#it's cause ur lining and colouring every frame idiot

[zincbot]

i should be able to finish my animatic before march is over but dear god do i want to finish it sooner

[blushnote]

ur writing is absolutely wonderful !! i was wondering if you could right a hansol kind of thing (wow i suck at wording things haha) where ur on a call with a really good friend of yours and your talking about how you can't get off at all and ur too shy to tell hansol, but secretly he's listening to the whole conversation,,and later he brings u into the bedroom and u have the kinkiest sex,,he's 100% a dom just to get u off–

↳ requested | 2.5k words

↳ dom!hansol smut

a/n: thank you my love! btw, some slight warnings include degradation and choking. sorry for the delay on this! i hope you enjoy :^)

the practice room is empty.

as you drag your feet along the polished floorboards, engaged in a slightly humiliating conversation with your best friend, there is a coarse heat that blooms across your face. you find it difficult to meet your eyes in the wide mirror, and instead keep your back turned while the confession trickles from your lips. it’s something along the lines of your recent inability to get off, how it’s been causing much frustration.

“i’ve tried so much shit,” you sulk, tugging your sweater tighter around your frame, “my usual vibe just isn’t cutting it, the showerhead on full goddamn blast doesn’t work, and even that dildo i bought from the sex shop last year is fucking failing me. this sucks.”

a sigh crackles on the receiving line. “i’d stab myself,” your best friend then laughs, “but, yeah, that’s really rough. maybe you’re thinking about it too much?”

“i don’t know… maybe.”

you’re completely lost as to what’s wrong with your body. there had been one night where you sat on the shower floor so long with the head guzzling between your legs that the water actually went cold. arousal was coated to your folds, but the orgasm never happened. on occasion, if you really tried, you could force some sort of contraction, though it was incredibly meek and unsatisfactory and it only made you irritable.

“have you told hansol?”

you’re blinking absentmindedly at a backpack in the corner of the practice room when the question hits.

“w-what?” you stutter despite hearing your best friends’ words exactly.

“y’know, have you spoke about it to your boyfriend? i’m sure he could, well, help.”

you swallow tensely. hansol was completely incognizant to your current dilemma. one part of you figures it might put too much pressure on him to perform, and the latter is too terrified to even mention it to him out of some miscellaneous fear he’s going to think you’re broken. furthermore, it was difficult to have a moment of privacy with hansol when he practically lived at the company building alongside his members.

scuffing the floor with your sneaker, you shrug and say, “there hasn’t been much alone time between us lately. besides, i don’t want to pressure him.”

“trust me,” your friend snorts, “i do not think he would feel pressured. from experience as the third wheel, it looks like he really has a hold on you when you two get… handsy.”

you jam to a halt in your idle pacing while a prickling heat slithers up your limbs. for the most part, you and hansol were a reserved couple, meaning you weren’t all kissy-kissy and slobbering over each other like some blissfully unaware relationships. however, it wasn’t that hard to tell when you two needed to escape the public glare and find some privacy. hansol was never fond of playing coy to his impatience.

“anyways, i have a shift starting at eight o’clock, i should get going.” your best friend sighs.

“have fun, idiot,” you chuckle, “and thanks for hearing me out, i appreciate it.”

“no problem, dumbass. talk to you later.”

as you hang up the call and wriggle your phone into your pocket, you make an impetuous glance toward the door of the practice room. suddenly, this balloon of dread sticks to the walls of your stomach. the door isn’t fully shut, in fact it hangs open a lot more than a crack and you’re already wondering if anyone lingering in the corridor could have heard your conversation. the panic creeps steadily upon your face.

before you can even try to calm down, hansol seems to pop from thin air. he swings the door wide open and peers inside the practice room, his expression igniting when he sees you awkwardly hovering beneath the burning white lights. hansol enters the room to grab the backpack you’d been staring at earlier. he puts it over his shoulder and approaches you, smiling sweetly as his black hair nearly hides his eyes.

“found ya,” he grins, reaching for your hand and interlocking fingers, “are you ready to leave now?”

judging from his behaviour, he appears to have not heard anything. one headphone is plugged in his ear anyways, so you assume almost too quickly he’d been listening  to his music. the breath you release seems to quiver as it ghosts between your lips. subduing the earlier dread, you delicately brush the thick strands from hansol’s eyes and then place a light kiss on the tip of his nose.

