Keeho & Jiung: Two Three can play at that game (18+ MDNI)
Summary: After a petty argument you take part in a challenge. The rules are simple: whoever comes first, gets punished.
Pairing: Sub!Jiung x Dom!reader x Dom!Keeho
Genre: smut
Warnings: mutual masturbation, m/f/m (but they all watch eachother so...) humiliation/ embarrassment, dirty talk (like a lot), Keehos kinda an ass, light degradation, light bdsm (rope and gag), dacryphilia, exhibitionism, oral (fem receiving), doggy, penetration, slight nipple stim, a lot of coming, jealousy if you squint, kissing, whiny Jiung... I think that's everything but who's to say
Word count: 5.4k
Authors note: guys this is archie's fault she takes responsibility for this she needs to be fed too... also i know I said no more keeho but this doesn't count it's lowkey mostly about Jiung (if this ends up being a load of crap forget I wrote this I have so much respect for archie writing poly is so hard) also this is edited but any mistakes you encounter are non of my business atp okay enjoy
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“All I’m saying is, I could definitely last longer than both of you.” You said matter-of-factly, looking Jiung dead in the eye.
Your shoulder shook where Keeho chuckled against it, his head slotted lazily in the crook of your neck, where you were lounging on the couch in your apartment.
“Yeah, Ji, sorry but… You definitely can’t last longer than me.” Keeho chimed in, voice lazy and warm.
Jiung’s ears burned a bright scarlet as he sat across from you both on the opposite couch. His fingers curled into fists, his voice even and low when he spoke in an attempt to maintain at least a shred of his dignity. “That’s not my point—”
You cut him off sharply before he could continue, “Well, your point was wrong.”
It was hard to remember why the disagreement started in the first place. One second you were watching a random show on the T.V., the next you were arguing about whether women or men come quicker.
You argued that it was men. Point, blank, period. Your proof? All the past hookups you’ve had that left you unsatisfied because the man would come too early.
Jiung wasn't exactly happy about your assessment. You could tell by the slight strain in his voice and the crease that appeared between his brows as he tried to defend his own point: that women come just as quickly as men, but there was more stigma surrounding a man finishing earlier. And that brought you to the present.
“How was my point wrong?!” Jiung protested. “I’ve made plenty of girls come first and—”
“Well, if you weren’t aware, women fake their orgasms a lot just to save men the embarrassment—” Before your words could get too heated, Keeho cut you off.
“Why don't we test it?”
You and Jiung both paused the intense stare-down to turn and face him as he sat up fully on the couch beside you.
“What?”
He smirked when you both spoke at the same time. You were more alike than you realized, no doubt the reason you were always bickering.
“I said, why don't we test it?”
You rolled your eyes at him. “Yeah, dipshit, we heard you the first time. Elaborate?”
Jiung shook his head when you even entertained the idea, already turning away and mumbling, “Don't be ridiculous.”
You, however, were intrigued by the proposition. “Come on, Kee, how would we do it?”
Jiung whipped back around to find you leaning forward curiously as you beckoned Keeho to continue, but he spoke before Keeho had the chance.
“You can’t be serious?”
You paid Jiung no mind, only nodding for Keeho to speak, and his smile widened.
“Hmm, we could just masturbate and whoever comes first, loses?”
Your heart began to beat faster at his suggestion, a shrill of excitement raking through you when both boys’ gazes dragged over your body, your legs pressing tighter together when your heat began to throb.
Jiung closed his mouth that had dropped open in shock, a look of bewilderment clouding his eyes when he realized just how serious you were being. He stood up with a huff and made his way over to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water, needing to put as much distance between himself and you as the idea simmered.
He listened to you and Keeho discuss what the challenge would entail as he unscrewed the cap from the bottle, gulping down the cold liquid to cool his warming body.
“Let’s make it more interesting; the loser has to suffer a punishment.” Keeho hummed thoughtfully at your idea as he began thinking of other rules to put in place.
Jiung couldn’t believe his ears. It was absurd. Even just thinking about you, sitting across from him, touching yourself in the most intimate way, was overwhelming. But the more he listened to you discuss it, the tighter he felt his pants stretching, his growing erection straining in the fabric.
The room felt unbearably hot. He gulped down more of the water until barely any was left. His hair had begun to stick to his sweat-slicked forehead, his cheeks flaming red when he heard you say, “—and we're not allowed to stop. We have to keep going until one of us comes, and if anyone pulls their hand away, they lose.”
“You guys are crazy,” he mumbled, already collecting his belongings to head home. “Have fun.”
You narrowed your eyes at him and crossed your arms, your earlier irritation returning. “We’re all friends here, Jiung. What's the harm? Unless it’s because you know you’ll lose.”
He paused, his hand on the door, and turned back around to face you. “T-thats not the point,” he repeated weakly, his eyes shutting tight when his voice came out shaky, your frown lifting into a smug smile.
“That’s exactly the point,” you stood and made your way over to him, his breath hitching when you were close enough for him to smell your perfume. You placed your hand on the jacket in his arms, tugging slightly as his grip on it loosened. You reached for his hand next, your fingers brushing his as you took his keys from him as well, finally whispering just loud enough for him to hear, “Come on, Ji… prove us wrong.”
You could see the resolve crumbling in his dilated eyes as they stared back at you, flicking to Keeho over your shoulder. His hand slowly slipped off the door, falling back to his side, and you smiled so wide your cheeks began to ache.
“Lovely,” you turned back to find Keeho watching the exchange intently on the edge of his seat. You smirked at him with a nod, already walking away from the living room. “Both of you, follow me.”
The next thing you knew, you were sitting with your back pressed against the headboard of your bed, legs spread and bare, Keeho and Jiung sat opposite you.
You’d been going at it for five minutes already, one leg bent at the knee, the other splayed to the side to make sure they could see every inch of your dripping cunt. You tried to focus your fingers on your soaked folds, spreading them wide open to circle and rub at your hole, then back up, avoiding your clit at all costs to last as long as possible.
There had to be some strategy behind this, because you wanted to win, first and foremost. You had a point to prove. But with your two very attractive friends spread in front of you, it was becoming harder to avoid the throbbing bundle of nerves that ached to be touched as your eyes darted between them.
Keeho jerked himself with long, slow strokes, twisting his hand down his thick cock all the way to the base, then back up again to brush over his tip. His bottom lip was pulled tight between his teeth as he watched you carefully, his sharp eyes holding an intensity you hadn't seen before.
Jiung was the complete opposite. His hand moved with quick, shallow strokes, focusing on his shaft right below the bright red tip already dripping precum. His face mirrored a similar color, his cheeks flushed red, his eyes half-lidded, his chest rising and falling in quick succession. A delighted smirk grew on your lips at the sight of him already so flustered and worked up. No wonder he’d been so defensive earlier—he clearly didn’t have the self-control to prolong his orgasm.
When Jiung shut his eyes and stretched his head back to force the moan threatening to escape him away, you cast your eyes back to Keeho, nudging your head subtly in Jiung’s direction with a questioning look. When Keeho’s own smirk deepened and he nodded, you knew he understood what you were asking.
Teaming up on him wasn’t fair—you knew that. But he’d been arguing with you a lot lately, and you wanted nothing more than to finally put him in his place and teach him a lesson. And Keeho, well, you were sure he just wanted to see Jiung suffer.
When his eyes opened again, they looked hazy and clouded with lust. They landed on your face, tracing the slope of your nose down to your slightly parted lips, but never lower than that. You could see the concentration etched on his face as he fought against every urge to look down.
Oh—so he had his own strategy. It didn’t matter, though, because if there was one thing you knew about him, it was that he easily gave in to temptation.
Keeho’s gravely moan drew your attention back to him, “Fuck, look at her, Ji, she’s so wet for us. Likes to talk a big game, but she’s just as desperate.”
You narrowed your eyes at him, trying to gauge how this was helping Jiung lose faster, but when his cocky smirk deepened, you decided to put your faith in him. Especially when Jiung’s eyes snapped down to your parted legs, right where your fingers had formed a V shape to spread your folds wide open. His eyes quickly returned to yours, but it was too late. You saw the way his hand faltered on his cock, squeezing hard and slipping to the base to physically hold his orgasm back. A thick bead of precum welled at his slit and dribbled over and down his length for good measure.
Keeho let out a low, amused chuckle from your left, his own fist still moving in those long, controlled strokes. “Stop teasing yourself, baby. Slide two fingers inside that pretty pussy. It’s only fair.”
Your breath hitched, the command sending goosebumps across your arms and legs even as your irritation grew. If forcing you closer to your own orgasm would make Jiung come first, then so be it. You lowered your fingers to your clenched hole, applying pressure until they slipped in, your head falling back against the headboard with a shaky exhale at the stretch.
“Nice and deep. Let us hear how wet you are.”
You followed his instructions, sinking your fingers knuckle deep, then back out with an audible squelch.
“Good fucking girl,” Keeho praised, voice dropping lower as his own fist tightened around his cock, stroking even slower to savor the sight. “Now curl them up. Feel how tight you are? Fuck I bet you’re clenching already. Imagine how much better it would feel if it were one of us stretching you open instead. Wouldn’t you like that, Jiung?”
You were so distracted by Keeho’s velvety voice that you almost forgot that Jiung was the real target here. A helpless whimper escaped him, his hips jerking, thighs trembling as he tried to keep his pace steady. But he couldn’t help it—his eyes dropped.
They locked onto your cunt, watching how your fingers disappeared inside yourself, the pool of arousal growing every time you pumped them in and out. The flush on his cheeks had spread down his neck, blooming softly against his chest. He looked so devastating like this, so flustered and so obviously aching.
You moaned, the sound louder than you intended. The combination of Keeho’s filthy words and Jiung’s wrecked expression was making your clit throb painfully. You wanted to rub it so badly, wanted to relieve yourself of the pressure, but you held back, focusing instead on the drag of your fingers against your walls.
But then Keeho spoke again, “Don’t forget about your clit, baby. I can see how needy it is from here.”
“Keeho—” you warned, voice shaky because you were right there, teetering, his voice threatening to send you over before Jiung. But he only smirked wider, clearly enjoying how strained you sounded.
He ignored you, eyes gleaming with a dark amusement. “Do it. Press two fingers right on that swollen little clit and rub.”
You pushed your annoyance aside to obey. With your fingers still fucking yourself, you moved your other hand to your clit, the first slow circle drawing a sharp cry from you. Your legs trembled as you focused on keeping them from closing.
Keeho groaned loudly, his hand moving faster now, his free hand gripping his thigh tightly, nails digging into the skin as he tried to force himself to slow down. That’s when you realized that he was also doing this for himself—he wanted to watch you fall apart on his words just as badly as he wanted to ruin Jiung.
“That’s it… You’re doing so well. But you can go faster than that, right? We can see how needy and desperate you are. Can’t we, Jiung?”
You kept your eyes on Jiung as your fingers worked faster. Every little sound he made, every low whine and whimper, made the coil in your belly pull tighter until you felt dangerously close to losing.
His strokes had lost their rhythm, his hips bucking into his hand instead. He looked so utterly mesmerized by you, his eyes wide and worshipful, fixed on your cunt with a raw hunger. He had to be close. But you were too; you needed to change directions.
“Fuck Ji,” You said his name with a breathy sigh, smiling when he reached a hand out to grip the sheets in front of him to steady himself as his body shook from the stimulation, a bead of sweat dripping down his cheek. “Look at you shaking. You’re not even trying to hide how badly you need to come. Does it ache? Does it hurt, baby?”
His head snapped up at the pet name, eyes glassy and barely there. “S-shut up—”
“But you’re so pretty like this,” you taunted. “All red and desperate, trying so hard to hold back. But you’re losing, Ji. I can see it. Your cock is twitching so pathetically—just look at how much you’re dripping for me. Bet it would feel so good twitching inside me right now.”
You could smell the three of you now in the room—the scent of sex thickening the air. It made your head spin. The pressure was building fast. You tried to slow your fingers, but the way both of them watched you made it impossible.
Keeho groaned beside you, his pace quickening as he drank in the scene. “You hear that? She’s thinking about you. Bet you’d last three strokes before you filled her up like a loser.”
Jiung’s hand sped up, the wet slap of his skin growing faster and more erratic. His eyes screwed shut tightly as you quickly followed Keeho’s words.
“Jiung,” you cooed, pulling your fingers from your stretched pussy as you continued rubbing your clit. “Look at my pussy. Watch how it flutters every time you make those desperate little sounds. You want to come so bad, don’t you? It’s okay… You can let go. We all know you’re going to lose.”
Keeho’s voice encouraged him further. “Come on, Ji. Stop fighting it. You’re right there, just let it happen. Be a good boy and come.”
Those two words seemed to blaze through whatever was left of his pride.
“It hurts—” he finally gasped, voice cracking. His hand faltered at his tip, squeezing it so tightly his whole body convulsed. “It fucking hurts—please, I can’t—can’t hold it—”
“There’s no shame in it. It’s okay,” you were desperate now, wanting to reach your own release just as badly. “Come for me.”
His body jerked forward with a strangled cry, hips bucking wildly in his hand as thick ropes of cum painted the sheets in front of him. His hand kept moving through it, milking every pulse while his whole body shuddered and his eyes fluttered half-shut in overwhelmed bliss.
The sight of him—flushed, trembling, completely ruined—ripped your own orgasm from you before you could stop it. Your fingers pressed hard against your clit as you plunged your fingers back into your cunt.
Pleasure crashed over you in blinding waves, your head slamming back against the headboard as you cried out. Your thighs shook, cunt gushing slick around your fingers while white-hot ecstasy flooded every nerve. You rode it helplessly, hips grinding into your hand, moans spilling unrestrained as the pleasure consumed you.
You were so lost in it—so deep in the pulsing, shuddering bliss—that you didn’t even notice Keeho’s low, guttural groan beside you, or the way his fist stuttered, and his own release painted his toned stomach in heavy streaks.
The wet sound of his climax was drowned beneath the roar of your own heartbeat in your ears, your body too wracked with aftershocks to register anything beyond the overwhelming heat still coursing through you.
The room was silent, filled only with your ragged breaths as you dragged your fingers away from your oversensitive clit, thighs still twitching. Your glare landed on Keeho, chest heaving. “You asshole. You were trying to make me lose, too.”
Keeho’s lips curved into that lazy, satisfied smirk, eyes sparkling with amusement as he took in your flushed, irritated expression. He tilted his head, biting his bottom lip like your annoyance was the cutest thing he’d ever seen
“Yeah?” he murmured, voice still rough. “And you still held out until he came first. Such a good girl.”
“Asshole,” You mumbled, throwing a pillow at his head and cringing when it landed on his cum streaked stomach. “Whatever, Jiung still lost, just as expected.”
You looked over at Jiung, who was still trying to catch his breath, cheeks still red with embarrassment at having come first. Yet his gaze remained helplessly locked between your spread thighs, transfixed on the way your release dripped slowly from your cunt, slick trails glistening as they slid down your skin.
You couldn't believe him. “Pathetic,” you murmured, voice still airy from your orgasm. “Can’t even pretend to be mad when you’re staring at my dripping pussy like you want to lick up every drop. Look at you, Jiung. Already getting hard again.”
His eyes widened further, face flushing an even deeper shade of red as he finally tore his gaze away and down to his twitching cock. He looked mortified, lips parting but no words coming out, just a shaky exhale that made your skin tingle.
Keeho chuckled lowly from his side of the bed. “Round two? Don’t we get to punish him?”
Jiung’s eyes snapped wide with fear, his whole body tensing. Yours, meanwhile, lit up with excitement, a fresh pulse of heat curling low in your belly at the prospect.
“N-no, please—I can’t— right now?” Jiung stuttered, voice cracking as he tried to sit up straighter, hands fumbling uselessly to cover his spent cock.
You shook your head, still smiling. “That was the deal, Jiung. You lost. Fair and square.”
Keeho turned to you, one brow arched in curious amusement, his own spent cock twitching slightly against his thigh. “Have anything in mind?”
You paused, tapping a finger against your lips as you thought. A slow smirk curved your mouth. You nodded once, then slid off the bed, feeling both their eyes follow you curiously across the room. Opening your closet, you pulled out a plain box from the top shelf, lifted the lid, and drew out a length of soft black rope and a sleek gag.
Both their eyes widened—Jiung’s in fear, while Keeho’s filled with happy shock, a delighted grin breaking across his face.
“Wow, you’re a freak,” Keeho said, clearly impressed.
You felt heat bloom across your cheeks but met his gaze without flinching. “I know you’re not talking.”
You made your way back over to them, the rope and gag in your hands, the weight of both men’s stares sending a comforting flush spread across your skin. “Don’t think of it as a punishment, Ji,” you said softly, voice laced with mock tenderness. “I’m actually trying to help you.”
You leaned in, settling one knee on the mattress so you could rest a hand on his thigh, feeling the muscle jump beneath your palm. “I’m going to tie you up so you can’t touch yourself, and you’re going to watch Keeho and me. Maybe that will teach you to last longer.”
Jiung looked hesitant, eyes darting between the rope and your face. He didn’t want to back out now—not when you already thought he was so easy—so he gave a small, shaky nod. You smirked, satisfied, then cupped his jaw and pressed a gentle kiss to his burning cheek.
“You can take it,” you whispered against his skin, breath warm.
You instructed him to sit back against the headboard. Keeho watched in silence, cock already half-hard again as you followed Jiung onto the bed, swinging your thighs on either side of his lap. Your dripping cunt hovered just above his twitching length, close enough that he could feel the heat radiating from you but never touching. The proximity alone made his chest heave, cock jerking visibly in the air between you, a fresh bead of precum welling at the tip.
You reached for his wrists, guiding them up above his head and securing them to the headboard with the rope.
His cock twitched harder in anticipation, brushing almost accidentally against the inside of your thigh and drawing a choked sound from behind his clenched teeth.
You tested the rope with a firm pull, making sure it held without digging too deeply into his skin. Then you looked down at him, cupping his flushed cheek with one hand. “Is it too tight?”
His heart swooned at the careful way you checked on him, eyes softening despite the gag still waiting in your other hand. He shook his head, swallowing hard, and you nodded, pleased.
Finally, you held up the gag. “Open up for me.”
Jiung obeyed with a trembling breath. You slipped the gag between his lips, buckling it behind his head, then rubbed your thumb soothingly over his cheek with a small smile. Satisfied with your work—the sight of him bound, gagged, and helplessly hard—you crawled to the edge of the bed beside Keeho to admire him fully.
His hand reached out to settle warm and heavy on your thigh, thumb rubbing slow circles into the sensitive skin there. The casual possessiveness of it sent a fresh shiver racing up your spine.
“Look at him,” you murmured, voice low and teasing as you let your gaze drift back to Jiung. “So pathetic like this. Already so worked up just from being tied and gagged. Poor thing can’t even hide how much he loves it.”
Keeho nodded, eyes gleaming with dark amusement as his fingers tightened slightly on your thigh. “This is torture enough. Let’s not make him wait.” He turned toward you, lips finding the curve of your neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along the side of your throat.
You rolled your eyes even as you tilted your head to give him better access, the scrape of his teeth drawing a quiet sigh from your lips. “You’re just as impatient,” you breathed.
He hummed against your skin. “'Cause I’ve thought about fucking you a lot.”
Your cheeks heated instantly, a flush spreading down your neck. “Keeho,” you scolded, though the protest lacked any real bite.
“Don’t act like you haven’t,” he countered, lips brushing the shell of your ear.
You made eye contact with Jiung across the small distance, holding his wide, desperate gaze. “Once or twice,” you admitted softly, the corner of your mouth curving.
Keeho smiled against your neck, then pulled back just enough to look at Jiung. The moment their eyes met, Jiung knew exactly what was coming; he shook his head frantically, muffled protests rising behind the gag, panic flashing bright in his eyes.
“I’ve actually thought about asking you to do this,” Keeho continued, voice smooth and merciless, “but that one over there would never let me.”
You furrowed your eyebrows, glancing between them as Jiung’s desperate eyes begged Keeho to stop. “What do you mean?”
Keeho smirked, dragging his hand higher up your thigh. “He has a little crush on you. Never let me make a move. That’s why he was so embarrassed earlier.”
Jiung whimpered around the gag, the sound broken and humiliated, his bound wrists flexing uselessly against the rope. You smiled, slow and delighted at the new information, a warm spark of satisfaction filling your chest as you watched him struggle against the restraints.
“Oh… is that why you were so passionate about our argument earlier?” you asked, voice dripping with mock sweetness. “You didn’t want me to think you come fast. Didn’t want me to know how much of a pathetic slut you are cause you have a crush on me?”
His cock twitched again at your words, another helpless sound muffled behind the gag. You leaned back against Keeho’s chest, letting the revelation settle between the three of you.
“Well,” you said softly, eyes locked on Jiung’s flushed, wrecked face, “I guess this really is a punishment then.”
You pulled Keeho up with you so you were both on your knees in front of Jiung, giving him one last slow smile before turning to Keeho. Your hands cupped his face, thumbs brushing along his jawline as you pulled him in.
The kiss was instantly messy—lips sliding wet and urgent, tongues pushing past teeth in slick strokes. Your noses bumped as you shifted the angle of the kiss, trying to taste him deeper, desperate for more. Your fingers pulled at his shirt, yanking it upward as he mirrored you without breaking the kiss, palms skimming under your hem and dragging the fabric off in one rough tug.
Keeho pulled back just enough to look down, eyes widening at the sight of your bare breasts, nipples already hard and drawing him in. He pressed your bodies flush together, chest to chest, the sudden heat of skin on skin making your back arch. He leaned down, mouth closing hot and wet around one nipple, tongue swirling before his lips sucked hard enough to send sparks racing straight between your legs.
“I knew you’d be good with your tongue,” you gasped.
Jiung strained against the rope, wrists flexing hard enough that the headboard creaked. His cock hardened fully, rising to press flushed and heavy against his own stomach, the tip glistening.
Keeho pulled away from your chest with a cocky smile, his hands sliding down to grip your thighs, lifting and wrapping them around his waist with strength. He lowered you onto the bed, hovering over you, hips nestled between your spread legs as his gaze flicked sideways, locking onto Jiung’s as he began trailing wet, open-mouthed kisses down your sternum, ribs, the soft plane of your belly, until his shoulders settled between your thighs.
He didn't waste time as his tongue slid through your folds, lapping slowly at the slick remnants of your earlier orgasm.
“Fuck, you taste so good,” he groaned, loud enough for Jiung to hear every word. “Bet you wish you could taste her right now.”
Jiung’s eyes glistened, tears clinging to his lashes as he whimpered behind the gag.
Your back arched clean off the mattress when Keeho’s tongue flicked perfectly over your clit, pleasure spiking hot and bright. Your head twisted against the sheets so you could look straight at Jiung. He was falling apart, his own back arched away from the headboard, knees folded inward, hips twitching uselessly in the air as he tried to find any friction, any relief from the aching pressure.
“Ji,” you moaned, never breaking his eye contact, “fuck—you look so pretty.”
You clamped your thighs around Keeho’s head, the overstimulation from your earlier orgasm making your puffy pussy flutter and ache against his tongue. Your hands flew to your breasts, squeezing your nipples between trembling fingers as the next climax built fast. Just as your stomach clenched, Keeho pulled away, laughing against your inner thigh. You whined his name, hips chasing his mouth in desperation.
“Annoying,” you gasped, scowling.
He only surged up to kiss you, messy and deep, tongue still coated in your taste. “When are you gonna realize that you calling me names only turns me on more?” He tapped your cheek lightly, the playful slap making your scowl deepen. “Come on. On your hands and knees. Let’s really give him something to watch.”
You rolled your eyes but obeyed, turning over so you faced Jiung directly. He looked like he was on his last breath—chest heaving, chin slick with drool, his stomach bowing in on itself. You reached for his knees, parting them wider so you could settle between his legs on all fours, close enough to touch him if need be.
You liked this angle; you could stare straight into his wide, watery eyes while Keeho fucked you for the first time.
Keeho’s hands gripped your hips, thumbs pressing into the soft flesh as he lined himself up. The first slow push of his cock into your soaked heat drew a shared moan from both of you—tight, velvet walls clenching around him as your bodies learned each other.
"K-kyo... fuck—I think you're too big."
You regretted the words as soon as you said them, not wanting to boost his ego even more, but he was only halfway in, and you already felt incredibly full.
He rubbed your ass as you adjusted to his size, pushing forward once he knew you were okay. "Don't worry, I'll make it fit."
Jiung whimpered behind the gag, eyes fixed on the way Keeho’s cock disappeared fully inside you, his own hips jerking involuntarily, aching to feel just a fraction of the heat Keeho was feeling.
You stayed on your hands, your tits bouncing each time Keeho thrusted into you. Then you lowered your chest to the mattress, pressing your cheek near Jiung’s knee and curving your spine deeply so he could watch every punishing slap of Keeho’s hips against your ass, the wet sound of your cunt taking him filling the room.
“Look at you, Jiung,” you cooed condescendingly. “Poor baby. Look how pathetic you are, all tied up and dripping while your friend fuck. Such a good, messy boy, taking your punishment without even being allowed to touch.”
Jiung writhed harder, back arching away from the headboard, legs squirming as fresh tears slipped down his cheeks. He looked so overwhelmed, sobs muffled behind the gag, every muscle straining uselessly. The tip of his cock dragged against his stomach with each desperate buck, and suddenly his hips lifted upward.
A weak, pathetic orgasm spilled from him—thin, watery ropes that barely pulsed, soaking his still-hard cock and dripping to his lap. His eyes rolled back, a broken cry leaving him as the unsatisfying release left him shaking.
You moaned louder as Keeho drove deeper, the sight of Jiung coming untouched pushing you over.
“Oh—Keeho, right there, y-yes—” Your orgasm crashed through you, walls pulsing tight around his cock. Keeho groaned, thrusting a few more times before he pulled out and stroked himself, finishing across your ass and lower back, hips jerking with each spurt.
He sat back on his knees, one hand rubbing slow circles over your cum-smeared ass as you came down, breath ragged. “Shit… look at that. Jiung came untouched just from watching.”
You turned your head, eyes dropping back to Jiung’s cock. “Can that even be considered an orgasm?” you murmured, voice sweet and cruel.
Crawling forward on shaky limbs, you reached up and unbuckled the gag, pulling it free. Drool coated his swollen lips as he sobbed openly, tears flowing freely. You cupped his cheek, thumb brushing away the moisture.
“You still need to come right? Properly.”
He sniffled hard and nodded, his pupils dilated so wide you could only see black. You kissed one of his salty tears away and nodded. “It’s okay, I'll take care of you. You deserve that much.”
Your hand wrapped slowly around his sensitive tip, stroking him with care. It took only a few firm jerks before he was crying out, thicker spurts coating your fingers—still nowhere near the force of his first orgasm, but enough to leave him more satisfied than the last. You giggled softly at how quickly he fell apart, glancing over at Keeho, who watched the two of you with a raised brow.
