Seonghwa Hard Hours - Tumblr Posts

restraint • seonghwa

you embarrass seonghwa in front of his colleagues.

tags: hard dom!seonghwa, sub!reader. professor seonghwa. this is quite intense. specific warnings below.

word count: 8.3k

warnings: punishment, pet play, humiliation, impact play, mean angry dom!seonghwa, scolding, praise, heavy degradation, mild piss play (reader pisses on the floor), deep throating, gagging, fingering, choking, safeword mention, begging, fucking, sir kink, mild cum play, bdsm dynamics. this is a little gross sorry. the sections with piss are marked so they can be avoided without taking away from the fic.

DON’T LIKE, DON’T READ. HATE IS DELETED AND BLOCKED.

—————

You should be at home right now. On a Friday night at 7PM, you should be falling asleep on the couch while waiting for your boyfriend to serve dinner. Or curled up next to him, one hand in his hair while you watch TV. Or kissing him. Or touching him. Or…anything. Anything but this.

But here you are, in a strapless dress and painful black heels, silently observing the laughing gaggle of your boyfriend’s colleagues, dressed to impress for another very important, cannot-be-missed-under-any-circumstances work event.

Your boyfriend, Seonghwa, is on the other side of the room, talking to some girl from his work with a little too much enthusiasm for your liking. Not that you're worried that he’d cheat on you, no, Seonghwa is the single most loyal person you’ve met, and he reminds you of how much he loves you every single day. It’s just that you're not ignorant to how goddamn attractive he is. You're not ignorant to the undeniable fact that wherever they go, there'll be about 15 girls and a couple of guys who would take your place by his side in an instant. You see it in their eyes. See it in the eyes of the girl he’s talking to now.

You don't blame her. He’s easy to fall for, with his soft hands and loud laugh and impossibly brown eyes. And that, of course, is just at first sight. The layered, complex man underneath that perfect exterior is more than enough to rival his more superficial appeals.

The pristine Professor Park, the picture of class, intellect, and pretty much every positive adjective you could possibly think of. Always impeccably dressed, never without a quote from a novel or paper or film, always knowing what to say and how to say it. Just completely and utterly perfect.

And, rumour has it, nothing less than an animal in the bedroom. You both know the tales that are told of him across campus - tales of hickeys hidden beneath turtlenecks, strange noises and suspicious silences from behind the locked door of his office, and of course his insistence that if a certain someone calls his office, no one, under any circumstances, is to ask if they can take a message. That rule, and the incident that had spawned it (and spawned a whole lot more in the privacy of your bedroom), is more than enough to paint a picture of what you definitely heard a student refer to as a ‘love-making beast’.

You swallow a laugh at the thought. If only they knew. If only they fucking knew.

The girl he’s talking to certainly seems keen on finding out. You watch her closely, following her eyes as she looks the man up and down.

Seonghwa says something and the girl giggles, twirling a strand of brown hair round your finger with nothing but heart eyes for the man before her. If Seonghwa is aware of what she’s doing, he doesn’t show it. He just listens to her as she speaks, her soft, admittedly almost velvety voice only just heard above the clash of music and chatter. But he looks slightly bored, which brings you some comfort at least. You catch his eye when he turns away briefly and he frowns at your expression. He excuses himself from his companion and strolling over to you, looking concerned.

“Baby,” he murmurs into your hair, snaking an arm around your waist. “You’re annoyed.”

You relax into his touch, closing your eyes for a second before turning to meet his gaze. You swallow. Even now, as his eyes stare into yours, full of love and concern, his stare is somehow intimidating. Everything about him is, even in his softest moments; the way he moves, the way he speaks, the way he touches you is all power and control and dominance, a constant reminder of exactly who’s in charge, exactly who owns you.

“What are you thinking about?” He asks softly.

“Nothing,” you say all too quickly.

He raises an eyebrow. “Nothing?”

“Well. You.”

“Me,” he says with a hum. “What about me?”

“Doesn’t matter.” You flinch at the coldness in your voice, a coldness that clearly doesn’t go unnoticed by your boyfriend, who stares at you in confusion. You soften slightly, words quiet and as gentle as you can get them right now. “I’m going to get a drink. I just… sorry.”

Seonghwa nods, and, clearly trying to figure out what’s got you so irritated, grabs your arm as you turn to leave, immobilising you.

“Baby,” he says, voice low. “Watch it.”

Then he releases you, shoves you into the crowd and you gulp, ignoring the fire his words had started in your stomach as you weave through the guests crowding the living room. The smell of alcohol is all around you as you approach the kitchen, but right now you're intoxicated on something else entirely. His words echo in your head, emboldened by the dangerous tone with which they’d been spoken and you can’t make yourself think of anything else.

Just three words. Three little words, and you're dizzy. He knows the effect he has on you. Practically feeds off of it.

When you return to the living room, clutching the two bottles of beer you’d retrieved for your and your perfect boyfriend, the girl from before is back next to him. This time, her hand is around his waist.

Your resolve snaps, vision clouded as you, barely aware of yourself, drop the beers to the floor and stride towards the two.

“What the fuck is this?” You seethe, trying and failing to keep your voice at a whisper — by now, the party has all but stopped to watch the much more interesting show unfolding.

Seonghwa mutters your name, tone warning. “Don’t,” he says but you barely hear him, your focus on the woman who has quickly distanced herself from him, face pink.

“I’m sorry,” she starts. “I didn’t know he—”

“Yeah?” You laugh. “Well you do now. Go whore yourself out to another one of your seniors.”

You hear gasps echo around the room, but no one looks more surprised — or angry — than Seonghwa.

You mumble an apology and retreat to the kitchen, more embarrassed than you’ve ever been in your life. You can’t believe you stood and berated someone over a man like you’re a fucking teenager.

You hear the kitchen door open then close and you don’t need to turn around to know who it is.

“What the fuck was that?” Seonghwa hisses.

“Baby, I—”

“Don’t fucking call me that,” he snaps. You flinch, caught off guard by his tone and he seems to soften slightly at your surprise, but the anger on his face remains.

“You—” you start, but he cuts you off as if he hasn’t even heard you.

“Explain,” he says. “Now.”

“Seonghwa, please-”

“Now,” he repeats, nearing a yell. “I mean it. You won’t like what happens if you don’t.”

“She was touching you, Seonghwa,” you whine. you reach for his face but he gently slaps your hand away.

“I know she was,” Seonghwa says. “And I was going to deal with that. Until you decided that it was your responsibility, your right, to try and discipline my colleagues.”

“I—”

“No,” he says. “Go and get your coat, we’re going home.”

You nod, mumbling another apology before walking to the cloak room. You sit in there for a few minutes, trying to calm down, and give Seonghwa the chance to do the same, before you walk back to where he is. But when you see him he’s barely moved, and his expression is, dangerously, still the same.

“Are you really angry at me?” You ask softly. You know you’ve fucked up but you’d thought he’d have calmed down enough to not be overly angry. But apparently not.

“Yes,” he says, apparently electing not to sugarcoat the severity of the situation. Not that you were expecting him to; Seonghwa has always been upfront like that, seeing no point in lying to soften the blow. You’ve fucked up and he’s not going to waste time pretending that you haven’t.

He helps you put your coat on, still gentlemanly (for now) but briefly grabs the back of your neck as you fasten it. He stares at you for a second, expression blank before he releases his grip with a scoff.

“I don’t want to fight when we get home,” you say softly.

“We’re not going to fight,” Seonghwa responds.

You blink, caught off guard by his statement. Based on his reaction, you were certain this was going to end in a screaming match. Hopefully one that ends with the best sex you’ve had in weeks, but you don't want to risk the off chance that the night will instead end at a friend’s house if things get messy.

“We’re not?”

“No.” Frowning, Seonghwa turns back to face you. “I’m going to teach you a lesson.”

—————

The drive home is silent, Seonghwa clearly too irritated to do anything but focus on the road and you too afraid to speak lest you make it worse for yourself, but the tension between the two, and the lingering threat of whatever the hell Seonghwa has planned for you when you get home, is louder than anything either of you could say. It’s everywhere; in his body language, written on his face and in the intensity of the gaze that he never moves from the road. It’s in the way his hand grips your thigh, normally gentle touches suddenly rough, hard, a vessel through which he channels the anger that cannot wait until you get home to be released.

What’s he going to do today? At the party he’d promised punishment, but that could mean any number of things. you try to recall the previous punishments you’ve faced at his hands, browsing through memories to try and figure out which one he might choose today. That’s if you're lucky (or unlucky) enough to receive only one.

He’s fucked your mouth a few times, but once he caught onto how much you enjoyed it it became a less frequent punishment. Humiliation is common - you shudder at the memory of his smug smile as you’d walked around the rooftop garden of your shared apartment, completely naked save for the collar you wore only when he felt you needed reminding of who you belonged to. Or when he’d suddenly revoked furniture privileges, demanding you kneel on the floor as he ate, watched TV, slept. A shudder runs down your spine at the thought, but as you consider it more you realise that Seonghwa is most likely too angry to choose something like that today. That’s for when you've been teasing him, toying with him, for when the punishment is as much a form of fun as it is discipline. But today, you can tell you’ve pushed him beyond that. He’s properly, dangerously angry, and he needs release. He needs to show you who’s in charge, and exactly what happens when you disobey him.

What the fuck is he going to do to you?

Looking back out the window, you realise you’re pulling into your street, and as the car starts to slow you feel your heart begin to race in anticipation, the sound of it echoing in your skull with a similar intensity to the fear that fills your body when the car stops and Seonghwa turns off the engine.

“Get out,” he says, leaving no room for conversation or argument.

You huff but comply, dragging yourself towards your building and up the steps. Your steps are small and slow, an attempt to delay the punishment that surely awaits, but your plan doesn’t escape Seonghwa and he shoves you towards the door with a low chuckle.

“Not gonna work, baby. Faster.”

You curse every God that could possibly exist when you see the elevator is already waiting for you, as if Seonghwa had somehow called ahead to ensure that every effort would be made to speed up your punishment. Seonghwa says nothing as you step in and press the button of your floor, and though you dread the thought of what’s going through his head, you almost wish he would say something. Just so you could get an idea of how angry he is.

As if he’d read your mind, he speaks. “Just so you know,” he says, and the tone alone tells you more than enough, “If I were less opposed to the idea of being arrested, I’d belt your ass black and blue right here in this elevator.”

Your jaw drops. “Oh.” Belting is rare. He’s done it a few times, of course, but it’s generally reserved for your very worst behaviour. Surely you haven't been that bad tonight. Have you?

“But I’m not going to belt you tonight,” he says, placing a hand on your lower back as you exit the elevator. “Unless you decide to be even more of a brat. It’s just that what I have planned would be… well, as disgusting as I am, doing that in an elevator is a line I still won’t cross.”

Okay, he definitely has some sick shit planned for you. Probably something illegal.

Your heart quickens as you turn the corner, bringing your apartment into view. You feel Seonghwa tense next to you as you walk and turn your head, quickly sneaking a look at his face. Fuck. You know that look. Eyes dark and scheming. Lips curled into a small smile. Eyebrows furrowed, deep in thought. This is not Seonghwa, your sweet, caring boyfriend who makes you breakfast in bed and looks at you like you have the world in your eyes. This is Seonghwa, your dominant, whose every move oozes power and control, who uses and abuses you however, whenever he wants.

Who can do anything he wants to you and knows it.

You are so fucked.

————

“Look at this.”

His words are soft, arousal filled as he takes in the sight before him. And what a sight it must be.

You stand in the middle of the living room, sleek black collar the only thing covering your otherwise naked body. The word carved into the inside is an ever-present and all too familiar feeling on your neck. The burn of humiliation as you’d watched Seonghwa put it on you, pausing to point out the engraving, still lingers within you as it presses into your tender skin. Slut.

You’re cold and uncomfortable and you feel completely humiliated. Seonghwa, on the other hand, appears entirely at bliss, lounging comfortably on the couch and sipping a glass of red wine as his eyes roam your naked body. Despite you being too nervous, too embarrassed to meet his gaze, you feel his eyes on you, examining you as though you were a priceless work of art rather than the girl he’d stripped and abandoned in the middle of his living room.

Your hands are raised above your head, at his orders of course, making it impossible for you to cover your breasts, to cover the nipples that have hardened as a result of the air conditioning, which you have no doubt he had turned up to full on purpose.

Seonghwa takes another sip of his wine, a small smile on his face, then speaks. “Enjoying yourself?”

You huffs. “You know I’m not, Seonghwa.”

Forgetting yourself, you almost slap your hand across your mouth. What the fuck did you just say? That’s not his fucking name.

“What was that?” He asks coolly.

“I’m sorry, sir, I meant sir, I promise.” You start to trip over your words in your panic, but Seonghwa gets the message.

“Much better. I’m really not in the mood to put you over my knee tonight, my dear, as much as I think you expected me to.”

You almost miss the smile that flickers across his face at your reaction. You’re so transparent.

The smile disappears, replaced with the straight, unreadable expression from before. “You do know why you’re being punished, don’t you?” He asks.

“Yes, sir, I do.”

“Tell me,” he says, leaning forwards in his seat. “Tell me what you did.”

“I insulted that girl,” you say. “And I embarrassed you in front of everyone.”

He shakes his head, unsatisfied. “Not just a girl. A colleague. A new colleague. Are you trying to tarnish my reputation?”

“What?” You say before you can stop yourself. Seonghwa raises an eyebrow. You correct yourself. “No, sir, of course not.”

“Yet there you were,” he says. “Humiliating me in front of my colleagues, disobeying my orders in public while they look on. Where are your manners, pet?”

You bite your lip, almost whining at the mention of that nickname. Dirty move.

“I’m sorry, sir. I was annoyed.”

“You made a fool out of me,” Seonghwa says. “As your boyfriend, and as your dominant.”

You hang your head, ashamed. Now that your head is clearer you feel his words even deeper. He’s right. Seonghwa has never cared for others' opinions on your relationship. It’s only his professional reputation — the thing that puts food on the table and keeps the cupboard stuffed with toys — that he cares about. And you should have known better than to risk it like that.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

“I know you are,” he says. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t have to punish you. You know I do, sweetheart. It’s how you learn.”

There's no anger in his voice now. Just disappointment. And you fucking hate it. Hate it when you let him down, hate the sadness in his eyes when he watches your misbehave, watches you ignore his rules and lessons and guidance, everything he’d created for your benefit, your protection, you. Everything you so easily disregarded for the sake of a jealous rant. Fuck. You’ve fucked up.

A twinge of guilt pulls at you and you nod demurely. If you’ve ever deserved to be punished, you deserve it now.

“I understand, sir.”

“There we are,” he smiles. “It’s so much easier when you behave, isn't it?”

“Yes, sir.”

He nods, satisfied. “Good,” he says. “Keep this obedience up and it’ll be a lot better for you.”

He leans back, keeping his eyes on you as you stand there. After a few minutes confusion overtakes you and you shyly speak.

“Sir, are we— are you going to make me do anything else?” You ask, still baffled by the mildness of the punishment.

“That depends on your behaviour,” Seonghwa responds. “If you decide to be good, there'll be no more punishment. If not…” he pauses, leans back in his seat without shifting his gaze from you. He reaches for his belt, finger tracing the black leather. His hand twitches as it crosses the buckle and the slight smile on his face suggests that the memories of the belt impacting your ass are just as present in his mind as they are in yours. “This is still on the table.”

“Oh,” you say.

He stares for a moment then smiles, tilting his head almost cutely. “You still don’t get it, do you?”

“Huh?” You frown, confused. You’re not sure what exactly you’re supposed to be getting, so you guess he’s right. Whatever ‘it’ is, you don’t get it.

