Pairing: Joshua x reader
Word Count: 3.6k
Genre: Smut, pwp
Warnings: unprotected p in v, fingering, post-argument sex, creampie
Summary: You and Joshua hardly get in disagreements that aren't solved by talking things out, so when the two of you start spiraling, you use unconventional methods to refocus.
or
flashing Joshua mid-argument because the plot was lost long ago and you're tired of it.
thank you my loves @supi-wupi and @mylovesstuffs not only are you guys my favorite people ever but you also betad this so quick like you're both so amazing
You and Joshua almost never fight. Sure, you have little spats here and there like every other couple, but full-blown, yelling and shouting at each other? It’s almost unheard of. The two of you are both the kind of people who value communication above all, and most of the time, that means you talk things out before they ever get bad. You’ve always prided yourselves on that—on being the calm couple, the one that listens, that doesn’t let emotions boil over. All of that to say, you don’t know how the fuck tonight got so bad.
You can’t even remember what started the argument, something small like forgetting to put the dishes or laundry or something away. Something stupid. Something that shouldn’t have mattered, and yet here you are—voices raised, breaths coming too fast, both of you standing on opposite ends of the living room like strangers. Joshua’s standing by the counter, arms crossed, trying to keep his voice level. You’re standing a few feet away, clutching at your sleeves like that’ll somehow keep you from saying something you’ll regret.
You’ve both gone so off-course from the original topic that you can’t even try to think back because all you’re hearing are the words he’s saying now and you can feel yourself spiralling and going farther and farther down that rabbit hole and—
Okay, no.
You decide very quickly that this argument has gone on far too long. At this point, you don’t think either of you realize what you’re even arguing about.
“Joshua.”
“No, you have to understand that—”
“Josh”
“And I’ve just been doing all of these things at work and I come home and we—”
You watch him pace and ramble, and sigh. You pull the one thing that has ever gotten your boyfriend to stop mid-sentence. You tug your shirt up and over your head, tossing it straight at his and letting the fabric drape over his eyes.
“What the fuck?” Joshua’s voice is saturated with disbelief and irritation as he rips the fabric off and turns to face you, features twisted in rage before he freezes.
It’s almost comical the way his eyes go wide, jaw falling slack, eyes flicking between your face and your chest like he can’t figure out exactly what's going on. For a long, suspended moment, he just stares. His mouth opens, then closes. You can practically see the argument short-circuiting in his brain. His chest rises and falls a little too fast, anger still lingering at the edges of his expression, but confusion—and something else—slowly start to win out.
You cross your arms, half for modesty, half out of sheer defiance. “Are you done?” you ask, tone clipped but quieter than before.
Joshua blinks. Once. Twice. “You—what—are you serious right now?”
You shrug, trying to look nonchalant even though your heart’s pounding. “You weren’t listening, I wasn’t listening. I needed to get your attention.”
There’s a beat of silence, the kind that sits heavy between you, before his lips twitch—barely noticeable, but enough to tell you he’s fighting it. The beginnings of a smile, hidden under layers of exasperation.
He drags a hand down his face, groaning. “You can’t just—God, you’re impossible.”
“Maybe,” you say, taking a slow step closer, “but it worked, didn’t it?”
Joshua exhales, the last remnants of tension slipping out of his shoulders as he finally meets your gaze again. The anger’s still there, faint and frayed at the edges, but softened now by something much warmer. He looks at you for a long moment—like he’s trying to decide whether to laugh or kiss you—and finally mutters, “You’re unbelievable.”
“Yeah,” you reply, a small, tentative smile forming. “But you love me anyway.”
He shakes his head, a quiet huff of laughter escaping him as he steps closer, hands finding your bare skin. “Unfortunately for me,” he says, voice low as his thumb traces the dips of your waist, “you’re right.”
You wind your arms around his neck with a soft smile. “So, why don’t we go to the couch and actually talk about this, yeah? Because last time I checked neither of us gets this worked up over dishes or laundry.”
Joshua huffs out a breath that sounds halfway between a laugh and a sigh—the kind that admits you’re right but refuses to say it out loud. His forehead drops against yours for a moment, and you can feel the warmth of his breath fan against your skin.
“Yeah,” he murmurs, voice softer now. “We really don’t.”
You nod, fingers still idly tracing the back of his neck. “Then come on,” you say, tilting your head toward the couch. “Before we start round two over where we sit.”
That earns you a small smile, crooked and reluctant, but real. “Well, that's obvious,” he says as you walk together to the couch. He sits down first and pulls you into his lap, letting your legs swing to one side. “Your spot is always here.”
For a moment, neither of you say anything. You sit together, but there's still a space between you filled with a soft, uneasy quiet. You can still feel your pulse in your throat, still see the flash of hurt that crossed his face earlier. It lingers, even now.
Joshua’s the first to break the silence, his fingers trailing up the skin of your stomach as he does, grounding. “I hate when we fight.”
“Me too.” You rest your head on his shoulder, curling into him. “It always feels wrong. So let’s not fight and just talk about what’s really going on, m’kay?”
He nods, hands still absentmindedly tracing patterns on your bare skin. His voice is quieter now, careful. “I didn’t mean to yell. I just—” He pauses, takes a slow breath. “Work’s been insane lately. I keep coming home on edge, and I tell myself not to bring it here, but then something small happens and it’s like—” he gestures vaguely, helplessly “—everything just snaps.”
You listen—really listen—to the way he talks with his hands, the exhaustion in his tone, the faint tremor that betrays how much he’s been holding in. “You don’t have to handle all of that alone, you know,” you say gently. “I’m supposed to be here for you, but I can’t be if you shut me out.”
He flinches slightly, and then his shoulders drop. “You’re right. I know you are. It’s just… sometimes I feel like if I start talking about it, I won’t know how to stop, and you already have so much on your plate with work, and—”
“Joshua,” you interrupt softly. He looks up, and your voice steadies. “You’re allowed to lean on me. That’s part of being together. I want to be there for you, even when it’s messy. Especially when it’s messy.”
He stares at you for a moment, eyes softening. “You always know exactly what to say,” he says quietly, a small, rueful smile tugging at his lips.
You shrug. “Only because I’ve spent the last three years learning how to read you.”
That earns a quiet laugh from him, and for the first time all evening, the tension in the air finally seems to fade. He leans back into the couch, pulling you with him, head tipping against the cushion. “I’m sorry,” he says again, quieter now. “For snapping at you. For making you feel like you had to yell just to get me to listen.”
You shift to get a better view of him, legs falling to either side of his hips so you can cup his cheeks carefully. “I’m sorry too,” you admit. “I could’ve walked away before things got that bad. I just hate feeling like I’m not being heard. It makes me defensive, and I end up saying things I don’t mean.”
His hands find your waist again. “You were right to call me out. Even if your method was—” his gaze flicks downward, mouth twitching “—a little unconventional.”
You laugh, the sound breaking the last bit of leftover tension. “Hey, it worked, didn’t it?”
Joshua smiles, eyes glinting with warmth again. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “It did. Definitely did. You should do that every time we fight.” He responds playfully as his hands start wandering up your sides, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.
His hands find you slowly this time, not with hunger, but with something softer—like he’s afraid you might pull away. His fingertips trace the edge of your ribs, hesitant at first, the warmth of his palms grounding you back in the present. Every touch feels like an apology he doesn’t quite know how to say, a quiet way of asking, are we okay again? You let out a shaky breath and lean into him, the tension in your shoulders easing as the silence stretches between you.
The faint scent of his cologne lingers, cedar and something faintly sweet, wrapping around you like the remnants of a memory you don’t want to lose. It’s familiar, and it steadies you—the way his pulse beats against your skin, the slow, even rhythm that’s always been your anchor. He exhales, a quiet sound that brushes against your temple, and you feel his hand tighten just slightly at your waist, as if to make sure you’re still there.
"Maybe I will," you whisper, your voice barely above a breath, a small smirk forming on your face, "But then you might go taking advantage of it, starting fights more."
"Seeing you like this might be worth it." Joshua jokes softly before he pulls you closer, finally brushing his lips against yours.
Your eyes flutter closed instinctively, the world narrowing to the soft curve of his mouth against yours, how his hands—still cradling your waist—tighten just a fraction, steadying you both, as if he's savoring the moment as much as you are. A quiet sigh escapes you, your heart thudding in your chest, the vulnerability from your earlier argument turning into something tender as he presses closer.
The kiss deepens, his lips moving with deliberate slowness, exploring yours in a series of gentle presses that feel like unspoken apologies and promises all at once. The sensation is intoxicating, the plush warmth of his lips coaxing yours to part just enough to invite him closer without urgency. His fingers trace lazy patterns along your sides, the calluses on his palms creating a delicious contrast against your sensitive skin, igniting tiny sparks that travel down your spine and settle in your core.
There's an undercurrent of emotion in the way he kisses you, a quiet intensity, his breath hitching as your hands find their way to the nape of his neck, threading through the soft strands of his hair. Your bodies press closer, the heat between you growing, but he doesn't push, his lips coax yours into a rhythm that's reverent. It's as if time has stretched, every heartbeat echoing in the quiet room, the air thick with the subtle rustle of fabric as you lean into him.
His hand slides from your waist to cradle the curve of your jaw, thumb brushing your cheekbone as he pulls back just enough to gaze at you, eyes dark and searching. That familiar furrow between his brows returns, softer now.
"Tell me," he murmurs, his voice rough-edged. "Tell me I didn't wreck everything tonight."
You shake your head slightly, your forehead resting against his. "You know," you whisper. "that you could never wreck everything. We're good." The sincerity in your words loosens something in him, a shuddered breath escaping his lips.
He kisses you again, harder this time, lips parting against yours. His hand slides from your jaw down to your throat, fingers pressing lightly into your pulse point as his thumb strokes the soft skin beneath your ear the way he knows you like. Your answering moan is swallowed by his mouth, vibrating against him, the sound thickening the air.
His tongue traces your lower lip and you open for him willingly, letting him sweep inside with a low groan of his own. The kiss turns messy, hungry—a culmination of pent-up frustration and relief. His hands roam down your back, calloused fingers catching against your spine, pulling you flush against him. The rise and fall of his chest against yours syncs with your own ragged breathing.
He breaks the kiss only to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses down your jawline and neck, teeth scraping lightly over your collarbone. Your head falls back, fingers tangling in his hair, urging him lower. He obliges, lips closing over the peak of one breast, the wet heat of his mouth making an ache bloom deep in your belly.
You arch into him, a strangled gasp escaping. "Shua...please..." His name comes out pleading, rough-edged.
His answer is a low hum against your skin, the heat of his mouth closing around your bare nipple. The sensation is electric—sharp suction, the wet flick of his tongue, the scrape of teeth just shy of pain. Your hips jerk against his lap, a whimper torn from your throat. One of his hands slides down your stomach, fingers dipping beneath the waistband of your pajama pants. He pauses there, knuckles pressing against the damp lace beneath. You grind down against his hand, grinding against the heel of his palm as need coils tighter inside you. His groan vibrates against your breast, his fingers finally slipping beneath lace to find slick heat.
"Christ," he rasps against your skin. "You're soaked, baby." His thumb circles that swollen bundle of nerves, deliberate, slow strokes that make stars burst behind your eyelids. The pressure builds, sharp and insistent, pushing you towards that familiar brink. His mouth moves to your other breast, lavishing it with the same torturous attention while his fingers dance beneath your clothes, a rhythm designed to unravel you completely.
You twist against him, legs tightening around his hips. "Need you." The plea slips out, thick and desperate.
His answering chuckle vibrates against your nipple—saccharine sweet. He withdraws his hand slowly, fingers slick and glistening as he lifts them to his lips, sucking them clean with a groan that punches straight through you. "I know, my love," he murmurs, voice wrecked. "I’ll take care of you, promise."
His touch returns, not to where you crave it most, but tracing the curve of your hipbone, dipping lower beneath the elastic of your underwear. The drag of his knuckles is maddening—gentle yet seeking before he finally hooks his fingers into your waistband, dragging them down your thighs. Cool air hits overheated skin, making you shudder, hyper-aware now of every shift in his grip beneath the couch cushions where he’s anchoring you against him. The rough denim of his jeans chafes your inner thighs as he spreads you wider, settling deeper into his lap.
“Shh,” Joshua murmurs into your throat, lips brushing the frantic pulse-point beneath your ear. One palm slides up the sensitive arch of your spine, guiding your chest flush against his torso. You feel the tremor in his breathing, the hitch as he shifts beneath you. His hardened length presses tight against your stomach—a thick ridge beneath worn fabric. He groans low, fingers tangling in your hair to tilt your face back, exposing your throat. Not teeth this time, but soft, sucking kisses blooming beneath your jawline, deliberate, almost reverent.
Your hands scramble against his shoulders, nails grazing taut muscle. “God, Josh, please,” you choke out. It’s less demand, more ragged prayer.
His laugh is a soft puff against damp skin. Slowly, agonizingly, his free hand cups you—not yet penetrating, just holding. He lets you throb against his palm, skin slick and swollen. His thumb slips backward, tracing the rim of your entrance with unbearable lightness. When you whimper, bucking against the tease, he finally dips one thick finger inside—barely an inch—a slow, languid thrust. He watches your face, eyes hooded and dark. “Look at me,” he rasps.
You force your eyes open. The intensity of his gaze pins you—heat, tenderness, and raw vulnerability. His finger curls deep, hitting a spot that steals your gasp. A second joins it, stretching you with a deliberate slowness that borders on cruel. Every stroke drags against slick flesh, retreats too fast, sinks back deeper. Your hips roll instinctively, chasing the fullness. Each inward press draws a sharp hitch in your breathing. His thumb finds your clit, circling slow, maddening circles that build pressure until stars bite the edges of your vision. The rhythm builds—in, out—a slow tease giving way to driving urgency. You clutch his shoulders, fingers digging into skin. Inside, his knuckles press against a place that makes you cry out.
His kiss swallows the sound—deep, drowning—as his fingers thrust harder, deeper. “Come for me,” he whispers against your lips, voice fraying. “Let me feel it.”
The command unravels you. Pleasure crests sharp and sudden, shattering through your nerves. You arch violently, your cry muffled against his mouth as the world whites out—electric pulses radiating from his deliberate fingers. He holds you trembling through every wave, fingers stilling deep within you, thumb resting gently against your oversensitive clit. Aftershocks flutter through your stomach as you slump against his chest, breathless. His own restraint is fraying; beneath you, every muscle is taut steel. He presses a kiss to your sweat-damp temple before he lifts you up, placing you down on the couch.
You hear the unbuckling of his belt and the removal of fabric more than you see it, still lost in the post-orgasmic haze, before he climbs over you, pressing light kisses all over your face.
“Love you so much,” he whispers, voice full of devotion, “so fucking much. You’re everything, you know that?”
His words sink into you like honey—warm and golden—as his lips brush your eyelids, nose, cheeks. Every touch feels sacred as he carefully peels away the only clothes separating you from him. Then he’s lowering himself, elbows bracketing your shoulders, eyes locked onto yours. The air grows thick with heat and yearning. His fingers trace down your trembling thighs, spreading them wider, exposing you completely. When he nudges your entrance, you gasp at the blunt press of him—full, insistent, but unbearably slow. He pauses.
"You okay?" Joshua asks, voice rough as gravel. You nod, unable to speak.
He pushes inside inch by careful inch, filling you with a stretch that borders on ecstasy. You arch beneath him, nerves singing as every ridge of him drags against sensitive flesh. Your legs tighten around his hips, forcing him deeper. A groan rips from him—low, fervent—as he seats himself fully, moving only when you whimper.
The rhythm starts slow, sinuous thrusts that build a liquid heat low in your belly. His hips roll against yours, each withdrawal leaving you aching, each plunge a shockwave of pleasure. His forehead drops to yours, breaths mingling—cedar-sharp—as he murmurs broken praises against your lips.
"God, feel how you take me… perfect… you're so fucking tight baby, fuck."
You lose words, lost in sensation—the slick drag of skin against skin, the faint tremor in his thighs as he holds back, the pressure pulsing where your bodies meet. Your fingers dig into his shoulder blades, pulling him closer as your hips lift to meet him. The sound he makes—a choked growl—echoes through your core.
His thrusts speed up, forehead pressing against yours as he bends you in half. His eyes are dark with lust and love and emotions so overwhelming all you can do is hold him closer. His hand slips between your hips, thumb finding your clit, circling so lightly at first it’s agony. Pressure builds, tightening unbearably. His thrusts deepen, faster, harder now. He lifts his head, eyes blazing into yours.
“I love you so much, baby. Fuck, I’m so close, pussy taking me so good, shit—”
Your climax crashes hard—a burst of white-hot sparks tearing through you. You cry out, shaking uncontrollably as he drives into you relentlessly. He follows moments later, shuddering with a groan that seems torn from his very soul, burying his face in your neck as he spills hotly inside you.
Silence descends, thick and syrupy, punctuated only by ragged breaths and the soft thud of sweat-slicked skin relaxing against leather cushions. Joshua collapses beside you, an arm thrown protectively over your waist. His fingers trace idle patterns on your stomach, feather-light strokes that calm your still-trembling limbs. You curl instinctively into the curve of his body, the heat radiating from him a comforting anchor. The sharp cedar of his sweat-damp skin mixes with the heady musk of sex.
“Still breathing?” His voice, rough-edged but tender, brushes against your ear. You manage a soft hum in response, fingers seeking his hand where it rests on your belly. He entwines them without hesitation.
Outside, rain begins to patter against the windowpane—a gentle, rhythmic counterpoint to the quiet. You close your eyes, focusing on the sound, the warmth of him pressed along your back, the way his thumb smooths over your knuckles.
Eventually, he slips away, returning with a soft towel warmed under tap water. He cleans you with unhurried reverence, every swipe of the cloth intimate but chaste—a balm to skin flushed and sensitive. You watch his face. The furrowed brow, the quiet concentration. When he’s done, he tosses the towel aside and pulls the crocheted throw from the armrest, draping it over you both before settling behind you again.
"Warmer now?" he murmurs. You nod, burrowing backward. His lips press against your shoulder blade—a silent promise—as he pulls you flush against him. The rain’s steady patter fills the space where anger once roared.
He tugs the blanket higher, tucking it snugly around your shoulders. His breath evens against your nape, deep and slow—the rhythm of near-sleep.
“We’re gonna need to shower.” He whispers into your skin, causing you to groan.
“Five minutes?” You respond, pulling him closer.
And, well, he was never able to say no to you anyway.
So um my k-pop fan friend at school told me I kinda look like a female version of a guy named Vernon from a band called seventeen. So I searched him up. I mean, I can sort of see it. But dang that's just crazy.
Pairing: choi seungcheol x fem!reader x kim mingyu
Summary: Being Seungcheol and Mingyu’s girlfriend comes with many perks, one of them including access to their recording studio and hearing their future hits before anyone else. It also means they have very inappropriate ideas they will certainly bring to life with you.
Word count: 7.8k
Genres/warnings: smut, polyamory, idol!seungcheol x non-idol!reader x idol!mingyu, established relationship, reader has fomo, description of feeling abandoned due to tight schedule, kinda separation anxiety, inaccurate representation of working in the studio and how all the equipment operates because author is fairly clueless and wrote on guesses of observing idol vlogs and minimal research.
Smut warnings: Minors DNI, sooo… sound play??? (if it’s a thing), a lot of touch, v fingering, light breast and nipple play, hickeys, making out, two big dicks (yes), oral sex (m receiving), deepthroating, cum eating, gagging, slight breath play, cock slapping/rubbing, trying to fit them both, size and strength kink, manhandling, multiple orgasms, praise, degradation, dirty talk, piv sex (unprotected, let’s pretend to judge them) and vag double penetration, creampie, dumbification, brief subspace, overstimulation, gentle aftercare, our boys are actually careful and attentive, use of vaaaarious pet names from cute to filthy; as always probably forgetting smth, let me know if you find anything.
A/N: it’s finally out!!! after me postponing this for almost a month now. but these two have been assaulting everyone lately and i just couldn’t bear it any longer. so here it is. the first work in the small series of this particular throuple. since i have received multiple anon requests for yacht and gym scenes there will be more of them and i made sure to set it up in this story. so, dear anon(s) (please identify yourself with an emoji next time so i know if you’re the same person or not) who requested gym and yacht threesomes, i will deliver don’t worry ;) i might combine it all in one big fic but i haven’t decided yet as even this piece of text was difficult to write with having to track three bodies and their states and poses. anyways, as always i wish you a pleasant read, your feedback is always welcome in all forms you’re comfortable with (comments, tags, anon), requests are open ᙏ̤̫
A/N2: I have edited this text but I’m worried that there are still things i failed to notice because I was editing it at 3 AM caffeinated but tired. If you notice some logical mismatches please let me know, I will fix
If you see any mistakes: I try to proofread but English isn’t my first language, proceed at your own discretion.
Masterlist. | [2] Jealous Mascot
The bright red digital numbers above the elevator doors flicker to a halt, signalling your arrival. A soft, almost imperceptible ping echoes in the sterile silence of the corridor, a sound you’ve become closely familiar with over the past few years. It’s a little past 4 PM, and the company building hums with late afternoon lethargy, most of the day’s frantic energy already spent. Your own errands are finished, leaving you with restless energy that could only be quelled by one thing: surprising your boyfriends.
Lately, you’ve been seeing each other a lot less than usual. Or rather, you have been seeing them less. The two of them, working in tandem on their unit album, are practically symbiotic, existing in the same creative bubble every day. And if you were brutally honest with yourself, the shift in routine affected you. A lot. Despite your repeated assurances to both Seungcheol and Mingyu that you were totally fine, that you understood the demanding, all-consuming nature of their schedule—and you truly did—it did little to soothe the quiet, petty ache in your heart that sometimes left you feeling… abandoned. A nascent fear of missing out was taking root, its vines curling around your ribs with a suffocating squeeze.
It was that very feeling that propelled you here today. You’d gone so far as to casually check in with their manager, confirming that their afternoon was slated for studio time—perfect for a drop-in. You love seeing Cheol and Gyu in their element, a sight both awe-inspiring and insanely attractive. There’s specific magic in the way Seungcheol’s brow furrows in concentration as he dissects a beat, his fingers moving over the mixing board with the confidence of someone who’s been doing it for years. It’s in the way Mingyu closes his eyes, fully immersing himself in the booth, his voice cutting through the melody with sharp verses that are nothing short of captivating, especially when you think that he wrote them all himself. Witnessing the meticulous curation of their creative child, seeing two handsome men be absolute experts at what they do while radiating passion—there’s nothing sexier.
Yet, the shadow of their impending departure looms large. The list is endless: finalising the choreography, the gruelling music video shoot, the content filming, the Going Seventeen episodes they still have to squeeze in. You actively stop yourself from mentally cataloguing it all, because each item is a stepping stone that leads them away from you. They will leave, and you’ll have no chance of seeing your men for even longer stretches. And when they return, jet-lagged and exhausted, they will be just as busy, already preparing for the next thing. And then the world tour will start, and they will leave again.
How absolutely awful, unfair, and utterly demoralising.
Your melancholic train of thought is finally broken as you stand before the familiar studio door. You try the handle out of habit, finding it locked, though the distinct, muffled thump of a bassline bleeds through the studio’s soundproofing. Sighing, you land a few sharp, deliberate knocks against the heavy wood, ensuring your arrival is noticed over the music.
The sounds behind the door quiet down abruptly. Not even a minute later, you hear the definitive click of the lock, and the door swings open just a crack. Mingyu’s head peeks out, his handsome features initially set in a questioning, slightly distracted frown that instantly melts away the second he registers it’s you.
Your face breaks into a warm smile, but before you can even offer a greeting, his eyes grow comically wide with surprise. “Hyung!” he shouts, his voice booming with joy that’s surely audible across the entire floor. “Our baby is here!”
