Although I repost a lot of fics/smut of idols, I in no way correlate them to the real people. I like to think of them as stories that build off of their idol image. So aside from the fun, we should acknowledge that these are real people, cool ones at that!
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[yunho x fem!reader] yunho reminding you who the fuck you belong to | heed the warnings iâm not your mother: smut minors dni 18+, pwp, mean dom!yunho/hard dom!yunho, you call him sir, ownership, submission, desperation, p in v, oral m!receiving, facefucking, lots of heavy degradation, fingering, thigh fucking, orgasm denial/edging, restraining with a belt, pussy fucking (not insideâđť), lots of crying, cum eating, jealous yunho, he's not nice like at all. not even a little. another round to pregame aftercare. creampie. as always, let me know if i missed anything! wc 10.7k
⚠࣪ Ë for my angel face lover girl @03jyh23, once the brainworms took over i really could not stop writing this. thank you for requesting, i hope i did mean dom jealous yun justice, i love playing with him. i feel like i had empty headed in my mind the entire time i wrote this, if you're reading this, please for the love of god read empty headed. my favorite joongie fic in the world, mon is so unbelievably talented & so inspiring, if you like even one sentence from this fic i promise you will devour monâs. thats all, enjoy xoxo
You didnât mean to piss him off.
Not really.Â
But thereâs something invigorating about watching his jaw tighten, a clench in the hinge that shows the structure of his face. The way his brows flatten, dark and heavy over his big, brown eyes, turning them three shades darker, more charcoal than chocolate. A hand through his styled hair, veiny fingers lost in black locks, mussing it to the point where the gel is rendered useless. Yunho angry was a sight to behold, exciting, magical; it brings out a completely different side of him, one you feared as much as you revered.Â
Across the room in his dark suit, tailored to his perfect body, his shoulders sat squared, in perfect posture. Your dress matched, a long, navy gown, if anyone paid attention, theyâd know you belong to him. You know you belong to him, Yunho knows you belong to him, Yeosang knows you belong to him, but somehow you think the message has been lost along the way.Â
Deep red hair sitting perfectly over his cheekbones, hiding the birthmark beneath his eye youâve seen a thousand times, Yeosang does look good. He always looks good, biceps stretching the sleeves of every shirt, filling out every pair of pants he owns like they were made for him, it doesnât help that he has the most contagious laugh youâve ever heard. A silly joke, a stupid one that left him snorting, made the laughter creep up from your chest and force its way out of your lips until you were folding forward, a hand clutching your stomach.Â
Heâs funny without even trying to be and you fall victim to it every time, every hangout, whenever you and Yeosang are in the same room. Yunho notices, of course he does, a sixth sense embedded in his veins that he says is named after you. Usually his jealousy with Yeosang is under wraps, he can see your friendship for what it isâ but tonight of all nights, at the company gala where Yunho is receiving an award for his efforts, tonight is about him. And here you are, across the room, chopping it up with Yeosang instead of standing by his side so he can introduce you to everyone in the room.Â
You can feel his stare, harsh eyes like blades cutting into your skin, it makes your spine straighten, your heels click together. Even without words you can feel his command, summoning you to him like there was a part of him inside your head, you excuse yourself from the circle of people you were conversing with and walk back to your boyfriend, a low rumble in your belly because you know exactly whatâs awaiting you.Â
Leaning over the tall, circular table dressed in a black tablecloth long enough that it touches the floor, one of Yunhoâs knees is bent into it, his arms crossed over the surface. He watches you, eyes following your every step, aware of each person you pass like every one of them could be a threat. You keep your face innocent, your eyes big and doe-like, your hands politely holding your clutch in front of your body, a small smile on your face as you approach him at the table, nothing else on it besides two full glasses of prosecco.Â
âWipe that look off your face,â he says as soon as you can hear it, his voice low and stern, âdamage is already done.â
Excitement blooms in your chest, you swallow down your smile. âWhat do you mean?â
He steps back from the table, picking up the flute of prosecco, holding it close to his chest. He shifts his view upward, examining the crowd, âYou know exactly what I mean, stop pretending, you look stupid.â
You canât fight the smile this time, throwing an elbow over the surface of the table with your clutch, leaning on it as you pick up the glass of prosecco instead. He turns to you, eyes slimming, âYouâve had enough.â
Your brows furrow, head tilting, âIâm not even tipsyââ
âI said youâve had enough.â
Slowly, you set the glass back on the table, his tone was clean cut, no room for disobedience. You frown, ankles crossing beneath your gown, âI was just talking, Yunho.â
âTalking,â he repeats, a ghost of a smile clawing at his lips, âlaughing, leaning into him like I donât fucking own you.â
Your breath catches in your throat as the word leaves his lips, it always ignites something deep in your gut, turns your mind to fuzz. Ownership, being his, so deeply his you donât need to think if you donât want to, Yunho can see the warmth spreading through your body like your skin was transparent.Â
He takes a step toward you, leaning down, breath ghosting the shell of your ear, âYou belong to me. Never fucking forget it.â
You swallow, heart picking up speed in your chest, your voice is a little shakier than you want it to be as you whisper, âI could never forget that.â
Standing up tall again, he smiles like he remembered thereâs other people in the room, âGood.â Turning his head to examine the crowd again, coworkers, staff, people who have all praised him tonight, congratulated him on his hard work. You drink in his figure, long legs that stretched on forever clad in navy, his suit jacket unbuttoned, showing the white button-up beneath. The tie that laid in the center, snug beneath his collar, just from a few words your mind escaped to the gutter, brain drifting to the things he could do with it.Â
âLetâs go,â he says simply, turning toward you again.Â
âAlready?â You look around, standing straight, dessert hadnât even been served yet. âI donât think itâs appropriateââ
âI donât give a fuck about whatâs appropriate.â Youâre lucky thereâs no one around you to hear the sharp words leaving his lips, âI donât care about this, and clearly neither do you if youâd rather go talk to Yeosang.â
âYunââ
âCome,â the word is firm, a wall splitting your defense. He grabs your clutch from the table, tucking it beneath his armpit, placing his glass of prosecco delicately on the table, âWeâll make our goodbyes, Iâll text the driver.â
He shoots a quick text before laying a heavy hand on the small of your back, bringing you on his round of goodbyes where you smiled politely, shook hands, gave small hugs to every person you made eye contact with tonightâ except Yeosang. You didnât even meet his eye, standing off to the side while Yunho gave him a tight hug, a wide grin on his face like he wasnât planning on tearing you apart the moment you stepped foot in your apartment.Â
You didnât talk on the drive home, in the backseat of a black car you didnât know the name of, your driver nodding his head along to what was playing on the radio. A small, muted hum, it stood as background noise for your raging thoughts, adrenaline ripping your tummy to shreds as you wonder about what comes next. Itâs rare for Yunho to react like this, heâs generally a grounded, secure man, he knows youâd never leave him, he knows youâd never cheat. Heâs asked you the same rhetorical question a thousand times: Who could possibly be better than him?
No one. That person doesnât exist. You love him too much to ever even consider someone else, he was too engraved in your being, the blood in your body circulated for him, your heart beats to the rhythm of his name. Yunho was everything, everywhere, he was half of your body, your soul.Â
But he doesnât play nice when it comes to his toys.Â
He punched in the code to your apartment with steady hands, opening the front door softly, holding his arm out for you to walk inside first. Hanging your coat on the rack, thereâs a pit in your stomach, a blooming warmth of fear and adrenaline beneath your skin. You begin, âYunho, we shouldnât have left, I was just talkingââ
Heâs at your back, hands on your hips, head standing tall above yours, âYou think I give a fuck about what you were doing?â His voice is rough, gravelly, tone bleeding dominance, it makes your toes curl in your heels, back straightening against his presence. âI donât care if you were giving him the fucking heimlich, youâre mine. Do you understand what that means?â
Your breath catches, fingers tingling at your sides, eyes wide as you stare at the pale yellow wall in front of you, art covering the walls. The paintings seemed to stare back, snickering at your disobedience, saying you reap what you sow.Â
âYes,â you whisper, accompanied by one singular nod.
âYes what?â
You fight the sound that claws at your throat, âYes, sir.â
âThis body is mine,â his hands trail from your hips up to your waist, squeezing the skin beneath your gown before traveling up to your chest, holding his palms there to prove a point. âIt belongs to me. Your pleasure, your pain, your actions, your mistakes, theyâre all mine.â
His palms leave your chest to unzip the gown at your back, you can feel the chill of metal all the way down to the base of your spine. Pooling around your feet, you donât move, back straight, chin held high, heels clicking together, presenting yourself for him how he taught you. Every bone in your body begged you to turn around and kiss him, you ached to touch him, to wrap your arms around him, to feel him inside you, curved and pulsing and hitting every spot that made you scream. When he steps around you, fear simmers, you come to terms with the fact that none of which is on the itinerary for tonight.Â
Shoulders squared, jaw locked, eyes dark, brooding. He watches you, still fully clothed, shoes kicked off, his suit remains. His eyes drink in your naked figure, already well aware of the lack of anything beneath your form fitting gown, watching how your upper body expands with each breath, the tremble in your legs, the glint of nerves in your eyes, how youâre already struggling to keep still under his heavy stare. He watches like heâs mapping out a plan, debating what heâll do to you, how loud he should make you beg, deciding what heâs in the mood for.Â
He always wants obedience. Expects it. Youâve learned to not expect anything.Â
âWhat do you think you deserve tonight?â
The question sets your body aflame. Meeting his eyes, you swallow, âI donât deserve anything, sir.â
He nods slowly, arms crossing over his chest, he hums. âDo you think you deserve my cock inside you?â
He watches how your spine bends, the slightest movement. It tells him the words out of your mouth are a bold-faced lie, âNo, sir.â
âWhy not?â
You can feel the heat in the tips of your ears, embarrassment, guilt, it curls into the flame of arousal flickering brighter in your gut with every second he keeps his eyes on you. âBecause,â you pause. His brows raise, waiting. Your voice cracks, âB-because I was, umâ talking. To Yeosang.â
âWhy are you stuttering?â He tilts his head a fraction of a degree. âYou know what you did. Say it with your chest.â
âI was laughing,â you continue, feeling the sweat forming at your brow, the light of the foyer too warm, too bright. You swallow, âI was laughing with him when I should have been with you.â
He hums again, debating. âDo you think you deserve to cum at all?â
âOnly if you think I deserve it, sir,â thereâs a shakiness to your voice, one he knows all too well, it means please.Â
He looks you up and down once. âBedroom,â is the only thing he responds, a sharp word that sends your heeled feet clicking over hardwood to the room at the back of your apartment. The lights are dim, soft, misleading; the way it lays over your duvet, your furniture, a streak creeping into the bathroom, it breeds comfort. Youâre scared you wonât get any tonight.Â
âKneel beside the bed, face it.âÂ
You wince when your knees splinter the hardwood beneath you. Back straight, hands flat on your thighs, you sit on your calves, ass just meeting the heel of your stilettos. He doesnât smile, he doesnât praise you for following directions, following order, he watches.Â
One second, two, five, ten. Sitting on your shared bed, suit jacket discarded, knees spread, heels of his feet edged on the base. He pushes his sleeves up to his elbows before they meet his knees as he leans over his thighs, giving you a full view of his size above you. A display, one that makes you shiver every fucking time.Â
âYou disappointed me tonight,â his voice is low but his tone is calm and itâs worse than loud, edged, spit-soaked anger. âYou know how to behave, you know better. Correct?â
âYes, sir,â you nod once.Â
âDo you have anything to say about your behavior tonight?â
âIâm sorry,â you mumble. His brow arches. Louder, you repeat, âIâm sorry for my behavior tonight, sir.â
He stares, waiting, watching. One second, two, five, ten.
âSave the apologies,â he stands, fingers working at the prongs of the black leather belt, so close to your face you almost flinch at his movement. âYouâll make it up to me properly.â
You nod, words breathy, âYes, sir.â
With one step heâs behind you, you can feel him squat down just from the heat of him, you hear the metal of the belt buckle dragging against the hardwood floor, it makes your thighs clench together. His palms are warm when he wraps his long fingers around your arms, just above your elbows, he pulls them behind your back. Silently he wraps the belt around your wrists, tying it off securely, tight enough for you to feel the restriction but not enough to cut circulation.Â
With another step heâs in front of you, veiny hands tugging at his tie, loosening it before throwing it, unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt. He works the fastening of his slacks open, fingers tugging down his zipper, with thumbs in the waistband of his briefs, he pulls them both down over his hips until they reach mid-thigh. Your eyes flicker upward to meet his gaze, holding a question in your stareâ heâs not even hard yet.Â
âWhy are you looking at me?â His brows raise, âDo you not know what to do with a cock in your face?â
Your cheeks burn as you lift up, the tips of your toes meeting the hardwood, adjusting your height to meet his flaccid cock, thereâs no hesitation as you bring your head forward, tongue poking out to catch the tip of him in your mouth. You hear the change in his breathing, a small, sudden intake of air, if it wasnât so quiet in your bedroom youâre sure it wouldâve gone over your head.Â
The breath is enough praise to take him into your mouth with confidence, to massage your tongue slowly against the underside of him, you feel him expand; length doubling in size, the width of him stretching your lips, the weight heavy on your tongue. Slightly salty, the taste of skin, bland and neutral, he mutters a curse when you take him deeper, but you donât struggle bobbing your head, working up a rhythm, your movement quickening with each run of your tongue over his ridged tip.Â
âYou can do better than that,â his tone is condescending, it makes your stomach drop. His hips buck into your mouth, cock reaching the back of your throat, making you gag, an ugly noise; his small hum of pleasure is worth a thousand words of praise.
âIs this what I have to do? Fuck your throat so you take me properly?â
Your eyes fill with salty tears as his cock fills your throat, you take him deeper, faster, nose meeting the tuft of hair at his base, inhaling, moaning, gurgling around him with each bob of your head. He groans, a hand coming up to meet your styled hair, ruining it as soon as his fingers tighten in your scalp. âDonât cry, itâs pathetic, suck my cock like you mean it. Or do you want me to think youâd rather have your mouth on Yeosang?â
Your brows knit together and you hope itâs enough, that he sees the answer you canât communicate. He hisses when you swallow around him, âHe couldnât fuckinâ handle you, couldnât put you in your place, he wouldnât know what to do with you. Do you understand? That youâre something that needs handling?â
You canât answerâ he knows you canât answer, he isnât expecting one, he knows your response. He flashes his teeth in a nasty grin when your tears spill, hot on your cheeks, streaking your makeup. âYou need to be owned, need to be used, tied up with nothing left to do but take.â
The noise you make gets muffled by his cock, he hears it, his hips roll deeper into your throat, fingers gripping tighter at your scalp.Â
âYou love it, donât you? When I use your mouth? Turn you into a toy?â You whine around his cock, drool gathering at the sides of your mouth, you can hear the squelch of spit. âI know you do, bet your thighs are stickinâ together already. Should I fuck them instead? Cum all over your legs while your little pussy begs me for attention? Begs me just to look at her?âÂ
Your eyelids flutter, eyes rolling back behind them, your thighs squeeze, wrists tugging at the leather binding them. His chuckle is dark, patronizing, when he speaks the words come out tighter, âLook at you, already begging for it when you canât even talk. Is this what you wanted? Is that why I had to watch you flirt with my fuckinâ coworker? You needed a reminder that this is all youâre worth?â
Tears flow, makeup stinging your eyes, blurring your vision, his cock so heavy, so deep in your throat, each gag around him breeds more. His other hand meets your hair, rocking your head at the same pace of his hips bucking into your mouth, you breathe through your nose, your nails cut into your palms.Â
âFuck,â itâs sharp, under his breath. âThere you go, make me fuckinâ cum, âs all this mouth is good for.âÂ
Drool spills from the corners of your mouth, dripping onto your thighs that start to shake, knees burning where they dig into the hardwood. Youâre clenching around nothing with every other thrust, wishing he was fucking into your pussy with the brutal pace heâs using on your mouth.Â
âDonât you dare waste a single drop,â his voice is ragged like his breath, the only proof he was enjoying this. His palms meet your cheeks, forcing your eyes open so he can ask, âDo you hear me?â
Your eyelids flutter, ignoring the sting of tears your gaze darts upward to see his face, veiny forearms in your peripherals. Jaw slacked, cheeks splotched with pink, eyes so dark theyâre burnt, pleasure etched in each line of his perfect face. His button-up splits at the hem, showing you the pocket of skin between, the veins that swim from his hipbones up to where they disappear behind the v of fabric swollen, prominent.Â
âGonna ruin this throat,â he uses pressure on your flaming cheeks, holding your head still as he fucks into your mouth faster, harder, ignoring how you choke around him. âMine to do as I fuckinâ please.âÂ
Your face is covered by saliva, tears and melted makeup, bubbles of spit popping before they sink down your jaw, down your neck, between your breasts. The sounds you make around his cock are brutal; loud, wet, unbecomingâ they push him over the edge.
