Work Text:
Jisung has always liked routine.
It's an easy, predictable way to ensure he has a stable, peaceful life. Mindless. Something he's done enough times that it's more muscle memory than a conscious effort.
Before he met Minho, his days were messy. Sleep and classwork and eating all blurred together, no conformity in his schedule. He would wake up too late for classes, practically falling out of bed and rushing to get himself out the door lest he miss another important assignment that's worth half of his grade.
Jisung likes routine, but he was never good at it. Always lacking the discipline to be punctual, to be good. He thought he was a lost cause for the longest time, a bratty little thing that questioned authority and obedience.
The truth is, he just hadn't found someone who could handle him.
Once he had Lee Minho in his life, everything clicked into place. A firm hand— lenient in the right places, but firm all the same. Pressing into all his hard edges, molding him into something soft, amenable.
With every minute spent with the older man who always smelled like something expensive, he let himself give way. He allowed himself to be taken care of, to be guided into a steady, healthy rhythm. Now, he has his days planned out for him. Minho will send him an itinerary for the day, even if all he has is a couple of classes.
It's more founded in the fact that Minho takes the time to plan Jisung's day out for him, even with meetings and endless phone calls, and that he knows Jisung will listen. It's about giving up control, just to have something to follow— like a moth drawn to a flame.
Today, Jisung has a nail appointment.
1:30pm — Get your nails done.
Minho texted him earlier in the day, when Jisung was still lounging in bed in lieu of getting ready. There wasn't even an inkling of defiance in Jisung's body, not a second thought when he had texted back 'yes sir'. He wouldn't even dream of disobeying a direct command, especially since Minho was paying for it, as per usual.
Even though Jisung has Minho's black card saved in his phone's wallet, he still prefers for Minho to actually buy stuff for him. 'Princess treatment', as Minho likes to call it. Always ready to jump at the slightest inclination that Jisung desires something, anything at all.
The most Jisung will use it for is to get food delivered to his place— or more accurately, Minho's place, since that's where he's been spending most of his time recently. Though, today, Jisung has something planned.
Minho's birthday is tomorrow, so like the good boy he is, Jisung obviously planned a surprise for him. Granted, he used Minho's money to acquire the gift, but he doesn't think it will really matter.
Felix helped him pick out the tattoo, pretty, cursive letters, set to rest right under his navel, only able to be seen if the waistline of his pants are tugged down. Indubitably something for Minho, and Minho alone. He had to be sneaky about planning it, mindful to not let too much information spill out of his mouth. It was pretty easy, as long as he kept his mouth occupied… doing something else.
He had to turn off his location for his surprise at work, which he knew Minho was not going to take kindly to. Jisung wasn't worried about it though— he's spent enough time with Minho to know that the second he purses his lips and upturns his eyebrows that he'll sigh fondly and forget about it.
He's excited for Minho to see it. It's hardly the first tattoo Minho has paid for, the gothic font on his side and chest proof of where Minho's adoration for him had overflowed. Jisung remembers how Minho didn't even think twice before finding the best artist available to tattoo him, how he had helped Jisung dress the throbbing skin with protective bandages, and rub lotion into the dried skin.
He remembers hanging off of Minho's arm as they walked out of the tattoo shop, collar of his shirt hanging just low enough to let the bandages adorning his chest protectively to show. And he definitely remembers how Minho fucked him that night, on his back so his chest wouldn't rub against the sheets, pressing small, featherlight kisses to his ink stained skin.
Unfortunately, he's had to withhold sex from Minho for an entire two weeks while he waited for it to heal. Honestly, Jisung thinks he deserves an award for how well he's played off Minho's advances, though it killed him inside a little bit every time he had to stop his hand from wandering down too far and feeling the protective layer over his skin.
"Do you want me to come with you?"
Jisung snaps his head up from looking at his phone screen to make eye contact with Felix, his partner in crime. He's swirling a little, blue lollipop around in his mouth, the edges of his lips stained with color.
"No, it's okay," Jisung says. "You can find Channie-hyung. I'll be okay."
Felix squints his eyes at him and pulls the lollipop out of his mouth with a slick sound. "Are you sure?"
