petty arguments
𑣲. SYNOPSIS!: After ignoring your boyfriend for three days over a petty argument, he decides to use his pent up frustration for the greater good
.✦ ݁˖ CW!: 18+, porn, raw sex, finger sucking, doggy (?), bit of degradation, praise, dom!hoon, kinda mean hoon, aftercare, cream-pie, crying, lmk if i missed any
⋆˚࿔ WC!: 6.9k
It’d been three days of you and Sunghoon not talking; well, it would’ve been three days if you had managed to keep your mouth shut.
Sunghoon, in his agitating, loose, white shirt that managed to highlight each and every muscle—whether it was tense or not—he stood there, minding his business.
You let out a quiet sigh, passing by him. His bubblegum fingertips were wrapped around his designated beige bowl, already preparing to pour the steaming hot ramen from the strainer.
He looked too unbothered. Too careless. Too much like his usual demeanor, before you had met him and made him fall in love with you.
Being in a relationship for almost two years now, it was normal for couples to argue. It was normal for couples to ignore each other for a few hours—but three days? This was new.
Like a flake in the sky, he always knew how to land straight on your nose, gentle and chilly, the type of chilly that made you feel bubbly inside, the type of chilly that made you warm—that made you want to stay trapped between his arms as if he himself was a shield.
Which he was.
He’d always been the one to approach first, sometimes with a teddy bear, sometimes with things you’ve had in your cart for months, sometimes with a hug, and sometimes just with his words alone.
And each time, your knees would wobble, your pride would shrink, and you’d be in his lap, styling your fingers in with his black strands. He’d occasionally rock his hips upwards, a stupid attempt to distract you; you’d scold him as if his hair actually mattered, although you never actually wanted him to stop.
And now, here you were, standing in your white, silk pajama set, staring at the love of your life barely acknowledge your very existence.
It sent a thrill of rage down your spine.
“Hello?” You raised your eyebrows, tilting your head at him as if that’d suddenly release all your pent up irritation.
He wasn’t quick about it.
He took his sweet time pressing the now-full ramen bowl into the counter before turning to look at you.
You sighed dramatically.
He blinked once.
“Yeah?”
“What do you mean, “yeah?!”” You scoffed, throwing your hands on your hips.
His lips pressed together. Monotone. Bored.
Not even sparing you another look, his hands moved towards a nearby fork.
As your jaw dropped in disbelief, his loaded with the wheat noodles.
“Are you serious?” You muttered, taking half a step as if to emphasize your true “seriousness.”
He looked up at you through his thick eyebrows, almost raising them while he slurped a hanging piece.
“Hm?”
Your hands fell to your sides. “It doesn’t bother you that we’re not… I don’t know.. talking?”
He placed the bowl back onto the counter, right before taking a deep breath and wiping off any remaining juice on his lips.
“It does.”
“It doesn’t look like it.”
“I’m not sure what you want me to say.” He muttered, walking over to the fridge.
Unbelievable.
While you planted your feet like weeds of a dead RedWood tree, too upset to even fathom the amount of carbs he’d inhaled today, he couldn’t have cared less.
Clearly.
He moved with ignorance, he grabbed a bottle of water with ease, and he couldn’t even look at you for more than 10 seconds—you felt something deep in your intestine sting.
“Park Sunghoon.”
Your voice was stern. It left no room for nonchalant shrugs or short, half-assed responses, it meant business, and the grit in your teeth told him more than ever.
He paused, turning fully towards you. The cap in his palm wasn’t a cap any longer; it became a tool. A fidget. Something he could mess with, without you hissing at him.
He leaned halfway against the counter.
“Yeah?”
There it was.
The same lifeless tone he’d been forcibly feeding you on a dry, splintered, wooden spoon instead of his usual ribbon-wrapped voice that sent sweet glaze down your back.
“What’s wrong with you?” You took a deep breath, maintaining whatever maturity you had left. “It’s been three days and we haven’t talked; if you want to break up, then just say it to my face!—”
“I don’t want to break up with you, Y/N.” He released a small exhale through his nose before looking away.
You bit the inside of your lower lip. “Then what? Because this is ridiculous.”
He stared at nothing for a couple of seconds. His jaw was sharp, stiff, almost as if he had been holding back.
That made your mouth arid.
“Y/N,” he swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing in a way that almost made you forget why you guys were arguing.
“What?”
He turned to look at you. “Every time I try talking to you, you snap at me.”
“I do not!”
He pressed his lips together, sighing.