He laughs slightly, shaking his head like you’re missing something obvious. “No matter, then,” he says, “just stay like this. No moving.”

You nod and do as he says, wanting to be good now. Seconds stretch into minutes which pass by like hours, but still nothing happens. You stand in position and Seonghwa watches you, slowly making his way through a glass of wine that you too could really use right now. His gaze is sharp but not particularly interested, more like he’s monitoring you than watching you. Which you guess is accurate; in a way that’s what he’s doing, monitoring you and your punishment, looking for any signs of you faltering or disobeying, or more importantly, for any signs that you’re reaching your limit. But you’re not reaching your limit. You’re not doing anything.

Eventually Seonghwa gets bored and, apparently, is satisfied that you’re being obedient enough for him to pick up a book next to him. You recognise it as one he’s mentioned wanting to start; something Greek, you think. You watch as he reads; his brows are furrowed slightly as the small amount of alcohol he’s consumed has made it slightly harder to focus. After a while you feel the familiar feeling of discomfort and shyly speak up. “Sir?”

Seonghwa hums, not lifting his gaze from his book.

“I— I need to go to the bathroom.”

“Then go,” he says, still not looking up.

Brevity is the soul of wit, they say. You linger for a second, unsure of yourself, then start to walk. You barely make it two steps before Seonghwa’s voice stops you in your tracks.

“Who told you to move?”

‘What?’ you think. Of course you’re going to move. How else are you supposed to— oh. Oh. The realisation of what he’s suggesting, commanding, almost knocks you off your feet. Holy shit. “Sir, I don’t— are you kidding?” you splutter.

Seonghwa says nothing, the words does it look like I’m fucking kidding? written across his blank face. Bastard.

“You’ve lost the privilege of using the facilities of this house.” He says it so seriously, so formally that he seems like a businessman closing a deal rather than a man directing his girlfriend to piss on the living room floor.

You have no idea what to say, what to think, how to react to his request— no, not request. Seonghwa doesn’t make requests. This is nothing less than an order. “Sir, I—”

“That privilege,” he continues, “is for good girls. And you have not been good. So you can piss on the floor like a dog.”

You baulk. Holy shit. He’s actually serious. That… is beyond anything you’ve ever done. Or discussed. Is he actually going to make you do this? Do you even want this? Sure, you love when he treats you like an animal, when he humiliates and degrades you until the only thing on your mind is being fucked, but this is something else. You can’t do this. Can you?

“If you’re not comfortable,” Seonghwa says, “You can safeword. I won’t be angry. But I don’t think you want to, do you?”

Fuck. The safeword hadn’t even crossed your mind. You’re unsure about this, of course you are — it’s new and unclear and beyond anything you’ve ever even considered — but the idea of using your safeword, of ending all this, never seeing where it would go, what would happen, had never even occurred to you. Maybe you do want this. To piss on the floor while Seonghwa watches, to feel the burn of humiliation that he’s made sure is painfully familiar. To feel like the animal you become only for him. Because of him.

You speak quietly, voice barely a whisper, and the words send a rush of humiliation down your spine.

“I don’t, sir.”

Seonghwa smiles. “Good girl.” He leans back in his chair, eyes never leaving your reddening face. The book is closed on his lap now, and he takes a small sip of his wine as he waits for you to begin.

You have no idea what to do. Well, you know what you have to do, you have to piss on the floor while your boyfriend watches, but how do you… do you just start? Do you just stand there and piss?

He watches you silently, blank face a contrast to impatient eyes and you shift uncomfortably beneath his gaze. You wouldn’t dare ask him to turn away while you does it — it would kind of defeat the point, anyway, and you don’t want to know how he’d react to you resisting punishment — but the knowledge that Seonghwa — tall, strong, domineering Seonghwa who’d been the apple of so many eyes at the party — is about to watch your piss on the floor, ass naked, like some sort of animal, does nothing for your pride. Not that Seonghwa allows you much of it, anyway.

“I’m not a patient man, you know,” he says. “So I’d advise you to hurry up.”

“Yes sir, I’m sorry, it’s just— how can we— how will we even clean it up?” You splutter, unable to select just one of the millions of questions burning in your mind.

“That is none of your concern,” Seonghwa answers with a smile. “All you have to do is be a good little girl and piss on the floor like you’ve been told to.”

You nod but don’t move, still not quite able to force yourself to do it.

“Don’t act like this is beneath you,” Seonghwa says. “I know you. I know you’re just a dog built for the sole purpose of taking my dick, and it’s about time I treated you like one. So piss on the fucking floor before I think of another way to punish you.”

Shit. Okay. You can do this. you just have to— fuck...

“Whatever’s making you hesitate, let go of it,” Seonghwa says, leaning forward. “You don’t seem to know your place. I do. So let go.”

“Sir,” you whisper.

“Let go,” Seonghwa repeats. “I won’t say it again.”

—

[STARTS HERE]

—

Eventually you manage. You close your eyes, trying to shut out your surroundings and it works. You feel it start, trickling down your legs and you flush crimson. You want to die.

“Look at you,” Seonghwa spits. “You’re filthy.”

“Fuck, Seonghwa, I—”

It keeps going, trickling down your legs and pooling around your feet and it’s disgusting. You feel disgusting. Not to mention how humiliating it is to be ass naked while your boyfriend still has his fucking shoes on.

But that same humiliation twists in your gut, colliding with your arousal and the emotions crash into each other like waves against a rock, eating away at you, wearing you down so slowly you doesn’t realise it until it’s too late and you’re drowning in it and the only thing you want to do is fall to your knees in pure worship.

You cry out, overcome by the millions of sensations that explode in your body and mind like fireworks. Who knew pissing could be so… this?

“Dirty bitch, aren’t you?” Seonghwa says. “Pissing on the floor like a fucking animal.”

“I- fuck, sir- I am.”

“What are you, baby?” Seonghwa asks. “Say it. Tell me what you are.”

“An animal, sir,” you say between gasps. “I’m your animal.”

“That you are. And such a good one, darling. Are we done?”

Unable to form any sound resembling a word, you nod. Seonghwa gives a proud smile and rises from the couch, discarding the glass of wine on the side table. He doesn’t approach you. Just stands there.

“I would come closer,” he says, “but I don’t want to step in your mess.”

You say nothing, just turn your gaze towards the mess he speaks of with such disgust. It’s disgusting, you're aware of that. You both are. It’s disgusting to stare at your own piss on the living room floor while your boyfriend degrades you, and you’ve never felt so humiliated, so embarrassed, so ashamed. But you’s also never been this fucking horny.

“Well? Don’t you have anything to say for yourself?” Seonghwa asks, slowly inching towards you. He scoffs. “Stupid dog. Can’t think of anything but getting fucked, can you?”

“Sir,” you almost scream, “Sir, please, fucking hell, please.”

“Please what, darling?” He asks, cocking his head. What do you want me to do?”

“I don’t— fuck sir.”

Seonghwa chuckles, amused eyes looking you up and down. “Look at you. I haven’t even touched you and you’re already a fucking mess. Come here.”

You blank for a second while your clouded mind processes his words then move to walk towards him, but you’re stopped in your tracks by Seonghwa’s noise of disapproval. “That won’t do,” he says.

“What?”

“I don’t think you’ve earned the right to walk. Crawl.”

You pussy throbs at the command and you swallow, cheeks flushed as you get down on all fours. In a pool of your own piss. Holy shit.

You go slowly, one hand after the other and you feel absolutely fucking vile. You can’t believe you're doing this and some part of you doesn’t want to believe it, but you can’t bring yourself to give a shit. You’ve never needed your boyfriend, his dick, more in your entire life than you do right now. And based on the dent in Seonghwa’s dress pants as he sits back down on the couch, and the sweat that’s already building on his face, the feeling is mutual.

You crawl to his feet, stilling when he places a firm hand in your hair and pulls your face towards his crotch. “Good girl,” he hums, then lifts your face and pulls it towards him, forcing eye contact. “What a good dog I have.”

“Fuck. Sir,” you whisper.

“I’m here, pup. But you aren’t quite forgiven yet.”

He hands you wet cloth you didn’t know he had, instructing you to dry your hands and you do. “Stand,” he orders.

With shaking legs to stand up and he takes the cloth, using it to run up and down your legs until you’re clean. He scrubs you harshly, until your shins are red and irritated, before he drops the cloth and orders he back down to your knees.

—

[ENDS HERE]

—

“I think you need some reminding of who you belong to,” he says. “Open your mouth.”

Hesitantly you obey him, watching as he pulls his dick out of his pants. Even now, you’re always a little surprised by the size. He doesn’t give you any time to speak, shoving his dick into your mouth without warning. You choke at first, surprised by the intrusion but you quickly get used to it His dick is thick and wet and you devour it; lick it, suck it, gag on it, let Seonghwa force it down your throat over and over until it’s the only thing you feel, the only thing you want, the only thing you can think about. Seonghwa grunts and moans, gives rough praises that you can’t comprehend. He grabs the back of your head, pushing you further down onto his dick and he smiles.

“You don’t really need to breathe, do you?”

He doesn’t give you time to react before he forces himself even further into your throat and it burns, burns in the most delicious fucking way and you love it, love the way he thrusts into your throat with no mercy, no concern for you or your comfort. This is about his pleasure and his only. Right now, you exist solely to serve him, to serve his dick and you fucking love it.

“That’s it,” he groans.

He thrusts into your again and it fucking hurts but the scream you let out is muffled by his dick, drowned out by his loud, pleasured groans.

You rise off your knees, trying to get closer to him, to take more of him in your mouth, but he pushes you back down.

“No fucking moving, dog. Remember your place,” he says. “Remember who’s in charge here.”

You say nothing, paying no attention to his words as you lean forward again and force him down your throat. you don’t care who’s in charge. Don’t care about following his orders or respecting his authority. You need him. All of him.

But instead of giving you what you want, he pushes you off his dick and slaps you across the face.

You gasp at the impact, lifting a hand to your stinging cheek with a moan of pain. Seonghwa gives you a second to recover before he slaps you again, just as hard on the other cheek and you scream.

“Greedy bitch,” he spits. “Are you that fucking desperate?”

“Sir,” you whine, still clutching your stinging cheeks. “Ow, sir, please.”

“Quiet,” he says. “I don’t want another word out of you. All I want you to do is be a good little mutt and suck my dick exactly how I tell you to. Am I clear?”

“But sir, I want—”

He grabs a fistful of hair, pulling your face towards his. “I don’t care,” he says lowly, “what you want. You are nothing to me. Now tell me. Am I clear?”

You say nothing, just give a small whine and Seonghwa’s grip in your hair tightens, a small sneer on his lips.

“Cat got your tongue?” He asks mockingly.

You turn away, biting your lip. Seonghwa chuckles, hand still in your hair, and pulls you back to face him. Your tear filled eyes stare into his and he gives a small smile.

“So pretty,” he mumbles. “But so worthless.”

“Sir,” you breathe.

“And so polite,” he praises. “Too little too late, though, unfortunately.”

“I know, sir.”

“I’m sure you do. But it’s too late,” he says, shaking his head. “So here's what’s going to happen.”

You perk up, ready to listen. Seonghwa smiles for a moment, almost fond.

“You’re going to do everything I say,” he says. “When I say it. Starting with this.”

He grabs you again, pulls you towards him with a groan and shoves his dick back into your mouth without warning. You choke, caught off guard and you almost fall back but Seonghwa’s grip in your hair is strong; it forces you to sit upright, forces his dick further and further into your mouth — further than what you’d tried and failed to take minutes earlier and it’s almost too much. You whine and moan and scream around his dick but he ignores you, presses on as if you were nothing to him and you fucking love it. This is what you needed.

Seonghwa sighs contentedly. “You’re so much prettier with your mouth full,” he says.

As usual, his words go right to your stomach and he seems to notice, for he chuckles slightly before giving a quick thrust into your mouth. You take it all, letting him thrust in again and again with no regard for your or your pleasure. Just using you, carelessly like a toy.

“Fuck,” he grunts. “Yeah, baby. Take it.”

You whine but nod, letting him thrust in and out as he pleases.

“I’m going to cum in your mouth,” he says matter-of-factly. “And you’re going to swallow every last drop. Aren’t you?”

Too preoccupied with the dick in your mouth, you just groan. Seonghwa, of course, gets the message. “Good. Because if you don’t,” he says, “I will make you wish you’d never met me.”

His voice is sweet but the words send a shiver down your spine. You have no doubt that he would follow through on his promise should he deem it necessary. And as much as you love pushing him, seeing how he reacts; love being on the other end of him at his very worst, you're not in the mood for that now. Right now, you just want to be fucked. And you're going to do everything you can to make it happen.

He thrusts again, a soft groan escaping his lips and you lean into it, taking everything he gives you until he comes with a groan, unloading into your mouth. You swallow it all, careful not to miss a drop as he watches you with dark eyes. When he’s done he pulls out, grabbing the back of your hair and pulling your face towards his cock.

“Lick it clean,” he says.

You obey, licking every inch of his cock until it’s as good as new.

“Good girl,” he praises. “Such a good girl for me.”

Your groan, rubbing your head against Seonghwa’s legs and he runs a gentle hand through your hair. “Took that so well, baby. Gonna fuck you soon.”

Oh thank God. “Please,” you cry and Seonghwa chuckles.

The hand in your hair suddenly turns rough and then it’s pulling you from where you kneel and up towards Seonghwa, until you stand on unsure feet, staring right into his dark, blazing eyes.

“Be a good girl for me, will you?”

Before you can react, he’s dragged you to the edge of the couch and shoved you forward. You blush — as if you have any shame left in you — and settle into the familiar position. Bent over the couch. Exactly where he wants you. Exactly where you belong.

You feel his presence behind you, feel his stare on your back as you adjust to the new position, and it feels exposed, vulnerable, but at the same time safe and secure. He’s silent, but his heavy breathing shows he wants you just as much as you want, need, crave him. But he doesn’t move. You know what he’s doing. He’s waiting. Waiting for you to be ready. Waiting for the right moment to take what he wants.

When the moment comes, he doesn’t hesitate. He pounces, like a predator ready to devour its prey. And right now, that’s exactly what he is.

A firm hand presses into your back, immobilising you. His other hand traces your inner thigh, inching closer and closer to your pussy and you clench around his hand, already dripping.

“What to do with you?” He mumbles.

“You know what I want,” you mutter.

Seonghwa laughs and presses a finger to your pussy. He makes a noise of surprise when he finds you already wet and pulls away slightly. You whine at the loss and his hand returns, but this time, he doesn’t waste a second before slipping a finger in. You gasp, kneeling further forward and he chuckles.

“Do I?”

“Fuck me, Seonghwa,” you says. “Please. I’ll do anything.”

Seonghwa stills behind you and you can see the smile forming on his face. You know him well enough to know that what he does next is going to be nothing less than torture.

“Anything, huh?” He asks, voice playful and almost dangerous.

You squirm, almost wanting to take it back. It’s true, you nothing but to be fucked. But something about the tone of his voice, the way he says those dangerous words, has you curious. He’s already taken you further than you’ve ever gone tonight and you’re unsure how much you can handle. But he’s also never been hotter than this and you want him, need him inside you. Filling you to the brim.

“Anything, sir.”

“Oh, dear,” he says. “Surely by now you’d know better than to say things like that.”

“I should,” you whisper. “But you know I don’t.”

“Yes I do,” Seonghwa says. “I also know that as soon as I get my dick out you lose the ability to think. Isn’t that right?”

You nod, so desperate to get fucked that you eagerly agrees with his degredations. He laughs softly, amused by your unravelled state.

