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heterotragedies · 2 years

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( 505 ) 001 | 𝐤𝐢𝐦 𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐣𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐠

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 11.5k

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: artist hongjoong + trust fund baby female reader

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: smut, brat taming, body writing, orgasm control, age gap (5-6 years), petnames (doll & baby)

𝐞𝐱𝐭: first installment of 505! based on @atzsslut's kink headcanon.

𝟓𝟎𝟓 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭

.˚ ₍🗒₎ ꒰ © 𝐡𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐬 ꒱

“The Dragonfly” at The Modern Art Museum

11 West 53 Street, Manhattan

July 15 & 16, 10:30 am to 5:30 pm

You read off the invitation letter that found its way into your mailbox a month ago.

That day you were sitting on your kitchen island, the stone cold against the bare skin of your thighs. But the feeling was welcomed nonetheless; it provided some sort of relief to the stinging strain of your thigh muscles.

“Babe!” Hongjoong called, his slippers slapping against the floorboards as he skitters down the direction of the kitchen.

Your lover slips his crumpled shirt off his shoulders and onto the ground. He put that button up shirt on haphazardly earlier on his way to get the mail– didn’t even bother to close it, opting to walk out the door with fresh red and purple flowers blooming from his neck down to his chest.

He stands in between your legs and steals the tall glass of apple juice from your hands in exchange for the black envelope he pulled out from your mailbox . You spot gold text at the back of the square that reads ‘MoMA’ and your eyes immediately snap to his own excited ones.

A month later you’re sitting on a luxurious hotel bed, surrounded by gigantic pillows and burrowed in the downy soaked duvet. The parchment sits in front of you, stark ink elegantly curling and curving to form words.

An incense burned on the table across you, the smoke wafting up and disappearing before reaching the high ceilings of the suite. The room smells of Japanese roses, Hongjoong’s favourite scent because it’s the same scent he met you with. Your favourite was white sage, because it reminds you of your lover: bright, refreshing and comforting.

A mirror sits on the wall above the table and you stare at your reflection. Barely dressed, full face of makeup, and hair tousled into a mess. Beautiful, Hongjoong would say. You’d agree with him, you are beautiful. Especially with the way your makeup was done, deep red eyeshadow smudged under your eyes, extended out into a sharp wing and a sweet romantic gloss over your lips.

Yet, you were troubled. Gnawing on your painted lips, you were gorgeously troubled. Laid out in front of you are two stunning dresses.

To your right was a fern green silk dress. One you bought just yesterday, forcing the cab to stop and rushing out when you spotted it displayed in a boutique. It’s backless, strappy and glossy, everything that gets your gears turning in a dress. The ribbons would criss and cross over your back, tight and soft against your skin. It was long, draping down to your shins with a risque slit cutting down from your left hip. Yes, hip. The band of your thong would have no choice but to peek out if you chose to wear it.

Now, on your left is a little black dress that hugged your curves oh so addictingly. When you first put it on, Hongjoong was mesmerised. His fingers were drawn to your waist as if they were opposite poles of a magnet. The black cloque ended right where your thighs began. The smallest move would flash your ass out to the crowd. Just how you like it. A gold chain belt would wrap loosely on your waist, cinched and catching the eyes of whoever dared to look.

Another important thing to note was that Honjoong chose this dress for today. He dragged you out shopping and spent nearly hours touring the city square in search of the best suit and dress for this event. And the best they were indeed. A perfect match for each other yet both so unique in their own ways.

But of course, to your overtly idiosyncratic boyfriend they ‘didn’t scratch his itch’, he said for lack of a better term.

So the first week was spent measuring your bodies, each fraction of an inch counted. The second was for finding the problems of the pieces. Week three was what you called ‘trial and error’; every single day you’d be ushered into a studio to make the tiniest adjustments on your dress. Putting it on and slipping it off nearly eight times a day.

And it was on the fourth week when Hongjoong got the call from the tailors confirming that your outfits were done. When asked if any of that was necessary, he turned to you and firmly said something akin to ‘of course’.

“Because, there’s no one like you, no one like me. No one like us.”

“You’re not yet dressed?”

There’s the man of the hour. Stepping out of the bathroom, Hongjoong holds the towel on his waist, his hair sopping wet and dribbling. Drip, drip, dripping water all over the carpet. You hate it. The droplets making home on the carpet where they aren’t supposed to be. The annoying circular spots of wetness you’ll step on by chance. And with one glare from you, your boyfriend walks back inside the bathroom to retrieve another towel.

“You look beautiful by the way.”

Oh what a sight. Hongjoong bare from the waist up, his skin glistening with water and his bicep flexing with every time he scrubs the towel on his head. The tattoo on his arm catches your eye as it always does.

‘NO1LIKEME’

Inked on his bicep in gothic lettering. So like him, eccentric and unlike any other. He isn’t afraid to be bold or express himself. Be colourful, be loud, or take up space. And you love him. Every single aspect of him. You’d even kiss his personality if you could. But you couldn’t, and there’s something so upsetting about not being able to lay your love on all of him. How your most favourite part of him was something you couldn’t physically come in contact with. It’s maddening.

“Thank you.” You throw him a simple smile, his favourite.

Actually… everything about you is his favourite. The way you bite your nails when you bid a high price on a set of rubies that you’ll probably only wear once (you won the bid, and he was right, you only wore it once because it didn’t ‘fit your aesthetic’). Or your tipsy walk where you keep your head down and focus on walking in a straight line, chanting ‘don’t look drunk’ out loud when you think you’re only saying it in your mind.

The point is, you love each other, so much it’s near overwhelming.

You also love Hongjoong’s ass (and Hongjoong, yours). So can you really be blamed for whistling at him when he drops the towel on the ground? His plump rear just out for you to ogle.

“Marvellous.”

“I’d highly appreciate it if you don’t whisper like that while looking at my ass.”

He throws you a playful glare and grabs his underwear from the dresser to block his precious buns from your predatory gaze.

“Really? When you have an ass like Perseus?”

“Never say that again.”

“Why not? Perseus had an ass that clapped like thunder.”

Your lover pauses, mind halting at the words that tumbled oh so casually off your lips. Sometimes Hongjoong forgets he’s almost ten years older than you– ‘eight years!’ you’d always correct him.

He met you at one of his exhibitions two years ago. You were blooming with youth and staring in awe at his most recent piece. He watched you from the second storey of the gallery, scuttling around looking for the manager. Making sharp turns and circling the entire floor almost five times, Hongjoong wondered what you needed that urgently to be racing around at that pace.

Sure it was entertaining– watching you click clack across the halls like a little mouse and he was a hawk, but he saw you whip dangerously close to his stained glass sculpture and he felt his heart fall to his ass. So he had to intervene.

