summary: you give your boyfriend a very special massage.
w.c: 2.4k
warnings: sub! seonghwa (tho he gets a little aggressive for a sec), soft dom! reader (aggressively soft), roleplaying, massaging, fingering (m recieving), foodplay (honey), nipple play (m receiving), unprotected sex, creampie
a/n: this is my valentine's gift to you <3 love ya <3 also look at hwa’s little foot in the first pic sdjdgddg and don’t even get me started on the second one…the baby boy energy is going off the charts !! also sorry if this seems rushed,, i had to write the second half super quick ;;
FFF Masterlist
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Like how a lot of people met, you came across Seonghwa while you were on the job. He showed up to the spa you worked at quite a few times for a deep tissue massage, always seeming to request you specifically as he dubbed you ‘his savior.’ You got to know him pretty early on; you found out he couldn’t stay quiet for very long, even when it was a two hour session. He was always trying to strike up a conversation, apparently opposed to simply laying there and listening to the calming pan flute solo and waterfall sounds that played through the speaker in the corner. You always enjoyed it quite a bit, but you also felt that maybe there was a reason he couldn’t completely wind down and get some rest, especially with the way he always complained about how tired he was after a long day at his office job.
Your question was answered during one session in which he had a particularly tight knot that you were working on. Trying your absolute best to relieve the pressure, you slowly worked your fingers into his lower back just below the curve of his ass, unknowingly causing him to let out the most beautiful-sounding moan from underneath you. It was drawn-out, desperate, and downright pornographic. To drive your mind further into the gutter, he lifted his upper body up to look at you, gazing up at you with round boba eyes past a few strands of raven hair, a light blush forming on his cheeks. “That…felt really good. Can you please go harder, Miss?” Without a second thought, you doused your hands in body oil and cleared almost every knot on his back that day, going slow, but using a punishing amount of pressure so that you could continue to listen to his pretty moans for the rest of the session. Seonghwa asked for your number by the time you wiped the oil off of your hands.
-
Around six months later, you were able to celebrate Valentine’s Day with Seonghwa. When you asked if he wanted to do anything special and he said he wanted to roleplay, you had half expected that he just wanted you to put on a pencil skirt, wear your glasses instead of your contacts, and maybe smack his ass with a ruler or something, so you were pleasantly surprised by his boldness (though you should’ve expected it) when he asked if you could give him a “happy ending” while actually being present at your workplace — which was most definitely not a place that specialized in that. Needless to say, you were about to break a few work codes.
You found yourself replacing the sheets and fixing up the massage table, preparing for your next client, who just so happened to be your boyfriend. That’s what you were telling yourself, anyway, trying not to feel guilty about what you were about to do.
Seonghwa sat in the lobby, waiting for you to come out for him. Fed up with reading the same sign on the wall about the different spa packages, he took his jacket off and rested it on his lap, feeling somewhat hot. After a few minutes went by, Seonghwa began crossing and uncrossing his legs out of restlessness, pulling at the neckline of his black turtleneck. His heart raced and his blood already began rushing down south at the mere thought of being massaged by you, but with ulterior motives in mind. Hopefully, you’d get him soon, or else it’d be a really awkward walk past the woman working at the front counter.
“Park Seonghwa? Are you ready for your 4 o'clock appointment?” you called out in your customer service voice, using an octave that was just a little higher than normal, your words drenched in an almost artificial friendliness. Seonghwa must’ve liked the professionalism because he stood straight up and quickly followed you down the hallway, all while holding his jacket to his lower half, a single bead of sweat sliding along his temple.
“How have you been, Miss Y/N?” he asked, doing his absolute best to hide the excitement in his voice, his body practically vibrating at the thought of staying immersed in the roleplay.
You lingered in the doorway of the massage room, glancing back to look up at Seonghwa, your lip caught in between your teeth. You hadn’t heard him call you that for ages. Would it be dramatic to say that it sent a shiver up your spine? Perhaps. Perhaps not.
“Wonderful, Mr. Park. You know, I always look forward to our sessions.” You stepped into the room and ran your fingers over the soft material of the headrest on the massage table, your other hand instinctively reaching down to the button panel on the bed, turning on the heat feature. “Go ahead and get undressed, then I’ll be right back.”
Seonghwa walked up to the shelf in the corner next to you, using one of the hangers to hang up his jacket, revealing how hard he was, his cock straining against the material of his pinstripe pants. “I’d like for you to do the full body treatment this time. Would that be alright?”
“It would be my pleasure,” you returned as smoothly as possible, despite focusing solely on the outline of his erection. Your fingers squeezed into the headrest, wondering if Seonghwa knew just how much he was destroying you. Even though you already knew him inside and out and the both of you could barely go a day without tearing each other’s clothes off, you found yourself becoming wetter than you had ever been before, knowing it was probably already leaking through your thin leggings.
-
Giving your boyfriend a few minutes to undress and make himself comfortable underneath the sheets of the massage bed, you slipped back into the room after he gave you permission. “Are there any problem areas that I should focus on?” you asked, switching the music on and raising the volume a bit higher this time around.
“My lower back definitely needs some attention,” he replied, his voice a little muffled from being face down, shivering a bit when you pulled the warm blanket away from his upper back and pushed it down until his lower back dimples were visible. “My glutes too. They’ve been killing me. I think they just need a good rub.”
He was just asking for it now — however, you were quite dedicated to the roleplay, choosing to contain yourself and go slow, instead of pouncing on him like you usually did. “I’d be more than happy to give those areas special attention, Mr. Park. Now, let’s get started.” Pumping some oil into your hands, you positioned yourself in front of his head, placing your hands on his shoulders and slowly pushing them down along the smooth curves of his back, earning a pleased groan from him.
“Mm, your back is really tight, Mr. Park. Have you been stressed at work? Got a lot on your plate?” Smirking to yourself, you leaned yourself forward, your hands moving outwards down his lower back, your thumbs rubbing circles on the outside of his hips.
Seonghwa already felt himself growing hard against the padded table, blowing a bit of air out of his nose. “Unfortunately, yes, so please…take care of me. Only you can give me what I need.”
“Don’t worry, Mr. Park. I’ll give you what you need. I always do,” you replied in a lower, more seductive tone, your fingers running up and down his slender waist, eventually pushing the blanket down to expose his lower half, his smooth, perfectly round ass on full display. It was in need of some oil. You grabbed the bottle and climbed onto the massage table, your legs on either side of his thighs, licking your lips.
“Mm, that’s it,” Seonghwa moaned out from the sensation of your hand gripping one of his spread ass cheeks, the stream of oil being poured down the crease and dripping down to his balls, making him shiver.
“That’s hardly an appropriate reaction, Mr. Park,” you scolded, unable to hide the sound of your smirk from your words.
He pouted, despite you not even being able to see it “I can’t help it, Miss. It feels really good…”
You began rubbing his ass cheeks in circles, your thumbs massaging the soft flesh with a sufficient amount of pressure. “I wonder what else will feel really good?” you wondered out loud, spreading his ass more and running an experimental finger around the tight ring of his hole.
Seonghwa exhaled, moving his arms upwards and gripping the edge of the table, lifting himself up to gaze back at you, giving you the same look he always gave you before you entered him in some shape or form. “Please give me a massage, Miss…the kind you know I like…”
“How naughty of you, Mr. Park,” you returned, just as you slid your middle finger past his tightness, slowly moving it in and out, the small gasp he made like music to your ears. “Should I add another finger? To massage you properly?”
“Yes, please,” he sighed into the headrest, closing his eyes once you slipped in another finger and began rubbing them against his prostate, trying to control the volume of his moans. Without much thought, Seonghwa started to rut himself against the warm bed, his cock dripping pre-cum at this point.
Just as his moans started to become more drawn-out and desperate, you retracted your fingers and climbed off of the table to head over to the small mini fridge on the opposite side of the room. “Would you like any complimentary snacks or beverages, Mr. Park?”
In a daze, struggling to accept the loss of pleasure, he cleared his throat and asked, “What do you have?”
“Let’s see.” You bent over, looking in the mini fridge, knowing your boyfriend’s eyes were on you. Of course they were. You didn’t bother to wear panties with your black work leggings, knowing that they were hugging your lower half tightly. Seonghwa gulped, scanning your curves, eventually focusing on how he could see how your pussylips were being divided by the seam of the leggings. “Sorry, Mr. Park. I forgot to stock up. Looks like there’s only some leftover honey,” you said, turning around with a small smirk, tilting your head. “Or would you like a taste of that?”
-
Seonghwa did indeed want a taste, but you'd be the one doing the tasting. Having him lay on his back this time, you straddled his lap, pouring a bit of honey onto his bare chest and lapping it off of his nipples. You repeated this action until he was a mewling mess underneath you, his aching cock pressing into your clothed cunt, making you want to just ride him then and there.
“Please, Miss, l can’t take much more…I want to feel you inside,” he breathed out, his eyes glossy and barely open. Seonghwa never could handle having his chest toyed with for very long. He was simply too sensitive. You dropped one last strand of honey onto one of his nipples, dragging your tongue back and forth over it, using your fingers to tweak the other one like you were switching the station on a radio, only stopping when he let out a particularly loud moan. “Mr. Park, you need to behave yourself. You don’t want to get kicked out, do you?”
Seonghwa suddenly grabbed the crotch of your leggings and tore it open, groaning at the sight of your bare, dripping cunt. “I’m sorry, Miss Y/N, but I did say I wanted a full-body massage, didn’t I? That includes my cock.”
Though you found Seonghwa’s submissive side to be stimulating enough, you couldn’t help but lose it when he got like this. Without a second of hesitation, you lifted yourself up and dropped yourself back down onto his length, not even giving your boyfriend a second to recover, before you began bouncing on it like your life depended on it. Hearing his soft, almost whiny sounds of pleasure and feeling him grip onto your hips with desperation, you spoke up, in between moans, “How’s the pressure, Mr. Park? Is it just–aaah–right, or do you want it harder?”
“Harder, please!” Seonghwa tossed his head back onto the headrest, unable to keep himself from emitting more moans, his voice reaching an octave he only had access to when he was about to blow his load.
You slammed your hips down into his over and over, breathing heavily, not caring that the massage table groaned and squeaked underneath the both of you. “Mmm, it sounds like I’m hitting the spot, Mr. Park. Is that knot about to come undone?”
“Yes, yes, yes…!” he cried out, almost teary-eyed, his hips starting to jolt upwards unconsciously, his cum beginning to shoot up into you in slow spurts. “Oh, god, Miss, it’s so good! Feels so good!”
Your cunt clenched around his length from the feeling of being filled up by your valentine, bringing you to your own high in that moment. With your back arching painfully and crying out in total bliss, your thighs began to shake from how hard you were cumming. “Mr. Park…!” Once you came down, you leaned down to press a passionate kiss onto Seonghwa’s plush lips, leaving a taste of honey on them. “Did you want to schedule your next appointment now or later?”
He ran his fingers through your hair, gazing up at you like he always did at the end of his sessions. “Now would be perfect.”
-
You both made your way past the hallway and to the entrance, avoiding all eye contact with any patrons or employees, not having the guts to see if they heard everything that went down. Even if they did, you could probably convince them that it was just a really intense massage. You weren’t even fully focused on that. Your main concern was having to get used to your cum-filed pussy being completely out for the world to see. Thankfully, Seonghwa’s oversized coat covered your lower half just enough that the ripped section wasn’t visible. You still couldn’t get used to the draft you felt as you walked out of the spa with him. Once inside the car, you held your hand out towards your boyfriend, making a ‘give me’ motion with your fingers.
He looked down at it, pushing his key into the ignition and starting up the car. “What is it, love?”
With a big, satisfied smile on your face, you replied, “My tip. Where’s my tip, baby?”
Seonghwa leaned towards you to press a soft kiss onto your lips, pulling back just enough for you to see his own smile, asking, “But, Miss, didn’t I just give you one? You can feel it dripping out of you now, can’t you?”
♡ 𝔓𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤: Former porn star Dilf Seonghwa х reader
♡ 𝔖𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: We've all had a crush on our best friend's father, and you were no exception. It was pretty innocent at first, but your feelings for Mr. Park became sharper and way more dirtier. You tried to fight them and act like a good girl. but to your shame, you did a terrible job. It could go on like this for a long time if, one desperate night, you hadn't accidentally discovered that so sweet and perfect Mr. Park used to be a premium porn star.
♡ 𝔊𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢 / 𝔄𝔲 / 𝔗𝔯𝔬𝔭𝔢: Smut, Pornstar!AU, University!AU, Reader x Best friend's dad, Forbidden Romance
♡ ℜ𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤: 18+ / 21+ / MDNI
♡ 𝔚𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱: 17.4k
♡ 𝔚𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: dom!Dilf Seonghwa, sub!reader, age difference, rapturous consent, sex work, unprotected sex, daddy kink, lots of sperm, fingering, degrading, pet names, face fucking, spit kink, lots of sperm/saliva, dirty talk, oral, praise kink, squirt, pussy slapping, oral fixation, cock worship, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, hand job, сreampie, rough sex, rough oral, power play, anal play, masturbation, wet and dirty, explicit sexual content, explicit language, and more.
♡ net: @cultofdionysusnet @k-vanity
♡ 𝔄|𝔑: That feeling when Pink Star Presents and Million Dollar Man meet in the same story. God, I fucking love it. I wrote the draft in one night, which is extremely unusual for me, but I'm completely satisfied with the result. Who would have guessed that a small, unholy idea would grow into a full-length? But here I am. So stock up on fresh fresh and your sex toys, bunnies, because Mr. Park is here to destroy you, after all, Daddy Knows Best.
♡ ℌ𝔬𝔩𝔶 𝔅𝔲𝔫𝔫𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔗𝔞𝔤 𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 at the end of the post.
♡ ℌ𝔬𝔩𝔶 𝔅𝔦𝔟𝔩𝔶 𝔐𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 - check for more
♡ 𝔖𝔢𝔬𝔫𝔤𝔥𝔴𝔞 𝔐𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 - Seonghwa’s personal temple
𝕮𝖔𝖒𝖒𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖘 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖗𝖊𝖇𝖑𝖔𝖌𝖘 𝖆𝖗𝖊 𝖜𝖊𝖑𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖊𝖉 - Your love makes all this possible
Everyone loved Mr. Park, and of course, you were no exception.
Seonghwa was incredibly caring, attentive and the most tender father you’ve ever seen - still too early and far too dangerously hot to be called that, really, but life is full of surprises. As Mr. Park always said, he felt completely at peace with what he had now; Misol was his precious little princess, and he wouldn’t want to change a single thing.
He was the kind of man who remembered exactly how you took your coffee and the fact that you hated shrimp, who genuinely asked about your day with that gentle, slightly shy smile that made your stomach flutter, and who always found just the right words to offer support.
He always wore something so soft and cosy that, somehow, made him even more inviting, the kind of comforting warmth that left you daydreaming about crawling into his lap, pressing your face into his chest, and staying there for hours while his long fingers stroked your hair. Sweet, kind, endlessly patient… and a real walking wet dream.
Because beneath all that gentle charm and pastel shades was pure sin wrapped in golden skin. It was subtle — just a dark flash in the depths of his large, sparkling eyes — hinting that there was something far more dirty and lewd hidden beneath the surface, that made your pussy throb with shameful need.
Mr. Park… Seonghwa, as he always asked you to call him, was a hot, tall blonde with deep, seductive eyes and full lips that looked far too sensual and soft for a man of his age, and that kind of effortless elegance that turned heads without him even trying.
You couldn’t help staring — at first quite innocently, struck by his captivating masculine charm — but then your gaze grew longer, more obvious, far beyond the bounds of propriety.
Your gaze lingered too long on the sharp line of his collarbones teasingly peeking out from under the open collar of his shirt; on that thin, almost slutty waist when he allowed himself to wear something that clung too deliciously to his body; on the way the soft fabric of his cardigan hugged his shoulders so perfectly; on his long, graceful fingers wrapped around the thin stem of a wine glass during dinner, and especially on the sharp tip of his tongue as it slid slowly along the wet plumpness of his lower lip, looking almost indecent.
Sometimes Seonghwa caught you doing it — his dark gaze flicking up to meet yours for a heartbeat too long — but he never called you out. He was used to the attention from his daughter’s friends and would only chuckle sweetly, joking that he wasn’t that handsome or young anymore to be drawing the eyes of beautiful girls and guys.
Fucking lie.
Every time he flashed that sweet, disarming smile, your mind betrayed you all over again. The innocent way he brushed off the attention only made the ache between your thighs worse, because deep down you knew the truth — he was far more dangerous than he pretended to be.
Lately you couldn’t stop thinking about him. To be honest, you thought about him far too often, and always in the filthiest ways. Six months of brutal sexual drought had left you aching, restless and in desperately longing for touch.
Day by day, your fantasies about Mr. Park grew dirtier: those elegant fingers leisurely stroking the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, that low, velvety voice whispering “my good girl” against your ear while he took his sweet time with you. You pictured his handsome face buried between your legs, those hypnotic dark eyes locked on yours as he licked your pussy slowly and deep dragging out the pleasure for hours on end, until you were shaking and begging him for more.
You couldn’t escape him, even in your dreams. On particularly hot nights, you would wake up drenched in sweat and completely dishevelled, with your heart racing wildly. Your silk panties would be soaked and clinging obscenely to your swollen labia from the shameful flood of wetness that had poured out of your needy cunt.
You felt ashamed sometimes — he was your best friend's father, after all — but the shame never lasted long. Why should it, though? It felt so fucking stupid.
You were both grown-ups with your own wants and needs. From the little things that Misol had casually said, you knew Mr. Park hadn't brought anyone home to spend the night with for a long time either. That thought sent a dangerous spark straight through you, the idea that he was just as untouched, just as hungry as you were, making the ache between your thighs even more intense, stoking your desire to feel him deep inside you.
The only thing that had ever really connected you was a long-standing friendship with his daughter… but could that truly be reason enough to deny yourself the chance to fuck such an incredibly gorgeous and hot man as Seonghwa?
Yes. No. Probably.
The constant back-and-forth was so frustrating that it felt like you were slowly losing your mind.
Lately, it has become almost unbearable for you.
Your pretty lace panties were constantly sticky and damp, your clit faintly throbbing with arousal even from the most innocent things — the way he leaned over the kitchen island; the low timbre of his laugh; the delicate scent of his perfume that carried a powdery, smoky warmth with a hint of sensual sweetness whenever he got too close.
It was so pathetic. Around him, you always felt like that awkward, barely-grown girl again — the one who had just discovered the pleasures of sex and couldn’t keep her hands to herself for even five fucking minutes.
And tonight was no exception.
Dinner at their house had been pure torture. All evening long, you tried your hardest to be a good girl and behave properly, fighting the desperate urge to rub your aching pussy against the soft velour seat of the chair like a cat in heat. Seonghwa sat right in front of you, lazily sipping his wine while he questioned you about your final-year project. His gentle smile was a little languid tonight, slightly more sensual than usual from the alcohol, and genuine interest sparkled in his big, dark eyes.
“You’ve been working so hard lately.” Mr. Park said softly, his thumb absently tracing the rim of his wine glass. “You should treat yourself more often, darling… let yourself relax a little.” His hypnotic, feline eyes lingered on you just a second longer than necessary.
Misol, however, remained completely oblivious to your suffering, she cheerfully chatted away without pause, suggesting it wouldn’t be a bad idea to celebrate your graduation on some tropical resort. Seonghwa immediately picked up on the idea, turning his attention to his daughter and finally giving you a moment to catch your breath.
The mere thought of seeing this magnificent man in tiny beach shorts and a light, sheer shirt sent you into overdrive. You pressed your thighs together so tightly it was almost painful, your pulse quickening, your breathing turning shallow and uneven. With every fucking minute your panties grew uncomfortable and wetter, the slick heat of your arousal soaking through the delicate lace and making the fabric cling to your swollen, dripping folds.
The tension had finally reached its breaking point. You needed to let off some steam. Urgently.
You’d barely crossed the threshold of your own home before the full weight of this night hit you with full force. Mr. Park’s sultry voice still lingered on your skin like warm melted honey: “You should treat yourself more often… Relax a little…” Those innocent-seeming words took on a far more lewd meaning now that you were finally alone.
You were so desperate and overcome with that forbidden, humiliating urge that you didn't even think to turn on the light before crawling onto the bed. With a loud, exhausted moan, you collapsed onto the soft cushions and widening your legs and immediately thrust your hand into your undies. That delicate fabric was already ruined – completely soaked through with the warm, sticky flood of your goo.
‘Oh my…’ The slick heat of your arousal clung obscenely to your fingers the moment they brushed against your swollen, throbbing folds. Lord, you were already so shamefully wet, and all that man ever did was sweetly smile and say a few kind words to you.
Your open laptop lies carelessly beside you hip, its soft blue glow barely cutting through the thick, vanilla-scented darkness of the bedroom. Your favourite vibrator is already in your hands, well-lubricated and fully charged. And that’s all you need. Just the low, teasing buzz of your vibrator gliding through your folds and the filthy, repulsive wet, squelching sounds pouring from your headphones.
Right now, you want nothing more than to lose yourself in lustful pleasure and finally find some desired relief.
Those wicked thoughts about Mr. Park had been tormenting you for far too long—twisting through your mind like snakes and making your greedy little cunt throb and leak nonstop, no matter how hard you tried to be a good girl.
You needed to fuck them out of your head with something rough and mindless. Just a nice, thick cock, a long skilled tongue, and a beautiful girl falling apart as she got relentlessly fucked in every single hole. That’s all.
The first video you found wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t quite what you were looking for, so you kept scrolling until one finally caught your eye. It looked quite promising: ultra-high quality, no awkward editing cuts — the sort that usually rushed things to a quick climax. Exactly what you wanted.
You clicked play on the video, licking your lips in anticipation, starting gently rubbing the vibrator over your swollen little clit.
The scene opened from behind on a man on his knees, his back already glistening with a thin sheen of sweat; his muscles tensed and rippled beneath the heated skin, shifting and flexing with every rough, deep thrust as he fucked the girl beneath him in perfect doggy style. You couldn’t see his face yet — just the superb line of his shoulders and the smooth honey skin stretching tight over them with every movement.
His long, slender fingers were splayed across her hips, gripping her firmly, but one hand slid slowly upwards between her round buttocks. Two elegant digits circled her tight little asshole teasingly before pressing inside, slow and deliberate, stretching her open while he continued fucking her pussy without mercy.
Your breath catches in your throat. God, the view is absolutely lewd.
His back arches slightly as he pushes all the way in; the luscious curve of his ass tenses — round, firm, impossibly perfect — and you can't tear your eyes away. You imagine running your tongue along that smooth golden skin, tasting the salt of his sweat, squeezing those perky buttocks hard with both hands while he slides even deeper into your pussy.
Every powerful thrust made his heavy balls swing and slap wetly against the girl’s soaked pussy, the lewd sound loud and rhythmic through your headphones, mixing with her broken, desperate moans. His thick cock drove into her so deep, stretching her pussy so thoroughly that you could see the thin, tender edges of her hole cling to him on every pull-out — shiny and stretched tight — before he slammed back in, his long fingers still working her ass in lazy, filthy circles.
Your pussy was gushing uncontrollably, dripping like a waterfall of warm, filthy need. Thick, glossy rivers of your arousal spilled shamelessly from your twitching hole, coating every swollen fold in a slick, sticky glaze that made your soft, peachy labia glisten obscenely. Your pussy felt so hot, so smooth, and deliciously slippery under your touch.
Your fingers moved faster now, rubbing your soaked pussy with rougher, hungrier strokes, perfectly synced to the relentless rhythm of his hips. The vibrator stayed jammed hard against your throbbing clit, forcing even more creamy slick to flood out of you as you stared, mesmerized, at that gorgeous ass flexing and clenching with every deep, hard thrust.
Fuck, you wanted to bite it. Sink your teeth into that smooth golden skin and mark him as yours. You ached to spread those perfect cheeks wide and bury your face between them while he kept fucking her exactly like that—rough, controlled, and utterly merciless.
"So good…” You let out a loud, ragged whimper, the second the vibrator’s soft, buzzing tip kissed that little hypersensitive spot on your clit. Pleasure slammed into you like a tidal wave - hot, blinding, and so intense it was almost unbearable, making your eyes roll back and your toes curl tight. Your thighs shook violently, as you mindlessly swayed them in an attempt to keep up with every pulse of pleasure.
Another broken moan full of raw, lustful desire spilled from your pretty mouth before you could stop it. The tension coiled tighter and tighter in your belly, growing hotter and hotter with every wet slap of skin on skin, every flex of his sweat back, and every teasing pump of his long fingers. Soft, needy whimpers kept spilling from your lips, mixing deliciously with the filthy, obscene sounds pouring through your headphones.
Then he slowed down; his silky, heavy length slipping out of her pussy with a lewd, squelching sound. He grips her waist with those long, elegant hands, and flips her onto her back in one fluid motion. The camera changes angle, finally revealing his face as he settles between her wide-spread thighs and slides back into her ruined, dripping pussy with a low, velvety moan that pierces you to the core.
Your fingers freeze mid-stroke.
No. Fucking. Way.
It was him—Seonghwa. Mr. Park. Your best friend’s dad.
The same gentle man who had sat across from you at dinner just hours ago, wearing that soft, fluffy cardigan, smiling shyly while joking that he wasn’t as handsome as he used to be.
Now those dark siren eyes were half-lidded with lust, and his full, plush lips parted around a filthy moan of praise: “That’s it, baby… take my cock like a good girl.” The same elegant fingers that had politely held a wine glass earlier were now knuckle-deep inside the girl’s tight asshole, stretching her open while his thick cock brutally filled her pussy.
The burning heat of shame flooded your face. The sharp sting of embarrassment hit you first - you’d been touching yourself to thoughts of him for months, and now your filthy little fantasy was playing out in vivid 4K right in front of your eyes. Your best friend’s dad. The man who called you “beautiful” in that soft, warm voice, with no idea you’d imagined his handsome face buried between your legs hundreds of times.
But the shame didn’t last too long.
Without even realizing it, you spread your thighs wider, shameless and desperate now. The vibrator kept buzzing relentlessly against your soaked cunt as you pressed it down harder, grinding the pulsing tip in tight, aggressive circles right over your swollen, reddened clit—eyes glued to Seonghwa like he was the only thing left in the world.
It felt so good…so fucking good, in fact, but you knew it was nothing compared to what Mr. Park's long, skilled tongue or that thick, sinewy cock could do to you.
He's such a dynamic fucker. One second he was fiercely pounding deep into her pussy with that heavy cock, and the next his handsome face was already buried between her spread legs. His tongue slid slowly over her slit, licking up every drop of her sweetness with hungry, obscene strokes, while his dark, siren eyes stared straight into the camera… as if he knew exactly who was watching him.
Your needy little pussy spasmed rhythmically around your fingers as you pushed them deeper inside yourself, forcing even more thick, glossy slick to gush out of you. It ran obscenely down between your plump cheeks and coated your tight asshole. Your thighs visibly tremble as you rocked your hips, chasing the overwhelming pleasure while the video kept playing.
He flipped her onto all fours again, fucking her hard from behind, before suddenly turning her over once more. Now you had the perfect view—every thick inch of his cock sliding in and out of her ruined, creamy pussy, his heavy balls slapping wetly against her with every powerful thrust.
Your orgasm crashed through you without warning. You choked on a moan that sounded dangerously close to his name, as the vibrator kept buzzing mercilessly against your oversensitive clit. A warm, powerful jet of squirt exploded out of you, splashing noisily onto the sheets in a shameless, wet mess. The pleasure was brutal, devastating. Your eyes rolled back, your whole body convulsed in violent electric spasms, and for a dizzying second you thought you might actually pass out. Wave after wave of raw ecstasy tore through you until your cunt felt like it was on fire.
It shattered you so badly that when the peak finally crashed over you, you went completely limp — a trembling, whimpering, ruined mess.
But you didn’t stop the video. You couldn’t.
You watched him pull out and paint her tongue with thick, pearly ropes of cum, stroking himself through every last drop. That same kind, gentle face you knew so well was now twisted in raw, depraved pleasure, the sight made your pussy clench hard again, already begging for round two.
When the clip finally ended, a heavy, charged silence filled the room, broken only by your loud, ragged breathing. The laptop screen glowed brightly in the darkness, the cursor hovering temptingly over the replay button. Your heart hammered wildly, so hard that you could feel it pulsing in your throat. A deep flush of shame burned across your cheeks for a brief moment… before melting away into something far sweeter and much more sinful.
Deep down, knew what you should do: close the laptop, delete your entire search history for good, and pretend this never happened. But instead, like the hopeless little pervert you were, you dragged the video into a folder labeled “research,” as if that made any of this less insane.
Your mind was spinning wildly. How the hell were you supposed to act normally around him now? How were you going to look Mr. Park in the eyes, knowing exactly how his thick cock looked stretching a pussy open? Could you really stay cool-headed, sit across from him at the dinner table and watching him smile that sweet and gentle smile, without imagining him bending you over the kitchen counter and fucking you senseless right next to his famous strawberry pancakes he made every Sunday?
As humiliating as it was to admit… you already knew the answer.
Still trembling from the mind-shattering orgasm, you fidgeted restlessly on the soaked sheets. Your body felt limp and hazy, but a fresh, burning arousal was already pulsing deep inside your core, hotter and more insistent than before. With shaky fingers you reached for the laptop and hit replay, starting the video from the very beginning. One orgasm clearly wasn’t going to be enough — not after seeing exactly how fucking devastating Mr. Park could be.
God, you felt like such a shameless little pervert, but even so, the shame only made your pussy throb harder. The second that rich, velvety voice poured into your headphones, pulling you straight into your forbidden fantasy, your hand slid straight back between your slick thighs like it belonged there.
This time you let it take you completely.
You spread your thighs wider, shoved two fingers deep into your dripping pussy, and fucked yourself in perfect sync with every brutal thrust on the screen. Your hips rolled desperately, the vibrator still buzzing hard against your swollen, oversensitive clit. The fantasy swallowed you completely: it was your tight little hole he was splitting open, your ass taking those long, skilled fingers, your squirt he was licking up like a starving man.
You already knew you were going to come again. Harder. Filthier. Hotter. Envision all the dirty, kinky things you’d like to do with Mr. Park the next time you find yourself alone with him.
The second orgasm slammed into you like a freight train.
Your back arched violently off the bed, a broken cry tearing from your throat as you squirted hard — hot, messy, and uncontrollable. Clear fluid gushed out around your fingers, soaking the sheets and running down your trembling thighs while your walls clenched and pulsed wildly. You kept rubbing through every brutal wave, drawing it out until your vision whited out and your legs shook uncontrollably.
When the peak finally released you, you collapsed back onto the bed, panting hard, chest heaving, completely wrecked. For a few long, blissful seconds you lie there motionless, staring at the dark ceiling of the bedroom. The laptop screen still glowed with Seonghwa’s handsome face twisted in raw ecstasy as he painted the girl’s tongue with thick ropes of cum.
You slowly came back to yourself, the sticky mess between your legs was undeniable — warm, thick slick mixed with fresh squirt coated your thighs. Your pussy gave another lazy clench, still fluttering from the aftershocks.
The burning flush of shame across your cheeks only deepened as the reality of what you'd just done crashed over you. But the hunger didn’t fade. It only sharpened, growing darker and more dangerous.
You bit your lip hard, eyes drifting back to the laptop screen where Mr. Park’s handsome face still filled the frame.
One video wasn't enough. Not even close. You needed more of him. You needed everything.
Your shaky hand drifted back to the laptop, drawn by a hunger you couldn’t deny. You minimized the player, opened a fresh tab, and typed his full name—the one you’d only ever paired with “Mr. Park”—into the search bar, along with the word “porn.”
The screen flooded instantly. Hundreds of videos. Millions of views. Endless pages of thumbnails showcasing that same honey-smooth skin, those dark, siren eyes, and that exquisitely elegant face captured in every shameless, depraved position imaginable.
He wasn’t just doing porn. Park Seonghwa was a star. Top performer. Premium. The quiet fortune, the beautiful house, the effortless lifestyle he never bragged about — it all clicked into place. The sweet single dad next door had been quietly getting rich off his perfect body and velvet voice while the rest of the world stayed blissfully ignorant.
Your heart slammed against your ribs as you scrolled with greedy, desperate need. Then one thumbnail stopped you cold, stealing the breath straight from your lungs.
A solo scene. Just him.
You hit play before your brain could talk you out of it.
And fuck… Seonghwa was even more devastating like this. Completely naked, every inch of that honey-smooth skin glistening with oil under warm studio lights, the liquid sheen sliding over every carved muscle like molten gold poured slow and deliberate. He lounged back against dark silk pillows, looking dangerously beautiful, unashamed, and utterly intoxicating.
One elegant hand was wrapped tight around his thick, heavy cock- already hard and leaking with pre-cum, stroking with slow, purposeful drags, twisting smoothly over the swollen head on every upstroke. His other hand cradled those velvety balls, rolling them gently in his palm, tugging just enough to make his abs flex and a low, luxurious groan slip from those plush lips.
That was just the warm-up.
His hand drifted lazily up his chest, fingers teasing a nipple, pinching and rolling the sensitive peak until it pebbled tight. Seonghwa’s back arched off the sheets in a graceful, sinful curve as a soft hiss of pleasure escaped him. Never breaking rhythm on his cock, he brought those same fingers to his gorgeous mouth.
He slid two deep past his parted lips, fucking his own mouth with wet, lazy thrusts while sucking noisily around them. The obscene sounds filling the room — wet slurping, a low whimper, the slick glide of oiled skin, it was filthy, lewd and addicted. His fist pumped faster along that glistening length, hips starting to roll, breathing growing rougher, more desperate with every passing second.
You couldn’t look away. Your pussy was already soaked again, clenching around nothing as you watched him edge himself with expert, merciless precision. His strokes turned rougher, faster, frantic. Powerful hips bucked, golden muscles trembling, and then he came—hard, messy, breathtaking.
Thick, pearly ropes of cum erupted from the flushed, swollen head in heavy pulses, painting his glistening abs, streaking across his chest, and shooting all the way up to that divinely beautiful face. It landed on his cheek, caught on his parted lips, and dripped slowly down the sharp line of his jaw while his hand kept milking every last drop with lazy, sloppy strokes, like he had all the time in the world to savor it.
He stared straight into the camera, eyes heavy-lidded and dark with lust, cum still shining on his fucked-out face, and whispered in that hoarse, velvet-sultry voice,that made your pussy clench instinctively: "Come on, darling, be a good girl and help Daddy clean this up."