He doesn’t just open the door; he swings it wide open, a grand, sweeping gesture. He steps aside just enough to allow Seungcheol, who’s swivelled around in his chair by the control panel, a clear glance of you standing in the doorway. And then, several things happen in a delightful, chaotic simultaneity: the door is opened even wider, you are swept clean off your feet, and dragged inside the ambiently lit studio. The world tilts, and suddenly you are crushed against the solid, unyielding wall of muscle that is Mingyu’s entire body. He smells of pomegranate cologne and warm skin.
He kicks the door shut with his foot, the lock engaging again with a quiet thunk, all while holding you aloft with an effortless strength that never fails to make your head spin. He then proceeds to squeeze you in his arms, a full-body hug so tight it forces a tiny, breathless squeak from your lips. The sound is what triggers him to finally loosen his grip, his large hands shifting to cradle you instead, afraid his enthusiasm might have actually hurt you.
Meanwhile, Seungcheol watches the entire spectacle unfold from his chair, a fond, adoring smile playing on his lips, making his dimples show and his eyes crinkle at the corners. He looks tired, you note, but the sight of you seems to have washed some of the fatigue away.
“Okay, okay, you big bear,” you laugh, patting Mingyu’s broad shoulder as he finally, reluctantly, sets you down on your feet. He immediately swoops in to peck your lips, a quick, firm kiss that tastes of iced americano, and your insides flutter with affection in response. The cage of his arms loosens, and you finally have a chance to cross the short distance to the room’s centrepiece—the mixing console—and greet your other boyfriend.
“Hey, baby,” Seungcheol murmurs, his voice a low, warm rumble that vibrates right through you. You stop between his parted thighs as he swivels the chair fully towards you. His hands come up, snaking around your thighs to pull you closer as you lean down to press your lips to his. His kiss is slower, more deliberate than Mingyu’s, a silent ‘I missed you’ spoken against your mouth. His arms slide up to your hips, giving a couple of soft, possessive pats on your butt before resting there comfortably.
“What are you doing here, princess? Not that I’m complaining,” Seungcheol asks, his thumbs drawing absent-minded circles on your hips. His gaze is soft, taking in every detail of your face.
“Just missed you,” you murmur, the simplicity of the statement holding the weight of all the unsaid loneliness of the past week. “Finished my stuff early. Thought I’d ambush my favourite producers.”
Mingyu comes up behind you, his chin hooking over your shoulder, enveloping you in a sandwich of their combined warmth. “Best ambush ever,” he declares, nuzzling into your neck. “We’ve been stuck on this one adlib for an hour. You’re a welcome distraction.”
But that was a couple of hours ago. The initial euphoria of your surprise visit gradually settled into the comfortable, familiar rhythm of their work. Soon after the greetings, they returned to the track, the professional focus snapping back into place with an almost audible intensity. Seungcheol was back at the panel, headphones on, listening to a take with a critical ear, while Mingyu was back in the vocal booth, fine-tuning a single line over and over.
And you, after the excitement wore off, were back to watching them from the plush couch in the corner. You took a few candid photos, a short video of Mingyu making a silly face through the glass between takes, a shot of Seungcheol’s profile illuminated by the cool blue light of the screens. But there are only so many moments you can capture before you start to feel like a spectator again—an observer in their world, not a participant. The old, petty feeling of being left out begins to creep back in, coiling in your stomach.
So, at some point, you begin to sigh—loudly, dramatically—shuffling and tossing yourself around the couch cushions in a deliberate, albeit playful, attempt to gather at least some crumbs of their attention. While Cheol is focused on the panel and Gyu is in the booth, recording a particularly tricky run, the elder still catches your restlessness. He begins throwing you more and more frequent looks over his shoulder, his eyes a mix of amusement and gentle admonishment, silently willing you to behave. To every such look, you respond with an increasingly devilish, challenging smile, pushing your luck just to see how far you can go.
You leave the couch and take another chair by his side, drawing your knees up, letting your foot swing idly in the direction of his chair, your socked toe accidentally-on-purpose lightly kicking his seat. He catches your ankle, his grip firm but gentle, and gives you The Look—the one that says ‘I see you, and you’re being a menace, and we will address this later.’ It only makes your smile widen.
It’s Mingyu’s voice, slightly tinny through the booth speakers, that finally breaks the silent standoff. “Hyung, my throat is starting to feel a little raw. Can we take five? I need water.”
Seungcheol doesn’t take his eyes off you, a slow smile finally gracing his features as he releases your ankle. He presses the intercom button. “Yeah. Break time. I think our audience is getting restless.” He winks at you, and your heart does a little happy flip.
Mingyu emerges from the booth, stretching his arms high above his head with a groan. “I’m starving. Did we even eat lunch?” He collapses onto the couch and you quickly return to sit next to him. Mingyu is immediately slumping against your side, his head heavy on your shoulder.
“You had a protein bar at 2 PM,” Seungcheol deadpans, finally taking off his headphones and running a hand through his hair. He looks at the two of you curled up on the couch, and his expression softens immeasurably. “Takeout?” he suggests, already pulling out his phone. “My treat. For our very distracting, but very welcome surprise visitor.”
The collective decision is unanimous, and for a beautiful, fleeting moment, surrounded by the low hum of expensive equipment and the warmth of your two boyfriends, the world outside this studio, with all its deadlines and distances, ceases to exist.
The wait for the food settles into a comfortable, tangled silence. Seungcheol has you sideways in his lap, his arms locked securely around your middle like a living seatbelt, his chin resting on your shoulder. Your legs are a dead weight across Mingyu’s thighs, and he absentmindedly runs his large, warm hand up and down your shin, his fingers tracing idle patterns on the fabric of your sweats. They talk over your head, their voices a low, familiar rumble that vibrates through you. The conversation meanders from the minutiae of their day—a frustrating software glitch, a particularly good iced coffee—to the looming, exciting chaos of their upcoming weeks.
“The flight to LA is what, eleven hours?” Mingyu muses, his thumb pressing a soothing circle into your calf muscle. “I’m gonna pack my neck pillow. The one you got me, baby. The really ugly comfortable one.”
“It’s not ugly,” you mumble into Seungcheol’s neck, but your heart isn’t in the defences. Your mind is already on the eleven-hour flight, the ocean they’ll cross without you.
Seungcheol’s chest expands with a deep breath beneath your cheek. “Yeah, eleven. We land, probably hit the ground running. Scouting locations the next day, I think. The schedule our manager sent is… intense.”
“It’s going to be worth it,” Mingyu says, and the excitement in his voice is genuine, infectious, and it makes you feel all the more petty for the sulk you’re nursing. “The treatments for the music video, the concepts… hyung, it’s going to be so cool.”
They talk about rented house that is more like a set, about the boat for golden hour and night shoot, about surfing and playing pool not for fun, but for teaser content. From their talk you pick up that the whole concept is about two young (and attractive) guys living their life leisurely, enjoying it to the fullest. Each word is another brick in the wall separating their world from yours. You listen, silent, tracing the seam of Seungcheol’s t-shirt with a fingertip, the sulk solidifying into a hard, quiet knot in your chest.
Sure enough, Cheol notices. He always does; his attunement to your moods is a sixth sense. They both possess it. Communicating your feelings has never been particularly complicated with them, their empathy a constant, safe harbour in your relationship. This time, however, you find the words stuck in your throat. You don’t want to be the party pooper, the rain on their dazzling parade. This unit debut is a monumental thing, a dream they’ve meticulously built. You know the history, the slight pivot from Mingyu’s initial desire for a solo debut to this powerful collaboration—a testament to their bond and shared ambition. Your own feelings of lack feel insignificant in comparison.
And so, naturally, what’s noticed by one is immediately telegraphed to the other. A glance passes between them over your head, a silent conversation held in raised eyebrows and slight nods. Suddenly, the comfortable tangle of limbs shifts. You’re being gently manhandled, pulled upright until you’re sitting properly in Seungcheol’s lap, facing them both. They crowd in against the couch, two muscular, concerned bookends, their focus entirely on you.
“Hey,” Mingyu says softly, his hand coming up to cup your cheek, forcing your downcast eyes to meet his. “What’s going on in that pretty head? You’ve gone all quiet.”
“It’s nothing,” you try to deflect, offering a weak smile that doesn’t reach your eyes. “Just listening. It all sounds amazing.”
Seungcheol’s arms tighten around you. “Your voice says ‘amazing,’ but your whole body is saying something else, princess. Talk to us.” His tone is gentle but insistent, brooking no argument. They are set on coaxing your truth out into the open, refusing to let you bottle it up.
Before you can formulate a proper response, a sharp buzz from Seungcheol’s phone on the coffee table fractures the moment. The takeout has arrived. Seungcheol lets out a soft sigh of frustration, his forehead resting against your temple for a brief second. “Don’t think this conversation is over,” he murmurs, his voice a warm promise against your skin before he carefully extricates himself from the couch and heads out to retrieve your food.
The moment the door clicks shut, Mingyu shifts closer, his body a solid, comforting line of heat beside you. “He’s right, you know,” he says, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “We can tell something’s up.” He doesn’t push further, instead choosing to redirect the conversation back to LA, but this time, he paints a different picture. “You know, they rented this huge house in Malibu. For the shoot, but it has, like, six bedrooms. And we’re supposed to be there for a week. There’s a boat, sure, for the MV, but maybe we could sneak out for a sunset cruise just for us… if we had company.”
He talks about driving up the Pacific Coast Highway, not for a photoshoot, but for the view. About playing pool at one of the bars they will scout, after the crew has left for the day. He carefully, deliberately, weaves you into the narrative of their work trip. “I’m the unit leader, you know,” he adds, a hint of playful boastfulness in his tone that makes you smile despite yourself. “I have… some sway. If a certain someone wanted to come along, and if that certain someone could maybe take some time off work… I’m just saying, it’s a possibility.”
By the time Seungcheol returns, arms laden with bags of food that fill the room with the savoury scent of garlic and spices, he’s met with two identical sets of pleading, hopeful puppy eyes. He stops in his tracks just inside the door, his eyes narrowing suspiciously as he glances between your suddenly bright expression and Mingyu’s Cheshire cat grin.
“What?” he asks, setting the bags down cautiously. “What did I miss? Why are you both looking at me like I’m the last packet of kimchi?”
“Mingyu says I might be able to go to LA with you,” you burst out, unable to contain the hopeful tremor in your voice.
Seungcheol’s suspicious gaze shifts to Mingyu, who just shrugs, still smiling. “I said it’s a possibility. If she can get the time off. And if her incredibly generous and handsome boyfriends pull some strings.”
The conversation continues as you unpack the containers of tteokbokki, fried chicken, and sides. Seungcheol, being the pragmatic general leader he is, confirms the logistical truth while sitting cross-legged on the floor, handing you a pair of chopsticks across the table. “It’s possible, baby. The company’s renting the place, there’s space. But you have to understand,” he says, his expression softening as he sees your excitement. “I can’t promise we’ll have much free time. It’s not a vacation for us. It’s work. You might be alone in that big house a lot.”
You lean forward, cutting him off before he can dissuade you. “I don’t care. I just want to be there. I want to be included. Even if I’m just reading by the pool while you’re on set. It’s better than being here, missing you.” The honesty spills out, raw and simple.
The look they exchange is filled with such fond adoration it makes your chest ache. They find it endlessly endearing, this dichotomy of yours: how you always act so tough and self-sufficient, playing the role of the understanding, independent girlfriend, only for them to inevitably discover that all you’ve ever truly wanted is to simply tag along, to be near them, to have their attention.
When the food is gone and the containers are stacked neatly back into the bags, a contented lethargy settles over the three of you. You splay out on the couch like a languid cat, your head in Mingyu’s lap and your feet tossed over Seungcheol’s thighs. You are warm, full, and happy, the earlier melancholy soothed by the promise of inclusion. You are so content, in fact, that you completely miss the significant, unspoken glance that passes between your two boyfriends. You miss the subtle shift in the atmosphere, the charged quiet that descends after Seungcheol clears his throat and stands up.
“Alright, back to work. My turn to lay down some verses,” he announces, stretching his arms above his head with a short groan. His eyes meet Mingyu’s for a fraction of a second too long.
You suspect nothing as they return to their stations. Mingyu gently pats his thighs. “Come here, supervisor. Best seat in the house.” It’s a common occurrence; the two of them are endlessly touchy-feely with you, and touch is your shared, primary love language. So you go, settling comfortably into his lap, his arms coming around your middle to cage you in gently as he focuses on the control panel.
He gives Cheol directions through the microphone, his voice professional and clear. “Try it with a little more rasp on the second line, hyung. Yeah, like that. Really lean into the consonant.” You resign yourself to observing, content once again to just witness their creative process, to feel included in this small way.
It’s not until fifteen minutes in, lulled by the low thrum of the instrumental and the rich sound of Seungcheol’s voice pouring through the monitors, that you finally register the change. Mingyu’s hands, which had been resting innocently on your stomach, have crept under the fabric of your tank top. His palms are warm and slightly rough against your skin, brushing slow, deliberate circles into your ribs. His touch is idle, almost absent-minded, as if he’s not entirely aware he’s doing it. But then his fingers inch higher, skating along the sensitive skin just beneath the curve of your breasts, and a full-body shiver wracks your frame.
In the booth, Seungcheol’s eyes, previously closed in concentration, snap open as if he feels the shift on the spiritual level. He’s watching you through the glass, his verse trailing off. He doesn’t look annoyed. A slow, knowing smile spreads across his face as he sees your breath hitch, your head loll back against Mingyu’s shoulder. Mingyu’s lips find the shell of your ear.
“You’re being so good, just sitting here,” he murmurs, his voice a low vibration that has nothing to do with the recording. “So pretty for us.” His thumbs sweep higher, finally brushing the undersides of your breasts, and you gasp softly.
Seungcheol’s voice comes through the speakers, deep and laced with dark amusement that goes straight to your core. “Getting a little distracted, Mr.Producer?” he purrs into the microphone. “I can’t focus with this kind of view.”
What unfolds after is categorically, gloriously unfair. But as Mingyu’s hands slide up to cup you fully and Seungcheol’s heated gaze pins you through the glass, any thought of complaint evaporates.
Who are you to complain?
The world tilts on its axis, or perhaps it’s just you being manoeuvred with a dizzying, practised efficiency. Somehow, in a tangle of eager limbs and soft, hungry laughter, the three of you end up crammed inside the vocal booth. The space, designed for one, maybe two people, becomes an intimate, pressurized capsule with the three of you inside. You are sandwiched between your beefy boyfriends, their larger frames caging you in, their body heat a palpable, intoxicating force. They are delighted, their eyes dark with shared intent that feels both thrilling and overwhelming, a full scale assault on all your senses that you welcome with a racing heart.
It starts, deceptively, with a return to normalcy. They shift from the heated moment at the console back to their professional personas, and for a fleeting second, you think that was it—a brief, spicy interlude now concluded. They begin anew, their voices taking on a didactic tone as they explain the process to you.
“Okay, baby, listen up,” Mingyu says, his voice a low murmur near your ear as he adjusts a large set of studio headphones over your head, the cushioned ear cups sealing out the room's ambient noise. “We’re gonna show you how the magic really happens. Something you’ve been missing out on all those other times you just lazed on the couch.” He boops you on the nose when you roll your eyes at his teasing comment.
Seungcheol, on your other side, leans over to the small control panel inside the booth, flicking a switch. “We’re routing the booth mic to your headphones. Live monitoring. You’ll hear everything exactly as we do when we record. Every breath, every little sound.”
His voice comes through the headphones crystal clear, an intimate whisper directly inside your skull, simultaneously layered over the real-life sound of him speaking right next to you. It’s a disorienting, incredibly cool effect.
“Whoa,” you breathe out, and the word echoes in your own ears, amplified and immediate.
“See?” Mingyu grins, his voice also doubling in your headset. “Fun, right? Now, say something else.”
“Hello?” you whisper like they do in those ASMR videos, giggling at the weird sensation of hearing your own voice with such pristine clarity.
“So pretty,” Seungcheol’s voice purrs in the headphones, and you can’t tell if he said it out loud as a passing compliment or with intention.
It’s fun. A unique, behind-the-scenes glimpse into their world. Until it’s decidedly not just fun anymore. They start slow, so insidiously gradual you fail to register the exact moment their instructive crowding transforms into something else entirely. The technical explanations fade, replaced by a different kind of tutorial.
You get pressed back into the solid wall of Mingyu’s chest, his hands settling on your hips, not to move you, but to hold you in place. Seungcheol, facing you, continues his ‘demonstration’, his hands slipping under the hem of your tank top. His palms are warm and slightly rough against the soft skin of your stomach, splaying out possessively.
“You have to be really relaxed in here,” Seungcheol murmurs, and the mic picks up every low vibration of his words, piping them straight into your head. His hands slide higher, caressing your ribs, rubbing soothing circles that feel anything but soothing. “Tension comes through on the recording. Right, Gyu?”
“Mmm, absolutely,” Mingyu’s voice agrees in your ear, his lips brushing against your hair, a dual sensation that makes you shiver. His hands on your hips tighten just a fraction. “You have to let go. Let us take care of everything.”
They start with a litany of compliments and praise, their words weaving through the live feed in your headphones, layering over the physical sensation of their lips on your shoulders, the nape of your neck, the sensitive skin of your throat.
“So good for us, princess,” Seungcheol whispers, his breath hot against your collarbone, the mic catching the wet sound of his kiss.
“Our perfect girl,” Mingyu adds, his voice a low rumble against your back. “Just melting for us. Listen to how pretty your breathing is.”
And you are melting. Your head falls back against Mingyu’s shoulder, your breathing hitching, becoming heavier, and the headphones amplify every shaky inhale and soft, shuddering exhale, feeding it back to you, pulling you deeper into the sensory spiral.
Then Mingyu’s fingers slip past the loose waistband of your sweatpants, finding the dampening fabric of your panties beneath. He doesn’t push them aside, not yet, just rubs slow, firm circles over the centre of you through the cotton, the pressure building with a maddening patience.
“She’s already so wet, hyung,” Mingyu reports, his voice thick with awe and desire, and the fact that he’s saying it both, for you to hear through the mic and for Seungcheol to know, sends a fresh wave of heat through you.
While his fingers work you through your panties, Seungcheol’s hands are busy above. He palms your breasts through your tank top, his thumbs finding your nipples and brushing over them until they pebble into hard, aching points against the fabric.
“And so responsive,” Seungcheol answers, his voice dark with pleasure. He hikes the tank top up, and the cool air of the booth hits your heated skin, followed immediately by the warm wetness of his mouth. He lavishes attention on one breast, sucking deeply, his tongue flicking over the peak before he grazes it with his teeth, making you cry out. The sound is loud and sharp in your own ears.
They are sickeningly sweet throughout it all, their whispered encouragements a stark contrast to the claiming roughness of their hands and mouths.
“Our pretty little cockslut,” Seungcheol murmurs against your breast, the degradation disguised as the highest form of praise, and you whimper, the crude word sparking through you.
“That’s it, baby. Just take it. You’re doing so well,” Mingyu encourages, his fingers finally slipping beneath the barrier of your panties to find you slick and throbbing.
You can feel the hard ridge of Mingyu’s erection pressing insistently into the small of your back through the rough denim of his jeans. In front of you, Seungcheol is squishing you against him, his own hips beginning a slow, subtle grind against your hip as he continues his worship of your breasts, your neck, your stomach—touching, licking, sucking dark bruises onto your skin that you know will linger for days.
Meanwhile, Mingyu is slowly, expertly fingering you, curling his fingers inside you to find that spot that makes your knees buckle. He brings you to your first climax with relentless, gentle pressure, his other arm banded across your stomach to hold you upright as you shudder against him, a broken, gasping moan echoing deafeningly in the headphones.
After that, the atmosphere shifts, shedding the last vestiges of playfulness. It turns wilder, more desperate. They help you onto your knees on the padded floor of the booth, the world narrowing to the two magnificent men standing over you. With cooperation that speaks of years of familiarity with one another, they unbuckle their jeans and free themselves.
They are both big, a fact you are never not acutely aware of, but the differences are stark and thrilling. Mingyu is long and straight, a perfect, hammering length. Seungcheol is impossibly thick, a heavy weight in his hand, with an upward curve that you know hits all the right places. You’re left panting, crawling closer on your knees, your mind hazy with lust, utterly unable to choose who to serve first. It’s pathetic, and a tiny, sane part of your brain cringes at your eagerness, but if having two insanely hot, devoted boyfriends did anything to you, it was this—unleashing a suppressed, ravenous cockslut that existed solely for their pleasure and your own.
They take turns at first. While one fucks your face with slow, controlled thrusts, the other is fisting himself and watching you work your mouth, their groans and whispered filth a symphony in your headphones.
“Look at her, hyung. Takes it so good,” Mingyu grunts, his hands gently cradling your head as Seungcheol watches, his own hand stroking his length.
“Wider, baby. Let me see,” Seungcheol commands, and you obey, opening your jaw until it aches, the echo of obscenely wet sounds intensifies in your ears.
Then Mingyu gets an idea, his eyes lighting up with mischievous heat. “Hyung, come here.” He shifts, standing face-to-face with Seungcheol, their bodies framing your vision. At first, they just rub their shafts together against your cheeks, smearing precum on your skin, a lewd display that has you whining with need.
“Open up, princess,” Seungcheol orders, his voice rough. “Let us in.”
They guide themselves forward, and the broad heads of their cocks press against your lips simultaneously. You open as wide as you can, and they push in. The stretch is immediate and obscene. You have a small mouth, and the invasion of two such girthy cocks is overwhelming, stretching your lips to a painful thinness, poking the insides of your cheeks out. You gag instinctively, even though they aren’t aiming for your throat, tears springing to your eyes.
“Fuck, that’s... tight,” Mingyu grits out, his head falling back.
“Feel that, Gyu? Fuck, she’s trying to suck us both,” Seungcheol moans, his hips giving an aborted thrust.
And you are. You try to swirl your tongue around them both and wrap your strained lips around them tighter, moving your head a fraction of an inch to slurp them deeper. But the practicality of the fantasy soon wins out. As much as they clearly enjoy the sensation of being pressed together in the hot, wet confines of your mouth, they can see the strain on your face.
“Shit, baby, okay, too much,” Seungcheol is the first to pull back, his thumb stroking your tear-streaked cheek. “Don’t wanna hurt you.”
“Feeling us throb against each other, though... fuck,” Mingyu adds, pulling out as well, his breathing ragged. “That was so hot. You’re so good for trying, baby. So perfect.” This is the thing about your men—they will experiment and if it fails they will never make you feel bad for it.
They go back to taking turns, and the relief of focusing on one at a time makes you redouble your efforts. First, it’s Mingyu. He holds your head in place, his touch gentle but his thrusts becoming wilder, abandoning control. He fucks your mouth with a desperate rhythm that makes you gag and sputter, your throat working around him
“Gonna cum, baby. Right there. Take it, take it all,” he chants, and his release hits the back of your throat, bitter and warm. He holds himself deep, his thighs trembling. “Swallow, pretty girl. Can’t make a mess in the studio.” You obey, working your throat until you’ve swallowed every last drop. He pulls out, panting, and strokes your hair. “Good girl. Didn’t spill a drop. Hyung, your turn. She’s all yours.”
Seungcheol doesn’t waste a second. He fists his hand in your hair, pulling it back away from your face so he can watch. He goes slower but pushes deeper, his incredible girth stretching your lips wide, the curved head nudging right against your throat, making it bulge visibly with each thrust.
“Look at that,” he rasps, his eyes glued to where he disappears into your mouth. “Taking me so deep. My perfect little throat slut.” He loves a hint of breathplay, and he holds himself deep, suffocating you gently on his thickness, holding you there until your jaw locks and your eyes water. Then he starts to move again, a torturous rhythm of deep, shallow thrusts. The wet, gurgling, squelching sounds are grotesquely loud in the studio headphones, a filthy soundtrack to the act. He holds back his release, drawing it out, watching you fall apart beneath him.
