#kpop

[poemale]

　 　 　 　⍰　 kaomoji elements　 ര

　 　 　 　 　 　 　 　 　  　 　 create ur own kaomoji w/ me !!

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eyes

ˊ ˋ　 ◞ ◟　  .ܸ .ܸ　 • •　  › ‹　 o̴̶̷᷄ o̴̶̷̥᷅　  ≧ ≦

ˇ ˇ　 ◜◝　   ◡◡⁠　 •̀ •́　 ^^　 ᵒ̴̶̷̥́ ᵒ̴̶̷̣̥̀　  ꈍ ꈍ

⏑ ⏑　 ◝ ◜　 _ ̫ _　 •́ •̀　 ⊳⊲　 o̴̶̷̤ o̴̶̷̤　  ˃̶̤́ ˂̶̤̀

´ ｀ 　 -᷅ -᷄　  .⁠ .⁠　  ߹ ߹　 ՞ ՞⁠　 ಠ ಠ　 ᴗ͈ ᴗ͈

mouths

ᵕ　 ⤙　 ᴖ　 Ⱉ　  △　 ࿁　 ꕀ　  ‸

༝　 ‿　 ⌓　 ⩊　   ⌑　  ｡　 ㅁ　 ⇀

̫　 ֊　  ᎔　  ᗜ　  Д⁠　  ³　 ᯅ　  ˬ　 　 　 　 　 

noses

˶　 ᵜ　 ᆺ　 ˕　 ܫ

˔　 ᴥ　 ɷ　  ̷　 ꀾ　 

ears

ᐢ ᐢ　  ᕱ ᕱ　 ᕬ ᕬ　 ᙏ　  ᵔ ᵔ　 ᐡ ᐡ　 

∩∩　 ꪒ ꪒ　 ՞ ՞　 ⍝ ⍝　 ᥥ ᥥ　 ᘏᘏ

hands / arms

ก ก　 ٩ ۶　 ⊃⊂　 ᑌ ᑌ　 ദ്ദി　  ა૮

ฅ ฅ　 ੭ ᐣ  っ ς　 ੭ ੭　 ੭っ　 ∩ ∩

brackets

𝇋 𝇌　 ૮ ა　 ૮₍ ₎ა　  ( ິ )ິ　 ໒꒰ྀི ྀི꒱७  ૮ ོ ོ𑁬

₍ ₎　 ꒰ ꒱ྀི　 ૮꒰ ꒱ა　 ᧔ ᧓　 ᧔ྀི ᧓ྀི　 ʕ ྀི ྀིʔ

꒰ ꒱　 ଘ꒰ ꒱　 ꒰ ੭ ꒱ ᐣ　 𓊆 𓊇　 ᑦ꒰ྀིྀི ྀྀི꒱ᐣ 　 ૮꒰ྀི ꒱ྀིა

　

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[jaysbaefie]

your honour | psh

synopsis: in which you push the judge too far, you learn that actions have consequences—and he always delivers the sentence himself.

genre: judge au

pairing: judge!sunghoon x troubled!reader

warnings: meandom!sunghoon, cold!sunghoon, horndog!reader, manhandling, cornering, degrading (holy fuck sm degrading), crazy dirty talk, gagging with fingers, hair pulling, choking, biting, spanking ass + pussy, rough p in v (unprotected), clit rubbing, creampie, bondage, fingering, overstimulation, orgasm denial and no aftercare. think that’s it…

wc: 6.3k

a/n: this is so filthy!!! yall im on a plot burnout i have so many ideas i just can’t bring myself to write a proper full length fic :[ anyways… notes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated. enjoy <3

═══════

your arms are crossed over your chest like armor. it's not foolproof—your wrists are still cuffed, and the bruises from last week's chase are still turning the edges of your skin a dull yellow with splotches of blue. you hold yourself steady anyway, like you've already survived worse.

you have.

the courtroom is too quiet for your taste. sterile walls, tired faces, and that rusted old flag in the corner drooping like it's had one too many years of watching justice be handed out unevenly.

there's a bailiff at your side, fingers twitching near their belt, as if they think you might leap over the railing and bolt. you don't blame them. you've done worse for less serious crimes.

but right now, you're not thinking about running—not even close.

you're staring straight at him.

park sunghoon.

honorable judge. esteemed in the district. untouchable. 'not for long,' you think to yourself, a small smirk gracing your lips as you hold your gaze.

his nameplate gleams under the artificial lighting, but it's not as cold as the look in his eyes when he glances down at you. black rob, pale hands, pristine posture like he's never once had a bad day, or at least never shown it.

he speaks your name like it tastes bitter in his mouth, his plump lips pursing in distaste.

"theft. trespassing. property damage," sunghoon reads, flipping through the paperwork like it's boring him. "and now contempt of court. again."

your smirk is the only weapon you have left, "that one wasn't on purpose."

his gaze doesn't flinch, "you were caught lighting a cigarette in the bathroom during recess."

"wasn't lit," you say coolly, his gaze now piercing into you. "i didn't even get to spark it," you almost whine out.

"because the officer stopped you."

"because the lighter was out of fluid," you shoot back, offended that he'd think that you'd let some officer stop you from lighting a spark.

for a moment, you think you see something twitch in the corner of his mouth—amusement? disbelief? but it's gone before it settles. he leans back in his seat, elbows on the armrests, voice clipped, "you don't seem to take this seriously."

you stare him down, your eyebrows raised, "you don't seem to live in the same world as the rest of us."

sunghoon says nothing at first, just studies you, eyes narrowing the longer the silence drags. he looks at you like you're a puzzle he didn't expect to come across and now he's trying to decide whether to solve you or break you apart and pack you away.

finally, he speaks, "given the repeated offences and your inability to cooperate with court proceedings, you are hereby found guilty."

your chest tightens—not because you're surprised. you knew this was coming, it was always going to come to this.

"you're to pay a fine of $5,000"

you snort, loud and messy which causes sunghoon to look at you with what you could only assume was disgust, "you might as well say 5 million. i don't have shit, your honour." your voice drips with mockery on that last part, but it's not like you can help it. titles mean nothing to people like you. not when the system's always rigged the same way.

sunghoon doesn't react the way you expect. no fury, no raised voice. instead, he rests his chin against his hand and stares down at you, thoughtful, composed—calculating.

"then perhaps we can make alternate arrangements."

you narrow your eyes. "like what? community service? sweeping the courthouse floors?" you had heard it all before, and you'd be damned if you did any of it.

he ignores your sarcasm. "i'm offering you a deal." you don't trust deals, especially not from men like him. but you're listening.

"you're clearly resourceful. difficult, but clever." his eyes scan your face like he's making a mental file, "if you truly cannot pay, then you'll work it off. under my supervision."

you blink up at him, dumbfounded, "what?"

sunghoon doesn't smile, doesn't even shift, "you'll report here. every morning, 6 am sharp. you'll handle clerical tasks, sorting files, transcriptions. menial work, mostly. i'll be watching."

you lean forward, just a little. "and if i say no?"

his voice is ice cold, "then you'll serve time."

you flinch at that, prison isn't unfamiliar—but it's worse this time. you're older now, tired and you know the kind of people they throw you in with.

your jaw clenches, "this some kind of power trip for you?"

his eyes glint, unreadable. "no. but it might be one for you. if you can handle being civil."

you hate him for that. for the way his words crawl under your skin, settle in your ribs like they belong there. you hate him for being calm, for not flinching when you push back. for the way he makes you feel cornered even when you're standing tall.

"fine," you spit. "i'll take your little deal."

sunghoon nods, finally. bangs the gavel once sending shocks through your body.

"court adjourned."

but as you're escorted out, you catch the way he watches you. slow, deliberate. like he's already plotting what to do with a fire like yours.

and you know this is far from over.

═══════

6 am comes fast, you show up at 6:17am.

your boots echo too loud on the marble floors of the courthouse as you stroll in like you own the place. hoodie unzipped, hands in your pockets, chewing gum with all the arrogance of someone who knows they're untouchable—or just wants to see how far they can push before they aren't.

sunghoon is already waiting, of course. seated behind his desk in his chambers, reading over a case file, all rigid posture and starched cuffs. he doesn't look up when you enter, but you feel the chill in the air shift the moment he registers your presence.

you lean against the doorframe, pop your gum, and smile sweetly, "morning, your honour."

he finally looks up, no smile—no greeting. just a flat, "you're late."

you shrug, "public transportation's a bitch. and my ankle monitor doesn't exactly come with wings."

sunghoon closes the file slowly, deliberately, "your sentence began at 6 am sharp. not whenever you decide to roll out of bed."

you wander further into his office, dragging your fingers across the edge of his polished desk. "well, maybe you should've sentenced me to something more exciting. i'd be more motivated to be punctual." you snicker softly, your fingers brushing against some books before landing on a small statue.

he doesn't rise, doesn't react. just watches you with that unreadable stare, like he's already dissecting your every move.

"sit."

you raise an eyebrow before looking around the room, no chair in sight, "where?"

he gestures with his pen to a wooden chair shoved against the back wall. no cushion. no wheels. no dignity.

you scoff, "wow. luxury accommodations."

"sit," he says again, this time lower—sharper.

you do—but not before you tip the chair slightly and drag it across the floor, the screech of wood against tile sounding loud and obnoxious. you plop down and swing your legs up onto the edge of his desk like it's your living room.

"so," you say, folding your arms behind your head. "what soul-crushing task do i get to do first? file your fan mail? shine your gavel?"

sunghoon doesn't flinch. doesn't blink. just reaches over and, without warning, shoves your boots off his desk with one smooth motion. hard enough to jolt the whole chair, causing you to hold onto the desk for support.

you laugh in surprise before masking it quickly with a silly remark, "ooh. touchy."

he leans forward now, voice calm but laced with threat, "i don't care how you've gotten away with things in the past. in this room, under my supervision, you follow."

"or what?" you bite, eyes narrowing. "you gonna slap another fine on me? lock me up again?"

"no," he murmurs, his eyes not leaving yours. "i'll break you without ever lifting a finger."

you go quiet for the first time because for some strange reason, you believe him.

but that doesn't mean you're going to make it easy.

by 10 am, you've misfiled at least four court documents on purpose, accidentally-on-purpose spilled coffee on one, and whistled a highly inappropriate tune every time someone passes the open door.

sunghoon doesn't snap. he doesn't yell, but the tightness in his jaw gets worse. his sleeves are rolled to his elbows now, veins taut, hand gripped around his pen like he's imagining stabbing something with it. you allow your gaze to wander over him, relishing in his cold presence as you eye-fuck him to oblivion. 

you stretch lazily in your seat across the room, flipping through a file upside down just to be difficult.

