#leenashiftss

Your shaky hand reached for the combination lock on your locker, “LOCKER 214.” You couldn’t help but to notice the figure that stared you down approximately 5 doors down. Park Sunghoon. He was always…how could you say it…mean. But in his own quiet, subtle way. If you wore your skirt too high he’d whisper “Slut” into your ear, if you wore it too low he’d laugh and call you a virgin.

Either way, he pissed you off.

As you twisted the correct combination in, the lock clicked, signaling that it was opened. You focused on your movements. Opening it slowly.

You can’t lie, even though he was the epitome of the devil himself, you always found yourself trying to be *perfect* for him.

Long looks in the mirror before you left, constant hair checks, your hands sliding over your school blazer nearly every other second.

You lived for his validation. He clouded your mind everywhere you went.

Anyway, as the hallway cleared your breath quickened as you realized that Sunghoon made no attempt to find himself in his next class.

Finally, the hallways went silent, classes starting and only you two left behind in the white-painted corridor.

You kept your locker door open as you heard his slam shut, followed by his slow, careful footsteps that seemed to be coming closer, and closer, and clo-

“You don’t recognize me today, mousey?”

You froze, the metal of your locker suddenly cold against your fingertips. His voice came out low, teasing. Ghosting against your neck even though he was still a few steps away. You swallowed hard before turning your head slightly, catching his reflection in the small rectangular mirror taped inside your locker door.

He was closer now, really close. It made your pulse skip and your lungs forget what they were made to do.

“I just didn’t think you’d still be here,” you managed, trying to sound annoyed instead of flustered.

Sunghoon tilted his head, the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You didn’t answer my question though.”

You slammed your locker shut, the sound echoing down the empty hall. “What do you want?”

He didn’t flinch. If anything, he looked amused. His eyes dragged down your figure, memorizing every curve.

“Funny,” he said, stepping closer until you had to tilt your chin up to keep eye contact. “You only talk to me when everyone’s gone.”

“N..No..That’s not—”

“True?” He leaned in, voice a whisper now. “Oh yeah? Then show me the balls that Little Mousey surprisingly grew.”

Your breath caught as he brushed past you, his shoulder grazing yours just enough to make your stomach twist. He stopped a few feet away, turning toward the door at the end of the hall, the empty classroom the janitor never locked.

He didn’t even have to say it. You both already knew.

He glanced over his shoulder, dark eyes meeting yours. “Come on then, mousey. Don’t make me wait, yeah?”

And just like that, your feet betrayed you, scurrying you after him before your mind could catch up, following him into the private barriers.

Soon, he pressed the door closed scarily gently before his cold, dark eyes locked with yours again.

You flushed, curling your hands into fists.

“W..Why are we here-“ you were cut off.

Cut off by Sunghoon wrapping his slender fingers around your throat, cutting off just enough air to make you reach up and grab at his hand.

He pushed you back until the back of your knees pressed against the teachers desk, the name tag still there.

"Look at me," he growled, low and dangerous. Your eyes snapped to his, wide with terror, meeting his dark, glittering gaze inches away.

He loosened his grip just enough for a ragged, desperate inhale.

"Good," he purred, the praise a sharp contrast to the crushing pressure returning instantly.

“God, I fucking hate you.”

He freed your throat, his hands yanked down your skirt along with his pants, fingers biting into your thigh.

He didn't kiss you, he didn't touch you gently. He turned you around, pressing your front into the desk. Your cheek harshly pressing against the polished wood.

Even though it wasn’t necessarily needed, there was no warning, no foreplay.

Sunghoon pressed into you. Rough, but slow, making you feel every ridge and vein that his cock held.

A choked cry tore from your throat, sharp, involuntary, echoing off the dusty chalkboards. Sunghoon’s hand clamped over your mouth instantly, muffling the sound into a desperate whimper against his palm. His other hand returned to your throat, fingers digging in with brutal precision.

Your eyes flew wide, pupils dilating in pure panic. You trembled against him, a frantic, useless struggle.

His hips slammed forward, relentless, pinning you to the desk.

"Shut the fuck—," he hissed, his breath hot and harsh against your ear. "Be quiet." The pressure on your throat intensified. Your vision swam, dark spots dancing at the edges. Your frantic struggles weakened, limbs growing heavy. Your eyes rolled back slightly, fluttering shut as consciousness began to slip.

Sunghoon watched your eyelids flutter, the frantic pulse under his fingers slowing dangerously. He saw the slackness creeping into your jaw beneath his palm, the subtle way your body started to go limp against the desk.

He held you there, suspended on that terrifying edge, feeling your throat constrict under his grip, hearing the awful, wet gasp trapped against his hand.

For a heartbeat, he let you hang, poised in that suffocating darkness. Then, abruptly, he released your throat and mouth.

Air rushed back in with a ragged, shuddering gasp that ripped through the silence.

You sagged against him, choking, trembling violently, vision slowly clearing to see his face hovering above yours, utterly focused, utterly devoid of mercy.