Jiung leaned forward, forehead dropping to rest against your shoulder, body trembling with fatigue. You reached up, carefully untying his wrists and bringing his arms down. Your fingers rubbed gently at the faint red marks the rope had left, then you pressed soft kisses to each one. “You’re okay, Jiung. You took the punishment so well, such a good boy.”
Keeho scoffed from behind you. “He literally came untouched—”
You shushed him sharply, "He's sensitive."
Jiung only shuddered harder, pressing his tear-streaked face into your chest with a broken sniffle.
Keeho rolled his eyes, getting up to clean himself off while mumbling, "He's a loser."
Jiung barely heard him, too focused on the way you rubbed the nape of his neck, smoothing his messy hair down with care, smiling at the words you spoke next.
pairing: cowboy!yunho x cowgirl!reader
summary: You ride hard, punch harder, and don’t need saving. But you just might have room in the saddle for someone who knows how to hold on.
tags: cowboy/wild west AU, mild enemies to lovers, secret identity (fem!reader disguised as a man), slow burnnn, hurt/comfort, a tad bit of era-accurate misogyny, NSFW/18+/MDNI (BDSM—bondage + blindfold, oral—f receiving, fingering, cowgirl and lotus positions, soft!dom!yunho, switch!reader, the hat stays ON, unprotected P in V—and for the last time in this series a reminder to WRAP IT)
wc: 12.2k (WHOOPS can u tell yuyu's my ult bias)
a/n: was this fic perhaps a bit self-serving...um yeah and what about it? had to finish the series strong duh. if god is good, may we all meet cowboy yunho again in our dreams tonight <3
⊹₊⟡⋆ masterlist | taglist ⊹₊⟡⋆
PROLOGUE
Dawn’s first light paints the Oklahoma sky in streaks of pink and gold. The air is still cool, carrying the sharp bite of the night’s chill. You inhale the scent of campfire with each breath. You guide Daisy, the American paint horse you’ve ridden for ten years, toward the company’s outpost. You ride in slowly, letting Daisy sniff her way through the tufts of grass along the dusty ground.
You’d risen long before the sun crested over the horizon. Waking early comes easy to you now, after all these years. Most mornings, you climb out from your bedroll under the stars, take a gander down to whatever body of water—pond, river, or creek—is closest, and splash icy water on your face.
Then, you braid your hair. It's taken you years of practice to get it right. It needs to be tight enough so that you can coil it up underneath your weathered cowboy hat. Nowadays, you can hardly see yourself in the old desilvered mirror you’ve carried around for years, but it works well enough to help you tuck any stray strands away. Your button-up shirt is loose, vest secured up to your neck, chaps worn soft from use.
Freedom isn’t free out here.
In your case, you pay for it through a disguise perfected over many years. It could be worse. If dressing up like a man is the price you owe in exchange for the privilege of riding free on the plains, you’ll pay it each and every time.
To anyone watching, you’re just another lean cowboy reporting for duty. You’re not afraid; you can hold your own against any man, woman, or beast who dares cross you. Posing as one of the boys just makes everything simpler. You deal with fewer questions, stares, and assumptions about what a woman can or can’t handle on the trail.
You dismount, boots crunching the ground below you. No need to secure Daisy to the post—she’s too well-trained to go wandering off. The words Red Rock Horse & Cattle Company glisten in gilded print on the frosted glass window of the door when you push it open. Old man Hargrove is already up, sitting behind his desk with a tin mug of steaming coffee. A couple of other workers mill about the office, but it’s quieter than usual this morning. Hargrove lifts his chin at the sound of your boots clicking across the wooden floor.
“Mornin’, kid,” he rasps, voice rougher than gravel.
“Hey, boss,” you reply in a tone lower than your natural register. You slide into a wooden chair in front of his desk. “Got somethin’ good for me today?”
He sips his coffee slowly and eyes you over the rim.
“Oh, I got everythin’ good that’s out there. But I think you’ll want this ‘un.”
He slides a heavy sheet of folded paper across the desk. You flip it open, eyes skimming. The contract order contains all the necessary details: client information, number of cattle requested, preferences and specifications for that cattle, and payment information.
An official-looking symbol is stamped over the top right-hand corner. Your eyes widen when you read United States Army scrawled across the top of the page. The request calls for at least 700 horses in good health and maturity for service with a preference for mustangs. Specifications detail geldings, dark bays or browns.
“United States Army, huh?” you ask, eyebrows raising.
Old man Hargrove hums and nods slowly.
“Told you I got the good stuff. This ‘un’s a tall order. Cavalry needs a string of mustangs delivered ’fore first snow. ’Parently, they ain’t skilled ’nuff to rope up the wild ’uns up in the high plains. Pay’s double if you bring ’em in early.”
On his cue, you take a gander at the bottom half of the order. A greedy smirk spreads across your face. $120 per head, with premium of double pay for early arrival or extras above the contracted quota. You feel the familiar thrill spark in your chest. Months on the plains—no towns, no rules, no people. Just the ride, the wind, and the wide-open sky.
“That’s big time,” you comment. “I’ll take it.”
Hargrove grunts in approval.
“Knew you would.”
“I assume I ain’t ridin’ out by myself? 700 horses is quite a haul for one person.”
You meet the old man’s knowing eyes. There’s a familiar sternness in them that you’ve grown to appreciate over the years. You already know the answer to your question, anyway. He never lets you ride out alone. He’s known your secret for years. Never once has he revealed it to another soul, aside from your riding partner, Colton. At the end of the day, results are what matter to Hargrove. And you always deliver.
“You’ll ride lead with Colton. He’s already waitin’ out by the south gate.”
You nod, swiping up the contract and pushing yourself to a stand. You turn toward the door, but his voice freezes you in your tracks.
“You got two others with you. They’re new ‘round here—just rode down from North Dakota. ‘Sposed to be decent ropers. Rendezvous point’s the river fork, ten miles east.”
You sigh, grimacing. You were really looking forward to a months-long ride with Colton. You don’t have to cover up around him, since he already knows about you. You’ve gone on hundreds of rides together. The two of you make a damn good team, and this particular contract is worth more than your last twelve combined. You cannot have two pathetic tenderfoots slowing you down.
“Fine,” you say through clenched teeth.
As you reach for the doorknob, you hear Hargrove’s rasped voice from behind you, “You come back in one piece, kid. Got it?”
“Don’t worry, old man. I’d never let the good ol' U.S. government’s money go to waste.”
You offer a smirk as you swing the door closed. Tucking the contract into your vest, you mount Daisy and kick off toward the south gate. Colton is waiting exactly where Hargrove said he’d be. He lounges against his big bay gelding, hat tipped back, eyes closed as he soaks in the morning rays.
“Long time no see,” you shout as you ride up next to him.
“Took you long enough,” he drawls, grinning. “I was wonderin’ if you’d chickened out this time.”
“Me? Chicken out? Nah, that ain’t in my bones, darlin’.”
Colton chuckles, swinging up onto his horse’s back. He’s never treated you any different. He’s never made a fuss. He’s always just seen you as a partner. Nothing more, nothing less.
“Heard we’re stuck with a coupla Dakota boys this time ‘round,” you say as you both start off toward the rendezvous point.
“Yeah. Hope they can sit a horse better than they talk.”
“Long as they rope half-decent and shut up, I ain’t got a problem. Months, Colton. Real trail time.”
Colton inhales deeply and then releases it.
“My favorite kind.”
You adjust your hat, making sure it’s secured around your chin and won’t fly off during your ride. Then, you pull loose the bandana from your neck. The once bright red piece of cloth has been tarnished so much from the sun and the dirt that it’s turned into more of a red clay hue. No worries. With this new money, you could buy 15 brand new bandanas. You secure the fabric around your nose and mouth with expert precision, leaving just enough space for you to peer out.
New partners means new eyes. Also means that you’re no longer you. Now, you’re Riley, the quiet young cowboy who works hard and doesn’t talk much. You’ve found it’s better, anyway, to let your work speak for you when it comes to meeting new people.
Side by side, you and Colton ride out through the gate. The outpost shrinks behind you as the vast plains open ahead.
Off on another adventure. You can hardly wait.
PART ONE
The river along the fork in the road shimmers like blue-tinted glass under the morning sun. Ten miles pass easily between you and your partner. You see the two Dakota boys before they see you. Waiting on the other side of the bank, their forms are nothing but shadow. You slow Daisy to a stop underneath the shade of a tree and glance at Colton. Your partner pauses next to you.
“Welp, there they are,” he says.
“Mhm,” you hum in agreement, unsure about your new partners.
Daisy’s hooves splash quietly in the low-standing water as you carefully guide her across the stream. The bank on the other side is a bit steeper, so you lean forward as Daisy trots up and over it. The Dakota ropers turn toward you as you emerge over the top.
“Howdy,” Colton calls out, reining in just ahead of you. “You the boys from Dakota working the cavalry job?”
“Yeah, you the others from the agency?” one of them—a smaller, rougher-looking one, replies.
Colton tosses his head toward you. Reaching into your vest, you draw out the contract. You unfold it and hold it forward so they can see the red stamp on the top corner. They follow suit, providing their version of the same contract they must have received from their own agency.
“Well, I’m Colton Reeves. This is Riley Oakley,” Colton says, gesturing to you when he shares your pseudonym.
“Ross Morrow,” the rough one answers back. He points at his partner. “And Jeong Yunho. Heard a lot ‘bout y’all.”
Colton laughs.
“Good things, I hope.”
As they talk, you size up your new team members. The shorter one, Ross, is perched on a chestnut stallion. His gear is strapped on but somewhat haphazardly. Much of it looks in desperate need of repair or replacement. His clothes, too, are worn and faded. His face is shadowed by an orange-colored beard and long, unkempt hair that sticks out from the back of his brown hat.
The other one, the taller one, sits comfortably. The reins attached to his black horse rest on the saddle and not in his hands, telling you he has trust in and control over the animal. He has broad shoulders that fill out a faded blue shirt with sleeves rolled up to the elbows. His forearms are sun-browned and corded with muscle all the way down to his gloved hands. His brown cowboy hat is tipped back just enough to reveal sharp cheekbones and a mouth with a noticeable cupid’s bow. Your gaze drops to the rope secured at his side. It’s clearly well-used but meticulously maintained and coiled carefully so as to avoid any unnecessary damage while traveling. His weight is shifted slightly toward the right side where the rope hangs. Muscle memory. All unconscious habits of someone who genuinely knows what they’re doing.
“So, uh…your friend always this quiet, or what?” Ross’s question brings you back to the current moment.
“Oh, nah,” Colton answers for you. “He just don’t talk too much.”
Your partner glances back, eyebrows raised to silently ask if you’re alright. You nod twice. When your eyes slide over, they lock with the tall cowboy. Ross had introduced him as Yunho. Unusual name. Clearly not from this area. He stares at you, interest evident in his expression. You hold his gaze. You don’t back down from any man. It’s not your style.
“Well, y’all any good with a rope?” Colton asks.
Yunho tears his expression away to look at your partner.
“Good enough, I hope,” he answers. His voice is smooth like a river stone.
“Alright,” Colton says, nodding in approval. “Guess we’d better get goin’, then. Herd ain’t gonna wait up for us. Riley and I’ll take the lead, if y’all don’t mind too much. We've worked this land up, down, and sideways, so we know it good.”
Both Dakota boys nod in agreement. Colton guides his horse past them, taking the lead spot in your pack of four. You slink up next to him. A few moments later, the other ropers fall in behind you.
“Whatcha think?” Colton asks quietly.
Keeping your attention forward, you answer, “Tall one’s an asset. He knows his way ‘round a rope. I can tell. The short one…maybe he’s got a good personality.”
Colton chuckles, shaking his head.
“I’ll take half over zero,” he replies.
You travel northwest, following the faint game trails that lead up toward the high plains where the wild herds run this time of year. The river continues to flow beside you, offering a source of fresh water and a marker for your mental map.
Conversation is light. As usual, Colton does most of the talking. You say nothing and keep to yourself, opting to listen instead. Your partner drones on about your experiences on past drives—answering questions about migration patterns and weather, sharing stories like the time you’d shot a mountain lion up in the hills and the winter you’d delivered a herd through a blizzard.
Both Dakota boys seem interested. You refuse to look behind you, but it feels like one of them is watching you. You’ll have to speak sooner or later. For no other reason than to take some suspicion off yourself. Over the years you’ve learned that nobody likes a silent person; something in that quiet, it makes them uneasy, makes you seem untrustworthy. Gotta give a little to get a little, as Hargrove always says.
The hills that roll out before you are dotted with wildflowers and weeds. A tree or two have sprouted up randomly here and there. The air smells fresh and clean. You can breathe easily, even under the bandana. When the sun begins to dip low, you start scanning for a good place to set up camp for the night. You and Colton agree to settle beside a group of trees near the river bank.
Colton enlists Ross to help him scout for something to eat. They disappear into the forest, leaving you at camp. Yunho takes it upon himself to find firewood. He says as much to you before he ducks into the brush. You keep quiet and begin unloading your and Colton’s packs. You set up your bedrolls and pull out the cooking materials you brought. By the time you’re finished with that, Yunho has returned with the wood.
Finding a flat spot, you kick away some loose stones and get to work on starting the fire. While you arrange the kindling and size up which rock to strike the flint with, Yunho politely approaches.
“Need a hand?” he asks.
You don’t look at him.
“Nope. I got it,” you reply gruffly.
In contrast to your normal voice, Riley’s tone is quiet, low, and quick. Colton has helped you work on it throughout the years, but you’ll never sound like a grown man. You just figure speaking fast means people don’t always hear the femininity in your voice.
This Dakota boy seems so kind…you hope he doesn’t find you rude. But, truthfully, you don’t need his help. You’ve started a fire a thousand times. It comes easy. Within a few seconds, the flames are crackling higher into the purple air.
“Wow, impressive,” he mutters before turning to set up his bed.
Colton and Ross return a few moments later with a handful of rabbits. You’ve already put the coffee pot on, the heat welcome as the night’s chill settles on the plains. You assist your partner in cooking the rabbits, remaining quiet throughout the evening.
Your stomach growls. But you hate eating around others. The bandana has to stay on to conceal your identity, which makes it very difficult to enjoy your meal. All you can do is lower the fabric to your chin. You dip your head and let the brim of your hat cover as much of your face as possible. As soon as you finish eating, the bandana goes back up.
On a moonless night, the campfire provides the only light for your crew as you work together to set up the temporary holding pen you’ll use to corral the horses you catch. A little over an hour later, your work is finished for the night.
You position your bedroll toward the edge of camp. The ring of light from the fire ends just before it, allowing you to sleep in the shadows. You turn your back on the party, pull the bandana down to your neck, and tug the woven quilt up to your nose. You overhear Ross whisper to Colton about it, asking him what your deal is. Colton, bless him, answers by saying that you sleep this way to keep the bugs off of you overnight. You turn in first and agree to take the last watch of the night.
The next morning breaks sharp and pale, the kind of light that makes the prairie look like it goes on forever in every direction. Already awake for the watch, you’re saddled up and ready to go before anyone else. The group heads further into the plains. By that afternoon, you spot your first herd. Colton slows your pack as you crest a hill. Wild horses spread across the high grass, tails flicking.
“Alright, we’ll work the edges and push what we can back toward the corral,” Colton explains. “I usually ride out furthest to start the push. Riley’s my wing rider, since he’s got good balance on the back of a horse. He’s got a knack for keepin’ horses from breakin’ off.”
“I’m best as a hold-back man,” Ross says. “I got good eyes, so I can watch the back door and get the gate closed after they’re inside the pen.”
“I usually ride the wing, just like Riley,” Yunho adds, looking over at you. You glance up, catching his gaze again. “I can take the right side.”
You hesitate for a moment, looking him up and down. You nod. With everyone feeling comfortable in their roles, Colton takes off toward the back side of the herd to start pushing them forward.
As the wing riders, you and Yunho will focus on urging the herd toward the corral from each side. Colton will cut off their escape from the back and continue forcing them forward. Once the horses hit the mouth of the v-shaped opening of the corral, you and Yunho will peel off and let Colton run them down the funnel and into the pen. Finally, Ross will catch any stragglers from the back and secure the gate on foot once the herd is inside.
Surprisingly, your first drive is an overwhelming success. You catch about 20 wild horses in the pen. A couple slip out of your reach—perfectly normal for a small crew of only four. A few need to be released for various reasons which make them unfit for the army: any mares, smaller horses, any injured animals, etcetera. Since it’s your first day, you ignore the urge to chase after any of the breakaways. You’ll have plenty of time to round up more, especially if your team continues clicking as it did today.
Life moves similarly over the next week. In the morning, you rope the horses you want to keep, tie them nose to tail in a line, and tug them behind. You herd during the day. Each of you picks up a night shift, singing or talking to the captured horses so they can get used to human voices.
One night, you wake with a desperate need to pee. You slip quietly from your bedroll to relieve yourself in the woods. As you button up your pants, a low, smooth voice carries through the darkness. You carefully creep through the tree line. Hiding behind it, you peer out and find yourself staring at the corral. The singing's coming from the rider. Yunho...it's his watch.
Your eyebrows lift. He sings well. His voice is rich, deep, and smooth like distant thunder rolling over the plains or the velvet fabric of an expensive party dress. His tone is stable, controlled. He sings effortlessly. The melody is simple, almost sad.
As you spy on him, something warm and unsteady swims in your gut. It shocks you into reality. You straighten and physically shake yourself. Bewildered, you accidentally step on a twig. It snaps underneath you. Yunho's head jerks toward your direction, and you grimace. His voice goes quiet as he listens.
You stay frozen and wait for him to turn back to the herd. When he finally does, you hurry back to your bedroll before anything else happens.
You toss and turn that night, the haunting melody playing over and over in your head. His smooth, melodic voice like silk drifting in your mind.
On your third day of driving, you decide to start going for the runaways. Yunho picks up on it quickly, joining your efforts. At first, the competition is friendly. He tips his hat to you when you nag a stray, and you nod in respect when he turns one back toward the corral.
You hit your first rough day a week in. Bad weather rolls in and out overnight, leaving the ground muddy and soft. The group rides out in the morning but no herds are near. After a long day of watching the horizon line for absolutely nothing, your eyes are tired. You almost don’t believe them when they land on a lone horse in the distance. But when you squint, it comes into view.
Yunho must have seen him at the same second you did. You both spur at once. Daisy stretches out underneath you, ears flat. She loves the chase almost as much as you do. Yunho’s horse is longer-legged. He gains ground fast, rope already unhitched from its perch at his side. But you're a better rider. You push Daisy forward just as Yunho rises in the stirrups, arm whipping forward. He’s going for the heel catch—clean and textbook.
Not on your watch.
You unlatch your own rope, twirling it smaller, tighter, and attack the sprinting horse from the side opposite Yunho. The rope snaps out like a whip crack, settling perfectly just around the animal’s neck. Yunho’s heel loop kisses empty air and falls flat. You tug back on the rope, pulling the wild horse to a gentle stop.
Since you’re far enough away that Yunho won’t be able to hear you, you speak gently to the horse, cooing like a mother to a child, to keep it calm. You fade into silence as you saunter up toward the Dakota cowboy with your catch in tow.
“That one was mine, Riley,” he says, but there’s a toothy grin on his face.
You clench your teeth to keep your own smile at bay.
“Was it?” you tease. You mime peering closer at the horse, exaggerating the movement. “Don’t look like it to me.”
He chuckles, tongue poking into his cheek.
“Hm…challenge accepted.”
You just tap your hat brim and lead your prize away.
You hadn’t really meant to antagonize him. But that day sets the tone.
From that moment forward, it’s a fight between you. Yunho steals lone mustangs and runaways from you; you cut him off and snatch horses from under his nose. Colton and Ross laugh so hard they accidentally let some of your catches escape. When the Dakota boys are out of earshot, Colton pokes fun at you.
“Someone’s got a crush,” he says in a low voice.
“Shut up,” you hiss.
What should have been an easy way to make money has turned into all-out war. Though it appears to be a joke to the boys, it’s nothing of the sort to you. They don’t understand. They could never understand what it’s like for you. Under all those clothes, under the binding wrapped tightly around your chest, you’re still a woman. That means you have to work harder, be better. While the three of them laugh and joke about it, you rage silently within your heart.
Ross is the first to suggest keeping a tally system. You can’t prove it but you’re almost positive that he and Colton are placing bets behind your backs.
The formal competition begins on the tenth day. Having roped in a good chunk of healthy horses yesterday—bringing the grand total to just over 200—you all agree that you've earned a break from the routine today. Instead, you and Yunho will face off, trying to snag as many wild horses as possible.
By noon, the tally is even at three each. Both of you are sweated through, horses lathered, ropes fraying at the ends from overuse. Your audience appears to enjoy the chase for the first half of the day but, when lunchtime rolls around, Ross suggests you both call it quits and accept a tie.
“No!” you shout, completely forgetting to disguise your voice. You clear your throat, trying to control the octave. “We don’t stop ‘til it’s finished.”
You turn to stomp back toward Daisy, but someone catches your arm. Rage flares. Your head snaps over your shoulder, curses ready to fly from your tongue. It’s Colton. His eyebrows are knitted, concern clear as day. He yanks you over to the side.
“You’re gonna hurt yourself, kid,” he says quietly. “It ain’t no big deal. You’ve shown you can hold your own. But that’s enough now.”
“I didn’t ask for your opinion,” you spit, wrenching your arm free. To Yunho, “We gonna do this, or what?”
His eyebrows furrow for a moment. But he clenches his jaw and nods. You ride out, a safe distance between you. Nothing stirs on the horizon for several minutes.
“Maybe we should head back in,” he suggests, looking over at you. "We haven't eaten in hours."
You remain frozen, lips pressed tightly shut under your bandana. A few silent moments pass.
“Look, I don’t know what your problem is,” he continues, tone a little icy, “why you don’t like me or whatever, but I-”
He must have seen it in his peripherals. Your eyes widen. A magnificent stallion—huge build, muscles taut, coppery coat shimmering in the afternoon sunshine. A perfect specimen, so fine he’d probably fetch a bonus just by himself.
You and Yunho share one quick glance before you both take off. You ride neck-and-neck, your horses creating a chorus that sounds like thunder as they rip the ground away under their hooves. The stallion dodges left; Yunho follows. You cut across, forcing the horse to the right. Whether you mean to or not, you’re working as a team.
That doesn’t last long. When you top a hill after the beast, you both reach for your ropes. Completely blindsided by the competition, neither of you pay attention. You throw the lasso at the same time. Your ropes both land around its neck, but you pull back in different directions.
You gasp, the rope slipping from your gloved hand. You watch Yunho’s lasso do the same. Instinctively, you pull back on Daisy’s reins. Yunho follows. You both skid to a stop, dust swirling up into your faces. You look up just in time to watch the stallion clear another hill and sprint away.
Out of reach now.
Not to mention that he's run away with your best rope. You won’t be able to replace it until you get back into town where you can visit your trusted ropemaker.
Your blood boils. From your peripherals, you see Yunho hop down from his black horse. He stomps toward you, finger accusingly pointed.
“Hey, what the hell are you—” he shouts.
You dismount and waste no time. Without hesitation, you spin and ram your knuckles into the side of his face. He stumbles back a few steps, hand moving to his jaw. He looks up at you, mouth agape.
“That was my best rope, asshole!” you yell, forgetting again about your tone of voice.
“You almost got both of us killed! And you’re worried about your rope?”
You lunge forward, hands connecting with his chest. He stumbles back. Your fingers curl into his shirt. You tug side to side and try to bring him down. He fights back, hands grasping at your shoulders. He’s definitely stronger than you. But he must be too surprised to hold up, because he tumbles onto the ground straight into a heap of mud. You land on top, knees pinned to his chest, shirt fisted in your hands.
Both of you freeze, chests heaving. His hat is gone. It’s rolled somewhere into the distance, forgotten. You glare down at him with clenched teeth. He stares up at you, eyes surprisingly gentle. Your expression falters when an unwanted churning turns in your stomach. Your breaths mingle in the air between you. Suddenly, he does a double-take, eyes widening. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion.
And, then, you realize.
The bandana around your face has been pulled down onto your neck. He must have snagged it accidentally when you took him down. Panic shocks through you. You reach up. Your hat's gone, too. Your long, braided hair spills over your shoulder.
For one stunned heartbeat, you just stare at each other.
“Well, shit,” he breathes. “You’re a girl.”
You scramble up, pushing hard on his chest out of spite. You gather your hat, jam it low, and snatch the ruined bandana from the mud. In that time, Yunho has gotten to his feet and brushed himself off.
Heat flashes up your neck—anger or something worse, you aren’t sure. You spin, the toe of your boot catching him square on the shin. He doubles over with a strangled grunt.
“That’s for the catch, rope, and money you just lost me,” you snap, already striding for Daisy.
Without another word, you swing up onto your horse and tear back toward camp at lightning speed. The bandana’s soaked and useless now, so your face is totally exposed. The hat lasts about three strides before you rip it off to keep the mud from dripping into your eyes.
Colton and Ross are waiting when you thunder into camp. They greet you but freeze the moment you turn toward them.
Colton’s eyes bulge, mouth half-open like he’s forgotten every word he knows. He stares, utterly speechless, clearly desperate to ask what the hell happened but not sure where to start. Ross doesn’t say anything either; he just watches in stunned silence as you stomp past them and vanish into the trees behind the campsite.
PART TWO
The fire has burned down to a low, orange glow. It casts flickering shadows across the camp. Colton and Ross turned in early; you figure Colton must have explained your situation and, God-willing, Ross is accepting of it. Otherwise, you would be answering questions into the night or dealing with a situation much, much worse.
You sit on the far side of the flames, your skinning knife in hand. You sharpen it with short, vicious strokes. The anger from earlier still simmers in your veins, hot enough to burn iron. Boot steps crunch softly on the dry leaves.
Yunho pauses at a respectful distance. His hands are held up, like he’s approaching some sort of feral animal. A brown bottle dangles loosely from two long fingers.
“I come bearing a peace offering,” he says softly.
You glare at him for a moment and then flick the knife point toward the open space on the log beside you. He settles in, careful not to crowd you but close enough that your stomach twists again.
You’ve spent your entire life, as long as you can remember, around men. Most of them, disgusting and dirty. They’re working men with rough callouses and hardened exteriors. The majority of them only have access to a bath once every six months.
But Yunho…he’s not like that. He’s cleaner, somehow, less grimy.
He yanks the cork and offers the bottle to you. You lean away, eyeing it suspiciously. He chuckles.
“Just whiskey. I promise.”
You stare at it for a moment before giving in. You swipe the bottle and take a long drink. It sears down your throat but settles pretty smooth. It tastes expensive. When you hand it back, he drinks, too.
“So, I’m assuming Riley isn’t your real name,” he starts.
“You assume correct.”
He waits, doesn’t push, just passes the bottle over again.