“Mhm. All you can think about is my dick. How it would feel inside you.” He presses a second finger to your pussy, lets it linger for a second before slipping it inside and you gasp at the feeling. “How it would fuck you. That’s all sluts like you think about, isn’t it?”

“Fuck, sir,” you moan.

Seonghwa chuckles, pulling your head back and planting a soft kiss to the top. “Oh, I know, baby,” he whispers. “Gonna put another one in now. And you’re gonna take it like a good little slut should be trained to do.”

The third finger slides in before you can respond and you choke, lurching forward. He tuts, pressing down on your hip to keep you in place.

“Nice and still for me, baby,” he says. “Just like I’ve taught you.”

You do your best, lying limp in place as he pumps in and out of you. A million sensations fill you at once and you eventually start to squirm, unable to keep them inside. Seonghwa notices, pausing to lean over you to whisper in your ear.

“When do you come, baby?” He asks.

“When you— fuck, sir.” You throw your head back when he hits your spot with particular precision and Seonghwa grabs your hair, tugging your head back to meet his gaze.

“I’ll ask you again,” he says darkly. “When do you come?”

You moan, writhing slightly in place. “When you say so.”

“When I say so,” he says, satisfied. “And not a moment before. Clench it.”

You squeak, doing your best to tighten yourself around his thick fingers while they continue to pump in and out of you at a punishing pace. You feel his eyes on your pussy and he lets out an affected-sounding noise as you clench around him. “I have no fucking idea,” he grunts, “how you’re still so fucking tight after all this time.”

You groan, voice strangled now as you feel yourself hurtling towards a climax. You’re in no position to respond to him now, not verbally at least, and he recognises that, laughing softly. “God, baby,” he groans. He keeps up his pace, unwavering as he opens you up — in, out, in, out without a break. “I could stretch you out all day and I’d still need to do it again ever. Damn. Time.” He emphasises each word with his fingers and it’s almost too much.

He notices, pressing his other hand down on your back, holding you still against the arm of the couch. “No coming,” he grunts. “Not yet.”

You nod through tears, the only word you can form is his name; over and over again like a prayer. He slows down slightly, letting you breathe and softly asking you for your colour — green, of course, without hesitation — before he starts up again. He eases you back into it but wastes little time, and soon you’re back where you were, hurtling uncontrollably towards your orgasm.

He recognises the signs, observant as ever but lets you suffer for a few more minutes, pushing you to the brink before abruptly pulling his fingers out, leaving you empty and dripping beneath him. You must look pathetic, but you know he loves it. You love it too.

With the strength you have left you turn your head to see your boyfriend standing tall behind you, eyes fixed on you. He keeps eye contact as he inserts each of his soaked fingers into his mouth, sucking the juice off of them one by one. Seonghwa’s always loved the way you taste and as time goes on he’s only gotten more addicted. It's his favourite place to be; kneeling between your legs, each of his hands forcing your thighs apart with his mouth latched onto your pussy, tasting every part of it. He can — and does — stay there for hours. But you can tell from the look in his eyes that tonight he has no such plans.

“It’s so good, baby,” he grins. “Know what you taste like?”

You shake your head and he laughs. He walks closer to you, leaning down to reach your level where you’re still awkwardly bent over the couch. There’s a cocky yet admiring lilt in his voice when he speaks. “Like a slut.”

You make a guttural noise, embarrassed, aroused and proud and he laughs. “Do you want a taste?” He asks.

You nod fervently and he runs his other hand through your hair and down to lightly grip the back of your neck. “Easy, baby,” he says, “you can have it.”

He slips a finger back into you, more carefully this time and it slides in easily with a humiliating squelch. He moves it around inside you, collecting your juices on his finger before pulling it out and feeding it into your mouth. He’s right, you taste good, and you suck on his finger until it’s clean. “Mmm,” he says, “that’s a good slut.”

He pulls his finger out of your mouth with a pop, wiping it down on his black dress pants. He pats your ass, tinged pink from the slaps he’d leisurely rained down on it throughout the evening. “Up,” he says.

You stand on shaking legs, faltering at first but Seonghwa quickly grabs your arms, steadying you and not letting go until he’s certain you can stand independently. He sees the dazed look in your eyes, like you’re in a haze, and smiles. “You’ve been good today,” he says softly. “Well, some of today.”

You smile shyly, avoiding his eyes. “Thank you sir.”

“Look at me,” he says and you look up, meeting his now almost fiery gaze. “You want my dick?”

You exhale, nodding excitedly and he smiles. “And where do you want it, exactly?”

“Sir,” you whine. You know he knows; he’s just furthering your torture as he always does. “Don’t make me say it.”

“Where, pet?” He repeats.

You whine quietly, hanging your head. “My pussy, sir,” you mumble.

He reaches his hand down to cup your pussy and you push into it. His fingers start to move, gently stroking it back and forth and feeling your slick on his fingers, until he pulls away. “Still wet,” he mutters.

You flush, casting your eyes down as you shrug. He smiles, brushing his wet fingers across your lips. He eases them in to let you lick them clean before pulling away. “Get on the couch,” he says, “stick your ass.”

You perk up, squeaking out a ‘yes sir’ before scrambling into position. Seonghwa watches you with an amused expression before taking his place behind you. He pulls his dick out, slapping it against your ass cheeks before he pulls them apart and settles so his dick is pressed against your pussy, soaking up the juices but not quite going in. You whine, wriggling desperately to try and get some friction but he slaps you ass, stilling you. “Don’t be desperate,” he says.

You nod, resting your head on the back of the couch and trying to seem patient. He takes his sweet time, teasing your pussy with his fingers and cock before he finally plunges it in.

Your wetness makes it easier but his size means getting used to him is always a challenge. You feel the stretch as he goes in deeper, just slight enough to be pleasant. It doesn’t take him long to ease all the way in and his dick presses against your spot deliciously. You moan loudly, a guttural sound, and he grabs your hair. He doesn’t speak as he starts to move, focusing on his thrusts as they gradually increase in speed and power until he’s pounding you. Each time he slams into you it makes your whole body shake, moving uncontrollably in tandem with him. You groan, scream and cry as it gets more and more intense and he grunts, only spurred to go faster. After an evening of teasing you know you won’t be able to take this for long and he seems to feel the same. He grunts, shouts and splutters with each movement, losing control of himself the longer he’s in you, the more of a mess you become.

“S-Seonghwa!” You shout, gripping the back of the couch so hard your knuckles turn white.

“F-fuck, I got you,” Seonghwa says. “I got you, my girl.”

You cry out, throwing your head back with lips parted in pleasure. There’s nothing now except you and Seonghwa, the expert blend of pain and pleasure only he can provide you and it’s pure bliss. You could stay like this forever; used and abused and adored by him in whichever way he pleases. And so could he.

He’s relentless as he slams into your cervix again and again and soon it starts to get too much. You feel the tears start to prickle at your eyes and you sniffle, crying louder. He notices, pressing a wet, desperate kiss to your lips as he speeds up. “Take it,” he grunts. “Take it for me, puppy. Make me proud.”

You nod through tears, gritting your teeth as he keeps going. You do your best to stay still, only moving when he makes you, and he presses kisses to the back of your head and neck as he goes.

Eventually you feel him at his edge, on the verge of orgasm and you gather your strength to push back, fucking back into him. As you do so you clench your walls around him, squeezing his cock and he shouts. He lasts a few more thrusts, making them as brutal and pleasurable as possible, before he comes with a yell, unloading inside you. You take it all, though it feels more than usually, and he fucks you through it with grunted praises that you can’t quite decipher. He stays still inside you for a minute or so, pressing kisses down your back before he starts to pull out.

“Keep it in,” he says. When his dick finally pulls out completely

You feel his come start to spill out of you, trickling down your thighs and you whine. Seonghwa tuts. He uses two fingers to gather the cum that’s trickling out of you and pushes it back in. The feeling of his fingers in your pussy again makes you gasp as he kisses your back.

“Come on,” he mutters. He wraps his arms around your body, still kneeling in the position he’d left you, and pulls you into his arms. He takes a seat on the couch and settles you in his lap, your head resting in the crook of his neck as he starts to rock you back and forth.

“Good girl,” he whispers. “That was incredible, baby.”

“Seonghwa,” you mutter, still fucked out and exhausted.

He chuckles, kissing your head. “Seonghwa’s right here, honey. I’m not leaving.”

He speaks low and gently to you as he rocks you and it’s peaceful and perfect. Soon he notices your eyes drooping, lulled to sleep by his voice and he smiles. “Goodnight, baby.”

He thinks you’ve learned your lesson.

—————

thank you for reading! please reblog and comment if you enjoyed :) i did proofread but it is long so there may be errors, please forgive them. i’m a little unsure about posting this fic as it contains things ive never written about before; piss isn’t really my thing but i received a request about it and was fine writing about it. so please tell me what you think!

requests are open! love🖤🖤🖤

off the trigger • seonghwa

the risk doesn’t need to be real.

warnings: dom!seonghwa, sub!reader, gun play, mild fear play, deepthroating, mouth fucking, degradation

word count: 1k

“Open.”

You shudder, from the cold air on your naked skin and the coolness of his voice. From your knees you stare up at your boyfriend, gazing you down with narrowed eyes. Your eyes are fixed on his hands where they hang casually at his side; in one of them, he twirls a small pistol around in his grip.

“Open,” he repeats.

You bite your lip, staring at him nervously before you start to obey, parting your lips slowly. He steps towards you so he’s fully towering over you, completely dwarfing you. He shoves two fingers in your mouth unceremoniously, using his grip to pull your mouth open further. He explores your open mouth with his fingers, inspecting it closely with dark eyes. You whine, drooling slightly and squirm in position. With his other hand he slaps you lightly across the face; a warning rather than a punishment.

“Don’t squirm,” he mutters. “I’m trying to do something here.”

You nod as much as you can in your position and he smiles, pulling his fingers out. He wipes them down before gently cupping your face with the other hand. “Are you gonna be good for me?”

You nod. “Yes, Hwa.”

He smiles, pinching your cheek before he lifts the gun. He briefly points it at your face before slipping it between your lips and into your mouth. You choke, surprised by the action but you quickly get used to its presence. You let it sit on your tongue, lips wrapped around it, unsure of what to do. He smiles.

“Good baby,” he says. “You’re gonna suck on this gun like it’s my dick, okay?”

His words hit you in the stomach; you feel them twist in your gut and you moan. He cocks an eyebrow, waiting for you to obey him and you slowly and uncertainly start to suck.

True to his orders, you try to treat it like his dick; suckling and swirling your tongue over the barrel just how he likes it. He watches you with hooded eyes, affected by your efforts, and the image of you, naked on your knees, sucking and choking on a gun just because he told you to.

He starts to move it in and out, not as hard as he would his dick but it still makes you gag. You moan, closing your eyes in concentration as he fucks your mouth with the pistol.

It’s an insane display, but after a while your jaw starts to hurt; you’ve scraped your teeth a few times on the hard steel and the barrel is a thick, unmoldable intrusion. Though you keep up your efforts, desperate to please, he notices.

“Enough,” he says.

He pulls the gun out of your mouth and a string of saliva follows, the barrel coated in your drool. He scoffs, wiping it down against his pants. “Disgusting,” he mutters, but he’s smiling slightly.

You flush deeper, whining in embarrassment but he ignores you. He puts the gun on the table, turning back to you.

“Clearly you can throat a pistol like a bitch,” he says. “Let’s see if you can do the same to me.”

He pulls his dick out, not wasting a moment before forcing it into your mouth. You choke, having no time to adjust before he starts to move; slow but deep thrusts which quickly speed up until he’s fucking your mouth mercilessly. You do your best to take it, letting your jaw hang as wide as possible and using your tongue to increase his pleasure but it’s certainly a challenge. You’re a good girl, though, his good girl, so you take it all.

He moans and grunts, your favourite sounds, as you continue. He grabs a fistful of your hair, holding it tight in his hand and using it to guide your head up and down. You gag and choke happily, like you were born for it and he stares down at you in awe.

“Fuck,” he groans. “You love this, don’t you? You love getting your mouth used like this.”

You nod, crying out a ‘yes’ that’s muffled by the thick cock in your mouth. He chuckles, tugging on your hair a bit with a smile.

“You’re the most pathetic little slut I’ve ever met,” he laughs. “You’ll do anything I tell you to, won’t you? You’ll like anything I tell you you like.”

You moan, nodding and he laughs. He speeds up again, hitting the back of your throat with faster, deeper thrusts. He throws his head back, crying out as you do your best to keep up with him. As you feel his orgasm approaching, you feel the coolness of metal against your temple. You don’t need to look to gather what he’s doing; the feeling of his gun held against your head is a familiar but terrifying one. It’s another way for him to play with you, to see the fear in your eyes and remind the both of you of just how much he could do to you.

His hand is nowhere near the trigger; it doesn’t need to be. Just the lingering presence of the metal barrel against your head keeps you still and submissive and eager to please. He fucks in and out of you without regard or care for your pleasure and you accept it eagerly. You chase those sounds of pleasure like it’s your own orgasm; desperate and hungry for it as you do your best to service him the way he likes.

His grunts by now have turned into almost whimpers, soft desperate sounds as you throat him with expert precision. “Oh— fuck,” he cries. His grip on your hair tights, pulling your head back and forth to push his cock further into your throat.

He slows his pace slightly, letting you breathe and giving him a brief rest to stare down at you, still sucking dutifully at his cock as it slips in and out of your mouth.

He shakes his head and starts to speed up again. “You know normal people don’t like this, right?” He asks. “If you held a gun to their head they’d get scared and turned off. But you just get wet and suck harder, don’t you?”

You whine and he laughs, speeding up again. This time his orgasm comes quickly and without warning; before you can anticipate it he’s unloading in your mouth. He keeps thrusting through his organs, grunting and yelling as you fill up.

He pulls it out, dropping the gun on the floor next to you, and pats your head as you swallow.

“You’re fucking crazy,” he laughs. “Good girl.”

just a prick • seonghwa

you’re a skilled professional, even when he looks at you like that

warnings: no actual smut, pornstar!seonghwa, piercer!reader, dick piercing, talks of female orgasm. mentioned manwhores!hongjoong and mingi. open ending so there may be a part two ;)

—————

At 8.30AM you shuffle tiredly into the tattoo studio, eyelids drooping slightly as your hands clasp around your latte like a lifeline. You’re pleased to see your colleague and the owner of the studio, Hongjoong, has arrived before you, and is already setting about cleaning and preparing the instruments for the day. He smiles warmly at you as you enter, calling out a greeting. “Big night?” He asks with a grin, noticing your tired expression.

You huff, shaking your head. “Hardly,” you say. “Doesn’t make opening any easier.”

He laughs. “Just make sure to get that coffee down before clients start coming in. We don’t need anyone thinking their piercer is high on caffeine.”

You snort, slamming the coffee cup down at your station. “Like you never tattoo people on caffeine.”

The tattooist shrugs, smirking slightly. “But they’d never know, would they? My work is perfect.”

“As is mine,” you say. You point to his fresh eyebrow piercing, done by yourself. Examining it more closely, you notice it looks a little red. You frown. “That’s not causing problems, is it?”

Hongjoong looks confused for a second before he realises what you’re talking about. He laughs, reaching up to touch it before you can yell at him to stop. “This?” He asks with a grin. “Not at all. It got a little… irritated last night. But that’s nothing to do with your piercing skills.”

He wiggles his eyebrows as he speaks and you groan. “Gross, Hongjoong. And I told you no sex until it heals. You could have gotten really hurt!”

He scoffs, shrugging you off. “It wasn’t my fault. Mingi came in.”

“Ah.”

