#jongho imagines

⊹₊⟡⋆ Jongho

You stormed up the stairs with great difficulty; the kitten heels you were once so excited to wear tonight soon made you regret ever buying them in the first place. Your heart hammered against your chest, the cosmopolitans from earlier burning through your veins and throwing off your balance. 

You slammed the bedroom door and collapsed onto the bed, chest still rising in ragged, hot breaths. If Jongho had any sense, he’d leave you here to fume and sleep on the couch for the night. You didn’t want to see his face, not after the stunt he pulled. The thought of sleeping alone in the big bed gave you brief comfort until you heard his steady footsteps climbing the stairs.

The door creaked open. He slipped in quietly, his eyes searching for yours, but you kept your gaze fixed on the floor. He lingered at the threshold before you and let out a slow sigh. You braced for the usual. His irritatingly calm lectures about how you were overreacting and being overly sensitive, how you’ve made a scene over nothing, and whatever bullshit he could spew to divert the issue back to you. But instead, he crossed the room and sank to his knees. You could feel his fingertips softly brushing against your ankle as he gently unbuckled the straps on your heels. 

You kicked his hands off you before turning your body away from him. “I can do it myself. I don’t need your help.” You said, your voice sharp like knives. 

He sighed again, finally growing tired of your attitude. “When are you going to stop acting like a child?” 

Your head whipped around. “A child?!” you spat. “When are you going to start acting like a grown-ass man?”

Jongho huffed, running a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. “I’m not the one throwing a tantrum over semantics. Seriously, Y/N, you’ve been acting like a brat all night and embarrassing me in front of all my work friends.” 

You rolled your eyes at the mention of them, those men who couldn’t keep their eyes off you, whispering and smirking about the younger woman on his arm. You already knew what they were thinking. A young, twenty-something woman getting involved with a wealthy man in his 40s? There was no way you were safe from rumors. “Oh, please. You were embarrassed by me the second we walked in.”

Jongho furrowed his brows. “What are you talking about?” 

You sat up, arms crossed tightly over your chest. “You introduced me as your girlfriend. Do you know how humiliating that sounds?”

He blinked at you, genuine confusion marking his features. “Well, aren’t you my girlfriend?”

You could feel the heat rising to your ears, ready to explode. “We’ve been together four years, Jongho. We live together. You’ve met my parents. I’m your emergency contact. ‘Girlfriend’ sounds so juvenile, so temporary, like a fling. People hear that and think we’re not serious, and I hate it. After everything, don’t you think I deserve to be called something more…mature? Partner, significant other, fiancé—”

You stopped yourself, cheeks burning as you felt Jongho’s wide eyes on you. You quickly looked away, cursing yourself for bringing up the F word. You knew Jongho was married before you met him. The divorce was messy, and it had done its damage. He never said it out loud, but you could tell his views on marriage had changed. Any time the topic came up, he’d shy away from it. 

“That’s what this is about?” He said, “You want to get married?” 

Your throat tightened. You’d imagined it countless times: walking toward him in a white dress, hearing him call you his wife. But suddenly the fantasy felt too heavy to admit.

“I don’t know,” you muttered. “I just don’t want people thinking I’m some college kid screwing her professor. Don’t you want us to be married one day?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, his hand brushed your ankle again. You watched as he slipped the heels from your swollen feet, lining them neatly to the side. “Your feet are so red,” he murmured, frowning as he rubbed the sore skin.

You yanked your leg back, anger flaring again. “You always change the subject whenever we talk about this.”

His face tightened with guilt. He hated having this conversation. He loved you, of course, he did. You had brought him back to life. Picked him back up and gave him a new purpose. He was forever grateful to you for that. But for the time being, he thought he was done with married life. Jongho struggled with commitment. He didn’t want to admit it, but he felt he’d curse you both if he proposed to you. Why ruin a good thing, anyway? What difference would marriage bring? You were together now, and that was all that mattered. But of course, he couldn’t tell you that. However, he still wanted to be honest. 

“Oh, Y/N,” he said softly, running a hand along your leg reassuringly. “I love you. You know I’m serious about us. I just…I need time. Ten years of marriage…it changes you. I don’t know if I can give you the answer you want right now. But if it’s about what I call you, partner works. I can do that.”

You remained quiet, unsatisfied with his response. Why was this so hard for him? Was marrying you really that terrifying? Did he have that little faith in what you two had built these past few years?