The next words were even filthier—soft, depraved praises about how hard his cock still was for you, how badly he needed your tongue licking up every sticky drop, while he swayed that heavy, glistening length from side to side, still half-hard, slippery with oil and cum, teasing you without mercy.
He was pure, decadent temptation. Porn in its most addictive form and you were already completely, helplessly hooked.
Your face burned scarlet in an instant, heat flooding every inch of your body like wildfire. You slammed the laptop shut so hard the screen clicked sharply in the quiet room, breathing fast and shallow like you’d been caught red-handed. But your pussy didn’t give a damn about shame. It was dripping again, fresh, warm slick sliding slowly down your inner thighs, your swollen clit throbbing dully with insistent need even after two shattering orgasms had already wrecked you.
Damn. It seemed, you have a very serious problem now.
And his name was Mr. Park Seonghwa.
The next few days felt like a feverish, restless dream to you.
You barely slept, barely ate—your whole world shrank to the dim blue glow of your laptop in the darkened bedroom. Every spare second dragged you back into that dark, guilty pleasure: headphones sealed tight, lights off, thighs spread shamelessly wide while you fucked yourself senseless. Orgasm after shattering orgasm rushed through you as you devoured every video of Seonghwa you could find, chasing that sweet, forbidden high like an addict.
You even learned his stage name - StarHwa.
It fit him like a second skin: glowing, untouchable, igniting raw, filthy desire with every sultry glance he threw at the camera.
You quickly made a whole collection of your favourite films.
Every single one that made your pussy flood with heat and your thighs clenching helplessly as it stole the breath from your lungs and left you needy and trembling, was marked with a shiny pink star, like your own little treasure, safely tucked away deep inside your laptop under the innocent, boring label "research."
Your fingers trembled on the mouse as the low, filthy sounds wrapped around you like warm, wet silk, sinking straight into your aching core. A heavy, insistent pulse of arousal bloomed low in your belly, feeding that deep, endless emptiness no toy or fantasy had ever truly satisfied.
Night after night you returned to them, playing each one until you knew every breathless moan, every brutal snap of hips, and every velvet-dirty word by heart.
You watched him pound a pretty girl senseless in front of a full-length mirror, hips snapping with merciless precision while he forced her to watch every thick inch disappear inside her, one elegant hand wrapped tight around her throat. Another night, a lucky little thing rode his face like she owned it—grinding desperately onto that long, sinful tongue as he moaned hungrily into her dripping folds, devouring her like he couldn’t get enough.
You’d seen him drive a thick dildo into a screaming, shaking girl until she squirted in violent, glistening arcs across the sheets. In another clip, he slowly worked a fat plug into a handsome boy’s eager ass, praising him in that low, velvet voice until the boy whimpered and pushed back shamelessly for more.
Clip after clip, he stretched tight pussies around his cock, folded girls in half and fucked them in deep, punishing mating presses, made them cream and squirt all over his glistening golden abs while they rode him like their lives depended on it.
Each one left you wetter, hotter, more ruined than the last—completely submerged in pure, liquid lust.
But the one that truly destroyed you…was the close-up of him eating pussy.
That impossibly long, skilled tongue curling, flicking, plunging so deep inside while he sucked on her swollen clit like it was the sweetest candy he’d ever tasted. The wet, obscene sounds of his mouth working her over, the way his dark eyes stayed half-lidded in bliss, those hungry little moans vibrating straight through her folds—it was too much. Too perfect.
Your own orgasm hits you like an avalanche, rapidly and without warning. You had to slam the pause, thighs shaking violently as a fresh gush of slick soaked the sheets beneath you, wave after wave of aftershocks ripping through your body until you were left gasping, ruined, and still aching for the real thing.
He was too skilled. Too experienced. So fucking sinful.
That unbearable craving only grew worse with every passing day, twisting deeper into your bones until even the simplest thoughts of him made your pussy throb with fresh, shameless need. The innocent version of Mr. Park you once knew was gone — replaced entirely by the sinful man from the videos who now haunted every waking moment.
You were already so exhausted, the constant tug-of-war between the desperate need to fuck Seonghwa senseless and the fragile sense of propriety that kept you at arm’s length slowly driving you insane.
But all of that paled in comparison to the real torment still waiting just days ahead.
Misol’s birthday was only days away, and she was throwing a lavish pajama party right there in the very house where Mr. Park made his famous strawberry pancakes with milk icing every Sunday morning — wearing those soft cardigans that made him look so perfectly domestic and harmless, smiling at you like you were nothing more than his daughter’s sweet, pretty little friend.
You had already said yes.
Ever since you discovered the truth about Seonghwa, the anticipation had been devouring you alive. You constantly caught yourself obsessively staring at the calendar on your phone, counting down the hours like an addict desperate for her next devastating fix.
His seductive velvety voice, that wickedly long tongue, and those elegant fingers haunted you everywhere — during lectures, on crowded buses, even while standing at the sink brushing your teeth.
By the time you stumbled home each evening, your panties were hopelessly ruined, soaked through with sticky, warm juices that clung obscenely to your plump labia. Every step made the wet fabric slide and tease against your sensitive folds, a constant, torturous reminder of how badly your pussy ached for the man who was supposed to be innocuous.
The night before the party, you stood in front of the mirror for nearly an hour, heart hammering with a dizzying mix of worry and forbidden excitement as you tried on every pajama set you owned, searching desperately for the one that would make you look as tempting as possible — because you knew Mr. Park would be there too.
"God, what am I even doing? I need to stop and act like there's nothing wrong… he is Misol’s dad." The thought burned through your mind, cheeks flushing hot while your pulse raced with wicked, shameful excitement. And deep down, you knew you should listen to the voice of reason. But the throb between your thighs told you the truth — you had no intention of stopping.
The moment you slipped into the soft pink shorts and delicate white vest top, your innocent little outfit, which had once made you feel so safe, suddenly felt like a complete lie. The material was very thin, showing off your curves in a way that was a bit too sexy. You turned sideways, smoothing your hands over your hips, imagining Seonghwa’s dark eyes drifting slowly over your body. Would he still give you that gentle, harmless smile and pat your head like always… or would his gaze finally darken when he noticed how shamelessly your hard nipples were poking against the fine fabric, begging for attention?
The thought sent a heavy throb pulsing between your legs, your pussy clenching needily as warmth flooded your core.
You peeled it off and reached for something bolder — the silky black camisole and matching shorts. The cool material whispered over your skin as it hugged your curves even more provocatively, the short hem barely covering the swell of your plump ass.
"Too obvious." You scolded yourself. "If Mr. Park looks at me in this, he'll get it straight away." You tugged nervously at the hem, trying to make it a little more decent, but your mind betrayed you. You couldn’t stop picturing those elegant fingers slipping under the silk, brushing teasingly against your soaked folds while he whispered filthy praise in your ears. You can’t deny that the prospect was extremely tempting. Still not enough, though.
You dug deeper into your underwear drawer, and pulled out the sheer red babydoll set you’d bought on a reckless whim, but never dared wear. The lace was barely there — delicate straps, a plunging neckline that framed your breasts perfectly, and a tiny skirt that flared just enough to tease. You slid it on, the fabric pleasurably cooled your flushed skin.
Would this be enough to finally break through that perfect, gentle mask he’d worn for years and unleash the man who mercilessly ruined girls on cam?
You hope so.
And yet, no matter how provocative it looked in the mirror, it still felt laughably modest compared to the obscene fantasies that had been consuming you every single night.
With trembling fingers you reached for the final option — the black silk slip dress that barely reached mid-thigh, paired with the matching crotchless thongs that you’d hidden at the very back of your drawer. You stepped into the thongs first, gasping softly as the cool air kissed your exposed pussy. No barrier. Nothing could hide how wet you already were. You pulled the slip dress over your head and smoothed it down, expensive silk gliding over your sensitive nipples and heated skin like a lover's tongue.
Your thighs clenched instinctively the moment you caught your reflection. You looked utterly lewd… just like the girls in Seonghwa’s videos. A fresh rush of your mucus ran out of your little hole, coated your bare folds, dripping slowly down your inner thigh.
Oh god… if Mr. Park accidentally brushed against you on the couch, or leaned in close while pouring drinks — he’d feel exactly how open and ready you are. No panties in the way. Just your warm, sweet cunt begging for his thick cock and tongue.
The thought made your knees weak. You imagined him noticing the easy access, his voice dropping low as he whispers in your ear "What a naughty little girl we have here… walking around my house with your pretty pussy on display for me.” The image was so vivid you had to bite your lip hard to choke back a desperate moan as a fresh gush of slick poured from your hole and ran shamelessly down your thighs.
Fuck, you were up to your ears in this mess.
You weren’t sure you could control yourself around him anymore. Not after everything you’d seen.
Every sweet, innocent memory about Mr. Park — him pouring tea with that gentle smile, ruffling Misol’s hair, laughing softly at your lame jokes, those warm, cosy evenings filled with light-hearted talk and strawberry pancakes on lazy Sunday mornings — had been completely burned away by the raw, filthy truth of exactly what that body could do.
You knew how his thick cock stretched and ruined tight pussies until they gaped and fluttered helplessly around him. You knew exactly how long and greedy his tongue was — curling, flicking, burying itself deep while he moaned like he couldn’t get enough. You knew the filthy praises he growled in that velvet voice while he fucked someone senseless, making them cream and squirt all over his glistening golden abs.
You knew all this...and tomorrow night, you would be in his house, wearing almost nothing at all — your little pussy completely exposed for him and dripping beneath the thinnest layer of silk, just waiting for one careless touch to reveal everything.
The night of Misol’s birthday unfolded like a fever dream wrapped in silk ribbons and champagne bubbles.
Mr. Park had outdone himself again. The huge living room glowed with strings of fairy lights that cast a soft, golden haze over everything, turning the space into something intimate and alluring. Presents towered on the coffee table like a tempting pile of silk bows and shimmering iridescent wrapping, while pink champagne flowed endlessly — sweet, fizzy, and dangerously seductive on the tongue.
He had even prepared a gift for each of his daughter’s friends.
When the girls tore open the elegant boxes, delicate, tiny pajama sets made of the finest silk and French lace spilled out — so sheer and perfectly cut that they clung to every curve and draped in all the most sinful places. Delighted gasps and breathy giggles filled the air as the girls looked at Mr. Park like he had personally hung the stars in the sky just for them.
Seonghwa stood in the middle of it all, a source of universal admiration and adoration, glowing like a fucking light bulb. His cheeks flushed with that signature sweet, “innocent” pink as one hand shyly rubbed the back of his neck. He murmured softly, almost apologetically, “You’re all so beautiful… you should treat yourselves more often. Or your boyfriends.”His voice was gentle, almost apologetic, like he was embarrassed by his own bold choice. And just like that, with nothing more than a few quiet words and that devastating smile, he stole every heart in the room all over again.
As the party went on, the music grew louder, the pink champagne flowed stronger, and the girls grew drunken, reminding you of giddy, fluttering butterflies — flushed cheeks, sparkling laughter, and silk-clad bodies swaying lazily under the golden fairy lights.
But you weren’t drunk on alcohol or sugar. You were drunk on him — completely, helplessly, ruinously drunk on Seonghwa. Just hearing the name “Mr. Park” made your head spin and heat bloom low in your belly. Let alone the man himself.
All night, your eyes kept finding the elegant line of his shoulders, the way the luxurious black silk of his designer pajamas slid over his sculpted frame like liquid shadow, catching the light every time he moved. He looked absolutely devastating, predatory elegance wrapped in effortless charm — majestic, alluring, and far too tempting for a man who was supposed to be just an ordinary single dad.
Every stolen glance sent a fresh wave of heat rushing straight to your core, making your pussy throb beneath the thin silk of your own pajamas. The delicate fabric suddenly felt too tight, too damp, clinging uncomfortably to your swollen folds with every little shift.
You tried not to lose sight of him, yet Mr. Park kept slipping away, as if he were playing with you a slow, maddening game of hide-and-seek — retreating into the semi-darkness of quiet corners, sinking into the couch among fluffy pillows, offering those polite, sweet smiles without ever fully joining the chaos.
Eventually he disappeared altogether, leaving behind nothing but an ache that settled low and heavy between your thighs.
God, what you wouldn’t give to follow him right now. You wanted to slip away from the laughter, find whatever dark corner he’d claimed, drop to your knees like the desperate little slut, and press your face against the front of his silk pants. You wanted to feel his cock twitch and thicken against your cheek while you nuzzled him shamelessly, showing him exactly how good, how eager you could be for him.
You wanted him to finally snap — to pin you against the nearest wall, shove one of his hands down your slutty tiny shorts, and sink two long fingers deep into your tight little pussy while his wicked tongue licked into your mouth like he was starving for you.
You imagined the low, velvety moan he’d make when he felt exactly how drenched and ready your pretty cunt already was for him. The thought made your nipples tighten into aching peaks against the thin fabric and the fresh rush of slick coating your plump, swollen folds.
By the time the music finally died down and everyone collapsed in a happy, drunken pile of bodies in Misol’s bedroom and soft snores filled the room — you were still wide awake and burning alive.
You lay there for over an hour, eyes fixed on the dark, silent ceiling. Sleep stubbornly refused to come. Your thoughts kept racing, wild and restless, while your thighs clenched under the duvet, searching for relief that never arrived.
Eventually you gave up. Grabbing the half-full glass of champagne from the nightstand, you slipped quietly out of the room and padded barefoot down the dimly lit hallway toward the kitchen. The cool floor sent little shivers racing up your bare legs, making your skin prickle.
But it seems you weren’t the only one who couldn’t sleep.
The second you pushed open the kitchen door, you froze. Mr. Park was already there. Seonghwa stood in the middle of the kitchen looking utterly wrecked in the most sinful way possible as if he had just spent the last few hours lost in slow, filthy, passionate fucking and hadn’t bothered to hide the evidence of his pleasure.
His silk top was dangerously unbuttoned, revealing a tempting sliver of smooth, golden chest gleaming under the soft kitchen light. The waistband of his pants sat teasingly low on his hips, the silky fabric clinging to the powerful lines of his thighs and exposing that deep, delicious V that arrowed straight down toward the heavy outline of his cock. His blond hair was deliciously tousled, soft strands falling messily across his forehead as though someone had pulled it hard in the throes of pleasure. And those plump, luxurious lips of his were swollen and reddened, clearly bitten raw for hours.
The usual gentle expression you knew so well had vanished. In its place was something darker, more depraved. Hungrier. A predator’s gaze — sharp, hypnotic, burning straight through you. His eyes dragged slowly down your body, drinking in every inch of you in those tiny, slutty silk sets you'd chosen with such filthy intent. The lust in his stare was so intense that you could almost feel it physically. It slid languidly over the graceful length of your neck, lingering on the way your nipples strained visibly against the delicate silk, tracing the plush softness of your breasts, before continuing lower and over your bare thighs and the short hem that barely skimmed the soft curve of your plump ass.
Mr Park’s dark, sultry eyes dragged slowly down your body, drinking in every inch of you in those tiny, slutty silk sets you’d chosen with such filthy intent. The lust in his stare was so intense that you could almost feel it physically. It slid languidly over the graceful length of your neck, lingering on the how your nipples strained visibly against the delicate silk, tracing the the plush softness of your breasts, before continuing lower — over your bare thighs and the short hem that barely skimmed the soft curve of your plump ass.
You were seen standing frozen in the doorway like a deer caught in the headlights, the champagne glass completely forgotten in your trembling hand. Your thighs clenched instinctively as another warm rush of slick slipped from your needy little cunt.
And for the first time tonight, the two of you were completely, dangerously alone.
Seonghwa had been watching you for months, if not years — long before the pink champagne and luxurious silk pajamas turned the living room into a hazy, intoxicating dream filled with shimmering fairy lights and forbidden temptation.
What had started as a quiet, harmless crush on his daughter’s pretty friend had twisted into something far darker, far more ravenous. God, it was so wrong. There were nights the guilt gnawed at him until he could barely breathe, but the temptation was simply too powerful. He was only a man, after all, and for the years of loneliness and sexual frustration his needs had grown sharper, hungrier, so much so that it was impossible to ignore.
He wanted you in every filthy, tender, and utterly devastating way imaginable. The only thing still holding him back was your long friendship with Misol. Yet even that couldn’t stop the endless stream of lewd, unholy thoughts that flooded his mind whenever you were near.
He ached to ruin that sweet little cunt with his thick cock until you sobbed his name in broken moans, then soothe every trembling inch of you with slow, greedy strokes of his wicked tongue. He wanted you bent over every surface in this house — riding him reverse cowgirl so he could watch your soft, plush ass bounce and ripple with every brutal snap of his hips, or folded in half beneath him so he could watch every thick inch of himself stretch your pretty pussy open, claiming you completely.
But Seonghwa wasn’t blind.
He had caught every single sign — the way your thighs pressed together the instant he leaned in too close, the pretty blush that crept up the elegant column of your neck when the hem of his shirt rode up and revealed a strip of bare skin, and how you would quickly lick the corner of your mouth while staring at his lips like you were starving for them. You were such a naughty little thing, and God, he loved every second of it.
Lately your stares have grown bolder, hungrier. Seonghwa couldn’t help but wonder what had finally pushed you across that delicate line between propriety and desire. Had you simply decided to stop pretending? Or maybe… maybe you had stumbled across one of the videos he had starred in. The mere thought that you might have touched yourself to him — your sweet fingers buried deep inside that tight little princess pussy while you watched him moan and come like a desperate whore, made his cock throb with dark, possessive satisfaction all night long.
After all, Seonghwa knew exactly how good he was. He fucked like a god, and no one who had ever been under him could deny it. In his wilder days he had claimed more than a few sweet, dripping cunts and eager little asses, and every single one of them had left his bed ruined for anyone else. What he wouldn’t give to show you just how skillfully he could use his thick cock and greedy tongue — to prove that no matter who you let between your legs afterward, you would always come crawling back to him, because no one else would ever satisfy you the way he could. He would reshape that pretty little pussy until it remembered only him if that was what it took.
Tonight’s party had been absolute torture.
You looked utterly obscene in the tiny silk pajama set he had chosen himself. Now he was half-regretting about this. The delicate fabric clung to every curve like a second skin, the shorts riding high enough to tease the soft, bare underside of your delicious ass with every step. He had spent the entire evening painfully hard, forced to hide in shadows and among fluffy pillows, barely keeping the beast inside him leashed.
At one point the tension became almost unbearable.
Seonghwa had no choice but to shamefully escape to his bedroom. The moment the door clicked shut behind him, the carefully constructed dam of restraint and decorum he had been clinging to all night finally shattered.
Hwa hurriedly tore off his silk top with such force that the buttons scattered across the floor, and shoved the pants down just far enough to free his cock. The heavy length slapped against his perfectly sculpted abs with a loud, wet sound, splashing sticky drops of pre-cum across his defined muscles. Velvety, long cock stood flushed a deep red, glistening under the low light, coated in a thick layer of pre-cum, like a delicacy; beneath it, his balls hung full and taut, heavy with the load making it clear how much he was ready to release.
Seonghwa could barely believe he had lasted this long, it was so heavy and swollen that he felt physically uncomfortable. Hwa desperately needed some kind of release; otherwise, he might simply lose control and explode from intense arousal.
Grabbing the first pillow he could find from the bed, he mounted it like he wanted to mount you. Face buried in the cool silk sheets, ass high in the air, he fucked into it with punishing snaps of his hips — hard, filthy, relentless. His heavy balls slapped wetly against the fabric with every thrust as he imagined driving deep into your tight little cunt, stretching you wide around him. Sweat traced down the elegant curve of his spine while his back flexed powerfully.
He had caught every single sign — the way your thighs pressed together the instant he leaned in too close, the pretty blush that crept up the elegant column of your neck when the hem of his shirt rode up and revealed a strip of bare skin, and how you would quickly lick the corner of your mouth while staring at his lips like you were starving for them. You were such a naughty little thing, and God, he loved every second of it.
Lately your stares have grown bolder, hungrier. Seonghwa couldn’t help but wonder what had finally pushed you across that delicate line between propriety and desire. Had you simply decided to stop pretending? Or maybe… maybe you had stumbled across one of the videos he had starred in. The mere thought that you might have touched yourself to him — your sweet fingers buried deep inside that tight little princess pussy while you watched him moan and come like a desperate whore, made his cock throb with dark, possessive satisfaction all night long.
After all, Seonghwa knew exactly how good he was. He fucked like a god, and no one who had ever been under him could deny it. In his wilder days he had claimed more than a few sweet, dripping cunts and eager little asses, and every single one of them had left his bed ruined for anyone else. What he wouldn’t give to show you just how skillfully he could use his thick cock and greedy tongue — to prove that no matter who you let between your legs afterward, you would always come crawling back to him, because no one else would ever satisfy you the way he could. He would reshape that pretty little pussy until it remembered only him if that was what it took.
Tonight’s party had been absolute torture.
You looked utterly obscene in the tiny silk pajama set he had chosen himself. Now he was half-regretting about this. The delicate fabric clung to every curve like a second skin, the shorts riding high enough to tease the soft, bare underside of your delicious ass with every step. He had spent the entire evening painfully hard, forced to hide in shadows and among fluffy pillows, barely keeping the beast inside him leashed.
At one point the tension became almost unbearable.
Seonghwa had no choice but to shamefully escape to his bedroom. The moment the door clicked shut behind him, the carefully constructed dam of restraint and decorum he had been clinging to all night finally shattered.
Hwa hurriedly tore off his silk top with such force that the buttons scattered across the floor, and shoved the pants down just far enough to free his cock. The heavy length slapped against his perfectly sculpted abs with a loud, wet sound, splashing sticky drops of pre-cum across his defined muscles. Velvety, long cock stood flushed a deep red, glistening under the low light, coated in a thick layer of pre-cum, like a delicacy; beneath it, his balls hung full and taut, heavy with the load making it clear how much he was ready to release.
Seonghwa could barely believe he had lasted this long, it was so heavy and swollen that he felt physically uncomfortable. Hwa desperately needed some kind of release; otherwise, he might simply lose control and explode from intense arousal.
Grabbing the first pillow he could find from the bed, he mounted it like he wanted to mount you. Face buried in the cool silk sheets, ass high in the air, he fucked into it with punishing snaps of his hips — hard, filthy, relentless. His heavy balls slapped wetly against the fabric with every thrust as he imagined driving deep into your tight little cunt, stretching you wide around him. Sweat traced down the elegant curve of his spine while his back flexed powerfully.
“Fuck… baby, there you go.” Seonghwa panted into the tangled sheets, his voice wrecked and hoarse with pleasure. “Take Daddy’s cock… just like that. You were fucking made for it.” He groaned deep in his chest, hips snapping harder. “Been dying to bury myself in this tight little cunt for so fucking long…”
Seonghwa flipped onto his back, still rutting against the pillow, wrapping a slick fist around his throbbing cock and stroking with long, obscene pulls. His other hand tugged and squeezed his aching balls as filthy fantasies spilled from his plump, bitten lips.
He pictured you on your knees, taking every inch down your warm, eager throat like a good girl. He pictured you watching his videos while he fucked you senseless with his fingers. He pictured you creaming and squirting all over his cock as he claimed you completely.
Hwa's strokes grew frantic, hips snapping up hard. A strangled, broken moan tore from his throat, as he finally cum. Thick, pearly ropes of cum erupted from the swollen head in long, messy jets, painting the pillow in glistening streaks. He kept grinding through it, smearing the warm load everywhere until the silk was completely ruined and shining with his sperm.
Even then, he wasn’t done.
Seonghwa scooped up the creamy mess of his cum from his sculpted abs with two fingers and brought the glistening digits straight to his mouth, smearing the pearly load obscenely across his plump lips and tongue before sucking them clean with loud, wet, filthy sounds.
“Look what you did to me, baby…” Seonghwa exhaled shakily, his siren eyes half-lidded and glazed with bliss. He looked like he had just finished a long, filthy porn shoot, flushed, spent, and glistening with sweat and cum. “You made Daddy so fucking dirty… made me milk out so much sperm for you.”
He scooped another thick rope from the swollen, throbbing head of his cock and pushed it between his lips, sucking greedily while moaning softly around his own load. Hwa moaned softly at the warm, milky-salty taste coating his tongue, eyes fluttering shut in pure bliss. He could already picture it so clearly — feeding every thick drop to you one day. Making you lick it slowly from his fingers, from the swollen head of his cock, from his lips… all while he praised you in that low, velvet voice, telling you what a good little cumslut you were for Daddy.
The taste of his release only made him hungrier for the real thing — for you.
When the last tremors finally faded, Seonghwa lay sprawled across the bed, chest heaving, golden skin flushed and glistening with sweat. His cock still twitched lazily against his toned stomach, heavy and spent.
By the time his mind cleared, the laughter and music throughout the house had completely died down, leaving everything wrapped in a thick, sleepy silence.
“Damn…” Seonghwa muttered hoarsely, dragging a tired hand over his face and pushing the damp blond strands away from his eyes. With heavy limbs he forced himself out of bed and headed straight for the shower.
After cleaning up just enough to look presentable again, then slipped another set of luxurious silk pyjamas. Still barefoot, he padded quietly down the hallway toward the kitchen for a glass of water.
He was reaching into the fridge when he heard the soft sound of bare footsteps behind him.
Seonghwa turned slowly… and there you were.
You stood in the doorway wearing nothing but the tiny silk pajama set he had chosen himself, the delicate fabric barely containing your body. The champagne glass trembled slightly in your hand, and your big, beautiful eyes were wide, locked onto him.
Seonghwa’s gaze sharpened instantly, turning dark as it dragged slowly down your body. He drank in every soft curve, the way your nipples had hardened beneath the thin silk, practically begging for his mouth to latch on and suck them until they were swollen and cherry-red. His eyes continued lower, tracing the smooth expanse of bare skin and the dangerously short hem that barely covered the lush, plump curve of your ass.
You looked like every filthy fantasy he had just fucked that pillow to.
And for the first time tonight, the two of you were completely, dangerously alone.
The kitchen suddenly felt impossibly small, the air thick and electric with everything neither of you had dared to say out loud.
You stood frozen in the doorway, champagne glass cool against your clammy palm, while Seonghwa leaned against the counter like he owned the darkness itself. His silk top clung to the faint sheen of sweat still drying on his golden skin, unbuttoned dangerously low to reveal the sharp cut of his collarbones. Long, angry scratch marks raked across his shoulders — fresh, red lines left by someone’s nails in the heat of passion. The sight sent a sharp, bitter taste spread across your tongue.. Had he been with someone else while you were all laughing in the living room? No… he had been right there with you the whole time. So… had he made them himself?
His blond hair was a tousled wreck, eyes darker than you had ever seen them — predatory, unblinking, dragging slowly over every inch of you.
You could feel the heat of his stare burning across your skin like a slow caress.
It was so new, so hellishly captivating, that for a breathless moment you forgot how to breathe, a molten wave of excitement flooding through your body. That devilish sparkle dancing deep in his eyes only made it worse. If he kept looking at you like that — dark, knowing, and utterly starving — you would have melted right there on the kitchen floor into a slick, trembling puddle of pure lust.
The raw hunger in his gaze made your needy little hole throb with fresh urgency. Filthy images flooded your mind: him bending you over the counter without a word, yanking those tiny shorts down your legs, and burying his face between your thighs until you were dripping down his chin, moaning and begging for more.
But those were just your little fantasies. Because all Mr. Park did was give you that same soft, shy smile he had worn earlier and gesture vaguely at the fridge.
“I couldn’t sleep.” He said, voice low and a little embarrassed. “Thought a glass of warm milk might help…” Milk? Seriously? The word hung in the charged air, so absurdly innocent it almost made you laugh. “Did I wake you?” Hwa added quickly, trying to smooth over the awkwardness. A faint blush colored his handsome cheeks, giving him that gentle, sweet charm that looked almost ridiculous next to how sinful he still looked — flushed skin, scratch marks, and that dark, predatory glint in his eyes. “Or couldn’t you sleep either? Everyone passed out ages ago.”
“No, it's fine.” You replied, stepping into the kitchen on shaky legs. “It was all just… a bit much. I couldn’t get to sleep.”
The small talk started — safe, ridiculous, pointless, while desire pulsed hot and heavy between your legs and his eyes kept drifting down to the way you kept squeezing your thighs together, as if that could possibly hide how soaked your pretty little pussy had become. He asked about the champagne. You mumbled something about it being too sweet. He laughed softly, the sound low, velvet, rough, and said he had picked the pink one because it reminded him of something pretty.
You both knew exactly what he meant.
The tension between you was thick enough to taste — heavy, crackling, alive. You opened your mouth to say something normal, anything to ease the unbearable awkwardness of the moment, but the words that spilled out were disastrous and irreversible.
“I’ve seen your films.” Holy shit. Your face burned instantly, stomach twisting into a painful knot. You wanted to die on the spot, to sink straight through the tiles, to run and hide forever beneath the pile of pink cushions and glitter in Misol’s bedroom.
Seonghwa froze completely, as though someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over him. Then a low, dark chuckle rumbled from his throat — half-ashamed, half-starving. He rubbed the back of his neck, the expensive silk pulling tight across his chest, and when his eyes met yours again the predator was fully awake. Pupils blown wide, gaze locked on you like prey he had been stalking for months.
“Did you like what you saw?” He whispered, so low and hoarse the words barely reached you. His voice was pure velvet soaked in sin — dark honey laced with poison, carrying a dangerous, almost demonic undertone that promised every filthy thing he wanted to do to you. It wrapped around you like smoke, pulling you in the way moths are helplessly drawn to flame.
The air between you ignited, flaring hot as hellfire, thick with crackling tension and forbidden desire. You could barely breathe, let alone speak. Every inhale dragged slowly and heavy through your lungs. This couldn’t be real. It had to be a fever dream — the kind that left you soaked and aching when you woke up alone in the dark.
Mr. Park was standing so close now that the warmth rolling off his body sank straight into your skin. His half-open silk shirt brushed against the lace on your pajamas, and the faint, intoxicating scent of his sweat, dried cum, and rich perfume clung to him like the filthiest secret. His eyes were black fire, slowly devouring every shaky rise of your chest and every subtle shift of your thighs.
You didn’t answer. The words were trapped somewhere between your brain and your tongue, because all you could do was stare at his lavish, lewd mouth and imagine it on you — licking, sucking, owning.
The silence stretched one heartbeat too long.
Seonghwa jerked back like you’d burned him, spinning away so fast the silk of his shirt flared open wider across his chest. His shoulders went rigid, the powerful muscles in his back flexing hard beneath the thin fabric as he dragged a hand through his messy blond hair.
“Fuck, I’m so sorry.” He stammered, voice shaky and raw. “Listen, darling… I mean, Y/N. That was… I shouldn’t have. I didn’t mean to push like that. It’s the alcohol, I just...shit, I’m gonna go…” He was already stepping toward the hallway, bare feet hurrying across the cold floor, elegant shoulders hunched like he was trying to vanish back into the shadows the way he had all night.
But your hand shot out before your brain could catch up. Your fingers caught the hem of his silk shirt and yanked him to a halt. The fabric was smooth, opulent, still warm and damp from his earlier sweat, and it clung to your skin like it never wanted you to let go.
“Yes.” You breathed, voice trembling yet steady. The dam inside you finally broke, and every filthy, secret thought you’d kept locked away for so long came pouring out in a hot, unstoppable rush. “Yes… I loved it. So much. I imagined you doing every single thing to me. Every single night. I came so hard thinking about you Mr. Park, squirted all over my sheets, soaking everything, because I couldn’t stop picturing your thick cock splitting me open. I fucked myself stupid with toys, none of which could ever compare to you, watching your videos on repeat, pretending it was you stretching my tight little cunt, my ass, my throat… filling me until my belly swelled with your cum. I wanted you to claim me, Mr. Park. I wanted it so fucking badly.”
The effect on him was instant and devastating.
Seonghwa’s whole body locked up, then shuddered violently like you’d struck a live wire. A broken, guttural sound tore from his throat — half moan, half desperate whine as his head fell back and his eyes rolled for a heartbeat before squeezing shut in pure bliss. His chest heaved, brown, sugary nipples tight against the open silk, the front of his pants tenting obscenely as fresh pre-cum soaked through the fabric.
“Tell me more, baby.” He rasped, the plea wrecked and starving, as if he were the one on his knees now. “Please… fuck, tell me everything.”
Sudden courage surged through you like liquid fire — bold, reckless, and burning away every last shred of hesitation and shame. You stepped forward and pressed your body tightly against his back, the warmth of him sinking into your skin as your hand slid shamelessly down his stomach and straight into the front of his pants.
Your fingers wrapped tight around his thick, throbbing length. He was burning hot, velvet-steel, pulsing so violently against your palm you felt every vein swelled. The silk was completely ruined, soaked with pre-cum that smeared warm and slippery over your fingers the second you stroked him once — slowly, deliberately and grubbly. And blimey, he felt so perfect beneath your touch.
Seonghwa’s hips jerked forward with a quiet, plaintive groan, his head dropping helplessly as another full-body shudder tore through him.
A slow, smug little smile curved your strawberry-red lips at the sound. Fuck, you couldn’t even pretend it didn’t turn you on.
‘I couldn't think of anything else...’ You purred sweetly; the sound of your voice was sultry and warm, like honey dripping onto his skin. Your hand tightened around his thick length, stroking him with long, languid pulls. Your thumb swirled over the swollen, leaking head through the silk, teasing the sensitive underside before pressing lightly into the slit, causing more pre-cum oozed out in thick, glossy drops, coating your fingers in a warm, slippery mess. “Only your fat cock… leaking for me, stretching my tight little cunt open while I screamed your name.” Your words hung in the charged air, sinful and shameless, wrapping around both of you like smoke.
His breathing turned ragged and broken, almost like soft sobs. His whole body shuddered violently against you, every hard muscle trembling and twitching as he lost control under your hand. Such a perfect and proper Mr. Park had completely unraveled, hips rolling helplessly into your fist like he was already fucking you right there against the counter.
“Keep going, angel,” he rasped, his voice completely shattered. “Don’t you dare stop… Tell Daddy how you fucked that pretty little pussy with your toys. Tell me how fucking wet you got for me, princess. How you dripped and soaked everything while you moaned my name like a desperate little whore. I need it. I need every fucking detail.”