He cums with a strangled noise like it was caught in his throat, his chin dropping to his chest, his eyes squeezed shut. Ropes of warmth shoot straight down your throat and youâre disappointed you canât taste the salt, feel the slimy consistency as if it were intentional, like you fucked up so bad he was keeping his cum from you, too. You whimper when he pulls out, sucking in a needed breath, swallowing down the spit in your mouth, feeling the cool air of the bedroom brushing against the streaks of liquid on your body.Â
You donât move without direction. You donât speak without order.Â
He runs a hand through his hair, chest heaving beneath his shirt, he gives you no praise. He doesnât even look at you kindly. He gives you a one-over, top lip lifting in distaste, âYouâre a fucking mess. On the bed.âÂ
Your legs are wobbly beneath you as you climb onto the white duvet, hands still secured at the base of your spine, you lay on top of them, knees still burning, swollen, uncomfortable. He doesnât get on the bed with you, he tugs you back down to the edge by your ankles, pushing your legs up until theyâre dangling. Hands on your swollen knees, he parts them, ignoring the way you suck in a sharp breath.Â
âBe quiet,â heâs staring between your legs, âI donât want to hear a sound out of that mouth. Holes donât speak.â You clench your jaw to keep it closed, thighs twitching. He continues, âKnew this slutty cunt would be soaked. âS all over your thighs, arenât you embarrassed?â
You meet his eye, lips parted, but you donât speak. His lips curve at the corner, âNo? Proud of how wet you get from being used? Being nothing?â
Heâs baiting you, you force your breath into submission, calm despite your heart pounding against your ribs, wild and arrhythmic. You clench around nothing, air catching on the wetness between your legs, coating your thighs, youâre not embarrassed. You could never be, not when his eyes light up, his lips curve, staring at you like he wants to do nothing less than devour you when youâre spread out for him like this.Â
Youâre built for him, by him, and he knows it.Â
Warm palms sear your thighs, one sinking down your calf, fingers ghosting over one of your heeled feet. He pushes it forward, towards your chest, staring at the silver stiletto, finger following the shape of the arch, touching the pointed heel. Not even looking at you, keeping his eyes on your pedicure, he mutters, âThese stay on.â
Your bottom lip quivers, trembles, fingers clawing at the mattress behind your back. His eyes find yours, âBeing so obedient now, is this what happens when youâre guilty? When you know you fucked up? I get a sweet girl for once?â
Your entire body reacts to his words, a full-blown shiver that racks through you like a wave. His voice is a spell, his words are tantalizing, laced with sweetness, it throws your mind for a loop, you almost reply. Your lips open and then close, he grins like he knows heâs on the right track.Â
His fingers wrap around your ankle, placing it over his shoulder, his other hand leaving your thigh to paint a finger through your folds. Your lips tighten, teeth clamping down, brows furrowing at the stimulation, noise climbing up your throat with claws bared. His touch leaves as quickly as he gives it, he brings his finger up past his lips, moaning at the taste, loud and obnoxious, âItâs too bad you donât deserve my mouth, wanna eat her so bad. I think Yeosang would like the taste too, donât you?â
Your jaw clenches, he stores the reaction. Bringing his hand back down to your center, he uses two fingers to spread your folds, watching as you clench around nothing, as your body begs for what your mouth isnât allowed to say. He hums, leaning down, gathering spit in his mouth before shooting it straight onto your mound, your body jumps in response. With his thumb at your clit, he adds the smallest pressure to spread the slick, your lips part, a quiet gasp sneaking through.Â
His eyes flicker upward, âBehave.â He rubs slow circles, barely any pressure, following your hips that buck into his hand, âStop moving. Take it.â
Your face contorts, abdomen flexing, spine bending, teeth clamped down over your bottom lip. You try to keep your hips flush to the bed, you fail. His hand leaves your calf over his shoulder, falling to your belly, pushing down to keep you flat, âRight after I said you were being obedient, too. Shame.âÂ
His thumb leaves your clit to push two fingers inside and your elbows bend, hands sliding up your spine, pulling at the belt keeping you restrained. A desperate moan pushes past, hips jerking against his hand pinning you down, his name falls off your lips right after, âYunho! Fuck, Iâm sorry, Iâm sorry.â
Lips pursed, his head shakes slowly, disappointed. Your body burns, hot with embarrassment, blood carbonated, sizzling with fear, your eyes stay blown wide, watching him calculate what comes next. He doesnât react further, instead his fingers work you open, pads of his fingertips massaging against the spongy spot inside you, your breathing becomes verbal. Shallow, chest moving rapidly, wrists fighting against the restraint, it feels too good not to move. Not to react.Â
He knows your weak points, knows your strengths; he uses them both to his advantage.Â
âDo you think Iâm doing this for your pleasure?â He doesnât look up, voice steady, he watches how your slick gushes around his digits instead, how your core takes his fingers so easily, greedily. âI should shove my cock inside you without prep, thatâs what you deserve for being a whore. But I decided to be kind, and this is how you repay me? By being greedy?â
You keep your lips glued together until his eyes meet yours, âSpeak.â
âIâm sorry!â Your voice is pitched, face scrunched together, he can hear the shame in your voice, feel how your body disagrees. âIâm sorry, sir, I donât deserve it, I- I, please justââ
âShut up,â he cuts you off, âForgot how fucking irritating it is to hear you whine.â
You feel the pressure in your face again, swimming up your sinuses, filling your waterline with salty heat. He doesnât notice until your breathing breaks, tears already spilled, pleasure wound tight in the pit of your belly, below his palm that sits heavy and harsh.Â
âYouâre crying again?â He sounds bored, annoyed. âYouâre useless, you know that? Canât follow simple fuckinâ directions.âÂ
He sighs before he slips his fingers out, two hands finding the plush of your ass beneath your lifted thighs, pushing you up the bed.Â
âMaybe you should fuck Yeosang,â he crawls on top of the mattress with you, fingers working his buttons open while you shake your head, tears falling silently, he stares at you with lifted brows like he couldnât be more uninterested. âYouâre nearing worthless at this point.âÂ
He throws the button-up off the bed, pulling his white tank over his head, his slacks and briefs already gone, discarded before your back hit the mattress. Face still reading uninterested, he grabs both of your legs by your ankles, throwing them over his shoulders as he spreads his knees, lowering himself until his eyes lock on your glistening folds.Â
âYou donât deserve my cock,â he says it like itâs something you already know. A mewl stirs in your throat, you swallow it down as he wraps his fingers around the base, pushing it through your folds. âSo fuckinâ wet, sheâs begging for it. You think you deserve it?â
He looks up at you just to see you shake your head no, his eyes follow the way your tear-streaked cheeks shine in the dim light.Â
Circling his tip over your clit, he asks again, âNot even the tip?â
You release a shaky breath, sniffing through your clogged sinuses, every bone in your body screaming yes, youâd beg for it, on all fours, youâd do anything for it. But thatâs not what he wants to hear, so you shake your head once more.
âAlright,â he says it passively and it makes your brows knit together. Like if you said yes, heâd do it.Â
Your lips part, face warped into confusion, voice coated in a cry, âW-wait.â
âNo,â he moves one of your ankles to his other shoulder, crossing them, âYou made your bed.â
âYunhoââ
His eyes flicker upward, warning enough, your lips smack together to silence yourself. The tip of his cock prods at the seam of your thighs, so thick and hot and wet it makes you squirm, ankles locking over his shoulder. He smacks the side of your thigh once, âClench âem for me. Be a good sleeve.â
Your breath is shaky as you tighten your thighs, body rigid, wrists fighting their restraints. Tears spill hotter, heavier when he groans out in relief, cock passing between your thighs, so close to your aching cunt you can feel your composure getting pushed to its limit. One hand holds your ankles over his shoulder, the other squeezes one of your thighs, you watch how his abdomen flexes with each roll of his hips, how his throat bobs when his head falls back in pleasure.Â
âFeels good,â his voice is gravelly, laced with arousal, his hips moving slow enough to draw out his own pleasure. You try to keep yourself tight, composed, enjoyable for him, but your patience is a thin band, one running taut too quickly. He picks up the pace, his hips smacking against your sensitive legs, they start to shake where they lay hooked over his shoulder.
âStay still,â he gruffs out, âStop shaking.â
A defeated cry escapes through your parted lips, mumbling a wilted, pathetic, âPlease.â
He doesnât stop, doesnât slow, doesnât address that youâve spoken. Youâre drifting as his grip turns tighter, fingers on your ankles, palm on your thigh, tight enough to bruise; his hips pick up speed, filling the room with the sound of skin smacking skin. Youâre clenching around nothing again, so strung out and sensitive that the ripple of his cock between your thighs is close enough to friction. You can feel your pulsing clit, muscles tightening, heart picking up speed as it starts to feel somewhat pleasurable. Better than nothing, not nearly enough to get you off.Â
He does a double take when he notices your brows knitted up, lips parted, breath layered. His laugh is punched, taunting, âYouâre getting off on this?â A whimper escapes. âI thought I told you to keep your mouth shut. This is a punishment, not a fucking position.â
You seal your lips together again, your lashes becoming a waterfall, his hand leaves your thigh just to land against your skin heavier, harder, the sound striking through the room, nearly blending in with the sound of his hips against your thighs.
 âIâd be inside you if you listened. If you didnât speak, if you didnât flirt with my friend in front of my goddamn face,â his voice is as rough as his movements, he watches where his cock disappears, grinds his teeth when your thighs clench. âCanât believe this is getting you off. Nothing but a cockhungry whore, doesnât matter where I fuckinâ put it, does it?â
Your thighs clench again and he cracks ever so slightly, a splinter in his demeanor. The sound he lets out is pitched, something of a moan, small and wanting as he chases his release, âFuck, almost as good as your pussy. Maybe I donât need to use her at all anymore, maybe Iâll tape her shut.â
Another sob falls past your lips, head tilting to the side, âNo.â
âNo?â His eyes meet yours, âNo?â
âI need youââ
âYouâre mine,â his voice is harsher now, like youâve finally hit a nerve. He pulls out, throwing your legs to the side, one arm scooping under you to flip you onto your stomach. Pulling you upright, on all fours, knees together, your face is buried in the bed, another sob cracking through your shaking body. âIâll do whatever I want, this body is mine, you belong to me. Youâre my property, when are you going to get that through your thick fucking skull?â
When his cock pushes past the seam of your thighs again, legs on either side of yours, it's lower. Farther away from your slippery cunt, skin still lubed up with how much youâve spilled, his voice is edged as he lands a harsh smack on your ass, biting, âSqueeze your fuckinâ thighs, you canât afford to disappoint me again.â
He holds his hands tight on your hips, steadying you, groaning low and long when he picks up the pace tenfold, harsher than the rhythm he was giving you before. He plants a foot on the bed, choking out a moan, âGonna cum all over these thighs, this ass, then Iâm gonna make you eat it.â
You moan, itâs a soft noise, too soft for how unforgiving he was at your backside. Your mind is cloudy, in your head, his degrading words are close enough to praise, your body responds. He lands another heavy smack to your ass, sending you deeper into the plush of the mattress, into the fuzz, you moan.Â
He sounds almost surprised when he says, âThatâs not a fucking reward, youâre disgusting.â
Your wrists pull at the belt, thighs clenching, another shameless moan pushing past your lips. His hips stutter, fingertips tightening at your hips, âFuck, nasty fuckinâ thing.â
He slips from between your thighs, leaving them vibrating and hot. You can hear how fast his fist moves over his length, slick and wet, lewd, his groan is a stutter as he cums, thick ropes of white landing over your ass, your thighs, warm, heavy, you canât help but moan at the feeling. Being marked, owned, being his, however he wants you, however heâll have you.Â
You hear him panting, tight breaths pushed from his lips, you know heâs staring, watching it drip, admiring the mess he made like it was art. With one hand still on your hip, he uses the other to wipe his painting off your skin, gathering it on his fingers, a glob of wet sticky warmth, your mouth waters knowing heâs about to feed it to you.Â
Your thighs shake as he knocks your knees apart for stability, reaching one arm forward to wrap under your belly, pulling you upward. You whimper at the force but your body follows without hands to help you.Â
âHere,â he sounds like heâs giving you a gift as your back hits his chest. He moves your hair out of your face, your jaw already pried open, he stuffs his cum-coated fingers past your lips and your eyes roll back. Salty, thick, nasty, you moan at how fucking dirty it feels, abdomen flexing because heâs finally giving you something. Mouth closing, tongue sucking his fingers clean, your thighs squeeze.Â
âGood girl,â he whispers, âEat it all, lick my fingers clean.â You moan again, eyes opening, low-lidded as you stare at him from under your brows, swallowing. His face scrunches, lips parting, âFuck.â
He watches as your spit-stained mouth opens when he presses down on your tongue, no evidence of his release leftover. His fingers move slowly, spreading inside your mouth like he wanted to feel the texture of your tongue, they drag down until your bottom lip folds over, your own spit hitting your chin.
âSo pliant,â he whispers, watching, analyzing, âYouâll let me do anything right now, wonât you?â
You whimper, so soft and light you barely register it came from you. His other hand wraps around your front, two fingers dipping between your legs, adding pressure to your clit. You fold, or try to, his other arm wraps around your front, forearm between your breasts, fingers landing steady at the base of your throat, holding you flush to him.Â
âStill.â Despite the order being direct, his voice is calm, sweet almost, eyes dancing over your features, watching how your face contorts in pleasure. He keeps his pace slow, circling his fingers lightly, âCum, just like this.â
Your instinct tells you not to trust his kindness, pressure building steadily at the base of your belly, but he works you so easily, even with small circles and light pressure, your body responds like a live wire, as if two light fingers were a vibrator on its highest setting. Your moans mix with tiny gasps, body fidgeting at the pleasure, so sensitive you think you might be running from it.Â
He cooes, âCome on, baby. Iâm letting you cum, might be the only orgasm I let you have tonight. Impress me.â
The need to deliver, obey, appease him is too embedded in you not to listen, even if you know better. You choke on a moan, reaching your peak quicker than you should, sounds climbing in staccato, so close you could fucking taste itâ he rips his fingers away just as you approach the edge and you sob, body lurching forward, âNo!â
He pulls you back against him, keeping you locked in place. He shushes you, running his hands over your skin, your thighs, your stomach, comforting touches that pull tears from your eyes for the third time. You choke on a cry, crumbling into him, leaning your weight against him.Â
âSo good for me,â he praises, voice candy-sweet. Confusion makes you whimper a mumble of his name.Â
He waits until your twitching subsides, still brushing his fingers over your skin, soothing the loss until youâve forgotten it. When your sobs quiet, your breathing evens a little more, he dips his fingers between your thighs again.
âYunho!â You gasp, bucking against him, âT-too much.â
âShut up,â he grinds out in your ear, âTake it.â
His fingers work quicker, more pressure, pleasure builds inside you like it never stopped.
âI canâtââ You hiccup, âPlease let me cum, sir, p-please let me, I canât take itââ
The arm thatâs wrapped around your front reaches farther up until two fingers push past your lips, sitting heavy on your tongue like stone. You gag around the length of them, knuckles hooked between your teeth while his other hand works quicker, tighter circles on your clit.
âDonât remember telling you to speak,â you feel his breath on your ear, words chopped, rough, mean. âI remember telling you not to make a fucking sound.â
Youâre gurgling around his fingers, more ugly noises, youâre too close to care. Electricity zaps through every limb, legs trembling, hips bucking away from his fingers because you canât handle the pleasure even if you need it.Â
Youâre babbling over the weight on your tongue, looking up at him with pleading eyes, mumbling begs in-between every gag, he stays focused on his fingers between your legs, pulling you as close as he can to the finish line.Â
âYâgonna cum?â His eyes finally meet yours, searching your face for the answer before you can make a sound. You nod, tongue flexing under his fingers, pressure built up so tight and heavy in your body you might blow if he doesnât let you release. He leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead, so sticky sweet it makes you moan. His voice is sharp against your skin, âSlutty cunts donât get to cum.â
Thereâs a millisecond to process his words before he rips his fingers away and thatâs how long it takes for your sanity to slip. Sobs, real ones rip from your chest; ugly and booming, he lets your body go, lets you fall forward, flat against the mattress, wrists clawing at the belt, twitching and jerking so fucking shamelessly it makes Yunho smile.Â
âAm I breaking you, baby?â He crawls on top of you, flipping you over like your dead weight means nothing to him. âAre you finally understanding what it means to be mine?â
The word yes leaves your lips between each sob like a chant, wrists aching beneath leather, your skin was probably inflamed and swollen by now from how much youâve thrashed against the belt, but you donât feel it, you donât care. You need more. You need release.
He pushes your knees up, humming, ignoring your choked sobs like they didnât exist. âYou think Yeosang would want you like this?â He smacks his teeth, âA crying, begging whore? You think heâd touch this slutty, swollen cunt?â
âNo! Iâm s-sorry,â you hiccup, sounding so distraught itâs almost deranged, âPlease.â
âPlease what?â His cock lays heavy over your leaking cunt, reaching well over your pubic bone, it makes your trembling worse. âWhat are you asking me for?â
âIâ Iââ
âShut up,â he lowers his grip down to your thighs, the sensitive part on the inside, rutting his hips ever so slightly against your folds. Your head tilts back, letting out a sound of tight pleasure mixed with frustration, his cock on you isnât enough. You need him inside.
âHe wouldnât touch you with a ten-foot pole,â he continues, wrapping his fingers around the base of his length, adding pressure as his hips rut against you again. âThis pussy is used. Iâve ruined it for anyone else, ruined you.â
Your spine bends at his words as he works up a rhythm, pace combined with the added pressure, his cockhead runs over your swollen clit with each thrust, itâs almost enough for you to start climbing again. You moan out in relief, in euphoria, just from having him on you.Â
His grip tightens on your thigh, âYou like that? Being ruined? Like the idea of another man being repulsed by you?â
âYes,â your face contorts, tears hot in the lines stretching across your skin, breath ragged, hips bucking against him when his rhythm slows.
He curses under his breath as he feels you clench, âOf course you do. This pussy only wants me. Trained to only respond to me.â
âYes,â a little louder, laced with your climbing pleasure, âOnly you.â
âDonât cum.â You watch his knuckles turn white at the base of his cock. âYou havenât earned it yet.â
âPlease!â You cry, so completely at his mercy, body shaking, heels piercing your thighs with each roll of his hips. âPlease l-let me, Iâll be goodâ Iâll listen, I wonât ever look at him againââ
Your fingers curl into the duvet beneath you, pleasure, desperation, the stimulation youâre getting from his cockhead over your clit is enough, itâs fast enough, he said no. Heâs focused on your core, how his cock slides against your slick, how it bubbles and swirls around your folds with each thrust of his hips.
 âYunho,â you cry, a little louder, more severe, âInside, p-please!â
He grits through tight teeth, âShut the fuck up.â
Your body locks, bones feeling tight, stuck to each muscle like one look from him had turned you to stone. Small, stuttered breaths escape you one after another, rising in pitch, he can feel the stemming pleasure in your gut, he knows itâs building, he can see it on your face.Â
Youâre close, but heâs closer. He takes the chance, fucking into his fist before his cock meets the wet heat your folds, he grunts out a curse, fingers so tight around your thigh it hurts.
âYou wanna cum?â His eyes flicker upward and your heart stops dead in your chest.Â
âY-Yesâ Yes Yunho, please, Iâll do anythingââ
âBeg for it.â
Incoherent babbles disguised as pleas, nothing more, a display of desperation that was music to his ears. His hips stutter with each whimper, each whine, the wetness on your cheeks, your body thatâs steaming under his touch, itâs so hot his stomach curls with his approaching orgasm.
He chokes on a groan, âYouâre so fucking stupid, you donât learn. Nothing but a dumb, desperate whore.â
You moan and he gasps, thighs twitching as he ruts into his fist like an animal, fucking himself through the orgasm that leaves your cunt, your belly, your thighs covered in cum, his third orgasm. Your knees tie together, a sob so defeated and tired ripping from your gut, your cunt pulses, he can see it. He canât stop himself from pushing his cock inside.