His hand squeezed gently at your thigh, pulling you from your thoughts. “Hey,” he said, voice low, almost pleading. “Please don’t be upset about this.”

When you didn’t respond, he leaned closer. Goosebumps prickled along your skin as his warm lips grazed your knee, then pressed another kiss, and another, each one drifting higher. You kept your gaze fixed on the ceiling, determined to ignore his gentle touches.

“My beloved…my darling…my muse…” he murmured between kisses, his mouth pausing at the soft skin of your inner thigh. Your chest rose in a shaky breath, but you forced yourself to stay composed, refusing to give in so easily, even as your core twitched at his touch.

“...my better half…my angel…my lover…my dream girl…”

Each word tugged at your restraint, pushing you closer to surrender. “Y-you’re not listening to me..” Your breathing got heavier, and despite your efforts to hide it, Jongho noticed. 

Giving up, you looked down at him, and the sight made your chest ache. Even with the faint wrinkles around his eyes and the etched lines at the corner of his mouth, he still had this cheeky, boyish charm that never failed to drive you crazy. 

“...jongho, please, I’m not in the-”

His other hand pressed against your thigh, coaxing it open as he gently spread you apart. He never looked down. His gaze stayed locked on yours as his fingers tugged your dress higher, the fabric pooling at your waist.

His head dipped, lips brushing the inside of your thigh with another lingering kiss, but his eyes never strayed. That steady stare made your pulse quicken more than the warmth of his mouth ever could.

“…my baby…my sweetheart…” he whispered against your soft skin. His lips curved into the faintest smile as he kissed you slowly again, and again. “Whatever you want,” he breathed, “I’ll call you whatever you want me to.”

He traced his finger over your clothed slit, stopping exactly where your nub waited for him. He moved them in agonizingly slow circles, forcing you to bite back a moan. You knew what he was doing. It was the classic Jongho move- touching you in ways he knew you liked, making you feel so good to the point that you forget you were ever mad at him. Each time, you tried your hardest to resist, but even now, your brain was fighting with your hips. 

Without thinking, you finally lost yourself, inching your hips closer to him and widening your legs ever so slightly. Jongho cracked a sly smile, pleased by how your body never denies him. His finger was now soaked with your juices, and he stayed focused on the wet patch staining your fabric. 

As he pressed just the right pressure onto your clit, your head fell back past your shoulders, and a soft sigh escaped your lips. “Baby…I want you to call me baby.”

You could hear him chuckling. “Baby,” he spoke softly, almost like he was pouting, “you’re so wet…what are we gonna do about this, hmm?”  

Jongho hooked a finger around your panties and pushed them to the side. His hot breath fanned over your exposed skin, making you buck your hips in anticipation. He pressed his hand on your thigh, locking you in place. “Hold on, baby, I just wanna look at it…”

Four years together, and you still felt shy in moments like this. “Jjongie, please,” you whined, cheeks burning from his gaze. Jongho ignored your sweet pleas. His fingers spread your puffy lips open ever so gently, watching your juices spill in awe. He massaged them slowly and with expert care, forcing a soft mewl out from your lips. You quivered once his tongue made contact, licking you in long, achingly slow drags that tested your patience. 

Just then, he pressed his thumb to your needy clit, pulling it taut as he worked his tongue faster inside of you. “Yes..y-yes..” you moaned, your voice getting shakier. You rested back on your elbows, watching him in awe as he devoured you. 

Jongho wanted to take his time with you. He could eat you out for hours just to make it up to you. It’s like he needed you to know how much you meant to him, especially since he was no good at expressing it to you in words during times like this. His lips found your now swollen nub, and he latched onto it tightly and sucked. You gasped at the suction, your hands reaching down to grab at his soft hair while anticipation filled your stomach. 

“You treat my pussy so good,” You blurted as you dissolved into pleasure. Jongho hummed at the comment, pressing soft kisses to your tender skin. He lifted his head once he was done, locking eyes with you. His lips glistened with your wet juices, a bit of drool dripping down to his chin. You chucked, reaching a hand out and wiping it away with the pad of your thumb. Jongho turned his head to kiss the side of your hand. 

“Come here,” You whispered with need laced in your voice. He obeyed and leaned in, leaving a trail of kisses from your lower stomach up to your nipples, finally meeting your lips. You eagerly licked his lips, tasting yourself on him. Caressing his strong arms, you moaned, feeling the contrast of their softness and firmness. He pulled you closer, embracing you tightly, and you melted into his chest.

