
“No, it’s fine I just—” a sigh leaves him, “I’ve been stressed.”
“Stressed? What…like, can’t get your dick wet?” This is how it should be. Laughing, cracking jokes, gossiping about whose sex tape was leaked by their best friend. But he doesn’t return the light-heartedness at all, awkwardly rubbing strands of his hair between his thumb and index.
“Y-yeah, something like that.”
The pause between you dwells for longer than he’d like; he watches the cogs in your head turn as you think of something borderline serious, even if it’s unlikely. “Get someone to stroke your shit then, you’re starting to sound like Micropeen Mateo.”
No one wants to delve into the history behind your disappointing ex unless you’re using it against Beomgyu whenever he’s whining on. For all he knows, Mateo’s tried harder to find a hookup than he’s ever had.
“The girl I usually see cut it off with me last week. She’s moving to the inner city.” Stumbling from the weight beginning to pile up on his hands, he attempts to set down the bottles of vitamin gummies you’ve picked off the floor from the accident nearby.
“Ooh! I liked her, the hot girl from Nepal who gave me her lip combo? Can’t believe you bagged her in the first place.” You observe the knit in his brows displaying the hurt he took to your obvious banter, which makes you turn away from him awkwardly as you finish your tasks.
You squat to pick up the last bottle of gummies. Your eyes flit between hurling it towards your co-worker, whose hands are full, and passing it directly to him as you have already been. It’s around then that your mind finds a better idea, a generous offer to help your good friend.
“Y’know, you can always ask me for help.”
Faced with your back, Beomgyu can barely grasp whether you were dead serious or joking without the aid of your expressive face. Like you dropped this entire bomb on him without warning, and he’d rather accept his fate than ask you for clarity to defuse it.
“Hah..ha…hah, HAH… holy fuck, that’s the first time you’ve ever been funny.” He tries to laugh it off, aggressively or not doesn’t matter, playing off the absurdity of your proposal with a couple of slaps to your arm as you turn back to face him.
Everything about you is composed. Not laughing alongside him even in an empty store, and to make things clearer, your hands cross under the swell of your chest as if you wanted him to take you seriously. Even if it really only brought attention to your tits instead of the adamant look on your face.
“I’m being serious Gyu, if all you need is a handjob to be functioning on something other than beer, I’ll do it.” The way your words seamlessly roll off your tongue can make even the vulgarest of sentences seem as natural as a simple ‘hello.’
You didn’t even stammer when you spoke. Now you were left waiting for him to speak up as unaffected as you are while you bat your lashes at him. On purpose? He can’t tell.
In hopes that the two sips of beer he had are enough to justify the blush creeping across his cheeks, he attempts to maintain eye contact with you as though his boxers aren’t suffocating around the growing boner he’ll have to pull his shirt over. If only you hadn’t sent one last blow to knock him over for good, pink tongue sticking out with a finger pointed at the wet muscle.
“Taehyun says I’m good at giving blowjobs too.”
Beomgyu swears he doesn’t mean to, but he clicks his tongue at the name anyway. Taehyun has grown accustomed to the slightly sour tinge in the roof of his mouth when he hears it. Sure, he’s never met the guy in the flesh, but he can piece together a decent image from the details in your exaggerated storytelling.
Truthfully, he’s never cared for the ins and outs of whoever you were sleeping with, because by the time it reaches your routine shift together, you’d have retold everything to him like he cuckolded the actual thing. Not that he’d mind if you suggested the idea. After all, it wouldn’t be exclusive between the two of you, and neither is it exclusive between you and Taehyun.
“The new roommate you slept with the second he moved in?” You’re applying red discount stickers straight off the roll when he says it, bottom lip tucked under the other, while you recall the memory.
“Mhm, and every other week since. He’s good at it Gyu,” he watches intently as you bend your middle and ring finger and rub the air in circular motions, “you’d understand if you saw him. Were you even listening to anything I told you on Monday?”
Tell him about it; he hasn’t been focused on anything you’ve told him this week. “The way you describe him makes me feel like a fucking chud jeez.” Taking the roll of stickers out of your palm, he peels about three and sticks them onto his fingers, plastering one on your forehead and the rest on the whitening strips instead of the toothpaste.
“Well then, chud. As I was saying on Monday, Taehyun and I tried masturbating togeth—”
“And?” Beomgyu huffs as he starts plastering discount stickers on everything that shouldn’t have— it makes you wonder how he’s not fired yet. But he’s charmed enough regulars to put in a good word for him to get away with virtually anything; he’s ‘eye-candy’ to be precise.
“— And it’s hot. So you should try it with me.”
Everything else became a blur after you left, subconsciously blocked out, even if he’s certain what you had to say was important. It just wasn’t important to Beomgyu when you’ve enticed him with something purely theoretical at the moment. Stay here for any longer than 6 minutes and 28 seconds, and he’s a goner. Poor guy’s been uncomfortably shifting in his pants since you went off to clean the store about 20 minutes ago.
It doesn’t help that he’s been ogling at you from afar as you locked up the tills. Within the time that’s passed you’ve tied back your hair, snuck yourself a lolly from the jar by the register, and scanned ‘n paid for your microwavable dinner tonight. For two, he notices.
The red flush inevitably grows on his face as he imagines it before him. Stepping into your apartment, feet tangling with your panties on the floor, and you lifting your shirt for real this time instead of joking that you will.
Is he some sort of sick perv? Yes, no…maybe? He shifts the blame onto being pent up, not because it’s you or anything akin. This feeling of being desperate makes him all the worse. Especially when the drool from his mouth leaks onto his uniform after being hypnotised by the way your lips purse around the tip of the lollipop, tongue swirling around the protruding rim, then sucking it whole. There’s only so much imagination needed to make it seem as lewd as it is in Beomgyu’s eyes.
“Gross dude. I know you guys have sex and all but it’s Thursday. This whole eye fucking thing you’ve got going on is unsexy.”
If there was one way to describe the look on Beomgyu’s face, it’s that he looks like he’s seen a ghost from how shrill he yelps seeing the dirty blonde come into view.
“Shit— you scared the crap out of me! And we aren’t fuck—”
“—We aren’t what? What are you and Jjun talking about?”
All colour drains from his face as he sees you pop your head around the other end of the aisle. In hand, you’ve bunched up your keys and his, a coat half pulled over yourself with the other sleeve still hanging. You fuss over the fact that it’s time to clock off as you tap your finger against the imaginary watch on your wrist.
“Let Yeonjun take care of closing up tonight. Unless you don’t want to come.”
“C-Cum?”
“Come with.” You mouth a soft ‘thank you’ in the other male’s direction before recklessly tossing over Beomgyu’s car keys. A small giggle emits from you watching him stumble to try catch them, oblivious to how hard he’s trying to multitask with catching the keys in one hand and pulling his shirt over his boner with the other.
Like some lost puppy he follows right after you, not beside but behind, accidentally stepping onto your heel whenever he mismatches your pace. You don’t even question him as you walk out of the store and into the parking lot, until you spot his busted-up Ford—that’s in desperate need of a trip down to the mechanics—parked miles away from your own Chevrolet.
“Need something from me Gyu?” Your head cocks as you climb into the driver’s seat, locking him out before he could even make his rounds to the passenger door while you roll down a window to talk to him.
Speechless is an understatement. Well, you told him you’d help him out if he needed it, no? He can barely make sense of why you’re as visibly confused as he is, biting apart the remains of your lollipop while the bare stick twirls between your fingers.
“Y-you were going to h-help me…with that thing.” The worst you could do is change your mind and tell him no, and give him time to wallow and wail over it later in his own front seat. Not cocking your head to the side and acting like you’re clueless when he’s been thinking about your offer for the past hour in the most degenerative state of his twenties.
Caught you right in the action, he did. He heard the little lies slipping past your tongue to rile him up. He let you roll back up your window with a laugh, pushing his buttons further as your voice grew muffled through the glass. “Ohmygod speak up Gyu! What thing?”
“I’m going to pop your tyre if you make me say this out loud—” Saying it’s cold in the parking lot is the equivalent of agreeing to the fucking allegations between you, not quite there yet, but sitting on the border. Mainly because in Beomgyu’s books it’s fucking freezing, a chill he can’t just shrug off, but leaves him shivering enough to want to screw over your offer and head straight towards his car.
Your hand cups behind your ear as you lean closer against the window, a lengthy ’huhh?’ dragged out just about loud enough for him to hear, and cuss at you over. “I didn’t get that Gyuuu!—”
“—You told me you were gonna help me rub one out or something!” The car rocks slightly as he thumps his forehead against the frame of the driver’s door. An arm tucked beneath his face to hide the blush spreading as he leans, unsure of whether opening his eyes to see your reaction or continuing to shy away in humiliation would give him less of a headache.
“Beomgyu! Don’t say that out loud!” The tiny glint in the smile of your eye tells it all, that you knew what he was getting at from the start, and he’s fallen a pawn into your own amusement. “How do I put this? I mean, we live on opposite ends of the city Gyu and you know how much I complain about the fuel for this thing. Just thought you’d catch on…that I wanted to do it over the phone. It’ll be easier.”
“O-over the...phone? Yeah— over the phone, that’s cool, fine uh— do I c-call you or?” Luck is always on the course to mess around with Beomgyu at the worst possible moments, including now as he stutters over each syllable, thoughts still processing in his head mid-sentence.
“Then call me tonight. I’ll be trying on the new lingerie I bought from Spencer’s if that helps you with anything.”
Shooting himself in the foot is all that Beomgyu’s ever known to do. Biting down on his nails but not chewing, eyes glued to your contact page on his screen while his fingers are set in stone. Minutes pass into hours, the small 22:00 in the corner winds back to 00:00, and by then he doubts you’ll even be awake to answer his procrastination-delayed call.
Hell, he doubts he can even remember how many times he’s stumbled out of bed to press his face flat against the mirror. Fingers rubbing over the rough stubble growing in, wetting the tip of his finger to slick back the stray strand he’s never able to tame for long. He looks a mess, and a desperate one at that. Still clad in his uniform when it clicks in his head that he should change, shower, flip his apartment upside down until it’s spotless before even bothering to dial you at this hour.
It's nothing but a voice call; it’s not like you’ll be able to see him anyway. Yet Beomgyu knows all too well how real it’ll start to feel once the buzz of your voice through the speaker brushes over his ear. He’d hate for you to see him squirm at the edge of the bed, nodding eagerly for no one but himself to observe in the mirror, the thought alone making him blush from the chin up.
Grinning like an idiot with his phone idle and right against his ear, his fantasy is cut short by his ringtone, a call sent from your end as he takes note of the round profile on display. You’re smiling gently, with your best friend’s face popping out in the corner to meddle in the photo, and for a second it’s too dirty to think about. Plastering your face on top of a body wearing lingerie seems unnaturally lewd, despite your mouth being the filthiest cove of words he’s ever heard. So he lets his phone ring for a millisecond longer, legs dangling off the bed as he hunches to press the phone closer against his ear to fend off anyone else from the luxury of hearing your voice in the late hours of night.
“Hey.” Beomgyu bites on the knuckle of his thumb, eyes screwed shut as if that would be any help to drowning out your simple greeting.
The traces of sleep that still lag your speech are apparent. Soft groans and mumbled words that enter through one ear and come out the other once it’s passed by his dick first. No one’s to blame him for thinking you’d forgotten about the offer for real this time when you’re still stirring awake.
“Couldn’t call any later Gyu. I dozed off on my bed in this…” your voice pauses, the softest snap of a band just about audible in the background, “lingerie waiting for you to call you know.”
“Y-yeah my bad, I was busy with something—”
“—Whoaa, really Gyu?? You got a head start on jerking off?” The sarcasm drips in your tone, honeyed and raspy as your giggles sound out the white noise in his room, and it turns him on more than it should.
“Where did you get that from? I-I’m not even hard yet.” With that, he plummets back onto his bed, arms spread out to give him more space to breathe before draping a backhand across his forehead.
“Should’ve taken the Viagra you misplaced if you needed help getting it up.” You’re soothing him as you speak, light hearted and playful enough to ease his nerves from sky high to still terribly high. “Would photos help?”
And then sky high again.
“Photos? Like, nudes?” Beomgyu’s speech slurs from word to word, gulping down every inch of embarrassment starting to seep in and pigment his cheeks a rosy hue. Who could’ve guessed that you’re an expert at leaving people hanging? Because as you hum into your phone, he’s listening and wide-eyed with a palm situated over his mouth to muffle the small whine that leaves him.
“I’d be impressed if you could get hard from photos of what I had for lunch.”
The buzz of a notification leaves him unsure of how to function. Whether it’s to check your message head first without warning, or mutter a cheesy thank you beforehand. It’s difficult for him not to have his hopes up when you’ve been leaving smidges and crumbs for him to fall apart in your hands like mush. In his head, that sort of reality isn’t far off Heaven, and as he opens up your message on the display of his phone he can only conjure a single semi-decent thought.
Tempting’s just too weak of a word.
Covered in nothing but a tight-fitted tank, the fabric bunches together into fine lines that carve out the swell of your tits. The lighting in your room isn’t the clearest. Slightly fuzzy areas of shadow and dull ambience from the lamp balanced on your nightstand, draping your skin in warmer, gentle hues. Your legs cross over each other, panties pulled down to just above one knee, torturing him with the urge to pry them open. Tempting him with the thought of how the flesh of your thighs would spill between his fingers, plush and pudgy where it’s softest.
Insignificant little details that may have slipped from your memory, he remembers. From the butterscotch lotion you snuck home with your employee discount, imagining how you’d rub down the inside of your thighs with the off-white cream. Right down to memorising your evening routine, and how furiously he blushed when you admitted to wearing nothing to sleep solely for comfort.
Little by little, his eyes trace over how your thighs smush together, the subtle rise of your chest that makes you appear as breathless and needy as he is. Perhaps you didn’t intend on it when you snapped a photo of something so suggestive, but with all his attention focused on you, it’s a total loss to look over the lacey lingerie peeking from under your top’s straps. Somewhere in between pink and white, the see-through fabric only amplifies his perverse desires. So much so that he nearly misses the muffled whimper in his ear.
Beomgyu doesn’t mean to parade on whatever you’re up to now that the line’s gone…quiet. But the sloshing that seeps into the audio of your mic opens you up to being read like a book. A part of him wants to break the chain of muted whines to ask if you’ve slipped in a finger or two yet. If you’re soaked enough for your fingertips to become prune-like and drenched in your juices, if you could lick down your digits and tell him how you taste.
“Gyuuu? You’ve gone silent again— don’t tell me you’re still looking at the picture.” The drag of his name enters the territory of a whine, catching him off guard as his vision unblurs from a lustful focus on your waist to the call icon hung at the top of his screen.
“S-sorry I forgot—” It would’ve saved his pride by an inch if he wasn’t turned on so easily by an amateur picture of your top half clad and your thighs crossed tight enough to hide it all. He’s seen filthier things: cunts gaping with cum he could only dream of being his, silicone sex dolls tearing apart from brute force, voice-guided masturbations from his ex-favourite fem-dom creator, who he suddenly grew tired of. Though none of them have pushed him to the extent where he can see the patch of precum leaking through his boxers, beading from his tip in generous enough intervals to soak through his thick sweats and leave them pathetically stained—nothing like what your photos do to him.
“Hard yet?” The sultry façade of your tone targets straight for his cock, the mass twitching in the restraints of his boxers.
“Y-yeah. I’m hard thanks..f-for the—”
“Let me see Gyuuu, come on! You told me you were pretty well off down there.” The buzz of your camera turning on tickles his ear, thoughts fluctuating between whether it’d be safe to bring his phone to his face or if he’d cum on the spot alone.
“This is different!” Your chuckles at him only make the heat spread across his face like a wildfire. Each staccato syllable of your laugh contributes to another bead of precum as it oozes from his slit, cockhead too sensitive to push his boxers past and relieve himself.
“You wanted to try out this whole masturbating together thing, didn’t you? When Taehyun’s away at the gym, he likes it when I guide him through the camera.”
“O-okay, I got it!” Beomgyu’s palms sweat with a nervous clamminess, gulping down the drool beginning to swash in his mouth as he observes the way you’ve positioned your phone.
You’re leaning against your headrest, knees bent, and legs opened wide enough for everything to be on display if only it weren’t for the hand shielding your dripping folds. A small pool of your juices staining the bedsheets is barely visible with the light emitted from your screen, turning the white sheets grey as you fiddle with your lingerie. The fabric protrudes where your nipples perk, the thin mesh grazing over the sensitive nubs as soft moans collapse from your lips.
Seeing you already prepared and past the awkward stage of fiddling with what angle works best, Beomgyu can only settle for flipping to his back camera to direct it at the rough bulge in his pants. He tries to shuffle away his fingers so you can’t poke fun at how they’re burning pale from how hard he’s digging his nails into the mattress, trying to make sense of the situation in his head and trick him into feeling natural. Even if nothing about stroking his cock to his co-worker playing with herself is natural to begin with.
“Whoa fuck— you’re not a minute man are you? Looks like you shot a load already with all that precum,” your thighs visibly tense up as you take him in, the shyness hitting him as he chews on the inside of his cheek, “wanna see it, take it all off.”
“I-I can’t— feels sensitive, I don’t know it’s never felt this…close before.” The line enters silence again. With fingers tiptoeing past the waistband, your voice fading into the background until he could hear the shuffling of footsteps outside your room, and his own breath still hitching.
“Shit, you nearly just made me squirt.”
Stammering, only a few incoherent noises of jumbled words leave his mouth. Dizzy in his head and only growing harder despite it feeling impossible. Your eyes never left their station on his bulge, glistening obscenely as you observe the way the girth twitches profusely and shifts about in his grey boxers.