You shriveled, feeling a gush of wind hit your neck.
“That doesn’t count!” You rolled your eyes, stomping a couple steps up to him.
“Stop acting innocent! The whole reason we’re in this mess is because you couldn’t get your hands off that woman!”
His eyebrows furrowed about immediately. Leaning off the counter, his height became apparent; towering over you like you were a mere squirrel in the hands of a dragon.
That didn’t stop you, you were never one to say no to a challenge, no matter how intimidating or sexy it was.
“What woman?”
Your heart thumped through your ribcage, echoing nothing but rattles. “We—”
“The woman at the station?” He cut you off, taking another step towards you.
You took a step back as he pointed behind you, emphasizing his radiating frustration. “The woman, the one that was trying to sell me flowers?”
Your muscles all tightened. “Yeah, okay Sunghoon; because a woman with a full-face, hair done, and number eighty-five lash clusters was going to sell you roses out of everyone else.”
He stuttered briefly, lips parting.
“Exactly!”
“I didn’t look at her enough to notice all of that—and lashes have sizes??”
“Don’t change the topic!”
He ran a hand over his face, inhaling the biggest breath he’d sworn he’d ever taken since asking you to be his girlfriend.
You stared at him, determined to get an apology out of him.
“The only reason I touched her was because she kept pushing her flowers against my chest—Y/N, we’ve been over this.”
You crossed your arms over your chest. “Actually, no, we haven’t been over this—”
“Yes we have. You just weren’t listening to me, you never do, and that’s your problem.”
You felt your lips involuntarily part. Say something. Say anything.
Yet you could only stare as he took the final step towards you.
The next thing you knew, your lower back was fully pressed against the cold counter, your hands were gripping the marble edges, and your chest popped out just enough to make it clear that you wanted space.
He continued.
“I told you multiple times while you were yelling in the car,”
~~~
“That’s fucking crazy.” You laughed dryly, kicking one leg over the other before purposely facing the window.
Sunghoon’s eyes widened, a bit of confusion in them. “What’s wrong baby?”
“Don’t fucking baby me.”
His small, default grin instantly dropped. “What?”
“Your girlfriend’s in the car, waiting for you, and you’re out there flirting with that woman with flowers. Did you think I wasn’t going to see?!”
You whipped around to face him, stomping both feet onto his car mats.
“Baby, what—”
“Didn’t I say don’t call me baby? Go call her baby, clearly you fucking want to!”
He shook his head. “What are you talking about?”
“Sunghoon!” You stuck your hand out at his window. “You touched her—basically hugged her, and I’m right here! What? What’d she need? A new flower ambassador?!”
He grabbed your arm, slowly dragging it down into his lap. “Don’t be immature Y/N. All she wanted was for someone to buy her flowers, I told her no and moved on.”
You yanked your arm back. “Showing all thirty-two for someone who told her no! God, you’re easy.”
“I was trying to be nice, Y/N.”
“By grabbing her hips?”
“I gently placed my hands on her shoulder to push her aside.”
“You touched her! Why’d you touch her? Weirdo.”
“She got too close, I didn’t have a choice.”
“Oh, shut the hell up, cheater.”
~~~
“I didn’t mean to touch her, I’ve been trying to tell you that all week, but you keep getting upset with me before I can even explain myself.”
“Well—”
“There is no “well.”” He silences you before you could put up another argument.
Your pride deflated.
Just a bit.
Especially seeing him up close in your personal space after being deprived of his everything.
His scent, his bone structure, his features, his killer state—maybe it was because of the pure aroma of dissatisfaction floating off of him, but it made your legs weak.
He nudged his eyebrows up, as if he was waiting for you to say something. Anything.
You smacked your lips open, feigning confidence. “You could’ve just said that in the first place.”
“Y/N.”
Your body, yes, entire body, froze then erupted. You could feel the peach fuzz on your neck straighten out into coarseness.
“I’m sorry.”
That was it. It was hard feigning confidence, but even harder feigning innocence in front of your boyfriend; the one man who could read you like a drenched piece of lined paper.
And it was even worse when you’d figured out that he was right. Something that barely ever happened because, according to his logic, “Whatever makes you happy baby.”
Even if it meant dealing with your stupid arguments that usually led nowhere and ended with him apologizing (you’re usually in the wrong).
Even if it meant listening to you yell about meaningless coworker drama for hours on end.
Even if it meant sitting through every single curse word aimed at whatever had decided to pull on your strings that day.
The guilt felt like glaciers in your lungs.
Maybe you should’ve listened.