"There," he breathed, his voice rough, his hips never stopping their punishing rhythm. "See? You can breathe when I let you." His thumb brushed the wetness gathering at the corner of your eye.

"Only when I fucking let you."

His thrusts shifted, angling deeper, harder, finding a spot inside you that made your entire body jerk. A broken whimper escaped your lips, high and thin.

“Y-Yes~” you mewled softly.

He growled low in his chest, the sound vibrating through you. "That’s it," he snarled, fingers biting into your hips as he drove into that spot relentlessly. "Keep making that noise."

Each brutal snap of his hips sent shockwaves through you, building a terrifying pressure low in your belly, coiling tighter and tighter despite the fear, despite the hate.

Your whimpers became a desperate, keening whine, muffled against his shoulder as you instinctively clung to him, nails digging into his uniform jacket.

Your legs shook uncontrollably. The pressure crested, unbearable, impossible to contain, and then it shattered. You convulsed violently against him, a silent scream caught in your throat as your pussy clenched hard around his cock, soaking him, soaking the skirt beneath you two.

A gush of wet heat pulsed between your bodies.

Sunghoon froze mid thrust. He felt the hot flood, saw the way your entire body seized and trembled uncontrollably beneath him. His dark eyes widened fractionally, pupils blown. "Oh, fuck," he hissed, the words raw and startled, ripped from him. He pulled out abruptly, his thick cock glistening wetly in the dim light. Your legs gave way completely, sliding down the desk edge until your knees hit the cold floor. You slumped forward, forehead pressed against the wooden leg, trembling violently, gasping, slick thighs trembling, the scent of your release sharp in the dusty air.

He stared down at you, panting, his chest heaving, his expression shifting from shock to something darker, hungrier.

His gaze locked onto your exposed pussy, glistening and swollen, coated with your own slick.

He didn't hesitate. His fist wrapped around his cock, already slick with your wetness. He stroked himself hard, fast, his knuckles white, gaze fixed on the mess he’d made of you.

The sound was obscene, the wet slap of his hand, your ragged breathing, the faint buzz of the hallway lights filtering through the door. His breath hitched, a guttural groan escaping him as his hips jerked erratically.

A moment later, thick ropes of hot cum spattered across your trembling body, painting white streaks over your flushed skin. He shuddered, head thrown back, the cords in his neck standing taut. Silence fell, heavy and thick, broken only by his harsh breathing and your choked, trembling gasps against the cold metal.

He looked down at you, crumpled on the floor beneath him, covered in his release and your own.

A slow, cruel smirk touched his lips. "Pathetic," he breathed, the word echoing in the stillness. He tucked himself back into his pants, not bothering to clean himself. "Clean yourself up." He turned towards the door, leaving you shaking on the dusty floor.

“I-I love you…” you whimpered with all the strength that you had left.

Sunghoon stopped in his tracks, slowly looking over his shoulder, his side profile on full display.

A beat passed. A cold, dead silence.

"Don't be late for class."

The coffee shop bell jangled too loud for nine AM. "Seriously, Jake?" You raised an eyebrow at the bulky paper bag he shoved onto the table. "Did you buy out the entire pastry case?”

Jake grinned, that wide, uncomplicated smile that always seemed to catch the light. He nudged the bag closer, the crinkling paper loud against the quiet hum of the shop. "Gotta fuel up," he said, pulling out a cinnamon roll dripping with icing. "Big plans today." He took a messy bite, flakes of pastry sticking to his chin.

You leaned back in the worn wicker chair, stirring your lukewarm coffee. "Big plans involving…?" you prompted, eyeing the bag’s sheer size. Jake swallowed hard, wiping sugar glaze from his lips with the back of his hand. His eyes darted around the nearly empty café before settling back on you, bright with that familiar, eager intensity. He lowered his voice, leaning in conspiratorially. "Okay, don’t freak out," he started, a flush creeping up his neck. "But I… got something. For tonight." His fingers drummed nervously on the tabletop.

He rummaged in the paper bag, pushing aside croissants and muffins with undue haste. For a heart-stopping second, you thought he might pull out something obscene right there amidst the crumbs. Instead, his hand emerged clutching a small, sleek black box, velvet and unmistakably jewelry-like. Your eyebrows shot up. "Jake, if that’s a ring, I swear—“

"No! God, no," he interrupted, laughing too loudly, drawing a glance from the barista. He flipped the box open with trembling fingers. Nestled inside wasn’t a diamond, but thick, gleaming black leather. A collar. Wide, sturdy, with a heavy steel D-ring at the front. The leather looked expensive, supple. "See?" Jake whispered, his voice thick with anticipation and vulnerability. "It’s… for me." He traced the cool metal ring with a fingertip, his gaze flicking up to yours, searching, hopeful. "Thought maybe… you could try it on me?" The unspoken question hung heavy between you.