The sleepy silence of the kitchen was broken only by the wet, obscene schlick-schlick of your hand eagerly pumping his cock through the ruined silk and the broken, slutty whimpers falling spilling from his pretty mouth. But you wanted skin. You wanted every hot inch of him.
To hell with it. You shamelessly shoved your hand straight past the waistband, no fabric left between you, just hot, perfectly smooth skin and pure lust.
Your fingers wrapped around his bare cock, and the heavy, throbbing weight of it in your palm was so tempting that your mouth immediately filled with saliva. You licked your lips unconsciously, already imagining the creamy, rich taste of his cum pouring copiously from the tiny, pulsating slit at the plump, rounded tip. There was so much to worship — so much to lick, suck, choke on, and swallow until your belly was full of him.
A fresh rush of slick oozed from your greedy little cunt, soaking your silky folds and dripping down your thighs as you stroked him root to tip, slow and filthy. Your thumb swirled over the leaking head, twisting teasingly so more thick pre-cum spilled down to his heavy, velvety balls.
“God, Mr. Park…”You ou breathed, voice dripping with sin. “You’re so fucking big.” You squeezed tighter, pumping him faster, the disgustingly loud, wet slurping filling the quiet kitchen. “I love how you throb for me… how messy and leaky you get. I could jerk this fat cock for hours while I tell you every nasty thing I’ve dreamed about.”
Every word that left your lips only made you wetter, your greedy little cunt clenching around nothing as you imagined all the ways he could destroy you. You could feel your own slick dripping down your inner thighs, and the thought of him finding out just how soaked you were made you squeeze his cock even harder.
“The way you fuck in those videos… God, it should be illegal.” You breathed, voice thick with lust. “How is any girl supposed to stay indifferent when you look like that? Hips snapping so hard, that perky, firm ass up in the air, moaning like a desperate little whore… It turns me on so fucking much.” You squeezed his throbbing cock tighter, stroking him faster as your own words made your pussy clench. “But what I want most is this cock ruining me. I want to drop to my knees right here and worship it — suck you so deep until I’m choking and crying, while you fuck my throat.” Your lips brushed the warm, honey skin on his shoulder as you whispered the last part, voice trembling with need. “Please, Mr. Park… Seonghwa… let me.”
Before you could even react, he yanked your hand out of his pants, spun you roughly, and slammed you against his chest. One elegant hand collared your delicate throat, fingers pressing just hard enough to make your pulse hammer wildly against his palm. His other hand banded around your waist, crushing you to him even closer so every rigid, throbbing inch of his cock ground hot and heavy against your lower stomach through the thin silk.
Seonghwa didn’t kiss you. He devoured you. His mouth crashed down on yours, tongue shoving past your lips in a filthy, wet slide, claiming every inch of your mouth like he owned it. Without warning, he pulled back just enough to spit a thick, warm glob of saliva straight onto your waiting tongue, watching with dark satisfaction as it landed heavy and glistening. Then he dove back in, licking his own spit from your mouth with long, obscene strokes, sucking on your tongue like he wanted to consume you whole. It was messy, desperate, drool already spilling down your chin and onto your heaving tits as he fucked your mouth with his tongue and bit your lower lip hard enough to draw blood.
When he finally ripped away, you were gasping, lips swollen and glistening with his spit. His eyes were pure black hunger, darker and more ravenous than before as if tasting you had only made him starve for the rest of you.
“Just look at you…” Seonghwa growled against your lips, his voice low and velvet-wrapped darkness.“Such a naughty little slut, confessing every filthy fantasy to Daddy. No shame at all, hmm?” His grip on your throat tightened possessively, thumb stroking your racing pulse as that devilish smirk curved his lips. “You really thought I’d let you drop to your knees and suck me off just like that? Oh no, princess. First you’re going to earn it. You’re going to work that greedy little cunt on my cock until you’re shaking and dripping for me.” He leaned in closer, lips brushing your ear. “I’m going to fuck your pretty princess pussy so hard you’ll feel me for days.”
He didn’t wait for your answer. His hand stayed clamped around your throat as he dragged you down the dark hallway toward the guest bedroom, your bare feet scrambling to keep up on the cool floor. Three steps in and his self-control completely shattered. Seonghwa shoved you hard against the wall, roughly yanked your silk top over your head, and ripped the tiny shorts down your legs in one brutal tug. You were naked in seconds, your perky tits heaving and lasciviously swayed with every shaky breath, your pretty pussy swollen and glistening, warm slick already dripping down your thighs in shiny, obscene trails.
Seonghwa spat loudly into his palm, then slapped his wet hand straight between your legs. Two long fingers dragged slowly through your silky, soaked folds, spreading his warm spit and your sticky arousal everywhere, coating your swollen lips and clit until everything was slick and messy. He cupped your entire pussy in his palm and squeezed hard, possessively — claiming you completely — letting you feel just how drenched and desperate your greedy little cunt was for him.
No one had ever touched you like that before, and fuck… it felt so bloody good.
“Fuck, listen to how wet you are for me, little princess.” Seonghwa growled, his moist, plump lips brushing against the delicate skin of your earlobe with every word, sending hot shivers racing down your spine and making your pussy clench greedily around nothing. His fingers rubbed slow, dirty circles over your swollen clit before sinking knuckle-deep inside you with a loud, obscene squelch. “Every time you came over to our house, sweetheart, I used to fantasize about bending you over the nearest surface and destroying this pretty little pussy until you couldn’t walk straight.” He slapped your soaked cunt sharply — once, twice, the wet smacks echoing down the hallway as your hips jerked and another gush of slick coated his fingers.
“You’re such a Miss Sugar Pink.” Seonghwa growled against your ear, voice low and filthy. “I’ve been losing my mind wondering how creamy and honeyed this pretty pussy would taste, how hotly and intensely you’ll squirt.” His fingers curled deep inside you with a disgusting slurping sound, stroking that perfect spot until your knees threatened to buckle. “Fuck, I’m going to ruin you so good, angel.” He promised darkly. “Gonna stretch this tight little cunt until it only remembers the shape of my cock. You’re never going to want anyone else after I’m done with you. I want to own you, princess,” Seonghwa growled, voice dark and possessive. “Every hole. Every moan. Every fucking inch of you.” Mr. Park's purring, extremely sexual voice vibrates against your heated skin like an electric shock, sending waves of arousal straight to your lustful, yearning vagina. His fingers curled viciously inside you, hitting that perfect spot over and over until your walls trembled and clenched greedily around him, trying desperately to keep him buried deep. “And now I’m going to.” With a filthy, wet pop he yanked his fingers out, spun you around, and slammed your back against the wall.
His hand immediately dove between your legs again, cupping your dripping pussy possessively, rubbing slow, dirty circles over your swollen clit while his mouth crashed into yours once more.
You moaned lewdly into the kiss, one hand fisting his blond hair, the other wrapping tight around his throbbing cock, stroking him fast and greedy. You stayed like that for long, dizzy minutes — bodies grinding desperately, tongues sliding wet and messy, his fingers spanking your soaked cunt while you jerked his leaking cock, both of you lost in raw, filthy need.
“Oh God… I’m gonna squirt if you keep...” You whined desperately into his mouth, voice breaking.
Seonghwa ripped his lips away from yours, breathing hard. He slowed down, lazily pulled his fingers out of your dripping pussy, leaving your greedy little hole quivering and empty. Without a word, he lifted his slick, glistening fingers to your mouth. You didn’t even think. Your lips parted obediently and you sucked them in deep, tasting yourself — sweet, tangy, and filthy — bobbing your head and moaning around his fingers exactly like you would around his cock.
“You’re driving me fucking crazy…” Seonghwa groaned, eyes rolling back as a guttural moan tore from his throat. “I want you so badly.” He dragged you the last few feet down the hall, kicked the guest bedroom door open, and shoved you inside.
The moment the door clicked shut behind you, Mr. Park didn’t waste a single second.
You never made it to bed. Instead, he pinned you right back against the wall, one muscular thigh shoving between yours to spread you wide open. His elegant fingers slid back between your legs, but this time the rhythm turned slow, deliberate, almost reverent — teasing you with lazy, heated strokes that made your soaked folds part so easily for him.
He was bold now, completely shameless. His wet fingertips slid down, right between your buttocks, teased over your tight little asshole, circling the sensitive ring once, twice, slow and deliberate, before sliding back up and sinking knuckle-deep into your dripping cunt again. The wet, filthy sounds of him fingering you filled the soft, enveloping darkness of the bedroom — loud, obscene slurping and smacking that echoed off the walls. You were sure the sleeping girls upstairs could hear every single wet thrust of his fingers if they weren’t already passed out.
You didn’t give a single fuck if they could hear.
They could have dragged chairs into the hallway, popped open more champagne, and settled in with popcorn to watch the show — you would have given them one hell of a performance. The only thought that still flickered in the back of your mind was Misol… but even that fragile worry melted away under the hot, frenzied intensity of Mr. Park’s hands on you.
Your mouths stayed locked in a sloppy, desperate kiss the entire time — tongues sliding wetly, spit dripping messily down your chins and onto your heaving tits, teeth nipping at swollen lips. Every time his fingers curled deep inside you, you moaned shamelessly into his mouth and he swallowed every sound like he was starving for it, grinding his rock-hard cock against your hip through the ruined silk.
Then he pulled back just enough to growl against your lips, voice low and commanding.
“Stick your tongue out for me, princess.”
You obeyed instantly, mouth falling open, tongue sliding out pink and waiting like an offering.
Seonghwa stared down at you with pure hunger, then slowly, deliberately spat a thick, warm glob of saliva right onto the center of your tongue. It landed heavy and glistening, slowly trickling back toward your throat. But before you could even taste it, he leaned in with a guttural groan and licked it right off — his tongue dragging slow and filthy over yours, claiming every drop of his own spit like he owned your mouth. The deep moan that vibrated from his chest into yours was pure sin as he kissed you even messier, tongues tangling and sucking greedily, drool spilling down your chin.
You were shaking, your pussy clenching rhythmically around his fingers, when the words finally tumbled out in a broken, filthy whimper.
“I want it all, Daddy… I want your tongue, your cock, your fingers, give me everything.”
Seonghwa moans like you just knocked the air out of his lungs. The sound is raw, shocked, and so fucking turned on it makes his cock twitch violently against your thigh. He fucking loved it. Loved that you weren’t some shy little girl, blushing and hiding under his gaze. No, you were a greedy, dripping slut who looked him straight in the eyes while begging for his cock, his tongue, and every filthy thing he could give you.
“You’re such a greedy little slut, aren’t you?” He rasped, voice wrecked and dripping with praise as he pumped his fingers deeper, scissoring you open with wet, filthy sounds. “We can try 69, baby… you can sit on my face and smother me with that pretty pussy while your hot little tongue works my cock like a good girl.”
“I want to see your handsome face while you lick my pussy, Daddy.” You cut him off, bold and shameless, eyes locked on him.
The words hit him like lightning. Seonghwa’s entire body trembled hard. His fingers stuttered inside you for a heartbeat, eyes rolling back as a deep, animalistic groan ripped from his chest. When his gaze snapped back to yours it was feral — pupils blown wide, pure starved bliss written across his face. His plump lips parted on a heavy pant, tongue darting out to lick the taste of you off them.
“Goddamn, princess…” He breathed, voice hoarse and reverent. “You really are fucking perfect. Sweet and slutty and all mine.”
You didn’t have time to react before Seonghwa yanked his fingers out with a wet, obscene squelch, lifted you clean off the floor like you weighed nothing, and threw you onto the bed. The mattress bounced beneath you as he climbed on top, crawling up your body with dark, predatory intent. His blond hair fell messily into his eyes, a silk shirt hanging open over his flushed, sweaty chest. And for the first time that night, you finally saw him — the real Seonghwa. But the man from the screen. The top porn star, the one who fucked like a god and ruined anyone lucky enough to end up beneath him.
His strong hands easily shoved your thighs wide apart, spreading you obscenely for him. Hwa stared down at your dripping pussy like a starving man about to devour his last meal.
“You want to see my face while I eat this pretty cunt?” He growls, lowering himself between your legs until his hot breath fans over your soaked folds. His siren eyes stay locked on yours the entire time — dark, hungry, unblinking. “Then watch me, baby. Watch Daddy make you scream.” His tongue drags up your slit in one long, filthy stripe, and that’s how a real party gets started.
Seonghwa didn’t tease. Hwa pulled you down hard, forcing your swollen, dripping pussy to press his face completely. The moment your soaked folds pressed flush against his mouth, a deep, guttural moan rumbled from his chest, vibrating straight through your core and making your thighs tremble. His plush lips sealed hungrily around your throbbing clit, sucking it into the wet heat of his mouth while his long, sinful tongue flicked and swirled with shameless greed. Mr. Park ate you like a man completely starved so fucking loud, messy, and utterly obscene — slurping and licking every drop of your slick as if it were the most addictive nectar he’d ever tasted.
He spat directly onto your pussy, watching the thick, warm glob of saliva slowly mix with your creamy juices before he dove back in like a man possessed. His long tongue fucked deep into your clenching hole, thrusting in and out with wet, obscene strokes while he slurped and sucked every drop of your slick like it was his favorite drug. The room filled with the loudest, filthiest sounds — messy slurping, greedy sucking, and his constant low, hungry moans vibrating straight against your core.
Every time you tried to lift your hips even slightly, his strong hands gripped harder and yanked you back down, smothering his face completely in your dripping pussy until his cheeks, chin, and nose were shiny and glistening with your arousal.
“Fuck, you taste so fucking good, princess.” He groaned against your folds, voice muffled and rough with pleasure. He sucked your swollen clit hard again, then dragged his tongue lower, licking a slow, filthy stripe over your tight little asshole before spitting on it too. Hwa alternated between devouring your pussy and rimming you with shameless hunger, moaning like he couldn’t decide which part of you he wanted to ruin first. His own cock twitched and leaked steadily against his stomach, hips bucking uselessly into the mattress as he lost himself completely in eating you alive.
You were shaking uncontrollably, thighs trembling on either side of his head, soft desperate whimpers spilling from your lips every time his tongue pushed inside you. You couldn’t stop grinding down on his mouth, chasing every flick and thrust of his wicked tongue like the greedy little slut he was turning you into.
You didn’t even get a chance to catch your breath before Seonghwa let out a low, feral growl and flipped you both in one smooth motion. He dropped onto his back and dragged you up his body until your sweet, dripping pussy hovered right over his face. Strong hands gripped your hips and yanked you down hard, forcing you to sit fully on his mouth — your swollen, soaked folds pressed flush against his plump lips and eager tongue.
“Come on, princess, ride me.” He rasps, the low growl sinking straight into your aching core. “Use my face like you’ve been dreaming about. Make me your plaything.”
You don’t hesitate. Your fingers twist tight into his thick blond hair, and you roll your hips forward, dragging your slick, swollen folds over his waiting tongue in slow, filthy circles. The first broad, velvet stroke of his tongue drags from your dripping entrance all the way up to your pulsing clit, ripping a sharp, broken moan from your throat as your back arches hard.
He devours you messy, ravenous, utterly without shame. His tongue spears deep into your tight hole, fucking in and out with wet, obscene thrusts while the bridge of his nose grinds perfectly against your throbbing little bud. He sucks your plump, glistening lips into his hot mouth, tongue swirling and flicking without mercy, then pulls back just enough to lash quick, cruel strokes across your swollen clit until your thighs shake violently around his head.
“Fuck, Mr. Park...” You moan, grinding down harder, smearing your dripping arousal all over his chin, his flushed cheeks, and that pretty, ruined mouth. “You eat cunt so fucking good… I watched that video so many times and all I could think about was this. Your tongue buried inside me, licking me open, forcing me to leak down your throat. I touched myself every single night imagining exactly how you’d ruin me with your mouth… and it’s so much better. So much fucking better.” Your filthy praise pulls a loud, muffled groan from deep in his chest. He snarls against your soaked flesh and eats you even more viciously.
One hand slides up to roughly knead your breast, pinching and twisting your nipple until it throbs with heat. Sharp little smacks land on the soft underside of your tit, making it bounce and sting beautifully, while his other hand grips your ass hard and spreads you wide open for him. His tongue teases lower, circling the tight, untouched ring of muscle with wicked little flicks before plunging back into your greedy pussy with loud, sloppy, obscene sounds.
You ride his face without a shred of shame now — hips rolling and bucking, your slick cunt sliding messily over his tongue and lips, clit dragging across his nose with every filthy grind. Your fingers yank tighter in his hair, using it like reins as you fuck his mouth exactly the way you need. Seonghwa never slows. He only moans louder, lapping and sucking and swallowing every drop of your dripping nectar like it’s the most decadent thing he’s ever tasted, those dark, starving eyes locked upward on your face the entire time.
The pressure coils fast and brutal inside you.
“Seonghwa, fuck, I’m gonna cum on your tongue.” You let out a loud, unashamed moan, pulling Mr. Park by the hair and trembling all over. You felt as though you were on fire; all your senses were on edge; a sticky, tingling heat caressed your skin. Every movement of Hwa’s skilled tongue, gliding between your folds, plunged you deeper and deeper into the haze of pleasure. “You’re so good, daddy...so fucking perfect, eating my cunt like you were born to ruin it....ah....”
Seonghwa growls against your throbbing clit and sucks the swollen little pearl hard between his lips, flicking it with merciless, rapid strokes. That’s all it takes.
You shatter violently, squirting hard all over his gorgeous, godlike face. Hot, messy squirt floods his tongue and chin in pulsing waves, dripping in glossy rivulets down his neck as your hips jerk and grind through every brutal spasm. He moans like he’s the one falling apart, swallowing every sweet drop you feed him, tongue still lapping and working you through the orgasm until you’re trembling and whimpering helplessly above him.
But he’s nowhere near finished. With a wet, ragged gasp, Seonghwa shoves you off his mouth, flips you onto your back in one fluid motion, and crawls over you like a predator ready to devour. His blond hair is a soaked, tangled wreck, glistening with your slick; his lips are shiny, swollen, and obscene; his eyes are pure lust. He licks his lips slowly, staring down at your twitching, drenched slit as if he hadn’t yet satisfied his hunger.
“Fuck… look at you.” He breathes. He spits into his palm, wraps his hand around that big, throbbing cock, and strokes himself with slow, deliberate drags until every veined inch shines obscenely. Then he grabs your thighs, yanks you toward him, and folds you into a mating press—knees shoved back almost beside your ears, your soaked cunt completely exposed and lewdly open, offered up like a gift. “Gonna fuck you so deep like this, princess.” Seonghwa teases the fat, leaking head of his cock up and down your glistening folds, slapping it wetly against your clit twice before he lines himself up.“Gonna watch this greedy little hole take every inch while you’re bent in half for me.”
And with one slow, devastating thrust, he buries himself to the hilt inside you.
You’re folded completely beneath him, under his control, knees pressed almost to your head, and the first deep plunge knocks the breath straight from your lungs. Hwa sinks in with one smooth, merciless glide, stretching your fluttering walls so wide they clench and ripple around every thick inch. The wet, filthy squelch of your cunt swallowing him whole is downright obscene, and his heavy balls slap right against your swollen labia with a loud, lewd smack.
That’s when it hits you like lightning. This man is here for the long haul. There’s not a single hint of exhaustion in his body. His hips roll in a perfect, punishing rhythm—slow enough for you to feel every vein dragging along your sensitive inner walls, deep enough that the fat crown kisses your cervix on every stroke. His balls keep smacking against your labia, heavy and full, the skin already shining with your slick. Sweat traces down the sharp cuts of his abs, but his breathing stays steady, controlled, like he could fuck you for hours and and still won’t get enough.
Park Seonghwa is not a man with simple desires. And he proves it when he suddenly pulls out, hauls you clean off the bed with those long, elegant arms, and slams back inside while holding you suspended in mid-air.
Your back presses flush against his chest as he fucks you standing—fast, aggressive, hips snapping so hard your tits bounce wildly and your head falls back against his shoulder. The angle is lethal; his cock drags perfectly over that devastating spot inside you until your knees give out and your cunt explodes again. You squirt like a fountain, hot clear streams gushing down his thighs and splattering onto the floor while he just keeps pounding through it, growling filthy praise right against your ear.
Before you can even come down from the last shattering high, Seonghwa drags you off his cock, pulling out another weak squirt from your well-fucked pussy, and bends you over the edge of the bed, shoves your face into the mattress with a firm, unyielding hand between your shoulder blades.
Seonghwa positions you like a pro, just as he was. Years of working in the porn industry had honed his skills to perfection. Your plump, juicy butt arched high and offered to him for a new angle for penetration.
The break is barely noticeable, because Hwa drives back inside you with short, punishing thrusts that make your plump cheeks ripple and jiggle with every brutal impact. The loud, wet smack of his hips against your ass fills the room, his heavy, cum-slick balls slapping rhythmically against your swollen clit on every stroke.
A thick, creamy white ring already circles the base of his cock, proof of just how sloppy and ruined your greedy little hole has become. He’s already dragged you through orgasm after orgasm, pulling two violent squirts from you, and he still shows no sign of slowing.
Sex will never be the same for you again.
Because Seonghwa fucks like a goddamn expert who’s studied every way to break a woman apart. Every thrust is precise, every roll of his hips timed perfectly to wreck you completely. And you’re fucking loving every second of your own destruction.
He keeps you pinned there for a few more delicious, mind-melting minutes, pounding you into the mattress with relentless power—one hand fisted tight in your hair, the other gripping your hip so hard you know his fingerprints will bloom like filthy little reminders of the forbidden on your skin tomorrow. Then, without missing a single savage stroke, he yanks you upright, spins you around, and drops back onto the bed himself, cock still hard and gleaming with your slick.
“Come on, angel.” He growls, voice wrecked and dripping with raw, filthy hunger as he pulls you on top of him. “Cum for me again. I want to watch you gush all over me. Stretch that needy little cunt on my cock… ride me like you own every inch.” His hands lock around your waist, guiding you down until the fat, leaking head of his cock nudges your soaked entrance, waiting for you to sink onto him while those dark, predatory eyes devour every flicker of pleasure across your face.
You slide down onto Seonghwa’s thick cock in one greedy, eager plunge, taking every veined inch until he’s buried to the hilt inside your fluttering pussy.
Then you start to ride on him - hard and fast, hips snapping with desperate, sinful rolls that make your ass bounce and slap against his thighs. The wet, obscene smack of skin on skin echoes through the room, your creamy arousal coating his shaft and dripping in glossy rivulets down his heavy balls with every rise and fall.
“Fuck...I love it.” You gasp, voice fracturing. “You fuck me so fucking good, Hwa… so deep, so perfect. You’re completely ruining me like this.”
Seonghwa laughs, low and dark and delighted, that pretty mouth curling into a wicked smirk even as his gaze stays locked on the way your cunt stretches obscenely around his girth. His palm cracks down hard on your ass, the sharp smack blooming hot and stinging across your skin.
“Watch that filthy mouth, princess.” Hwa growls, voice rough with lust. “Or I’ll shut it up with my dick instead.”
“Yes, please, give me that dick in my mouth, Daddy. I want it.” You moan like you’ve been starving for him to say the words, thighs trembling as you ride him even faster.
The filthy promise sends you spiraling. Your cunt clamps down around him like a vice and you cum hard—squirting in violent, hot pulses that soak his abs, his thighs, and the sheets beneath him. Your whole body shakes uncontrollably, pleasure crashing through you so intense your vision whites out. You lean forward and sink your teeth into the smooth skin of his shoulder, biting down hard enough to leave dark, claiming marks.
Seonghwa doesn’t even flinch. He groans deep in his chest, hips still rolling up to meet every frantic grind of yours, fucking you through the orgasm like it’s nothing.
“One more, angel.” Seonghwa rasps hot against your ear, voice wrecked and dripping with wicked promise. “One more and I swear I’ll give you a break.” That’s not entirely true, though.
You want to sob, actually break down and cry like the greedy little whore he’s turned you into, because you already know the brutal truth: no one else will ever fuck you like this again. Sex with anyone after Park Seonghwa will be ruined forever.
He drops you into it first, then kneels before you. With a rough grip on your thighs he throws your legs over the armrests, spreading you impossibly wide—your soaked, swollen slit on full display, glistening and completely exposed for him. It’s filthy. It’s new. And you fucking love how vulnerable it makes you feel.
Seonghwa’s thumbs glide over your slick, puffy folds, massaging the sensitive flesh in slow, firm circles before spreading them apart so nothing is hidden. He leans in and drags his tongue up your dripping seam in one long, hungry lick, then again, and again, devouring every drop of your mixed cum.
He mooed with satisfaction when a thick drop of your mucus dripped from your little hole straight onto his tongue, and only then Hwa pulled away, only to line himself up and push back inside you.
This time it’s different - slow, sensual, devastatingly intimate. His thick cock slides in inch by torturous inch until he’s buried to the hilt, stretching your walls open all over again. Seonghwa's body moves like liquid sin: rolling, fluid, powerful hips rising in perfect, languid strokes that drag the fat crown along every sensitive ridge inside you. It’s exactly like that first video you found. The same hypnotic rhythm, the same filthy grace.
You’ve never seen a man more devastatingly beautiful than Park Seonghwa in this moment. Sweat gleams across his chest, blond hair plastered to his forehead, lips parted and swollen as he stares straight into your eyes with pure, dark hunger.
He keeps that slow, rolling pace, fucking you like he has all night, one hand still holding your cunt spread wide while the other lifts to his mouth. He looks you dead in the eyes as he slowly, sloppily licks his thumb—long, wet drags of his tongue, making it shine with spit, sucking it between his plump lips like the filthiest vow.
You already know exactly what he’s about to do.
He keeps that sensual rhythm inside your throbbing pussy, hips moving like molten heat, cock stroking every inch of your walls. Then his spit-slick thumb presses against your tight little asshole and sinks in—slow, deliberate, stretching you open while he continues to fuck your pussy at the same time.
The dual fullness makes your eyes roll back; you feel so completely stuffed, so utterly claimed, and he strokes that thick thumb in perfect sync with his cock, curling it just right, turning you into a whimpering, leaking wreck.
His breathing grows ragged against your skin as he gets more and more desperate. His mouth latches onto one of your nipples, sucking hard, tongue swirling and flicking the stiff peak while his teeth graze just enough to make you jolt. Seonghwa’s claiming both your holes now—deep, sensual thrusts into your cunt, steady strokes of that thumb in your ass—and the wet, filthy symphony of it fills the room: the slick glide of his cock, the obscene squelch of his thumb, your broken moans tangling with his low groans.
You cum together. Your orgasm slams into you like a tidal wave. Your cunt clamps down around his cock like a vice, squirting so hard and so violently that clear, hot streams gush out around his shaft, soaking his abs, his thighs, and the chair beneath you. Black spots explode across your vision; the pleasure is so overwhelming you almost black out, body shaking uncontrollably, thighs quivering over the armrests. All you can feel is him—shot after thick, heavy shot of warm cum flooding deep into your pussy, pulse after pulse as he fills you to the brim and beyond. Seonghwa moans loud and broken against your chest, hips stuttering up into you as he empties himself completely, pumping you full until you’re overflowing and dripping down his balls.
He doesn’t pull away. Still buried to the hilt, still thumb-deep in your ass, he blindly seeks your mouth and crashes into a disgustingly wet kiss—tongues sliding sloppy and desperate, spit dripping down your chins while you both ride out the endless aftershocks.
You stay tangled like that for several long, hazy minutes, panting into each other’s mouths, bodies slick and shining with sweat and cum. Then Seonghwa finally eases his spent cock from your wrecked cunt and slips his thumb free. Immediately a thick, creamy river of his release spills out of you — pearly white and obscene, dripping in heavy, glossy strands onto the chair and floor below. Neither of you cares. You’re both too blissed-out, too thoroughly used to bother with anything except the raw, sticky afterglow.
He stands up slowly, legs still steady despite everything he’s done to you, and you get the perfect, mouth-watering view of his gorgeous body as he crosses to the dresser. Broad shoulders tapering into a slutty, sculpted waist, the elegant line of his spine, and — fuck — that firm, perfect ass flexing with every step. Your mouth waters even though your body is screaming that it’s already been spoiled and utterly ruined.
Seonghwa plucks a cigarette from the pack on the dresser, lights it with a soft click of the lighter, then drops back onto the bed, spreading his long limbs out like a satisfied king on his throne. His cock lies thick and heavy against his thigh, still semi-hard, glistening with the messy evidence of how hard you both came. Fresh saliva floods your mouth at the sight.
Somehow you manage to push yourself up from the chair, legs shaky and aching, his warm cum still leaking in slow, sinful trails down your inner thighs. You crawl onto the bed on trembling hands and knees, collapsing beside him with a soft, wrecked little sigh.
“I didn’t know you smoked, Mr. Park.” You rasp, voice hoarse from screaming his name, but there’s a playful little lilt on the title that makes his lips twitch.
Seonghwa takes a slow drag, smoke curling lazily from those plump, seductive lips, and gives you a heavy, siren-eyed look — dark and hooded, promising every filthy thing he still wants to do to you.
“You don’t know a lot about me, angel.” He exhales slowly, watching the way your gaze follows the smoke. “Only the parts where the cunt was good… and yours?” His smirk deepens, dark and satisfied. “Yours is fucking divine.”
You giggle softly, the sound low and breathless, as you crawl closer across the rumpled sheets. Your body feels heavy, limbs loose and deliciously sore, but you can’t resist the pull of him. Seonghwa looks so sinfully beautiful lounging there — naked, skin gleaming with sweat and the faint sheen of your combined release, that thick, heavy length resting against his thigh like it’s already plotting round two.
The cozy, single-father mask is completely shattered. All that’s left is the depraved porn star underneath: blond hair a wrecked mess, lips swollen, dark siren eyes half-lidded with satisfaction and lingering hunger.
“How are you still this hard after all that?” You murmur. “You fucking destroyed me. My whole body aches…"
Seonghwa’s lips curve into a slow, amused smirk. He takes another lazy drag, smoke curling past those plush lips as he exhales with a soft chuckle that vibrates through his chest.
“Angel.” The voice sticks to your skin like a kiss of love, so honeyed and sweet. “I can fuck for hours. I did porn, you know?”
The words hang in the air, filthy and casual, and you both laugh — soft, lazy, the kind of laughter that feels like another slow kind of foreplay.
You trade a few more teasing, heated phrases, the conversation drifting easy and dirty between you. He mocks you for how loud you screamed when you squirted all over him; you call him a cocky bastard for lasting that long; he counters that your greedy little hole is addictive enough to keep him throbbing all night. Every word drips with heat, smoke, and the sticky sweetness of spent pleasure.
He takes another drag, lips parting slow and deliberate as he releases the smoke toward the ceiling. The way his throat works, the faint glow of the cigarette tracing the sharp line of his jaw — it hits you all over again. Fresh heat coils low in your belly, your ruined cunt giving a weak, interested flutter even though your thighs are still trembling.
“I want your dick in my mouth.” You whine, the words slipping out soft and sleepy, almost cute in how needy they sound. Your eyes are heavy, lashes fluttering, but your gaze stays locked on the thick length resting against his thigh.
Seonghwa’s eyes darken instantly. He stubs the cigarette out in the ashtray with a quiet click, then climbs onto the bed properly, the mattress dipping under his weight. Strong arms wrap around you, pulling you flush against his warm, solid chest. One hand strokes down your spine, gentle now, while the other cups the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair.
“How can I refuse you when you ask so sweetly, angel, hmm?” He murmurs against your temple, voice a low rumble that makes you shiver. “But you look so tired, baby… you can hardly keep your eyes open. Rest. I’ll be right here.”
He tucks you closer, lips brushing your hair, and for a moment it feels almost tender — until he leans in, mouth right against your ear, breath hot and wicked.
“And anyway, I like morning blowjobs better.” The promise lingers in the air between you, dark and delicious, sending one last shiver down your spine even as exhaustion pulls you under.
Seonghwa presses a soft kiss to your forehead, then another to your swollen lips, holding you securely against him as your breathing evens out.
The last thing you feel before sleep claims you is the steady beat of his heart against your cheek and the warm, possessive weight of his hand resting on your hip, fingers tracing lazy circles over your skin.
Tomorrow morning is going to be dangerous.
But right now, wrapped in Seonghwa’s arms, leaking his cum and aching in the sweetest way, you can’t bring yourself to care.
You drift off with a tiny, satisfied smile on your lips, already dreaming of waking up to that velvet voice and that thick cock waiting for your mouth.
you never fail to write scriptures so incredibly detailed and riddled with immense desire, lust, and desperation. from the characterization to the secret fantasies that quickly morph into reality—yet you somehow still manage to make it feel like some vivid wet dream. crazy whiplash. oh my fucking god, how I missed reading your worksss
I will definetely be binge-reading a shit ton tonight 😋 I wish nothing but love and a crazy ton of appreciation for both your existence and your ability to write so beautifully. you truly are my favorite author of all time ugffghhh
│reminder: what you’re about to read is purely fiction, so let’s keep it separate from reality.
!minors do not interact!
— hi there my lovely people! it feels like forever since i last posted, and oh god, i’m so happy to be back! my hiatus ended up lasting much longer than i intended, and coming back after such a long time is honestly nerve-wracking. this piece of writing took me a long time to complete, but i’m really proud of it. once again, it’s a hongjoong angst with a personal touch, and i think hongjoong will always have that cathartic role in my stories. i hope you guys can feel the emotions i’ve woven into it. thank you for sticking with me—i can’t wait to hear what you think.
love, mon ♡
It was late Thursday night. You were curled up on your bed, blanket wrapped tightly around you, staring blankly at the wall. It was unbearable. Was your mind numb, or was it so full of thoughts that they all clashed together, making you feel overwhelmed and empty simultaneously? You let yourself break again, letting the flood of thoughts and feelings consume you whole. You were drowning, unable to stop the spiral of despair that clawed at you.
Eighteen times.
Hongjoong ignored your calls eighteen times tonight.
And that was your breaking point.
You felt the weight of each ignored call like a stone in your chest, pressing down, making breathing hard. The silence from his end was deafening, drowning out even the sound of your own heartbeat. You wondered, with a bitter taste in your mouth, if this was what it felt like to be truly alone. It wasn't anything new, you spent your nights alone, most of them sleepless as the lack of warmth in your husband's body made it impossible to get some rest. After tossing and turning, you would eventually catch a few hours of sleep, only to wake up in an empty bed. The routine had become painfully familiar. The cold sheets on his side of the bed were a constant reminder of his absence. You'd reach out, hoping against hope, but your fingers would only meet the cool fabric, untouched and undisturbed.