âYunho!â You all but whisper, wrecked voice bouncing off the walls, body thrashing against him.Â
He moans, small but there, itâs suffering and overstimulated. Your wrists burn, halfway up your back, arched so high the leather doesnât touch you. You can feel your tears pooling in your ears, sobbing in relief and satisfaction and sheer fucking pleasure.Â
He doesnât move. He sits there, face tied together in overstimulation, lips caught between his teeth, fingers holding onto your legs for purchase like he might die if he didnât grab onto you with all his strength.Â
âPlease,â you cry, âMove.â
His jaw clenches, breathing manual, chest rising and falling so heavily you regret the word as soon as it passes through your lips.Â
âI canât take it,â you continue through the regret, another mistake. âIâm yours, Yunho, I- I belong to you, Iâm your whore, your sleeveââ
âIf you were my fucking whore you wouldnât disobey me,â he grits out, you can feel his thighs shaking, but he adjusts himself to fuck into you properly. âSay it if you need to, but youâve taken it before and I know you can take it again.â
The word is nowhere near your tongue and he knows it.Â
âQuit crying, then,â he moves his hands, fingers sinking beneath your back to hold your waist, thumbs sliding where they slipped through his cum on your sides. âIâm tired of hearing it. Youâre getting what you want.â
âI want to cum,â you cry out, youâre sure youâve broken skin at the heel of your palms from how hard your nails have cut into them, you can barely feel the sting. His fingers bruise your back, keeping you still, forcing you to take it as he slips out agonizingly slow, and pushes back inside.Â
âI donât think you deserve it,â he sounds unaffected by being inside you, like fucking your thighs really was the same, if not better. Your sobs reflect the thought, feeling so used, full of shame; the flame of desire that dwells within your gut is nowhere close to being smothered, you need more, you need to be full of him, you need to cum around his cock.Â
âPleâ ase,â you choke on the word, âY-Yunho, please.â
âPussy missed me,â he sounds like heâs reminiscing, âListen, sheâs suckinâ me in.â
You hear it then, the squelch, the ungodly sound of his cock sliding into you fluidly. You wallow in it, the humiliating noise, the feeling of him running over that spot with every thrust, filling you up like heâs carved himself space inside you, whittled at your womb until you could take him and him only.Â
âThere you go,â itâs not praise, itâs relief, âFinally giving up. So much better when youâre easy.â
Thereâs nothing left inside you but sound, desperate and aching, it fills the room on top of the sound of his hipbones slapping against your thighs, the room sounding wet and disgusting. Pressure builds, steady and true, his rhythm daunting, pushing you closer to an edge you donât know if heâll let you fall off of.Â
âThis is all you need,â his voice sounds heavier, layered with pressure, âMy cock fucking you full. You donât need to think, donât need to breathe, you donât need to be.âÂ
You breathe out a noise, a babble about getting close, he doesnât hear it. You sink deeper into the haze with each thrust, consumed by pleasure, cheek sliding against the duvet every time his cockhead kisses your cervix.Â
âYou all dumb for me?â You can hear his smile, âFuck, are you finally broken, baby? Feel nothing but me? Thinking of nothing but me?â
The leather binding your wrists feels miles away. Youâre reaching, he knows it.
His hips snap against yours, so brutal and unforgiving, pleasure is an unwrapped gift with how your orgasm hits, catching you off guard. The sound that rips through you is deafening, limbs thrashing against the duvet, your restraints, itâs too late for him to slip his cock out. He knows it, even if he does it anyway, you cry out, hips bucking against nothing searching for friction to extend your orgasm as long as you can.Â
He doesnât speak when he flips you over. His hands are rough, movements quick, his cock splits you open the moment your knees hit the mattress. You donât get a second to feel relief.
âYouâre nothing but a greedy fucking whore,â each word is punched, animalistic, angry and ragged; your spine bends toward him, cunt clenching around him, toes digging into the heels on your feet. He pushes you down with one hand, âKeep that fucking back down.â
âAgain,â you cry, weak and desperate, âAgain.â
Heâs fucking you like he hates you, like your pleasure meant nothing to him. Brows furrowed, jaw sharp like a blade, heâs angry as his cock drills inside you, chest red and splotchy, sweat beading down his mismatched skin.Â
âShut the fuck up,â he growls, âStupid bitch, youâre only making it worse for yourself.â
âIâm sorryââ
He lands a sharp smack to your ass, âDonât fuckinâ apologize. Deal with the consequences.â
âIâm sorry!â Itâs louder this time, strained. Your hips fuck back, knees buried in the bed for stability, âI need you, I need it, I need to cum again, pleaseâ please Yunho, Iâllââ
He reaches down to push your face into the mattress, âI told you to shut the fuck up, listen for once in your goddamn life.â
Mouth meeting cotton, you canât catch your breath, shins kicking against the mattress. His pace is angry, brutal, you can feel yourself falling apart, pleasure and pain melting together, desperation and satisfaction blending into one. Your head feels fuzzy again from the loss of air, cloudy in a way that means submission, your body softens.
He lets go of your head to grab onto the belt with one hand, pulling you up, back level with your hips, your sobs becoming verbal once again. Your head hangs low, deadweight for him to hold.
âSay youâre sorry.â
Light, airy, your cloudy eyes meet the duvet, âIâm s-sorryââ
âSay it like you fucking mean it.â
You wince, âIâm so sorry, sir.â
His voice sounds rigid, like he might cum again. âTell me what you are.â
The answer comes easy, âIâm a whore.â
He lands a sharp smack to your ass, âYouâre less than that.â
âIâm n-nothing,â you whimper, âA h-hole, a sleeve.â
He lets go of the belt and you fall against the mattress, a rough sound muffled as your chest hits cotton. He flattens you with his palms, lowering his weight over your back until his skin sticks to yours, he slides one arm beneath you, under your chest, cupping your jaw with one huge palm. He guides your head to the side to see him, sweaty and angled and fucked out, but he rounds out when he sees youâ face flushed, wet with saliva, tears, splotched and messy, your eyes glossy and huge and somewhere else.Â
He starts rolling his hips into you again, slower, just as damning, âYouâre missing something.â
Your brows furrow, clenching around him, mewling out something incoherent before asking, âM-missing?â
He rolls his hips, cock brushing over that spot, you shake against him, body trembling. He bites his lip roughly like heâs forcing himself into composure before he asks, âWhoâs hole? Whoâs sleeve?â
âY-Yours!â Youâre scrambling to correct your mistake, âIâm y-yours. Your whore, your hole, your sleeve. Yours to use.â
He moans, soft and wilted and fucking angelic. His rhythm doesnât falter, patient but aimed, like he wanted you to feel every inch, every vein. You canât move, stuck under his weight, held in his palm, your face forms to gratification, lips open but silent, eyelids fluttering, you feel like youâve given him all of you. Your pleasure, your pain, he holds it all in the palm of his hand, he holds you like youâre something sacred.Â
âMade for me,â his voice is quieter, soft at the edges. âOnly I could love you like this. Broken, small.â He drops into just above a whisper, âRuined.â
âPlease,â you whisper, a single tear running down your cheek, âCum inside me.â
Hot salt meets his fingers, his grip tightens ever so slightly, cock twitching inside you. âCum for me first. Show me how well you listen.â
Your brows furrow, instinct at war with his tone, his words. Even if you donât know how honest he is, your body reacts, rutting against his thrusts, clenching around his length that sails over the front of your walls with purpose. Climbing, reaching, you stare into his dark, focused eyes, softly whimpering, âYunho.â
âI got you, Iâll let you,â he encourages, his tone not fully sweet. âJust this once.â
Your body trusts him, enough that your peak approaches in a cloudy haze; you tremble in pleasure, choking on a cry, crumbling against his arm that holds you still, steady, safe.Â
âFuck,â itâs a hot word in your ear, âSo fucking tight.â
His hips pick up and you move, tears falling hot again, overstimulated and forced in a cycle of pleasure, your wrists pull, your legs thrash, your whines pick up, his grip tightens on your jaw.Â
âWant me to fill this pussy up?â His breathing is as verbal as his question, âYou think you deserve it?â
âYes,â you answer in a cry, âI do, I do, pleaseâ inside, sir, Yunho, pleaseââ
He gruffs out a noise squeezed from his throat, hips smacking against your skin, stuttering. His fingers push up on your jaw until it closes, silencing you with fingers pressed in your face, his head dipping low as he chases his orgasm.Â
âSlutty fucking cunt,â he growls out, lips just grazing your shoulder he lifted, âNo you donât.â
You donât process the rejection as he lifts himself, you turn over with haste in the second it takes to settle, pleas on your tongue; heâs already crawling over you, knees beside your shoulders, fist wrapped around his cock.Â
âYunho, noââ
âLearn from this.â He pumps his length with fervor, knuckles white, hips bucking into his own hand. âRemember this the next time you think about giving my property away.â
You donât know how you have any more tears to give. Sucking down air, body thrashing beneath his thighs that pin you down, you wail. He watches, lips parting, brows furrowing, like your face and your pain was getting him off, it doesnât take long until heâs groaning, cock spilling ropes of white onto your cheeks, your nose, your hair, your chest.Â
Heartbreak blooms. Chest cracking, you succumb to the tears, slipping from your half-open eyes down to the streaks of white on your face, mixing into salty, thick heat. You might be talking, repetition of no filling the air like itâd rewind time, convince him to fill you up again and leave his mark behind.Â
He takes his time crawling off you, turning you halfway, one hand skillfully prying the belt undone. Your arms are free but you canât feel the air on your wrists, even as he moves them in front of you. Sitting beside you he lifts your wrists, checking them, moving the pads of his thumbs over your swollen veins on the inside.Â
âFist,â itâs soft; a direct order, one without malice. You barely hear it over your cries, but you flex your fingers, make a fist, he nods once in approval, thumbs ghosting over the red, broken crescents in the heels that your nails left behind.Â
Tangling his fingers with yours, itâs not a show of affection, he moves your wrists in a circular motion, clockwise, then counter-clockwise, watching your face for any sign of pain or discomfort. Thereâs none, other than your dejected cries, he knows you well enough to know the difference.Â
Laying your wrists softly beside you, he crawls downward, lifting one leg, untying the buckle at your ankle. He slips your heel off your foot, pressing a kiss to the underside of your toes, another to your ankle. He moves to the other after gently laying your leg down, repeating the process, his lips soft against your skin.
He leans forward again, stretching his legs out beneath him, slinging an arm under your shoulders to tuck you into his chest. Your forehead meets his skin, wet and sticky with sweat, his cum, saliva; being eased into comfort after so long of not having it just makes you cry harder. He lets you release, one hand in your scalp, the other grazing your back, he doesnât speak until your sobs lower, when youâve reached a point that you have nothing else to spend.Â
âYou did so well for me,â he whispers, lips softly meeting your roots. âTook everything I gave you, Iâm so proud of you.â
All you can respond is a whimper, soft and light, the only sound you have left inside. Exhaustion lays heavy like a blanket, its weight on your eyelids, on your legs, in the arches of your feet.Â
âIâm gonna go get you some water.âÂ
Your shaky arms reach, neck bending, holding him close with your palm on his waist. Meeting his eye, seeing him, you hope he can see the not yet in your eyes. His face deflates into roundness as his thumb meets your cheek, wiping slick off your skin thatâs gone cold by now. His eyes sparkling and soft, heâs in caretaker modeâ the doing after he takes, you arenât ready for it yet. You need him.Â
His eyes flicker to your lips and he can feel the way you bend for him, into him, asking for it without saying a word. His lips meet yours with delicacy, a soft graze of his lips before you part for him, beckoning for more. He lets his lips mold with yours, open and sweet, no haste, gradual and slow, his hands exploring your skin, your palm reaching upward to cup his cheek.Â
âOne more,â you whisper into his mouth, using all your might to form words. Your ankle hooks over his back, a shaky breath escaping you when your body meets the cold slick of his spent length. He hisses at the friction, head beginning to shake, you cut him off before he can speak. âPlease.â
His eyes study your face for a moment. âYou can handle it?â
âI need it,â your voice cracks on the second word. âNeed to feel that you love me.â
His brows furrow, âBaby.â
âYunho,â you whimper in the same tone, âPlease.â
He catches your lips in a kiss and youâre not met with any more haste than before. Itâs slow, passionate, heâs burning words onto your tongue, making you feel it instead of him saying it. He reaches down between your bodies, pumping his cock once, twice, pushing a small sound into your mouth, one you swallow down, tucking it beside your heart. Running his tip through your folds, you brace yourself, legs already shaking, bruised and battered and still aching for more.Â
You wince as he starts pushing inside, his lips meet your jaw. On your sides, facing each other, you throw your arms over his shoulders, his hands sinking down around your waist, from how close you lay thereâs barely any room for him to feed you a full thrust. He tries, grinding his cock against that spot inside you, eating every soft, wrecked moan you spill.Â
âI love you so much,â he finally says, âEvery inch of you, every part of this body.â
You whimper, fingers curling into his hair with no force, succumbing to the pleasure, the slight sting of overstimulation.Â
âYou take everything,â he whispers, lips against your cheek, you feel his breath, the severity of his words. âDo so fucking well for me every time. I need you.â Your heart jumps, clenching around him, pressure stemming. He repeats, voice a little louder, âI need you, love you sâmuch, âd do anything for you.â
Your hands drop to his shoulderblades, nails sinking in, breath growing heavier, a soft moan slipping past your lips, into his mouth. You whimper, voice cracking, âIâm sorry.â
âI know,â his fingertips curl into your back, âI know, baby.â
âI love you,â your voice cracks again, breath going uneven, he kisses you softly.Â
Your hips move with his, meeting each roll, the slick sound of your still-soaked center a symphony in your dimlit bedroom. He hears when your breathing shifts, as you start to climb. âYes,â he encourages, voice dripping in praise, âCum for me, baby, you deserve it. Did so good for me.â
Your breath hitches, hips twitching against him, he rolls into you a little harder. He kisses you, tongue sloppy inside your mouth, tasting everything youâd given him tonight, taking responsibility for it all. He turns you just slightly, angling you onto your back a little more so he can piston his hips higher, against that spot inside you. Your leg dangles, leaving your body spread and open, so trusting it makes his stomach do a flip. He presses two fingers against your clit, rubbing quick, tight circles.
He knows youâre seeing stars by the loud, pitched cry from your throat, he curses under his breath, âCâmon, cum for me. Give it to me, let me have it, I need it.â
Your spine bends on command, thighs shaking, pleasure washing over you in tremors. Eyes squeezing shut, he kisses your unmoving mouth, fingers working your clit, fucking you through it, extending your release, pulling it deeper, hotter, longer.Â
He kisses your cheek when a tear slips out, wiping his upper lip with his tongue. Your face is bent up in pleasure, eyes big and doe-like, pupils dilated. You mumble, voice little and weak, âPlease cum inside me.â
His pace quickens, chasing instead of supplying, voice caught in his chest. You kiss him again, sloppier, moaning into his mouth as he fucks into you steadily, fingers curling into his hair while you fuck him back. He chokes on a moan, hand splayed across your abdomen, hips losing their rhythm before he stutters, legs shaking, spilling everything thatâs left inside him to give.Â
Winded, breathing heavy, Yunhoâs spent. Thereâs nothing but the sound of your breath in the room, he keeps his cock inside you until itâs soft and even then you wait until discomfort knocks on your door to part.Â
âCan I clean you up?â He asks into the silence, palm still heavy over your sticky stomach.Â
You moan your disagreement. âWe need to shower.â
He rolls over, pressing a soft kiss onto your cheek, âAre you strong enough to?â
Your head turns, meeting his eye, a smile curving your lips to a singular degree. âI donât really have a choice. You came on me twiceâ three times?â
He plants his palms on either side of your head, eyes meeting the ceiling in thought. âMouth, thighs, stomach, face, inside. Three.âÂ
You throw your arms over his shoulders, bringing him down to kiss you. A soft, quick peck, âI love you.â
âI love you too,â he smiles into your lips, âIâll carry you and clean you, you donât have to do anything. Iâll change our sheets, weâll eat something, watch our showâŚâ
You nod slowly, brain drifting. From the most vulnerable part of your foggy mind comes a question, voice thin as you ask, âYou know I donât want Yeosang, right?âÂ
His eyes flicker over your face, searching for the emotion that asked the question.
âOf course,â he replies, full of confidence, already spitting quick reassurance, âWeâre perfect. Iâm not angry at you, Iâm not upset with you, I donât have any feelings that will fester over tonight. Are you okay? Did I push you too far?â
You shake your head, âNo.â Biting your lip, they scrunch to one side. âIâm okay, I just⌠Donât stray too far away from me tonight. Please.â
He leans down to press another kiss on your forehead, âI wonât leave your side. I promise.â
he canât bear it anymoreânot when youâre so tight, so warm, so perfect to breed. he has to get you pregnant, and heâs not gonna stop until until heâs certain itâs taken.
words: 3.1k
PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS! desperate whiny wooyoung, a LOT of whining. breeding, unprotected sex, cum stuffing i suppose, mating press, wet and messy, pregnancy kink sort of. heâs so desperate to get you pregnant itâs all he can think about. lots of cum and talk of cum. one slap of your breast.
title from switch it up - jayb & sokodomo. dedicated to @lovelyun
Itâs not unusual for sex with Wooyoung to end up like this.
Especially when heâs been away on tour, or busy with comeback preparationsâwhenever heâs not able to fuck you as much of often as he likes, this is the result.
Whiny. Desperate. Clinging to you; fingers digging into your skin, blunts of his nails pressed in deep enough to sting. Like heâs holding on for dear life; like heâs afraid that if he lets go, if he loosens his grip even a little bit, youâll slip away for good.
He was already half hard when you walked into the living room in a thin t-shirt, the fabric a little tighter around your tits and hips, nipples visible through the white cotton. Heâd started getting hard on the car ride home just from the thought of you; the thought of how pent up he knows you are after days without him, how desperate you must be, how easy itâll be to make you come undone and everything heâs going to do to get you there. Heâd spent the whole journey with his bag on his lap, trying to hide the imprint of his hardening cock against his sweats in case the taxi driver decided to glance back at him in the rearview mirror.
Fuck, he shouldâve worn underwear, but he knows you prefer it when he doesnât, especially in those sweats. He hadnât really thought about how difficult that would make it to get home; hadnât remember how fucking easy it is for him to get hard over you.
When he entered the apartment, when you walked through to greet him, his dick was already straining the fabric of his sweats. The sight of you, the way your shirt clings to your body, your bare legsâit took him the rest of the way. He felt the beads of precum leaking from the tip as you padded across the floor over to him.
Fuck, he needs you bad. He wasnât even half this bad when he met you; he was far from low libido, but you just bring something out in him thatâs entirely new.
âHey,â you smiled. âMissed you.â
He didnât even reply. Couldnât reply; the moment your hand was wrapped around his wrist, pulling him towards you, the moment he got a whiff of your scent, the body wash you like to lather over yourself and a hint of your natural sweetnessâhe couldnât do anything but pounce.
He barely got you to the bedroom. He didnât even get your shirt all the way off; just yanked it up so your tits were exposed, so he could watch the way your nipples hardened in the cold air, how the skin reddened when he smacked lightly at your breasts just to watch them move, so he could feel the warmth when he grasped them in his hands. He managed to pull it over your head, but neither of you thought to pull out your arms, so now itâs sitting there, leaving you entirely exposed while he fucks you open.
By the time heâd pulled his dick out the front of his sweats had darkened, spots of wetness seeping through the light grey fabric, precum already smeared over his tip, He didnât take them down, just pulled them far enough to get out his cock and got to work.