“I don’t suppose you’re gonna tell me what it really is?”
“Sure,” you reply, taking another swig. “You just let me know when hell freezes over.”
He laughs, the sound warm and friendly. You stare into the fire, watching the embers dance in the wind. He doesn’t ask you to explain any more than that, so you aren't really sure why you do.
“Out here a woman alone’s got three choices: a wife, a whore, or a corpse,” you explain. “Wasn't interested in any of that. So I made my own choice.”
“How’d you wind up out here? Doing this?”
“My parents died when I was ‘lil. Some flu or somethin’. Wiped out half my town, but it spared me, for some reason. I begged and stole for a few years to get by. Then, I heard some men talkin’ ‘bout jobs. So, I followed ‘em and wound up at the door of Red Rock Horse & Cattle Company. Old man Hargrove, the contractor there, took pity on me. I was half-starved and prolly looked like a mangy dog.” Yunho chuckles softly. “He took me in. He didn’t really know how to raise a girl, so I just got thrown in with the boys. He taught me everything I know—how to rope, herd, survive. I had to figure out a lot of it by myself, but I didn’t mind.”
“How come you keep doing it?”
“What do you mean?”
He shrugs, eyes flicking up and down your body. You feel heat creeping into your cheeks.
“Why do you stay out here, doing hard labor work? You’re plenty pretty enough. I’m sure some rich man would take you as his wife. You wouldn't have to struggle to survive out here anymore."
“Well…because I love the work,” you reply. “The wind in my face all day, Daisy runnin’ beneath my feet, the wide-open sky before me. I’d never give it up. For anything.”
You look at him sideways. He’s smiling, a knowing glint in his eyes. He doesn’t say anything. Just nods. Silence settles for a few moments.
“Only downside is that no one really, truly understands,” you continue quietly. “They never really know what it feels like. It gets…lonely sometimes.”
Yunho is quiet so long, you wonder if he’s stopped listening. Then, softly, “You don’t have to be lonely tonight.”
Your eyes go wide. Turning your head, you catch him watching you. Firelight dances in his gaze and there’s something so endearing about it. He reminds you of a puppy, looking so earnest and sweet. You feel a pull in your lower belly again, the same one that had come and gone a few times before. His eyes flicker down to your lips. He gulps and forces his gaze back to yours.
You snatch the bottle from his hand, drink deeply for courage, and then hand it back.
“Not tonight,” you say sternly. “But keep it up, Dakota boy, and maybe we’ll see.”
With that, you rise from your seat and head toward your bedroll. It takes him a second before he jumps to his feet.
“Ah, n-no! Wait, that’s not what I meant. I...I-,” he stutters, obviously terrified that his accidental come-on attempt had offended you.
You don’t react, just giggle to yourself as you settle in for sleep.
The next several weeks blur into a rhythm. During the day, you ride forward, herding and roping any wild horses you come across. You and Yunho spend most of your time together. You’ve grown close.
You never explained to Colton or Ross what went on between you to put a stop to the war that had been brewing. You just let them assume that whatever had happened out on the plains that day set everything right. They don’t question it, either. They seem perfectly content that the two of you are working together so well. Even your horses seem to fall into step like they’ve known each other for years.
At night, after the others slip into sleep, you share whiskey or wine or whatever you have on hand. Yunho tells you about the stars; he knows so much about them. He points out constellations and planets. Out here in the wilderness, you can see them all. Funny…you’ve never really stopped to look up at them before.
One night, he comes over to your bedroll. You're awake but pretend to be asleep since you're dying to know what he's up to. More tenderly than you ever thought possible, he moves a strand of hair from your face. He strokes your cheek with his knuckle and whispers something. You don't catch what he says, but it's something sweet. You can tell by the tender way he says it.
In exchange for his star knowledge, you’ve been teaching him how to whip-crack a lasso. It’s something you learned from another roper who hangs around the cattle company a lot. If you do it just right, the snap sounds like thunder, it’s so loud. You laugh freely when the rope tangles around his boot and gently correct his form when you can.
It’s innocent. Mostly.
You can’t help but appreciate his long, slender fingers. You like the way they flex around the reins. It feels like electricity when they brush against your arm or tangle with your digits when he passes the bottle. He must know you like it; he draws attention to them far more than necessary.
Not that you would dare to throw stones. You’re doing it, too. He watches your hips when you ride. You noticed one afternoon when you turned to ask him something. You'd caught his stare zeroed in on your ass. He must like the way you shift in the saddle. So, naturally, you do it more.
“You ride like you were born in a saddle,” he says quietly one afternoon. “It’s real nice to look at, but makes it sort of hard to focus.”
You don't know what to say. You just watch him ride ahead of you, smirk tugging at his mouth.
A few more weeks slip by, the herd growing larger behind you—nearing four hundred horses now. The days start to feel less like working and more like spending time with friends. You’ve let your guard down. No bandana unless you’re near a town. Your hair stays loose under your hat more often than not.
After two months out, you decide you’ve earned yourself a full bath. You wander a little ways downstream from camp, past a bend thick with cottonwood trees. There, the river widens into a slow, clear blue pool. You tether Daisy to a low branch and then strip off your hat, vest, and shirt without a second thought. The binding comes next—long strips of linen you’ve worn tightly across your chest so many times. You unwind them slowly, breathing deeply. You leave the fabric folded neatly on a rock, kick off your boots, and wade into the water.
You duck under and let the cool liquid wash off all the sweat and dust from your skin. When you come back up, you start to brush your fingers through tangled hair. Winter's coming fast. Soon, the water will be too cold for baths. You should enjoy this one while you can. Glancing upward, you close your eyes and let the sun wash over your bare body.
“Oh…”
You gasp, sinking back into the water up to your chin. You turn around. The panic in your chest subsides when you find yourself looking at none other than Jeong Yunho. His eyes are wide with genuine surprise. You sigh and shake your head. Heat rushes into your neck and face, so hot it makes your ears itch.
“Damn,” you shout, breathless. “Don’t you know better than to sneak up on somebody?”
“Sorry!” he yells back. “Thought I was alone...”
He hesitates, shirt half-tugged over his head. Your eyes snag on a slice of his skin, toned and muscular. Rolling your eyes to mask the tight coil in your stomach, you turn your back on him.
“Well, you comin’ in or not?” you ask.
As ladylike as possible, you splash water over your arms and shoulders. A few moments later, you hear him wading into the stream.
“Phew, it's so nice,” he says.
“Mhm,” you agree.
You turn toward him, arms crossing over your chest under the water on instinct. You study him for a moment—the way the light catches on the water droplets clinging to his collarbones, the way his damp hair curls up at the ends. He looks a little nervous, like he’s waiting for you to send him packing.
Silence falls. You both stare at each other for several minutes, arms moving through the water. Then, of course, because it’s Yunho, he scoops up a handful of water and flicks it at you. You gasp, half laughing, before you splash him back twice as hard. Within seconds, it’s a full-on battle. Water flies, and both of you laugh so hard your stomachs ache.
He lunges for you under water. You shriek, shoving against his chest. Your palms glide over his wet skin. With no friction, instead of stopping him, your touch slides upward and onto his shoulders. His hands curl around your hip bones, stopping you at arm’s length just a second before your chests ram together.
Your laughter fades quickly. The space between you seems to shrink. You’re close enough now to see the honeyed tint in his eyes. His long lashes clump together with water. He gives you every chance to pull away as he lifts his hand, so slowly, and tucks your hair behind your ear.
“You’re beautiful,” he says, so quietly you almost miss it over the river’s hum.
Your heart hammers in your chest. This doesn't feel real. It's fuzzy like a dream. You’ve spent years making sure no man ever sees you like this. Like a woman. Like…well, beautiful. And here you are, here he is, looking at you like you’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. You roll your eyes, but your stomach flips.
“Flattery’ll get you dunked, Dakota boy,” you mutter teasingly.
He laughs, the sound a quick exhale of breath. But he doesn’t move his hand. It stays, cupping your cheek. Your eyes flick down to his lips.
Fuck it.
You lean in first. Just enough. He meets you halfway. The kiss is gentle, just two mouths pressing against one another. No tongue, no saliva, nothing crazy. Just pressure and the slight tang of river water on his lips. His hand snakes around the back of your neck, thumb stroking once along your jaw. When you pull back, your cheeks are burning hot. You drop your head to avoid looking at him.
“Well,” you mumble, splashing a weak handful of water at his chest to cover the shaking in your voice, “that’s enough of that.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
He chuckles under his breath. You risk a peek at him; his cheeks are tinted pink, eyes sparkling. You consider kissing him again. Instead, you just catch your lip in your teeth and shove him away. As you paddle your way to the shore, you have a feeling that it’s about to get a lot harder to stay professional.
PART THREE
The wind has teeth now. It blows sharp and relentless as it sweeps down from the north. Nights come early, spreading a purple haze through the sky. You’ve pushed yourselves hard the last two weeks. You know you’re running out of time before winter sets in fully. You’re sitting at 680 horses with at least 20 more to go. Plus, if any of you want a bonus, you need a few more than that.
But the plains are thinning out, giving way to mountains dotted with evergreen trees. You’ll be passing the herd over to the army at Fort Garland in Colorado. You’re maybe a week’s travel away from the Fort.
One gray afternoon, Colton brings the party to a stop beside a shallow creek. The four of you sit your horses in a loose circle while he studies the map Hargrove gave you months ago, now soft and creased from constant use.
“I’d say we’re close enough to town that this’ll be our last corral,” he says, folding the map with a snap. “Army post is just over the ridge. Now, I don’t want civilians pokin’ around, so Riley and Yunho, you two ride ahead and scout it out. See if there’s a good holdin’ pasture outside town, somewhere we can keep the herd without payin’ for stables or drawin’ too much attention. Ross and I’ll bring the string up slow tomorrow.”
You nod, already turning Daisy in the direction of town. Yunho falls in beside you without a word, the easy rhythm you’ve found these past weeks making conversation unnecessary.
The two of you ride on until dusk, when the lights of the town start to flicker into view like little stars on the horizon. You find a sheltered hollow a mile or so out. It’s got good grass, a row of trees to break the wind, and a creek that hasn’t frozen over yet. No property markers, no claims staked. It’ll do.
You make up a small camp. You set up your bedroll first, close to the fire since everyone knows your secret now. Yunho rolls his out just beside yours, far closer than previous nights. You eat leftover jerky and some dried biscuits in silence, passing the last of the whiskey back and forth until the bottle’s empty.
The air is frigid, temperatures dropping fast once the sun dips for the night. When it’s time to turn in, you hesitate, glancing between the fire and the two bedrolls. Yunho lifts the edge of his quilt without comment.
With a smile, you slide in between his legs with your back to his chest. You can feel his body heat immediately. You lie against his torso, propped up against the great big tree behind you.
“Now, exactly how long have you been waitin' to cuddle up to me?” you tease, though your heart’s pounding.
“I’m just being practical,” he corrects. “There's no sense in freezing when we can share warmth.”
He chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest onto your back. For a while you just rest there, listening to the fire crackle and the wind gush through the trees. Then his hand finds yours under the quilt, fingers tracing the calluses and marks on your hand. He freezes on one, a jagged scar cutting right across your fingers. You feel sick for a moment, wondering if it disgusts him. Then, he hums quietly.
“What?” you ask.
“Rope burn?” he asks, fingertip gliding over the scar.
You fish out your hand from under the covers and turn it over so the firelight catches the pale pink line that runs across the base of your fingers. It’s an old wound, thick and permanent from years of lassos slipping at the wrong moment.
“I was twelve,” you say. “I still didn’t really know what I was doin’. I went after a huge chestnut mustang. That catch was too big for how small I was. He bolted, rope slipped. Damn near took my thumb off.”
His hand slides up next to yours, pinkies touching. You laugh. Same scar, same place, on his own hand. They’re identical, aside from finger length. You both stare for a long second.
“Well,” you say, voice softer than you mean it to be, “I guess that settles it, then.”
He raises his eyebrows and leans over your shoulder. You turn sideways to meet his gaze.
“Settles what?” he asks.
“Same scar, means we were meant to throw ropes together,” you explain, a grin tugging at your lips. “Or maybe just meant to be together, period.”
His answering smile is slow and warm. He laces his fingers through yours, scar touching scar.
“I believe that. Easy. But I didn’t need a scar to tell me.”
Your heart swells. You sink down into the quilt, nuzzling back against his chest. His arms snake around your waist, holding you firmly against him. The two of you just sit there. Listening. The wind howls like a restless spirit outside your little camp. Yunho’s body is a furnace against your back, his arms heavy across your stomach. You can feel every breath he takes, slow and steady. You shift your hips, just a little, without even really meaning to. He goes rigid behind you.
“If you keep moving like that…” he murmurs, breath hot against the shell of your ear, “you might get me into trouble, cowgirl.”
A shiver snakes down your spine that is definitively not from the cold. You spin in his grasp and turn onto your knees so you can look at him. You place one hand on each of his thighs, feeling his muscles shift under your touch. You’re face-to-face now, noses brushing. His eyes are black in the firelight, pupils blown wide.
“Well, lucky for you, I am trouble,” you whisper.
He moves immediately. His hand attaches to your jaw, tugging you forward. With long, slender fingers stretching across your face, he brushes his nose against yours. You inhale sharply. Your eyes flutter closed. Heart pounding in your chest, you wait. His lips ghost against yours softly. Then, pressure follows.
He kisses you sweetly at first, just lips melding together. But you want more. You need more. Your hands slide up his thighs, onto his chest, and then into the soft hair at the nape of his neck under his cowboy hat. His head turns to the side so he can reach you deeper. He gets hungrier, hotter, teeth scraping your bottom lip before his tongue slides into your mouth. You kiss him back hard. Your gut is swimming, churning as pressure builds lower and lower.
He rolls you onto your back in one smooth motion. Desperate for some friction, you open your legs. He settles between your thighs. Your fingers bump against the brim of his hat, tugging at the roots of his hair until he groans into your mouth.
Cold air nips at your exposed skin when his fingers lift the hem of your shirt. But the warmth of his palms on your body heats you right back up. He works open the buttons on your shirt, one at a time.
He kisses the corner of your mouth and then down onto your neck. These are open-mouthed, sloppy kisses. You turn your head to give him your neck freely. He licks over your pulse point, drawing a soft moan from your lips. You arch into his touch and gasp when his tongue finds the tender meat of your shoulder. He bites down hard, sucking at your skin.
It’ll be a bruise in the morning, you already know it. You don’t care. You want it. You want every mark he plans to leave on you.
“I’ve been thinking about this for months,” he growls against your throat, teeth grazing the corner of your jaw. “Thinking about you. Just like this.”
You laugh, breathlessly, and reach for his shirt.
“Then stop talkin’ and start doin’, cowboy.”
He pulls back just far enough to grin, wicked and beautiful. You bite your lip and yank at a button on his shirt. He sits back on his knees and finishes the job for you. You sigh, reaching up to run your hands down his bare torso. His skin is blazing hot. You spread your fingers greedily, smoothing over his perfect honeyed skin.
Shamelessly, you let your fingertip hook onto the belt of his pants, dipping just below the waistband. He inhales sharply, one hand enclosing over yours. Your eyes flick up. You giggle coquettishly when he shakes his head. Despite his restraint, his eyes darken.
He leans back down, gaze never leaving yours, and finishes what he started with your shirt. You slide your arms from the sleeves. The cold air raises goosebumps all over. You feel exposed in a way you never have before. But it’s not a bad feeling. It’s nice.
Yunho’s fingers find the piece of tucked linen securing the binding on your chest. He pauses, thumb brushing against the worn cloth. His eyes find yours.
“Can I take this off?” he asks. “Is that alright?”
You nod, swallowing hard.
“I’ve been wearin’ it for years. It’ll be nice to breathe free.”
He smiles softly and starts unwinding the long strips. He does it with care. Each layer he pulls loose reveals another piece of your skin. The last of the binding falls away. Your breasts ache slightly, happy to be freed from confinement. The cold breeze makes your nipples tighten almost instantly. Yunho’s breath hitches. He studies you, like he’s memorizing every inch of your body. His fingertip lightly traces along the indentations on your sides from the tightly-wrapped fabric.
“Does it hurt?” he questions.
“Sometimes. But it ain’t nothin’ I can’t handle.”
He bends over, softly pressing kisses to some of the grooves in your skin. When he comes up back, you shift nervously under his stare. You reach for your hair to have something to cover you only to realize that it’s still braided down your back. As if reading your mind, he reaches up with one hand and tugs the leather strap free. He threads his fingers through the strands, patiently loosening the plait until your hair spills wild across your shoulders. He grins sweetly.
“Better,” he whispers. “Just you now. As you are.”
You coo, breath taken away, and shrink under his soft gaze. His knuckle finds the underside of your chin. He tilts your face up, kissing you deeply. As his lips move on yours, you forget your worries. Your arms wind around his neck. One of his hands slides onto your back, the other bracing himself on the bedroll. He kisses you a few more times before pulling back. You open your eyes to see him grinning playfully.
“What?” you ask. “I don’t like that face you’re makin’.”
He just bites his lips and pushes himself to a stand. You watch, heartbeat pulsing in your head, as Yunho disappears behind his horse. When he comes back into view, he has a coil of extra rope wound around his hand. Your pulse spikes. You quirk an eyebrow.
“And what on earth is that for?” you ask.
He smirks. Standing above you, he looks like a giant. He's so damn tall…
“Hands above your head,” he says, gentle but commanding.
You hesitate for a moment, eyeing him up and down. But, then, you obey and cross your wrists above your head. The rope is slightly rough against your wrists as he secures it, but he ties it double-looped so there’s not very much room for chafing. He winds the rest of it around the tree above your head. You gasp when he yanks it tight. With your mouth agape, you gawk at him. He shrugs and chuckles breathlessly.
“Sorry. Gotta make sure it’s tight.”
You scoff, but your whole body is swimming with adrenaline. You’ve spent the night with a man once or twice before. But never like this. You’ve heard of things like this from the show girls at the saloons you duck in and out of when you come across towns. You didn't realize people actually do it.
You tug once on the rope, testing it. It holds. A thrill pulses between your legs. You can feel your core swelling, prepping for what it hopes is to come.
When he’s finished, he sits on his heels in front of you and stares. Absolutely no shame in his demeanor, whatsoever. You feel suddenly embarrassed—breasts bare, trousers pushed down to your hips, wrists bound. He whistles, low and slow.
“Pretty as a picture,” he murmurs.
He pulls your old faded red bandana from his pocket and folds it slowly. Holding it up in front of your eyes, he gives you an idea of what his plans are. You laugh but close your eyes and lift your head. He ties it snugly over your face. Darkness swallows everything but the sound of his breathing and the crackle of the fire.
“This okay?”
“Mhm.”
Then his hands are on you again, slow and deliberate. His touch trails down your sternum, circling one nipple and then the other. Your lips part, back arching into the sensation. His mouth follows soon after, hot and wet, sucking marks into the soft skin of your breasts. His other hand slips lower to unfasten your trousers. You cooperate the best you can as he slides them from your legs. While the rest of your clothes are men’s, you still wear women’s drawers underneath your trousers. Your hips shift up unintentionally when his hand smooths over your aching heat.
“Oh, hell…” he mumbles. “You’re drenched through, baby. I've barely touched you. How are you already so wet? You want me that bad, huh?”
You snort.
“Don't flatter yourself too much, cowboy," you quip. "I don’t get a lotta attention down there. On account of me pretendin’ to be a man and all.”
He snickers and slides two fingers under the waistband of your drawers. He lifts your hips so he can slide them off, leaving you completely bare before him. Part of you is terrified, but the other half is desperate to see his expression. You shiver when his hands brush along the insides of your thighs and push your legs further apart.
He drags a single finger along your folds, and you gasp at the surprise. He groans low in his throat—a raw, hungry sound that lights you up. The same finger slips back down, circling once on your clit before it dips into you. He removes it and reinserts, curling upward just right against that spot. Your hips buck up involuntarily. Your mouth falls open.
The next time he slides in, he’s added a finger. He slowly pulses in and out of you. His thumb is positioned perfectly so that it knocks against your swollen clit whenever he drives into you. The world narrows around you. Every nerve is on high alert, senses amplified because of the blindfold. You swear you can almost feel the callouses on his fingers as they pump in and out of you, over and over.
He learns you quickly, figures out what your body responds to.
You moan, shuddering when you feel the coldness of his spit on your heat. The slick between your thighs starts to drip down your legs. You clench greedily around him as he adds a third finger. He stretches you open, gently at first, and then deeper, harder.
Your thighs start to tremble. Heat builds low in your stomach, coming in waves. His thumb finds your clit again, swollen and aching. He circles it carefully. Moans spill from your lips, and your back arches. Pulling against the rope, your hands beg to be freed. All you can focus on is the aching sensation intensifying in your lower gut and the obscene gushing sound proving just how soaked you are.
He slows when you're nearing the edge, fingers stilling inside you. You whine and whimper in protest. The desperation in your tone surprises even you. The denial is torture. Every muscle in your body is like a coiled spring just waiting to burst. You feel him shift above you, the heat of his body fading just enough to make you strain against the bonds, as if you could reach for him.
“Not yet,” he says sternly.
You gasp when you feel his breath ghosting over your folds. Then, the slow, deliberate drag of his tongue from your entrance to your clit. The first lick rips a broken moan from you. The second one has your thighs trying to clamp around his head. But his big hands pin them wide open. He groans into you like a starving man, the vibration making you jerk against the binds.
“Yunho…” you whine.
He doesn’t answer. He devours you. Long, filthy stripes of his tongue, and then tight circles around your clit until your hips are bucking helplessly. He sucks the swollen bud between his lips. You feel the coil in your belly snap back into place, twice as tight as before. Two fingers slide back inside you, curling hard. His mouth never stops. The sounds that escape your mouth seem vulgar in the otherwise calm night. You moan his name again, and he goes harder. You shatter, tugging so hard on the rope your wrists burn. He doesn’t stop, licking you through every pulse until you’re shaking.
Obviously satisfied, he pulls away. One gentle kiss to your sternum in between your breasts. Then, his hands are at your wrists, untying the rope. The bandana comes off last. You blink against the light. His shadow comes into view. His face is red, hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, mouth swollen and glistening with your slick.
You don’t even hesitate. The second your hands are free you shove at his chest. He lets you, surprised laughter rumbling out of him as he topples onto his back on the quilts. You’re on top of him before he can catch his breath. With desperate fingers, you pull the belt away, trousers and drawers down. He reaches for his cowboy hat, but you catch his wrist.
“No. Leave it on,” you say, the need so painfully obvious in your tone.
He chuckles quietly but obeys. He lays back with his head propped against the rolled up blanket serving as his pillow. He seems calm, probably not expecting you to get to work right away.
You relish in his shock when you drag your still-dripping core along the long, hard length of him. He hisses, hands flying to your waist. His head falls back, throat exposed, that gorgeous neck stretched, veins and all.
With your bottom lip between your teeth, you sink down in one slow, greedy slide. The stretch is perfect, just a little more than his fingers. You both moan loud, almost noisy enough to spook your horses. You brace your palms on his chest and slowly tip your hips back. Bring them forward, then push back.
His hands are everywhere—sliding up your sides, slipping over your breasts, thumbs brushing your nipples, then lower again to grip your waist. He guides you without forcing you. You roll your hips slow at first, savoring the drag, the way his cock hits so deep every time you sink back down. His eyes are locked where you’re joined, lips parted, breath hitching every time you clench around him. Your eyes squeeze shut to savor the sensations.
“You ride it like a champ,” he says, laughing. “You okay?”
He reaches up, tucking a strand of fallen hair from your cheek. The tenderness feels so out of place considering the position you’re both in. You nod, leaning forward. He surges up to meet you. His mouth latches onto yours.
Now your knees are splayed on either side of his hips, him sitting between your thighs. You grind down harder. Your tongues tangle, and he slips a hand between you. He finds your clit again. Your fingernails dig into him, one on his shoulder, the other on his neck. Something hits so perfectly that you whimper, and your lips slip from his. Wincing, you brace yourself to keep going. His grip on your hips forces you to slow.
“Come on, cowgirl,” he pants against your mouth. “One more for me. I wanna feel it this time. But I want you to tell me your name first. Your real one.”
You falter for a second, surprised by the request. Leaning back slightly, you catch his gaze. He looks fucked out already. But something in those soft eyes... He wants to know you. Completely. You press your mouth next to his ear, whispering the name you hadn't spoken in almost fifteen years.
He gets right back to work. One of his hands slides up your spine, holding you up. The other rests on your thigh to keep you in place. You feel him start to push up inside you with his own weight.
That’s all it takes.
You slam down once, twice, and then the second orgasm blindsides you. And shit, is it so much better than the first. You clench hard around his cock. Burying your face into his shoulder, you hold on for life as the waves crest over you again and again. He follows right after, hips jerking up, spilling hot inside you with your name broken on his tongue.
You ride it out together and then just sit, intertwined. He wraps his arms around your torso, holding on tightly. He presses lazy kisses to your neck, shoulder, anywhere he can reach. You keep your eyes closed to savor the embrace.
Eventually, he tips you sideways, pulling the quilt up and over your bodies. He moves to slide out, but you stop him.
“You can stay. I don’t mind,” you say quietly, eyes still closed.
He chuckles softly, kisses your forehead, and pulls you into his chest. Before you slip under, you think you catch him whispering your name, quiet as a mouse.
Morning comes in pastel streaks of light. The wind is bitter. You wake first, pulling the covers up to your chin. You don’t want to leave your lover’s embrace. Ever again. So you keep still, entangled in his arms.
When Yunho eventually stirs behind you, you both agree it’s time to get up and at least rebuild the fire. As he puts the coffee on, you stifle a giggle. His skin, and you imagine yours, too, bears the evidence of your night together. Faint red lines spread across his neck where your nails scratched him. A bruise is blooming on his shoulder from where your mouth lingered.
“What?” he asks.
He looks at you over his shoulder like a deer in headlights. Fuck, he’s gorgeous this morning. You just bite your lip and shake your head.
“Oh, nothin’.”
You eat some of the leftover jerky for breakfast, have your coffee, and wait for Colton and Ross to find the smoke from your campfire. You’d stoked it with pine needles to give it a bluish tint so the ropers would know where to find you.
They finally arrive around midday.
The second Colton’s eyes land on you, you realize he knows. You haven’t looked at your reflection today, but you imagine you look something like a wild animal—hair wild, lips swollen, hickeys all over your neck. His eyebrows nearly jump into his hat. He cackles sharply, shaking his head in disapproval.
“Well, hell,” he says, dismounting. “Looks like the two of y’all had a real productive scoutin’ trip.”
You glance at Yunho whose face is redder than a strawberry. He shrugs sheepishly, eyes flicking to you.
“Productive ain’t the word I’d use,” Ross snorts. Then, he eyes the rumpled bedrolls laid suspiciously close together.
