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it’s sunday morning and hobi’s pressing citrus fruits intro fresh juice: grapefruit, oranges, tangerines. yoonji’s sitting on the counter watching her. she suppresses a yawn and tilts her head to study hobi. her shirt is turned inside-out and unbuttoned, her tits jiggling as she moves around the kitchen.
“pretty unhelpful, aren’t you?” hobi notes, catching yoonji’s eyes and flashing a grin at her. “you could at least set the table.”
“i’m busy looking at your ass.”
hobi rolls her eyes and blows a kiss. “thanks, doll. d’you want crêpes or waffles?”
“waffles,” yoonji decides. she braids her fingers together and cracks them one by one, stretching out her neck as well.
she loves sunday mornings. it’s a ritual of theirs: don’t get dressed, eat late breakfast, go back to bed. it’s her favourite time of the week. she takes another sip of her coffee and hobi wrinkles her nose.
“waffles it is,” hobi says and picks out eggs and milk from the refrigerator. “everything for my baby.”
yoonji stays where she’s sitting and watches hobi work. she’ll clean the dishes after, or make dinner, to make up for it, but for now she just wants to look at her girlfriend.
the waffles are great, and the juice as well. hobi asks if she wants to go to the cinema sometime next week to watch that new film yoonji’s been talking about, “the one with spies in italy, right?”
“sure,” yoonji says. “i’d love to.”
and she would—her lips curl into a toothy smile and she just keeps looking and looking at hobi, who’s so pretty, bathed in the morning sunlight and wearing nothing but boxers and a patterned button-down. her dark brown hair is messy from sleep and she’s grinning at yoonji, this half-smirk kind of smile. “you keep staring.”
“you keep being hot.”
“oh?” she raises an eyebrow. “you’re one to talk, pretty doll.”
yoonji’s cheeks heat up but she refuses to look away. it all boils down to this: yoonji wants her girlfriend to overstimulate her till she’s twitching and sore and all her thoughts are hazy, and she’s going to get that by pushing all of hobi’s buttons today. she has it all planned out—how she’ll act out, how she’ll be a brat, how she’ll come without permission when they fuck later, which they will, because yoonji will make sure that hobi wants to fuck her soon.
and when she comes without permission, hobi will say something along the lines of “since you seem to want to come so badly, let’s make you come till you cry,” which is exactly what yoonji wants.
she’s so damn clever.
“i’m your pretty doll?” she lets her eyes go just a tad wider and licks out at her lips.
hobi’s eyes are dark, dangerous. there’s a twitch in her neck and her mouth curls at one corner, twisting into something darker. “my prettiest doll.”
“thank you for making breakfast, babe. it was so delicious. how should i repay you?”
“you can do the dishes,” hobi suggest and leans back in her own chair. “my turn to look at your ass now, isn’t that only fair?”
yoonji nods her head a little breathlessly. she gathers the plates and begins to load the dishwasher, something she has to bend over to do. hobi murmurs an appreciative sound; yoonji puts the lid back on the sugar jar and the jam back in the refrigerator. she wets a cloth and wipes down the table and the kitchen counters, only looking at hobi again when everything is shiny and clean.
but the whole time, she felt hobi’s eyes on her. she felt deliciously like a prey animal, a little bunny just waiting for the wolf to dig her teeth in.
yoonji likes to feel a little helpless. she likes to act tough and talk back, but what really gets her knees weak is when hobi puts her in her place, when she calls her a little doll and uses her as such.
“what now?” she meets hobi’s eyes, tries not to waver. she pushes at hobi’s chest and straddles her lap, calves next to hobi’s thighs. she touches her index finger to hobi’s breast, right on the icy metal hoop in her nipple. yoonji’s just a tiny bit obsessed with hobi’s tits.
“well, what now?” hobi echoes. she has this infuriating expression, like she knows what yoonji’s trying to do, but she’s content with sitting back and letting her do it. she’s always so patient, forcing yoonji to use her words and beg for what she wants.
she wraps her arms around her and leans closer, then whispers, “it felt so good last night.”
“um,” hobi hums, but yoonji feels how she tenses up. bingo.
“i’m still sore,” she continues, biting down on her lip for a second. she wants to grind against hobi’s thigh, but the chair’s too fucking small for her to move like that. “but i feel so—so empty, and needy. i need to be fucked again so bad.”
hobi grabs her waist and digs her fingers into the skin, hard. “what a filthy mouth you suddenly have, sweetheart.”
yoonji moans, airy and light, and trembles, because this part is good too, the build-up, this push-and-pull where they’re just waiting for one of them to snap. mostly it’s yoonji who snaps, breaks down and begs for hobi to play with her cunt, because she’s wet and empty and aching to be touched.