“I’ll give you a close-up of my pussy if you touch yourself for five seconds without cumming.” Everything that emerges from your lips is nothing short of nasty, the grossest set of words he’d only be able to hear from a porn jackpot, only to refresh the tab for it never to be seen again. He’s more than conscious of how badly he should be savouring this, not shy of a little edging if it means he can drag on the call for even a minute longer.
Without communicating another word, his fingers weakly grasp around the waistband. His thumbs fumble over the drawstrings, trying to undo the knot he wishes he’d done earlier with a singular hand. The camera shakes out of focus, placed down on the mattress face-first and left recording the ceiling.
Of course you were a tad disappointed in the loss of any action to satisfy you, other than the overhead lights in his room that remain unlit. Impatience is your biggest enemy, you’ve always thought, but for tonight it’s your greatest friend as you pester him to hurry.
Back camera, foggy. Lighting, about as bad as yours. Except you struck gold with the bed of hair intruding in the far corner. Face framing pieces fall into place as he runs a hand through his hair, the upwards angle catching a small glimpse of the jawline screwed in concentration. Eyebrows furrowing until they touched the brim of his lashes, a mere bead of sweat rolling down the end where it drew your attention to the slight hissing of clenched teeth.
Beomgyu is hot, that’s never been a secret. At least twelve of your friends have nudged your shoulder until it popped out of the socket just to pry for his number, and you can see it in their eyes that it’s not just his face that they’re after, but what he’s hiding under the belt too.
Guess you’re not any different from them after all, definitely not with how your pupils are zeroed in on the bob of his adam’s apple as he finally undoes the strings, and the small expression of clarity and relief in his slack jaw that follows after the series of grunts.
“Tied it too tight, I-I’ll leave it alone next time.”
“Next time?” You hum amusedly as you lock back into action, squeezing the hand between your thighs as you press them together.
Your usually talkative co-worker hesitates to even respond, embarrassment kicking in as he pans the camera towards lifting the restraints of his sweats and soiled boxers in a singular, shaky movement.
“Holy shit Gyu…” He’s already set on rehearsing his essay-length apology with a thumb hovered over the ‘hang up’ button, practically scratching at his thighs to be pressed. It doesn’t help that you don’t utter anything after, your own camera wobbling as your face comes into view, attempting to get a closer look.
In Beomgyu’s eyes, it wasn’t much— even if he talked big out of his ass to prove a point. Just a view of his cock leaking in the most virgin-like way he attests to, snug under his belly button before waning to the side as he twitches. He was somewhat confident with every booty call he’s shown up to, ending with a mantra of praises for his size alone, but he doubts he could live up to whatever Taehyun’s been feeding y—
“I-Is that real?” The zoom in of your face as you inch closer towards the screen for long enough to feel invasive only catalyses the blush spreading from his face to his chest. “You’re probably the biggest I’ve seen, well not seen, but— I mean, I could make a couple of guesses with the slacks you wear to…work.”
Theoretically speaking, what’s more detrimental to Beomgyu’s urge to cum untouched right now? He can’t pinpoint whether it’s the pride that fills him seeing your tongue dart out to lick the drool leaking from your lips, or how you moan on cue as the lighting finally reveals the singular vein running down the side.
“So the entire month that I spent scrolling for a good dildo, you didn’t even nominate yourself to help? I thought we were closer than this Gyu.” Retreating to the backrest again, you smile softly while a finger brushes over the lingerie mesh covering your nipples.
“That’s crossing the line! What if you were grossed out? H-how am I ever going to work a shift with you again?” The patch of skin on his abdomen glistens with the precum continuing to leak, the rounded cockhead bouncing lightly against his skin.
“And talking about your diehard praise kink isn’t? Come on, don’t act like you weren’t jerking off to my voice when I called you after I posted those bikini pics.”
A shooting star must’ve passed by just now, and Beomgyu’s just wished for a ditch for him to bury himself in. You didn’t even call him out or act with any indifference. Could you blame him for thinking he was slick with it? “That was one time!”
“Mhm, you really like being whiny for a guy you know. Why don’t you put all that energy into touching your cock like a good boy? I gave you five seconds, remember?”
On command, he doesn’t bother to put up a fight. His free hand moves in time with your approving hums, amplified by the soft gasps from both of you when his fingers finally wrap around the base.
“S-shit— how do I—?”
“That’s right. Guide your first upwards, press against the slit and promise me you won't cum.” Only dread awaits him from here; he knows he won’t be able to hold back from whatever unfolds next if he obeys. Though he listens and follows attentively anyway.
His thumb hovers dangerously close over the slit, enough to feel the warmth radiating from his body as he hesitates. “C-can’t…I’ll cum too fast and then—”
“Three…two…”
Your countdown eggs him on. Choosing between the dirtier of the two evils means giving in to your instructions, hoping that you’ll give him another chance to redeem himself for such short lived bliss.
Neither of you could tell if it was even caught on camera, or at least visible, from how quickly he retracts his thumb after pushing down on the slit. The male lurches forward with his phone, shaking from the weak grip in his hand. The nerves in his cock tingle sensitively as blood flows without warning and flushes his tip a rosy pink. It takes more than a couple seconds for him to regain his train of thought, the orgasm on the brink of occurring flashing before his mind as he sighs nervously.
“I think you’re deserving of the reward I promised you earlier, hm?” Cooing at him, you spread open your legs again as you tease him with the slowest drag of your hand, unveiling nothing he hasn’t seen already as you delay the reveal.
“Please—”
Beomgyu swears with a cross on his heart that he didn’t mean to come off so desperate as a high-pitched mewl. Although sounding desperate was the least of his worries. Especially when all he could react with to seeing your dripping folds, spread open by the same fingers you touched him with at work earlier, was moaning at the top of his lungs for what felt like a minute straight.
Your fingers circle your clit, pinching at the sensitive bud whilst your other hand instinctively reaches up to appeal to your nipple. With every swipe of your fingers down your folds, they return with a new and thicker load of slick that pops and crackles through the audio.
“Feels s’ good—mngh— Wanna see you fuck your fist t’me getting off.” You pick up the pace by rubbing your clit, the nub growing puffy in real time as he watches you play with yourself. He catches on to the way you pinch at the flesh of your tits or your thighs whenever a surge of pleasure runs through you. Paying attention to each detail of how your back arches slightly and your chest heaves without mercy to catch more than just a shallow breath, pushing your mounds together to tease him tirelessly.
Within a matter of seconds, he’s following up. Giving no more than a couple of experimental strokes to ease the heightened sensitivity, gliding vertically down his cock with just the fingertips.
“Wish you were the one making me feel this good Gyu. Imagine it’s me jerking you off right now, wouldn’t I be going f-faster?”
The effect of your words on him leaves Beomgyu with no room to think for himself other than to listen to your sultry voice, like a siren luring him in with the lewdest gasps and soft pleas you meddle into your praises for him. His favourite being the way you gasp when his finger strokes up the vein and his entire cock throbs and twitches in response. Seeing how your jaw falls open into a breathy moan only makes him all the more curious about how pretty you’d look with your mouth around him.
“N-ngh— take it off p-please—”
Finally finding the courage to wrap his hand around his length completely, Beomgyu’s head throws back in pleasure as he chews on his bottom lip, eyes flitting down low enough to catch sight of how you slip down the lingerie, revealing the swell of your bare tits for him.
“Is that what you wanted Gyu? Being rewarded for touching yourself like a good whore? I’ll tell you all the things you wanna hear pretty.”
Fuck, if he could engrave one memory into his mind forever, it would be this. To frame it somewhere and grant a plaque in your name of all the filthy things you whisper in between the sound of your juices squelching as you flick and rub at your clit.
“Bet you wanna know how tight I’d feel when you’re inside me, I’ve never taken one as big as yours Gyu~” Appearing again, your two fingers spread apart your folds, revealing the way your hole starts to clench and gape open a tiny gap, fingertips caressing over your entrance as you whine out his name.
“N-no I can’t cum yet w-wait—!”
“Cumming already? Would a close-up help?”
Give him time to say no. Let him refuse and prove to you that he’s more than a minute man as long as you don’t zoom in. The hazy blur of pixels and slight lag on the screen is what’s keeping the sensual overload of the call rocking at bay; shuffle any closer to give him a better view, and he might empty his balls on his sheets by accident.
Time doesn’t rush you; the reward of an orgasm does. You shift your phone closer, resting it on its side with a fortress of pillows behind to support the weight, keeping it in focus and clear. Unlucky for him, the close and upfront view of your cunt acts as an invitation for him to bury his face in the heat between your legs, and it brings him to the edge, or already dangling off it.
Beads of sweat roll down the valley of your thighs, mixing with your wetness as your thighs squeeze together and rub from the touch of each circling finger. So brief he could’ve missed it, the sight of your slick stretching between the webs of your fingers. Strings of your juices snap apart as you spread out your greedy folds, clasping for the fist beyond the screen, brewing white at the knuckles to take over once your wrists start to ache.
“Hnnngh— b-been holding back too long, c-can’t!” Groaning, his slender fingers concentrate on the pink cockhead, flushing the same shade as the lipstick he gifted you, which you swore was too bright. Although the gift was put to use. Just for marking yourself in dirty, bold lettering to embody the whole ‘slutty’ look in the bedroom for fun, rather than dusting your lips in a shade even your mother refuses to touch.
“I’ll let you cum on my face if you stop muffling your moans Gyu. It turns me on when I hear how good I’m making your cock feel hmm?”
The comment by itself is enough for him to dig out his chin from his chest, his mouth catching pieces of fluff from his sweater as he tries to rinse the embarrassment dry. Letting out cute, little whimpers that wouldn’t have been caught by the mic if he had been any further from his phone, one by one.
“Nmph-mnngh— O-oh my god—” His vision crossfades until your face held above the camera covers the majority of his tunnelled sight. Your arm can be seen slightly jerking from the strain of your shoulder as you continue to fixate on releasing shortly after him. The loose strands of hair you clipped back at work earlier this morning now stick to your cheeks and forehead in a messy montage, curled ends reaching the corners of your lips as you gasp into a moan.
On purpose, you knit together your brows, squeezing and fluttering your eyes shut as you chew on the fat of your lip, whispering raspy mantras of his name that aggravate the pit of lust below his abdomen.
“C-cumming. O-oh my— oh shitt—!”
Mere seconds before release, he lowers his camera towards the sheets. A camera faced with nothing but bunched up wrinkles of white, with unrestrained grunts that could be heard in the background that made your core pulsate for him.
Beomgyu shudders as he strokes himself whole, thumb pressing against the sensitive vein from the base to the tip as he unloads his cum across your cheeks on the screen, cock twitching as he spots the way you loll your tongue out to catch his seed. The off-white appears grey as the light from his phone burns his eyes, and so does the image of his cum dripping down your cheeks in thick loads as you smile into the camera for him. Unpure at best, the deliberate gaze settles in your eyes, trying to harvest another round from him as you bat your lashes, still needing to cum yourself.
“Gonna need another load in you to spare until I c—”
Entering a silence he’s no stranger to once again, aside from his jagged panting, Beomgyu can barely adjust to the sudden relief in his eyes as the bright screen closes on its own. A relief that’s too short-lived when he can’t find the spread of your legs or your sweat-covered cheeks in front of him. He tries to knock the phone awake by tapping ruthlessly countless times, continuing long after it became hopeless.
“Charger— Charger…where the fuck’s my charger?!” There’s a guilt that doesn’t sit perfectly in his stomach. The regret of not being able to hold on to the one-time miracle of a call for long enough to see the face of pure ecstasy your features fold into when you’re feeling good.
Taking shortcuts, crawling along his bed flat on his stomach towards the other end, and fiddling with the tangled chargers he agreed to sort out two weeks ago. Still overly sensitive after coming down from his high, even the gentlest rub of fabric along his dick is enough for him to hiss out a half-whine.
Perhaps he should be investing in a new phone next, one that doesn’t die within seconds and doesn’t take centuries to charge, or meet him in the middle whenever he needs to go out for drinks late into the day. Has he ever considered religion as much as he does right now while praying that you haven’t given up and gone to bed unattended when he hung up without warning? Doubt it.
Fingers crossed too if that made any difference.
Blank loading screens have him on edge as they continue to stack on and delay the restart. By now you’d have probably pulled out the purple vibrator you were ranting to him about last week, come all over it in seconds like how you always praise it to do, and worst of all cuss him out for being an ass. A huge ass for dipping the second he cums like you’re fish food for every other pent-up loser whose fuck buddy left him, though he’ll have to explain the dead battery part before it leads to that.
Until the second his phone glows bright again, his lockscreen is covered by the swarm of your messages. Filled from top to bottom with ‘?’s and ‘what happened?’s until you gave up with a short and sourly sweet ‘goodnight gyu 💗.’ With courtesy of the heart you left next to it of course, until he sees the ‘nickname updated to selfish minute-man’ in fine print on his screen.
“I didn’t mean to hang up, you know that. My phone can’t be out of the vicinity of a charger for longer than five minutes.”
Stocking the shelves again— wasting another shift, and to make matters worse he has to make it up to you for leaving you hanging sober. He doesn’t even consider whether you’d offer to cover for his drink this time either. Hell, if you were really pissed about it, you might as well snitch for the beer he snuck on the clock last time, and Beomgyu wouldn’t dare to think of putting up a fight.
“And you should know that I’m not pissed at Gyu, promise! When you hung up I thought that…” Pausing, you examine his features carefully, as you have been for the past 5 minutes, poking fun at the sulky pout he’s subconsciously forming. You bump shoulders with him, carrying a bundle of packaged and sliced loaves to replace those on the verge of expiring, leaning into his ear to whisper something as you always do when it’s taboo to say in public. “I thought your cum got caught in your speaker and broke it Gyu—”
“Ergh— wait that tickles—!!”
By popular demand (you), you wished you had one of those video-recording glasses on hand to capture the way Beomgyu squirms away from the hot fanning of your breath against his ears. On the contrary, he’s much more opposed to how you don’t seem to ever have a reaction stored in you at all. Especially considering that you happen to both be working on a shift together when not even a day ago he was jerking off to you over a screen.
“If you’re feeling guilty because you didn’t see me finish then I don’t think you’re actually guilty, sounds more like perverted to me.”
Once again, it’s night and day between your individual shelves. Loaves packed and neatly shuffled into precise columns, versus the pastries he’s yet to have even touched, forget about restocking the shelf. He’s always slacking off around you. “Oh! And I finished with a little help anyway, so don’t worry that pretty head of yours around it before our revenue drops below break even.”
Way to go Beomgyu, always overcomplicating everything for himself. He knows better than to prod you on even further, like trying to light up a spark that’ll only end up setting off a firework in the end, not that it’ll stop him either way.
“Help?”
“I’m not sleeping through drenched panties Gyu. Not when Taehyun’s in the room opposite, I’d be stupid not to—”
“So, what exactly are you guys? Like…a thing? Oh god, don’t tell me you’re cheating on him by helping me get off.” About two steps in towards him to take matters into your own hands with stocking up the pastries, you don’t waste a second in flicking his forehead hard enough to burn a sigil for idiots on it. “Ow!— What the fuck?”
“Like hell we’d be a thing. I told you I thought he only liked guys when he first moved in. I mean…the stuff that Soobin guy says whenever he’s around gives me the creeps.” Beomgyu’s about to add in how your suspicions are more often than not baseless, but you seem to beat him to it with a finger pressed against his lips. The same fingers you were rubbing yourself with yesterday— webbed together by your slick. “Think of it as if Kai brought a guy back to your apartment, and you could hear him talking about how he likes to be punished and kicked around?! There’s no way you wouldn’t suspect something Gyu.Sounds like they’re discussing bedroom rules for hardcore shit to me.”
“Play detective all you’d like, but we talk about things like that too.” A small scowl leaves him as he rubs against the sore spot on his forehead. Reaching in to then tug gently on your ear to give the umpteenth mouthful about finding better evidence before accusing.
“Well I guess he’s only really had girlfriends— I’m getting distracted, aren’t I? Hff, it doesn’t even matter since we’re not each other’s type anyway. It won’t go further than some casual fucking.” Beomgyu blinks as if that’d help him to understand whatever spewed from your mouth, if it even processes in his head, that is. This whole ‘fucking without strings attached’ concept he can’t seem to grasp as loosely as everyone else does. And while it’s never been his intention to come off as easy, he’s already struggling to keep his heart in his chest after you called him.
“Right, you don’t even have photos of him in your camera roll—”
“—Okay, but how are you going to explain the dildo he keeps in his sock drawer?!”
22:15. Beomgyu should’ve been on the road ten minutes ago. With the radio repeating the one-hit wonder of the month as its lyrics are remixed by the static, and his box of takeout on the passenger seat, held still by his unoccupied hand, trying not to spill it all over.
Sometimes he’ll call. Ask Kai if he got into an argument with his girlfriend so he can stretch out his back before being left with the couch. Give his mom a quick dial to let her know his shift is over and that he’ll be coming home for the weekend. He’d call you once you hit the roads going 60, wringing out each and every last minute he could out of your day as you both drove home from work. Both rambling about whatever shitty customers you ran into in the hours you were stationed on opposite ends of the store, or something like that. In the same manner Saturdays always are.
Except this Saturday, for no other apparent reason but you. Where he’s not humming to the background noise of your car’s heater through a call, or asking Kai if he finally mustered up an apology for showing up late to his date. On top of missing the takeout box beside him too, only because he never left the parking lot in the first place. To which he should’ve considered signing himself up for an extra half hour of overtime if he knew he would’ve been sitting in his car with no push to drive back home to begin with.
He's empty-headed and overthinking all at once. Picking at his nails and chipping them slightly as that nervous, clammy feeling got to him again. The question still hangs heavy in his car. Whether it’d be greedy to ask for more tonight, whether he could be one of the guys you take back to your place.
Anyone could see the dazed trance he’s in, including Yeonjun who’s filled in as a substitute for a takeout box. He’s welcoming himself in and muttering an overly exaggerated ‘thank you’ before Beomgyu could even agree to let him unfold himself out of his work slump and into the passenger seat. Way too busy fixing his hair in the mirror despite it being too late out to notice the subtle improvement in appearance.