The café sounds faded, the hiss of the espresso machine, the clink of cups, replaced by the frantic pulse in your ears. You stared at the collar, then at Jake’s earnest, flushed face. That golden-retriever eagerness was layered now with something hotter, darker, a raw need laid bare. He wasn’t just asking for fun; he was offering submission, a vulnerability that tightened your throat. You reached out slowly, your fingers brushing the cool leather. It felt substantial, real. "Tonight?" you asked, your own voice sounding unfamiliar, lower than usual. Jake nodded vigorously, a strand of his messy hair falling into his eyes. "Yeah. Yeah. And… maybe," he swallowed again, leaning even closer, his breath warm against your cheek, "maybe you could… tell me what to do? Like… like I'm yours?" The sheer intensity in his whisper sent a jolt straight down your spine.

You snapped the box shut abruptly, the sharp click startling him. His hopeful expression faltered for a split second. "Not here," you murmured, sliding the box into your own bag. The sudden possessiveness surprised you. This wasn't just a toy; it was a claim. Jake watched the movement, a slow, relieved smile spreading across his face, brighter than before. He understood. The bag of pastries lay forgotten as he leaned back, radiating a new kind of energy, coiled anticipation mixed with pure, unadulterated devotion. He picked up his mangled cinnamon roll, taking another large bite, his eyes never leaving yours, shining with absolute certainty. He knew the answer was yes:

The walk home felt charged, the air thick with unspoken promises. Jake stayed close, his shoulder brushing yours, radiating warmth. Every glance exchanged carried the weight of the velvet box nestled in your bag. He didn't chatter; his usual boundless energy was focused, simmering beneath the surface. Instead, his fingers occasionally brushed yours, a brief, electric contact that spoke volumes. You could almost feel the phantom weight of the collar against his throat, the imagined heat of his skin beneath your hand. The familiar streets seemed unfamiliar, transformed by the secret you both carried.

Inside your apartment, the door clicked shut, sealing you in sudden, potent silence. Jake dropped his jacket on the floor, his movements deliberate now, shedding the casualness of the café. He turned to face you, leaning back against the door, blocking the exit. The playful puppy was gone, replaced by something primal, watchful. His gaze held yours, intense and unwavering. "Show me," he breathed, the words barely audible but echoing in the quiet room. He didn't move towards the bag. He waited. Commanded, silently, by his own submission. The air crackled. It was time.

You didn't hesitate. The black velvet box felt heavy, significant, as you pulled it from your bag. Flipping it open, the collar gleamed under the soft lamplight, stark, masculine leather against the plush lining. Jake’s eyes locked onto it, his chest rising and falling faster. You stepped closer, the scent of cinnamon and coffee still clinging faintly to him, mingling with the sharp, clean smell of new leather. Your fingers touched the cool buckle. "Kneel," you said, your voice low, steady. The single word hung between you, a test, a threshold.

He moved instantly, smoothly, sinking down onto his knees before you without a sound. His head bowed slightly, exposing the strong line of his throat. The trust was absolute, breathtaking. You lifted the collar, the leather supple against your fingertips. The faint rasp of the buckle tightening, the solid click of the clasp securing, the sounds were shockingly loud in the stillness. You felt the tremor run through him as the cool band settled firmly against his skin. His breath hitched, a soft, sharp intake. You ran a thumb over the steel D-ring, cool and smooth. His gaze lifted, pupils wide and dark, fixed on your face. Utterly claimed.

"Good boy," you murmured. The words ignited him. A low groan escaped his lips, raw and needy. His hands, which had been resting loosely on his thighs, clenched into fists. He leaned forward instinctively, pressing his forehead against your thigh, seeking contact, reassurance, dominance. The heat of his skin burned through the fabric of your pants. The collar wasn’t just leather and metal anymore; it was a conduit, a symbol crackling with the raw current of his surrender and your control.

You traced the D-ring again, a deliberate, possessive stroke. "Tell me what you want." Your voice was quiet steel. His eyes snapped up, blazing with desperate honesty. "Everything," he rasped, the word rough, stripped bare. "Yours. Only yours. Use me." His breath came faster now, shallow puffs against your leg. The vulnerability was staggering, layered beneath the intense physicality of him kneeling. He shifted slightly, a restless movement betraying the hunger coiling tight within him. He wasn't just waiting; he was offering, his strength, his obedience, his very breath.

A slow smile touched your lips. Possession settled deep, warm and undeniable. You slid your fingers beneath the collar, feeling the frantic pulse hammering against his throat, the slickness of sweat starting to bead on his skin. The leather felt alive against his neck, binding him to you. "Show me how much," you commanded, stepping back just enough to break contact. The loss made him shudder. His gaze locked onto yours, fierce and pleading, a silent plea for connection, for direction.

You hooked your thumbs into the waistband of your pants and underwear, pushing them down your hips in one fluid motion. They pooled around your ankles. You stepped out, leaving them discarded on the floor. The cool air kissed your skin, but the heat radiating from Jake, kneeling bare-kneed on the hardwood, was a furnace. "Up," you ordered, nodding slightly. "Show me."