You wanted to buy his painting and fought tooth and nail with the artist himself to grab it off the wall and put it on yours. Hongjoong liked that. Your vigour and strongheaded-ness. Somehow along the process of commissioning a painting from him, you two ended up going on dates and giving each other little trinkets of affection.

Your relationship was not odd, not at all. But there have been people who questioned you two. Of course, Hongjoong looked nothing like his age, it seemed as if he was barely over twenty-five. However, once thirty-three escapes his lips, all eyes suddenly turn to you with one question in mind.

“Is he your sugar daddy?”

The idea was just the farthest thing from the truth. In fact, you were even richer than him when you first met. He has never in his life met anyone who was more willing to write him a cheque for thirty-six million won for a partially dry painting. It all made sense later when he found out you were a trust fund baby. With your father owning several hospitals and mother being the president of a mobile network company. That near forty million didn’t even make a dent in your bank account.

“Please just get dressed.” he sighs.

You don’t respond.

Odd, Hongjoong thought, you were never quiet. He turns to look at you and you’re already staring back with a pout and glittery eyes.

He knows that look. You first gave it to him when you asked about taking home his painting. And again on your first date where he ended up on your bed and you held his wrist to make him stay. One more time just yesterday when you stood in front of the boutique window, practically kneeling and asking if you could get the dress.

You want something.

“What?”

Your arm slithers out of the duvet cocoon you’re wrapped up in and draws circles on the silk dress splayed in front of you.

“Can I wear this?”

You stare at his half naked form, gaze switching from him to the clothing rack behind him. Where his newly ironed, black and gold suit hung. His blazer was dark as a starless night sky, hung from the iron rod, the structure a perfect fit for your lover. Across the black fabric was a splatter of gold to match his cincher belt decorated with golden petunias and vines moulded out of wire and metal sheets.

The ideal pair to your dress. Which is why Hongjoong’s confused. Did you no longer want to match with him? What’s wrong with the dress he got you? DId you not like it? How is a basic factory made dress better than the dress he got tailored to fit only you? He doesn’t get you sometimes, and this time was one of them.

“What’s wrong with the black one?”

“Nothing! I just wanna wear the green one right now.”

“You said that’s for our anniversary.”

You did say that, but your anniversary was still a couple months away. How could you stay away from the tempting silk of the dress? It’s impossible! Just leaving the dress to collect dust in your closet (which to be fair is what most of your dresses do since you only wear them once), you can’t handle it.

“But it’s so pretty, Hongie.”

There it is, stage two of your ‘get-whatever-i-want’ action plan. First was the eyes, and then came the nickname. It’s adorable, don’t misunderstand. Hongjoong loves it when you call him that; it makes him weak and flutter. But that’s the farthest thing from being ideal right now.

“The dress is pretty too! We got it tailored for a month, baby.”

He walks towards where you sat, wrapping his arms around your bundled self. Just two barely dressed lovers embracing one another, nothing out of the ordinary.

“I know but…”

“It’s a perfect match for my suit, baby.”

His hands are firm on your shoulders and his eyes mirror yours. Furrowed brows and sparkling against the sunlight that pours through the large windows. But you were much more headstrong than your boyfriend when puppy eyes are involved.

“We can always match later!”

“Well, you can always wear that dress later! On our anniversary.”

The more you think about it, the farther your anniversary seems. First it felt like eight weeks, then it turned to three months. Now, it seems as if you’re gonna have to wait for a whole year to wear the dress. What other opportunities will you have to wear it?

Hongjoong could give you many opportunities. Such as:

Your anniversary (obviously)

Your mom’s annual company party

Your dad’s annual company party

The exhibition events he has about three times a year

And many many more.

“Fine, then! I’m not going.”

Hongjoong freezes. Really? You’re gonna give him attitude even in New York?

Stage three of how you get what you want: rebel. In simpler terms, this strategy you mastered is called bratiness. Oh and does Hongjoong hate brats. Can’t stand them thinking they’re in control.

So he sighs, trying to gain his composure because the event is about an hour away. And he knows putting you back in place requires several hours. You’re one tough nut to crack… Or maybe he’s the one who takes his time to crack you.

“But we flew all the way to New York for this, baby.”

“But look at it, Hongie!”

Hongjoong watches you pull up the dress, the silk dangling from your fingers. The duvet around your shoulders slips off and reveals more of your skin to him. Soft and smooth to the touch. God, he wants to run his fingers across it, maybe even scribble his name on your shoulder.

“I know, love. But we planned this for months. It’d just be a waste if you don’t wear it.”

You grumble about your lover being stuck up because he isn’t giving you freedom. Of course Hongjoong heard it, and you can bet your bottom dollar it pissed him off even more. His inner stove dial is slowly turning higher and his blood starts boiling even hotter.

“Come on, baby. Listen to me just this once?”

“No.”

You throw the blanket off yourself and stomp to the vanity, wanting to wipe all your makeup off. Crazy, really, because you spent nearly two hours putting on your face. Woke up at four am to get ready, and showered in the blistering cold.

Just like Cassie Howards in that popular show, ‘Euphoria’. Hongjoong walked in on you the day you were watching the second season’s finale and he threw you the oddest glance upon seeing various men in flesh coloured tights dry humping each other to the beat. What a strange show, he thought.

“Don’t be like that, y/n.”

His voice was stern, it shook your core. But if Hongjoong thinks that lowering his voice an octave was gonna make you waver (he didn’t, he was just hoping it would today) he was wrong. So wrong. Even after he got up and grasped your wrist, you still tried to charge forward.

“Please, y/n! You can wear the dress later in the afternoon!”

“No!”

His grip loosens and you start digging around for your micellar water. The bottle was lodged deep inside your makeup suitcase, underneath the piles of palettes and cream tubes. Were any of these necessary? Probably not, you only needed around two palettes, three if you were feeling adventurous, but the voice in your head told you to bring it all. So your Louis Vuitton suitcase was filled with a drawer’s worth of cosmetic products.

“Even after yesterday?.”

“Most especially after yesterday! Did you think I’m not gonna wear the most stunning dress to ever exist?”

“What about the one I got you?!”

“This isn’t about that!”

Your lover stares at you crouching down in search of the bottle and the pack of cotton pads with a gaze so sharp and heavy. You ignore it, no matter how heavy it felt and how hot it made your skin. You were on a mission. That dress… you’re wearing it today. You’d rather die than not.

“That’s how it’s going to be, huh.”

Just when you finally spotted the gold cap of your makeup remover, Hongjoong stands with his fists balled up by his sides. He was hot, both figuratively and literally. Every inch of his body was searing with fury. A couple hours won’t hurt right? No one will probably notice his absence.