"Ugh, Lix-ah," Jisung whines, throwing his head back in faux annoyance. "I'll be fine."
Felix sighs and shakes his head, but relents. "Okay Jisungie, but text me if you change your mind." He pecks Jisung on the cheek before walking away, back towards their campus to find his boyfriend.
A small buzz draws Jisung's attention back to his phone, his eyes drifting to the notification banner.
Hyungie ♡
On your way to your appointment?
Jisung's heart lurches in his chest a little bit. The anticipation has been positively eating him alive the past couple of weeks, thinking about what Minho will think of the tattoo, what he'll say, what he'll do to Jisung. He sends a quick reassuring text that he's on his way with shaky hands.
The salon Jisung frequents isn't far from his campus, no more than a five minute walk to get there. He quickly arrives and checks in for his appointment, smiling at the nail tech as she leads him to one of the stations. Jisung loves getting his nails done, knowing that his fingers look pretty. Loves knowing that when he sees Minho, he's going to carefully inspect his hands, taking in every detail of the nail polish.
Today, Jisung keeps it simple, only because he's already vibrating out of his skin with nerves. Black nail polish, with a little pink bow drawn on each of his ring fingers. Cute, if he does say so himself. As the appointment progresses, he starts to feel a tightness in his stomach. Nerves. Whether it's about getting the tattoo alone, or Minho not liking it, he's not sure.
There's honestly not many things Jisung could do that Minho wouldn't like, so he drills a mantra of 'stop worrying so much' into his head until he's almost saying it out loud. Even if he knows he realistically shouldn't worry, he can't help it. All he wants is to be good for Minho, to please him.
It's all he thinks about as he makes his way out of the salon, and into the car Minho always sends to pick him up, even though Jisung insists it's embarrassing. He doesn't even realize how in his head he is until they've already reached Minho's office, the familiar building Jisung has made countless trips to.
Everyone knows who he is by now. More importantly, everyone knows who he belongs to. The first time he walked through the big glass doors, he felt like an imposter. Dressed in his thrifted jeans, and old, worn hoodie. Now, his designer Chelsea boots hit the floor with a satisfying clack every time he steps, his dangly earrings that probably cost more than his tuition glint in the light, his outfit tailored and picked out specially for him.
A complete one-eighty from the boy that he first was when he met Minho.
Now, the receptionist smiles at him and waves him through easily, not a question in her mind about the random college student strolling into the building like he owns the place. Now, Jisung can ride the elevator up to the top floor without worrying about what anyone else thought when they looked at him. Well, he still worries a little, but significantly less.
By the time he gets to Minho's floor, he's a ball of nervous energy. He feels like if he walks, the ground is going to give way underneath him. But he resolves himself and steps out of the elevator, taking the easy, familiar path to Minho's office. He raises his hand to knock— because he's trained to have manners, obviously— and waits for a response.
"Come in." Minho's voice comes from the other side, muffled by the thick, heavy doors. Jisung easily lets himself in, heart throbbing when Minho lays eyes on him, and he lights up, just a little. A tiny, fond smile creeps onto his face as he looks at Jisung, tense shoulders relaxing the slightest bit. "Baby," he breathes, the single word full of so much relief it almost stuns Jisung.
Jisung wastes no time in scurrying over to Minho, walking behind his desk and comfortably plopping himself right on his lap. He doesn't even give him a proper greeting before pressing his lips against Minho's, a surprised little noise making it's way out of his mouth. It takes no time for him to reciprocate the kiss, sighing into it as he presses Jisung closer with a hand on the back of his neck.
When Jisung pulls back, he's already smiling dumbly. "Hi."
Minho sighs again, a little louder this time, but fond all the same. He rapidly blinks at Jisung for a moment, just taking in his appearance, before he speaks again. "How was your nail appointment?"
"Oh!" Jisung perks up, holding his hands out in front of him for Minho to look at. "Do you like them?"
Minho's hand softly cradles Jisung's fingers as he takes a long look at his nails, stroking his hand with his thumb slowly. When he's finished looking, he brings Jisung's hand up to his mouth, placing a soft kiss on the back of his hand. "They look nice, baby."