Maybe you shouldn’t have cursed him out.
Maybe you shouldn’t have called him a cheater.
“You’re sorry?”
Your eyes fell to the ground, where his legs were enveloping yours.
You barely nodded. Too ashamed. Too shy.
The silence made you want to drown in your own tears. To say it was uncomfortable would be undermining it.
He stood there, capturing every bend and curve your face had morphed into over the years. His eyes didn’t leave your face once,
Until you felt him slowly slither. It was one gradual movement, his hands locked onto the marble counter, right above yours.
He leaned in beside your ear, his breath like a ghost.
“Speak up.”
The strength in your grip weakened, just like your mental state.
“I’m sorry.” You tried again, this time a bit louder.
The tip of his nose nudged your temple, almost as if he was guiding your head to the side.
You obliged. Instantly.
You could feel the way his eyes sunk into your profile; mercy was only a dream at this point.
For some reason, it filled you with nervousness, but at this point, you weren’t sure if it was excitement or anxiety.
“One more time.” He whispered.
You gulped, closing your eyes. “I’m sorry—”
You were cut off as his hand moved, harshly gripping your chin to face him.
“No. Keep your eyes open.”
You attempted to swallow whatever your dry mouth had produced in that split second before opening your eyes slowly.
“Now, try again.” His other hand gripped the counter behind you, causing him to lean down just to match your height.
Your eyes met his.
Dark, black, olives and maple buttons, you could skinny dip in them if you wanted to.
Just not right now.
“I’m sorry Sunghoon.”
“For?”
“For hurting your feelings.”
His hand slid off your chin, down to your throat, squeezing gently rather than choking you, yet.
“No,” he murmured, sending another squeeze. “Try again.”
The counter embedded crevices into your lower back from the amount of strength it was taking you to stand up to him.
“For calling you a cheater.”
“And?”
“I…I don’t know,” you winced, attempting to look down but Sunghoon was quicker. His gentle squeeze turned into a capture, forcing you to look at him.
“I said try again.”
Your eyes met his, again, this time involuntarily. You could feel your heart begin to claw its way up your throat, it wasn’t working—the words you wanted to say refused to come out.
“I’m sorry Hoon, I didn’t- I didn’t mean it,”
“Don’t call me Hoon.” He muttered dryly, lifting his other hand off the counter and onto your bicep.
Without warning, he engulfed it within his tight grip right before shoving you out the kitchen, using both his grip and the side of his body.
“What—”
“Walk.”
His words were firm, left no room for argument or disobedience, and that scared you.
The further you walked, the more you realized he was leading you towards the bedroom.
Your head inflated, your eyes transformed into dizzying swirls, and your heart couldn’t have been beating faster, yet your abdomen grew a hyperfixation on one thing and one thing only: Sunghoon.
“Hold on-”
You pathetically tried as the door swung open. Your hands reached for his body, for his grip, even for the air surrounding him, but he was faster, stronger, and bigger.
In one shove, you were on the bed, flat on your back, knees curled up to the sky, propping yourself up with your elbows.
He wasted no time taking what’s his.
He sank over you, his legs over yours, and in no time, his hands felt like burning iron on your knees, tearing them open.
“Hoon-”
“Shut up.” He hissed, shoving one of his massive thighs in between your legs.
Your lower back arched at the slight graze, already wanting more of his touch; even if it meant humping his thigh like a pathetic piglet.
He had other plans.
Quickly, he completely palmed your stomach, deepening you into the mattress.
He exhaled, crawling up on his forearms towards you before locking them beside your head.
His face nestled into your soft neck, embracing the frictionless scent of vanilla and sugar; his tongue flexed, aiming it directly at the one spot he knew would send you squirming.
And so you did.
Your hands darted up to his shoulders, latching onto them like he was the hook on the rod keeping you afloat.
“Ah..”
Your eyes fluttered shut, already feeling your new Victoria panties start to moisten against your clit.
Just one swipe, that’s all it took for you to be under his mercy.
He moved one hand teasingly slow, as if you weren’t worth the trouble of hustling. It explored like it had a mind of its own—across your neck, down past your collarbone, caressing your sternum up and down, until finally landing on top of your already hardened nipple.
It didn’t take much for your hardened nipple to turn to stone under his touch. His hands were large and rough, caging every part of your body like they were branded his.
“Mm..” You whined, squeezing your thighs together. “Hoon.. come on…”
You were aware it was absolutely beyond pathetic to be begging for him after being the sole reason you guys weren’t talking, but you didn’t care.