"you always this fun at parties?" you ask, eyes lazily scanning the document. 

"you always this exhausting when you're sober?"

you grin, "you should've sentenced me to something harder. i get off on discipline."

he finally looks up. eyes dark and voice low.

"is that what this is? acting out so someone will finally put you in your place?"

you blink, not expecting that.

sunghoon stands now, slow and deliberate, and crosses the room to tower over where you're still slouched in your chair. he leans down just enough to make your breath hitch, his minty fresh cologne invading your senses—sending your body into overdrive. 

"you want someone to punish you, is that it?" he says, voice barely above a whisper. "because you're skating dangerously close to contempt again."

you swallow harshly but you hold the smirk, even if it's faltering, "you threatening me, your honour?"

his lips twitch, not a smile—something colder.

"no," he says. "just waiting for you to slip. and when you do—when all that bratty bravado cracks, you'll beg for someone like me to be the one holding the leash."

your throat goes dry.

he straightens and turns away, already done with you for the moment, and you're left there blinking like the ground shifted under your feet.

this was supposed to be fun. a game.

but now? now you think he's playing back.

and he plays dirty.

═══════

you should've gone home.

you were dismissed hours ago. the office lights are off, most of the staff gone, echoing laughter and jangling keys disappearing down the hallway.

but you stayed.

because you wanted to see what would happen if you crossed the line, alone—with him.

sunghoon's still in his chambers with his door cracked, light spilling out in a narrow slice across the floor. you lean in the doorway without knocking, arms folded, teeth sunk into the inside of your cheek just to keep from smiling too wide.

he doesn't look up.

"still working?" you ask, voice low and sugary.

he doesn't respond at first. then, without looking away from his file, "if you're still here, it's because you want something. so say it, and make it fast." you saunter in, drag your nails across his bookshelf, pull a file halfway out and shove it back in crooked just to be annoying, "just wanted to chat. you seem lonely."

his jaw flexes, but he doesn't rise—doesn't yell. instead, he sets his pen down, lifting his eyes to you slowly, deliberately—and lets out a low breath through his nose.

"you're a desperate little thing, aren't you?"

you blink, "excuse me?"

he stands.

you don't move. just watch him stalk forward, quiet, composed, eyes cutting into you like scalpels.

he stops inches from you, doesn't touch. doesn't lean in.

but his voice? razor-edged filth.

"you dress like a brat, talk like a slut, act out like a girl who's been begging for someone to spit in her mouth and call her worthless." your breath catches and your legs almost give out.

"you're not here to talk," he continues, voice lower, crueler. "you're here because no one's ever put you in your place and you're too much of a mess to admit you want it."

you flinch, lips parting, "you don't even know me—"

"i know everything," he cuts in sharply. "i've read your records. i've seen the trail of damage you leave behind just to get someone to notice you. daddy issues, authority issues, zero impulse control. you want men to hate you just so they'll finally touch you."

you gasp, cheeks flushing hot—but not with shame.

with need.

because he's right. because no one's ever talked to you like this.

"look at you," he sneers. "breathing heavy already, shifting your legs like you're not soaking through your little panties right now. you came in here thinking you could bait me with your bratty mouth, hoping i'd snap and pin you against the wall like some filthy fantasy you've cooked up in that head of yours."

you say nothing. you can't.

"but i'm not like the boys you fuck behind bars or in alleyways," he whispers, eyes boring into yours. "i don't play with trash."

you whimper.

his smile is slow and cruel, "oh? that got you wet, didn't it?" your thighs squeeze together instinctively, and he laughs—cold, low, unamused.

"pathetic. dripping just from being spoken to like the little cum-dump you are."

you try to speak, but your mouth won't work. you're breathing too fast, too shallow, clit throbbing through your jeans, nipples hard under your hoodie, and he hasn't even touched you.

he leans in, barely. his cool breath fanned against your ear causing you to shiver, "you'll come back tomorrow, won't you?" he murmurs against your ear. "all sweet and mouthy again, hoping this is the day I finally bend you over my desk and fuck your brains out like the filthy little whore you pretend not to be."

you whine—a soft, needy sound that makes his eyes darken just a little.

then he pulls back, his hands stay folded behind him. he steps past you, calm as ever, voice low and bored. "go home. you're dripping on my floor."

═══════

you start showing up on time.

5:59 am, hair damp from a rushed shower, hoodie half-zipped, eyes sharp with purpose. you slide into the office like you own the place—and every day, you find him already there, perfect as ever. sleeves rolled up, tie tight, reading over a file like he didn't just spend the last twelve hours thinking about the way you moaned for him without him even touching you.

you don't speak much now, you don't have to.

the first time it happens, it's barely a whisper of a moment—you walk past him to grab a stack of paperwork, and your hip brushes his hand resting on the edge of the desk. soft. slow. deliberate. and you don't flinch, don't apologize.

you smile.

his pen halts mid-sentence.

you don't look back.

the second time, you lean in close to hand him a stapled report—closer than you need to, your fingers brushing over his when he takes it from you. you let your thumb drag just barely over his knuckle before pulling away.

he doesn't speak, but his jaw's clenched so tight you hear it pop.

the third time, it's worse. you're leaning over his desk, too far, pretending to scan the page while your hips subtly roll back, brushing against where he's standing behind you. it's slow—not full contact but just enough pressure to feel the line of his thigh brush your ass.

you feel him freeze. you breathe out, soft and sweet, "oops."

he doesn't move. doesn't even blink. you can feel his restraint like a second heat, burning against your skin.

you straighten up with a grin and saunter off and for the rest of the day, you can feel his eyes on your back like a loaded weapon.

═══════

you live for the control—the knowledge that you're the one unraveling him now. no chains, no cuffs, no cell. just you and your filthy little grin in his clean little world.

every time your hand lingers too long on his wrist when passing him a pen. every time your fingers brush his thigh when you "accidentally" drop a file. every time you stretch beside him, moaning faintly when you reach your arms overhead like you're trying to kill him with your spine alone.

he doesn't say a word.

not one curse, not one command. but every breath he takes feels heavier. every time he adjusts his cuffs, it's slower. rougher. the one time he looks at you, really looks, while you're standing by the window with the light catching your smug little smirk and you swear there's murder in his eyes.

or maybe lust, or both.

you bite your lip and wink.

he goes back to reading but his knuckles are white around the edge of the page.

you don't stop, of course you don't. you know he's cracking. you just want to see how far before he breaks.

═══════

you don't knock today.

you walk in like always—mouth full of gum, hair half done, smirk locked and loaded.

but the outfit? oh, this is new.

short skirt, barely mid-thigh. skin-tight, no stockings. no shame. 

your blouse clings to your chest with every breath, just one wrong move from spilling open—and you bend to pick up a file by the door the second you walk in, as if you didn't plan the whole motion.

you make sure your ass is pointed directly at his chair, you hear nothing for a beat. then the sound of a pen snapping in his hand.

you bite your lip to keep from smiling. "good morning, your honour," you say sweetly, rising slow, letting your tits bounce just enough. "got something for you to sign."

he doesn't answer. doesn't look up. he just sets the ruined pen down, stands in silence, and walks to the far cabinet—jaw sharp, back stiff.

he doesn't speak for an hour, but you don't stop.

you lean across the desk to file something, letting your breasts nearly spill out. you sit on the edge of the table too close, too comfortable, skirt hiked up high on your thighs. you cross and uncross your legs too slow. you sigh every time you shift, like the fabric's clinging to places it shouldn't.

and the worst part? you don't even look at him anymore.

you just know. you know he's watching. you feel his silence like a leash. and still, you test it.

again. and again.

until—

"shut the door." 

you freeze, glancing over to see that sunghoon's still behind the desk, hands folded, gaze pinned directly to your face for the first time all day.

there's no emotion in his tone, just something dark.

you step back slowly, click the door shut.

"lock it."

you do, your pulse skips.

he nods once toward the chair in front of his desk, "sit."

you obey—this time, no sass, no roll of the eyes. he watches you for a long, heavy moment. then: "stand up."

you blink, but you rise. he leans back in his chair, eyes raking over you with undisguised disgust. "this what you wear to court? no wonder you can't stay out of handcuffs."

you shiver when his voice drops an octave, "i've let you act out. walk around my office like it's a runway. rub your filthy little body against me like a dog in heat. but today?" his tongue clicks, "today, you came here begging."

you bite your lip and he notices. "don't even deny it," he sneers. "you dressed like a fucking pornstar and shoved your tits in my face three times before lunch."

you blink fast, thighs press together. "you want attention so bad," he whispers, voice cold and cruel. "you'd crawl under this desk and suck cock just to feel useful for once."

you whimper causing his eyes to narrow "pathetic."

you take a shaky step forward, voice too soft. "so do something about it."

"no." the word is a bullet. sharp. final. you flinch, "what?"

"i'm not giving you what you want," he says, standing now—towering over you, eyes blazing. "not until you ask." you swallow, your breath stutters, "...i just did—" "not like that," he leans in close, still not touching, his breath ghosting your cheek. "i want to hear you beg. properly. filthy. on your knees if you have to."

your mouth opens but no sound comes out.

"c'mon," he hisses. "say it. say you're a dirty little whore who wore this skirt just to get her judge to ruin her."

your knees go weak.

"say you've been dripping for me for weeks. say you need to be put in your place. beg me to spit in your mouth and call you mine." you nearly drop right there while he watches you—smug, furious, and impossibly composed.

"but you won't," he whispers. "because you're a coward. just a brat with no bite."

you snap, you sink to your knees with your palms on your thighs. skirt riding high, head tilted up with your tongue caught between your teeth.

"please," you whisper, cheeks hot. "i wore it for you. i wanted you to see what you've been missing. i wanted you to lose control. i wanted to feel owned. like a fucking toy." his nostrils flare and you crawl forward. "i've been dripping for you since the first time you called me worthless," you breathe out shamelessly. "you don't have to fuck me. just—just say i'm yours."

his hand twitches at his side but still he doesn't touch you, he just smiles—slow and dangerous. "you're finally learning," he murmurs. "maybe tomorrow i'll reward you."

and he walks out, leaves you on the floor—aching, wrecked and obedient.

═══════

you show up like nothing happened, tight dress, high heels and no bra. you don't even bring a file, you just lean against the edge of his desk like you're here to ruin him.

sunghoon doesn't look up, not right away. but when he does—it's over.

his eyes flick up to your chest, then back to your mouth, and the moment your lips part to say something smart, he moves.

fast.

the chair scrapes back with a violent screech. you barely have time to gasp before he grabs your wrist and slams you against the desk, stomach flat against the wood, cheek pressed down by the weight of his hand. you yelp, breath knocked out of you—but it's not pain. it's heat, flooding between your legs in a dizzying wave.