Your pussy was already wet, of course, just as he knew it would beâstill he was kind enough to spit down onto your hole, a little more onto his fingers, smearing his saliva across your clit just to get you a little more needy for it before he finally sunk himself into you.
Wooyoung is thick, a little longer than average, and even with your pussy leaking and weeping for him like it often does, it took a bit of effort to get himself all the way inside. When he finally got himself in, when your hole was finally wrapped around his shaft, about halfway down, he yelled. The pressure, the pleasure was dizzying; the way you clung to him like you couldnât handle him, like your poor little pussy didnât know what to do with something his sizeâit was too much. Fuck, he had to close his eyes, squeeze them shut, dig his fingers into the skin of your hips to ground himself to avoid cumming before heâd even bottomed out.
He couldnât handle it. The way you were respondingâpussy leaking and clenching around him at the same time, so incredibly tight despite how needy and sloppy is already was for him; your cry, strangled and dizzied, when he sunk into you, your small, desperate whimpers as he continues to push insideâit almost pushed him over the edge. If he hadnât closed his eyes in time to avoid the way your eyes widened, lips parting and shiny with drool as you tried to adjust to him, he knows he wouldnât have been able to stop himself.
Now, finally, heâs bottomed out, dick all the way inside, pressing against your g-spot, slamming into it with every thrust. His brows are furrowed, pupils blown, sweat sticking to his forehead and dripping from his chin. His grip is iron, fingers digging into your hips, holding onto the skin like a lifeline; you know thereâll be bruises later, littering the expanses of your hips and waist, but you donât care. It wouldnât be the first time for either of you. You wear the marks he leaves, and he wears yours, like a badge of honour.
Heâs going hard, rough, thrusts one after the other, so fast even he can barely keep up. Heâs almost crying, you can tell; see the tears brimming in his eyes, hear his whines and gasps like heâs trying to keep himself together. âFuck,â he hisses. âFuck, youâ baby. Oh my god.â
âWooyoung,â you cry. âYouâ feels so good. So deep, Woo, how are you so fucking deep?â
âI know,â he says. His hand moves from your hip to your tummy, pressing down, running across the expanse of your skin. âIâm in here,â he grunts. The pressure of his hands increases, pressing down right where his dick is stuffed all the way inside you and pressing against your spot. âDo you feel it?â
You nod, whimpering, and he groans, a sharp, strangled sound from the back of his throat. âTell me you feel it,â he says, and fuck his voice sounds so raw, so affected, the way you sound when youâre all fucked out and begging him for release. âPlease, baby, tell me.â
âI feel it,â you say. âWoo, I feel it. Youâre so deep inside me, youâre so big, it hurts.â
He pushes down a little harder, making you sob, then his hand moves back to its place on your hip, holding onto the skin, fingers digging into it again.
âMore,â you breathe, voice barely a whisper, need and desperation evident in the tone. âWoo, please. Need more.â
âFuck.â
He canât ever say no to youâyou both know that. He could be at the very edge of what he can do, at the very edge of collapse, and if you looked up at him with those wide, loving, fucked our eyes and begged him for more, heâd give it to you.
And like thisâwith your pussy crying for him, tensing and spasming around his shaft, sucking him in, your body begging for him without wordsâheâs pretty much a dead man walking.
He canât fucking take this. He doesnât remember you ever being so tight and warm and wet. He knows you have beenâyou always areâit must just be the days, weeks even that heâs gone without having you like this, the compounded need and relief of finally having your cunt wrapped around his cock.
Heâs going to break. He knows it. But he hasnât given you nearly as much as he intends to yet.
His head dips, the pressure of his hands on your hips increasing, like heâs struggling to hold himself up now. His hair is sticking to his forehead, breathing laboured, whimpers getting louder and hotter and more guttural. His thrusts are speeding up too, getting harder, but the precision and control of them is slipping; the more he fucks you, the tighter he clings to you, the sloppier and messier his movements inside you get.
Your legs wrap around his waist, feet interlocking with each other against the small of his back, locking you in place. You push your hips up, pressing yourself closer to him, pulling him in deeper; your hands reach out to grab his shirt, curling the material around your fists then moving up to hold onto his shoulders, then his neck, then a fistful of his hair in one of your hands while the other grips his forearm. A harder thrust, sharper, makes you squeal, head thrown back, your face wet and flushed and blotchy with tears.
Wooyoung looks up, finally, meeting your eyes, and the sight of your face, so dumb and desperate and high on what he's giving you, makes his dick pulse inside you, legs almost giving out just from the sight of you. His dick is so fucking sensitive now, strangled by your cunt, hardly able to move in and out of you but unable to do anything but go harder and faster and messier. Heâs fairly certain youâve creamed already, probably more than once; heâs felt your cunt spasming around him, heard your cries grow sharper then settle back into softer whines and sobs, and he feels the stickiness leaking out of your hole around his cock. He wants to cum too, so fucking badly, but he canâtâ
Fuck. Fuck. The image hits him like a vision, a spiritual experience, something solid against his chest. The way youâre clinging to him. He knows heâs not going to pull out, wonât be able to, he rarely does with you; knows that when he cums, when he finally allows himself to break, it will be with his dick pressed up against your g-spot, the cum filling up the deepest parts of you. He wishes he could cum directly into your womb; heâs said that to you before, and when youâre stuffed full of him and begging him to fill you up, you have on a few occasions cried for him to stuff your womb with cum. To get you pregnant.
He wants to do that now. He wants it so bad he could cry; wants it so bad itâs all he can think about. And with the way youâre squeezing him, milking his cock with your cunt, it seems like you want it too. Your body wants it, at least.
âBaby,â he hisses. âIâŚâ
He leans down, closer to you now, face inches from yours, close enough to see the tiny details of his face and feel his breath against your skin. You grab a handful of his hair, gentle but desperate, and pull him closer to you. Your breaths are short and shallow, words whispered, like a prayer meant only for him. âYou what?â You breathe.
He grunts, chewing on his lip, hips bucking just at the thought. âI want to get you pregnant,â he hisses, voice cracking on the final syllable and slipping into something more like a whimper. âPlease, baby. Let meâŚâ
You cunt clenches at that, at the image; your hips buck upwards and you pull his head down further, closer, until his lips are on yours. He freezes, just for a moment, then melts into it, tongue pushing past your lips and into your mouth, hands cupping your face with the same pressure and fervour theyâd had on your hips. The kiss is wet, rushed, messy; loving and hungry at the same time. He groans into your mouth, his hips bucking, skin slapping against yours, then pulls away. âTell me I can,â he says. âTell me I can knock you up. I need to knock you up.â
âKnock me up, Wooyoung,â you say. He rewards you with another, sharper thrust that nearly makes your vision white out. âPlease. Put a baby in me. Need a baby in my tummy, Woo, need to be all swollen with it.â
âShit,â he grits out. His hands are on your shoulders now, pushing them down and pinning you against the bed. His eyes are wild nowâcrazed. âYou need it,â he says. âFuck, baby, you need it, right?â
âNeed it,â you repeat. âI need your baby, Woo, itâd be so cute, right? Weâd have such a cute baby.â
âFuck, donât talk like that.â Wooyoung feels lightheaded, his entire body buzzing with need, toes curling into the sheets. He slows down just enough to think a little clearer, thrusts lazier while he strings his words together. âBaby, put your legs up. I wannaâ I wanna press it all the way in. Need to press my cum all the way inside, right in your little womb, okay?â
He stops fucking you for a moment, still stuffed inside, then adjusts. He sits himself up, straightening up from where he was leaning over your; his hands grip your legs, still wrapped around his waist, keeping them there as he moves. Then he pushes your legs forwards, gently, so your knees are pushed towards your face, legs spread, calves pressed against your thighs and your thighs pushed back untilâ
âYeah,â he grunts. âThatâs perfect.â
You know this position; remember how it feels, how it allows him to get so much deeper and stay there, how his cum stays stuffed inside you after he pulls out, your ass raised a little off the bed.
He starts to move again, but he doesnât ease you into it; canât, at this point, when youâre spread out so invitingly, your pussy pulsing around him at the realisation of the position heâs put you in, your entire body so vulgarly displayed beneath him, at his mercy, a present only he gets to unwrap. Soon enough, heâs slipped again, the thrusts sloppier, messier, the control heâd managed to cling to for all of a second, just long enough to adjust you the way he wanted you, now evaporated. His hands find your waist now, holding you tight whilst he slams himself into your spot over and over like heâs chasing something.
His moans are soft, breathy, whiny, getting louder as he gets closer and closer to the edge. He canât stop thinking about it, picturing it; you, knocked up, carrying his child, looking so perfect and pretty and used. His cum in your cuntâfuck, if he could keep his cum inside you every fucking day he would. Heâd fuck you every morning before he goes out, unload inside you, slide your pretty panties over your pussy to catch any seed that tries to escape. If it starts to leak heâd make you push it back inside, or gather it on his finger and make you lick it off. Then heâd fuck you again, before bed, hard and rough, until you fall asleep with bruised hips and smarting skin and a belly full of cum.
Heâs going to get you pregnantâhe doesnât fucking care anymore. As he pushes towards his orgasm he knows for a fact, no doubt, that heâs going to do it; that he has to do it, or heâs going to shatter. Itâs like a compulsion now, a need as much as eating or sleeping or drinking. He needs to get you pregnant and see you pregnant and know your belly is round and swelling because of him.
He doesnât realise how loud heâs being; doesnât realise the loud, whiny moans filling the air and drowning out the sound of his skin slapping against yours is him. Fuck. Is he always this fucked out when heâs trying to cum? Is he always this⌠pathetic?
He doesnât care. If pathetic is what he is when he fucks you full, when he fills you up, when he feels your perfect cunt squeezing his dick like this, then fuck it, heâs pathetic. Heâll wear that badge with pride if itâs for you.
His orgasm comes quickly when he stops resisting; when he finally allows it to overtake it. He feels it in his entire body, in his fingers, his toes, every inch of him. It starts and doesnât seem to stop; you feel your tummy filling up, warmth spreading through you, Wooyoungâs hands heavier and grip tighter, his strangled gasps and choked sobs as he keeps fucking you through it, like heâs trying to milk every last drop of himself out and into you. Heâs saying something, somewhere between grunting and wailing; words you canât quite decipher but understand entirely.
Youâre going to get pregnant, tonight. Heâs not stopping until you do. Heâs gonna fill you up over and over and you canât take anymore; until youâre so full of his cum that he canât even fit his cock in there.
His hips rock back and forth, pushing the cum in deeper as it comes out.
And then he stills. His grip loosens just a little bit. He slumps slightly, catching himself in time, breathing heavy and laboured. His dick twitches inside you, still hard, but no longer moving.
âStay still,â he says. His voice is raw, hollow, as though heâd been screaming and screaming and screaming until he lost it. âKeep your legs there. Helpsâ it helps it to take.â
âTake?â You repeat. You feel dazed.
Wooyoung nods. âMy cum. If you keep your legs there itâll help you get pregnant. Hold them there. Please.â
Fuck, he really⌠he really wants you pregnant. Like, actually pregnant. You pull him closer to you, pressing your lips together. This time the kiss is gentle, soft, none of the desperation of before but all of the feeling.
Wooyoung is massaging your legs, rubbing the backs of your thighs with enough pressure to feel it in the muscles; trying to keep the blood flow going, to stop you from losing the feeling in your legs with the strenuous position heâs holding you in. âDoing so well,â he murmurs into your mouth. âAlways so good, so pretty, gonna be such a good mom. Wanna give you a daughter.â
âPlease,â you breathe. âWant it.â
âGood.â He sits back up, pushing the hair out of his face, staring down at you with a small smile.
You know that smile. Thatâs a smile that says youâre not doneânot even close.
âYouâre probably pregnant now,â he says. âBut we have to be sure. And weâre not stopping until weâre sure.â
You donât reply. Just watch as his smile widens, as his hands move back to your hips where theyâd been before.
âIâm gonna fuck you again,â he says. âIâm gonna breed you over and over, until the cum is spilling out of you. Until you have my baby. Until youâre carrying my seed inside you all day, every day, for nine months. Okay?â
You donât answer. You donât need to; he knows you well enough to read your reaction.
And even if he didnâtâyour pussy speaks for itself. The way it clenches around him says everything youâre too fucked out to voice.
you kind of wished he had never found out about it. not really, but now it certainly seems he likes to use it as leverage against you.
your boyfriend was gentle in all the ways that count. soft touches that made you feel like precious art. sweet words of encouragement that made you feel seen. but sometimes you feel like he might be too gentle with you.
the only times he ever let that soft-handed mask down were when he was fucking you.
and the first time he ever found out about your little infatuation, he seemed to have grown a little more comfortable with roughing it up a little.
âoh god⌠oh baby. fuck, you feel so good.â on your stomach, face pressed into the sheets, sanâs face nudged in the tight space where your neck meets your shoulder. his arms caged either side of your head, resting his forearms next to your ears.
his chest was glued to your back, your spine digging into his stomach. bare and hot and wet, your bodies pressed against each other without an inch of space to speak for. your entire body shivered when he forced himself deeper into you, his curved, thick cock splitting your cunt open.
this position had him so deep, so invasive, so full. his hips rolled against the flesh of your ass, sanâs voice dipping low in needy moans when you squeezed around him while he pulled his hips back, listening to the slick sound your pussy made, trying to keep him inside.
âpussyâs so warm today, baby.â he lets his mouth fall open against the shell of your ear, panting and groaning to make your brain melt. âmaking me feel so fucking crazy, you make me feel crazy, pretty.â
you forced your head out of the pillow when you felt his thrusts slow to a deep grind, pulling a ragged whine from your mouth. you pried your eyes open to watch as his arms moved around your head.
âturn, look at us.â he kisses below your ear, and drags his tongue up the side of your cheek. his right arm reaches and grabs his phone from the corner of the bed, holding it tight in his hand and scrolling and pressing buttons.
you forget he keeps a tall mirror against his bedroom wall, right next to the end of his bed. you can see the top halves of your melded bodies. his big, broad shoulders shadow your littler form under him. his soft, flushed face meeting your eyes in the reflection, his big, meaty arms flexing and twitching around your head every time he moved.
you watch to try and see what he was doing, and he punishes your nosiness with a sharp, deep thrust that makes your calf lock up.
âmind your business, babydoll.â he grumbles, then you feel it. his left arm curls around the front of your throat, tight. the muscles twitch and contract over your neck, just enough to limit your breathing. snug, warm and secure around the front of your throat.
he feels you tighten around his cock, and it makes his skin prickle. âooh, fuckâŚâ he groans and you feel his voice vibrate against your back. you forced your eyes up and you can see his phone recording your reflection in the mirror. catching the fucked out look on your face, his thick arm wrapped around your throat in an owning headlock.
his mouth spreads into a sly grin when your eyes roll when he pulls back his hips and then sinks his cock back into you so slowly, so smoothly, your legs jerk under him to try and escape the feeling.
âmy soft little slutâŚâ san leans down to whisper in your ear, the flash of his camera moving with each thrust. he licks the tears that pool at the corner of your eyes before he drags his head back up to watch you both in the mirror.
âlook at you go, baby.â he praises around a heated smile. âdrooling all over my arm like some kind of puppy. does that feel good? hm?â
you whimper out an incoherent agreement, and he giggles softly, littering the nape of your neck with soft kisses. he adjusts his hips to drag against that deeper, sweeter spot, that makes you still and lightly sink your teeth into his arm.
he keeps that meaner pace, deep heavy strokes in your guts that you can do nothing but lie under his body and take. his arm around your neck made clouds swim around in your brain. he tightens the hold, and you squeal loudly, barely catching the way he zooms in with his phone to better catch the pretty look on your face.
your cheeks squished by his muscles, your eyes desperate and heavy-lidded. he thought you looked so cute, and who wouldâve thought that all he had to do to get you this needy was to put you in a headlock.
san fucks you greedily, the curve of him perfectly hitting that spot that turned your mind off. his voice egged you on, his low moans, and his pretty heavy breaths. groaning âmhmsâ of approval with every thrust into you as if he was grading the feel of your cunt around him. with every stroke, you only seemed to get even wetter, and the proof was the sticky web of your slick that clung to his base.
âmm, i love fucking my baby, slow⌠and stupid.â he attaches his lips to the pulse point on your neck, sucking and running his tongue over the sensitive spot of skin. âjus wanna fuck you so deep it hurts.â
heâs in your ear, talking to you and only you. all the while his phone catches every moment, every thrust and every moan.
his lower stomach repeatedly brushes against your back, his cock stirring up your insides at the most, torturous and delicate pace. the slow smack of flesh, the sticky hollow sound of your cunt swallowing all of him.
you feel his knees brace against either side of your hips again, adjusting his posture a little. his arm around your throat tightens to your near limit, his head nudges against your neck, his lips whispering against your cheek.
this way he uses your neck as leverage to anchor is body to allow him to fuck his cock into you a little faster, a little rougher.
âyeah, baby, yeah. take all of me. all of me.â sanâs voice drops into a breathy purr, pressing his lips directly against your ear, the soft skin tickling you. âgivin this pussy a workout hm?â
you groan and kick your feet, and he laughs at you as hand from the arm heâs got your neck trapped in buries itself in your tangled hair and yanks your head to the side so youâre fully facing the mirror, your ear resting below his jaw.
âyou like to be lazy. you like to lie hereâ fuck⌠lie here and take dick, helpless and limp. let sannie do all the work huh, princess? let this pussy do all the work for you?â
he turns his head and your eyes catch in the mirror. his eyes are lidded, competent and heated. yours are foggy, tear-glazed, spent. he smiles at your expression and growls under his breath when you clench around his dick again.
his fingers scrape against your scalp with every heavy stroke of his hips, his pretty grunts and moans making your belly twist into swirls.
your hands grasp at the sheets, your cries coming out choked and breathy then more san fucked you, and he seemingly forgot that you needed to breathe until you tapped on his bicep to tell him to let up.
he does immediately, loosening the hold on your throat. you gasp and choke, but he doesnât stop moving his hips, fucking you slow and deep while you regain your breath.
âaww, âm sorry babydoll.â he kisses your temple and you could feel him giggle against your skin. his voice lowers to that brain ticking whisper and you feel your air stolen from you again.
âbet you wouldâve looked so pretty passed out on my cock.â he finally sets down his phone and takes his now free hand and trails it down your body, running along the side of your waist, his hips never stopping that deep, languid push and pull.
âlooking all soft and sleepy.â his hand snakes between your body and the bed and finds your clit with his coarse fingertips. you gasp and squirm under him, your body shaking as a plea for mercy. san only laughs, circling upwards against the sensitive nerves while he splits your pussy open, over and over and over again.
âthink i could still make you cum in your sleep princess?â he whispers against your throat and you feel as his arm tightens its hold around your throat once again. you feel the bed start to shake and your cunt start to burn with pleasure as he picks up the pace of his thrusts, filling you long and deep at just the right angle.