“Cumming, baby. Right down your pretty little throat. Don’t you dare waste it,” he grunts, and his release floods your esophagus, just as bitter as Mingyu’s. You squeeze your eyes shut and will your stomach not to rebel, swallowing convulsively around him. Spit and cum bubble around the base of his shaft as he stills, pulsing, before finally pulling out with a soft, satisfied sigh.
After that, the three of you collapse into a heap on the floor of the booth, a tangled, sweating, spent mess. The headphones are askew but still somehow on, now transmitting the ragged symphony of your combined panting. Your boyfriends are immediately all over you, their hands gentle and concerned, checking you over.
“You okay, baby? We didn’t go too far?” Mingyu asks, wiping a stray tear from your cheek with his thumb.
“Your jaw okay? Your throat?” Seungcheol queries, his voice soft now, all the earlier roughness gone, replaced by pure, unwavering care.
To their delight, you are miles away, floating deep in your subspace. You can’t form coherent thoughts, let alone words. Your world has narrowed to the taste of them on your tongue, the ache in your jaw, the throbbing, empty ache between your legs that has been cruelly ignored while you were busy giving them brain. You’re pulsing with need, so turned on from servicing them that your own pleasure is a screaming, desperate thing.
In response to their questions you just whine, nuzzling into Seungcheol’s neck before turning your head to press a soft, open-mouthed kiss to Mingyu’s bicep. Your hips give an involuntary, tiny roll against nothing, seeking friction.
They both feel it, see it. A shared, predatory grin passes between them over your head.
“Oh, I see, princess,” Seungcheol chuckles, a dark, promising sound. “Don’t you worry.”
“Did we neglect our precious little baby?” Mingyu coos, his hand sliding down your stomach, his fingers tracing the waistband of your not-yet-discarded sweats. “Left you all throbbing and untouched after you were so good for us?”
“That won’t do,” Seungcheol concludes, his voice firm. “We can’t have our good girl feeling dissatisfied. That definitely calls for compensation.”
The world dissolves into a symphony of sensation and sound, a dizzying vortex where the only anchors are the two solid, powerful bodies that bracket you. Held aloft in a modified full nelson, your sweats and underwear long since discarded to some forgotten corner of the booth, you are the blissful, helpless centre of their universe. Two sets of strong arms are locked beneath your thighs and around your body, suspending you in the air, your weight nothing against their combined strength. And between your bodies, the devastating, core-deep connection: two thick, hard cocks driving into your slick, obscenely stretched pussy in a relentless, alternating rhythm.
The stretch is immense, overwhelming, a delicious burn that borders on pain before tipping over into pure, mind-numbing pleasure. Every thrust from Seungcheol, impossibly thick and curved, is followed by Mingyu’s longer, smoother stroke from behind, spearing you on a continuous, rolling wave of sensation that leaves you mewling and whimpering. And every pathetic, wanton sound you make is captured, amplified, and fired directly back into your skull through the studio headphones, a filthy, private soundtrack that drives you pathetically insane.
Their grunts, the wet, rhythmic squelch of their relentless pace, their whispered filth—it’s all right there in your head, a cacophony of debauchery.
“Look at her take it, Gyu,” Seungcheol grunts, his voice a rough, breathless rasp in your ears. His hips snap forward, burying himself to the hilt and making you choke on a gasp. “Fuck, so tight, even after all these years of us stretching her pretty little cunt around both of us. You feel that?”
“God, yes, I feel you,” Mingyu moans from behind you, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. His thrusts are deeper, slower, but no less powerful. “You’re rubbing right against me inside her. Hot little sheath made just for us.” His hands, secured under your thighs, find purchase on your hips, his thumbs digging into the soft flesh there. “Our personal fucktoy. Isn’t that right, baby? Just a warm, wet hole for us to use.”
Their words, so crude and degrading, are delivered with a tone of absolute reverence, and the dichotomy makes you clench around them both, drawing twin groans from your boyfriends.
“Fuck, she liked that,” Seungcheol laughs, a dark, thrilled sound. He leans in, his forehead pressing against yours, his breath hot on your face. “You like being our little fucktoy, princess? Our dumb, drooling cocksleeve?”
You try to form a word, a plea, anything, but all that escapes is a broken, guttural moan as Mingyu shifts his angle, hitting a spot so deep it makes stars burst behind your eyelids. The tip of his cock is kissing your cervix, you’re certain. Your jaw goes slack, saliva gathering at the corners of your mouth, your tongue lolling out slightly. You are a mess, utterly fucked dumb, and they are revelling in it.
Seungcheol shuts you up with a searing, open-mouthed kiss. His tongue licks into your mouth, smooth and warm, claiming you with possessiveness that has you seeing white. It’s deep and wet and filthy, and you’re sure you cum a little just from the taste of him, the sheer dominance of the act. Your body convulses around them, a weak, tremulous orgasm that has them both cursing, their thrusts stuttering.
“Jesus, just from a kiss?” Mingyu pants, his voice full of awed wonder. “You’re so fucking easy for us. So perfect.”
You’re delirious, lost completely in the press of their bodies, the smell of their sweat and sex, the overwhelming feeling of being so small and utterly manhandled by them. They are stretching you out so deliciously, filling you beyond what any normal person would think possible, and the tears that have been welling in your eyes finally spill over, tracing hot paths down your temples and into your hairline as you break the kiss and your head rests against Mingyu’s shoulder just for a moment. You can only keen and groan, the sounds jerky and short, punctuated by their powerful, driving thrusts.
“Look at her cry,” Seungcheol murmurs, pulling back from the kiss to watch your face, his own expression a mask of rapt fascination. “So pretty. Crying because she’s so full of us. Because it feels too good to handle. Poor baby.” He uses his grip on you to adjust your angle slightly, and the new depth he achieves has you sobbing.
Then Mingyu, who’s fucking into you with deep, measured strokes from behind, reaches one large hand around your hip. His fingers find your oversensitive, throbbing clit, already swollen and aching from the relentless friction of Seungcheol’s thick cock ramming into your spongy softness. His touch is expert, circling the bundle of nerves with a firm, precise pressure that is sheer torture.
“There we go, baby,” Mingyu coos in your ear, his voice a low, intimate rumble. “Let’s get you there again. Cum for us. Squeeze our cocks while you do it. Milk us dry, you perfect little slut.”
The dual stimulation is too much. It’s an avalanche of sensation, a direct, white-hot line to your overloaded nervous system. Your brain fizzes into static, a complete and total mush. You know your body sags, going completely boneless in their hold because you feel their arms strain with the renewed effort of keeping you suspended, their biceps flexing powerfully against your skin.
“Fuck, she’s gonna cum,” Seungcheol grits out, his rhythm faltering as he feels the first violent clench around his length.
“That’s it, baby, let go,” Mingyu encourages, his fingers working faster, his own thrusts becoming shallower, focused on grinding against that spot inside you.
Your orgasm crashes over you with the force of a tidal wave, silent for a second before a ragged, shattered scream is torn from your throat, echoing deafeningly in your own ears. Your vision tunnels, your entire body seizing up, convulsing around the two cocks buried deep within you. The pulsating, milking contractions are intense, drawing ragged groans from both men.
It’s a race between them then, to finish while you’re still riding your high, your spasming muscles pulling their releases from them.
Mingyu finishes first. With a guttural, broken cry of your name, he slams into you one final time, his body going rigid against your back. You feel the hot, sudden spurts of his cum painting your inner walls, the sensation so intimate it wrings a breathy, oversensitive moan from you. The feel of his release, the way his hips jerk against you, is the final push for Seungcheol.
“Fuck! Gyu—!” is all Seungcheol can manage before he’s following right over the edge, his own orgasm triggered by the feel of Mingyu pulsing inside you alongside him, and another powerful, involuntary squeeze of your abused pussy around his girth. He buries himself as deep as he can, his thrusts turning into shallow, frantic jerks as he empties himself into you, his release mixing with Mingyu’s, filling you to overflowing.
The intimate rubbing and pulsing of them against each other inside you, the feeling of being so utterly claimed and filled, prolongs their releases, drawing them out into shuddering, breathless moments. They stay like that, locked together inside you, holding you aloft as they ride out the last waves of their pleasure, their heavy pants and your own weak, hitched breaths the only sounds in the booth, amplified grotesquely in your headphones.
The sound of it all—the wetness, the ragged breathing, their low groans—is making you dizzy, a pleasant sickness rising in your stomach from the sensory overload. You float in a hazy, post-coital limbo until Mingyu, with a tenderness that contrasts violently with the preceding frenzy, gently tugs the headphones from your head.
The sudden silence is jarring, a vacuum of sound. You breathe out a long, shuddering sigh of relief, as if you’ve been held underwater for an eternity and have finally broken the surface.
“Whoa,” you slur, your tongue feeling thick and clumsy in your mouth. “It’s... quiet. Nice.”
The guys laugh quietly above you, the sound warm and real, not a distorted feed in your ears. Seungcheol presses a kiss to your sweaty temple. “Yeah? Too much for our baby?”
“S’nice to hear you... for real,” you mumble, nuzzling into his neck, still feeling properly, thoroughly fucked out.
Then comes the aftercare, a practised, gentle ritual. They don’t just drop you. They carefully, slowly, lower your boneless body until your feet touch the padded floor, but your legs immediately betray you, buckling like jelly. Mingyu is there in an instant, his arms coming around you to hold you upright, taking your full weight against his chest. “I’ve got you, baby. I’ve got you.”
Seungcheol carefully pulls out, a soft hiss escaping his lips at the sensation. He tucks himself back into his jeans before turning his full attention to you. “Okay, sweetheart? Just breathe.” He runs a hand over your hair, your back, checking you over with a clinical tenderness.
Then it’s Mingyu’s turn. He presses a soft kiss to your shoulder before gently passing your wobbling form into Seungcheol’s waiting arms. He quickly cleans himself with a wet wipe—of course they have a whole stash conveniently in the studio—and pulls his pants back up. Seungcheol, meanwhile, lifts you as if you weigh nothing, carrying you out of the humid, sex-scented booth and into the cooler air of the control room, laying you down gently on the large, comfortable couch.
Mingyu trails behind, gathering your discarded underwear and sweatpants. He gently tugs your tank top, which had been rucked up under your armpits all this time, back into place, his touch achingly soft. They move around you in a silent, efficient dance, a well-rehearsed routine of care that they performed many times before. They tenderly clean the sticky mess between your legs with cool, soothing wipes, patting you dry before carefully pulling your underwear back on and your soft sweatpants back up your legs. Mingyu retrieves a bottle of water from the mini-fridge, unscrewing the cap and holding it to your lips.
“Small sips, pretty girl,” he murmurs, supporting your head as you drink. The water is cool and blissful on your parched throat.
Every action is interspersed with kisses—to your forehead, your cheeks, your knuckles—and a constant stream of soft, reassuring praise.
“You did so well, baby.”
“So good for us, our perfect girl.”
“Just rest now, we’ve got you.”
“So beautiful like this, all ours.”
Their words and touches are a lifeline, slowly pulling you back from the depths of your fucked out subspace, anchoring you back to reality, back to them.
Later, when coherence has returned and you can form full sentences again, sitting curled between them on the couch with Mingyu’s jacket thrown over your shoulders, Seungcheol stands up and walks over to the control panel with a mischievous glint in his eye.
“Wanna hear something, baby?” he asks, his voice light.
Before you can answer, he hits a button. The studio speakers crackle to life. And your own voice, breathy and desperate, fills the room.
“Please... oh god, please...”
You freeze, your entire body lighting up with a fierce, all-consuming blush. Your eyes go wide with horror as the recording plays—the wet, obscene sounds of their thrusts, your choked sobs, Mingyu’s growled “Cum for us, you perfect little slut,” Seungcheol’s dark purr of “Take it all, our dumb, drooling cocksleeve.”
“Oh my god, turn it off!” you squeak, burying your burning face in your hands. “That’s so embarrassing! Delete it! Delete it right now!”
But your two boyfriends are beaming, beyond proud. Mingyu wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side while Seungcheol grins, utterly unrepentant.
“Delete it? Not a chance,” Seungcheol says, a wide, boyish smile on his face. “This is going straight to our private clouds. This is our new comfort recording for the upcoming tour.”
Mingyu nods enthusiastically, nuzzling into your hair. “Yeah. For when we’re in different time zones and missing you so much it hurts. Now we can just put this on and it’ll be like we’re right here with you. Or... you’re right here with us.”
The horror slowly begins to melt away, replaced by a warm, fluttering ache in your chest. The embarrassment is still there, a hot prickle on your skin, but it’s overshadowed by the overwhelming love you feel for these two ridiculous, wonderful, insatiable men.
“You’re both insane,” you murmur, but you’re smiling now, unable to help it.
"Insane for you," Seungcheol corrects softly with a meaningful wiggle of his eyebrows after finally putting the audio on pause. He returns to the couch and leans in to kiss you, his lips soft and sweet now against yours.
Something tells you, as you look at their proud, loving faces, that this recording will not provide comfort. It will only serve to starve all of you, to ache for each other with a fierce, desperate longing that will make every second of their tour feel like an eternity. It will be a beautiful, exquisite torture, a constant reminder of the devastating intimacy waiting for them at home. And by the time they’re back, you will all be ravenous.
*.(๓•͙ ˕ •͙๓).* like + reblog + comment if you enjoyed your time reading this!
Tagging those who expressed interest in the comment section of the original post. Thank you everyone and I hope you liked it: @jaja-salute @aikikim @jupittergirl @xchelseaaaa @assoulacaratassil
2025 carat revival : dynamics week
'this road is beautiful, because I have you walking beside me'
no one loves seventeen more than seventeen loves each other🤍
2025 carat revival : dynamics week
'this road is beautiful, because I have you walking beside me'
no one loves seventeen more than seventeen loves each other🤍
Summary: You didn’t think tonight would end with your brother’s best friend telling you how much he wants to fuck you… but here you are. Thighs shaking. Heart pounding. Fingers soaked. And it’s not even midnight yet.
Or alternatively where one needy night you end up on an anonymous sexting app only to realise this stranger yet familiar person you're sexting is actually your brother's best friend, kim mingyu.
Pairing: Mingyu x female reader
Setting: Sexting app
Word Count: ~ 3k
Themes: Sexting, slow-burn, depraved, intensely erotic, forbidden (brother's best friend)
Warnings: Explicit sexual content, masturbation, voice kink, dirty talk, mutual pining, brother’s best friend dynamic, fantasizing, edging
It starts off harmless. A new app, an anonymous chat. You weren’t even trying to get off tonight — not really.
You just wanted to feel wanted.
You sign up with the name petal.crush, something vague and romantic to offset your restlessness. It’s just a sexting app — no profile photos, no bios, no identifying anything. Just usernames and raw, unfiltered chat.
The tagline was catchy: “No faces. Just fantasies.”
You match within seconds.
Matched with: lowtone.sin
Your screen lights up with the first message before you can even type.
> lowtone.sin:
You clicked first. So you’re either impatient or a little reckless.
Which one is it?
You bite your lip, already smiling at the confidence behind his tone. Typing back feels like slipping into something dangerous.
> petal.crush:
Maybe both.
You planning to do something about it?
> lowtone.sin:
That depends
Are you here for sweet words and flirting?
Or are you here to get ruined?
Your thighs instinctively press together.
> petal.crush:
Ruin me. Slowly.
There’s a long pause. You stare at the screen, anticipation crawling up your spine.
Then finally—
> lowtone.sin:
Good girl.
Let’s start with something easy.
What would I hear if I called you right now?
Would you sound sweet and shy?
Or would you already be wet and waiting?
You suck in a breath.
There’s no point pretending. No coyness left in you tonight. This man — whoever he is — has the kind of tone that makes your stomach clench and your mind submit. You press the mic icon before you can talk yourself out of it.
> petal.crush \[voice note – 0:12]
“I’m not touching myself yet. But I’m aching for it. My panties are soaked. Just from reading your messages”
The response comes fast.
> lowtone.sin:
You’ve got a filthy little mouth for someone who hasn’t even been told to touch yet.
Bet you squirm when someone takes control of you, don’t you?
That tight, needy body of yours probably begs for it.
You whimper — aloud — and type with trembling fingers.
> petal.crush:
You’re right.
I love being told exactly what to do.
I want to be teased, edged, used.
> lowtone.sin:
Fuck.
Get your hand between your thighs. Now.
Over your panties. I want your fingers soaked before I even let you move them.
You obey.
The fabric sticks to you immediately. You slide two fingers up and down the drenched cotton and exhale into the dark.
Your phone buzzes again.
> lowtone.sin:
I want to hear how wet you are.
Show me.
You record again, a soft gasp escaping your lips as you press a little harder.
> petal.crush \[voice note – 0:16]
“I’m dripping. The fabric’s so wet it’s clinging to me. I want to slide them off and touch my bare pussy for you.”
> lowtone.sin:
Not yet
Good things come to desperate girls
Tell me — how often do you touch yourself thinking about strangers?
You bite your lip.
> petal.crush:
Not streangers
Someone specific.
> lowtone.sin:
Oh?
Lucky bastard.
What’s he like?
Your throat goes dry.
Because he’s you. You’ve fantasized about him. That voice — it’s too perfect, too polished. The way he calls you good girl feels familiar in a way that’s wrong and addictive.
You shake it off.
> petal.crush:
Tall. Broad.Big hands. Sharp jaw.Smiles like sin.Looks like he could ruin me in one night and leave me wanting more.
There’s a pause. Then a photo notification.
Image\[jpg.1]
You tap on it, breath catching in your throat.
It’s a hand — his hand — wrapped around a thick cock. His grip is firm, the tip flushed red and glistening. You can see the base of his abs, tight and flexed, veins running across his forearm. It’s cropped — no face, no hints — but god, it’s pretty.
> lowtone.sin:
What do you think?
> petal.crush:
I think I want it down my throat.
> lowtone.sin:
You say things like that and expect me to keep my composure?
> petal.crush:
No.
I want to hear you lose it.
Another voice note comes in. His voice is deeper now — rough, frayed around the edges.
> lowtone.sin \[voice note – 0:28]
“Fuck. If you were here right now, I’d have you on your knees. I’d hold your jaw, make you look up at me while I slide my cock across your tongue. I bet your eyes would water so pretty when I push deep.”
You moan. Loud. Hand slipping inside your panties at last, slick fingers circling your clit in dizzy little swirls. Your legs tremble.
> petal.crush:
I can’t wait. Please.
Tell me what to do. I’ll be so fucking good.
> lowtone.sin:
Take off your panties.
Lie back.
Spread your legs and take a photo for me.
I want to see the mess you made just from my voice
You obey.
You slide them off and grab your phone with one shaky hand, angling the camera down — flushed thighs, glistening lips, your fingers posed teasingly just above where you ache most.
Image\[jpg.2]
You hit send. Instantly.
> lowtone.sin:
Jesus
Look at that cunt.
Bet it’s tight as hell.
You fuck yourself slow or fast?
> petal.crush:
Depends how desperate I am.
> lowtone.sin:
And how desperate are you tonight, baby?
> petal.crush:
I’m so wet I could come without touching.
But I want you to drag it out. Make it painful.
There’s a moment of silence. Then:
> lowtone.sin:
…Fuck.
This is going to sound crazy.
But your voice?
Your photos.
You’re too fucking familiar.
Your chest goes still.
That tone. That rasp. That deep little breath before he speaks.
Your heart lurches.
No.
It can’t be.
You type, hands shaking:
> petal.crush:
Say something. Just one word.
I need to be sure.
He doesn’t text.
He sends a voice note.
> lowtone.sin \[voice note – 0:06]
“Y/N.”
Your stomach drops.
It is him.
That voice, you know it. You’ve heard it a hundred times.
Because Mingyu — your brother Seungcheol’s best friend — has been in your house more times than you can count.
And now, he’s here. Holding his cock. Telling you how good your pussy looks.
Your fingers are still between your legs.
And you’re still soaked.
Your heart is pounding.
You’re sitting in your dark bedroom, soaked fingers trembling between your thighs, staring at your screen like it’s a weapon pointed directly at your chest.
Mingyu.
Your brother’s best friend.
The voice you’ve moaned to in secret.
The man whose towel dropped in front of you two summers ago, whose gaze lingered a beat too long when you walked into the kitchen in your smallest sleep shorts. The man who walked in on you changing and looked—just looked—but didn’t leave for three entire seconds.
Your mouth goes dry.
You wait for him to say something else. Anything.
lowtone.sin:
Say it.
I know you know it’s me.
I want to hear it.
You type slowly, every nerve ending alive.
petal.crush:
Mingyu.
I knew it the second you said my name.
You sound exactly how I imagined when I used to fuck myself to the thought of you.
A pause.
Then—
lowtone.sin:
Holy fuck.
You used to what?
petal.crush:
You have any idea how hard it was living in the same house and pretending I wasn’t soaking through my panties every time you smiled at me?
lowtone.sin:
Tell me.
Everything.
You pause, pulse pounding.
And then you type like you’re possessed.
petal.crush:
The shorts?
I wore those on purpose. I knew they barely covered my ass.
Every time I bent over to grab something, I made sure you were in the room.
Once, I even “accidentally” spilled water on my chest so I could walk past you in a wet tank top.
And that day you walked in on me changing?
I left the door unlocked.
His reply comes fast.
lowtone.sin:
You fucking minx.
I had to jerk off in your goddamn bathroom after that.
I saw your tits. I saw your thighs.
And the way you looked at me—like you wanted me to stay?
petal.crush:
I did want you to stay.
I wanted you to push me against the mirror and fuck me stupid.
Right there. With Seungcheol downstairs.
Another voice note.
You brace yourself before you tap it.
lowtone.sin \[voice note – 0:34]
“I swear to God, Y/N. If I had known you wanted it even half as bad as I did, I wouldn’t have lasted another day pretending. Every time you moaned in your sleep when I stayed over, I nearly lost my mind. I wanted to sneak into your room and make you finish what you started.”
Your whole body jolts.
petal.crush:
I used to fake moan just loud enough for you to hear when I knew you were sleeping in the next room.
I imagined you sneaking in and putting your hand over my mouth while you fucked me into the mattress.
lowtone.sin:
Jesus fuck.
I used to picture you riding my thigh on the couch while Seungcheol played video games right next to us.
Just your pretty little cunt grinding against me, biting your lip so you wouldn’t make a sound.
You moan—out loud—and grab your phone, hand back between your legs.
You don’t even bother hiding it this time.
petal.crush \[voice note – 0:23]
“I’m touching myself again. I can’t stop. I’m picturing your hand over my mouth, your cock buried in me, and your voice in my ear telling me I’m your filthy little secret.”
lowtone.sin:
You are my filthy little secret.
Mine.
No one else gets to hear you like this.
No one else gets to see what I’m seeing.
Another picture arrives.
Image\[jpg.3]
He’s naked now, lying back, abs tight, one hand gripping his cock. He’s glistening with pre-cum, thick and flushed, the kind of cock you want to sink your teeth into.
You whimper.
lowtone.sin:
Let me see you again. All of you.
You slide your shirt off. Fingers trembling, you spread your legs wider and take the shot — body flushed, thighs slick, clit swollen and needy.
Image\[jpg.4]
You don’t even hesitate before sending it.
lowtone.sin:
I want to fuck you against every surface in your house.
Against the washing machine while it rumbles.
On your brother’s bed while he’s in the shower.
On the goddamn kitchen counter while you beg me not to stop.
petal.crush:
I used to imagine you standing behind me while I washed dishes.
Sliding your hand down the front of my shorts and telling me to keep doing chores while you made me come.
lowtone.sin:
I fantasized about making you gag on my cock while Seungcheol watched a movie in the next room.
You’d cry on it. I’d fuck your throat until you begged me to come inside.
And I’d pull out, grip your jaw, and say: “Open.”