“Take me back to my apartment. Phea. Sant” The male fumbles his fingers along the sides of his seat while he cracks poor-landing jokes, struggling to find the recliner he needs to convert the already compact car seat into his bed.
“That’s ironic coming from you. Didn’t realise the rich are now hitching rides out of busted up Fords and working at supermarket chains.” Lifting open the tiny compartment, there are a couple of dimes that won’t ever be used for as long as the car lasts, a hair tie neither of them questions, and a stripped 12-pack of gum. Which he should’ve handed over to Yeonjun briefly, if only both of them weren’t so fixed on the contents inside as if they were expecting a pack of condoms to be hiding there.
“Looks like we both need a drink.”
“Yeah, I get that a lot.” Truly speaking, he’s heard it almost 7 times today from worried coworkers, yourself included after you caught him wandering around the men's toilets every 6 seconds before stalling in there for another 4 minutes.
A second of silence passes, but it’s enough to throw off the atmosphere in the car alone as Yeonjun grabs hold of the phone to type in his address, scratching his head while re-navigating the GPS after accidentally clicking on a similar road 40 miles away.
“So who broke up with the other first?”
“Broke…up?”
“You and who else? All you do is give each other ‘fuck-me’ looks—”
“—I told you we’re not like that.” The passenger window rolls down as Beomgyu digs his finger into the switch, just in time for a rush of cold air to blow through, the chill causing the older male to curse and sit straight up.
“Kissed?”
“No.”
“Thought about it?”
“What are you getting at—”
“Fucked?”
“Maybe?—Oh God, look. I don’t know if it even…counts.” The engine is rusty, but it miraculously starts in its state anyway. Steering the wheel out of the parking lot, he can just about see his grey-washed reflection in the side mirror, taking in how rough he must look for Yeonjun to have known something was up from the get go.
“You’d look happier if you really got laid.” He chuckles as he undoes the first two buttons of his shirt, then licks around his lips before checking himself out in the mirror once more. Plus his phone in hand, ready to drop a picture to the first ten people in his contacts for the love of the game if it weren’t for the sullen mood of the driver. “Spit it out. What went so wrong?”
Well.
Wouldn’t he like to know too? “We videocalled, and we— w-we masturbated together.”
“—Holy SHIT!? You did?” Yeonjun jolts out of his reclined seat again, just without the window this time. His eyes are blown wide enough to see the vessels, his eyebrows look sharper to the point it seems discriminatory, and there’s that obvious look on his face that stands for ‘you…and her?’ that burns a hole through his pride.
“Y-yeah just, I don’t know. Feels like I was ten times more into it than she was, but it won’t go anywhere if I don’t ask her again.” Silence stalls again as the car takes a turn towards the inner city, providing a small period of reflection for him. All the while, his friend tries to make amends and assures him that anyone can tell you’re into whatever borderline foreplay you’re doing with him on the job. “We aren’t even dating or exclusive, she’s still bedding her roommate.”
“Then why don’t you ask her about becoming exclusive? Just actually get your dick wet in her first for a start, that roommate of hers is a nil ahead.”
“Ask my co-worker if she can drop her roommate she’s been sleeping with for months to fuck around with someone she doesn’t see outside of work instead. Sounds solid Jjun.” Frustrated, he rubs his temples, his throat starting to feel dry from the amount of complaining he’s done in the span of a couple minutes.
“No harm in trying. Don’t you like her?”
Like. It’s started to lose meaning after how many times he’s contemplated the question himself. Enough to have rewritten the definition in his head after spending his night dwelling over it, the new abruptness to these newly sown feelings.
“No, I—I’m not sure.”
“So you wouldn’t care I shoot my sho—? Fuck man, watch it!—"
In Beomgyu’s defence, he didn’t mean to slam down on the brakes as harshly as he did. Although an action done without regret as he ultimately eyes the way the blonde immediately holds up his hands to feign the question as a joke. Dangerously close to breaking his nose from hitting the panel, breathing in hefty huffs as the adrenaline pours out of him.
“Why don’t you just ask her on a date and get somewhere?” The dirty blonde doesn’t hesitate in tugging on Beomgyu’s ear, although less affectionate than how you’d done so. “And stop scaring the shit out of me dude! Any faster and you’d have a busted Ford and my busted lips on your windshield.”
“I jotted it down on my planner and everything! I read it before I had to attend the meeting, I swear!” Kai’s rambles take up most of the room. An endless rant of how he’s inexcusably turned up late to a date he planned two weeks in advance with his girlfriend again, already sulking into the pillow over how he’ll make it up to her. Or he could be entirely wrong since he wasn’t fully tuned into any of what Kai was saying from the second he crashed onto his mattress. Too focused on the extra weight on the bed that he’s too embarrassed to say he's turned on by when his thoughts are constantly revolving around you.
“Mhm.” There’s nothing sinister or bitter behind his short responses; he loves Kai as much as everyone else who’s met him does. But his eyes are constantly trailing away from his roommate and down the headrest where you would’ve lain back on your bed, the edge of the mattress he was fumbling his drawstrings on, and the phone he’s been eyeing for the entire hour you hadn’t sent a message.
“We can talk about something else if it bores you—”
“—No, speak. I’m listening.” It’d be better if he could learn to be a little less of a thinker like Kai is, constantly forgetting things as if they never bothered him in the first place. Aloof and easy going despite his misfortunes in keeping up with his girlfriend.
Kai rolls off his back and onto his side, poking his gaze at the older male to find the smallest smidge of integrity in his words, only to be faced with him zoning out again. “We can talk later, or maybe another day if you don’t want to hang out today. You seem out of it, that’s all.”
Perhaps that’s what’s so lovable about Kai, and what makes it so hard to deny him forgiveness despite the mountain of apologies he’ll spout. Even if it’ll only result in more forgetfulness as time passes. “I think I might— I might ask the girl I work with on a date.”
“You’re not just asking the ‘girl you work with’ on a date, call her by her name at least.” A gentle but reprimanding punch to his arm leaves Beomgyu sighing, picking up his phone to scroll the list of date ideas Yeonjun sent to him last night to search for something that matched you.
“Do girls like it when you take them on dates to a greenhouse?”
“Is she allergic?”
“Good point. Better safe than sorry, uh— movie date?”
“What if you pick something boring?”
“Restaurant?”
“No.”
“What do you mean no? W-where do you and your girlfriend go on a date then?” Beomgyu regrets wasting his breath on the question the second he sees the shrug of the male’s shoulders, or in summary, a hint that Kai’s never the one to plan them.
Defeated, he turns back to his phone. Clicking onto a small aquarium venue with high enough ratings to seem decent, already thinking of learning a couple of fish names beforehand to flaunt that his intelligence isn’t stuck up his ass for once.
Though he’s snapping out of it the second your notification pops up at the top of his screen like some sort of beacon of light. A short and sweet, ‘need you’ with a frowning emoticon beside it, and that’s all he’ll need to be shooing Kai away.
“Kai— aren’t you supposed to be at your girlfriend’s place right now? She asked you to cook dinner.”
“M-me? What?! She did?—”
“She mentioned it when she called to ask if you were asleep. You didn’t forget again, right? You gotta go Kai. Like..now. Unless you want to fall back on your word again—”
The door slams aggressively on accident as Kai leaves the room in a rush, unsure as to whether he remembered to change out of his pyjamas to be somewhat presentable and not like he just woke up.
Even if his girlfriend never called for him at all, it’s not like she’d complain about the thoughtful surprise.
A tap away from the call button, so close yet so far as the low battery warning punches him straight in the gut, and his balls that ache in disappointment. Humorous timing really. Just not when his luck is always cockblocking him at the last second.
“Come on, comeoncomeoncomeon where the fuck did I leave it?” His fingers graze every surface of the bed, twisting the knob of his drawers, and kicking over his guitar which he manages to save from complete havoc a centimetre off the floor.
When he mentally pleaded to share the same kind of forgetfulness Kai possesses, he pleaded for leniency too. In the sense that he could clear his mind of thoughts about you so he could think straight for once. Not that he’d be forgetting where he placed his fossilised laptop among all the scrap he and his roommate trashed around the apartment over the past two nights.
Krrrk—
“Holy fuck if that’s what I think it is—” Beomgyu doesn’t know whether opening his eyes to check on whatever he crushed with his heel is safe for his own mental health, well aware that this time it isn’t just a small dent or a jammed key.
Closed eyes? Check. Feeling nervously clammy again? Check. Sensing the boner that’s weirdly growing because even in the midst of this he’s still thinking of you? Gross, but check.
Hell, he doesn’t even try to lift his weight off the flattened mass at all, too afraid to look behind him to see a crushed screen he should’ve folded close before deciding to leave it hanging on the floor.
But not for long the second he remembers you’re still waiting on him. Thus forcing open his pinched-shut eyes to face what seems to be the sunglasses Kai drunkenly bought whilst on holiday, with the real laptop just a step behind it.
It’s that blinding ray of mercy that he gets onto his knees for, hugging close the garage sale bought device tighter than he’s ever hugged anything else. And while it sucks to load any better than his crappy phone, it makes do when it’s plugged into the mains at least.
Drawing his blinds to a close slightly, Beomgyu rests himself back onto his bed again with his fingers locked into position to call you before his laptop could even start up properly without the cursor lagging eons of years behind.
That’s when he notices it. You’ve changed your profile picture again, completely eradicating your friend from the frame to replace it with the beach photo from the summer you spent in Europe that you refused to show him for the longest time. Now fully on display for him to see on the big screen of you in the itty-bittiest bikini he didn’t realise was even legal to sell without a public nudity fine packaged with it.
Smiling with your hair down and a finger trying to wisp away the strands being blown into your face away, you could pass off as a front-cover model if you tried. Minus the bikini and you could pass off as the girl he’ll see in every sex dream he has from here on.
What a shame that he isn’t exactly nimble enough to screenshot it before your camera came into view too as you picked up the call. Fully undressed so you could giggle to the camera that you ‘beat him to it’ shifting your phone down to give him another lethal close up of your puffy folds that pulse around your fingers. The desperation in your soft mewls stemming from not being able to cum properly rather than having reached your third orgasm before bothering to ask him once you got bored.
“I-isn’t Taehyun home to help you?” Goddamnit Beomgyu, he ought to keep his tongue obediently put in his mouth unless he wants to stick his foot in it instead.
“You’re asking about Taehyun? Why— he’s got you jealous?” Another bait you threw out for him to fall for, giggling louder as you observed the way he immediately chews on his lip as if you read his thoughts completely. “Does it not seem like I want you Gyu?” You purr at how he subtly shakes his head, bringing the slick gathered on your fingers to your mouth for a quick taste, moaning around your fingers on purpose to rile him up.
“Is the camera fine?— I tried to answer on the phone but I—”
“Relax Gyu. It’s a little blurry, but you could always inch closer can’t you? Missed seeing your huge cock on the screen.” You grab hold of your phone to level it with your gaze, batting your lashes in a silent plea for him to do as you wish.
“T-that’s embarrassing! Don’t say tha—”
“Say what? That you’re huge? That I want you to struggle to fit it inside and fuck me until I can feel you all the way up here?” You glide your finger down from your chest to just above your belly button for him to see, rubbing small circles on your skin as if you’re marking a target for his tip to brute through. “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about Gyu, I’m sure plenty of girls wanna be bred by a cock like yours.”
“Enghh—” If he was planning on trying to wallow himself in more shame then the twitch in his pants would be the one to stop it, alongside the heavy whine that accidentally leaves him. God, does he want to bury his face into the mattress right now.
“I can’t be the only one feeling good here Gyu, you wanna make me cum as an apology for last time right?”
Your hand sinks between the valley of your thighs again, drawing out clumsy little shapes around your clit as you slowly lose yourself in the fleeting pleasure. Your lashes flutter to try and keep up your eye contact with the bulge straining in his pants, fingers pinching your clit as you tease your entrance with your middle finger. Slick pools from between your folds, the splotchy sound of your arousal flicking between your fingers as you rubbed yourself repeatedly fills his ears. Beomgyu’s distracted by it of course, but he doesn’t hesitate to snap out of his trance the second he hears a whine barely a pitch higher collapse from your soft lips.
Without a word he’s tugging off his pants without as much of a struggle as the last time you rang, groaning heartily as the sting of the cold air latches around the cockhead, all angry and red as it slaps against his abdomen.
“I bet it’d take hours of prep for that not to hurt,” as your voice trails off into a moan your back arches, giving him a cleared view of perk of your nipples through the paper-thin shirt starting to lift from your waist up, “Mmph!— jerk yourself off Gyu, wanna see me cum for your cock don’t you?”
Grunting in response, Beomgyu spits into his palm to lube himself up with the saliva, easing himself into the ache in his forearm as he forcefully thrusts his fist down his cock. You follow in pursuit, eyes sparkling in awe from watching his cock grow harder with time, fingers bumping against the gentle ridge of your clit in bursts of pleasure that rob you of breath.
“Fffuckk Gyuu!— keep touching yourself like that, it’s so fucking hot.” Whimpering, you choke on your spit in response to the flick of his wrist as he pumps his cock and coats it completely in sheen fluid. The vein on his arm pops out from straining his muscles, sweat beading down his forehead where he could taste the saltiness on his tongue whenever his mouth gaped open to groan. And best of all, how his hair becomes dishevelled in the hottest sweat-slicked mess you could imagine, the kind that has your heart and pussy throbbing whenever you notice the lust in his eyes once the strands fall in front of his lashes once more.
“Look so needy when you’re f-falling apart on your fingers pretty— mnghh-ah—" His sentences are starting to emerge from pure brain-fogged lust, not having the bother in him to care any less about whatever humiliating rambles leave his lips which he’ll regret ten seconds later.
Because there’s only so much you can handle before you’re pushing your own limit too, crying out loud without second thought on how thin the walls are in your apartment. Tiny hiccup-like gasps emit from your lips as your face screws shut in pleasure. Your fingers repeatedly target its circular motions around your clit as your stomach tightens and your thighs tense, visibly shaking in immense pleasure as you near release.
“G-Gyuuu ohmygod ffuck!” Voice pitched higher than usual, lips quivering as your moans vocalise into needy whines, if this is how you looked every single time you orgasmed he wouldn’t mind volunteering to help you cum a couple times more.
“I told you to keep it down princess, can hear you playing with yourself from my room.”
Beomgyu visibly jolts at the sound of another man’s voice filling his ears, notably extremely different from Kai’s for it to be from outside his room, and way too obviously from yours with how you jump to cover yourself.
“I forgot I’m— sorry, I’ll keep it down so you can get back to making out with your pocket pussy pretending it’s Ev—”
Interrupting your casual banter, the thump of footsteps announcing his entry inside your room causes your brow to raise in the same manner that Beomgyu’s has. “Not the time princess, throwing me away already?”
Tufts of brunette invades the camera space as a man’s face appears blocks you out of view. Devilishly handsome, Beomgyu will admit much to his dismay, especially when his sharp canines appear when he flashes a smirk.
Only an idiot wouldn’t be able to piece two-and-two together that it’s Taehyun. A total hunk with a singular silver stud in his ear and a black tank that flaunts how the bulk of his biceps covers the entire screen. But one thing that he doesn’t admire quite so much is the slyness to his gaze despite the rounded shape of his eyes, the threat behind it stretching far more than who should be given the priority to dip their hand beneath your shorts.
“Can barely see the guy. Didn’t realise crap cameras like this still existed, are you sure you came from looking at a bundle of pixels?”
“Taehyun!” Your attempts to defend him are quickly overridden as the brunette sits himself onto the mattress beside you, a smug grin plastered over his face upon seeing Beomgyu’s cock still stiff in his hand.
“Greedy girl. Whoring yourself out for a bigger cock now? He hasn’t made you squirt yet, has he?” Burying his head into your neck, all that Beomgyu can really do through the screen is watch the salty performance in front of him, and jeer and complain to try attest the insults thrown his way by the other.
Not that it posed a problem to Taehyun. He was already drowning out the background noise the second he started pressing wet kisses against your neck, inhaling your scent while your fingers interlocked with his hair.
“Tyun! Gyu’s there, I’m spending time with him!” His ears perk upon hearing his name, inching closer towards the screen to see how your brows twitch as Taehyun nibbles along your ear. The growing erection peeking out from the corner of the screen making the older male wince in distaste.
“Through the phone? Isn’t that our thing? I’m sure he’ll cum just as easily if I show him how it’s done.”
“Gyu are you sure you’re—?”
It physically pains him seeing another man’s hands all over you even if it’s not directly in the flesh; it grieves him more to compromise with it as long as he focuses on you. Solely you.
“I-it’s fine.”
Seeing the smirk reappear on Taehyun’s face only fuels the jealousy further, biting down on his tongue as he glues his eye onto the way Taehyun smushes your tits together in an arm lock. Every movement of his is trailed by Beomgyu’s gaze, following in line with the slide of his fingers down to your dripping folds, noticing how your moans breach into higher octaves whenever he sucked along your shoulder.
“Don’t think he can hear you from there. I know you can be louder than this princess.” Using the sheer force in his grip, he widens the gap between your legs, prying apart your thighs roughly to stretch out your folds. “Have you told him how sensitive you are down here yet?” A low curdle of a laugh sifts through his lips, the upturn of his smile barely grazing behind your ear as he pinches the flesh of your inner thigh.
Anyone could tell that Taehyun knew your body inside out. Beomgyu spots it in the way you lean back into the brunette, thrusting your tits towards the camera, whining from the pain that seeps towards your core. He knows exactly what to feed into your ear, whispering just about loud enough for you to be squeezing your thighs together, only for him to pry them open again. Though for Beomgyu on the other end, he can hardly hear anything coming out of Taehyun’s mouth when your moans are constantly interrupting him.