âmmhm, soak my cock baby.â he growls under a moan, letting his tongue fall from his mouth and tasting the flushed skin on your throat. âmake it smell like you.â
he bites his bottom lip and his eyebrows furrow, his cock pounding into you so full he just might had been close to fucking your cervix.
his fingers on your clit continue to move at that dragging, spherical pattern that helps that pressure build slowly. stroke my stroke, praise by praise. you melt under his body while he uses you as he sees fit. your pussy sucks him in everytime he draws back, your pretty little moans make sanâs head spin.
âgonna fuck myself to that video everynight while im on tour.â he promises against your skin, your orgasm dangerously close to sweeping you onto the floor. he rolls his hips with every thrust, forcing his fat tip to press against your gspot.
âeee..every n-night..?â you whimper deliriously, his cock effectively having cut off all cognitive function, a stupid smile spread across your face.
he laughs and kisses your shoulder as he rolls his hips a little harder. âmhm, every night baby. i'll send you some videos so this pussy-â he thrusts hard this time, as if acknowledging her himself. â-doesn't miss me too much. want you to remember how good i make you feel while i'm gone.â
you shake violently when his tip nudges that spot just right, and right at that moment you cum on the spot. your limbs jerk and twitch and once sanâs felt you cumming he eases his hips into a faster rut, pounding your pussy through your orgasm, fucking you through it.
âthere we go, there we go. let it take you baby, keep cumming, keep cumming for me.â he pinches your clit and teases it with gentle brushes while he mounts you on his mattress.
his arm is covered in your drool, the red indentations of your bite marks inflamed on his skin. san looks back at you in the mirror, and youâre too out of it to notice as he pulls out his phone again and starts to record the reflection.
your eyes are shut and your brows are furrowed in bliss, lips parted in pathetic whines, your cheek resting against his bicep. he keeps his eyes on the mirror as your face twists in overstimulation when he starts to grind his cock deep into you.
his muscles flex, and he can feel the strain in his wrist from continually holding the camera up to capture you two. your shoulder twitches every time he bottoms out into your pussy, and your eyelids flutter every time he presses his palm against your lower stomach. he catches every change in expression, every twitch of your body, every lilt in your moans.
he always misses you so bad when hes away, so he always makes sure he fucks you so unbelievably well that you could probably do without him for at least a few days.
until youâre sore, or your stomach burns, or you physically canât cum anymore. and heâll be so methodic, so thorough, so gentle. anything to get you satiated for the first few days in his absence.
he's gotta work you out of his system somehow anyway, or else he'll be a horny, delirious wreck on tour.
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Being a multi stan is awful right now. Everytime I open up Twitter it feels like I'm getting dragged down to hell and I'm getting tortured. there's so much going on it's so hard to stay in my bubble
.⌠ex-husband!wooyo x ex-wife!reader
Ý.⌠porn w a little plot, they have a kid together and it's kyungmin lol, smut minors dni 18+, p in v unprotected, hella dirty talk, wooyo is dominant but kinda just a little shit, oral f!receiving, degradation, hella teasing, big ole breeding kink, n creampie, they call each other daddy/mommy, omfg i used the word jagi pls lmk if u fw jagi im nervous, they argue a little, they're deffo still in love lowk i could have made this a story but i had brainworms. uhhh lmk if i missed anything i don't feel like rereading it
.⌠wc ~9k | straight up copying @chimivx's layouts lately shoutout plum
.⌠wooyoung brainworms đ§ââď¸
âWhen will Daddy be here?â
Suitcase packed, carry-on zipped, as soon as the words left your eight year old sonâs mouth, the doorbell rang. A grin breaking out across his face, he cheered, jumping up from his spot on your bed to race down the steps.Â
âIâm comingâ Iâm comingâ Daddy!â
You hear the front door rip open and the laugh rolling off your ex-husbandâs lips, you could bet money on the fact that he just picked Kyungmin up in his arms and spun him around. Throwing your carry-on over your shoulder, your purse on the other, you rolled your suitcase out of your bedroom and into the hallway, stopping at the platform at the top of your stairs.
You should have bet the money. Hoodie on his upper half, baggy jeans on his lower and tucked into the boots on his feet, Wooyoung has Kyungmin tucked into his chest, one arm around his back, the other cradling the back of his head. He stops twirling, smile staying as he catches your eye at the top of the steps, taking a second before softly placing Kyungmin back on the floor.Â
âYouâre late,â your voice comes out clipped, one hand still wrapped around the handle of your suitcase.Â
He runs a hand through his long, black hair, âThere was traffic.â
âI have a flight to catch,â you bite back.
His head tilts, smile deepening to a smirk, âAnd whoâs driving you to the airport?â
âAn asshole,â you mumble under your breath, hiking your bags higher over your shoulders, free hand reaching for the railing to keep you balanced before you start for the stairs.Â
âHere,â he springs into action, taking it two stairs at a time, taking your luggage from your hand before you can get a word out. âI got it.â
âI had it,â you argue, looking down at him, he just smiles.
âI know very well how capable you are, wifey.â
You smack your teeth, huffing down the rest of the stairs, âHow many times do I have to tell you to stop calling me that?â
âCome on,â he sings, âitâs funny. Wanna open the trunk for me, Kyungminnie?â
âYes!â Your eight year old shouts, hauling ass out of your front door and sprinting down the lawn to your driveway. Looking at Wooyoung again, it dawns on you like it always does how much the two look alike, especially as your son gets older.Â
âYouâre seriously not going?â You ask Wooyoung as you close your front door behind you, locking it with the silver key on your split ring.Â
He calls over his shoulder as he rolls your suitcase down your driveway, âUnless they call me in, no.â
A conference for your job, two states over. You and Wooyoung have always been employed in the same line of work, opposing companies, but essentially the same job. Itâs how you met in the first place, fifteen years ago, when you were both fresh out of college and ready to enter the workforce. The conference was held annually, usually you and Wooyoung would travel together, before you divorced him.Â
You hum, storing the information. You whole-heartedly think he was asked to go already, especially since all of your coworkers have already told you the higher-ups in his company were attending, the higher-ups included his name on the list. He must not be going to spare you, and in a way, youâre grateful for it.Â
Opening the backseat of his SUV, you throw your carry-on inside, brow quirking at the sight of his bare backseat. âWhereâs Kyungieâs booster seat?â You ask over the seats to Wooyoung whoâs throwing your suitcase in the trunk.Â
âLet me press the button!â Kyungmin shouts, and Wooyoung gruffs a strangled noise as he picks your son up by his waist, lifting him high enough so he can press the button to close the trunk.Â
âHeâs big as shit, he doesnât need one anymore,â Wooyoung says casually after putting him back on the ground.
âBullshit.â Kyungmin is tall as shit for his age. âHeâs only eight!â
Wooyoung opens the door on the other side of the backseat, leaning over Kyungmin after he crawls inside to click his seatbelt into place. âHave you read up on it?â
Not recently.Â
âHe can sit all the way back, bend his knees over the edge, the lap belt is across his hips, the shoulder belt is on his shoulder,â he eyes you from the other side of the car, hand on the car door. âHeâs fine.â
âWhy didnât you tell me daddy lets you ride without a booster seat?â You ask Kyungmin, ignoring how Wooyoung clearly did his research.Â
Kyungmin smiles and itâs the exact fucking replica of Wooyoungâs sly grin, âYou would be mad and then I canât be big anymore.â
You sigh, tucking your carry-on in once more before closing the car door. Climbing into the passenger seat, your voice is laced with irritation, âThere are some things you should discuss with me, yâknow.â
âYou research everything,â Wooyoung pushes the button beside the steering wheel and the engine roars to life, âmy bad for assuming youâd research car safety, too.â
Cheeks hot, you cross your arms, settling into the comfortable seat of his SUV. He had you there.Â
Itâs a thirty minute drive to the airport, spent listening to soft rock through the speakers, Kyungmin humming along in the backseat to songs you had no idea he knew. So much changes in a year, your son growing like a weed, building a different relationship with his father you werenât there to supervise. You didnât need to, you knew that, their time together was theirs, but itâs been a minute since the three of you were together for an extended period of time, outside of pick-ups and drop-offs.Â
Pulling up outside the airport, while Wooyoung unpacks your luggage and your carry-on, youâre halfway into the backseat saying your goodbyes to your son. Tears prickling your lashes, itâs always hard to leave him, even if the conference was only for the weekend.Â
You close the door and meet Wooyoung on the other side of the SUV, wiping the tears from your eyes, âCall me if anything happens.â
âNothingâs gonna happen,â he takes the carry-on from his own shoulder and slips it onto yours with care. âText me when you land, Iâll call you after he showers so you can say goodnight.â
âThanks again for driving me,â you give him a tight-lipped smile, âIâm sorry, my dad was busyââ
Wooyoung cuts you off by shaking his head, his smile warm, âGo have a drink before your flight, sleep on the plane. Donât apologize for something I was happy to do.â
âOkay,â you whisper, meeting his eye, âThanks, Woo.â
âHave fun for me, wifey. Tell Mingi and Seonghwa I say hello.â
Rolling your eyes, you snort as you turn on your heel, âTell them yourself!â
You always forget how big this conference is until youâre here again.Â
Mingi and Seonghwa on either side of you like pillars, you enter the foyer space, the hotel decked out in red and gold detailing, fancy. Men in suits, women in pantsuits, everyone looked about the same, in different fonts. All here for networking until the schedule begins, splitting off into the theater rooms for speakers, boardrooms for workshops, or sneaking off to the hotel bar to ease the chip of performance off their shoulders.Â
âWooyoungâs really not coming?â Mingi asks, gray two-piece suit clinging to his body, buff and broad but slim.Â
Seonghwa, Mingiâs smaller, shorter half, adds, âI thought he was guest speaking this year.â
Your brows raise, news to you. Mingi shakes his head, blonde hair gelled back not moving an inch, âI heard he gave it to Choi San.â
âHe wouldnât do that,â you argue, approaching closer to the check-in table. âThat would give San the upper hand, he wouldnât let him have it even if it killed him.â
Greeting the red-haired woman at the table, you tell her the three of your names, and she hands you all lanyards with a tri-fold paper schedule. You thank her, and as you split off towards the theater room, Seonghwa continues, âWhat if he gave it to San because youâre here? Maybe he just wanted to have Kyungmin for the weekend.â
Black hair, short and cropped, faded along his temples, his deep onyx suit makes his skin appear even more golden than usual. He stands out, beautiful and chiseled, like he should be on a runway instead of in an office. You scoff, âHe has Kyungie every other weekend, Hwa. This job is like his second baby, his first baby, he wouldnât just let San have whatâs rightfully his.â
Mingi chuckles, stealing your attention, shoulders shaking with each laugh. Rings on his fingers, tie dark and patterned with streaks of silver, Mingi adds his own style into strict, corporate fashion, you have to respect him for it. You canât be bothered, half of your closet is from a department store.Â
âI seriously think heâs not here because youâre here,â Mingi shrugs, âjust my opinion, though.â
âIâm here every year!â You argue, âWeâre divorced, not archnemeses.âÂ
Seonghwa shrugs, âI agree with Mingi.â
âHe said hi to you guys, by the way,â you look between the two, taking three open seats at the edge of a row in the middle of the audience, âwhen he dropped me off at the airport.â
âWow, he dropped you off,â Mingi feigns surprise, brows pushed up, âintimate.â
You smack your teeth, âDonât be stupid.â
The crowd gets quiet, the projected screens on either side of the stage lighting up, you cross a leg over your knee and settle into your seat, waiting for the speaker to walk onstage. You should have called Wooyoung this morning, you think, you wonder what Kyungminâs doing today, if he misses you.Â
Reaching into your purse with the intention of texting him, checking the pocket you always keep your phone in, you realize it isn't there. Furrowing your brows, panic in your blood, you pull your purse onto your lap, sorting through it, pushing past the old ziploc bags of snacks, lip balm, hand sanitizer, wipes, tissues, a small bottle of sunscreen. No phone. Eyes blowing wide, you whisper to Mingi, âI donât have my phone. What if Wooyoung calls me?â
Seonghwa nudges your side, eyes on the stage, âI donât think heâll call.â
Looking at Seonghwa confused, you hear his voice blow through the room. Speaking into the mic, voice smooth and velvety yet strict and powerful, your jaw drops to the fucking floor. Wooyoung is onstage, long hair pinned back, in the dark gray business-casual outfit he used to keep in the back of your closet instead of a suit.Â
âWhere the fuck is my kid if heâs here?â Youâre rigid with terror, ass at the edge of your seat like you were ready to get up and walk onstage, fists squeezing the absolute shit out of the straps of your purse. âHeâs supposed to be at home, with my kid.â
Mingiâs hand lands on your flexed bicep, âKyungâs probably with Wooâs parents, right? He probably got called here last minute, breathe. He wouldnât leave him stranded or home alone.â
The reminder etches a semblance of relief in your stone bones, but you donât let yourself feel it. Why didnât he tell you? You talked to him just last night before he put Kyungmin to bed, he spoke nothing of hopping on a flight and overnighting himself here.Â
You could kill him. You hear nothing of his speech, not a single word, too consumed by rage and confusion to even hear the topic. You sat with a rigid spine and bouncing knees for the entire hour, jaw clenched, fists tucked into your purse to hide how they didnât uncurl once. The moment it was over you were up on your feet, barreling through the side of the theater room up to the side of the stage, face bent down in anger.Â
He sees you before you see him.Â
âWhere the fuck is your phone?â He asks, pulling you by your arm behind one of the screens, standing facing one another, parallel to the back wall of the room.Â
âWhy the fuck are you here?â You whisper-yell, âWhere is my son?â
âOur son is with my parents,â he whisper-yells back, âwhich you would know if you picked up your goddamn phone, Iâve been calling you since last night.â
Your brows furrow, head shaking in utter confusion, âI-I I left it in the room, maybe itâs dead? Iââ
âWhat, did you get laid as soon as I got off the phone last night?â He looks dead serious, âToo important to answer my call about getting put on a red-eye here in the middle of the night?â
Youâre replaying the events of last night in your head, did you not plug in your phone after you ended the call? You ate your room service, watched a movie, you wish you would have gotten laid, but a hotel room means youâre free to be alone with your right hand, watchingâ Oh.Â
Your cheeks flush, âNo, Wooyoung, it must have died, I didnât even think this morning, I was rushing here after the alarm clock went off.â
âYou didnât think to call me?âÂ
âNo!â You shake your head, voice a little louder now, âI didnât. I think youâre more than capable of taking care of our son without me breathing down your fucking neck, Wooyoung.â
He straightens, face calming, a brow popping in question. âReally?â
âYes,â you heave a breath, running a hand through your hair, âJesus Christ. Kyungieâs with your mom?â
Wooyoung nods, âI dropped him off around midnight, I told her weâll pick him up when we get back, she wants us to stay for dinner. Parked my car at the airport, I got a seat on your flight back.â
Your top lip lifts, âShe wants us to stay for dinner?â
âDefinitely gonna convince you to take me back,â Wooyoungâs lips flatten in a line.Â
You fake a cough into your first, âI think Iâm coming down with something.â
He rolls his eyes, âI already told her no, donât worry. Do you want to call her from my phone?â
âNo,â you shake your head, âheâs probably having the time of his life. Iâll leave them alone.â
âAre we all free from the shackles of your velcro- parenting?â He grins, eyebrows wiggling.Â
âFuck off,â you grumble, âIâm going back to my seat. Nice presentation, by the way.â
âThanks, wifey,â you can hear humor in his voice, the sly grin on his lips. You shoot him the middle finger behind your back before youâre in front of any eyes.Â
The rest of the conference is boring. Networking is the only fun part of it, but only when the person youâre talking to hates their job as much as you do. Other than that, itâs small talk of shareholding and statistics, each word off your lips makes you thirsty for liquor.Â
âAh, Wooyoungieâs wifey.â
Eyes pointed, you turn your head to find the perpetrator who approaches your back, you were now seated at the bar to avoid this exact thing happening. Choi San, senior executive of his company, a ray of fucking sunshine if he isnât talking about the direction of your company or trying to fully recruit you for your skills.Â
You force a smile on your cheeks, âNot Wooyoungâs wife anymore, you know this.â
âIs that why youâre drinking alone at the bar?â He raises his brows, coming up beside you, forgoing the bar stool to stand with his elbows planted on marble.Â
Your brows slant inward, more annoyed than anything, âCome on, San.â
He chuckles, head dipping low between his shoulders, his dimples visible even engulfed in shadow. He picks his head up, voice teasing, âAre we on a first-name basis now?â
âMr. Choi,â you correct yourself, voice playful, a grin clawing onto your own cheeks. âApologies, sir.â
âI like that better,â he eyes your drink, a margarita half watered-down, ânow can I ask why youâre drinking alone at the bar?â
âBoredom,â you say through a breath, ânothing better to do than drink tequila. Maybe then I can convince myself I enjoy talking numbers when Iâm not being paid to do it.â
His lips purse, smile evident even with the scrunch, âUsually youâre on top of this event.â Humming, he pulls the barstool under him, sitting facing you with his knees spread. âNot interested this year?â
âI miss my kid,â you sigh, cheek landing in your closed fist.Â
He frowns, âMost single mothers would be enjoying a weekend of freedom.â
âThen I guess Iâm not most mothers,â you bring your drink to your lips, eyeing him with low lids over the rim. You can feel it radiating off him, the attraction, the want. You make a show of batting your lashes.