“You know what? Fine! Wear the stupid fucking dress, whatever.”

You whip your head back, eyes bright and happy. But that soon simmered down when you saw the look on his face. Red in the face with an apoplectic flush. Fucking sexy.

You squeal a little cheer, ignoring his angry gaze. You pick the dress off the mattress with a triumphant smirk on your lips. You always get what you want.

Once you slip the dress on, you turn to Hongjoong who hasn’t said a word since then. Instead he stood motionless, staring at your reflection in the mirror. The green fabric hangs on your shoulders, shapelessly draping over your curves.

“What are you waiting for? Get dressed, babe.”

You shuffle onto the bed to grab the gold chain link necklace haphazardly thrown in between the hotel’s decorative pillows. Honestly, you probably would have forgotten about it if you argued a second longer. Oh well, it would have been a pleasant treat to the next tenants, because who wouldn’t want a twenty-four karat gold necklace?

Your fingers just about brushed against the cool metal when your face was shoved into the mattress. A hand (unmistakably Hongjoong’s) roughly grips at your neck, and stars blur your dark vision.

“You wanna wear that dress so bad? Then wear it while I fuck the brat out of you.”

Your lover redirects his grip onto your hips, pulling up while keeping your torso down. And, boy, does Hongjoong think about how delectable you look right now. He could just eat you up and you wouldn’t do a thing. Maybe he should eat you out right now… Or not.

The green fabric gets flipped up and over your ass, exposing you black thong and Hongjoong scoffs. This would have been a glorious pair to your black dress. You wouldn’t even let him have his way for one day? On this day of all days?

“Hongjoong! The party!”

It’s baffling how you have the gal to even say that right after the scene you started. And it’s so funny to Hongjoong, downright hilarious. Oh he’s about to die laughing…

Well, that’s what you hoped. All you ever wanted was to tilt your boyfriend slightly over the edge just so he’d let you wear the dress. You didn’t mean to let his anger boil over like pasta cooking in a pot filled to the brim (side note: you only came to this analogy because Hongjoong himself has been subjected to such a predicament– by himself nonetheless, but that’s besides the matter!)

“Oh now you care about the party?”

It seems Hongjoong was not in a silly goofy mood like you, judging by his searing glare melting through your skin. Hot. But you’re not entirely sure if you’re scared or horny.

“I thought you only wanted to wear this stupid dress.”

He grips at the seam and tears a slit on the mirroring side of the dress all the while cursing at your dress. His hands, calloused from years of sculpting and endless painting, crumples the green silken bust down below your bralette and they start to knead. As if your breasts were the clay he mastered into creating heaven sent sculptures with.

“I thought this covered too much skin anyway.” Your lover mutters to himself, yet the room was quiet enough for you to hear.

Pleased, Hongjoong rubs his palms across your back. When you go quiet, it means you’re near submission, slowly melting into putty for his hands to play with; mould you into every shape he can think of. It is rather early for you to be in this state already, but you don’t hear Hongjoong complaining about it. Maybe you would finish earlier than he expected.

With your face pressed into the sheets and your ass up in the air, there's no denying this feat of dominance Hongjoong is currently displaying is making you wet. As soaked as a kid fresh out the pool and running across your carpet. Too scared to even say a word, you focus on levelling your breath and listening for any movement from the man behind you.

The room fills up with a tense silence while you wait for Hongjoong’s next move, not daring to turn your head because you know what’ll follow if you do. “Did I say you could move?” He would hiss with his voice at a spine chilling tone. And god would it make you so wet.

When a cold palm runs down your back, you flinch. Hongjoong’s eyes study the ribbon that laces across the smooth expanse of your back. Too little skin, he thinks; and he starts to pull each ribbon through the loops, starting from the bottom where the ends hang loosely. When he’s done, he sits back on his heels and contemplates what to do next.

“You’ve been acting spoiled since we landed here, doll. Wanna tell me why?”

No response. Hongjoong expected that much, especially with the way you were so focused on breathing right now. He can tell you want him so bad. He can see it in the flush of your skin and the twitch of your fingers against the pristine white sheets. Oh what a shame, the said sheets would be ruined soon.

“We came all the way for this, baby. And now we won’t be able to make it to the first day because of you. Because you’ve been a fucking brat.”

Your boyfriend gathers both your arms behind you and you yelp when you feel the ribbons wrap your wrists together. Your body gets flipped over on the plush mattress, bouncing slightly at the force. Your arms are restricted behind your back, pressed against the silken sheets and your, now, bare back.

“That’s okay, we’ll just go tomorrow.”

Hongjoong mutters mindlessly, to no one in particular since he’s much too occupied with the visual you present him: chest heaving as you breathe, hair splayed out on the pillows in swirls and curls, and your eyes– oh your eyes. They were almost doll-like with the way they’re glossed over with unshed tears and dilated pupils.

“You’re so gorgeous, doll.” And he dives in.

His lips first attach to the juncture of your neck, pressing butterfly kisses onto your skin and then moving up to your jaw. His hands flutter over your sides, the phantom of his touch burning your skin from under the silk. Hongjoong’s fingers brush over every curve they come across, as if they don’t have the planes of your body memorized after two years of exploration.

But here’s the thing about Hongjoong, he will never settle. He’s dynamic and he knows you are too. Whenever he’s intimate with you, he just wants to overwrite each note he’s made in the past because you’re always changing, growing to be more beautiful than the last. He wants to see the way you change with him, the way you grow with him.

His fingers tickle the skin of your thighs, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. The feeling makes tingles shoot up your spine, and heat up your body. His lips kiss and peck at your jaw, noisily moaning in your ear about how he just loves the taste of your skin, how it’s so addicting, and only he can have it.

At some point, Hongjoong’s hands find themselves nestled underneath your thighs, groping and massaging the plush fat that he loves to bury his face into. He lifts your thighs and hooks them around his waist, pulling you closer to him. His clothed cock makes contact with your soaked panties and Hongjoong swears he might just explode. Your cunt was for sure sopping wet by now, and so so warm for him.

Your body jerks up the bed when your lover grinds against your core. An electric zing flashes in your chest and flies through your veins, your eyes widening while holding Hongjoong’s fierce gaze. And he smirks when you yelp after he repeats the action.

“Hi baby.”

You had been silent for the past few minutes, so the noise was welcomed by Hongjoong, reassuring him that you’re still present.

He continues grinding against your core until you're shaking like a leaf. Each brush of his cock over your clit makes your thighs tense in his grip. Truthfully, it makes him giddy. Feeling your body shiver with his touch, hearing you whimper out something akin to his name. Oh it gets his gears going, makes his cock stand taller and harder.