He flattened his tongue against your neck, making sure you felt every tastebud and saliva bubble popping.
His head tilted to the side, focusing on a certain spot rather than sprinkling random sucks, kisses, and pecks all over.
That killed you.
Your grip on his shoulder faltered. One hand moved down to his bicep, squeezing gently at the relaxed muscle.
“Are you still mad at me?” You muttered, slightly turning your head to catch a glimpse of him working on your neck.
He pulled back almost immediately, but stayed close.
His eyes snapped to yours as he hovered over you. A couple strands from his hair fell over his face and you could’ve sworn an angel had just been reincarnated in front of you.
God, you were pathetic for this man.
“Yes.” He answered shortly. “Stop talking.”
You felt a lump in your throat at his tone. It wasn’t playful, it wasn’t gentle, and it wasn’t how he usually spoke to you whenever you guys had sex.
It scared you, it worried you, and it endeared you.
The second he saw the submission on your face, an unwilling grin broke out on his face.
His hand on your breast moved—too quickly for you to even realize he’d just pinched your nipple. Hard.
A gasp escaped from your mouth. “Ah! Hoon!-”
“Shut up.”
He moved his other hand off the mattress, onto your hip bone, angling it just right against his growth.
His eyes stayed on yours, with each blink of his thick lashes, his breath hit center against your cupid’s bow.
“Does it feel good?” He gripped your hip, forcibly using you against his length.
It dragged, inch by inch, you felt it through your silk pajamas. You knew he was big, sometimes you questioned how you’ve taken it before, but this was different.
Your hips shook with each drag he stole from you, your legs felt like they were about to give up and you were laying down, your clit began to swell.
Another gasp.
“F-fuck,”
He pinched your nipple again. “Does it?”
“Yeah.” You winced, digging your nails into his muscular biceps.
He exhaled, watching your eyebrows pitiably touch every time he moved your hips for you.
“Good,” he removed his hand off your breast then slid it down into your waistband.
One tug. “Take them off.” He tugged the band back, just enough to earn a loud snapping sound against your flesh.
You flinched up, your entire body curled in at the stinging sensation already blemishing a scarlett line of red.
He didn’t even budge, eyes locked with yours. His hand fell over the waistband again.
“I said take them off.”
Then again, he pulled them back enough to release another loud snap.
“Sunghoon-”
Before you could finish your complaint, his hand slid under your waistband, cupping you through your panties.
He tensed his palm against your swollen clit, gradually moving it up and down in a way that made you see stars.
The pain morphed into pleasure almost immediately. You fell back onto the mattress, lolling your eyes all the way back, lips parted.
“You don’t listen,” he whispered, bringing his lips up to your ear. “I need you to listen baby, or it’ll be hard on you.”
His breath sent a shiver up your shoulders, but the continuous friction from his palm made you go numb.
“Uh-huh…” You slurred, hips moving with his palm.
He halted his palm. Your eyes zapped open at the lack of warmth, but once you saw him staring down at you, you gulped.
“Take them off.”
You wasted no time. In just a couple of seconds, your expensive silk pajama pants were randomly tossed across the floor.
Despite your cooperation, he looked the same. No validating expression, no soft smile, not even a look away.
Instead, he leaned back on his knees, cradling your hips. His large hands roamed across your stomach, up and down, too gentle yet so thick with skin.
You moved under his touch, copying his rhythm; the only thing protecting you were your Victoria panties that’d already had a stain from your previous arousal.
And in a snap, those were off.
Using both hands, he ripped them in half, leaving you exposed and a little cold.
Your initial reaction was to close your legs—sure, he’s seen you naked plenty of times, but it never stopped your self-consciousness.
“Don’t,” he grabbed your calves, opening up what was rightfully his.
His eyes stayed locked onto your plushy center, already glistening under the not so bright lights.
“Hoon!” You whined.
It didn’t register to him.
He leaned in, grabbing both of your thighs, forcing them around the sides of his face. Instead of going in directly like the hungry beast he was, he planted kisses across your bikini line, occasionally gliding his tongue over your flaps.
Your breath caught with every glide. Each one felt like pure bliss on the edge. It was so delightful, you swore each time you’d cum all over his tongue, yet it never came.
It was bordering torturous.
It was bordering purposeful.
“H-Hoon,” you managed to utter through parted lips and bucking hips.
He swept his tongue over your clit this time, making sure to let it roll in its own wetness. “Hm?”
“Can’t.” You hissed, tangling your hand in his hair.
