Work Text:
The 11th grade class is supposed to depart today, up north to Seoul, and Seonghwa has been anticipating it for months now. He was sure that everything was sorted out, but they waited until the day of the school trip to tell him that the payment sent by his parents was just a few cents short.
So now he can’t go. Instead, he watches as his classmates, his friends and the people he looks down on alike, walk out of class to go have fun in Seoul. He surely can’t be the only one in this same situation, but for the most part the only reason someone would come to school when they can’t go on the trip would be because they want to use the time to study.
The only students in this school right now are nerds and the student government president: the Great Boss of this school, Park Seonghwa. He’s not even a senior yet, but he’s clearly unrivaled in that title. He has a crew that almost always travels with him, but because of the unfortunate circumstances, today he is completely alone. He would’ve just stayed home if he’d known this would happen.
He heads off to the bathroom, planning to smoke and eat some snacks while he has nothing else he’s required to do. He usually does this kind of thing in class, as to someone like him it doesn’t matter anyway what kinds of rules he breaks, but it’s just too awkward sitting there with a teacher by himself.
He really does plan to do something innocent with his free time, but when he opens the door, the first thing he sees is that Hongjoong is there, washing his hands in the sink.
This guy. He’s in the same grade, but he’s in class 2-A. With Seonghwa being in 2-X, it’s rare that they ever have a chance to cross paths.
But Seonghwa has wanted to. Hongjoong is meek, small, and has these wire glasses that are never sitting straight on his face. When he first arrived, he’d heard of how the new guy promised to be of good use to his class, how he would strive to be a positive influence on them, things like that. Then, he was elected hall monitor for their grade, without even running for it. Seonghwa knew the boy would be an extremely easy target, and he does need to put him in his place sooner or later anyway.
Hongjoong is obviously startled from just the door opening, and he shrinks in on himself even further when he sees it’s Seonghwa. He’s trying to make himself smaller, less of a threat.
It’s plea, please don’t bother me, let me go back to class in peace.
Seonghwa understands it, but he’s never had such a good opportunity fall right into his lap like this.
“It’s rude not to greet the president, you know.”
Hongjoong snaps out of his own fear, knowing that it’s already too late for him.
He quickly wipes his hands on his pants and bows with his hands and arms firmly at his sides.
“Good morning!”
“That’s good,” he praises. “What were you doing in here, jerking off?”
He moves past him, and Hongjoong momentarily thinks that he will move on and do what he came here to do, but instead he leans on the wall next to the sink.
Hongjoong grumbles, seeing that his expression indicates that he really wants him to respond to the crude question.
“I was using the bathroom, and I need to get back to class, so—”
“There’s no rush, is there? It’s just study hall.”
Seonghwa can see the panic rising on his face. It’s clear that he would love nothing more than to run out right now, but he must be afraid that Seonghwa would hurt him if he tried.
“I need to make sure everyone is where they should be.”
“What, this?” Seonghwa says, and he picks the hat off of his head. “Nobody’s even here.”
“No--!” Hongjoong starts, reaching for it, before jerking his hand back, knowing it to be useless.
It’s standard issue, but the band that wraps around the circumference is gold rather than black, signifying a special position within the school, such a student government, and less coolly, hall monitor.
“How did you get elected, anyway?”
“I—I’m not sure, but please, give it back.”
Seonghwa lifts it close to his face and gives an exaggerated sniff.
“Do you ever clean this? Anyway, I find it hard to believe that you haven’t heard what people say about you.”
“My clothes are always clean—”
Seonghwa interrupts him with a laugh.
Hongjoong ignores it and says, “And I don’t have to acknowledge what other people say about me.”
He’s avoiding it, but Seonghwa thinks it’s funny, so he’ll clear the air anyway.
“You got elected because you look so damn silly. You look like a dorky little hall monitor, so we made you one. How do walk around with this hat and not feel any shame?”
“Fine, you can keep the hat, I just need—” he tries to turn and walk out, but Seonghwa catches him by the shoulder.
“Come on, I’m just joking around with you—”
Seonghwa’s cheek stings, and it takes him a moment to realize it’s because the hall monitor has whipped around and slapped the hell out of him.