“T-Taehyun—” Your breath hitches as a weak hand grabs hold of his, guiding his finger towards your entrance, and weakly inching him in. “Need more Tyun, s-stop wasting time picking a fight with ngh! Beomgyu!—"
Beomgyu twitches once more hearing you cry out his name, although the fleeting feeling leaves as suddenly as it came when you squeal at the thick finger your roommate doesn’t even bother to ease in. Rushing the process, thrusting and turning his finger down to the knuckles— you aren’t given time to breathe before he’s prodding a second finger against your hole.
There’s too much pride in him for Beomgyu to admit it’s hot. Because it shouldn’t be— it’s the exact same formula as all the other homemade porn videos that bore him. Especially not with Taehyun in the scene, who’s biting the inside of his cheek with knitted brows, focusing on strumming your clit while fucking your hole with pistoning fingers.
“Fuckfuckfuck yes!—” But he can swear with every single bone in his body that you rile him up to a dangerous extent. Cock twitching painfully after being left to cool in the air as Beomgyu examines each contortion in your expression, length tapping against his stomach in a fiery demand to be stroked. Touched. Buried deep enough inside of you that it’ll make sex with Taehyun feel loose.
He doesn’t recall when he started fucking his cock into the minuscule make-shift hole bunched together by his fist. All that he can focus on is memorising every movement that has you whining louder, needier, the dominance slowly being drained from you as slick protrudes out of your hole and stains the inside of your thighs. He takes advantage of the up close view of your pussy, which flutters around Taehyun’s fingers as he scissors his middle and index deep within your cunt, meanly stretching out your walls with merciless speed. Beomgyu goes as far as to take note of what drives you over the edge: when Taehyun licks along your neck teasingly over and over again without leaving a mark, when he groans into your shoulder and grips your waist to keep you from squirming, and when he digs his hard cock into your ass so you can plead for it.
Pfft. Getting cocky isn’t pretty on him; that goes without saying. But Beomgyu can’t help but scoff at the lacklustre in the brunette’s movement; your roommate doesn’t know what you tell him on your shift. How you like it when you’re in charge. That you get insanely wet when a guy pleads with his eyes— loving how sweet it is to hear your voice come out of their mouth in a girly whine instead of the opposite.
And so he’s following shortly, making a scene of himself as he pulls the edge of his top up to his teeth, pink nipples appearing with a blue-ish tint through the screen as he teases his tip with a finger. Whenever you’d whine, he’d press harder against his slit. A momentum he could catch up with until it became too tempting to bear, head tilting to the side with droopy eyes, breathing shakily as he grips around his base.
“Hnghh-ugh—” The crumpled audio draws your eyes towards the screen again, and fuck, you wish you could take a photo in the moment. Admiring Beomgyu’s softly toned stomach that heaves with each breathy exhale as he fucks his cock, rotating his wrist as he reaches the tip until he feels euphoric enough to squeeze his eyes shut and lean back in defeat.
You’d let him in on a little secret later. A small confession you doubt you’d be on the benefiting side of if you leaked it with Taehyun snug beside you, humping his cock against your ass and cunt until you stained his gym shorts with your essence. Since truthfully said, you’ve only been imagining Beomgyu in his place this entire time, swapping out your roommate’s grunts for his breathy whines. Going as far as to bite down on your lip to refrain from calling out for his name instead of Taehyun’s, soaking your eyes in the lewdness of how he weakly teases his tip until it becomes overbearingly sensitive for him to handle without cumming too soon. You don’t want to end up without someone to share the rent again if you told Taehyun that you were only throbbing around his fingers because your eyes were trained on Gyu.
“That’s it princess, clench around my fingers. It’s not enough, is it? You wanna be fucked stupid by a cock.” You do so on command, squeezing around his fingers as he prolongs pressing his finger against your gummy walls, the bliss of it coming down on you immediately as you throw your head back onto his shoulder.
“Ngh—Beomgyu holy shit—”
It’s comedic how time slows for everybody in that second alone. Your eyes widen, Beomgyu’s most likely wider as he whines, cumming almost instantly all over his screen and his thighs, thick seed continuing to drip moments after the initial climax.
And Taehyun? He pulls out his fingers altogether, frustration crashing upon you completely in the form of complaints and desperate whines that you’re immediately muting the second you face him.
“Where’s your head at hm? Are you trying to tick me off?” Taehyun’s leaning towards the camera before you can butt in another word, running his hand through his hair as he observes the mess Beomgyu’s made all over himself with null amusement.
Within the awkward period of silence, the brunette swipes his fingers between your folds, collecting your juices on his fingers while giving you a short-lived taste of pleasure since he last removed his touch from within you completely.
It’s strange, out of the norm for someone like Taehyun really, and your confusion lands and translates in Beomgyu’s body language as well as he inches closer towards his screen in unison. His eyes are slowly bewitched by what Taehyun has to show him, drawing his fingers close until the camera focuses.
The male spreads apart his fingers, chuckling obscenely so as he flaunts the lengthy strands of clear slick attached between his thumb and index in a giant web of arousal. Hell, for a second Beomgyu couldn’t tell if he was being sly or trying to tempt another orgasm out of him, until he opens his mouth, of course.
“Sorry man, I’d really like to get to know you better, but I’ve got your girl on my hands waiting to be shown some attention—”
“Taehyun you can’t—!”
“W-what?” The call ends without a second to negotiate, the second ring even goes straight to ‘missed’ when he tries. Left looking blankly at his cum-splattered screen opened up on your chat messages without a pitiful bye other than the harsh ‘read’ receipt he’s on the receiving end of. Wondering whether your roommate is mocking his confused, mixed with desperate, question marks. On top of the empty ‘next time?’ left unanswered while he’s most likely already balls deep inside of you, as he said.
“What the hell? She’s fuck buddies with a guy like that?” It makes his blood boil almost, the fumes huffing out his nose and his brows raised in disapproval as he hurriedly wipes off the screen until it’s decently clean of stains.
Beomgyu can’t even process what your girl friends would even think of him, a walking mass of red flags that correlate with what you all typed out in your little group chat, and he has the honours of being able to hit first.
A headache is one thing he’s dealing with, and the buzz of a notification he can already sense is Kai complaining about the small lie he told him will only make it feel like an extra bullet to the pain…
Or not! Definitely not when he gets a good look at the notification that he totally doesn’t rub his eyes thrice to check if he’s seeing it clearly, your message left sweetly on the panel, although it has to be deciphered due to all the typos. Not that he can complain about you getting your back blown out by your roommate, who he really doesn’t like, since he’s thrilled you even managed to remember him in the middle of it all anyway.
You don’t leave an emoji this time, or the small ‘x’s and emoticons. A sentence short and simple enough to remember for the rest of his days.
‘Come over to my place next time. Want it to be just us.’
Tuesdays are plain boring, and while it’s not mundane work like stocking up the shelves, any shift that you’re not working alongside him means that ten hours actually feels like ten instead of four. In fact he’s not exactly on close terms with anyone who clocks in for Tuesdays. For any sane person, Tuesday is the sole day of the week everyone could collaterally agree should be eradicated, serving no purpose at all other than being pointless. No customers, caffeine-functioning robots Beomgyu calls coworkers, the day taking its sweet-sweet time to overturn into night. The only positive he can list off the top of his head is that Yeonjun doesn’t work on Tuesdays, and he’d rather sacrifice himself into endless boredom than have a pounding headache for a shift with him.
Well, he doesn’t really know how to go about his day without you there monitoring him and directing him on the right path instead of a beeline towards the beer. Sort of like loitering around waiting for someone to assign him a task that’ll never happen because Tuesdays never had any foot traffic into the store to begin with. So he’ll hang around the aisles, scavenging for any good offers and hiding his favourite colours of things he wants in compartments so that no one else can snatch them before the end of his shift.
He probably needs to—
“Hey man, mind if you tell me where something is?”
Could he call it survival instincts? Beomgyu’s not entirely sure, but the familiarity of the voice he can’t quite put a pin on is enough to send shivers down his spine. Fuck, it’d be less embarrassing for him to run away than to stiffly unfold himself out of his crouching position after being caught looking at the lego sets. Eyes constantly glued to the floor before he musters up the courage to make eye contact with Taehyun— “Taehyun?!”
Sign him up for a reflex competition or something along those lines, because Beomgyu’s never slapped a hand over his mouth so quickly to cover up a slip of tongue; the speed itself is impressive.
“Sorry?”
“U-uhm I can try find it for you. W-what is that you’re looking for?”
The brunette is slightly shorter than he imagined, yet it’s overlooked by how striking he is in person compared to how…attractive he still was over the phone. The huddle of coworkers peeking from behind the aisle to spy on him ready to jump for an opportunity to service the guy says it all neatly and concisely.
Other than his appearance, it hits him harder that your roommate doesn’t seem to recollect him at all, cocking an eyebrow as if it were Beomgyu’s first day on Earth with how he nervously sweats and stiffly stands with his arms by his side.
“You’ll end up cramping a muscle if you keep standing like that. Relax.” Taehyun pats a hand against his shoulder, offering a subsidiary smile out of politeness he’d probably withdraw once he figured out that Beomgyu was the guy he ended the call on the other day. “Mind if you could point me to where the condoms are?—”
“—In my back pocket.”
“What?”
Now Beomgyu’s having second thoughts on agreeing to what you messaged him last time. Anything to avoid facing your roommate headfirst after revealing he has condoms tucked in the back pocket of his jeans. Two, to be precise.
After all, it was you who suggested you’d pick him up after work today. It’s just his luck that he crossed paths with your roommate on the job, slipping up his words one after the other until it came to painting himself as some pervert who packs condoms to work.
“Haha…ha! I’m just playing with you…man?— T-they’re next to the vitamins on the aisle next to the toiletries.” Ugh, and if it couldn’t get worse, Taehyun completely airs the fist bump he gives (which he somehow thought was a good idea in the moment) so Beomgyu ends up jabbing the side of his arm awkwardly.
“Gotcha—”
“A-actually I think we ran out.” At this point, there’s no turning back. Not when he lets his mouth run all in the hopes that the condoms your roommate’s buying aren’t for you. Beomgyu would consider buying out all the sizes, brands and weird flavours of condoms as long as the brunette goes back to the apartment empty handed and cockblocked by him.
“Of condoms?”
“Yeah, y-yeah a group of guys came by earlier and bought the whole lot. Freaky..I know. What did you need them for a-again?”
‘What did you need them for?’ If you were right next to him watching how he was handling customers you’d probably kick him in the shin for the utter stupidity drooling from his lips.
“Surely that’s against store policy.” Taehyun doesn’t do much other than look around, scroll on his phone for a while before closing it up nicely with a toothy smile, which Beomgyu swears the squeals that followed after were not out of pure coincidence.
“Sorry… I can check in the back—"
“No need.” He’s already retreating backwards while focused on his phone before Beomgyu could try fix up the terrible customer service he’s ever put his name to shame for, only managing to reach the end of the aisle before he stops completely. A smirk tugs on his lips, in a heart rattling sense more than a heart throbbing one, to which his heart stops beating completely when his phone notifies him with an airdrop.
A single attachment, from ‘Kang Taehyun’ at the very top. To open it? He doesn’t dare. Not until his curiosity breaches the limit and he’s quickly downloading the blurry thumbnail as it loads slowly, but surely. And there goes the famous saying in all its glory: curiosity kills the cat.
Beomgyu only needs a second to process the video before he hides his screen against his shirt, peeking around both sides of his head and even behind to check if anyone else saw what happened to have appeared on his phone.
Downsized into a small video attachment is a clip of you, completely in ruins with your hair tangled and knotted by Taehyun’s rough grip mere inches away from your scalp. Your makeup is streaky, natural skin appearing through which appears to be burning with tears, and lips pursed and wet with spit that collects under your lip messily. The cherry on top is your cheekbones that slightly protrude as you hollow your cheeks, deepthroating Taehyun’s cock to the best of your ability with glossy and wincing eyes. Lips suctioning around him as you bat your wet lashes prettily, latching onto the mauve cockhead trying to clean all the cum off Taehyun’s dick.
For the first time in his life, Beomgyu’s glad that he works the Tuesday shifts. Where there are barely any customers for anyone to notice he’s sneaking himself into the men’s toilets. Deep into the late hours when his coworkers are all too tired to notice the slight rise in his pants.
It doesn’t even hit him immediately that Taehyun caught on to who he was in the end; the airdropped video seems less of a threat and more of a reward if you ask him. But he’ll consider it as punishment for what he’ll put the video to use for later.
“So, did Tamsyn give you an earful?” Leaning over the console, you try to lock eyes with Beomgyu as he buckles himself into the car, pushing away the hair covering his eyes to finally jam in the seatbelt after missing it twice.
“Nah, your roommate did actually.” Ruffled up in his signature jeans that are torn at the ankles and a print-ironed tee from years ago, he’s not exactly in ‘first date’ couture. Having to settle with a tiny dressing room his limbs could barely squeeze into the second his shift ended wasn’t ideal.
You’re the first to tuck back the stray strand bothering him, thumb brushing over his ear as you speak. “Mhm, sounds about right. You look good though considering you just came out of a Tuesday shift.” Perhaps Yeonjun was right about anything other than Friday and the weekend being unsexy.
Beomgyu laughs— airily, in that sort of awkward but understandable tone practically screaming out to you that he’s trying to shut down all the pathways to his brain and nerves so he can put being tense on autopilot. Which means instinctively lifting up the compartment to check for the gum he forgot Yeonjun took the last strip of in his own car, and trying to turn on the radio which you immediately intercept.
“If you turn it on that’s basically telling me you want me to shut up and die.” Extreme, but he enjoys the sarcasm between you as he shifts in his seat, completely in a daze other than knowing it’s a date at your place.
“Don’t be dramatic, turning on the radio means I love you—” Déjà vu hits him like a bitch now more than it ever has before. The same screeching of tyres at a red light, the lengthy minute of silence neither of you wants to be the first to break, and the thoughts processing whatever the fuck he just said. “…Enough to share my great…music taste.”
“Didn’t take you for a radio guy.” You laugh it off so easily, brushing over the poorly-saved confession like knocking dust off your shoulder. Sweetly turning on the radio anyway to satisfy him even though the song that comes on has been the same formula of pop overplayed to the point he can’t help but hate it. “Besides, being dramatic is the passenger princess’ job.”
“What piece of clothing do I have to take off to bet that Yeonjun made you think so?” Snorting, Beomgyu almost forgets that this isn’t one of your conversations at work where words just flow through his mouth, suddenly starting to feel comfortable again in your company. He doesn’t even realise that his head has been turned 90 degrees on the dot just burning holes into the side of your face with his gaze for the past minute, all of a sudden rocking back shyly to retreat into his own zone.
Not that it’s effective in any sense, he still finds himself peeking out the corner of his eye to catch a glimpse. Noticing the length of your lashes from the side as they’re peeled open to focus on the road, the subtle blush you chose to put on today that softens up your cheeks, and the slight bob in your throat that goes to show you’re just about as nervous as he is.
“This is how openings to serial killer movies start by the way.” It’s sickening. You’re sickening. Just the way you smile after catching him staring out in the open is enough to make him feel sick to his stomach with butterflies. And as gross and cheesy as it may sound, he can’t find words to describe the feeling without sounding even more like an Italian love connoisseur. “I guess it could be romantic too though Gyu, what do you think?”
“Stick with serial killers.”
Your smirk only widens despite the raspberry you blow with your tongue at his boring answer. “No fun Gyu, get out of the car you loser!” He’s an inch away from kissing your window as you hurriedly push him out the door, following right behind him as you climb out of your seat, arms stretched to wake yourself up out of the driving drowsiness.
“I was thinking I’d cook for us. I mean, how does steak and wine sound? Or does that make me sound obviously more broke than actually going out to a restaurant?” Beomgyu doesn’t know what to answer other than a nod or a shake, suddenly choosing to distance himself from you by a metre as if he’s some sort of puritan. “Jeez Gyu you’re gonna make this date feel one-sided if you don’t try to even walk onto the first step of the stairs until I’m on the tenth.” Grasping him by the hand, you drag him with all your might to draw him closer, until your back and his chest were by definition, touching.
“I’ll eat whatever you cook, on Yeonjun’s life.”
“Pfft, doesn’t sound convincing when you carelessly throw around Yeonjun’s life like he’s fodder.” Both of you are out of breath by the time you reach your apartment. The elevator became a no-go when you told Beomgyu that walking out of it would leave both of you testing positive for multiple class A drugs and perhaps an airborne std if that exists. On top of the two of you running your mouths loud enough for the whole complex to hear you joking and bumping shoulders as you laughed too hard for what wasn’t even that hilarious.
“Aaaandd welcome to my apartment, date! Don’t mind the shoes, I thought I told Taehyun to tidy them up.” Kicking off your shoes, you don’t even register where they’ll end up, or that one of them was a second away from being stuck on top of your lampshade. Your shoulders immediately loosen up, making rounds to the kitchen before he does so you could steal the cuter apron before he could.
“Nice? Shit? You can tell me it’s shit, it’s alright. I’ll blame it on the little grumpy man today.”
“Grumpy man?” Beom’s eyebrows raise in confusion before ultimately concluding that you were rambling about Taehyun, only able to slip in a few mumbles before you finish tying your apron.
“Mind helping me with the mushroom sauce? It’ll be less boring than watching me cook for an hour, trust me.”
Okay, before anyone can judge. Beomgyu’s not known to be some sort of Michelin chef— or just a chef, by any means. But a sauce doesn’t sound nearly as impossible as whatever you were busying yourself with, already in the element of arranging the peppercorn spices and herbs ready.
Well that’s what both of you originally thought. Except who would’ve known that Beomgyu would end up burning the pan after turning the heat on too high, or that you’d end up with rosemary in your hair and flavourless mushroom sauce splattered all over his jeans by the end of it.