You rub yourself harder now, two fingers circling your clit while you picture everything he’s saying.
petal.crush \[voice note – 0:28]
“I’d do it. I’d drop to my knees for you so fast. I’d swallow you down and let you use my mouth. I want it so fucking bad. Please—talk me through it. Tell me what to do.”
lowtone.sin \[voice note – 0:32]
“Slide two fingers in. Slow. Stretch that tight pussy out while I stroke my cock and imagine it’s your sweet cunt clenching around me. Keep rubbing that clit. But don’t come. Not until I tell you.”
You moan brokenly and do as he says.
Fingers curling deep.
Your walls flutter.
You need him so badly it hurts.
lowtone.sin:
How many times have you come to the thought of me?
petal.crush:
I lost count months ago.
lowtone.sin:
What was your favorite fantasy?
You hesitate… then type.
petal.crush:
You bend me over the bathroom sink after a swim.
Your trunks are still wet.
I’m dripping all over the tile.
You grab my throat. You fuck me so hard I can’t even look at myself in the mirror.
And when I come, you keep going.
Until I’m shaking. Ruined. Begging.
He moans — this time in a voice note — and the sound is enough to send you right to the edge.
lowtone.sin \[voice note – 0:24]
“You’re going to be the death of me. You want to be fucked that dirty, babygirl? You want to cry from how good it feels? I’ll give you every filthy fantasy you’ve ever had. Just say the word.”
You hit record with shaking fingers.
petal.crush \[voice note – 0:19]
“Please. Make me come. I’m right there. I want to scream your name. Let me be yours. Just say it, Mingyu.”
lowtone.sin:
Come.
Now.
Be my good girl and make a mess for me.
You explode.
White-hot pleasure tears through your core, every nerve singing. You cry out his name, legs twitching, soaked fingers buried in your pussy as you ride the orgasm out.
You’re a mess.
You can barely breathe.
And then—
A voice note. Raspy. Guttural.
lowtone.sin \[voice note – 0:14]
“Fucking hell. I’m coming—fuck—Y/N, I’m coming thinking about that tight pussy and your filthy mouth saying my name.”
You both go quiet for a minute.
Breathless.
Spent.
But buzzing.
You’re still panting.
Your fingers are sticky with your own slick. Your body’s boneless. Your skin feels too hot, your breath too shallow. The little hum of your phone is the only sound in the room, and you’re suddenly very aware of how quiet it is.
And how loud the truth is.
You just came for Mingyu.
And he just came for you.
Your brother’s best friend. The one you’re not supposed to want.
But God — you want him so bad your bones ache.
The screen glows.
lowtone.sin:
…Still alive?
petal.crush:
Barely.
I think you melted my brain.
lowtone.sin:
Good.
That was the goal.
You sounded so fucking pretty when you begged for it.
I replayed your voice note three times before I came.
Your cheeks flush with warmth that runs straight to your core.
petal.crush:
My legs are shaking.
Like… actually.
You wrecked me through a screen.
lowtone.sin:
Bet you’re all messy and flushed and glowing right now.
Wish I was there to see it.
Would kiss every inch of you. Clean you up with my tongue.
Your breath stutters.
petal.crush:
You’re gonna make me start all over again.
lowtone.sin:
Oh?
You that greedy for me already?
petal.crush:
I’ve been greedy for you since I was nineteen.
Since you walked out of the shower that one time shirtless and dripping and smiled like nothing was wrong while I nearly came just from looking at your waistline.
lowtone.sin:
Holy fuck.
I remember that day.
You wouldn’t meet my eyes.
You were wearing that little white top… no bra.
I had to jerk off in Seungcheol’s bathroom after dinner.
petal.crush:
I knew it.
I remember hearing the water run again and thinking, please let him be thinking about me.
lowtone.sin:
I always was.
Every time I came over, you were the only thing on my mind.
And every time I smiled, every joke I cracked — it was me trying to keep it together.
Pretending I didn’t want to drag you into your room and fuck you until you screamed.
petal.crush:
You don’t have to pretend anymore.
A beat passes.
Then:
lowtone.sin:
I want to ruin you, Y/N.
For real.
I want to see how that pretty mouth looks moaning my name.
I want to taste how sweet you are when you’re trembling under me.
I want to hold your wrists down and fuck you until you're mine.
Your chest squeezes. It’s still hot and filthy between you, but now there’s something else curling underneath it — something heavy and sweet and real.
lowtone.sin:
Remember that party last year?
When you wore that backless dress?
petal.crush:
Yeah. You kept refilling my drink.
lowtone.sin:
Because I couldn’t stop staring.
I wanted to drag you into the guest bathroom and eat you out against the door.
You were laughing, dancing like you didn’t know what you were doing to me.
petal.crush:
I knew.
I bent over on purpose.
Just so I could feel your eyes on my ass.
I wanted to know if you’d finally break.
lowtone.sin:
I almost did.
I had to go home early and jerk off to the image of your bare back and heels.
Imagining how you'd sound if I fucked you in them.
You’re flushed again. Dizzy with need. The ache is back, deeper than before.
petal.crush:
You’re making me wet again.
lowtone.sin:
Good.
Want you wet every time I speak.
Want you to fall asleep with my voice in your head and my name between your legs.
You record another voice note, throat thick with need.
petal.crush \[voice note – 0:18]
“You’re already in my head, Mingyu. I’m aching for you. Touching myself again. Can’t stop thinking about how you’d feel inside me.”
lowtone.sin:
Fuck.
You’re gonna kill me.
You’re perfect. You’re mine.
There’s a moment of pause. His next message is slower, quieter.
lowtone.sin:
We’re not going back after this, are we?
You stare at that sentence, heart pounding. You type slowly, surely.
petal.crush:
I don’t want to.
I don’t want to pretend I don’t want you anymore.
I want this. You.
Even if it’s wrong.
lowtone.sin:
Then it’s us.
No more secrets.
No more pretending.
petal.crush:
You gonna come see me?
lowtone.sin:
You better leave the door unlocked.
Because I’m coming over tomorrow night.
And I’m not leaving until I’ve had your legs around my shoulders and my name in your throat.
Your whole body tingles.
petal.crush:
You sure you can handle me?
lowtone.sin:
Baby, I’ve been waiting for this for years.
I’m gonna make sure you never forget the first night we stop pretending.
And just like that, you're already aching for round two.
Even if it hasn't even begun yet.
__________________
Part 2
Author's note: This idea has been in my head for a while now so I had to let it out. I originally planned to write a sexting smut that felt more authentic to the story, as this is set on a sexting app, I wanted to include all the elements to it like actual images(just as one does in smaus), audios of them moaning or whimpering yk, short video clips and all but I realised I'd get reported if I did that so I had to keep it limited to words. Hope y'all liked it still. This format was a new one and I struggled a bit with it but still enjoyed working on it nonetheless.
summary: 5 weddings in one year. 5 dates you saved for you and your boyfriend to attend — before he cheated. and now, you had to force your best friend, vernon, to go with you. but after losing a bet, mingyu agrees to take vernon’s place and be your date. this wasn’t how any of this was supposed to go, but you guess you could settle going with your only one-night-stand from college.
warnings: oral (f!recieving), fingering, 69ing, unprotected sex, reader on top, praise, mingyu has boyfriend dick<3, sub-ish!mingyu, also power bottom!mingyu 👍, multiple sex scenes, marijuana smoking/shotgunning, marijuana-induced horniness lol, one bed trope, forced proximity, miscommunication, HEAVY mutual pining. nsfw (minors / ageless blogs dni).
word count: 19.9k
note: first things first, APOLOGIESSSSS for this taking so long. I've had a lot going on (which I know just about everyone says) and I was lowkey struggling to write this, even tho I was so amped for it. nevertheless, I'm so glad I was able to focus and finish it, because I care so much for these two and I desperately wanted to share their story with you 💓 per usual, please expect angst with your smut, and if you cry, I will not judge you and honestly would love to hear it lol. enjoy friends! (taglist posted at the bottom.)
in rotation: bmf, sza / mona lisa, mxmtoon / gorgeous, taylor swift / moonstruck, enhypen / finally // beautiful stranger, halsey
Your mom had told you that the friends you make in your first year of college stay with you for life, but you didn’t expect that when you met Vernon. He had been shy, refusing to speak to anyone in your orientation group, but knowing glances turned into sitting next to each other, which then had you both whispering jokes back and forth, until finally, he told you his name. Hansol Chwe to be exact, but he insisted on “just Vernon.” By the second semester of freshman year, you both had become inseparable. He was your best friend, been with you through some of the toughest moments of your adult life, and you wouldn’t trade him for the world.
Vernon’s friendship survived through many of your boyfriends, and you knew he’d outlast many more. He experienced some of the worst ones – a.k.a. the men who refused to believe you two were just friends – and also the boring ones – the one guy who used you to get to him. But none of them had pissed him off more than your most current breakup: the man who was three years your senior and cheated on you with a 22-year-old. You assumed by age 27, you’d know how to pick ‘em, but that was clearly wrong.
Now you were left to your own devices with five weddings to attend this year. In retrospect, maybe there was a few you could’ve skipped, but you hated saying no in situations like this. You had agreed to go to all of them with your now ex-boyfriend in mind, placing a 2 on the invite’s attending line. Per usual, Vernon had stepped up and begrudgingly offered himself to be your date.
So why were you now meeting up with Kim Mingyu to discuss the dates of said five weddings?
You first met Mingyu when Vernon joined a fraternity in sophomore year to make more friends. “I can’t just have you. I need to have at least some friends that are dudes,” he said, which made you reply, “That’s the toxic masculinity talking.” And boy, had Mingyu been the epitome of that statement. Him and Vernon had connected instantly, sharing the same major and an affinity for art girls. You had never really gotten along with him like Vernon had hoped, but he was … attractive, to say the least.
Okay, maybe you had a crush on him. You had eyes.
But it was college and you both were on the cusp of 20. It was so hard to confess feelings back then, especially to someone like Kim Mingyu. Who you didn’t particularly enjoy talking to in the first place. However … he was probably one of the hottest men you’d ever seen; made in a lab for every young girl’s fantasy. Sometimes you couldn’t help but just stare at him, admiring his perfect teeth or the way his honey-gold skin shined in the afternoon sunlight. (You thanked your lucky stars that Vernon joined the college football team alongside Mingyu, just so you could secretly ogle him during practice.)
Suffice to say, you did eventually hook up. In the most cliche way possible, you had both gotten a little too tipsy at the first frat party of senior year and wound up in Mingyu’s dorm, locking out his roommate for the entire night. It almost felt weird, realizing your attraction had been reciprocated, but he hardly said a word to you come morning. In fact, he never mentioned it again, period, choosing to avoid you except in group settings with Vernon. You weren’t a fool; you were quick to realize it meant nothing to him, just another notch on his bedpost.
Mingyu was every girl’s dream, but Mingyu was also uncommitted.
And he was walking towards you right now.
You looked up from your phone after stalking – looking through Mingyu’s Instagram. You never followed him, never checked in on him after graduation, but you knew how close he still was with Vernon. He even posted a picture with him recently. You rolled your eyes. Despite his long hair, you recognized Mingyu instantly as he went up to the barista and ordered a coffee. You studied him for a moment, noticing that there was a curl to his hair and the way those dark stands hung around his eyes. His skin was as perfect as ever and – goddamn, did he get bigger? He was wearing a jacket over his t-shirt and you could still tell how big his muscles were.
When he finally looked over his shoulder and your eyes connected, his face remained unchanged, if not a little awkward. He walked up to you, rubbing at the back of his neck, and said your name as if it were a question. “Yeah. Hi, Mingyu,” you replied with a wave. “It’s been a while.”
“Five years since graduation,” he added, pulling out the chair across from you and plopping down. “So you stopped putting those blonde highlights in your hair?”
Your eye twitched. Before you could spit out a response, a cute, dark-haired barista came over and set a fresh mug of coffee in front of him, completely ignoring that your own was practically empty. Mingyu flashed her a smile, showing off his pretty canines as she walked away. You frowned.
Vernon had told you last night that Mingyu wasn’t the same guy you knew in college, but you begged to differ.
Turning back to you, he took a sip from his mug and asked, “Why did you want to meet up again?”
“Because my best friend is an asshole and you lost a bet.”
“Oh, yeah. That.” He nodded.
You almost didn’t believe Vernon when he told you. You knew he didn’t exactly want to be your date to all these weddings and probably felt like he had to, but he did offer so you didn’t think much of it. Until he told you last week that he put all his guest invites on the line while playing a drinking game with Mingyu, which the latter lost. So now Kim Mingyu, your college one-night-stand that was scared of commitment, was committing to being your date to several weddings this year.
Kill me now, you thought.
“I thought drinking games and making silly bets like this didn’t happen once your frontal lobe formed,” you said, and his dark eyes flickered up to yours.
“That’s where you’re wrong,” he cleared his throat and set the mug down again. “Men never really grow up.”
You crossed your arms over your chest and sat back in your chair. “Apparently,” you muttered under your breath. “How do you have the time to actually commit to this? Don’t you have a girlfriend or something?”
“One,” he held up a single finger, “I take bets very seriously and I’m not a sore loser. It’s only removing five weekends out of the year for me. No biggie. And two,” he lifted another finger, “No.”
You raised a brow. “Well, I guess that answers all my questions.”
Mingyu stared at you for a moment, running those two fingers over his bottom lip. You suddenly had a flashback to that night, remembering his hands all over you, remembering his fingers plunging inside and curling –
Not the time.
“Don’t you have a boyfriend? Why put down two people on these RSVPs you sent back and then force just anybody to be your date?” He fought the urge to smile, trying to dig a little deeper into you. You weren’t falling for it this time. “I love the guy, but I know Vernon wasn’t your first choice to accompany you.”
“My ex and I broke up,” you replied. “Not much to it.”
Intrigued, he sipped his coffee again. “Why?”
“It’s none of your business, Mingyu.”
“Well, as your new date –”
“Drop it,” you said, voice taking on a new tone. “I’m serious.”
Mingyu raised his hand in surrender, and you shook off your anger. This was supposed to be a friendly, quick conversation, but it was seemingly moving off the rails. A sigh escaped your mouth before you asked, “So you said this is only taking five weekends out of the year. What do you do with your time? Are you working?”
“I thought I answered all your questions.”
You narrowed your eyes.
He chuckled softly, exposing those canines once again. His smile was so … ugh, you needed to stop getting distracted. “I work at a restaurant four days a week as a cook, and then teach flag football at a rec facility the rest of the time. I’ve been trying to save up to open my own restaurant for years, but I got the time to be a makeshift wedding date.”
You knew Mingyu had always loved to cook – you remembered when he’d been the resident chef at the fraternity – but to hear he was still passionate almost … melted you a little. Almost. You were dedicated to not being too swayed by Mingyu’s pretty words. This was a deal and that was the end of it.
“I see,” you nodded, uncrossing your arms to play with the handle of your still empty mug. “I’ve been working at the same marketing agency since college. Pays the bills, you know?”
Mingyu gave you a knowing look before running a hand through the long strands. “Always so committed.”
Your lips pursed. “One of us has to be.”
“Speaking of commitment,” he said without missing a beat, pulling his phone from the pocket of his jeans. “What are the dates for those weddings again?”
Save the Date for the wedding of Choi Seungcheol and Holland Levine: February 28th
It was a rainy Sunday in February. Your coworker, Choi Seungcheol, was getting married today at a local venue on the outskirts. His girlfriend, Holland – otherwise known as, Hinge Holland, when he met her on the dating app 3 years ago – was a little kooky and asked for them to be eloped that morning. Seungcheol was too in love to say no; he’d do anything she asked. They were married early morning, and lucky for you and Mingyu, all you had to attend was a reception. It was a nice way to test the waters of this deal before anything got too crazy.
Mingyu had picked you up in his truck, and together struggled to help lift you inside with your dress and heels on. As he drove away from the city and into a more rural area, he commented, “Your coworker must be real whipped to agree to a reception here.”
“What are you talking about?” You looked through your phone for the address Seungcheol had sent you months ago. “I thought the reception was at some small venue.”
Mingyu said your name, and you glanced over, seeing the smile on his face. “It’s a VFW owned by someone in his girlfriend’s family.”
You realized just how right he was when he pulled up to a spot in a VFW parking lot, seeing a crowd of Holland’s family pour into the post. You knew what the inside of a VFW looked like; you had your sweet 16 at one. But going to a wedding reception at one was a whole different story. Were the walls so old that they’d crumble once the DJ dared to play Dancing Queen?
Rain pounded from the sky, making the cold February wind even more chilly. Mingyu rounded the truck and opened your door, making sure to hold an umbrella above your head as you slid out of the seat. He looked … okay, he looked extremely handsome in his suit, tailored exactly to his body. You were in an old, off-the-shoulder black dress with mesh sleeves that were doing nothing in this wet cold. This wedding had crept up on you, and before you knew it, you remembered you didn’t have any new dresses to wear. And while it looked nice, the dress just barely zipped and you had to keep pulling up the neckline. Clearly, you had grown a bit since the last time you worn this. Probably in college.
Mingyu was staring at you now, letting his eyes wander down, and you were yanking at the neckline again. He didn’t deserve to see more of your cleavage. He whispered, “You look …”
“Just come on,” you cut him off, tugging him in the direction of the VFW. He struggled to keep up for a moment, rushing to hold the umbrella above both of you.
As soon as you both walked inside, you realized just how dressed up you were compared to the place. The building looked like it hadn’t been updated since the 1990s. There was, at least, a huge buffet-style food setup in the corner and a man so old that he probably had one foot in the grave behind the bar. A sign in front of him said, OPEN BAR, written in thick sharpie. Various family members were congregating at tables, while the DJ – who looked like a Pitbull impersonator – was setting up at the head of the room.
Seungcheol ran over the second he saw you meandering through tables. He had the biggest smile on his face, tugging his new wife over to introduce her to you before wiggling his eyebrows at you when he noticed Mingyu on your arm. Even Holland couldn’t help but ogle him. Seungcheol was one of your closest coworkers, so it wasn’t weird when he asked, “Who’s the beefcake?”
Mingyu was too busy dealing with Holland’s questions to hear you reply, “Don’t ask. I’ve cycled through many options before I was forced to bring him.”
“I’m sure it was quite difficult for you,” he snorted, before carefully pulling his wife’s hand off of Mingyu’s and introducing himself. Not long after, he was ushering her away to start making speeches.
You and Mingyu found your seat quickly, and luckily enough, you were sat with most of your coworkers. Every single one was looking at Mingyu like he was a piece of meat, but he didn’t seem to notice as he had a friendly conversation with each of them. You struggled to not roll your eyes. How was he perfect with everyone? Maybe your dislike of him was irrational and unwarranted, maybe he did change. But … ugh, could he fuck up for once?
Your coworker, Minghao, sat to your left, watching Mingyu converse with the young assistant – Amelia, right? – who was very clearly batting her eyes at him. Leaning towards you, Minghao whispered, “I thought you were bringing Vernon?”
Minghao was one of the few people you told about your breakup, as well as Vernon and of course, your girlfriends. It wasn’t like you to go around everywhere and post on social media about your breakup; it wasn’t anyone’s business. But Minghao gave great advice, and he was one of the first people that helped you get over the heartbreak. He wasn’t just a coworker. He became a trusted friend.
Turning your head, you said, “Would you believe me if I told you that he lost a bet?”
“Considering who you ended up with,” he chuckled, “I’d say it’s a win in your favor.”
“He’s not that great.”
“Then you might want to pull Amelia off of him before she starts sucking his face.”
The reception ended at an early hour thankfully. Most of the elderly guests were falling asleep anyway. Mingyu was a class act, per usual, trying to get you up and out of your seat to dance with him, but the last thing you wanted to do was dance to Toxic by Britney Spears in front of your boss at the marketing agency. Instead, he took the lead to asking Seungcheol’s mom to dance, and made Amelia’s day when he asked her to join. Minghao only continued to laugh when you rejected each of Mingyu’s advances.
Once 10 PM rolled around and you both were exiting the doors of the aging VFW, you noticed the rain hadn’t let up. In fact, it seemed to have gotten even worst. You had to run to Mingyu’s truck with him holding the umbrella above both of you and almost trip over your dress as you hopped up inside the cab. Assuming it would be fine to drive, just a few minutes in the rain left you both realizing that it might be extremely unsafe to drive back to the city in this weather. You really couldn’t argue with Mingyu when he suggested you stay the night at a motel right down the road.
The woman behind the front desk at the motel was chewing so loud that you thought the wad of bubblegum between her teeth might be larger than your palm. She informed you both that the only rooms available were ones with a single queen-sized bed. As much as you desperately wanted two, you’d take what you could get. She started grabbing both of your informations to check in when a loud bolt of lightning cracked, followed by a crash of thunder. You instantly gripped Mingyu’s arm, and he paused signing his name to look down at you.
“Are you scared of thunder?” He asked playfully.
Realizing how tight you were holding on, you quickly removed your hand. “No, I’m … it’s fine.”
His bicep felt so much harder than anticipated. All muscle.
Stop that.
The front desk attendant gave you an actual metal key to open your room, the number dangling from a kitschy pendant. This was the kind of motel where you needed to venture outside to get to your room, and with your arms locked together, Mingyu led you both through the pouring rain to the right building. He shoved the key in the lock, immediately opening the door and allowing you to walk inside first.
The room was smaller than expected. The heat was hardly circulating and you were still shivering. A queen-sized bed was situated in front of an old RCA TV, decorated with a comforter that looked strangely similar to the one from the 80s that your mom had given you when you first moved out. The room smelled like bleach and all you could hear was the rain on the roof. Noticing you shiver, Mingyu walked over to the thermostat and adjusted the heat.
“Maybe this was a bad idea,” you said, hugging your arms around yourself.
Mingyu pointed to the large window by the door. “I can’t drive in that. It takes an hour to get back to the city and I can hardly see the road.”
“Okay, well –”
Lightning struck again, painting the window white, and you jumped. Mingyu shook his head and walked over, closing the shades over the glass. He looked down at you, and you were acutely aware that he was the kind of person who could say everything just with his eyes. “Better?” He asked, a smile playing at his pink lips.
He was so close that you could smell his cologne and – god dammit, you were such a sucker for men that smelled good. He smelled like violets mixed with smokey sandalwood, spicy and musky. Whatever you were going to quip back died on your tongue, leaving you to reply, “I can’t sleep in my dress. I have nothing to wear to bed.”
Walking over to the tiny closet, Mingyu spotted a robe hanging up next to the vintage ironing board. He placed it in your arms and remarked, “Take a shower and put this on.”
“Are you saying I smell?”
He laughed. “No, you’re shivering and it’ll help warm you up.”
You nodded, heading off to the bathroom and shutting the door. As you slipped off your dress and let it pool onto the tile, you realized how antagonizing you were being for no reason. Mingyu had been nothing but nice to you, but you were suspecting him to switch-up at any moment. Maybe Vernon was right, or maybe you just needed to take a chill pill.
Mingyu was helping you out, after all.
After taking the warmest shower of your life and probably using all of the hot water in the motel, you walked out into the room with your robe tied firmly around your waist. The cotton smelled like mothballs and you hardly left an inch of skin showing. Granted you weren’t naked underneath, but you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing your underwear. Again. After five years.
He was wearing only a tank top and boxers while setting up a makeshift bed on the floor. You struggled to maintain focus with him looking … well, like that, and eventually spoke up, “What are you doing?”
He hardly jumped at hearing your voice. “I figured it would just be easier if I slept on the floor. Trust me, I’ve slept in far worse places.”
“Mingyu, you don’t have to do that,” you sighed, pulling back the covers and tossing the mismatching throw pillows on the floor.
“It’s not a big deal.”
“I know, but it’s just –”
Thunder clashed outside, sounding like pots and pans clanging together, rattling your bones.