He pulled back just barely, releasing a dry chuckle. His hand moved, gripping yours before yanking it down towards the mattress.
“You can.”
You squeezed your eyes shut. “I can’t, I really- I can’t,”
“What’d I say about listening?”
He released your wrist and climbed up to hover over you.
Once your eyes opened, all you could see was his lips covered in your liquid.
It made your abdomen greedy.
“You never listen,” he grabbed your jaw with one hand, using his forearm to balance beside you. “I said you can, what’s that mean?”
Your eyes glinted. Your tongue felt heavy.
His grip tightened, almost painfully, before shaking your face lightly. “What’s that mean? Speak up.”
“…means I can.” You mumbled under your breath.
Another shake, this time your hair shook along, landing on your face.
“Louder.”
“I can.”
“One more time.”
You winced, squeezing your thighs. “Hoon, please, I said I’m sorry.”
“Are you going to make me repeat myself?”
He abruptly let go of your face, now planting both of his hands beside your head.
His forehead tickled yours, awaiting your response.
The corners of your lips shivered. “I can.”
He grinned. “Good girl.”
His hands found your shoulders, jerking you up in one swift movement. Before you could even gasp, he spread his legs, forcing you to sit in a way that your entire pussy was floating between his thighs.
Your knees barely touched the mattress, and he loved it.
Having you open like this, him being the only one that could see you this pathetic, whining, begging and on show—just for him.
He was practically leaking already.
Your hands found his shoulders, yet his eyes stayed glued onto your pussy.
His tongue flashed out, wetting his lower lip, like a madman craving his experiments.
He slid one hand down your stomach until his thumb reached your hooded clit. Slowly, he rubbed a tender circle right above it, making sure to not apply the pressure you so desperately needed.
“Fuck,” you clenched, feeling your entrance tense at the sudden pleasure inflating your abdomen.
Your hands tightened on his shoulders, silently pleading for more.
He noticed.
Of course he did.
“Feel good, baby?”
“Uh-huh,” you nodded, wriggling your hips against his agonizing thumb. “Faster…”
His other hand landed on your thigh, just resting. A barely visible smirk appeared on his face, cocky and content.
“So easy.”
Your heart thumped at his words. Something in you snarled, suddenly feeling exposed and wretched, you swallowed dryly.
He pulled his thumb off your clit, sensing your sudden shift of energy, yet his other hand gripped your thigh tighter.
“The hell?” You rasped. “Since when-”
“Baby,” He cooed, patting your thigh a few times. “It’s okay. Just be quiet and look pretty.”
A dagger flared up in your throat. It twisted and stabbed, yet no matter how much you swallowed, it kept getting bigger.
His hand on your thigh moved.
Before you could respond, you felt his middle and ring finger rub the slit of your entrance methodically. It was easy, the way he was rubbing.
Light, like a feather, and once he reached your clit, he’d apply the right amount of pressure to make sure you wouldn’t slide off his lap.
He knew what to do to make you stay under his grip.
“Fuck,” your hand jumped on his, unsure of whether you want more or want him to stop.
“Shh,” he grabbed your hand with his free hand, tugging it up onto his shoulder before dropping it back down. “You know what to say to get me to stop.”
Your eyes shrunk in humiliation, that dagger in your throat felt like a sea urchin now.
“Fuck you.”
“Mm.” Was all he responded with, that is until you felt two fingers slide into you without any warning.
He spread his thighs wider, spreading yours out even further than before. As if you didn’t already feel exposed enough, you could feel your wetness dripping onto the comforters.
You leaned your head frontwards, letting a raspy moan fall from your lips. Refusing to look at the mess you were creating, Sunghoon’s free hand landed on your hip, pulling you even closer.
“Fuck me?” He repeated, watching his own fingers pump in and out of you, each disgusting thrust sent a splatter of your juices against the comforters, some even landing against his gray sweatpants.
You couldn’t even utter half a syllable.
“Mm, yeah?” He teased, looking up at you for a brief second.
Quicker.
He moved his hand off your hip and onto your lower back, making sure to fuck you on his fingers himself.
You pulsated on his fingers, squeezing them as if they were his actual cock buried deep inside you.
Your forehead landed against his shoulder, gasping, moaning, and cursing quiet insensitives—uncertain if they were directed at him or not, he shifted his leg, practically putting you in a split above his legs.
“Hoon,” you hissed, burying your face into his shoulder. “Gonna-”
“Don’t do that,” he furrowed, slightly moving his head past your torso. “Can’t see your pussy when you do that.”