Anyone would have thought you'd get used to it by now - Hongjoong leaving early for his office and coming back too late to spend time with you. But he would always text that he was doing extra hours or going out for a beer with friends. Tonight, however, was different. There was only radio silence. And nothing hurt more than the quiet. The absence of his usual messages left an ache in your chest that you couldn't ignore. You found yourself checking your phone obsessively, hoping for any sign of communication. But the screen remained stubbornly blank, a stark reminder of the growing distance between you.
As the hours ticked by, your mind raced with possibilities, each one more unsettling than the last. Was he okay? Had something happened? Or was this simply the new normal - a silence that spoke volumes about the state of your relationship?
The sound of the door creaking open finally pulled you from your thoughts. Through the narrow gap between the door and its frame, you saw a thin line of light, and then your eyes drifted up to see your husband. Hongjoong stepped into your shared apartment, his ginger hair damp from the rain. He ran his hand through it, pushing the wet strands away from his face, before peeling off his soaked beige coat and slipping off his shoes. You swallowed the lump rising in your throat at the sight of him, tears prickling your eyes again. You blinked rapidly, trying to push them back, gripping the blanket tighter as if it could shield you from the wave of emotions crashing inside you. The fabric pulled up to your chin, a flimsy barrier between you and the ache that had settled deep in your chest.
The light went out as Hongjoong moved further into the apartment, past the door of your bedroom without a word. He didn’t even glance in your direction. What was wrong? Or was he simply trying to avoid waking you, assuming you should be asleep instead of quietly falling apart? One way or another, it was far too late for him to walk back in like nothing had happened. The silence that followed felt colder than before, sinking into your already worn-out body.
You could hear him in the living room, the soft rustle of the wardrobe doors opening. Was he planning to sleep on the couch again tonight? You untangled yourself from the blanket, standing quietly before slipping out of the bedroom. The weight of exhaustion and frustration clung to you as you made your way to the kitchenette. You didn’t want to fight. Not tonight. You poured yourself a glass of cold water, grabbed the bottle of painkillers from one of the drawers, and swallowed a couple of pills, hoping they’d dull the throbbing in your head. You glanced at Hongjoong as you set the glass down. He had stopped mid-motion, his hands frozen on the pillow he was arranging on the sofa. Your eyes met briefly, the silence between you thick with unspoken words. As you had guessed, he was indeed preparing to sleep on the couch tonight. The realization sent a fresh wave of pain through your chest. You averted your gaze, unable to bear the weight of his silent stare any longer. The distance between you felt insurmountable, even though you were just a few feet apart in the same room.
You stood in the dim light of the kitchen, hands gripping the edge of the counter as you tried to steady your breathing. Then, the words you’d been holding back for too long slipped out before you could stop them. "Where were you tonight?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. The question hung in the air, heavy with the weight of all the unanswered calls and unread messages.
You took a deep breath, steadying yourself before continuing. "I called you eighteen times, Hongjoong. Eighteen. And not once did you pick up or call back. What's going on?" Your eyes met his again, searching for any sign of explanation or remorse. "Are we... are we okay?" The last question came out softer, more vulnerable, betraying the fear that had been gnawing at you all night. The words felt like they had a life of their own, carrying the weight of nights spent alone, of unanswered calls, and of the slow unraveling of something you once thought was unbreakable. You didn’t dare turn around, didn’t want to see the look on his face. Whether it was guilt, anger, or indifference, you couldn’t handle any of it.
The silence stretched longer, and every second that ticked by only made your heart sink deeper.
Finally, you heard him shift behind you, his footsteps hesitant, as if he wasn’t sure how to approach the fragile moment. The tension in the room felt suffocating, but you stood your ground, gripping the counter tighter, waiting for him to say something—anything—to break the silence.
But nothing came.
Tired. You were both tired—of the silence, of the distance, of pretending everything was fine when it clearly wasn’t. You weren’t sure how much longer you could keep this up, but at that moment, you didn’t have the strength to do anything more than stand there, waiting for an answer that might never come.
You didn’t turn around as you felt his presence behind you, the warmth of his body radiating in the small space between you. You held your breath, waiting for him to say something, to explain, to apologize—anything to break the suffocating silence that had enveloped you both. One of your hands traveled to your temple, trying to massage away the pounding headache that wouldn’t relent, as if easing the physical pain might somehow dull the ache in your heart too.
The silence dragged on, and you could feel him standing there, just out of reach, but still not saying a word. It was suffocating, the space between you filled with unspoken thoughts, unresolved arguments, and the growing distance that neither of you seemed able to close.
"I kept waiting. Waiting for you to call back, to walk through the door, to say something—anything." you continued, voice trembling as you let your hand fall from your temple, now gripping the edge of the counter again.
Hongjoong let out a breath behind you, but it was small, almost inaudible. You could sense his guilt, but guilt alone wasn’t enough to bridge the gap. "I didn’t know what to say," he admitted softly, his voice barely above a whisper, and you could hear the weight of his own struggle in it.
"You didn’t know what to say?" You turned around slowly, finally meeting his eyes. Your own were burning, a mixture of exhaustion, anger, and desperation swirling together. "Do you think that makes it any better? That just... ignoring me was the right thing to do?"
He looked down, running a hand through his damp hair again. His hesitation was killing you. You needed him to fight for this, to fight for you.
The silence stretched between you, thick and heavy. Hongjoong's eyes finally met yours, a storm of emotions swirling in their depths. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words seemed to catch in his throat.
"Are you giving up on us?" The words tumbled out of your mouth, raw and vulnerable. Your eyes searched his face, desperate for any sign that he still cared, that there was still something worth fighting for.
Hongjoong's eyes snapped up to meet yours, a flicker of pain crossing his features. For a moment, he looked as lost and scared as you felt. The silence stretched between you, heavy with unspoken fears and fading hopes. "I..." he started; his voice barely audible. He swallowed hard, struggling to find the right words. "I want a divorce, Y/N," Hongjoong finally said, his voice cracking slightly as he forced the words out.
The world seemed to stop spinning for a moment. You felt as if all the air had been sucked out of the room, leaving you gasping. Your eyes widened in disbelief, searching his face for any sign that this was some cruel joke. But all you saw was a mixture of pain, guilt, and resignation in his eyes.
"What?" you whispered, barely able to form the word. Your hands gripped the counter behind you, needing something solid to hold onto as your world crumbled around you.
Hongjoong took a deep breath, his shoulders sagging as if the weight of his words was physically pulling him down.
You felt tears welling up in your eyes, a lump forming in your throat. All those ignored calls, the nights spent alone, the growing distance - it all suddenly made sense in the worst possible way. The realization hit you like a tidal wave, leaving you struggling to stay afloat in the sea of emotions threatening to drown you.
"A divorce?" The word felt foreign on your tongue, heavy and bitter. You shook your head, tears now flowing freely down your cheeks. "How... how long have you been thinking about this?" Your voice was barely above a whisper, trembling with the weight of your shattered world.
Hongjoong's eyes flickered with a mix of guilt and sadness as he answered, his voice low and strained. "For a while now... I've been trying to find the right moment, but there never seemed to be one." He paused, running a hand through his hair, a gesture that once seemed endearing but now felt like a painful reminder of what you were losing.
The words hit you like a physical blow, and suddenly, all the pain and frustration you'd been holding back came rushing to the surface. Your eyes flashed with anger as you stepped towards him.
"Empty promises," you spat, your voice quivering with emotion. "Is that what our vows meant to you? Because I meant every single word, I said on our wedding day!" Hongjoong flinched at the intensity of your words, but you couldn't stop. The floodgates had opened. "I said I wanted to spend forever with you, Hongjoong. Forever! And I meant it with every fiber of my being. But for you? Were they just pretty words to say in front of our families and friends?" Your voice cracked, tears streaming down your face. "I promised you my life, my love, my everything. And you're throwing it all away like it meant nothing. Was any of it real for you?"
The silence that followed was deafening, heavy with the weight of broken promises and shattered dreams.
Hongjoong's shoulders slumped, his eyes cast downward as if he couldn't bear to meet your gaze. The weight of your words hung in the air between you, a tangible reminder of the promises made and now broken. When he finally spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper, filled with a mixture of regret and resignation. "It was real," he said, his voice barely audible. "But sometimes... sometimes love isn't enough." He paused, swallowing hard before continuing. "We've grown apart, Y/N. We're not the same people we were when we made those vows."
"Don't bullshit me now, Hongjoong! It was two years ago! Two years!" Your voice rose, trembling with a mixture of anger and disbelief. "Why did you even bother to fucking marry me if you were going to give up so easily?" Your words echoed in the small space between you, raw with emotion. Your hands were clenched at your sides, your whole body shaking with the force of your outburst. The tears that had been threatening to fall now streamed freely down your face. You searched Hongjoong's face, desperate for any sign that this was all a mistake, that he didn't really mean what he was saying. But all you saw was a mixture of guilt and resignation in his eyes, and it only fueled your anger and hurt more.
Hongjoong took a deep breath, his eyes meeting yours with a mix of sadness and determination. "I'm sorry, Y/N. I truly am. I didn't marry you with the intention of giving up. I thought... I thought we could make it work. But we've changed, grown apart. The passion, the connection we once had... it's not there anymore." He paused, running a hand through his hair. "I've tried, we've both tried, but it feels like we're just going through the motions. Don't you feel it too? The distance between us, even when we're in the same room?" His voice softened, a hint of vulnerability seeping through. "I didn't want to hurt you, but I realized that staying in a marriage that's lost its spark would hurt us both more in the long run. You deserve someone who can love you fully, completely. And I... I'm not that person anymore." Hongjoong's eyes glistened with unshed tears as he continued, "I know it's not fair. Two years isn't a long time, but it's been long enough for me to realize that we're not making each other happy anymore. And isn't that what marriage should be about? Happiness, growth, mutual support?" He took a shaky breath. "I'm sorry I couldn't be the person you needed me to be. I'm sorry I couldn't keep the promises I made. But I think... I think we both deserve a chance at real happiness, even if it means not being together."
You were at a loss for words, the reality of the situation sinking in. Finally, you managed to speak, your voice barely above a whisper, trembling with emotion. "No, I don't feel it too. What I feel is the desperate longing for you when you're not here. I love you, it never changed." You realized, with a crushing finality, that you would never hear him say he loves you again.
Swallowing hard, fighting back a fresh wave of tears, you spoke again, your voice hollow. "I'm going to pack my bags."
As you turned to leave, you felt a hand grasp your arm gently. Hongjoong's touch, once so familiar and comforting, now sent a jolt of pain through your heart. "Y/N, please..." His voice was barely above a whisper, filled with a mixture of desperation and regret. You froze, your back still to him. For a moment, you allowed yourself to feel the warmth of his hand, to remember all the times that touch had brought you comfort. But the pain of his words, the finality of his decision, was too fresh.
With a sharp intake of breath, you pulled your arm away, stepping out of his reach. You couldn't bear to look at him, afraid that if you did, you might crumble completely. "Don't," you managed to say, your voice trembling. "Just... don't." Without turning back, you spoke, your voice barely above a whisper but filled with cold finality, "You can tell your lawyer to bring the papers to my parents."
The words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of your shattered dreams and the future that would never be. You didn't wait for a response, couldn't bear to hear whatever Hongjoong might say. Instead, you walked away, each step feeling like it was taking you further from the life you had once imagined, towards an uncertain and lonely future.
You packed your bags in a hurry, the silence broken only by the rustling of clothes and the soft thud of items being hastily tossed into your suitcase. Your hands trembled as you gathered the necessities, your mind a whirlwind of emotions.
As you made your way to the door, you paused, your hand resting on the cool metal of the doorknob. Despite the pain coursing through you, you couldn't help but turn for one last look at the man you loved—still love. Hongjoong sat on the sofa, his head buried in his hands, eyes fixed on the floor. The sight of him, so defeated and lost, sent a fresh wave of anguish through your heart. For a moment, you stood there, memorizing every detail of this final scene, knowing it would be etched in your memory forever.
With a deep breath, you reached into your pocket and pulled out your keys. The metal felt cold against your skin, a stark reminder of the life you were leaving behind. You walked over to the drawer near the entrance, your steps echoing in the heavy silence. As you placed the keys on the drawer, they made a sharp, metallic cling that seemed to reverberate through the apartment. The sound was jarring in the stillness, causing Hongjoong to snap his head up, his eyes meeting yours for a brief, intense moment.
That single sound seemed to encapsulate everything - the end of your shared life, the finality of his decision, the irreversible nature of what was happening. It was as if that small noise had shattered the last remnants of the world, you once shared.
Hongjoong's voice broke through the silence, barely above a whisper, but filled with a mixture of regret and desperation. "Y/N, wait..."He stood up, his eyes pleading. "I... I never meant for it to end like this. Please, don't leave this way—you don't have to go." His words were mumbled out quickly, a desperate need in them that you couldn't quite understand. The sudden shift in his tone caught you off guard, making you pause at the door. You turned slightly, not fully facing him, but enough to show you were listening.
You felt a mix of emotions wash over you - anger, hurt, confusion. Part of you wanted to turn and run, to escape this painful situation. But another part of you needed answers, needed to understand how things had fallen apart so quickly. With a deep breath, you steadied yourself and turned to face Hongjoong fully. "What do you mean, don't leave this way?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. "You just told me you want a divorce. What other way is there to leave?"
Hongjoong got up from the sofa and took a few quick steps in your direction. His expression faltered, a mix of guilt and uncertainty crossing his features. He took a hesitant step towards you, his hand reaching out but stopping short of touching you. "I... I don't know," he admitted, his voice barely audible. "I just... I can't bear the thought of you walking out that door, even though I know I'm the one who caused this." His words hung in the air, heavy with contradiction. You felt a surge of anger mixed with confusion, your emotions threatening to spill over. Taking a deep breath, you steadied yourself, your grip tightening on your suitcase handle.
"Hongjoong," you began, your voice low and controlled, "you can't have it both ways. You can't ask for a divorce and then expect me to stay." You felt your resolve waver slightly at the vulnerability in his voice, but you steeled yourself, knowing you had to stay strong.
"It's just hard to see you walk away in silence like we're strangers," Hongjoong said, his voice barely above a whisper, filled with a mixture of regret and longing.
His words hit you like a physical blow, and you felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes. You took a deep, shaky breath before responding. "And it's hard for me to stay and pretend everything's okay when you've just shattered my world," you replied, your voice quivering. "We're not strangers, Hongjoong. We're two people who once vowed forever to each other, and now we're crumbling that promise." The silence that followed was heavy, filled with unspoken words and painful realizations. You both stood there, caught in a moment that felt both eternal and fleeting, the weight of your shared history and uncertain future hanging between you.
Hongjoong's eyes met yours, a mixture of pain and regret swirling in their depths. You could see the conflict within him, the struggle between what he thought he wanted and the reality of losing you.
Suddenly, without warning, Hongjoong closed the distance between you. His hands cupped your face, and before you could react, his lips crashed against yours. The kiss was desperate, filled with a mixture of passion, regret, and longing. It caught you off guard, your body tensing at first before instinctively melting into the familiar warmth of his embrace. For a moment, the world around you faded away. There was only Hongjoong, the taste of his lips, the feel of his hands on your skin. It was as if all the love, all the memories, all the pain of your relationship was poured into this one, final kiss.
But as quickly as it began, reality came crashing back. You pulled away, breathless and confused, your mind reeling from the sudden turn of events. Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked at Hongjoong, seeing the same turmoil reflected in his gaze.
"Why?" you whispered, your voice barely audible, trembling with emotion. "Why now, when you've already decided to let me go?"
Hongjoong's expression crumbled, he took a shaky breath, his hands falling to his sides as he struggled to find the words. "I... I don't know," he finally admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for everything."
You choked on a sob, the finality of it all settled, and you found yourself struggling to breathe. With trembling hands, you reached for the door handle, your vision blurring with unshed tears. "Goodbye, Hongjoong," you managed to whisper, your voice barely audible and thick with emotion. The words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of everything you had shared and everything you were now losing.
Without looking back, you stepped through the doorway, the soft click of the door closing behind you echoing in your ears like a death knell. As you made your way down the hallway, each step felt like it was taking you further from the life you had known, from the love you had cherished, and into an uncertain, lonely future.
♡│if you enjoy my writing please consider supporting me by tagging and reblogging│
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03JYH23 Presents: The Ateez Diaries, a 2k followers Vampire Special 🩸
All I See At Night | Fated Soulmates, Romantic Angst, Strangers to Lovers
Vampires aren’t supposed to lose their minds, but Hongjoong is convinced he’s the exception. It starts with a scent in his dreams, so sharp and heavy it wakes him up starving. Hongjoong knows you perfectly—the warmth of your skin, the exact taste of your veins—and it’s driving him absolutely mad because you aren’t real. He’s spent days cursing his own brain for manufacturing a human he can’t have. But the universe isn’t playing a joke. One day, he turns a corner, and his dream walks straight into his reality.
To Wake a Dead Heart | Love at First Sight, Angst, Suggestive 🔞
Seonghwa has lived too long. He’s weary, detached, and drifting through the decades with the quiet grace of a bygone era, speaking in the polite, formal cadence of the old world. Sitting in a dim New Orleans jazz club, swirling his bourbon, he’s merely existing—until you walk through the door. In a world full of noise, you are the first thing in a century that makes his immortal, tired heart actually want to beat again.
Breaking Point | Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Smut 🔞
What breaks a vampire’s pristine, six-month streak of perfect self-control? A slipped pocketknife, a kitchen floor covered in blood, and his girlfriend who decides the best defence against a starving predator is a travel-sized spray bottle of Vervain. Yunho wanted to be the responsible one, but your clumsy accident just ruined his restraint. The mask is off, and the polite boundaries are officially dead.
Sunblocked | Domestic Romance, Comedy, Smut 🔞
Yeosang is getting dressed for work, looking so devastatingly, unfairly handsome that it actually makes you angry. Between your hormones and your skin practically burning with need, you decide you aren’t letting him leave the bedroom today. The solution? Sneaking his daylight ring off the nightstand. If he wants to go to work, he’s going to have to fight through the sun—or stay right here and deal with you.
Early Warning | Domestic Fluff, Slice of Life, Comedy
In every vampire movie, the Edward Cullen types always look tortured and dramatic when they smell blood. Pop culture entirely lied about what actually happens when you date a vampire. There is no dramatic brooding. Instead, you’re just chilling on the bed when San blinks, sniffs the air, and says, “Babe, go put on a tampon.”
Go To Sleep, You Freak | Smut 🔞
Mingi is newly turned, which means he has infinite vampire stamina, zero self-control, and is completely obsessed with you. You, however, are a regular human whose body is currently sore, spent, and entirely worn out from the last few hours. If he tries to touch you one more time, you might actually fight him.
The Cheat Meal | Chaos Comedy, Domestic Fluff, Crack Fic (Mild)
You had a craving. A deep, undeniable craving for a greasy pizza and a side of extra-garlic knots. You knew Wooyoung was out, so you figured if you ate fast, brushed your teeth, and lit a candle, he’d never know. Delusion at its finest. Wooyoung walks through the front door, takes one sniff of the air, and immediately acts like he’s been hit with a flashbang. He’s dramatic, he’s gasping for air, and he’s holding his hand over his heart, accusing you of launching a biochemical attack against his immortal soul.
Bad Blood | Exes, Lingering Feelings, Bitter History, Mutual Obsession, Smut 🔞
“I thought you left,” he whispers, his grip on your wrist tight enough to bruise, his fangs practically scraping your neck in the dark corner of the room. “And I hoped someone put a wooden stick in your heart,” you spit back, trembling from the suffocating gravity of him. Jongho thought you were a ghost; you wanted him to be a corpse. But the bitter, angry history between you two doesn’t keep him away—it just makes the friction between your bodies absolutely unbearable.
hongjoong’s room was comfortable, the mid-afternoon sun peering through the blinds and creeping its way onto his body. your matching pajamas and his breath on your neck kept you warm as the two of you sat in a comfortable silence, the only sound was faint talking coming from his phone.
“joong, i’m bored. can we do something?”
he glanced from his phone to you, and back again before speaking,
“what do you wanna do honey?”
“can i do your makeup?”
he smiled at this, finally putting his phone down on his lap before speaking;
“as long as you don’t make me look like a clown”
you dashed from the bed and into the bathroom, grabbing your makeup bag and then rushing back. you crawled on top of him and he settled himself in between your legs, you fully sitting onto his lap after he had sat up.
“okay hold still…” you started, applying the product to his cheek before he quickly turned away. he reached out to touch his cheek and you quickly grabbed his wrist to stop him from touching the product.
“babe, it’s cold!” he exclaimed and you just laughed at this before starting again; this time he sat without a fuss.
he silently let you apply product all over his face, occasionally asking if you were finished yet and you replied with the same ‘not yet’ every time.
“okay, i just need to touch up your lips and we’ll be done” you kept him informed, and at this he opened his eyes, looking up at you who was still perched on his lap.
as you began to touch up the product on his lips, you felt the blush spread across your face at his stare. now it was your turn to quickly look away.
“don’t look at me like that” you blushed down at your lap and he smirked at this
“like what” an eyebrow raised, amused by your sudden shyness
“you know what”
you blushed but continued on, the two of you once again sitting in a comfortable, loving silence as you finished his makeup
Hwa had a fashion show coming up. He’d been so excited about it, slightly nervous too. You were excited as well. Honestly, it didn’t matter what he wore or how he was styled — there was no other way to describe him other than beautiful. It truly just poured out of him.
You could go on and on about that. His kind and silly personality, the way he could be both masculine and feminine so effortlessly… he really was your everything.
It had been months — several long months — of him preparing for this show, and now you were down to the final few days before it. You weren’t sure if it was because you’d been stressed and busy for so long and were finally nearing the finish line, but you felt like you were running out of steam. Still, you shoved that feeling down and stomped on it immediately. There was absolutely no way you were getting sick before the show. You’d already planned on going into a short coma with Seonghwa for the next few days after everything was over.
And honestly, if you were feeling tired, you wouldn’t dare say anything in front of him. Though, he amazed you every single time with exactly how much stamina he had. But of course, things don’t always go how you want them to.
Three days before the show, Seonghwa came to wake you after you’d completely ignored your alarm. The second his fingers brushed your face to move your hair back, he almost jerked away from the heat. Then he noticed how curled up you were beneath the blankets, tiny shivers running through your body. You were sweating so badly that your hair clung to the back of your neck. Pale, yet somehow flushed at the same time.
“Oh no, baby…”
Hwa woke you gently, wiping a damp cloth over your face, making you flinch and whine softly.
“It’s too cold,” you mumbled, still half out of it from sleep and fever.
You kept fighting him — flinching away, trying to tuck yourself deeper beneath the blankets before Seonghwa finally pulled them completely off you. You whined again, complaining about how cold you were.
“But baby,” Seonghwa said softly, though there was still firmness in his voice, “I know you feel cold, but that’s because your body’s so hot. Everything feels cold right now. We need to get your fever down.”
Instead of answering, you only let out another miserable whine. Somewhere deep down, you knew you were being bratty, but in the moment you really didn’t care.
Seonghwa, more worried than frustrated, instructed you to keep the cool towels on your head and the back of your neck while he went to grab medicine. You gave a small huff in response, and he took it as understanding. A few minutes later, he came back with fever reducers, helping you sit up carefully so you could take them.
You spent the rest of the day drifting in and out of sleep. Every single time you woke up, Seonghwa was there.
Keeping your towels cool. Making sure you stayed on schedule with your medicine. Feeding you soup even when you complained you weren’t hungry. By the next morning, you were feeling almost completely better.
You woke up with Seonghwa lying beside you, shirtless, one bare arm wrapped around your waist. During the night your fever had spiked again, and after listening to you mumble over and over about how cold you were, Seonghwa had carefully removed most of your clothes, leaving you in only your panties.
He’d stripped down to his boxers too.
Using his own body heat and a thin sheet to keep you comfortable while still giving himself easier access to place cool compresses against your burning skin without layers getting in the way. Maybe it was because you still didn’t feel fully better yet, but everything suddenly felt overwhelming. Moody. Emotional. You felt guilty.
He had spent his entire day taking care of you when he already had so much of his own to worry about. The timing couldn’t have been worse, and you hated that you’d become another thing on his shoulders.
But at the same time… You also knew Seonghwa didn’t care about the timing at all. Taking care of you — making sure you were okay — would always come first for him.
And if the roles had been reversed, you would’ve done the exact same thing. Still, hot tears began burning in your eyes. You had always felt loved with him. Always felt cared for. But over the past day, it had somehow become so much more obvious. So overwhelming. Like you were being completely consumed by his love.
He woke the second he heard your sniffling.
“Baby, why are you crying? Your fever?” he asked quickly, immediately sitting up despite his voice still being thick with sleep. His hands reached for you instantly, gentle fingers caressing your face before the back of his hand rested against your forehead to check your temperature.
“Doesn’t feel like you have a fever anymore…” he mumbled softly. His thumbs brushed across your cheeks, wiping away your tears before he fully cupped your face in his hands.
“What’s wrong, baby? Why are you crying? Are you in pain?”
The way he looked at you — the way he spoke to you — was filled with so much love and care that it only made your chest ache more. You leaned further into his touch.
“I just love you so much,” you choked out. Seonghwa immediately softened. He pulled your body against his, skin to skin.
You clung to him while he rubbed slow circles against your back, letting you cry everything out without rushing you. Once you finally calmed down, you started thanking him for taking such good care of you. Of course, Seonghwa immediately brushed it off, insisting there was no reason to thank him. To him, taking care of you wasn’t something special — it was natural. The standard. The bare minimum.
You sighed dramatically.
“Yeah, yeah… but I still want to make it up to you,” you pouted. “I want to show you how much I love and appreciate you the same way you did for me.”
“Mm…” Seonghwa hummed thoughtfully. “Well, there is one thing…” He paused.
“No… maybe not that…”
“Seonghwa,” you whined immediately. “Come on, please?”
His eyes sparkled with mischief.
“How about…” he started slowly, clearly enjoying this already, “I tell you what I want after the show, hm?” Your eyebrows lifted slightly.
“And you’ll do it for me?” he continued sweetly. “Whatever I want?”
The tone of his voice was soft, innocent even, but you knew that look in his eyes. He had something planned. Something good.
“You better promise,” he added quietly. There was absolutely no way you were backing out now. You agreed immediately.
“Of course, Hwa. Whatever you want.”
Seonghwa smiled in satisfaction while you snuggled closer into his chest, already wondering what exactly he had planned for you over the next few days. At least you wouldn’t have to wait long to find out.
—
Seonghwa’s show went perfectly. Not a single problem. Not a single hiccup. And of course, everything he wore looked gorgeous. Though honestly, as far as you were concerned, it didn’t matter what he wore. Whether the outfit itself was good or not didn’t even register to you anymore because somehow everything looked beautiful as long as it was on him.
You truly did not care if people claimed you viewed Seonghwa through rose-colored glasses. It was true. Every time you looked at him — even thought about him — your eyes practically turned into hearts.
Only for him.
Throughout the night, Seonghwa introduced you to countless designers, partners, and sponsors who had helped make the show happen. You could see how proud he was, even if he tried to stay humble about it. By the end of the event, while everyone was beginning to pack up and leave, Seonghwa somehow emerged carrying bag after bag filled with designer clothes, accessories, and pieces from the show.
“Wow…” you breathed, immediately leaning forward to peek inside one of the bags as he loaded them into the backseat of the car.
“Ah-ah-ah, no peeking,” he warned playfully.
Before you could protest, he gently guided you into the passenger seat instead. You blinked at him in confusion. “What? Why can’t I look?” you questioned suspiciously.
“You’ll see when we get home,” he said simply, shutting the car door for you with an annoyingly satisfied smile. You let out a dramatic sigh, crossing your arms while he walked around to the driver’s side. Now you were really curious.
Once you got home, Seonghwa carried every single bag straight into the massive closet connected to your bedroom. You followed close behind, constantly trying to peek inside. Every single time, he blocked your view with an amused smile.
“Not yet, baby. Have some patience,” he scolded gently. Then he pointed toward the chair sitting in the corner of the room, positioned perfectly in front of the giant mirror behind it. “Go sit for a minute.” With an exaggerated huff, you obeyed.
A few moments later, Seonghwa finally emerged from the closet again, he had changed clothes. Now he wore a tight black tank top that hugged his frame perfectly and light gray joggers hanging dangerously low on his hips. Shamelessly, you stared. Honestly, you weren’t even trying to hide it.
Your eyes followed him as he walked toward you, hearts practically shining in them all over again. Once he reached you, his hand came up to caress your cheek before slowly sliding down your neck. His grip stayed firm but gentle as he tilted your head back so you’d look up at him.
“Are you ready to make good on your promise?” he asked softly, his thumb brushing against your pulse point.
God, he looked unfairly sexy.
Your head instinctively started to nod, but his hold tightened ever so slightly.
“Use your words,” he murmured.
“Yes, Hwa,” you answered immediately.
“Whatever you want.”
You couldn’t help leaning further into his touch. He chuckled quietly at that.
“Get up.”
His hand never left your neck as he guided you to your feet with ease. Then, much softer, he pressed a kiss to your forehead before taking your place in the chair.
“It’s your turn now, baby,” he told you with a smirk.
You blinked in confusion.
“Huh?”
That same mischievous look returned to his eyes, his smile stretching slowly into something breathtaking. “Your turn to model for me,” he said. “A private show. Just for me.” Instantly, heat rushed to your face. Oh my god. This was what he had planned?
When you still didn’t move toward the closet, Seonghwa leaned forward slightly, his hands settling on your hips before giving them a firm squeeze.
“You promised you’d do whatever I told you,” he reminded teasingly. “So you could make it up to me, right?” Then suddenly— Smack. A light swat landed against your butt before he gently nudged you toward the closet. “Be a good girl and keep your promises, baby.”
You shot him one last look over your shoulder before disappearing into the closet and shutting the door behind you. The second you looked through the bags, your eyes widened. Lingerie. Sexy outfits. Costumes. Some pieces were absolutely gorgeous. Others… you weren’t even entirely sure how they were supposed to go on.
You quickly started sorting through everything, laying outfits out in order from what seemed the most “modest” to whatever terrifying creations Seonghwa had apparently handpicked with full confidence. Still, you had to admit— A lot of the pieces were beautiful.
And it was obvious Seonghwa had personally chosen every single one with you in mind. Your entire body felt warm as you finally picked the first outfit. You decided to start with the safest option possible. After slipping it on, you pulled your hair free from its ponytail, letting it fall around your shoulders. You didn’t even bother checking yourself in the mirror first. Instead, you took a deep breath and forced on your most confident, sexy smile before finally opening the closet doors.
Seonghwa’s eyes landed on you instantly. And from the look on his face alone…You could already tell this was going to be a very long night.
Hongjoon 1.2k words
Sure, you had been feeling a little under the weather lately, but you also blamed the actual weather. The seasons were changing, spring was blooming, pollen was everywhere, and not to mention the constant rain showers and thunderstorms. Sure, your throat hurt, your nose was slightly stuffy, and your body definitely didn’t feel like it was aching all over.
Oh, and least of all, you definitely did not have a splitting headache for the past day or so. You always got extra irritable whenever you weren’t feeling well, so over the past few days you’d tried keeping your distance while forcing yourself to stay positive.
Of course, Hongjoong noticed. He didn’t know exactly what was going on, but he could tell you were acting strange and avoiding him more than usual. He decided to give you your time and space until you were ready to talk to him yourself.
At least, that’s what he thought he was doing. Even while trying to be patient, he couldn’t help worrying. Without even realizing it, he started checking in on you more and more often. And honestly? You were starting to miss him too.
So eventually, you decided to stop by the studio where you knew he’d be. Walking into the company building, you followed the now familiar path straight toward Hongjoong’s recording room.
As you got closer, doubt suddenly crept in. Maybe you should’ve texted first. You didn’t know if anyone else would be there, and the last thing you wanted was to interrupt if they were deep into work. Luckily, your worries eased when you peeked through the door and saw Hongjoong alone.
He was hunched over his equipment and soundboard, the glow of his computer lighting up the dim room. Hardworking as ever.
Not wanting to startle him, you knocked softly before stepping inside. The second he turned and saw you, his eyes lit up instantly.
“I’ve missed you, baby,” Hongjoong said as he quickly met you halfway across the room, immediately pulling you into his arms. His hands rubbed warmly over your waist while he held you tightly against him.
“I missed you too, Joonie,” you murmured back, leaning up to press a kiss against his cheek. The moment your hot lips touched his cool skin, he pulled away.
His hands immediately moved to your face, and despite yourself, you leaned into them automatically.
His brows furrowed deeply with worry. “YN… do you have a fever?” he asked sharply.
His voice almost sounded angry, but underneath it was pure concern.
Your eyes widened. At first you thought maybe his skin had just been cold, but the look on his face quickly told you otherwise.
“What? No, of course not,” you answered way too quickly.
And immediately regretted it. Hongjoong was not stupid. “Why didn’t you say anything if you weren’t feeling good?” he demanded.
Before you could answer, he guided you over to the sofa and sat you down carefully before disappearing for a moment. He came back with cold water and damp paper towels, immediately placing one against your forehead while helping you lean back so it would stay in place.
“Honestly, Joon, it’s nothing,” you tried arguing weakly. “It’s probably just allergies, you know? The weather’s been really shitty lately.” Even to you, the excuse sounded pathetic.
Hongjoong gave you a look. Then, more gently, he adjusted the towel against your forehead. “Cut the bullshit, YN,” he said quietly. “You knew you were sick. That’s why you’ve been distant these past few days.”
There was hurt hidden beneath his frustration. Did you really think he couldn’t take care of you? The sight of you sitting there pale and flushed made his chest ache, and despite being upset, he couldn’t bring himself to stay angry with you for long.
“Baby,” his voice softened immediately, “please let me take you to the doctor.”
“Joonie…” you started weakly.
“No, don’t start whining now,” he cut in gently but firmly. “You don’t feel good. You didn’t say anything to me or anyone. Baby, you have a fever. You need medicine.”
Now guilt started settling heavily in your chest. You hadn’t meant to make him worry. Honestly, you hadn’t realized it was this bad either. You didn’t even know you had a fever.
“Okay… I’m sorry,” you admitted quietly. “I should’ve said something. How about we go after you finish your work, okay?”
You tried offering the compromise carefully. Hongjoong just stared at you like you’d completely lost your mind.