"this what you wanted?" sunghoon growls, voice raw at your ear. "me snapping like some animal? you filthy, needy, shameless little—fuck." he yanks your arms behind your back, pins both wrists with one big hand and grinds you into the desk. "look at you squirming and wet. couldn't go one more day without getting manhandled, huh?"

you whine out when his free hand slides up your spine, griping the back of your neck, forcing your head to the side so your cheek stays plastered to the wood. your eyes snap open in shock when he pushes his thick digits into your mouth, forcing your mouth full.

"you've been begging for this," he snarls. "dressing like a whore. moaning when i speak. bending over like you want to get fucked in front of the whole court." you can barely breathe—your mouth opens, but nothing comes out.

he laughs—low and cruel, "what's wrong? mouth finally too full of regret?" he spreads your legs with his knee, lets his thigh press up between them while his grip on your wrists tightens.

you're soaked. dripping straight through your panties, probably smearing slick across his desk — and he feels it. his thigh twitches and he groans. "pathetic," he growls. "you're soaking my leg and i haven't even touched your cunt."

you whimper into the desk, legs trembling, thighs trying to grind down on his thigh—but he pulls it back with a smirk. "you think you run this game," he whispers in your ear. "you think a few bratty looks and slutty outfits make you powerful."

he yanks your head back by the hair and forces you to look at him—eyes wild, chest rising, jaw clenched.

"you don't run shit here." his fingers trail down your jaw, not gentle—gripping your face like he wants to crush it, "you're mine."

you blink fast. your lips part as he finally removes his fingers from your mouth.

"say it."

your voice shakes. "i'm—i'm yours."

"again."

"i'm yours."

"louder."

"i'm fucking yours," you scream—thighs shaking, cunt pulsing, wrists still pinned.

he stares down at you—flushed, dripping, ruined against his desk. then he leans in, lips just brushing your ear, "you're not cumming until i say so."

you whimper in response. "and when you do," he breathes, "you're gonna thank me for breaking you."

he steps back and lets you collapse to your knees.

undone.

and he leaves you there, again.

═══════

you should've ran.

the look on his face the second you step into his office—eyes cold, mouth tight, sleeves rolled up like he's about to sentence you to death, should've sent you crawling. 

but you don't run, you smirk—and that's all it takes. he grabs you before the door even clicks shut—slams you against it, one hand fisting in your hair, the other squeezing your throat until your breath stutters.

"tired of you strutting around like you're untouchable," he hisses. "you want to be fucked so bad? fine. i'll fuck you like the filthy little criminal you are."

you whimper when his grip tightens—then he spins you, throws you against his desk. your hips crash into the edge, papers scattering, your hands scrambling for balance. he's behind you again, dragging your skirt up so high it tears, yanking your panties down and tossing them like trash.

you feel his palm ghost over your ass and you can't help but push yourself back against him in excitement. "already soaked," he mutters, disgusted. "fucking slut."

crack.

you yelp—the first spank makes you jolt. second makes you moan. third has your knees buckling. he grabs a fistful of your hair and yanks your head back, hissing in your ear, "say thank you."

"th-thank you," you pant.

crack.

"louder."

"thank you!"

he pulls your head back harder, exposing your throat—then his mouth is on you, biting, not kissing, sinking his teeth into the sensitive skin until you cry out. sunghoon groans when he feels you twitch violently in his hold, his teeth scraping against your neck as he continues to leave violent splotches on your skin. 

"that's right," he breathes. "cry for me. scream if you need to. no one's coming for you." his hand slips between your legs, finally, and slaps your sopping cunt. you wail in response, your legs giving up on you as you rely on the desk in front of you and sunghoon as support. 

"needy," he sneers. "dripping all over my desk like a goddamn animal."

his fingers slide through the mess—not inside, just over your clit, slow, taunting strokes that make you tremble, "you wanna cum?" 

"yes," you gasp. "yes please—"

he pulls away, completely.

you sob—back arching, thighs clenching, breath broken.

"beg better."

"please, please—sunghoon, i need it, i need you, please—!"

he laughs. cold, "pathetic."

then he grabs your waist, slams you forward until your chest hits the desk with your hands flat, legs spread, back arched—and shoves his thick cock inside you in one brutal, single thrust. in the midst you hadn't even noticed sunghoon slip out his aching cock out of his dress pants, to busy fighting for your release. 

you scream at the intrusion. he doesn't give you a second to adjust, he fucks you like he owns you—hips snapping, cock dragging deep, thick and brutal and perfect. one hand wrapped around your throat, the other gripping your ass so hard you'll bruise. your walls suck him in like a vacuum, refusing to let him go causing him to hiss. 

you try to meet his thrusts — you try to grind back — but he slaps your ass again, harder, and hisses, "don't move unless i tell you to."

you go still, breathless and shaking. his fingers slip down again—circling your clit, slow, taunting and just as your body starts to tighten, just as your orgasm builds—

he pulls away. again.

you sob.

"not yet," he growls. "you think you've earned it? after all that teasing?"

his hand slides up, fingers wrapping around your throat in a punishing grip.  "you're gonna take it," he breathes, "every inch. every slap. every denial. and you're gonna fucking thank me."

"thank you," you cry. "please—please, i'll be good—"

he leans over you, cock still buried, teeth sinking into your shoulder as he continues his pace and fucks you rougher, harder and crueler. you lose count of how many times he brings you to the edge—how many times he lets you feel it just to rip it away.

you're drooling. trembling. begging.

and finally—finally—when you're gasping, soaked, ruined—

"cum."

the word cracks through you like lightning. your body explodes in trembles. 

you convulse around him, sobbing, screaming, cunt clenching tight as he chokes you through it —fingers digging in, cock pulsing deep inside you until he curses and spills inside, hips slamming once, twice more as he fucks it all into you.

then silence, just panting. shaking. his hands still on your hips as his cum dripping down your thighs. 

you lay there lifeless but sunghoon has other plans, his hands grip you tightly as he contorts and pushes your body around—moving you from his desk to his chair. 

 you don't know how you ended up like this, but you're tied up in his chair and you're far to fucked out to care. 

not just restrained—displayed. arms behind your back, wrists cuffed tight to the armrests. legs spread open and bent at the knee, ankles locked in place with thick leather straps he probably had custom made.

you can feel his cum leaking out of you and you can't do a thing about it. sunghoon leans back against his desk like he has all the time in the world—black dress shirt undone at the collar, sleeves rolled up, eyes drinking you in.

"look at you," his voice is low and cruel. you swallow hard, your cheeks are burning. your chest is rising and falling too fast.

he pushes off the desk and walks toward you, slow.

his fingers trail up your thigh, featherlight, and you twitch, already sensitive, already leaking.

"legs shaking," he murmurs in admiration. "pussy swollen. thighs sticky."

he crouches in front of you, one hand sliding under your ass, lifting you just enough to tilt your hips.

"still dripping," he sneers. "you're disgusting."

your breath catches as he drags two fingers through your folds—slick and soaked and overstimulated—and lifts them to your lips.

"open." you obey mindlessly. 

he pushes them in slow, watches you suck them clean, jaw twitching with how filthy the taste is. "good girl," he mocks. then his fingers drop back down and he spits on your pussy and watches it drips down between your folds, warm and thick, mixing with his cum and your slick. 

you squirm—but the cuffs hold you down, "don't move." his palm lands on your inner thigh, hard enough to sting. then he slides two fingers inside slow, unforgiving—and curls them just right. 

your whole body jerks. "that's it," he breathes. "let me feel it. let me feel this tight little hole try to suck me in." he fucks you with his fingers like he owns you, thumb rolling over your clit. soaking the leather seat beneath you.

your eyes roll back and your moans turn desperate. "sunghoon," you whimper. "please, i'm—i'm gonna—"

he stops and pulls out completely.

you scream, your thighs tremble and your cunt clenches pathetically around nothing. you're left dripping, throbbing, aching for him—and he just leans in, tongue sliding up the inside of your thigh like he's taunting prey.

then he bites, hard.

you cry out and he slaps your pussy in response, watching you twitch. 

he stands back up, looming over you. his hand curls around your throat, squeezing just enough to make your eyes flutter.

"you don't cum," he growls, "until i say you do." you nod, fast.

his free hand drags down the front of his pants—slow. threatening. you're his now. completely. tied to his chair, soaked with his cum, ruined from the inside out.

"we're not leaving this room," he says, leaning in close, "until you've screamed my name so many times you forget your own."

your arms are still pinned, your thighs are still open and your cunt is still leaking.

and sunghoon? he's sitting across from you like he's watching a show. shirt off now. cock out with one hand lazily stroking himself while the other rubs small firm circles on your clit.

you scream. your whole body jerks against the cuffs, hips snapping up, trying to run from the pressure—but there's nowhere to go. he hums, watching the way your thighs tremble, "this is what happens when you act out," he says calmly. "i could've been kind. could've been soft."

he presses his thumb hard against your sensitive nub. you sob out in response, far to overstimulated. 

"but no," he breathes, eyes locked on your face. "you had to shove your tits in my face and moan my name like a fucking whore." you throw your head back, mouth falling open as he slides right against the bundle of nerves that are already so sore it hurts.

you're soaked, ruined, twitching. your legs keep trying to close, but the cuffs won't let you.

you cum again.

you scream—choking on the breath that never makes it out—your entire body jerking, wrists straining, tears spilling.

sunghoon finally moves, he kicks the chair until it swivels toward him, then straddles it—his knees on either side of yours, thighs wide, cock thick and leaking.

you cry in relief until he grabs his cock and slaps it against your overstimulated clit.

you howl in pain, he leans in close, lips at your ear, "don't pass out on me," he murmurs. "you're not done yet."

and then he pushes inside with no warning, no mercy.

just his cock slamming in deep, so deep—you can't even scream, just choke on the cry as your back arches, arms still trapped, legs locked wide open, cunt fluttering helplessly around the stretch.

"tight," he hisses. "fucking tight."

he doesn't ease in, he pounds you. the chair jerks with every thrust—your wrists slam against the armrests and your legs shake violently from the overstimulation, he grabs your throat to keep you still.

"cry for me," he pants. "let them hear you beg." you sob. scream. cum again and he fucks through it, groaning deep in his throat as your cunt squeezes him tight and refuses to let go. 

