#pls boss!mingyu has a chokehold on me

[vernon-s-whore]

*:･ﾟ✧Cockwarming*:･ﾟ✧

Boss!Mingyu x afab employee!reader

a/n: God, these pics have a literal chokehold on me

Warnings: nsfw as FUCK, minors dni y'all will lose braincells from all this smut, implied age gap (since he is the boss and everything) Established relationship

»»——⍟——««

This man is a tease and we all know it.

It's in his study, when you're trying to get some work done when this brilliant idea pops into your boyfriend/boss' head. At first, it's all fine. Sure, he's stretching you out in the best ways possible as you sit all prettily on him, length tacitly pulsating inside you, but this much you can handle.

It's when he leans forward, dragging his cock inside you when the slightest squeak escapes you. He leans forward, breath fanning your ear and whispers, "You're doing so well."

Each page you write, he praises you, running his knuckles over your back, both of you still almost fully-clothed; only you being sans pants.

His voice makes goosebumps rise on the back of your neck when he unbuttons the front of your shirt and pulls it away from your shoulder exposing your skin to the cold air. The dim glow from the fireplace, the lamp in front of you, make shadows rise along his veined arms, shirt rolled up to expose his taut forearms which he wraps around your midsection, hauling you against him, making you take him deeper.

He rests his chin on your shoulder, curving around you to peer at your paper, hand under your half-unbuttoned shirt, tracing your breasts, flexing his large hands over them, squeezing every now and then and it's so overwhelmingly slow and deep and warm that you feel like you will cry.

He kisses your shoulders, even massages them as you troop through page after page, soft voice murmuring, almost whispering praise after praise. Everytime you gyrate your hips for the slightest bit of more contact, you feel his hands hold you in place, shushing you with gentle but unyielding authority.

"You know i need this on my desk by morning, sweetheart," he hisses when you whine, trying to bounce on him, thighs sticky with the arousal dripping from you. You must have made a mess on Mingyu's pants too.

You snap your head back to glare at him, beg him, anything, and see his tie loosened, hanging too low; buttons undone, exposing the curve of his pectoral and fall back against him, breathing too hard, too fast, pleading with him.

"I'll submit it in the morning, i swear," you plead, scrabbling at his hands, which slide up your body, cupping your breasts, undoing the front clasp.

"I better have it on my desk," he relents, tweaking your nipples with deft fingers. Not long after, you're riding him, short gasps escaping his mouth as he fucks you, fully clothed in his chair. Finally, the tears from overstimulation have spilled down your cheeks, looking like tracks of gold in the yellow lighting. He licks them away, kissing every inch of your exposed neck and shoulders.

That's not really the last time he proposes you cockwarm him while getting work done.

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