Jisung is already flushed a little red, wriggling on Minho's lap. He's all keyed up, having gone a whole two weeks without Minho's cock inside him. If he's lucky, he'll be leaving Minho's office today with a slight limp. He leans in to nose against Minho's jaw, like a little kitten nuzzling against their owner when they want treats.
"Mmmm, thank you, daddy," Jisung whines softly, his hand rubbing over Minho's tie. "Missed you." He deposits a small kiss right over Minho's pulse as he speaks.
"Daddy missed you too, sweetheart. M'so glad you're here," Minho says, his voice all soft around the edges. "Ah, hang on, baby."
Minho pulls away to reach over and open one of the drawers on his desk, fishing through it for a moment before pulling something out. There's a thin leather collar in his hand, a weight that is all too familiar around Jisung's neck. Minho always likes to put this specific one on him when they're in the office, a claim, a mark of ownership.
Jisung instantly bares his throat for Minho to secure the collar around it, the small bell on the front jingling with every small movement. Minho's hands expertly pull the collar around his neck, tightening it so that it squeezes his throat the slightest bit. Enough for it to feel grounding, but put Jisung in the airy headspace where he's entirely Minho's.
"Daddy needs your help today, sweetheart," Minho says, rubbing up and down Jisung's thigh. "I have a meeting in ten minutes, with someone I dislike greatly. Gonna need you to help me get through it, hm?"
Jisung blinks dumbly at him, eyebrows scrunching together a little. "How am I gonna do that?"
ᓚ₍^..^₎♡
The carpet is digging into Jisung's knees, and it's a bit cramped under the desk, but Minho's thick thighs are caging him in, and his hard cock is inches away from his face, so he can't find enough space in his brain to care about how sore he's going to be.
Jisung thickly swallows the copious amount of saliva he's producing, lest it embarrassingly drips down his chin, eyes transfixed on the way Minho is slowly stroking himself up and down, diaphragm expanding as he sucks in air. He knows better than to even think about tasting, or touching without permission, so he sits with his hands on his thighs, each inhale shaky with want.
"You're going to be good, Jisung-ah." Minho says— a statement, no hint of a question behind his words. "You're going to keep me nice, and warm, and relaxed while I'm in my meeting. Yes?"
The words fall from Jisung's lips like instinct. "Yes, sir."
Jisung can't see Minho's face, but he's confident that there's a cocky smile on his face, satisfied completely with himself on account of Jisung's obedience. It took time to get there, sure. Lots of harsh words, and tears, and marks on skin, to get Jisung's attitude to subside.
Another slick noise cuts through the air as Minho strokes his cock once, spreading the shiny precum down his length. Self control is the only thing keeping Jisung from leaning forward and suckling on his tip like he so desperately wants to. He knows better than to whine for it, though; Minho would just make him wait longer.
So he sits quietly, patiently. Good.
Until Minho decides that he's earned it, or until the clock ticked too close to the time of his meeting. Whatever it is, Jisung doesn't care, because Minho's angling his cock downwards, pressing his tip against Jisung's lips. "Open up, sweetheart."
Jisung complies immediately. His mouth falls slack as Minho easily begins feeding his cock into Jisung's greedy little mouth. Months of training have given Jisung the ability to slowly swallow, slowly adjust himself to accommodate the thick length of Minho's cock in his mouth, his tip pressing against the back of his throat.
He does his best to think back to when Minho trained him to fully take his cock, when he was still carving out the space for himself. 'Ah, no teeth, baby. Breathe through your nose.' Jisung had glared up at him then, almost choking and defiant, earning himself a smack straight across his face. Again, he knows better now.
Before he knows it, Minho's cock is lodged snugly in his throat— the space Minho carved out. He sucks in deep breaths through his nose, doing his best to intake air despite his partially blocked airway. It gets easier after a moment, and Jisung dreamily flutters his eyes shut as he rests his cheek on Minho's thigh.
"Good boy," Minho praises, rubbing a finger over his stuffed cheek. Jisung hums in acknowledgment without thinking, causing Minho's hips to stutter forward the tiniest bit. "Baby, you have to be quiet, hm?"
Jisung nods his head, a tiny, shaky movement, just to show Minho he heard him. A knock sounds on the door a moment later, snapping Minho out of his fond movements and airy voice. When he speaks again, his tone is colder, commanding. The voice an important, powerful business man should have.