"i should leave you like this," he growls. "cuffed to my chair. ruined. dripping. fucked open and forgotten."

you can't speak, you can barely breathe.

but then he leans in with his mouth pressed to your ear and growls, "but you'd like that, wouldn't you?"

you nod helpless and broken.

"filthy little thing." his hand slides to your face, gripping it—holding your jaw still as he fucks you rougher, meaner, hips snapping, chair rocking, desk rattling behind you.

you cum one last time your loudest scream yet—and he finally groans, curses, slams in deep and spills inside, so hard you feel it throb against your cervix.

silence, just breathing.

just cum, just slick and heat and soaked leather.

you're limp with his cum leaking out of you again. your wrists raw, thighs bruised and your head luls back.

your whole body is twitching. you're soaked. stretched. dripping down the legs of the chair, his cum leaking out of your throbbing cunt in slow, slick trails. wrists raw. 

and sunghoon?he's already tucking himself back into his slacks.

not a glance spared, not a word spoken. just the quiet click of his belt and the sound of your ragged breathing. you whimper—a soft, broken little sound and try to shift, try to close your legs, but the cuffs keep them open. exposed. leaking.

"pathetic," he mutters, adjusting his cuffs. your lips part and you want to speak. to ask if he's going to untie you, if he's going to help you down—if this means anything at all.

but he cuts you off before you can even form the words, "that," he says, voice flat, "should teach you how to behave."

your stomach drops as he walks to the door. he doesn't touch you, doesn't untie you, doesn't clean you up or kiss your cheek or say anything kind. just unlocks the door, turns to look at you one last time—ruined, bound, soaked with his cum and shaking from everything he just did to you.

his expression is unreadable, cold. "next time you walk into my courtroom acting like a whore," he says, "you'll leave in worse shape than this." he pauses, walking back to you and you have a glimmer of hope that he'd untie you. 

but that all comes crashing down when he reaches you and he leans in, mouth at your ear, voice dark and smug.

"court's adjourned, baby."

then he walks out, leaving you tied there, used, aching.

alone.

and still desperate for more.

— enjoy this fic? check out my other ones right here!

[newpartnerincrime]

me when i’m a tiny cowboy who must slow it down and make it bouncy for the masses

[neodazed]

enhypen -🎀- squirting for them for the first time

ot7xfem!reader - when they make you squirt for the first time

warnings: unprotected sex, fingering, oral (f), cum eating, overstimulation, slight daddy kink, lmk if i missed smth

alr started writing this when I saw recent similar fics for enha but there’s like a hundred of these here so don’t think that’s an issue

my sunki fics flopped so bad i went back to writing imagines instead of my other drafts LMAO ty for more than 2k views on the last one and for 200+ followers. pls request after reader my post regarding that, i’d love to see and write ur thoughts!! have fun reading 💋 masterlist

HEESEUNG

For Heeseung it’s almost like squirting = marriage.

A new found level of possesiveness awakens in him, basically.

You’re laying flat on your back, legs spread as wide as they can go, and he is plunging three fingers inside you.

His pace is no other than harsh, not an inch of his being is trying to be gentle. To be honest, he doesn’t need to be anyway — that’s just how you like it.

Thank God you were wet, or else those ocassional spits on your clit wouldn’t be able to match the rough bones of his digits carving their well earned place in your fluttering hole. With each quick thrust, the low side of his palm bumps against your little nub, drawing a lovely whimper out of you.

He’s not leaning over your body, doesn’t press comforting kisses on your face or neck. He is sitting on his knees between your two trembling thighs, and watches your cunt gasping for his fingers hungrily.

It’s getting way too sloppy now, creating those nasty almost slurping-like sounds, and it almost makes him want to lean down and bury his mouth in there, but then again, the sight is so pretty for him.

So instead, he stares and he talks. And oh, his way of talking is dirty, all possesive. Speaking of your pussy as it was the most beautiful masterpiece hung up in his favorite museum.

Your hole clenches, tighter and more intensively than normally, and you feel a flood rushing down in your tummy, one that has you curling the tip of your toes backwards, gripping the sheets underneath you like you’re about to fell off a bridge.

You try to warn him in time, you swear. The weakest ‘Hee’ leaves your mouth, a mix of a somewhat scream and moan, and you grab his forearm, but as expected, it doesn’t make him stop, it just encourages him to increase every sensation he’s currently providing. So there’s nothing you can do when a gush of liquid spills out of you, high enough to latch onto his black fitted shirt.

His heart fucking flutters at that, pride swelling up in his chest.

‘You made that big mess for me?’

‘Only I can make you cum like that. I now that’s right.’

‘C’mon, squirt again for me. You know I’m not stopping ‘til you do.”

JAY

His head has been hitting your cervix repeatedly for some time now, his balls slapping against your ass with each stroke, shaft hitting your clit.

Absolutely no thoughts in your head, just dick dick and dick.

It’s almost like every vein was created just to brush your gummy walls with the perfect force he always settles on. He’s curved to fit right into you, and if he wasn’t, well, he carved out his place in there well enough by now.

Feeling full of him has to be the most precious feeling, talking about any of your holes. And his hands are rough, they grip and sink and have completely no restrain when it comes to your body.

It’s a release you don’t even really feel coming (maybe because he already emptied you so many times), it crashes onto you.

Your scream is one the neighbours will give dirty looks about later on, but truly, who cares in the moment? Not like he would have the strength to muffle it, or the attention, he is fixated on you.

On the way your sudden finish spurts all over his cock, his abs, his arms- he goes feral.

‘Oh my god, princess. What’d you do there?’ He laughs in amusement, his movements never stopping, just letting down from the pace.

‘You came all over Daddy’s cock? Without saying a word?’ He’s already back in full force, ignoring your whines and lightly pained whimpers, slamming into you even harder now.

‘I’m sure you can do it on command then, too. Come on, show me.’

JAKE

You already came three times.

Yet, no amount of tugging on his locks would make him lift his head up from between your shaking thighs.

See, Jake is a greedy man. Every time he gives head, he acts like a starved man who is on a strictly ‘pussy for all meals’ diet, and hasn’t eaten for weeks.

One orgasm is nothing to him. It’s like he doesn’t even notice it happened, he keeps going. Goes between munching at your folds and sucking on your clit.

Two orgasms make him hum quietly, like he’s just starting to get the taste of it.

Three? That’s a good number, but still, it’s not enough. If you managed to cum three times already, what’s stopping you from cumming one more?

That’s the logic.

And you would think the upcoming one would be just a tired suffer with minimal semen going into the mix of spit and cum, but it’s something else. He plunges his tongue deep into you, and begin to move it right there, and it almost feels like he’s flicking at your cervix.

You cry out, legs locking his head in space (not like he wasn’t glued there already). You swash right inside his open lips, on his tongue. He grips your thighs harder, and wait until you finish. When he lifts his head up, finally, it’s kinda…full of cum. Like, literally. His chin completely soaked, his nose wet, his eyelids covered too. It’s a sight for sure.

‘Baby…that was so fucking hot.’ He says in awe, blinking up at you. He’s so in love. You smile softly, though your face is going red more and more by the minute. You are still sprawled out, sticky and open, and now you feel a bit sheepish.

‘Can you clean me up, please?’ You mean with a towel. Obviously. That’s what normal people do.

But Jake’s smile turns slow. Dangerous. Still hungry.

He leans in.

You freeze.

‘Jake, wait-‘

But it’s too late. His tongue is already on your inner thigh, licking a slow stripe up to where you’re still dripping.

Then his mouth is on you again. Soft, wet kisses over the mess he made, drinking you down like it’s water after a drought.

You try to squirm away, gasping his name — but he just pins your hips down with a firm hand and grins up at you.

‘I’m just cleaning you up.” — Then, quieter — ‘Gotta take care of my girl, right?’

SUNGHOON

You were getting punished.

So how on earth was it so good?

The way he’s spanking your pussy should have made you cry a long time ago, but instead, it’s just keeps on getting…better? Sure, it hurts, how could it not? A very sensitive area, indeed, probably not made to be spanked, but…

It was the good kind of hurt. The one that kept chasing slick out of your hole after every swing on your clit. Your body is thrown between two different reactions, half squirming away, half desperately chasing the sensation.

No fingers inside, no thumb rubbing your bundle, no tongue stroking your folds — just rough, precise hits.

He is spreading you open with two fingers, but keeps them strictly there, no slipping in between. Only so that he can reach all of you, making sure it hurts enough. Enough that you realize what you have done wrong, refrain from ever doing it again. Enough so that you feel that this pussy belongs to him, and he can do whatever he wants to it.

To his surprise, it’s also enough to make you squirt.

To Fucking squirt.

One minute, he’s spanking your nasty little cunt, and you’re crying to stop, then the next, his pace has to falter, cause a flood of liquid splashes out of it.

He snorts. Not really in amusement.

‘You’re unbelievable, you know that?’ — He looks down at you with a scoff — ‘I’m trying to punish you here, and you enjoy yourself more than normally’

‘It’s just…sensitive’ You sniffle. The hurt now comes in stronger, when you are no longer getting stimulated.

Sunghoon tsk’s and pushes his dirtied digits past your tear-soaked lips. Your face crunches up from the taste, but you do your best to swallow all of it. And that fucker turns that around, too.

‘You really just slurped up all of it? Didn’t leave me anything?’

‘I-I thought-‘

‘I must take another taste, then…’

You cry out the moment his hot tongue makes contact with your red swollen clit.

SUNOO

He’s casually hovering over you, mouth on left nipple, finger rubbing your clit. The suckling and stroking movements are equally hard.

You guys’ve been at it for some time now, lazily making out, most of his energy being put into pleasuring you. You were already on the edge a couple of times but he stopped there and went back into it just to drag it out.

‘Shh, just a little more. You’re not that impatient, right?’

He earns himself an eye roll for that, but only snorts, and pushes you closer.

His bare chest presses against yours, kisses soft and deep, and it’d be romantic even, if you could forget that he’s been edging you for half an hour. He always says it’ll make your release bigger and better, but hasn’t really convinced you yet.

Until now.

Because when he finally settles on the good space, even after feeling your stomach tighten, it doesn’t take you any longer to squirt.

And, the ‘see? told you’ look on his face could not be more smug.

‘Wow. Look who was right?’

‘My new take is that I can make you squirt two times in a row. Wanna find out?’

JUNGWON

Jungwon, to put it simply, is flabbergasted when it happens.

Like, on his tongue?

Around his fingers?

Because of him?

What did he do in his past life to deserve this? Whatever it was he is one lucky mothefucker.