Your eyes connected with Mingyu’s, and you pointed to the empty side of the bed. “Sleep in this bed right now.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
You both agreed – more like, you told Mingyu and he listened – to place a wall of pillows between you two, leaving you on the edges of the bed. You curled up into yourself, your spine facing him, as Mingyu laid on his back and pinched the bridge of his nose. The rain was so loud. The thunder was deafening. You considered plugging your fingers in your ears as you slept.
Mingyu was shifting on the small sliver of mattress he had, wishing internally that he brought a joint or two with him. This bed was so uncomfortable that he probably wouldn’t sleep. But hopefully, you would. Although that was seeming highly unlikely from the way your back tensed with every boom of thunder.
He watched you from the corner of his eye, and eventually, you did stop shaking. Soft snores filled the room, replacing the sound of the rain. And then Mingyu felt himself relax, swiftly falling asleep with his arm thrown above his head.
Despite the pillow wall you built, you woke up with your head on his chest.
Mingyu had wanted to tell you how beautiful you looked that day, but he couldn’t find the courage to finish his sentence.
Save the Date for the wedding of Lee Chan and Adrianna Olson: April 4th
Tapping your freshly manicured nails on your bare arm, you leaned against the passenger side door of your car and huffed. You uncrossed your arms, beginning to pace outside Mingyu’s apartment building. The ceremony today started in two hours and you were about ninety minutes from the venue. Not to mention, there was only a matter of time before one of his neighbors showed up, forcibly removing you from the parking spot in front of the building you definitely did not live in. What the hell was Mingyu doing anyway? He said he’d be down ten minutes ago.
You tugged off your heels, realizing they’d be a bitch to drive in, and pulled your sneakers from the back seat. Your floral, strapless sundress blew in the Spring breeze. Your curls – that looked like they could’ve been done by a toddler – whisked off your bare shoulders as you stepped into your favorite Nikes.
“Sorry.”
Popping your head up, you halted while shoving the back door closed. You blinked, assuming your eyes were deceiving you, but there he was, sprinting down the front steps of his building with freshly chopped hair.
Mingyu was quickly walking over to shove his duffle in your backseat, pulling at his tie, when you leaned in and placed your hand on his head. Yep, that was his real hair. Those long locks that had reached his chin were gone, replaced by a hairstyle that was similar to how he looked in college.
“I know we’re running late,” he apologized, letting your fingers sink into the strands for a moment, “but do you have to –”
“This is not about that.” You removed your hand, leveling a look at him. “You cut your hair.”
Mingyu raised a brow. “It was getting long.”
You paused, blinking at him. “Why didn’t you warn me of your new look?”
“I didn’t think I had to?” He shrugged, genuinely confused as to why you were questioning him. “My hair had gotten even longer since February, so I just thought I’d freshen up for you –”
You completely missed his words – for you, he’d freshened up for you – because you were already interrupting him. “Well, it’s just – it might look weird in pictures because my hair is up and your hair is so short. And I’m already going to have so many people looking at us wondering why my ex, who’s name I put on the invite, isn’t here. And I just want to eliminate as much attention as possible. And, well – and –”
Mingyu placed both hands on your shoulders. His palms were large, practically burning into your exposed skin. “Are you overthinking?”
“No, I …”
When your voice trailed off, Mingyu hesitated for a moment longer and then slid his hands off. “Vernon told me that you dated the groom. Chan, right?”
Of-fucking-course, Vernon told him. Your lips pursed before you replied, “We were friends before that, and we only dated for like a couple months in college. I introduced him to the woman he’s marrying.”
“Then why are you so nervous?”
“I think I have a lot of reasons to be nervous these days.” You continued to stare at him, waiting for him to come up with another quippy remark, but it seemed he contested and shoved his hands into the pockets of his suit. The same tailored suit he wore to the wedding in February, a few loose threads at the seams. “Let’s get going. We’ll be in the car for a while,” you said, rounding your car and hopping inside the driver’s seat.
As Mingyu dealt with finding room for his duffle in your trunk, you took this small second to text Vernon.
You: your friend is infuriating
You: also I’m never going to forgive you for telling him that I dated chan
Vernon: you’ll get over it lol
Vernon: is that the only reason why he’s infuriating?
You: HAIRCUT
Vernon: oh I probably should’ve told you about that when I saw him last week
Vernon: sorry :/
You closed your texts when Mingyu hopped in the passenger seat, turning on your music to drown out your thoughts. The drive was long and you were lucky that you got to the venue with ten minutes to spare. You parked the car in a haste, running to your back seat and quickly tugging your heels back on. You chucked your sneakers onto the car floor, almost hitting Mingyu in the face when he went to grab his phone from the same area. Locking your car, you grabbed his arm and yanked, both of you running towards the venue attached to a pretty hotel. Mingyu, even with his long legs, was struggling to keep up. He was also slightly impressed that you could run so fast in heels, and that was definitely the only reason why he was staring at your legs. He wasn’t admiring how long they looked when the wind lifted your skirt and he got a flash of your calf.
Even from your seat in the back of the ceremony, you could see Chan’s face light up as Adrianna was escorted down the aisle. She was wearing a vintage wedding dress, the veil sheer enough to see how beautiful she was underneath, and Chan was eager enough to lift it as soon as they said, “I do.” Adrianna looked like she hadn’t aged a day since school, and you could probably say the same for Chan. But he did manage to finally remove the earrings he got six years ago, which made you giggle to yourself.
Mingyu pretended not to notice.
Most of the people at the wedding were old friends from undergrad, even a few Mingyu knew in passing. Every time you were approached, you prepared yourself for the same question: “Where is He Who Will Not Be Named?” Or, for those that actually knew Mingyu: “Since when did you know Gyu?” You weren’t sure how much longer you could fake a smile and laugh, pretend that your heart still wasn’t sore from the breakup, rehash the same words over and over again. It was tiring; you were tired.
Same explanation. Same heartbreak. You wouldn’t be surprised if the whole planet knew of your breakup by now. You didn’t announce it anywhere, besides telling your family and close friends. It was natural for people to be curious; you had been with your ex for a couple years, enough for your family to assume that he’d propose. But then he cheated, and you found out, and you were left in pieces, tied to Kim Mingyu as your date for a full year of weddings.
You just didn’t want to keep on doing this, explaining yourself ten times over, realizing that everyone was looking at you with interest. Maybe a second glass of champagne would be a good distraction …
“Wanna dance?”
You looked up from the rim of your empty glass. Mingyu had knocked you out of your daze, laying out a hand for you to take. The reception was lively with family and friends mingling on the dance floor, but Mingyu had still noticed you alone at the table, lost in your thoughts. Had he always been this attentive, or was he just prone to watching you?
Ignoring your internal monologue, you took his hand, allowing him to lead you to the dance floor. Just as Mingyu was about to place his hand on your waist, the song changed, switching to a more upbeat track you used to blast in college. You immediately started laughing at all the older folks trying to follow the beat, and then found Chan with his wife, shimmying on the dance floor. Mingyu pinched the bridge of his nose, but found himself beaming when he finally saw the smile grace your features. He didn’t let go of your hand, let you twirl him to the song that took you back to the musty basement of a frat party.
Chan, at some point, had managed to dance over in your direction, bumping into you with a big grin. “I knew all the alumni here would love this,” he shouted over the music. “Do you remember when you puked outside a window once at some party and you said that it was this song that induced it?”
You were surprised when Mingyu said, “Yes,” at the same time as you. Both you and Chan glanced at him, eyebrows raised, until he added, “That was at one of my parties. I cleaned your vomit off the windowsill!”
The four of you erupted in laughter. Even Adrianna remembered that party, considering that was the night you drunkenly introduced her to Chan. She eventually pulled you away from Mingyu, leading you towards her group of bridesmaids so you all could dance together. But your eyes couldn’t help but find Mingyu’s across the floor, and then he was looking at you, and – god dammit, staring at him felt like a crime you’d consider going to jail for.
Everyone was looking at him, but he was looking at you.
Actually, Mingyu couldn’t seem to take his eyes off you. Not once.
He stared at you as if it was just you two, as if you were stripped bare before him, just for his eyes to see. You could tell from the way he bit his lip while smiling. He looked at you as if you were naked.
Soon enough, you were slipping through the crowd and by his side once again. He was now leaning against the wall by the open bar, nursing a scotch. The party was winding down; all the older family members had left, leaving Chan and Adrianna – plus a few other young couples – swaying to a classic Ed Sheeran song. It wouldn’t be long until they ended the night with Can’t Help Falling In Love by Elvis Presley. The time war nearing 11 PM.
Slinking beside him, he offered the glass to you and you took a sip, wincing at the burn. You stuck out your tongue. “How can you drink that so smoothly?”
“Years of practice,” he replied, and then flicked your nose in a way that shouldn’t make you blush. But you definitely did.
You blinked up at him, admiring how pretty he was in the faint, yellow light. Actually, he was pretty in every light, but you liked to find any excuse to admire him. Even if you denied it.
“Wanna get out of here?” You asked then, digging your nails into your palms. So afraid of rejection after all these years, even though he agreed to be here. “I think the reception is going to end soon anyway.”
“Yeah, sounds good.” He set his half empty glass on a random table and straightened his back before adding, “Whatever you’re comfortable with.”
God, you needed to get it together. Those words were the bare minimum, but when he said them in that slightly muffled voice, it made your nails pinch the inside of your hands harder.
You both stood on opposite sides of the elevator, dragging up, up, up to your room on the seventeenth floor. Your eyes connected. A smile played at his lips. An unspoken tension brewing between the two of you. A feeling you didn’t want to be there in the first place, but something you couldn’t simply ignore.
This couldn’t be happening. Not today. Not tonight. Not ever again.
He opened the door for you, allowing you to slip inside and grab your bag. While he rifled through his duffle, you brought your bag into the bathroom and leaned against the sink. You allowed yourself a moment to just breathe. Maybe if you kept exhaling like this, you would release all the tension from your body. You knew how silly it sounded, but desperate times called for desperate measures. You stared at your reflection in the mirror, turning your face from side to side. Was it the makeup that made him look at you that way sometimes? Perhaps he still had a fondness for lipgloss, like he did back in the day.
When you finally stopped studying your appearance, you wiped off your makeup and tugged on a pair of loose pajamas. Wearing these would be so much more comfortable – and less awkward – than the robe you wore after the last wedding. You still had nightmares about that. Carefully tiptoeing out of the bathroom, you expected to find Mingyu already in one of the two full size beds, scrolling through his phone and ignoring the noise you naturally made. But he was on the deck just outside your room, smoke billowing from his mouth.
You stood near the unoccupied bed, balancing on the balls of your feet, as you debated your options. A smart person would go right to sleep, leave him to his business. You chewed on your bottom lip nervously.
Despite the slight warmth to the air, you threw on a hoodie, scared of the possibility of your nipples showing through the thin fabric of your t-shirt. You slid open the door and immediately closed it, preventing any smoke from getting into the room. He didn’t turn; he knew exactly who was behind him. His back muscles flexed underneath his suit jacket, the joint dangling between his lips as he prayed for his lighter to work again.
“You probably shouldn’t be smoking in this suit,” you said, saddling up beside him.
He chuckled, finally taking a long drag. “I promise to get it dry cleaned before our next adventure.”
Before our next adventure. You bit the inside of your cheek.
Your eyes didn’t leave the joint now sitting between two of his fingers. (Jeez, were they always that big?) He let more smoke filter from his lips and into the open air, clouding up the starry night sky. Without even looking at you, he asked, “Why are you staring?” His words hung in the silence for a moment. “Have you ever smoked before?”
You shrugged. “Only once or twice with Vernon. Probably as freshmen.”
“You want me to show you how?”
Blinking at him, all you could do was dumbly nod. Mingyu laughed under his breath, fighting with his lighter again, before eventually holding the flame to the end. He then cautiously passed the joint over to you, allowing the filter to brush your lips. “Take it in your mouth,” he instructed, “now inhale.”
When you did as he asked, you must’ve inhaled far too deeply, or just didn’t exhale at the right time. Because then you were coughing, doubling over as you tried to catch your breath. “Hey, hey, hey,” he said, concern etched in his tone, and patted your back as you hacked up what felt like your left lung. His voice was soft, soothing, but you could hardly hear it through the ringing in your ears.
“Yeah,” you sighed, voice hoarse, “I’m definitely out of practice.”
As you stood up, his hand stayed on your shoulder, his thumb rubbing patterns. Your breath stilled as you looked up at him. Playing with the joint between his lips, he said, “Let me show you an easier way.”
“Okay,” you agreed, before your conscious could stop you.
You watched as he took a long pull from the joint, sucking it all in until you could see his eyes get a little pinker, and then moved closer to you. Instinctively, your eyes closed and your lips parted, welcoming the scent of him. His lips only lightly grazed yours as he exhaled the smoke into your mouth, letting it engulf your very being, and you felt yourself start to relax. He craned back, grinning down at you, and it took everything within you to not ask for another hit right then.
In the moonlight, you could see why you fell hard for Mingyu. He had only gotten more handsome since college. Light, in any form, was so kind to him, but with the stars hanging above his head … it allowed his dark hair to shine, casting a slightly blueish tone to his warm features. You could see the twinkling stars reflecting in his eyes, especially when he leaned back in, expelling more smoke into your mouth.
This felt too intimate. This felt like fucking.
Once you both were so high you could do nothing but laugh, Mingyu stubbed out the joint and you stumbled back into the room. You both were finally going to have a good sleep at one of these, especially since there were two beds. Rolling into your bed, you immediately burrowed under the covers as Mingyu took off his suit in the bathroom.
The last thing you expected was to feel him plop down in your bed. He was wearing so little that it made your thighs press together, or maybe that was just the weed talking. He was disoriented, laying halfway off the edge of your bed, staring at you as if you were the Mona Lisa. You huffed, “Mingyuuu. You need to get in your own bed.”
“Do you really want that though?”
His words made your eyes immediately snap open. A grin was tugging at his mouth again, his teeth sinking into that plush bottom lip. Oh, so also wanted … Oh.
You tried to sound cool and nonchalant, “Considering this is a full size bed, yeah.”
Even in the darkness, even with his back to the moonlight streaming through the glass door – his presence was making you nervous. His eyes weren’t leaving yours. You felt your hand inch over, your pinky curling around his.
“If I can be so honest with you,” he whispered, licking at the corners of his lips, “you are so beautiful that I want to kill any guy that has done you wrong.”
You exhaled, “Mingyu …”
He leaned in, smiling like he knew he caught you in his trap. “Yes?”
You were pretty sure that you knew Kim Mingyu by now. You knew that this would be just another night that meant nothing to him. No matter how much he “changed” in Vernon’s eyes, it was very clear to you that he remained uncommitted. But fuck it, your heart was still burning from the breakup, stinging from the memory of people uttering your ex’s name tonight. It was only going to be a kiss. Just something to soothe the pain.
He was so much closer now, invading your space, his hand completely eclipsing yours. He smelled like marijuana and lingering cologne. “Tell me to stop,” he murmured, but you didn’t. You let him kiss you, and god, it would be so much easier to dislike Mingyu if he didn’t kiss so well.
It wasn’t long before his tongue was pushing into your mouth, his large body looming over yours as he pressed you into the mattress a little more. And you’re desperate for it; you couldn’t stop. This was supposed to be simple – just a kiss – but you could feel yourself falling under his spell, feel how his palms burned against your skin as they dragged down your torso. He explored your mouth like it was the first time, parting your legs to make room for himself on top of you. When his lips left yours, you almost let out a whine, but he helped take off your hoodie before reattaching his mouth to your neck. Those large hands snake under your shirt – up, up, and up – until he was cupping your breasts and you can feel how hard he is against your thigh.
Mingyu looked up at you as he kissed down your torso, his spit soaking through the thin fabric of the t-shirt you were still wearing. He lifted one of your legs, adjusting it so your thigh could rest comfortably on his shoulder and – shit, you knew where this was going. Reaching the waistband of your panties, he begged, “Let me go down on you.”
You mulled over his words. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
“No,” he grinned against your skin, meeting your eyes from between your legs. “But that’s a tomorrow problem. Please?” His head tilted. “Do I have to beg? I’m willing.”
You bit your tongue, egging him on a little as he nipped at the inside of your thigh. He bucked his hips once, them twice, trying to get the smallest bit of friction on his cock that was currently throbbing in his boxers. He grunted softly against your skin.
“And if I say, ‘No?’” You asked with a raised brow.
He lifted his head and pouted his lips. After all these years, he still managed the perfect puppy dog eyes that could make just about anyone weak. “Don’t be mean,” he pleaded, and you couldn’t help but giggle.
“You like when I’m mean,” you quipped, giving him permission by helping him shimmy your panties off. He adjusted your legs again, presenting you like a meal.
“I do,” he chuckled, his breath ghosting over your pretty, pink folds. “Especially, when you act like you didn’t want me here in the first place.”
Before you can rebuttal, he’s pressing his face between your thighs, dragging his tongue up your slit to collect the wetness that gathered there. Just the small amount of attention had you keening, your hips jumping for more of him, and Mingyu was happy enough to oblige. His tongue flicked at your clit as he slid one single finger inside of you, testing your limits. Those puppy dog eyes lifted from between your thighs, wanting to see you crumble, knowing that it was him who made you like this. You sighed out his name, your hand coming down to tangle in his hair. And god, if Mingyu didn’t love that … he’d be a dead man. He groaned when he felt you tug at the strands, beginning to swirl his tongue in a circle around your puffy clit.
You couldn’t even prepare yourself when he shoved another finger inside, pumping them in and out at an unreasonably fast pace. But you were bucking into him, tears pricking at your eyes as you whimpered for him. It was too much but almost too little at the same time. You could practically feel him smile as he devoured you. The bed rattled against the wall when he ground his erection against the frame, so needy and aching. His plump lips suckled on your clit, your slick smearing over his face, but he didn’t want to miss a drop of you. He needed more of you, so he started curling three fingers inside of you, teasing that sweet spot.
This wasn’t your first rodeo with Mingyu. He knew what you could take.
“Mingyu,” you whined, and he glanced up at you again with the most fucked-out eyes imaginable. And still, he didn’t stop. “You’re gonna … I’m gonna cum so fast.”
He moaned into you, then begged, “Please. Need to taste you.”
He was so determined, so desperate to feel you shake and moan and cry until he was completely spent on the taste of you. And it wasn’t long before he got his wish: as he shoved those three fingers into you, grazing your g-spot while lapping at you like you were his last meal on death row. You unraveled on his tongue, muffling your cries for the rest of the people sleeping on your floor. Biting into your hand, you had physically restrain your body from shaking as your orgasm rocked through you, but Mingyu held you down with a gentle hand on your stomach. He was staring at you again and you were staring at him and fuck, his half-closed eyes made him look like he was drunk on you. You could feel him smirking into your pussy as he collected every last drop of you, knowing that he did a good job. He sighed with relief when he could finally taste you again and again and again.
Once your body settled, you felt him start to tug at your shirt and kiss up your stomach. The thought of now having him inside you made your hands clench with excitement, but dear god, he just knocked the wind out of you and you weren’t sure how you could last. You were spent, tired, probably could just fall asleep right now.
You weren’t feeling his lips on your skin anymore, so you opened your eyes. The moonlight gave you just enough to see that, despite the raging boner he probably had, Mingyu was now snoring softly with his head resting on your hips. Brows raised, you almost couldn’t believe that this was the moment he decided to fall asleep, but you couldn’t deny that you had been on the verge of doing the same.
Untangling yourself from him, you quickly cleaned yourself up and wiped his face clean with a washcloth. You sighed, using all the brute strength you had to haul him up on what was supposed to be your bed, and wrapped the covers around him. You admired him for a moment, your hand coming up to smooth back his dark hair. Somehow, this felt even more intimate than you cumming in his mouth. So you quickly moved away and slipped under the sheets of the other bed, using his snores as white noise.
The next morning, neither of you spoke of what happened.
Mingyu had wanted to tell you that he had a crush on you the moment Vernon introduced you two all those years ago, even when you disliked him. And slowly but surely, he was starting to realize it never truly went away.
Save the Date for the wedding of Joshua Hong and Jordan Lo: June 20th
Two months passed and the spring air turned sweltering. It was on days like this when you rolled the windows down and wasted gas just to get an overpriced iced coffee that you reminisced. You were taken back to a time when you waited by the curb as Vernon appeared from football practice, and even though he was sweaty, you still always agreed to drive him back to his dorm on the other side of campus. You would watch him say goodbye to his teammates and – shit, the light would catch, and suddenly you were looking at Mingyu wipe the sweat off his face while laughing with the quarterback and –
Now you were thinking about Mingyu again.
You had been thinking about him since April.
All of this felt so silly, like stupid games young 20-somethings played. You knew it wasn’t good for you in engage in – well, anything with Mingyu. He had always been perfectly uncommitted with women, and he was clearly obsessed with his work, posting his new recipes or pictures of him and his flag football team on his Instagram stories. You could handle this. You could be an adult and have a functional acquaintanceship with someone you found attractive.
So you kept your distance. On the off chance that Mingyu was free and asked if you wanted to get together (which was a shock in itself), you declined. Even if you wanted to. Even if you desperately wondered what would come of it. The next wedding wasn’t until the end of June and you were already biting you lip at the thought of seeing him in a suit again.
The only person you could finally blabber to about this was Minghao, and in typical fashion, he laughed. Not that you expected anything less.
“You’re overthinking the entire situation,” he said over drinks. “It’s completely normal for you to have a little fun, especially while healing from a breakup. That’s what being single is all about, my friend.”
He was right. Of course, he was right. But what if Mingyu rejected you yet again, like he did in college? You wanted to talk to Vernon about this. He always gave you the best advice with this stuff, but this was his friend. The last thing you wanted was to make his friendship with Mingyu weird.
You attempted to ignore him. You redownloaded some dating apps as a distraction. You deleted them just as fast.
On the morning of June 20th, your cousin, Jordan, was marrying her longtime boyfriend, Joshua Hong. You had only met Josh on a number of occasions, but considering that they had been together for almost twelve years, you trusted him enough to take care of her. You felt lucky to be chosen as a bridesmaid and you’d never make a fuss, but dear god, the dark blue of this dress clashed with just about everything. The color was so dark and the dress was clinging to just about all of you and Mingyu’s tie was the wrong shade of blue –
Damn, did he look handsome though.
Jordan had made you both get to the venue early for a rehearsal dinner, and then once the morning came, you were whisked off to hair and makeup. You had barely said a word to Mingyu, too scared to give him anything besides small talk, but you couldn’t help but compliment the new suit he bought for the last few weddings. “Figured I’d cave and invest in one that wasn’t from Goodwill,” he explained, “for you.”
For you. For you. For you.
Your heels were hurting your feet halfway through the wedding, and despite how hard you were trying to focus on Josh’s vows, you couldn’t help but find Mingyu’s eyes in the crowd. He wasn’t paying attention to anyone else, his stare burning into yours to let you know his intent. You swallowed hard. Would anyone notice if you hid your blush behind the bouquet in your hands? It felt like torture having him look at you like this, as if there wasn’t an extravagant wedding happening around them, as if he wasn’t Kim Mingyu.
It wasn’t until the reception that you could finally get a word in with your cousin, some much needed alone time after what was surely going to be the craziest wedding you went to this year. You both parked yourself near the open bar, ignoring the guests on the dance floor that were screaming for another round of the Cha Cha Slide. Tucking a strand behind your ear, Jordan said, “I can’t thank you enough for doing this for me. Jeez, I really didn’t think when I was three and met you a couple weeks after you were born that we’d be here. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
You grinned, “I wouldn’t miss this for the world.” The bartender handed you a new glass of wine and you took a sip. “Besides, these days all I do is work or go to weddings. The life of being a permanent wedding guest, I supposed.”
“Speaking of guests …” Jordan turned her head slightly, ogling Mingyu from where he was standing up and trying to decline your great aunt’s advances to dance. Your cousin giggled. “He isn’t the older guy I thought you’d bring.”
“Circumstances change.” You shrugged, and she gave you a look. “I’d rather not get into it.”