The happy fog clouding Jisung's brain prevents him from truly picking up on the content of their conversation. He's all floaty and drowsy, feeling full and satisfied for the time being. Minho's hand comes back under the desk to stroke at Jisung's jaw, then slips lower to rub along the edge of the collar, thumb just catching on his pulse point. A 'good job', reassuring as he continues to talk numbers and business Jisung isn't worried about understanding.
A small line of drool is seeping out of the corner of Jisung's mouth, the wetness overflowing where he's doing his best to keep Minho comfortably in his mouth. Without thinking, he swallows around Minho's cock, just a little, just to keep the saliva in. Minho coughs loudly above him, covering whatever noise he actually almost made.
Old habits die hard, that's what everyone says, isn't it? Jisung has been trained, and disciplined— but there's absolutely nothing he loves more than trying to get a reaction out of Minho. He shifts his head, just a little, a movement he could play off as just getting comfortable. But then, he sucks. A deliberate constriction of the muscles in his mouth, hollowing out his cheeks enough to apply pressure.
This time, Minho chokes. He tries to cover it up with another cough, but it works significantly less than before. Jisung hears the other man in the room stop speaking, maybe to inquire, but Minho must wave him off, because he continues speaking a moment later.
Jisung knows he's being bad— a brat. He knows, but he doesn't really care. He's been too desperate, too needy all day, wanting nothing more than to sit on Minho's cock and show him his pretty, new tattoo. When Jisung hums quietly around Minho's cock again, he's rewarded with two of Minho's fingers hooking into his collar, and tugging.
It should serve as enough of a warning, for Jisung to stop. Instead, it only spurs him on to continue, bobbing his head with a quick jerk of his neck with the limited space he has. Minho reacts better this time, nothing more than a harsh exhale through his nose. Honestly, Jisung thinks that Minho might tug him off, shove his fingers in his mouth to keep him quiet just until his meeting is over.
He doesn't. He keeps his fingers hooked into the collar, digging into Jisung's windpipe, just a little. Jisung has always wondered just how much he can get away with, so again, he hollows his cheeks and swallows around Minho's cock. He feels it twitch in his mouth, a sporadic movement that makes Jisung crave more of it.
He can't very well bob his head with the grip Minho has on his collar— all he can do is hum again, the little vibrations traveling up his throat and directly onto Minho's cock. It's a little difficult to do with his mouth full, but he manages to slide his tongue around just enough to supply that little bit of stimulation.
Jisung isn't thinking about anything other than getting cock at the moment, which is why he misses the two voices above him wrapping up their meeting, the door to the office clicking open and shut, or the hand sliding from his collar to the back of his head, fingers threading through his hair. He's promptly dragged off of Minho's cock with a harsh yank, bordering on painful.
Minho's voice cuts through him like glass. "Get up."
Jisung struggles a little, crawling out from under the desk, but once he stands fully, he regrets everything. Minho doesn't look mad, no. Not even irritated as he tucks himself back into his pants— just disappointed. Jisung's face goes hot immediately. He knows he shouldn't have been moving, or humming. He was supposed to just be a pretty, little cocksleeve for Minho to use.
All Minho has to do is cock an eyebrow before Jisung folds. "I— I"m sorry, sir."
His voice is meek, like prey being stalked in the forest. "Jisung-ah, I told you to be good, didn't I?"
"I—" Jisung wants to protest, but he corrects himself. "Yes, daddy."
Minho huffs, shaking his head like a disappointed parent. "I guess my lessons have worn off on you. Gonna have to refresh your memory, hm?" The heat in Jisung's face travels down to the rest of his body, tingling like someone poured popping candy into his veins. He doesn't speak yet. "I counted seven times you moved that pretty, little mouth of yours."
Jisung blinks at him.
"Bend over."
A small whine leaves Jisung's throat. He knows what's coming. The last time Minho spanked him for disobeying him, he couldn't sit right for a week. Still, he turns around, and bends himself over Minho's desk. He immediately assumes position, bringing his hands to rest behind his back.