Fair enough, you think. Song Mingi, a budding rapper who comes in every few months looking for a new tattoo, is irresistible to say the least. Tall, handsome, charming, and that voice. He’s loyal, too, at least when it comes to tattoos, insisting on getting all of them done by Hongjoong (though that might be because Hongjoong likes to lower the price for his favourite clients), and he’s relaxed and kind every time you see him. You can’t blame Hongjoong for not turning Mingi down this time. You never turn Mingi down either.

“What do I have today?” You ask. It’s Thursday, your favourite day of the week, because the studio doesn’t take walk-ins on Thursdays. If you’re lucky, you might just pierce a few ears this morning and be home in time to fall asleep right after lunch.

“Two appointments,” Hongjoong says, reading off the company computer. “Helix at 10, then a…” He pauses, squinting slightly at the screen. “Okay, I don’t know what this is. San must have put it in.”

You walk over, staring down at the screen to find out. The other piercer, San, is off today, so must have made that appointment for you. Being best friends and just as skilled as each other, the two of you often make appointments on each other’s behalf, so it’s not surprising. What is surprising is just what he’s booked you in for. You snort, making a note to kick him the next time you see him.

“I can see why he gave me this one,” you say.

Hongjoong frowns, confused. “A… Prince Albert piercing? Am I supposed to know what that is?”

You giggle, shaking your head. “It’s a dick piercing, Hongjoong.”

He gapes for a moment, apparently not even aware that that’s a thing, let alone a thing that you know how to do, then shrugs, chuckling to himself. “Yeah, I get why San didn’t want that one.”

You hum, walking over to your station and sorting through your collection of needles. This particular piercing will need a thicker needle than usual, so you grab the box you keep them in from the bottom shelf and open it, inspecting them quickly.

“Doesn’t mean I wanted it,” you grumble. “I’m telling you now Hongjoong, if anyone ever wants an asshole piercing, I’m giving it to him.”

Hongjoong baulks. “That’s a thing?” He gasps.

“We’ve never done one here,” you shrug. “But if we ever do, he’s doing it.”

—————

Your first appointment goes pretty smoothly; the nervous looking teenager is very polite but pales when she sees the needle so, not wanting her to pass out, you call Hongjoong over to hold her hand. With his other arm around her shoulder, tilting her head away from you, he manages to distract her for long enough that you’re able to push the needle through without her noticing. She thanks you both profusely, insisting on tipping you but you decline, seeing as how she’d mentioned how long it took to save up for this.

“Use it to buy yourself a snack instead,” Hongjoong advises while he rings her up. “You need a lot of sugar to get you through the rest of the day.”

She nods, thanking you both again before slipping out of the door. “Sweet kid,” you smile and Hongjoong agrees.

By the time you’ve cleaned up after her piercing it’s still only 11.30, leaving you three hours before your next appointment. Normally you’d take the chance to grab some lunch with Hongjoong but he has an appointment at 12, so you venture out alone to find something to bring back for both of you. You find a small sushi place and sit there, quietly munching through your food. When you finish you order some more to take away for your boss. Strolling back into the studio just before 2, you find him just finishing up. You place the sushi on his desk and he grins, peeling off his black gloves and chucking them into the trash before he descends on his feast.

With half an hour left to spare you begin setting up your station, making sure you have everything ready by the time your next client arrives. You’ve done this particular piercing a few times before, but it’s definitely your least requested one; knowing how sensitive that area is, most men choose not to go sticking needles through it. It makes you rather curious about exactly what kind of man would choose to do that.

At 2.30 sharp you find out. You’re sat at your station, scrolling through your Instagram when the sound of voices catches your attention. Hongjoong’s customer service voice is unmistakable but he sounds more relaxed and familiar than usual. Another voice, just as deep and unexpectedly smooth, talks briefly with him before you hear the sound of footsteps approaching. Hongjoong flings open the curtains as usual, with an unusually wide grin on his face.

“Your 2.30 is here,” he smiles, “for his Prince Albert piercing.”

You stand up to greet your client, faltering slightly when he first comes into view. There’s no denying this man is gorgeous; long hair, plush lips and an intense gaze that oddly intimidates you. As if you’re not the one about to push a needle through his penis.

“Hi,” you say. It comes out higher than you meant it to and you kick yourself but he doesn’t mention it.

“Hey,” he smiles, reaching out to shake your hand. His hand is soft and easily dwarfs yours. “I’m Seonghwa.”

You introduce yourself, managing to sound a little more confident before directing him to sit on the bed. He strolls towards it, leisurely setting himself down on it. He doesn’t look nervous at all.

You take your seat next to the bed, shuffling around with all your equipment to make sure you have everything.

“So,” you start.

He smiles. “So.”

“You want your dick pierced.”

He laughs, nodding his head with a smile that creases his eyes. “I do. My friend gets pierced here and recommended another guy… San or something? But the man on the phone insisted that you’re the best for this kind of piercing. He insisted I book with you.”

You roll your eyes. Fucking San. You’re going to kill him when you see him. “Yeah, that’d be San. But he’s not wrong, I have plenty of experience with this. You’re in good hands.”

He smiles kindly at you. His gaze is almost scrutinising, and you feel small and strangely vulnerable beneath it. “Oh, I’m certain I am. I trust you’ll do a fantastic job.”

You feel yourself flush at his words, and the confident and almost teasing tone with which he’d said them. You know he’s doing this on purpose — you see the smirk on his lips — but you shake your head, trying to snap yourself out of it. You’re a professional, and as much as you’d happily jump this guy’s guns, he’s a paying client so you have to focus.

“Do you know what kind you want?” You ask. “There are three kinds. Your classic Prince Albert and also the reverse and, uh, deep shaft.”

You know you blushed on the last word but he smiles understandingly. “Which would you recommend?”

“Well, um…” you clear your throat. “It depends.”

“On?”

“On what you’re using it for.”

He tilts his head, smiling. “What I’m using it for?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “Some people get it for the aesthetic, and some people get it for… pleasure reasons.”

He laughs, eyes creasing again. It’s cute. “I suppose… ‘pleasure reasons’ would be mine,” he says.

“Oh,” you reply without thinking. “For yourself, or…”

“For others,” he says. “I’m hoping to improve the pleasure of my partners.”

“Right,” you nod. “And is it… female partners you’re pleasuring?”

He cocks an eyebrow. “Are you interested?”

“What?” You splutter. “No, I—”

You panic slightly, feeling defensive and he stares at you for a second before bursting into laughter. “I’m messing you,” he says. “Yes, it’s female partners.”

You nod, relaxing slightly. You feel a little bit irritated. This guy is annoying. “Okay.”

“You’re blushing.”

“I know.”

He smiles. “So which would you recommend?”

“I’d say the reverse one,” you decide. “It looks more like a ring than a stud and helps stimulate the nerves of the clitoris. But it increases the risk of sexually transmitted infections, so you need to be careful.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” he says. “Myself and my partners are tested every time. It’s an industry thing.”

“Industry?”

He laughs. “Hongjoong didn’t tell you what I do, did he?”

You pause, hands stilling where they’d been fiddling with the equipment, and turn to stare at him. “He did not. He was only in here a second before you were. He didn’t even mention he knew you.”

Seonghwa laughs, reaching to tuck a stray hair behind his ear. “Figures he’d want to mess with you. I’m in the… adult industry.”

It takes a second to sink in and you baulk. You feel your mouth hanging open, dumbfounded, but you’re not sure how else to react. “You mean…”

“Porn,” he smiles. “I’m pretty good at it. But I was told if I got this, I’d be even better.”

“Oh,” you say. You try to level yourself, still at work, but the idea of Seonghwa fucking woman after woman in front of a camera, and being so good he gets paid for it, fills your head. Without thinking you slap yourself lightly, trying to physically force the thoughts out.

Seonghwa seeks to know what you’re doing because he laughs, smiling amusedly at you.

“Tell you what,” he says. “If you do a really good job here, I’ll even tell you my stage name.”

You laugh shortly, feeling dazed but unwilling to let it on. “I was going to do a good job anyway,” you say.

“Now you definitely will.”

You smile. “We’ll see.”

Once your preparation is finished, you slide back over on your stool, staring awkwardly at him. “Um…” you say, a little unsure. “Seonghwa, I need you to pull your pants down now.”

He laughs and obliges, standing up to ease his pants and underwear down to the middle of his thighs. “Is this okay?”

You feel yourself flushing again, doing your best not to stare at the semi-hard cock hanging at his thigh. It’s big, thick and weirdly…pretty? But you’re at work. He’s your client. And you’re going to do a good job and be professional. And not just because of the reward he’d promised you.

You direct him to lay back down, voice faltering slightly and he does so. You scoot over to him until you’re sat right next to his dick. With a sharpie you carefully mark the spots on Seonghwa’s dick where you’ll be piercing. This close to this dick you annoyingly feel your hands start to shake. You apologise breathlessly, knowing this is the last thing someone wants to see from their piercer, but Seonghwa chuckles. Before you can move your hand away he closes his hand around your wrist, steadying you. “Relax,” he whispers.

You nod, feeling stupid. You’re piercing him, you shouldn’t be the one needing reassurance. You can already hear the way Hongjoong’s going to clown you for this, not to mention if God forbid it somehow gets back to San. The cocky piercer will make your life absolute hell if he finds out how you’ve acted today. But Seonghwa isn’t fussed, just patient and kind like he’s been the whole time. He actually seems to be amused your nerves.

“Right,” you say. “Do you want to see the needle or shall I just start?”

Seonghwa gulps, and for the first time you think you see a little bit of fear on his face. You smile warmly at him. “Don’t worry. I’ll be quick and it’s actually not that painful.”

He smiles, slightly weaker but relaxed a bit. “Really?”

“Yeah,” you say. “I’m really good at these.”

He nods, bracing himself slightly. “Okay, just start then.”

You find yourself smiling almost fondly at him before you shake it off. Not now. “Ready?”

He smiles at you, a little more confident. “Go ahead, baby.”

You make quick work of it as usual, and you find that once you’re in the zone, focused on the task (and penis) in front of you, your nerves dissipate and you’re as skilled and professional as always.

Seonghwa hisses slightly when you insert the needle, gripping the sides of the table with white knuckles. With the wound already made, the ring goes through with greater ease and then it’s done. You wrap the bandage carefully around his tip, peeling off your gloves and discarding them and the needle before walking back over to Seonghwa. He’s still a little pale but the colour is quickly returning, and he doesn’t look fazed at all.

“How was that?” You ask him.

“Not too bad,” he says. “I think it will be very helpful.”

You laugh softly. “Not for two to three months it won’t. Absolutely no sex of any kind. Not even masturbation.”

He whistles, looking more wounded than when you’d actually wounded him. “That won’t be fun.”

“You’re a big boy,” you say. “I’m sure you can handle it.”

“I can,” he says. “And it’s not like that’s the only way I can be satisfied, anyway.”

You know he’s doing this deliberately. This isn’t a normal conversation to have with your piercer, even if they have just pierced your dick and told you not to have sex for three months. It’s clear that he’s toying you, and even more clear that you’re eating up every word.

You tilt your head, trying to play along. “Oh yeah?”

“Of course,” he smiles. “You know, every man would love to be a pornstar. Fucking beautiful women on camera and getting paid for it? It’s every dude’s dream. But few of them actually get to do it.”

“Mhm, I guess.”

“Do you know why?”

You shrug. You suppose there’s a reason but you don’t know what. “Why?”

“Because they only care about their pleasure.”

“And you don’t?”

He shakes his head. “I’ve found the key to getting ahead in my profession is being able to take pleasure in giving as much as receiving.”

Oh. “Right,” you say. “Well that’s good, I guess.”

You can’t tell if he’s just bigging himself up to you, trying to look good to his beautiful piercer, but the evidence says not; after all, he’d just had a needle stuck through his penis solely to be able to make his partners feel good. It’s clear that female pleasure isn’t something he takes lightly.

“Tell me, then,” he says. “Is there any kind of… aftercare I should be doing?”

You nod, peeking up slightly. This you know. You hand him a leaflet book, giving him a brief overview of the instructions inside and he listens intently, nodding and asking questions where necessary. But for the whole conversation, he never once looks at the book. Just at you.

You give him the book to take away, along with some equipment for him to take care of the wound, and he smiles, thanking you earnestly. When he walks out the door after a short conversation with Hongjoong, you feel strangely sad to see him good. With all that talk about female pleasure and the chemistry you’d thought you felt between you, you’d half expected him to stay and… well, you’re not exactly sure what you thought he’d do, but you didn’t think he’d just leave so quickly, like any other customer.

You sigh, shaking your head and turn around to go clean up your station. A few minutes later, Hongjoong walks in, a knowing smile on his face.

“Well, Princess Albert,” he says. “Prince Albert left you this.”

You perk up cautiously, curious but eager not to get your hopes up. Hongjoong hands you a shred of paper, torn haphazardly from what looks like the aftercare leaflet you’d given away. In neat but hurried writing, Seonghwa’s left you a string of digits and the words: call me.

You smile, ignoring the wave of relief that rushes over you, and tuck it neatly into the pages of your diary to keep it safe.

“Don’t worry,” Hongjoong says. “I won’t tell San. Well, I won’t tell him everything.”

—————

sorry for writing so much seonghwa i’m just obsessed with him rn… but i have other members coming! thank you for reading, please reblog & comment if you enjoyed! requests are OPEN!

treatment plan • seonghwa

seonghwa’s not your average therapist. neither are his methods.

warnings: dom!seonghwa, sub!reader, psychologist au, doctor x patient, unethical psychologist park seonghwa, like i can’t stress how fired he’d be if this happened irl, pretty iffy abuse of power but verbal consent (though irl that doesn’t make it ok ofc), fingering, talks of reward and punishment, part 2 may come eventually. don’t like, don’t read. i’m not responsible for your triggers and hate will be blocked.

word count: 3.1k

—————

When your old therapist had told you she would be moving to another hospital, it seemed like the end of the world, especially given that one of your main reasons for being there was your fear of abandonment. But laying eyes on her replacement for the first time has part of you wishing she’d abandoned you even sooner.

There’s no denying, the man is gorgeous — tall with dark eyes and perfect, flawless skin that you ache to feel on yours — and he seems to know it, too, by the way he sits in his chair like a throne, legs spread comfortably, back slouched. But as attractive as he is, he’s your therapist, and a good one at that; though you as the client would have less at stake than him when it comes to unprofessional relationships, your first session reveals to you that he’s actually very good, maybe even better than the woman you had before, and you get the sense he could actually help you. He’s attentive and calm and right from the start seems genuinely interested in your well-being. You feel at ease with him, and though focused and professional, he seems at ease with you too. Maybe that’s how he is with all his patients, but it hurts no one to do a bit of wishful thinking about the way he looked at you when you introduced yourself for the first time.

Even now, as he rattles on about your issues and problems and all the other reasons you’re here, he has you hanging on his every word. Maybe it’s his voice, deep but with a lightness that makes him sound perpetually amused, or the way he holds eye contact with you when he speaks. But whatever it is, you know you’re going to work very well together indeed.

“With Dr. Campbell, you mainly focused on your fear of abandonment, childhood trauma and…” he pauses, staring blankly at the thick file and you stifle a laugh because you know exactly what he’s looking at. “Well, she called it Daddy issues,” he says. “Can I assume that was your… phraseology?”

“You can,” you grin and you think you almost catch him smiling too. “I like to use simpler terms for things. Make it less clinical.”

He frowns slightly, staring up at you through his glasses before scribbling something down in his notebook. “You don’t like things clinical?”