His fingers pushed deeper past the groovy skin inside of you. He pressed up in a specific rhythm that made your legs shake.
You moaned in response, gripping the fabric of his shirt, tugging in despair.
“F-fuck—gonna-” you cut yourself off with a whine.
“Be quiet.”
He moved your hip in a way that was purposeful, in a way that made your g-spot bounce against his fingers, as he’s pushing them up into you.
You saw galaxies.
Your lips fell open, releasing absolutely nothing but a soft, paused wince. Your body shuddered on itself—your pussy, having a mind of its own, squeezed around his fingers causing a major explosion over his hands.
You rolled your eyes back, covering your face using the fabric of his shirt while your body shook.
“Fuck…” he continued pumping you, but the movement on your hip stopped. Now it was just him, enjoying the view in front of and on him.
Your wetness felt like a faucet, dripping without any stop in sight.
With a satisfied groan, he slid his fingers out of you. His other hand moved first, up to your face, pushing you off of his shoulder.
You blinked open, eyebrows slightly furrowed at the light. Your body still shook, it felt like someone had physically rearranged your organs, and that was only his fingers.
“Came pretty hard?” He mumbled, pushing your forehead to his.
A ray of effortless blush spread on your cheeks.
“So wet baby,” his other hand slid under you again, feeling up your neverending wetness.
“Ah-” you winced, shrinking your thighs together.
He let out a small chuckle before patting your thigh a couple times.
“Come on baby,” his voice went low, almost soothing as he brought his fingers, the same ones that were just in you, up to your mouth. “Come on.”
Your eyes snapped to his hovering fingers. For a moment, you paused.
Catching this, he took it upon himself. His other hand gripped the back of your neck, fisting a handful of your hair before tilting your head back.
“We’re going to start listening, okay?”
His voice was delicate but the way his fingers moved made you think otherwise.
He brought them up to your lower lip at first, gentle, petting, then slowly he inserted his middle finger.
Just one for now.
He let out a low groan at the pure sight of you. In his lap, legs spread, pussy dripping between his legs and onto the comforter, all fucked out from the same fingers in your mouth.
His bulge grew bigger, twitching.
“Suck, baby, suck.” His voice sounded like a lullaby, and you did.
Your cheeks sunk in around his finger, salvia began to lather around his skin. You tasted yourself on him, salty but bitter.
“More.” He whispered, shoving his finger further down your throat.
You complied.
And soon, it was his middle and ring finger. His hands were large, it was no mistake his fingers were just as big.
“Fuck, you’re such a slut for me.”
He rubbed his fingertips across your tongue, then under your tongue, making sure to scatter your juices all over, without a doubt.
You choked a couple of times, naturally. Each time he hit uvula on accident, you pulled back, attempting a cough, but he was always a step ahead, grabbing the back of your neck and shoving his fingers back to where they belonged.
It almost made you choke. Your breath kept getting cut short, but Sunghoon was persistent. Especially after you’d unreasonably upset him, this was his payback.
“Keep sucking,” his eyes narrowed in on your lips, watching how his fingers disappeared halfway then revealed themselves.
His other hand dropped from your neck and onto his bulge.
“Use your hands.”
You moved, reaching out for his throbbing cock, but he stopped you instantly.
“No,” he placed your hand on his wrist. “Suck like you fucking mean it. Like it’s me in your mouth.”
Once that was clear, he let go of your wrist and went back to his bulge. Feeling himself through his sweats, he watched you.
He watched how you grabbed his wrist with both hands, how you adjusted yourself so that your knees touched the mattress instead of your dripping pussy, how your eyes rolled back each time he helped you by pulling in and out.
“Fuck.” He hissed, squeezing his thick length.
His eyebrows furrowed—a small gray stain began to form right near his tip.
The more he felt himself up, the more he imagined being in you.
And that was it.
In a quick motion, he yanked his fingers out of your mouth and shoved you head first into the mattress.
You let out a caught off guard sound, landing on your stomach, but he didn’t care.
He wasn’t bothered. Couldn’t be when he still had so much anger pent up, because of you.
You lifted your head, propping your upper half up using your elbows. Right as you got a bit of leverage, his strong hands shoved your head right back into the mattress.
“Shh,” he eased, planting his veiny forearm next to your head.
You let out an inaudible sound, gripping the comforters beneath you.
He smirked, ripping his shirt off in one motion. It was a shame you weren’t facing him, but you knew each carving of his muscles would’ve made you cum on the spot.