“Hah!— What the hell? How did you even get it on your cheek?” You’re rubbing off mushroom sauce from his face with your thumb by the end of it, a meal gone to hell far away from your portfolios. “I think we should just order takeout—”
“Dom’s!”
“Whoa! Hold your horses, I know you wanna dom this time but I—”
“W-what no?! The small pizza place near the parking lot— I saw the sign for it earlier.” It’s cute how frantic he is, flailing his hands all over the place to explain himself.
“I’m just playing Gyu, but I’m like a hundred percent sure that’s a money laundering scheme.” You quiet down for a bit, scrolling through your phone to search for another pizza place that could serve your failed homemade meal a slap to the face.
“U-uhm, is it a bad time to ask why Taehyun’s upset?” Beomgyu hopes you don’t take offense to it, but he’s already backing up behind the counter in case you were about to lose your mind recalling the events.
“If you ran into him at work today then you probably would’ve been able to tell he’s throwing a big-ball tantrum.” You lean your back against the counter, careful to not dip your elbow into the sauce as you sigh out, and if you were trying to catch his attention for another gossip sesh again, then Beomgyu is all ears. “I cut off the whole fuckbuddies thing, I’m lucky he’s only pissed because I didn’t tell him I was bored with it sooner.”
“Hold on— b-but, why? You guys were—!”
“Why else Gyu?” As you circle around the counter, your fingers are busy undoing the knot behind your apron, pursing your lips as his name rolls off your tongue smoothly. “I wanna take things seriously now, between us.”
Beomgyu’s breath hitches when you lean into the crevice of space below his chin, the hot breath fanning against his adam’s apple making it difficult for him to speak, let alone comprehend anything that came out of your mouth.
“I’m saying I think you’re cute Gyu, hear that?” The soft giggles that press like peppered kisses against his neck make his legs feel weak, ready to collapse onto the floor if it weren’t for the way you’re hovering close enough to trap him in.
“Y-yeah.” If you thought Beomgyu was blushing when he turned pink then you’re a liar, because he’s burning bright red with a palm covering his face as if to stop a nosebleed. Trembling excitedly but too shy and scared of screwing it all up to move anything apart from the eager nod of his head, exhaling shakily before snaking his arms around your hips to draw you in closer.
Heavy, shallow breaths. You can hear it in the gap between your lips, the thump of his heart, or yours, between them— an internal monologue of your own urging you to lean in and kiss him like you’ve been wanting to. Tangling your fingers into his hair to lure him in closer, suckling on the corner of his lips for an entrance to dive in your tongue against his, the heat lingering as you lick along his bottom lip. You nibble on the soft fat, tugging down on his flesh to let yourself in more freely, kissing his teeth while he lets you lead him into your touch. His lips feel plump against yours, the smallest hint of sweetness to them as you knock him into a couple of chairs while trying to navigate back to your room, hands sliding down to caress his upper cheek where his lashes flutter against your thumb.
In that moment alone, neither of you wanted to separate yourselves, only taking small breaths in between kisses before delving back into his mouth, kissing along his jaw and licking down to his adam’s apple to which he hums at.
“Off, hurry—” With your fingers curling under his waistband, he wastes no time in undoing the zipper of his jeans, letting the denim bunch up on the floor into a messy pile of your own top and bra. There’s only so much time that you have to strip yourself before he’s patiently waiting at the edge of the bed, round eyes awestruck by the swell of your tits as you place your palms over his knees, parting his legs to give you space to kneel between.
“I still can’t get used to this you know,” your hands run up his thighs in light, feathery touches, sending shivers down his spine as you cup your hand around the base, “it looks bigger than it did on camera.” Forming a loop with your fingers, you gently jerk him off to just below the tip, squeezing around the vein slightly to urge out the precum from his slit.
One hand flies to cover his mouth, losing it completely as he tries to hold your wrist still, halting it from moving altogether while he tries to bite back his moans. “Don’t t-tease me—”
“Heghh?” In a tone so innocent it sounds unfit for how your tongue sticks out dangerously close to his tip, you smile at Beomgyu with your eyes, crescent-like and sparkly with dirty intentions. Your nails barely scratch along the sensitive vein, the stinging pain driving him insane as his eyes twitch in pleasure, back straightening stiff as you press the flat of your tongue against his cockhead.
Warmth clouds him as you trail the slit with the wet muscle, fingers clawing against the sheets and loosening when you pull away, only to tighten again when he spots the string of saliva bridging your tongue and his pearly-wet cock. “W-wait baby—”
“You’re getting comfortable already.” You peek up at him through your lashes. All bug-eyed and seductive as you lead the eye contact, squeezing around the base of his cock again as a cheat to win, knowing that he’d immediately flinch and shut his eyes. “You wanna get your cock sucked so bad, don’t you Gyu?”
Making him feel dizzy with lust isn’t a challenge when all that it takes is playing a pout on your lips, jutting out the bottom fat as you whine just staring at his size. Wrapping your hands around him and licking at where your fingers join back round again is enough to send his head reeling, because he’s forced to see the way your fingers can’t wrap around the girth entirely, relying on your nails to bridge the gap.
Without warning, you finally clasp around him completely, jerking him off at an excruciating speed. In that absent-minded head of his you doubt he can even register the surroundings, struggling to keep up with every one of your moments at once as he gasps, feeling you lick a wet stripe along the underside of his cock.
“G-gah!—” Hearing his tiny mewls only fuels the heat growing between your legs, starting to feel sticky in your panties, uncomfortably rubbing your thighs together to gather some sort of friction which inevitably leaves you moaning against his cock. “Feels weird when you— mngh, do that.”
“You’re so cute Gyu, bet you’re sensitive here too.” You hum against his tip, thrusting your fist vertically along his cock while the other hand pinches his thigh, a smile forming across your face when he jolts up and bucks his cock into your lips.
His whines drag on only to grow in volume as you tug on his balls, shifting your weight into your arm as you jerk him off to the side, leaving enough room for your head to lean in and lick along the length. The tip bruises a deep pink as you lather it in spit, lubing it with a sheen gloss of your saliva to glide your palm along his dick, wrist rotating as you jerk him towards the tip.
“I like it when you’re obedient like this, whining so loudly when you haven’t even felt my throat yet.” You coo at him as you give sweet little kitten licks, fingers bumping against your lips where you peppered soft kisses against his vein. His cock feels heavy in your hands as he throbs in your touch, head thrown back and kissing his teeth in constraint, trying ever so desperately to hold back from pushing his cock past your lips.
“P-please just fuck— suck me off already, I don’t think I can hold ngh!— h-hold on for much longer.” Anyone else, and you probably would’ve leaned towards tormenting them a bit more. Though when you look up expecting to see him frustrated, you genuinely can’t strip your gaze from the way his eyes appear to be brimming with tears. Soft sniffles attempting to hide the desperation cracking through his voice as he leans his head back to hide the humiliatingly needy expression. Even if it’s present everywhere in his body language. The hands gripping his sheets until his knuckles burn white, his lip that’s been bitten so many times the blood has flushed them a rosy pink, and the way his body arches in as his stomach tenses whenever you tease him with your tongue.
So you reward him on a generous note this time, guiding yourself towards the tip of his cock as you try to measure out how far your lips would have to stretch to take him in. The corners of your lips burn as you try cover your teeth from scraping him, struggling to fit anything past the cockhead before your jaw begins to ache.
“O-oh ffuck—” This time, Beomgyu seriously can’t peel his eyes open for the life of him, knowing better than to stare straight down at you struggling to mould your lips around his cock.
Anyone else in his position wouldn’t be able to hold back from cumming in their pants when your breath is constantly fanning against him as your lips leave him for a breather. Nonetheless, you manage to reach just above halfway before your throat dries up from the stretch, choosing to jerk off whatever was left with your first, squeezing extra tight near the base. On instinct he thrusts his hips into your mouth, helping you adjust to the size slightly as you find a tempo to follow, bobbing your head up and down until a hitch in your throat causes you to gag.
“S-shit... feels— fucking amazing.” A compliment wrapped under a hushed whisper. He doubts you even managed to hear it when the lewd sound of his cock ploughing down your throat is all that you can focus on to keep you on track.
As you begin to settle around him, you hasten the pace unexpectedly, managing to reach further than you ever had to start with as you vigorously twist your hand around the base. With your other hand, you try to hide your attempt at snaking your hand out of sight and hidden between the flesh of your thighs, rubbing small circles around your clit until the pleasure causes your lashes to flutter.
By which it wasn’t a successful attempt at all in any sense since Beomgyu caught you in the act, gaze following your hands as they draw out small shapes along your folds, pressing the flat fingerpads against the wet patch in your panties as you whimper around him. It drives him over the edge more than anything. Suddenly feeling the knot start to tighten as your tongue swirls around his cock, leaving your spit dripping from his cock in thick, foamy blobs as you make a mess around your mouth.
“Let me cum i-inside please pretty, just this once—” You can’t find it in you to detach your lips from him as you grow obsessed with the pain of the stretch, choosing to hum and rub down his inner thigh as a yes while you purse your lips at the tip. Forearm aching as you squeeze harder around his cock trying to jerk him off faster, letting the sensitive cockhead twitch against your tongue as you tease the slit repeatedly.
“Mngh— w-who taught you that fffuck—” Clutching your hair in his hands, Beomgyu can barely catch his breath, automatically pushing down on your head to choke you further down his cock. His grip on your scalp is nasty, pain soaring through you as it delves into the territory of pleasure, causing you to yelp at the sting, a second away from needing to catch your breath.
Right in the middle of a moan, he’s locking your head airtight in place to spurt hot cum down your throat, buckling his cock into your throat still post-release like aftershocks. Sweat pearls along his forehead and drips down his temples, breath unstable and shaky as he blinks away his orgasm in bliss, slowly releasing his grip around your hair to caress along your cheek instead.
“A-ack! Sorry, I didn’t mean to hold onto your hair like t—”
“Seems like you want to take the lead this time Gyu, you wanna be in charge this time?” Lifting yourself off sore knees, you prowl towards him, pinning him further back along the bed to gauge his reaction in amusement.
Beomgyu doesn’t even try to hide how the thought excites him, eyes blown wide once more as a blush spreads along his face just thinking about it. Thinking about how he’ll fuck you harder than Taehyun can, read far enough to breach your womb where Taehyun can’t, stretch you out like he’s been dreaming of, feeling you clench around him for space.
Too eager to even give you a proper response, he’s already shifting ahead to lean against the pillows, dragging you by the arm with enough force to land you right in his lap. At first, you thought the stunt was on purpose— trying to hold down your hips in place so he could dig his newly rock-hard boner again against your panties. Or at least you thought so until you grasped the slight hiss that emerges from him. Noticing how his grip immediately loosens as he remains sensitive from his last orgasm, his eyes glossy for a mere second before they return to a more serious gaze, determined to take the lead this time.
“Gonna guide me will I ride your cock? Is that what you want Gyu?—” Originally, you had more to say, enjoying ticking him off like a time bomb to get him to snap. And when he does, he’s merciless as he hooks your panties to the side. Unbothered with wasting any time on stripping you completely when all that you’ve clouded his mind with are sinful, ravenous thoughts.
Slipping his finger under the band of your panties, he pulls back the band to snap the fabric near your inner thigh. The sight leaves him licking his lips watching the way your dripping folds leak with your arousal, cunt clenching desperately around nothing. Even running a finger between the slit is enough to have him groaning as he pushes a finger inside, giving the smallest window of time for you to adjust before he adds another.
Luring you into a trap of his own while he focuses on bruising his knuckles against your walls, curling them torturously slow as he stretches you out by a bare margin. Another hand focused on massaging the soft plump of your ass, kneading it in his palm as he sinks his fingers into it, tugging your cheeks apart to spread your ass before gliding down towards your cunt.
“Enough gyu just— hah, put it in already—”
Lowly, he chuckles. The sinister cast overtaking him almost sounds like a stranger in his body as your pussy throbs seeing him smile slyly, as if he were omniscient in the fact that you’d be regretting it soon enough if you got ahead of yourself like you are now.
“Trust me pretty, listen when I say you need a third finger for it not to hurt.” By the very look in his eyes, it's obvious he’s talking from experience, and it makes your stomach churn at the thought as you wrap your hand around his cock again. To measure the size beforehand, a slight precaution that was bearable to withstand when you took him in your mouth, but seeing the girth of it poking out from beneath you only made your spine shiver at the thought.
“Mngh— j-just hurry up then!” It would’ve been helpful to know that feeding ‘hurry up’ into Beomgyu’s ear means that he understands it as a command to absolutely brute his fingers through your cunt. The size of all three fingers practically mimics Taehyun’s cock rather than a bit of finger action to ease you in, slick coating his fingers as the wet, sloppy sound squelches from below.
“G-Gyu no you need to a-agh! stop or else I’ll cum too soon ohmygod—” Your back feels sore from trying to hold up your posture while your legs render themselves into jelly, managing to slip yourself a proper breath when he pulls the triad of fingers out of you. To make matters worse for your lustmeter, he’s licking up every crevice and surface of his fingers, tasting you on his tongue before popping his fingers out of his lips altogether.
“You’d taste even better if you let me cum inside.”
“I’ll reward you with it if you put on a good show.” You steady your legs with whatever energy you had left, hovering just above to give Beomgyu space to prod his tip against your entrance, the imprint of his cock becoming vivid in your memory as he eases it inside.
Slow, sure, but any faster and you genuinely would be in consideration for the emergency room if you happened to rip. He’s barely encased himself between your folds when you’re clutching onto his shoulders the next second, digging your nails into his skin subconsciously. “S-shit baby, don’t clench around me—”
“I’m not!!” No matter how long you must’ve prepped for, the pain still hits you like a damn bitch. Yelping through every inch you manage to take in, head hanging low to bite down on your lip as if that would hide any sign of struggle. Beomgyu’s quick to groan in response, head spinning just thinking about how tight you were even without clamping down on him. Suddenly feeling conscious of whether he’d be able to refrain from cumming too soon if you happened to have clenched around him.
Weight falls onto his shoulder as you rest your forehead on the broad surface, eyes shut as you whine, feeling unlike yourself considering you usually have no issue with sliding it in in the first place. “Doing so well pretty, you’re nearly there.” Beomgyu’s damn well a liar, because you haven’t even reached halfway when he’s drawing small circles on your back, grinning widely from the ego boost alone, knowing that no one else has managed to have you fall apart on their cocks quite literally as he has.
Perhaps what he has planned next is a little mean, but Beomgyu promises he’ll make it up to you in aftercare once he does this. “A-aah! G-Gyu too much!” You cry out loud into his shoulder, feeling way too full to try squirming away in case you’d rip, wanting to bite down on his skin for pushing your hips down onto him.
“Shhh, that’s a good girl. Let me guide you through it pretty— as you said.” His breath against your ear causes you to flinch, pulling away to flash the fat tears brewing in the corner of your eyes hoping to gain some sort of sympathy for yourself. Yet all that you’re left with is the violent throb of his cock as he pulses against your walls, the additional stimulation driving you over the edge as you automatically rock your hips to chase the feeling.
“Hnnngh— Gyu…I can’t move, curse you for being so big what the hell!?” Balling your hand into a fist, you lightly knock it against his chest as a light punishment in your own terms. Before ultimately pushing your tits against the lean muscle, the flesh feels sore as it smushes against him.
“I know, I know sweetheart just let me handle it.” Diving his hands to grab support of your thighs, lifting the weight to guide you up his cock. Groans falling in a non-stop current from his lips from how you suction around him so hard it becomes difficult to breathe.
Desire overtakes him as he thrusts you back down onto his cock with brute force, choking your cunt by overloading it with his girth as you cry out his name. You lose control over your legs completely, the limbs practically deadweight by now as you try to recover from the shock of being slammed back down onto him— balls deep and relentless.
He’s never been the type to fuck around until something works, particularly rhythmless with no exact tempo he’s limited by other than repeatedly throttling you down onto his cock. To which the tip kisses your cervix without even making any effort, managing to hit each spongy-sweet spot without having to try, and that’s what has your craving for seconds.
Finally gaining the courage to lean your weight onto your hands, the arch of your back unintentionally creates the perfect angle for his cock to poke jaggedly along your walls. Each thrust and even target against the same dent inside the lining of your womb stealing you of breath while your eyes roll beyond the back of your head, the overhead light starting to distort in your sight as the pleasure takes over your thoughts.
“Fuckfuckfuck Gyu! M-more!—” It’s impossible not to start babbling random erotic-coated thoughts when he’s curiously pressing his palm against your pussy pouch, the additional pressure driving you past your limits as you tremble erratically.
Beomgyu gives in to your wishes without a problem, grabbing hold of a tighter grip on your hips as he rocks your cunt against his pelvis, clit bumping roughly against his skin in desperation for release. Every stroke of his cock stretches you out in an addictive cycle of pain-filled pleasure, leaving you biting down onto your lip so harshly you can taste metal on your tongue, moving on your own without thinking as Beomgyu pushes you through to orgasm.
The echo of your wanton moans filling up whatever space is left in the room that isn’t the smell of sex doesn’t hinder Beomgyu from slowing down. He’s without a doubt burning through every energy store in his body just to completely brute his way through to your orgasm. His own stamina is at the very bottom of his concerns when the screwed-up expression on your face is all he needs to keep himself going.
Detaching a hand from one of your hips, he indulges himself in reaching up to grope your tits, sighing out in content as he watches the flesh spill out through the gaps between his fingers. And God, it’s these little additions he does on pure subconsciousness that have you throbbing around him desperately, each pulsation a cry out for him to drawl out your orgasm quickly.
“Y-you close yet pretty? Can feel you throbbing like crazy—”
Too embarrassed to admit it, you settle for a meek nod, the kind of obedience that has Beomgyu wanting to plummet his hips into you harder. Until you can’t think of anyone but him, marking the shape of his cock and every ridge and vein into your walls so that you’d only suffocate around him so snugly.