Jongho shifted, lying back against the headboard, and pulled you into his lap. Your back rested against his warm chest as he nipped at your neck. He dragged his thick cock over your slit, and you reached down, grasping his length, pumping and rubbing him against your clit.

"Fuck, baby,” he hissed, enjoying the sight of your tiny hand around his big cock. You guided him into your entrance, watching as he filled you. A gasp escaped your lips at the stretch, and you paused to adjust.

You kissed him deeply, biting his lower lip as you rolled your hips. Jongho responded by spreading your thighs, opening you wide. He held onto your thighs and thrust his hips, fucking you hard and deep, making you dizzy with pleasure.

Throughout the night, you cried out his name over and over again. Jongho was determined to fuck you until you broke, and it seemed he was going to get what he wanted. “You’re so loud, baby,” He teased. “Like my cock this much?”

He could feel you getting closer. Your pussy clamped around him so tight, it would be seconds before you met your release. As your climax approached, you felt his fingers grasp your chin, forcing you to look at him. He crashed his lips onto yours, growling, “Yes, baby, cream on it, I need it."

Your breath hitched as you came. Your juices mixed and flowed down your leg. “Jongho!” you cried. He held your hips, slowly moving you up and down his length, milking every drop.

Breathing raggedly, he stared down at your joined bodies as your cum leaked, dripping down his big balls. He chuckled, swirling his fingers through the mixture and rubbing it on your clit. “You came so much. I guess you're not mad anymore?”

You were never easy on him.

“Again,” you snapped, arms crossed as Jongho’s chest rose and fell with shallow breaths. Sweat dripped from his temple, soaking through the thin black tank top clinging to his chest. “Your pop on eight is half a beat late. Fix it.”

He gave you a sharp glance through those dark lashes, jaw tight, chest heaving—but said nothing. Just nodded once, jaw flexing, and moved back to formation. Ever the obedient trainee. Ever the silent one.

You watched the set again from the speaker’s edge, eyes fixed on him. Precision in every move, powerful lines, and that body—taut, coiled, restrained. Jongho was never the flashiest, but he commanded attention. And you knew exactly how far to push him to bring it out.

“Better,” you murmured when the music stopped. “But not good enough.”

He rolled his neck, muscles rippling beneath sweat-slick skin. “Want me to bleed for it next time?”

Your brow arched. “If that’s what it takes.”

There it was—the flicker in his eyes. The tension that had been building all week. No, longer. Every time you corrected him. Every time you adjusted his hips or pressed his shoulders just so. Every time you praised the others louder than him. He soaked it all in like a sponge—and you knew, eventually, he’d snap.

Good.

That’s what you wanted.

You circled behind him slowly, your footsteps deliberate against the wooden floor. The air in the practice room was thick—humid with heat, layered with tension. The rest of the team had gone home hours ago. Just the two of you now.

“Reset from the chorus,” you said coolly, voice dipping low. “And this time… don’t hold back.”

You knew exactly what you were doing.

He moved into position, jaw tight, eyes flicking to the mirror to find your reflection. You didn’t smile. You just watched. Waited. Measured his restraint like a weapon.

The beat kicked in.

He danced like a storm—every move sharp and deliberate, muscle memory and frustration guiding him. There was something aggressive about the way he hit every count now. Not just following choreography. Challenging you.

You bit the inside of your cheek, resisting the shiver that crawled down your spine.

The track ended. Silence bloomed.

Jongho turned toward you slowly, chest heaving, lips parted.

“Well?” he asked, voice rough, just a little deeper than usual.

You tilted your head. “Still a fraction behind the beat at the end.”

The sound he made was soft. Almost a laugh. Almost.

And then—he stepped toward you.

Your breath caught.

“You’ve been riding me hard all week,” he murmured, wiping his jaw with the back of his hand. “Is that what you want? Me losing control? So you can say I broke?”

You stood your ground. “I want you to listen. To follow direction.”

He was in front of you now. Close. Too close.

“I’ve been listening,” he growled, voice dropping, heat pouring off him. “But maybe it’s time you learn to stop pushing.”

He stared at you like he was waiting for permission.

“You gonna do something, Jongho?” you murmured, chin tilted up, voice calm despite the thrum of your pulse. “Or are you just gonna stand there and breathe heavy until I dismiss you?”