“I don’t,” you say. “I just can’t open up properly if I feel like a patient, like I’m sick. That’s why I chose this place.” You gesture vaguely at your surroundings — wall-to-wall bookcases, dark oak tables and leather armchairs set against dark green walls. “And it’s why Dr. Campbell had me call her Mabel. If she felt more like a friend I could speak freely with her.”

He nods, writes something else then turns his gaze back to her. “In that case, maybe you should call me Seonghwa,” he says.

“Seonghwa,” you repeat. “Dr. S Park,” you say, referring to the bronze sign hammered into the door of his office.

He laughs a little and it makes you laugh, too. He looks nice when he laughs. “You can forget about that now. Just call me by my name, and I’ll call you by yours if you like.”

“Yes please,” you nod. “I hate being called Miss.”

“Yes, it’s quite sobering, isn’t it?” He says, laughing again. “Too formal. Makes you feel like a real adult.”

You shrug. “Kind of.”

“Well, not to worry, we’ll use first names in here.” He pauses, turning his head and your eyes follow his to the clock, which delivers the news that your time with him is up about as delicately as a blow to the head. You wonder how the hour you’d paid for had possibly gone by so quickly; you allow yourself to think he looks a bit disappointed, too.

“Well, it’s been a pleasure meeting you,” he says, standing up and stretching out his hand to shake. “I believe I’ve got you booked in at the same time next week, if you’re interested in continuing this.”

“I am,” you confirm.

He smiles. “Good. Get in touch if you need anything until then and try to think about what you’d like to talk about next time.”

You whisper a thank you and he nods, smiling. “I think we’re going to make a very good team,” he says.

Oh Seonghwa, you think. We most certainly will.

——————

Surprisingly, the next week goes by in a flash; you’d expected it to drag out as you sat in waiting for the next time you’d see Seonghwa, but work has, perhaps mercifully, kept you too busy to even think about him until the day arrives. When it does, in your excitement you even endeavour to put on some light makeup and your ‘good’ pair of jeans. Trying to keep it professional, you have to whisper ‘he’s your therapist’ to yourself a few times on the drive over there, but while you’ve no intention of jeopardising your professional arrangement, you still hope he sees and notices the effort you’ve made. Maybe even likes it.

As soon as he calls your name he seems to notice your getup, pausing in his greeting to look you up and down. His eyes meet yours; questioning, curious. “Big night?” He asks, amused.

You laugh, shaking your head. “I just felt like it. I wanted to look nice.”

“Well, you do,” he smiles. You blush. “To my office, then.”

You follow him down the by-now familiar hall, watching as he unlocks the door and gestures for you to go in first. You take a seat in your respective chairs and he wastes little time on small talk before diving into your issues. The first fifteen-odd minutes pass by uneventfully before you slowly, subtly feel the conversation shift. Seonghwa almost clams up listening to your descriptions of your coping mechanisms (sex, mostly), face focused and pupils dilated as you relay all the gory details of how you like to be treated. When you’re done and blushing furiously, he stares at you for a second for leaning back.

“Well,” he says. “I have a few thoughts on that.”

“What are they?”

He shifts in his seat but doesn’t look uncomfortable. “You do these things because lack self-discipline,” he says. “Your ‘daddy issues’—” he pauses, clearing his throat and you see the ends of his ears are pinkish “— and the coping mechanisms you employ for them, have made it hard for you to keep yourself in line, so you rely on outside sources to do it for you. But you have none.”

You stare silently at him, mouth slightly agape. It’s his job, of course, and he’s been highly trained for it, but you’re still shocked at how easily he can read and understand you, can identify a problem you thought unexplainable. Maybe he sees a lot of girls like you. He’s probably told them the exact same thing, looked at them with the same dark eyes and knowing smile. You don’t know why the thought makes you so annoyed — and if you do, you’re choosing to ignore it.

“You’re right,” you say quietly, finally, and he nods. “What do I do about it?”

“It’s hard to alter thought processes and needs we’ve developed in childhood, but it can be done over time.”

“How?”

He leans forward, face stoic and there’s a tangible shift in the air. You swallow. “If your need is met during your therapy,” he starts, “it could give you the mental space to begin to reduce its presence.” He leans back against the chair, eyes on you as he gauges your reaction.

“Which need is this?” You ask quietly, both afraid of and excited for the answer.

“Discipline,” he answers shortly. “Being kept in line. Everyone needs it to function properly but by adulthood most can do this for themselves. You cannot.”

You frown, a bit embarrassed and he sees it, smiling softly before speaking again. “It’s not a bad thing, and nothing to be ashamed of, but it does need to be addressed. I would like to help you with that.”

“How?”

He says nothing, just stares at you, face blank. He wants you to realise the answer alone, and he wants you to say it.

“You?” You whisper and he smiles.

“Me,” he says. You shift uncomfortably in your chair and he watches you, unmoving.

“I don’t know what to say,” you admit.

“You don’t need to say anything else. I just wanted you to say it and acknowledge it aloud.”

You nod, still unsure of what exactly he’s talking about but you think you have a good, dizzying idea of it.

“It’s an unconventional practice,” he continues, “but you would really benefit.”

“By you… keeping me in line? Disciplining me?”

He nods, humming softly. “Exactly. At least until you’re able to do it yourself.”

“Is this ethical?” You mutter. You don’t know if you want him to hear you or not, but he does.

“It’s therapeutic,” he says quickly. He frowns and you feel the need to apologise, take back everything you’d said and all the questions you’d raised so that he’ll stop. But he’s quickly smiling again and you relax, slumping back against the chair. He regards you with amusement, almost like he’s toying at you, but at the same time he’s deadly, intimidatingly serious.

“I…” you trail off and he smiles, talking again.

“I understand it’s a lot to take in, but nothing would be beyond the boundaries we’d set together and anything we did would be strictly professional and for your benefit. This is to help you, and it will help you,” he stresses.

You feel his suggestion begin to take shape in your mind — him guiding and disciplining you, you following his lead in the exact way you’re starting to think you’ve always craved. But there’s gaps, important gaps in the image in your head and you frown.

“So you’d set rules?” You ask, blushing.

“I would call them goals,” he says. “But yes, they’re essentially rules, and I’m happy to call them that.”

You nod. “Right. And if I broke them…”

“There’d be consequences.”

You bite your lip, daring to look up at his intense gaze. “What kind of consequences?”

He smiles. “Guess.”

It hits you immediately. Fuck, you think. “Dr. Park…”

“Seonghwa, I believe,” he corrects, smiling almost smugly.

You nod, flushing slightly. “Seonghwa,” you say. “I don’t know if I, uh. I don’t know how I’d feel about being… punished, by you.”

He nods understandingly. “I know it’s frightening,” he says softly, “but you’ll be surprised by how much it helps, and how quickly. In the emails prior to our first session you stressed the urgency of your situation, did you not?”

“I did.”

“Then I strongly believe this is your best option. And nothing will happen without your consent, and understanding of why it is happening. Plus,” he pauses, staring you down again with a slight smile. You’re starting to think he likes to see you squirm. “Where there are punishments, there are also rewards.”

Your breath hitches. You’re sure your eyes are comically wide, mouth agape like an idiot but the thoughts that fill your head are making you go dumb. His expression is pleased as he leans forward, slowly closing the distance between you. “Would you like one?”

“A reward?” You ask, confused. He nods. “Have I earned one?”

“If you agree to this arrangement, you will have. It’s a big step. What do you think?”

You know you should take some time to think about it, and you’re sure he’d allow you to if you ask, but almost as soon as you start to consider it you reach your conclusion. It doesn’t take as long as you’d like it to; you have about 30 seconds of doubt before your thoughts shift to the images of Seonghwa you’d been seeing since you met; to images of him rewarding and punishing you and you know you want this. You want him to reward you — to touch and feel and pleasure you in ways you’d never dreamed of; to praise you and tell you what a good girl you are, what a good patient you are for him. You realise also that you want him to punish you just as much — maybe even more. You want to be draped over his lap, or bent over his chair or desk while those strong looking hands come down on you. You bite your lip, flustered at the image; would he make you strip to receive the punishment, so he can see and feel the blooming reds on your skin? Or would he strip you himself, slowly exposing you one centimetre at a time to prolong the tension and expectation? You feel yourself squirming at the thought and look up to him. The expression on his face tells you he knows exactly the image that’s racing through your mind.

“Okay,” you say quietly. “I’ll do it.”

He smiles widely, looking proud and, dare you say it, excited. Wordlessly he curls a finger at you and, understanding him, your legs hurry over to him almost of their own accord. You stop in front of him and he quickly pulls you down to his lap, hands on you instantly. His hands are rough but soft on your skin, and you feel the held back strength in his touches. He could easily overpower you, take you and treat you as he pleases and yet he handles you like you’re precious, something delicate. Something to be protected — and punished.

“You’re such a good girl already,” he breathes. “I knew it from the moment I saw you. It comes naturally to you.”

You smile and he taps your cheek before his gaze falls lower. Gently he starts to run his hand up your thigh until it’s almost touching your heat. He frowns, pinching the denim that separates it. “Stand up and take these off,” he says.

You nod and obey, heart already racing as you step out of your jeans. Before you can ask where to put them he grabs you again, pulling you back into his hold. “Much better,” he says.

His hand quickly finds your heat again, this time only separated from it by your thin cotton panties. “Cute,” he mutters as he runs a finger across them. You gasp at the sensation and he chuckles. “I’m going to put my finger inside you,” he says. “But not until you ask me to.”

You groan and he lands a light slap on your ass. It doesn’t hurt, certainly no more than a slight sting, but you feel and sense the restraint in the hit; the strength behind it. Strength that may soon be inflicted on you in full force. “You won’t complain about what I give you,” he says sternly. “And if you want more, you’ll ask me explicitly. So ask me.”

“Seonghwa, please,” you whisper.

“Hm?” He whispers, cocking an eyebrow. “Please what?”

You want to cry, embarrassed and pent up and desperate for him but you want to be good and make him proud the first time you do this. And you will make him proud. “Put your finger in me,” you whimper. “Please, Seonghwa.”

He shushes you, stroking your head with an awestruck look in his eyes. “Good girl,” he says. “God, you adapt quickly, don’t you?”

“I guess,” you whisper.

“Good,” he says. “That will come very handy. Are you ready for my finger?”

You nod, pushing your hips out towards him silently and he chuckles, slapping your thigh a little harder than last time. “Patience,” he says.

With the hand wrapped around your waist grabs your panties, pulling them to the side so the other hand can press a long, thick finger inside. You gasp, rutting against his hand slightly and he hums. “This is tight,” he notes. “Very tight. And pretty.”

You blush, squirming and he lifts his gaze from where it was focused on your pussy to look at you sternly, brows furrowed. “I didn’t tell you to move, did I?”

You shake your head and he sighs. “No discipline at all,” he says, tutting you slightly. “I’ll keep going because this is your first reward. But from now on, if you fail to control yourself when I’m rewarding you, you’ll be punished instead, alright?”

You nod apologetically. You bow your head, eyes on the ground in shame and he presses his finger under your chin, lifting your head to look at him. The sternness is almost gone now, replaced with a pent-up kind of tenderness. “Don’t be embarrassed,” he whispers. “Never be embarrassed around me, okay? It’s natural to slip up when you’re still learning. If you didn’t I’d have nothing to teach you, would I?”

You nod, guessing he’s right. He smiles, cupping your cheek with one hand before the finger you’d almost forgotten was inside you starts to move. You try to stay still, biting your lip to not make any noise that makes him think you’re losing control. You close your eyes, squeezing them shut but he doesn’t like that either. “Open,” he says and you do. He doesn’t meet your gaze; his eyes are back on your pussy, on the sopping wet hole that’s practically leaking from just one finger. But if he finds it weird or embarrassing, he says nothing.

“Are you ready for the second one?” He asks.

“Yes,” you whisper.

He smiles and slowly pushes in his middle finger. The tightness of your pussy clamps both fingers against each other but he quickly works you open with expert efficiency until he can fit in a third. “I’m going to rub your clit now,” he tells you and you nod meekly.

The sensations come together like fireworks exploding in your stomach and your whines and whimpers quickly turn to louder and more desperate moans. With his other hand he pulls you to lay your head on his chest and you feel his heart racing as you get closer and closer to the limit.

“Are you able to cum?” He asks.

You nod, whining against his shirt and surely covering in drool but he doesn’t care. He keeps going, faster and harder until with one command — “cum for me.” — he has you letting go completely. You sob, shaking and crying in his hold as you finish. He strokes your head, whispering to you while it happens until you’re done. He lets you stay in his hold for a while, whispering words you don’t understand until you finally start to come back to earth. You look up at his face, worried and awe-struck. He smiles, relieved to see you back and fully present again.

“How was that?” He asks.

“So good,” you whisper. “I think— this is going to be really helpful for me.”

He chuckles, rocking you back and forth and running his hand up and down your back.

“I’m certain it will.”

—————

um yeah sorry about this… this is obviously not professional and an irl therapist would lose every license they ever had if this happened. but in fiction, it’s pretty cool lol. reblog and comment if you enjoyed or if you’d like to see more of this arrangement (i.e. if you’re horny enough that you wanna see urself get punished…) all requests are being worked on rn but they are still OPEN!! love🖤🖤🖤

a lesson learned • seonghwa

you just can’t seem to stay away from trouble. your husband sets you straight.

request for @89petals

word count: 5.9k

western au, dom husband!seonghwa x innocent sub!reader ft. outlaws!mingi, san & wooyoung.

warnings: angry sex, punishment, impact, degredation, glove kink, mask kink. mentioned whipping & public humiliation. not proofread.

—————

Seonghwa knows you’re naive. It’s not hard to tell; the way you carry yourself, the way you talk, the way you stare so sweetly at him, everything about you exudes innocence, screams vulnerability. And not just to him — he sees it in the eyes of all the men you encounter. It’s obvious, visceral, primal; the desire to touch you, to dirty your pure, unsullied skin with their calloused hands and sweet talking. The longing to be the one to corrupt you. To ruin you. And he knows it’s only him, his protection, standing in their way. Stopping you from falling into one of their traps. Keeping you safe.

He’s tried so hard to make you see it like that; to make you understand. Understand that you need his protection, why you need it; what would happen without it.

But you just don’t get it. No matter how hard he tries, you just don’t understand. He knows it’s partially his fault; he spoils you incessantly, rotten, some would say — though how any man could resist doing so is a mystery he could never untangle. But he’s tried to be harder on you; tried to put his foot down, draw the line and say “this is how it’s going to be.” And it almost works. Each time, he almost gets through to you — almost.

Because then, just as he dares to think he’s won, you look up at him with those wide, doe eyes, a quivering lip as you ask him in your softest voice “why, Seonghwa? Have I been bad?” And he folds. Like any man would, he folds; takes you into his arms, cooing reassurances that you’re never bad, baby, you’re the best girl in the world until he forgets why he was even trying to be strict in the first place. And it works every time. Sly little minx.

Today is one of those days — one of those days where he wishes he had your reins a little tighter, regrets never having followed through and kept you in line. Because today, like so many times before, he doesn’t know where you are. You’d gone out this morning to see your friends, promising to be back soon, but you weren’t. It’s evening now, close to dusk, and with each passing second he grows more worried about you, more frantic to get you home before dark. He’s searched most of town, all your favourite places and usual hangouts, and come up empty. And no one he’s spoken to — all of them familiar with you as the beautiful, innocent wife of the man who runs the town — has seen you since the morning. Where on earth have you gone?

“I’m sorry,” the barkeep says, looking genuinely remorseful — you are, by his own admission, his ‘sweetest customer’ after all. “I truly haven’t seen her, sir. Nor her friends.”

Seonghwa grunts, shaking his head in frustration; it’s starting to hurt now. A stress headache, maybe. “I just don’t know where she could be, Will,” he groans. “I don’t want her out after dark. She’d get into all kinds of trouble with the sorts that come out then.”