He doesn’t mind being struck by lightning if it means he can be a little greedy just this once. Stationing your hips in place to constantly hurl his pelvis against your folds, the plapping of your drenchedfolds making contact with his pelvis spiralling him into an endless rabbit hole of being enamoured by the warmth of your cunt engulfing him. The fat cockhead continues to repeatedly nudge against your g-spot ever so meanly, the stimulation making you see stars as you dumbly mumble his name over and over again in need.
“Cumming! O-oh my god ‘m cumming!” Your body tenses up as you tremble in his hold, pussy throbbing along the vein of his cock as you slowly ride out your orgasm, hands pinning him down as a smile weakly smears itself across your features. “Go on Gyu, cum inside it’s okay.”
You probably didn’t think much of it when you raspily urged him, just talking out of pure post-orgasm bliss most likely. But Beomgyu’s spilling his seed inside of you before you could even finish of your sentence, the warm fluid filling up and expanding your cunt as it spills down the side of his cock. Not enough space for it to stay buried inside without Beomgyu reluctantly pulling out and shoving his cum back inside with his fingers, eyes in awe just from glancing at how your hole remains stretched out so prettily for him.
“We didn’t even end up using the condoms I bought…and I-I don’t think I can go back to only seeing your cunt over the screen again.” A hand wipes off the sweat accumulating on your face, a bubbly laugh emerging from you as you pat him down to lay him on the bed again.
“Move in with me then, need to give Taehyun a constant reminder that the walls are thin, don’t you think?”
✰ Synopsis: Wooyoung comes home late and decides to show you how much he missed you. Honestly just a little bit of fluff for the soul
✰ Word Count: 1k
✰ Warnings: Some suggestive content, kissing, mentions of drinking (wine but drink responsibly), reader is female, mentions of kids
✰ a/n: Hey hey, long time no see (literally like three or four weeks.) Um life has been kicking my ass :3 I've been planning a billion different new ideas that I randomly come up with, but none of them are done... (cough cough, our little secret pt2.) But besides that ! This is just another drabble that has been in my drafts for almost a year now.
And as always, my masterlists are down below!
Ateez Masterlist | Seventeen Masterlist
it wasn’t rare for you to go to sleep without seeing your husband. if anything, it was more than normal for you to go to sleep and be woken up by wooyoung coming home in the wee hours of the morning after a long day of rehearsals, and today was no different.
you had managed to wrangle the kids to eat, shower, and get changed into their pajamas at a reasonable time; convincing them to go to sleep early with an extra scoop of ice cream. once they were tucked into bed, the kids pleaded to call wooyoung to say goodnight with puppy eyes, and you of course obliged.
when the final goodnights were said, you took the opportunity to have some alone time, starting with a very necessary 30 minute shower and face mask. it had been forever since the last time you had a moment to truly take care of yourself considering how crazy your schedule was between the kids and running back and forth to the office for work.
after the shower, you moisturized and decided to cozy up in bed with one of the many books you had bought but had yet to touch. lighting a candle on the nightstand to add to the mood, you got in a comfortable reading position in hopes of not falling victim to the usual dozing off mid sentence scheme. after about 45 minutes, you felt your eyelids start to droop, notifying you that maybe it was time to call it a night. looking at the clock to your right you saw it was only a little bit after 2 am. still no sign of your husband, but you were too tired to wait up for him. you settled into bed and in mere minutes you were snoring ever so slightly.
by the time wooyoung came home, it was a bit after 3 am and you were completely knocked out. he tried his best to not make any noise while putting his stuff away in the closet, tip toeing over to the bed to give you a light kiss on your temple, you stirring ever so slightly, before going to shower and get ready for bed himself. he carefully closed the connecting bathroom door and turned on the shower as quietly as possible.
after his shower, wooyoung just threw on a pair of sweatpants and closed the bathroom door before making his way over to the bed. you had changed positions at this point, facing away from his side of the bed, making it easier for him to cuddle you to sleep. at least that’s what he had planned originally. he slipped under the covers next to you, wrapping his arm around your torso; causing you to start to wake up out of your sleep.
wooyoung kissed the crook of your neck gently and peeked to see if his actions fully woke you up yet. but no, you were still sleep. smirking to himself, he leaned down and gave you another kiss. and another. and one more until the pecks turned into him obviously trying to leave a hickey on your neck. you shook your head and blinked a few times to wake up before turning your head and making partial eye contact with woo. it was dark so you could only imagine you were looking at his eyes but you honestly weren’t sure.
“you just can’t let me sleep huh?” you joked before turning your body to face your other half. he chuckled in return, pulling you closer in his embrace. “well i tried to but when i got in bed i realized how much i missed you today.” woo responded whilst leaving a kiss on your forehead. you smiled and gave him a kiss on the lips in return. you wrapped your arms around him slightly before retracting them. “woo where is your shirt.”
“i get hot when i sleep cmonnnn” he whined in response. “plus you were gonna take it off anyway” he smirked. even thought you couldn’t see it, you could hear it in his voice, so you hit his shoulder in response. “oh stop being cheeky. if that was the case why wear pants??” you joked while pulling on the strings of his sweatpants.
wooyoung just laid there for a second as if he was genuinely contemplating why he wore pants in the first place. rolling your eyes at his actions, you attempted to roll over to go back to sleep but woo grabbed you causing you to shriek when he did. he placed you on his lap in a way that you would be straddling him, his hands holding your waist in place and his hips adjusting underneath you.
“woo i’m not playing with you right now i’m tired” you whined while hitting his chest. sitting up a bit so he wasn’t flat on his back, woo gave you another peck on the lips.
“don’t worry baby i’ll do all the work.”
you looked over at the clock. 4 am. you let out a sigh before looking back at wooyoung. “you have 2 hours before the kids have to get up for school.”
“trust me baby i only need 1 and a half. and i’ll take care of the kids in the morning ok?” he reached up to cup your face while you contemplated his offer. “you better be up no later than 6:45.” you responded, slowly giving in to temptation; a pool of arousal building in the seat off your pajama shorts from the compromising position your husband had you in.
“i’ll be up by 6:44:59.” woo teased before pulling you into a deep, passionate kiss.
you felt dizzy from how good it felt to have your lips on his after a long day, but you wouldn’t trade it for the world.
✰ Synopsis: bestfriend!Yunho x reader | You happen to run into an old childhood best friend at a bar and hope to rekindle in more ways than one...
✰ Word count: 1k
✰ mdni/18+
✰ Warnings: drinking, no smut but it's suggestive, mentions of cigarettes (let me know if i missed anything else)
✰ Italics are used for inner thoughts, bold italics are used to emphasize words
✰ a/n: In all honestly i wrote this for my friend's birthday, and because like half of my friend's are Yunho biases so I figured why not. This short is based off of the song Meddle About by Chase Atlantic, just because it's one of my favorites, so anyone else who happens to be an Atiny and a C4 fan, this is for you! (also @freakjjunie so you can't say I didn't tag you)
If I could figure it out, id take you back to my house so we could meddle about ~
It was a Friday night and you were dragged to yet another night club with your friends. The air was stiff, with the smell of cigarettes, music blasting with the bass heavy against the soles of your feet. Your friends danced against some strangers on the floor while you opted for the more sane option of sitting at the bar. A tumbler glass of whisky sat in front of you, ice slowly melting into the contents of the glass, with condensation building up on the outside. You picked the glass up and briefly swirled it around before taking a sip, letting the alcohol burn your throat before sitting it back down on the counter.
You took a turn to look at the dance floor, watching how your friends lost themselves to the music, dancing against random guys that wanted nothing more than to get int their pants and dash. You rolled your eyes at the thought and turned back around in your chair, still lost in your thoughts until a voice reached above the music and snatched you out of them.
“Y/n ?? Is that you?”
Your ears perked up at the sudden call, recognizing the voice but not being able to put a face to it. Turning in your chair once again, you locked eyes with your old childhood best friend. Jeong Yunho.
“Yun?? Holy shit, it’s been what, like 6 years?”
Yunho walked over to your spot at the bar, a glass in his hand, and a slight smile on his face. “Yeah just about.. Crazy that we found each other again at a rank nightclub.” He says with a chuckle. “How have you been though? Everything okay?”
You laughed with him about the state that you found each other, sighing about the time you lost with each other. “I’ve been… okay. Uh what about you? You and your girlfriend still together?” You ask, taking another swig of your drink. But when you see Yunho shift awkwardly, you know you struck a nerve on accident.
“Well we actually broke up a few months ago… I guess high school sweethearts wasn’t the word for us.” He says with a dry chuckle, adjusting the way he leaned against the bar. Shit I didn’t mean-
“Get out your head y/n. You didn’t know so it’s not your fault, okay? But uh what about you? Any boyfriend I might have to fight?”
You snorted in response. Honestly that should’ve been enough response to that question. “I haven’t dated since freshman year of college, Yun. Not my thing apparently.”
“I’m sure the right guy will come around.” Yunho replied while making a mental note of what you said. It was then that you finally looked up to get a good look at him. I mean Yunho was always attractive, that’s why you got so much hate in high school for being such close friends with him; because every girl wanted to be you to get close to him.
He had on his class ring he won from your senior year football championship, along with a few other random rings he collected over the years. His leather jacket and loose tshirt adorning the muscles chiseled under his clothes with his chain sitting right in the middle of his chest. His pants were black with rips up until his thighs, with a pair of gray and blue Nikes on. Yeah you could thank yourself for his taste in sneakers.
Even in the dark club, he still looked extremely attractive. His side profile glistened with the led lights softly hitting his face, and you were not proud to say how hot you thought he looked at this angle. Especially with him towering over you while you sat in the bar chair and he stood only a few inches away from you.
Oh I wanna see you undress now, I wanna hear you confess now ~
Chat is it wrong to find your friend attractive?
“Y/n? Did you hear me?”
Crap. “No sorry, what’d you say?”
“Did you wanna dance with me? For old times sake.”
Fuck it…
****
And somehow you ended up in the midst of the dance floor with your hips swaying against Yunho’s while his hands traveled all over your body. His cologne had a woody undertone mixed with his natural body scent and it filled your lungs to the brim, suffocating you in the most delicious way. His presence was like a drug and you were addicted; you wanted more and more of him as time went on.
Was it wrong to think of him in that light…?
You caught a glance of your friends across the room with the same guys from earlier, looking like they were getting ready to leave. You had other plans though, and they included a private room, a bottle of champagne, and Yunho. You assumed that he was feeling the same way because it wasn’t long before Yunho spun you to face him, hands still feeling you all over. It was taking everything in you to not let out an embarrassing moan at the way he felt touching your hips and ass.
“Yun…” You warned, it sounding more needy than anything. His head dipped down to your neck in response. “Yes princess?” He obviously wanted you on top of him, why else would he use that name.
Oh for fucks sake.
“Need you… Please Yun?” You said while gripping onto his jacket with one hand, other hand tangled in his hair.
You got me down on my knees, it’s getting harder to breathe out ~
He smirked at your request, you not knowing that you played right into his plan. Yunho grabbed your hand and led you through the crowd, out to his car.
“I can’t let you go. You’re so good at being bad, you know.”
𓆷pairing: cheater!wooyoung x afab!reader
𓆷genre: angst(if you squint..), office!au
𓆷features: san and yeosang from ateez, ryujin from itzy, dahyun from twice
𓆷synopsis: you know wooyoungs cheating with his coworker but you just can’t leave him
𓆷warnings: cursing, pet names, cheating, kissing, manipulation, self manipulation/sabotage, toxic relationship, toxic!wooyoung, tsundere!wooyoung, and arguing. (if i missed anything else please lmk!)
𓆷word count: 5.3k
𓆷border by ♡: @enchanthings
𓆷disclaimer: this is a fictional story that does not represent the idols in any way or form. If there are other content similar to this one it’s simply a coincidence. lowercase is intentional. I do not own the song lyrics, all credit goes to the song “Bad” by Christopher.
𓆷a/n: this was heavily influenced by wooyoungs bad cover on studio choom, tbh this was a 2am thought i decided to do. this is my first fic, criticism is appreciated but disrespect will be blocked, if i missed any spelling errors please feel free to lmk! tysm @wooskirbyplushie for proofreading for errors♡ like, reblog, & enjoy!
it hurt.
it hurts.
you were on the elevator up to surprise your boyfriend at his job for lunch. reaching the 14th floor you make your way to his private office knowing the building layout like the back of your hand. holding a takeout bag with his favorite dishes in one hand and your phone in the other, you walk past the open space to your left and pause seeing san sitting by the window on his laptop.
"san!" you called over, waving to your boyfriend's colleague who's also his best friend. "oh y/n, hey." he stands up quickly taking long strides towards you.
"hey, how are you?" you ask, smiling up at him. "im good, why are you here?" he asks glancing over your shoulder nervously. taken aback a bit your smile drops slightly. "what, i can't visit my boyfriend at work anymore?” you question, turning around to see just what is catching his eye when he grabs your shoulder to make you turn back towards him.
stumbling a bit "y/n wait-" he stammers out catching you before you hit the ground.
"san what the fuck? what is up with you." you cut him off grabbing his hands to remove them.
he sighs scratching his neck trying to come up with a lie, he needed to cover for wooyoung, knowing exactly what was going on in his office right now. "my bad y/n, there was." he trails off, "..a little bit of lipstick on your shirt. didn't want you going to see wooyoung with that mess on your shirt" he finishes off wiping your shirt with his thumb, emphasizing your name and wooyoungs slightly louder. stepping back from san you frown knowing you didn't have lipstick on today and had checked your outfit several times before leaving.
"okay you're acting weird as hell. thanks, i guess... i'm just gonna go see woo now, our food’s getting cold." you say holding the takeout bag up, turning on your heel unaware of the mess that was going on in your boyfriend's office. san sighed seeing wooyoungs work fling walking past fixing her outfit and hair quickly.
nothing could've prepared you for the leftover of a clear makeout session in your boyfriend's office. walking into his office you immediately take notice of his messy appearance and the lipstick on his neck. frowning slightly, forehead creasing you chose to ignore the obvious, feigning ignorance and flashing him a smile.
"baby, hey! i didn’t know you were coming today” he smiles, casually getting up from his chair to greet you. setting the food down you meet him halfway, giving him a hug. "hey woo" inhaling through your nose you’re hit with a strong feminine perfume that you know you don't wear because wooyoung said he hated it. you pushed the thought to the back of your head, taking a step back to look at him.
"how's work going? busy?" you asked while settling down on his couch, setting the food up on the coffee table. “its going” he shrugged nonchalantly sitting down across from you.
nodding you pondered whether or not to mention the mark on his neck, mentally battling for a few seconds before ultimately deciding to speak up. “you have something on your neck..” his eyebrows shot up looking in the mirror behind you. shifting slightly and reaching up to wipe it off. “i don’t remember kissing you there this morning” you muttered, “let alone wearing such a hideous shade of lipstick..” you added while rubbing his neck softly with your thumb.
“what are you talking about y/n” he chuckled letting you continue. “remember you were messing with your makeup last night after we finished dinner and never wiped it off? maybe not with all drinks you had last night. you were kind of out of it.” he teased. “i told you it was an ugly shade babe but you insisted it was pretty” he added pointing his finger at you jokingly. pouting at him, “no woo i only had one drink what are you talking about?” you ponder for a moment realizing you actually didn’t remember last night, choosing to believe him.
he must’ve realized you zoned out when he continues talking “baby i promise this was all your doing i dont even know why you’re wiping it off everyone already knows i have a pretty, loving girlfriend waiting for me at home” he insisted booping your nose.
smiling softly you sit back down nodding slightly. “so really woo, how’s work going?” you ask breaking your chopsticks and grabbing a piece of chicken. he smiles at you doing the same “it really is going but the boss said they’re firing a higher up and the position opened up-” he pauses taking a bite of his food. “-so they offered me the position” he finishes after chewing his food.
“oh that’s amazing my love! im so proud of you.” you exclaimed. conversation always flowed easily with wooyoung, thats why you loved him so much. time passed by as you conversed about what you did this morning and more about his upcoming projects while the two of you finished the food.
“as much as i would love for you to stay” he began while cleaning up the coffee table. “i have a meeting in five minutes” he finished walking back over to you. standing up you nod softly glancing down at your phone “thats okay, i was actually planning to visit yeo after coming to see you. im glad we could have lunch together” you smiled at him. his jaw tightened, wooyoung never liked yeosang, still doesn’t.
“that works out perfectly then” he responds walking up to you. “thank you for lunch y/n and for coming” he expresses grabbing your hand, trailing his hands lightly up your arms until he reaches your neck. grabbing your jaw he tilts your face up slightly. “of course woo i enjoyed it, we should do it more often to be honest its so relax-“ cutting you off he softly presses his lips onto yours. instinctively you trail your hands up his body resting them lazily on his shoulders as you deepen the kiss. pulling back you jokingly scoff, “if you wanted me to shut up you should’ve said that”. stepping back and winking at you he chuckled, “never that, you just looked kissable.” shrugging he looks up at the clock.
“okay ill walk you to the elevator its on the way to my meeting” he suggests holding his hand out for you to grab. nodding at him you grab his hand as he leads you out his office. “still you could’ve let me finish my sentence” you whined. making your way to the elevator and stopping you turn to him. “ill see you at home, i love you and have a good rest of your shift” kissing him on the cheek. “i love you too, get home safely ill see you later” he smiled.
“yeosang i swear i think he’s cheating on me” you announce the minute you walk into your best friends apartment. yeosangs been your best friend since elementary school, always the shoulder to cry on and ears to vent to. “no hey? how are you? hows your day going?” he asks rolling his eyes playfully watching you plop down onto the couch dramatically next to him. “hey how are you, hows your day going? i think hes cheating on me” you say squeezing your eyes shut.