A rivalry he and Wooyoung have, ever since San started at the company, a constant petty, childish fight of who will come out on top. Who makes more money, whoâs more successful, Wooyoung has used your marriage and your son for years in spiteful arguments, something Wooyoung has but San does not. You donât know if heâll ever marry or have kids, you donât know if he has any interest in it at all.Â
âAre you flirting with me, Mrs. Jung?â San cracks a smirk, it makes a shiver run down your spine. Youâre most certainly not, but maybe the tequila and utter boredom has pulled something frisky in your tone, especially sitting beside a man like him. You donât answer, placing your glass back down on the bar carefully, and Sanâs smirk grows. âDangerous, I can see why Wooyoungie tied you down.â
You pop a brow, âYeah? Please, do tell.â
Thereâs no harm in not denying it. Or allowing him to continue, at the very least. You havenât gotten laid in awhile, havenât been flirted with, havenât felt desired in too long. You donât really care about attention from him, of all people, but itâs kind of nice, in a wayâ even if you know very well how off-limits Choi San is, and that you wonât let it go any farther.Â
Sanâs voice is hushed, eyes low, drinking up your figure like heâd been waiting for this day to come, âYouâre intelligent, successful, you donât let your kindness make you vulnerable.â
You canât help the giddiness that begins to form, âSo youâre the type that likes brains and not beauty?â
âDonât act like you donât know Iâd fuck you brainless,â he chuckles a little, settling into the barstool, pulling his suit jacket tighter. âYouâve known that for a long, long time.â
And youâve ignored it for even longer. It still makes your feet shift on the barstool, deepening the ache in your gut you didnât have before he sat down, heâs never been so bold before. Over the years, in your marriage, you always blamed his flirty tone, wandering eyes on his and Wooyoungâs rivalry. Which is probably exactly what this is, something to hold over Wooâs head, or at least heâd plan to if you went through with it. Which you wonât, but itâs fun to hear what could be if the circumstances were different.Â
âI have,â you nod, picking up your glass again, âis that what you want, Mr. Choi?â
âIâd make you forget Wooyoung exists,â he leans in, voice low, eyes piercing, âIâd fuck you better than he ever did.â
You hum, swirling the watered-down drink in your glass, âGood to know.â
His lips pursed, eyes dancing with thought before he says, âWeâre staying in the same hotel, meet me at the bar tonight if you want it, too.â
You give him nothing but a short, small nod before bringing your drink up to your lips again. You watch him as he walks away, his tailored suit painted onto his ass, his thighs, he exuded money. Poise. Heâs never gone as far as this, never been so blunt, never fed you a real option. But you suppose he never could, youâve been married every time heâs talked to you, up until now.Â
You laugh a little to yourself before throwing the rest of your drink back.Â
Exhausted was an understatement for how you felt after the first day of the conference. Tomorrow would be filled with more guest speakers, more workshops, your body dragged as you hitched a ride with Mingi back to the hotel. Your phone was right where you left it, plugged into the charger, but your charger wasnât plugged into the fucking wall.Â
Undressing yourself, you called Wooyoungâs mom upon your screen lighting up again, having a quick chat with her before she put Kyungmin on the phone. After he ditched you for ice cream, Wooyoungâs mom was back on the phone, asking you how the conference is, then diving into how crazy it is that they put Wooyoung on a red-eye, how important and successful he is, how youâre so lucky to have him.Â
âI know mom, thanks, I know,â you mumble between every sentence, face twitching in annoyance, your back pressed to the perfectly made bed, body sprawled out with exhaustion. Itâs like she doesnât even care that you arenât together anymore.
âYou two are coming to dinner on Sunday, yes?â She asks, and you kick your feet out, face scrunching together in a silent whine. âI already bought food at the grocery store today.â
After a silent, agonizing sigh, you answer, âYup, weâll be there.â
How could you say no after Woo dropped your son off in the middle of the night?
Her voice raises ten octaves in excitement, âOh, thank god, we miss you, sweetie. Iâm so excited to see you!â
âCanât wait to see you, too,â your lips fold into a tight, flat smile. âTell Kyung I said goodnight.â
âI will, weâll call you in the morning,â you can hear her nod, her voice shaky from sheer joy, âsleep well, sweetheart.â
âYou too,â you hang up the phone, then groan, long and low, a sigh following it. Fuck. The most pure-hearted woman, you think you broke her heart worse than Wooyoungâs when you divorced him. Fuck. You canât believe you agreed to dinner. Itâs the least you could do.Â
You need a fucking drink. The hotel room only has airplane bottles of wine, all white, nothing red, even in the overpriced fridge selection. Sighing, you drag yourself into the bathroom, taking a quick shower before throwing on comfortable clothes and heading to the elevators at the end of the hall.Â
The bar was empty save for one, probably the only person on the entire earth who you didnât care if they saw you with wet hair and baggy sweats on. âI just got off the phone with your mom,â you say, pulling out the barstool beside him.Â
He picks his head up, still dressed in business-casual, âYeah? I called her when I left the conference, Kyungminâs having fun.â
âI told her weâd stay for dinner on Sunday,â you reluctantly admit, flagging down the bartender.Â
âPut it on my tab,â Wooyoung adds after you gave him your drink order, making you scowl.Â
âI can pay for my own drinks,â you mutter.Â
Wooyoung smiles, âConsider it my pre-paid thanks for dinner on Sunday, wifey. It'll make her whole year.â
âIâm only coming because sheâs watching Kyungie,â you shoot daggers at him, ignoring the nickname, âeven exchange. No need for you to pay my tab.â
Wooyoung groans, leaning back in the chair, âCan you go one day without arguing with me?â
Shaking your head, you simply respond, âNo, thatâs why I divorced you.â
Wooyoung stares at you for a second before snorting, âOuch.â
âThanks,â you mumble, both to Wooyoung and the bartender as he places your drink on top of a cocktail napkin. âYou didnât even go up yet? Youâre still dressed.â
âNeeded to think,â he shrugs, fingers playing with the label on his beer bottle. âThey want me to speak again tomorrow, someone didnât show.â
âOh, shit,â your face scrunches up as you take a sip, âyou gotta make up a new presentation tonight?â
He nods, lips bent, staring at his beer bottle. You lean onto the bar, âWhy donât you let San present?â
He looks up at you, eyes pointed, âFuck no.â
âWhy not?â You make a face like that was the only clear, viable option. âHe has one ready to go, does he not?â
âI was asked to present,â his voice grows harsher, âme. Not him.â
âI know, butââ
âYou know what, let me ask you something.â He sits up straighter in his stool, eyebrows bent above a look so sharp it could kill. âAre you sleeping with him? Is that why you didnât answer me last night?â
You blink at him, thrice, âWhatâ?â
âI saw you at the bar today,â he continues, voice utterly venomous, âthen he said something to me, insinuating that you fuck. Or fucked. Or are fucking.â
âDo you think that low of me?â Your laugh is out of sheer disbelief. âThat Iâd fuck him, of all people? He flirts with me, and I donât exactly stop him, butââ
His laugh mirrors yours, âExactly. Thatâs exactly why he said that shit to me.â
âWhy should I stop him?â You argue back, âItâs nice to hear that someone fucking wants me, my life is nothing but work and Kyungmin. Even when we were still married my life was nothing but work and Kyungmin, you had no interest inââ
âDonât finish that sentence,â his voice is steady but bruising, âIâm not starting this argument with you again.â
âWhat, did you forget why I divorced you or something?â Your hands fly, eyes wide and piercing, âThat I was sick of being married to a fucking machine?âÂ
Wooyoung turns to face the bar again, shaking his head, âYouâre unbelievable.â
âIâm unbelievable,â your laugh has no warmth in it, âyou just started being a father and Iâm unbelievable.â
âI just started being a father?â He turns his head again, eyes wider than yours now, baffled. âDid you hit your fucking head or something?â
âWe split up over a year ago,â your voice is nothing short of theatrical, âdrop the fake-surprise, Wooyoung. Itâs nothing you havenât heard before.â
âAnd itâs all the same bullshit youâve been spewing for years,â he takes a long sip of his beer, âmaybe you should fuck San, he might be a better fit for you, youâre both liars.â
Slowly nodding, you sink into your seat, voice taunting, âHe did say heâd make me forget you ever existed. That heâd fuck me better than you ever did. Should I find out? Heâs coming down here tonight to get me, to bring me back up to his roomâŚâ
Wooyoungâs grip tightens around his beer bottle, eyes laser-focused onto the bar like the swirls in marble was the most interesting thing heâs ever seen. You grin.Â
ââŚHe seems big, real strong, too. Bet heâd throw me around the room, maybe even get me pregnant again. Kyungmin would like a sibling, donât you think?â
âWhat are you doing?â He finally looks at you again, voice ragged, angry and blunt.Â
You shrug, âSince you think me and Sannie would be so great together, Iâm exploring options.â
As if it were a movie, something straight out of fucking Netflix, Choi San walks through the deep oak double-doors, still in his tailored suit, a cocky smirk spreading when he sees you. It widens, dimples showing when he spots Wooyoung beside you.Â
Wooyoung lets out a nasty chuckle, âYouâre not kidding.â
âWhy would I joke about it?â You lift a brow, âI told you, it was nice to feel wanted.â
âYou wanna give Kyungmin a sibling?â Heâs looking at you again, and his mismatched eyes are asking more than one question. Heat curls low, itâs been a long, long time since heâs looked at you that way, since heâs said anything more than a passive joke.Â
You swallow, words caught in your throat.Â
âAnswer me, jagi,â he leans in closer, voice still laced with anger, but itâs morphed into something deeper, rooted in jealousy, in possession. He hasnât called you that since before you brought up separating, it makes your lips part, eyebrows folding in just enough to crease at the center. âIf youâre gonna give him a sibling, itâll be with his father.âÂ
Licking your lips, seeing nothing but truth and determination in his eyes, you find yourself nodding, whispering a short, âOkay.â
âCharge it to my room, 1117,â he tells the bartender, slamming a bill on the marble before grabbing you by the wrist, dragging you right past San without as much as a glance. You donât even look at him, you donât need to, clearly youâve lost your fucking mind following Wooyoung to the elevators.Â
The moment the doors open heâs pushing you inside roughly, caging you in against the wall, forehead pressed to yours. âYou wanna get fucked?âÂ
You arch into him, whispering, âYeah.â
âYou want me to fuck you full? Get you pregnant again?â
âFuck,â you whimper, fingers finding his jacket, âyes.â
You tug him closer by his jacket, tilting your head up to find his lips with your own. Your head is fuzzy, body charged with electricity from your argument, being in a goddamn elevator with him pressed to you, your leg lifts to clamp over his back, tugging him impossibly closer.Â
Nostalgic isnât the word, itâs like muscle memory, how your lips messily tangle, tongues slotting into each otherâs mouths how youâve always done, two people who know each other better than anyone else. He groans, hips rutting into yours, making you moan into his mouth, hands flying up to his hair, tugging at his roots.Â
âYou donât want San,â he mutters into your mouth, breath heavy, voice rough. âYou want me.â
âShut up,â you mumble back, chasing his lips, he doesnât let you have them.Â
âSay it,â he urges, fingers digging into your sides, pushing you harder against the wall. âSay you want me.â
âI want to be fucked,â your voice is clipped, annoyed, âdo it, before I go back to the bar.â
His chuckle isnât amused nor entertained, itâs harsh and unforgiving and makes a chill down up your fucking spine. The elevator dings and he pulls away from you, turning around, leaving the elevator as if heâs completely unaffected. You follow after him, on his heel as he makes for his room, he doesnât say anything as he places his card up against the sensor, pushing the door open when it rings green.
âOh, youâre coming in?â He asks, face unreadable.Â
You pause with one foot through the doorway, âDoes it look like Iâm coming in?â
He lets go of the door as you walk inside his room, light walls, bare, it mirrors yours. He takes off his jacket, hanging it in the closet, âThought you were gonna go get fucked by San, you want him to throw you around, donât you?â
You whine, âWooyoung.â
He pulls his shirt over his head, exposing his bronzy skin, his sculpted abdomen, his hipbones that poke out from above his waistband. Youâre salivating taking in the sight of him, itâs been so long since youâve seen him, touched him.Â
He starts unbuttoning his slacks, staring at you like heâs bored, âYou want me or him?â
You donât know why youâre putting up a fight. You agreed to this already, your lips still feel swollen, your fingertips are buzzing with needâ but admission is letting him win, and you canât let him win.Â
âI want,â you mumble as he pulls his zipper down, purposely flexing his body, staring at you through lowered brows. Your breath grows shallow, licking your lips as he pushes them down his thighs, âI wantââ
âWhat?â He tilts his head, voice taunting as he kicks them off his feet, taking a step toward you. His length is prominent through his briefs, a wet spot clear on onyx nylon, âTell me, jagi.â
âI want,â your fingertips tug at the hem of the zip-up on your upper half, eyes locked into how his veiny hand curls over his length, voice small from how deep into the daze youâve sank already, âyou.â
Approaching you, his height engulfing you, making you feel small, your head tilts upward to see him. His smirk grows, two fingers landing on your zipper, âYou want who?â
He slides it down before you answer, jacket falling off your shoulders, revealing the black, lacy bralette you wore underneath. Itâs comfortable, and you wore it for that sole reason, despite how it looks, but his jaw ticks when he sees it, chocolate eyes going deep, melted, burnt.Â
You watch as his fingers find the center, tugging on the elastic band, letting it snap back against your skin. You gasp, a small sound, looking back up at him with glassy eyes, âStop toying with me and do something.â
âIâm not touching you until you do as I say.â Fingers sinking into the waistband of your sweats, he bends to tug them down your hips, leaving you nearly bare, slowly standing up straight again, his nose so close to your skin he nearly touches you. âTell me who you want to fuck you.â
âYou, you fucking prick,â your back arches as he reaches his full height again, âI want you to fuck me.â
An amused smirk spreads across his cheeks before he feigns a pout, âThat was mean, mommy.â Taking his hands to your shoulders, his fingertips trail down your sides, dancing against your skin, his touch, that word, his tone making you shiver. âBe nice to me and Iâll be nice to you.â
âWhy are you teasing me?â You huff, each touch feeling like zaps of electricity, itâs clear he wants to take his time, wants to get you worked up. You want him to fuck you, to ruin you, to put a baby in you, you donât want him nice. âFuck me already, Wooyoung.âÂ
âWe have time,â his hand hinds your hair, scratching into your scalp before running his fingers through it, cupping your cheek afterward. âNo kid, no interruptions, just us. Whenâs the last time we had that?â
âWay before we split up,â you melt into his palm, soft against your skin, comforting. Home. Your voice comes out airy, almost a whisper, âFuck, we shouldnât be doing this.â
Guiltâ already sneaking up your spine, he catches it before it has the chance to spread. âWhy not?â His hand that was on your cheek slides down to your jaw, smiling down at you viciously before his grip tightens, âYou want a baby, donât you? Wanted to get fucked so badly you planned to fuck my coworker.â
You whimper as he moves you backward, eyes wide, skin sizzling. He pushes you down onto the bed with nothing but his palm on your face, âYou wanted this, and you know thereâs no one else who fucks you like I do. Say it.â
âNo one else,â you whisper, back already arching as he crawls on top of you, âjust you, Woo, no one else fucks me like you do.â
He sucks in a breath, almost a hiss, brows furrowing as his fingers hook into your panties, knees pressed to the mattress on either side of your legs. âYou want my mouth? Or my cock? Whenâs the last time this pussy was stretched out, huh?â
âMouth,â you lift your hips easy for him as he tugs your black panties down your thighs, âlong time.â
âLong time?â He smirks, back to taunting, âWas the last person me?â
âFuck you,â you grumble out, âdo something.â
He sits up straighter and you can feel the cool air of the room on your already-wet core, knees pinning together. âHiding from me now?â His voice makes you want to rip your fucking hair out. âWhen Iâm the only person who can make this pussy cum? Be nice to me, mommy.â
âStop calling me that,â your fingers tighten in the comforter below you, âitâs fucked up.â
âI used to call you that all the time,â his brows furrow, âyou remember what you used to call me?â
You shake your head, whining, âStop playing games, Wooyoung.â
âJust give in,â he smacks the side of your thigh, âIâm here, right in front of you, waiting for you to hump my nose like a bitch in heat like you always fuckinâ do. Just say the words, jagi.â
His words, the sting makes you moan, thighs tightening just to get some friction. Resistance is a band pulled taut, you finally feel something vital in you crack, the band snapping, your lips move before you can think about the defeated words leaving them. âYes, the last person was you, daddy. Need your mouth, your cock, need you to do somethingâ fuck me, please.â
His smile is feline, âThere she is.â
Two hands on your knees spread you wide, he dives down to press his tongue flat to your core, eyes flying back into his head when he tastes you. You moan at the same time, your fingers flying down to tangle in his slick roots as he starts lapping at your folds, drinking up every drop youâve accumulated.Â
âSo sweet,â he moans into you, âmissed this pussy.â
Your breath is leaving you in short, shallow puffs, but a cocky, hazy smirk forms on your lips despite the pleasure, âWhoâs pussy?â
âMommyâs,â he says with a smile, eyeing you from between your legs, so shameless it makes you giggle, cut off by a sharp, strangled moan when his nose runs over your clit. âForget I know you? Like the back of my hand?â
âBeen a long time,â you lift yourself up on one elbow, your other hand in his hair, feet hooked over his back as you grind your hips up against his mouth, his nose. âFuck, feels good.â
His eyes flutter closed, letting your hips grind against him, tongue pushed out pointed, catching on your entrance with each grind of your hips. Your clit ghosts his nose and you gasp, youâre sensitive, you havenât gotten head in years, you think. âShâ it,â you stutter, âso good, Woo, ohmygod.â
He groans into you, arms wrapping around your thighs, fingers digging into your hips. Keeping you in rhythm, not letting you falter, he fucks your hips onto his face with perfect pace, each movement strategic, practiced like he did this regularly. It has you weak, toes curling, head dipping back, hips moving recklessly, quicker with each drag over his hot, wet mouth.Â
Heâs loving it, face knitted up in bliss, his hips rutting into the mattress like he needed the relief. The noises you make are loud, lewd, a hymn of pleasure only he could give you, in harmony with the squelching sounds of his mouth against your core, so dirty and nasty it edges you further, brings the pit in your stomach forward like his mouth was a toy.