Jordan’s brow raised. “You guys are having sex though, right?”
You almost choked while taking another sip of your wine. “Absolutely not.”
“You sure?”
“Well, I –” You sighed, and then decided to suck down the rest of the glass in one go. Jordan whistled. “We did at one point. Very long time ago. But he’s Vernon’s friend and … it’s a long story.”
“Sounds like it,” she snorted, eyes flickering around the reception until they landed somewhere behind you. “Well, if you’re not having sex with him, my friend just might tonight.”
Your expression muddled, until she pointed over your shoulder. Turning around, you found Jordan’s Maid of Honor chatting up Mingyu near the stairs that lead to the restrooms. Her hand was inching up his sleeve and he was blushing at what you could only assume was a compliment coming from her lips. He was clearly enjoying the conversation, despite the intimate looks he was giving you earlier.
Classic fucking Kim Mingyu, you thought.
A pang of jealousy surfaced that you couldn’t control. It was probably best for everyone if you walked away and took a breather. After Joshua pulled his wife onto the dance floor, you adjusted the tight silk of your dress and headed for the bathrooms. You walked past them, your perfume wafting past Mingyu’s nostrils, a scent he would know anywhere.
Instead of going inside the bathroom, you decide to stand in the empty hall connected to the venue and brace your back against the cool wall. You sighed, gathering yourself, completely unaware it wasn’t just you here until you heard the squeak of someone else’s shoes.
“I noticed you were empty,” Mingyu muttered as a way of greeting. He was holding two glasses of rosé between his fingers, stepping down the small staircase to get to you.
It was just you two now, and he was handing you the glass while standing so close that you could smell his cologne. Had this dress always felt that tight, or could you just not breathe right now? You watched the way his eyes flickered to your mouth, and it took everything in you not to yank him closer by the tie. Instead, you took a big gulp of rosé.
“You didn’t have to come after me,” you remarked, and then nodded your head in the direction of the Maid of Honor now on the dance floor. “You looked like you were having fun.”
Mingyu simply tilted his head to the side, studying you carefully.
“She’s pretty. Don’t stop on my account, but please be aware that we are sharing a room so you can’t bring anyone back there.”
Mingyu’s lips slowly curved into a grin. “Are you jealous?”
You scoffed, “No. I’m just … being realistic.”
Taking your half empty glass from your hand, he set them both down on a side table right near the women’s restroom. Your mouth opened, but the words died as soon as he placed a hand beside your head on the wall. He was so tall that he towered over you, even in heels, leaning into your space with pretty, half-opened eyes as he stared at your glossy lips.
“Can I be realistic with you?” He didn’t give you a moment to answer. “I cannot stop thinking about our last night together. I know you probably thought it happened because of the weed, but I … these past two months, it’s all I’ve been thinking about. And it’s killing me that I’ve been trying to be normal this whole night when all I’ve wanted to do is drag you away and make you cum again.”
Your breath hitched slightly at his words. He leaned in then, grazing his nose over the side of your face, desperate to be in your orbit. You took your bottom lip between your teeth and tried to control your heart rate, but how was that even possible when Mingyu’s other hand was brushing up and down your side, tangled in the silk.
“Well, that …” You swallowed hard. “That wouldn’t be a good idea considering all my family is here.”
He tsked under his breath. “Obviously, it wouldn’t be, but …” You felt his nose at your jaw, inhaling the scent of your perfume again, the one that made him crazy. And he damn near groaned in your ear.
“Mingyu, you … you –”
“Fuck, how could you think I’m looking at anyone else here when you look this good in your dress?” His voice had taken on that needy tone he always got when he was horny. It almost felt like a reward to be able to hear it again. “I’ve been half-hard this entire reception just from looking at you, remembering the way you tasted …” He muttered another curse.
This was how he always acted. Mingyu could be so desperate and pleading when he wanted to get someone in bed, needy to the point he would do anything just to please you, but god – you couldn’t deny how much you liked it. He was reeling you in. You were like fish to bait.
Slowly, he laced your dominant hand with his and moved it from his belt buckle to his groin. You could barely breathe when you felt him harden under your touch, and then you remembered you were still in a public hallway, where just about anyone could walk by.
Your eyes met his half-lidded ones as he murmured, “Look what you’re doing to me.”
And god help you, because you whimpered at the sound of his voice, slick starting to gather between your thighs.
“Okay, Mingyu, just …” You sighed, composing yourself because you knew he wasn’t going to any time soon. Your hand slipped away from his and he huffed, his forehead falling to rest on your shoulder. “Go to our room and let me make my rounds. I’ll meet you up there.”
He stood up. For a moment, he was almost tempted to drag you into the bathroom and bury his face between your legs, too hungry to let you get away now. But one of your uncles was walking down the hall, and you separated quickly. With a nod, you walked back to the reception and said goodbye to your family that you didn’t get to talk to for too long prior. Jordan gave you a look when you mentioned about going to bed early, and even Josh told you how weird you were being, but your cousin shut him up and sent you a wink.
You exhaled heavily and headed back to hotel on the other side of the venue. Slipping your heels off once you were inside the elevator, you debated if giving into Mingyu this easily was the smart thing to do. Smart? Definitely not. But would it be enjoyable? You didn’t need to answer that question. Mingyu knew what he was doing.
As you unlocked the door to your hotel room, you began to wonder if you were just setting yourself up to be hurt again. He didn’t come back to you like this in college, but what’s stopping him from telling you that he’s “just not that into you” at the next wedding? Or what if he just thought of you as an easy hookup that would get his dick wet every 2 months? Well, you hadn’t done that yet –
Yet. Yet. Yet.
The word repeated in your head like a melody, because when you threw your purse down and saw Mingyu walking out of the bathroom, fresh from a shower and dressed in only a towel around his waist, you realized that you were most definitely getting his dick wet tonight. Whether it was in your mouth or somewhere deeper, you were salivating for it.
He was smiling at you and you were smiling at him and Jesus, he was so goddamn handsome that you couldn’t believe that he was the one desperate for you. Droplets of water trickled down his tan skin and that towel around his waist was just barely holding on. His torso was chiseled and his arms – fuck, his biceps were bigger than you remembered. He was something out of a dream – some horny, fucked-up dream that you only had after masturbating before bed.
He was on you instantly, pushing you against the wall and kissing you hard. Sighing into the kiss, your hands fist into the towel to yank him closer, but it only makes the flimsy fabric fall. You break away for a moment to mutter, “Oh, shit,” but his lips can’t stay away from yours for long. And he’s laughing, like you did exactly what he wanted. You were too hypnotized by the scent of his body wash to care.
Dragging his lips down your neck, he sucked at the spot that he knew made your thighs press together, grinning proudly against your skin when you moaned. His fingers gripped the soft silk of your dress, slowly pulling the fabric up to feel you that much closer. But it wasn’t enough. No matter how much he liked you in this dress – and god, did he like you in this dress – he needed you out of it. Now.
Mingyu unzipped your dress with precision, setting it down on one of the two beds in the room, and both of you were suddenly wishingthere was only one. His hands smoothed down your sides, his breath hot against your mouth. He just wanted to feel you everywhere. He almost didn’t want to step away, afraid you’ll slip through his fingers like sand. When you two had hooked up in college, it was quick and explosive, letting out the tension that had been building for years. There was so much territory for him to cover now, so many ways for him to find out what made you whine and sigh with pleasure. But, if he were being honest, all he wanted right now was for you to –
“Sit on my face,” he begged, caging you into the wall, pressing his hard cock against your stomach. So desperate for just an ounce of friction, so hungry for another taste of you. He could literally start drooling at the thought of it. He was mesmerized by you; he’d do anything you asked just to have your pussy on his tongue again.
But you seemed to be debating your options, biting you lip again, and he wished that didn’t turn him on even more. You were just so pretty, and the way your face scrunched as you decided on something was a sight he couldn’t help but think about when he touched himself, even all those years ago. It was just you. You.
Eventually, your face relaxed, and you replied, “Well, you don’t have to beg me.”
Mingyu’s lips pulled into a smile, and he laughed while pulling you down onto the nearest bed. Despite his request, you continued to straddle his torso and kiss him for just a little while longer. He was needy, moaning into your mouth whenever his cock bumped against your ass, but all you wanted to feel his lips on yours, tangle your tongue with his, even if it was just for another minute.
You forgot Mingyu was stronger than you, though. It wasn’t much longer before he was yanking your body up and turning you around so you knelt just above his face. He inhaled the scent of your pussy and almost breathed a sigh of relief, but instead muttered, “Such a tease sometimes.”
Now that you were hovering above him, you were suddenly self conscious about how excited you were and if your arousal was seeping onto his face. You couldn’t even see if he was thrilled or not, since he had turned you to face away from him, but the way his cock jumped in front of your eyes told you enough. His hands gripped your thighs tight. “I don’t want to crush you,” you said nervously.
“You could suffocate me and I wouldn’t have a problem with it."
You chewed on your bottom lip. His tone was firm, probably the most serious you’d ever heard from him. But you were embarrassed and this was crazy and you still so wet. With flushed cheeks, you asked, “Mingyu, are you –”
“Yes,” he answered before pulling you down onto his face.
He wasn’t teasing you tonight. He was devouring you without even letting you catch your breath. His tongue swiping at your clit before he sucked on it – hard. So hard that you let you a sound that was a mixture of a yelp and a moan. Gripping you roughly, he spread you wider, drinking more of you in. Your hips moved on their own, grinding against his face, which made him groan into your pussy. The vibration in his voice spread throughout your entire body, goosebumps lining your flesh. “Mingyuuu,” you whined, begging for more, and you could practically feel him smirk as he flicked at your swollen clit.
Leaning forward, you turned your head up and noticed again just how hard he was. His cock had always been perfect: the perfect size, dark pink at the tip, veins etched into the shaft. Precum beaded at the head, sliding down every so slowly, as he throbbed and ached and – god, his hips were almost thrusting into the air now. You didn’t doubt he could get off for hours on this, but that didn’t mean he needed to be unsatisfied.
Besides, you wanted something to do with your mouth anyway.
Mingyu whimpered as you shifted slightly to reach his cock. Your body stretched, your mouth at the perfect angle as you flicked the head with your tongue. He pulled you back towards his mouth, shoving his tongue inside your tight hole and making you gasp at the same time you licked a stripe up his shaft. His tongue worked you open while you swirled your own along the tip, and then finally took him into your mouth.
The grunt he released should’ve caused an earthquake.
You bobbed your head up and down his shaft, choking when he bucked into your mouth. You could hardly breathe, taking every opportunity to inhale through your nose, but you couldn’t stop. You didn’t want to stop. God forbid, you have a hobby like wanting Kim Mingyu’s cock in your mouth. He took the liberty of grinding you against his face with his own hands, wrapping his lips around your clit again, eager to taste your climax. And to be honest, he wasn’t sure how much longer he was going to last if you kept sucking on his tip like that. He groaned each time, feeling your tongue circle his head before going back down, taking as much as you could, as if you were rewarding him. And he just couldn’t help but whine along with you.
Your lips pulled off him to kitten lick the veins along the sides of his shaft, and you breathily asked, “Are you close?”
His only response was a moan straight into your pussy.
You nodded, even if he couldn’t see it, before your mouth opened like second nature. You spit on his cock and stuffed him down your throat once again. Head moving faster, you were slobbering on him like a dog in heat, trying not to gag and failing. Your free hand snaked up to cup one of his balls, and the sound he released was deafening. His tongue flicked and sucked at your clit like he had nothing left to live for, hungry for every last drop of your essence.
But then you were cumming, and he was too not long after.
You cried, choking on his cock as you came all over his face. White blurred in your vision, and you were a mess of sweat and spit and so much cum. He exploded in your mouth a moment later, hot seed running down your throat, and you consumed all of it. Neither of you wanted to miss out on the taste of each other. It was filthy, intoxicating, how much you liked this. How much you could suck him off over and over again, and not get tired of him.
You didn’t know it at the time, but Mingyu would say the same about you. If not worse.
He could spend all day between your thighs and never want to leave.
When you both finally angled off each other, spent and exhausted, your breathing was heavy and off by two seconds. Mingyu was glancing over at you before you could even process, a smile playing at his swollen lips. He brushed away a strand of hair that was stuck to your sweaty forehead.
“Mingyu,” you finally said, “has anyone ever told you that you have boyfriend dick?”
Mingyu had wanted to tell you how much he’d been dreaming of that moment, how much you had haunted his dreams and left him waking up so hard that he felt he was going through puberty again. Sometimes he dreamed of how good it would feel when he finally slipped into you, inch by inch. You’d feel like home.
Save the Date for the wedding of Lee Seokmin and Quinn Song: July 31st
You couldn’t go a day without talking to Mingyu. Whether it be through text or over the phone, you were joking with him, telling him about your day, and vice versa. Just a month prior, you had tried keeping your distance, but now … you simply couldn’t help yourself. It was like there was a voice inside your head telling you to contact him, to send him a funny video you saw that day, to tell him about the show you were currently watching. And on nights when you had too much to drink, that voice made you text him that you missed him. He always said he missed you too.
Mingyu: I’m watching that show you recommended
Mingyu: kinda wish you were watching it with me
Mingyu: but I’m still content here and I can see why you like it so much
You: right?? I knew you’d like it!
You couldn’t help but giggle at your phone when his texts came through. And you answered them immediately, like you always did.
Mingyu: what are you doing right now?
You: wouldn’t you like to know
Neither of you made the effort to go on an actual date. It was all just flirty texts with a TikTok mixed in every once in a while. Promises about going back to that coffee shop someday, but never planning the day. To be honest, this was one of those moments where you were glad Mingyu was so uncommitted. If you started going on dates that didn’t include a vow exchange in between, it would be so easy to fall for him again, and then be let down when he eventually didn’t want to see you after wedding season.
Mingyu: I mean that’s why I asked
You: I’m hanging out with
A pillow was suddenly thrown at your head. “Ow!” You shouted, head shooting up from your phone to glare at Vernon sitting on the other side of the couch. “What the hell was that for?”
“Anakin is literally burning alive and all you can do is look at your phone!” Vernon scoffed, turning Revenge of the Sith back on. You set your phone down on your lap as he muttered, “Kinda wish I never won that bet.”
Vernon, obviously, was becoming increasingly annoyed that you and Mingyu had rekindled … whatever this was. Sometimes you wondered if you were talking to Mingyu more than your best friend, but given the way Vernon was acting, that was probably the case. You probably shouldn’t even be texting Mingyu while hanging out with Vernon. Bad friend move; happens to the best of us.
You apologized to Vernon in the best way possible: you bought him fried chicken from his favorite spot.
As summer came along, so did Seokmin and Quinn’s wedding at the end of the month, an invitation that was barely hanging on by an old Britney Spears magnet on your fridge. Quinn Song had been your first ever roommate out of college. You both had met on a Facebook group to find roommates in the area and quickly hit it off. She had been your roommate up until last year actually, when her now-fiancé Lee Seokmin asked her to move in with him. It was at that point that you finally decided to live alone, besides the few days out of the week that Vernon crashed at your apartment.
The wedding was being held on a pretty island in the northeast, nestled on the expansive grounds of a bed and breakfast in the area. The spot felt warm and lived in, the exact kind of place you imagined Quinn would get married at.
Meeting Mingyu at the airport had been awkward, but at the very least, you two were sitting in different rows of the plane. Maybe it shouldn’t have been as cringe-worthy as it was, given the fact that you two had been talking nonstop, but it was the memory that the last time you did see each other in person, you were sitting on his face and his cock was so far down your throat –
Mingyu had found your eyes a couple rows behind him on the plane. Even he was blushing now, as if he could read your thoughts.
You had rented a car once you reached your destination and threw him the keys, letting him drive the convertible down the coast while the summer breeze whipped through your hair. You tried not to notice the way his hand twitched on the gear shift, like he was itching to place his palm on your thigh, to ground himself to your presence. But he didn’t. He couldn’t. Especially when all you could do was stare out the window with a big smile on your face.
Unfortunately, you had to book a room at a small hotel near the bed and breakfast since all the rooms were used for the wedding party. The hotel was quaint, but definitely old and smelled like the Febreze scent your mom used to love when you were a kid. Your room was tinier than the pictures implied, but it was on the first floor and had a screen door that opened to a pretty view of the ocean. You didn’t have much time to enjoy it though, considering that the ceremony was in a few hours and the reception would probably carry on until way past midnight.
You decided to rewear the floral sundress that made a previous appearance at Chan and Adrianna’s wedding. It wasn’t like anyone here was at that event, and honestly, you didn’t care. Throwing your hair up into a perfectly messy updo, you curled a few pieces and took your time with your diligent makeup routine. Mingyu was in his suit before you could even blink, biding his time while you got ready by watching past game recordings of the flag football team he taught and trying to identify key moves they missed out on. As you finished up and clumsily slipped on your shoes, the perfume you sprayed seemed to beckon him like a siren song, and suddenly, he was leaning against the doorframe of the bathroom, meeting your eyes in the mirror.
Your brows shot up. “Done with your flag football research?”
“You’re beautiful,” he replied.
You turned, unable to stop your lips from pulling into a soft smile. His expression was so warm, cheeks tinged slightly pink either from embarrassment or a nasty sunburn. He was beautiful. In ways you couldn’t even comprehend.
Holding out your necklace to him, you asked, “Can you help me put this on?”
He nodded, plucking the dainty chain from your palm. You moved back to the mirror as he struggled to open the clasp with his thick fingers, but he got it eventually. Placing the thin, gold chain around your neck, you watched the small, star-shaped pendant sit so delicately under your collarbones. He fixed the clasp on your neck, his fingers brushing the top of your spine, and you watched him lean forward in the mirror.
His lips ghosted over the shell of your ear, breath hot and making the hairs on your neck stand up. “I meant it, by the way,” he whispered, and then placed the softest of kisses behind your ear.
Your breath hitched, and you were unable to form a single coherent thought. For the first time in a while, he was catching you by surprise. He was moving back, and you noticed him smirk in the mirror, knowing exactly how he was affecting you. That annoying asshole –
“Ready to head out?” He asked, grabbing his wallet from the desk.
You huffed and tugged the strap of your purse onto your shoulder. “Of course.”
The grounds of the bed and breakfast were bigger than you assumed, enough to fit an extremely large tent and hardwood floor for all the guests to congregate. The ceremony was held near the shoreline of the ocean, and it was so, unapologetically Quinn to have a few seashell pins in her veil as she walked towards her husband. You had known Seokmin as long as Quinn had been your roommate, but you had never seen this kind of smile on his face until now. He completely lit up at the sight of her, and he didn’t waste a second to say, “I do,” once his time came.
As the guests crowded into the tent for the reception, Mingyu seemed to hold onto you like a toddler with it’s parent. His arm was locked around yours, letting you lead him through the crowd, even though he was tall enough to see over the tops of everyone’s heads. His palm was so warm on your wrist, and then his fingers were so easily lacing through yours, and you squeezed because you simply couldn’t help yourself.
You were able to find your table easily, but you didn’t recognize the other people already there. They introduced themselves as Seokmin’s friends, and you remembered seeing one or two of them at a bar. You still couldn’t get a read on these people, and found yourself swiftly growing silent around their shared camaraderie. But Mingyu was suddenly so talkative, catching along with their jokes just as quickly, so you stood and whispered in his ear, “Do you want a drink?”
He leaned back to meet your eyes, and you swore time stopped for a moment. His hand reached down, squeezing your wrist, as he said, “You know what I like.”
Jesus. Fuck. Since whendid he have you this wrapped around his finger?
(Probably since sophomore year of college.)
You nodded, swinging your head in the direction of the bar, and your feet had started to head there when you halted in place. It almost felt like your heels were glued to the floor as you found the face of the last person you expected to be here. The only face that could make all the noise drown out around you.
Your ex.
He still had that same curl that always got in his eyes. He was wearing the same suit he wore to your mother’s engagement party last year. The same watch on his wrist; the same cufflinks. Same. Same. Same. And now, he was meeting your eyes across the room. Bodies formed in clusters under the tent – some hugging, some stumbling into each other – but he was unable to look away.
Until a head popped up in front of him, standing from her chair at the table. Her wedge sandals almost made her taller than him, and her dress looked expensive enough that he probably bought it. You didn’t know her, but you knew of her. Well, at least, you knew what the back of her head looked like, and that was her right there.
You couldn’t forget the night even if you tried. Exhaustion had your shoulders sagging as you unlocked the door to your boyfriend’s apartment. He didn’t typically keep it locked, but you had a key anyway. You remembered how quiet the place was, except for the soft sounds echoing from his bedroom. At first, you thought he was just masturbating, and to be honest, you were too tired to engage in anything tonight. But a voice in your head had urged you to move, to go, go, go towards his room. And you were slowly pushing open the door, only to find your boyfriend fucking your 22-year-old neighbor from behind, yanking on her short hair like a leash. You had been too scared to move, too scared to breathe, but eventually, you had started wailing. His eyes had found yours – exactly like in this moment – and he screamed, slipping away completely as your back slid to the floor. He had tried explaining, tried to yell at the young girl, but everything had drowned away in that moment, and all you could hear was the ringing in your ears –
Your breathing was growing rapid, just like that day at his apartment. Sprinting to the inside of the bed and breakfast, you tried to act normal and say hello to whoever you knew mingling by the bathroom. But something was clearly very wrong. It was evident in your eyes, the way tears were pricking at the sides. You almost thought the universe was pulling a cruel prank on you, but then you remembered that it was Quinn who had introduced you two in the first place, that he had been a friend of a friend.
Climbing up the staircase in the lobby, you plopped yourself down on the middle step and let your face fall into your hands. You began to count your breaths – one, two, three, one, two, three – anything to make you get a semblance of control. But you could feel your brain spinning, and your heart was beating too fast. Was this what it felt like to die? Was your cheating ex going to be the last face you saw before you completely slumped against this staircase? Vernon always said you had a flair for the dramatic. What a fitting way to end.
You felt a weight sink into the plush carpet next to you, and you lifted your head, tears brimming your eyes.
“You do realize that this isn’t your party. You can’t cry if you want to,” Mingyu joked, reaching out and swiping the tear at your lash line. His eyes softened then, looking at you like you were something fragile, like a baby bird. “What’s wrong?” His voice was hardly about a whisper.
You sniffled, dabbing at the corners of your eyes with your knuckles. The last thing you needed was your makeup messed up. “This is so embarrassing. I’m crying over something so …” Your words trailed off, noticing that he was leveling a look at you. You sighed before admitting, “I forgot that the bride, Quinn, might invite my ex because they were friends. Somewhat.”
“Your ex? As in that ex?” His brow shot up, and you nodded. “Did he come alone?”
You looked down at your hands in your lap, and after a moment, you watched his large palm slowly envelope one of yours. The rough pads of his fingers – the hands of a cook – brushed over your knuckles, and his touch was so warm that it could burn.
His voice was soft in your ear as he said, “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”
You chuckled a little, turning to look at him again. “Then we’d be sitting on this staircase forever.”
He smiled at you and stretched out his long legs. “That’s fine with me.”
Your lips pursed, and you found him staring at them for a moment. A sigh escaped, and you glanced down at your laced hands. How perfectly they fit together, how he held you with such a fierce softness. His thumb grazed the scar on your knuckle that you got the first time you fell off your bike. Finally, you answered, “He came here with the girl he cheated on me with.”
Mingyu didn’t speak, but you did hear him do a sharp intake.
“She’s twenty-two. She didn’t – she doesn’t know any better. He’s in his early thirties and he’ll do it again,” you continued, chewing on your bottom lip for a moment. “I found them in his apartment after I came home from a late meeting at work. It was … messy. Walking in on them, the fallout, now this … everything about that breakup has felt like one big mess. And now, I have to see him here and be reminded of it all–fucking–over again.”