He surged forward instantly, rising onto his knees, pressing his face eagerly against the apex of your thighs. His breath was hot, humid, against your core. The first touch of his tongue, broad and insistent, dragged a gasp from your lips. He didn't tease. He dove in, licking deep, hungry, his nose buried against you. His hands found your hips, fingers digging in, anchoring you against the relentless pressure of his mouth. He groaned into you, the vibration a delicious shockwave that made your knees tremble. He ate you like a man starved, tongue swirling, probing, sucking, each movement deliberate, worshipful, utterly focused on drawing sounds from you, on making you tremble. Pleasure coiled tight, hot and urgent, building far too fast.

Panic flared, sweet, sharp panic. You tried to pull back, needing a breath, needing control. "Jake... wait..." Your hands pushed against his broad shoulders. But he growled, low and possessive, his grip on your hips tightening like steel bands. He surged upwards, pressing his face harder against you, refusing to let you retreat. His tongue worked faster, deeper, relentless. You stumbled backwards, trying to wrench away, but the force only propelled you backwards. Your calves hit the edge of the low couch behind you. Off-balance, you fell backwards onto the soft cushions with a soft *oomph*. Before you could even register the shift, Jake was on you. He followed you down, pinning your hips to the couch, burying his face between your thighs again with renewed ferocity. His hands slid under your thighs, lifting them, spreading you wider, giving him deeper access. His tongue plunged, relentless, a masterful rhythm that chased the peak he'd already driven you towards. The orgasm ripped through you, sharp and blinding, arching your back off the cushions. A cry tore from your throat, ragged and loud in the sudden stillness. He didn't stop. He rode the waves of your climax, tongue flickering, sucking gently now, drawing out every last shuddering pulse until you collapsed back onto the couch, boneless and gasping.

He finally lifted his head. His chin glistened. His eyes, dark and heavy-lidded, met yours above the flushed skin of your thighs. He didn't speak. He didn't need to. The collar stood stark against his throat, the D-ring catching the lamplight. He simply rested his cheek against your trembling thigh, breathing heavily, pressing soft, damp kisses to your skin. The utter contentment radiating from him, the absolute devotion in his posture, kneeling beside the couch now, face pressed against your leg, was as potent as the climax itself. He was yours. Completely. And he wasn't done. Not even close. His fingers traced idle, possessive patterns on your hip.

"Up," you breathed, your voice still shaky but laced with command. You hooked a finger under the D-ring, pulling gently. "Now." A low growl rumbled in his chest, pure instinct, primal approval. He surged onto the couch, knees bracketing your hips, his weight settling over you. His hands gripped your wrists, pinning them above your head against the cushions. His eyes burned into yours, pupils blown wide, lips parted, saliva slicking his chin. The scent of your arousal clung thickly to him. "Fuck me," you demanded, arching up against him.

He didn't hesitate. A feral sound tore from his throat. He fumbled with his jeans, shoving them down his hips just enough. There was no preamble, no gentle slide. He slammed into you, hard and deep, a single, brutal thrust that punched the air from your lungs. “Yours!" he gasped, the word ragged, desperate. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, panting hot, wet breaths against your skin. His hips pistoned, his cock driving into you with relentless, pounding force. Every thrust was punctuated by a sharp grunt, a wet slap of skin, the frantic scrape of his jeans against your thighs. He moved with raw, untamed hunger, chasing his own peak with the same fierce intensity he’d chased yours. Drool dripped from his slack jaw onto your collarbone. "Feel it... feel me... gonna fill you..." he rasped between ragged breaths, his hips snapping faster, harder. "Gonna give you... my knot... my pups..."

The friction was brutal, overwhelming. You wrapped your legs around his waist, heels digging into his ass, urging him deeper, harder. "Yes!" you cried out, nails scraping down his sweat-slicked back. "Give it to me!" Each word spurred him on.

His rhythm became frantic, erratic. His panting turned into sharp, desperate whines. His body tensed, coiled impossibly tight above you. His thrusts lost their rhythm, becoming shallow, frantic jerks. He lifted his head, eyes wild, unfocused, locked onto yours. A guttural groan ripped from his chest, raw and primal. He slammed deep, *deep* and held, shuddering violently. You felt the hot pulse deep inside, the thick, his hot nut filling you to the brim. His jaw went slack, a choked cry escaping as he collapsed onto you, trembling uncontrollably, utterly spent. His breath came in ragged, wet gasps against your neck. He was locked. Seated. Claimed. "Good boy," you whispered, your fingers tangling in his sweat-damp hair. "So, so good." A low, satisfied rumble vibrated deep in his chest. He nuzzled blindly against your throat, utterly claimed, utterly sated.

The stillness was thick, heavy with the scent of sex and sweat. Jake lay slumped atop you, a solid, comforting weight, his breathing gradually slowing. His face remained buried against your neck, his lips occasionally brushing your skin in lazy, drowsy kisses. His knot held firm, anchoring him deep inside you. A profound sense of peace radiated from him, a golden retriever contentment amplified tenfold by the collar still snug around his throat. Your fingers traced its edge, feeling the damp leather, the cool metal ring. His sigh was pure bliss. "Yours," he mumbled, the word thick with sleep and utter conviction. His hand slid possessively over your hip, fingers splaying across your belly as if already guarding what he'd planted there.