âClose,â you gasp and his fingers tighten on your hips, head nodding faster, in tune with your rocking hips. Your breath catches as his nose flicks over your clit, the same pace, same pressure, same rhythm, you stutter babbles as the pressure in your gut builds, sounds growing in pitch, muddling closer together, âFuck, daddy, Iâm gâna fucking cum.â
He moans into you like he knew the vibration of his voice would push you over the edge and it fucking does, the sound that leaves you is strained, loud, vulnerably shrill. Joints locking up, face scrunching, head tucked into your chest, you spasm beneath his hold and he rocks you through it, keeping you steady, his rhythm never once faltering as your pleasure hits his peak, rushing through you like a tidal wave, the strongest orgasm youâve had in a long time.Â
He slows down with your shaking limbs that lose their speed, breath finally returning to you, heavy and desperate and relieving all at once. âHoly shit,â you breathe through the words, fingers loosening in his hair, tucking your arm beneath you, leaning on both elbows to look down at him. âIntense.â
His smirk returns tenfold, âOf course it was, I made you cum.âÂ
You flatten out on the bed, a soft giggle escaping you as you roll your eyes, âCocky.â
He presses one more soft kiss to your clit that makes you gasp, body jerking, âFor good reason, did you hear yourself?â
You smack your lips, voice amused, âI have half a mind to leave now, asshole. Thanks for the big O, baby daddy, Iâll go back to my room now.â
He crawls on top of you, pulling your thighs down, flush to his own, leaning down so your foreheads are mere centimeters apart, âBaby daddy? Ex-husband is a better title than baby daddy.â
You tilt your chin up, smiling, âHow about sperm donor?â
He presses his lips to yours, rough, soul-sucking, you arch into him, hips bucking up to gain friction again. He smiles into your lips, âSo mean for someone who just came on her ex-husbandâs face like a dirty fuckinâ slut.â
Something small, pitched and shaky leaves you from the tip of your throat, you throw your arms around his shoulders, pressing your lips to his again like you needed him. Tucking him into you, his hips dig against yours, his bare chest pressed flat, elbows landing on either side of your head. You kiss for a while, sloppy and messy and nostalgic, swapping spit like it was candy, tongues gliding into each otherâs mouths like you were making up for lost time.Â
His hand slips between your bodies, two fingers adding pressure onto your clit, he groans at the wetness, the heat that bleeds into him. âSo wet, she missed me, huh?â
âS-shit, inside,â you gasp, grinding your hips against his fingers, âplease.â
He presses his lips to yours, kissing you once, twice before pulling away, keeping your chins touching, both of your lips parted and touching as he slips two fingers inside, moaning into each otherâs mouths.Â
He curls them immediately, making you cry out, hands finding his hair again, fingertips clawing into his scalp. He hisses, âSo tight, fuck, how am I gonna fit, huh?â
âYouâllâ shiâ ah, y-youâll fit,â sensitivity looms, body twitching underneath him, clenching around his fingers that sink so deliciously deep. You kiss him again, grinding against his fingers that scissor you open, âYouâll make it fit.â
He smiles against you, fingers making quick work of your leaking core, âMissed this pussy, canât believe you havenât given it up to anyone else.â
âNo time,â you whisper and he crooks his fingers angrily, making you squeal out a cry, âfuck!â
âTry again,â he slows, bottom lip ghosting yours, âget it right this time, or Iâll stop.â
âItâs yours,â you whimper, âIâm yours, fuck, Iâm yours.â
Heâs chuckling as he kisses you again, smiling into your mouth as his fingers massage the front of your walls, calculated and angled, like he was trained to make only your body sing. He stops only to tug his briefs down his legs and the chill that engulfs you is conscious, it reminds you whoâs on top of you, whoâs pulling these noises from the deepest part of your gut.Â
Tattoos on display, minus the one at the tip of his spine, skin littered with droplets of mocha, spots youâve kissed enough times to be burned into your memory. Body lean, strong, angular and unforgiving, all you can do is stare at his beauty, let it calm you, excite you, resurrect you from the loneliness youâve endured.Â
His cock springs up between his hipbones, leaking, red, it begged for you even if Wooyoung didnât, you wonder if this is how heâs felt this whole time. âMissed you,â it slips out of your mouth, two involuntary words pulled straight from the back of your mind, an area gone untouched for over a year.
âYeah?â He crawls back on top of you, âMissed me or fucking me?â
âBoth,â your hands come up to cradle his cheeks, hooking your ankles over his back, âcome over more.â
He laughs as he rests a hand on the back of your thigh, unhooking your legs as he pushes it backward, lining himself up with your entrance, âYou havenât invited me over since I moved out.â
âItâs not like youâve asked to come over either.âÂ
You gasp as he starts pushing inside, hands falling, back arching as he sinks into you inch by inch. His cock is heavy, the stretch is tight, it renders you silent, face scrunched up, a streak of searing heat with each new inch.Â
âTake it,â he sounds rough himself, voice edged with restraint. âOpen up, jagi. This pussyâs mine, it wants me, itâs made fâme.âÂ
Your fingers find his forearm, other hand clawing into the sheets as a broken cry leaves your lips, âFuck.â
When he sheathes himself fully he leans down, planting a kiss to your slacked jaw, a soft press of his lips that makes you twitch, breath shaky. He plans another one on your lips, voice low, âI havenât asked to come over because I know you donât want me there.â
âI want you there.â
âYou divorced me.â
âThen letâs get married again,â your whine is loud, core clenching, grinding your hips against his cock.Â
He laughs again before pulling out, a slow drag of his veiny cock against your walls, mushroom tip dragging against the spot against your inner walls, âYouâre cockdrunk.â
He slams in all the way and your body locks up so hard you canât breathe, his smile is condescending, pushing himself up until his back is straight, grip iron on your calf as he holds it over your chest. His abdomen flexes with each roll of his hips, fucking into you so deep you can feel it in your throat, you hold his gaze, eyes watering, brows furrowed, lips pried open.Â
âLook at you,â he cooes, âlike the day I fuckinâ met you, so hungry for it. So desperate for my cock you wanna marry me again.â
âShut up,â you whisper, bending your other knee just to feel him deeper, âjust fuck me.â
âI am fucking you,â he argues, exuding something vile, âand youâre acting like you canât get enough, itâs pathetic.â
You moan, back arching, holding your other leg back by tucking your hand under your knee, âI canât.â
âI know, jagi,â he nods, eyes sliding down to where you meet, watching his own cock split you open, how your folds pulse around him, clit twitching. âNo one fucks you like I do, right?â
You shake your head, body burning at the sound of him bullying into you, so wet and loud itâs obscene. Your voice comes out raw, shaky, âNo one else, just you, daddyâ shit, just you.â
He grunts, reaching for your other leg, bending down to throw them over his shoulders, hands planted down on the mattress on either side of your head. âYou want me to fuck you full? Give you another baby?â
You reach for him, pulling him down to kiss you, all teeth and broken noises, âYâes, daddy, please.â
The noise of wet skin slapping skin dances with your cries of pleasure in the air, Wooyoungâs muddled grunts mixing into the symphony, your hips raised to meet his thrusts and his cock dragging against that spot inside you that has you seeing stars, you wail. Itâs too good, itâs overwhelming, youâve never felt like this before, so consumed by pleasure and passion you donât notice the tears spilling down your cheeks.Â
âCryinâ for me?â He leans down to lick the tear that runs down your cheek, his tongue heavy, warm. He kisses you after, sloppy and slow, so unlike the brutal pace of his cock. âGonna take care of you, mommy. Gonna give you another baby.â
Youâre clenching around him nonstop, the pleasure sharp, his words making it so much worse. He frees one leg from his shoulder to tuck his hand between your legs again, pressing his fingers to your clit, âCum around my cock, jagi. Let me feel it, wanna feel you cum.â
Your hips are bucking with no rhythm, an animalistic, pathetic need to obey him, you need him to reward you, to fill you up. His fingers work in precise circles, tight and harsh, it doesnât take long for the pressure to build with his cock moving in the same flow. You go silent, breath caught, and he smiles.
âGonna cum on daddyâs cock? Gonna give it to me?â
All you can do is nod, fingers curling into his hair, all you can do is lay there and fucking take it.Â
âCum for me, mommy, câmon.â
It pushes you over, pressure blowing just as intense as the first time, he fucks you through it, moaning, head turning to sink his teeth into your calf. You seize beneath him, nerve endings fried, mind-blowing pleasure the only thing you can feel, you donât know what sounds are leaving you, what youâre saying, itâs all too much. He chokes on another moan, cock pulsing inside you, hips stuttering, you watch with glassy eyes as he tucks his bottom lip between his teeth, tilting his head to watch himself fuck into you.Â
âPlease,â a small, broken word, itâs the only word you can manage, body still locked tight.Â
âDid so good,â he shakes his head, âfuckâ gonna fill you up so full.â
âLook at me,â you whisper and he picks his head up, face contorted in pleasure, hips bucking. âLook at me while you fill me up, please.â
It makes his face twist, hips stuttering, a loud, extended moan pushing from the base of his gut before his hips move out of rhythm, fucking into you like youâre a toy, relentlessly chasing his own high.Â
âGonna,â he stutters, you nod with each word, âgonna fill you up.â
âUh-huh, please.â
His hips finally still, body falling forward, down to his elbows as he gives you the last few thrusts, deep enough for his release to hit its mark, to do as he promised. Warmth spreads through you, heavy, full, it racks a shiver through you, swallowing down a moan.
He tucks his face into your neck, breath heavy, he plants a soft kiss against your sweaty skin. With nothing to hold him back, he whispers, âI love you.â
âI love you too,â you answer, too earnest for what just transpired, arms wrapping around his back, nails trailing against his soft skin. âWe havenât said that in a long time.â
Face still buried, his words are muffled against your skin, âI think Iâll always love you.â
âSo will I,â you say it like itâs obvious, voice heavy with exhaustion, âwe have a kid together, Wooyoung.â
His cock twitches inside you, soft and spent, you can feel him smile. âMaybe two.â
âIâm not ovulating,â your hands come up to his hair, pulling his face away from your neck to look at you, âchances are low. You really want another one?â
âI thought you did, too,â his brows furrow, âwhat did we just say all that shit for?â
You shrug, âIt was hot.â
He snorts, lowering his head to press his lips to yours, softer than the rest, slower. Filled with all the time youâve gone untouched, spent separated, each one tearing down the tall, thick wall of resentment between you, brick by brick.Â
âDoes this mean anything, then?â He finally pulls away to ask, and youâre becoming uncomfortably aware of him still inside you.Â
âDepends,â you whisper, shifting beneath him. Cocking your head, you ask, âAre you still a selfish, narcissistic asshole that only cares about his job?â
He shakes his head, mumbling, âNo.â
âOkay,â you lift your chin, âprove it, then. Let San speak tomorrow.â
He snarls, âWhat the fuck does this have to do with San?â
You smack your teeth, brushing sweaty strands of hair out of his pretty face, âItâs a step forward. Do it and Iâll let you take me out on a date.â
He sits back on his calves, careful in his movements, he slips out of you slowly, intentionally. He leans down, pressing a kiss to your overly sensitive clit and it makes you gasp, hips twitching once. You smile through the stimulation, the feeling is nostalgic, something he used to do every time you had sex. You look up at him through heavy lids as he runs his hands up and down your thighs like he doesnât want to stop touching you.
He finally huffs, âOkay, but I have to make a few calls and get it cleared first.â Leaning down to press a kiss to the side of your knee, he asks, âDo you wanna stay here tonight?â
âCan we shower and order room service and watch a movie?â The question comes quick, as if you knew heâd ask, you lift yourself up on your elbows as he starts crawling off the bed.Â
âDuh,â he grins, âcâmon, shower time and then weâll call Kyungminnie.â
You gasp, a smile breaking out across your cheeks, âMy baby.â
âOur baby,â he corrects, grabbing you by the ankles, pulling you to the edge of the bed, âUp.â
he posted this pic on his story and i dropped my pants in preparation
bsf!seonghwa x f!reader
content: teaching you how to ride, slow and wet, eye contact, choking
wc: 2.3k
thinking about seonghwa...
ânever?â he murmurs, nibbling on his inner cheek as he gives you a once-over. not in disbelief, but something else. something dangerous.
you shake your head. ânope.â you shrug and pick up your phone again and start to scroll through your settings apps. âbut itâs not a big deal, really, itâs just another thing to cross off the bucket list.â
seonghwa snorts and peeks over to snoop at your phone, to which you angle it away from him with an annoyed scowl. âi think it may be a little more serious than that.â
you type gibberish into the search bar. "why does it have to be serious, hwa? it's just sex."
its seonghwa's turn to scoff this time, and he pinches the skin of your calf, you swat at him with your free hand. but he does it again, and you bite out an irritated "quit it" as he starts to speak again.
"thats a bad mindset to have, y'know that right?" he lowers his voice to that annoying, mothering tone he uses with you when he thinks you're being stupid. "it should never be "just sex."
"okay yeah, but you can't be so picky and choosy all the time. i'm sure ill get with some guy and when he figures it out, he'll work with me or whatever. teach me or something." you speak of it fleetingly, like it was nothing more than a pesky errand.
seonghwa snatches your phone from you and shoves it into the couch cushions, and you sigh loudly.
"some guy?" he questions with a raise of his eyebrow. you move to fish your phone out of the couch, but he reaches out and gently grabs your wrist, encasing it in his slender fingers and rubbing his thumb over your thrumming pulse point.
"why not me?" he speaks lowly, and you snap your eyes up to his. he stares back at you with an intensity that settles low in your gut. his thumb stroked over your inner wrist slowly, and his other hand twitched at his side on the couch.
the air went thick, the quiet of his living room felt encased in a bubble, and the warmth of his skin suddenly burned.
he sees it. your thighs clenching beneath your body, the conflict flashing over your eyes, your free hand digging its nails into the cushion.
when you don't respond, he lets his eyes fall to where his hand held your wrist, watching with illustrated intent as he traces patterns against the fragile skin.
"i could show you, i've always been told i'm a good teacher." seonghwa tickles the skin of your palm with gentle scratches of his nails.
"thats what friends are for, yeah?" he lifts his pretty eyes back up to you, and something else has shadowed over them, and you feel something inside of you crack. you're aware of the way veins in his hands flow prettily under his skin.
the way his collarbones peak through the thin fabric of his shirt. the slick shine on his bottom lip where he licked to wet it. his tongue poked against his inner cheek and his eyebrows raised again to urge an answer out of you.
"c'mon pretty, don't leave me hanging." his voice is softer than usual, a new tone lacing it you've never heard from your best friend, something heated, something needy.
if deciding to have your best friend teach you how to ride dick was a bad idea, then you could mull on it later. because it wasn't long until he was sitting under you on the couch, legs spread nice and wide, his hands pressing into your hips where he held your body above him.
you straddled him, your thighs resting on either side of his, your knees pressed into the rough fabric of the couch cushions. your hands gripped his shoulders, your nails digging into the flesh of the blades.
he looks up at you through his lashes, as if you were a gift from god himself, his eyebrows knit together so prettily. "its fun up there, huh?" he smiles, dragging his warm hands up your thighs, holding you like you might melt and slip through his fingers.
you could barely keep yourself together; he was so deep inside of you. your thighs shook around him, his tip nudging against that spot so sweet and so dirty. his fingers kneaded the flesh of your hips, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth with a quiet moan when he felt your cunt clench around him.
"it helps that you're, ah⌠so wetâŚ" his voice cracks lightly, his cock twitching inside of you and sending a jolt of pleasure up your spine.
you shiver and grip his shoulders a little harder, and you begin to lift your hips, but his grip on them tightens, and he pushes you right back down until your ass hits his thighs again, and you groan nice and low as he fills you all the way up again.
"no-no-no-no-no, baby, stop. don't lift." he presses his lips to your collarbone and kisses you there softly, running his tongue over the skin warmly. one hand leaves your hip and runs over your waist before he presses his palm flat against your lower back and pushes until you arch a little.
just enough that he somehow slips deeper into you, and you let out a weak whine when his fat tip presses ever harder against that spot.
"grind." he instructs in a gravelly, soft moan. "rock your hips, back and forth. it'll help me hit that spot for you."
you shake and whimper under your breath, but you obey. you gently move your hips forward, and the feeling is immediate, his cock drags against your soft walls just enough that it feels like pure heaven.
you move your hands and card them through the hair at the back of his head, cradling his skull in your arms as you hide your face in the crook of his neck, moaning softly against his skin as you rock your hips, nice and slow.
it helps that he's so big, each roll of your lower body has him slipping in and out of you just enough to stimulate you, but not enough to where you can consider him fucking you. his tip dragging against that spot like a constant button, your legs shaking uncontrollaby and your whine brushing past his ear like a song.
your clit lightly brushes against his abs, where his shirt has ridden up over his lower stomach. he keeps his hand on your lower back, keeping you arched all the while his other hand stays glued to your hips, pushing and pulling on your lower body, helping you grind his cock into your body.
"there, how's that feel, baby? good?" he whispers in your ear, kissing just below your earlobe as he helps you rock your body around his cock.
you nod against his neck, gripping his soft, dark hair harder and choking out a moan when he teases you with a heavy lift of his hips. then you feel as he encases your hips with both his hands again, and gently he lifts your body ever so slightly.
you squeeze his head even harder, seonghwa's soft moans shaking in his throat as he lifts and pushes your cunt back down on his cock in slow, deep intervals. "don't stop rocking those hips, keep fucking me like you want. grind, deep, slowâŚ"
he guides you perfectly, each time he lifts your hips himself it makes you clench around him harder. you start to feel a little desperate, and your hips start to move a little faster, rocking with a little more rhythm, but seonghwa didn't like that.
one hand finds the back of your neck and grabs it firmly, pulling your head away from his shoulder and pressing your forehead to his. suddenly all you can see is his eyes, and it overwhelms you to the point of tears. you whine pathetically when he thrusts his cock up into your pussy so sharply that a drop of drool falls from your lips onto his chest.
"easyâŚ" he grumbles against your lips, his breath fanning over your face in low, heavy pants. "slow down pretty, no need to rush." his nails dig into the back of your neck, and you shiver when he starts to grind his own hips up into you, so deep it has your stomach caving.
"if i wanted you pounded into the floor i would've put you on your back, but i'm teaching you sweetness. listen to me." his eyes fall low-lidded as you resume your slow grinding, and his mouth falls open in a pretty moan when you tighten around him, the sound of your slickness loud in your ears.
"it's your dick right now, baby, use it. do what feels good, but don't lose your head." he keeps up the torturous movement of his hips, a choreographed grind that makes his stomach roll prettily.
he doesn't let you look away, forcing you to lock in on his needy gaze while he keeps you filled up with him, nudging every deep spot, every nook and cranny of your pussy. there wasn't a single space inside of you that remained untouched.
"s, t-too, mm-" you tried to talk, try to tell him how good you were feeling but it came out in slurred babbles, and he laughed at you. his warm breath shudders over your parted lip,s and he nudges his head up, melding his soft lips with yours and kissing you deep and nasty.
his tongue fills your mouth with a purr, curling and essentially fucking your mouth with it. "it's a lot i knowâŚ" he whispers into your mouth, interrupting the kiss with a low moan when you clench so hard around him it makes his entire body fuzzy.
he sucks your bottom lip into his mouth, letting go with a wet pop and pressing your hips down so hard onto his cock you thought if you looked down you'd see his tip poking through the flesh of your stomach.
"wouldn't have felt like this with anyone else, baby." seonghwa nips at the corner of your mouth, dropping his head to run his warm tongue flat up the front of your throat. "feel how wet you are? no other man will be able to make you feel this good."
his eyes lift as he sucks marks of possession into the skin of your neck, and when he sees a tear slipping down your cheek, he growls low in his throat and jerks his cock up into you rough and deep, and you yelp as the bliss shoots through you.
"oh no, don't cry. it makes me wanna be mean to you, makes me wanna fuck you til it feels wrong when i'm not inside you."
now he wraps his hands around your throat, pressing his thumbs against those soft spots that melt your brain, his eyes darting all over your pretty little blissed out face, his lips brushing against your in a ghost of a kiss.
"now lift, drop, and roll. fuck me, bunny. its yours, use this cock until you're satisfied. make yourself cum for me."
you coudln't disobey if you tried, working your body and focusing on that rapidly tightening knot in your stomach as you fuck yourself on seonghwa's dick, every delicious drag inside of you forcing your eyes to roll to the back of your head.
he doesn't bother to chastise you for breaking eye contact; he knows you're too lost in it to control yourself. he squeezes your throat tighter, your moans coming choked and broken. seonghwa helps push you over that edge, groaning and purring prettily for you, lifting his hips to match your desperate movements.
"i feel you baby, pussy feels so good around me. so warm, so tight." he lifts his head to press his lips to the shell of your hot ears, moaning and sighing as you ride him to high heaven. your head feels fuzzy with the lack of air, seonghwa making sure that the only thing you could think about was his dick working you out.