His nostrils flared.

You smiled, slow and sharp.

“I know that look,” you said, voice like velvet laced with taunt. “You think you’re intimidating me? Please. I’ve handled bigger attitudes than yours.”

He leaned in slightly, just enough that his breath hit your lips. “That so?”

You nodded, cocky and cool, hands sliding up your own hips lazily. “Mm. You’re good—but you’re not irreplaceable. So unless you want to stop wasting my time, you better get your shit together and—”

His hand hit the mirror beside your head, hard enough to make the glass tremble. You didn’t flinch.

But oh… he didn’t move away either.

His eyes dropped to your mouth. His jaw ticked. That deep, low inhale came from somewhere in his chest.

“I’ve been letting you talk,” he said through clenched teeth. “Because I respect you.”

You licked your lips slowly, dragging it out, knowing he was watching every second.

“But if you think I’m just some rookie you can boss around without consequence…” he whispered, his voice dropping until it was barely audible, dangerous, “…you’re out of your damn mind.”

You tilted your head, smug.

“Oh, Jongho,” you said sweetly. “Is that a threat?”

Silence.

Then—

“No,” he said, voice thick. “It’s a fucking promise.”

And just like that, the dam cracked.

He reached for you—not gentle, not soft—hands gripping your thighs and lifting you clean off the ground like you weighed nothing. Your back slammed into the mirror again, legs spread around his waist as your breath hitched in surprise.

His mouth hovered over yours, lips barely brushing. “You’ve been begging for this,” he growled. “Every correction. Every insult. Every time you touched me like I wouldn’t notice.”

Your fingers curled into his shoulders, nails pressing against muscle.

And when you smirked again, cocky and challenging—

He snapped.

His mouth crashed into yours—hot, demanding, messy. Nothing soft, nothing sweet. Just pure frustration and weeks of tension unleashed. You moaned into him, hands fisting into his shirt, but he didn’t let you take control.

No, Jongho took.

His tongue pushed past your lips, teeth nipping at the corner of your mouth like he wanted to mark you. He pressed his body into yours, hard chest against your torso, caging you to the mirror while your legs locked around his waist.

When he pulled away, a string of spit connected your lips—and he smirked. Finally, that cocky look was on his face.

“You like being thrown around, huh?” he murmured, one hand gripping your thigh, the other slipping beneath your top, palm dragging slowly up your stomach. “So fuckin’ smug all the time. All that attitude.”

His thumb flicked your nipple, watching the way your body jolted.

“But look at you now.”

His hand moved down again, cupping between your thighs—pressing hard over the damp heat already soaking your shorts. His breath hitched when he felt it.

“You’re already wet?” he muttered, eyes dark with disbelief and something deeper. “Fucking knew it. Knew you were getting off on bossing me around.”

You tried to say something—tried to fire back—but all that came out was a gasp as he ground his palm into you, slow and punishing.

“Where’d that mouth go?” he asked low, voice rough as gravel. “All that shit you were talking. C’mon. Be a good coach and give me some notes.”

He dipped his head, lips dragging along your neck, tongue hot and slow as it traced up to your jaw. His teeth scraped skin, not hard enough to bite—but just enough to warn.

You whined, finally cracking.

That only made him grin wider.

“Thought so.”

He dropped you just enough to spin you around, pressing your chest to the mirror. Your breath fogged the glass, your nipples pebbled against the cool surface.

“Don’t move,” he growled behind you, tugging your shorts down inch by inch. His fingers dragged along your thighs, rough calluses scraping skin, before he grabbed your ass—spreading it, squeezing, groaning under his breath. “You’ve had this pretty little thing in front of me every day, thinking I wouldn’t touch?”

You braced your hands against the mirror, heart slamming in your chest.

“You wanted this. Wanted me like this.”

His fingers slipped between your legs, finally touching bare skin.

“Fuck,” he whispered. “You’re soaked. Dripping down your thighs.”

He rubbed slow circles, teasing, torturing. Never quite giving you what you needed. You pressed your hips back, but he stilled you with one arm around your waist.

“Not yet,” he breathed, lips brushing your ear. “I’m gonna take my time.”

Then—two fingers, thick and slow, pushed inside. The stretch was perfect, maddening, enough to make you cry out and bite your own lip against the sound.

He groaned behind you, low and raw. “That’s it,” he whispered, curling them just right. “Take it. Take all of it.”