Too soon, the peace fractured. You shifted slightly, trying to ease the growing ache of overstimulation. The subtle movement sent a fresh jolt through your sensitive nerves. A whimper escaped you. Instantly, Jake tensed. His head lifted, eyes snapping open, instantly alert despite his exhaustion. The haze of satisfaction vanished, replaced by fierce, focused intensity. He felt your flinch, the involuntary clench around him still buried deep. His nostrils flared. Possession flared in his eyes, dark and primal. He growled, low and dangerous, pressing you deeper into the cushions. His hips gave one deliberate, grinding thrust against your tender flesh. "Mine," he rasped, his voice rough with renewed hunger. "Not done." His hand slid down, fingers finding your swollen clit, pressing hard, relentless. Your cry was half pain and half pleasure. He watched your face, captivated by every flinch, every gasp. "Gotta make sure it takes," he breathed, his thumb circling with brutal precision. "Gotta breed you full." His hips began a slow, deep grind against yours, his knot still firmly seated, pulling another sharp gasp from your lips. The overstimulation was a live wire, agony and ecstasy twisting together. He leaned down, capturing your mouth in a fierce, claiming kiss, swallowing your moans. He wasn't asking. He was ensuring his claim held.

His movements grew more purposeful, less frantic but no less demanding. He rocked into you with deep, grinding strokes, each one dragging against swollen, hypersensitive nerves. The pain was sharp, bright, but layered beneath it was a deeper, more insistent thrum of pleasure, forced into existence by his sheer, unwavering persistence. His thumb never ceased its tormenting circles on your clit, relentless pressure building a new peak against your will. Your hands scrabbled weakly against his sweat-slicked shoulders, trying to push him away, trying to pull him closer. Tears pricked your eyes. He saw them, growled approval, and pressed harder. "That's it," he murmured against your lips, his breath hot. "Take it. Take *me*. All of me." His hips snapped harder, driving his nut impossibly deeper. The friction ignited a wildfire inside you. The second climax tore through you violently, a blinding detonation of sensation that ripped a raw, ragged scream from your throat. Your body arched off the couch, muscles locking rigid beneath him. He held you down, pinning you through the convulsions, grinding relentlessly against your pulsing core, milking every last shuddering spasm until you collapsed, utterly shattered.

He finally eased his touch, his hand sliding possessively over your trembling belly. He held himself still, buried deep, letting you ride the aftershocks. His own breath was heavy, labored. Sweat dripped from his brow onto your chest. He lifted his head, gazing down at you with eyes glazed with satisfaction and something deeper, fiercer, primal triumph. He traced the collar’s edge with a fingertip, then pressed his palm flat against your lower abdomen. "Deep," he murmured, his voice thick with reverence. "Put it deep inside. Where it belongs." He leaned down, pressing a soft, claiming kiss just below your collarbone. "Gonna swell you up." His tongue flicked out, tasting sweat and salt and the lingering musk of sex. "Gonna watch you grow round with my pups." The possessiveness in his whisper sent a fresh tremor through your spent body. He settled his cheek against your belly, listening, breathing you in. He made no move to withdraw. His weight remained, a warm, heavy anchor. His eyelids drifted shut again, contentment radiating from him in waves. The silence returned, deeper now, thick with the scent of exertion and completion. He nuzzled your skin. "Good?" he mumbled, the word slurred with impending sleep.

Only one wrong look in the mirror. You gave yourself a disgusted grimace. Your reflection stared back at you as you pinched at your belly, your thighs, every flaw you could point out, every bit of softness you swore didn’t belong.

The door opened behind you with a soft click.

“Hey baby, I got the cookies ‘n’ cream—” Jungwon’s voice was light at first, but it faltered the second he caught sight of you. His steps slowed, ice cream forgotten in his hand. “… what are you doing?”

You didn’t answer. The lump in your throat burned too much to speak.

“Don’t think about yourself like that.” His tone darkened, not with anger at you, but at the way you were tearing yourself apart.

Before you could retreat, his arms were around your waist, spinning you away from the mirror. He kissed your jaw, your temple, his hands gripping your hips firmly.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured against your skin. “You don’t even see it.”

His mouth trailed to your neck, warm and insistent. The shift was dizzying: one moment your stomach was a pit of self-loathing, the next his body was pressed flush to yours, grounding you in his touch.

“I’ll show you.”

That’s how you ended up here.

Your face pressed into the mattress, your cheek catching the faint scent of laundry detergent and his natural scent. Jungwon’s hand pinned the back of your neck, his hips snapping forward again and again, filling you to the hilt. His cock dragged against your velvet walls, squelching noises filling the room. The air left your lungs in staggered gasps.

“Look at you…” his voice was a low growl in your ear. “Fucking perfect, love. This body? Mine, beautiful. All of it.”

Every word drove his thrusts deeper, and deeper. Your fingers curled in the sheets, nails scraping. His other hand slid down, rubbing at your clit until you were trembling.