You didn’t even dare to meet his eyes as the next words tumbled out of your mouth, already feeling your voice start to break again. “It didn’t just hurt because I found them. It hurt because … I never wanted to become my mother. I love her. I really do. But the last thing I ever wanted was to become her. Be in the same situation as her. And yet, there I was, witnessing yet another infidelity that would affect my life for what seems like forever.” You rubbed at your running nose. “I found my father cheating too. It wasn’t exactly the same. I found him kissing my best friend’s mom in my parent’s bedroom one night when my mother stayed at work too late. The sentiment still stands, and history was always bound to repeat itself. Daughters always become their mothers and I always have to bear witness to another man not choosing to stick around –”
Mingyu stopped you by turning your face towards his, one hand cupping your cheek. His thumb skimmed the tears running through your blush. He didn’t say anything; his eyes let you know that he was here. That he was sticking around. Despite everything you thought of him, despite your past – Mingyu was here.
He held you for as long as you needed, gathering you in his arms and cradling your head against his shoulder. He let your tears soak into the fabric of his expensive suit, promising he’d get it dry-cleaned, which made you laugh. Your fingers clutched his lapels and you almost considered not letting go. You would give anything to stay in this bubble, to sit on this staircase in his embrace forever.
“I meant what I said all those months ago,” he said, his voice muffled from his lips at the crown of your head. “I would kill any guy that has done you wrong. Do you want me to kill him?”
You chuckled and raised your head from his shoulder. “What are you gonna kill him with? A butter knife?” You shook your head. “No chef is gonna let you in that kitchen tonight to grab a weapon. You of all people should know that.”
Mingyu grimaced. “This conversation is getting morbid.”
Another laugh bubbled at your lips. “You brought it up!”
“And you’re smiling again,” he said, making your hands hold onto him tighter. “That’s all I could ask for.”
Such simple words could take your breath away, especially when they came from his mouth. You searched his eyes for a moment, your fingers now smoothing out the creases in his lapel. Eventually, you whispered, “I don’t know if I can survive this whole reception. I hate the awkward tension, but I should stay for Quinn.”
“Trust me, I know,” he snickered, and his hand covered over yours as an anchor. “I say we stay at the reception for as long as your comfortable. Then we go to bed early. Whatever works for you.”
Your smile was so kind as you nodded along with his plan. After touching up your makeup, you took his hand and let him lead you back to the reception. Once you saw Quinn in her short, after party dress and looking at Seokmin with stars in her eyes, you instantly felt more at ease. This was her day; you wouldn’t let one person sour it. And Mingyu, clearly, wasn’t going to let your own nerves sour it either. Anytime you locked eyes with your ex, there Mingyu was, distracting you by whispering in your ear how pretty you looked or asking you about your best memories while living with Quinn. There was one moment where you saw your ex heading in your direction, assuming he was finally going to talk to you, and Mingyu stood up to whisk you onto the dance floor. His large arms enveloped you, holding you close, as you swayed to one of your favorite songs. Everything about him felt safe, secure, and he even let you stand on his feet when you told him you had never been that good at dancing. And when you looked at him, you noticed that he was staring at you like how Quinn looked at Seokmin during her speech. Even when you had cried, had let him in, see parts of you that not even Vernon touched … he looked at you like you were the only person in the room.
You stayed at the reception far longer than anticipated. When you told Mingyu that you were too tired to stay any longer, he didn’t question it. He simply grabbed your purse and jacket before taking your arm in his, walking the short distance back to your Febreze-ridden hotel. The first thing you did once you were back in your room was take off your heels. They were only a kitten heel, but your feet were already blistering, and you winced as you went to the bathroom to wash off your makeup. Mingyu had set your stuff down on the small desk before walking out onto the deck connected to your room. You craned your neck out, assuming he was going to smoke a joint, but he was just staring at the ocean, noticing how loud the waves crashed against the shore.
You padded out of the bathroom and leaned against the door frame for a moment, admiring him in the dim light. It almost left in you in disbelief how you had roped Kim Mingyu, one of the most attractive men you’d ever met and probably one of the longest crushes you’d ever had in your life, into being your wedding date for an entire year. He had a lost a bet, but he really didn’t have to be here. He didn’t have to invest in a new suit. He didn’t have take the time off from his two jobs. He didn’t have to listen to your trauma, or look at you like you were this painting to be worshipped, this Mona Lisa of sorts. Mingyu could’ve said no.
But he didn’t.
“I’m going to take a shower,” you finally informed him, and he turned to meet you eyes. “Can you help me out of my dress?”
He nodded diligently, following you to the bathroom. You pulled your hair up with one hand, and with deft fingers, he slid the zipper down your back. Typically, you would hold the dress to your chest until he left the bathroom, out of respect, but you were letting it pool at your feet tonight. You stepped out of it, your gaze locking with his as you turned on the shower. You were giving him this look and he was still standing there in his half-buttoned dress shirt, hands forming into fists as he fought the urge touch you. Waiting for a sign. Waiting for your permission.
But you didn’t even have to say anything. Your eyes said the words for you. As you climbed into the standing shower, he took his time removing his suit, pretending as if he wasn’t fucking dying to have his hands on you, and then he was behind you, the hard panes of his chest flush against your back. He closed the shower door as the glass began to fog up.
The water was scalding as it rained down on your head, steam forming around the small bathroom. You could still feel the dried tears on your face, imprinted underneath your makeup all night, and you did your best to wash them away. Mingyu noticed the way your shoulders sagged, the way you sighed while you were lost in thought, and as much as wanted touch you in places that made those sweet sounds fall from your lips, he held himself back. Instead, he let his hands comb through your wet hair before scrubbing shampoo into the strands. You relaxed against him, closing your eyes as he washed your hair.
It was so domestic that you could cry.
(Again.)
The last person you ever thought could be capable of this kind of care was Mingyu. You both had known each other for eight years, and not once had he displayed this kind of person around you. Or maybe you just weren’t paying attention, too lost in your own perception of him. Even now, you couldn’t help but remind yourself of when he avoided you after the hookup in senior year. He really isn’t the same guy, Vernon’s voice echoed in your head. Give him a chance. You had never trusted those words, but in this moment … you realized where you had went wrong.
The water began to get cold when it came time to wash his own hair and you could tell he was struggling to rush. His mannerisms made you giggle, and even though the steam began to dissipate from the room, you still turned to his front and rested your forehead on his chest, letting the lukewarm water beat down your neck.
When you walked out of the shower, you had never felt more fresh and at ease. Your body was all warm and you had brought the comfiest pajamas for summer weather. The breeze wafting off the ocean blew through your room from the open screen door, and the sound of the waves crashing against the shore could lull you to sleep.
But right now, it seemed like neither of you were keen on the subject. As you slipped under the covers next to each other, you were grateful that there was only one bed: one large, king-sized bed that both of you could be using to spread out. Instead, you were huddled close, hair still wet from the shower, and his arms locked around you like he couldn’t bear the thought of letting you go. Your hands cupped his face, studying parts of him that you didn’t think of in your previous lust-induced hazes. Fingers traced his lips, brushed over the tip of his nose – where his tiny mole was stamped – before you skimmed the shell of his ear.
You almost didn’t recognize your own voice as you whispered, “Thank you for tonight.”
“Anytime,” he smiled.
A beat of silence. Hands stilled. Lips pursed.
“Mingyu?”
“Yeah?”
“Please, kiss me.”
His mouth was on yours before you could even finish the sentence, but he still took his time exploring new ways to make you moan into the kiss. He kept one hand splayed on your back, pressing you further into him, while the other played with the hem of your loose t-shirt. Your hands knotted into his hair as he kissed you slow, savoring you like a fine meal. And you simply let him. You were like molten lava, melting in the palm of his calloused hands.
You felt his fingers prod at the waistband of your shorts, and it was game over. Slipping them under, he practically whined into your mouth when he realized you hadn’t put any panties on after the shower. His mouth disconnected from yours, fingers sliding between your slick folds. “Are you trying to kill me?” He breathed against your lips.
“In my defense,” you chuckled softly, “I forgot to bring them to the bathroom.”
He laughed with you, and you were debating on crying again because he was so kind and good and definitely just as obsessed with you as you were with him. No matter how many times you didn’t want to admit it, you had somehow fallen into Kim Mingyu’s trap once again.
He kissed you again, hungrier this time, as he spread you open with his fingers. You whimpered, but he swallowed it with his tongue and began to rub tight circles on your clit. Your leg lifted, hooking onto his waist, and you bucked against his hand. Your body felt like it was on fire, but Mingyu was careful, plucking your strings like a guitar, and you needed moremoremore. Pushing two fingers inside of you, his kiss was like a sound barrier as he consumed all your sweet sounds, as if that would allow him to hear them forever.
It was only when you came apart that he dragged his lips to your neck, wanting to focus on your moans as he fucked you with his fingers. He felt you shake, your pussy squeezing his thick fingers, and he kept rubbing your clit through it, wanting to prolong your orgasm as much as possible. If not for you, then for him, just so he could hear you. He would make you cum as many times as you wanted if it meant he could hear his name falling from your lips.
Neither of you wanted to stop; all fumbling hands and shaky limbs as he finally tugged your shorts off. It was a lot more difficult to take off his boxers without separating from you, but you laughed and you were so pretty that he almost forgot what he was doing in the first place. Once he was situated, you rolled on top of him, straddling his lap. You held his face in your hands, and for a moment, you could almost see reflections of the dark ocean outside in his starry gaze. Your palms drifted down, fingertips tracing the hard panes of his chest. He was all muscle, sculpted like your very own David statue; his complexion so similar to golden hour personified.
You lifted your t-shirt off and tossed it onto the floor. Mingyu was already so hard that it hurt, but he took a few more seconds to stare at you. He wanted to remember this moment forever: the sight of you on top of him, naked and vulnerable, hair wet and a faint blush on your cheeks.
Sitting up on your knees, you positioned yourself right over his cock and gripped the shaft to get the perfect angle inside of you. You were looking at him and he was looking at you as you lowered yourself slightly, grazing his tip against your wet slit, still dripping from your previous orgasm. Mingyu groaned at the sensitivity, throwing his head back against the pillow and muttering, “This is so mean.”
“You like when I’m mean,” you giggled, repeating the same words you uttered that fateful night after Chan’s wedding, when Mingyu’s face was buried between your thighs.
And Mingyu recognized it too, a grin making it’s way to his lips. But that was soon replaced by look of complete bliss as you finally sunk down onto his cock. He was the perfect size, filling you just right but never uncomfortable. He gave you a moment to adjust, but you could tell from his white-knuckled grip on your hips that he was damn near fighting the urge to thrust up into you. He didn’t though. He was patient and perfect and all yours.
You anchored yourself to him with one hand on his shoulder, beginning to rock into him at a snail’s pace. Your eyes connected, and even as he moaned underneath you, he was unable to stop smiling. Mingyu let you set the pace, and you took your time, getting to know what speed had him pulling your hips harder. The angle had him buried so deep inside that you could practically feel him in your stomach, and you sighed each time as you moved against him.
“Fuck,” he whined, shifting to sit up against the headboard. “I’ve needed you so bad.”
“I know, I know,” you confessed in a breathy whimper. “Me too.”
He was digging his fingers into your hips so hard that you were sure there’d be marks, but you didn’t care right now. You just wanted him, wanted this. Wanted to be this connected to him and feel him this deep and cum together as the waves crashed against the shore outside. He began to move you on his own accord, bouncing you on his cock as he leaned forward to nip and suck at your neck. “So pretty,” he mused against your skin, breath stuttering as your walls tightened. “So pretty sitting on my cock.”
You were the one whining now, raking your fingers into his dark strands as your thigh muscles burned. Your breasts jumped with each slam of his hips against yours, and he planted hot, open-mouthed kisses down your throat, dipping his tongue into your collarbone, before latching his mouth around one of your nipples.
Your hands pulled at his hair. “Mingyu, please,” you cooed, not exactly sure what you were begging for. Just moremoremore.
His eyes lifted to yours and you watched him fucking smile while tugging at your nipple. You were melting like putty, and he was able to still move you with one hand, using his free one to cup your other breast and run his thumb over that nipple. Tears pricked at your eyes, feeling him pulse inside you with each pass. And when he started to thrust up into you, you were pretty sure that you were close to seeing stars.
“Wanna cum with you,” he rasped while switching breasts and flicking his tongue over your other nipple. “Please, wanna cum inside you.”
You nodded, too cock drunk to say anything besides, “Yesyesyes.”
He was rolling your hips now, practically rutting into you as he lifted his head from your chest, leaving a trail of spit. You leaned down and let his lips ghost over yours. Moans slipped from your mouth into his, and he was bouncing you on his cock so fast you almost couldn’t register to breathe. His breath was hot against your lips, so close he could feel his body shaking, but he needed you to be closer, needed to feel you tightened around him and milk him for everything he was worth.
Snaking a hand between your bodies, he found your clit easily, knowing your body better than anyone ever had. All you could hear in that moment was the sound of the ocean through your screen door and skin slapping against skin. You were so wet and warm and – shit, you were starting to clench around him. He rolled your clit between two fingers, and a whimper slipped out of his mouth when he felt your pussy clamp around his throbbing cock.
He needed to cum and so did you and – fuck, he could feel it, feel you, feel how deep he was inside.
He would do this forever if you asked.
“Fuck, Mingyu, oh my god, right there, right there –” You pleaded in his ear, feeling yourself tip right over that edge –
Then you were cumming.
And so was he.
You moaned his name like it was a prayer, shattering as you came undone. Your walls were squeezing him like a vice, and he was unable to hold himself back anymore, burying himself to the hilt before painting your insides white with his orgasm. Hips jerked, bodies went taunt. You felt your whole being dissolve into nothing but pleasure, molding yourself to him in his arms. When the rush of warmth started to fade and he felt your combined releases seep from between your thighs, he breathed out a sigh of relief, brushing kisses over your jaw.
You weren’t sure you were in your right mind. Everything was so hazy. But you didn’t want to move away just yet. Even when his cock started to go soft inside of you, you stayed connected to him, pushing his hair back from his forehead and whispering praises in his ear like, “You were so good … So good to me … My Mingyu … I’ve always been yours …” You could feel him smiling against your skin, his hands tracing circles on your lower back.
But as time seemed to stop and you felt peace for the first time in a while, you realized just how deep you had fallen. You were drowning in him.
Mingyu had wanted to tell you that it felt exactly like his dreams. If you were drowning in him, he had already sunk to the bottom a long time ago.
Save the Date for the wedding of Nathan Chaney and Your Mother: September 5th
Your mother was remarrying. Her and Nathan had been together since you went off to college, and then got engaged just a year after you graduated. They decided on a long engagement, choosing to plan out a destination wedding in the Caribbean. You thought it was crazy at first, but then your mother said, “If this is going to be my last wedding – and it is – I want to go out with a bang.” You couldn’t exactly blame her. After your dad had cheated and the divorce was finalized, you knew your mother deserved something like this. She deserved the world.
When she had called you just a week before the wedding, babbling on about who you were possibly bringing now that your ex was completely out of the picture, you paused. Holding the phone to your ear and watering one of your half-dead plants with the other, you said, “I’m … I’m going with Mingyu.”
“Vernon?” She asked, not believing what you said.
“Mingyu.”
“Like … the Mingyu from university? The football player?”
You sighed, playing with the dead leaves on the plant. “He was also – and still is – one of Vernon’s good friends.”
“Oh,” your mother said, more surprised than anything. “Well, you better watch for Nathan’s sister. If Mingyu looks anything like how I remember from Family Day, she will go buck wild over him.”
“I’ll make sure of it,” you chuckled.
The truth was … you weren’t exactly sure how this wedding was going to go. Ever since the last one, you had been progressively putting more distance between you and Mingyu. Once again. Your last night together had been so real … too real, and you wanted to save yourself from the heartbreak after this wedding when you never saw him again. As much as you hated to admit it, feelings were now involved, seeping into your bloodstream, until your heart thrummed like the sound of his name on your tongue.
Slowly pushing him away … it hurt, but it was better this way. Pain was temporary and so was your arrangement. You knew that going into it, so how did you end up in this mess? You remembered what had happened after Chan’s wedding, the way Mingyu looked at you as he was shotgunning smoke into your mouth and – yeah, you knew exactly how you ended up here.
If you kept telling yourself this was for the better, maybe you’d start believing it. Maybe your feelings would drift like smoke and your mother’s wedding would be a final farewell before you two went your separate ways.
But you had been doing that for a month now.
And those feelings refused to fade.
You had an early morning flight the day of your mother’s wedding. Typically, you wouldn’t be getting to a destination wedding on such short notice, but the ceremony was small. So small your mother refused to have a rehearsal dinner and no bridal party. It was about her and Nathan, and you had to respect that she was doing things her way this time around.
You had waited at your gate right before doors closed for Mingyu, since you were on the same flight. But he was clearly running late and you were much too awkward around him now to text him. So you finally got on the plane and found your seat, noticing the one seat in the back still left unoccupied. Once you had landed five hours later, you quickly headed to the hotel that Nathan had booked for the ceremony and reception. Your phone lit up as you hailed a ride.
Mingyu: I’m sorry, I got a new flight
Mingyu: I’ll be there just 2 hours after you land
Mingyu: I’ll make it for the ceremony. I promise
Feeling his anxiety radiate through your phone, you believed him, and then wondered if maybe this was a blessing in disguise. You were rewarded a few more hours of alone time before you had your last hurrah with Mingyu. Maybe if you buried your feelings deep enough, you wouldn’t tense up the second you saw his face. Maybe if you didn’t look into his eyes, you wouldn’t have the urge to kiss him. Or let him hold your hand. Or spread your legs to welcome him inside –
You dropped your lipgloss onto the bathroom counter, sick of your own thoughts. Your square-neck, baby blue dress was clinging to every curve, but you felt like you were being suffocated by the fabric. You had just finished doing your hair and makeup, but you couldn’t quite keep your thoughts at bay. Nerves batted against your skull, making your hands shake slightly. What would you do once Mingyu walked in? Would you avoid his stare? Would you tell him immediately how much you liked him and how this wouldn’t work out and you knew you set yourself up for heartbreak –
Maybe you needed a walk.
Grabbing a spare pair of sandals, you headed outside to walk the beach just along the grounds of the hotel. There was still an hour before the ceremony, and you could just see the planners putting finishing touches on the decorations laid out on the shore, where your mother wanted it to take place. Couples were still walking through the water. Kids were making sand castles. The sun was slowly beginning to set and the breeze was whipping your hair off your shoulders.
And you smiled, despite everything you were feeling. Because where there was an end, there would always be a new beginning.
“HEY!”
You spun around, your sandals sinking into the sand. Although you recognized his voice, the last thing you expected to see was Kim Mingyu running towards you in his pristine black tux, his tie loose around his neck and blowing in the breeze. It was like something out of a movie, the kind of movie where there was supposed to be a happy ending, but you knew you weren’t afforded luck like that in real life.
He stopped in front of you, running a hand through his hair. Sand sprinkled down the tops of his shoes.
“When did you get here?” You raised a brow.
“About twenty minutes ago. I flew in my tux because I figured I wouldn’t have enough time to change. But now it just kind of smells like …” He lifted the sleeve to his nose and inhaled. “Like peanuts and old plastic.”
You giggled, holding a hand to your mouth and just … staring at him. He was smiling at you, fangs poking out from under his top lip. His skin was even prettier in the sunset. His hair, despite the messy texture, was effortless and perfect. He embodied sunshine in its purest form.
“Well, you …” You looked to the water, your hands flexing at your sides. “You didn’t need to come find me out here.”
His voice was sweet, soft, like fresh sheets, when he replied, “Yes, I did.” His hand reached out a little, attempting to lace your fingers together, but he stuffed them in his pockets instead. “When I was wondering where you’d be, I remembered something you said to me in college … Do you remember Move-In Day of junior year when we had that bonfire with Vernon and a few other people? You really didn’t enjoy my company back then, but I sat next to you because you agreed to sharing that god awful cheap vodka we used to like.” He laughed when you grimaced. “We got to talking and I asked you, ‘If you could be anywhere right now, where would you be?’ And you said something like, ‘I want to be walking on a beach. I’ve always felt the most calm with my toes in wet sand.’”
You blinked, wondering if you had heard him right. He … how did he … “You remember that?”
“I remember a lot of things.”
And there he was, reaching out again and brave enough to brush his fingers over your knuckles. You looked down, watching his hand interlock with yours, and his palms were balmy and calloused. They felt familiar, like home. And you simply couldn’t believe that you had deprived yourself of this.
“Did you mean it when you said, ‘I’ve always been yours?’”
Your head snapped up, tsking under your breath. Hand still intertwined with his, you pushed a lock of hair behind your ear. “You came all the way out here to ask me that?” You asked, flustered and agitated.
His brow shot up. “So that’s a yes then?”
Your mouth opened, but then closed when you realized that he caught you.
He added, his voice like velvet again, “Then why are you avoiding me? I can sense it.”
“Well, if you’re that sensitive to other people’s feelings than I guess that –” You paused, taking a deep breath as you gathered yourself. Your ears reddened. “Look, I think it’s pretty obvious that I’ve … I like you. A lot. But having feelings for you would be so messy. The last time I went through this, we hooked up and you hardly spoke to me after.”
Mingyu’s brow furrowed. “That was years ago.”
“You know how uncommitted you’ve always been,” you quickly remarked, even though you didn’t fully believe those words anymore. “Weren’t you the one that told me at the start of this that men never really grow up?”
His eyes narrowed a little. “Are you playing psychological warfare with me right now?”
Slipping your fingers away from his, you shrugged. “Maybe.”
“I’ve been your date to five weddings this year. It wasn’t just about losing some bet. I did it for you.” He stared at you incredulously. “Are you really going to hold me to a mistake I made six years ago? When I was a shitty 22-year-old that was terrified to tell the girl I liked for years that I was interested in her?”
“I never … I never thought you liked me back then.”
Mingyu’s gaze softened, and he tucked another curl behind your ear that blew in the wind. “I made you believe that I didn’t because it was easier than admitting my feelings. I was terrified of rejection. And an idiot.”
You couldn’t help but snort at his comment, but you knew this conversation was far from over. “Well, I …” You rubbed at your nose and turned away from him, facing the water that looked almost sapphire in color. The waves sparkled under the setting sun. “Wedding season is over after this and we can both go back to our normal lives. Vernon won’t flip a lid when he sees me texting you all the time and everything will be back to the way it was. I always prepared for you to just forget about me after this anyway.”
“I love Vernon, but this isn’t about him.” Mingyu stepped forward into your line of vision. “What if I don’t want to go back to the way things were?”
Your eyes flickered to his, and it was his turn to step closer again. His large palm cupped your cheek, his skin always so cozy and inviting that you just had to lean into him. Fingertips traced your brow bone as his gaze lingered on your lips.
“I don’t want to forget about you or never see you again. I want to be around you,” he confessed. “I … want to go on more dates with you. I want to be your date to more than just weddings.”
You hesitated, unraveling and dissecting each word in your head, before you came to the conclusion that … oh, my god, he had feelings for you too. Had you always been this much of an absolute moron?
Getting on your tiptoes, you closed the distance between you two, your lips crashing onto his like the water against the shoreline. Your body almost suctioned to his, bringing him even closer when your arms wound around his neck. He kept that one hand on your cheek, the other splaying on your lower back, like how he always did when he was nervous. But he had nothing to be nervous about, because you liked him and he liked you. The world felt like it was spinning, but also just right, and his tongue was licking into your mouth enough to make you feel breathless. You could do this forever, be this relaxed in his arms, kiss him as if it was only you two in your own world. And as he tugged on your bottom lip to make your breathing heavy, you decided that your dream had become a reality.
When you broke the kiss, your cheeks were definitely flushed, even under the layer of blush you put on. Mingyu grinned, tilting his head as he whispered, “So you have always been mine then?”
“Such a tease sometimes,” you repeated his fateful words from June.