“We are not waiting until the doctor’s office closes,” he said immediately. “We’re going now.”
As he stood, he held his hand out toward you expectantly so he could help you up. But instead of taking it, you crossed your arms stubbornly and just stared back at him. Hongjoong stared you down for a long moment.
“YN,” he warned slowly, “either you get up and walk out with me nicely or—”
You gasped dramatically.
How dare he try giving me ultimatums, you huffed. “Or what?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he simply leaned down and picked you up before you could even process what was happening. One arm hooked beneath your knees while the other steadied your back as he carried you straight out of the studio.
Absolutely stunned, you stared at him. “Ho—Hongjoong! What do you think you’re doing?! Put me down!”
“You should’ve picked the easy way,” he replied calmly, not even glancing down at your shocked expression while he continued walking through the building toward the parking garage.
Despite the fever, your face burned hot with embarrassment as people openly stared. “Please put me down, Joonie,” you pleaded, burying your face against his shoulder to hide yourself.
“You should’ve listened the first time,” he muttered sternly.
His pace never slowed. Within minutes he reached the car, carefully placing you in the passenger seat before buckling you in himself. After climbing into the driver’s seat and starting the car, he looked over at you seriously.
“Do you want the family doctor, urgent care, or the emergency room?”
You could only stare at him in disbelief for a moment before realizing he was genuinely waiting for an answer. “Urgent care,” you whispered softly.
Some of the tension in his expression finally eased. Reaching over, he grabbed your hand and pressed a quick kiss against the back of it before driving toward the nearest clinic.
Thankfully, it turned out to just be a virus. The doctor prescribed antibiotics, instructed you to monitor your fever carefully over the next few days, and ordered strict bed rest.
Hongjoong took those instructions very seriously. Over the next several days, he barely left your side, constantly making sure you took your medicine on time, stayed hydrated, and actually rested instead of trying to move around too much. Soup was practically forced into your hands at every opportunity.
And once you were finally healthy again and had finished all your medication, Hongjoong sat you down for one very serious lecture about hiding illnesses from him.
Because as frustrated as he’d been, At the end of the day, he just wanted you healthy and okay.
Yunho 1.5k words
Shit. Shit. Shit. How could you forget?
Yunho had planned a nice dinner date for the two of you over a week ago, and somehow it had completely slipped your mind. Maybe because you’d been fighting a headache all day.
Luckily, you remembered about an hour before he was supposed to get home. You quickly rushed to get ready, ignoring the pounding in your head and the uncomfortable twisting in your stomach. After showering, you styled your hair before settling in front of your vanity to start your makeup, still wrapped in only your robe.
That’s when Yunho came home. He walked up behind you and pressed a kiss to the top of your head.
“You look beautiful,” he told you softly while meeting your eyes through the mirror. You rolled your eyes with a small huff.
“I haven’t even started my makeup yet.”
Still, your eyes lingered on him in the reflection.
His hair stuck up in different directions like he’d been running his hands through it during practice, and both his t-shirt and sweatpants were wrinkled from what had obviously been a long day. His eyes practically sparkled as he watched you looking at him.
“Makeup or no makeup, you’re always beautiful.”
You hummed quietly in response.
“Looks like practice was rough today…” your voice trailed off.
What you wanted to say was:
Maybe we should stay home tonight and rest instead. Especially when another wave of nausea rolled through your stomach.
“Yeah,” Yunho laughed tiredly, “the choreography is pretty intense this comeback. But I pushed through knowing I’d get to spend tonight having dinner with my beautiful girl.”
He smiled brightly at you, and despite feeling miserable, you couldn’t help trying to smile back. He squeezed your shoulders gently before mumbling something about taking a shower and getting ready himself, disappearing into the bathroom.
Shit…
The second you heard the shower running, you quickly took some anti-nausea medicine before making your way toward your shared closet. Now the only problem was deciding what to wear. While digging through clothes, you didn’t hear Yunho leave the bathroom or walk into the closet behind you.
“Can’t decide?”
You jumped hard at the sudden voice. Turning around, you found Yunho standing there wearing nothing but a towel low around his hips.
“Don’t sneak up on me like that,” you scolded, clutching your chest dramatically. He immediately laughed.
“Sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean to.”
He stepped closer and started shuffling through your clothes before eventually pulling out a long black satin skirt — one he had very openly admired several times before. Then he added a white button-up shirt and a black pearl-adorned vest before handing them over proudly. Afterward, he picked out his own outfit to match yours.
“Oh, wait, I forgot something.”
Before you could ask what he meant, he reached into a drawer and pulled out a matching blue sheer floral lingerie set.
One of his favorites.
“Seriously?” you asked, though you still took it from him anyway.
Normally you would’ve changed right in front of him without caring, but your stomach felt bloated and uncomfortable enough that you ended up taking the clothes into the bathroom instead.
Yunho noticed immediately. You heard him mutter under his breath that maybe it was a good thing, because if he’d seen you in the lingerie set he picked out, the two of you probably never would’ve left the house.
While walking to your table at the restaurant, Yunho could barely take his eyes off you. The satin skirt hugged your hips and thighs perfectly, and every time you walked, he could see the faint outline of the lingerie underneath. The fact that you’d actually worn the set he picked out nearly drove him insane.
Meanwhile, you were focused on not throwing up. Yunho pulled your chair out for you, his fingers brushing softly against the back of your neck as he helped slide your chair in. You wished you could lean into his touch longer, hoping maybe it would somehow soothe your pounding headache. The two of you chatted about your days and upcoming schedules while waiting for the food to arrive.
Yunho ordered steak. You chose what was basically a fancy version of samgyetang — warm ginseng chicken soup. Honestly, the weather felt perfect for it, and you hoped it would settle your stomach too. When the food arrived, it actually tasted really good. You carefully sipped the broth and slowly ate the chicken, trying not to overwhelm your already angry stomach. Everything was going fine. Until Yunho offered you a bite of his steak.
Normally, you would’ve loved it. It was thick, perfectly medium-cooked, juicy enough that it practically dripped when he held it toward you. But the second the meat hit your tongue, your stomach twisted violently. The flavor suddenly felt overwhelming. You forced yourself to chew and swallow before immediately standing.
“Excuse me—”
You practically sprinted toward the bathroom while trying to remain somewhat graceful. Once inside, you gripped the counter tightly, taking deep breaths as nausea burned up your throat. You somehow managed not to throw up, but by the time the wave passed, you looked awful. Your hair was messy, makeup slightly smudged, and nervous sweat clung uncomfortably to your skin. You were so busy trying to fix yourself that you completely forgot to answer the first knock on the door.
“Honey? You okay in there?” Yunho called gently from outside.Then came a second, louder knock that made you jump.
“YN, are you okay?”
Shit.
“Yeah! Yeah, I’m fine,” you called back quickly.
Unfortunately, your voice sounded terrible too. You hurried to unlock the door before peeking outside to find Yunho leaning against the wall waiting for you, your purse in his hand after you’d forgotten it at the table.
The second you got home, Yunho immediately started apologizing. He thought the restaurant food had made you sick.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, guilt written all over his face. “I just wanted to take you out and have a nice night together.”
Seeing him blame himself made you feel even worse.
“Yunho, I’m sorry too,” you admitted. “It wasn’t the food. Honestly… I already wasn’t feeling good before we left.”
You watched his expression immediately shift from guilt to heartbreak.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked softly. “We should’ve stayed home. Baby, what hurts?”
His hands were on you instantly. One holding your face while checking your temperature, the other rubbing gently down your arms before settling against your waist and lower back.
You leaned into him automatically, finally letting yourself relax and accept the comfort. Without another word, Yunho guided you toward the bedroom and sat you carefully on the bed.
He slowly removed every pin from your hair before gently wiping your makeup off. Then he helped you undress. Carefully unbuttoning your vest. Then your shirt.
His fingers brushed softly across your skin while he worked, light enough to leave goosebumps trailing behind. Once your top was gone, his hands settled on your hips while he slowly slid your skirt down your legs.
Now standing in only your bra and panties, his hands moved back upward to cradle your face again. He leaned down and gave you one soft kiss before walking over to grab a pair of his pajamas. More specifically, one of his oversized shirts that looked almost dress-length on you.
You slipped your bra off before pulling the shirt over your head, and Yunho’s eyes stayed fixed on you the entire time.
Then came your panties.
Instead of tossing them toward the laundry pile, you flung them directly at him instead. He caught them instantly. Eagerly.
“I’ll wait for you on the couch,” you told him innocently. “I was thinking we could cuddle and watch a movie.”
You smiled sleepily.
“We can watch your favorite Spider-Man movie. I think that’ll make me feel better.”Yunho’s jaw tightened immediately.He gave you one stiff nod while watching you walk away in nothing but his shirt.
Yunho took his time “changing.”
And when he finally walked out to the living room, he was wearing the matching pajama bottoms to the shirt currently hanging off your body. His face and bare chest were slightly flushed as he sat down beside you on the couch before pulling you halfway into his lap. The second you relaxed against him and the movie started playing, you already felt better.
Yeosang 1.4k words
You’d been feeling under the weather for the past few days. Nothing too serious. Just a slight headache, a little cough, and exhaustion that seemed to stick to your body no matter how much you rested.
Of course, Yeosang noticed. The first time he asked if you were okay, you brushed him off immediately.
“Of course I’m fine.”
A few more days passed, and instead of getting better, you somehow felt worse. But rather than repeatedly asking you about it, Yeosang decided to take matters into his own hands.
Which is how a giant package suddenly ended up delivered to your front door. It had Yeosang’s name on it, so you carried it inside and set it on the kitchen counter before snapping a picture and sending it to him.
Sangie, you got a package delivered.
A few moments later, your phone buzzed.
Open it.
You blinked.
Huh? Is it important? Do you want me to bring it to you?
You were already halfway to putting your shoes on to drive it to the company when his next message appeared.
No. It’s for you.
You paused.
Huh?? What did you buy me?
Taking your shoes back off, you carried the box over to the couch instead and set it beside you. Rather than opening it immediately, you waited for another reply. Instead of texting back, Yeosang called you.
“Did you open it yet?” he asked immediately.
“No, not yet. I was waiting for you,” you admitted.
“You don’t need to wait for me. Just open it,” he said casually. “I’ll be home in about two hours. Love you.”
In the background you could hear voices and movement. He sounded busy.
“Okay… I’ll make dinner when you get home. Love you too.”
After hanging up, it was just you and the mystery box.
You stared at it suspiciously for a moment before carefully picking it up and giving it a gentle shake. It was heavier than expected.
There were clearly multiple things inside, all protected with thick foam padding. “Makeup? Accessories? Shoes? No can’t be shoes… ” you mumbled to yourself.
Another shake.
“What the hell is even in here?”
Your phone dinged again.
Don’t wait for me. Just open the box.
You gasped dramatically before immediately typing back:
Sangie… did you put cameras in the house?? How did you know?!
A second later:
Unless you’re in the bedroom, no.
Then another text immediately after:
Just open it. I’ll be home soon.
Your face instantly heated.
You decided not to respond to that.
So what if your mind immediately went somewhere inappropriate?
Actually…
Maybe that was what was inside.
New toys?
Now you were excited. You tore the box open immediately, tossing layers of bubble wrap onto the floor beside the couch. Your excitement lasted about three seconds before slowly turning into confusion.
Multivitamins
Collagen
Red ginseng sticks
Omega-3 capsules
Vitamin jelly candies
Herbal tonics
Immune shots
Recovery drinks
Pain patches ect..
The more things you pulled out, the more stunned you became.
“Did he buy an entire pharmacy?” you muttered in disbelief.
Still…Some of the items actually looked really nice. As you continued sorting through everything, you slowly started realizing he had chosen each item carefully.
This one would help your headaches.
This one would settle your stomach.
The patches would probably help your sore back.
The recovery drinks were for fatigue.
One by one, it finally clicked.
Oh…
Your chest tightened painfully. You knew Yeosang loved you. But somehow seeing physical proof of how much thought he’d put into taking care of you felt overwhelming. Carefully, you lined everything up across the coffee table, organizing the supplements by symptoms.
Honestly, it still looked like Yeosang had emptied out an entire health store. Then you started making a list of which vitamins and supplements could safely be taken together to help with your cold.
The whole time your eyes burned. Good thing there was probably something in the box for that too.
Your tears never fully spilled over, but your chest felt painfully heavy with affection. Not sure there was medicine for that, though.
You were still sorting through everything when Yeosang finally got home. He carried several grocery bags inside before setting them on the kitchen counter and making his way over to you.
“Welcome home, Sangie,” you greeted softly, your voice thick with emotion.
Yeosang immediately frowned.
“What’s wrong? Do you not like them? Why do you sound sad?”
He gently patted your hair before looking over the organized rows of vitamins and supplements spread across the table. Then he casually picked up one of the jelly sticks.
“Try this one,” he said while handing it to you. “It tastes good.”
You laughed quietly despite yourself.
“Thank you.”
He smiled softly back at you.
“You haven’t eaten yet, right? Wooyoung made you some food.”
You blinked.
“What? Why would Wooyoung make me food? I can cook.”
“Ah… well,” Yeosang explained while unpacking bags, “he was there when I ordered everything. I was going to buy pre-made soups too, but he said he’d handle it himself.”
Completely confused again, you walked over to the kitchen.
Inside the bags were several containers of homemade food.
One even had a note attached.
-/-/-/-/-
Hello YN!
I heard you’re not feeling well, so I made homemade food because that’s obviously best for recovery.
Also please never let Sangie in the kitchen unsupervised unless you want to be sick for entirely different reasons ;)
Hope you recover quickly!
~ Your favorite ✧˚₊‧❝᷀ົཽ≀ˍ̮❝᷀ົཽ⁺‧₊˚✧
-/-/-/-
You immediately burst into laughter.
Yeosang looked over at you from the kitchen.
“Is it really that funny?”
You quickly shook your head.
“No, no—I just remembered the first time we cooked together.”
That only made you laugh harder. Yeosang simply smiled fondly before going back to unpacking everything. Eventually, you heated up some of Wooyoung’s porridge for both of you. While eating together at the table, the two of you quietly talked about your days.
After dinner, Yeosang picked out a few more “health jellies” for you to take before washing the dishes himself.
Meanwhile, you got ready for bed. By the time you finished your nightly routine and changed into pajamas, Yeosang was already lying in bed waiting for you. The second you climbed in beside him, he pulled you into his arms automatically, cocooning you against his body.
“Oh!”
Yeosang looked down at you sleepily.
“How did you know I hadn’t opened the box yet earlier when you texted me?” you asked curiously.
“Because I knew you hadn’t figured out what was inside yet,” he answered simply, already sounding half asleep.
You tightened your grip around his arm slightly.
“Yeah… I guess that’s true.”
A quiet smile crossed your face.
“Do you know what I thought was inside the box at first?”
“Hm? What?” he mumbled sleepily.
You lowered your voice dramatically.
“New toys to use with the camera.”
There was a long pause.
“…Oh.”
Another pause.
“…Okay.”
Clearly half asleep, Yeosang just pulled you closer instead.
You smiled against his chest before eventually drifting off too.
The next afternoon, when you got home, another large package was waiting outside the front door. You stared at it suspiciously before immediately calling Yeosang this time.
He answered right away.
“Hello? Did you just get home?” he asked.
“Hi, Sangie. Yeah… and there’s another package here.”
“You can open it.”
You narrowed your eyes immediately.
“Yeosang, this better not be more vitamins or supplements. Seriously, how many pharmacies are you planning to buy out?”
You heard him laugh quietly. Then someone in the background — sounding suspiciously like Hongjoong — called his name.
“I’ve gotta go,” Yeosang said quickly. “Just open it. I’ll be home in a few hours. Love you.”
“Okay, love you too. See you later, Sangie.”
After ending the call, you carried the package over to the couch just like the day before.
You shook it experimentally. Definitely fewer things inside this time. But they were much bulkier.
“Please don’t be more health freak stuff…” you mumbled while opening the box.
Then your entire face went red.
Oh. Oh my god. So he had been awake enough to hear you after all.
You quickly carried the box into the bedroom before carefully setting everything up. Afterward, you snapped a quick picture and sent it to Yeosang.
Can’t wait for you to come home 🥰 I’ll be waiting.
You paused. Then quickly added-
…Or not.
Immediately after sending it, you tossed your phone dramatically across the bed. Now let’s see how quickly Yeosang gets home.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction created for entertainment purposes only. The portrayals of the members are fictionalized and do not reflect the real personalities, actions, beliefs, or relationships of the members of ATEEZ. This story is not intended to represent reality in any way.
synopsis: drenched drive along the coast quickly takes a sharp turn into something far more intense. Cruising in a sleek sports car with the top down, Hongjoong and Y/n find themselves overwhelmed by a sudden, undeniable surge of tension that the ocean breeze can't cool down. Pulling over to the secluded edge of the beach, the boundary between driving and desire blurs completely. Locked inside the intimate confines of the car, an afternoon escape evolves into an afternoon of breathless commands, rough passion, and uninhibited intimacy. It's a high-octane encounter where control is surrendered, whispers turn filthy, and a routine drive becomes a thrilling, unforgettable ride.
warning(s): public sex, fingering, riding, penetrative sex, creampie begging, dirty talk, car sex, rough sex, etc.
The Pacific Coast Highway stretched out ahead like a sun-bleached ribbon, sandwiched between rugged, towering cliffs and the endless expanse of the deep blue ocean.
The weather was absolutely perfect—a crisp, bright afternoon with a relentless sun that would have been unbearable if not for the sharp, salty breeze whipping through the open top of the car.
Hongjoong looked entirely in his element behind the wheel of the sleek, white Porsche convertible. With his sunglasses pushed up the bridge of his nose, a crisp striped shirt blowing open slightly at the collar, and one hand casually resting on the steering wheel, he looked less like a husband running weekend errands and more like an escapee from a luxury film set.
You leaned back into the leather passenger seat, letting your eyes trace the sharp line of his jawline.
It had been weeks since the two of you had managed a single afternoon to yourselves. Between his grueling studio sessions and your own overlapping schedules, you had become like passing ships in the night—sharing quick kisses over morning coffee and exhausted collapses into bed at midnight.
When he had woken you up that morning, dangling the car keys with a mischievous grin and telling you to get dressed for a drive, you hadn't hesitated.
"Are you looking at the scenery, or are you looking at me?" Hongjoong asked, his voice cutting through the rushing wind.
A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, though his eyes remained fixed on the winding coastal road.
"Can't I enjoy both?" you countered, shifting in your seat so you could rest your chin on your hand, openly admiring him. "Though, I have to admit, the view on the left is much better."
He let out a low laugh, the sound rich and warm.
He glanced over at you briefly, his dark eyes softening behind his sunglasses before returning to the road. "Flattery will get you everywhere, sweetheart. But I'll take it. I've missed you."
"I've missed you too," you murmured, the truth of the words sinking heavily into your chest.
As if sensing the sudden dip into genuine vulnerability, Hongjoong shifted gears, the engine roaring to life as he accelerated along a straight stretch of the highway.
The sudden burst of speed brought a thrilling jolt to your chest. The ocean breeze grew heavier, thicker with moisture, spraying a fine, invisible mist of saltwater over the car.
Your hair flew wildly around your face, and you couldn't help but laugh, the sheer freedom of the moment washing away weeks of accumulated stress.
Hongjoong's hand left the gear shift. Instead of returning to the steering wheel, his fingers trailed across the center console, searching blindly until they found your thigh.
His hand was warm, his palm slightly rough against your bare skin as he gripped your leg just above the knee.
The contrast between the cool, whipping air and the sudden heat of his touch was sharp enough to make you catch your breath. He squeezed gently, a grounding, possessive gesture that instantly shifted the atmosphere inside the car.
"You look beautiful today," he said, his voice dropping an octave, losing its playful edge.
His thumb began to trace slow, deliberate circles against your skin, charting a path that crept just a fraction of an inch higher with every passing mile.
The easygoing, lighthearted energy of the drive began to mutate. The heat of the sun above seemed to intensify, matching the sudden flare of tension sparking between the two of you.
Every time he shifted gears, his hand would leave your leg only to return a second later, gripping a little higher, a little firmer, his fingers anchoring you to him.
You glanced over at him, noticing how his knuckles were white on the steering wheel, how his jaw had tightened.
He wasn't just driving anymore; he was pacing himself, fighting a sudden, undeniable surge of desire that the ocean air was doing absolutely nothing to cool down.
As the car rounded a sharp bend, a secluded, gravel pull-off appeared on the right, completely hidden from the main highway by a cluster of overgrown coastal brush and overlooking a deserted stretch of the rocky beach below.
Hongjoong didn’t say a word. He didn't ask. He simply indicated, veered the Porsche off the smooth asphalt, and brought the sports car to a sudden, abrupt halt on the gravel.
The roaring engine cut out, leaving nothing but the sound of the heavy surf crashing against the rocks below and the sudden, deafening quiet inside the cabin.
The boundary between a routine afternoon escape and something far more intense had just completely blurred.
Hongjoong unbuckled his seatbelt with a sharp click, took off his sunglasses, and turned his full, unblinking attention toward you.
The playful husband from ten minutes ago was gone; the dark, demanding look in his eyes made it perfectly clear that the drive was officially over.
He didn't move to open his door, nor did he make a move toward yours. Instead, Hongjoong shifted his weight, turning fully in his leather seat to face you, one arm draping over the steering wheel while the other remained exactly where it was—anchored firmly on your thigh.
His gaze swept over your face, heavy and deliberate, tracking the way your chest rose and fell with a slightly quickened breath.
"You're quiet," he murmured, his voice a low, gravelly contrast to the crashing waves just beyond the cliffside. "Not going to ask me why we stopped?"
"I think I have a pretty good idea," you replied, your voice steadier than you actually felt.
The sudden stillness of the car made the tension between you feel almost physical, a thick, intoxicating weight filling the small cabin.
Hongjoong’s smirk returned, but it lacked its earlier innocence. It was darker now, sharper. His fingers flexed against your skin, a silent reminder of his grip.
"Do you? Because looking at you right now, all flushed from the wind, sitting in my passenger seat... I don't think you have any idea how difficult it was to keep my eyes on the road for the last twenty miles."
He leaned in closer, crossing the invisible boundary of the center console. The scent of his cologne—something sharp, woodsy, and thoroughly masculine—mingled with the salty air, filling your senses.
When he reached out with his free hand, his fingertips were surprisingly gentle as they tucked a stray, windblown lock of hair behind your ear. His thumb lingered on your jawline, tilting your face up slightly so you had no choice but to look directly into his dark eyes.
"We've been so busy," he whispered, his thumb tracing the line of your lower lip, pressing just firmly enough to part them slightly. "Too busy. I feel like I haven't really had you to myself in a lifetime."
"Hongjoong..." Your voice hitched as his hand on your thigh moved. It wasn't the slow, agonizingly tentative crawl from before; his palm slid upward with a sudden, purposeful friction, stopping right at the hem of your clothes. The heat of his skin seemed to burn right through the fabric.
"I wanted to take you out here, where there's no phone ringing, no studio deadlines, no interruptions," he said, his gaze dropping to your mouth before rising back to meet your eyes. The warmth in his expression had completely given way to an intense, burning hunger. "Just you, me, and nothing else."
He slid his hand beneath the hem, his bare palm making direct contact with the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.
You let out a soft gasp, your fingers instinctively gripping the edge of the leather seat as a shiver ran straight down your spine. In the cramped, intimate confines of the sports car, every sensation was magnified ten-fold.
"Hold on to me instead," Hongjoong commanded softly, noticing your grip on the seat.
You didn't hesitate. You reached out, your hand finding the collar of his striped shirt, pulling him just a fraction closer.
The proximity was dizzying. You could feel the heat radiating off his body, hear the slight hitch in his own breathing as he realized exactly how deeply you wanted this, too.
"Is this what you wanted when you brought me out here?" you teased, though your voice lacked any real bite, trembling slightly under the weight of anticipation.
Hongjoong let out a low, rough growl, his eyes darkening further as he leaned in until his lips were bare inches from yours. "Sweetheart, you have no idea what I'm going to do to you out here. But we're going to start exactly how I want."
His lips finally closed the distance, crashing into yours with a fierce, demanding intensity that left you utterly breathless.
There was no hesitation, no gentle easing into the moment; the weeks of built-up frustration and longing exploded into a kiss that was deep, possessive, and entirely consuming.
You whimpered into his mouth, your fingers tightening in the fabric of his shirt as you pulled him closer, trying to erase every inch of space between you.
Hongjoong groaned, the sound vibrating against your tongue as he tilted his head to deepen the angle, his lips moving against yours with a practiced, desperate hunger.
His hand on your inner thigh slid higher, his fingers parting your legs effortlessly in the bucket seat.
When his fingers brushed against the damp lace of your underwear, a sharp jolt of pure electricity shot straight to your core. You arched your back, a breathless gasp escaping your throat as he broke the kiss, his lips immediately migrating down the sensitive line of your jaw.
"Look at you," he growled against your skin, his hot breath sending shivers down your neck. "You're already so wet for me, sweetheart. Just from a drive."
"Hongjoong, please," you begged, your voice thick and strained as he nipped at the sensitive junction where your neck met your shoulder, his teeth leaving a deliberate, stinging mark that would undoubtedly darken by tomorrow.
"Please what?" he murmured, his hand pressing firmly against your center, the heat of his palm rubbing through the thin barrier of fabric. He applied a slow, agonizing pressure that made your hips instinctively roll against his hand. "Tell me exactly what you want."
"I want you. Inside the car, right now," you gasped, your hands moving from his shirt to tangle in his hair, pulling him back up so you could look into his darkened eyes.
A dark, victorious grin spread across his face. "Then get over here."
He leaned back just enough to give you room. The space inside the Porsche was tight, the gear shift and center console presenting an intimate obstacle, but the challenge only seemed to heighten the frantic energy between you. You unbuckled your seatbelt, shifting your weight and swinging one leg over the console.
Hongjoong guided you, his strong hands catching your waist and lifting you effortlessly until you were straddling his lap, facing him.
The positioning was dizzying. Your thighs braced against the leather sides of his seat, your center pressing directly against the hard, rigid length straining beneath his trousers.
"Much better," Hongjoong whispered, his hands sliding down to grip your hips, pinning you firmly to his lap. He rocked his hips up slightly, a deliberate tease that made you cry out, your hands anchoring tightly onto his broad shoulders.
He didn't waste another second. His hands moved to the fastening of his trousers, freeing himself with a dark, focused intensity.
At the same time, his fingers hooked into the waistband of your underwear, pulling the fabric aside to expose you fully to the cool ocean breeze—and his burning gaze.
"You are so beautiful out here," he murmured, his eyes locking onto yours as his fingers guided his length to your opening. He paused for a fraction of a second, letting you feel the agonizingly hot, heavy press of him against your slick skin. "Hold on to me."
With a slow, heavy upward thrust of his hips, he buried himself inside you all at once.
Your eyes flew shut as a loud, uninhibited cry tore from your lips, echoing out over the empty beach.
The fullness of him filled you completely, stretching you in a way that made your head tilt back, your fingers digging bruisingly into his shoulders.
It was a high-octane rush of pure pleasure, so intense that your entire body trembled against his.
Hongjoong let out a ragged, breathless groan, his forehead dropping against your shoulder as he gripped your hips with white-knuckled intensity, holding you still for a moment as his body adjusted to the tight, burning heat of yours.
"Fuck, you feel so good," he choked out, his voice completely wrecked. "So tight."
He didn't wait for you to catch your breath. His hands anchored your hips, and he began to push upward, establishing a rough, driving rhythm. Because of the angled confines of the car seat, every thrust hit deep and unyielding.
You began to ride him, matching his desperate pace, your movements frantic and uninhibited as the rhythm of the crashing waves below was entirely drowned out by the sound of your breathless gasps, the heavy friction of skin against skin, and Hongjoong's low, filthy whispers praising exactly how well you took every deep, hard push.
The sleek interior of the convertible felt entirely too small to contain the heat radiating between you.
Every time Hongjoong thrust upward, his broad shoulders brushed against the steering wheel, and the leather of the bucket seat creaked softly under your combined weight, creating a private, rhythmic symphony against the background of the roaring tide.
His hands on your hips were unyielding, guiding your movements with a possessive authority. You threw your head back, your eyes closing as the sheer friction of the movement pushed you closer and closer to the edge.
The cool breeze off the Pacific was a stark contrast to the sweat slicking your skin where your bodies met, making every touch feel twice as electric.
"Look at me," Hongjoong commanded softly, his voice a gravelly whisper against your ear.
You blinked your eyes open, your vision slightly blurred by tears of pure pleasure. He was staring up at you, his pupils dilated so heavily that his eyes looked almost entirely black. A fierce, desperate love shone through the raw hunger on his face.
"Tell me who you belong to," he groaned, lifting his hips to meet you in another deep, breathless thrust that made your toes curl. "Say it."
"You," you gasped out, your fingers tangling desperately in his damp hair as you rode him harder, the friction building to an unbearable, agonizing peak. "Hongjoong... always you."
A dark, satisfied growl tore from his chest. The confession seemed to break whatever thread of control he had left.
His pace turned frantic, his thrusts losing their measured rhythm and becoming beautifully uninhibited, rough, and demanding.
He pulled you down flat against his chest, his mouth locking onto yours in a messy, breathless kiss that tasted of salt and desperation.
The world narrowed down to the cramped cabin of the white Porsche, the heat of his skin, and the blinding wave of pleasure building at the base of your spine.
"I'm close, sweetheart," he muttered against your lips, his breathing coming in ragged, short hitches. "Come with me. Right now."
With a few more heavy, driving jolts, the tension inside you snapped completely. A loud, fractured cry was stolen from your throat as your body clamped tightly around him, pulsing in a deep, rolling orgasm that left you entirely weak.
The sensation instantly pushed Hongjoong over the edge; he let out a low, guttural shout into the crook of your neck, his fingers digging bruisingly into your hips as he thrust deeply one last time, completely surrendering his own control as he filled you with a heavy, shuddering warmth.
For a long time, the only sound was the frantic, synchronized gasps of your breathing and the distant, rhythmic crashing of the waves against the rocks below.
Slowly, the adrenaline began to cool, replaced by a heavy, blissful lethargy. Hongjoong’s arms wrapped tightly around your waist, burying his face in your neck as his heart hammered wildly against your chest.
He kissed the sensitive skin of your shoulder softly, a tender contrast to the absolute chaos of moments before.
"Best drive of my life," he whispered into your skin, a breathless, genuinely happy chuckle vibrating against you.
You let out a weak laugh, your forehead resting against his shoulder as your muscles gradually stopped trembling.
The intense, high-octane fog that had taken over the car was finally lifting, leaving behind a warm, heavy afterglow that made it impossible to move.
"You're a menace," you breathed, your fingers lazily tracing the collar of his shirt, which was now thoroughly rumpled.
"Maybe," Hongjoong murmured, his hands sliding up your back to pull you even closer, holding you flat against his chest as if he had no intention of ever letting you go back to your side of the car. He planted a soft, lingering kiss on the crown of your head. "But you didn't seem to mind."
The ocean breeze swept over the open top of the convertible again, chilling the sweat on your skin and bringing you back to reality. Below the cliff, the tide continued its steady, rhythmic crash against the shore, completely oblivious to the absolute storm that had just taken place in the parked Porsche.
Slowly, reluctantly, Hongjoong shifted beneath you. His hands gripped your waist gently, helping you lift yourself off his lap so you both could clean up and restore some semblance of order to the cramped cabin. The space felt different now—no longer filled with an agonizing, unspoken tension, but with a comfortable, deeply rooted intimacy that had been missing for far too long.
Once you were back in the passenger seat, fixing your clothes and running a hand through your wildly tangled, windblown hair, you caught him watching you. He had adjusted his own clothes and was leaning back against his seat, his arm casually draped over the steering wheel just like before. But the restless, hungry edge in his eyes had been replaced by a soft, thoroughly satisfied warmth.
He reached into the center console, pulled out his sunglasses, and slipped them back on. Then, he reached across the console one more time. His hand found yours, his fingers intertwining with your own and pressing your knuckles gently against his thigh.
"Ready to finish the drive?" he asked, a soft, genuine smile playing on his lips.
You looked out at the endless blue horizon ahead, then back at your husband, feeling lighter than you had in months. "Yeah. I'm ready."
Hongjoong turned the key. The powerful engine of the sports car roared back to life, vibrating through the seats.
He shifted into reverse, backed off the gravel pull-off, and steered the car back onto the smooth asphalt of the Pacific Coast Highway, the afternoon sun guiding the way forward as you chased the coast together.
take your shoes off - boredom at your fashion designer boyfriend’s house leads to a very eventful night for the both of you.
TRIGGER WARNING: dom!hongjoong (maybe even mean), slightly bratty! reader (i can’t help it, it’s built in me), brattamer!hongjoong, dirty talk, swearing, begging, pet names (baby), kissing, unprotected p in v (do NOT), f receiving oral, choking, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, captain kink, crying, possessiveness, m receiving oral, crying, fluids mentioned, biting, teasing, scratching, submission, name calling, grabbing, praise (good girl), sharing clothes, bad humor
let me know if i missed any! i wrote this and kind of feel eh about it but like… i wrote it? so i might as well post it. okay, love you, bye! ♡
There were only so many ways to fill the time.
Tiktok and Youtube could only do so much before everything felt repetitive. One video would bleed into the next and you couldn’t separate storytimes from one another.
Doom scrolling was a bad habit, but you had been alone for so long now that even that couldn’t help keep your mind occupied.
Your friends were busy, all out having their own lives while you sat at your boyfriend, Hongjoong’s, house.
Alone.
Even he had a schedule. You knew he was a busy man, he had been meeting with designers to help make a second collection for his fashion brand. You didn’t fault him for that. You loved his work and you saw how happy it made him when his sketches came to life.
You loved seeing him happy.
You loved him.
But, at this current moment, you would do anything to have him by your side.
You didn’t have your car and you didn’t feel like spending whatever money it would take to go anywhere, not that you had any desire to go anywhere.
It had reached a point that your phone was so dry and you hadn’t had human interaction for hours that you were beginning to question if you were even still on Earth.
Or living.
There was even an hour when you had convinced yourself that you were actually in some sort of purgatory and that’s why you didn’t have the cell reception to receive any texts from anyone.
Before you could fully spiral and storm the neighborhood surrounding your boyfriend’s house to find some sort of life, he had sent you a text.