You couldn’t even prepare him or give him a chance to pull away (he would never), since you yourself didn’t expect it at all. The truth is, you’ve never squirted before. Orgasms with a little more force? Producing a little more cum than usual? Sure, those happened, nothing too crazy. But it certainly never splashed onto his face like a fucking cunami, Jungwon thinks.

Poor boy wants nothing but to bury himself there right away, but he's not sure if you'd want that, given that you're still shaking under him. Instead, he strokes your thighs (still around his head), and murmurs,

'That was...good, right?' He asks, voice suddenly shy like he forgot what was he doing in the first place.

'Baby...you just made me squirt into your mouth. It was more than good, trust me.' You say with a weak chuckle.

'I want to taste. Can I?' How could you even say no to that adorable pleading gaze?

'Go ahead, Wonnie. Taste how good you made me feel.'

RIKI

It was just a matter of time before your first squirt after you started having sex, you knew for sure.

Riki's ego didn't need a lift though, and since he never brought it up by himself, you just assumed he either didn't know you were capable of doing it. or he's just content with the usual five orgasms he brings you to every time you guys have sex.

He absolutely knew what he was doing to you every time, but this?

This he did not expect.

You were bouncing on his cock with your best of strength, and he was watching you with a smirk, layed back on his arms, annoying and hot as ever. He wasn't putting in too much effort, but when he did move his hips to meet your thrust, God it reached the most perfect spot without a single miss.

He made a few statements, and those were...

'Your tits are all up in my business. Just how they should be.'

'Fuck, Y/N, this pussy is squeezing me so hard. You were hungry for my cock, weren't you?'

'From this position, I'll come right onto your cervix, You're gonna be dripping so bad...'

With a rather loud cry, cum splashed out of your slick hole with a nasty sound. No thumb circling around your clit, no lips suckling on your nipples, just Riki's cock, raw and hard, all for you to fuck your little cunt on.

Of course he followed you immediatelly.

And of course, he had things to say.

'Oh. So we're squrting now?'

'Why wait a month? Were you shy to show how much you love this cock?' His finger is dipping down into your heat, bringing it to his mouth to taste.

'Riki, I'm sensi-'

'Shh. Let me see. You'll have to do it again now, anyway.'

[lilac-dreamxxz]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𝑆𝑦𝑚𝑏𝑜𝑙 𝑝𝑎𝑐𝑘

⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ᩠᮫✿ິ᤻◌⠀⠀⠀ ⠀͏⏝ི𓏶. ゜ ㅤ ⠀࿁ 𑄹 ˙ ͏

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀်͙⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀𓂂 ❤︎ ◯ ༚⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⊹ ♪ ྀི 𓈒 ๋

⠀⠀⠀⠀° ♥︎᤻ᜓ ⋆｡˚ ⠀ ⠀ ˳ ♪♪⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ 𓈒 ⠀ᜒ⬭ᩙᮬ

⠀⠀⠀⠀᛫ᣞᜓ᛫ᣞᜓ᛫ᣞ᛫ᣞᜓ᛫ ⏤ ⠀ ഝᯩ͙᛫ ⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ᰨ✿◌ᰍ ׄ 𓈒

⠀⠀⠀ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ׁ ♥︎⁎̯͡𓉸  ͏ ⭒ ˳ ⠀⁺𝅄 𓊆 ❀ 𓊇 ::

⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ℰ𝑚𝑜𝑗𝑖 𝑑𝑒𝑐𝑜𝑟 𝑝𝑎𝑐𝑘

⠀⠀

⠀⠀ ⠀──🪷ᩖᩙᝪ᜔⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀᭬🍏᮫᭮ᮬ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀ᜒᜒᣞ🌸ᝓ᜔៝

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ᯏ🪵ᯩᯩ᩠᠁⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀᜔🧊ᮬႚ

⠀⠀⠀⠀ᜳ🫙᠂ ○ᩙ ᜓ⠀ ㅤ ͟ ͟ ͟ ͟ ͟ ᜔͟🍙᮫⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀᨞ᣞ🍥᮫᷼⠀

⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀( © lilac-dreamxxz . ✿)

⠀⠀

[haecunt]

　　　　　tommy heavenly6 biossss ❀̩͙﹡𓏶. ⋅ॱ ᩙ♫

　

　　　　　ᨳ𝄞　 h𝚎⃨𝚊⃨𝚟⃨𝚢⃨ nd starry 鎖

　　　　　 #2009 ❤︎ ⬭͙̩̩̥࿔ ݂ ໋ ・ ゜* 𓈒

　

　　　　　　　๑͏๑͏♪ ︭　⏝⃨֟፝︶✝️⏝⃨֟፝︶　✟✟ೃ

　　　　 ⡴⠞⠞ ♥︎̼̻♥︎̼̻　　🅟APER 月　⡾🗄️.⋅ॱ

　

　　　　 giiiiimme all ~~ of ur ꪶuv ˚꒰ˊૢᵕˋૢෆ꒱

　　　　　 ..・。.・ .⠐゜ 天6.2𝐎𝐎4(SENSA͟T͟I͟O͟N)

　

　　　　 cr✦ss　࿀࿁ ❤︎ ♪　shapedd

　　　　⠀ ̩͙﹡ ̩͙﹡ ̩͙﹡cakeee ♥︎𝄞 ॱ़۫🫁🍈

　

[saintfaux]

[enhaeil]

ICE ! ☆ 박종성

"pull up, she been purring like a kitten preyin' your love. i've been counting on the days you been gone a little too long..."

ice - kelly rowland

devine masculine energy with jay ! ⋆.˚✮

c/w: accidental daddy kink. smut near the end. dominant jay but in a good way

you never thought you'd be into the whole 'daddy' thing until you met jay.

not because he likes it or because he asked you to, but because of who he is.

he's such an 'i got it' guy.

☆ you were at the register of your favorite café, fumbling through your purse to get your wallet. before you could find it, he's already behind you, tapping his card in silence like that's what he was made to do. "next time, just tell me baby, i'll handle it."

or

☆ you're overwhelmed. tired. baby crying. dishes pilled up. when he comes home, he sees how distressed you are and wordlessly takes over, putting on his dish washing gloves. "go lay down. i got it." he says, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

before you know it, a quiet "thank you, daddy." falls from your lips.

—✩ ₊˚

he just really loves taking care of you. it makes him happy when his girl is happy.

☆ you lay in bed, half-asleep and groggy, when he comes back from running errands. he has sweats and hoodie on, yet still looking yummy as ever.

"hey, baby," he says, pressing a kiss to your lips. "i got the cereal you asked for, by the way." he tells you as he takes his sweater off.

"jay ... you didn't have to go grocery shopping for me babe, i had it." you say as you open your arms for him to crawl back into bed.

"of course you had it, but then what am i here for!"

or

☆ you mentioned a meal you were craving a few days ago. you forgot about it, jay didn't.

you come home from work to the smell of food and soft rock playing. you see your husband with a 'kiss the cook' apron on, focused on setting the table.

"i just wanted you to come home to something good."

when you tell him he didn't have to, he rebuttals saying that he "wanted to."

—✩ ₊˚

leadership, without control. he would never force you or make you do anything. you're an adult. but the way he speaks to you ... makes you want to obey.

☆ he never raises his voice. and he'd most definitely never lay a harmful finger on you. but one glance and a "come here" has you moving before your brain could process. he doesn't say anything that doesn't have to be said. a simple "try that again" and you're apologizing with your eyes.

—✩ ₊˚

he does know that you're human and will get moody or even angry with him at times. that's okay, you don't have to be soft with him all the time.

☆ you had a bit of an attitude, and you admit, you don't even remember what about, but you had one.

jay sits on the bed watching you huff around the room, purposely slamming a drawer extra hard. "you done, baby?"

you shoot him a glare, one that would probably kill anyone else, but not him. he moves from his spot on the bed, stepping closer to you, eyes still soft as ever. "get it out your system, i'll be here when you're done." you can't deny the way your heart softens.

or

☆ you really are mad at him, which leads you to giving him the cold shoulder all night.

"i'm sorry for what I did love, but can you at least talk to me so I can fix it?" he says, sitting across from you on the couch.

you remain silent, pretending to be locked in on your book.

"okay, be mad. when you want to talk, just let me know."

—✩ ₊˚ smut ahead

in the sheets, he never asks you to say it. you just do. he's not performative, he's just doing you in that good.

☆ you're underneath him, barely holding on. his strokes deep and slow, like he knows every nerve inside of you personally. (he basically does.)

"look at me, baby." and you do, or at least try your best with the way he's hitting it. he's so calm, not rushed, completely focused on pleasuring you like it's his purpose.

his rhythm is unforgivingly perfect, causing your head to tilt back as your back arches.

he grabs your chin, not to control you, but to anchor you. "don't hide from me. you feel that? you feel me right there?" he says, tilting his hips just right.

"fuck, yes daddy .." it slips out . not intentional, not to exaggerate like pornstars do, but because it feels right.

his breath catches, once like it does every time, but he doesn't stop. he smiles before leaning in. "that's what i thought."

after that, he doubles down, not going any rougher, but deeper, slower, more possessive, like he's claiming a spot inside of you. like he's reminding you that you're safe, and you don't need to think, just feel.

—✩ ₊˚

of course, aftercare is A1.

☆ you lay there, breatheless, limbs feeling like noodles. but jay is not in a rush. "you okay?" he asks, voice hoarse, the kind of voice that let's you know he felt it too.

"you did so good, so sweet for me."

he gets up, still within the eye's view as he grabs you a warm towel and bottle out of the mini fridge. "c'mere, i got you." there it is again.

when you fall asleep in his arms, jay doesn't move, not even when his arms go numb. it's worth it.

—✩ ₊˚

jay wears the title of being "your man" with pride. he loves being yours, as much as he loves you being his.

☆ he sits on the couch, scrolling on his phone as you talk on the phone with your sister.

"yea, my man took me there once. it was so fancy, the food is good too!" jay looks up from his phone, suddenly interested in your conversation. when you hang up he scoots closer to you.

"say it again."

"huh?"

"call me that again. your man."

you do, over and over again, until he's dragging you to the bedroom. because jay is your man, who doesn't just want to love you, but wants the world to know he's the only man who gets to.

a/n: ive been thinking this 4ever ive never been into the whole daddy kink thing but sumn abt jay mane IF I CATCH HIM ITS ON. also I SWEAR IM FINISHIN Y'ALL REQUESTS.

[o2whre]

⌗ recommendations 𓂃 ࣪˖ 𖣠 ࣪˖ ⌕

warning: all recommendations below are smut! also the reader is mostly female (afab), sometimes gender neutral. if you don’t like any of these, just don’t interact at all :)

- gender neutral (gn), headcanon (title), fic (“title”), favorite (f) -

! shoutout to these creators, they deserve all the love !