“Jongho—fuck—please,” you gasped, forehead pressed against the mirror, voice broken and needy.

He laughed.

Not soft, not cruel—just dark amusement, the kind that laced his voice like honeyed poison.

“Aww,” he drawled, curling his fingers deeper inside you, slow and firm. “Now you know how to say please?”

You bucked your hips in response, desperate for more. But he didn’t move faster.

He didn’t need to.

“That the same mouth that told me I was replaceable?” he teased, pumping his fingers with deliberate control, eyes locked on your reflection. “Doesn’t sound so tough now, sweetheart.”

Your moans got louder as he hit that spot inside you again and again, slick sounds filling the room with every drag of his fingers.

“Listen to you,” he muttered, lips close to your ear. “You’re soaking my fucking hand, whining like a little slut. Bet the whole damn building could hear you if I let you scream.”

You turned your head to glare at him, eyes glassy and burning—but he loved that look. That mix of frustration and arousal, of wanting to fight but needing to cum so bad it hurt.

And he couldn’t help it—he kissed you again, filthy and deep, tongue tangling with yours as his fingers sped up, thumb circling your clit with ruthless rhythm.

You cried out into his mouth, and that broke something in him.

He pulled back just to watch you fall apart, lips swollen, chest heaving, legs trembling around his wrist.

“You’re gonna cum just like this?” he asked, mock surprise dripping from every word. “Not even my cock yet. You’re that fucking needy?”

You nodded, frantic, whining his name in pieces. “Please—please, let me—”

He chuckled low. “Oh, now you ask nice. Go ahead, then.”

His fingers fucked you harder, meaner, curling right into that sweet, unbearable spot. His other hand held your throat now—lightly, just pressure—keeping you right where he wanted you.

“Cum for me,” he whispered in your ear. “And then I’m gonna fuck you so deep, you forget how to boss anyone around.”

And you shattered.

Your moan was wild, guttural—head falling back, walls clenching around his fingers as heat bloomed through your whole body. You slumped, boneless, breath fogging the glass in front of you.

Jongho withdrew his fingers with a wet sound, admiring the slick coating them. “Look at this mess,” he muttered, licking one finger slowly while holding your gaze in the mirror. “And we’re just getting started.”

He stepped back just long enough to shove his sweats down, cock hard and heavy, flushed dark with need.

“You ready?” he asked, cocky but hungry now.

You nodded desperately.

He lined himself up, dragging the tip through your folds, teasing your oversensitive clit just to hear you gasp again.

“Oh no,” he said, leaning down to whisper with a wicked grin, “use that smart mouth, baby. Tell me you want it.”

You didn’t answer fast enough.

So Jongho slapped the head of his cock against your soaked folds—once, twice, hard enough to make you jolt.

“Use. Your. Fucking. Words,” he snarled, the usual softness in his tone completely gone now. “Beg for it, like the needy little thing you’ve been pretending not to be.”

You were panting, wrecked already, forehead still pressed to the mirror, lips parted and wet from his kiss. “Jongho… fuck me. Please. I need your cock—need it so bad.”

He hissed through his teeth, lining himself up and pushing in slow.

Thick. Hot. Fucking perfect.

You choked on your own moan as he split you open, inch by inch. No mercy. No rush. Just the heavy stretch of him filling you until your legs shook and your hands clawed at the mirror for something—anything—to hold on to.

“That’s it,” he groaned, hips rolling until he bottomed out. “Tight little cunt’s fuckin’ starving for cock, isn’t it?”

“Y-Yeah—fuck—you feel so—so big—”

He pulled out halfway and slammed back in, sharp and brutal, forcing a scream out of you.

“That too much?” he mocked, hips snapping into you, pace unrelenting. “But you were all mouth earlier. Thought you could take it?”

Your answer was a sob and a garbled whimper of his name.

He leaned over you again, teeth grazing your ear. “I’m gonna fuck that brat out of you, baby. Gonna make you cum on this cock until you forget how to talk back.”

His grip on your waist was bruising now, dragging you back onto every thrust like you were just a fucktoy built for this—meant to be used, meant to be ruined. His other hand snaked up your shirt, grabbing one of your tits, pinching your nipple so hard it made you jolt and clench around him.

“Fuck,” he groaned, voice all ragged heat. “This pussy’s choking me. Look at yourself, baby.”

You blinked at your reflection.