He hears Minho rustling behind him for a moment, before the distinct sound of metal clacking fills his ears. The expensive leather of Minho's belt is promptly tied around his wrists, fastened so he can't do anything more than struggle and flex against the binding. Minho's hands expertly come to undo the button and zipper of Jisung's jeans, tugging them down with his underswear until they rest just under the swell of his ass.
Jisung feels laid bare already, like prey trapped in the jaws of a starving predator. Though, he moreso surrendered himself to Minho, willingly, knowing there wasn't really another option. He feels a shaky breath leave his throat as Minho rakes his nails over the skin of his ass. Jisung's always bruised so easily, just the movement of Minho's nails is going to leave fiery pink trails in their wake.
"You're going to count." Minho rasps, once again, another statement. An order for Jisung to follow, another chance to obey. "And thank me for being so nice, for disciplining you."
"Yes," Jisung breathes, already sounding fucked out before they even started. "Yes, daddy. I will, promise—"
Minho lands the first hit before Jisung can even finish speaking. A harsh crack sounds out through the room as Minho's hand connects with his ass. Jisung cries out, squeezing his eyes shut as his knees knock together. "O-One, thank you, daddy."
There's a pause before Minho withdraws his hand, leaving Jisung to anticipate the next hit. It comes on his next inhale, on the opposite cheek, just as hard.
"Hngh— two, thank you, daddy." Jisung's cock twitches where it hangs between his legs, pink and practically begging to be touched. In all honesty, Jisung doesn't even know if Minho is going to let him cum today.
Minho rubs his hand over Jisung's reddened ass, a soft, soothing motion. "What's gotten into you, hm? Thought you'd be better for me."
Tears threaten to spring into Jisung's eyes at his words. He is better, he just got too needy. "M'sorry, m'so— ah!" Minho brings his hand down again, on the same exact spot as before. Pain blooms from the point of contact, red hot and spreading through his body like wildfire. "Three, ow— thank you, daddy."
Minho aims strikes four and five at the insides of his thighs, allowing Jisung a moment to recuperate before the expected 'thank you'. On strike six, Jisung breaks, just a little. Little sniffles come from him as Minho rubs over the sore spot again. "What do you say, baby?"
"Six— that was six, thank you, daddy." His chest is heaving, ass burning where it's stuck out for Minho to smack. He can't help from whining, "H-Hurts."
"I'm sure it does, sweetheart. I could have been fucking you by now, but you decided you couldn't wait to start being a slut. You're doing so good though, hm? Just one more, can you handle it?"
Jisung nods his head immediately, smearing the mess of drool and tears under his cheek around on the expensive mahogany of Minho's desk. "M'good, I can take it. Please, give it to me."
"Since you asked so nicely," Minho says, and Jisung doesn't even have to look at him to know he's smiling again. He can hear it in his voice, the way the syllables have gone all soft around the edges. Faux sympathy, meant to soothe Jisung's nerves, a trap. He loosens the belt around Jisung's wrists, enough to slip it off and toss it onto the ground. "Turn over then, you know where the last one goes, jagi."
Jisung whines, his legs aching already, but complies. He shuffles his jeans all the way off and turns over, laying his back on top of all of the important documents on Minho's desk. His legs spread like second nature, giving Minho perfect access to his little cock. It was a ritual, of sorts— for Minho to always land the last strike on it.
Bracing for impact, Jisung squeezes his eyes shut tightly, thighs trembling where they lay open. However, the hit never comes. When Jisung cracks his eyes open and chances a look at Minho's face, he's just staring at something. Staring at Jisung, to be more specific— eyes transfixed on something lower. The second his hand comes up to stroke over the skin of his lower stomach, Jisung tenses up.
The tattoo.
"Baby," Minho says, sounding breathless. "What's this?"
Jisung opens and closes his mouth a few times, words failing to come to him. His eyes drag downward to watch Minho stroke over the ink— the words Daddy's Boy carefully inlaid in his skin. He gives up after a few attempts of trying and failing to speak, leaning back against the desk, burying his face in his hands and whining loudly.
"Baby," Minho prompts again, and this time he slides his hands under Jisung's arms to pull him upright. Jisung slides his hands down just enough to uncover his eyes, taking in an eyeful of Minho's expression. He's smiling— beaming, really. "When did you get this?"