In another motion, his pants and boxers slid off.
Sluggishly, he crawled above you, pressing his entire weight onto you. You let out a mixture of moan and a gasp for air.
“Heavy?”
“Ah..”
He laughed.
Using one hand, he moved the hair off your face before turning you to face him.
Expecting him to kiss you, he just stared at you in silence, then dropped your head back onto the mattress.
Your heart sank even further.
He was never this mean during sex.
Shifting, he slightly leaned back, just the slightest, giving you the right amount of room to inhale and exhale, but not enough to yawn or shift.
He kept his gaze locked on the back of your head, admiring how stupid you’d gone, how you’d become a ragdoll in his hands—just for him.
It made him hard. So hard. Too hard.
He groaned, rubbing his tip tenderly against his palm. His precum spread, there was too much, some landed on your lower back.
“Fuck baby.”
Using the precum on your back, he rubbed it over as if he were giving you a massage, except he dragged it down, over your ass—making sure it’d drip into your entrance.
Your back reflexively arched toward the mattress, feeling it glide like an edge.
That was it.
Eyeing the way your swollen pussy sucked up his precum, even on accident. You were painfully unaware of the effect you had on him.
He pushed himself over you, hovering slightly before yanking you up on your knees. He gave your ass a loud slap that made you flinch and wince, yet he showed no mercy.
“Yeah..” he muttered to himself, spreading your folds open. “All this for me.”
You felt your face grow hot. In retaliation, you couldn’t help but hide your face in the covers.
His hand stayed on your ass as a sense of stability, while he began rubbing his tip between your folds.
It was pornagraphic.
The way his tip disappeared into your plumpy folds—he wasn’t even in and he felt his balls tightening.
Your thighs clenched, spreading wider as your back arched even deeper.
That’s when he lost control.
His hands slid down to your hips, and in one, unforgiving thrust, his length inflated you, inch by inch.
You felt the air in your lungs go stale. The numbness in your toes and the stretch of your hole only made it feel better and worse at the same time.
“H-Hoon,” you whimpered into the sheets, voice cracking.
He groaned, pulling out just the slightest before shoving right back in.
Your eyes rolled back.
“Fuck, baby,” he groaned, scrunching his face together. “You’re this tight after three days?”
You gripped the sheets tighter, feeling your face flare up.
“Maybe I should stop talking to you after every argument?” He grunted, digging his nails into your skin.
His cock flexed inside your tacky walls, each clench you mistakenly admitted to him made him more feral.
Another grunt. “Should I?”
You didn’t respond. Too fucked out, too embarrassed, too ashamed to even fathom was he was saying.
His tip scratched at that specific hidden gooey spot deep past your walls. Every graze felt like you were about to cum yourself right then and there; it was breezy, barely catchable, yet mixed with the way he was thrusting into you like a reusable sexdolll—you were close.
“Come on, say something.”
He yanked your hips back against his, burying himself in you to the brim.
You were overflowing.
“Fuck!” You moaned, but he didn’t care.
“Always have something to say,” he grunted, grabbing your thigh to spread you even more open.
Your head felt heavy—so did your stomach.
“Hoon- Hoon- gonna cum—”
“I don’t care.”
He abruptly grabbed a fistful of your hand and jerked your head up.
You yelped, staring at the wall in pain. Too many things were going on at once, you couldn’t help it; but it felt so good.
“Sunghoon, hurting- hurting me—”
“Shh..” his grip tightened.
His thrusts became erratic, messy, uncontrollable. He wrapped his other hand under your stomach, holding it tightly.
You felt your opening begin to burn at his pace, in contrast to your g-spot repeatedly getting grazed, it felt like heaven on earth.
You didn’t know whether or not to cry or to cum—it felt that good.
“You’d like it, huh?” He spoke through gritted teeth, staring at his fistful of your hair.
He yanked back once, ensuring you were listening.
You replied with a small, pained sound.
“Yeah?” He tightened his fist even harder. “You’d like being treated like this, huh?”
You flung your hand behind you to grab onto something, failing, you dropped your hand down with another pained sound.
“Hoon—fuck,”
“So fucking easy for me baby.”
“Fuck, Hoon, hold on,”
“Can’t,” his voice went down an octave, almost as an attempt to control himself, but failing miserably to do so.
Your neck began to hurt, evidently; his grip was unwavering and his cock was too big, too wide, too thick—you were being impaled.
You gasped, raising a hand up to his grip. Then you felt it.
A slow tear rolling down your cheek, a choked gasp, then a sob.