“Hmm, maybe people actually just hate me.” you questioned yourself before sliding to unlock your phone.
“My meeting ran a little late. I’ll be home soon, my love.”
That text came in nearly two hours ago.
You know because you had been patiently waiting in the living room, watching the clock to make sure you could meet him as soon as he walked in.
Yes, you were that bored.
Your head fell onto the back of the couch with a huff as you realized just how pathetic you probably looked. Like a dog waiting for its owner.
You pushed yourself from your relaxed position to make your way to his bedroom where you had been living in for this entire week.
He knew he’d have very little free time and wanted to see you as much as possible, so he asked for a long term sleepover. That way, every minute he had to himself you would be there and could spend as much time together without having to worry about picking you up or dropping you off.
He said that it was just a waste of precious time that you both could use to be together.
His house was exponentially better than yours, so it was a pretty easy answer.
Typically he wasn’t this busy, the two of you got to spend mornings and nights together and have little dates in between.
He had apologized at the start of the week, promising he’d do everything in his power to make it up to you the second he could.
You waved him off, you weren’t typically a clingy person but having your time limited with him had started to make your skin crawl.
You missed his cheesy jokes and his little ramblings about things he was working on.
You missed him explaining things that you would never use again in your life or be able to fully understand.
You missed him.
You would get maybe an hour or two tops with him every day when he got home before he was down for the count.
Once you reached the top of the stairs, your energy had drained. Your body felt tired and weak, as if your life source depended on those little interactions.
You felt needy and you hated it.
Worst of all, the two of you had barely been able to have any type of bedroom fun for the past few days. Which wasn’t helping.
Sex was never an issue in your relationship, he was very generous with making sure you were never hungry in that department. But with all his back to back meetings with artists and designers, he was always so exhausted when he did finally make it home.
And you weren’t selfish, you would never ignore his emotional state to satisfy your own needs.
In fact, you hadn’t really thought about it much until now.
But now that you had-
The sun was only just beginning to set outside, you figured it was still early enough that he wouldn’t mind a surprise for when he did eventually get home.
With newfound giddiness, you rushed to his bedroom and opened the top drawer in the dresser he had designated to your things.
He had offered to build you your own closet or give you his, but you figured that would be more of something that seemed logical if you were living there. Not just staying every once in a while.
You called it your dresser, but in reality, it was filled with things that Hongjoong had purchased for you.
When the two of you had first started seeing each other, you were a little hesitant whenever he decided to spend his money on you. You didn’t come from money and anytime anyone had “gifted” you something before, it came with conditions.
It took many, many politely rejected gifts and countless discussions about how much he genuinely enjoyed doing it for you to eventually give in.
And when you did, he went a little crazy.
You knew that half of the things you currently had your grubby little hands on were worth more than a month’s rent at your apartment.
Anytime you had worn something he had purchased, it always felt like it should’ve belonged to someone else. Someone who was worthy of it.
That also took some time (mixed with convincing) and praise from Hongjoong to help you get over.
You knew exactly what you were looking for, you were a woman on a mission.
He had gifted you a lingerie set months back that had yet seen the light of day. You promised to him you’d wear it on a special occasion, considering it was something that was meant to be worn under something. Not just on its own.
It was a black set, almost completely sheer apart from the lace brimming the tops of the bra and bottom of the panties. The same lace that matched the garter belt to connect to thigh high stocking.
He disagreed, but you laid out an entire storyline of how much better it would be if he was surprised by the set while he undressed you. Like unwrapping a gift.
He had offered to take you out that same night but you stood your ground. Calling him impatient and telling him good things come to those who wait.
But now?
Fuck waiting.
You were impatient and wanted a good thing to come now.
It took you no time to shed his shirt and replace it with the outfit, anxiously sitting on his bed as if he would walk in the second you were done.
Unfortunately for you, he hadn’t.
Unfortunately for you, his location hadn’t seemed to have moved from where it had been for the last few hours.
You sighed, flopping back onto the bed. Not only did you feel needy and impatient but now you were cold.
You turned your head to face the doorway of his closet, smiling as you thought of a new way to cure your boredom.
The lights immediately switched on the second your feet had touched the floor, wall to wall racks of his clothing surrounding you and the island in the center of the seemingly neverending closet space.
You knew that he had a lot of clothing, but this was more than you could possibly fathom.
“It’s like Mary Poppin’s bag, but in closet form.” you muttered to yourself as you picked a side and started looking through the racks.
Your fingers grazed over endless bundles of clothing, color coded suits with their matching pants hung alongside one another. You ran your hands down the line before stopping at a random red plaid jacket, quickly and carefully taking it from its hanger and throwing it on.
It hung from your shoulders, the extra material of the sleeves hanging over your hands as you sprinted to his floor length mirror. Your head tilted, “No, it should be black.”
You rushed to the section of black, using both your hands to separate the rack and take in each one.
“What would he even wear this to?” you asked, pinching a black and white checkered suit before pushing it away to reveal a black pinstriped one just behind it.
Your eyes lit up, placing it on you and heading back to the mirror.
“I should keep this.” you said, wrapping it shut before spinning and looking back at how it sat against your legs. “I feel like a mob boss.” you chuckled, your eyes scanning for the shelves of hats you knew he had.
You tried on a few different styles, creating characters for each one. You found a dark grey pageboy hat, one that you had seen him wear many times, placing it on your head before throwing your hair to the front of your shoulders.
“You come to me- on this- the day I am so bored and horny and ask me for a favor?” you mocked into the mirror, your lips downturned before taking a moment and walking to the island.
“Needs a tie.” you sighed, not even fully remembering why you had started this in the first place.
Black silk was a must, you decided, grabbing one at random and wrapping it around your neck.
You had seen Hongjoong do it enough times that it couldn’t have been that hard. Or so you thought.
You bit at your tongue, looping the material over itself and attempting to make it resemble somewhat of a knot. Your hair fell into your eyes as you grew increasingly frustrated, huffing as your hands slapped down against your bare thighs.
“Need a hand?” a voice came from behind you.
You screamed, shutting the jacket and spinning back to your very amused boyfriend leaning with his arms folded against the doorway. “Having fun?” he smirked, taking in your flustered state as you placed a hand to your chest to attempt to steady your heart.
“Don’t scare me like that!” you yelped, picking up a discarded hat and throwing it near his direction. Missing him completely.
He laughed, his face falling to the floor as he pushed himself from the frame. “I called for you many times. When you didn’t answer I assumed you were just sleeping up here but I see that is very much not the case.” he walked towards you, extending his arms to pull you into him.
He dug his nose into your hair, inhaling deeply while wrapping his arms tightly around your waist. “I missed you.” he mumbled against you.
“I missed you too.” You sighed happily, nuzzling your face against his chest.
Every hour of boredom erased from your mind for every second he held you.
“Miss me so much you wanted to be me?” he pulled back to smile down at you, a hand moving to grab at the loose tie around your neck. He idly knotted it as you watched him in awe. No matter how long the two of you had been together, you still felt like you were dreaming whenever you were this close to him.
You didn’t understand how someone could be this perfect, this handsome, this talented and want to be with you. The person who had just been doing bad mobster impressions in the mirror a few minutes ago.
“There. Now you’re me.” he beamed, trailing his fingers down the tie and against the front of the jacket. His eyes followed, “Although, I would probably be wearing pants.”
“If you wear what I have on under this suit, then we have to have a discussion on why I haven’t seen it sooner.” you breathe out a laugh, pulling yourself back to look at him directly.
He knitted his brows in confusion, tiling his head as he played with the end of the tie, “What do you-“
His sentence cut short at the sight of lace peaking just out of the lapel.
You could physically see his pupil dilate, his body frozen as his face straightened. He knew exactly what you had on. He was very aware of the lingerie set he constantly begged you to wear.
He didn’t beg for anything. Ever.
His fingers tightened a bit on the silk tie, “Open it.”
You knew that tone, that was his “I’m being polite now, but do not push it” tone. It was one of your favorite tones he had.
Your eager hands shook as you unhooked yourself from him to untuck the jacket from under your arms. His sharp intake of breath in time with the jacket falling open.
He groaned, “What did I do to deserve you?”
“I don’t know, but you must have been terrible in a past life.” you joked, pushing up on your toes as you wrapped your hands around the back of his neck.
“What I did back then is nowhere close to what I’m going to do to you now.” he cooed.
His lips crashed against yours, one hand pulling the tie to lift you up to him as the other found your hip. His fingers rubbed along the patterns of the lace as he brought your bottom lip between his teeth.
You gasped, his grip tightening as he pressed against you. He took the moment to slide his tongue into your mouth, massaging it against your own. His breathing had picked up, fingers bruising against the skin of your waist as he pulled back taking a string of saliva with him.
“I’ve been so selfish lately.” he stated softly, his nose tracing alongside yours as you whimpered in response. “You’ve been waiting here for me every day, taking the stress from my shoulders just by being yourself without a complaint.” he distanced from you, the tie lifting in his hand as he used it to walk you towards the island.
“You’ve been so good for me.” His voice was light, but his eyes were dark. He snapped his wrist towards his chest, flinging you into him by the neck as your hands caught on his biceps.
His face hovered above you, “I think you deserve a thank you, don’t you?”
You didn’t know what the thank you was but you nodded vigorously, excited to find out. He chuckled to himself, releasing the tie as it fell between your breasts. His hands traced down over your hips before back up to your waist, gripping it tightly and pushing you up to sit on top of the island.
You squeaked as your nearly bare ass hit the cool marble top of it, eyes wide as your hands continued to clutch to his body.
A smile tore across his face, his hands moving under his jacket to slide the material from your arms. It fell back against the island and he spread it out like a makeshift blanket behind you. “Lay back, baby, let Captain take care of you today.” his palm pressed against your chest to lay you flat.
You stopped yourself from giggling and kicking your feet, this was exactly what you wanted.
He wrapped his fingers around your right ankle, pressing his lips against it before going up to your calf, placing kisses up the line of your leg until he reached the top of your thigh highs. “You’re keeping these on.” His lips moved against your thigh, his hand unclasping the buckle from the garter. He repeated the same on the other side. You had to resist squirming, you knew doing so would only make him prolong doing anything at all.
Your patience was wearing very very thin and no matter how many times he tried to train you to be more submissive to him, there was a part of you that he could never contain. And you were doing everything in your power to push that side of you down.
“But these-“ his fingers hooked to the waistband of your underwear, “These are in my way.”
You exhaled shakily through your nose, your lips forming a pout as a whine slipped out.
He pulled them down at a snail’s pace, as much as you loved testing him. He loved to test you. To see how much he could get away with before you snapped, or just to test if you would snap.
It took a brat to be a good brat tamer.
“Something wrong?” he mocked innocence, tossing your panties to the floor before lowering himself to his knees. You didn’t have to look at him to know he was smiling, you could hear it in his voice. “It’s been a few days, I just want us to enjoy every minute of this.” His hands raked down the tops of your thighs, the subtle burn of his fingernails making you hiss through your teeth before pulling your lip between them.
“I’ve been begging you to wear this, and you decide to put it on when I’m not here?” he tsk’d, moving to lick a stripe from the inside of your thigh just to stop before where you wanted him most.
You whimpered, biting so hard on your lip you thought you’d draw blood. “I wanted to surprise you.” you managed to get out.
He hummed, “I think you were just horny and wanted to get your way. Isn’t that right?”
He moved to your other thigh, his teeth sinking into the flesh of it. Your hand reached to grip at his hair, fingers lacing between his messy locks. “I said, isn’t that right?” he repeated himself, tracing his tongue along his teeth marks.
You exhaled shakily, “Yes.”
He smiled against you, his face moving an inch closer to your core. “Were you feeling needy, baby?” he kissed the area, sucking your skin into his mouth.
You nodded, “Yes.”
Another inch closer, “You were missing me that badly?”
“Yes.”
Another inch, his nose just grazing your folds. He lifted a hand to spread you open with his fingers, groaning to himself as he took in how wet you were. “All this and I haven’t even touched you yet.” he laughed and you could feel his breath against you. The warmth made you shiver.
“It’s been a little bit, remind me, who makes you this wet?” he looked up at you and the sight alone could send you over the edge.
“You do.” you whispered, trying not to sound as desperate as you felt.
He lowered his brows, feigning confusion, “You, who?”
“Hongj-“ was all you could get out before his tongue found your clit. His arms hooked under your thighs swinging them over his shoulder and pulling you closer to his face.
He ate you like a man starved, inhaling as his face disappeared into your cunt. His tongue swiveled and swirled around your bundle of nerves, moaning into you to add extra vibration.
Your hand pulled at his hair, your head falling back as you back arched into him. That hat you wore sliding off and bouncing onto the floor.
He groaned, an arm moving up to grip the bottom of the tie and pull it to sit you forward. He removed himself, lips and chin glistening as he scowled at you, “Eyes on me.”
You placed your hands flat behind you to support yourself, nodding as he kept a hold on the tie. It tightened around your neck, cutting your airflow only slightly due to the soft material but it was enough to make your vision blur at the edges.
He dipped back in with the same speed, his lips smacking against you as you could feel yourself shuttered at the intensity of his stare alone.
His remaining hand dropped below your eyesight as you felt him slide a finger into you.
The moan you let out echoed in the vastness of the closet, your jaw dropping. He turned his hand to curl his finger up to graze your g-spot. You did all you could to keep yourself upright, your arms already on the verge of giving out.
His eyes gleamed as he watched you unravel before him, the bulge in his dress pants nearly ripping through the seams.
He watched as you gasped when he added a second finger and you could feel him smile into you. He pulled back as his fingers set a steady rhythm pumping in and out of you. “I missed those pretty sounds of yours.” he licked his lips causing you to whine.
He groaned, “That one’s good.”
His fingers curled into you, “But let me see if I can get my favorite.”
You had no time to brace yourself before he started rubbing against the sweet spot inside of you, his thumb coming up to circle around your bundle of nerves.
“Hongjoong.” you moaned, wanting nothing more than lay flat against the counter. Your arms shaking as you kept eye contact, the smirk on his face only making things worse.
“There it is.” he chuckled to himself but you could tell he wasn’t satisfied yet. “Let me hear that again.” he said before returning his tongue to replace his thumb, pulling the tie around your neck tighter towards him.
You felt yourself clamp around him so tightly you thought it’d cut off the circulation in his fingers. The only word you were able to get out was his name as you felt the build up of pleasure reaching its highest point.
“Fuck, Hongjoong, feels so good.” you spoke between breaths. He moaned into you, his fingers slowing as you squeezed around them.
He withdrew himself, your body aching at the emptiness just before you reached your orgasm. A whimper fell from you, eyes searching him wildly as he stood.
He fumbled to grasp his belt, hurriedly unbuckling it as he set his dick free from its restraint.
He leaned over you, his hand coming to wrap around your cheek as he mimicked your frown with a mocking tone, “What’s wrong, baby? You don’t want me inside you?”
You shook your head trying to hide your frustration as you licked your lips, “I was so close, Captain.”
“Isn’t it frustrating to not get what you want?” he faked sincerity, thumb moving down to press against your bottom lip.
You nodded, immediately bringing it into your mouth as your tongue wrapped around it.
“Now you know how I’ve felt waiting for you to wear this.” His eyes scanned over the outfit before looking down at your lips, watching as you sucked on the digit.
“Knew you’d look so pretty in it and it was just sitting in a drawer.” His other hand traced the strap of your bra, traveling behind you to unclasp it quickly.
He leaned forward to kiss along your jaw, “And seeing you in this with my jacket-“
He took in a deep breath, peppering open mouth kisses down your throat to your chest.
Your hand wrapped around the back of his neck, pulling him closer to you as he sucked your nipple. His teeth grazed it lightly, animalistic as he groaned against you.
“Love when you wear my things. Things I bought you. Things I make for you. I’m going to make you so many pretty things.” he spoke between licks.
“Love marking you. Letting everyone know your mine.” he said, biting down onto the soft skin of your breast.
You gasped, your nails digging into his shoulder as he laughed at the sensation.
“My beautiful baby.” he said, one hand pumping himself while the other drew you in closer by the small of your back.
You exhaled, his words going straight between your legs. You knew he was a territorial man, and you loved that about him. It made you feel safe. Protected. It also made you want to suck the soul out of him.
You bit your lip, feeling even more desperate to feel him. Your body missed him even when he was touching you. It wasn’t enough. It was never enough.
“All yours.” you spoke as his mouth found your neck again, one hand working on himself while the other grabbed at your chest.
You felt his body twitch against you, his hand moving faster on his dick. The tip leaking into his fist as he lifted his head to meet your gaze.
Your foreheads touching as his lips hung open, “Tell me again.”
“I’m yours, Hongjoong. Only yours.”
His lips found yours and you felt yourself melt into him. He always had the ability to take your breath away, his style of kisses varied but you felt his love for you in everyone. Everytime.
He pulled you towards the edge of the countertop, pressing his tip against your clit, slapping lightly against it from the movement of his hand.
You tried to reach down, to help him. You wanted to touch him, you wanted to make him feel good.
He bit your lip, “No touching, baby. Today is about taking care of you.”
You huffed, needy and pathetic as you tried it again. Hoping he would give in.
You should’ve known better.
He stopped, looking at you with an intensity that made your thighs clench around him.
“Did you not hear me?” his hand moved to the drawer beside your legs as you scrambled to try to explain yourself.
“I just want to make you feel good, Captain.” you pleaded hoping the nickname would soften his mood and reached again. His eyes shut as he took in a sharp breath. His fingers left his dick to wrap around your wrist and held it up to your face, opening his eyes to glare at you.
“Give me your other hand.” he demanded, scowling at you. You could tell the nickname had worked, but not in the way you wanted.
You knew not to make his wait, your other arm lifting shakily to meet the one he held.
He pulled another tie from the drawer, wrapping it around the both of them. The knot he formed digging softly into your skin as he moved to grab them both in one palm.
“You want to make Captain feel good?” he asked, his tone practically singsongy as his free hand moved back to press his tip against you, collecting your arousal.
You nodded, biting down onto your lip as your wrist twisted against the material. He raised them above your head, leaning forwards to push you both to lay back onto the counter. “Yeah?” he cooed, hovering over you.
“Yes, Captain. Please.” you whispered up at him.
“Then take everything I give you, like a good girl.” he said before pushing himself into your leaking hole.
The two of you moaned as he bottomed out. One hand restraining you while the other came to wrap around your hip. He pulled you down closer to sink into his lap, his forehead resting against yours as he whimpered.
“You’re pussy doesn’t want to let me go, baby.” he said as his hips moved back, slowly sliding inch by inch out of you while you laid with your jaw slack. “She’s needy, just like you.” His laugh broke into breaths as he pushed back into you. Your walls immediately squeezing around him.
“Fuck-“ he moaned, “Always so tight for me.”
Your toes curled as he pushed in so deeply you could feel him in your chest.
He held himself there, his breath hitting your face as he stood himself up. “Keep these here or you don’t cum.” he released his grip on your tied wrists before moving his hand to grab your waist fully.
You nodded, panting as you watched his eyes rake over your body. He looked back at you, “And keep your eyes on me.”
He pulled out of you again slowly, the sensation making you back arch as he groaned in response. “Do you know how hard it is to focus in meetings when I know I’m coming home to this?” he said, thrusting into you harshly. Your legs wrap around his back to try to stabilize yourself.
“Can’t pay attention to anything when I’m thinking about you waiting for me all doe eyed.” He set a pace, slamming into you with such consistent force you took your breath away. “Thinking about you walking around, wearing my shirts, laying in my bed. Fuck-“ he gritted through his teeth, “Wanting to be fucked. To be split open on my dick.” His voice broke into a whimper as you matched his pace with your hips.
“God, baby, you feel so fucking good.” he said softly, biting onto his lip as sweat formed across his forehead. “You make me feel fucking good.” he shifted himself to angle into you, hitting your sweet spot and making you cry out.
He laughed, honing in on making sure he hit it again and again, “Right there?”
You scrambled to speak, your throat dry as you breathed out a ‘yes’.
“Eyes on me, you look so pretty when you cum.” he removed a hand from your hip to pull you up by your tie. Your forehead fell against his shoulder as your lips immediately started working on the skin under his jaw.
He grabbed the back of your neck, making you face him as the new upright angle assured he wouldn’t miss your g-spot with every thrust.
You felt yourself squeezing around him as he pressed his thumb back into your mouth. Your tongue swirling around it on autopilot before he pulled it out and brought it between you to press against your clit.
Your breath hitched, forcing your eyes to stay open as you felt your orgasm building in the pit of your stomach. He groaned, feeling it too as your walls wrapped to form around him, “I’m not going to last much longer if you keep doing that.”
“Can’t help it, - feels so good.” You breathed, moving back to loop your tied arms around the back of his neck. His finger sped up, his dick twitching inside of you. “Yeah? Does my dick feel good?” he teased, his voice strained.
You nodded, keeping his eye contact, “You feel so good, Captain. You’re so big.”
His eyes rolled, moving his head to latch on your nipple. The extra sensation was almost overwhelming as you did your best to keep hold of his body as he slammed into you.
He sucked hickeys into the skin of your breast, his hips sputtering as his eyebrows furrowed. You could feel your limbs starting to go limp, pleasure taking over you as you tried to warn Hongjoong but no words came out.
Your orgasm hit you, your body trembling as he continued to fuck you through it. Your walls sucking him in so tightly that he followed immediately after with a whine. Unable to stop himself.
“Fuck-“ he groaned, cumming so hard that it began to leak out of you around his dick. “I couldn’t hold-“ you panted, your head falling against him as he brought a hand to hold you still against him. He kissed lazily at your temple, steadying his breathing as he nodded. “It’s okay, just-.” his body shook, his hand trailing softly on the soft skin of your back causing you to shiver. He moaned at your shutter, involuntarily causing you to flutter around his dick that sat inside of you.
He took a breath before continuing, “You’ll remember to tell me this time.”
You lifted your head with a desperate expression, feeling boneless as you felt him stiffen between your legs.
“Hongjoong-“ you tried as he shot you a warning look, withdrawing himself from you.
Before you could even begin to panic or question if you upset him, he lifted your hands from him and spun you over.
His suit jacket slid, the cold marble of the countertop against your nipples and heated skin made you his. Your hands were over your head again, your cheek resting against the surface as you felt him rubbing himself along your entrance.
“You wanted to cum so badly earlier, I’m just trying to give you what you want.” he feigned innocence, pushing himself back into you. The full feeling making your mouth water as you could feel yourself drooling onto the marble.
“I can’t-“ you tried, but his hand cracked against the side of your ass. “You can and you will. You wanted to make me feel good, right?” he stated more than asked, bouncing you off of him so hard you thought you’d give yourself a concussion.
Another slap, “Right?”
“Yes, yes, want to make you feel good.” you nodded frantically, the sensation of your nipples sliding against the cool marble making you practically purr.
“Why would we stop when you’re taking my dick so well, baby?” he pistoned into you, hitting spots inside you didn’t even know existed. You felt so full of him as he fucked his cum deep into you.
Your mind was blank, only able to focus on how good he felt in you.
“Look at you, so wrecked for me. Isn’t that right?” he laughed through pants, and you couldn’t even find the strength to respond. “Don’t tap out on me, if you don’t warm me this time we’ll just keep going until you do.” He threatened, and you snapped back knowing that he meant it.
“There she is.” he smirked, his hand smoothing over the inflamed skin of your ass. “You feel that good, baby?” he kneaded the skin, gripping it to use as a handle to slam you back against him.
You whined, “So big. So full.”
His fingers looped around the back of your tie, pulling your top half to his chest as he pushed further into you to assure you didn’t fall off the island. His other hand moved down to press against your lower stomach as he nipped at your ear, “You feel me here, don’t you??”
You shook your head, “In my throat.”
He chuckled, “Yeah?”
He moved to wrap his fingers around your neck, “Right here?”
He waited until you nodded in response before tightening his hold, your jaw dropping as you did your best to breathe.
His lips stayed pressed to your ear, making sure you heard every sound that you pulled from him. You pouted, you loved hearing him be so vocal. With every groan and whimper, you felt the band in your stomach get tighter.
He laughed softly, biting at your earlobe, “You have something you want to tell me?”
You knew he could feel you gripping him, but you could barely form words with his hand around your throat. You opened and closed your mouth, eyebrows knitting as he continued to push into you with mind numbing force.
His hips tilted to plunge into you so deep it took your breath away. His teeth found your shoulder, moaning into it as his speed picked up.
Your vision blurred, your tied hands coming up to grip at his hand as it immediately dropped from you. “Hongjoong-“ you gasped, pushing your ass against him, “Don’t stop, right there please.”
You felt him twitch, “Fuck Hongjoong please.”
“Please what, baby?”
You were panting, slamming yourself back to him as his fingers bit into your hips with a bruising force. You knew he wasn’t going to last that much longer either.
“Please. I’m gonna’ cum.” you managed to get out, your body arching as you felt yourself locking up.
He brought his finger to play with your oversensitive clit, tears forming at the corners of your eyes. You couldn’t form cohesive thoughts, just crying his name as he fucked you into the counter. Your hips smacking against the marble as his hips slammed into you.
“Good- girl.” he grunted, his fingers speeding up.
“Want this- everyday.” he said, his sweat dripping on to you as you responded with a moan. “Wanna’ come home and fuck you dumb. Wanna hear those pretty sounds.” you wished you could grab him, you wanted to touch him. To ground yourself as he bucked into you relentlessly, you felt overstimulated. Your body shivered against him as you felt your second orgasm approaching with his words.
As if he could read your mind, his hand quickly ripped the tie from your wrist before coming to your chest to pinch your nipple. Your one hand stabilized yourself on the counter while the other moved back to dig into the back of his neck. Holding on for dear life.
“Hongjoong, gonna’ cum.” you got out, your head falling back against him.
“Cum with me, baby.” he repeated over and over, his fingers circling your puffy clit as he pushed into you with so much force you saw stars.
It hit you so hard that no sound came out of you, your mouth open as your walls milked his cock. His body fell forward into you as he groaned loudly.
The two of you just stayed like that, your body unmoving as his hips slowly continued to press into you. Fucking you through the aftershocks until his cum was sliding down your thigh.
He kissed your shoulder, muttering soft praises as his hips came to a stop. His forehead resting against your shoulder blade.
The only sound in the room was your broken breaths as you both tried to come back to reality.
He kissed your shoulder, his hands grabbing the counter on either side of you to push himself up.
He looked down at where he disappeared inside of you, laughing, “You ruined these pants.”
The black fabric was soaked, dripping with a mix of you and him. You scoffed, pressing your forehead against the marble, “You ruined those pants, you should’ve taken them off.”
“You want to say that again?” he amused, his finger ghosting over your overworked and sore bundle of nerves. Your body nearly jumped away from him, he laughed, pulling you back against him. “Don’t run, let’s just stay like this for a minute. You feel so good around me.”
“I swear to God, if you get hard again.” You deflated, your hand idly scratching at his scalp. He hummed, pushing further into you, “You make it so easy though.”
You gasped, pouting, “Please, I am a weak woman.”
He smiled into your skin, kissing your shoulder again.
After a minute he spoke again, “So, what do you think?”
You laughed, looking back at him, “You want ratings now?”
His fingers slapped against where he held your hip, shaking his head and he bit on his lip to stop his smile. “About what I said.”
“You fuck me like that and expect me to be able to hold conversation? What did you say?” you lifted yourself, sliding him out of you slightly. He pulled himself out completely, carefully turning you to sit on the counter and face him.
He combed through your damp hair, “Would you want that- me- everyday?”
“You’re asking if I’d fuck you everyday?” you questioned, laughing to yourself. It wasn’t far off from what you two usually did, apart from the last week.
His head fell forward, cheeks flushing, “No-“
He tucked himself back into his pants, not caring about the mess. He’d probably just buy new ones to replace them.
You pushed back the hair that had stuck to his forehead, He lifted his eyes to look at you, his lips forming a soft smile as he watched you.
“Would you- want to move in here- with me?” he asked quietly, his hand coming to wrap around yours. He moved it to kiss at the top of it, his eyes never leaving yours.
You felt your entire body flush, your heart feeling full as you looked at your usually cool and confident boyfriend. He watched you carefully, his demeanor becoming more and more nervous with every second that went unanswered.
“We’re going to need to clear some of this closet.” you smiled, your arms linking around his back as you looked around your surroundings.
He bit his bottom lip, his hands resting on your waist, “I’ve told you I’ll build you your own.”
“I mean in general, there are some questionable things in here.” you joked. He swore at you, his fingers tickling at your sides as you tried to slap him away.
He moved to lift you, bringing you into him as he carried you over to his bed. He placed you down before hovering over you, “So, is that a yes.”
“I would love to move in with you.” you grinned, your hand lacing in his hair as he moved down to kiss you softly.
His lips molding against yours, your tongue moving to trace along his top lip. He groaned, biting down on your bottom lip. Both of your breathing slowly increase in speed.
His hand trailed down your side as you moaned into him. “Still sensitive?” he mumbled into your lips.
You nodded a mixture of desire and defeat in your tone, “I can go again if you can.”
He grabbed your wrist, moving it to his erection and wrapping your fingers around it, “What do you think?”
You whimpered, remembering his size. Remembering how it just fit so snuggly in you moments ago. Your core is already throbbing despite its soreness.
You unzipped his pants and slid your hand into them. Your started working him slowly, his breath hitching as he fully moved on the bed. His legs came up to rest on top of the mattress.
You continued to pump him, watching his eyes flutter shut as you crawled to move between his legs.
Something shiny catching your eye.
“Hongjoong!” you yelped, causing him to spring into attention. You moved your hand to point down at his feet, “Take your shoes off!”
“You just decided to move in and you’re already making demands?” he laughed, kicking them off his feet and onto the floor before you slid his pants down to follow them.
“Regretting your decision already?” you asked, satisfied at the removal before leaning between his legs.
He laughed, his head resting against his headboard, “Alittle-“ before he could finish his thought, you wrapped your lips around him. Doing exactly what he had done to you earlier. Your tongue moving to circle his tip as you continued working him with your hand. He laughed gently, his eyes finding yours, “You brat.”
You pulled up to correct him, “Your brat.”
His fingers laced in your hair as you took him in your mouth, exhaling as he held it back from his view, “My brat.”
He groaned so strongly you felt it in your own chest. “My brat.” he repeated, as you hollowed your cheeks around him. Your head bobbed as you inched him further and further into your throat slowly.
His moans quickened, getting higher in pitch as they turned to whines. Once he bottomed out you swallowed around him, his hands stilling you as you remembered to breathe through your nose.
“Too good- too much.” he whimpered, “Need to cum in you again.”
The second his hands left your head, you slowly trailed back up his cock. Your tongue traces it as you reach the top. You sucked against his tip, his hips jutting upwards, “Baby, please.”
You cocked an eyebrow, he had never begged you in bed before.
Before you could move again, he looked down at you realizing what he had done, “Don’t even fucking think about it.”
His tone was stern enough to almost wipe any plan you began to formulate in your mind.
Almost.
You bat your eyes innocently up at him as you suck his tip back into your mouth. Your tongue licking the precum leaking from it.
You had been too obedient to him the last time around so you needed to remind him exactly who you were.
He hissed, his chest heaving as you repeated it one more time before releasing him with a pop. His dick slapping against his stomach.
“You want to be in control? Get up here and ride me.” his hand slid to slap lightly against your cheek. A warning for if you tried to do anything other than what he had said.
You nodded, moving your way up his body, kissing at his stomach and chest up to his neck. Your teeth grazed the skin below his ear as he lined himself up with your hole. The feeling alone is already making you wince.
You will be very sore tomorrow.
“I’ve fucked you dumb today, now I want you to do it to yourself.” he said before lifting his hips to enter you, his hand on your hips as he pushed you down to meet him. “Show me how much you love my dick.” he growled up at you, not moving an inch. He removed his hands from you, lacing them behind his head. You frowned, still taking in the stretch of him. “What’s wrong?” he spoke in a condescending tone, “You wanted to take charge a second ago.”
His voice made you clench, his upper half jutting forward at the sensation. “Oh I see-“ he said, his hands moving back to your hips. He lifted you with ease, sliding you up himself before pushing you back down slowly. “You really are my brat, aren’t you?” he asked, catching your open mouth as he continued to use you like a fleshlight.
You nodded, growing impatient at his pace, “I’m sorry, Captain. Please-“
“Oh, don’t worry, I’ll help you-“ he said before he slowly started grinding you faster against him but not nearly as fast as you’d like to be. “I’ll get you there, baby.” His hand fell to your clit, making you wince as it throbbed against him.
You knew neither of you would last very long, but his tone was certainly helping you. He doubled his speed, grunting as you could tell he was trying to hold himself back, You already started to clench around him, the build up beginning as you could help but smile through the overstimulation. Tears flowing down your face as you felt yourself reaching a third orgasm.
“Hongjoong- I’m gonna-“
At those words he ceased movement.
You whined, looking down at him with wide eyes.
“I said I’ll get you there, now take charge like you wanted.” he challenged you, his eyebrows raising as he smirked. His breathing was quick and you could tell that this was making him just as impatient as you were, but he loved to teach you a lesson. “Unless, you want me to do it?” he asked, raising himself to place a hand at the small of your back. He pushed up into you, his lips finding your chest as he kissed down it. “Beg me.” he said, his tongue trailing down to catch your nipple.
You pushed him down to rest against the headboard, not ready to give up yet. He watched you in amusement as you leaned back to place your hands on his knees. You moved your feet to lay flat on either side of his hips, lifting yourself before going back down. “You sounded so pretty when you begged, Captain. Why don’t you beg me?”
His face twisted, trying to keep calm as you began to bounce yourself on him. He groaned, biting down on his lip. You were panting, fucking yourself on him as you pinched at your nipple. “You told me to fuck you, I’m just being your good girl.” you breathed, the new angle hitting you in just the right spot.
He watched with angry eyes as your other hand trailed between your legs, his chest heaving as he smacked your hand before you could relieve yourself.
He pushed forward, slamming you onto your back and hovering over you.
His hand gripped your thigh, pushing your leg to rest against his chest as he buried himself deep inside of you. “You want me to beg? You think you can fuck yourself as good as I can?” his pace was already relentless, your mouth hanging open. He pinched your chin between his index finger and thumb, “Tongue.”
You happily stuck it out, too blissed out to care. He spit onto it, moving his hand to slap your jaw shut. “Swallow it.” you did, opening again to show your clean tongue.