“okay so why do you think that did you walk in on him? see something suspicious on his phone?” he questioned leaning over and grabbing the tv remote off the coffee table to play some background noise. “no and no… but he had a lipstick mark on his neck that he insisted was me but i would never wear such an ugly shade.. and when i hugged him he smelled faintly of that perfume i bought that he made me trash because he hated it” you explained running your hands down your face. “what do i do yeo?” you said fighting back the tears.
yeosang frowned at the way your voice sounded, rubbing a hand comfortingly up your arms to soothe you. “i mean you could do a couple of things, leave him immediately if you feel your right, wait it out to see if he slips up, or just ask him about it?” he suggests.
groaning you sat up “i think ill wait it out.. maybe hes right? thanks yeo” patting your head he stood up stretching, “anytime bug, do you want something to drink?” looking up at him you raised your eyebrows smirking. “are we talking drinkingg? or-” he cut you off, the second man to do so today. “no idiot water, soda, juice?” he rolled his eyes walking into the kitchen opening the fridge. “your no fun yeo.. ill take a water.” you sighed scrolling on your phone.
“hows you and dahyun?” you called to him as he walked back out to the living room with two water bottles throwing one at you. “catch” he said sitting down. catching the bottle last minute fumbling a few times before actually catching it. laughing at you struggling for a few seconds he caught his breath responding to your previous question “we’re good, actually i need advice on something.”
and like that you had been at his place for 3 hours talking, he was now walking you to your car as it was getting dark outside. “but no yeo really!” pausing to laugh. “remember when we went to the beach and you got stung by a jellyfish” doubling over. “its not funny y/n” he whined “i had pee on my leg..” he cringed. when your phone starts buzzing. looking down you see wooyoungs contact pop up. multiple missed calls and several messages come filing in. “ill call him when i get on the road” you mutter.
“okay yeo you get back in safely ill text you when i get home” you say turning and giving him a hug. “okay bug, ill talk to you later.” he replied returning your hug. watching you get in your car and drive off he turns around going back inside. connecting your phone to the car speaker while at the red light, dialing his number. “hey baby how was-” you began. “where the FUCK are you?” he cuts you off. your eyes widened as you put your foot on the gas pedal. “on the way home? why are you yelling at me?” you questioned. “why aren’t you already at home? where did you go” he argues clearly still mad. “i went to yeosangs house remember i told you when i saw you earlier.. im almost home can you calm down.” you reasoned.
pulling into driveway you turn the car off grabbing your keys and phone. “im home” you said before hanging up.
walking into the house taking your shoes off you call out for him. “woo? where are you?” setting your keys down and taking your jacket off you walk further into the house seeing him on the couch fuming. “why were you so mad love? i told you where i was going.” you hesitated approaching him. “i dont like him y/n i told you that.” he grumbled. “and you didnt say shit to me about going to his place” he added. you scoffed getting annoyed with his childish behavior. “wooyoung i shouldn’t need permission from you to visit my best friend. he has a girlfriend that he’s planning on proposing to. its not that serious we literally just talked, watched some movies, and ate.” you countered sitting down across from him with a sigh.
“its not that serious?” he whispered standing up. “its not that fucking serious y/n? are you kidding me?” he shouted, his eyes squinting as he looks at you. “my feelings and thoughts aren’t serious? how many times have i expressed i didnt like him? too many damn times.” he continued studying your facial expression. after a second noticing you werent responding he took a deep breath calming down. your eyes bored into him watching him, giving him a once over before standing to leave.
“baby- y/n shit im sorry. come back im sorry.” he begged grabbing your hand before you were able to fully leave. pulling you into his chest he continues whispering apologies. “i didnt mean to yell at you the stress from working and this just piled up im so sorry” he said smoothing your hair down in an attempt to calm you. sighing you pulled away “its fine woo, just don’t do that again. were grown adults who should be able to have an actual conversation that doesn’t blow out of proportion.” you reply.
“im sorry if you feel like im not taking your emotions seriously, i promise i am its just thats my best friend. i swear i told you that i was going. if i didnt im sorry ill make sure to tell you next time, but you can’t keep me from him. hes one of my only real friends” you expressed glancing up to gauge how he was feeling. nodding he sighed, “your right i cant, thats not fair to you. i won’t do that again im sorry” he replied. as you observed him he made a face that screamed he was lying and would do it again but you ignored the gut feeling that was telling you he was like.
nodding you backed away, “now that we solved that, have you eaten dinner?” you questioned raising a brow. scratching his neck sheepishly he shook his head. “no, not since earlier when you visited me” he whispered “JUNG WOOYOUNG- that was almost.” you glanced over at the clock. “ TWELVE HOURS AGO??” you exclaimed walking into the kitchen opening the fridge. “what would you do without me” you shook your head. walking up behind you he hugged you, “probably die” he teased kissing your cheek.
you cooked him a small dinner while making small talk with him about work while he continued to be in the way, teasing and stealing your utensils. grabbing pieces of food before you finished cooking, he was back to playing around and being him. after he ate you cleaned up and washed the dishes, the only things on your mind was your visit earlier and your argument. you thought about what yeosang said to you and decided to text him after your shower.
going upstairs you grab a towel from the hallway closet and walk into your shared bedroom to get clothes and your speaker. you look over on the bed seeing wooyoung laying on the bed with his dirty clothes on. “get off the bed with those dirty ass clothes on” you groaned smacking his butt. “when i do it, its a problem.. and just say you want to see me naked” he rolled his eyes before getting up and chasing you. “i-” you started to say before running off. “okay okay okay, im sorry wait” you exclaimed while laughing. “you know how i feel about dirty outside clothes on the bed.” you added. wooyoung was much faster than you so he caught up to after a moment attacking you in kisses. “uhuh and you know how much i hate you smacking my ass so were even” he shrugged before picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder.
“woo, baby put me down” you said through giggles, smacking his back playfully. “nope” he said making a pop noise at the end of the word as he made his way back to the bedroom. “ive gotta shower woo, i have work in the morning” you groaned trying to wiggle your way out of his grip. “fine” he shrugged before throwing you on the bed. as you were sitting up he tackled you back down with kisses. “woo” you whined trying to escape his attack. “okay okay im done go shower you smell” he teased sticking his tounge. “i stink?? stop playing mr. i sat in my office for hours, you stink” you countered walking into the bathroom and setting up your music, stripping down and getting in.
getting out you dry off putting lotion on and get dressed. you walk out to see him sleep on the floor. walking over you lean over nudging him softly, “woo get up you gotta go shower.” you whispered as you continue shaking him. after a few attempts he gets up with a groan walking into the bathroom. once your hear the shower turn on you sit down on the bed grabbing your phone and opening yeosangs contact.
(photos below)
“y/n?” wooyoung calls out to you as he walks to the bed. “hm? yes woo? whats up?” you say locking your phone and looking up at him. “who were you texting?” he asks climbing into bed smelling like after shave and cedar wood. “oh just yeosang, he was asking me for ring options” you smile plugging your phone to the charger, setting it on the nightstand and rolling over to him. you hate lying to him, it hurts but you arent going to openly admit you were talking about him to the guy he hates.
a line appeared between his eyebrows as his frowned. “this late at night though?” he asks as he pulls you closer laying his chin on the top of your head. “mhm i guess he really needed advice” you mumbled leaning your head on to his chest. “you smell good” you add yawning after. “thanks its that body wash you bought me” he replies seemingly dropping the previous conversation. “remind me to buy more when you run low, its a good scent” you trailed off with another yawn. “okay baby go to sleep” he chuckles kissing the top of your head. “mkay woo, night i love you” you reply closing your eyes. “i love you too” he whispered.
in the morning you wake up to find wooyoung not beside you. reaching over you grab your phone seeing it read 5:20, ten minutes before your alarm was set to go off. rolling back over you were going to go back to sleep when you heard him in the hallway talking to someone. getting up you slide your slippers on and put your robe on, the cool winter draft coming through the windows you’ve asked him to cover them with plastic. with a shiver you walk closer to the door trying to hear if there was a second person in the house. not hearing anybody you assume hes on the phone, walking away you were going to give him his privacy when you heard him say “okay babe, i love you bye”. “babe?? who the fuck is he talking to.” you mutter to yourself trying to stay calm.
you hear him coming closer the room so you pretend to be busy looking for an outfit. “babe?” he calls out for you after shutting the door. “in the closet” you respond. he opens the closet door and walks up to you, “good morning babe” he says before hugging you. “mhm morning” you grumble shaking him off of you. he leans in to give you a kiss when you put your hands in front of his face. “nope you have morning breath” you said before grabbing a sweater and some flare jeans. “but you always kiss me in the morning, bad breath and all.” he whines out trying to kiss you again but meeting your hand. “didnt sleep well?” he questions.
“no i slept well… who the hell is babe and why were you talking to her?” you snapped. taken aback he steps back flustered, “babe? what are you talking about… do you feel well?” he asks feeling your forehead. “youre not hot..” he trails off. “cut the bullshit wooyoung i heard you on the phone, who the hell is babe?” you exclaimed. his eyes widen slightly before laughing. “what the fuck is so funn-” you start to ask before he cuts you off. “baby calm down.. babe is my aunt.. remember aunt babe, she was letting me know that her sons wife had the baby” silence followed his statement as you squinted your eyes at him.
“I don’t remember an aunt babe..” you responded after a few seconds racking your brain for anytime he may have mentioned an aunt babe or a cousin having a baby, surely he would have said something about a baby at least once. “your memories getting bad y/n maybe you should go see a doctor?” he suggests walking out of the closet leaving you to your thoughts.
when you finish looking for your clothes hes nowhere to be found, shrugging you take a shower, brush your teeth, and change into your work clothes styling your hair. hes still nowhere to be found when you leave the bathroom going to your vanity. sitting down you start your makeup when he walks back into the room making his way to the bathroom. “woo? im sorry baby i dont know what got into me. im sorry for yelling at you” you call out to him. “its fine pretty, i probably would have done the same if i heard you on the phone telling someone that” he replies with a small smile before heading into the bathroom.
after you finish your makeup you walk downstairs to see he cooked breakfast, looking at the food he made you notice most of it was things your allergic to. with a frown you walk to the fridge grabbing ingredients and cooking. by the time he came downstairs you were sat down eating with a cup of coffee. “do you like the food i made your favorite.” he said grabbing a plate and sitting down beside you. “you look gorgeous by the way he says giving you a small peck on the lips. “woo these arent my favorite, most of it im allergic to. how could you forget that?” you expressed with a small frown on your face. “i made myself a separate meal” you added picking up your coffee and taking a sip.
“i didnt forget? you never told me that..” he hesitated. “i did woo, multiple times. even when we go out to restaurants you hear me tell them that” you sigh taking a bite into your food. “im sorry baby ill remember next time promise” he said before digging in to his own plate. after cleaning up you leave for work with a heavy heart wondering if he really is cheating everything falls into line, but you question if you would leave him or hope for change.
a few days afterwards everything seemed normal, no arguments no weird slip ups just what seemed to be a normal healthy relationship. you guys were back to a regular routine: wakeup, eat, go to work, eat, shower, and sleep. of course there was some other activities involved but you enjoyed the routine you had. you were happy to see everything go back to normal.
you were on the way home from work when wooyoung called you. smiling to yourself you picked up the phone putting it on speaker phone. “hey babe whats up? im on the way home now” you called out. no response, “woo?” you called out again. still nothing, you go to hang up the phone when you finally hear a voice. “wooyoung you there?” you hesitated.
“i really don’t want to keep going behind her back why dont you just break up with y/n? you already made me stop being friends with her to cut suspicion..” a feminine voice came through the speaker. you recognized that voice and when you did your heart broke, that was your ex best friend ryujin she worked with wooyoung and had set the two of you up. you were friends for years up until she randomly cut you off, a year into dating wooyoung. “because wheres the fun in that? isn’t it fun sneaking around?” his voice came through the car speakers. you immediately hung the phone up thoroughly upset.
pulling into the driveway you see his car there aswell hoping what you heard had a reasoning. what you didnt expect opening your front door was to see another pair of shoes at the door that werent yours or wooyoungs. walking further into the house you heard a feminine laugh coming from upstairs, walking up the stairs you were praying it was the tv and he was watching a show.
he was watching a show for sure, just not the one you see on television.
when you walked into your bedroom you saw him first sitting on he bed shirtless laughing until he saw you. looking around you saw ryujin standing in front of the bed shirtless as well but wearing a pink lacey bra. “shit-“ was the only thing she said upon seeing you.
laughing hysterically at first before breaking down you look at ryujin. “thats low. so low of you to go, to stop being friends with me to what? hook up with my boyfriend that you set me up with..” you began. “y/n wait its no-“ she started to attempt explaining the scene you walked in on before you cut her off. “get out and now i dont care how you get home, get out.” you snapped. you watched her grab her shirt before leaving your bedroom, shortly after hearing the front door close.
looking back over at wooyoung he looked nervous for once. “baby i didnt know you were coming home..” he hesitated. that was the straw that broke the camels back, out of everything he could say he said that. a few moments pass “you too get out, go stay with san for a while or something i dont care. leave” you mustered the last remaining strength you had saying that before breaking down, falling onto bed sobbing.
wooyoung left, he packed a small bag, made a phone call and left.
days had passed, you didnt go to work calling out sick. you cried and cried before you got a call from wooyoung on the 5th day, you sent him to voicemail but he kept calling. after a few attempts you eventually answered. “what do you want wooyoung, dont you think that me declining your calls means i dont want to talk to you?” you said. “but you answered this one” he teased. “im coming home tonight, im out of clothes and we need to talk” he added seriously before hanging up. you sighed sitting up “you have got to be shitting me” you groaned.
he was serious, you heard him calling for you the minute he came in. “where are you pretty?” he called out heading up to the bedroom where we saw you lounging on the bed. “there you are.” he said smiling at you. when you looked up you saw him with your favorite flowers and a teddy bear. you opened your mouth to speak when he shook his head. “let me talk first love..” he trailed off setting the bear down on the bed and the flowers on the dresser. “im so sorry y/n okay? really, i promise i shut things down with her and transferred her to another unit she won’t be an issue anymore. i blocked her.” he reasoned. “san set my head straight and made me realize i cant lose the best thing i have.” he added, eyes darting everywhere around the room but not looking at you directly. “i cant lose you y/n please-” he continued voice cracking slightly as a tear rolled down his face.
you took what he said into account. “you promise?” you whispered, he immediately nodded his head. “ill even quit to show you how serious i am, i love you too much to lose you” he replied quickly. “you dont have to do that, just dont do that again” you said and he immediately tackled you peppering you in kisses. “i promise my love, i love you so much okay” he exclaimed.
the first few days were rocky but you expected that, eventually everything went back to normal when you decided to visit yeosang and apologize to him in person with some of his favorite snacks. knocking on the door he opens and sees you with everything in hand and a smile. “can i come in?” you hesitated before he moved aside letting you in. “if you’re here to complain about wooyoung you might as well turn around and leave.” he began, “leave the snacks though” he added teasingly. “nope i came to apologize, i shouldnt have went radio silence on you. for one, that night he came in when i was about to respond. secondly i needed time to think about what you said. Im sorry yeo i’ll try to take what you said into thought.” you shared before looking back up at him.
shockingly he was looking at you smiling. “its okay bug, i understand where you’re coming from” he replied before adding “movies and snacks?” “well yes!” you said laughing while moving into the living room and setting up.
a few hours and movies pass when you look up at yeosang with a sigh. “he was on the phone the other day and said bye babe i love you, he told me it was his aunt. then made food he claimed was my favorite but it was shit i was allergic to. then theres was the phone call … then i walked in on him with you would never guess wh-” you randomly blurted out
“get the fuck out” he ordered cutting you angrily.
“wha- yeo? why?”you questioned. “the first thing i said to you was and i quote if you’re here to complain about wooyoung you might as well turn around and leave and you said nope” he exclaimed. “all it is is wooyoung wooyoung wooyoungs, im so sick and tired of hearing about it. I love you y/n, i do but get out. and dont text, call, or come over here till you breakup with him. you wont take my advice so if you choose to stay in a relationship with a man and ruin your mental health theres nothing for me to do.” he snaps.
tears filled your eyes as he yelled at you. “im so sorry yeosang, i am really. please dont do this please… your my only friend” you begged. his heart broke seeing you cry but he had to put himself first “get out y/n i dont want to hear it.” he muttered pushing you towards the door opening it and softly shoving you out and closing the door. you cried at his door knocking and begging him to open it back before giving up and getting in your car driving home on the way home you saw a message come through from yeosang.
(photo below)
arriving home you opened the front door still crying. “woo?” you called out sobbing. “baby where- where are you?” you cried walking around the house looking for him. he eventually came running down the stairs seeing you in distress, running over to you. “whats wrong pretty why the tears?” he asked coming over and hugging you. “me and yeosang got into it over something and yelled at me then kicked me out” you said softly fighting the tears. “i told you y/n, i didn’t like him for a reason. im sorry babe” he said smiling to himself while comforting you. after you calmed down wooyoung looked at you. “the only friend you need is me baby okay?” he commented. nodding you smiled at him. “maybe you’re right, shit maybe yeos right but i cant let you go..” you trailed off, “but your so good at being bad, you know?” you said.
“ill always be on my worst behavior baby.” he taunted.
✰ Description: You meet up with an old friend on a night out with your girls, and he seems intent on making sure you end your night with a bang..
✰ Word Count: 3.4k
✰ Warnings: drinking, cussing, pet names, female!reader, she/her pronouns used for reader, smut, unprotected sex (wrap it when you tap it !), driving under the influence (yea don't do this)
✰ Italics are used for inner thoughts, bold italic is to emphasize words
✰ a/n: Hey guyssss, back again. Currently still working on the next chapter of Our Little Secret, so in the mean time here's a little short I wrote a while back! Eventually I'll have an actually masterlist but for now my other fics/shorts are listed right under here if you wanna go check those out. As always, dividers used are by @cafekitsune so go check them out!