âcum as much as you need,â he coos in your ear his voice low and breathless, sinking his teeth into the soft lobe. âride me, bunny, ride me.â
you absolutely lose it, slamming your hips down onto his dick and shattering, dribbling drool in rivers as you cum. he squeezed your throat in pulsing intervals, giving you air, then snatching it from you, rolling his hips up into your cunt and dragging every drop of your orgasm out of your body.
"oh godâŚfuck." he grumbles in his throat, overwhelmed by how pretty you looked on top of him, blissed out over your warm, gummy pussy squeezing him so tight he almost came inside of you. "such a quick learner, baby."
he drags his hands away from your throat, cradling your head, smearing your drool all over your cheeks with his thumbs, your face hazy and drunk while he rocks his hips into you in painfully slow, high off the way you shake and whimper, your slick sticking to his thighs and his lower stomach, a messy proof of his effect on you.
"did so good beautiful, yes you did." he praises, and yet his hips never stop moving. rolling, grinding, upwards strokes that make you feel helpless, regardless of the fact that he was beneath you.
"think you can give me another one? lesson's not over yet." he bites out, grabbing your arms and dragging your body down so your forehead rests over his shoulder. then he grips your hips, lifts your body up, and shimmies his hips down just enough so he can plant his feet flat on the floor, before he starts to fuck.
hard, deep, powerful thrusts up into your overstimulated cunt that has your moans coming out in staccato chokes.
"you did your w-work, now let me use this pussy." he groans through gritted teeth, and you feel your body erupt into flames the more he moves. making you feel every inch of him, each thrust touching your brain. making you feel so good.
đwarnings!: smut, a lil plot, spit play, bondage/rope, choking, power dynamics, size kink, cum play, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, marking, spanking, biting, cowboy!mingi, im prob forgetting some
đfun fact, i rodeo irl. im here to burst the bubble that cowboys are gentlemen. majority are assholes that have community d :) but we love cowboy mingi so it's acceptable in this circumstance!! this isnt rlly proofread, this was for funsies. (fyi the term "roughie" means someone who competes in rough stock events! in this case mingi is a bull rider)
đđâŽâË đđâŽâË
You knew better, you knew riding in shorts would rub you raw.Â
Yet you did it anyway because itâs warm out, who would put on jeans when itâs 90 out? Horses gotta get warmed up too.Â
Mingi told you while you were saddling up, you waved him off. Listening to roughies never got you anywhere but in the back seat of a truck.
You werenât going to let a very tall, muscular, good-looking bullrider sway youâŚright?
You didnât need the distraction, not before a run, so you continued to lope circles in the warm-up pen.
Thereâs no shade of trees, barely a breeze, the dust is all in your lungs, and itâs like you can feel the heat radiating from the bleachers.Â
Your horseâs ride is smooth, and you match it, but the constant rubbing of your thighs from the rough out saddle is making it more agonizing.
Other contestants are scattered throughout the grounds, eating, talking; itâs the most relaxed time before itâs time to run at night. Â
All but one bullrider, whom youâve sworn not to touch with a ten-foot pole. Mingi has a tank on, shades covering his eyes, a trucker cap, and jeans. His long limbs just hanging on the fence, watching you.Â
Each time you get to his side of the fence, you glance his way. He smirks that stupid smirk, you get goosebumps even though youâre sweating bullets.
Your horseâs body heat isnât helping, so you decided to give both of you a break. It feels like scraping your knee on concrete as you slide off the other side of your saddle, you wince to yourself at the sensation. Â
You waddle to the fence to tie your horse and loosen up the girth for her.
âI told you.â Mingi walks over, pats your horseâs head, his voice is filled with glee.Â
âShut up, Iâm fine, just slight saddle burn.â You roll your eyes as you secure the rope knot, you wipe your forehead with the back of your hand.
âSlight?â
âIsnât that what I said?â
âSmart mouth.â He clicks his tongue, climbs over the fence, and goes to help remove the splint boots from your horse.
âI got it, Mingi.â He pays you no mind and continues to unwrap. You get up from crouching, and thatâs when your thighs touch.
âFuckâshit.âÂ
He goes around to your side, takes his shades off, heâs towering over you as he holds the left splint boot in his hand.Â
âNo, darlinâ, youâre chafed really badânot just âslightâ.âÂ
You snatch the boot out his hand, âStop looking between my legs.â
âItâs obvious from a mile away that youâre hurting, and one more ride in that saddle is gonna have you bleeding.â
âNow youâre being dramatic.â
âYouâre standing like you had 15 beers.â Your jaw tightens, and you try to straighten up. Heâs so close that the brim of his cap shadows your face.Â
âNo Iâm not.â But even the small shift makes you inhale sharply, he catches it, his eyes are drilling into you.Â
He smiles at you again, you shove at his chest. You hate proving anybody right, âDonât you gotta buckle bunny hanging around somewhere?â
His tongue presses into his cheek, âSeeâI would,â he leans down a little closer, feeling his body heat against your own, âbut they donât ride in soccer shorts like you.â
Your stomach gets that empty feeling, and you hate that youâre falling for old patterns again. He reaches down before you can step back.
He hooks his finger under your shorts at your outer thigh; he doesnât lift, just keeps his fingers there.Â
âMm.â He observes, and you swat his hand away. âDonât.â
âCâmon, lemme see.â
âNo.âÂ
He tilts his head, âSo youâre just gonna be in pain through your run tonight, just to prove something?â
You donât say anything, because that was the plan all along, you were just going to suffer the consequences of your actions for the day.Â
Then he straightens up, âMy truckânow.â
âAbsolutely not.â You cross your arms, lean on the shoulder of your horse, you donât dare cross your legs over.Â
âRelaxxxx, itâs not like thatâunless you want it like that.â
You glare, and his grin only gets wider, then he softens up a bit. âI got aloe.â
Now you know heâs getting serious, heâs actually offering you a practical solution, not just the thing between his legs.
He knows your run is important, he knows thatâs the real threat for you. He turns and starts walking towards the field with the parked truck and trailers.
You donât follow at first, but you wait about five seconds before you attempt a step across the gravel.
Pain immediately shoots up your thighs, you huff out, trying to keep it down because you swear heâs smiling even though he doesnât turn around.Â
He keeps walking as gravel shifts under your boots, itâs uneven footing, so every brush of skin makes you clench your jaw.Â
His long legs make big strides, but you can tell he slowed down a bit, he definitely wasnât trying to make it obvious.Â
By the time you reach his truck, heâs already dropped the tailgate. No trailer hooked to it, as roughies only need to bring themselves and their gear, no animals to worry about until their performance.Â
They have it easy outside of the 8 seconds of them risking their life.Â
He leans against it, arms crossed, shades hanging on his tank. âTook you long enough.â You stop a few feet away.
âWhatever, you planning on actually helping or just enjoying the show?â
He looks you up and down slowly. You look all over the place, to be honest. A tank top on with dust sticking to your body, sweat on your face, hair pulled back under a cap, with boots on.Â
You never look your absolute best during the day of the show anyway. Except Mingi isnât looking at your face or your chest, heâs looking at your legs.
âThat depends,â he says lazily. âYou gonna keep pretending you donât need help?â He pushes off the tailgate, taps on it.
âHop up.â
âI can stand.â
âI really didnât ask.â  Â
You hesitate until he raises a brow, then you grab the edge and pull yourself up, the metal is hot through your shorts. His truck is not covered and has been sitting in the beaming sun.Â
Your legs part just a little, limiting the friction against them. He goes around to the front of his truck and grabs a bottle that has green gel inside. Â
The aloe, you could jump for joy. He steps between your knees as your legs hang and your back stiffens.Â
âWeâre in publicâ dude, you see how many trailers parked next to you?â
âWould you prefer this in the truck? Windows are tintedâplus nobody is looking at your legs but me.â
Your pulse jumps, it shouldnât, because this is just a favor, but it seems your body doesnât care what your brain thinks.
âYeah, truck please.â You slide off the tailgate and go to the open passenger door. He follows and stands in front of you, his body plus the door covering you completely from any other eyes.Â
It just looks like Mingi digging into his truck at this angle. He flips the cap open with his thumb, squeezes some into his hand. âLast chance to tell me to stop.â
You swallow, your pride is screaming, but your thighs are on fucking fire.
â...Just make it quick.â His mouth curves up.
âOhâyou know I donât do anything quick.â
The first touch is cold, the aloe hits your skin, and you suck in a breath. It feels like pouring peroxide on an open wound.Â
His hand is rough, calloused from the bull ropes and working with his hands all the time. He spreads it slowly along the inside of your thigh.
He doesnât go high or inappropriately, just where the roughed-up skin is. He doesnât rush, he rubs it in like he does baby powder before his rides.Â
âYouâre so sensitive,â he murmurs.
âWell, no shit.â
âYou shouldâve listened.â His thumb drags a little slower, and you can feel the shift in breathing. He looks up at you from under his hat.
âStill just âslight?ââ His thumb presses a little harder as he works the aloe in some more, the stinging sensation still subtle.Â
Your knees go loose, opening up a little more, and his eyes donât leave yours. âYou can tell me to stop.â
You swallow, youâre sweating even more now, and your hand finds the front of his tank. You donât push him, you bunch it up in your hands, holding him there.Â
âMingi,â you warn, but it comes out more breathy, not serious in the slightest.Â
âDidnât think so.â He says, stepping where his hips brush the edge of the passenger seat, your thighs hitting his.Â
You know the aloe is just becoming an excuse at this point, you both have played these games before.Â
âYouâre such an ass.â Your grip tightens, pulling him closer.
His voice drops lower. âThen tell me to fuck off.â His hand rubs your inner thigh again, getting close to where youâve been secretly aching and wet.
He leans in, his other hand bracing against the middle console behind you. You donât say anything, donât tell him no.
He hooks one finger under the edge of your shorts, tugs on them. âThese are in the way.â
âThen do something about it.â Your pulse has quickened, know you shouldnât be getting involved with him.Â
His eyes flash, he grabs the shorts at the inseam, and they rip. Your shorts hang open, exposing your panties, already damp.  Â
âShit, Mingi.â
âYou told me to do something.â He yanks them away, hangs them on the rearview mirror. Youâre left in your underwear, tank top, boots, and spurs.
His hand cups you through your underwear and you bite back a moan. âYouâre so damn wet, bet thereâs evidence of a snail trail in your saddle, huh?â
âDonât get cocky, honey.â
He pulls your panties to the side, fingers sliding through your folds, and you choke. âMhm. Keep talking for me.â
You canât form words. His fingers work you open, youâre still covered from the other trucks and people in the parking lot, as two fingers push inside and his thumb finds your clit.
Your head falls back against the console, and he leans by your ear, tongue swipes it and you shudder.
âAll that mouth and you canât say shit now.â
âMaybe if you were better at thisââ
He pulls his fingers out, and you whimper slightly. He grabs your jaw, forcing you to look at him, and his fingers wet with you press against your lips.Â
âOpen for me.â You glare as you do. He slides his fingers into your mouth, and you taste yourself with the tart lingering taste of aloe. His eyes are dark as he watches.Â
You hollow your cheeks as you suck, and his breath hitches. He then pulls his fingers out, a string of spit connecting as he puts his fingers in his mouth. Moaning around his own fingers, holding direct eye contact with you.Â
He then leans over into the bed of his truck and comes back in front of you, holding his bull rope. The one he uses for his rides, worn leather and frayed orange cord. Your eyes go wide.
âTurn around.â
âIâm not a fucking bull, youâre gonna have to make me.â
His hand grabs the hair peeking out of your cap and spins you, bending you over the console. Your boots scrape against the truck frame, spurs jingling.Â
âYou keep acting like a bull, get treated like one, baby.â He loops the rope around your wrists, pulling them behind your back and tying them tight.Â
He tears your underwear next, throwing them in the backseat to be added to his collection. You can hear his buckle and zipper, and then you feel the head of his cock pressing against you.Â
You think about onlookers and slowly stop giving a fuck, youâre covered. If they want to see Mingi's cheeks, theyâll get a show.Â
Heâs fucking big, you feel every vein, every muscle as he pushes in slowly. âJesusâshit, shit.â
âToo much? Thought you could handle it like you do your horses.â His voice is strained while still mocking you.
âFuck everything about you.â You grit out, but get broken by a moan as he bottoms out in you. Youâre so full, the air is getting scarce.Â
He doesnât give you time to adjust, he just pulls back and slams in. His balls slapping against you as you cry out. It hits the chafed skin from the saddle, and it hurts, but feels so damn good you canât think straight.Â
âTake it.â
He fucks you hard as your cheek rubs against the console, slobber smearing along the leather. The truck rocks with every thrust.Â
Sweat drips, the rope burns your wrists, and you pull against it, which makes him go harder. He leans over you, one hand wrapping around your throat, pulling you up slightly so your back arches.
Your spurs catch on him and he hisses. âCareful with those,â he goes deeper, hitting your cervix, which makes you go delirious.Â
âOh my god.â
âUh uh, wrong name.â
You canât form coherent thoughts, so you push back against him, meeting his thrusts, and he groans.
He pulls out, and you whine. He unties the rope and flips you over, pulling you back to the edge of the seat. Your legs wrap around his waist, spurs digging into his ass, and he grins.
He pushes back in and you both moan. The angle is deeper, you can see him now. His hat is half on, tank top clinging to his body with sweat, happy trail visible, jaw clenched.Â
He looks damn good.Â
He spits into his hand and brings it between you, rubbing your clit in tight circles while he pounds into you. Itâs so much, youâre coming before you can stop it, your whole body squeezes around him tight.Â
âFuck,â he thrusts three more times, and then heâs spilling inside you with a groan. He collapses forward, head hanging on your shoulder, both of you gasping.
He pulls out slowly, and you feel his cum drip down your thighs, they burn even more now. The aloe has gone to waste.Â
He swipes his fingers through it and brings it to your mouth again. âClean this all up, youâve already fucked up my seats.â
You maintain eye contact as you do, and his cock twitches against your thigh. âYouâre such a dick.â
He grins lazily, satisfied. âYouâre the one who was on this dick in a parking lot with your spurs still on.âÂ
You canât even argue with that, but then your breathing steadies, and when you look at him, thereâs a look in your eyes that makes him falter.
âLooks like itâs my turn, huh.â
He blinks, âWhatââ
âGet in the truck.â He stares at you a moment, cock still hard, then he laughs. âYou serious?â
âDoes it look like Iâm fucking joking?â You move over to sit on top of the console to give him room, it takes all your strength to move because of how shaky you are.Â
The seat is soaked in spit, cum, everything thatâs dripped out of you. Itâs absolutely filthy. âBut thatâs your seat.â
âAnd now itâs yours, sit.â His cocky smirk returns, and he gets all the way in. The truck dips, and he takes up the entire passenger seat, even in his big ass truck.
His thighs spread wide, and when he settles into the seat, you hear the wet sound of him sitting in your juices and the leather. Â
âJesus christ Iâm gonna need a detail.â
âYou should be honored.â You climb over him and squeeze in where you can, the heat seeping through with no ac.
His hands go to your hips, the fit is tight. His shoulders are so broad you have to brace your hands on the roof of the truck to balance, your knees press against the seat on either side of him.
No one can hear or see into his truck, tinted so dark you donât know how he drives it on the regular.
You reach down between your bodies and wrap your hand around his cock. He begins to harden even more, and you stroke him slowly.Â
You sink down on him in one stroke, and his words cut off into a choked groan. The stretch is delicious. You never took off your boots, dirt in his seat, spurs digging into the side of his thighs as you settle.
âWhatâs wrong Mingi?â You roll your hips and watch his eyes roll back. âThought youâd be able to last 8 seconds?
âFuckââ
You brace your hands on his shoulders, you set a fast pace. Your thighs burn, but you lift yourself almost completely off him before slamming back down. Cum drips down your thighs, down his cock, adding more to the mess heâs sitting in.Â
His hands go to your hips, trying to slow you down, but you slap them away. âDidnât say you could touch.â You lean forward and wrap your hand around his throat.
His cock twitches inside you, and you laugh breathlessly. âOh? You like?â You squeeze your thighs tighter, changing the angle.
âIâm gonna die before my ride. Shitââ
âYouâll make it, just maybe not last the full timeââ You sit up as much as you can, your head nearly brushes the roof. Your hips roll and snap, your spurs jingle with every movement, scraping his skin thatâll leave marks.Â
Sweat drips between your breasts, and you can feel his chest slick under your hands. The windows start to fog, but you donât slow down.Â
âLook at youâbig tough roughie who canât take what he dishes out. Pathetic.â
âI like it when your mouth is occupied.â He sticks his fingers into your mouth and shoves them down your throat, your hips stutter a bit.Â
âGood girl, all nice and quiet.â His other hand comes up to grab your tits, squeezing hard, he pinches, causing you to moan and clench around him. It only makes you go harder.Â
You spit his fingers back out, some of it hits his face, he uses his tongue to lick it off around his lips. The scene alone makes you want to buckle at the knees.Â
âYouâre fucking insane.â
His hand slides down to your ass, and he spanks you, the sting matching the sensation of your inner thighs. Then he does it again.Â
âFuckâyessââ He spanks you harder, and you grind down harder, taking him deep. Your clit rubs against his unshaven stubble with every movement. Youâre getting close again.
âShit, Iâm boutâ to nut.â His voice is wrecked, and you can feel him throbbing inside you.Â
You tap his cheek playfully, âNot yet.â
âPleaseââ
âPlease what?â You roll your hips, start spelling your nickname with your hips, and he chokes. âUse your words, honey.â
âPlease let me comeâfucking please.â You lean down, lips brushing his ear. âFill me up again, wanna feel it.â
He comes with a groan, hands on your hips, and the feeling of him pulsing inside you. You come shortly after, thighs clamping around him.Â
Even as you come, you keep moving, slower. âWaitâI canât.â
âYes, you can, take it.â You sit up, wringing every last bit out of him. His head falls back against the seat, throat exposed, and you lean down to bite it.
Your muscles are screaming, you chase another orgasm as you grind down on him. His hands roam your thighs, ass, tits as you come down.Â
Heâs about to say something smart until the sound of a mic squeals. You both freeze. A voice echoes from the arena, running sound check for the speakers before the night.
The loading of bulls and horses into the chutes, it makes you realize how the world didnât really stop, and youâre still parked between trailers.
Still supposed to compete.Â
Your thighs burn when you shift off him, the aloe is smeared everywhere. He runs a hand over his face, hat crooked, jaw tight.Â
You adjust your tank top like nothing happened, grab whatâs left over of your shorts off the rearview.Â
âBetter ride better than how you handled this.â
He laughs, you lean down as your lips brush the shell of his ear. âWouldnât want you lasting less than eight seconds under those lights.â
You pull back before he can respond, open the door, and slide on your ripped shorts. Heat floods in, and real life hits you.
He watches your boots hit the gravel, your thighs are still red, still raw, and itâs all his fault.
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