And you’re at his mercy, lying there and taking each rub of his cock on you. Your fingers twitch with arousal and itching to thread into his split dyed hair, You want to tug on them, tell him you want to cum, make him do something about it.

“I didn’t expect you to go quiet at this point, doll.”

Hongjoong pulls his hips away from yours and you have half the mind to complain, until he runs a finger up and down your slit. Your back arches up to him like a sunflower to the sun. Automatically drawn up to him because it’s him who’s giving you pleasure. He is your sun showering you with the warmth of his sunlight.

“Usually you’d run your mouth until you get my cock in your cunt,” he continues his condescending dialogue.

This time, Hongjoong’s middle finger pushes harshly into your clit; which forces your knees to dig deeper into his sides and a squeak to escape from your lips. He likes it, your reaction. It’s just what he wanted: you reacting to each and every little move he does, he wants to see and hear you react whenever his skin meets yours. So he brings his hand back to slap at your clothed pussy once.

“What made you change your mind?”

As per your usual, pathetic self, you had no answer to give to your lover. Instead, your brows had furrowed and your lips now hung open in a silent moan, eyes still stuck on Hongjoong’s. Mesmerized in the way his irises drink in the look on your face; you know it drives him mad when your face scrunches up in pleasure, it’s one of the things he looks forward to.

As for you, you always look forward to having Hongjoong’s fingers lodged deep inside you; and he knows. He revels in the knowledge of it, in fact. Something about the way you suck his fingers in and try to hold him in with your thighs just gets him hotter. The warmth of your pussy around his nimble fingers and the feeling of your arousal running down his wrist. It’s all too addicting to him, dangerous for him to even have unlimited access to it.

And thus, when Hongjoong finally pulls your thong to the side and slides his finger over your cunt it is him who moans. A deep, airy one coming from his chest, like it had been brewing inside him for days. He loves it, loves how it soaks the pads of his fingers immediately. Loves how they coat his skin and leave him all warm and sticky.

You whine when the tips of his fingers finally breach your entrance. The rough pads of his skin rub against your walls and you manage to hold back a yelp at the feeling. Your partner pulls out his finger to make room for another one. His middle finger and ring finger, glued to one another, slowly pushes through your cunt.

The stretch barely stings, but you feel the intrusion. His fingers reach the exact spot that you need him, brushing his fingers against your walls with ease. Your head drops back onto the plush hotel bedding, and Hogjoong keeps an eye at the way you react.

He watches your chest heave up every time he pulls his fingers out and jump when he slams them back into you. Your shoulders are tense and stiff from holding your weight, but he can see that they’re doing their best to support you as you start to grind into his hand.

Your legs slide off from Hongjoong’s sides and plant on the bed, helping you rock your hips forward in search of friction on your clit. You don’t really need Hongjoong to touch your clit for you to cum, but you wouldn’t mind if he did right now. Especially considering how you’re restrained as of currently. He should at least compensate right? You are his lovely girlfriend and all…

Lovely or not, Hongjoong still refuses to acknowledge your actions. In fact, he even tries to hold your hips down with a strong hand. Because, have you forgotten? You had been a brat all morning. If you had only listened to him, you’d be enjoying the art exhibit across the street.

A quick glance at the fancy digital clock on one of the bedside tables tells him that it’s nearly eleven. The exhibit had probably opened thirty minutes ago. By then he’d probably have loads of pictures of you in your stunning black dress, admiring all the paintings and sculptures. And then after circling the room once, he’d drag you back to your hotel room to fuck you senseless and reward you for being such a beautiful doll for him.

Too bad you had other plans in mind.

Hongjoong’s fingers stopped mid pump and you whip your head up to glare at him. You have the nerve to look at him in such a way when you’re the one at his mercy. He could just leave you unfinished and tied up and go to the museum himself. He had every right to do that to you after talking back to him and being a brat.

Why won’t he do exactly that?

Because he can’t bring himself to. Even with your eyes glaring at him, he can still see the way they glitter under the lights with need. A need for him, and his fingers. His tongue. His cock. Everything.

But that doesn’t mean he can’t have a little fun with you.

A loud indignant whine leaves your lips when Hongjoong fully pulls out. His eyes linger on his fingers and the string of your slick that stretches in between his fingers. Hypnotizing, really, but he has no time to be drawn into the sight. He’s snapped back when you squeeze your thighs around him, silently pleading for him to fuck you with his fingers. Properly this time, not just the lazy in-out in-out he’s been playing with. No. You want him to make you cum and cry.

“You wanna cum on my fingers, baby?”

Hongjoong’s voice was gruff, lowered down an octave, and it rang in your ears. You give him a pitiful nod along with another round of your best puppy eyes. Something to help convince him to give you what you want today.

But all your lover does is laugh inwardly at your poorly done beg. Instead, he humours you.

His fingers slip back into your wet cunt and begin to pump at a slow pace. One that’s too slow for your liking, but what can you do? You’re the one who’s helpless with their hands tied behind your back. The only thing you’re able to do is whine, again.

All this time you’ve been whining and whining nonstop and it irritates Hongjoong even more. He needs something else to slip out of your pink glossed lips.

“Fuck!”

You yelp when your boyfriend suddenly picks up the pace out of nowhere. Quickly thrusting his fingers into your pussy, rubbing against your warm walls and making your legs quiver. Your back arches upwards and your fingers grip at the sheets beneath you.

Finally, the man sighs to himself. He’s gotten tired of your whining, he prefers listening to you moan out his name and dirty curses. He loves listening to the pitch of your voice raise as a result of his touches.

He also loves listening to the sinful squelch of your juices around his fingers. You, on the other hand, find it embarrassing. Your cunt gushing because of two measly fingers? Were you that desperate? But you can’t help it. When his fingers brush up against that certain spot inside you, you can’t help but to clench around him again, leaking your fluids down onto the ruined sheets of the bed.

And– fuck! You’re close. So, so close. Your legs squeeze tighter against Hongjoong’s sturdy frame, hips trying (but failing) to grind up to his hand. God, if Hongjoong could just pinch your clit then you’d–

“You don’t get to cum, brat.” Hongjoong hisses as he pulls his fingers out of you. “Not until I say so.”

“What!?”

You crane your neck to look down at the smirking man who sits idly between your legs. Staring down at your wet core, clenching around nothing and exposed for his eyes to drink up.

“From now on, you do as I say. Got it?”

You were so close and he just ripped the orgasm away from you. How cruel! You glare up at him, and he returns your gaze with even more fire. You scan his face, from the way his eyes burn right into yours and the way his teeth sink into his lips. And when you don’t give him a response, he slaps your core once more.

“I said, got it?” He repeats, his voice dripping with venom and impatience.