-> introduction, about me

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

ot7:

grinding & dry humping

sent a dirty message to another member (f)

tempting them during nnn (hyung line)

favourite positions

can’t take it? (hyung line)

sex postions

sex ban (f)

needy s/o

hard kinks

tropes

making silent gf loud

stressed boss

heeseung:

audio… (not a fic… guilty as charged)

jealous

edibles (with jake)

jay:

brother’s best friend

“sticky” (with jake) (f)

he calls you baby (gn)

“shh”

look at me

jake:

watching porn together

“hypersexual”

“bed chem”

“see a cheerleader, breed a cheerleader” (f)

“sticky” (with jay) (f)

“daddy’s girl”

pussydrunk

“trustfall” (f)

“ease my mind”

“taste of you”

“can’t help myself”

edibles (with heeseung)

“liquid sweetener”

sunghoon:

fingering

“mine to touch, mine to fuck”

sunoo:

jungwon:

squirting (f)

“use me”

safe word

“right there”

“so soaked”

ni-ki:

“loose” pt. 1

“loose” pt. 2

“give me one”

“night like this”

“leather love”

nsfw alphabet

have a great day, xoxo

- j

[ruuixl]

𓈒 ୭ৎ 𝓇𝒶𝓃𝒹𝑜𝓂 𝓅𝓃𝑔𝓈 🪡 ۪ ݁ 𓈒

[chweengum]

- 　　　グライド ☆ㅤ ㅤㅤ𓂂ㅤㅤㅤ

[anahed-brahem]

That's so cute 🤏

ㅤ

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀࿙ྀི⃜࿚⃜࿚⃜⠀ ⠀ ─⠀ ⠀porcel𐐼in⠀⠀ ৩ྀ

ㅤ

ㅤ

ㅤ

[lilaquette]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ℋappy⠀ ⠀Birthday⠀⠀ ℒove !

⠀⠀ ❀ ൄ⠀ ⠀ ⠀⌨️⠀ ⠀ @soulari ⠀ ⠀⋆･. ˳ .

⠀⠀⠀ ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ * . ⠀ ͟ ͟ ͟ ͟ ✿𑜞 🌸˚⠀ ⠀۪⠀⠀♪⠀

[haecunt]

　　　　 𝄞 𝄞　　tommy feb6 　ʕ ᵔⰙᵔ⠕ʔ　 biosss

　

　　　　　 𝅘𝅥𝅮♪ ࣭ ႋ ׅ ํ email ♪⬮ᰰᩴ 愛の …

　　　　　　 𝚜✦𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 2 .. uuu 𓄼 ｡ﾟ🍈zz

　

　　　　　　　　　❤︎✟̭̈́♫ུ᳝᳜͏͏◗ in da m𝚘𝚘𝚘𝚘d

　　　　　for .. DANCING! ♥︎♪⁠～ ׂ 𓈒 ·˚ (⁠ྀི´⁠ > ⁠.̫⁠ ⁠< ⁠`⁠)ᓯྀ

　

　　　　　𝅘𝅥𝅮 ⣠⠾⠛⠶⣄　　 crazy ?! 𓈒 ◌ ᨳ but tru

　 ︵⃨‿ 私はあなたが欲しいです2OO7 𝚂⃨𝚈⃨𝙽⃨𝙳⃨𝚁⃨⬤𝙼⃨𝙴⃨

　

　　　　　 ♬♪ ｡ﾟ♡ setsuuunaa═aaaii ♫᳝᳜ᰯ.░

　　　　　　　　✟#️⃣👼🏻　私の心(⁠ ⁠ꈨຶ⁠ ⁠˙̫̮⁠ ⁠ꈨຶ⁠ ⁠)を傷つける

　

[synity]

DID I EARNED YOUR LOVE, MY DEAR?

(Choi Seungcheol x FemReader)

*Single parent romance, slow-burn, Domestic Life, soft love, Romance, CEO AU, YN as a Lawyer, Drama, Rich Man Trope, Emotional Healing, Emotional Angst, Soft Male Lead, Domestic Bliss, Wholesome short Smut*

The sun was beginning to set behind the tall buildings, casting long shadows over the busy park. The squeals of children echoed as they ran across the grass, their parents trailing behind with strollers or iced coffees. Somewhere on a wooden bench, Y/N sat a tired but elegant figure, dressed in business-casual slacks, hair pinned back in a loose bun, watching her daughter tug at her coat sleeve.

"Mommy, can I have ice cream, please?" her daughter pleaded, big brown eyes wide and hopeful.

Y/N sighed softly, offering a strained smile. “Sweetheart, not today. You already had sweets at daycare, remember?”

“But that was a cookie,” the little girl argued, crossing her arms with a pout. “That doesn’t count.”

Y/N chuckled under her breath, pinching the bridge of her nose. Between meetings, case files, and chasing her deadlines, she hadn’t even had time for lunch or for herself. Being a full-time lawyer and a single mom wasn’t just exhausting it was isolating. No one really understood the weight unless they were living it too.

She looked down at her daughter, heart softening. “I know, baby. I just Mommy doesn’t have the money for extra things today, okay?”

“Okay…” came the soft reply, barely audible. The pout deepened as the little girl looked longingly at the ice cream truck a few feet away.

Just then, a shadow appeared beside them. Y/N turned, instinctively cautious, until her eyes landed on a tall man in a perfectly tailored suit. His hair was swept back neatly, eyes warm but slightly amused, and his wrist well, it gleamed with the unmistakable shine of a Rolex Daytona. Behind him on the street, a Lamborghini Veneno, sleek and silver, shimmered in the dying sunlight.

“Excuse me,” the man said, voice smooth and deep. “I couldn’t help but overhear... ice cream dilemma?”

Y/N blinked, caught off guard. “Um”

He smiled. “Would it be alright if I offered to treat your daughter to one? Just one scoop. No pressure.”

She stared at him suspiciously. “Do we... know each other?”

He chuckled softly. “No. Sorry. That must’ve sounded strange.” He crouched slightly to her daughter’s level. “Hi, little one. I’m Seungcheol.”

The girl looked up at her mom, unsure.

Y/N hesitated. “I appreciate the offer, but I don’t want to teach her to take things from strangers.”

Seungcheol nodded, standing back up respectfully. “That’s a good instinct. You’re a lawyer, aren’t you?”

She arched a brow. “How do you know that?”

He smiled, almost sheepishly. “I recognize you. Y/N, right? You handled the civil case against KJH Tech a few months ago. Brilliant defense.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly, recognition dawning. “...You’re Choi Seungcheol. CEO of Empire Group.”

“In the flesh,” he grinned.

Now that he’d introduced himself, her daughter lit up. “Mommy, is he a superhero?”

Seungcheol laughed. “Something like that. I do fight a lot of evil board meetings.”

Y/N let out a reluctant laugh, softening just a little. “She’s only four. You don’t have to charm her.”

“Too late,” her daughter said, already stepping toward the ice cream truck. “He’s already charming.”

Y/N stared at her daughter, then at Seungcheol, whose expression was full of restrained amusement.

“You’re unbelievable,” she muttered under her breath.

“Just helping a tiny negotiator get her dessert. Shall we?” he offered, and with a small sigh, Y/N followed them toward the truck.

Moments later, the three of them sat on the bench. The little girl had her rainbow sherbet. Seungcheol had declined one for himself, though he sat comfortably beside Y/N, jacket unbuttoned and shirt sleeves rolled up.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Y/N said softly, watching her daughter swing her legs happily.

“I know,” he replied. “But I wanted to. I remember what it’s like growing up wanting something and being told no because of adult stuff. Sometimes... one scoop of ice cream can mean a lot.”

She glanced at him again, this time with less wariness. There was something honest in his words something deeper.

“You have kids?” she asked.

He shook his head. “No. Not yet. But I do have a little nephew. And a lot of lonely days in empty penthouses.”

That caught her off guard. She smiled, just slightly. “Is that your way of saying you’re lonely?”

He glanced at her, playful yet sincere. “Maybe.”

They fell into a comfortable silence, watching the pink sky fade into purple as the city lights came alive.

Y/N glanced at her watch. “It’s getting late.”

Her daughter was licking the last of the rainbow sherbet from the paper cup, cheeks sticky, eyes sleepy.

“I’ll call a cab,” Y/N said, standing up and brushing off her slacks.

Seungcheol rose too. “Actually, if you’re comfortable, I could give you a ride home. I’m parked right over there.” He gestured to the Veneno, gleaming under a streetlight like something out of a dream.

Y/N hesitated. Every cautionary instinct in her head flared but he had been nothing but respectful, kind, and patient.

Her daughter looked up hopefully. “Can we go in the shiny car?”

Y/N narrowed her eyes. “You don’t even know his middle name.”

“Mr. Choi enough,” the little one declared.

Y/N sighed. “Fine. But I’ll sit in the back with her. And if you drive like you’re in a Fast & Furious movie, I’m reporting you.”

He grinned. “Deal.”

The ride was... surprisingly quiet. Classical music played softly through the speakers not what she expected from a man with that much horsepower. Y/N watched her daughter doze off beside her, head resting on her lap, while Seungcheol navigated through the city with one hand on the wheel and a soft calm over his features.

“Do you always drive this slow?” she teased.

“I drive like I have something to lose,” he answered, without looking back.

That silenced her.

They arrived outside her apartment complex modest, clean, with flower boxes on every balcony.

Seungcheol turned off the ignition but didn’t unbuckle.

“Thanks for today,” Y/N said, lifting her daughter gently into her arms.

“Of course,” he replied, stepping out to open her door. “Listen... if it’s not weird, I’d like to see you both again sometime.”

Y/N blinked. “Why?”

He shrugged. “you seem like someone I want to know.”

“I’m a single mom. I barely have time for myself.”

“Then maybe I can help change that,” he said softly.

She looked at him, long and hard, then smiled faintly. You’re persistent.”

“I’m rich and lonely. I have time.”

Y/N snorted, shaking her head. “Good night, Mr. Choi.”

“Good night, Y/N.”

As she walked away, he watched her not with desire, not with pity, but with genuine interest. For the first time in years, he felt pulled by someone not because of their beauty or charm... but because of the quiet strength she didn’t even know she had.

A few days passed.

Then, a knock at her office door.

Y/N looked up from her files to see the receptionist peek in.

“Someone’s here for you,” she whispered. “And... he brought coffee.”

Y/N frowned. “I didn’t order—”

Before she could finish, Seungcheol stepped in, holding two cups and a paper bag.

