Pretty In Pink
Title: Pretty In Pink
Pairing: Kai/Kyungsoo
Genre: pwp
Rating: nc-17
Warnings: cross-dressing, spanking
Length: 2.3k
Summary: His stockings are thin, but his patience wears thinner.
Note: Inspiration from this picture. Originally posted here.
The lace digs harsh red lines into Kyungsoo’s thighs, silk stockings running the length of his legs and under pink stilettos, and a tiny white bow attaching them to his garters. Above them lay pink panties that show beneath the hem of his dress, frills of an underskirt also sticking out, but never long enough to conceal the low dips of the garters. A white apron wraps around his waist, and above that rosy cloth drapes his narrow shoulders with a tiny choker tied around his neck. For the finishing touches, Kyungsoo locks into place lace cuffs, complete with pink bows that rest on top that drifts in the air as he moves.
He fiddles just slightly with his choker, sliding the floral emblem to the left and right, before turning back and facing the counter. The tight sleeves of the dress cut into the skin of his arm as he reaches for a glass on one of the higher shelves, fingertips just barely skimming the cup so he stands higher on his tip-toes.
It isn’t a second later that he hears, “do you need some help with that?” and there isn’t enough time to move before something hard presses up against his back, a long arm reaching above him. He knows exactly who it is.
“J-Jongin,” Kyungsoo stutters after the cup is in his hand, spinning around and clutching the glass to his chest with a pretty blush spreading on his cheeks.
Jongin is wearing a black suit, sleek against his muscles and slimming in color. They act like a second skin on his thighs and his white button down hugs his abs until there’s almost nothing left to the imagination. His brown hair falls over his eyes the same way Kyungsoo’s black fringe does, and he emits the ambiance of a million dollar man playing for high stakes with all the confidence in the world.
He smirks, using his thumb and forefinger to pluck the cup from Kyungsoo’s hands and sets it down on the counter. Something about the dark swirls of his eyes ignites the heat in Kyungsoo’s belly, revs up the thrum of his heart beating in his chest and the anticipation hums in his bones.
Jongin steps even closer, thigh cutting in between Kyungsoo’s, spreading them apart with his knees, and leans so that he’s trapped in strong arms and thick lips are so tantalizingly close to his ear. “You look so fucking sexy in that outfit,” he breathes out, and Kyungsoo’s eyes flutter at the hot breath hitting him. “It makes me want to do naughty things to you.”
Kyungsoo’s cock starts to strain in the confines of his panties. “Like what, Mr. Kim?”
“Like bend you over my knee,” he moves closer and their chests press together, “and spank you.” Jongin moves one hand to clutch at Kyungsoo’s waist. “Tell you what a bad maid you’ve been,” the elder tries his hardest not to buck for any sort of friction, “for making me want to fuck you so badly.”
Jongin’s hand makes its way down Kyungsoo’s thigh, over smooth skin, thick lace, and sheer stockings, until it can curl around the back of his knee and pull. Kyungsoo is now hard as a rock, panties stretching over the curve of his cock. When Jongin pulls his leg to wrap around his waist, he brushes up against the other’s slacks and sucks in a deep gasp. “M-Mr. Kim, we shouldn’t--”
“I like it when you call me Jongin,” he breathes out, lips dragging over Kyungsoo’s cheek as he pulls back so that they’re face to face.
His vision darts between Jongin’s eyes, full of lust and wonder and passion that burns brighter than the sun, and his lips, which whisper such dirty things to him and yet he still wants to grab him by the tie and pull him and kiss him harder than anyone has ever kissed before. “Jongin.”
That’s the final pluck of the strings of Jongin’s sanity before he’s freefalling into Kyungsoo, surging forward to finally claim his lips and hold onto his leg so tightly that he knows there will be bruises tomorrow, and that’s how he wants it. He wants to own Kyungsoo, scrape him, bruise him, mark him. His hips don’t stay stagnant with the carnal impulse thrashing inside him, either, and by the time he’s licking into Kyungsoo’s mouth he’s rutting, grinding their cocks together so that delicious heat licks at both of their arousals.