"I— ugh, hyung it was—" Jisung struggles, but he ultimately knows the surprise has been ruined. He pouts, joining Minho's hand to rub over the pretty, healed letters. "Was supposed to be your birthday present."
"Is that why you've been withholding sex from me?" Minho giggles, leaning in to press a kiss against the corner of Jisung's mouth.
Wait. "You knew?" Jisung whines. He thought he was being perfectly sneaky in denying Minho's attempts to get into his pants. Another exasperated little noise leaves his mouth as Minho coos at him fondly.
"Pfft," Minho blows a little air into his face, eyes still crinkled. "Of course I knew, you never go more than twelve hours without begging for my cock. It was healing, hm?"
"Yeah…" Jisung pouts a little more, puffing his cheeks out in annoyance. He feels a bit silly now, especially since he's still very much half naked and hard, his dick steadily leaking against his thigh.
Minho sighs again, shaking his head and sliding his hand around to rest on the back of Jisung's neck— the very same hand that had been spanking him to tears not five minutes ago. "You're so cute, what am I going to do with you?" he says, voice in the same pitch he uses when he talks to his kitties.
Jisung doesn't know what else to do but lean forward and kiss him. It's nothing more than a soft, little peck, but Minho sighs into it appreciatively all the same. He wishes he wouldn't get so flustered whenever Minho calls him cute, or pretty, but what can he say, he's an absolute slut for being babied.
"Hyunggg," he whines, moving to press his lips to Minho's neck, right under his jaw. Hiding his face in Minho's neck is always the easiest way for him to escape eye contact with him. "Do you like it…?"
"Do I like it?" For a moment, Minho doesn't speak, doesn't move his body an inch. Then, the hand on the back of Jisung's neck slides up to thread through his hair, taking a fistful of the soft, brown tufts. Minho yanks Jisung's face out of his neck to look him right in the eye— Jisung doesn't know why he expected anything less. "I was already fucking crazy about you, Han Jisung. Now I want to lock you up, and never let anyone touch you ever again."
Jisung, honest to god, almost cums. A shiver wracks through his entire body, thighs twitching to spread open subconsciously. Minho leans forward and presses a long, fond kiss against Jisung's mouth, before pulling away, just an inch. "I love it, baby," Another kiss, pressed against Jisung's cheek. "And I love you."
An embarrassing, little noise leaves Jisung's mouth, some pathetic mix of a whimper and a moan clawing its way out of his throat. He's pawing at Minho softly, trying to tug him closer, pressing his body against Jisung's at any point possible— he's desperate now. "Hyung— Daddy, please, fuck me now, please—"
Minho coos at him, just a touch of condescension in his tone. "Oh, baby, you need it so bad, don't you?"
Jisung nods his head immediately. "Yes— yesyesyes, please daddy—"
"I'll fuck you, baby," Minho says softly, completely composed, the opposite of Jisung's frantic babbling and little whines. The words make Jisung's dick twitch even though he's heard them hundreds of times before. In Minho's bed, in the back of Minho's car, during important work events where they soiled a bathroom counter. Still, after all this time, they still send Jisung's nervous system into overdrive.
Minho's hand slides down from where it was gripping Jisung's hair to rest over his sternum, resting right where Jisung's heart is rabbiting against his ribcage in anticipation. He applies pressure, and Jisung folds like a paper doll, falling back against the desk again. He looks up at Minho with his very best pleading eyes, big and wet, hopefully enticing him to just get on with it.
"M'already loose, daddy, played with myself this morning…"
This morning, where he fingered himself in Minho's bed, on his expensive silk sheets, his face buried in Minho's pillow. Minho had left so early, leaving Jisung to fend for himself— a little pillow princess who can barely reach his own sweet spot. He had ended up humping a pillow to finish instead.
Minho clicks his tongue, smoothing his hands up and down the insides of Jisung's thighs. "Such a needy slut, daddy should keep you on his cock all the time, hm?"
"Please," Jisung heaves out, sobs, almost. He clenches his eyes shut, back lifting off the desk as it bows into a pretty arch. Thankfully, Minho complies with all of his whining, moving to open the same drawer he dug Jisung's collar out of. He pulls out a small bottle of lube, almost empty with how often Jisung begs and begs and begs to be fucked right here, in public.