“I bribed your assistant,” he said simply.

Y/N blinked. “How do you know where I work?”

“You told me you were a lawyer,” he said. “I googled.”

“You stalked me.”

“I researched.”

She sighed but couldn’t hide her small smile. “What’s in the bag?”

“Chocolate croissants. And patience. I figured you skipped breakfast again.”

She stared at him, then at the food, then back at him.

“You’re not going to leave until I accept it, are you?”

“I own half the city. I have nowhere else to be.”

Reluctantly, she took the coffee. “Thanks.”

He didn’t sit. He didn’t push. He just said, “Take care of yourself, Y/N. That little girl needs her superhero in full form.”

And then he left.

That night, she stared at the untouched croissant on her kitchen counter. And for the first time in a while... she smiled to herself.

Two weeks had passed.

Y/N had been busier than ever with a heavy case load, long evenings, and rushed mornings. But amidst all the chaos, something had changed. A slow warmth lingered in her chest at the thought of Seungcheol. She didn’t know what to call it yet. Interest? Curiosity? Hope?

Her daughter still talked about him every night before bed “the ice cream friend.” She even drew a picture of the three of them, taped it to the fridge, and gave him bunny ears. Y/N hadn’t taken it down.

So when her phone buzzed that Friday afternoon, she wasn’t entirely surprised to see his name.

SEUNGCHEOL: “I have a plus two ticket to the Seoul Skyline Gala. No pressure. But there will be cotton candy. For the both of you.”

She laughed under her breath.

Y/N: “Cotton candy is bribery.”

SEUNGCHEOL: “Bribery only works if I know your favorite color too. Purple?”

She rolled her eyes.

Y/N: “Fine. But only for her.”

SEUNGCHEOL: “Then I’ll see you at 7.”

She had no idea how he did it, but when she stepped outside with her daughter in a cute little dress, a full black sedan was already waiting. And inside it?

Seungcheol, in a perfectly tailored charcoal suit, standing beside the car, adjusting his cuffs.

“You clean up well,” Y/N commented.

“I had to match my dates.”

He reached out his hand not to her, but to her daughter, who took it gleefully and skipped beside him. Y/N blinked. Her chest clenched, and she didn’t know why.

The Seoul Skyline Gala was a rooftop event filled with glittering lights, classical music, and elite guests. But none of that mattered.

Because the moment Seungcheol placed cotton candy in her daughter’s hands and knelt down to her eye level, everything else disappeared.

He wasn’t a billionaire CEO.

He wasn’t a man in a suit and Rolex.

He was just... kind.

And safe.

Y/N stood beside the glass railing, sipping champagne, watching them laugh together.

“Thank you,” she said when he returned.

“For what?”

“For being kind to her. For not treating this like some... weird conquest.”

Seungcheol looked at her gently. “I don’t chase people, Y/N. I just… stay close enough so they know I’m not going anywhere.”

Her eyes softened.

He continued, voice lower. “What happened to you?”

Her breath caught. “What do you mean?”

“You carry yourself like you’re holding glass under your skin.”

She looked away. “My ex-husband cheated. He left after five years. Claimed he wanted more. Said I was... too much of a mother and not enough of a wife.”

Seungcheol's jaw tightened, but he didn’t interrupt.

“I spent the next two years proving I didn’t need anyone. That I could do everything alone. And I can. But it’s... exhausting.”

He stayed silent for a moment, then asked gently, “And now?”

“Now?” she whispered. “I’m scared to trust anyone who makes things feel easy again.”

Seungcheol reached into his jacket pocket. Pulled out a napkin. He carefully folded it, then gently dabbed at the tear on her cheek.

“I’m not easy,” he said. “I’m just consistent.”

That night, as he dropped them off again, her daughter fell asleep in the back seat pink cotton candy still clutched in her small hand.

Y/N turned to him before stepping out.

“She’s growing attached.”

He didn’t look away. “So am I.”

It happened on a quiet Saturday morning.

Y/N had taken the day off for the first time in weeks, letting herself rest in the little cocoon of her apartment. Her daughter was drawing in the living room, soft music playing in the background, the kind only comfort knows.

Then her phone buzzed.

SEUNGCHEOL: “You said she liked pancakes. I’m outside. No pressure.”

She opened the door, and there he stood, again — navy sweater, hair tousled, holding a paper bag with a sheepish smile.

“Blueberry or banana?” he asked.

“Both,” she smiled back.

He stepped inside. No fanfare. No grandeur. Just warmth.

They sat on the floor, three plates between them. Her daughter perched in Seungcheol’s lap like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And then it happened.

She looked up from her pancakes, pointed her tiny fork at him and said, “Appa, can I have juice?”

Y/N froze. So did Seungcheol.

A hush filled the room. Her chest tightened not from fear, but from the weight of what it meant. She turned toward him, ready to apologize, but he only smiled.

A slow, warm, careful smile.

“Of course you can,” he whispered, standing up to grab the juice box from the fridge like nothing happened.

Like it was the most natural thing in the world.

That night, after putting her daughter to sleep, Y/N sat in the living room, knees pulled to her chest, eyes distant. She hadn’t cried not yet but the emotion pressed tightly against her ribs.

Then came the knock.

Seungcheol stood at the doorway again. “Couldn’t sleep,” he said.

She let him in wordlessly.

They sat beside each other, not touching, not speaking until Y/N finally let her shoulders fall.

“I don’t know how to do this,” she said. “I thought I was doing okay on my own.”

“You were,” he answered. “You are. But you don’t have to be alone to be strong.”

She turned her head, looked at him.

“I’m scared,” she admitted, voice trembling. “What if she gets used to you? And you walk away too?”

He met her gaze with all the gravity of a man who had already made up his mind.

“i would never leave you.”

His words were so soft they barely existed. But they anchored everything inside her.

Then and only then she let herself fall forward, into his chest. His arms wrapped around her instinctively. Gentle. Firm. Present.

Her voice was muffled in his shoulder.

“She called you Appa.”

“i heard,” he whispered.

“does it scare you?”

He pulled back, just enough to look at her face. Then leaned forward, pressed a kiss to her forehead reverent, unhurried.

“No,” he said. “It makes me want to earn it.”

The mornings started to feel warmer.

It wasn’t the weather it was Seungcheol. Showing up with freshly brewed coffee, tying her daughter’s shoelaces while whistling a tune, helping with homework at night, or building a bookshelf in the living room while she cooked.

He never asked for anything in return. Not even her heart.

But he was earning it one small, selfless act at a time.

Y/N caught herself smiling more. Laughing at the dumb dad jokes he told over breakfast. Resting her head on his shoulder while they watched late-night documentaries neither of them could finish.

Even her daughter had changed. Brighter. More talkative. She beamed every time Seungcheol entered the room.

One night, after a quiet dinner, Y/N said, “You know you don’t have to do all of this.”

Seungcheol only looked up with those warm, steady eyes. “I know. But I want to.”

It was on a Friday evening that the past tried to claw its way back.

Y/N had just returned from the grocery store, balancing bags in both hands, her daughter trailing behind. When she turned the corner toward her apartment, she froze.

Her ex was standing at the door.

Tall, sharp, polished like the lawyer he always was. Cold eyes. Crooked smirk.

“You blocked my number,” he said casually. “Figured I’d come by instead.”

Y/N stepped in front of her daughter instinctively. “Leave.”

“I just want to see her.”

“She’s not a visit. She’s a person.”

He stepped forward. “You��re not the only parent—”

“Is there a problem?” The voice came from behind. Deep. Calm. Seungcheol.

He was dressed down in sweatpants and a hoodie, holding a small cake box the one her daughter loved from the bakery downtown. But there was no warmth in his eyes now. Just protective fire.

Her ex blinked. “Who are you?”

Seungcheol set the box down carefully on the bench.

“I’m the man who shows up. The one who’s here every day. And the one you’ll step away from if you know what’s good for you.”

For the first time in a long time, Y/N saw fear flicker in her ex’s expression.

“This is between me and her,” he snapped.

Seungcheol stepped in front of Y/N, eyes unflinching. “No. Not anymore.”

He didn’t leave her side after that.

Not that night. Not the next day. He even made a point to speak with her lawyer, just in case. Not because he wanted to take over but because he cared.

Y/N finally let herself cry in the safety of his arms, whispering, “Thank you… I didn’t know I needed that.”

Seungcheol brushed her hair back gently, kissing her temple.

“You deserve someone who makes you feel safe.”

She stared up at him, heart thudding. “You really aren’t going anywhere, are you?”

He smiled that soft, unshakable Seungcheol smile. “Not unless you make me.”

Seungcheol had barely stepped out of his fifth meeting of the day when his phone buzzed quietly on the glass table.

Y/N [2:12 PM]: “Don’t forget to eat something, Cheol. We miss you.”

His heart softened. Sweat trickled down his temple as he slipped off his suit jacket, loosening his tie. The conference room was quiet now, just him and the lingering scent of espresso. He stared at her message longer than he needed to.

He hadn’t been home in two nights. Back-to-back board meetings, investor dinners, press releases. His company was merging with another global enterprise, and he had no choice but to carry the weight of the entire operation on his shoulders.

But no matter how many zeros were in his bank account, nothing tugged at his soul quite like missing time with Y/N and her daughter.

No their daughter. He hadn’t said it out loud yet, but that’s how it felt.

That night, Y/N sat at the kitchen table alone. Her daughter, Minji, was drawing little hearts on a napkin with a pink crayon. The house was quieter than usual.

“Mommy,” Minji asked, head tilting. “Is he busy again today?”

Y/N forced a smile, tucking a strand of hair behind Minji’s ear. “He is, baby. He’s got very big responsibilities.”

“But he said he’d read me the new penguin story.”

Y/N's heart squeezed.

Just then, the door clicked.

Minji jumped to her feet, eyes wide. “daddy!”

Seungcheol stood in the entryway, hair messy, still in a suit but without the tie, holding a large penguin plushie.

“I heard someone was waiting for storytime,” he smiled breathlessly.

Minji ran into his arms, knocking the plushie down. Y/N watched in surprise as Seungcheol sank to his knees, scooping her up.

“I told you I’d make it. I always keep my promises,” he whispered, brushing a kiss on Minji’s forehead.

He looked up at Y/N, his eyes heavy with exhaustion and love. “And I missed you too.”

A few days later, Seungcheol had a major shareholders gala. The venue buzzed with elite guests, journalists, and flashing cameras. Y/N had decided not to attend Minji wasn’t feeling well.

But Seungcheol couldn’t stop thinking about them.

He pulled away from a conversation about crypto integration to check his phone. No message. He frowned.