“Jongin,” Kyungsoo moans, and he picks up their pace, moving against Kyungsoo until he’s reaching for Jongin’s shoulders for some type of purchase, something to hold onto so that he doesn’t fly away with all the bliss heating his body and turning him into an inflated balloon of need.
Jongin resumes kissing him, tongue running over the seam of his mouth until he’s panting and breathless, only one name running through his head and countless wants controlling his body. One of Kyungsoo’s hands snakes its way up his neck, over the beads of sweat already rolling down burning flesh, and into the tendrils of his hair. He tugs harsh on Jongin’s hair, makes him emit these small little keens that imitate whimpers; makes him grind harder and kiss hotter until they explode in a tangled mess of limbs and hearts.
“I want your cock, Mr. Kim,” Kyungsoo murmurs against his lips, skirt bunched up to his stomach and the tip of his length peeking from pink panties, forming dark red spots from beads of precome. “I want you inside me.”
Jongin’s hold on Kyungsoo’s leg loosens, and it falls back to the ground as he pushes himself off Kyungsoo. Rough fingers pull at his tie, loosening it until it’s barely dangling from around his collar. His jacket and shirt are strewn messily on his body, buttons undone already from rough movements. “Bend over, baby,” he orders, and Kyungsoo is quick to comply. The sharp edge of the counter hurts his stomach, even more when Jongin leans over him again, dick pressing into the top of his thigh. “And what did I tell you about calling me Mr. Kim?”
He has his mouth open, ready to spout some type of apology, when the first rain of a stealth palm lands on his ass. It springs tears in his eyes, the way the pain sears and nips at his flesh. He’s sure his backside is already as red as his face.
“You look so pretty in pink, Kyungsoo,” Jongin coos, hand massaging the area he just hit before pulling his arm back and doing it again. He enjoys the way it cracks throughout the room. “So beautiful.”
“Jongin, please,” Kyungsoo begs as the tears spill over and run down his cheeks, staining shades of rose. “Please fuck me.”
He thinks he made Jongin angry when the man walks away and out of the room without another word, and the calm before the storm settles upon the room. Kyungsoo stays still, doesn’t move a muscle, because he knows that if he does then Jongin will be even madder when-- if-- he returns and he’ll be punished for it.
The moments Jongin’s footsteps sound off again in the kitchen are spent in tense anticipation, hands and nerves bracing for whatever is coming, but the only things that hit him are Jongin’s words.
“You’re so beautiful, Soo.”
And then a finger is tracing up his thigh, breaking goosebumps out all over his body. It’s so light that he’s not ever sure Jongin is touching him until the digit is hooking under the side of his panties and pulling them to the side. Jongin’s other hand grabs his face harshly, nails cutting into him, and turns him so that he’s looking over his shoulder at Jongin.
“Watch me while I finger you,” he orders, gentle unlike his grip.
Kyungsoo knows Jongin likes to see him with tears in his eyes and streaks over his cheeks and arousal flushing his skin. He knows because even through his clothes, he can feel Jongin’s cock twitch as he looks up to him with imploring eyes, and the cap of the lube is immediately popped.
Jongin also likes to draw it out; to tease him by outlining circles around his hole until he’s crying again, sobbing to be touched, to be filled. And that’s what he does now, one hand holding the panties to the side and the other with three fingers slicked.
When the first one finally does enter him, he makes sure to let Jongin knows he appreciates it by moaning his name and keeping his head turned and his eyes dead center on the younger’s. He doesn’t wait long to push in the second, not stopping until they’re at the knuckle, and a long strip of fire burns its way up Kyungsoo’s spine.
It hurts, sure, but the pain is what he likes best about it. The lucidity of it, the way it’s incredibly intense-- the way it morphs into pleasure. He could come just with Jongin’s fingers inside him, but he knows that tonight he wants-- needs-- something more.
And the third finger is no filler for it. It only adds more fuel to the fire, one that only Jongin’s cock can extinguish.