Our Little Secret ~ K.HJ | Not So Sober Nights ~ Kang Yeosang
It was a saturday night, and instead of your usual routine of laying around your room watching dramas and eating junk food, your friends dragged you to a club. You didn’t hate clubbing, it’s just the idea of too many people pressed up against each other in one place wasn’t very appealing to you.
But tonight you had a slight change of heart. You put on a skin tight dress that showed off all the right places, and threw on a pair of heels to match. A bit of light makeup and a few accessories tied the look together, and soon your friends were at your front door to pick you up for the night ahead.
When you all arrived, the club was packed with the music so loud that you could feel the bass in your chest. There was a slight aroma of weed and flavored hooka coming from the vip sections, and flashing lights that should’ve come with an epilepsy warning. But of course it didn’t take long for your friends to grab you and drag you to the bar to get a drink before you could even think about turning around and leaving.
One round of shots turned into three, and one drink turned into two and a half, as you were still working on the other half while you were on the dance floor. The liquor got you loosened up, but it didn’t get you any further than tipsy considering you could down 7 drinks and still walk in a straight line. But the drinks did have you bumping and grinding against your friends on the dance floor, drink still in hand.
After a few minutes of dancing with your eyes closed, taking in every beat and melody, you felt a figure on your backside and eventually felt a hand rest on your waist. They were too tall to be one of your girl friends so who could-
“Now who managed to drag you out of the house on a saturday night and who let you out looking this good hm?”
Hearing the voice in your ear made you calm down a bit as you threw your head back and rested it against the person’s chest, smiled, and locked eyes with them.
“Hi Cheollll” you sang out just loud enough for him to hear over the music. You and Seungcheol had a very… complicated relationship to say the least. You had hooked up and went on a few dates here and there but never really talked about what it was, and quite frankly, you didn’t care. He gave you whatever you were looking for in the moment and that’s all you really wanted.
You both danced against each other for a while; rather, you danced against him while both of his hands followed the rhythm of you waist and he left the occasional kiss on your neck. You could feel he was turned on as he pressed against you.
Eventually, he turned you around to face him and took your now empty drink out of your hand. “Can we get another drink cheolie?” You asked with big brown eyes that no one could say no to. Well except Seungcheol apparently because he didn’t budge.
“No ma’am, I think you’ve had enough tonight” Cheol started off before smirking and leaning towards your ear. “Plus I want you to be sober enough to remember what we do later okay?”
Now whether you were blushing because of the liquor or the image of what could possibly happen later, you weren’t sure. but you were sure that the smell of whiskey on Cheol’s breath mixed with the scent of his cologne was a dangerous combination for you. Your legs were getting weak and he needed to carry you to his bed immediately.
“You wanna tell your friends I’m taking you home or should I baby?”
You could text them later.
****
Before you knew it, Cheol was grabbing your wrist and leading you to the back door of the club. He always parked his car out back with the employees since he was cool with the owners, and did not want to take the chance of his car getting stolen or broken into.
On your way out, you passed by the bar and a vip section where you happened to see your friends flirting with some guys, too distracted to see you sneaking out- or blatantly leaving - with the guy they hated so much.
Once you reached the door, a brisk breeze hit your face, reminding you that it really wasn’t spring time yet. But because you chose to be cute and not smart, your jacket was still in your friend’s car, leaving you to shiver at the temperature. Cheol took notice of this and took his jacket off of his shoulders and placed it on your own. Was it light? Yes, but it was better than nothing.
“Oh uh. Thanks.” You mumbled quietly, hoping you didn’t get caught eyeing the way his t-shirt complimented his muscles. Did he not understand you were insane??
“Of course princess.” Cheol replied, putting emphasis on his last word. You weren’t big on pet names, but something about the way he called you princess made you blush every time.
Suddenly yall came to a stop in front of a black car, a mercedes to be exact. Weird, I thought he had a white ca-
“Like the new wheels? Got her last week” Cheol said smugly when he noticed you looking at the unfamiliar car. You simply nodded and said it matched his style: expensive and arrogant.
He chuckled and pulled you closer to him by your waist, that cologne intoxicating the way it filled your nostrils. The last thing you were expecting was for this man to pick you up and sit you on the trunk of the car.
“Seungcheol! Someone could see us let’s just go to your place.” You protested although you weren’t completely against the idea of fucking him in or on the car. What? You had questionable morals.
“We will in due time baby,” Cheol started before leaving a kiss on your temple. “Think of this as an appetizer before the main course, okay?” You couldn’t get out another protest before his lips were on yours. Slightly chapped per usual, but god they felt like heaven. He hummed into the kiss while your tongues clashed with each other, the taste of peach liquor on your breath turning him on even more. His hands starting to travel up the sides of your thighs as you kept going.
He had your body so hot that you almost forgot about it being 40 degrees outside until the wind started blowing again. You shivered slightly, breaking from the kiss and lowering your head in embarrassment. “Can we go to your place now Cheolie..?” He complied and helped you off the car after another quick kiss, followed by him opening the passenger door for you.
****
Once you got to Cheol’s house, he parked and walked to your side of the car where he scolded you for opening your door yourself. You insisted it wasn’t a big deal, to which he picked you up bridal style and carried you into his house. Feeling your cheeks get hot again, you hid your face in the crook of his neck.
You finally made it to the bedroom after what seemed like an eternity, Cheol sitting you down on his King sized bed before turning to close and lock his door. He walked back over, looking you up and down before getting on his knees in front of you.
“Have I ever told you how pretty you are? Or how good you look wearing my clothes?” He inquired while helping you get your heels off. You had completely forgot about the jacket, but at this point, you just wanted him to stop being a tease and take it off of you. “Maybe once or five times…” you replied back, eyes watching his every move.
“Only five? I gotta do better then huh gorgeous?” He said before leaving kisses up your legs, starting at your ankles. You threw your head back slightly and Cheol watched your reactions through his eyelashes. “Seungcheol can you stop being a tease for christ sake” you whined.
He climbed on top of you, sliding his jacket off your shoulders.
“Want me to fuck you that bad?”
Well. Yes! “Duh.”
“Then take your dress off”
“Only if you take your pants off”
Cheol smirked and stood back up, undoing his belt. “Yes ma’am”
One thing led to another, and your clothes were in a pile on the floor, leaving both of you in nothing but your underwear. You couldn’t help but stare at Seungcheol’s body, I mean you had seen it multiple times but it always surprised you how defined and prominent his muscles were. And no matter how many times you ended up in this scenario with him, you always got shy and tried to cover up.
He climbed onto the bed next to you, and pulled you into his lap with a swift action. He had you in a position where you were straddling him, your body getting accustomed a bit too quickly. “Why are you acting like I haven’t seen your body a million times over princess?” Cheol placed a kiss on your shoulder, his hand caressing the small of your back. “That’s exactly why… You probably know my body better than I do at this point.” You replied in a voice that was hardly above a whisper.
His fingers toyed with the strap of your bra before placing them under your chin, lifting your head just enough for you to make eye contact with him. God his eyes were dangerous. “How about we prove that theory then, huh princess?” Cheol said before crashing his lips into yours. Just like before, you could still taste the liquor on his breath, his tongue going against your bottom lip to ask for just a bit more from you. You obliged and parted your lips just enough for Cheol to slip his tongue in.
You weren’t sure what to do with your hands, as one was tugging at the bottom part of his hair, the other holding on to his shoulder to keep your balance while you would grind against him, arousal growing with every movement. Coming up for air, Cheol broke away from the kiss to leave kisses and small bite marks on your chest.
“Cheol you.. you know how I am about hickeys…” you managed out, head in the clouds, dizzy with pleasure. But he wasn’t letting up. “I know baby. That’s why they’re in places only we’ll know about.” He replied while undoing the last hook of your bra, sliding the garment off your body. You hadn’t even realized he was taking it off until you felt the material loosen around you.
Not even a second after your bra was taken off, Cheol wrapped his mouth around one of your breasts, one of his hands massaging the other. You threw your head back in pleasure and moaned his name, the grip you had on his hair getting a bit tighter. You both continued to move your hips against each other, turning you on even further and wishing that the fabric separating the two of you would disappear.
Cheol switched from one breast to the other, giving both equal amounts of attention. Eventually he worked his way back up towards your collarbone and neck, leaving kisses all over and nibbling on your ear. “C-cheolie..” you whined in response to his actions. He was driving you crazy and you wanted more than what he was offering. “I know princess, I know..” He trailed off as his hands went between the two of you, fingers meeting your most sensitive spot, rubbing aggravating slow circles on your clit through the fabric of your panties.
Just as you were about to beg for more, cheol moved your panties to the side and slipped two fingers inside of you, stretching you out for what was to come. He had you falling apart, a whimpering mess on top of him as he fingered you and kissed more over your chest and neck areas. You were already starting to feel your first orgasm of the night approaching, that familiar knot building up in your stomach. “I- I can’t anymore cheol I’m so- so close” You breathed out, reaching down to rub your clit to help you get there faster. “If you’re close then cum for me baby” Cheol said in your ear, speeding up his hand movements.
His voice was all it took to send you over the edge. You tightened around his fingers before your orgasm washed over you, moaning cheol’s name way louder than you had intended and collapsing onto his chest when it was all said and done. “You did so good for me baby” He said while kissing you on your head. He rubbed your back to help you come back to reality, asking if you wanted to stop or keep going once you were responsive.
“We can keep going. You haven’t even gotten anything yet-” You started before Cheol cut you off with another kiss. “You know I only care about you baby, I can take care of myself later.” You shrugged in return, arms wrapped around Cheol’s neck. Leaning into his ear, you spoke in a low voice, “But I wanna make you feel good too.” Followed by you kissing on his neck.
Cheol let out a guttural moan, his head falling against the headboard behind him. His hands stayed on your hips for a short period of time, eventually sliding down and gripping your ass before abruptly straightening up to change your positions. Before you could blink properly, Cheol had you on your stomach, causing you to yelp out of shock. Lifting your ass up so you were on all fours.
You could feel him adjusting behind you, pulling his boxers just below his dick, and pulling your panties to the side; too lazy to take them off. “Condom?” He asked with a dumbass confused look on his face. “When have we ever used one seungcheol.” You replied, annoyance heavy in your tone. He shrugged and pointed out he was just making sure before teasingly placing his tip right at your entrance. And he did it over and over again until you finally snapped.
“Christ Seungcheol can you just-” You started but were cut off by him finally sliding in. Both of you let out synchronized moans, your grip on the sheets tightening, while cheol gripped your hair to make you look up at the mirror that was conveniently placed in front of the bed. “Look at you taking me so well princess” His pace picking up with every other word.
Cheol wasn’t exactly big, but he knew exactly what to do to make you lose your mind. Between the angles, hair tugging, and shit talking (and some praising here and there), he had you damn near crying and screaming out broken mantras of cuss words and his name, the occasional whiny “please” getting thrown in there as well. Eventually you felt yourself getting close to the edge, the pleading getting even worse than before.
“God Cheolie please i’m so close” You whined, not sure how much longer you could last. Snaking his hand underneath you, Cheol went back to rubbing your clit, keeping his same pace. “Cmon baby, what’s stopping you?” He taunted in your ear before he twitched inside you. he was close but refused to cum before you did. “I’m sorry baby but I wanna see your face when you cum..” and just like that, Cheol flipped you so you were on your back. Rolling your eyes, you responded “I thought that’s what the mirror was for.”
“Something like that but it’s better to see it up close” He smirked as his hips started back up. it was like he hadn’t skipped a beat, your orgasm still so close that you could almost taste it. Cheol fucked into you with one of your legs over his shoulder, occasionally dipping down to kiss on your neck. “Holy fuuck Seungcheol” You moaned out. You had about 30 seconds left in you before you started seeing stars, nails digging into any part of his skin that you could find. Cheol groaned at the sensation getting closer to the edge as time went on. “Want me to-” He couldn’t even finish his question before you cut him off with an immediate yes.
“Right there oh my g-” Your sentence was cut short by your second orgasm of the night hitting you like a truck. The heat flowed from your spine to the tips of your fingers, back arching off of the bed from the pleasure. Cheol fucked you through your high, his orgasm following shortly after, almost making him go limp from how aggressive it was. He eventually pulled out and laid next to you, kissing your temple and making sure you were okay as he pulled you into his arms. “You feeling ok princess?”
“I feel sweaty, weak and partially sore” To be fair it had been a month since your last hook up. Cheol stood up, pulled up his boxers and picked you up to carry you to the bathroom without another word.
“All im hearing is round two in the shower!”
“I cannot stand you.”
When you woke up, the sun was coming through slits between the black curtains in the master bedroom, a slight breeze coming from the window furthest from the bed. Your body was sore and you could only imagine how many hickeys were left on your body; more specifically how many did Cheol forget were in noticeable places. They would serve as simple reminders of last night, how aggressive he could be at times, following up with a soft side right after. So it was no surprise when you were given a massage and coddled to sleep by Cheol after such a rough time. The thought of it made you blush, shaking your head to brush off the images replaying.
Adjusting a bit in the bed, you reached over to the nightstand to grab your phone; at least you tried to before a certain someone snaked his arm around your waist, pulling you closer. “Tryna fuck and roll on me hm?” He asked while placing a light peck on your shoulder.
Giggling at Cheol’s clinginess, you turned to face him while he kept his grip on your waist. “To be fair, I didn’t exactly plan on staying the night sir. And don’t worry, I was just checking my phone.” It was almost guaranteed that your friends had texted and called trying to figure out where you were and if you were ok. I mean it wasn’t abnormal for you to leave before they did, but you usually left some type of message for them. Somebody must’ve distracted you last night…
“You weren’t gonna stay?? But I was going to make breakfast for us!” Cheol responded with a fake pout. If you didn’t vividly remember last night, his face would’ve made you think he was a little angel. You knew better though. “Woah woah. Decent sex and free food? Why are you still laying here shoo go cook bro.”
“Just decent!?” He replied, holding an offended hand to his chest. You couldn’t help but laugh at how dramatic he was, especially since you said it just to get under his skin. But before you knew it, Cheol was on top of you. The sight looking all too familiar, you stopped laughing and hit his shoulder. “Go cook, I’m hungry”
“Tell me it was better than decent and I’ll make you a breakfast for a queen”
Oh it was. But you weren’t telling him that.
“Mmmm it was aight” you replied, holding back your laugh. It was killing you, but you had to play with him justttt a little bit.
Cheol slightly shrugged and adjusted himself above you. “Then I’ll remind you how much noise you were making last night. Breakfast will come after you do”
Your eyes widened in shock. Oh this. This was not in the plans-
✰ yeosang x reader where yeosang is tired of running to your aid when you get a little too drunk
✰ word count: 660
✰ mdni/18+
✰ warnings: cussing, female!reader, light angst cuz i can only read so much heartache, mentions of drinking and clubbing, light smut (nothing crazy just like. first or second base maybe)
✰ italics are used for inner thoughts and bold italic is used to emphasize words
✰ a/n: hi hi im back! firstly thank you guys sooo much for the support on my little hongjoong fic, i appreciate it so much 🫶🏼 my friends are now threatening me to finish it, but in the meantime i’ll post other drafts and drabbles i have in my notes. and once again the dividers used are by @cafekitsune 💚
our little secret ~ k.hj
yeosang sighed as he kept you steady on your feet, helping you walk to the elevator of your apartment. you and him both knew that you could handle your liquor, but there was the occasional night that his phone would ring because you overdid it at a club. you always called him, it was always yeosang being dragged out of bed to come to your aid at 3 in the morning. but he would never ignore you, no. no matter how much he hated running to help you, he would still go.
he would never admit how much he wishes he could mute your calls, pretend as if you didn’t need him. turn on his do not disturb and turn off his ringer to finally get a full night of rest.
it wasn’t always like this, at one point yeosang could’ve sworn you were going to get married, that you were in love with each other. but he started realizing the patterns. the manipulation, the way you made him feel needed and dropped him in the same motion. you would build him up with flirting and kisses, little touches as light as feathers that the average person would brush off as nothing, and yeosang would take all of your actions to heart.
he kept his thoughts internal as the elevator dinged and opened on your apartment level. you stumbled against yeo again before he adjusted your arm around his shoulder and guided you towards your apartment.
“sangieee” you sang out once you reached your door. your song was ignored though, yeosang focusing on finding the spare key you gave him so he could get you and himself to sleep. he knew what you wanted — shit he knew what he wanted — but he was tired of being used.
he finally flung the door open, dragging you inside and turning the lock behind him. “god this is draining” was all he kept thinking. you eventually untangled yourself from his grasp, stumbling towards the kitchen, which yeo assumed (really hoped) was for you to get a glass of water.
yeosang sighed and walked towards the couch, deciding to crash at your place for the night. he was entirely too tired to drive back home and it was honestly the least you could do for having him up at 3am to save your ass again. he moved a few pillows over before laying on his back, eyes closing shortly after, but it wasn’t long before his sleep was interrupted. again.
“yeo bearrrr” you let out in that same sing-songy tone as before. he forced his eyes open to see you hovering over him with your usual head tilt and puppy eyes, wearing a sports bra and sweatpants. his sweatpants from the last time he had to take you to his house and you needed a change of clothes. he couldn’t deny how good you looked, but he also had to fight his thoughts…
“go to bed y/n, please. we both need sleep.” yeosang tried to persuade you, but you and him were on different missions, and he found that out the second you straddled his lap faster than he could react.
“fuck, no. no, we need to go to sleep”
“cmon yeo ~” you almost purred, leaning down to leave a trail of open kisses in the crook of his neck. “missed you. need you.”
he was falling for it again, and fast. fuck he knew you were just using him again, but being used sounded so good with you kissing on his neck on top of him like this. his hands met your waist while he adjusted underneath of you, you finally coming up for air and meeting his eyes in the dimly lit room.
yeosang reached up and kissed you. he couldn’t help it, he knew he shouldn’t but you had such a grip on his morals.