When he returned home late that night, the lights were dim. Y/N was asleep on the couch, Minji curled beside her. A cup of untouched chamomile tea sat on the side table.

He knelt next to them, brushing his fingers through Y/N’s hair, then gently covered them with a blanket.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be here tonight,” he whispered.

Before leaving for his morning flight the next day, he left a box on the kitchen counter.

Inside: a silver bracelet with Minji’s name engraved, and a note:

“You’re the rhythm to my days. The reason I work this hard. I’m yours, always. -Cheol”

A week later, Seungcheol hosted a staff appreciation dinner. Y/N and Minji arrived to support him, and the sight of them made him grin like a fool.

He bent down to Minji’s level. “You look like a princess.”

Minji beamed. “And you’re the king”

One of his board members leaned down. “And who is this young lady to you, CEO Choi?”

Minji answered for him.

“I’m his daughter!”

A ripple of surprised smiles went around the table.

Seungcheol didn’t even flinch. “Yes. She is.”

That night, in their bedroom, Y/N turned to him, emotional.

“Cheol... you didn’t have to say that in front of everyone.”

He gently cupped her face. “It’s not a secret, Y/N. I love you both. You're my family. Even when I can’t be around all the time, you’re the reason I do any of this.”

She teared up quietly, leaning into his chest.

Minji peeked from the door, rubbing her eyes. “Can I sleep with you two?”

Seungcheol smiled, opening his arms. “Always.”

That night, the CEO who ruled boardrooms with his cold gaze lay tangled in soft limbs, with a little girl snoring against his chest, and the love of his life resting on his shoulder.

Even in his busiest days, he never forgot where home truly was.

Y/N was hesitant at first leaving Minji with her brother Mingyu wasn’t something she did often. But after the whirlwind of deadlines and meetings, Seungcheol insisted she take a night off.

“Mingyu’s a pro,” Seungcheol said with a grin, slipping on his coat. “He’ll keep Minji entertained and safe.”

Mingyu, ever the charming and easygoing older brother, flashed his signature smile. “Don’t worry, sis. I got this. We’ll have fun. Right, Minji?”

Minji nodded enthusiastically, already clutching her favorite storybook.

As soon as Y/N stepped out, the house shifted into a quieter rhythm. Mingyu immediately made a fortress of cushions and blankets in the living room, transforming the space into a mini castle.

“Princess Minji, your knight has arrived!” Mingyu announced, brandishing a toy sword.

Minji giggled, eyes sparkling. “I’m the queen!”

The two spent hours building the fortress, reading stories, and watching cartoons. Mingyu even attempted to bake cookies with hilarious results as the kitchen ended up covered in flour.

At one point, Minji tugged on Mingyu’s sleeve. “Can we play the dance game now?”

Mingyu laughed and pulled her up. “Only if you promise to win.”

Their laughter echoed warmly through the house, a soft contrast to the elegance awaiting Y/N just miles away.

Meanwhile, Seungcheol had planned every detail to perfection.

The restaurant was a hidden gem an exquisite rooftop venue overlooking the city skyline, bathed in soft golden light and the shimmer of stars.

Seungcheol took Y/N’s hand as they stepped onto the terrace. She was stunning in a simple yet elegant dress, cheeks flushed from the cool evening air.

“Cheol,” she whispered, heart fluttering, “this is beautiful.”

He smiled, pulling out her chair with a gentleman’s grace.

As they dined on delicate dishes, their conversation flowed effortlessly about dreams, struggles, and the small moments that made life extraordinary.

Then, as dessert arrived a delicate chocolate soufflé adorned with fresh berries Seungcheol stood.

“Y/N,” he began, voice steady yet filled with emotion, “from the moment I met you and Minji, my world changed. You’ve given me a family, a home I never knew I needed.”

He reached into his pocket and produced a small velvet box.

“I don’t want to imagine my future without you in it. Will you marry me?”

Tears brimmed in Y/N’s eyes as she nodded, unable to speak.

Seungcheol slid the ring onto her finger a simple band with a sparkling diamond that caught the light like her smile.

Back at home, Mingyu was settling Minji into bed when her phone buzzed.

A picture popped up Y/N’s hand glowing with the ring, and Seungcheol’s smiling face beside her.

Mingyu clapped his hands excitedly.

Morning After

Sunlight spilled softly through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the quiet house. Y/N woke slowly, the sparkling ring still snug on her finger, a gentle reminder of last night’s unforgettable moment.

Beside her, the soft breathing of Minji filled the room. Carefully, Y/N sat up, smiling as she watched her daughter sleep peacefully, the peacefulness a stark contrast to the storm of emotions in her heart.

The door creaked open and Mingyu slipped inside, holding two steaming mugs of coffee and a sleepy but excited Minji trailing behind him.

“Morning, sleepyheads,” Mingyu whispered, setting the mugs down on the bedside table.

Minji climbed up onto the bed, her eyes bright with curiosity.

“Mama, Mama!” she squealed, pulling at Y/N’s hand. “Is the pretty shiny thing new? What’s that?”

Y/N looked down at her hand, then at her daughter’s eager face, and laughed softly.

“Yes, it’s new. Daddy gave it to me. He asked me to marry him.”

Minji’s eyes widened in awe.

“Really? Like a princess and a prince?”

Y/N nodded, brushing Minji’s hair back.

“Exactly like that. And you, my little princess, are part of our family forever.”

Minji beamed, wrapping her tiny arms around Y/N.

“I’m so happy, Mama.”

Mingyu chuckled from the doorway, leaning casually.

“You two look really good together. Seungcheol’s lucky.”

Y/N smiled, squeezing Minji’s hand.

“This is just the beginning.”

The Wedding Day

Sunlight spilled through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the bridal suite, painting everything in hues of soft gold and warm pink. Y/N lay on the plush chaise lounge, her heart fluttering with a mix of excitement and nerves. Today wasn’t just a celebration it was a milestone she’d never dared imagine for herself: marrying Seungcheol, the man who had broken through every wall she’d built around her heart, the man who loved her and her daughter fiercely.

The room was quiet except for the soft murmur of the makeup artist’s brushes and the gentle hum of the city beyond. Y/N’s gown hung on a nearby rack an elegant ivory masterpiece embroidered with delicate lace and tiny pearls that shimmered faintly. It was perfect, like a dream she was only half awake for.

Her fingers traced the intricate fabric, and a warm smile tugged at her lips. She thought back to the very first time Seungcheol had truly seen her beyond her guarded exterior at the park with Minji, her daughter. The memory made her heart ache with how far they had come.

A knock came at the door. The florist arrived with a final bouquet of gardenias and white roses, their scent delicate yet intoxicating. She inhaled deeply, feeling grounded.

“Are you ready?” the makeup artist asked softly.

Y/N nodded. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

Downstairs, the garden was transformed into a scene from a fairy tale. White chairs lined both sides of a long aisle adorned with soft petals. Elegant chandeliers hung from the branches of ancient oaks, casting a magical glow. Friends and close family mingled quietly, their faces bright with anticipation.

Seungcheol stood at the altar, every inch the composed and charismatic man everyone admired. His tuxedo fit him like a second skin, crisp and tailored. But the moment his eyes found Y/N’s as she appeared at the end of the aisle, the strong CEO melted away, replaced by a man utterly vulnerable and utterly in love.

His breath hitched the tiniest bit as she moved toward him, the soft click of her heels a steady rhythm that matched his pounding heart.

Their vows were exchanged with shaking hands and tears. Seungcheol’s voice was thick with emotion.

“I vow to protect you, Y/N, and to love your daughter as if she were my own. To be the man you deserve, the one who lifts you when the world gets heavy. I promise to build a home with you not just of bricks and mortar, but of trust, laughter, and endless patience.”

Y/N’s voice wavered as she replied, “You’ve given me hope when I thought it was lost. I vow to stand beside you, through every joy and every storm. To cherish you and our family with all my heart.”

Seungcheol slipped the ring onto her finger with reverence. “Forever starts now.”

The reception that followed was filled with laughter, music, and dancing. Minji ran around in a tiny flower girl dress, her eyes bright with happiness. Y/N watched Seungcheol dance with her daughter, his stern demeanor completely replaced by tenderness.

The night wrapped itself around the happy couple like a soft blanket, and soon, it was time to retreat to the honeymoon suite.

Wedding Night

The suite was breathtaking a spacious sanctuary decorated in creamy whites and soft golds, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city skyline. A fire flickered gently in the marble fireplace, casting a warm glow. The bed was draped with silk sheets, and rose petals were scattered like a delicate carpet.

Seungcheol closed the door behind them, turning to Y/N with a softness that took her breath away.

“Today was perfect,” he murmured, brushing a stray hair behind her ear. “But tonight… tonight is ours.”

Y/N’s pulse quickened. She stepped closer, her fingers tangling in the lapels of his tuxedo jacket.

“I’ve waited for this moment,” she whispered.

Their lips met, tentative at first, then with growing hunger. Seungcheol’s hands explored the curves of her waist, pulling her flush against him. The world outside ceased to exist. There was only the two of them the past pain, the battles fought, and the walls broken down all faded away beneath the heat of their connection.

He guided her to the bed, every movement deliberate and gentle, his eyes never leaving hers. His touch was reverent, like she was the most precious thing he’d ever held.

As he undressed her slowly, revering every inch of skin revealed, Y/N felt cherished beyond words. There was no rush, no pressure only an overwhelming tenderness that made her feel safe and adored.

Seungcheol’s kisses traced the lines of her collarbone and shoulders, his hands memorizing the softness of her skin. When he finally entered her, it was slow and deep, a perfect rhythm that spoke of intimacy and trust.

They moved together, their breaths mingling, hearts beating in sync. Every whisper, every sigh, every touch wove them closer two souls intertwining in a dance as old as time.

Seungcheol’s voice was low in her ear. “I love you, Y/N. More than anything.”

Tears of joy glistened on her cheeks. “I love you too.”

Hours passed like minutes, the night holding them in a cocoon of love and devotion.

Months after the wedding, the small bundle of joy arrived a son, perfect and whole, a living testament to their love and resilience.

Y/N held him in her arms, exhausted yet radiant. Seungcheol stood beside her, tears streaming silently down his face as he kissed her temple.

“Our family,” he breathed.

Minji peered shyly from behind the curtains, eyes wide with wonder at her new baby brother.

Seungcheol pulled Y/N close, whispering promises for their future. “We’ll protect them. We’ll build a life filled with love and laughter.”

Y/N smiled through her tears, knowing that whatever challenges came, they would face them together. For now, their hearts were full of love, hope, and the beautiful life they had created.