The impact makes you yelp and immediately attempt to shut your legs. But they fail to do so with Hongjoong in between.

“G… got it.” You reply with a voice so meek you’d remind Hongjoong of a pitiful little mouse.

Moving forward, your lover’s satisfied with your answer. It was the most obedient act you’ve done all day today! He grips your knees and forces your legs to stretch out a tad bit more. Making just enough space for him to lie on his front, face inches away from your aching core.

His breath puffs against your skin and the feeling makes you squirm. Although Hongjoong has gone down on you many a time, the thought of having him face to face with the most vulnerable part of your body still embarrasses you.

When he licks a stripe up your slit, you jerk your hips back, pulling yourself away from his touch. Annoyed, Hongjoong wraps his arms around your hips and forcefully pulls you back to him. Bringing his tongue back to ghost over your lips.

It hurts, the strain on your shoulders and your arms are beginning to grow numb under your weight. You want to move, to touch your lover, grip at his hair and tug. Guide him to where you want him the most, where you need him badly.

But then he presses his tongue flat against your nub and all thoughts of the pain fly out of your head. All you can hear in your head is a sensual oh fuck, one that you voice out. And one that flies straight to Hongjoong’s hard cock. God, did he ever mention how much he loves your moans?

The split haired male tugs your hips closer to his face and proceeds to lap at your clit. Each stroke makes you quiver in his hold and your eyes roll to the back of your head. Your wanton moans fills up the room and Hongjoong is surrounded by you. All he sees is your lust glazed eyes, and all he tastes is your warm, wet cunt. All his senses are taken over by you.

And you, him. All you can hear is the dirty slurping of Hongjoong’s lips on your pussy. And all you can feel is his hands on you, burning your skin under his touch and the knot in your stomach tightening once more. Calling– begging for release.

The remaining sensitivity from before (from the orgasm Hongjoong so rudely kept from you!) brings you closer to another pending orgasm. Your chest burns white and hot, like a star burning to a supernova.

The tongue previously flat on your clit, gave the nub one last lick before travelling down to your opening. It prods and pokes and does everything but breach your entrance. Hongjoong can only laugh at the way you're helplessly squirming in his grip. The vibrations running up to your body and shooting shocks of pleasure through you.

When your boyfriend’s tongue finally slips inside, you let out a moan of relief. Your head lolls to the right and your eyes flutter shut. Having Hongjoong inside you, whether it was his fingers, tongue, or cock, was always your favourite part. You loved how perfectly he fits into you. Like you were moulded after his person.

But Hongjoong would like to argue that it was him who was moulded to fit you. He was always such a romantic.

“Baby…” was the next coherent word you let out.

Hongjoong hums in acknowledgement, his lips still pressed against your pussy and tongue still busy exploring inside.

“Wanna– ah… touch.”

“But, doll…” He pulls away and you have half the mind to complain. “Why should I let you touch me? You’ve been such a brat today.”

His tone was condescending. You heard his words perfectly, they were short and easy to understand even in your haze riddled mind. You can’t touch him because you don’t deserve it. You can’t touch him because you didn’t obey him and you deserve to be punished. He’s only doing this because he loves you, right? Yeah. He’s said that multiple times. But then again, wouldn’t you let him touch you because he loves you?”

“Answer me, baby. Why?”

A pause.

“Because you love me.”

And Hongjoong has to lean back on his heels because, wow, he’s never heard that one before. It makes him blush, honestly. And his heart flutters at your choice of words. However, he still has a front to put up.

So he throws his head back with a grunt and pokes his teeth with his tongue. With a scoff, he shakes his head in disbelief and slowly brings his gaze back down at you.

“You’re right, baby. I do.” He crawls over you and plants his hands beside your head.

Now he’s hovering over your form, face a mere couple of inches above yours. Your legs shift to wrap one around his waist. Your calf snags on the band of his trousers and that’s when you realize that Hongjoong’s still half dressed. His pants hang loosely around his hips with the button and zipper undone. You can see the elastic of his briefs and the faint outline of his abs accentuated by the happy trail that disappears into his underwear.

“But then if I let you go…” His fingers trace the features of your pretty face. From the slope of your nose to the bow of your lips. “What if you act out again and go back to being a brat?”

You shake your head furiously, desperate to just move along and get to the part where he fucks you stupid!

“I won’t! I-I promise.”

“How do I know you won’t break that promise.”

“Because I love you! I won’t break it, I swear!”

Hongjoong smirks. He likes the direction this conversation is going.

“You do baby?” And when you nod, he continues. “Only me?”

Now he’s leaned his face closer to yours, lips barely ghosting over one another as a low chuckle leaves him. His eyes bore into yours like they always do. His deep, dark irises are glittered with gold and his pupils are dilated. It makes it hard to look away when he has such beautiful eyes and long lashes.

“I do! I promise I love you and only you!”

Your boyfriend’s smirk widens and he gives your lips a soft peck before pulling away to reach for something above your head. You watch as his body stretches and his muscles tense. You just want to run your fingers all over him. Feel his skin against yours, trace every curve and every edge he was given.

“So you wouldn't mind if I did this right?”

He comes back to your view with something in his hand. The diamond encrusted gold casing shines in the sunlight that streams through the large windows of the room. You immediately recognize your Guerlain lipstick (one you had also tossed on the bed earlier in the morning) and furrow your brows in confusion. What does your boyfriend want with your lipstick?

He moves to place his legs on either side of your hips and balances his body over yours. Back arching down to bring his face closer to your collarbones. His hands work open the lipstick and he starts to write on your skin. The rich red colours pop against your complexion and it’s mouth watering how beautiful the colour makes you.

‘HJ’

He scribbles his initials under your left clavicle and he smiles when he follows it with a little heart. Because you love him, right?

“Because you’re mine.”

You knew what he was writing, the downward strokes and curved lines made it so obvious. It wasn’t like it was the first time he did this, no this was about the second time(?) he’s possessively written his name on your skin, if you remember correctly.

The first time was when you went to a bar on a particularly busy weekend. You had dressed up in your favourite little black dress of the week. The Damien black mini dress from AKNA– yes the one Maddy Perez wore in euphoria (Hongjoong swears it’s such an odd show). And some random dude decided to sit right next to you and offer to buy you a drink. Even with you practically hanging off of Hongjoong’s arm.

That night he ruined one of your felt tip eyeliner pens with how much he scribbled his name and the word ‘mine’ all over your body.

But back to the present.

Hongjoong’s now scribbling his full name– last name and all– onto your right shoulder. Muttering something along the lines of ‘to remind you of who you belong to’ and ‘remind you of who to obey’. He writes and doodles and scratches on and on until your chest is covered in many variations of his name, ‘mine’, little hearts, and tiny flowers.