Seonghwa laughs again, because this makes him so much happier than if he’d just stood there and took it, now he can beat him down like he’s wanted to all this time.
But instead, there’s a push at his chest and his back is hitting the wall again.
“I wanted to be nice,” Hongjoong says, under his breath, his forearm pressed parallel to Seonghwa’s collarbone, pinning him.
There’s a quick struggle before Seonghwa realizes with horror, he’s stronger than me.
Usually, he doesn’t challenge someone physically unless he’s with his friends, just in case something like this were to happen, but he’d just assumed that little Hongjoong who kept his arms covered at all times, who was so much shorter than he is, would be much weaker too. Not even a challenge, he’d thought.
But he finds himself unable to even budge when Hongjoong’s arm is pinning him against the wall.
“You’ve got some muscles, huh, hall monitor?” Seonghwa tries, a little nervous.
He creases his brows and tilts his head up. “Call me by my name.”
Seonghwa laughs. “What?”
“I’m not ‘hall monitor’, I’m telling you to say my name.”
“You can be physically stronger than me, but you’re still a little guy, aren’t you?”
Hongjoong grabs him and turns him around like it’s nothing, keeping him pressed against the wall, his cheek against the cold surface.
Seonghwa curses. He knows no one will believe Hongjoong if he goes around telling people that he beat Seonghwa up, but if he takes pictures… He has to get out of this. He’ll just kick—
He feels an arm around him, grasping for his belt.
He didn’t even consider this a possibility when Hongjoong put him on the wall, but Seonghwa still realizes in an instant what is happening. “Ah! You’re dead if you don’t stop—”
Hongjoong is ignoring him, choosing instead to remove his belt, and shove his pants and underwear down while he’s at it. He presses his hips up against him, and Seonghwa feels it, the hall monitor is already hard.
He speaks, low and certain of himself as Seonghwa had never heard him before. “At my old school, I was kicked out for the same shit you’re trying to do now. It’s funny seeing a kid like you trying to run a school when he has no idea what he’s doing.”
Seonghwa gasps as he feels the hardness beneath Hongjoong’s school trousers rubbing against his exposed, bare ass.
“I can teach you how to be a leader,” Hongjoong mocks.
“You’re crazy,” he tries to fight back, but he’s honestly scared. The hall monitor suddenly feels so much bigger than him. He’s never had to worry about something like this happening to him, about being forced out of his position because he’s always been the leader, wherever he went.
He can hear Hongjoong pump a few globs of hand soap from the sink onto his palm, and just as quickly he presses it against Seonghwa’s hole, rubbing it into his skin and he slides his fingers over him without dipping inside.
“I wanted to wait and bide my time until I could get some subordinates before I made a move, but honestly, this method works too.”
His pushes a finger in, forcing the tip of his pinky finger past the rim. He won’t stop talking as he does, whispering to him in that low voice that Seonghwa would’ve never imagined could come out of him.
“I’m gonna break you in. Make you nice and pretty for me so you can sit by my side and watch me take over your school,” he rasps.
Seonghwa makes a strangled noise and jerks in his hold, trying to escape once again. Even though Hongjoong is so much smaller than he is, it’s still no use…
Hongjoong moves the arm pinning his chest to the wall, changing position to hold down Seonghwa by the back of his neck.
Hongjoong’s finger moves effortlessly inside of him, it slides all the way in as if this weren’t being done against his will, and he knows if he tells Hongjoong to take it easy, he will only go faster. Seonghwa’s body is so rigid, and he tries not to relax in his hold, but his hole takes him eagerly.
He’s been trembling for some time now, but he can’t hold it back when tears begin to well up in his eyes, and he lets out a small whimper.
There’s a loud laugh behind him. “Wow, you’re crying already?”
“It hurts!” he replies honestly in a fit of anger.
“You’re really cute,” Hongjoong says, still chuckling.
Another finger presses against his hole, pushing in alongside the first.
Seonghwa scoffs. “And you’re cute thinking you can break me. As soon as I—”
He cries out, scratching at the wall once Hongjoong finds his prostate.
“What was that?” he asks, his voice straight, trying to cover up his reaction by acting unaffected.