“What?” Yunho responds, throwing his hands up at his partner. “It was real cold last night. We had to do something to stay warm.”
Heat creeps up your neck, but you lift your chin and smirk.
“What’s the matter, Colton? Jealous I ain’t ever made a move on you all these years.”
“Ha! Kid, I’ve known you since you were knee-high to a grasshopper and twice as mean. I wouldn’t never take you on.”
You tip your hat to him, grinning wide. You swing up onto Daisy.
“We got work to do, huh?" you say. "Let’s get that bonus cash, boys.”
Without another word, you kick Daisy forward with Yunho at your heels. You leave Colton and Ross in the dust. The town glimmers in the distance, the herd’s almost complete, and winter’s closing in fast.
But for the first time in your life, the wide-open plains don’t feel quite so lonely.
EPILOGUE
The sun hangs low over the dusty street. It’s been three years since that beautiful ride with the Dakota boys. You’d wound up with almost 800 horses by the deadline. You’d never experienced a payday so wonderful in your life. Not to mention all the bonuses that were awarded for the quality studs you’d passed on.
Fortunately, you’d also found a stud to keep all to yourself.
Word spread fast about the pair of you: a steady-handed cowboy and a mysterious expert roper. In three years’ time, you’ve established yourselves as quite the coveted service. With all that extra money you earned, you offered to buy Red Rock Horse & Cattle Company. Old man Hargrove couldn’t wait to hand it off. You knew he’d been wanting to retire for years. At seventy years old, he'd earned it, after all.
Nowadays, contracts pile up on the wooden desk like dust: ranchers needing hands for a drive, rodeos recruiting retirees or young folk with special talents, wealthy businessmen looking for escorts through rough territory. Letters and telegrams from all over the country trickle in, more and more every day.
Actually, you've had to become very picky. With so much business flooding in, it’s hard sometimes to find the time to personally take on contracts. But, you suppose, that’s part of the benefit of owning the company—you get to hog all the fun requests to yourself.
You lean back in your chair, boots propped on the table as you sort through the latest stack. Yunho sits across from you. You watch him for a moment, studying the way his back muscles shift as he cleans his rifle. His eyes dart back and forth between the gun in his lap and the contracts lying open in front of him.
“Look at this one,” you say, waving a crumpled letter. “Some guy in Texas wants us to round up a herd of wild mustangs. Says they’ll pay triple if we bring ‘em in broken, too. He says, quote, ‘nobody else seems to be able to handle the wild ones like y’all do.'”
Yunho glances up, dark eyes sparkling in the lantern light. He sets down the rifle and takes the paper from you. He reads it over, eyebrows knitting in concentration.
“Hm…tempting,” he replies. “But this one’s better.”
He slides a pristine telegram across the table. This one is from a wealthy cattle baron in the Dakotas.
"Wide open land, prime grazing territory,” Yunho explains as you read. “Says he needs experienced hands to lead the drive north before winter hits. Room for two at the front, and a bonus if we get there ahead of schedule."
It’s solid work, honest and easy. It feels similar to the job that brought you together in the first place. Unlike some of the other offers that are flashy, full of risks and lots of reward at the end, this one feels steady. It would be slow and full of open plain. That big, bright blue sky that you love so dearly. Besides, you’d always wanted to see the Dakotas.
"Alright, I like it," you agree, folding the telegram neatly. "To the Dakotas, it is. I’ve always wondered what it’s like up there.”
“I can guarantee there will be many nights perfect for stargazing," he replies with a sweet smile.
You stand and stretch out the kinks from a day spent cramped in the office. Yunho follows you outside, locking up behind him. Your horses wait patiently for you at the post. Both of you reach for your hats at the same time.
As you press it onto the top of your head, you smile. The horsehair tassel brushes against your finger. You each have one. Yours is braided with a strand of hair from his horse and one from his head; his is the same but with locks from your hair and Daisy’s mane. You created them as a quiet promise that wherever the trail leads, you’ll ride it together.
You reach for the reins, but his fingers clamp onto your arm. You glance at him. He steps closer, hand coming up to cup your cheek. His thumb traces your jaw. With a grin, you lean in to meet him halfway. He kisses you slowly, softly, familiarly. He tastes of coffee. You inhale it greedily. His free hand settles on your waist, pulling you flush against him. When you break apart, your foreheads stay pressed together.
“Best thing I ever did was ride with you,” he murmurs against your lips.
You can’t help the wicked grin that spreads across your face. Pulling back just enough to meet his gaze, you giggle.
“Best thing I ever did was ride you.”
By the time he catches up to what you’ve said, you’re already climbing onto Daisy’s back. He laughs, deep and genuine. You join in. Nothing's better than teasing your big puppy dog. You nudge Daisy’s sides to urge her forward. She takes off into a sprint, stirring up a cloud of dust behind her. You don’t look back for Yunho; you don’t need to. You know he’s right on your tail, just like always.
The trail stretches ahead of you, endless and exciting and full of whatever comes next. Fresh experiences, new joys, more nights tangled together under the stars.
And damn if this isn’t the best ride of your life.
⟶ you’d been tutoring him with his classes. history of magic, herbology, transfigurations, potions. your sweet, shy, caring friend yeosang… how shameless he becomes after you both ingest the most dangerous, illegal lust potion to exist.
𓄃 happy birthday to me, this is my gift for all of you!!!
𓄃 day twelve of @chimivx and i’s kinktober!
𓄃 wizard!yeosang x fem!reader | wc ~7k
𓄃 heed the warnings im not your mother: smut minors dni, this fic is very sex-pollen esque, they’re both intensely horny, virgin!reader, strong beefy ponytailed yeosang, oral f!receiving, multiple rounds, p in v, lotta unprotected creampies :p loosely based on hp universe but if u dont know hp its fine they’re just wizards, fuck you jk rowling
You can hear them before you see them, huddled up together in the lounge, cackling so loud the sound reverberates throughout the stone corridor your penny loafers carried you through. High archways, open air windows, intricate carvings into stone that no human hand could have perfected, you try to ignore the paintings that moved with your steps.
You turn the corner into the lounge, a palm softly caressing the heavy, arched wooden doorframe, double doors that opened up into the vast, candle-lit space. Green velvet chairs that matched the curtains draped over floor to ceiling windows, only one or two stayed open during the day, typically drawn shut so students could study calmly.
Calmly.
“You three are so loud,” you snarl as your penny loafers click to a stop before the three chairs huddled in a triangle, a deep, black table in the center, holding thick books and chalices of god knows what. With a hand on your hip, the other arm holding books pressed to your chest, you keep your voice quiet but sharp, “This room is for studying, you know.”
San makes a show of looking around him, at the lack of people occupying the lounge. Almost ten, maybe fifteen chairs took up space, five tables amongst them, maybe three people occupying them. You let your eyes dance over the almost empty room before landing back on San, his slicked back hair, the black robe hanging over his shoulders, the yellow illuminating the breadth.
You stand your ground, “Just because it’s not busy in here doesn’t mean you need to be obnoxious.”
“We weren’t even loud,” Wooyoung argues, the blue in his robe bringing out the chocolate of his eyes, the red undertone in his black hair that nearly lays over his lashes. His mouth twitches upward in a smirk, “We were just laughing. You should try it sometime.”
You slide your scowl to Yeosang, whose eyes dance between the three of you, but he doesn’t interject. He never interjects, not when Wooyoung makes one of his infamous remarks towards you, nor when he encourages San into teasing you, too. Yeosang, quiet, timid and kind until it killed him, you wondered how you were both in the same House. Sometimes you wondered if you were tutoring him to bring out the bravery buried inside him, too.
“Whatever,” you huff, rolling your eyes. You turn your body to Yeosang, hands clutching your books to your chest a little harder, “Are you ready? It’s past three.”
Yeosang nods, black hair tied tightly behind his head, tendrils framing his face that curved just beneath his jaw. Both hands grip the armrests of the chair to help him stand, then he grabs his books from the table, his goblet, you had the same routine every other day. Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, the days you meet Yeosang here at three o’clock sharp to tutor him in everything. History of Magic, Herbology, Transfigurations, Potions, you remember the day your professor assigned Yeosang to you in hopes that you’d get him to at least pass.
“Good luck,” Wooyoung teases, a song in his tone, eyes trapped in crescents with how wide his grin spreads. He reaches into his pockets, “Hold on, don’t forget this.”
“I’m not taking that,” Yeosang huffs, “You shouldn’t even have that.”
“What is it?” You ask, eyeing the iridescent liquid in the small glass vial. It doesn’t look like any potion you’ve seen before.
“Liquid Luck,” Yeosang answers too quickly, waving his hands in front of Wooyoung who tips his head back in loud laughter. Your eyebrows furrow, you know the color of Liquid Luck, a molten gold that looks as lucky as it makes you, but you’ve never seen such a pearly, almost rainbow substance. Your curiosity makes you take a step forward, hand reaching out to touch it.
Yeosang lurches forward to snap the potion from between Wooyoung’s fingers before you get the chance, “You’re beyond help. Beyond saving, Wooyoung.”
Wooyoung just laughs louder, crinkles beside his uneven eyes, “You- You should try it out, man. Just see what happens, I’m curious.”
“You use it,” Yeosang stuffs the glass in his robe pocket, the red interior bustling outward at the movement, a bite in his tone you’ve never heard before. You’re standing frozen, eyes wide, confusion and surprise written all over your face.
“I’m not as lucky as you,” Wooyoung is smirking again, his eyes sliding to you right before he winks, long, dark lashes almost reaching his cheek as he does so. “I like ‘em to have a little attitude.”
Your top lip curls in disgust, “Ew, Jung Wooyoung. Never speak to me again.” You turn on your heel, penny loafers heading toward the private study room you and Yeosang always used. Turning your head behind you to Yeosang who had leaned towards Wooyoung, no doubt whispering words you didn’t want to hear, you called, “Let’s go, Yeosang.”
He straightens on command, following behind you to the study room. The room smelled faintly of morning mist leftover from the window that had most likely been cracked earlier in the day, paired with the same smell of magic and ancientness that wrapped around the school like a hug. You laid your books down on the wooden table, a long slab of oak that ate up half the space, benches lined on either side, a tall, full bookshelf against the wall. A lonely bar-cart sat in the corner, water and potions glittering the space for focus, listening, learning, golden goblets and tall jars atop a used, golden slate.
“I’m sorry about him,” Yeosang mutters quietly as the heavy door groans closed, the small metal lock latching louder than his voice.
You take your normal spot, and the bench cries as Yeosang sits down beside you. You give him a quick shake of your head, “Nothing I’m not used to.”
“You shouldn’t be used to it,” Yeosang’s voice is quiet, small, almost sheepish.
Your head turns, taking in the shape of his jaw, the slope of his nose. So beautiful he’d appear feminine if it wasn’t for the masculinity he bore in his chest, his shoulders, everywhere from the neck down. You open your Potions book to the page that you left off last on Wednesday, somewhere in the middle, a wit-sharpening draft Yeosang couldn’t memorize for shit. The same draft charmed to keep itself filled kept in the corner of the study rooms.
You huff, “It is what it is.” Spreading your hands on each page, covering the contents of the book, you turned to him again, “You studied?”
Yeosang’s lips curled at the corner, “...Somewhat.”
“The exam is on Monday, Yeo,” you slant your eyebrows, pointing your gaze. “That whole time you were giggling with San and Wooyoung you could have been memorizing.”
“I’m sorry,” he frowns, a crease forming between his brows, “I looked over it last night.”
“You swear?” You ask, pulling the book towards you, not waiting for his answer. “Recite it to me then.”
His cheeks heat a pretty pink color, kissing the high points, spreading wide over his nose. His voice is quiet, uneasy, slightly high-pitched as he counts on his fingers, “Water, ginger…”
“And?” You raise your brows, “There’s only four ingredients, Yeosang.”
“Something with beetles…” He makes a disgruntled face, features morphing together. “...Armadillo.”
Your lips curl into a grin, “So close.”
He meets your eye with nothing but uncertainty swirling in deep brown, “Scab beetles.”
“Scarab beetles.”
“Right, right. Armadillo…”
“Bile.”
“Yes!”
“I’ll actually accept that,” your eyebrows raise, mouth bending to show how impressed you were. Usually Yeosang didn’t remember anything past water. “Now tell me how to brew it.”
“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath, and the word falling from his lips so shamelessly makes you choke on your spit, a laugh tumbling form your chest.
“I don’t think that’s a step,” you giggle, then attempt to look serious again, “Don’t curse, it’s foul.”
“I’m sorry,” his lips are still bent, humor and amusement in his eyes. “Simmer the water, add the… Scarab beetles, stir three times–”
“Five times,” you correct.
“Five times,” he nods, “Clockwise.”
“Counter-clockwise.”
He furrows his brows, “Clockwise.”
You tilt your head, lips smacking, “Counter-clockwise.”
“Check the book,” his eyes drop to the book you held to your chest and you peel it from your red-colored robes, eyes scanning the page. Right there, in clean cut handwriting, it says Clockwise.
You purse your lips, “I’m sorry, my fault. It’s clockwise.”
His smile is proud like he wants to pat himself on the back– the sight makes you giggle. You don’t get to see that look on him very often. With heat in your cheeks, you shake your head quickly, “Keep going.”
“Five times clockwise,” he nods his head as he speaks as if he’s committing the information to memory, searching for more inside his head, “Simmer five minutes. Add ginger, don’t stir, simmer again.”
“For how long?” You cock a brow.
“...Twenty minutes?” His eyes widened, looking to you for confirmation. When you nod, he smiles all teeth, and continues. “Let it cool, stir seven times every three minutes, clockwise and counter-clockwise. When it’s not hot anymore–”
“How do you check?”
“With a hand over the pot. Add the armadillo bile then, and let it sit for eight minutes.”
“Wow,” you breathe, “That was all, like, perfectly correct. I’m surprised and impressed.”
He claps his hands together ceremoniously, lips stuck together, curled at the edges and pursed in the center. You lean in closer, smelling the woody, black pepper, tea-leaf scent that was purely Yeosang, “Now tell me how to make it taste better.”
“Peppermint leaf on the tongue, not in the potion,” he nods, then meets your eye, pride evident in his features. You clap your hands together, wide smile on your face, cheering for him like he had just won a world record. It was a huge deal to have a study session go so smoothly, so effortlessly– Usually studying was like pulling teeth with Yeosang.
“Temperature is key for this one,” you say after a minute of cheering, “You need to be vigilant with the fire while brewing, to keep it at a simmer. You don’t want it boiling.”
He nods with every word, letting them sink in, and you place the Potions book atop the wooden table again, hands landing just beside it, letting the cold, almost damp-feeling oak settle into your skin. A knock sounds at the door a moment later, and your necks snap to Wooyoung creaking the door open, a sly grin on his cheeks.
“Apologies, study-birds,” he teases, peeking his head around the slab of oak, “Can I get that vial of Desiderium back?”
Your jaw drops to the wood beneath your skull. You repeat, with eyebrows in your hairline, “Desiderium?!”
Yeosang huffs, an irritated breath, digging into his pockets for the glass. You choke on a laugh, “How the hell did you get your hands on Desiderium? You could get expelled for that, Jung Wooyoung.”
Wooyoung rolls his eyes and holds his hands out for Yeosang to toss the vial to him. He catches it swiftly between deft fingers, shooting Yeosang a nod of appreciation before his rebuttal, “Who cares.”
You stand, palms planted on the damp wood as Wooyoung makes his way over to the study bar, carelessness in his steps. You keep your voice quiet but harsh, “Wooyoung, Desiderium is banned, like banned banned. You could get somebody hurt, you could hurt yourself, that isn’t a toy or Viagra.”
He whips his head around, a nasty smirk on his lips, “You know what Viagra is?”
Your cheeks flush, back straightening, fingers curling before your robes. Voice smaller now, not as quiet or confident, you say, “Yes I know what Viagra is, I’m not a child.”
He pours himself a goblet of the wit-sharpening potion, taking a deep drink from the scratched golden chalice, you watch how his bumped nose dips into the cup, how his Adam’s apple expands with each gulp. He lets out a massive, verbal breath when the cup is drained, slamming the goblet back on the slate.
“Go to the bathroom and drain that vial, Woo.”
He raises his brows, “Do you know how much it took to even get this? Hell no.”
You crane your neck to look down at Yeosang who appears utterly thoughtless. With a strain in your voice, you try, “Yeosang, do something.”
“What am I supposed to do?” He asks, his voice genuine. “He did go through a lot to get it.”
You release a sound of disbelief, a sharp breath from your lungs. “Yeosang!” You whisper-yell, then turn back to Wooyoung who leans against the bar cart, “I can’t just let you carry that around with no consequence.”
“Who are you gonna tell?” Wooyoung raises his brows in amusement, “A professor? Head Girl?”
You sputter, “I- I’ll–”
The truth was, you didn’t want to tell anyone. You eyed his pocket, the crinkle of weight in the black robe, curiosity lighting up your mind. Desiderium was a banned potion across the wizard world, a worse love potion than Amortentia, it wasn’t even considered a love potion. It was an… Arousal potion of sorts, you’ve only heard stories of it, but you knew it wasn’t safe. If taken in large quantities it was toxic, resulting in a stomach-pumping spell or in worse cases, death. If taken in small quantities, it makes the consumer unbelievably horny, insatiable for hours, so aroused and consumed by lust they lose themselves completely.
You wondered, despite knowing it was banned. If that really was Desiderium, if it really does what it’s supposed to, what it feels like to be under the spell. You don’t have much experience in the sex area, or really in the arousal area entirely. Your life has always been centered around academics and competition, and your small group of friends that were more like you than someone like Wooyoung. You’d never had a boyfriend, or someone to pull that velvety feeling from your gut, you’ve never felt the feeling of losing yourself that you’ve overheard Wooyoung talk about when debriefing his hook-ups with San and Yeosang.
“You’ll what?” Wooyoung tilts his head in amusement.
“It’s fine,” Yeosang finally interjects, “He won’t do anything with it, he has no problem getting… no problem in that area.”
“Yeosang, that’s–”
He glances up at you, eyes clear, certain. You swallow down your disdain, your clear discomfort, the heated curiosity nipping at your cheeks. You sit down slowly, back in your place next to Yeosang, and Wooyoung giggles like a child.
“Have fun studying,” he winks again, and then he’s out the door in a flash.
You huff a breath when he’s no longer in sight, irritation biting at your skin, heating you beneath your robes. Pushing your hair behind your ears and flattening your skirt, you huff, “I’m just gonna pretend like that didn’t happen.”
“That’s best to do with most things concerning Wooyoung.”
“Well, do you think it’s right?” You’re facing him now, eyebrows back in your hairline, “He could do whatever he wants with Desiderium, he could give it to whoever he wants. That’s sick.”
“He’s not a bad guy,” he’s shaking his head fervently, his hands coming up to his chest in defense, “He’d never use it on someone without their knowledge or anything like that.”
“Then what’s the point of having it?” You argue, jaw tight, eyes focused.
“Well,” Yeosang cranes his neck slowly, a tilt to his head that means he doesn’t want to finish his sentence, “There’s this one girl, and he… They, you know. A lot. And there’s stuff he wants to try, and—”
“Okay,” you turn away, cheeks growing hot at the words leaving his mouth. For a moment you wonder if Yeosang has ever been with anyone like that, if he’s taken a sip of the Desiderium, if he ever thinks of getting that kind of… boost.
You shake your head to hopefully rid yourself of the thought, “I get it. But if he uses it on anyone,” you shoot him a sideways glance, “I can’t let that slide. I won’t be a bystander. You have to tell me.”
Yeosang nods what seems like a thousand times in a millisecond, “I will, I promise.”
You push out a heavy breath, forcing your eyes back on your book, you had three more potions to get through for his exam on Monday. Blinking at the page, brain drifting back to the Desiderium… No.
“What’s next?” His voice is soft, as if he’s gracefully pulling you out of your mind, as if he could read it. You swallow.
“Sleeping draft,” your voice is so low it’s basically a whisper, turning the page, trying to ignore how the energy in the room feels different. Charged. Maybe two curious brains instead of one. You don’t look up, “Ingredients?”
He leans onto the table, two elbows pressed to the wood, his chin buried between them. He tilts his head to the side, giving you a view of his pretty cheekbones, the side of his face that didn’t have the birthmark. You glue your eyes to the book. Yeosang is barely even your friend, just a guy you tutor– But you wonder if his thoughts mirrored yours at all, even if you shouldn’t think of him that way at all.
“Water,” he’s mumbling, his tone half bored, “Um, Lavender.”
“This one’s a breeze,” you try to push some encouragement into your tone, “One more ingredient, and then tell me how it’s brewed.”
A small breath passes through his lips, “Uh,” he closes his eyes for a moment, “Mint.”
His lips are so shiny– wet, like he’d just swiped his tongue over them. The loose pieces of hair hanging out of his ponytail lay over his creamy skin, the rich color a contrast to the pink on his cheeks still present.
“No, chamomile.”
Shit. You didn’t even hear him get it wrong.
“Hey,” he picks his head up, eyeing you from the table, “I thought you said cursing is foul.”
You said that out loud? “It is,” your chuckle is nervous, “I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry,” he smiles, the S in sorry slurred by his slight lisp. The sound brings an unfamiliar warmth to your chest, a smile on your cheeks. In a rush, you turn your head back to the book.
“Okay,” you heave a breath in an attempt to push the weird air away from the two of you, “Water, lavender, chamomile. Tell me how it’s brewed.”
Yeosang groans, sitting up straight, “I can’t focus.”
“Fill your cup,” you jut your chin in the direction of the mind-sharpening potion in the corner of the room, “Actually, can you pour me one, too?”
He nods, untangling himself from the bench to walk over to the bar-cart, and you suck in a deep breath that isn’t full of Yeosang’s air. You don’t know what’s going on in your chest, or why the mention of Desiderium has you both feeling weird, or maybe it was just you that was weird. It was always just you, the untouched one who has no experience that feels weird when anything sex-related is brought up. Yeosang is probably fine.
Your eyes pick up to his fingers wrapped around the handle of the jar, watching how the veins that climb up his forearm like vines strain while he fills two goblets. You’ve always known Yeosang is attractive, anyone with eyes could see it. He’s popular amongst the girls in your year, your house, other houses, even. He’s kind, genuine, soft, but you’ve never really thought about him that way, never had anything to add to the conversation, because you know him as the timid dumbass you tutor in every single subject.
“Do you want any mint?” He asks from the cart, and you nod your head, mumbling your thanks.
Always kind, with his deep voice and the muted rose colored kiss mark on his temple, funny in the way that has you shaking your head because his humor was so silly it was almost childish. He always opens the door for you to the study room, pulls out the heavy bench if the last group to occupy the room pushed it in too far. Chivalrous. Sweet. Gorgeous.
You’re taking it from his hand by the time he walks back to the bench and gulping down the cup in four massive swallows. You need to focus on tutoring him, not how pretty he looks when he’s smiling or how words fall off his lips like each one is a spell.
When his empty goblet hits the oak you plant your hands on the wooden table before you, mind already feeling sharper. “Okay, seriously now, this one’s easy.” You shoot him another sideways glance. “Tell me how it’s brewed.”
“Bring the water to a slow boil,” you’re both nodding with his words, “Add lavender and stir twenty times.”
“Twenty-one,” you correct, and his smile blooms again. You shudder.
“Add chamomile and let it simmer for twenty minutes.”
“Ah, that’s where twenty came from.”
“Add purslane for nightmares,” he hums, a low, ruddy sound, “Add ginger for some kick.”
“I’m proud of you,” you say matter-of-factly, “You even answered questions I didn’t ask yet.”
“I told you I studied!” He’s smiling wide and bright, “I know how you work now, how you ask questions. I know the question before it’s on your tongue.”
You think both of your eyes widen at the same time. An innocent statement, nothing behind it, but the word tongue… Right now… Why is there a heat blooming in the pit of your stomach?
He must feel it too, with the way his eyes dart for his lap, fingers twisting together above his slacks. You swallow again, robes feeling heavy on your skin, the air of the room feeling hotter.
“The next is, um,” you’re blinking rapidly as you flip the page, “Uh, deflating draft. Antidote for the… Swelling solution, it reduces… Um, swelling… And size.”
You can feel the sheen of sweat on your forehead growing rapidly. You’re twisting your neck in discomfort, your clothes too fucking hot, you shimmy off your robe, letting it fall over back of the bench.
There’s an intake of breath on your left, and your head turns to Yeosang who’s already staring at you, his pupils blown. Eyes wider. Nostrils flared in a way that told you he was on alert.
“Ingredients?” You squeak, swallowing down the spit that keeps forming in your mouth. What the fuck is going on right now?
“Water, wood sorrel,” his voice is monotonous, as if he was reading a script, mind somewhere else, but his eyes are still locked on you. His voice deepens, a low hum, “Sagebrush, aloe, powdered galangal.”
Your thighs tighten. Has he always sounded that way? Sultry? Sexy?
You clear your throat as his fingers stop twisting together on his lap, he crosses his leg over his knee and throws his robe over his slacks. Your jaw locks, the movement shoving his smell into your space, and the scent becomes a feeling. A low rumbling in your gut, a blooming heat turned to sparks ignited.
“How- Um, How do you brew it? The potion?” You’re obvious. You’re internally smacking the shit out of yourself because it’s so fucking obvious you’re horny, it might as well be written on your forehead.
Yeosang looses a shaky breath, you can hear how it staggers, you can feel how it reaches your hair, moving it across your blouse. Still in that sultry, alluring tone, he says, “Boil the water, and– fuck, add the woodsorrel and sagebrush.”
You don’t scold him for the curse. He continues, “Don’t stir, make sure they’re submer- ah, under water, under the water completely. Submerged, yeah.”
Your ears are red-hot, body tingling, you can feel the stickiness growing between your legs like it did when you’re ovulating. And his voice, his voice, your shoulders slouch listening to him, getting lost in how clear he sounds in the depth of his words. Breathily, you say, “Keep going.”
He groans. Groans. Your eyes squeeze shut, head dipped down, hair creating a veil so he can’t see you. It feels unbearable– the fire burning so brightly in your gut, your body felt like a livewire, if he so much as brushed his skin against you, you weren’t sure if you’d be able to hold back.
“Lower the temp to a simmer, add the aloe,” your eyes slide to where his fists curl around his robe, knuckles white. In a low grumble, he says, “Fuck Wooyoung.”
Your head perks up, eyes widening as you face him, and as soon as he sees your face his eyes close immediately, lips curling together. “Shit, I can’t even look at you right now.”
“Why?” You ask, barely noticing how heavy your breath has gotten. You were nearly panting now, lips wet and swollen, “Why fuck Wooyoung? What did he do?”
He looked flushed, his cheeks bright pink, his ears tipped red, his birthmark was so dark. You wanted to kiss it, lick it, his eyelashes so beautiful, you wanted to see them closer–
“He used it,” he cracks an eye open, “The Desiderium.”