“i’m ready.” you  nod, squeezing his hand.

“it’s been awhile since my last stay at your apartment, huh?” hansol reminisces as you two exit the practice room together. you note that his arm glides around your waist, pulling you particularly firm against his side while he purrs, “i guess we should make the most of it this time.”

you’re starting to think hansol heard you in the practice room, the frayed ends of your suspicion finally cooled in hard wax when he steps behind you at the vanity, his hands pressing tightly to your hips as you remove an earring. the tiny bead slips from your fingertips and rolls across the table when hansol pops the button on your jeans, your throat suddenly vacant of all moisture, the little hairs raising on your skin.

“s-sol,” you stutter, meeting his lustered, amber eyes through the mirror, “what are you doing?”

hansol pushes himself in a thinner line of proximity against you, until his hard chest is flush to your back and the curve of your ass is rubbing at his crotch. he simply smirks at your question, then begins to pull your zipper down while his other hand grasps at your sensitive side. a surge of heat rushes into your abdomen as hansol proceeds to fit his palm past the strict waistband and into your pants.

rubbing you through your underwear, the boy smirks, “isn’t this what you want though? baby can’t come by herself anymore? needs me to touch her and make her feel good?”

sheer embarrassment coils around you like the shiny scales of a serpent and you want to get blown off the edge of the universe in some torrential wind. however, for the first time in this horrendous dry spell, you feel this astounding, pleasurable sensation seep throughout your body. hansol continues massaging between your thighs, the warmth and strength of his palm drawing a tiny whimper from your mouth.

as your head falls back against his shoulder, hansol runs the tip of his index finger along your clothed slit, satisfaction intensely colouring his face upon noting how your arousal is already pooling and soaking the fabric. your chest sharply rises in a curt breath when he twists his index and middle finger beneath the thin cotton to stroke the slipperiness of your flesh. you’ve never wanted to rip off your jeans this badly.

your fingernails plunge deep into the veins of hansol’s pale wrist when he collects the gloss at your slit, dragging up the juices to circle slowly into your clit, ensuring every sensation is wholly felt as he takes his time in the lascivious touches. truthfully, this is what you needed, for hansol to take control and break you down in the best possible ways. he rubs into your clit firmly and you release a pitiful moan.

“i’m gonna to do whatever i want to you,” hansol’s lips hover by the burning cusp of your ear and a shudder melts down your spine, “would that make you feel better? instead of treating you like a princess i treat you like my slut? make you come until your pretty pussy can’t take it anymore?”

dumbly, you nod your head, you succumb to nothing but acquiescence in this desperation that infiltrates you like poison. hansol delights in how malleable you’ve become. to reward your compliance, he begins sinking two fingers into your heat and curls them against the warm, tight flesh, ticking a spot inside you that turns your knees into gelatine. you’re completely distracted as he reaches for a vanity drawer.

hansol’s prodding around inside the compartment flutters in your peripheral vision. you lightly thrash against him when he pulls out your vibrator. you don’t exactly make an effort to hide the device. nonetheless, the sight of him holding it makes your head dizzy. dragging his slick fingers from your opening, hansol massages the wetness into your aching bud before his hand leaves your jeans.

he pushes the restricting fabric a little ways down your thighs then helps you peel your shirt above your head, his hand skimming down your bare side, electrified at feeling your smooth skin. the pale lilac toy seems to taunt you in the mirror. you’re already breathing heavily as his finger feathers the button to tease you. for a moment he places the toy between your legs, dragging it up your clothed centre.

you jolt at the almost ticklish sensation, but a whine is what bubbles at your mouth. hansol finally slips the vibrator below your underwear. its cool, silicon surface glides like silk against your glistening, sopping skin. hansol takes the tip of the toy and nestles it against your clit, a devious curl appearing on his pink mouth before he clicks the button and an intense vibration has you squirming and mewling.

he keeps you pressed tightly against the vanity, mocking your flustered noises in his husky voice, chuckling all while your hips struggle to ride against the buzzing device.