“Are you ready, baby?” Jongin asks after pulling out his hand and cleaning the three fingers off on his pants.
Kyungsoo knows he doesn’t really want an answer, though.
The slow unzipping of Jongin’s pants has him bending his back so that his ass sticks out more, and his fingers twist around the bend of the counter when he hears a belt hit the ground with a thud. What he hears next is the low whisper of a growl right next to his ear and the long drag of Jongin’s nails down his hips as they shove his lingerie down to his heels, rendering him breathless.
Jongin holds his cock in position, right at Kyungsoo’s entrance, but doesn’t push in. The elder almost sobs again. Instead, Jongin leans over him again, taking his free hand and intertwining his fingers with Kyungsoo’s. He whispers, “I’m going to fuck you with your panties around your ankles.”
His sentence is punctuated with a harsh thrust to push into Kyungsoo, and he could shout at the pleasure that wraps tightly around his cock.
“You’re still so tight for me, baby,” Jongin grunts, pain seeping through his arm. Kyungsoo’s nails are digging into his hand; he’s sure they’re drawing blood. Kyungsoo responds by canting his hips back, a tell tale sign to move, and Jongin obeys.
Their rhythm is set fast, rough, dirty. Jongin spares him no mercy, pounding into him so brutally so that he has to use both hands to hold onto Kyungsoo’s waist so he doesn’t go flying face-first into the wall. Every time he thrusts in, Kyungsoo emits little moans, and sometimes they’re hisses of harder or faster or oh, fuck me right there, Jongin.
His clothes trap him in, conserve all the heat of his body until he’s drenched in sweat and Kyungsoo is just a catalyst, melting hard pools of lust in his eyes. That’s when Jongin grabs a fist full of the skirt bunched up around Kyungsoo’s waist and pushes it up his back, white skin exposing itself inch by inch.
“Fuck,” he curses, drilling into Kyungsoo faster and faster so that the clap of skin against skin sounds like one perpetual scream.
“There!” Kyungsoo cries when he angles himself differently. “Fuck me right there, Jongin.”
The smirk doesn’t slip from his face after that.
The arousal brewing in Kyungsoo’s belly comes to a boiling point, about to tip over into the planes of an orgasm, so he reaches between his legs and makes a grab for his cock hanging heavy against the lace fabric. “No no,” Jongin quickly slaps his hand away, arrogance seeping through his voice. “You’re going to come without touching, like the good cockslut you are.”
Kyungsoo nods dazedly, a gleam over his eyes as Jongin fucks him even harder. He knows Jongin is about to come-- the sloppy snap of his hips, the way his hands are pressing harder into Kyungsoo’s back, nails digging into his skirt the same way they were his face a while ago.
It’s all becoming sensory overload, the back of his head tingling and his nerves frayed with the electricity of flesh against flesh, and the pain the counter induces by cutting into his soft stomach. Pair that with the way his panties rub the sensitive skin of his cock and he’s coming hard, eyes closing and hole clenching around Jongin.
The pressure has Jongin releasing too, not bothering to pull out to come on his back like he might have some other day. He needs to be inside Kyungsoo, to remind him every time he moves his legs who was inside him early and how good he fucked him.
They stand still for a while, trying to catch the breaths that are zooming past their lungs. Jongin’s hands unfurl from the satin material of his skirt and that’s when Kyungsoo decides to turn around and brush his lips over Jongin’s chastely, in such stark contrast to the filthy words oozing from his mouth earlier.
“You should dress up like this more often,” Jongin smiles contentedly against him, moving to trap him against the counter again. “It’s hot.”
“You know what else would be hot?” Kyungsoo runs his tongue over Jongin’s lips, cajoling him to where he wants him to be, and the younger moans in acknowledgement. “If you dressed up in this instead.”
“Maybe one day,” Jongin agrees half-heartedly. His finger hooks under the choker wrapped around Kyungsoo’s neck and pulls, making it cut into the back of his neck. “But for now, let’s just have some fun.”