“learned from the best,” she teases.
“isn’t it early to be acting like a whore?”
yoonji sucks in a breath, gasps it out. fuckfuckfuck. whenever hobi dirty talks, yoonji gets wet, but there are some words that make her clit throb, some things that get in her head and make her feel so hazy and desperate. but she has a plan today and she can’t lose track of it—“don’t you want to fuck your whore, master?” she whines, bottom lip trembling.
hobi’s gaze sets her skin on fire.
then she grabs her thighs and digs her nails in. “of course, darling.” she gives her ass a light spank, and then another. “get to bed.”
“yes,” she gasps and scrambles from hobi’s lap, half running to the bedroom. the bed is large, something yoonji insisted on and hobi never argued, and their bedding is cream with little pink flowers. so romantic and summery, like the potted orchid in the windowsill.
she struggles out of her shirt, then kneels down on the bed with her face mushed in the pillows. it’s so exposing, to be a doll on display like this, and she can feel hobi’s presence in the room, her eyes roaming over yoonji’s naked body.
she still has hickeys all over her thighs and tits, a constant reminder of whom she belongs to.
(you see: yoonji really loves to be a possession, to be something that belongs to hobi. she has half a dozen collars, all with separate tags. kitten, doll, whore.)
“good girl,” hobi coos, running a hand up yoonji’s left thigh so she trembles. “presenting yourself so nicely for me. such good manners, darling.”
oh, if you only knew—she almost giggles, thinking about her clever plan, how she’s about to break one of the rules and come without permission. yoonji’s the mastermind today, the clever one in charge.
“touch me.” she drops the please, just demands it instead, wriggling her butt. “i know you want to.”
hobi lands a sharp smack to her ass. “watch your fuckin’ tone.”
oh, yes. she lets out a gravelly whine. “please,” she amends, “master. don’t you want to touch me? i’m so—” she grinds back, pushing her ass further up and towards hobi, “—so wet for you already, i can feel it. i need to feel your cock inside me, master, i need it, i need it—”
so fast and she’s already slipping, begging for it, words beginning to slur. and she isn’t lying either: her pussy clenches and she feels so wet. and hobi’s barely touched her yet, has only just looked at her and called her a dirty word.
hobi plays two fingers up and down her slick pussy lips, teasing the soft skin and making yoonji gasp. “oh, you’re not lying,” she notes, pushing two fingers in to the hilt without preamble, filling yoonji’s tight little pussy so nicely. “how are you this wet already, doll?”
“hhh,” she whines—it’s a blessing and a curse, being so sensitive, getting drippy just from a few words sometimes.
“is this where you feel empty?” she’s curling her fingers, pressing hard against yoonji’s inner walls, finger-fucking her rough and fast. yoonji gets more and more wet, moaning and grinding back on hobi’s fingers, wanting more and more and more.
she always wants more.
“is this where you need your master to fuck you full and breed you, darling?”
“oh, god—” it’s moving so fast and she’s in too deep and how did she expect to stay a brat when hobi’s so perfect, but her plan—she can’t give up on her plan, she won’t, she won’t, she wants hobi to punish her so badly, harshly, overstimulate her till spit bubbles down her chin and she’s begging for a break.
“you can’t even blame it on being in heat, baby, since you’re always like this. always such a needy little slut; cunt wet and warm and waiting for me to fuck it. aren’t you?”
oh fuck, oh fuck, oh—fuck, she’s going to come just from this, on her hands and knees with her eyes squeezed shut and just two of hobi’s fingers inside her, just three minutes into having sex, but—
some words just get to her so badly. she’s master’s little whore in heat and she has to get fucked, she needs to be filled up and bred, she’s going to cry if she doesn’t get to come on repeat.
hobi’s fingers press against her g-spot, massaging expertly; she pulls her fingers out just to tease her pussy lips, smear her wetness everywhere; fucks back inside and pumps them in and out of her; calls her a good little doll, tells her she’s wet like a fuckin’ bitch, asks her who she belongs to.
“you, master,” she gasps, and then her pussy clenches down on hobi’s fingers and her legs tremble and she’s coming, coming, so good, feels so good, till hobi pulls her fingers out and her pussy’s still clenching and she’s still coming and it hurts and it’s terrible and it’s perfect and hobi spanks her ass.
“what the fuck was that?” she says, voice so rough, and grabs yoonji’s hair tightly and pulls her up, up. “did i tell you that you could come?”
and there it is—she sighs out, happy and dazed, because this is what she wanted. this is what she planned: riling hobi up, earning a punishment, tricking her.