“Say it,” he demanded softly, breath hot at your ear. “Say you’re beautiful.”

“I—” the sound broke out of you as a whimper.

He stilled for half a second, pushing in deep, his mushroom tip teasing your cervix. His palm pressed down on your lower back to arch you further. “Say it.”

“I’m…,” you whimpered, “I-I can’t~”

“Oh, yeah?” His hips rolled in slow, deep circles. “Fucking wish you could see how pretty you look right now..” his lips pressed together, making his dimple prominent.

Fat, hot tears rolled down your plump cheeks, from both the pleasure and the situation.

“I’m so sorry,” you whimpered.

“My gorgeous girl.” His voice cracked into a praise-laced moan. He pulled out just long enough to hook his arms over your tummy and drag you up. Your knees nearly gave, but he hauled you easily against his chest, carrying you the few steps to the mirror.

He pressed you front-first against the freezing glass, his chest the opposite, warm at your back, cock sliding back into you in one hard thrust.

“F-Fuck!” You wail out, your eyes tightly shutting closed.

Jungwon panted into your ear, his warm breath tickling against your skin.

“Nu uh, look.”

Your eyes opened, but darted away from the reflection, but his hand caught your chin, holding your gaze. “No. Look. Look at how good you take me. Look how tempting you are.”

The sight made your knees tremble, his hands gripping you, your flushed face, your lips parted, the way your body swallowed him whole. His words tumbled against your ear as he fucked you slow and deep, each thrust laced with praise.

“Fucking perfect.”

“Beautiful.”

“My baby.”

“Say it back,” he murmured. “Say what I say.”

You whimper loudly, feeling your orgasm build up in your core.

“I’m…I’m perfect… I’m b-beautiful… I’m—“ you echoed, voice breaking, but the tears this time weren’t from self pity.

“You got this baby, come on.” He encouraged, his thrusts becoming sloppier and erratic. You knew he was close.

Your eyes meet his inside the mirror, you whine as you both hold contact.

“I’m yours, Won.”

“That’s right. That’s my good girl.”

He angled his hips and you shattered around him, the mirror fogging with your breath as you cried out. Jungwon held you there, whispering praise into you.

“Fuh-Fuck, baby. I’m cumming inside this tight hole, can I?”

You nod enthusiastically, practically yearning for his cum.

“S-shit..” Jungwon whimpered, digging his face into the crook of your neck. His teeth pressed into your sweet spot, drawing a bit of blood that he quickly lapped up. His strokes became long and deep as he spilled into you.

The two of you stayed like that for a long while. His arms around you, your heart slowing back into rhythm, the mirror fogged slightly from your breaths.

He pressed a kiss to your shoulder, his voice softer now, almost a sigh.

“My girl.”

When you finally turned to face him, he brushed your tears away with his thumb.

You and Jay were coming back from his business event. Furious didn’t even begin to cover it. His hand clenched around the steering wheel, veins raised, knuckles pale. The hum of the engine filled the silence as he weaved through traffic, every sharp turn a reflection of his mood.

You gripped your seatbelt, hair whipping against your cheek. “J-Jay… slow dow—”

“Shut the fuck up.”

The words cut through you. You froze. You’d pushed him tonight and you knew it.

All evening, he’d been composed, perfect. A tailored suit and a half-smile that made everyone perk up and listen. Whiskey in hand, power in posture. Jay knew how to own a room. But you wanted to remind him that you could too.

You’d laughed a little too loudly at another man’s joke. Leaned in too close when someone complimented your dress, letting your neckline dip just enough to catch Jay’s eye from across the table. You’d ignored the warning touch on your thigh under the table, the tightening of his fingers, the quiet command in his glance.

He hadn’t said a word. Not then. But that look, that calm, lethal promise, had been enough.

Now, hours later, his silence pressed heavier than any shout. The echo of your own laughter felt like a mistake still hanging in the air.

When he finally turned into the driveway, the tires crunched against gravel, loud in the thick quiet. He sat there for a long moment, jaw flexing, eyes on nothing. Then he spoke, low and rough

“Inside.”

You hesitated. “Jay, wait, I—”

“Now.”

Your breath caught. You opened the door and stepped out slowly, each step toward the front door deliberate, cautious. You didn’t dare look back.

But before you could reach the porch, a hand caught your arm. Firm and unyielding. He pulled you back against the solid heat of his chest.

His breath brushed your ear. “You know what’s gonna happen, yeah?”

Your answer came out as a soft, broken sound. A whimper more than a word.

That was all he needed. In one fluid motion, he lifted you, throwing you over his shoulder like you weighed nothing.

A startled yelp slipped from your lips as his grip tightened on the back of your thigh. He carried you inside, kicking the door shut behind him. The echo of it closing rolled through the house.

He didn’t even make it to the bedroom. His restraint had already burned away miles ago.

He stopped in the middle of the living room, your breath catching as he set you down on your feet, though his hand never left your arm. His grip wasn’t rough, but it carried weight.