“And because you love me so much.”

He smiles to himself and admires his work. Oh how he wishes he could frame this right now. Keep it in your shared bedroom to remember this forever. But he can’t frame you, that’d be cruel. Maybe he’d snap a picture later when you're done and paint it on a giant canvas (he’s thinking of even painting it on one of your walls).

A small chuckle escaped his lips when he saw your expression. Flushed in embarrassment and arousal with your brows furrowed and lip in between your teeth. You look gorgeous.

His eyes trail down to the scrunched up silk the rests under your breasts. That wretched dress… even though Hongjoong semi-hated the dress, he can’t deny how well it complements the red of the lipstick against your skin. Fuck, he really hopes he can properly recreate this image on a canvas.

Your skin burns when Hongjoong grabs the dress to pull it lower down your body, exposing your midriff to the cool air of the room. And your lover starts to write once more. But this time the sweet little hearts are replaced with nastier words. First it started with brat, but as he got lower they escalated to slut and such. Don’t misunderstand, he still scrawled down a couple ‘mine’s here and there and a little bit more of his initials.

“The dirty fucking slut only loves me right?” He mutters as he carefully dots his ‘i’s and crosses his ‘t’s. “I’m the only one for you because no one else can fucking handle a spoiled brat like you.”

And it’s true. He knows it, you know it. So what’s the point in denying?

You sit there and accept your fate. Let Hongjoong have his little possessive streak without complaint. You do like the feeling of him drawing across your skin even if it’s at the expense of one of your favourite lipsticks. But that’s alright, you could always refill it at the Bergdorf Goodman downtown. You’ve been itching to visit since you landed here. You’ll have to book an appointment for tomorrow, though… and if they don’t have a free slot, then you’ll just throw a couple hundred dollars their way and for sure they’ll give you a refill.

“Do you like it, baby?” Hongjoong asks, finally rising from his bent over position.

And you nod, “I love it, Hongie.”

Now, with most of his pent up frustrations released (and your lipstick used to a blunt), Hongjoong decides that he should probably untie your arms.

You could practically cheer when you can finally move your arms, the blood rushing back to the numbing tips of your fingers. And the first thing you do is cup your lover’s face, rubbing your thumb against his cheek.

Your hands pull the man down onto your lips; meeting in a heated kiss filled with passion, teeth, and tongue. His tongue traces around the edge of your glossed lips, taking some of the peach flavour cosmetic for himself. His lips slot against yours perfectly, dancing with each other in a symphony of your pants and the chirping birds outside.

The kiss deepens with every second that passes and Hongjoong presses more and more into you. Sucking you in like a lost astronaut into a black hole. Neither of you want to break away, not when it’s getting so good. But stupid human bodies and their need for oxygen is what finally parts you two.

Hongjoong’s forehead leans against yours and your breaths mix with how you pant in sync.

“Fuck, doll.”

He can’t take it. He’s been hard for the past hour and he hasn’t done anything to even relieve himself. Why was he giving himself blue balls? Hongjoong doesn’t know. All he knows is screw the stupid punishment, he needs to fuck your pussy right now.

His hands hurriedly yank down his trousers and toss them onto the carpet along with his briefs. The thought of having it dry cleaned and steam pressed again passes his mind briefly but he does not give a fuck right now. The only thing in his mind is you, his cock, your cunt, and cum.

His dick stands tall and proud, blunt head swollen and red and dripping with precum. Your mouth waters at the sight and it takes you no less than a second to reach down and brush your fingers over him. His skin is warm, slightly sticky and wet. His slick coats your palms when you finally wrap a hand around him.

A curse flies out of Hongjoong’s pink-kissed lips when you squeeze him tighter. His lips fall open and his hair falls to curtain over his eyes. Yet through his blonde and black tresses, you’re still able to make out the flicker of lust mixed into his irises and it’s what makes you whimper and clench your core around nothing. A simple gaze from your lover would have you shivering and shaking like a leaf in September, just how you would prefer.

Hongjoong, however, would prefer if you got your hands off him right now because he feels like he’s about to burst. He needs to be inside you at this instant.

So he gently flicks your hand away from his erection to replace it with his own. After a couple pumps on his own shaft, he aligns the head of his cock to your pulsing entrance. And with a quick glance up at you for reassurance, he begins to press into you.

You love it. The feeling of him carefully sinking into you slowly, making you feel every square inch of his skin. The pleasurable stretch his girth gives you. The way his cock brushes up against that spot inside you has you reeling and your toes curling.

He loves it. When you pulse around and suck him even deeper, it leaves him bewitched and breathless. The feeling of your cunt fully surrounding him is hot and wet and it makes his skin tingle and stomach churn. The sinful squelch that fills up the room as he bottoms out inside you fills his heart up with a dirty glee that he knows only you can give.

Now with Hongjoong fully inside you, it’s almost as if time stops. Like the world stops rotating and the clouds stand stagnant against the clear blue sky. Nature falls quiet, no tree’s rustling in the wind or birds singing their happy melodies.

Nothing.

When Hongjoong sits still with his cock deep inside of you, nothing matters other than him.

Your lover likes to say that he takes his time with you in the beginning to help you prep, but you know he’s always lying. He likes to sit there and let you feel the weight of him inside you to tease you. Get you to the point where you’re begging for him to move. Because, face it, Hongjoong never rushes foreplay and will always prep you hours before slipping into you. He has fucked you countless times throughout the years to know that you’re fine by now.

Yet he just sits and stares.

But there’s something that you don’t know, possibly because you're too dazed to look deeper into his eyes. What you don’t know is that behind Hongjoong’s teasing smirk and calm facade, is a panicked man on the verge of climax. His hairline is beaded with sweat and he’s trying so hard to keep himself from just coming at the mere feeling of being inside you.

Pathetic, sure, some people might think. But put them in his shoes, and they’d feel absolutely the same. After an hour of just playing with his lovely girlfriend who has his name written all over her skin, what man would not explode at the sight?

Your back was sticking onto the sheets that you’re laid on with your hair splayed out in different directions. Your skin, again, covered in lipstick (Hongjoong just loves it too much to stop thinking about it) and the mass of silk that could barely be identified as a dress scrunched up around your hips. Your nipples are noticeably pebbled from under your black lacy bra that perfectly matches with your black thong. The one that he has pushed to the side to make way for his cock that has you stretched open.

“H-hongjoong…” You finally muster up the courage to speak and it snaps your lover out of his thoughts.

“Please.” It’s when you clench around him while looking up at him so helplessly does he finally snap.

Fuck his pride.