You were a mess—sweaty, flushed, hair ruined, mouth open in a permanent moan. Eyes glassy. Lips kiss-bruised. And your ass bouncing against his hips as he fucked you like he wanted to break you in half.

“God, you love this, don’t you?” he growled, slamming into you with a sharp thrust that made your knees buckle. “Fucked dumb on my cock, dripping all over me. Bet you wish I’d done this weeks ago.”

Your voice was high and fucked-out now. “More—please, Jongho, don’t stop—”

“Oh, you’re not getting me to stop,” he growled, one hand tangling in your hair to yank your head back, forcing your mouth open in a gasp. “You’re not done ‘til I say you’re done.”

He pulled out, and you whimpered in protest—only for him to flip you around, lift your leg over his shoulder, and thrust back into you with zero warning. You screamed his name this time, body jerking from the sheer force of it.

“Yeah,” he hissed. “That’s it. Scream for me. Let everyone fucking hear who’s wrecking you.”

He was so deep now it felt like he was in your throat, his hips grinding just right, balls slapping against you wetly with every thrust. Your nails dug into his arms, into his back, your moans hitting a higher pitch as the coil in your belly started to snap tight again.

“Shit—Jongho—I’m gonna—fuck, I’m gonna cum—”

“You better,” he growled, jaw clenched, sweat dripping down his neck. “You better fucking cream on my cock like you were made for it.”

He moved faster—meaner—grinding into that sweet spot with every thrust, fingers tight on your hip, until—

You exploded.

Your scream was guttural, back arching, whole body locking up as your pussy fluttered around his cock, squeezing him so tight he cursed and slammed in even harder.

“That’s it. Take it. Fuck, you’re so good for me when you’re like this,” he hissed, voice ragged. “Gonna fill you up, baby. You want that? Want my cum leaking outta you while you limp out of here?”

You nodded frantically, barely coherent, whining, “Please, cum in me—want it—need it—fuck, fill me up—”

That broke him.

With a strangled groan, Jongho buried himself deep, spilling inside you in hot, thick pulses that made your whole body tremble again. His teeth sank into your shoulder, muffling a groan as he emptied every drop into you, twitching with each breath.

He reached for your discarded shirt and wiped between your thighs carefully, almost reverently—though he paused to watch the way your pussy fluttered around nothing, his cum starting to drip out of you, sticky and glistening.

Fuck. His cock twitched.

Still… he took a breath, kissing your shoulder. “You did so good, baby.”

You whined at the praise, eyes fluttering shut as he pulled you into his arms, settling you gently on the hardwood floor of the dance practice room, where the only light came from the flickering ceiling panels and your fogged-up reflections on the mirrored wall.

Your head fell against his chest, breathing shallow, skin flushed and tacky from sweat. He cradled you for a moment, fingers dragging slow circles over your lower back, tracing invisible patterns while your muscles still twitched from aftershocks.

But then you felt it—pressing hot and heavy against your thigh.

“Again?” you asked, voice small and rough.

He didn’t answer right away. Just dragged his fingers up your spine, then tilted your chin with one hand, forcing you to look at him. His eyes were darker now—hooded, molten, possessive.

“Thought you were cocky,” he murmured. “Thought you could handle me.”

You blinked, heartbeat spiking.

His cock was hard again, throbbing against your leg. You hadn’t even processed your second orgasm and he was already teasing your entrance with the leaking tip, guiding it back to your still-sensitive folds.

“You gonna run your mouth again,” he asked, “or just moan like a good little slut this time?”

You bit his lip in answer.

And he fucking snapped.

Jongho flipped you over onto your stomach in one motion, dragging your hips up until you were on your knees, face pressed to the cool mirror wall, tits barely brushing the surface.

“You wanna act like a brat?” he growled, rubbing his cock between your folds again, smearing more of his cum and spit all over your slick pussy. “Fine. You get fucked like one.”

He shoved in without warning.

No teasing this time. Just a raw, deep thrust that punched the air out of your lungs, the stretch somehow more intense than before—like your walls had molded to him and were still trying to recover.

You let out a choked cry, face pressed to the glass, cheek streaking sweat against it.

Jongho leaned forward, chest flush to your back, lips right against your ear. “Look at you,” he murmured, taunting, thrusting slow but deep. “You thought you could tease me, play with me like I wouldn’t bite back.”

Another thrust. Harder.