The silence stretched, only broken by the faint ticking of the clock and the uneven rhythm of your breathing. He was still in his suit, the crisp white of his shirt now wrinkled, his tie loosened halfway down his chest. His eyes lingered on you, unreadable, dark, and far too calm for how fast your pulse was racing.

“Tell me,” he said finally, voice low. “What were you thinking tonight, Bun?”

The nickname made you flinch, it sounded like an underlying threat rolling from his tongue. You looked up at him, searching for the right answer, but his expression gave nothing away. There was no anger now, just that terrifying quiet that meant he’d moved past it, into something colder.

“I… I was just—”

“Just what, hmm?” He stepped closer, forcing you to tilt your chin up. “Testing me?”

The way he said it, steady and deliberate, made your stomach twist. You couldn’t meet his eyes. His fingers brushed your chin, tilting it back toward him until you had no choice but to look.

He studied you for a long moment, his thumb grazing the corner of your mouth as if tracing the echo of your earlier smile. “You like attention, don’t you?”

Your breath hitched. You could feel the heat of him, close enough to touch, but still holding back. The restraint in his posture made the moment heavier, almost unbearable.

“I warned you once,” he murmured. “But you love to see how far you can go.”

He let go, stepping back just enough that the space between you felt charged, magnetic. You stood there, hands trembling slightly, the back of your neck warm under the weight of his gaze.

Jay exhaled slowly, the tension easing from his shoulders, but not from the air. “Go upstairs,” he said. “And wait just how I like you.”

You swallowed hard. There was no sharpness in his voice this time, only quiet certainty that made your pulse quicken.

You turned, moving toward the stairs. Each step creaked softly underfoot, your mind spinning with everything that hadn’t been said, everything that still hung in the air.

Behind you, you could feel his eyes on your back. Watching. Thinking. Deciding.

And as you disappeared up the stairs, you knew, whatever came next wouldn’t be loud, or cruel, or rushed. It would be deliberate, controlled.

Jay blew out a breath, turning around and pouring himself another shot of whiskey before downing it entirely. He made his way upstairs, giving you more than enough time to position yourself correctly.

Sure enough, when Jay walked through the door, you laid on the sheets. Completely naked, ass in the air, and slightly trembling from the anticipation.

Behind you, you could hear Jay’s belt buckle being fiddled with before it was nothing but pure silence.

It confused you. Your eyebrows furrowed together but you knew better than to look back.

“J-Jay..What’s goin—“ you were cut off with a strike to both of your ass cheeks. You deeply gasp, your fingers gripping the sheets beneath you.

“JAY!” You whine out, completely understanding now what the punishment was that he planned.

Jay held the belt in his hand, his favorite one, that may be. He slowly trailed the belt along your back, slowly. He teased you, knowing that it drove you nearly insane.

“Such a bad slut, hm?” He said, more than a question than a statement.

Before you knew it, another strike had came down on your ass. Causing you to jolt forward, nearly tummy-flopping on the mattress beneath you. That didn’t last long, Jay pulled you by your hips back to your original position.

“Listen, you’re gonna fucking count. Count how many times I whip this pretty little ass of yours, yeah?” Jay ran his fingers gently across the growing red mark.

You didn’t reply, not verbally. That was, until another hot strike came down.

You yelp, “YES! Yes, yes.” You practically plead.

Jay smirked. “Good girl.”

Then it started. One whip came down, hard and hot. It made you whimper and jolt.

“O..One..” you lowly murmur into the sheets.

“Mm..remember you showing off to those men. Showing off something that belongs to me. Right?”

You nod, “Yes.”

Jay tilts his head, although you can’t see him. “Yes?” He teased. Again, another whip came down. You bite back the scream that wanted to come out, “Yes—Yes, D-Daddy.. two..”

The next cracks. of leather against your flesh wasn't loud, just sharp, intimate stings that stole your breath. Your gasps into the pillow, toes curling in pleasure and pain. Jay paused, letting the silence swell with your shaky inhale before bringing the belt down again. Lower this time. Harder. Each strike landed with meticulous precision, alternating between cheeks until the heat bloomed deep beneath your skin. He didn't hurry. The rhythm was slow, deliberate, a measured punishment that left room for the burn to settle before the next impact.

“T..Twen…” you tried to rasp out.

“Twenty.” Jay finished for you, throwing his belt elsewhere. You whimpered, mentally preparing yourself, thinking that your husband wasn’t done with you yet.

But instead, you felt the heat of your loves large hand on the small of your back, causing you to flinch.

Jay tutted, whispering, “We’re finished.”

You whimpered, sagging bonelessly into the pillows. Your skin pulsed with heat, every nerve ending buzzing. Jay’s palm smoothed over the flushed marks, his touch unexpectedly gentle against the raised welts. "Awww, my poor bun," he murmured, the velvet rumble of his voice a stark contrast to the sharp discipline moments before. His thumb traced the edge of a welt, drawing a shiver that had nothing to do with pain. "All spanked out now, aren't you?”