You blink, eyes sliding to the pair of empty goblets on the table, then back to him. “Like, on us?”
Both of his eyes are open now, but they dance around the room, never landing on you. “Yes, on us, we drank it. I don’t– I don’t know how much, but it was in the potion jar on the cart, we- we drank it.”
“Oh, shit,” you gasp, but somehow the air filling your lungs feels good, “Oh shit.”
Panic doesn’t seem to find you. You’d left yourself entirely, entering a bubble of lust and arousal, feeling the burn inside your body with nothing to fucking smother it. Your eyes drop to his robe, the breadth of his shoulders, the veins dancing on his wrists while his fists still curl around the fabric.
“What do we do?” He asks you, eyebrows shot up, “What’s the anecdote?!”
“Don’t know,” you mumble dreamily as your eyes catch onto his jaw, his tongue that pokes between his lips as he speaks. He’s so pretty, so big and so muscular but so beautiful, you wonder if he tastes as sweet as he looks.
“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath and it sounds like a compliment.
You smile, head tilting, hand reaching forward to play with one of the hairs that frame his face. His eyes widen when you take it between your fingers, twirling it, knuckles brushing against his face. The millisecond of contact, of skin on skin, you can feel it like you’d just stuck your hand between your legs.
He moans.
He moans, and your entire world is flipped upside down.
Your eyes lock together, a question neither of you want to ask, have to ask.
Pride was a thing of the past by the time you climbed into Yeosang’s lap, legs splintered by his hips, mouths messily tangling together as if you were trying to swallow each other whole. You could feel him pressed up against you— hard chest, hard abdomen, hard cock— every inch of you was touched by him, consumed by him, burning, steaming, you were sure when you lifted your heads the windows would be fogged over.
Panting into each other’s mouths like dogs, his tongue dragged across yours hastily, harshly, his lips bruising yours with blatant force. Your hands held onto his nape, fingertips tangled in the slick of his ponytail, pulling stray hairs out every time your fingers twitched.
“Shit—” he breathed, somewhere between a moan and a gasp, a nasty, brutal sound. You moaned at the sound of his voice, shameless and completely involuntary, head dropping at how it rumbled from his chest.
“We,” he tilted his head back as your lips moved to his jaw, leaving open-mouthed kisses down his throat, tongue lapping at every inch of skin as if you’d taste his very soul. His hands land on your hips, heavy and rough, “I can’t—”
“I need it,” you sound breathless, murmuring into his skin, “I need you to do something, need you to touch me, Yeosang.”
He moans again at how his name falls off your lips, high-pitched, eyes screwed tight with his hips bucking up at how gone you sound. Your hips grind into him, panties pressed against his slacks, skirt blanketing over where your hips met.
“We’re not in our,” his groan is breathy, strained, as if he was fighting it off, “Right minds. We shouldn’t be doing this here.”
“I don’t care,” your hands slide to his cheeks, feeling the heat beneath them, hips still working their dirty, slow grind, meeting his eye. “You want it, don’t you? You do, right?”
He’s nodding before you finish the question, “I want it, I want you, in this skirt, your face, fuck—”
Your lips curl, parting, leaning forward to attack his again, tongue slipping into his mouth like its made a home there. This heat, this urgency, you didn’t care how you looked, how you sounded, if you were doing this right, it was incredible. Empowering. It was a fleeting thought, how you’ve never done this before, how you’ve gone so long without doing this.
His hands find your top while your lips stay locked, fingers nimble, making haste as they undo the tiny buttons lining your chest and abdomen. He pushes the cotton off your shoulders, throwing it to the floor, face lighting up when he sees the baby pink bra adorning your chest.
“Are you sure?” He mumbles as he pulls back, eyes zeroed in on your chest, as if he couldn’t force himself to meet your eye if he tried. You wonder how he still has so much self control, yours was gone the moment the goblet touched your lips. “I need, need you to say yes, I—”
“Please, yes, do something.”
A hand slides under your ass, lifting you at the same time as the backs of his knees push the bench out from behind him. One hand clears the table while the other keeps you close, and then your ass is pressed to the bare wood, his palms pressing your shoulders back until you feel the steam of the wet slab of wood meet your burning skin.
“Yeosang!” You squeal, the cold a shock, but a comfort. He grunts in response, pulling his wand from his pants, quickly charming the door locked, the room soundproof, two spells you’d taught him to master two weeks ago.
“I’m sorry,” he growls and it doesn’t sound like an apology at all, especially not when he peels his robe from his shoulders, pulling his sweater vest over his head, more stray hairs framing his face. His voice is dazed now, low, here but far as he starts to unbutton his own shirt, “I can’t risk someone hearing or coming in, I need you, I need to do whatever, everything, I need all of you.”
Your body tightens at his words, at how desperate he sounds, the only thing you want right now is for him to take all of you. You want him shameless, you want him impolite, you want him so far from kind he isn’t Yeosang at all anymore.
You spread your knees, bare thighs pressed to the wood, skirt hiked up to your hips. He gasps when he bends while pulling his pants down, eye to eye with your heat atop the table, a low groan rips from his chest again.
“You’re soaked,” still dazed, eyes locked again, he spoke to himself more than to you. “I want— can I taste you?”
“Stop asking,” you mutter, anticipation carbonating your very blood, “Do everything like you promised.”
He’s on his knees then, fingers hooked into the elastic of your baby pink panties, tugging them down your legs. He pulls your hips to the end of the table and the back of your head meets the wood, sighing in relief when the thick air meets your core, gasping again when you feel cool breath pushed into your glistening folds.
He wastes no time licking a stripe up your center, moaning so loud when his tongue slides between your folds, and the noise, the pleasure makes your back arch. It's barely a thought in your mind that no one’s seen you there, that no one’s had their mouth there— you didn’t care, you needed it. You needed more.
Your hands fly to his hair, fingertips sliding into his tightly bound ponytail, nails clawing at his scalp, sounds of pleasure ripping from your chest one after another. It felt so good, so wet, you’ve never experienced anything like it, this burn in your core, how every nerve ending in your body seemed to ignite.
When the tip of one of his fingers prod at your entrance your body locks, thighs squeezing against his head, it felt foreign and weird but good and confusing. He hums against your clit, lips wrapped around it, lightly sucking as he slips inside slowly, groaning into you when he gets past his first knuckle.
He pulls back, “You’re tight.”
You can’t see him, but you moan in response, words escaping you before you can think about them, “Stretch me out then.”
With more force he curls his finger inside and your back lifts from the wood, an elbow sliding behind you, holding yourself up as a wrecked, ragged, guttural moan escapes you. “Keep doing that,” you breathe, “Oh my god, Yeosang, do that again.”
His eyes flick up to yours and they’re so dark, his pupils so wide, with his hair so messy and his features so deep he almost seemed menacing. He shakes his head, fingers pulling from your core, mouth detaching from your folds, you feel empty.
He doesn’t sound like himself anymore, raw, restless, “Can’t, can’t take it anymore.”
Your back meets the wood again as he tugs his deep red briefs down to his thighs, rock hard and leaking cock slapping up between veiny hips, his chin tucked to his chest. He grips himself, knuckles white around the base of his cock as he stares at your core, still glistening, pulsing for him.
“Inside,” you nearly cry, knees bending upward, spreading yourself wide. His eyes meet yours and there’s no uncertainty, no pause, no patience.
He lines himself up, mushroom tip poking at your entrance that’s never felt more than his finger, your breath hitched in your throat. Your face tightens as he slips himself inside, a cry leaving your lips once the fat tip pushes past your folds, a relieving yet strangled sigh when he sheathes himself fully.
“You have to— I’m not gonna,” his eyes are screwed shut, mouth hanging open, lips glossy and wet, hands planted on either side of the table. He’s moaning now, higher in pitch and you’re trying to calm your breathing, locked in on how he feels like he’s splintering your stomach.
Overwhelming but everything, he’s huge, everything about him. Your eyes flutter, open and closed, watching how his curved shoulders flex, how the veins on his arms swim up to his biceps, the chiseled abs on his torso, stuck in a time-warp of constant enduring how he splits you open.
“I gotta move,” he’s panting all over again, “Open up for me, baby.”
Your breath hitches at the pet name, pulsing around him, clenching around his length. A muddled groan leaves his lips as everything freezes, his fingers on the table, his abdomen, his eyes, you feel warm. Full. He curses through an ear-piercing moan, pulling out halfway, chest heaving, and then he mutters, “Shit, I just came.”
You lean up on your elbows, eyeing him through wet lashes, “What?”
But then he’s grabbing you, a strong, sticky forearm wrapping around your torso, pulling you into him, his mouth sloppy against yours once more. He whines into your lips as he starts thrusting inside you again and you’re speechless, frozen, drool spilling down your unmoving lips as his cock curves upward, hitting that same spot from before.
“Gods, baby, you gotta open up or I’m gonna cum again,” he says through a ragged breath, hips quickening their pace, the slick inside you letting him move so easily.
“I can’t,” you whimper, chin tipping back, hands braced on the table behind you. “It feels so good, Yeo,” you snap your head back down, “I didn’t- I didn’t know it felt so good.”
His eyes flicker to yours, a question on his tongue he didn’t need to ask, he didn’t want to stop. Selfishly he fucks into you faster, harder, hands planted on your hips as he drinks up every moan and cry that leaves your lips.
His head hangs low, sweat dripping past his collarbones, down his abdomen, your legs hook around his waist, knee socks and penny loafers slamming into his too-hot skin.
“I need,” you shake your head, throat dry, the pleasure was too much. Too overwhelming. “Sit down, sit, sit sit sit.”
In one quick motion he’s scooping you up, sitting back on the bench, your knees landing on either side of him with your hands planted on his shoulders.
You bounce as soon as you gain leverage, ignoring the immediate burn in your thighs as your forehead falls to his shoulder, lips pressed to his skin with sounds of pleasure stringing together in a continuous song. He’s somehow deeper, the pleasure more intense, a pit of blazing heat that grows stronger, you can’t keep yourself upright.
His grip on your hips is steady, grounding in the swirl of sweat and spit and lust, bouncing you effortlessly, keeping you moving in rhythm. His voice is low and strained again, “Want you to cum around my cock, baby.”
You cry, hips twitching against him, the pit in your stomach growing hotter, stronger. His lips press against your burning skin and you moan, his tongue is heavy and sopping wet as he licks up the sweat along your jaw, whispering, “Rub your clit for me, baby, please.”
Your nails claw into his shoulders harder, stomach clenching, a cry leaving your lips after the words leave his mouth, your orgasm was right there, right on the brink. You clench around him, hips stuttering when a low groan leaves Yeosang’s lips, so low and rumbled it makes the rubber band snap.
Your moans slur together you cum around his length, his firm hands on your hips fucking you through it as if you were weightless, nothing but a fucktoy for him to use. His huff of a laugh is in amusement and disbelief, “You came? Just like that?”
Winded, cheeks hot and body stinging, you nod, head tipping back, needing the air of the room on your skin.
“Fuck,” he hisses, “I need to cum again, need to fill this pussy one more time.”
His arm wraps around your waist one more time and you’ve submitted to the fact that you could be just a toy for him to use forever. You’re on the floor in a flash, knees pressed to hardwood, your palms braced before you, on all fours.
He slips back in and you fold, chest pressed to the hardwood, cheek hot against the floor, elbows bent with your palms still braced on either side of you. He fucks into you ruthlessly, the sound of skin slapping skin filling the room, his hands heavy and hot against you.
You’re jelly, body moving with his, muscles barely holding you up anymore. You’re sure drool is puddled beside your mouth, sounds leaving you that you couldn’t hear, a mess of overwhelming, blinding pleasure.
“Want you to cum again,” he says from behind you and all you can do is cry. Tears fill your waterline and spill down your cheeks, into your mouth, mixing with the drool on the floor.
He’s so fucking deep you swear he’s in your throat, his rhythm sloppy but merciless, cockhead kissing your cervix. He slips a hand around your front, two fingers pressed against your clit, rubbing quick circles as he leans down, panting against your back.
“T-Too much,” you cry, nails clawing into the hardwood, shoulders shaking with each sob.
“You can,” he’s straining like he’s on the brink of his own orgasm, “Come on, baby. Cum with me, c’mon.”
You focus on his hand between your legs, his cock drilling into you, the pit in your stomach filling with pressure again. You choke, on your breath or your tears or your spit you weren’t sure, breath getting caught in your lungs as he pushes you closer, your orgasm so close to could taste it.
“I’m gonna cum,” you choke out, voice utterly raw, words slurred and muffled.
“Yes,” he moans, “Mm, fuck, yes, so good for me, cum around my cock.”
Your body locks, joints tightening at his words, orgasm rushing over you like a tidal wave. His grip on your hip is blinding, he’s focusing on fucking you through it, keeping his rhythm precise, his angle perfect, “Yes, that’s it, baby. So tight— fuck, you’re so— fuck.”
He’s spilling into you again, filling you with that sticky warmth, that fullness you felt before. You moan together, shameless and debauched as his thrusts slow down, then he’s pausing, fully sheathed, the only sounds in the room being your heaving breaths.
“Oh my gods,” he takes a deep, shuddering breath, heavy hands running over your shaking, hot skin. Down your back, landing on your hips, he pulls you backward as he sits on his heels.
You land over his chest, cock still buried inside you, head flopping back over his shoulder. He moves your hair from your face, thumb swiping below your lips, cleaning off the drool.
“Are you okay?” He asks, panic in his tone.
You nod, still pulling breath into your lungs, eyes softly closed. “I didn’t know, I didn’t know,” you repeat with a shake of your head, “That sex felt so good, Yeosang.”
You crack an eye and he’s beet red, half his hair pulled out of his ponytail, framing his face like a mural. He’s so fucking beautiful.
“I didn’t know that you haven’t had sex before,” his voice is quiet, tone raw, you both needed water. “I’m going to kill Wooyoung.”
“No,” you shake your head, dry swallowing, “No, thank him.”
“Thank him?” Yeosang repeats, eyebrows raised.
Your smile is lazy, tired, a slow chuckle tumbling off your tongue, “I don’t think the Desiderium wore off yet.”
His cock twitches inside you, still rock fucking hard, he blushes even deeper, “You wanna go again?”
“It’s a form of studying,” you shrug, breaths finally slowing, “You can tell Wooyoung exactly how it works.”
♱⋆ hyunjin took charge in bed, sex like one of his paintings to him, an art. he kept control, he wanted the control, you his muse to study, to love... then, you ask him to dress up as your girlfriend on halloween so you can dress up as his boyfriend... an innocent couple's joke that changes everything you both thought you knew about one another.
night five • subby skirt wearing bf!hyunjin x fem!reader
wc • 5.5k • our kinktober masterlist
warnings • spoilers ahead! gender swap vibes, sub!hyunjin, soft dommy mommy!reader, they say mommy twice, hyunjin gets called girl pet names, p in v, unprotected (don't do that), oral (m), public sex (party bathroom), alcohol, hyunjin wearing readers clothes & makeup, reader wearing hyunjins clothes, dacryphilia, if i missed anything pls lmk <3
“C’mon, it’ll be fun.”
Hyunjin looked up at you from the floor, groveling. A notepad sat on his lap and his baggy, ripped, dark denim jeans, a pencil lived between his painted fingernails. Bangs brushed his eyelashes, and the length of his hair swept past his shoulders, down his back.
“Fun,” he sneered, reaching over to the radio on the floor surrounded by CDs full of the wrong disks to turn it down. His long sleeves pulled at his wrists, the glint of his metal bracelets reflecting in the light of the lamp on your bedside table. “We have different ideas of fun.”
Standing in your closet up to your ankles in clothes thrown to the floor, in your underwear, you held the little black skirt up to your waist again and batted your lashes. “I just think you’d pull it off, that’s all.”
Not one part of him was amused. “In what world,” he grumbled, leaning back against your bed post, kicking his knees up to press the pad to.
Narrowing your eyes at how he focused down on his work, your smirk grew. “Jinnie?”
“Hm,” he hummed, not giving you a glance, pencil working over time.
Dropping the black skirt to the floor along with everything you’ve shown him since he stretched over your bedroom carpet, you took your hands behind your back and unclasped your bra, tiptoeing toward him. Slipping it off your shoulders, you tossed it in his lap, over his drawing.
He blinked. Taking it in his hand, he glanced up at you and sighed, stretching both legs out in front of him. “What are you-”
Sliding your hands into the lace of your panties, you slipped them down your hips and over your knees, letting them fall to your ankles. Stepping one foot out, you let the other flick the lace against his chest, panties falling to his lap, on top of your bra in his hand. Dropping everything, jaw hanging open, pushing it all to the floor, he sat forward and reached for you, but you spun on your toes and waltzed away, back toward your closet.
“Now,” you said definitively, “I just think,” you bent over, snatching the black skirt from the floor, peering at him around your knees, holding in a giggle at how he had rolled over onto his knees with both of his hands on the floor, “This would look really cute on you.” Slipping it behind your back to cover your ass, you glanced over your shoulder and smiled.
Crawling toward you, licking his lips, he nodded. “Mhm.”
Perking a brow, you spun around and held up the skirt on one finger. “So, you agree? You think it’d look really cute on you?” Looking down at him, Hyunjin now at your feet, a gasp ripped through you as his hands grabbed onto your thighs and slid higher to your hips. His lips pressed to your skin, tongue leading in gentle flicks as he neared your center, teeth grazing over the soft plush of your thighs.
“I’ll wear the damn skirt, baby,” he mumbled, prying your legs apart, “Now let me have you.”
Music vibrated the walls, foggy smoke filled the air, bodies smushed into every possible corner— The party entirely packed with people you didn’t know, people who traveled far for this, people who went to school here. Monsters prowled the halls, vampires, witches, slutty mice, creepy masks and hoods, fake blood everywhere, even if you weren’t four drinks deep you wouldn’t be able to make out faces.
Except one.
Pushing through a pack of half dressed Cheetah Girls with two drinks in your hands, you step over a couple sitting on the floor in front of the sofa your group of friends took up. Both Felix and Changbin had their eyes fixated on his legs while Seungmin stood behind him and messed with his wavy hair. Your boyfriend, in that black skirt and a tight unbuttoned white top with a mesh tank beneath it, sat back and let his friends have their fun.
Hair tucked behind his ears, he flashed the silver hoops dangling from his lobes, matching the silver necklaces he wore, pairing well with the bracelets that jangled on his wrists. Appearing beside him in loose slacks, a lace bra, and one of his suit jackets too big for you, you danced the drink in front of his face and smiled when he looked up at you, tearing his eyes off of Felix.
“I can’t get over this,” Seungmin shouted over the music. His pathetic excuse for a Halloween costume– a Dodgers jersey and a matching backwards cap. “You got him to wear a skirt!”
Squinting at him, you said, “He wanted to wear the skirt.”
“Are all the clothes yours?” Changbin asked you, gaze fighting to see through the black fabric that barely brushed the middle of Hyunjin’s thighs. Pure muscle on display for the entire party.
Smushing your lips together proud, eyeing your boyfriend as he sipped his drink, he winked at you and you melted. “All mine,” you sang, “Down to the hot pink panties underneath.”
Felix’s eyes bulged out of his head. “You’re lying,” he mumbled.
Hyunjin forced a finger under the waist of the skirt that squeezed him. Hooking his thumb out, blazing pink lace came with it, and Seungmin and Changbin lost their minds. Felix’s lips popped open, he hadn’t moved.
“Like what you see, Lixie?” you teased, sitting down on Hyunjin’s lap, one of his arms wrapping around your waist.
Clamping his jaw shut, he gulped and finally ripped his gaze from his friends legs he’s never seen so much of. “Yeah,” fell from his lips without a thought.
Pushing further into Hyunjin’s chest, sipping your drink, you shared a look with your boyfriend and hummed. Both of you thinking the same thing.
“Good to know,” you gave Felix a smile and pressed a kiss to Hyunjin’s cheek. “Oh, wait,” you mumbled, glancing at his lips. Reaching out a thumb, you licked the tip and smeared it below his bottom lip, touching up the deep red stain he painted on before leaving your bedroom. “There you go.”
He blinked up at you, deep chocolate igniting a fire in your chest. “Thank you,” he whispered, the liquor rendering it whining. “Did I do a good job?”
Nodding, you smiled. “Yeah, thanks for doing it.”
Lips parting, he breathed through them, gaze flickering back and forth from your lips, to your neck, to your eyes. “Did I really?” he asked again, brows flipping over ever so slightly.
“Yes, Jinnie,” you said, more sure this time, hoping to appease him.
His tongue dipped out over his lipstick. “Tell me.”
The whine.
Your stomach flipped. Your heart rate, it skyrocketed, your veins burning as you watched his typical steady, collected eyes go entirely blurry, soft, dazed. As if the scent of you alone turned his brain off.
“Y-You… You did a good job, Hyunjin,” you whispered to him and he gulped.
“So you’re dressed up as each other?” Changbin asked, sipping his drink, leaning on Felix’s shoulder.
Snapping you out of whatever Hyunjin was doing to you, you smiled, ruffling your boyfriend's long hair. “Kinda,” you said, “Something like that, right?” Looking back down at Hyunjin, you released the rest of your breath and narrowed your eyes.
He stared at you. Short breaths in through his nose and out through his barely parted pouting lips. “You tell them,” he mumbled, fixated on your face.
“Um,” you stammered, tearing your eyes off of him. Sucking in a deep breath, you shook your head and said, “I’m his, uh, boyfriend.” He nodded, small, gaze dropping to your lips, his wedging between his teeth. “And, he’s my…”
The corners of his stained lips perked up. You swore he fluttered his mascara coated lashes, longer than ever. “I’m your girl,” he cooed, and you huffed a laugh, blinking a billion times, shaking your head at your friends.
“My girlfriend,” you said, definitively. Changbin hid his smile behind his cup, Felix still stared like he wanted a bite of his thighs. “It’s a joke, sort of.”
Seungmin slapped the top of the couch and nodded toward Changbin. “I need a drink.”
Catching his not subtle need for an exit, because what the hell was Hyunjin doing, Changbin raised his red cup. “I’m with you,” he sighed, slipping a hand under Felix’s arm, lifting him up with minimal effort, dragging him along to the kitchen like a ragdoll. Passing by you, eyeing your boyfriend, he whispered to you, “Sort of?”
Twisting into Hyunjin wearing a lazy smile, you muttered, “What are you doing?”
He poked his tongue between his lips. “What do you mean?” Shifting on the couch, lowering himself a bit, you felt his halfhard length press into your thigh. Gasping to yourself, he caught your widening eyes and giggled.
“Calm down, you’re in a skirt,” you whispered.
Tipping his head back a bit, you swore you heard him groan over the music. “I know.”
“You’ve never been into public shit, what is going on?”
He laid his back on the cushion and actually pouted this time. “I don’t know,” he whined quietly, shining eyes gazing up at you, the makeup feminizing his features, softening them.
He was only supposed to wear the skirt. It really was supposed to be a joke, a boyfriend and girlfriend swapping clothes, and on anyone else it appeared hysterical. Until he pulled the skirt over his thighs and you couldn’t believe he didn’t look terrible.
And he agreed. He spun around in the mirror twice, and then took his time picking out a top to match.
You offered up your lipstick as a joke.
He insisted on adding more.
Smoothing a hand over your chin, you took a deep breath.
You can’t believe you didn’t see this before.
Tucking a hand behind his head, toying with his hair, you picked him up off the cushion and brushed the tips of your lips over his. “Jinnie,” you whispered. His breath shook. “Are you my pretty girl?”
He whined. His eyes rolled back, they shut, and he whined.
“You are so getting off on this,” you muttered, and he cranked his eyes open, scared.
“No,” he gasped, shaking his head. “No, I’m not. Promise. I’m not.”
Your smile grew as his lips babbled, his voice broken and desperate, like he couldn’t catch his breath. “Yes the fuck you are. Look at you. You didn’t wanna wear the damn skirt in the first place, and now that you’ve got it on, you feel pretty.”
Mid-breath, he hushed, “Is that bad?”, while he sunk further down on the couch.
You reached for his hair, tucking it behind his ear, tapping your finger on the earrings dangling from his lobe. Pursing your lips, you said, “Just funny… That’s all.”
He gulped, body jumping beneath you. “Funny, why?”
Pressing your hand to his cheek, you smoothed a thumb under his charcoal lashes and clicked your tongue. “Relax,” you sang, dipping your nose down to nudge his, “Just didn’t expect this, that’s all.”
He jolted under you again, trying to adjust himself or pull away from you. He spoke a mile a minute, “I don’t know why… I don’t know, okay? I’m sorry, I just, I can’t… You wanted me to wear it, it’s your fault, you did this, I didn’t want to-”
“Hyunjin,” you raised your voice, hand moving below his chin to grab his jaw that snapped shut. Submission swam in his irises. A new type of control burned beneath your skin. “Good girls speak when spoken to.”
Pushing a breath through his lips, he whimpered, “But, you-”
Giving his jaw a gentle shake, digging your fingers into his cheeks, he wrenched his lips closed. Searching his eyes and the pout of his lips for any indication that he did not want to do anything further, that he did not want to talk about this anymore, or acknowledge the fact that being called a good girl made his dick completely hard, you found nothing.
One gentle grind over his thigh signified that you needed him too, that you needed to see what else he could do, what else he could say, how desperate he really felt, and if you could get him utterly pathetic.
Party carrying on around you, you’ve really only been here for over an hour. Whoever they had on drink duty in the kitchen poured heavy, without a doubt half the reason why Hyunjin tried to hold himself back from dry humping your thigh. There was no way you were getting behind the wheel of his car, nor would you allow him to do so either, especially not now that it seemed the only thought in his head was ‘Get dick wet, get dick wet, get dick wet…’
Pressing a soft kiss to his lips, squishing his cheeks some more, you whispered, “What do you want?”
Through a breath, he lost himself entirely, “To fuck you.”
“To fuck me?” Perking a brow, your stomach tightened at how he smiled. Lazy, proud. Dumb.
“Yeah,” he whispered, sucking in a deep breath, chest heaving, “To fuck you.”
“Such dirty words from such pretty lips,” you spoke softly, “Not very lady-like, huh?”
He popped his tongue out, licking the edge of his lips. Shaking his head, he said, “S’that wrong?”
Every exasperated breath to leave him thundered your heart along, the whine in his voice pooling heat between your legs like never before.
You firmed your grip on his jaw. “Makes you a bad girl, Jinnie.”
He whimpered.
Your jaw went slack.
Watching his brows flip over, you maintained your composure, because if you broke it meant that he might too, and you were not about to lose this.
“You say you’re gonna fuck me,” you said, shifting on his lap, pressing your thigh between his legs, snickering as a moan caught in his throat. “Watch your fucking mouth.”
He sighed through parted, slick lips, eyes glistening. A smile teased his lips. “I am gonna fuck you.”
Narrowing your eyes, you said, “No you’re not.”
He smirked. “Yes, I am.”