“felt so good,” she gasps, drooling a little. “oh, it felt so good.”
hobi lets go of her hair and pushes at her head. “pathetic.” she delivers another spank to yoonji’s ass, then pushes her so she’s on her back suddenly and looking up at hobi’s face. her jaw is set, her eyes dark and blown. “what happens to bad girls that come without permission?”
“they get punished,” yoonji responds. her heart beats quickly and she feels so airy, teeth digging into her lip with excitement about what’s to come.
“right.” she’s touching yoonji’s pussy again, slight, teasing touches, not enough at all. “i’ll have to teach you a lesson, won’t i?”
“yes, master.”
“don’t move.” she turns around to open the cupboard for toys, pulling out the box with yoonji’s favourite wand vibrator. it’s just what she wanted—to have it pressed against her vulva for an hour, hobi showing no mercy, making her come so many times.
hobi presses the button and it whirs to life, the buzz that’s made yoonji cry from pleasure so many times.
she kneels between yoonji’s spread legs and presses the head of the vibrator to her pussy. she doesn’t say anything, and yoonji gasps out a little sigh when she feels the vibrations against her clit, so much, so good—
“w-what’s my punishment?” she manages to get the words past her teeth, even though it’s hard by now.
“i’m going to edge you till you cry,” hobi says matter-of-factly, cold and detached and unfairly hot.
wait, she’s what?
“if you come now,” she goes on, “i won’t touch your greedy cunt for the next month. good girls don’t come without permission—and only good girls get to come at all. understand?”
no-no. this isn’t the plan, this isn’t—yoonji doesn’t want to be edged and denied, this isn’t the punishment she wants. hobi’s supposed to overstimulate her, make her come so many times she loses count. not this.
“no,” she whimpers, shaking her head, eyes splayed wide and desperate. “no, no—i didn’t mean to—”
“but you did, darling,” hobi says with faux concern. she pulls the wand away from yoonji’s pussy, and she clenches down, bucking up her hips to chase it, needing it back so badly. “you meant to come, didn’t you? and what did you think that would bring, disobeying me? i’m sure you had some grand awful plan in mind.” she spreads yoonji’s pussy lips with one hand, and presses the vibrator directly to her clit. “but you forgot who’s in fucking charge here, doll.”
oh, god—she wants to come so badly. hobi’s words are making her pussy so needy, and the wand on her clit, and already coming once, and her great plan—“master,” she slurs, “please.”
“save it,” hobi returns, ripping the wand away again. yoonji’s whole body shakes. this is going to hurt so bad. she’s going to get so fucking desperate and she knows that hobi won’t give in, because hobi never gives in, and she—oh, fuck. fuckfuckfuck. she made a mistake.
her tummy twists; she breathes out a moan when hobi runs the vibrator up and down her vulva.
*
yoonji’s pussy is achy and sore. drool slicks down her chin and her pussy clenches down on nothing at all—she’s so wet, soaked and desperate for hobi’s strap-on. “please,” she gasps, eyes opening and rolling back and her mouth dropped to an O when hobi removes the wand vibrator from her puffy cunt again.
she’s lost count by now.
how many times has hobi held the wand to her clit till yoonji could feel the vibrations in her teeth, her whole body trembling, just to rip it away so cruelly and leave her gasping and shaking? how many times has she fucked the head of the vibe inside her—because that’s how wet yoonji is, the wand vibrator slides into her pussy easily—and held it there, pushing her to the edge, denying her again? how many times has yoonji bucked up her hips, how many times has she slurred pleasepleaseplease master by now?
she’s so dizzy. everything is hazy and hobi’s so deliciously mean—relentlessly, she plays with yoonji’s pussy, pleasuring her, then rips it away and leaves her gasping from the loss.
she’s so empty. it hurts so bad.
“you’re not crying yet,” hobi notes casually, toying the wand up and down yoonji’s pussy again. she teases it to her clit, tiny light touches that are barely there at all, not at all what yoonji wants—what she needs.
she needs to come. she needs to come so fucking badly. her grand plan has backfired: she should’ve had her tenth orgasm by now, should’ve been shaky and twitchy and begging for another, please, but now she hasn’t come yet, probably won’t at all.
the knowledge stings.
she thought she was so clever, but she’s just hobi’s little doll. hobi decides how she’s punished, how she’s hurt and pleasured, because hobi owns her.
she rips the wand away and yoonji quivers. “no-no! no!” she whimpers, chest heaving, kicking her feet. she was so close, right on the edge—her clit throbs, and it’s almost like coming, but not quite. hobi ruined it, and it hurts so badly. “please, please—”
“how many was that?” hobi asks, carelessly ignoring yoonji’s futile pleas.