The barkeep nods, grim understanding on his face. “I agree, sir. I’m really sorry I can’t help you, but I’m sure she’ll be back soon. She’s a good girl and she loves ya. She won’t have run off.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about,” he mumbles.

Thoughts of all the wrong sorts in the town, visions of how they could have taken you, what they could be doing to you, plague his thoughts, increasing his heart rate so much he barely manages to collapse into a nearby seat in time. The barkeep watches with a worried expression as Seonghwa leans back, breathing laboured as he removes his hat and slams it down on the bare table.

“Heat getting to ya?” He asks. “Don’t be so troubled, sir. She’s done this before, hasn’t she? Bet ya she’s gone after some frog again.”

If the situation weren’t so dire, Seonghwa would laugh at the memory; when you were still his fiancé and, having not seen you the entire day, he’d sent a search party looking for you, only for you to be found just out of bounds with the explanation that you’d “seen a frog” and had followed it so far you’d lost track of where you were. Seonghwa had almost cried with relief then, holding you in his arms as though you’d risen from the dead, but was so angry with you that he barely managed to hold it together until you got back to the house — and when you did, he’d doled out enough consequences to ensure you never made that mistake again. Or so he thought.

“Maybe,” he mumbles. He’s seconds away from calling another search party when a commotion outside draws his attention, as do the familiar voices of the two men in this town he can always trust to cause trouble.

Groaning, he rushes out of the bar, ready to admonish them for causing such a stir — but before he can, his eyes find a familiar face on the back of a familiar white horse. His heart warms at the welcome sight of his missing wife; as his blood pressure rises at the unwelcome sight of who you’d been with.

You stare at him with love and unease — happy to see him but no doubt aware of the trouble you’re in. You bite your lip, swallowing thickly as you dismount. Too nervous to approach him, you hesitate, lingering behind the men you’d ridden with.

“So this is who you meant by ‘friends’,” Seonghwa says as coolly as he can manage. “Mingi, San and…” He squints, not recognising the man next to them. “What’s your name, boy?”

“Wooyoung, sir,” the man grins, waving cheerfully. The man next to him, Mingi, snorts amusedly. Seonghwa almost lunges.

“Wooyoung,” he repeats. He knows he’s sneering as he says his name; sounding it out like it’s something shameful, but if Wooyoung is offended, he doesn’t say anything. The others have clearly told him who Seonghwa is, and the control he has of everything in this world town. Especially the girl they’d taken out, apparently without his permission.

“Did you have fun with my wife, Wooyoung?” He asks. “And you two? Did you have fun too?”

“Nothing improper happened, Seonghwa,” Mingi says coolly. “She wanted to go for a ride and we took her.”

“I’m sure,” Seonghwa replies darkly. Mingi at least has the decency to look a little uneasy, knowing Seonghwa could get him in a lot more trouble than he’d like. Not wanting to bother with the outlaws anymore, he turns his gaze back to you, eyes narrowing. “Come here.”

He watches you silently as you approach him, feeling your nerves with each step. He’s sure you’re half expecting him to strike you in front of everyone — even strip you down and punish you right here. But he’d never do that — instead, when you finally reach him, he pulls you into a tight, crushing hug. Tears prickle at his eyes as he inhales your scent, that sweet, perfect scent he was starting to wonder if he’d smell again. “I was so fucking worried about you,” he whispers into your hair. “My sweet little girl.”

You sigh contentedly into his chest for a moment until he abruptly pulls back, eyes narrowing as he regards the crowd that’s formed around you. “Everyone go home,” he orders. “Mingi, San, get out of here and take the boy with you. We’re leaving.”

He doesn’t wait for people to obey — just grabs your hand and drags you over to where he’d tied his horse. You try to speak but he ignores you; he lifts you up and onto the horse without a word, ignoring your protests as he steadies you before jumping up himself. “Hold my waist,” he says. Finally having some sense, you obey, saying nothing as you ride to his home on the hill — looming above the town and reminding you just who you’re dealing with.

When you arrive he lifts you off the horse, his grip on your waist harsher than usual as he plants you on the ground. He hands the reins to a waiting servant, who leads the horse away, leaving you alone with your husband. He doesn’t look at you, just orders you into the house with a stern tone. As you turn to walk towards the door he lands a harsh slap against your ass; with your layers of skirts and undergarments you should barely feel it, but Seonghwa is so strong and so angry that it’s as painful as if he had lifted up your skirts and smacked your bare skin. You squeak, losing your balance slightly before regaining it and rushing towards the door. It’s open, you assume unlocked by the servant as he’d seen your horse approaching, allowing you to slip inside and out of the desert sun.

You’re crouched down and unlacing your boots when you hear the door open and close again, and you hardly have time to register the presence behind you when it grabs a fistful of your hair, forcing you to your feet.

“Seonghwa!” You protest, flailing in his painful grip. A low noise emanates from his throat, almost a growl, and before you know what’s happened he’s landed a harsh, stinging slip on your cheek. Your jaw drops and you gape at him, staggering back when he loosens his grip. You can scarcely believe what’s just happened, what he’s just done — he’s struck you before, certainly, but never out of anger and never on the face.

“You need a fucking attitude adjustment,” he growls. His voice is deeper than you knew it could even get and he sounds downright dangerous. “I’ve been too lenient for too long.”

You whine, staring at him with your trademark eyes but this time he doesn’t react — doesn’t falter, doesn’t soften, doesn’t give in or give way to you. Your heart skips a beat at the realisation — he’s not falling for it this time. “Seonghwa, I’m sorr—”

“No, little girl,” he interjects. You swallow, bile in your threat. He really has no patience for you now. “You listen to me,” he says. “I’ve tried so hard to help you understand the dangers of this town but you just won’t listen.” He grabs you again, this time by the neck but doesn’t apply much pressure. Not that he needs to; you’ve always been putty in his hands. Now with no choice but to look at him, you see the fire in his eyes, the blazing spark — you’ve provoked him. Set him ablaze. You’re going to get burned. “Clearly,” he says, “I need to make you understand.”

You’re silent for a moment, letting his words hang in the air as you digest them. Your mouth opens and closes a couple times until you can finally force out a single syllable. “How?”

He chuckles; a dry, humourless chuckle that scratches at your throat. His eyes flicker up and down as he takes you in, admiring the body he owns and imagining what he could do to it. He bites his lip, not quite drawing blood but still hard and affected. “By showing you the dangers,” he says.

He releases you, sending you stumbling backwards again. He eyes you carefully, chuckling when he sees that one of your shoes is still on your feet. “Take that off,” he says, pointing to it. “Quickly.”

Nodding, you scramble to obey; you’re so nervous that your hands are shaking, making it hard to undo the tight laces of your boots, but you manage — perhaps due to the sharp, watching eyes you feel on you the entire time. You stand back up, feeling exposed now even though you’re fully clothed. Unsure what to say, you wait for him to speak; it seems to please him. “Go to our room,” he says. “Wait for me on the bed while I fetch a few things. You’re going to learn a good lesson tonight, sweetheart.”

Ignoring the terrifying undertones of his words, you turn on your heel, scrambling up the rickety wooden staircase; the steps creak under the pressure but you don’t doubt they can support your weight — Seonghwa built this house with his own two hands, and he knows what he’s doing; above all, he’d never do anything to put you in danger, through negligence or otherwise.

Reaching the top floor you scurry quietly down the hallway, pushing open the door to your shared bedroom and closing it softly behind you. Unsure what to do with Seonghwa’s vague instructions, you elect to keep your clothes on — he’d never told you to remove them, after all — and chance your luck that he may see fit to inflict whatever punishment he has in mind over your garments. After all, if he’s gone to fetch the riding crop, which is usually what he means when he ‘fetches something’ before a punishment, it’s not like your clothes would hinder the effectiveness of his discipline — as a renowned horseman, Seonghwa is more than capable with a riding crop, and would certainly be able to bruise, perhaps even cut you through your clothes. Not that he would cut you — but he could. Even his hands can inflict a world of damage.

Minutes later you hear the telling sounds of creaking on the staircase; as the footsteps get closer you recognise them as Seonghwa and you swallow, shifting uneasily on the bed. You wonder what he’s going to do to you — what he meant by “showing you the danger”. You trust him with your life but the fact remains that you live far from the rest of the town, so if something did happen, your screams would almost certainly go unheard — in fact, you know they would. It’s something you’ve both enjoyed and certainly made the most of before, but if he decided to use it for some other purpose, you’d be in trouble.

Minutes later the door opens to reveal him standing in the doorway, still in his brimmed hat and long leather coat and you shudder — even after five years of marriage, the mere silhouette of Seonghwa still intimidates you. When he steps out of the shadow you blink for a moment, confused. Seonghwa hasn’t fetched the riding crop, instead gathering an armful of ropes— but that’s not what catches your attention. What catches your attention is the thick cloth pulled over Seonghwa’s mouth and nose, fashioned into a mask. Paired with his hat it conceals his face almost entirely and makes him an utterly menacing figure.

He takes a step inside, spurs clinking against his boots as he walks. It’s not a sound you often hear inside, and it feels more threatening than familiar. You gulp, shifting back slightly but not enough to be out of his reach — you’re smarter than that.

He stares down at you for a moment, taking you in and scrutinising you, before that familiar voice sounds out, deeper and more menacing than ever.

“Since you think it’s so funny to run off with strange men,” he says, a little muffled through the mask but still painfully clear. “Men I’ve specifically warned you about, and you’ve refused to listen…” You hang your head, ashamed, but through hooded eyes still stare curiously at the sight in front of you. “I’m going to show you exactly why I told you to stay away from them in the first place.”

You drop your gaze, staring down at the wooden floorboards with a racing heartbeat. He clicks his tongue. “Look at me.”

You find obeying isn’t as easy as it should be — the sight of him now is overwhelming, and something about the way he towers over you, face hidden, intentions concealed… it flusters you. You want to blush and giggle and run far, far away.

He comes closer again, reaching to grip your chin and the moment his hand meets your face an electrifying feeling races through you. His voice is gruff when he speaks, eyes boring into yours. “I’m going to show you what bad men can do,” he says. “What they’d do to you if they could.”

His grip tightens, holding you still; the pressure of his fingers is bruising, painful against your skin and he knows it. His eyes flicker across your chest, peeking out of the top of your dress. They narrow slightly, stern and scrutinising but the pupils are dilated. “Was that like this when you left this morning?”

You look down for a moment, holding back a smile when you see what he’s asking. “You mean were my breasts so visible?” You ask.

“Yes.”

You giggle slightly and he tightens his grip again, forcing the smile off your face. You whine. “They weren’t,” you insist. “My dress slipped a little as I came up the stairs.”

He stares at you a moment, probably trying to decide if he believes you. He clicks his tongue. “I hope you’re right. And I certainly hope Mingi would agree with that assessment, should I happen across him tomorrow.”

“He would,” you reply. “I swear, Hwa.” You feel tears prickle at your eyes as you stare desperately at him, trying to convince him — among other things. You see the conflict on his face as he watches your display.

Usually, now would be the time where he’d give in — when you give him those eyes and promise so sweetly that to be a good girl for him. ‘Hwa’ doesn’t help either; you know that name is his kryptonite. But this time he doesn’t fold; doesn’t give in like he always does. He can’t. He doesn’t want to. Because while before, your sweet disposition and cute, childish antics, made him want to squish your cheeks and give you everything you could possibly want, now it makes him want to ruin you. To watch you fall apart beneath him; to tarnish your pure, clean soul the way he’s been trying to tell you the other men in the town are so desperate to. No, you’re not getting out of this today. He’s going to break you down and ruin you and then maybe you’ll learn.

He releases your chin, noticing with a smile the deep red marks left by the imprints of his fingers. “Strip,” he orders. “And do it quickly. ‘Cause I have to take that pretty little dress off myself, there won’t be much left of it when I’m done.”

You know he’s not bluffing this time — a number of your dresses have been ruined in this way; torn off in the heat of passion by your hungry, or angry, husband. Standing, you hurry to obey, removing your corset and skirts until you’re down to your underwear. Your gaze flickers to him, unsure. He nods, a silent order and you gulp as you remove your underwear; the last, thin pieces of fabrics protecting your modesty. Now fully nude, next to your husband who hasn’t even removed his shoes, you feel vulnerable and exposed in a way you’re not sure if you like. He stares at you for a moment and the mask prevents you from gauging his reaction. You stand nervously, resisting the urge to try to cover yourself; it wouldn’t work, first of all, and would only anger him further. He clicks his tongue. “Turn around.”

Nodding, you turn slowly to face the bed. His presence behind you is a looming, inescapable feeling even before he touches you; he runs a finger across your ass, inspecting the tender flesh. He makes a noise somewhere between pity and arousal and you realise you’re probably still sporting the marks from when he’d corrected you last; a painful, bruising correction that had left you crying and begging his forgiveness — and for something much lesser than this, you recall. You gulp as you realise he probably has much worse planned for you today.

“Gosh,” he says, almost whispering. He applies a gentle pressure to one of the marks; a bruise, by the feel of it — not enough pressure to truly hurt, but just enough to remind you that the bruise is there and why. “You just can’t behave, can you, my girl?”

A whine escapes, face pink with embarrassment at his patronising, humiliating tone but you don’t dare move — you know better. “I’m sorry, Hwa,” you whisper. When you say that name this time, he can tell it’s not a tactic or charm — you truly are sorry, and you truly want to be good. He smiles proudly at the thought. His sweet girl.

“I’ve really been too lenient, have I?” He says. Knowing you can’t see it, he doesn’t bother hiding the affectionate smile on his face. “Don’t worry, baby. That ends today.”

You gulp, nodding your assent and for a moment it seems nothing’s happening — until a strong hand on your back pushing you forwards, forcing you to bend over the bed. You make a noise of surprise, not having expected the movement, but you stay still. He stands and takes you in for a moment before his hands are on you, running down your sides with more tenderness than you expected. But that doesn’t last for long; when he reaches your ass he winds his hand back, and you hear the smack he inflicts on the bruised skin coming even before it lands. When it does, it takes a second for the pain to register; it blooms across your sensitive skin, white-hot and agonising. You cry out but have the good sense to do it into the blankets, muffling the noise. He lands another slap on the same spot, then another, ignoring your cries and apologies. After ten or so smacks he seems to get bored, backing away from you, and you realise with as much relief as fear that he doesn’t intend on beating you tonight — at least, not as your main punishment. Which means your main punishment is something else, and you have a feeling it won’t be a whole lot more lenient.

He returns quickly, grabbing a fistful of your hair in one hand while the other holds you down by your waist. “Did you like that?” He asks, voice rasped.

You shake your head, still sobbing slightly. “No, Seonghwa.”

“Good.” His hand moves from your waist to your ass, tightly gripping the spot he’d victimised — no doubt red and swollen thanks to his efforts. You cry out, dizzy with pain. “You shouldn’t like it,” he says, emphasising his point with a squeeze that almost makes you black out. “That way you’ll finally fucking learn.”

You nod, groaning at the lingering pain that persists even after he loosens his grip. He makes a noise almost like a snarl.

“Tell me, baby,” he says softly. “Do you think Mingi would make love to you?” He pulls at your hair slightly, just enough pressure to sting. You gulp. “You think San would stop if it got too much?” His hand moves down, gripping the supple skin of your upper thigh.

You bite your lip, unsure of how to answer — the outlaws Seonghwa hates so much have actually been nice to you so far, though he of course claims it’s only to piss him off. But you know what he wants to hear and you want to be good — you want him to be merciful. “No, Seonghwa,” you gasp, though it comes out as more of a whine. You’re painfully aware of his hand on the back of your thigh, squeezing at the skin and refusing to relieve or indulge you beyond that. “They wouldn’t.”