Dropping your hand, making note that he looked disappointed, you spat through your teeth, “No, you’re not.”
Hyunjin sat forward, his tongue catching between his teeth. “Yes the fuck I am.”
“Oh,” you breathed, brows raising at once. He paused, his smile dropping, his hands pressing into the sofa under him. “I get it,” you whispered, and he gulped. “Pretty girl’s a fucking brat.”
Giving him no time to think, no time to even react, you grabbed him by the necklace hanging around his neck and leapt off the couch. Chugging the rest of your drink, tossing the red cup to the floor somewhere with a plethora of others, you drug him through the house, past a game of pong not being played on a table, through clumps of people grinding on top of one another, and making out in corners and on couches.
Feeling him stumbling over his own feet trying to keep up with you, the smile you wore gave you away to passersby who glanced your way. Your stretch of a boyfriend, like a baby deer on ice, one hand fumbling to cover his junk, the other picking stray hairs out of his lipstick, you wouldn’t be surprised if his ankles caught onto one another and he went down.
Forgetting whose house you were in, you wandered through the kitchen, brown cabinets with granite tops covered with asses, bowls of food, bottles of beer, handles of liquor, searching for just one– Ah.
He glanced up at Hyunjin behind you and huffed, cheeks puffing out as he poured a drink. “Where are you two going?”
“Where’s the bathroom, Hanji?” With a smile, you tilted your head, and he nodded toward the hallway, not looking up from his cup.
“Down the hall, last door on the left. If it’s full, there’s one in my room across from it.” Minho swooped up behind him, whiskers drawn on his cheeks in eyeliner, a pink nose painted on with lipstick. He hovered over Jisung’s shoulder, breathing down his neck. “It’s coming. Patience!”
Minho smiled with only the corners of his lips. Giving you a look through his lashes, he nipped his teeth at Jisung’s jaw and hurried back off from wherever he came from.
Jisung shook his head, and you asked, “He belong to you?”
Finishing the drink off, twisting the cap back on the bottle, he rolled his eyes and laughed. “Something like that, tonight I own him.”
“Fitting,” you nodded, and he popped his brows, eyes pointing back at Hyunjin.
“What’s his problem?”
Glancing backward over your shoulder, he had his lips pulled in a tight line, tucked sideways. Brows pulling up in the center, he only looked at you, a pout seconds from forming. Pulling at the necklace you still held onto, you actively watched him hold in a whimper as he leaned toward you involuntarily.
Smiling at Jisung with a narrow of your eyes, you mumbled, “Princess has to go potty.”
Gulping, the chill of your words affecting both of them, Jisung blinked a few times, shot a look at Hyunjin, then let out a sigh. “Good luck,” was all he could mutter to your boyfriend before he scurried off to find Minho in the sea of bad hair and shitty masks.
Turning into Hyunjin, giving him a smile of innocence, you wrapped your arms around his neck and let him put his anywhere on you, if he dared.
He didn't.
Wandering down the hallway and out of the hoards of people, you preyed on the fear in his eyes that twisted with excitement. Bumping into you, the hall going darker than the rest of the house, you pushed him up against a wall and pushed your thigh between his legs. Bucking against you without constraint, he finally grabbed you, trying to kiss you, trying to start something right here where anyone could see you.
“Who said you could touch me,” you said, snatching his wrists, fingertips brushing over the silver metal that hung there. Hyunjin tipped his chin back, body going limp, like he’d melt into the wall if he could. Hips moving on their own, rutting into you, his tongue pushing out between his lips as he gazed down at you, you scoffed and shook your head. Throwing his hands away, stepping back from him, you cocked your head at the open door. “Get in there, slut.”
Tripping over his shoes, moving like his limbs didn’t know where to go, like every step made him dizzy, he clung to the doorframe, backing himself into the bathroom with his eyes on you, his tongue pushing out further, tasting his lipstick.
Following him in, arms folding across your chest, across the front of his jacket, you shut the door with your elbow, pressing it shut with the toe of your boot. Raising a brow, glancing about the space, a horrible green shade to the ceramic, shag carpets in front of the tub with a baby blue curtain hanging on it, a candle flickering on the cabinet hanging over the toilet, you decided to keep the lights off. The cinnamon apple gave you enough glow to work with, the warmth flickering in Hyunjin’s wide eyes as you approached him and his trembling frame pressed to the lime colored walls.
Keeping your arms folded tight, you took a long breath, one that kept him on his toes. His being hanging onto every word that fell from your lips, his own a mess, smudged lipstick and smeared with spit. “What’d you tell Hanji?”
He shuddered, hips reaching out to grind into you. You took a step back and he sighed heavily, throwing his head backward. “Didn’t tell him… Anything.”
“Liar,” you whispered, taking a hand to the hem of his skirt. Pulling it up, looking between you, you snickered and shook your head. Eight inches strained within the hot pink lace he’d usually tug to the side and fuck you in, tip just as pink, swollen, leaking. “You are a slut, look at you,” you laughed. Taking your other hand to the strap of the panties, you hooked one in and pulled, letting the band snap against his belly.
With a yelp, he whined, “I am?”
Raising a brow, you gave him a look. “Are you, baby?”
Candlelight casting shadows over his soft skin, his wide eyes blown open with lust, he took the shakiest breath and pouted his lips. “No.”
Looking from his twitching cock to his pleading gaze, you laughed. “Yes, you are. You’re a slut, Hyunjin. You’re wearing my panties, you’re about to cum in my panties, you’re turned on ‘cause you’re wearing my panties… You’re a slut.”
His pout worsened, he bounced on his knees once, a whimper trapped in his throat. “No, M’not,” he whispered, screwing his eyes shut. “Don’t call me that.”
Smiling, you stepped closer to him and brushed a hand over his length, his entire body convulsing. “Hyunjin… Look at me.” Opening his eyes slowly, shining more than they have all night, he swallowed and clenched his jaw. Rising to your tip toes, you whispered through your teeth, “You’re a fucking slut.”
Hips thrusting forward into your palm, he whimpered and threw his head back against the awful green paint. Lips pulling into a frown, his eyebrows twisting up into a mess, he heaved a breath and sucked one in immediately.
Then, you saw it.
A tear, one illuminated by candlelight, slipping down his cheek.
Grip loosening, feet hitting the floor, air filling your lungs, you whispered, “Are you crying?”
Hyunjin’s jaw fell open. Audibly taking a breath, he peeked down at you, tears falling, and whispered, “Don’t stop.”
A fire ignited within you. A whimpering mess stood in front of you, cowering against a friend’s bathroom wall, one that looked and sounded exactly like your boyfriend who took pride in bending you in half and claiming you as his. He couldn’t break out of wherever his brain took him, wherever he enjoyed being right now, the dom completely dormant.
It filled you with purpose, letting him take you, allowing him to do as he pleased, to harness control, to fit you where he wanted you– But, now… He offered himself up to you.
You’ve never felt more empty.
Smoothing your hands over his chest, up over his shoulders, feeling him intake a breath, you pressed yourself against him and tipped his head down. Kissing his cheek, brushing your lips over his tears, salty on your tongue, you whispered, “What do you want?”
Like you had asked on the couch, where this all started.
His answer, To fuck you.
His new answer, warped in a whine, punctuated with a quiet cry. “Want you to touch me.”
Fluttering your lashes, your lips twisted. “Where’s your manners, Jinnie?”
Breathless, he whispered, “Please,” then, he shivered, “Please, touch me, mommy, please.”
A chill ran down your spine.
A button had been pushed.
Gritting your teeth, you took your hands down his front and slipped them under his skirt. Catching his lips in a soft kiss with no end, you whispered, “Good girl,” and he moaned down your throat. Yanking the lace to his knees, you parted from him and dropped to yours in front of him, making him hold the skirt up himself. Rock hard, begging to be touched, you looked up at him from the floor and thought he’d cum on the spot.
Sticking out your tongue, opening your mouth like Hyunjin opened his, mimicking you, you danced it underneath his tip, up over his slit, licking him clean. Hips twitching as you slicked your lips and wrapped them around his length, you hummed and glared up at him. A clear no.
His hands clawed at the fabric he held up. Staring down at you, short pants and a jumble of whines tumbling out of his mouth, utter nonsense, he let the skirt fall and grabbed your hair, thrusting himself further into your mouth. Filling you entirely, the weight of him on your tongue, in your mouth, against your cheeks, tip edging your throat, you moaned, eyes fluttering shut, but then grabbed onto his waist and pushed him back, his hips hitting the wall with a thud.
Spit dribbling down your chin, you blinked upward, met with pure joy, tears a thing of the past apparently… Until you stood up and grabbed him by his hair.
“You think you’re funny?” Scoffing, you pulled him into you, nose to nose.
Hyunjin’s smile wiped clean off his face. Tucking his hands behind his back, he shook his head quickly. “No. No, not funny. M’sorry.”
“I give you what you want, and you take advantage of it, is that it?” Moving backward, you turned him around over the tile and pushed him back, nearly toppling over him into the tub, the shower curtain straining on the rings it hung on.
“No,” he breathed, eyes welling up, “I didn’t mean to, was an accident, I was only-”
“Acting like a slut,” you spat, letting him go, releasing your tight grip on his waves.
It bothered him, the word. Slut. Triggering him quickly, slipping him right back under where you wanted him, you snickered and rolled your eyes, the act making him quiver.
Nodding to the floor, you muttered, “Sit.”
And he did, fast.
Cocking your chin backward, you said, “Against the tub.”
And he moved, pushing himself back against the ceramic, his long legs sprawled in front of him like the very night you asked him if he wanted to wear the skirt he sat before you in.
“Pick up your skirt, Jinnie,” you smiled, and when he did, you took one look at his cock and shook your head. “Look at yourself,” you whispered, and when he did, pathetic, you asked, “What… are you?”
A slut, you thought to yourself.
He blinked. He gulped and he looked up at you, innocent as ever, every inhibition released as he whispered, “Your pretty girl.”
Fuck.
Hands flying to the button on your pants, you pushed them down your hips and stepped over his legs. Fabric around your ankles, you dropped onto your knees straddling his hips and kissed him nasty, leaning him backward over the tub, all tongue, all spit, all moans and curses.
“Can I touch you,” he whispered through huffs of air, “Please?”
Reaching for his hands, you put them on yourself. “Yes,” you mumbled, “You did so good for me, baby.” Moaning, he clung onto you tighter, hands slipping up and down every curve he could grab. “Wearing this skirt like I asked,” you whispered, slipping a hand between your bodies, lining him up with you. Sitting on his tip, you both groaned, foreheads pressing together. “Make mommy cum, baby, that’s all I want, gonna let you fuck me, okay?”
Body trembling, he forced himself to not thrust up into you. “Okay,” he whispered, digging his fingertips into your hips, his eyes locked on yours as you sank onto him, slowly, inch by inch.
“So good, so, so good,” you whispered, lips parting with too big a breath taken in as you circled your hips to fit him inside of you. Grabbing onto him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you kissed him and rolled your hips, both of your moans muffled by lips. “God, you feel so good,” you muttered, bouncing on him slow, letting him slide one arm around your waist and the other up your back, his hand wrapping around the back of your neck, keeping you pressed to him.
“For you,” he breathed, his words barely full, all a gust of air.
“Hm?” Humming, you ghosted his lips, speeding up on top of him. “Say it again, baby.”
“For you,” he said, “Good… for you.”
Eyeing his slack jaw and his hooded eyes, you smized, and asked, “Is that so?” He nodded loosely, and you scoffed, reaching behind him to hold onto the bathtub, chest to chest. “‘Cause I think you’ve been a little whore,” you grit your teeth. Hyunjin gasped, his hands losing their grip around you. Bouncing on top of him faster, knees pushing into the tile of the floor, hands grasping onto the tub for leverage, you laughed and nudged his nose with yours.
“Letting everyone look at you, wearing this slutty little skirt, making yourself all pretty,” you scolded, voice bouncing off the walls along with the sound of your hips smacking against his, Hyunjin's whimpers wrapped all up in it. “Attention-fucking-whore,” you laughed, your core squeezing, belly twisting. “Put up a fight, didn’t wanna wear the skirt, and look at what you get, your dick fucking wet.”
“M’sorry,” he whispered, voice broken.
Looking down at him, you laughed again, lobbing your tongue between your lips to lick at his tears that streamed down his cheeks. “No, you’re not,” you mumbled, pressing your nose to his. He pressed up into you, fighting so hard, being so good. “You’re not sorry, don’t give me that, you know exactly what you’re doing. Wanna tell me what you told Hanji?” He tucked his lips between his teeth, hooded eyes staring at you, head rocking with every bounce. “No?”
Shaking his head, you wrapped a hand around his jaw and tilted his head backward. “Where’d my good girl go?”
Hyunjin’s eyes rolled back for all of two seconds. Taking a breath in through his nose, his hips bucking upward once more, he muttered, “Said… M’your pretty girl… not… a good girl.”
Putting more pressure on his jaw, your wrist grazing over his throat, you clenched your jaw. “Tell me what you fucking told him.”
His lips dared to curl into the smallest smile. “No,” he whispered.
Pulling yourself off of him, the sound obscene, you hovered over him and grinned as his confidence flushed out of him and he writhed beneath you. “I’m not playing a fucking game, Jinnie, what did you tell him?”
He tried to slip back into you, hips punching off the floor, tip kissing your slick, he tried, and he failed. Whimpering, he let you shake him by the jaw. “If you were into this it means that he has to try Minho’s cat thing,” he whispered, thrusting upward again.
Minho’s cat thing… Jisung had to try…
“Oh god,” you groaned. “You had this fucking planned?”
Eyes shining, he smiled up at you, a fucked out mess with a stray tear slipping down his cheek onto your thumb. “I’m a bad girl,” he whispered.
Rolling your eyes, you sunk back onto him without warning, laughing as he lost himself, sounds you’ve never heard before leaving his throat. “You’re a slut, I was right,” you said, leveraging yourself to bounce on top of him for your own satisfaction. Grabbing onto you for sanity probably, he couldn’t make words. “A pretty, dumb, fucking slut. Thinking with your pussy, huh, pretty?”
Unable to breathe deeper than the gasps he inhaled, your words took him out, brain shutting down, every thought behind his eyes, gone.
“It’s too bad I can’t fill you up, force you to walk around the party with my cum dripping out of you, into your pretty panties, making a mess for me.” Your walls squeezed him, he whimpered, tears gracing his cheeks yet again. “You’d like it though, wouldn’t you? Feeling full, a fucking cumdump? Is that all you wanna be fucking good for?”
“Yes,” he cried out, and you tightened around him. Hands grabbing you, holding onto you, fingers pressing into your skin, he threw his head backward. “For you, only for you, a mess for you… Only good for you, wanna be good for you, I’m your good girl, I’m your good girl…”
Your thighs squeezed him, body blushing with a warmth growing all too fast. He wouldn’t shut up, he kept going, chants and whines about you using him, how he’s yours, how you can take him how you want, how he’s good for you, so, so good for you…
Gripping his shoulders, arching into his chest, body toppling on top of his, your orgasm ripped through you unannounced. Releasing a breath you’d been holding, building up your high with, you shook on top of him, letting him grab onto your hips, holding you up, fucking up into you.
“Thank you,” he whispered, babbling endlessly, sending you straight into overstim, “Wanted you to cum, made you cum, you feel so good, so wet, fuck, thank you for letting me fuck you, wanna cum, can I cum, please, please, can’t hold it, can I? Can I?”
Endless pants, endless whines.
Grabbing his jaw, you tipped him back and drug your tongue over his lips. “Cum.”
“Thank you,” he gasped, pushing you down onto his cock at the same time as he pushed up into you, so deep you could feel him in your throat. The desperate satisfaction in his moan almost made you cum twice, so did the dazed look in his eye. “Thank you,” he said, breathless, body relaxing after he pumped you full.
“Hyunjin?” Pushing his hair from his eyes, cleaning up his smeared lipstick with your sleeve, he blinked up at you in question. Leaning down to kiss him gently, you whispered, “You are a pretty girl.”
His smile told you everything.
Nibbling your bottom lip, you asked, “So… Can I be the one to tell Hanji?”
Hyunjin giggled, engulfing you in his arms. “Meow.”
yknow what ,,, who in atz makes love vs fucks ,, i am tinking abt it
FUCK THIS IS HARD. controversial take on atz tbh i cant believe mingi is where he is i want him to be a freak so bad but i must separate mental mingi and real mingi
FUCKS: freak bitches
1. hongjoong
hj is a possessive demon freak you can see it in his eyes fr. there isn’t a day that will pass without you getting split in two, he’s not just a freak but he has stamina and he’d rather do literally anything else but sleep, so what better way to pass the time when his brain is fried from making music than to fuck your brains out???? you love his libido and his ability to never turn it off, i don’t think his dick ever softens tbh not really. especially not when you’re talking to another man, that possessiveness really comes into play, it doesn’t matter who it is from your coworker to your friend he’s taking you to the next secluded spot and reminding you who the fuck you belong to. maybe toxic, but that’s hj, and when he’s done blowing your back out you’re reminded every single time that you don’t need anyone else but him (and you like it that way) (he’s my soulmate in the astral realm btw)
2. jongho
he’s a dominant freak and its so fucking sexy. his dominance slips into every aspect of your life, what you wear, what you do, who you talk to, what you eat, never in a toxic way, but in a way that he’s taking care of you, looking out for you, keeping you safe. he loves a good game of cat and mouse, loves when there’s a lil brattiness he has to tame, to assert his dominance all over again— there’s been several nights where you haven’t finished once because you disobeyed him, tears streaming down your cheeks with your legs shaking because you were so fucking close and he ripped it away last second, he knows every inch of your body like the back of his hand, he knows what you’re thinking half the time just by the look on your face. he’s got boxes of toys set aside, ropes and handcuffs and spreader bars, either for torture or your pleasure depends on your behavior (jongho ill be so good for you pls) and he is NOT afraid to use em. god hes so in tune with you and your body and his OWN his control is so fucking crazy i think i could keep going and actually talk about this for hours
3. wooyoung
he’s a fun freak!!!! giggly and experimental he wants you in every position he can think up, he’s creating his OWN positions when he runs out of ideas. he’s fucking you in public, in a dressing room, fingers slipping inside you under the table, a cocky little smirk on his face when you accidentally let a moan slip UGH he’s the type to not be weirded out by anything like if you find some weird shit on the internet and wanna try it out he’s 100% down. he’ll try anything once. you want to tap into omegaverse shit??? he’s barking for you and still fucking into you like its the first time. you wanna get into pee??? cum eating??? bondage??? cuckolding?? it literally doesn’t matter. he’s down and he’s researching and he’s educating YOU. he needs an experimental partner too tho cus his ideas are just as fucking crazy and he is NOT shy about sharing them with you. sex is fun with him, never boring, never stale, he keeps you on your toes just as much as you keep him on his, you’ve spent legit weekends in the bedroom because you tried something new and neither of you can get enough. toys, vibrators, dildos, butt plugs, cockrings, Strap Ons, you have them all, wooyoung is a yes man and no one can tell me differently. with a shrug and a smile on his face EVERY TIME he’s like yeah sure why not Omg and if there’s something that doesn’t work he’s like ok whatever and then just goes back to normal. sex is so chill and so fun and so experimental and there’s never any pressure FUCK wooyoung i fucking love you i got carried away
MAKES LOVE: sweet angels
1. yeosang
guys im sorry he’s here. i do think yeosang is versatile but not often enough to classify him in the middle, if you catch him on a day where is patience is thin he might be using his biceps to cut off your air flow while he’s fucking into you from behind, but on the day to day, he’s kissing every inch of your body, hands in your hair, petting your skin, cupping your cheeks, whispering sweet words, praises, everything is so fucking sweet it usually ends up with you in tears from the emotion passing back and forth between you. yeosang takes care of you in every way, there’s never a time where you finish unsatisfied, he makes sure of it. if you aren’t whining with tears streaming down your cheeks he isn’t done yet, he has stamina and he could fuck you for hours, even besides fucking he’s eating it for hours if thats the vibe. yeosang i want you so fucking bad
2. mingi
man :/
he’s a whiner. he’s sloppy and messy and so fucking virgin even after you’ve been fucking for years, every time is like the first time with mingi. while his hands grow more confident and his body has more stamina, he’s still fucking into you like it’s new, eyes screwed shut and staggered breaths leaving his chest because it’s inconceivable that you feel so fucking good— that’s something he’ll never get used to i fear, how you wrap around him so perfectly, how you’re so warm and wet it’s fucking war to not bust in you within three strokes. he doesn’t tho, he has pretty good control, up until you’re the one whining with tears slipping down your cheeks and he’s losing his fucking shit. elbows pressed into the mattress beside your head, tongue slipping into your mouth with no real rhythm, his cock rutting into you while barely pulling out, he’s addicted to your warmth, the feeling of being inside, the closeness, and god when he fills you up it just spurs him on farther. he’s not stopping until there’s three loads inside you with barely any reprieve between sessions, he’s spilling into you and fucking himself through the overstimulating, crying and whining and praising you because he loves you. im so fuckinf insane im an animal i fucking love this man i would die for him
3. san
this one should not be a surprise tbh san is a caregiver, the way he fucks is spiritual, its all consuming, its heavy and emotional and passionate and everything. you guys probably aren’t into anything hella freaky, farthest is probably a quickie in a dressing room every now and then, but most of the time he’s taking his time with you, stripping you of each scrap of fabric on your body with dainty hands and warm kisses, licking up your skin as if it was candy, telling you how you taste. he’s fucking into you with skilled precision, the movements of a man who’s taken the time to learn every inch of you, what makes you feel good. he’s big into breeding and he’s filling you up every time he def has a vasectomy. would never want u on any birth control because god forbid u change something about yourself for him!!! i feel like san is mad traditional in every way his fav position is probably missionary so he could see your face while he fucks you, holding your hands, kissing your lips that had long gone unresponsive against his own.
SOMEWHERE IN THE MIDDLE: both ways
1. yunho
hahahahahahahahahahahahahha this fucking freak bitch you know exactly what im gonna say. similar to jongho in the sense that he’s controlling many aspects of your life just because he can, he thinks its hot, and so do you. if you disobey him/make him feel disrespected he’s fucking you into next week, and he’s cruel about it, he’s not letting you cum, he’s holding your hands behind your back with one of his own just so you can’t touch him. he’s degrading you, vile words flying off his lips that make you clench tighter around him, he’s pinching your nipples until you’re crying. yunho dom agenda is so real. but he’s not like that all the time, you have your nights where you’re lost in kisses and sweet words and slow strokes, he fucks three loads into you because he wants to get you pregnant, would probably start trying to make you a mother a year into your relationship. if even that long tbh. yunho is mad versatile and he checks off every single box jeong yunho can i please have your phone number
2. seonghwa
😛 I WANT HIM SO BAD this freak bitch i still think he loves voyeurism and cuckolding and shares u. that blurb lives within me. i also think he is mad freaky like wooyoung, nothing puts him off, everything is hot and he wants to explore your sex life as much as he can, if something doesn’t work he’s like whatever we just wont do it again. prolly an ass eater on the regular. super flexible too he’s probably fucking into you from crazy angles like you’re both pretzels LMFAO fuck hes so hot i think seonghwa can do anything at any time. he’s another that loves to fuck you slow, but in a torturous way, like only fucking you with the tip until youre a crying mess begging for more. he definitely gets off on your whines, laughing in your face above you, but when he finally gives you what you want it’s shattering you. deep, heavy strokes, each one has his pelvis hitting yours, all while he’s kissing you sweetly and telling you how good you are for him. seonghwa freakbitch truther!
wait rereading this and im giggling reading hongjoong’s i guess we hadn’t broken up in the astral realm yet im cryingggggg am i forgetting a dream or something why did i say were soulmates
summary: you didn't mean to actually meet the man who's audio porn was single handedly getting you off every night, but you do.
note: this has been a looooong time coming and is dedicated to one of my best friends, grace. 💗 i hope everyone enjoys this chaotic smut fest.... also i've recently discovered that porn is actually illegal to produce or consume in korea? so suspend your disbelief for this fic lol
warnings: camboy!yeosang/barista!yeosang x fem!reader, it's a smut-a-thon barely a plot in sight featuring - nsfw/audio porn, guided masturbation, female masturbation, male masturbation, lots and lots of orgasms, use of dildo, nipple play, one night stand dynamics except they kind of fall for each other, big and i mean big dick yeosang, oral sex (f receiving), gratuitous squirting, fingering, thigh riding/grinding, protected and unprotected sex (do not do this they're being hella dumb), rough sex, maaaaaajor praise play he says good girl more times than i can count, so much use of 'baby', plus pretty girl/babygirl, absolute pleasure soft dom yeosang of our dreams, reader literally passes out from coming you're welcome
pairings: yeosang x reader
genre: smut and more smut, where's the plot???
word count: 14.5K
additional note: yeosang owns a cafe in this fic called ongozisin, it's a real cafe in seoul and you can check out their ig here! the vibes are truly so yeosang i can't even articulate it, so i just wanted to share this for the extra visual!
Paid porn for women has tiers. You stumble headfirst into this realization with your fingers stuffed inside yourself and your body slick with sweat, and there’s nothing that takes you right out of your frantic self care session than a request for your credit card number and a terms of service page.
Your chest is heaving, legs shaking, and you feel your orgasm slip right through your fingers as you skim over his Fansly page. You should have just skipped to another one of his free audios on Pornhub like you always do, but this week was long and stressful and slightly emotionally fraught, and there’s only so many times you can ignore his husky little ad at the end of the audio file inviting you to check out the full, uncut content.
“Jesus,” You breathe, pushing yourself up in the bed and letting your phone drop to the side as you recover your breath.
Are you really going to do this? Are you really going to pay for porn? The internet is full of it, spilling over from every angle with any little thing you can imagine. There’s a reason Rule 34 exists, people are horny and people love attention, so if you can fathom it there’s free porn of it.
And yet, nothing ever, ever gets you there like he does, and you’ve never even seen his face.
You glance down at your phone again and you see his familiar header image, a deeply contrasted black and white header of tangled white sheets, and his username striking across the corner in neon green. fromryu. This is what drew you in initially, the simplicity of it all. You were sick of skimming through all of the men making porn for women with names like ‘TheMasterDominant’, ‘Your_Daddy’, or ‘forherpleasureee’ and then just listening to them groan in your ear and call you a slut for fifteen minutes. That might work for some, but it definitely doesn’t work for you.
Ryu was different, is different. His audios are a mix of scenario based role-plays and straight forward guided masturbation for women, and you’re pretty sure he comes right along with you when you listen, but it’s just not the same.
You’ve fucked yourself to every single one of his free audios. Some of them more than once, some of them several times, if you’re being honest. You’ve always ignored his ads, because he gives so much content away for free you can’t imagine what would be behind a paywall that would get you off harder, until today.