You turned, tugging on his hand playfully as the waves begin to lick at the sand near your feet. “C’mon,” you chuckled. “If we’re late to this wedding, my mom will kill me before I can even think about calling you my boyfriend.”
Mingyu had wanted to ask you to marry him only two years later, and thank god, he finally found the words.
˙⋆✮ 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: unprotected p in v, creampie, big dick minghao, minghao practically has a tentacle for a dick, alien sex, handjob, fingering, oral (m rec), cum eating, squirting, body worship, pussy stretching, deep throating, hair pulling, minghao’s antennas are sensitive, overstimulation, Nicknames: nova, good girl (hers) baby, hao (his).
˙⋆✮ 𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: 18+ nsfw
˙⋆✮ 𝐚𝐧: this is connected to my wonwoo alien story called “Dreaming of Saturn”. im gonna make a little connecting universe with some of the to other boys called stardust. Thank you @aeristudios for listening to me figure out my little alien universe. Thank you @haologram for being my 8star and helping me figure out this one. Thank you @supi-wupi for beta reading this.
🎧: saturn - sza | kiss of fire - woodz | sour candy - woodz
Wonwoo’s arrival back on Saturn caused quite the uproar. His refusal to go through with his arranged marriage sparked controversy. He came back threatening to leave the moment he got a chance. He swore off his future place as king saying the only thing he wanted was his starlight.
Minghao has been Wonwoo’s close friend and adviser for as long as he can remember. Upon his return Wonwoo begged Minghao to go to earth and watch after his love.
Minghao left in the middle of the night, the only person who knew about his departure being Wonwoo.
The stars were bright as Minghao traveled for a long time. He felt a calling to the city where Wonwoo said his love was.
GROWING INTOXICATED BY THE SILENCE
It’s another late night you’re spending laying on a blanket looking up at the stars. Your attempt at a fresh start, led you to move to a new city completely alone. You've spent most nights like this since moving here.
It’s almost two in the morning. You’ve lost track of time laying here. Looking up at the night sky there was a light falling towards you. You’ve spent your whole life studying the stars and you’ve never seen anything look like this before.
It looks like it’s crashed down on the other side of the trees off in the distance. Pushing yourself off the ground you stare into the distance for a moment. Without thinking you took off running through the grass.
The spring air has a chill to it as you run as fast as you can. Pushing past low hanging trees you find a dent in the ground that’s glowing. Walking towards the edge you find the source of the light. Lying there is a very beautiful man with skin that has a lavender hue to it. Your eyes are wide as they wander his body. It’s clear he’s very naked lying in front of you.
He groans as he sits up. He looks over at you and smiles. His eyes focus on nothing but you.
You’re at a complete loss for words. You’ve always had an idea there were other things out there in space. There is no way earth is the only planet with life on it.
“Who are you?” He finally speaks.
“Where did you come from?” You don’t even bother answering his question.
“Saturn. Is this earth?” He stands up slowly.
“Yes.”
“What is your name?” You step a little closer to him. For some reason you feel safe being near him.
“Minghao. You may call me Hao if you would like. What is your name?”
“It’s ___.”
“You remind me of a beautiful super nova.” You weren’t expecting an alien to start flirting with you. A hot wave of blush creeps over you.
“Why are you here?” You’re very confused on why he decided to crash land here.
“I have been sent to check on my prince’s soulmate.”
“Soulmate?”
“Yes, his soulmate.” He starts to brush off the dirt from his body. He looks up back at you again. “Prince Wonwoo, ran away to earth and found his soulmate here. He refers to her as starlight.”
Without thinking you hold out your hand. The moment your fingers touch you feel a spark. He feels it touch, but doesn’t say anything. He just laces his fingers with yours.
“Do you all have soulmates?”
“I believe so.”
You lead him out through the trees back to the blanket you left in the distance. You’re extremely happy you’re extremely far away from where anyone would see you and your new very naked alien friend. The fact that it’s also dark and the dead of night, also is helping.
You stop right at the pink fuzzy blanket. He looks down at it for a second before looking back at you.
He stands before you studying you. He reaches out resting his hand under your chin. “You’re beautiful. The prettiest creature I have ever seen.”
“I didn’t know aliens know how to flirt.”
He lets out a soft laugh. “My kind is very similar to your people.” He tilted your head up towards him. “Our bodies seem to be similar as well.”
“Men from here don’t have—“ you pause. “Um, cocks that big.” Your statement earns a smile from him.
“That’s a shame for anyone who chooses to mate with men from here.” He drags his thumb across your bottom lip.
“Are you always naked on saturn?”
“No, my clothes burned off entering your atmosphere.”
“How do you know my body is similar to the women on your planet?” You could easily drop this conversation or play with fire. You decide maybe playing with fire could be fun.
He leans in close to you, his nose brushes against yours. “I’m just assuming from what I can see with your clothes on.”
You aren’t sure what possessed you to do this, but you step back and pull off your hoodie and baggy shirt. Thank god you decided not to wear a bra tonight. You’re completely bare from the waist up standing in front of your new alien friend.
“Do your women have breasts?”
“Yes they do, their breasts are extremely sensitive. Most women find ecstasy from playing with their nipples. Do humans do the same?”
“Some women can.” You push your chest out hoping he’ll take the sign to touch you.
“Can you?” He steps closer.
“Yes.”
“It feels as if I’m being drawn to you.”
You take his hand, resting it on one of your breasts. “I feel it too.”
“Would you like for me to touch you, like my kind does when they mate?”
“Please.”
His hand massages your breasts. His eyes stay locked on yours as his fingers toy with your pebbled nipple. A soft gasp passes your lips as he applies more pressure.
“Can I taste you?” He asked leaning in so his lips are practically touching yours.
“Please.”
The moment your lips touch, you feel a spark. Your body feels alive. He feels like oxygen in your lungs. Your lips move together for a searing kiss. You wrap yours around his neck pulling his tall frame close to yours.
Kissing him is like nothing you’ve ever experienced. You could do this every day for the rest of your life. His hands rest on your hips holding you close to him. One hand slides down to your sweat pants cover butt. He squeezes your butt, causing you to moan into his mouth.
“I would like to taste more of you.”
“You can have any part of me, you would like.” He steps back and drops to his knees. His finger hooks into the band of your sweatpants. He drags them down your thighs, leaving you in only your boyshort panties.
“May I remove these?” He hooks his finger into the elastic of your panties and snaps it, earning a gasp from you.
“Yes.”
He slides them down your thighs leaving you bare except for your socks. Leaning in he leaves a trail of wet kisses from your navel down to your pussy. Your eyes stay locked on him, watching his every movement.
“Can you lay down for me?” Silently you follow his request.
Laying in your back with your legs spread he takes his time exploring your wet core. His finger prod at your entrance as his tongue laps at your sensitive clit. He slowly slides one finger in your. He runs it along your gummy walls. It doesn’t take him long to find that spot inside of you, that has you seeing stars.
He slides in a second finger. Based on the size of his dick, you know you’re going to need to come at least once, to be wet enough to take him, without him splitting you open.
He pulls away from your clit and says, “you sound so pretty.”
Closing your eyes you roll your head back. A loud moan passes your lips. This man had never met a human woman before, and he already had you on the verge of falling apart.
Your fingers grip the blanket before below you, you desperately need something to cling to. Your eyes pop open and you’re greeted to the site of millions of bright stars above you.
Your orgasm hits you like a wave. It knocks the air of your lungs as it pulls you away. “Hao—“ his name is nothing more than a desperate plea.
He does stop, he continues sucking on your clit, and rubbing the spot inside of you, as your walls contract around his fingers.
He pulls away slowly, his eyes staying locked on you. He brings his fingers to his mouth, licking your release off of them.
“My sweet beautiful super nova.”
Your chest rises and falls as your high slowly starts to dissipate. No man has ever made him come that hard before.
He moves so he’s sitting on his knees between your spread legs. “That was insane.” You sigh.
“Thank you for letting me explore your body.” You almost laugh at his thank you. If he wants to take the time to explore your body again, you would let him in a heartbeat.
“Would you like to learn about my body?”
“God yes.” You practically scream, pushing yourself up on your hands.
Minghao moves so he’s laying on the fuzzy blanket. With your practically jello legs you move yourself on top of him. Sitting on his thighs you take your time exploring his body. His anatomy is very similar to humans outside of his antennas sticking out of his hair, and cock that you would basically consider a tentacle. It’s probably around ten inches with ridges in the the side. It sways as if it’s moving on its own.
“You can touch me however you would like.”
Reaching out your hand along his length.
“You’re massive.” You decide the best course of action is to give him a hand job like you would a normal man. You keep pumping his length. You start to focus on the base and watch as the tip moves side to side, almost as if its reaction to your movements.
“Can I taste you?” Now it’s your turn to ask for a taste.
“Women on my planet don’t normally do that, unless they’re bonded.”
“If you don’t want me to, I won’t. If it’s something you only do with someone you’re bonded to.”
He shakes his head rapidly. “I would like you to do it.”
Laying on your stomach you focus on licking the mushroom shaped head. You stare at him trying to gauge his reaction to everything you do. You take him into your mouth until he brushes the back of your throat. There is no way all of his length can fit in your mouth, but you’re willing to try and fit as much as you possibly can. His fingers grip the fuzzy blanket below him. His stomach muscles tense as your fingers circle the base of his tentacle. You twist your hand applying pressure. Your hand moves up and down taking his length over and over to the back of your throat.
“Nova—” He moans.
You pull off of him, a string of what looks like a mixture of lube, and saliva is connected to his tentacle cock and your lip. It’s clear his length produces a lubricant as he gets aroused.
“Don’t like this?” You start pining his length as you stare at him.
“Yes—“
Leaning down you take his length in your mouth again. You swallow him until part of his length slides into your throat. His fingers tangle in your hair. He’s lost his patience as he helps guide you up and down his length.
A series of moans leaves his lips. Looking up at him through your lashes you can tell he’s close to the edge. I’m pulling off his length, you pump the top part with your hand. You apply pressure to the bulbous tip.
“You sound so pretty.” You sound dazed, and drunk on lust.
His stomach muscles tense and a loud moan passes his lip. His release spills all over your hand. He comes just like a normal man, but there is definitely way more. You’ve never been interested intasting a man’s cum, but you’re instantly intrigued by his. His eyes focus on you as you bring it up to your lips. It feels like normal cum, it just has a blue tint to it. The closer your hand gets to your nose, you can smell how sweet it is. Without thinking to lick the side of your hand. It’s the texture of regular cum, but it’s sweet like juicy green muscat grapes. You lick it fully off your hand.
“How do you want me?”
Looking down, his cock is still very much aroused and swaying side to side. It’s coated in what looks like lube.
“On your back.”
You crawl off of him and lay down on the blanket beside him. He leans over and presses his lips to yours for a heated kiss. Pulling away he tugs on your bottom lip.
He moves so he’s hovering over you. Leaning down he rubs his nose against yours. “My sweet super nova.”
“Minghao please.” You’re desperate for something you can’t quite explain.
He lets his tentacle-like cock move on its own. The mushroom tip, taps your clit earning a moan from you. “Hao—“
“My name sounds so pretty falling from your lips.” He smiles.
He taps your clit again, earning a louder moan. Your fingers grip the sheet below you.
“You’re people’s mating is the same as ours.”
“Are you going to mate with me?” You reach up, tangling your fingers in his dark hair, pulling him closer to you.
“Do you want me to mate with you?”
“God yes.”
On its own accord his length moves until it brushes your wet entrance. “You’re so pretty, laying here below me.”
You stare up at him in awe. The night sky looks so bright above him. There is this feeling in your chest, it’s not just lust. You feel something strong for this man you’ve just met.
“Minghao?”
“Yes my sweet nova?”
“Do you feel something in your chest?”
He pushes into you slowly. His eyes stay locked on yours. Your lips part as a gasp falls past your lips. He’s by far the largest man you’ve ever taken before. The stretch is kind of painful, but more than anything it’s intoxicating.
“I believe we’re feeling the connection Wonwoo felt with his starlight.”
He pulls his hips back, leaving just the mushroom tip inside of you, before pushing back into you at a slow pace.
Thank god his cock became self lubricating, it’s helping ease the pain with each thrust. Each passing moment the discomfort starts turning into pleasure.
“You’re so big.” You whine.
“You’re just tight.” He pushes into you a little quicker.
Your fingers claw at his back pulling him closer to you. One hand tangles in his long hair without thinking you toy with his antenna. A low moan passes his lips. You instantly realize his antennas must be sensitive.
“Is that okay?” You run your fingers up the antenna.
“Yes.” He moans.
He rolls his hips into yours over and over again. With each thrust the coil in your stomach tightens. Your whole body feels like a live wire. Each thrust sends a tingly feeling across your body.
“I’m close—“ You moan.
Your walls contract around his length as your high hits. Your finger grip the blanket below. Squeezing your eyes shut, you moan his name like a prayer. He's awestruck at the sight of you unraveling below him. He’s never seen anything in his life as beautiful as you.
He never stops moving. Each thrust is helping you ride out your high. Your fingers roam his back wanting to touch every part of him. You don’t think you can ever be with another man after this. You should be exhausted and worn out, but you aren’t. Being with him is making you feel feral and incredibly horny for more. You want anything and everything he’ll possibly give you.
Pushing on his chest he pauses for a moment. “Lay on your back. I want to ride you.”
He rolls you both effortlessly. You're sitting on his length with him snugly inside of you. Your hands rest on his chest for leverage. Lifting your hips you leave only the tip inside. You drop down quickly. You try to set a quicker pace. The feeling of the ridges along his length rubbing against your gummy walls is insane. His cock is like an expensive sex toy. The stretch feels incredible now.
You grab his hand and move it towards your wet core. You release it and point to your puffy clit. “Play with this spot. If you play with my clit I’ll come immediately again.”
He instantly does as instructed. It’s very clear that Minghao is a quick learner. He listens to the noises you make, and focuses on your reaction as he tests out different motions and pressures.
“Like that.” You cry.
“So good for me.”
Your second orgasm hits you like a white hot tidal wave. Your eyes squeeze shut as you roll your head back. The flood gates open as a pressure like you never experienced releases from you. Minghao can’t help but smile as you squirt all over him. This is like nothing he’s ever experienced before.
The intoxicating sounds that keep making are pushing him closer and closer to the edge. He pushes himself up. His hands grab the flesh of your ass and he helps keep you moving up and down his length.
“Minghao—“
Your eyes slowly open and you see the night sky above you. “My perfect mate.” He moans.
One of his hands gropes your breast. His fingers toy with your pebbles nipple.
Your orgasm slowly starts to dissipate. You roll your hips forward, earning a moan from him.
His own orgasm is like nothing he’s ever experienced before. His whole body feels tingly as he fills you to the brim with his sticky sweet blue release. His eyes practically roll back in his head. He’s never cum this much in his entire life. He’s never experienced sex like this before, neither have you.
Without saying a word you fall forward, laying on top of him. “If I weigh too much I can move.” You whisper with your lips against his neck.
“You weigh nothing to me.” He sighs as he gently rubs your back.
“I can’t believe I just fucked an alien I just middle in the middle of a field.” This is something that doesn’t feel real.
“We just mated. I wouldn’t call that something crude like that.” He seems offended by your statement.
“I mated with someone I didn’t know before now.”
He presses his lips to your bare shoulder. “Does your chest still feel strange?”
“It feels warm.”
“It’s your bond you feel for me. I think my kind, and humans from here are supposed to be connected.”
“Your prince Wonwoo felt this for a human girl?”
“Yes.”
“Nova, would you come back to Saturn with me?”
“You just met me tonight.” You just met him, but you feel like you’ve known him forever. You should tell him he’s crazy, but can’t. You can’t lie, you want to go with him.
“We could easily love each other.” That simple sentence lingers in your mind.
“We should probably go up to my place. The sun is starting to rise, and I don’t need people finding us naked out here.”
You give Minghao your hoodie to help cover most of his face, or to make it a little difficult for people to see his lavender skin. You give him the blanket to wrap around his body as you get dressed. The walk to your apartment building isn’t too far. You just hope you don’t run into anyone.
Walking into your small one bedroom apartment Minghao clings to your hand. You lead him off to your bedroom. You release his hand and you search for some sweatpants and clothes your ex left behind.
Minghao gets dressed and sits down on the edge of the bed.
“I must find and check on Wonwoo’s starlight. May I return to you?”
“Yes. Minghao, can you disguise yourself?”
“Yes I can.” He closes his eyes and focuses for a moment, and suddenly the lavender disappears, and his antennas are tucked away in his hair. Standing in front of you, he just looks like a normal human man.
MY HEAD IS FILLED WITH THE IMAGINE OF YOU
Wonwoo told Minghao where to find his love. He wasted no time going there and checking on her. The whole time Minghao was gone, you couldn’t help but think about him.
You went about your day working on your research project for the astrological center. You spent your whole life studying the stars and now it suddenly feels as if you have your own.
Minghao arrives back at nightfall. Opening your apartment door you find him standing there. There was a part of you that was worried he wouldn’t return.
“Wonwoo’s starlight is safe. She looked as if she could be happy.” You’ve just met Minghao and you’re now fully understanding how this girl he refers to as starlight fell in love with the prince of Saturn. You barely know Minghao and you feel like you’re falling in love with him.
“May I stay the night here?”
You bring Minghao into the kitchen and make him something to eat. You aren’t sure if aliens eat human food. You watch as he devours the ramen you made him. There is something so enduring watching him discover little things.
You go about your nightly routine and practically have Minghao as your shadow. He sits in the bathroom watching you wash your face, and brush your teeth.
Walking into your room he stands there watching you remove your clothes for the day. You contemplate putting on pajamas but realize he’s probably going to sleep naked.
“Should I just stay naked?” You ask looking over your shoulder.
“If you’re more comfortable that way. I would prefer to sleep that way.” He moves so he’s sitting on the edge of your bed.
Stripping away your clothes, you feel Minghao’s eyes on you. Turning around you face him completely naked. He stands and starts to remove the clothes you’ve lent him.
Crawling into bed you watch as Minghao makes his way around your room. He lets his disguise fade away, and he’s now back to his lavender tinted skin, and his antennas are sticking out of his hair.
He lays down next to you. He gives you a soft smile. Reaching out he pushes hair away from your face. “You truly are the most beautiful creature I have ever met.”
Move so you’re laying closer to him. You want to cuddle with him, but you aren’t sure if he’s comfortable with that.
“May I hold you?”
“Yes.” You turn around so he’s pressed up against your back.
“Minghao, have you ever had a girlfriend?” This question was eating away you, all day while he was gone.
“On Saturn we don’t exactly court before marriage. Our emotions are interesting. You’re married very early on, and if you find your soulmate, you feel this instant connection. You love them instantly and fiercely.” He holds you close to him. His hand is resting in your stomach.
“Am I your soulmate?” You didn’t believe in soulmates until you met him today. You can’t explain the feeling you have of being pulled to him.
“I believe so.” He presses a kiss to your bare shoulder. “Did you want to be my soulmate?”
You pause taking in his words. “I do.”
His hand kneads the soft flesh of your stomach. Normally if another man did this you would feel self conscious, but you don’t feel that way with Minghao.
Silence takes over the room as you enjoy each other's company. His hand slowly moves down resting on your mound. His fingers are so close to your clit, you can almost feel them. He presses another kiss to your shoulder.
“Minghao, please touch me.”
“As you wish.” His fingers slide between your already wet folds. Before Minghao you never thought you had a high sex drive, but with him you can’t seem to get enough of him. His long index finger rubs your clit earning a soft moan from you.
“Is this where you are most sensitive?”
“Yes.” You moan louder as he applies more pressure.
“Your sweet moans are music to my ears.” You push your hips back against his. You can feel him start to harden against your butt.
“Hao- please- inside—“ You plead for some type of penetration.
His fingers slide through your folds. The palm of his hand rubs against your clit. He dips two fingers into your wet core. You wince a little at the feeling. You’re a little sore from your rendezvous under the stars. Your body will have to get used to taking his massive tentacle.
His fingers slowly pump in and out of you, he’s running his fingers along that spot inside of you that had you seeing stars.
“Hao—” his name is just a broken moan.
“You feel so good.” He moans against your ear.
The hill of his palm is rubbing your clit giving you a dual sensation of pleasure. The room is filled with the sounds of your echoing pants and moans.
“I’m close.”
“Let go, my super nova.”
Your orgasm it’s your with a white wave. All your muscles tense and then slowly release. Your walls flutter around his fingers. He pulls them away from your pulsing core. He brings fingers to his mouth and licks them clean.
You pull away from him slowly. You move so you’re laying on your side next to him. He’s laying on his back watching you carefully. Pulling the blanket away, you find him fully hard. His tentacle sways side to side on its own.
You don’t have it in you to blow him, or try to deep throat him. Wrapping your fingers around his thick length you start to pump it. With each pass of your hand, it grows more and more wet as he starts to self lubricate himself. The ridges against your hand feel a little funny. You can’t believe you managed to basically take his whole monstrous size. No wonder you’re sore today.
You start to focus on the bulbus head, noticing Minghao stomach muscles tense more and more each time you touch there.
“Is this good?” You say with faux innocence.
“So good, I’m so close—”
You pick up the pace, hoping he’ll find his release soon. Leaning down you lick the mushroom tip like it’s a lollipop. You keep pumping lower on his length.
“Fuck— I’m gonna—“ he can barely moan out a warning.
Before you can even think about pulling away, he paints your tongue with his sweet blue release. You decide to save yourself from cleaning up a mess by sucking on the tip as he comes in your mouth. His fingers grip the sheets below him as he fights with himself to not tangle his fingers in your hair.
He comes more than any man you have ever been with before. You pull away and give him a smile after swallowing all his cum. You crawl off the bed long enough to clean the little bit that landed on you hand.
He lays on your bed absolutely dazed as you wipe away his release from his tentacle.
Crawling back in bed you curl up against him. Laying with your head on his chest you feel him start to slowly come down from his high. You smile as his cock slowly stops moving and starts to rest on his stomach. His anatomy is fascinating to you. He pulls you closer to him, so you’re basically laying on top of him. Your leg is thrown over his stomach. His hand starts running up and down your thigh.
“I’m so glad I met you.”
“I’m glad I came here for Prince Wonwoo.”
“You’ll have to thank him for me.”
“Will you come back to Saturn with me?” You both know this is an insane asks. You literally met him less than twenty-four hours ago. Minghao doesn’t really think, he just asks.
“Do we even breathe the same air?”
“Yes. My ship is just outside your atmosphere. I can safely take you back.”
“Hao, you barely know me.” You pull away slightly, before you pull away fully.
Minghao grabs you, pulling you onto his lap. He moves so he’s sitting you facing him.
He shakes his head, leaning in closer to you. “I may barely know you, but I feel a connection to you. We could come back here one day to visit. I’m sure Wonwoo will come back for his love. I could bring you with us.”
He takes your face in both hands. “Hao. What if you grow tired of me? What if you get to know me and realize we just have a sexual connection?”
He shakes his head. “The connection I feel for you already lets me know I’ll never grow tired of you.”
“This is crazy. I didn’t know aliens were real yesterday, and now you’re asking me to come to your planet with you.”
“If you don’t like it, I can bring you back. I want to give us a real shot. I can’t stay here for almost a year like Wonwoo did.”
You should tell him you can’t, but there is this crazy part of you that wants to go. It’s insane to walk away from everything. Luckily for you, your apartment is paid for, for a year. You could disappear for a while and still come back and be okay.
“Can we visit here?”
“Yes, my love.”
“Minghao, promise me you won’t grow tired of me.”
He gives you a smile before leaning forward. He rested his nose against yours. “I’ll never grow tired of you.”
“I’ll go back with you.”
The smile that forms on his face is like nothing you’ll ever forget. He leans forward, crashing his lips into yours. Your fingers tangle in his hair holding him close to you.
This whole situation is unexpected, but maybe the reason you’ve never felt satisfied with a relationship is because your soulmate was out there in the universe waiting for you.