“awe, you gonna come already? dumb little whore can’t hold it for even a minute?” hansol laughs, though you just grit your teeth and focus on gaining more contact between your clit and the purple toy.

his palm then pushes beneath your bra, taking a hold of your breast and harshly groping the plush skin, pulling and massaging while the stimulation from the vibrator replaces your blood with euphoria. you grip onto the edge of the vanity as hansol decides to press the little button again. the toy starts to tremble against your clit at a more rigorous pace and you cry out, attempting to bury your face in hansol’sneck.

“m’s-so close, p-please—,” you whimper pitifully.

quickly maneuvering his fingers, hansol undoes the back clasp on your bra, practically ripping the cushioned material from your torso. his palm connects with your already abused breast in a stinging slap, and he roughly squeezes the flesh while clicking the vibrator to a higher setting. in a broken chorus of curse words you sink your nails into his wrist, your bud throbbing as the climax makes you starry-eyed.

your arousal coats the vibrator until it’s glimmering. under regular circumstances you would have been utterly embarrassed, but given the fact you haven’t experienced an orgasm in a blue moon, you’re fully expecting to have the toy swimming between your legs. hansol feels your body quivering against him and he grins. he turns it off  and tosses the vibrator onto the vanity like it no longer serves any purpose.

his hand slips back into your underwear. you flinch upon his contact with your core, though he only teases your slit with a light tracing of his fingertips.

“all this come between your legs,” hansol begins kissing up your neck, “you’re such a messy little girl, aren’t you, baby?”

you agree, instantly nodding your head. for a moment hansol presses his fingers into your heat, pumping them gently, pulling out more of the stickiness which he then smears down the side of your thigh.

“do me a favour.” hansol entreats, turning you around by the hips and helping you sit on the vanity, his eyes sparkling. he grabs your wrist and guides it to your core, “finger yourself for me,” he growls.

“but hansol i—,” the beginnings of a question fumble at your lips, though you are silenced a mere second later when hansol wraps his hand around your throat and applies a spotting, stern pressure. he inclines into your body and you can smell the fresh scent of aftershave on his skin.

“just shut the fuck up and do what i tell you,” hansol seethes, a dark glint momentarily casting in his golden gaze. the next moment, he smiles faintly and places a soft kiss on your lips. “now,” he whispers against your mouth, “finger yourself. and stop only when i tell you.”

as his hand pulls away from your neck, you can’t deny that the risky contact felt somewhat electric. your boyfriend sits on the edge of the bed, leaning on his elbows, watching your slightly tremouring fingers glide up and down your slit before swirling tiny circles around your sore bud. hansol drags the black fringe from his eyes once you push in your digits, a sticky, squelching noise making your ears burn.

then, you begin to pump them, a sharp crinkle darting across your brow. your core is still sensitive but you can already feel the coil start to rebuild itself. faster, deeper, you construct a pace, perspiration growing flush to your forehead as hansol’s gaze skips between your thrusting fingers and the gaping of your lips. brushing down on your clit with your thumb, a moan breaks from your chest.

“f-fuck, a-ah— hansol m’gonna c-come a-again,” you mewl as the sensation towers into the clouds.

he says nothing, simply observes in a state of pure lust while you roll your hips, practically riding your own hand. you almost forget his earlier instructions in the midst of the pleasure that ripples in the powerful surges from your stomach, seizing your body until it shivers in the mellow afterglow. your fingers begin to slow, but hansol snaps at you, and you swallow harshly upon the sudden sensitivity.

“p-please, sol,” you whimper as your nerves start protesting the touches, “it h-hurts…”

“isn’t this what you wanted?” hansol taunts you once more. “you wanted to come, didn’t you?”

biting into your bottom lip, you roll your exhausted clit between your fingers and nod. it is what you wanted, and despite the cautionary shocks from your body, you feel yourself waning for more. hansol stands swiftly and marches toward the vanity. he slips his warm, firm hand just underneath your jaw, tampering with your air supply only marginally while pressing your head back to the glass mirror.

he looks unflinchingly into your eyes, “so don’t complain.” hansol advises, though it seems more like a warning.

tucking his nose close to your hair and tightening his hold at your throat, hansol manages to send another jolt between your trembling thighs as you continue rubbing yourself, every patch of your flesh feeling ravaged by flame. “now turn around and bend over,” he growls into your ear, “let me fuck you open on my cock like the dumb little slut that you are, huh?”