You winced, squeezing your eyes shut. “F-fuck… Hoon, please..”
He groaned. Telling by your voice, you were sobbing.
Sobbing because of him, because of his cock.
His ego inflated.
“Please what?” He hissed, spanking your ass with all his might before throwing your hand off his.
You yelped, letting out another sob. You planted your hands, instantly re-gripping the sheets.
“Hurts, ‘s hurts, can’t—”
“What’d we say about can’t?”
You sobbed, feeling your abdomen tighten impeccably. “Hoon, can’t,”
He ignored you, going back to focusing on what’s important: filling you up.
He plunged his cock further into you, then right back out completely, leaving the tip dangling off your opening.
Each thrust made your back ache, each thrust made you sob louder and louder, and each sob felt like your body was pleasurably on fire.
“Come on baby,” he finally let go of your hair, and your head immediately fell on its own. “You can take it, come on.”
Your legs shook, your knees wobbled—it was sharp. It was fast. It was incomprehensible to anyone that wasn’t you.
The orgasm soared from your toes that had gone numb, through your arching back and up to your dazed head.
It kept going, your body twitched and spasmed, it felt like the quickest rush of adrenaline you’d ever experienced.
Painful, pleasurable, dirty—all of it.
And the best part? Sunghoon continued.
He stared at your fucked out state, elbows above your head, side of your face planted against the sheets, no longer moving besides a few spasms here and there.
He bit his lower lip, grunting as he shoved his tip all the way inside of you, and in one more, small, thrust, he let out a sharp groan, filling you to the brim with his savory cream.
You felt full, like you had to use the bathroom; there was too much of his liquid in you.
But it felt unimaginably good.
He stayed there for a few minutes, resting over you. Part of him wanting to keep the warmth, the other part wanting to make sure you had sucked him completely dry.
Even a drop would be wasteful.
Eventually, he pulled back. Using a hand to stabilize himself on your back, his cock stretched from you, almost as if refusing to leave, before plopping out.
He grunted at the sight of his milky cum trickling past your opening and collecting on your clit.
“Mmh,” he breathed, rubbing a small circle above your ass, before pushing you completely down.
You closed your eyes, covering your face completely from him. You’d never cried during sex, and this certainly shouldn’t be a first.
Not after you’d caused chaos.
His hand slid up to your hand, still maintaining the same rhythmic rubs.
His lower abdomen muscles tightened at the sight of you; his cock was already hardening but he knew this wasn’t the time for that.
Once he reached your side, he patted your shoulder a few times.
“Y/N, baby, you okay?”
Sunghoon’s voice had a complete shift. From aggressive and assertive to drenched in brown sugar and Valentine’s Day arrows.
You hummed once, still keeping your face covered.
He gently smiled, patting your head. “Look at me, come on, be a good girl.”
Despite your embarrassment, you gradually lifted your head.
Revealing bloodshot eyes, furrowed eyebrows, and what looked like a scared mammal, Sunghoon’s heart clenched.
“Did I hurt you?” He muttered, pushing back a section of hair using his hand.
You shook your head no, swallowing a wet lump. “No.”
“What’s wrong baby?”
His other hand slid under you, gently propping you up into his lap.
Your head rested against his head while your arms wrapped around his torso.
He placed his chin on top of your head right before grabbing a nearby blanket and drenching it on top of the both of you, creating a layer of humidity and sweat under.
“Nothing,” you sniffled, wiping your nose. “You were just..different.”
He squeezed you closer to him, lips forming into a kind smile. “Did I scare you baby?”
You shook your head no again.
“You did good, don’t cry.” He hushed, wiping your tears with his thumb. “I got a little bit carried away.”
You let out a small huff mimicking a laugh. “You did.”
He frowned before pressing a calm kiss against your nose. “Sorry baby.”
“It’s okay.” You smiled, finally looking up at him.
Returning the smile, he took that as the green light to fully press his lips onto yours.
You quietly moaned into his mouth, but before you could go further he pulled back.
“What—”
“You’re perfect.”
You blinked a few times, unsure of what to say.
“I was a little… angry, I didn’t mean to hurt you.” His voice went quieter, sharing something vulnerable, something bare and honest.
You stared at him as he looked down, then back at you.
“You’re my favorite good girl baby, promise.”
“I believe you.” You muttered, shifting in his lap.
Your hand flew into his hair, tucking a sweating Strang behind his ear. He smiled, easily leaning into your touch.
“And Hoon?” He raised his eyebrows. “I kinda liked it.”