Pairing: Kai/Kyungsoo
Genre: pwp
Rating: nc-17
Warnings: cross-dressing, spanking
Length: 2.3k
Summary: His stockings are thin, but his patience wears thinner.
Note: Inspiration from this picture. Originally posted here.
The lace digs harsh red lines into Kyungsoo’s thighs, silk stockings running the length of his legs and under pink stilettos, and a tiny white bow attaching them to his garters. Above them lay pink panties that show beneath the hem of his dress, frills of an underskirt also sticking out, but never long enough to conceal the low dips of the garters. A white apron wraps around his waist, and above that rosy cloth drapes his narrow shoulders with a tiny choker tied around his neck. For the finishing touches, Kyungsoo locks into place lace cuffs, complete with pink bows that rest on top that drifts in the air as he moves.
He fiddles just slightly with his choker, sliding the floral emblem to the left and right, before turning back and facing the counter. The tight sleeves of the dress cut into the skin of his arm as he reaches for a glass on one of the higher shelves, fingertips just barely skimming the cup so he stands higher on his tip-toes.
It isn’t a second later that he hears, “do you need some help with that?” and there isn’t enough time to move before something hard presses up against his back, a long arm reaching above him. He knows exactly who it is.
“J-Jongin,” Kyungsoo stutters after the cup is in his hand, spinning around and clutching the glass to his chest with a pretty blush spreading on his cheeks.
Jongin is wearing a black suit, sleek against his muscles and slimming in color. They act like a second skin on his thighs and his white button down hugs his abs until there’s almost nothing left to the imagination. His brown hair falls over his eyes the same way Kyungsoo’s black fringe does, and he emits the ambiance of a million dollar man playing for high stakes with all the confidence in the world.
He smirks, using his thumb and forefinger to pluck the cup from Kyungsoo’s hands and sets it down on the counter. Something about the dark swirls of his eyes ignites the heat in Kyungsoo’s belly, revs up the thrum of his heart beating in his chest and the anticipation hums in his bones.
Jongin steps even closer, thigh cutting in between Kyungsoo’s, spreading them apart with his knees, and leans so that he’s trapped in strong arms and thick lips are so tantalizingly close to his ear. “You look so fucking sexy in that outfit,” he breathes out, and Kyungsoo’s eyes flutter at the hot breath hitting him. “It makes me want to do naughty things to you.”
Kyungsoo’s cock starts to strain in the confines of his panties. “Like what, Mr. Kim?”
“Like bend you over my knee,” he moves closer and their chests press together, “and spank you.” Jongin moves one hand to clutch at Kyungsoo’s waist. “Tell you what a bad maid you’ve been,” the elder tries his hardest not to buck for any sort of friction, “for making me want to fuck you so badly.”
Jongin’s hand makes its way down Kyungsoo’s thigh, over smooth skin, thick lace, and sheer stockings, until it can curl around the back of his knee and pull. Kyungsoo is now hard as a rock, panties stretching over the curve of his cock. When Jongin pulls his leg to wrap around his waist, he brushes up against the other’s slacks and sucks in a deep gasp. “M-Mr. Kim, we shouldn’t--”
“I like it when you call me Jongin,” he breathes out, lips dragging over Kyungsoo’s cheek as he pulls back so that they’re face to face.
His vision darts between Jongin’s eyes, full of lust and wonder and passion that burns brighter than the sun, and his lips, which whisper such dirty things to him and yet he still wants to grab him by the tie and pull him and kiss him harder than anyone has ever kissed before. “Jongin.”
That’s the final pluck of the strings of Jongin’s sanity before he’s freefalling into Kyungsoo, surging forward to finally claim his lips and hold onto his leg so tightly that he knows there will be bruises tomorrow, and that’s how he wants it. He wants to own Kyungsoo, scrape him, bruise him, mark him. His hips don’t stay stagnant with the carnal impulse thrashing inside him, either, and by the time he’s licking into Kyungsoo’s mouth he’s rutting, grinding their cocks together so that delicious heat licks at both of their arousals.