“You forget who you're dealing with, baby?”

You tried to speak—tried to sass back—but your voice cracked on a moan as he fucked you deeper, angle perfect, cock dragging along your oversensitive walls with a rhythm that had you sobbing into the mirror.

“I said look,” he hissed.

He gripped your jaw, forcing your head up until you locked eyes with your reflection.

You looked ruined.

Mascara smudged. Lips red and spit-slick. Hair wild. Tits bouncing with every thrust. Your mouth fell open again in a helpless moan as Jongho slammed into you harder, hips snapping against the backs of your thighs.

“That’s what you look like,” he said low, “when I’m fucking the attitude out of you.”

You clenched around him at the words—tight—and he felt it.

“Oh? That get you off, sweetheart? Being put in your place?”

You didn’t answer. Couldn’t.

Your hands clawed at the mirror now, trying to ground yourself as he drilled into you, sweat dripping from both your bodies, the room filled with the sound of skin on skin and your wrecked little cries.

“Go on,” he growled, voice shaking now with restraint. “Cum again. Let me feel it.”

You came hard.

Tears slipped down your cheeks, your cunt milking him with rhythmic, desperate clenches as you collapsed forward, thighs trembling.

Jongho cursed under his breath—lost it—and chased his high right behind you.

He didn’t pull out.

Not this time.

He buried himself so deep you swore you could taste it, pumping you full again with low, rough groans, head buried in the crook of your neck.

You both stayed like that for a moment. Panting. Sweating. His cock twitching inside you, your bodies pressed together like you couldn’t bear to be apart.

And then his voice again, low and teasing near your ear:

“Still think I’m just the quiet one?”

Your body was boneless—sprawled across the cool floor of the dance room, limbs twitching, breath shallow. Jongho didn’t move.

Not even when your walls fluttered again around him.

He was still inside you.

Still thick, still heavy, still hard.

Your breath caught. “You’re… still—”

“Shh,” he whispered against your ear, hips barely shifting. “Don’t move.”

He kept you there, folded underneath him, both of you facing the mirror, sweat and slick smeared across your thighs. His cock nestled deep inside your pulsing cunt like it belonged there, twitching every time you clenched.

“You’re keeping me warm, baby,” he murmured, mouth brushing your shoulder as he licked at the bite mark he left earlier. “Look at you… so fucked out you can’t even sass me anymore.”

You whimpered, trying to shift your hips.

He gripped your thigh tighter.

“Did I say you could move?”

You whined, needy.

“Aw, you miss it already? I haven’t even pulled out yet, and you’re already aching again.”

His fingers trailed down your front, ghosting over your abused clit—but never quite touching it.

You writhed helplessly. “Please…”

He chuckled. Dark. Mean.

“Oh? You want more?”

You nodded weakly, lips parted.

“You sure?” His teeth grazed your jaw. “You’ve been crying, moaning, twitching all night. Thought you were gonna black out a minute ago.”

Still, you gave him that look—half-begging, half-starved.

He kissed you. Deep. Sweet. Dirty.

Then his hips rolled forward slowly, pressing deeper, dragging a moan from your throat that made his cock twitch again.

“Yeah,” he groaned, low and filthy. “That’s the sound I wanted. You can stay just like this. Stuffed full. Dripping. Mine.”

You buried your face into his shoulder, whimpering as he kept you filled to the brim, cock stretching you gently while your body clenched and fluttered without rhythm. Not fucking—just holding—but still so intimate and obscene you were shaking again.

“You’re not leaving this room until I say so,” he whispered, licking the shell of your ear. “Not until I’ve memorized how this pretty pussy feels wrapped around me.”

You shivered.

“Not until you cum one more time,” he added.

One more.

But he didn’t thrust.

Just rolled his hips slowly. Barely.

Enough to rub your clit against his pelvis with each motion. Enough to make you cry, overstimulated and desperate, body begging for release.

And you gave it to him. One last time.

A soft, shattered moan, legs trembling again as your cunt clenched and fluttered around him. You came with a gasp, biting down on his shoulder to muffle the sound, your whole body going limp under him.

He groaned—filthy, satisfied—and kissed your neck again.

“Good fucking girl,” he whispered.

And he didn’t pull out.

⋆˚࿔yunho

⋆˚࿔yeosang

⋆˚࿔san

⋆˚࿔mingi

⋆˚࿔wooyoung

⋆˚࿔jongho

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