The first thrust that he drives into you is slow, testing out the waters. Not for your sake, but his. Then with every push his pace picks up, slowly building up to a much more satiating speed. The room fills up with the sound of skin against skin muddled with your voices panting and moaning for one another.

Each drag of his cock against your gummy walls has you reeling. Every wave of pleasure that washes over Hongjoong when you squeeze around his cock makes him falter.

Your lover hooks an arm under your thigh to lift it over his shoulder, helping him reach deeper into you. And it rips a moan from your throat. The new angle just exposes the both of you to a whole new sensation of skin against skin. With your arms finally free, you get the opportunity to do what you’ve longed to do for a while now. Your fingers comb through Hongjoong’s dual coloured hair and twirl a couple locks around them.

And then you tug. Not too much that it hurts, just enough to get a reaction from Hongjoong. Who furrows his brows at first but then a wide smirk flashes on his face.

You’re not sure whether it’s a direct result from you pulling his hair, but Hongjoong’s pace quickens right after you do it. He pumps his cock harder into you, forcing you to jerk up towards the pillows above your head. To oppose this, your boyfriend wraps an arm around the thigh on his shoulder and uses it as leverage to hold you still.

The new pace and force of his thrusts have you arching your back and rolling your eyes. Your lips remain opened in a silent moan, unable to produce anything but breathy whines and gasps. Your hands arbitrarily squeeze and pull against Hongjoong’s scalp to try and anchor yourself to reality.

But Hongjoong knows how to work his cock. He knows what gets you going and what makes you unravel. He does exactly that. His fingers brush over the hood of your clit and your body just tenses. Your thighs start to shiver as a familiar feeling starts to bloom from your chest. It spreads all over your body and makes you mindlessly jerk your hips up towards his touch.

The fingers on your clit start to press harder against your nub as your partner’s thrust starts to get sloppy. They circle around your clit before starting to harshly swipe against it. And it sends you into a frenzy. Your moans get louder and louder with each rub against your nub and you feel a knot tighten in your stomach.

Hongjoong can tell that you’re close, from the pulsing of your cunt to the erratic gasps of his name, he knows those are sure signs of your orgasm. If this had been earlier in the day, he would have stopped right then and held you from another orgasm. But now as he thinks about it, edging you three times was enough, right? You deserve to cum, you are his lovely girlfriend after all.

“Wanna cum, baby?”

You nod, mindlessly nod at whatever he said because you can barely hear him through your own voice. Nothing in your mind but your lover’s cock and how good it’s making you feel. Your cunt squeezes around him again, once, twice, three times.

And Hongjoong pulls out.

But before you can complain he shoves three fingers into your hole and curls them up to rub against the spongy spot in your walls. His other hand continues to roughly play with your clit and that is all that it takes for you to start cumming against his fingers.

“That’s right, baby. Feels so good to cum on my fingers, yeah?”

You twitch and jerk at the intensity of your orgasm, the previous sensitivity still present which lead to your early finish. Not that you’re complaining though. Especially when you feel so satiated. Your hips irregularly jolt up as you come down from your high, your boyfriend’s fingers still nestled in you.

You silently thank the gods that you finally get to release. A whole hour of edging was just too much for you. Thank them for bringing Hongjoong to the conclusion that you deserved to cum.

In fact, Hongjoong now thinks that you probably deserve to cum again… and again. After all, he does love you very much and you to him, remember?

So when he slips back his cock into your sensitive hole, it shocks you. He sets a pace quicker than previous and it has you panicking. You’re still sensitive from the high you just had not even a minute ago and now Hongjoong’s back to rutting his dick into you? Is he out of his mind?

Yes.

“H-hong!! Fuck– … t-too … too… sen-”

You try to gasp out but Hongjoong doesn't care. Now that he had a chance to collect himself (and he’s no longer on the verge of cumming), he decides that one orgasm wasn’t enough. His cock drives hard into your wet cunt and he relishes in your hysteric begging. Whining for him to stop or slow down.

The bulbous tip of his cock prods at a deep spot inside of you and the feeling of him being so deep and pounding into you so roughly brings back the knot in your lower belly. You try and try to beg for him to slow down, give you a break or something. But your words fall to deaf ears.

You squirm against the sweat soaked sheets, and try to run away from your lover's brutal pace. But Hongjoong chooses right then to slide his arms under your back to press himself flush against your chest, holding you still and unable to move away. Your skin burns against his, a delicious feeling welcomed by him.

The lipstick stains of his name most definitely have smudged onto his skin but that doesn’t concern Hongjoong. He’s too occupied with how your eyes are brimmed with tears and your lips are parted to beg. You probably think you’re saying actual words, but all that leaves your mouth are incoherent vowels, not a single understandable word from your fucked out brain.

You wrap your arms around his torso when you feel on the edge of another high, squeezing him closer to you like how your pussy convulses around his cock. In response, Hongjoong groans and throws his head back.

By now the hotel room reeks of sex. If the sound of the bed creaking doesn’t make it obvious then the humid stench of cum and sweat will. Hongjoong spares a glance to where your bodies meet and he has to clench his jaw to keep himself from cumming. The sight of the slick from your gushing cunt connecting his hips to yours whenever he pulls away is one he treasures. Like your skin covered in lipstick, he’d like to recreate this one too. Keep it with him forever.

With a couple more thrusts, your body suddenly tenses again and you’re cumming for the second time. By then your orgasm is twice as strong as the previous one, and it leaves you shaking for a tad bit longer. Your legs twitch and you just now realize that you’re sobbing. The tears that once blurred your vision have now run down your cheeks. The red eyeshadow you had on was now smudged and beyond salvation.

You’re weak, your limbs have now gone limp and you don’t think you can properly make up a sentence by now. You’re mind had been fucked to goo, nothing up in your head but an airy feeling that makes your heart flutter and skin tingle.

You look so peaceful.

But you can’t leave Hongjoong like this can you? High and dry with his balls filled with cum that’s specially for you?

You’re not that cruel right?

“One more, baby,”

Your eyes widen once more and you try to fight back from his arms that are scooping you up. But you’re too weak. You can’t push him away and the tiny tiny voice in your mind says “do you really want him to stop?”. Your mouth opens to say something (you don’t know what), but, again, you’re just too fucked out to form coherent sentences.

So you have no choice but to let Hongjoong slip back his hard cock into your abused pussy. His skin rubs against your raw walls and you’re not sure if you want him to stop. Because you’re exhausted, your body feels like jelly and you don’t want to move. However, no matter how tired you are, you can’t deny that it feels so fucking good.

The friction against his skin and yours is driving you crazy. And when he shifts to lie on his back and pull you on top, you can’t help the loud whine of his name that escapes you when he hits a spot in you that’s deeper than before.

“You can do one more, right? Be good for me, just this once?”