“Jongin,” Kyungsoo moans, and he picks up their pace, moving against Kyungsoo until he’s reaching for Jongin’s shoulders for some type of purchase, something to hold onto so that he doesn’t fly away with all the bliss heating his body and turning him into an inflated balloon of need.
Jongin resumes kissing him, tongue running over the seam of his mouth until he’s panting and breathless, only one name running through his head and countless wants controlling his body. One of Kyungsoo’s hands snakes its way up his neck, over the beads of sweat already rolling down burning flesh, and into the tendrils of his hair. He tugs harsh on Jongin’s hair, makes him emit these small little keens that imitate whimpers; makes him grind harder and kiss hotter until they explode in a tangled mess of limbs and hearts.
“I want your cock, Mr. Kim,” Kyungsoo murmurs against his lips, skirt bunched up to his stomach and the tip of his length peeking from pink panties, forming dark red spots from beads of precome. “I want you inside me.”
Jongin’s hold on Kyungsoo’s leg loosens, and it falls back to the ground as he pushes himself off Kyungsoo. Rough fingers pull at his tie, loosening it until it’s barely dangling from around his collar. His jacket and shirt are strewn messily on his body, buttons undone already from rough movements. “Bend over, baby,” he orders, and Kyungsoo is quick to comply. The sharp edge of the counter hurts his stomach, even more when Jongin leans over him again, dick pressing into the top of his thigh. “And what did I tell you about calling me Mr. Kim?”
He has his mouth open, ready to spout some type of apology, when the first rain of a stealth palm lands on his ass. It springs tears in his eyes, the way the pain sears and nips at his flesh. He’s sure his backside is already as red as his face.
“You look so pretty in pink, Kyungsoo,” Jongin coos, hand massaging the area he just hit before pulling his arm back and doing it again. He enjoys the way it cracks throughout the room. “So beautiful.”
“Jongin, please,” Kyungsoo begs as the tears spill over and run down his cheeks, staining shades of rose. “Please fuck me.”
He thinks he made Jongin angry when the man walks away and out of the room without another word, and the calm before the storm settles upon the room. Kyungsoo stays still, doesn’t move a muscle, because he knows that if he does then Jongin will be even madder when-- if-- he returns and he’ll be punished for it.
The moments Jongin’s footsteps sound off again in the kitchen are spent in tense anticipation, hands and nerves bracing for whatever is coming, but the only things that hit him are Jongin’s words.
“You’re so beautiful, Soo.”
And then a finger is tracing up his thigh, breaking goosebumps out all over his body. It’s so light that he’s not ever sure Jongin is touching him until the digit is hooking under the side of his panties and pulling them to the side. Jongin’s other hand grabs his face harshly, nails cutting into him, and turns him so that he’s looking over his shoulder at Jongin.
“Watch me while I finger you,” he orders, gentle unlike his grip.
Kyungsoo knows Jongin likes to see him with tears in his eyes and streaks over his cheeks and arousal flushing his skin. He knows because even through his clothes, he can feel Jongin’s cock twitch as he looks up to him with imploring eyes, and the cap of the lube is immediately popped.
Jongin also likes to draw it out; to tease him by outlining circles around his hole until he’s crying again, sobbing to be touched, to be filled. And that’s what he does now, one hand holding the panties to the side and the other with three fingers slicked.
When the first one finally does enter him, he makes sure to let Jongin knows he appreciates it by moaning his name and keeping his head turned and his eyes dead center on the younger’s. He doesn’t wait long to push in the second, not stopping until they’re at the knuckle, and a long strip of fire burns its way up Kyungsoo’s spine.
It hurts, sure, but the pain is what he likes best about it. The lucidity of it, the way it’s incredibly intense-- the way it morphs into pleasure. He could come just with Jongin’s fingers inside him, but he knows that tonight he wants-- needs-- something more.
And the third finger is no filler for it. It only adds more fuel to the fire, one that only Jongin’s cock can extinguish.