Hongjoong coos condescendingly. “Feel good having my fingers in your ass?”
He continues to rub that spot gently, and it’s the first spark of pleasure Seonghwa has felt from what Hongjoong is doing to him.
“It doesn’t feel good,” he denies quickly, “just stop doing that!”
He doesn’t stop. “You should be more polite to me from now on, it’ll help you in the future.”
“Screw you.”
Hongjoong takes his fingers out entirely, and Seonghwa feels like he can finally breathe again. He hears the sound of metal and he looks over his shoulder, only to see Hongjoong undoing his own belt.
The hand on his neck has loosened, his weight is no longer fully resting on him, and Seonghwa makes a quick decision.
He pushes himself off the wall, effectively separating himself from Hongjoong’s hand, and he takes a single hurried step toward the door. As soon as he does, Hongjoong grabs his arm again and pulls him back, throwing him onto his back on the floor of the bathroom.
“I can’t wait until you’re mine,” Hongjoong says, kneeling between his legs and pulling his hips closer to him. He wraps his and around Seonghwa’s neck again, not choking him but promising to if he even twitches. “When you’re quiet and tame. When you’ll follow me like a puppy.”
Hongjoong releases himself from his trousers and underwear and he rubs his cock with his free hand, watching Seonghwa’s disgusted expression as he looks up at him.
Seonghwa twists his fingers in the hall monitor’s sleeve. “I’m not gonna give up my position, especially not to someone like you.”
“It’s funny that you still think it’s up to you.”
He presses the head of his cock to Seonghwa’s hole. He doesn’t enter just yet, but instead rubs the head of his cock over the opening. Hongjoong is big. Seonghwa didn’t see it clearly but judging from the glimpse he got, he knows it’s bigger than his own. Dammit, he knows the hall monitor must feel proud about that, too.
He’s not ready, but he begins to push in, and Seonghwa clenches his eyes shut, the sensation overwhelming him.
Hongjoong doesn’t stop until he’s fully seated within him, the thick cock stretching him out so painfully. He pulls back almost immediately, then thrusts into him again. Seonghwa grunts as their hips connect, trying to endure the new feeling of being filled up by the hall monitor’s cock. Hongjoong rubs his hip with his thumb as he penetrates him again and again, and soon enough, Hongjoong finds his prostate again.
It feels good, that part. Seonghwa can’t lie to himself about it, it feels like an itch he never knew he had being scratched. He hates Hongjoong, he hates how much it burns being stretched open on his big dick, but it feels pretty fucking good when it brushes up against that spot inside of him that he almost loses control of himself entirely, almost makes a noise that he knows he couldn’t take back.
His cock twitches, and he curses himself. He can’t be getting hard from this. If he does… it’s just as bad as admitting defeat.
But his body doesn’t listen to him, never listens to him. Before he knows it, alongside his torso being pushed back and forth on the tile by Hongjoong mercilessly fucking him, his cock bounces against his lower stomach, straining to be touched by anyone.
“Go on,” Hongjoong grunts, “Get yourself off.”
He shakes his head, keeping his fists firmly balled up as he clutches Hongjoong’s sleeve.
“It’ll be worse if you cum from my cock alone. Come on, I wanna see it anyway.”
Seonghwa’s hand goes to his neglected cock in an instant, and even if he had chosen not to, he still thinks he would’ve felt like he was obeying an order. He strokes himself rapidly, not realizing exactly how eager he was for it.
“I’ve seen people like you before. Guys who act like they’re tough but really, they’re just acting up until they find someone who can put them in their place.”
He knows it’s not true. He’s always been a leader, he’s always done well for his crew. So why does hearing those words excite him? He whines as he strokes his cock faster, his body wanting more from Hongjoong.
“You’ve made it this far by just faking it. I’m impressed by that, too.”
Hongjoong removes his hand from his neck and replaces Seonghwa’s hand at his cock. He starts at a similar pace, and the smaller hand fucking onto his dick as Hongjoong nails his prostate makes him lose it.
He loses control of his voice, crying out, “Hall m—! Ah—!, Ah—!” Each little sound getting fucked out of him, despite how desperate he is to stop himself.
Hongjoong makes a dissatisfied noise and smacks his leg. “Say my name,” he demands.