His chuckle vibrated against your overheated skin as he leaned down, lips brushing the shell of your ear. "Shhh, just breathe." He shifted your limp body with surprising ease, turning you onto your back against the cool sheets. The sudden change made you gasp, the fabric soothing against your stinging flesh. Rain blurred the city lights beyond the window, casting shifting patterns across the sharp planes of Jay's face as he settled between your thighs.

His calloused palm slid up your inner thigh, fingertips tracing the damp heat already gathering there. You arched instinctively, a soft whimper escaping your lips, half protest, half desperate plea. He watched your face, eyes dark as the storm outside, as he pressed two fingers deep inside you. The stretch drew a ragged gasp from your throat. "So wet already," he murmured, curling those fingers just right, making your hips jerk off the sheets. "Even after taking my belt like a brat."

He withdrew his fingers slowly, glistening, and guided himself to your entrance with deliberate pressure. The first thick inch stretched you deliciously, forcing a choked moan as your nails dug into his shoulders. Jay didn't rush. He pushed deeper with agonizing control, his gaze locked on yours, watching every flicker of overwhelmed sensation cross your face until he was fully sheathed inside your trembling heat. "There," he breathed, hips flush against yours. "Feel that? All yours, my love.” He grunted.

The thick stretch burned, deeper than the belt's sting, a relentless fullness that stole your breath. You whimpered, hips trembling as he held utterly still, letting you feel every ridge, every pulse of him buried inside you. Tears pricked your eyes, blurring the sharp lines of Jay's jaw. "T-too much," you choked out, fingers scrabbling weakly at the sheets. "Please—“

Jay’s thumb brushed away the tear trailing down your cheek, his touch deceptively tender against your overwhelmed trembling. "Shh," he murmured, leaning close enough that his breath warmed your lips. "You take it so well." He didn’t move, didn’t give you an inch of relief, just let you feel the impossible stretch, the heat, the way your body clenched helplessly around him. Your whimper dissolved into a ragged sob, hips twitching as another wave of sensation crashed over you. "D-Daddy—" The word tore from your throat, raw and pleading. "Can’t—“

Jay’s groan vibrated through your chest as the word hit him, low, primal, almost pained. His hips snapped forward, burying himself impossibly deeper, stealing what little breath you had left. "You can," he growled against your throat, the command rough. "You will." His thumb found your clit, rubbing tight, relentless circles that sent white-hot sparks exploding behind your eyelids. Every nerve screamed, the deep ache inside, the sharp sting of your punished skin against the sheets, the cruel, perfect pressure on your clit. Your body arched, a taut bowstring trembling on the edge of snapping, tears spilling freely now, choked sobs mingling with the frantic drumming of rain against glass. "Daddy! Please—too much, too much—“

You shattered. A raw, broken cry ripped from your throat as your hips bucked violently against his hand, against him. Every muscle clenched impossibly tight around his cock buried deep inside you, pulsing in frantic, uncontrollable waves. White light exploded behind your eyelids, drowning out the rain-streaked cityscape, the sting of the belt, everything except the overwhelming, consuming release tearing through you. Jay held you pinned, his thumb relentless on your clit, drawing out the convulsions until you slumped back, gasping, utterly spent, tears still wet on your cheeks

Jay didn't let you recover. His hips pistoned into your oversensitive flesh, each thrust sharp and punishing as your body still trembled from the aftershocks. "That's one," he growled, fingers tightening in your hair to hold your gaze. Sweat slicked his temple as he drove deeper, the wet slap of skin echoing in the penthouse. You whimpered, trying to twist away from the overwhelming sensation, but his free hand clamped around your throat, not choking, just claiming. "Stay.”

Your hips jerked wildly beneath him, oversensitive nerves screaming as Jay drove relentlessly into your convulsing heat. "Fucking take it," he snarled, fingers tightening against your throat. Anchoring you to the brutal rhythm. His cock dragged over that raw, swollen spot inside you with every thrust, igniting fresh sparks beneath the lingering haze of your climax. You sobbed, body arching off the sheets not in pleasure now, but in desperate, trembling protest against the relentless overstimulation. He leaned closer, rain-streaked windows reflecting the primal focus in his eyes. "Almost there, bun," he rasped, hips snapping harder. "Almost—“

Your climax hit like a second wave crashing over you, raw and involuntary, tearing through your oversensitive body with brutal force. A choked scream ripped from your throat as your hips convulsed wildly beneath him, muscles clamping down on his cock in frantic, pulsing waves. Jay groaned, low and guttural, fingers digging into your hipbone as he rode out your tremors. "That's two," he snarled, thrusts turning jagged, desperate. Sweat dripped from his jaw onto your heaving chest. "Now take me.”

Jay’s hips slammed home one final time, burying himself to the hilt as a ragged groan tore from his throat. You felt the hot pulse deep inside you. Thick, claiming spurts that flooded your already trembling core. His forehead pressed against yours, breath coming in harsh, uneven gasps that mingled with your own. For a suspended moment, he stayed locked within you, muscles taut and trembling, letting the heat of his release seep into your oversensitive flesh. Rain lashed against the windows in a sudden downpour, drowning out everything except the frantic drumming of your heartbeats against each other.