“n-no,” she whimpers. “don’t—i don’t know, i don’t—i want…”
“i don’t care what you want.” she spreads her pussy lips apart with trained ease, rubs her thumb on her clit. yoonji’s legs spasm. “and that was only number eleven, darling, since you’re too dumb to keep count. and you’re already such a damn mess—my darling toy. what did you think would happen when you came without permission?”
“o-overstim…” she trails off. she doesn’t see the point in lying; she doesn’t want to be a brat any more. she wants to make hobi proud, wants to earn an orgasm, wants to come on hobi’s cock. “thought you’d—” she moans, then manages the last few words, “you’d o-overstimulate me.”
“oh, you did, huh?” she pinches her nipple hard, twists her wrist so yoonji whines. “my little pain slut. maybe this will be a lesson for you then, hm? if you wanted me to force you to come twenty times in a row, you could’ve just asked, sweetheart.”
she should’ve just asked—why did she think to be a brat? why did she think she could trick hobi into giving her a punishment that she craved?
it wouldn’t even be a punishment then.
the wand is back on her sore pussy, turned to the highest setting. “o-o-ohhhh,” yoonji mumbles, eyes rolling back again. she drools and twitches, pushes her hips upwards, wants to come, wants to come, wants to come, wa—
“no!” she wails when hobi takes it away again, leaving her desperate and denied. “no, no, no—” and then, finally, she sobs. fat tears well up in her eyes and she pants, her pussy so sore and achy and she just needs to come, so badly, she’ll die if she doesn’t come—
“aw,” hobi coos. “you crying for me, dollie?”
“please,” she begs. “please, master, it hurts.”
“good.” hobi sounds delighted when she twists yoonji’s nipple again, flicks at her clit. “next time you think of acting out, you’ll think of this then. won’t you?”
“yes, master,” she whimpers. please put it back, please let me come. “i’m your—your good girl, promise. i’ll be good for you.”
yoonji doesn’t want to ever be a brat again. she only wants to come. (she knows distantly that whenever she is finally allowed to come again it’ll be so, so good from all this torture, so overwhelming and perfect, but she can only focus on the present right now—and who knows, maybe that future wonderful orgasm will only come next week, or next month, depending on hobi’s mood. oh, god. she whines again.)
“please.”
“keep begging,” hobi returns, flicking meanly against yoonji’s throbbing clit. she squirms, trying both to move closer to and away from the touch. “it’s so lovely when you beg for me.”
“please, master.” her voice quivers, trembling with tears. “please, please, master.”
but hobi is cruelly firm and pushes her to the edge again, lets her dangle there for a second, then pulls her back—and again, and again, till she’s slurring and drooly, begging uselessly. she still wants to come—her pussy clenches and slick leaks out—but she also just wants to make hobi proud.
“please,” she whines again—another thing she’s lost count of, how many times she’s gasped out that one word. “it hurts, i need to—”
“you need to learn manners, darling.” she’s fucking her on the wand now, yoonji’s pussy stretched around the head of it, the vibrations inside her making her lose her mind. “you need to learn to ask for permission like a good doll. have you learned that yet?”
“yes,” she moans. she can’t even open her eyes any more. “yes, master, yes, i won’t—won’t be bad again, won’t—promise, i promise.”
“good girl.”
she pushes her to the edge again, takes the vibrator away, and coos when yoonji spasms and trembles, sobs her silly little pleas again.
then she hugs her.
pulls her into her arms tightly and murmurs soothingly, reminding her that she did well. “good girl,” she says, “you did so well, darling. made me so proud. so proud of you, babygirl—took your edges like such a darling.”
she sniffles. her pussy is still so sensitive, so desperate to clench down on hobi’s cock and come so hard, but it’s a pain she treasures. she made hobi proud—she made herself proud. if she keeps being a good girl, hobi will make her come tomorrow.
“thank you,” yoonji mumbles, cuddling closer to her girlfriend. “love you. feel so—hazy.”
hobi kisses her forehead, her nose, both of her cheeks. she’s covered in little kisses and soon starts giggling softly. she tries to kiss back, but she still can’t open her eyes.
“love you, love you,” hobi echoes. “so much, my baby. love you forever.”
yoonji sighs out and burrows into her arms. she doesn’t want to be bratty again—she wants to be hobi’s good girl, her spoiled baby. she yawns, blinks her eyes open but lets them close again. “sleepy,” she mumbles. “let’s nap.”
“of course, baby,” hobi says with a smile in her voice, pressing her lips to yoonji’s forehead again.
sunday really is the best day of the week.