Seonghwa grits his teeth and closes his eyes tight, trying to reel himself back in. “I won’t say it,” he denies him.
“Do you want to cum?” Hongjoong asks, threatening him.
Seonghwa shakes his head stubbornly, lying just to spite him.
“Fine,” he relents, taking his hand away from Seonghwa’s dick and using it to pin his hands. “If you want to cum from my cock, that’s fine too.”
“No—” he cries suddenly, distressed at the idea.
There’s something terrifying about him. Seonghwa doesn’t understand it, how he could look so weak and easy in one moment, then turn into something that makes Seonghwa feel like this, like he wants to beg and obey to get what he wants from him in the next.
Hongjoong fucks him at a brutal pace, thrusting his cock in with no concern for him but it’s still abusing his prostate, he knows he will cum like this, but he wants to be touched so bad it hurts.
He can’t stand it.
“Hongjoong,” he groans, giving in and giving up on much more than just his obstinance, and Hongjoong should be able to hear it in his voice, before he even sees it, that the tears are falling freely now from his angered expression.
“That’s it,” Hongjoong mutters, rubbing one of the wrists he has crushed under his weight as he thrusts inside. “Yeah, good boy, crying for me.”
His quiet words only make it worse for Seonghwa, the humiliation burning him up as he eagerly takes Hongjoong’s cock. The hand returns quickly, carefully wrapping around Seonghwa’s smaller dick and he jerks him off in time with his thrusts.
Seonghwa doesn’t hold back the agony-filled moans that arise from deep in his chest, his prostate and cock getting stimulated relentlessly and painfully and it turns out that he likes it.
It feels good to let go, and he doesn’t mind himself anymore as he tries to thrust into Hongjoong’s fist, tries to bring their hips closer together though Hongjoong isn’t holding back in that regard anyway. Seonghwa grasps his jacket in his shaking hands, hoping for any kind of stability as his confidence is destroyed underneath the hall monitor’s harsh thrusts.
Seonghwa’s body doesn’t resist it when he cums, his back arching and his lips stretching wide into a beautiful whine as he spills over Hongjoong’s hand.
Hongjoong doesn’t let him rest, fucking him through it even as his body spasms and he starts to come down from his high. Seonghwa lightly pushes at him, but Hongjoong only grabs his wrists, pulling his arms toward himself to use as leverage to fuck into him harder.
“I’ve wanted to do this from the beginning,” Hongjoong admits, using Seonghwa as a sleeve to get off, “The pretty boss of this school getting wrecked by me. Just never thought I’d have an opportunity fall into my lap like this.”
Seonghwa starts to tear up again, and that seems to make Hongjoong even more excited. He pushes once or twice more into his body and he goes still with a cry of his own, emptying his balls into him and painting his abused insides white.
He grinds his hips against Seonghwa’s, wanting to stuff his cum further inside of him, and he leans down over him, bracing himself with hands on either side of Seonghwa’s head. He looks down at him with pity, and he gently wipes his tears away.
“Hongjoong,” Seonghwa whines, the clear submission in his voice making him anxious for a moment before he gives in to the warm feeling in his gut again.
It’s nice. The warm hand on his cheek feels strong and stable, and though Hongjoong is looking at him like he’s pathetic, he does feel pathetic, and he thinks that maybe he’s supposed to be that way right now, that this is how Hongjoong wants him. It feels good to be what someone else wants, for once.
“Don’t worry, Seonghwa-ya. You’ll be happy by my side,” he assures the now lost boy.
There’s a legend in ATEEZ High School: that nobody can remember exactly when the former boss began to stand at Hongjoong’s right side, and yet, not one student hesitated in accepting him as the new leader. Since the inception of the Calligraphy Club, their high status within the school has been solidified. They are now held in esteem even by the teachers and staff, who would overlook the shady activities conducted in the clubroom both out of fear and out of respect for the teenage leader of the student body.
It is also said that if you were careful enough and lucky enough, you may catch a glimpse of the smiles on the president of the Calligraphy Club and his right-hand’s faces as they talk with each other in private, as they look over their artwork together, sitting in their ornate clothes and laughing as if they were old friends.