Your brain just couldn’t get there. You’ve heard him chuckle that chuckle before, say that line before, coax you into orgasm with those exact words before, and you need more.
Your credit card is firmly in your hand before you can give it another thought, and with a fluttering stomach you tuck yourself into a robe and back into bed to pick a tier. With a long sip of a fresh glass of wine you lean back in your pillows and read through his welcome page.
His tiers make you smirk, he’s funny.
Third base, full uncut audios and one special audio per month just for subscribers – $4.99/month
Just the tip, uncut audios, one special audio per month, and access to a private discord server where subscribers can make audio request submissions – $9.99/month
Every inch (and more), uncut audios, exclusive audios, access to discord, exclusive video content, and access to a private Snapchat - $24.99/month
In for a penny, in for a pound, you guess.
You click on ‘Every inch (and more)’ and plug in your card numbers before you have a second to rethink your decision. You really hope you don’t get hit with a fraud alert that you have to explain to some poor customer service representative.
The wheel spins, the charge goes through, and suddenly you’re in. Your mouth has never been so dry.
There’s dozens of videos, dozens. For every audio you’ve listened to on Pornhub, there’s a video that goes with it, and for every free piece of content there’s two times as much paid video content. $24.99 was nothing compared to how many hours of content you’re suddenly sifting through.
There’s a common thread across every video though, you can already tell from the thumbnails, Ryu still never shows his face. Almost every thumbnail is the same, a white wall and a charcoal gray couch, and a man wearing oversized black sweatpants and a tight black athletic shirt.
His knees are parted, legs spread open and casual, and his hands rest clasped between them. You swallow thickly at the sight of his arms. He’s built. His hands are so good looking you think idly that he should just be modeling watches or something, it’s ridiculous how nice they are. His skin is tanned, veins snaking up his forearms, and silver rings across several of his long, thick fingers. Can the sight of a man’s hands make you come? Your aching clit throbs.
You skim through the video titles and tags to try and select one and your stomach twists. His videos are even more varied than the free content he posts and organized so well you think you might be in love with him already.
There’s a folder for role play videos, and you skim through that quickly just to see. Neighbor overhears you moaning and comes to check on you, best friend takes your virginity, boss and secretary working late, brother’s best friend slips into your room at a sleepover, step-daddy teaches his babygirl a lesson.
Your cheeks flush hot pink and you settle further into your sheets, backing out of this folder and navigating to your tried and true favorite.
Guided masturbation and encouragement.
There are even more videos in this folder and you skim through any of those ones that say ‘exclusive’ in the title to avoid ones you’ve already heard parts of. The hashtags alone leave you breathless and you have no idea what to choose, every video cleanly tagged with what you’ll need to be able to keep up with his instructions. Hands only, rabbit vibe, hitachi wand, bullet vibe, dildo, butt plug, nipple clamps, lubricant, massage oil, blindfold, wrist restraints, ankle restraints, the list goes on and on.
You select one at almost random with the tags ‘hands and fingers’, ‘dildo’, and ‘optional squirting’.
The screen starts black, and for a second you’re pretty sure something’s wrong, but then you hear him.
“Hi everyone,” Your muscles melt, and you push your noise canceling earbuds deeper into your ears, “I have something a little special today,”
You’ve never heard him talk so casually, almost like a vlogger or something. His voice hasn’t yet shifted into that deep teasing tone that kicks off every free video, and you’re already sold on every dollar you’ve spent when he starts to just chat.
“I got a request from a special subscriber in my discord,” He says, “someone who’s become a friend and who confided in me that she’s never been able to make herself squirt,”
Your breath comes a little more quickly.
“It’s not easy to do, I know,” He says, tenderly, the screen still black, “and I want you all to know that if you’re still struggling after this audio, that’s okay. It takes time, and your body is not a sex toy. There’s not a perfect combination that works for every person with a vagina,”
Your brow quirks at the inclusivity of his language choice and you smile a little, easing yourself down in the bed to keep listening to him.
“But I’m going to do my best to help you,” He continues, “so while I get set up over here, I need you to get your own space ready. Get up out of bed or off the couch, but keep me with you, okay, baby?”
You’re shaking and he hasn’t even said anything sexy yet. You don’t always listen perfectly to instructions, sometimes you skip ahead a bit and get to the good stuff just to get yourself off, but this time it’s different. You tuck your phone in your robe pocket and stand.
“For this session,” You can almost see the smile in his voice and you try to imagine him, “you’ll need a couple of good towels laid out across your space. You’ll need to drink a big glass of water before we get started, and then I want you to find your best dildo, the one that really makes you come hard. The one that fills you up just right, that hits that tender little place you wish I was touching with my fingers,”
He’s going to make you come so hard you see Jesus, you can tell already.
“We need everything to be perfect,” He says, “and for you to be comfortable. Tonight is not the night to test out that new toy, okay? Tonight is for you and me, so go and get your supplies, and I’ll tell you all about my day. I’ll be your favorite little sexy podcast.”
As he starts warmly talking to his audience about his long lazy morning off work, you nearly crumble. You’re really not supposed to be getting a crush on this guy, but here you fucking are. He’s sweet, casual and laughs a little while he talks, and while you gather up the towels and the water and the frankly oversized dildo, you’re smiling.
You hear him sit down and sigh and then his voice shifts, just a little, “Alright, baby, are you ready?”
You sink back back down to sit on your own bed and you wait.
“Just a reminder,” He says, “I will be using female descriptors throughout this video. If you’re uncomfortable with me calling you ‘girl’, like babygirl or good girl, or referring to you as a woman in any way, I am posting the similar content with male descriptors. If you’d prefer to hear baby boy or good boy, check the links below this video, okay?”
You smile again.
“Alright,” He hums, “now, where were we?”
The camera clicks on and you feel the little gasp leave you. You almost forgot.
He leans back on the couch and keeps talking, “That’s right, the lesson. Get settled over the towels, and if you’re wearing anything, it’s time to take it off for me.”
You lay back over the towels and let your robe part open.
“That’s so good,” He croons softly, “god, you’re so pretty, baby,”
Your chest thumps hard.
“Let’s start slow, okay?” His hands smooth over his thighs, “the key here is teasing, and I know how much you like it when I tease you.”
Your hand rests on your own thigh, your other propping up the phone as you watch with rapt attention.
“Touch your pretty thighs for me,” His voice is rich and thick in your ears, “that’s a good girl, there we go, nice and soft. Is your pussy wet? Did I do that to you again, pretty girl?”
You’re barely breathing, eyes fixated on the screen as he strokes his own thigh through his sweatpants, slow and steady.
“Are you aching?” He asks and you can’t help but nod, feeling like suddenly he can see you through the screen.
“Touch just a little,” He murmurs, “but don’t jump ahead. Keep your fingers off your clit, we’re not there yet, sweetheart.”
A little tight sound slips out of you as you follow his instructions.
“Is your sweet slit wet?” He hums, and his hand slides up his thigh and rests over his stomach, “Are you throbbing?”
Fuck.
“Someday, baby,” He sighs and you watch him shift on the couch cushions, “I’ll taste you,”
“Fuck,” You whisper.
“But for now,” He’s smiling, you know it, “you just need to listen to me and do everything I tell you,”
You’re nodding again.
“I promise,” He says, “I’ll take such good care of you baby, if you listen, I promise to make you come.”
Your stomach clenches, core fluttering, and you drift your fingertips up and down your slit, following the way his middle finger is slowly sliding back and forth on his abs.
“Are you listening?” His voice goes husky and your head drops back into the pillows. Next time you’ll need a better way to watch him and listen and touch yourself, but you’re so incredibly desperate at this moment that it really doesn’t matter, you’ll make due.
“You are, aren’t you?” He murmurs, “Good girl,”
Your legs spread a little wider.
He leans forward, you hear the rustling of the fabric and you snap your eyes back to the video to see him leaning forward, hands clasped together loosely, and you’re pretty sure you can see the outline of a bulge in his sweatpants.
“Does it hurt?” He croons, teasing.
You love him like this.
“Take your hand away from your pussy,” He says, just a little more commanding, “right now, baby,”
You pull it back reluctantly.
“Close your eyes for a minute,” He murmurs, “spread your legs for me,”
You comply immediately.
“Tease your nipples,” He sounds a little breathier now and you fight the urge to watch the video, “do whatever feels good, touch your tits exactly the way you like it,”
You roll your nipples, tugging them softly and kneading your breasts with both hands now that you’re not propping up the phone.
“Imagine me with you,” He says, “feel my fingers sliding up your calves, my lips on your inner thigh, you can feel my breath against your sweet cunt, I know you can,”
You’re about to come untouched, that’s the thought that rocks through your mind when your hips jerk on their own, his deep voice nestled right in your ear.
“Look at you,” He muses, “squirming around, so fucking desperate for something inside you,”
Your breath catches.
“You’re so needy,” He continues, “are you making noise for me? Little pants, little moans? Are you trying to be quiet?” He clicks his tongue against his teeth, a soft scold, “Not with me, baby,”
A moan bubbles up out of you.
“Hands off.”
Your eyes open immediately, and you don’t pull your hands away just yet, but you’re frozen still. You’re breathing hard, blush climbing up your chest, and your hips jerk slightly. If he doesn’t let you touch yourself soon, you’re going to lose your mind.
“Good girl,” He says after a moment, “very good,”
You drop your hands, scrambling for the phone so you can see what he’s going to do next.
“Now watch me,” He instructs, holding his palm up to the camera, “take two fingers,” he separates his fingers, keeping his middle and index fingers tucked together, “and when they’re inside curl them just like this.” He crooks his fingers in a come-hither motion, “Just like this,”
You slide your hand down your front, slipping your fingers through your soaked folds, but his voice makes you pause.
“Go slow,” He instructs, “push them in nice and slow for me,”
You follow his instructions.
“There you go,” He sighs softly, “now curl your fingers,”
You watch as he does it in the video and you follow instructions dutifully, your fingers brushing over your spongy g-spot.
“Feel that?” He leans back, and the tent in his sweatpants makes you pant, “That perfect little spot that makes you whine so good for me?”
You nod again, biting down on your lip, desperate to move but waiting.
“When I say,” He slips his fingertips into his sweatpants, teasing you, “fuck your perfect pussy with those fingers,”
Sweat drips down your chest.
His hand disappears into his sweats and he groans, “Now,”
You don’t have to be told twice.
“Harder,” He says, throaty and low, “I know you can,”
A tight sound slips out of you as you work yourself, but you nearly fall apart when you watch him push down the top of his sweats. His cock is huge, there’s no other way to say it. Thick and perfect, aching pink at the head and when he wraps his hand around himself you feel the tense knot of your orgasm rushing back.
“Oh, f-fuck,” You scramble in the sheets, pulsing your fingers in and out just like he told you to.
“Look at you,” He says again, “fucking yourself for me. I bet you’re imagining my fingers, aren’t you? Just like I’m imagining your dripping pussy,”
Pleasure rocks in your gut.
“Use your other hand,” He instructs, “rub that clit for me,”
You drop the phone like it’s hot, and you have to crane your neck to see the video, but it doesn’t matter. He’s given you the perfect permission to do exactly what you need and you have to take it.
“Does that feel good, baby? Yeah? Do you feel like you need to come for me?” His voice gets closer to the microphone and you’re rapidly approaching the edge, “You’re so close, fuck, listen to you,”
“God, oh god,” Your legs are trembling.
“Do you see how hard you make me?” His fist jerks over his cock faster and your mind is unraveling, none of his other audios feel like this, “Do you know how much I want to see you come?”
Pressure drops in your belly.
“Fuck,” He pants, “you’re almost there, I know you want to come for me, but not until I say,”
It’s happening whether he wants it to or not, whether you want it or not, and your fingers bear down harder on your clit, your eyes locking closed, head falling back.
You pull your hands away and it’s possible that nothing has ever felt as bad as this one stolen orgasm. Your hands are shaking, body flushed and slick with sweat, and if any of your neighbors are up they are probably getting an earful.
You lock eyes with the video again and his hands rest on his knees, cock standing tall and at attention, edging with you.
“Get that dildo nice and wet,” He says, and you search your sheets for the silicone cock, “in your mouth pretty girl, imagine that’s my cock between your lips,”
He strokes his hand slowly down his length, smearing a bead of precum down to the base of his shaft as you dip the cock between your lips and take it as far in your mouth as you can.
“It’s time to come,” He soothes, like he knows you’re a whining, quivering mess, “I know you need it,”
The dildo pops free from your mouth and you watch as he lifts the hem of his shirt to expose the smooth plane of his abs, “Fuck yourself with me, sweetheart,”
Pleasure pops through you as you press the toy to your hot channel.
“Nice and fast,” He pleads, thrusting into his fist, “don’t stop this time, not until you come,”
The bubble inside you expands again, pressure everywhere.
“Just trust me,” He whispers in your ear, “don’t stop. I’ve got you, I’m right here, you let go baby. Don’t fight it,”
Your back arches up off the bedding, the muscles in your arm aching as you thrust the toy in and out of yourself, pressing it up again and again into your g-spot.
“Come, baby,” He sounds like he’s begging, and your free hand flies down to grip the sheets, “let go, you come, that’s it, there you go,”
You turn your head, catching sight of him again and the way he works himself over.
“There we go,” He groans sharply, his own release spurting up ropes of cum onto his exposed chest, “can you feel me inside you? Come with me, that’s a good girl, good fucking girl,”
He sounds dizzy, panting himself, you’ve never heard him quite like this and one final thrust sends you spilling over the edge. Your vision whites, body locking up in ecstatic pleasure, and you clap a hand over your lips to stifle the moan that rips out of you.
It takes a minute to come back from that. Your ears ringing, and the dildo slips out of you with a final pulse from your shattering orgasm. He’s talking, you register it, but his voice sounds far away and you realize that you’ve lost your earbuds. You scramble to get them back in, pulling the video up to your eyes.
“-And that’s okay,” He’s saying, his cock tucked away and his shirt back down, “you can try again another time if you didn’t quite get there,”
For a second you’re confused, it was the hardest orgasm of your life, but then you remember this was intended to be a guided masturbation to squirt and you blush, alone in your apartment, at the fact that you didn’t quite get there and he’s talking to you.
“It’s all about the build up,” He explains, “but I’m sure with a little practice we can get you there.”
You’ve never really cared about squirting until now, but he makes it sound like a perfect date and something tells you that you’ll be back here again night after night if he’ll have you.
“Anyway,” He sighs and you hope he’s smiling above the camera, “thank you for spending a little bit of your day with me, I hope I made you feel as good as you made me feel,”
You blush again.
“I’ll see you soon,” He assures, gentle like a lover would, “sleep well, jagiya,”
The video cuts and you blink hard, you’re still smiling.
You are so, so fucked.
After that, Ryu becomes a problem. You wish it was just the videos and the dirty talk and the good orgasms, but it’s more than that. You just like to hear him talk now, the little bits at the beginning about his day are starting to get into your head. And then there’s the Snapchat.
You kind of expected the private Snap to be sexy photos and videos of him in the almost pitch dark huskily saying good morning, but it isn’t. You still have never seen his face, but his videos are casual, friendly, too real for a man you spend every night fantasizing about. He chats about things he’s doing or books he’s reading while he’s cooking, filming just shoulders down so you can watch the muscles in his arms while he chops vegetables. You fall in love with the sound of his voice when he’s just talking, his stretched out s-sounds that only really peek through outside of his constructed scenes. You find yourself missing him a little on days he doesn’t post.
You’ve gotten used to waking up with him, falling asleep with him, checking in on him during the day. His message announcements in Snapchat don’t feel like they’re for everyone, they feel like they’re for you. You know that’s not true of course, you know you’re paying a hefty monthly bill just to feel like this, but you don’t care. It’s been a while, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t just need some company.
It’s a Thursday when everything goes to shit.
You wake up far too late, forgetting to set the alarm on your phone after falling asleep directly after yet another Ryu narrated orgasm, and everything has been off kilter since. You’re scrambling to get to work on time and every little thing is going wrong. Your coffee machine isn’t turning on, the sweater you want to wear is still in the wash, and your umbrella will not open despite the rain that’s ruining what would have been a good hair day.
When you decide to stop into the coffee shop across from your office it’s not even a want, it's a need. You’re already thirty minutes late, why not make it forty-five?
You’ve never come here, not once. You’re used to going to the shop around the block from your apartment, and this place is new. Ongozisin is the kind of place you’d normally take your time in. The space is clearly industrial, concrete walls and flooring made to look unfinished. The aesthetic is still warm though, with natural dark wood furniture and bamboo accents, Joseon era paintings and a juniper bonsai along the back wall.
To the left side of the cafe stands a bay of tall windows and the very modern, very clean point of sale. The line isn’t too long, but you can see that the pace of this place is slower by design, so maybe you’ll just round up and call it an hour late. A door opens to your left and you watch as one of the baristas steps out from a kitchen holding two black plates of colorful, carefully constructed pastries.
The line moves ahead of you, and the person behind you softly clears their throat to jog your attention.
You step closer, only one person ahead of you now.
When you hear his voice you nearly reach for your phone.
“That’s perfect,” It’s Ryu, clear as day. His voice is distinct and deep and here.
Your eyes snap up to the barista behind the counter, your body frozen stock still as you take him in, mind spinning.
“Do you want any cream?” He says to the woman ordering.
Blush lights up your cheeks and all you can think about is the video you watched the night before and his voice in your ear - Do you want my cum inside you, pretty baby?
You should leave. There’s a reason this man is anonymous on the internet, never showing an inch of his face, and Ryu isn’t even his name, it's just what you call him. He never calls himself anything in the videos, never reveals what part of Korea he lives in, never talks about his job. He doesn’t want to be found.
You’re about to turn, run, scramble away, but his voice comes again and this time you realize he’s talking to you. The man, Ryu, smiles, “Good morning, can I get you something?”
You’re frozen.
“Miss?” A little crease between his brows.
“Sorry,” You jump forwards, ignoring the annoyed huff behind you and shaking off as much of this panic as you can, “I don’t know where my head is this morning,”
“That’s alright,” He says warmly, “that’s what I’m here for,”
You can’t say anything, your mind blanks.
His eyes flick over you and then he nods, “You know, coffee? To wake you up?”
“Right!” You nod, “Sorry, yes, an americano please,”
“Iced or hot?” He asks.
Are you feeling hot, babygirl? Do you need to take something off for me?
“Hot,” You say it on a reflex but then you remember yourself, “no sorry, iced, iced please,”
“Okay, sure,” He smiles, “iced,”
You make it through payment without too much more embarrassment, apologizing again, and then you step to the side. Another barista appears, slotting into Ryu’s place so he can turn his attention to the drinks he needs to make and you take the moment to get composed.
He’s handsome, that’s a given. You expected that, but still he looks even better than your imagination conjured up, more real. He looks exactly right for this cafe too, his black hair long enough to brush the base of his neck with half gathered into a ponytail, pieces loose to frame his angular face. He’s dressed smartly too, black oversized trousers and a fitted black t-shirt, slim black boots, and an open jacket in a dramatic modern-hanbok style. You realize you’re staring the minute his eyes hold on yours and they crinkle up as he smiles. He has a birthmark, a smooth light pink flush across his eye and your heart thumps in your chest.
“Long night?” He asks you, passing off a coffee in a mug to the woman who had been ahead of you in line.
He just puts you at ease and you nod, “Something like that,”
“Ah,” He knocks out the round cake of used espresso from the portafilter as he talks, “and you look like you got caught in the rain, don’t you have an umbrella?”
“Broken,” You grimace, “it’s been one of those mornings,”
“Mm,” He nods, focusing on queueing up espresso for your americano, but while the shots pull he turns back to you, “I don’t think I’ve seen you here before?”
You shake your head, “No, first time,”
“Do you like it?” He gestures around with a nod of his head.
“Very much,” You smile, “it’s a great space,”
He smiles again, looking proud, “I’m glad you like it,” he says, “we haven’t been open very long, but so far people have seemed to enjoy it,”
“Oh,” You watch him pour your espresso over ice, “is the cafe yours?”
He nods, “Mine and my friend’s,”
You wish you weren’t late, you wish you were able to stay just a little longer.
“Well,” You tell him honestly, “it’s beautiful here, I’ll have to come in more often, I only work across the street.”
“Ah,” He nods, “I thought you looked familiar,”
Blush creeps up your neck.
“Did you need cream?” He asks and you hope he doesn’t notice the way your pulse quickens at his words, but he nods towards your coffee and you shake your head.
“Thank you,” You take the cup off the bar and step back, “I appreciate it.”
“I hope that helps,” He says, and then he glances behind you at the large round window, “actually, I’m sorry, can you wait one moment?”
“Sure,” You watch him duck out from behind the bar, making a quick beeline for the swinging door that leads back into the kitchen. You have no idea what he could want, there’s no way you’d be recognized by him except as a stranger on the street, and your stomach knots up.
It takes him a moment, but he darts back out, a long black umbrella in his hand, “Take this,”
“I can’t do that,” You wave a hand, “I’m only across the street, but that’s really kind of you,”
“If you’re only across the street then I know where to go to get it back,” He shakes his head, “just take it, it’s raining like crazy out there,”
He presses the handle of the umbrella into your free hand, and your breath catches in your throat, his skin brushing against yours. Your eyes flick over his rings, just the same as always. A signet with a deep black stone, a hammered silver band, a clearly vintage one on his index finger that looks like an old Catholic saint token, the finer details rubbed away with age.
“What time do you close?” You ask, accepting the umbrella.
“Seven,”
“I’ll bring it back after work then,” You tell him, “is that alright?”
He nods, “But if it’s still raining, just keep it. Bring it by tomorrow,”
“Tomorrow,” You nod.
“Mhm,” He nods, something warm in his expression, “this will have to be your new usual spot,”
Is he flirting? You’re wholly and entirely unprepared to deal with that considering the way you moaned his name last night. Something clicks in your brain at that thought though and you nod, “Maybe it will. I’m y/n, by the way,”
“Yeosang,” He smiles, “it’s very nice to meet you.”
Yeosang.
“You too,” You dip your head, “and thank you again for this,”
“Of course,” He says, “I hope this turns your morning around a little,”
You open your mouth to say something, but there’s a voice from the cafe bar that slices cleanly between your conversation, “Yeosang-ah!”
Yeosang glances back and then he sighs, just a little, “I have to go,” he tells you, “but I’ll see you again,”
“See you again,”
He’s back behind the bar before you can blink, focusing on each customer’s order. The man who called his name is grinning, and you wonder idly if he’s the friend who owns the cafe with Yeosang or just a part-timer.
With your stomach fluttering, you push out into the rain to get to work, Yeosang’s name on a loop in your brain for the rest of the day. When you get home, his umbrella resting by the door, you delete his Snapchat from your contacts and unsubscribe from his Fansly account.
Ongozisin becomes a daily ritual.
The money you used to spend on his Fansly now goes straight into the cafe, first thing in the morning before work and a last lingering stop in the evening before you go home.
On busy days you barely get to see him and sometimes you’re left just chatting with Wooyoung, his best friend and business partner. You like him too, you like the atmosphere and their kind warmth, but if you’re being honest you find yourself living for slow days. The days where you’ve timed it just right to have a little talk before the rush of the day or the closing tasks of the evening.
Little by little, Ryu fades from your mind, and the man in front of you is just Yeosang. The guy who runs your favorite coffee shop, the guy who dresses almost otherworldly, who smiles wide but only when you say something truly funny, who sometimes gets lost in his own head while he’s making cappuccinos.
He’s lovely.
Sometimes you think he might be flirting, a little more suavely and charismatic than his business partner who asked if you had a crush on him since you were coming into the cafe so much. Sometimes Yeosang adds a little extra treat to your plate of food or he adds pretty latte art to your cup if you’re staying in the cafe. That might be nothing, but it certainly might be something.
It isn’t until another day of rain, harsh pelting rain, that Yeosang appears at your table.
“We close soon,” He says, and when he sees the brief flash of concern that you’ve overstayed your welcome on your face he shakes his head, “sorry, I meant to ask, how are you getting home tonight?”
“The train,” You glance outside.
His nose crinkles, “You don’t have an umbrella today either,”
“True,” You look down at your belongings, “I didn’t check the weather,”
“If you wait a bit for us to lock up,” He says, “I’d be happy to walk you to the station,”
“Oh,”
“Or if you’re not busy,” He clears his throat softly, “I could walk you to this little restaurant around the corner?”
Flirting, then.
You smile and nod, trying to keep your eagerness tamped down to a normal amount, “Are you asking me out, Yeosang?”
He grins, “I’ve been trying to,”
Your stomach flips pleasantly, “I’ll wait, dinner sounds nice,”
His shoulders sag, a little relief in his expression and he clears away your empty cup as he says, “I’ll be quick,”
You catch Wooyoung slapping his friend's shoulder as he disappears into the back room, and before you know it you’re blushing and sitting across from this man at the restaurant down the block.
Dinner is so smooth it feels surreal. It turns out you both like the same music, and several books too, and you’ve never been on a date with a man who asked you so many questions about yourself and didn’t just talk your ear off. Dinner stretches long too, and you’re strangely grateful it’s a Friday when you finally do check the time. He has to work on Saturday at the cafe, but not until a little later in the morning, and so neither one of you really wants to call it quits.
The after dinner walk turns meandering, and then his hand is brushing against yours, knuckles to knuckles.
You don’t think of him as Ryu until his fingers brush down your back, lips close to your ear when he finally asks you. The way he does makes your body melt - I hope I’m not ruining things by asking, but would you like to come home with me tonight?
You agree before your mind catches up to itself, but every step of the walk to his apartment has your heart picking up speed. You had forgotten on the date how you met him, really met him, and your gut churns.
Do you tell him? Do you lie?
Everytime he grins at you, touches you, tucks his long hair behind his ear and nods, you can’t imagine a one night stand. You could maybe swallow the truth if that’s all this was to you, but it’s not, and so you can’t.
On his block you feel the internal countdown ticking.
“You can change your mind, you know,” He offers, noticing how you’ve gone quiet, and it pulls you straight out of your thoughts.
“Oh,” Your head snaps up, “I’m sorry, I don’t want to change my mind at all, I just got a little lost in thought.”
He nods, this time finding your hand and giving you a squeeze, his steps slowing as you approach his building, “Can I ask what about?”
You nod, returning the soft pulse of his hand in yours before separating your skin from his. His eyes flick down to your hands, and then back up to your eyes.
“I have a bit of a confession,” You swallow hard, “something I think I should tell you before we go upstairs,”
“Okay,” He leans against the stone wall behind him, “is everything alright?”
“I hope so,” You nod, “I just feel like there’s something I should say now, and if it makes you uncomfortable at all, just be honest. I’ll go home, no hard feelings,”
“y/n,” His brows draw together in confusion, “what’s going on?”
You take a deep breath, taking a step back to get a little breathing room, “I recognized you when I came into the cafe that first day,”
“Recognized me?”
