#geun-mo

Yoon Geun-Mo x fem!reader

18+ content ahead! || Housewife kink, oral (m receiving), use of police handcuffs, bent-over sex, hair pulling, light dom/sub dynamic, overstimulation, praise, possessiveness, creampie, reader is called “baby” and “good girl,” soft intensity, domestic tension, size kink.

The front door creaks open a little after 7.

You’re still standing in the kitchen—bare feet on tile, apron tied snug over your cotton slip dress, sleeves pushed to your elbows. The scent of garlic and sesame oil still clings to the air. You hear the faint clink of keys, then the weight of Geun-mo’s sigh.

“Hey,” you call gently, not turning around.

The thud of boots. He’s slow today. Heavy.

“Hey,” he murmurs behind you, and his arms circle your waist from behind. “Smells good.”

You smile, leaning back against him. “Dinner’s almost ready. Just have to plate it.”

“Mm,” he hums into your neck, lips brushing the skin lazily. “Later. Let me hold you a sec.”

So you do. Let him press himself into you—chest to back, hand slipping under the apron just to feel the warm softness of your stomach. His uniform is rough and cold against your arms, but his breath is hot.

“You okay?” you murmur, eyes closing as he sways you gently.

He doesn’t answer right away. Just holds you tighter.

Then, finally: “Rough day.”

And you feel it—how tightly his jaw is set. How tense his fingers are. How badly he wants to disappear into you.

You turn slowly in his arms and tip your chin up.

“I can help with that,” you whisper.

You’re on your knees ten minutes later, in front of the couch, with Geun-mo sitting back against the cushions like he’s trying to catch his breath after a marathon. His legs are spread wide, belt discarded, uniform shirt open just enough to see the edge of his undershirt. He looks down at you like he can’t believe how good he has it.

“Fuck, baby…” he groans as you run your hands up his thighs. “You’re too good to me.”

“I like taking care of you,” you say, settling between his legs, nails scraping lightly over his inner thigh. “You work so hard. You deserve it.”

Your fingers tug his boxers down and his cock springs free, already heavy and hard. You wrap your hand around the base and stroke once, slow, and he grunts low in his throat.

“You’re always like this when you come home in uniform,” you murmur, pressing a kiss to the head. “Gets you all worked up, doesn’t it?”

He smirks, even through the tension. “Not my fault my girlfriend looks like a wet dream in an apron.”

You giggle—but he chokes on his next breath when your lips wrap around him.

He tastes like sweat and salt, the kind of sharp musk that comes from a long day in the field. You take him slow at first—kissing down his length, tongue flattening beneath the shaft, sucking gently on the tip. One of his hands slips into your hair, stroking.

Then gripping.

Then tugging.

“Open wider, baby,” he whispers, voice a little hoarse. “You can take it. Let me fuck that pretty mouth.”

You hum around him, eyes fluttering closed as his hips shift up—just a little. A slow, careful thrust. His cock pushes deeper, and your throat tightens around him.

“God, just like that,” he groans. “Your mouth’s like fucking heaven.”

He doesn’t go fast. He’s not rough. But there’s a rhythm now—his cock slipping between your lips with soft, wet sounds, the kind that make his thighs tremble. His other hand clutches the edge of the couch. His head tilts back.

“Always so sweet for me,” he pants. “So perfect. Fuck—gonna cum if you keep looking at me like that.”

You blink up at him, lips stretched, cheeks hollowing, tongue teasing the sensitive underside. His eyes lock with yours—and he breaks.

“Baby, I—shit—”

His hips twitch. He cums with a stifled moan, warm and thick down your throat, his whole body curling forward as he shudders.

You swallow it all.

And lick your lips clean, softly moaning when you taste him.

He pulls you up into his lap, arms wrapping around you tightly.

“I missed you all day,” he whispers against your shoulder. “Didn’t stop thinking about this.”

You cradle his face, thumbs brushing his flushed cheeks. “Then let me give you more.”

You feel his cock start to harden again against your thigh.

And his hand moves to his belt—not to pull it on.

But to reach into the side pouch.

You know that sound. The soft metallic click.

Your pulse jumps.

“You wanna be my good girl tonight?” he asks softly, holding the cuffs up. His eyes flicker, hopeful and dark. “Wanna let me use these on you, baby?”

You nod, already breathless.

“Words,” he says, voice deepening.

“Yes,” you whisper. “Please, yes.”

He cuffs your wrists gently—behind your back, not too tight—and then spins you around.

“Bend over,” he murmurs, voice low in your ear. “Right there. Arms behind you. Good girl.”

You lean over the arm of the couch, cheek pressed to the cushion, breath catching in your throat. Your apron rides up. Your panties are soaked.

You hear the rustle of his pants dropping, feel the warmth of his hand smoothing over your ass before he pushes your underwear aside and drags his cock through your slick folds.

“Look at you,” he says with a breathy laugh. “Dripping for me already.”

“Geun-mo, please—”

He grips your hip with one hand and shoves in with one slow, thick stroke that makes you gasp.

“Fuck,” he groans. “So tight. Still not used to me, huh?”

You whimper, fingers flexing behind your back, the cuffs biting into your wrists in the best way.

He starts to move—deep, punishing thrusts, his hips slapping against your ass. One hand clenches your hip, the other grabs your bound wrists and uses them to yank you back into every thrust.

“You feel that, baby?” he growls. “Feel how deep I am?”

“Yes—yes—!”

“You like it when I come home and fuck you like this?” he pants. “Like you’re mine to use after a long shift?”

You nod frantically, choking on moans.

“Say it.”

“I’m yours,” you cry. “Yours to use, anytime—just need you—please don’t stop—”

“Good fucking girl,” he snarls, slamming into you harder, using your arms as leverage. You’re clenching around him, body trembling, crying out with every thrust.

He leans over you, his chest pressed to your back, breath hot against your ear.

“Gonna cum for me, sweetheart?” he whispers. “Let me feel you squeeze around my cock while I fill you up?”

That’s all it takes.

You shatter—back arching, mouth open in a silent scream, vision going white as you fall apart on him.

Geun-mo fucks you through it, cursing under his breath, thrusts erratic.

Then he groans—low, guttural—and spills inside you, hips jerking as he empties himself inside of you with a trembling groan.

After a long moment, he gently slips out of you and unhooks the cuffs.

Your wrists are red. He kisses each one softly, murmuring apologies even as you curl into his chest with a content sigh.

“You okay?” he whispers.

“Perfect.”

He carries you to the bedroom, wraps you in a blanket, presses soft kisses along your collarbone while your legs stay sticky and sore.

“Tomorrow,” he says, nuzzling your hair, “don’t get dressed. I want you waiting for me in that apron. Just the apron.”

You grin, flushed and sleepy.

“Yes, Officer.”

im giggling, i just started watching once upon a small town hes so fine

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