He wordlessly squeezes the slick substance onto his fingers, spreading it around a little before his eyes fall back on Jisung— his sweater rucked up to reveal his taut stomach, entire body flushed a delicate pink color, eyes begging for cock. A meal, served up on a silver platter.
Once, twice, he taps his fingers against Jisung's twitching hole, as he leans down to press a kiss right over the new tattoo. He drags his teeth over the skin, breathing his devotion into the words. "That's right, angel. You're daddy's good boy. Mine."
And with that, he presses his middle finger into Jisung's soft, loose hole. It goes in with less resistance than it normally would, the result of Jisung's time in the morning where he tried and failed to give himself even half of the pleasure Minho can.
"Hmm, thought you said you fingered yourself baby," Minho hums, working his finger in and out at an agonizing pace. He leans down until his mouth is right next to Jisung's ear, covering his entire body with his own, snagging his earlobe between his teeth. "You're still fucking tight."
Jisung moans, clenching around the single digit. His little cock is steadily leaking onto his stomach, precum making the black ink in his skin glimmer under the fluorescent lights of Minho's office that Jisung hates. "Hngh, another, please— wan'your cock, daddy."
He's met with absolutely zero retaliation as Minho bullies a second finger into him, scissoring him open with the expertise of someone who's done it a thousand times before. And— he hasn't been keeping track, but at this point, it may as well have been his thousandth time with how often Jisung begs for his dick in his ass.
Minho works in silence, shoving his fingers in and out again, pressing them in just deep enough that the tips brush against Jisung's prostate. A mean, teasing thing. Perhaps a punishment for not allowing Minho to fuck him for half a month.
"Ready— m'ready, hyu— daddy, please."
Minho tuts at him, withdrawing his fingers and flexing them a few times. "Ah, ah. So impatient. Who gets to decide when you're ready?"
"Ah— you, sir," Jisung sniffles, cock still throbbing between his legs, bordering on painful. A stray tear makes its way down the side of his face, and he's sure it's taking his mascara with it on the way.
Minho promptly leans down and licks it up.
"Shh, don't cry. That's right baby, your pleasure belongs to me, hm?" The smallest hint of condescension is back in his voice, the same one he uses when Soonie is begging for another treat.
"Mhm, s'yours, daddy," Jisung slurs, eyes crossing as Minho retracts his torso and stands upright. The top button of his slacks is already open from Jisung's little session under the desk, but his zipper is done up from Minho tucking himself back in. Jisung swears the seconds pass slower as Minho teasingly slides it down, every click of the teeth undoing ringing in his ears.
He takes a real, deep inhale when Minho finally pulls his cock out again. Flushed dark red, tip sticky with the mess he had been surely making in his pants. Jisung grips the back of his thighs, holding his legs open for Minho to finally fuck him.
Small hands wrap around Jisung's waist as he's tugged forward, his ass hanging off the side of the desk slightly. He snags his lip between his teeth, worrying the plush muscle as he impatiently waits for Minho to slick up his cock. He almost sobs when he finally presses the tip to his hole.
"What do we say, sweetheart?"
The word 'please' has probably left Jisung's mouth a hundred times today, and still— "Please, please daddy," Jisung whines, voice strained, laced thickly with desperation. Minho doesn't tease him any longer, doesn't question the manners he knows he trained into Jisung. Just smiles, notches his cock against Jisung, and presses himself forward.
Jisung eyes roll into the back of his head as Minho fully sheaths himself, mouth dropping open in a silent moan. His useless little cock spurts out a thick glob of precum as soon as Minho's hips meet his ass, the tip of his cock pressing perfectly against Jisung's prostate. Minho doesn't move for a good thirty seconds, hands squeezing at Jisung's hips like he's trying to ground himself.
"Fuck, baby look," Minho breathes, shifting his hand to rest over Jisung's lower stomach. When Jisung pries his eyes open, it's to the image of Minho caressing the prominent bulge protruding from his navel. The words of the tattoo are warped, skin stretched and pulled taut from where Minho bullied his way in.