“That’s right,” he growls. “So neither will I.”

You hear shuffling behind you before something touches your arm — but it’s not Seonghwa’s soft yet rough hands. It’s harder, thicker, a little scratchy… it’s the rope. You gasp, breath hitching as he wraps the rope carefully around your arms, tying them together against your back. He leans down to whisper in your ear, “Your safeword is ‘pickles’. Remember it.”

You giggle at the choice of safeword — pickles is your horse, white and grey and beautiful and certainly an unforgettable safeword. “Okay,” you whisper.

He chuckles, moving away behind you. Craning your neck, you see him removing the hat, coat and boots — undoubtedly bothersome particularly when he’s trying to educate you. But the mask stays, and you watch as he pulls on a pair of thick, leather gloves. You swallow — he never wears those gloves with you; they’re the gloves he wears when, as the de-facto leader of the town, he deals with outlaws and criminals and anyone who causes problems — anyone he’d rather not touch. Just by putting them on in front of you he’s shown you his anger; your place. You’re dirt to him now.

When he returns to you he wastes no time; he places a leg on each side of you, holding you in place and putting him closer to where he wants to be. The feeling of his leather gloves on your skin sends shivers down your spine for a multitude of reasons but you do your best to stay still and pliant. They run across your skin, coming to hold onto your waist, squeezing it softly before suddenly they’re on your ass, grabbing your cheeks and spreading them apart — exposing you fully to him.

Without realising you shrink into yourself slightly, trying to make yourself smaller — avoid the embarrassment and humiliation of having everything on slow. He chuckles, gripping you tighter as he spits down. The saliva lands between your two holes and with one large finger he rubs up and down, spreading the spit between them. You shiver as his finger ghosts across your sensitive pussy and even more sensitive asshole, coating them with spit. But you can't do much more than shiver; the grip of his other hand on your is iron and immobilising, and you know from experience that if you make things difficult for him, Seonghwa has no qualms with striking your pussy almost as hard as he does your ass, and you don’t want to find out if he’d have any qualms about doing that to your other hole. You can’t even imagine how that would feel.

“How do you feel?” He asks, not sounding incredibly concerned with the answer. “Are you embarrassed, baby? Your holes spat on like you’re some cheap saloon girl?”

You whine and, forgetting your situation, try to reach for him — for comfort or reprieve, you don’t know. It’s only when the rope bites into your arms as you strain against them that you remember what he’d done — how he’d tied you up like a mare. “I’m embarrassed, Hwa.”

“Good,” he says, and you hear the smile in his voice. “Be embarrassed. But tell me this, honey. If those outlaws you like so much finally got their hands on you — do you think they’d use spit? Do you think they’d use anything to make it easier for you?”

“I don’t know,” you gasp.

He laughs dryly. “No, they wouldn’t,” he says. “They’d tear you open, baby. And it’d be even worse than this.”

He doesn’t give your time to react before he plunges not one but two fingers into your sensitive hole, making you choke — the thick leather coating his fingers makes them even bigger and harder to take and you feel like you’re on fire; not the mention the disbelief that your temperate, if a little severe husband, is treating you like this. You thrash in his hold but it’s no use; he only gives you a few seconds to adjust before he starts pumping in and out of you, stretching you even further. It feels good but it’s so, so much. You don’t know what to do or how to take it and the stupid rope around your arms means you can’t even hold onto him. He hums. “Must be hard, huh? Taking my fingers like that?”

“It is.”

“It should be. This is how you wanted to be treated, right? That must be why you love those outlaws so much. Because this is what you really wanted. To be treated as the cheap slut they see you as, yeah?”

You’re rutting desperately against the bed now, trying to get any kind of friction Seonghwa’s immobilising grip allows and maybe it’s because he knows he’s pushing you so hard — or perhaps he likes seeing you so desperate and pathetic — that he doesn’t stop you. The moment you’re sufficiently stretched a third gloved finger invades you and didn’t even know you could be this stretched without his dick. You’re sobbing now; tears smearing against the thin blankets as you shake beneath his hold. He chuckles; “tell me it feels good,” he says.

“It fee— God, it feels so good Hwa,” you cry, so loud it hurts your throat and rings in your ears. He laughs, hooking a hand under your waist to lift you up slightly, angling you so your holes are even more exposed and he can go even deeper. Your screams fall on deaf ears — as they probably will for the rest of the night.

“Good girl,” Seonghwa praises, and it eases your pain for a moment before it’s back in full force as he increases his pace. “I reckon you’re learning your lesson, aren’t you?”

You sob into the blankets, nodding fervently — you certainly are learning, though you’re not sure if it’s the pain or the pleasure that’s reaching you. But your sweet husband is gone tonight, replaced with an animal — and it’s not one you want to provoke again. “Yes, Hwa.”

“Good. ‘Cause if I have to teach it again, I’m not waiting to get you somewhere private. Understood?”

“Yes, Hwa,” you groan.

“Good.” He pulls his fingers out, leaving you empty and gaping. You feel your wetness begin to trickle down your leg and he traces it with his finger, gathering the juices. He grabs your hair again, yanking it backwards to pull your head towards him. “Open up.”

You let your mouth fall open uncertainly and he shoves his fingers inside, making you gag. “Suck,” he orders and you do; swirling your tongue across his juice-coated fingers as you suckle desperately at them. “Taste good?” He asks and you nod — you do taste good. Sweet, even. You’re quite proud of it — but that doesn’t make this any less humiliating.

“Good,” he says, pulling his fingers out and moving to grip your waist. “I’m gonna fuck you now. Think you can take it?”

You bite your lip, pondering your answer. “It doesn— it doesn’t matter,” you say softly, knowing what he wants to hear.

“Good answer, baby,” he chuckles. “Fuck, you’re not so dumb after all, are you?”

You shake your head, flushing a little at the condescending undertones of his words and you hear him exhale a stuttered breath. You know he’s as pent up as you are now — you don’t know what he’s going to do with it. “Hwa…”

“I’m here, baby,” he says. “Hwa’s gonna fuck you now. Not gonna be gentle, either. What’s your safeword?”

You sniffle. “Pickles.”

“Good girl,” he says, smoothing a hand across your flushed skin. You notice he’s pulled the gloves off now and you’ve never been so grateful to feel his bare skin on yours; but knowing what he’s taken them off for, what he plans to do to you, doesn’t allow you much comfort from it. “Remember that. There’s a good chance you’ll need it.”

He pulls back and for a long, unending moment, he’s gone from your sight and touch. Anticipation hangs in the air as you await his return; tension and arousal combined and lingering as the seconds pass slowly and fearfully. You squirm slightly, desperate for sensation and hoping he’ll notice, until he returns. Two large hands grip your ass, spreading the cheeks apart again. You hear him spit again, feel the saliva as it lands and smears across your pussy before you feel that familiar stretch as his thick, hard cock begins to penetrate you. He takes his sweet time inserting himself, dragging it out and it’s as much a mercy as it is a torture. When he’s finally in, your still-tight pussy only just withstanding it, he starts to move — slowly at first, then faster and faster until he’s at his full speed and power. He’s never gotten there so fast or so ruthlessly and as good as it feels, you know you’re at the edge of what you can take.

So does he — his grip on you is iron and unyielding, surely bruising you further as he uses your fragile frame to allow and force himself deeper into you. You know you’re crying; sobbing and calling his name with each movement and you think he’s saying something to you, but among all the feelings and sensations and the ever-present stretch that pulls and forces you open, the exact words he says don’t quite reach you. He’s never fucked you like this — fast and hard and without consideration for your pleasure and you feel like a toy, an object; existing only to service him. You know that’s his point — that to others, you are an object, and they’d never take as good care of you as he does. And for the first time you’re really starting to understand the truth of his warnings; as fast and intense as this is, there's still love and care hidden deep, deep beneath it. If you let those outlaws get anywhere near you, it’ll be a lot, lot worse.

As he approaches his orgasm you’re certain you’ve bitten through your lip; the taste of iron fills your mouth, your shown body strained and breaking under the enormous pressure of Seonghwa’s exertions of it. When he finally comes it’s louder, harder, deeper than he’s ever been and you quickly find yourself coming too; orgasm forced out of you by the sheer force of his own. You know you’re sobbing as you come down, heart still pounding against your skull, permeating every inch of you and Seonghwa stays still for a moment, dick softening but still deep inside you before he finally pulls out with a groan. You feel liquid pour from your hole as he does so; his cum and your juices rushing down your thigh and you hear him chuckle.

“Dirty girl,” he muses. He gathers it on his fingers again, this time placing them into his mouth, tasting the mixture of your juices and his and he makes a noise of appreciation. “Delicious, baby.”

When you start to whine again he’s quick to gather you up, skillfully untying your arms before pulling you into his hold. He situates himself in bed, back against the pillow as he holds you against his chest, rocking you back and forth. He’s patient as he waits for you to come down and back to earth, greeting you with a fond smile when you finally open your eyes, staring up at him as lovingly as you always do. He pinches your cheek, cooing at you as he speaks. “That was incredible, baby,” he says. “How do you feel?”

Your breathing is still staggered, voice soft and raspy as you answer. “Feel fine, Seonghwa.”

“Good,” he smiles. “You gonna run around with outlaws again, baby?”

You sniff, shaking your head and nuzzling further into his touch. “No.”

“I’m glad,” he says. “Because I’d so hate to have to fuck you like that again.”

You hold back a chuckle, sighing in his hold. You know he’s lying — and when you whisper back, “So would I, Hwa,” you both know you’re lying too.

—————

thanks for reading! reblog and comment if you enjoyed. requests are open!🖤🖤🖤

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZGeW4EDma/ why is this the fic hwa you wrote………

oh my god!!! this is exactly how i pictured him writing that; the poise, the persona, the slow controlled movements.. literally him!!! i rly wanna write more cowboy!hwa (if i can come up with smth) i need and miss him so bad

honestly i… can picture him standing above you like that when he has u spread out on the bed abt to be ruined/punished; downing a glass of whiskey like that before he finally turns his attention to you and pounces… just making the buildup as slow as possible to build the tension… you’d be down there ready and pretty for him going crazy wondering what he’s gonna do to you and he knows it but doesn’t care because this starts when he decides. omg

But listen instead of downing that whiskey…he keeps it in his mouth and shares it with a kiss….letting it drip down your skin and then he can lick it up…and the skin stings from where it has been roughened up (by someone…) and his warm tongue soothes it as he licks it

you’re a genius for this… oh god yea he’d love this so much.. spitting it into your mouth but some of it dribbles down your chin and onto your chest,, pooling between your tits and down your stomach. he’d love the fact u can’t even take all of it in your mouth…,, “aw baby, does it burn? poor little thing..” licking it up off your skin,, teasing you a lil with his tongue on your tits even after u know for sure he’s got it all. maybe he’d ‘see some’ (allegedly) on your clit and ofc he’d have to clean it up for you if he did. i don’t think he’d manage to keep the facade of ‘cleaning up your mess’ up for very long before it’d turn to full on eating you out; holding you down by the hips while he laps at your pussy hungrily until you give him something else to quench his thirst…

he’d just do anything to taste you, wouldn’t he? anything to make you squirm.

I did NOT expect to be ATTACKED when I sent that TikTok. I WANTED SOME HARMLESS SIMILARITY AND YOU CAME AT ME WITH THOSE sCENARIOS?1?1? (Not that I didn’t already do picture that tho)

LOLLLL cmon u know me.. i can never resist adding some juice especially when it comes to hwa. he just brings out that side in everyone (and he knows it. and loves it. and definitely uses it to his advantage when he fucks you.)

And what if i say this is how seonghwa gets undressed after you tease him getting him all worked up

FUCK, BOY - PARK SEONGHWA - NSFW

Seonghwa x AFAB!reader

Genre: smut

Warning list: Fuckboy!seonghwa, Virgin!reader, dom!seonghwa, sub!reader, established relationship, fingering, pet names (sweetheart, darling, pretty, baby), degrading (slut), let me know if i missed anything!, not proof read

Word count: 1,393

Summary: Your boyfriend was a fuckboy, so why won’t he just fuck you already? Are you too gross, too ugly? It’s time to find out…

He was a fuck boy, past tense, was. Now he'd landed himself dating you, the girl who is known for being a virgin.

He was hot, and would fuck anyone whenever he wanted. You were gorgeous, but wouldn't let a soul even touch you, until you met each other...

You were complete opposites when you looked at the surface, but once you dove past stereotypes and reputation you discovered that Seonghwa liked all the small things you did, you were perfect together.

You both felt honoured to have broken the others "norms" but... you'd be lying if you didn't feel like you had to give yourself to Seonghwa now. He slept whit everyone, but he hadn't even tried to sleep with you, he was taking things slow.

That only left a bitter feeling eating away at your belly. Are you not pretty enough for Seonghwa? Are you not good enough for him to want to wet his dick?

Gritting your teeth you set in motion a plan you'd saved for the perfect moment. You'd finally decided you craved Seonghwa, and you needed him to want you back.

- call him over, and have him say he will be there: check.

- Hide the outfit you want to change into in your bathroom : check.

- Once Seonghwa is over, manage to slip away into the bathroom to get changed: check.

- Once in the outfit, seduce and fuck that man: in progress.

Now in your sexy outfit you hesitated, you were flustered. Your body burned red with pure embarrassment. What if Seonghwa thought you were ugly? What if he was just dared to date you? No, no, Seonghwa seems honest with you....

Looking in the mirror you saw the sexy lace bralette decorating your skin, the matching fingerless gloves coming far up your arms. Strapy little panties showing off your perfect body, Thigh high socks digging into your plush thighs, stiletto heels making you seem intimidating, you were anything but. You were positively shaking at the thought of trying to seduce your boyfriend, who had been with a variety of sexier girls, you stood no chance…

A knock sounded on the door "sweetheart are you okay. I could hear lots of shuffling and now you are silent, please don't be dead" he joked, and that sent a smile onto your face. He always made you smile.

"No No Hwa, I'm okay. Just sit back down I'll be out in a second" you giggled. He shot back agreement and waited, lazily looking at his phone as he waited for you.

It took you another minute but you eventually opened the door, and before he could even look up, you were sat on the edge of the bed, back turnt to him, eyes glued to the wall.

He hummed, and the sound of him shuffling behind you reached your ears. He leant up on his arms head peeping over your shoulder as he gazed over you, and you swore you heard a small groan slip from his lips.

As the idea of standing up and leaving danced through your mind, you felt one of his hands gently climb up your arm and rest on your shoulder, fingers lightly tapping at your skin. "You do this for me darling?" He slurs, voice slightly deeper than before. He sounded so fucking hot, but you couldn't bring yourself to turn around.

You hummed and he smirked, you could hear it in the way he spoke. "And what do you want from me?" He teased. He sat up further and his other hand dragged up to the other shoulder, both hands now rubbing at your shoulders.

You didn't answer him, you were too busy looking at your hands. One of his hands strayed from its place on your shoulder and grasped your cheek ever so gently and turnt your face towards his. As you looked at him you saw the pure desire in his eyes, he was absolutely hungry.

His hand slipped to the back of your neck and he grabbed lightly. His other hand slipped onto your lips, rubbing your pretty lip gloss around with a chuckle "so fucking pretty, aren't you baby?" He groans. His eyes flick away from your lips and up to your eyes, clearly expecting an answer. He shoved two of his fingers into your mouth and the pure lewd expression you gave him in return made his dick throb. You nodded, desperately trying to get your message across as you licked his fingers.