And you nod, even though you know you don’t have the energy to ride him right now. But that’s alright, Hongjoong doesn’t intend to make you ride him. Instead, he places a strong hand on the back of your head and guides you to rest in the crook of his neck. His palm strokes at your tangled hair that was once styled best to match today’s event, but now it’s a mess of tangled curls and stray strands.

With his feet planted on the mattress, he wraps an arm around your waist and gives an experimental thrust up into your wet cunt. And you’re gone. Any and all thought you previously had of how tired you were was forgotten. In fact, you didn’t even feel anything but his cock in you. Not the tight hand gripping into your skin or the soothing fingers that comb through your hair the best they can. Just the sensation of his cock pulling out to the head before slamming back into you.

Hongjoong shifts his hold from your skin to your ass and he gropes the thick flesh of your ass. He especially likes the way your plump skin peeks through the gaps between his fingers. And the mindless moans that get louder with each squeeze he gives your behind. The constant convulsion of your pussy around his cock makes his knees buckle and hips falter.

Fucking you is always an experience he can’t recreate because there’s just too many things that make it what it is. If he has his hand around his dick it wouldn’t feel right without you moaning in his ears or nails clawing at his skin. Or the tantalizing jiggle of your ass when he pounds into you. It would be incomplete if you weren’t physically present. Whether he’d have a picture of your ass on his phone or a memory of your pussy around his cock playing in his mind, neither would be able to compensate for the lack of your skin against his.

Everytime Hongjoong thrusts up at you, your hips follow. And when they fall to pull out, yours would follow once more. This descend added with the sudden plunge back of his entire cock into your cunt drives him deeper with every push. It makes you cry, drives you crazy, leaves you confused and in a daze, the pleasure.

His hot rigid cock, lined with bumps and veins rubs in and out of your wet pussy. Paired with the sheer speed and power Hongjoong pours into each ram of his hips against yours, you’re left to be putty in his arms. A soggy puddle melting into his skin and becoming one with him. Your voice rings in his ears, echoing from the cave your face is tucked into, and it eggs him to pound harder into you.

You can’t help it, your walls start to flutter around him from the saturated pleasure he brings you and by now, you’re cumming. Hard. Your cunt squeezes his cock and milks him for all he’s got. Hongjoong loves it, the feeling of your pussy convulsing and gushing around him. He’d love to be able to bottle up the feeling and save it for another day.

Your lover’s thrusts increase in speed as he gets closer to his climax and you’re still shaking in his hold. You continue to tremble in his arms with your toes curled and hips jerking erratically, grinding your clit on his pelvis. Each time the tip of his cock brushes up against your walls, they clamp back down on him and pour out more of your cum. It runs down Hongjoong’s shaft and creams around his base, if you weren’t so out of it right now, you’d be way too embarrassed to even face the man.

Hongjoong’s thrusts turn sloppy and unsteady, his hips would jolt whenever you clenched around him and the hand on your ass would twitch. He’s so close.

“I’m gonna cum, baby.”

He announces with his voice low and raspy and it makes your body tingle again. You want him to cum inside, feel his seed heat up your already hot and wet core. You want to feel his cum dripping down your thighs when you move. You want it all. And when Hongjoong lets out a final grunt, you brace yourself for the sensation. Lips hanging open and spilling vowels that resemble your lover’s name.

But instead, he throws you around back onto the mattress and shuffles to stand on his knees over you. His calloused hand grips his cock and you watch with glazed eyes as his angry red skin drips with his arousal mixed with yours. He pumps his shaft furiously while his thighs begin to shake and you listen to the little groans that leave his lips.

“Fuck.” He whispers when he furrows his brows and his eyes flutter close.

Hongjoong came in spurts of three. The first one landing on your red stained chest, and the final two dripping into your dress (if you could still call it that) and staining the fabric for good. It’s almost as if he planned this…

Oh what a view.

Hongjoong kneeling over you with a flush on his skin and a sheen of sweat making him shine in the sunlight. His hair was tousled and sticking to his forehead, and his lips were bitten red. You watch as his dick goes limp with a few final drops of his cum falling onto your skin.

With your tangled hair and tear stained cheeks, Hongjoong revels in the after effects of him. The names he had written on your skin were now missing several letters that he’s sure are on his. The “Kim Hongjoong” that he’d written in all caps across your chest was missing an N and a couple O’s, and if he’d look down on his own, he’d see the letters smudged over his skin.

The room is now quiet, the air is still and the smell of sex is still fresh. The two of you stare at each other in silence for a few minutes, processing what just happened and trying to regain consciousness.

It’s Hongjoong who breaks the silence first, scooping you up in his arms and mumbling about going to the bathroom to clean up where he then sits you on the toilet and forces you to pee. He always reminds you to pee right after getting intimate, even if you said you didn’t need to. He’d just throw you over his shoulder and wait on the toilet until you eventually do need to. He’s so particular about aftercare and the looming threat of a UTI. Well, that’s just Hongjoong.

꒰♡꒱

“But, babe.” Hongjoong whines, his arms tired from carrying heavy shopping bags all afternoon.

After a certain someone tore up your dress and jizzed all over it, you decided to buy another. You threw Hongjoong into the car and brought him to the nearest Bergdorf Goodman right after the exhibit closed. Mumbling to him about how he owes you a lipstick refill and one new dress. Well not one, right now you had eight dresses in the bags, and you’re currently looking at another one. It’s similar to the green one you got the other day, but this one is glittery!

“I’ll take it!” You smile to the kind saleslady who then orders a muscular man to take down the mannequin and bag up the dress for you.

You turn to your lover who sits on a velvet upholstered seat, and scowl at his pout.

“This is because you tore up my favourite dress.”

You lied. That dress wasn’t your favourite. How can it be when you just got the prettiest, most sexy garnet coloured mini dress five minutes ago?

“Now, come on, Hongie. I have to get my lipstick refilled.” You call right after you’re handed the bag with your most recent purchase.

And, without sparing your boyfriend a glance, you turn your heel and head towards Guerlain. Hongjoong doesn’t mind the action, at least you don’t catch him staring at your figure. Biting his lip, he trails his eyes down to the way your black dress curves over the plump of your ass and he licks at his teeth when he notices the sliver of black that flashes from underneath your dress and he has to adjust his trousers before he runs to your side.

He walks beside you and listens to you talk on and on about a diamond lipstick case with his hands filled with shopping bags. Your heels click on the polished tile floors of the department store and your steps match with his. Just like how your black, custom made dress matches his black, custom made suit.

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#heterotragedies #505 #het.traj k.hj #|#ateez #ateez x reader #ateez smut #hongjoong #hongjoong x reader #hongjoong smut

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