Minho keeps his pressed flat against Jisung's stomach as he slowly drags his hips back halfway, then snaps them forward with enough force to jostle Jisung's whole body. The little bell on his collar rings as he moves, singing just as much as Jisung's heart is. "Daddy— m'so full, ngh—"
A bead of sweat drips down from Minho's forehead, falling down the pretty line of his nose, resting just on the sharp tip before dropping down to the space between their bodies. Jisung wants to lick him. His mouth is hanging open, eyebrows drawn together as he focuses on rolling his hips with an antagonizing pace.
"Baby, you feel so perfect," he rasps, punctuating with a harsh thrust. He hunches over Jisung again, planting one of his arms right beside his head, eyes still focused down to watch himself impale Jisung over and over again.
"Ah, ah— daddy, so deep," Jisung whines, arms coming up to clutch Minho's broad back through the wrinkled fabric of his dress shirt. If it was off, Jisung would make sure he left deep, red scratches on every inch he could reach. But Minho's technically still clocked in, unfortunately.
The unmistakable sound of skin slapping is filling the air as Minho pistons his hips into Jisung, frantically chasing his high. If either of them had any decency, which they don't, they would probably feel bad for anyone walking by being subjected to hearing— "Ah— Faster, more, pleasepleaseplease—"
"Greedy boy, daddy's already giving you everything," Minho says, but leans down to suck one of Jisung's nipples into his mouth anyways.
"Ohmygod—" Jisung's moans uptick an octave, back arching, pressing his chest up into the warmth of Minho's mouth. His legs are dangling uselessly in the air, twitching every time Minho forces his cock into him. It's all too much— Jisung can already feel his orgasm approaching— his cock tingling with red hot pleasure, the muscles of his abdomen tensing up, mind going all foggy. "Daddy, m'gonna— Can I cum? Please, I—"
Minho stops. Removes his mouth from Jisung's chests, and halts his hips' movement to nothing more than a torturous grind. "Baby wants to cum?"
"P-Please, can I?" Jisung knows better than to demand anything right now— maybe on a day when he hadn't been a brat, when he had listened. Now, he's completely at the mercy of Minho's decision. He makes his eyes as big as he can, still glossed over with residual tears, as he looks up at Minho through his eyelashes.
"Hm," Minho hums, contemplating. Then, a sly smile grows on his lips. "I never gave you your last hit, did I?"
Jisung blinks up at him dumbly. "No, sir."
All Minho has to do is give him a look, eyebrows raised as he flicks his chin, before Jisung spreads his legs more. He swallows thickly, hissing when Minho's fingernail drags down his cock, pressure featherlight. When he draws back, Jisung's whole body tenses up.
"You can cum, baby." Minho says, and then, he swings his hand down right onto Jisung's cock.
He cums immediately.
His mouth falls open, body jerking as his orgasm wracks through him in waves. Pleasure mixes into the pain as his little cock spurts cum onto his stomach, shooting oxytocin to every crevice of his body. Still, he remembers himself, and gasps out, "Thank you, daddy."
"That's my good boy," Minho coos, before working back up to his brutal pace of fucking Jisung's limp body. His hips are already stuttering forward, chasing his own pleasure, so close to reaching the precipice. "M'gonna cum in you, sweetheart, ah— get you pregnant, fuck you all nice and round—"
"Give me it," Jisung whines out, overstimulation fogging up his brain as his cock throbs painfully. And Minho does— he feels the warmth spread through him as Minho's hips messily twitch forward, his cock spurting out thick ropes of cum all over Jisung's walls.
Minho falls forward, catching himself on his hands beside Jisung's head. His chest is heaving with exertion, and his hair is damp with sweat, matted to his forehead. There's a deep shade of pink covering his cheeks, an even deeper shade coating his ears. And Jisung thinks he looks perfect.
He groggily reaches up to wind his arms around Minho's neck, pulling him into a sloppy, messy kiss. They kiss for what could be hours, even though it's probably only five minutes in all actuality. When they pull apart, they're wearing matching grins, lovestruck and dazed from their orgasms.
Still, Jisung speaks.
"Happy birthday, daddy.”
ᓚ₍^..^₎♡