“Are you ready, baby?” Jongin asks after pulling out his hand and cleaning the three fingers off on his pants.
Kyungsoo knows he doesn’t really want an answer, though.
The slow unzipping of Jongin’s pants has him bending his back so that his ass sticks out more, and his fingers twist around the bend of the counter when he hears a belt hit the ground with a thud. What he hears next is the low whisper of a growl right next to his ear and the long drag of Jongin’s nails down his hips as they shove his lingerie down to his heels, rendering him breathless.
Jongin holds his cock in position, right at Kyungsoo’s entrance, but doesn’t push in. The elder almost sobs again. Instead, Jongin leans over him again, taking his free hand and intertwining his fingers with Kyungsoo’s. He whispers, “I’m going to fuck you with your panties around your ankles.”
His sentence is punctuated with a harsh thrust to push into Kyungsoo, and he could shout at the pleasure that wraps tightly around his cock.
“You’re still so tight for me, baby,” Jongin grunts, pain seeping through his arm. Kyungsoo’s nails are digging into his hand; he’s sure they’re drawing blood. Kyungsoo responds by canting his hips back, a tell tale sign to move, and Jongin obeys.
Their rhythm is set fast, rough, dirty. Jongin spares him no mercy, pounding into him so brutally so that he has to use both hands to hold onto Kyungsoo’s waist so he doesn’t go flying face-first into the wall. Every time he thrusts in, Kyungsoo emits little moans, and sometimes they’re hisses of harder or faster or oh, fuck me right there, Jongin.
His clothes trap him in, conserve all the heat of his body until he’s drenched in sweat and Kyungsoo is just a catalyst, melting hard pools of lust in his eyes. That’s when Jongin grabs a fist full of the skirt bunched up around Kyungsoo’s waist and pushes it up his back, white skin exposing itself inch by inch.
“Fuck,” he curses, drilling into Kyungsoo faster and faster so that the clap of skin against skin sounds like one perpetual scream.
“There!” Kyungsoo cries when he angles himself differently. “Fuck me right there, Jongin.”
The smirk doesn’t slip from his face after that.
The arousal brewing in Kyungsoo’s belly comes to a boiling point, about to tip over into the planes of an orgasm, so he reaches between his legs and makes a grab for his cock hanging heavy against the lace fabric. “No no,” Jongin quickly slaps his hand away, arrogance seeping through his voice. “You’re going to come without touching, like the good cockslut you are.”
Kyungsoo nods dazedly, a gleam over his eyes as Jongin fucks him even harder. He knows Jongin is about to come-- the sloppy snap of his hips, the way his hands are pressing harder into Kyungsoo’s back, nails digging into his skirt the same way they were his face a while ago.
It’s all becoming sensory overload, the back of his head tingling and his nerves frayed with the electricity of flesh against flesh, and the pain the counter induces by cutting into his soft stomach. Pair that with the way his panties rub the sensitive skin of his cock and he’s coming hard, eyes closing and hole clenching around Jongin.
The pressure has Jongin releasing too, not bothering to pull out to come on his back like he might have some other day. He needs to be inside Kyungsoo, to remind him every time he moves his legs who was inside him early and how good he fucked him.
They stand still for a while, trying to catch the breaths that are zooming past their lungs. Jongin’s hands unfurl from the satin material of his skirt and that’s when Kyungsoo decides to turn around and brush his lips over Jongin’s chastely, in such stark contrast to the filthy words oozing from his mouth earlier.
“You should dress up like this more often,” Jongin smiles contentedly against him, moving to trap him against the counter again. “It’s hot.”
“You know what else would be hot?” Kyungsoo runs his tongue over Jongin’s lips, cajoling him to where he wants him to be, and the younger moans in acknowledgement. “If you dressed up in this instead.”
“Maybe one day,” Jongin agrees half-heartedly. His finger hooks under the choker wrapped around Kyungsoo’s neck and pulls, making it cut into the back of his neck. “But for now, let’s just have some fun.”