“Why don’t you introduce yourself to the new neighbors?” he said, lifting your other leg and leaning his chest against them. His dick feeling so deep inside you, you thought it would come out of your mouth. You gasped, “Hongjo-“
“Louder.”
You whimpered, unable to do anything as he licked his fingers and pressed them against your clit. Your body jolted as he masterfully played your body like an instrument. “They can’t hear you, speak up.” he said, his hand slapping against your clit as you cried out.
“What? Did I finally fuck the attitude out of you?”
You squeezed him, causing him to inhale sharply. “No, you just like when I treat you like the slut you are.” he began to rub you again.
The pleasure verges on painful, feeling so full and so worked by him that you begin to cry. He pulled your legs off of him, placing them on either side of him as he sank down to meet you. His hips and fingers are still working you as if it was nothing. He kissed up your face, his tongue licking at the water that gathered on your cheeks.
“I’m the only one who can make you feel like this.” he said, his pace faltering as he twitched inside of you. “This is my pussy, not yours. Every inch of you belongs to me. Don’t forget that.” His words made your eyes roll, your walls squeezing around him as your vision went white. “Hongjoong- I’m gonna-“ you got out.
He laughed, “Let me feel my pussy milk me.”
That was all you needed, your head rolling back as you shook, crying out loud enough that the next neighborhood over could probably hear you. He fucked you through it, his movements sloppy as he came inside of you. Your insides pulling every string of cum from his throbbing dick as he fell on top of you.
“Fuck, baby.” he sighed, kissing any piece of skin he could reach in his flattened state.
You laughed, your head still spinning as you continued to flutter around him, “I know, I’m amazing.”
“If you’re trying to bait me, I think you’ve cleaned me out but we can try-“
“No!” you exclaimed, the idea of going again made you shuttered. Hongjoong hissed as the movement echoed on his dick still inside of you, “Baby.”
“You’re on top of me, I can’t do anything.” you groaned, as he attempted to lift himself before falling back on top of you.
He nuzzled his face into your chest, “I don’t think my bones work anymore, let’s just rest like this.”
“I want dinner.” you stated honestly, the workout you both endured leaving you dying of thirst and wanting food. Your stomach growling just at the mention of food.
“Do you think if I write it in the instructions, I can get the delivery guy to bring the food to us up here?” he questioned, his chin resting to look you in the eyes.
You hummed, contemplating the logistics of the situation. Your fingers running through his hair as he smiled softly at you, “I don’t know how good that’d be for your image.”
“So what if the delivery man sees my ass.” he teased, carefully withdrawing himself from you as he made his way to his closet.
You questioned how he was able to walk around, feeling as if every muscle in your body would melt if you attempted to do the same. He came back in a pair of sweats, fixing his t-shirt as he approached the bed with a second one.
He leaned down, extending his neck to you, “Grab on.”
Your hands slapped against him as he stood, lifting you to sit. He placed a hand against your back, using the other to throw the shirt on you before pressing his lips against your clammy forehead.
“I’ll draw you a bath and order some food.” he whispered, kissing you again.
You smiled, moving your head so you could catch his lips. “Is this the Kim House Standard that I should be expecting from now on?”
He mocked offense, backing from you, "You act like I don’t spoil you rotten.”
You giggled, watching as he made his way to the bathroom, laying back onto your bed. You looked at the ceiling and asked yourself how the hell you got this life.
Hongjoong returned, leaning against the bedroom door frame, “So, now that we’re going to be living together, am I going to hear more of those little impressions?”
“Only if you’re good.” you quipped back, closing your eyes before your body was dragged down the bed by your ankle.
synopsis: Behind closed doors, the dynamic between you and your boyfriend, Hongjoong, completely flips. To the rest of the world, he is the charismatic and commanding presence on stage, but in the private sanctuary of your relationship, he gladly surrenders that control.
The heavy click of the front door locking felt like the official end of the world outside.
To millions of fans, Hongjoong was a force of nature—commanding, hyper-focused, and completely in control of every stage he walked onto. He carried the weight of a leader, a performer, and an icon, moving through the world with a sharp, untouchable precision that left people breathless.
But the moment the two of you crossed the threshold into the quiet sanctuary of the apartment, the suffocating pressure of his public life simply evaporated.
He didn't say a word as he shed his heavy leather jacket, tossing it carelessly onto a nearby chair. When he turned back to look at you, the sharp, intense gaze he used to hold entire stadiums captive was completely altered. The fierce, unyielding edge was gone, replaced by a quiet, heavy focus meant entirely for you.
Hongjoong took a slow step forward, his movements deliberate but entirely devoid of the authority he wore like armor out there. He stopped just inches away, looking down at you through the dark bangs falling over his forehead, his breathing already shallow.
Without you having to say a single word, he sank slowly onto his knees right there on the floorboards, his hands resting flat against his thighs. He tilted his head up, his sharp jawline defined under the soft evening light, looking up at you with absolute, unblinking devotion.
"Tell me what to do," he murmured, his voice a low, gravelly rasp that betrayed just how desperately he had been waiting for this exact moment all day.
You didn't answer right away. Instead, you took a slow, deliberate step closer, letting the tips of your boots brush against his knees. The faint friction made him track your movement, his chest rising and falling in a slightly quicker rhythm now, though he didn't dare move an inch without your permission.
Slowly, you reached down, your fingers sliding beneath his chin. You tilted his head back, forcing his gaze to hold yours completely. The contrast was striking—this was the man who, just hours ago, had a stadium of thousands hanging on his every word. Now, he was looking up at you, completely vulnerable, his lips slightly parted as a quiet, trembling breath escaped them.
"Did you behave today?" you asked, your voice low and even, dripping with an easy authority that made a visible shiver run down his spine.
Hongjoong swallowed hard, his throat bobbing against your fingertips. He leaned into your touch just a fraction, a subtle, desperate plea for closer contact that he tried to restrain. "Yes," he rasped, his eyes dark and wide, entirely focused on you. "I did exactly what I was supposed to. I promise."
"Good." You let your thumb trace the sharp line of his jaw, watching the way his eyelashes fluttered at the praise. "Because you don't have to be the leader in here, Hongjoong. You don't have to carry anything."
A soft, broken sigh left his lips at your words, the tension draining from his shoulders as he fully surrendered to the weight of your command. He reached up, his hands hovering just an inch away from your waist, waiting, begging with his eyes for the permission to touch you.
"Please," he whispered, his voice cracking slightly under the weight of how badly he wanted to please you. "Just tell me how you want me."
You let the silence stretch between you, enjoying the way his breathing hitched under the weight of his own anticipation. His hands remained frozen, hovering just off your hips, trembling slightly with the effort of keeping himself back until you gave the word.
"Hands on the floor, Joongie," you commanded softly, using the nickname like a velvet leash. "Don't touch me until I say so."
He didn't hesitate for a single second. His hands dropped instantly to the floorboards, planting firmly on either side of your boots. He bowed his head slightly, exposing the pale line of his neck, completely compliant. The utter lack of hesitation from someone so powerful outside these walls sent a sharp thrill right through you.
Slowly, you stepped out of your boots, the quiet thud of the leather hitting the floor the only sound in the room. You moved backward, sinking onto the edge of the plush bed, looking down at him from your new vantage point.
"Come here."
Hongjoong looked up, his eyes dark, heavily hooded, and entirely consumed by you. He crawled forward on his hands and knees, slow and deliberate, never breaking eye contact until his chest brushed against the mattress between your parted knees. He rested his chin on your thigh, looking up at you like a devotee at an altar, completely at your mercy.
You slid your fingers into his soft, dark hair, gently gripping the roots. Not enough to hurt, but just enough to let him know exactly who held the reins. His eyes closed, a low, needy hum vibrating against your leg at the sudden contact.
"You look so beautiful like this," you murmured, tilting his head back to expose his throat. "So eager to please."
"I am," he choked out, his hands now resting flat on the mattress on either side of your hips, still strictly obeying the command not to touch you directly. His gaze locked onto your lips, his breathing ragged. "Please. Let me do something for you."
You let your fingers tighten just a fraction in his hair, keeping his gaze locked onto yours. The sheer desperation rolling off him was palpable, a heavy tension that filled the space between you. He looked completely undone already, and you hadn't even let him touch you yet.
"Since you've been so good," you purred, your voice dropping to a velvety whisper.
Slowly, you eased your grip on his hair, sliding your hand down the side of his neck, your thumb tracing over his pulsing artery before hooking under the collar of his shirt. You shifted back into the mattress, parting your knees a fraction wider, inviting him into the space.
"You can touch me now," you murmured. "Take off my clothes. Slowly."
A ragged exhale broke from Hongjoong's lips, a sound of pure relief and intense hunger. His hands, finally released from their restraint, moved instantly. They slid up the denim of your jeans, his palms hot and slightly damp against your skin, tracing a path up to your waist. He didn't rush—even in his eagerness, he obeyed the command to be deliberate, his fingers trembling slightly as he worked at the button and zipper of your pants.
He leaned forward, shifting his weight onto his knees on the bed, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he slid the fabric down your hips. His hot breath brushed against your collarbone, sending a fierce shiver through your entire body.
"You're so perfect," he muttered against your skin, his voice muffled but entirely breathless. "Thank you... thank you for letting me."
Once the barrier of your clothes was gone, he didn't immediately go further. Instead, he stayed exactly where he was, hovering over you, looking down at your body with a reverence that bordered on worship. His hands came up to frame your waist, his thumbs smoothing over your hip bones, leaving burning trails in their wake.
You raised your hips slightly, hooking your legs around his waist to pull him closer, but you kept your hands flat against his chest, holding him back just enough to keep yourself in control.
"Look at me, Joongie," you commanded softly.
He lifted his head instantly, his pupils so blown out that the dark irises were almost entirely swallowed up. His lips were parted, a thin sheen of sweat glistening on his forehead.
"Down," you said, nodding toward the space between your thighs. "Show me exactly how much you wanted this all day."
Hongjoong’s chest heaved with a heavy, ragged breath as your command settled over him. For a fraction of a second, his gaze dropped to the space between your thighs, a dark, intense hunger flaring in his eyes before he looked right back up at you, silently asking for that final, silent confirmation.
When you gave him a slow, single nod, he moved.
He slid down the length of your body, his hot palms sweeping down your outer thighs to gently urge your knees wider apart. He settled between them on his knees, moving with a reverence that made your pulse skyrocket. The cool air of the room hit your bare skin, but it was immediately replaced by the radiating heat of his body as he leaned in.
Hongjoong didn't rush. He hovered just inches away, his breath ghosting over your sensitive skin, making you twitch beneath him. He looked up one more time, his dark bangs falling into his eyes, completely glassy and utterly devoted.
"Tell me if it's too much," he whispered, his voice incredibly low, gravelly, and entirely stripped of any pretense. "Tell me exactly how you want it."
"Just start, Joongie," you breathed, your hands reaching up to grip the headboard behind you as the anticipation became almost too much to bear.
He let out a soft hum against your skin, a vibration that made you gasp, before his lips finally made contact.
He started with slow, agonizingly soft kisses along the inside of your thigh, marking his way upward with deliberate patience. Every press of his lips was hot and damp, a deliberate slow-burn torture that had you arching your hips off the mattress in a silent plea for more. But he held your hips down firmly with his large hands, his fingers digging into your skin just enough to anchor you, keeping you exactly where he wanted you to be.
When his tongue finally flicked against your center, a sharp, breathless cry escaped your throat.
Hongjoong groaned against you at the sound, the praise fueling him instantly. His pace picked up, his tongue moving in long, deliberate strokes that had your fingers tightening around the headboard until your knuckles turned white. He knew exactly what he was doing, swirling and pressing with a devastating rhythm that had you completely at his mercy.
"Hongjoong..." you gasped out, your head tossing back against the pillows.
Hearing his name unraveled whatever restraint he had left. He used his fingers to part you further, exposing you completely to his heat.
His mouth became hungrier, his suction deeper, a soft, wet sound filling the quiet room as he worshipped you.
He swirled his tongue over your clit while simultaneously sliding two fingers inside you, the sudden fullness making your eyes snap open.
"Ah! Joongie—"
You looked down, your vision blurry, only to find him looking right back up at you. Even with his mouth buried against you, his dark, blown-out eyes never left your face.
He watched every single expression of pleasure cross your features, drinking in the sight of you coming apart under his touch, completely satisfied to be the one on his knees making it happen.
The sudden fullness of his fingers inside you, paired with the relentless, soaking friction of his tongue, had you arching wildly off the mattress. Your hips stuttered against his mouth, but Hongjoong’s grip on your thighs only tightened, holding you perfectly steady against the onslaught.
He didn't miss a single beat. His fingers curled inside you, finding the exact angle that made your toes curl, while his thumb applied a heavy, rhythmic pressure to your clit.
"Too fast?" he murmured against your skin, his voice muffled, hot, and vibrating directly against your center. He didn't slow down, his eyes locked onto yours, completely dark and pupils fully blown. He was reading every twitch of your muscles, every ragged hitch in your chest.
"No—don't stop, Joongie, please," you choked out, your voice breaking as the coiled tension in your lower stomach tightened down to a sharp, unbearable point.
A muffled, deeply satisfied growl rumbled in his throat at your begging. The sound was pure submission, yet the sheer intensity of his pace felt utterly dominant as he drove you closer to the edge. He increased the friction, his tongue swirling in relentless, soaking circles while his fingers moved in a swift, demanding rhythm inside you.
The quiet room was filled with the wet, heavy sounds of his devotion and your own breathless, unraveled cries. You were completely at his mercy, your hands gripping the headboard so tightly your arms trembled.
"Look at me," you gasped, your vision swimming.
He immediately tilted his head up slightly, never stopping his hands or his mouth, looking up at you through his damp bangs. His lips were wet and glistening, his jaw tense with the effort of holding his own desire back just to give you everything first. The absolute worship in his eyes was the final fuse.
"Hongjoong—I'm going to—"
"Go," he rasped out against you, his fingers flexing deeply inside you one more time. "Come for me, sweetheart. Let me feel it."
The peak hit you like a wave, a violent, blinding rush of heat that fractured your vision. You screamed his name, your hips spasming uncontrollably against his face as the first hard ripples of your orgasm tore through you.
Hongjoong didn't pull away. He drank in every single drop of your pleasure, burying his face directly into your heat and riding out the waves with you.
His fingers stayed buried deep inside you, curling gently to catch every internal contraction, anchoring you to the bed as your body trembled and finally, slowly, began to come down.
He stayed right there for a long, quiet minute, his face buried against your inner thigh as your breathing gradually slowed from a ragged pant to a steady, heavy rhythm. The tension had completely melted out of your muscles, leaving you tingling, warm, and entirely pliant against the sheets.
Slowly, Hongjoong pulled back. He slid up the mattress, his movements heavy and loose, until he was hovering over you once again.
He looked completely wrecked in the best possible way. His dark bangs were damp, clinging slightly to his forehead, and his lips were flushed and glistening under the dim light.
The intense, hyper-focused gaze he usually held was entirely gone, replaced by a soft, heavily hooded look of pure contentment. He rested his forearms on either side of your head, taking care not to put all his weight on you, but staying close enough that you could feel the frantic, rapid thumping of his heart against your chest.
"You're so beautiful," he whispered, his voice incredibly rough and gravelly. He leaned down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your temple, then your cheek, before resting his forehead against yours. "So beautiful when you take everything from me."
You let out a soft, breathy laugh, your hands lazily sliding up his chest to wrap around the back of his neck. Your fingers tangled in his hair, gently tugging to make him look at you. "You did so good, Joongie."
A visible shiver ran through him at the praise, a quiet, needy whimper catching in his throat. He shifted his hips against yours, and the heavy, rigid heat pressing against your thigh was a stark reminder that despite everything he had just given you, he hadn't touched himself once.
He was completely at his limit, his chest heaving as he stared down at you with a desperate, unspoken plea.
"Can I..." He swallowed hard, his throat bobbing as he struggled to find his words, completely unraveled by your touch. "Please. I want to be inside you so bad."
You arched your hips up slightly, feeling the friction of his weight, and smiled when a low growl rumbled deep in his chest at the movement.
"Take off your shirt," you commanded softly, sliding your hands down to his waist. "And then you can have exactly what you want."
Hongjoong didn’t need to be told twice. He sat back on his heels instantly, his fingers hooking into the hem of his white graphic tee. With one swift, fluid motion, he pulled it over his head and tossed it blindly onto the floor, exposing the sharp, tense lines of his chest and shoulders. His skin was slick with a thin sheen of sweat, gleaming under the low light of the room.
He didn't wait. He leaned back down over you, his bare chest pressing against yours with a heat that felt almost electric.
"Now," he gasped out, his hands framing your face, his thumbs smoothing over your cheekbones with a desperate intensity. "Please, tell me I can."
"Now, Joongie," you whispered.
He let out a ragged, broken sound—halfway between a sigh and a sob of pure relief. He reached down, his fingers guiding himself to your opening, which was still slick and sensitive from before. He paused for just a fraction of a second at your threshold, his eyes locked onto yours, silently checking one last time that you were ready to let him lose control.
When you wrapped your legs tightly around his waist, pulling him down, Hongjoong sank into you in one deep, slow push.
The sudden fullness made your eyes snap wide, a breathless gasp escaping your lips. Hongjoong groaned deeply, the sound vibrating right against your collarbone as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. He went entirely still for a moment, his muscles shaking with the sheer effort of restraining himself as your body tightly accommodated his weight.
"God, you feel so good," he choked out, his voice completely wrecked. "So tight. So hot."
Slowly, he began to move. He pulled back just enough before driving deep again, establishing a slow, heavy, agonizingly perfect rhythm. He wasn't the leader right now; he was completely at the mercy of the friction, his hips stuttering slightly whenever your hands tightened on his bare back, digging your nails into his shoulders.
Every time he pushed deep inside you, a soft whimper left his lips. He was entirely unraveled, giving up every ounce of his usual composure, completely content to let you hear just how weak he was for you.
The slow, agonizingly deep rhythm quickly began to fraction. As the heat built between you, Hongjoong’s composure fractured entirely, his breath turning into short, ragged gasps against your ear. Every time his hips met yours, a low, desperate sound tore from his throat—a raw vocalization of how deeply he was losing himself in you.
"Look at me," you choked out, your hands sliding up his slick back to grip the damp roots of his hair.
He lifted his head instantly, his face flushed and his eyes completely dark, wide with an intense, unblinking focus. There was no stage persona left, no guarded expression—just pure, unadulterated vulnerability. He was looking at you as if you were the only thing keeping him grounded in the universe, entirely dependent on your expression for his next breath.
"Faster, Joongie," you commanded, your voice strained under the tightening coil in your stomach.
The permission broke the final thread of his restraint. His pace turned urgent, hard, and unyielding, driving into you with a relentless fervor that had the headboard knocking rhythmically against the wall. The wet, heavy friction filled the quiet room, a devastatingly loud testament to his surrender.
"Ah, god—sweetheart," he gasped out, his jaw clenching tightly as his movements grew slightly wilder, his hips stuttering against yours. He was chasing the edge blindly now, his fingers digging into the mattress on either side of your head, muscles in his arms tensing until they trembled violently.
You wrapped your legs higher around his waist, locking him in, arching your hips to meet every deep, frantic thrust. The sudden shift in angle pushed you both right over the precipice.
"Hongjoong—" Your voice broke on his name as the second wave of your climax hit, tight internal contractions clamping down around him.
The feeling of you coming apart around him ruined whatever control he had left. Hongjoong let out a loud, broken cry, his head falling back as his eyes closed.
He delivered three more deep, desperate thrusts before embedding himself completely inside you, his entire body locking up as a heavy, shuddering release tore through him. He spilled inside you, his chest heaving violently against yours as his pulse ran completely wild.
The heavy, frantic thumping of his heart gradually slowed against your chest, the loud, echoing sound of his breathing filling the quiet room as the aftershocks of his release slowly subsided. Hongjoong stayed buried deep inside you for a long moment, completely spent, his forehead resting heavily in the crook of your neck as his muscles finally unlocked from their tight tension.
Slowly, with an almost agonizing gentleness, he shifted his weight. He pulled back, a soft, quiet gasp escaping his lips at the sudden loss of contact, and rolled onto his side right next to you on the tangled sheets.
He didn't let you go, though. The moment he settled, his arm slid around your waist, pulling your back flush against his bare chest. He buried his face in the damp hair at the back of your neck, his breath still hot and slightly uneven against your skin.
"Don't move," he murmured, his voice incredibly rough, deep, and completely laced with exhaustion. He tightened his grip around your middle just a fraction, pulling you so close there wasn't a single inch of space left between you. "Just stay right here."
You reached down, wrapping your fingers over his hand where it rested flat against your stomach. His skin was warm, his fingers still trembling slightly from the sheer intensity of the last hour.
Out there, the world was waiting for him—schedules, cameras, stadium lights, and the relentless pressure of being the perfect leader. But in the quiet dark of the bedroom, with the door locked and your hand in his, he didn't have to carry any of it. He was completely stripped bare, entirely yours, and perfectly content to let you hold the reins until the morning came.
tags: dom!reader, pegging, does this count as anal? who knows!, subby seonghwa, praise kink, aftercare!!, very soft, not proofread
900 sins
you come home with a package tucked under your arm, heart beating excitedly as you set it on the bed. seonghwa glances up from his phone, eyebrows lifting at the plain box.
"what's that?" he asks, voice already lowering.
you open it in front of him, pulling out the strap-on and the bottle of lube you picked with it, "thought we could try something new tonight.. if you want?"
he stares at it for a second, cheeks flushing pink as he nods. "yeah.. okay.. i've never done that before.. but i trust you."
the both of you shed clothes, seonghwa laying back on the sheets as you buckle the harness around your hips carefully. you climb onto the bed, kissing him deeply while your fingers trail down his stomach.
"we'll go slow," you murmur against his mouth, "tell me if it's too much."
seonghwa spreads his legs a little as you warm lube between your fingers, pressing one against his entrance. the slick sounds fill the room as you circle his hole gently, feeling the tight ring of muscle flutter under your touch.
seonghwa exhales shakily, one hang gripping your shoulder as you push the tip of your finger in, tensing as you go to the first knuckle.
"fuck.. that's weird," he whispers while you add more lube, letting it drip down his skin.
you work him open slowly, scissoring your fingers while you kiss his neck, bringing your free hand up to stroke his cock. his thighs start trembling, little gasps falling from his lips as you curl your fingers just right.
"please," he whimpers as you add a third finger, "need you.. wanna kiss you while you fuck me.."
you pull your fingers out carefully, laying him back on the bed and pulling his legs over your hips, lining up the strap. you pour more lube over the toy before pressing the head against him, making seonghwa's eyes blow wide.
"breathe, baby," you whisper, pushing forward inch by inch. seonghwa groans quietly, fingers digging into your back as you sink deeper and deeper into him.
"so full," he pants as you bottom out, sweat beading on his forehead. you kiss him softly, letting your tongues slide together while you rock your hips.
you slowly go faster, pulling a little then sliding back in, finding the angle that makes his back arch. seonghwa keeps his eyes on you the whole time, chasing your mouth for more kisses between breaths.
"harder," he begs, voice husky from moaning. "please, i can take it."
you obey him and start thrusting deeper, the harness pressing against your clit every time you roll your hips. his cock leaks between you and you wrap your hand around him, stroking in time with your thrusts.
seonghwa cums with a broken moan, spilling over your fingers while his hole clenches around the strap. you keep moving through it, kissing his softly until he relaxes, breathing hard against your neck.
"hey," you whisper, brushing your thumb across his cheek. "i'm gonna pull out now, okay?"
seonghwa nods slowly and you ease back carefully, the toy sliding out with a wet sound, making him shiver. he lets out a whimper at the emptiness, thighs falling open wider on the sheets as you grab a washcloth from the nightstand.
"spread a little more for me, baby," you say softly as you kneel between his legs. he obeys and you wipe him clean gently, letting the cloth soak up the mess while your free hand strokes his thigh. "feel okay?"
"yeah.. 'm sore," he mutters, voice rough. "but good sore."
you smile as you lean down to kiss his stomach, working up his body until your mouth found his. "you did so good," you praise, lips brushing his temple. "took me so well."
wherein; you do your boyfriend’s makeup with absolutely zero ulterior motive
(989 words)
pairing: non-idol!nicholas x f!reader
genre: established relationship, fluff
warnings: suggestive(?), kissing, a little swearing, lowkeyyy not proofread pls excuse any mistakes!
a/n: first time posting writing EVER... very nervous please be nice to me but more importantly enjoy i hope ygs like it!! (˶ ´ ᵕ ` ˶)
nicholas is not one to object, at least not when it comes to you–like saying no is never really an option he considers.
hence why you weren’t very surprised when he allowed you to do his makeup, determined to make it look the best you can.
your bedroom is quiet, the outside world asleep at this late hour. makeup bag already open on the ground between you.
nicholas lowers himself onto the edge of your bed, propping himself up on his hands behind him, watching you with that usual easy expression.
“you can’t distract me, okay?” you warn, rummaging through your makeup bag. “i want it to look nice.
“who, me? i would never.” he teases, yet you have no doubt he’d do exactly as you say.
the side of his mouth is ticked upwards into a half-smile. the amusement is quickly wiped off his face, however, as you climb onto his lap, straddling him.
his breath catches when you move your hips upward, knees at either side of his torso.
“okay,” you say, squeezing a bottle of primer onto your hands. “dont move.”
when you meet his gaze, his irises are nearly completely black, swallowed by the dark of his pupils. “u-huh.”
gently, you spread the product onto his face, fingertips tracing each plane and shift of his profile.
up close like this, you notice everything.
the natural flush of his cheeks. the way his lashes lower slightly when you touch near his eyes. even the warmth of his skin beneath your hands.
unfair, honestly.
you’re supposed to be doing his makeup, yet you can’t help but get distracted by how little he needs it.
once you finish, you shift back a little to grab foundation. when you do, you catch a glimpse of his face, set with concentration, his eyes locked on you.
the way he’s restraining himself is laughable, yet somewhat sweet. your bedsheets fisted tightly in his hands, like he has to hold himself back. like he doesn’t wanna interfere with your work.
the thought draws a short laugh from you.
“what?” he blinks, bringing his hand to his face. “does it look bad already?”
“hey! its not gonna look bad,” you rebut. “you just… look so focused.”
“oh.” he says nonchalantly, but you don’t miss the way he shifts his weight. or the way his voice catches when he says, “i just don’t wanna mess you up.”
climbing back onto his lap, you feel him stiffen. “relax,” you giggle, planting a small peck on his lips.
his eyes widen in the slightest, tip of his ears flushing as you dab an assortment of products on his face. he licks his lips like just a taste of you isn’t enough, like he craves even just a little more. yet he doesn’t reach out just yet.
as you work, it's like each movement has a direct effect on him. warmth building where your bodies meet. his breathing stutters when you shift against him. his body stiffening when your hips grind against his.
it’s endearing. nearly addictive.
you reach for the mascara which is already by your side. “look up for me,” you instruct.
he obeys immediately.
your lips twitch.
“wow,” you muse, shifting forward. closer. “so well-behaved.”
his mouth twists as he clears his throat. grip tightening around the sheets, heat radiating off of his body.
it’s odd to see him so subdued. the usually teasing, charismatic nicholas flushing at nothing but the weight of you on his lap like he’s intoxicated. waiting for you to allow him but another sip.
when you lean back to inspect your work, his hands settle on your waist. his eyes instantly dropping to your lips, half-lidded.
his gaze is laced with hunger. you tease, “what’s wrong?”
“you’re doing this on purpose.”
you bring your fingers to his chin, tilting his face up just enough to meet your eyes. “doing what?” you say innocently, yet you lean closer. your faces just inches apart.
the tension in him rises visibly. his jaw tightens. eyes fixed on your mouth like restraint is becoming physically painful. yet you back away, reaching for a nice lippie to finish off the look.
he clicks his tongue at the loss of you, shaking his head. even the tiny bit of space between you makes his expression tighten.
you take his chin in your fingers again, applying the soft pop of red to his lips. as he licks them, he asks “what flavor is this?”
he continues while you set down the product, “it’s sweet.”
“ah i can’t recall,” your own voice pitching ever so slightly deeper as you lean in. you throw your hands behind his head, arms resting on his shoulders.
his gaze darkens, your faces yet again just a breath away. you whisper, “lets find out?”
you press your lips to his and your body melts against him as if it's been waiting as long as he has. his eyelids flutter shut, taking your face in his hand.
“fuck,” he murmurs into your mouth. “finally.”
you can’t help but smile against his lips, a laugh escaping you. he hums while his free hand tightens around your waist.
you deepen the kiss, pressing closer until there’s barely any space left between you. up against him you can feel everything, the heavy beating of his heart, the urgency in the drag of his hand along your side. you taste the sweetness on his lips and it reminds you of what you were doing in the first place.
you pull away. “cherry.”
“what?” nicholas’ eyebrows knit together. his breathing heavy and uneven.
“the lipgloss.” you answer, putting your hand on his chest as you stand up. “it’s cherry flavored.”
he catches your wrist before you can fully pull away.
“c’mere,” he mutters.
“nicholas–” you object through giggles as he pulls you back. “i’m not done.”
“the makeup looks great,” he says against your lips. “now stop talking.”
Mingi is very good at pretending he’s normal about the way you flirt with clients for tips, about the way you touch other people for a living. The problem starts when he realizes you might not belong to him at all, and suddenly he’s pinned against the wall confessing feelings far too big to keep inside anymore.
Pairing: sub!Mingi x TattooArtistFem!Reader
Tropes: Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pinning, Confession under pressure, Soft masculinity, “He’s so big but so soft for her”.
Genre: Smut, Fluff, Romance.
Warnings: explicit sexual content, sub!mingi, sexual tension, sexual activity in a semi-public workspace, praise kink, dry humping, male orgasm, possessive thoughts, touch-starved behaviour, jealousy, vulnerability, emotional intensity, consensual power imbalance dynamics, mild choking, explicit language, alcohol, obsessive affection themes, emotional dependency but make it hot
Word Count: 7.7k
a/n: this fic wouldn’t exist without a conversation with @darjeelinglemontea. it was just one thing she said, but it stuck with me and turned into this. thank you for that, i really hope you like where it ended up <3 also sorry for disappearing. i’m deep in a project and barely find time to write, but i needed to get this out anyway before vanishing again for a bit longer haha
masterlist
Your studio hums softly around you. Low music. Warm light. The familiar buzz of the tattoo machine steady in your hand like a second heartbeat.
Outside, the street beyond the front windows is already dark, neon signs reflecting faintly against the glass. Your last appointment of the night stretched later than planned, the rest of the building long since quiet.
The smell of antiseptic and ink clings to the air, clean but intimate in a way most places never are. People let you touch them here. Let you get close enough to hear the change in their breathing, to feel tension beneath their skin before they even notice it themselves.
You’ve always liked that part.
“Breathe out,” you murmur.
Your client obeys immediately.
He’s stretched beneath the lamp, shirt tossed somewhere behind him, skin warm under your hand where you steady him by the waist. The tattoo curves along his ribs in clean black lines, and you lean closer to finish a careful stroke, thumb pressing lightly into his side to keep him still.
He sucks in a sharp breath.
“There,” you say softly. “Relax.”
“You say that every five minutes.”
“And somehow you still trust me.”
He laughs under his breath, eyes dragging down to your mouth for a second too long. “Hard not to.”
You ignore that easily. You’ve heard versions of it a thousand times before. You wipe excess ink from his ribs.
His gaze flicks down to your hands again. “You always this nice to clients?”
“You’re paying me.”
“Could charge extra. I’d still come back.”
The bell above the studio door jingles softly. You don’t look up immediately. You know who walked in anyway. The heavy steps. The careless confidence of someone who’s been here enough times to stop asking permission for anything. The fridge opening.
“Beer tax,” Mingi calls from the back.
Your mouth curves before you can stop it.
“Get your own studio.”
“You’d miss me.”
You don’t answer. Because you would. Terribly.
Instead you lean closer to inspect the tattoo, fingers spreading against your client’s stomach as you stretch the skin carefully beneath the needle.
From behind you, the couch creaks, and you finally glance back at him.
Big hoodie. Work boots still on. Slouched deep into the couch cushions like he lives there. Watching you over the rim of the bottle with that lazy heavy-lidded stare that always does something unfortunate to your nervous system.
He comes here almost every night after work.
At first it had been accidental. Quick stops before heading home. Then takeout between appointments. Then sitting with you while you cleaned your station at midnight. Then coffee appearing beside your machine before you could ask for it.
Somewhere along the way, your studio started feeling wrong without him in it. Somewhere along the way, you started falling in love with him. Quietly. Stupidly.
Because Mingi is like this with everyone. Warm. Affectionate. Easy with touch. The kind of person who leans into you when he laughs and throws an arm around your shoulders without thinking. The kind of person who makes you feel chosen even when you probably aren’t.
So you buried it under routine and late-night beers and the hoodies he keeps leaving behind in your studio chair. Under the certainty that none of this would ever become more.
Your client shifts slightly beneath your hand. “You know,” he says, “if I met you somewhere else, I’d think you were flirting with me.”
You drag the needle into a clean line. “That sounds like a you problem.”
“I’m serious.” His smile turns crooked. “Soft voice. Hand on my waist. Eye contact. It’s confusing.”
“You came to a tattoo appointment.”
“Yeah, but you’re making it hard to stay professional.”
Mingi sets his beer down a little too hard against the table. Tiny sound. Barely noticeable. Still. You glance back automatically. He’s staring at the floor now, jaw tight for half a second before he notices you looking.
“What?” he says.
“Nothing.”
Your client looks between both of you once, then keeps talking. Unbothered. As if Mingi isn’t watching his every word.
“No, but seriously,” he says, looking at you again. “You’ve got dangerous energy.”
“Dangerous.”
“Yeah. Like you flirt for fun and ruin lives accidentally.”
You laugh softly through your nose.
But Mingi doesn’t.
He should. He could. He usually does.
Instead his eyes keep lifting every time your hand settles against the client’s ribs. He goes quiet whenever the client calls you sweet. He keeps trying to insert himself into the conversation and failing to catch your attention the same way the client does.
And underneath all of it, something uncomfortable starts pulling tighter in his chest. Because the client gets your teasing. Your soft voice. Your hands all over him. And Mingi suddenly can’t stop wondering if that’s just who you are with everybody.
The rest of the session passes normally. Mostly. Your client keeps trying.
“You gonna miss me when I’m gone?”
You smooth the wrap carefully against his ribs. “I’ll think about you sometimes.”