Releasing his fingers from your pretty lips with a pop, he leaned in towards you. The gap between your lips almost minuscule. "Do you actually want this darling? You don't have to do anything if YOU don't want to?" He reminds you.

In return you smile "I really need you Hwa". It comes out so pathetically desperate, and he could imagine you begging like that for years to come.

He leans in, the distance diminishing until your lips joined together in a kiss Seonghwa dominated. He was teaching you, and fuck would you let him. His lips glided against yours perfectly, tongue prodded into your mouth amazingly, moans slipped out so filthy.

He pulled away and stood up, pushing you backwards on the bed and climbing onto you, one knee on the outside of your leg and the other placed firmly on the ground. This is it, he'd ease you into it as carefully as he could when you looked so fucking delicious. He'd hold himself back... as difficult as it was... because he didn't want to break you straight away... you were to precious.

You slowly leant back, using one arm to cover your chest slightly as you realised how much of your cleavage was actually showing. Seonghwa tutted, grasping your arm and pushing it to the bed, setting an unspoken rule, 'don't cover yourself from me'. "My perfect girl..." he whispered eyes locked with your own as he crawled further up you, his other leg now on the other side of your legs, straddling you. Growing nervous you pushed yourself further away from him but he only grew closer.

He chuckled at you as you stilled "stop running darling, I promise I'll make you feel good. Just tell me if you want to stop and I will". He leant down and placed a sweet kiss to your lips then looked down at your chest. He used one hand to hold him up and the other to trace between your tits, watching as his finger got consumed by your cleavage. He ran his fingers over your tit then grasped it, squishing your nipple perfect with his thumb as he grabbed. You let out a small moan at the feeling, surprised he simply knew where your nipple was through your bra. He slid his hand over and did the same to the other tit, then ran his hand downwards to your stomach.

You began to sit up at the loss of contact and he only pushed you back and begun kissing your neck. He bit and sucked on your supple skin, knowingly leaving pretty pink marks that will remind you off him. His hand continued to run down until he got to your clothed cunt. Two fingers skilfully rubbed circles against your clit, getting you squirming and moaning as he continued to mark you.

He slipped your panties to the side and ran his fingers through your desire, absolutely coating his fingers. "Such a wet cunt~ all this for me sweetheart? Do you like being touched that much?" He teased.

You moaned out a small yes, learning to respond to him by now.

He chuckled at your desperation "awww such a slut. Tell me you're a slut baby. Tell me you're a slut all for me!" He groans in your ear, pulling back to look at you as you say it.

You whine "yours- I'm your slut Hwa... fuck. Please just fuck me".

Seonghwa was not ready to hear your beg like that, he'd imagined it sure, but hearing it was different. You were just too fucking perfect. "That's right, my slut" he whispered, then went back to kissing your neck. His fingers slipped into your begging hole, curling to hit the parts not even you knew you had until Seonghwa touched you like that. He really was good at this, a fucking sex god.

Good Girl

Seonghwa X Reader

WC : 1.3K

TW : Brat reader, Daddy Hwa, Daddy kink, name calling (good girl, whore, slut) Punishment (spanking) Unprotected ( dont be silly wrap it up ) Cream pie

Based on my head cannon - Ateez; who's a dom, sub or switch?

"I don't know who's worse you or Woo" Seonghwa seethe's as he pulls you through the door of your shared apartment. You cant help but giggle at him, even though you knew it was a bad idea. Just like you knew it was a bad idea to tease him through San's birthday dinner but you couldn't help it. You and Wooyoung made a bet who could get Seonghwa the most flustered and mad and its safe to say that when you slipped your hand up his thigh to his crotch you won. 

Seonghwa figured out what was going on fairly quickly, after you gripped his semi hard cock through his pants making his leg jerk and hit the table, Woo called you out for not playing fair, to which you just laughed. "Oh you think it's funny" He asked you now, stopping in the middle of the living room. "No Hwa, not funny" you said with a shit eating smile on your face. His large hand coming up to grip your chin "Its not at all" he says in a very stern tone. His eyes quickly shift to your mouth still held in a small smirk between his fingers. "I think you need to be taught a lesson" 

Before you can protest you are being picked up, Seonghwa has you over his shoulder as he makes his way to the couch. "Hwa put me down!" you beat on his back gently not putting up much of a real fight. He eventually puts you down before he sits down on the couch. You barley have a moment to get your legs under you before you are pulled down onto his lap on your stomach. "Hwa please, I'll be good" you try and plead as he is pushing your dress up over your ass. You are internally cursing yourself for wearing a thong tonight. Your ass on full display to him.

"You should have thought of that before you wanted to grab my cock in the middle of dinner" he says, his hand absentmindedly running across your pale skin, sending shivers up your spine. "Its going to be a week before I'm able to look Joong in the face" You scoffed at this, you knew dang well they all bragged to each other about the crazy shit that happened in their bedrooms. Before you could make a comment stating so you felt the crack of his hand meeting your bare skin. The sound coming out of your mouth a mix of a yell and a whimper. Not long after the first came a second and a third. You could feel the welts forming on your skin. Tears sprang to your eyes on the third slap.

"You think it's so fun to be a brat. Being a little whore, had to grab my cock at dinner couldn't even wait till be got in the car" a fourth slap meets your skin. At this point he has his other hand holding your lower back to keep you in place as you cry out in pain at each slap. Your face streaked with tears. "Please Haw pleaseee ow Stop please" you cry as the 5th smack came down. "Good girls take their punishment, are you my good girl or no?" He asks gently rubbing your skin now, soothing a bit of the sting he caused. "Yes" you let out in a sob. "Yes what" he asks as he lifts his hand again. "Yes Daddy" you cry out as another slap is delivered "That's my girl" his hands coming down now to massage your tender skin. 

Before you know it you feel his fingers dip low between your legs, gliding along the your cloth covered slit. You know your panties are soaked, his punishments always turning you on. You hear the low groan he releases from deep in his throat. "You were such a good girl for me" he says as one hand grips the band of your underwear pulling it to the side, exposing you to the cool air. His other hand coming up to cup your dripping core. His finger sliding back and forth over your entrance teasing you. 

"Please Hwa, Iv been good" you plead, trying to push your hips back onto his hand. Before you can give any real effort your being handled again. He's pulled you up and has you straddling his waist. His hands coming up to cup your tear stained face. "My precious baby girl" he coos at you while he swipes away your tears. "You took your punishment so well. Such a good girl. You learned your lesson right?" 

You shake your head up and down yes. The smile that spreads across his face at this warms your heart. He leans in and presses a soft kiss to your lips "I think you deserve a reward my love, you did so good for me" again you shake your head yes enthusiastically. His hands sliding down to your hips, as his mouth attaches to your neck. Your hands find purchase on his shoulder as he begins to drag your body over the bulge in his pants. The only sounds filling the room are your needy whines and the sound of Seonghwa's mouth on your skin. 

"Hwa please" you begin to plead. "That's not how we ask for things is it princess" he mumbles against your skin. "Please Daddy" you whine, looking down at the large wet spot you have left on his grey sweats. "Just cause you asked so sweetly" he smiles again, his hands going to the waistband of his pants and pulling them down just enough to free his hard cock. The sight of which makes your mouth water. Before you know it he has one hand on your hip the other pulling your panties to the side as he positions you over his leaking tip. 

Ever so slowly you sink down on him, the burn of the stretch elating a moan from you. It takes a minute before you can fully take him, your clit snug against his pelvis. You cant help but let out little whimpers as you adjust. "Shhh its okay pretty baby, Daddies right here" he says as he brushes the hair back from your neck, one hand gently gripping the back of your neck. Before long he has you grinding against him, your clit dragging against his skin, the tip of his cock hitting that sweet spot deep inside you only he could. It's not long before your first release crashes over you. Your walls contracting around him, making him moan out. 

"That's a good girl" he kisses your mouth "Daddies going to fuck you now baby" he mumbles against your lips. His hands coming to a bruising grip on your waist as he starts to hoist you up before bringing you back down on his cock. Your head is thrown back as the dirtiest sounds escape your parted mouth. Before long he is using his legs to help thrust up into your core. The wet sounds, mixed with both of your moaning the only thing to be heard. "Cum one more time for me baby" he coo's at you while he hammers away "Give daddy one more" One of his hands snakes down and his skilled fingers quickly find your clit, rubbing small circles into your throbbing nerve. 

You're quickly thrown over the edge again, walls forming a vice grip on his cock as he hurried it deep inside of you. A few seconds later he lets out the pretties moan you have heard as you feel the tip of his cock twitch inside you, paining your walls white. You collapse forward, your head nuzzling into the side of Seonghwa's neck as you pant out. You feel his hands running along your back, pushing your hair out of your face "That's my girl" he says as he kisses the top of your head "That's my good girl"

No… but imagine Seonghwa, who always shows he is very controlled, lose it because of you.

~Seonghwa’s POV~ internal monologue | smutty thoughts so +18 MDNI

There you are again. This is the third time you get lost in the crowd. Dancing, drinking, you know how to have fun. I wonder how much fun you would like to have with me. You think I’m not noticing the lingering stares and the batting of your eyelashes, or the way you say my name just to entice me. Well, darling, it is working, and you know it is working because I can’t keep my eyes off you.

I need to keep playing this game you have orchestrated for the two of us. Now you are just in front of me, bending a little bit too far over the bar to ask for a drink. You want me to notice you are wearing lace lingerie? Love, you would look even better without it anyway, and with me pleasing your needy hole with my tongue.

Yes… I saw you staring while I licked the overflowing liqueur from my glass earlier tonight. I did that for you. How much longer will you keep me waiting, angel? The fire inside me can’t wait to consume you, fuck you, praise you. Oh! There’s that look again, the one I can’t say no to. You want me to follow you through the dark corridors all the way to my room. Is this why you insisted the party should be at my place? Do you want everyone to hear you screaming my name?

You just close the door and pull my face to meet yours.

“Would you make me yours?” your sultry voice almost making me cum in my pants.

“I thought you would never ask.”

mirror mirror on the wall, who's the filthiest of them all — P. S.H.

I've had "seonghwa jerking off in front of a mirror and recording himself and cumming on the mirror" written in my drafts as a "note" for a MONTH now without writing anything. so I'm just gonna write smth and give you a treat. enjoy, my beloved perverts <3 w/c 655

idol!Seonghwa x gn!reader. 18+. MDNI.

imagine being in a relationship with an idol. it's already a difficult situation in itself, right? and the way it pretty much forces you into a long-distance relationship makes it even harder. always busy, rarely at home. you get needy. Seonghwa gets needy. you do what you can to take care of that problem through sexting, phone calls, face time, and whatnot. which is better than nothing.

but what you didn't expect with all of this, is what a tease Seonghwa would get — using this as an opportunity to rile you up, tease you, and keep you on your toes. he starts surprising you with audios of him moaning and touching himself, or nudes, when he knows you're at work, when he knows you're around your friends, when he knows you can't talk to him or touch yourself, leaving you horny and flustered. but if you said you didn't like it... you'd be lying.

you also didn't expect Seonghwa to get so nasty. and definitely didn't expect to receive a short video while you're busy in the middle of the afternoon, of him filming himself jerk off in front of a mirror in his hotel room at what for him would be nighttime. wearing a white tanktop, his jeans pulled down just enough to let him take out his long, hard cock. his eyes move back and forth between watching himself in the mirror and through his screen. Seonghwa grins and bites his lip.

you hear his hushed moans and groans, the wet sounds of his cock lubed up by precum and who knows what else. lube? his own saliva? your mind takes off without you realising it. it's all so hot you wish you could jump through the screen and put that pretty dick in your mouth. by now, you can easily remember the weight of him laying on your tongue, how he tastes, and how he fills your mouth when he grows harder as you suck him off.

Seonghwa stands up, his jeans falling down to his ankles. standing closer to the mirror, with his eyebrows furrowed and lips pressed together, he twists his hand around his length as he strokes it faster. the sight of the tip glistening with precum makes your mouth water. as if he knows this, he starts cursing out loud and moaning your name, telling you how much he misses having you drooling with your lips stretched around him. telling you how much he loves it when you beg him to cum in your mouth, or on your face. calling you a cumslut.

you catch yourself moaning while your eyes are locked on your screen. that's what this little shit does to you. he's not wrong. you are a cumslut — his cumslut. and you miss him so fucking much. you observe with big eyes as Seonghwa edges closer to his high. he starts whimpering, hissing through his teeth, his moans getting more high-pitched. before you know it, he climaxes with a deep groan, and shoots his cum... straight on the mirror. your jaw drops as you watch it drip down the glass. he just laughs with a mischievous glint in his drowsy eyes, sighing in sweet bliss with a half-smile... and the video ends.

you stare at the screen for 30 seconds before you come back to your senses.

you: what the actual fuck

bunny 🐰: 😏

you: are you insane???!

bunny 🐰: I'm going to bed now, I'm so damn tired

you: babe

bunny 🐰: I hope you have a good rest of your day 💖

you: BABE

you: don't you dare leave me like this

bunny 🐰: goodnight, my love 🥺💖

pressing record audio, you yell "whore!" straight into the mic, hit send, and throw the phone away and mope. a minute later, your phone goes ding, and you groan dramatically, but reach out to pick it up nonetheless.

bunny 🐰: I love you too 😚

Seonghwa twitter links — Dom ver.

Pairing: Seonghwa x fem!reader

a/n: ahhh we've come to our lovely seonghwa. i'm very grateful for all the love on these, enjoy.✨

masterlist.

warnings + links below the cut. mdni 18+ content ahead.

warnings/tags: fingering, cunnilingus, heavy dom/sub dynamics, daddy! or mommy!seonghwa (not specified), perv-ish!hwa, cum play, breeding kink, punishments, spanking, tiny bit of meandom!seonghwa, morning sex, grinding

seonghwa playing with your pussy like this. he would even bother taking off your clothes as he sneaks his hand into you safety shorts and lazily swiping his fingers over your clit.

dressing up so pretty for seonghwa, he'd waste no time bending you over and fucking you like a pretty little toy just for him. link.

hwa ruining your panties before he leaves to work. he'd cum in them and force you to wear the soggy material like a good girl until he comes home later in the day. link.

slow morning sex with seonghwa. he'd give you slow, lazy thrusts as he kisses all over your face/neck. if you asked him, it was his favorite way to start the day. link.

seonghwa loves making you rub yourself against his hard cock before riding him. the way you move your hips desperately against him has him mesmerized as he resists the urge to fuck back up into your cunt. link.

the easiest way to rile up seonghwa was wear cute little outfits. he loved how cute and frilly you looked as he slowly ruins you each time. link.

this wouldn't be a proper seonghwa links post without eater!seonghwa.... after the first taste he'd turn feral, devouring your pussy with long and languid strokes of his tongue. he'd bring you to orgasm after orgasm as he gets drunk off you before pushing his cock into your poor cunt. link.

hwa doesn't like being mean to his baby, but whenever you act out he has no choice but to put you back into your place. manhandling you onto the bed, he'd spank you ruthelessly before fucking you carelessly with a toy of yours. if you want to act like a slut, he can treat you like one. link.

another day of misbehaving, causing seonghwa to bend you over his lap and spank you as a punishment. he couldn't resist playing with your pussy occasionally as he went though, praises on how you're taking it so well falling from his lips as he dishes out your punishment. link.

seonghwa with intense baby fever, it'd slowly turn him feral as he fucks load after load into you. he doesn't care how long it takes, he'll fuck his cum into you for hours if it'll get you swollen with his kids. link.

bonus:

seonghwa teasing your clit with his tounge. link.

another day of seonghwa fucking you like he's trying to breed. link.

allowing seonghwa to use your pussy as a means of stress relief. link.

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