“Damn. Sometimes?”
“Don’t get greedy.”
He laughs again, completely charmed by you in the way men always are.
And every time you touch him, Mingi notices. Not angry. Not even resentful. Just painfully aware. Like hearing your favorite song playing from somebody else’s car.
By the time the tattoo’s paid for, the studio feels strangely dense. Your client grabs his jacket, already backing toward the door.
“Same time next week?”
“We’ll see if you survive this one first.”
“I survived because you were gentle.”
Something shifts in Mingi’s jaw. The client notices immediately. A grin spreads slowly across his face.
“Tell your boyfriend thanks for the emotional support.”
The door closes before either of you can answer. Silence spills into the studio after him. The buzzing needle’s gone now. The music suddenly sounds louder. Slower.
From the corner of your eye, you catch Mingi pushing himself off the couch. He flips the sign on the front door to CLOSED before sliding the lock into place with a quiet click.
Then he walks toward you.
You start cleaning your station, peeling off gloves and reaching for disinfectant.
Usually Mingi waits for you to drift back toward him naturally. Tonight he comes to you instead. You feel him before he speaks. Warmth at your shoulder. Close enough that your body notices immediately.
“So,” you say lightly, wiping down the tattoo bed, “my boyfriend, huh?”
Mingi nearly chokes on his beer. You glance over just in time to catch the way his eyes widen above the bottle.
“He was joking,” he says too fast.
“Mm.”
“He doesn’t know anything.”
“You seem stressed for someone who’s definitely not my boyfriend.”
“I’m not stressed.”
You hum like you totally believe him.
Mingi reaches past you for the paper towels at the exact same moment you turn. His chest brushes your shoulder. Tiny contact. Barely anything. Still, his hand lands automatically at your waist to steady you.
Your stomach flips immediately.
Neither of you moves. Then his thumb shifts once against your side before he pulls away like he only just realized where his hand is.
“You were very attentive with him,” he says casually.
You glance sideways at him.
“It’s my job.”
“Hm.”
Not convinced.
He leans against the edge of the bed while you keep cleaning, entirely too close for someone pretending to be normal right now. His knee knocks yours once. Doesn’t move away.
“You know,” he says, “I’ve been thinking about getting another tattoo.”
You snort softly. “You complain through every appointment.”
The answer slips out so easily you almost miss it. Almost.
Your mouth curls before you can stop it. That seems to make him realize he said it out loud, because he looks away immediately, rubbing at the back of his neck while you reach for the petroleum jelly beside him.
His hand catches your wrist first. Lightly. You freeze.
“There,” he murmurs, thumb brushing across the inside of your wrist. “Ink.”
Your breath catches a little stupidly.
Mingi has always touched you easily. Carelessly. Like affection is something that lives in his hands naturally. This doesn’t feel careless. This feels slow. Aware.
His thumb drags once more before he lets go. Neither of you pulls away right away.
“That guy was flirting with you.”
You tilt your head. “You think?”
Mingi gives you a flat look.
“He literally asked for your number.”
“And?”
“And you flirt back.”
You blink. “I don’t.”
“You absolutely do.”
That lands heavier than it should. Like he’s been holding onto it longer than just tonight. You turn fully toward him, arms folding loosely.
“Oh my god,” you say slowly. “You’re jealous.”
“No.”
Immediate. Too immediate.
“You are.”
“I’m really not.”
“But you don’t like it.”
“I don’t care.”
“You looked ready to bite through drywall because he called me dangerous.”
“That’s because he sounded ridiculous.”
You laugh before you can stop yourself. Mingi’s eyes narrow slightly.
“There,” he says immediately. “That.”
“What?”
“That. You do that with everybody.”
“Do what?”
“That—” He gestures vaguely at you. “That thing.”
You stare at him for two full seconds. Then burst out laughing. Mingi groans instantly, dragging both hands down his face.
“Forget I said anything.”
“No, no,” you say, stepping closer. “I want details. What thing?”
“I hate you.”
“That’s not very boyfriend of you.”
His head snaps up so fast it almost makes you grin.
“You’re enjoying this way too much.”
Maybe you are. Because suddenly everything from tonight rearranges itself perfectly in your head. The hovering. The watching. The way he kept interrupting. The way his eyes tracked your hands every time you touched the client.
And now this.
Song Mingi, who walks through life like nothing rattles him, suddenly can’t even look at you properly.
You should let him recover. You don’t. Instead, you step closer. Slow enough that he notices. Close enough that his attention snaps back to you immediately.
Now there’s barely space left between you.
Your hand lifts automatically toward the silver chain half-hidden beneath the collar of his hoodie, the pendant twisted awkwardly into the fabric. You hook two fingers under it, easing it free, then straighten it against his chest. A small gesture. Almost domestic.
Your knuckles brush warm skin where the chain slips under his shirt.
Mingi freezes. Not dramatically. Just enough for you to feel it.
“You’re touchy today,” he says softly.
“You started it.”
“Did I?”
“Mhm.”
Your fingers trail once along the chain before falling away. He watches every second of it. Like your hands are speaking a language he’s trying desperately to translate before it disappears.
A reluctant smile threatens at the corner of his mouth again, weaker now. Distracted by the fact you’re still standing too close.
“How many clients leave here thinking you’re into them?”
You blink once. “Excuse me?”
“I’m serious.” His jaw shifts faintly. “You look at people like that and then act surprised when they start falling in love with you.”
The sentence lands hard enough to knock the air slightly out of your lungs. Because he says it like an accusation. But underneath it, there’s something rawer. Softer. Something dangerously close to confession.
Your mouth twitches despite yourself. “It gets me better tips.”
“Right.” He glances away briefly. “Cool.” Then, quieter, “you flirt with me for free.”
Mingi’s eyes widen slightly like he physically felt the words leave his mouth and wants to grab them out of the air.
You blink once. Then tilt your head.
“…Do I?”
His ears turn red instantly. Actually red. And that’s new enough to make warmth bloom low in your stomach.
“I just mean,” he says quickly, taking half a step back, “you’re naturally like that. With everyone.”
“With everyone?”
“Yeah.”
You follow him when he steps back. Not enough to scare him. Just enough to make him realize you noticed.
“And you hate it?”
“No.” Too fast again. “I mean. Not hate. I just don’t like watching people flirt with you.”
The words slide warm and heavy into the room. Your heartbeat stumbles.
“Oh,” you say softly.
Mingi laughs once, humorless around the edges. “Yeah. Oh.”
Another step back from him. Another forward from you. The rhythm becomes almost absurd. Mingi retreating inch by inch while you slowly invade every space he gives up. Like he’s trying to survive this conversation and you’re trying to see how long until he breaks.
“I just think,” he says carefully, “most people don’t pay attention properly.”
“And you do.”
He hesitates. Then nods once. Small. Honest.
God.
The air suddenly feels too thick in your lungs.
“I know when you’re tired before you admit it,” he says quietly. “I know you pretend to hate sweet drinks but steal mine every time. I know you stop talking when something’s actually wrong.” His voice softens. “I know you hum when you tattoo.”
Your chest tightens painfully.
Mingi keeps talking now like he can’t stop once he’s started.
“I know which clients piss you off before they even sit down. I know you clean your station twice when you’re stressed. I know you act meaner when you’re embarrassed.”
Your lips twitch despite yourself.
“And I know,” he says, finally looking at you again, “that you flirt with people when you want them comfortable. But it doesn’t feel the same when you do it to me.”
The room goes quiet. Not empty. Heavy. Your heart is beating so hard now it almost feels embarrassing.
“Mingi…”
He keeps backing up as he talks. You keep moving forward. Until eventually his back brushes the wall near the hallway leading to the back room. Trapped. His breath catches slightly.
He tries to shift forward again on instinct. He can’t. Because you’re still there. Not crowding. Just close enough that the space he needs is gone. He’s actually stuck. Not metaphorically. Not dramatically. Just physically there, pinned between the wall and you.
His breath turns shallow.
And suddenly you realize he’s actually nervous. Not teasing nervous. Not playful nervous. Real nervous. Mingi, who flirts with strangers like breathing and walks through every room like he belongs there, is looking at you like one wrong sentence might crack him open completely.
The realization sends warmth blooming painfully through your chest.
“I think about you too much,” he blurts suddenly.
The words hang there between you. Honest. Unpolished. Mingi winces immediately after saying them like he regrets how revealing they sound. But he keeps going anyway.
“Like… an embarrassing amount, actually.” His eyes flick away again. “At work. On my way home. I see things and think you’d laugh at them. Or hate them. Or make fun of them for being ugly.”
Your lips twitch helplessly.
“And then you flirt with random guys in front of me and suddenly I’m sitting on your couch acting like a fucking psycho because some dude called your hands magic.”
The laugh that escapes you is soft. Warm. Fond enough to make his face flush deeper.
“I’m serious,” he mutters weakly.
“I know.”
“No, I don’t think you do.”
That lands differently. The air shifts with it. Mingi swallows hard, debating whether to say the next thought out loud.
“I…” His voice catches briefly. “I’ve liked you for a long time.”
You stare at him for a second longer than necessary. Like you’re enjoying this more than you should.
“You said that out loud,” you murmur.
Mingi groans again, covering his face briefly. “I know.”
The words leave him too easily. You see the exact moment he realizes that. Mingi drops his hands from his face slowly, looking at you now with this exhausted kind of honesty that almost hurts to look at.
“And the worst part,” he says more quietly, “is that I don’t even think it’s just a crush anymore.”
Something deep in your chest folds in on itself. Because his voice changes in that sentence. Softer. Heavier. Deeper. Like he didn’t mean to admit that part out loud.
“I think…” He exhales shakily, eyes finally lifting fully to yours. “I think somewhere along the way you became the first person I look for everywhere.”
The room goes completely still. No music. No neon outside. No buzzing lights overhead. Just him, and the way he’s looking at you like he’s just handed you something fragile with both hands and doesn’t know what you’re going to do with it.
You should say something. You should probably breathe. Instead, you step closer. Slow enough that he notices immediately.
His eyes widen slightly. A flicker of confusion first. Then something sharper, like he’s just realized the distance is disappearing.
Your hand catches lightly in the strings of his hoodie, fingers curling there as you guide him back into the wall behind him. Not rough. Just certain.
The soft thud of it stops his breath for half a second. His shoulders hit first. Then stillness.
Mingi blinks up at you, wide-eyed now. Caught off guard in a way that makes him look younger, softer. Like his brain is a beat behind his body catching up to the fact that he’s not moving anymore.
Trapped, but gently so.
The realization flashes across his face in real time:
Oh.
Your hand stays at his chest, twisting the soft fabric once around your fingers. And for the first time since he walked into your studio tonight, Mingi has absolutely nothing left to hide behind.
No jokes. No easy grin. Just wide dark eyes and a pulse hammering visibly in his throat beneath your touch.
He stares at you like you’ve just pulled the floor out from under him.
“…You have to stop looking at me like that.”
His voice barely survives the sentence. Low. Rough around the edges. Like every nerve in his body is pulled too tight beneath your hands.
You tilt your head slightly, still twisting the drawstring between your fingers.
“Like what?”
Mingi shuts his eyes for one dangerous second. Like he physically can’t withstand this much of you at once. When he opens them again, there’s only helpless honesty bleeding through every crack.
“You know,” he says quietly.
“Explain it to me.”
A shaky breath leaves him.
“It’s just…” His eyes flick helplessly between yours. “You keep looking at me like you already know every stupid thing I’m trying to say before I say it.”
Your pulse stumbles.
“And it’s making me insane because I had this whole speech in my head on the drive here and now you’re standing this close and I can’t remember any of it anymore.”
A laugh threatens at the corner of your mouth.
“Mingi—”
“No, wait.” He shakes his head quickly, words starting to tumble out faster now. “I’m serious. I was gonna do this properly. I had actual thoughts. Like coherent ones.”
“Did you?”
“Yes.” His ears are pink now. “And now all I can think about is your mouth.”
That almost breaks you immediately. Mingi realizes what he just admitted and groans softly, the back of his head nearly knocking against the wall behind him.
“See? This is exactly what I mean.”
“You’re doing great.”
“I’m literally not.”
You smile despite the violent rhythm of your heartbeat. Because this is what you’ve wanted for so long. Not perfection. Not some polished confession. Just him. Big hands flexing uselessly at his sides. Voice falling apart mid-sentence. Looking at you like wanting you has become unbearable to carry alone.
His eyes snap back to yours instantly. And that does it.
Because Mingi has always looked enormous next to you. Broad shoulders. Height that swallows space when he walks into a room. But right now? Right now he’s melting under your fingertips. And the realization floods through you like heat.
You step even closer. Until his breath catches against your mouth. Until the wall is the only thing keeping him upright.
“I just…” His voice catches again. “I really like you.”
The sentence lands between you soft and devastating. And suddenly kissing him feels less like a decision and more like instinct. So you do. Fast. Sudden. Like finally giving in to gravity after fighting it for months.
Mingi freezes instantly. A sharp inhale catches hard in his chest the second your lips touch his. For half a heartbeat he doesn’t move at all. Like his brain genuinely stopped working. Then his hands hit your waist. Hard. Not rough. Desperate.
A wrecked sound tears out of him somewhere between a gasp and a whimper as he melts forward into you all at once, like the kiss physically knocked the strength out of his body.
You kiss him harder immediately. Months of swallowed wanting snapping loose at once.
Mingi tries to follow too fast, too overwhelmed already, and his head knocks lightly against the wall behind him with a soft curse breathed straight into your mouth.
“Fuck,” he whispers against your lips.
You laugh softly into the kiss.
“You talk too much.”
“I was trying to…”
Another kiss cuts him off.
“I know.”
Mingi makes that sound again. That helpless little exhale that seems to punch straight through your ribs.
His hands finally settle at your hips, huge and shaky and warm through your clothes. Not controlling. Just holding on. Like he’s afraid this might disappear if he loosens his grip.
You pull back barely enough to look at him. His lips are flushed already, swollen and wet from your mouth. Eyes blown wide and dazed beneath messy dark hair.
He looks ruined. By a kiss.
The realization sends another pulse of heat straight through you.
“Mingi,” you whisper.
He visibly swallows. You brush your thumb against his jaw and he leans into it immediately without thinking. That almost undoes you.
“You don’t get it,” he says suddenly, breath uneven.
“Then tell me.”
“I can’t when you keep doing that.”
“Doing what?”
“Looking at me like you want to eat me alive.”
You smile slightly. “Maybe I do.”
His entire body reacts. A shiver runs through him so obvious you feel it beneath your palms.
A laugh slips out of you before you can stop it.
Mingi’s forehead drops briefly against yours with a quiet groan, like even hearing you laugh right now is too much for him.
“You make everything worse,” he blurts suddenly.
You blink once. “Excuse me?”
“I mean good worse,” he says quickly. “Jesus Christ.”
His forehead bumps yours again, embarrassed.
“I’ll be fine all day. Totally normal. And then you smile at me once and suddenly I can’t think straight for hours.”
Your expression softens before you can stop it. Mingi notices immediately. You can see the exact second he realizes he said too much. But instead of retreating this time, he exhales shakily and lets his forehead stay pressed to yours.
“It’s not just this,” he says quietly. “It’s never just this with you.”
Your fingers loosen against his hoodie. The teasing drains out of you slowly, replaced by something warmer. Deeper. Aching.
“Then what is it?” you whisper.
Mingi’s eyes close. And for a moment he just breathes against you. Like he’s spent months holding this inside his chest and doesn’t know how to survive finally letting it out.
Then, barely above a murmur:
“It’s you.” Your heart stumbles violently. “It’s always been you.”
That one nearly steals your breath. You kiss him again before he can recover from saying it. Slower this time. Intentional. And he melts properly. No hesitation left now.
Mingi makes this quiet, wrecked sound into your mouth like the kiss physically knocks the air out of him. His hands tighten at your waist for a second before one of them slides higher, tentative at first. Like he’s not fully sure he’s allowed.
Your breath catches when his fingertips slip beneath the hem of your shirt at the small of your back. Warm skin against warm skin.
Mingi shudders immediately at the contact. You feel it happen under your hands.
The kiss breaks for half a second on his end, like his brain short-circuits from touching you there, but then he’s kissing you again instantly. Hungrier now. Still soft, still careful, but with this desperate edge underneath it that makes your pulse stumble hard.
His hand spreads slowly against your lower back beneath your shirt. Huge. Shaky. His fingertips drag upward inch by inch along your spine like he’s trying to memorize the shape of you through touch alone.
The sensation sends heat straight through your chest.
“Mingi,” you breathe against his mouth.
That sound almost ruins him. A helpless exhale leaves him as his forehead bumps yours briefly before he kisses you again, deeper this time. Like hearing his name in your voice just dissolved whatever restraint he had left.
He keeps touching you carefully. That’s the dangerous part. Not greedy. Not rough. Just unbearably attentive. His fingertips trace lightly along your spine again and your entire body reacts before you can stop it. You feel him notice immediately in the way his breath stutters into the kiss.
“Oh my god,” he whispers against your lips, sounding dazed. “You felt that.”
You hate how much your stomach flips at the shaky little note of wonder in his voice.
“Keep kissing me,” you murmur.
He obeys instantly. Like reflex. Like he’d do anything you asked right now.
Every sound you make wrecks him further. You can feel it happening in real time.
The little breathless noises he keeps losing into your mouth. The way his hand trembles slightly against your back every time you kiss him deeper. Every time you pull back half an inch, Mingi follows immediately like instinct. Like distance physically hurts now that he’s had you this close.
Your hands slide fully into his hair now, tugging lightly at the roots.
A shaky sound breaks out of him immediately. You feel it against your tongue.
“Fuck,” he whispers again, ruined already.
One of his hands stays spread beneath your shirt, warm against the center of your back. The other slides up suddenly, almost clumsy with urgency, until his fingers bury into the hair at the back of your head.
Then he kisses you deeper. Not confident this time. Needy. Like he can’t get close enough anymore.
Your breath catches softly against his mouth. One of your hands stays tangled in his hair while the other drifts slowly down his arm, fingertips tracing the hard curve of his bicep beneath his hoodie sleeve before sliding higher again. Over his shoulder. Around the back of his neck. Up along his jaw.
Mingi visibly shivers when your thumb brushes beneath his ear. You feel his hand flex hard against your spine beneath your shirt. Like he doesn’t know what to do with how badly he wants to touch you.
You kiss the corner of his mouth. His jaw. The warm skin beneath his ear.
Mingi’s head tips back against the wall automatically, exposing more of his throat with a helpless inhale that nearly destroys your composure entirely.
“There you are,” you murmur softly against his skin.
A wrecked sound leaves him immediately. Not even words anymore.
“You have any idea,” you breathe between kisses, “how hard this has been for me?”
Mingi goes still for half a second.
You pull back just enough to look at him. His lips are parted now. Eyes dark and blown wide beneath messy hair. Completely wrecked.
“I mean it.” Your forehead presses against his again. “You take care of me without even thinking about it. You show up every single time. You make every room feel safer just by walking into it.”
His hands are shaking now. Actually shaking.
“And you have been driving me insane for months,” you confess softly. “So don’t stand here acting shocked because I finally kissed you.”
A wrecked laugh breaks out of him, immediately swallowed by another desperate kiss.
Your mouths keep finding each other between breaths, between half-finished sentences, between tiny overwhelmed sounds neither of you can hide anymore.
Everything feels overheated and too close and slightly off balance.
Then suddenly his kiss falters. Not because he pulls away. Because his body gives out first. A rough breath punches out of him against your mouth as his knees buckle unexpectedly beneath him.
“Mingi—”
Your hands grab for him immediately, trying to steady him, but he’s already sliding down the wall in one overwhelmed motion, dragging you with him instinctively. One hand catches hard at your waist while the other slips from your hair, fumbling clumsily for balance that clearly no longer exists.
“Wait, wait—”
A helpless laugh breaks out of him mid-collapse.
Your knees hit the hardwood on either side of his thighs as he lands heavily against the wall with a stunned exhale. Boots scraping awkwardly against the floorboards. Long limbs everywhere at once. Completely uncoordinated now.
For one messy second, neither of you knows where to put your bodies.
Then stillness.
Mingi’s chest heaves beneath you. Your brows knit immediately. Concern flashes through you first.
“Min?”
He shakes his head once quickly. Not hurt. Just catastrophically overwhelmed.
You can see it everywhere. The violent flush spread down his throat. The dazed look in his eyes. The way his hand is still under your shirt like he forgot it was there entirely.
And something about it feels almost surreal. Song Mingi. All sharp height and broad shoulders and effortless confidence. Reduced to this because you kissed him.
“…Did your legs just give out?”
“No,” he says immediately.
“They literally folded.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re on the floor.”
“So are you.”
The comeback would land better if he wasn’t staring up at you like he’s moments away from short-circuiting completely.
And then you feel it. The thick, hard press of him beneath the dark denim where you landed directly on his lap. Heavy and unmistakable, pressing right up between your legs through your clothes. Fuck. He feels as big as he carries himself, maybe bigger.
Your breath catches slightly. Mingi notices instantly. A mortified sound leaves him.
“Don’t start,” he says quickly.
You look back up slowly. “…Start what?”
“That face.”
“What face?”
“The one where you realize things.”
Your mouth twitches immediately. His throat bobs hard.
You feel his fingers flex under your shirt instinctively before his nails drag lightly down your back in one slow scrape that makes your entire body jolt.
Fuck.
Mingi notices that too. His eyes darken immediately.
“I’m trying so hard to be normal right now,” he whispers.
The honesty of it nearly knocks the air out of you. Because he sounds wrecked. Not cocky. Not teasing. Just overwhelmed down to the bone. Still holding onto you like letting go would physically kill him.
Your eyes flick briefly to the way his hands are gripping you now. One spread hot against your spine beneath your shirt. The other tight on your waist. Strong enough to leave bruises. Shaking anyway.
Something hot curls low in your stomach at the sight. You can feel the strength coiled in him, the way he could easily lift you, pin you, take control if he wanted to. But he doesn't. He just looks up at you like he’s dying from how much he wants you.
When your hips shift experimentally against his, his reaction is immediate. A broken sound tears out of his throat as his head falls back toward the wall.
Your hand catches it before it can hit too hard, fingers tightening at the base of his neck as you cushion the impact instinctively.
Mingi melts instantly beneath your touch. His eyes squeeze shut for one second as your fingers tighten slightly in his hair. His grip spasms hard against your waist.
You bite your lip, suppressing your own sounds at the way he reacts so fast, so visibly, like every nerve in his body is wired directly into your hands.
“Oh my god,” you whisper, almost fascinated now. “I broke you.”
"Shut up," he breathes instantly, voice cracking.
Your laugh brushes warm against his mouth. Mingi’s eyes open again immediately, locking onto you like he’s afraid to miss a second of this.
And suddenly your concern dissolves into something hotter. Because he looks huge beneath you. Broad chest rising hard beneath his hoodie. Big hands gripping your body like he can’t stop himself. Thick thighs spread under yours. But none of that changes the fact he’s completely unraveling for you right now.
You tug his hair again, sharper this time. A wrecked sound punches out of him immediately.
“There he is,” you murmur softly. “My good boy.”
“Please don’t say things like that.”
“Why?”
“Because I already can’t think.”
His fingers scratch lightly down your spine again, rougher now, and the sensation shoots heat straight through your stomach. You feel him twitch between your legs, the pressure catching your clit perfectly even through denim, and you have to swallow your own moan down before it escapes.
You grin instead. Then you kiss him again.
And whatever control he had left finally snaps. His hand fists suddenly in your hair while he tilts your head enough to deepen the kiss properly. Sloppier. Hungrier. He kisses you like he can’t get enough oxygen from anywhere else.
You drag your mouth down his jaw, over his throat, and Mingi immediately tips his head back for you again with a helpless sound, exposing more skin like instinct.
His head knocks toward the wall once more and you catch him again automatically, palm sliding behind his head while your other hand stays around his shoulders.
“There,” you murmur against his throat. “Careful.”
That almost makes him whine.
Your teeth scrape lightly over his pulse. Mingi’s hips jerk up involuntarily beneath you.
“Fuck,” he chokes out, hands tightening hard enough to drag you fully against him. “You’re gonna ruin me.”
He sounds terrified.
Your forehead brushes his gently, breath mingling between you while his entire body trembles underneath yours.
You kiss him again, slower now, while your hips move in tiny experimental rolls against his. Barely anything. Just enough friction to make his breathing fall apart completely.
He’s concentrating so hard you can see it in his face. Jaw clenched. Brows pinched slightly. Trying desperately not to cum on the spot from just this. He tries to slow you once, but he fails instantly when you press closer and another helpless, broken moan slips out of him into your mouth.
Then he’s moving too, dragging desperate open-mouthed kisses down your neck like he doesn’t know where to put all this wanting anymore.
His hands slide lower.
One stays beneath your shirt, fingers tracing your spine again and again like he’s addicted to the feeling of your skin.
The other grips your ass hard, dragging you tighter against him while his mouth presses sloppy kisses against your throat.
“You’re so pretty,” he whispers against your skin, voice wrecked beyond repair. "So fucking pretty, baby, look at you—"
You’ve never seen him like this before. Never seen him stop trying to perform strength. And maybe that’s why this feels so intimate it almost scares you. Because he’s letting you see every vulnerable part without fighting to hide them anymore.
“Mingi,” you murmur softly.
He looks at you immediately.
“You okay?”
A quick nod. Then, quieter, “don’t stop.”
Your thumb smooths gently across his cheek.
“I won’t.”
And that’s what finally breaks him open. You see it happen in real time. The exact second the last bit of distance leaves his face. The exact second he realizes this isn’t temporary. That you’re not going to pull away from him tomorrow and pretend none of this happened.
His forehead drops against your shoulder with a shaky exhale.
Then he kisses you again. Different this time. Slower. Still hungry, but softer around the edges, like he can’t decide whether to devour you or memorize you.
His hands roam more boldly now, your back, your waist, your hips, your ass, gripping like he keeps remembering he’s allowed to touch you like this.
Your knees ache against the hardwood, but you barely notice once he plants his boots against the floor and pulls you flush against him with one helpless pull of his hips.
The breath leaves both of you at once.
Suddenly there’s nowhere your body ends without running into his. Broad chest. Heavy thighs. Strong arms boxing you in, without feeling threatening for even a second.
That’s the thing that gets you. How big he is and how careful he still is with you anyway.
Your hand slides to his throat experimentally, fingers loose against his pulse. Mingi's eyes go dark instantly, pupils blown wide. He swallows against your palm. Breath catching hard enough you feel it against your mouth.
"Yeah?" you whisper.
He nods, fast and desperate. "Yes. Please."
The smallest increase in pressure tears a wrecked sound out of him, his head falling back against the wall. The sound goes straight between your legs.
After that, everything loses rhythm. Kisses turning sloppy. Breathing uneven. His hands gripping harder whenever you get too close.
His hips are thrusting up, rolling, seeking more friction, and you feel yourself getting wet just from the desperation in his movements. He's so hard it must hurt, straining against the denim, and when you grind down against him, he cries out, hands gripping your ass to try to make you move faster.
He realizes what he's doing halfway through and stills himself with visible effort, eyes squeezed shut like he’s trying to regain control.
“Wait,” he breathes roughly. “If you keep doing that, I’m not gonna last.”
The honesty of it sends heat curling low in your stomach.
And you're barely doing anything, but the fact that he's this close from almost nothing makes you want to feel him fall apart because he wants you that much.
You kiss him again, deep and filthy, and keep your movements light. Just small, teasing rolls of your hips.
"So pretty," he whines, "baby, you're so—fuck. Seriously. You're so beautiful, so hot, I can't—I can’t even look at you properly right now."
“You’re so cute,” you breathe against his mouth.
Your fingers slide softly through his hair again, gentler this time, scratching lightly at his scalp while his eyes flutter half-shut.
“That’s my pretty boy,” you whisper softly. “Trying so hard to hold it together.”
His face flushes deeper immediately.
“You’re doing so good for me, Min.”
That one finally ruins him.
His hips twitch up again, needy and involuntary, and you feel the damp heat spreading at the front of his jeans where he’s already leaking from almost nothing. The realization barely has time to settle before his whole body jolts beneath you.
A strangled grunt punches out of him.
His grip clamps hard around you so suddenly it knocks your balance backward. You catch yourself instinctively, palm slapping against the wall beside his head before either of you can crack into it.
Mingi goes tense all at once, hips stuttering up into yours before he buries his face instantly into your neck with a sharp gasp, biting down hard enough to muffle the wrecked sound that follows.
And then he’s coming. Fast. Sudden. Hard enough his whole body shudders under you.
For the first time all night, he stops holding himself back. His arms lock tight around you as he pushes himself off the wall just enough to drag you with him, forcing you to tilt back slightly in his grip while he shakes through it. Like he physically needs you closer to survive it.
Your arms loop around his neck automatically to steady both of you, one hand sliding into his hair, fingers spreading against the back of his head to keep him tucked against your throat while he rides it out.
You feel every pulse through the denim between you. The hot spread of wetness. The helpless way his body betrayed him from almost nothing except your mouth, your weight against him, your hand at his throat.
His hips jerk once more before he folds inward completely, trembling against your neck, breathing ragged through clenched teeth while he tries desperately to hide how easily he came.
Then nothing. No movement. No sound except his uneven breathing against your skin.
You blink once, heat rushing straight through you at what just happened. At how little it took. At how desperately his body gave in the second you told him what he wanted to hear.
“Mingi.”
A horrified groan muffles straight into your neck.
You bite back a laugh instantly. Not mean. Never mean. Just unbearably fond. Because this man. This man who walked in here trying to act normal about being in love with you is now actively attempting to fuse himself into your shoulder to avoid eye contact.
You shift slightly, trying to look at him. He follows immediately, burying himself deeper against your neck.
“Mingi,” you repeat, softer now, fingers slipping into the hair at the nape of his neck. “Hey.”
A helpless smile spreads across your face as you press a kiss against his temple. He shudders under it instantly.
“Don’t look at me.”
That actually makes you laugh. Quiet and warm against his skin.
You coax his face back enough to look at him properly and nearly lose your mind all over again. Pink cheeks. Wet swollen lips. Eyes glassy and unfocused beneath messy hair. Completely wrecked.
And beneath you, you can still feel him, hot and sticky and probably uncomfortable as hell in his jeans, but making no move to fix it because that would mean acknowledging it.
“Shit,” he says immediately, mortified. “I’m sorry.”
That catches you off guard enough your expression softens instantly. Because he sounds embarrassed, yeah, but underneath it there’s sincerity too. Like he’s genuinely worried he ruined something.
“I was trying really hard not to cum,” he blurts, words tumbling out faster now that they’ve started. “I was trying to hold it together and then you kept kissing me and calling me pretty and I just—”
He cuts himself off with another groan, dragging a hand over his burning face.
“Min.” You wait until his eyes finally flick back to yours. “Why are you apologizing?”
His brows pull together slightly.
“…Because I came in my jeans like a teenager?”
You laugh softly. “And?”
“And we were literally just making out.”
You grin despite yourself, pulse still throbbing low and hot between your legs. Because honestly? The more you think about it, the more turned on you get.
Your hips shift unconsciously against him and Mingi sucks in a sharp breath immediately, eyes squeezing shut.
“Shit, sorry,” you murmur, fascinated. “Still sensitive?”
“Please have mercy on me.”
The shaky way he says it sends another pulse of heat straight through you. You lean in until your noses brush.
“You know this was hot, right?”
“That was hot to you? You’re not making fun of me?” he asks carefully.
Your heart actually aches a little.
“Mingi.” You brush your thumb over his cheekbone. “I’m trying very hard not to climb you again right now.”
“Oh my god.”
You kiss him again before he can get more embarrassed. Just a small one. Quick. Soft.
Mingi exhales into your mouth immediately, shoulders dropping another inch. There’s something dangerously addictive about it. Like the second you kissed him, his body decided hiding anything from you was impossible.
Your gaze drops again before you can stop it. Right between his legs. And right on cue, he shifts under you again and you feel it. Hard again. Twitching faintly beneath the damp denim. Still reacting to every little thing you do.
You pull back barely enough to look at him. “You’re kidding. You’re hard again?”
Mingi groans immediately. “Don’t say it out loud.”
Your laugh spills warm against his skin. He shivers hard at the sound. His hips shift unconsciously like he’s trying to relieve pressure and instantly regrets it when the denim drags against him.
Mingi must see something change in your face, because his breathing catches again immediately.
“Can you stop looking at me like you’re about to climb inside my ribcage?” he whispers.
You grin. “No.”
Mingi groans. “I hate you.”
“No you don’t.”
“…No. I really don’t.”
You laugh again and finally climb off his lap. Your knees ache faintly when you stand, but the sight in front of you almost takes you back out again.
Mingi looks ruined. Hoodie twisted crooked from your hands. Lips bitten red. Dark stain obvious across his jeans now no matter how he tries to angle himself away from it.
You bite your lip softly and hold your hand out toward him.
“C’mon.”
He blinks up at you. “…Where?”
Your smirk sharpens just slightly.
“You’re a mess,” you say, pointedly glancing at his lap before meeting his eyes again.
His face goes red all over again.
“Besides…” Your voice softens. “I don’t think I’m done with you yet.”
Mingi goes completely still. Then his fingers tighten around yours hard enough to feel it.
“Cool,” he says faintly. “Awesome. Great. Yeah,” he says quietly, standing now, towering close enough to steal the air from your lungs again. “You have no idea what you just started.”
Your stomach flips embarrassingly hard at the look on his face now.
“That sounds threatening.”
“It is.”
You open your mouth to answer, but Mingi kisses you first. Slow enough to distract you completely. Which is exactly why you don’t notice him crouching until the floor disappears beneath you.
“Wait, wha—”
A squeak bursts out of you as Mingi hooks an arm behind your legs and lifts you clean over his shoulder in one smooth motion.
“Mingi!”
He laughs against your startled noise as he playfully smacks your thigh before he starts walking toward the bathroom like carrying you around like this is the most natural thing in the world.
“Oh, now you’re shy?” he teases.
Heat rushes straight to your face. “Put me down.”
“No.”
He punctuates it with another slap against your ass that makes you gasp so loudly he nearly folds over laughing himself.
“You were talking real brave five minutes ago.”
You bury your burning face against the back of his hoodie while his laugh rumbles warm through your legs.
“You let me recover. Rookie mistake,” he says, opening the bathroom door. “You’re gonna regret giving me confidence.”