“Yeah,” You clear your throat, your chest feeling tight, “for the past few months I’ve been… a subscriber,”
“A subscriber,” He repeats, and for a brief flickering second you wonder to yourself if this man just looks and sounds and feels exactly like Ryu but isn’t, but then his face blanches, “oh,”
“I’m not anymore,” You shake your head, “and clearly you like your privacy, so I didn’t know how to just come out and say it, but if you’re actually interested in me and not just being flirty at the cafe then I just can’t lie to you… I don’t want to start something with a lie,”
He’s quiet, and then his eyes flick down.
It was so, so nice while it lasted.
“I should have told you sooner,” Your stomach flips and you take another step back, “and I completely understand that you’re upset, I’ll just, I won’t say anything to anyone and it was lovely getting to know you, and I’m sorry, I’ll go,”
His head snaps up, “Go? y/n, stop, slow down,”
His hands smooth down your forearms as he jumps forwards, pulling you gently back towards him. Your heart is beating so loud you can practically hear it, “I’m sorry,”
“I’m not upset,” He assures, “can we go inside to talk? I don’t want to do this in the street,”
You nod, letting him lead you through the garden gate and up towards the house, but his words pulse on a loop in your mind. You hope he’s good at letting you down easy because this hurts. You should have known it that first day at the cafe, you should have stayed away and not played with fire.
His house is small, but very nice and despite being sparsely decorated, you like it. You feel trapped in the entryway so unsure of what to do in this space, especially when you recognize the corner of his gray couch.
“Can I get you a drink or something?” He interrupts your thoughts, “I have wine, probably some soju, and a bottle of truly undrinkable Japanese whisky,”
“Undrinkable?” You blink.
“I think it’s supposed to be very good if you like whisky,” He explains, “it was a gift,”
“Ah,” You couldn’t feel more awkward if you tried, “wine, I guess?”
“Okay,” He smiles, a close lipped polite smile that doesn’t quite touch his eyes, “well, make yourself comfortable, I’ll get us a drink and then we can talk,”
“Sure,” You’re still frozen as he walks away down the hall to what you presume is the kitchen. It takes a minute to unstick yourself, but you make your way to the couch and wait.
He returns with two glasses of red wine and then he sits in the chair opposite you, not on the stretch of couch next to you.
“Sorry,” You take the wine, stomach flip flopping, “I know this isn’t how you thought the night would go,”
“Mm,” He nods, taking a sip of his drink.
“I don’t know what to say,” You tell him honestly.
He nods, looking anywhere but at you until he finally meets your eyes again, “You’re not a subscriber anymore?”
“No,” You tell him firmly.
“Why?” He asks, and the question hangs between you.
“When I recognized you at the cafe and you were being so nice to me,” You explain, “it occurred to me that something might happen between us, as friends or otherwise, and it just felt wrong to know you as Yeosang and then… engage with your content that is clearly anonymous and meant to be private. I didn’t want to do that without you knowing,”
He nods, setting his glass on the nearby coffee table, “I see,”
“You are keeping it private, right? I feel like you’re careful to not overshare,”
“Yes,” He nods, “no one knows.”
“Then I really am sorry,” You set your own glass aside and lean forwards, “I’m sure you didn’t want to bring your real life as Yeosang and your online life as Ryu together, I just recognized your voice immediately that day in the cafe,”
“As Ryu?” He glances back up at you.
“That’s what I…” You try to parse through it so it doesn’t sound like a parasocial affair, “fromryu, you know? That’s just what I filled in for your name, I guess,”
“Ryusang,” He nods, “it’s the Hanja spelling of Yeosang,”
“Oh,” You soften.
“Why didn’t you mention you knew me before?” He asks, but despite his words nothing in his demeanor is upset, just curious.
You take another large, steadying gulp of wine and nod, “I didn’t really think the cafe was an appropriate place to tell you that I’ve gotten off to your voice before,”
He laughs sharply and looks down, “Okay, that’s fair,”
“Right,” You murmur.
“y/n,” He sounds hesitant and you look back up to him, “can I ask you something?”
“Anything,”
“Did you come out with me tonight because you wanted to go out on a date with the guy from the cafe, or because you wanted to have sex with Ryu?” The question is direct and cutting.
“With you,” You answer quickly, and now you know exactly why he’s putting this distance between you, “you, Yeosang.”
He’s quiet, turning your words over, you can practically see him thinking.
“Yeo,” You murmur, fighting the urge to reach out to him, “if all I wanted was that, I wouldn’t have told you. But I really like you, Yeosang, and I’d like to see more of you and see where this could go, but I completely understand if me knowing this part of you is too much. If you don’t want to go any further with me romantically or as a friend, this can just be a nice date we both had,”
He nods and then says, “I have one more question,”
You wait, your stomach in knots.
“Do you have a problem with what I do?” He asks.
“I mean,” You shake your head, “I was a subscriber, so no,”
“I don’t mean like that,” He clarifies his words, “I mean in terms of a romantic relationship. I like my work, both the cafe and the content, and if we start seeing each other I’m not going to suddenly stop making porn just like I wouldn’t close the cafe.”
“I’m not asking you to,” You shift over on the couch and reach towards him, resting a hand on his forearm.
“I’ve dated a few women,” He explains, slipping his hand into yours and twining your fingers together, “this was not something any of them were comfortable with,”
“Oh,” You nod, but he continues.
“A couple of them thought it might be fun,” He adds, “but when things got more serious they expected me to stop for them,”
“I’m sorry,” You tell him quietly, “I don’t expect anything like that,”
“You don’t now,” He points out, “and neither did they in the beginning.”
You can see the way this has fucked with his head a little, the way he keeps his shoulders stiff and turned away from you as he explains, and you suppose you might react the same way if you were in his shoes.
You chew the inside of your lip as you think about how best to say this to him, but finally you manage it, “Yeosang,” you get his attention, “what you do for work doesn’t change what we do on a date or in bed,”
He turns his head a little, the only indication you have that he’s really listening.
“I have no expectation that you’re some… sex god,” You smile a little, “though my guess is that you’re pretty good at dirty talk,”
A small smile appears on his lips.
“If I didn’t like what you do for work I’d go find another guy,” You continue, “and I’m sorry if the other women you dated weren’t comfortable with it, but I’m not so shy about it. I like what you do, and you’ve helped me plenty, and there’s nothing more flattering than knowing you liked me enough to even bring me upstairs,”
“Don’t sell yourself short there,” He looks up, shaking his head, “when you said yes to dinner I thought I’d be lucky if I got to so much as touch you,”
Your heart quickens in your chest, “You, what?”
He turns his body towards you properly now, “y/n,” he says, “I like you, I’ve liked you since you walked into the cafe soaking wet and exhausted, I’ve been trying to figure out how to ask you out for weeks.”
“I think I’m dreaming,” You breathe, and he grins at your words. You clap a hand over your lips and groan, “Sorry, I didn't mean to say that outloud,”
“It’s honest,” He says, “I like that about you,”
“Well,” Your hands naturally separate as you lean back onto the couch, “then believe me when I tell you that I am fine with your work. All aspects of your work,”
His eyes flick over you, gauging how honest you’re being now, “All aspects?”
You nod again.
“y/n,” His voice softens, “what tier subscriber were you?”
It clicks in your brain that you haven’t really told him everything, all the things you know about him and his work. Little audio videos here and there might be forgivable to some women, but more might be too much.
“The highest,” You tell him, “when I say everything I mean it, the videos, the Snapchat, all of it.”
He seems to relax at that, “And if this does go somewhere,” he gestures between you both, “if we keep seeing each other. If it becomes more than a few dates,”
You nod.
“You’re alright knowing that even if we were dating and going to bed together every night, I spend my free time making people come on the internet for money,” He says it so plainly that you have to blink at him.
You turn his words over and then sigh, “There’s one thing,”
He leans back in his chair, putting a little more distance between you both, obviously braced for your words.
“I just have a question,” You ease him, “just something I should know, I think.”
He nods once, his shoulders tense again.
“Do you ever talk one on one with people?” You feel your cheeks heat, “I know you do, you have the discord, but I mean do you ever do what you do alone with someone?”
He softens, “No, no I don’t,”
“Okay,” You nod, the tense knot in your stomach relaxing, “okay, then,”
“Would that be a boundary for you?” He asks.
“I think so,” You tell him, “it’s different when you’re making a video to upload for anyone and talking to someone, at least to me,”
He nods, and then he moves, shifting from his position on the chair to your side on the couch. The nerves that were knotted deeply inside you start to unfurl, his proximity feeling like a peace offering, like an acceptance of your words.
“Subscribers aren’t lovers,” He says finally, “and some people blur that line with their content, but I don’t.”
“Then, Yeosang,” You take the opportunity to slide yourself sideways a little closer to him, “I am fine with all aspects of your work, more than fine.”
“Will you tell me if that ever changes?” He asks.
“Yes,” You make him this promise, “I like you too, all I want is to be honest with you,”
He nods, his fingers flexing on his thigh as he thinks. Finally, he swallows tightly, his skin flushing a little now that you’re almost pressed together on the couch, and he asks what he’s wanted to ask all night, “y/n,” he turns towards you, “can I kiss you?”
He’s stunning this close, enough to render you speechless, breathless. You manage a single word, “Please,”
He’s on you in a flash, and Yeosang’s lips are warm, soft and plush and as he presses into you and winds his arms around you. Your body relaxes into his instantly, the feeling of his warmth, the scent of him, rich coffee grounds and sugar infused into his skin from his work at the cafe.
His tongue probes your mouth, his breath hot as he sighs. Your body feels alight, hot and feverish and desperate from just a single kiss. You need him inside you yesterday.
When he breaks the kiss, you realize you’re half straddling him. Somewhere in the heat of the moment and the muddled fog you hitched a leg over his and his hands dragged you up against him so you’re chest to chest. When your mouths break apart, you’re still merely inches from each other and panting the same little breath of air.
“y/n,” His hands explore you slowly, moving over your skin like he’s trying to learn you, “normally I would try to keep the kink to a future date, but since you already know all of my deepest, darkest fantasies, maybe we can skip ahead?”
“Yes,” You laugh softly, “definitely,”
“But I am realizing something,” His hands find the curve of your ass, “I’m at a disadvantage here, you’ve seen my videos, but I don’t know anything about what you like.”
“You,” The word bubbles up and you flush red again.
“My voice, I’m sure you like that,” He drops it a little to emphasize the husky bedroom quality of it with a teasing smile on his face, “but what videos do you like? What were your favorites?”
He’s about to ruin you, there’s absolutely no question. Even if he was all talk you’re sure to be coming just from his words alone, but his hands, the way he touches you, there’s no doubt he has the skills to back up everything he’s ever said in the videos too.
“Now I’m a little embarrassed,” You admit, “an hour ago we were on a first date,”
“An hour ago I didn’t know the woman across the table had fucked herself to the thought of me,” He counters softly, “and we can slow down if you want but judging from the wet patch on my thigh I think you want to keep going,”
You jerk your hips immediately, angling to pull them away so you can stop embarrassing yourself all over this man after a single kiss, but his hands lock down hard over your ass and he holds your body firmly against him.
“No, no,” He adjusts his leg so that his thigh is pressed even more firmly against your cunt, “don’t be embarrassed with me,”
“Right,” You blush darker.
“I’ll tell you what I want,” He offers, “would that help?”
You nod quickly.
One of his hands shifts to lovingly stroke up and down your back as he speaks, “I want you to enjoy this more than anything. There is nothing that gets me off harder than making a partner absolutely fall apart for me, and knowing I did that for them, and I think you already know that from my content. That’s real, that’s me.”
You shiver a little and he leans up to kiss you, softer this time.
“I’d like this to be good for you,” He continues, “and honestly I already want to see you again, but in case it’s only one night for you I think we should make it count.”
The night went from nothing to everything so fast your head is spinning but you nod, surging up to kiss him with your hands pressed against his chest for balance. Your core drags along his hard thigh with your momentum forwards and you gasp a little into the kiss, your hips bucking softly on their own at the sudden pleasurable sensation. You feel something stiff and warm pressing into your belly and you feel a rush of sensation between your thighs.
“So,” He kisses you again, leaning away so he can talk to you, “tell me what videos you liked,”
“The um,” You clear your throat softly, “the guided ones,”
He smiles, “Those are your favorites?”
You nod.
“And the roleplay?” He asks.
“Good,” You nod, “everything you do is really good,”
“But the guided ones get you off, hmm?” He squeezes your hips.
You nod again, “You’re very good at what you do,”
“Guided,” He says, almost to himself, before he drags your hips up and back along his thigh, “so you like when I talk you through it?”
You rock your hips on your own this time, picking up on his cues that he wants you to grind on him, “Mm-hmm,”
“Tell me more about what you like,” He keeps one hand planted firmly on your backside, but the other starts to wonder, fingers teasing the skin of your collarbones before he cups your breast through your sweater.
“Y-you’re so comforting,” You manage as you slowly rut your body against his, “even when you’re edging me and telling me what to do, you’re just, I don’t know,”
“Is that right?” He teases softly, his fingers toying with the top button of your closed cardigan.
“Mm,” You sigh, pleasure truly starting to build inside you as you rock your clit lazily against him, “and you understand it takes time for women,”
The button opens.
“You take your time with the build up,” You sigh, finding a better position for your hands against his firm chest while you continue to rock, “and when you talk about what you wish you could do to me if you were there,”
Two more buttons part open and he hums softly, appreciatively, “You like knowing what I want?”
You nod, watching as he makes short work of your other buttons.
“Maybe I should just show you,” He slides the cardigan off your shoulders until it pools around your waist, caught on your elbows, “wouldn’t that be better than just listening?”
“Y-yes,” You sigh, your hips slowing so you can let him take the lead.
He shakes his head, pressing his hand against your ass again to keep you moving, “That’s it,”
You moan softly, fingers gripping his shirt, “Yeosang,”
He chuckles at your needy whine and brushes his fingers between your breasts, stroking up your chest, down and over the wire of your bra, and lower still over the soft flesh of your belly.
“There you go,” He smiles, “I know that feels good,”
You nod, “So good,”
“Jagiya,” His hands slide your bra straps down, letting the soft material of the mesh cups fall and reveal your breasts to his hungry eyes, “look how pretty you are for me,”
You’re close.
“Don’t stop,” He murmurs, shifting under you so that he can sit up further and press his lips to your chest, “I need you to come,”
“Yeo,” You whine, your hips sinking into a quick rolling rhythm that feels so right.
“I need to take my time with you,” He confesses, lips traveling from the center of your chest across the swell of your breasts, “but I don’t think I can,”
“I-I don’t want you to,” You moan, wrapping an arm around his shoulders to stay steady, “please,”
“I want to,” He groans, “but, fuck, y/n,”
“Yeo,” You shudder, pleasure snapping up and down your spine, “it’s not one night, it could have never been one night for me,”
He exhales a heavy breath against your skin, hands tightening pleasantly on your rutting hips.
You’re startlingly close to tipping over the edge, the bubble growing closer and closer to bursting, and you squeeze your eyes shut tightly to focus on the sensation of him, “I-I need,”
He grips you harder, “Tell me, baby,”
“I, I,” You stammer, body stumbling towards coming.
“Come on,” He says lowly, “tell me what you need, baby, I’m right here,”
A tight sound bubbles out of your mouth and you figure it out in a second, your hand winding into the back of his hair to direct his head, pushing his mouth until you feel his lips ghost over your pebbled nipple.
“Oh,” He groans, his tongue catching your nipple firmly and sending a shock down your back, “there we go, I’ve got you,”
His tongue flicks over your nipple again, closing his lips over the hardened bud to suck sharply in exactly the way you need to take you right over the edge.
“I’m,” You grip him harder, losing yourself entirely now as you grind against him for your release, “I’m so close,”
“Come,” He pants, latching back onto your breast to keep lavishing the same attention, his arms banding tightly around you to hold your shuddering body close.
Your finger tightens in his hair, he begs you once more to come, and your orgasm knocks into you sideways. You moan sharply, jerking against him as you fall apart, and you feel him start to move.
He presses fast kisses across your chest, his voice soothing, “Oh, there we go,” he sighs as he feels you trembling, “fuck, what a good girl showing me exactly what she needs,”
His words draw a groan from your lips, your head buzzing at his praise.
“Perfect,” He sighs against your chest, “you have the prettiest tits I’ve ever seen,”
You shiver, “Yeah?”
“Mhm,” His fingers trace a circle around your nipple, and something in the way he’s touching you and the sound of his voice tells you everything. He’s about to tease you, edge you, make you come, and god willing he was about to fuck you. Yeosang flicks his thumb over your nipple and smiles, “Baby, I’m going to turn you over, if you want to slow down or stop at anytime you just tell me,”
“I think I’ll be,” You start to say, and then he maneuvers you quickly in his strong arms, gathering you close so he can turn you over on the couch, leaving you lying flat on your back against the cushions. You squeak and the way he pushes your legs together, quickly undoing the buttons on your trousers and pulling down the zip, and he glances up at the sound to check your eyes but finds nothing but your lazy post-orgasm smile.
As he kneels and strips your trousers off he groans, “God,”
“W-what’s wrong?” You blink, finding his eyes.
“Absolutely nothing,” He smooths his hands up and down your bare legs, “except I’m finding it very difficult not being inside you yet,”
“So come inside me,” You smile.
The corner of his mouth turns up at your words, “Already, baby? It’s only the first date,”
You process your words and roll your eyes, “You know what I meant,”
“I do,” He smiles wider now, “but you need to come again before I fuck you,”
“Not that I’m complaining about you touching me,” You gasp sharply as he hooks his thumbs under the sides of your thong and yanks it away, “but I’ve been daydreaming about your cock for months, so,”
He laughs sharply, tugging his own shirt up and off over his head as he does, “I’m flattered,”
“Shut up,” You press your thighs together and let your head flop back onto the cushions.
“Darling,” Yeosang says, kissing each of your thighs before he starts to slowly open your legs again, “how long has it been since you’ve been with someone?”
“Honestly?” You grimace, “A while,”
“And how long since you’ve had anything bigger than your fingers inside you?” He asks it so plainly, so calmly, while he widens your legs and starts to tip you open, another kiss to your inner thigh.
You shiver in his hands, “N-not that long,”
“Hmm,” He sounds pleased at that, “do you like using toys when you fuck yourself to my voice?”
“Fuck,” You gasp as his finger traces the softest line up and down your slit.
“Is that a yes?” He blows a cool stream of air across your throbbing clit and you jerk in his hands.
“Yes,” You answer quickly.
“What I wouldn’t give to watch that,” He says, kissing your inner thigh again before he continues, “but still, I’m probably bigger than your dildo, be patient with me,”
“Oh, fuck,” You melt as he presses one finger inside your slick channel.
“Relax,” He soothes you, “just let go for me,”
You don’t know how your life is this strange, how you went from listening to this man through your headphones while you touched yourself under the covers alone at home to his fingers sinking inside you. You’ll probably wake up from this dream with sticky thighs. There’s no way this is real.
Those are the thoughts that dizzy you until he pushes two fingers flush into your heat and you moan sharply, your hand gripping down on one of the couch throw pillows. He feels pretty real.
He groans, gently pumping his middle and ring finger just to get you used to the sensation, “Feel good?”
“So good,” You sigh.
“How badly do you need to come, darling?” He asks, continuing the slow and steady thrust of his fingers.
“So badly,” Your voice is whiny, needy, entirely informed by the feverish heat spreading through you.
“Pretty girl,” He hums, “with an even prettier pussy,”
“Oh, god,” You grip the pillows harder, and he’s barely doing anything to you but your legs are already starting to tremble.
“Mmm,” His fingers begin to pulse more firmly and you feel his fingers curl, finding the spongy crook of your g-spot with practiced ease, “and you need my cock inside, don’t you?”
“Ah, yes! Yes,” Pleasure blooms through your body.
“Soon,” He promises.
You moan again as he repositions, continuing the steady drumbeat of his fingers inside you as he reaches around with his opposite hand to separate your lower lips, the pad of his middle finger now alternating between maddening flicks and taps to your clit.
“Ah! Yeo,” Your hips rock, “just like that,”
“Good girl,” He murmurs, “telling me what you like,”
A tight sensation fills your lower belly, a blossoming heat that spreads from your core up through your body in warm waves, “F-faster,”
“Mm,” His thrusting picks up speed instantly, the angle slightly adjusting as he does, “that’s it,”
The angle chance has his curled fingers pumping against your g-spot hard and suddenly the sensation drops low, almost painfully tight and sharp like you’re on the precipice of something.
It occurs to you all at once what he’s trying to do, the way he’s trying to make your body sing, and despite the rolling waves of pleasure and how close you are to your second release, you don’t necessarily want the first time you squirt to be on Yeosang’s floor.
“B-baby,” You whine, the pet name slipping off your tongue, “I’m gonna, I think, oh fuck,”
“Fuck yes,” His fingers flatten down over your clit and he rubs fast, slickly rolling over your firm bud, “let go,”
“I can’t,” You shake your head, sweat breaking out across your brow, “I’ve n-never, oh, fuck, Yeosang!”
“Come,” He commands softly, “that’s it, you come, right here, baby,”
He’s not stopping, and with the way he’s working you there’s no way you could even if you tried. In a snap your body releases hard, a sensation like nothing you’ve ever felt pulsing through your slick cunt and your legs jerk, hips snapping up as clear fluid pulses out of you. The sound that leaves your lips is wanton, broken and needy, and your ears are very clearly ringing.
“Oh, fuck,” Yeosang hums, almost to himself, rubbing fast across your soaked slit to help coax every bit of slick from your center, “oh, baby, look at you,”
Your legs try to snap shut at the suddenly sharp overstimulation, but all he does is take that as his cue to stop directly stimulating you and instead drop the warm flat of his tongue over every inch of your glistening pussy. You gasp sharply at the feeling, rolling your head forwards so that you can look down between your legs, and you moan softly at the sight.
He’s buried between your thighs, lazily licking stripes up your inner thighs and over your cunt, but slowly enough that his aim isn’t to draw you into another orgasm, he just wants to taste you. To feel you on his tongue and ease you through your little aftershocks.
“God,” You breathe after a moment, “oh, my god,”
He chuckles, kissing the top of your mound, “Was that your first time?”
You nod, still trying to catch your breath.
He groans a little, palming his hard cock through his trousers to readjust, “That’s an ego boost, I’m not going to lie,”
You manage a laugh despite your dizzy, orgasm fogged brain, “Yeah?”
“Mhm,” He strokes your thigh, “if you’re not careful I might get addicted to the way you taste when you come,”
A shudder runs through you, “You can’t just say things like that,”
“It’s not a lie,” He says, “I’d spend a whole night between these thighs if you’ll let me,”
“Mm,” You sigh, reaching down for him and brushing your fingers through his long, dark hair.
“Now?” He cocks his head slightly to the side, “If you want my mouth, you just have to ask,”
You shake your head, slowly starting to push yourself into a sitting position and slide your hips away from him, “Not tonight,”
“What more can I give you tonight?” He murmurs, running his hands up and down your bare thighs, “Anything you want,”
You cup his face, drawing him close to lock your lips on his, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and nuzzling into his nose, “Take me to bed, please, Yeosang,”
“Let’s go,” He agrees, extricating himself from your arms so he can stand and offer you a hand up.
You take it, but as you do you realize the wet puddle on the floor in front of the couch and you blush dark red, covering your mouth with your hand, “I’m so sorry,”
“For what?” He blinks at you, and then follows your nervous eyes.
“I didn’t realize,” You start to say but he interrupts you with a hard kiss.
“Relax,” He says, “if we’re lucky you’ll make a mess of my room too,”
“I don’t know how I did it,”
He laughs again, “I do,” he smiles, “now come on, I need to see you in my bed before I combust,”
He tugs your hand, leading you down the hall until you’re in a large master bedroom. Your eyes flick over the details - industrial, warm wood, dark green sheets, soft ambient lighting. You’re about to comment on it, but he flips you back around to face him and captures your mouth in another hungry kiss.
“God,” He backs you up to the edge of the bed, dropping you down and falling over you, “tell me I can have you,”
“You have me,” You pant against his mouth, all thoughts of his lovely interior decor gone in an instant when you feel the hard shaft of his cock nestled between your thighs.
“I swear next time we’ll go slow,” He grinds his hips down, rolling his length up and down your slit, only the thin fabric of his trousers separating you.
“Please,” You buck against him, “I need you right now,”
“Fuck,” His hands are hot, searching, “is that right, darling?”
“Inside me,” Your hands scramble to find his waistband, “please,”
He nods, lips still pressed against yours, and then he leans back just enough to undo his trousers and start to push down his pants and boxer briefs.
Your mouth runs dry immediately. He wasn’t wrong about his size. You have fairly large dildos at home, thick and long and perfect for reaching all the spots you need it to, but Yeosang was bigger, thicker and longer than anything you’ve ever had inside you.
“Condom?” He manages as he shucks off his pants.
You blink, tearing your eyes away from his perfect, aching cock and nod, “We probably should?”
“Right,” He doesn’t push you to make a different choice, he simply searches his nightstand for a moment and produces a foil packet.
He strokes his cock twice while he tears the packet open with his teeth, before watching you beneath him as he rolls the condom smoothly down his length, adjusting it so that it fits perfectly.
You’re trembling with anticipation, you can feel it and so can he.
“y/n,” He murmurs, leaning over you and pressing a hand beneath your back to finally unclip your bra, “I want you to do something for me,”
You nod, sliding the cardigan and bra off your body and pushing them over the edge of the bed.
He grabs a firm looking pillow and folds it in half, “Lift your hips for me,”
You lift up and he slides the pillow right under your backside to leave you propped up and open for him.
“If it doesn’t feel good,” He murmurs as he maneuvers you into the position he wants, “or if I’m hurting you at all, just tell me,”
You nod.
“And I want you to tell me when you’re about to come,” He instructs, “I need to know,”
You nod again, your stomach flipping with desire.
He licks his lips, folding your legs open a little wider and slotting himself over you. He settles with one hand on your raised hip, the other braced on the bed by your head, his knees on the edge of the mattress between your splayed thighs.
His cock finally, finally, nudges at your entrance and you grip down on the sheets below you.
“Mm,” He groans, sinking just an inch or two into your tight heat, “you’re even tighter than I thought,”
He pushes in a little more and you moan at the stretch, “Oh, god,”
“Do I feel that good, babygirl?” He teases, pushing in a little more.
“So good,” You lift your head to watch the way his thick length splits you open.
“I am bigger than your toys, aren’t I?” He rolls his hips this time, rocking himself deeper with every little thrust.
“Y-yes,” You nod, your head dropping back to the mattress.
“Can you take me, baby?” He murmurs low.
“Fuck yes,” Your hips buck up again on their own as he opens you up, nearly fully sheathed inside you.
“Just a little more,” He says, his hand tightening on your hip, “there we go, fuck, that’s it, you’re taking me so beautifully, baby,”
Tears rush to your eyes, not from any kind of discomfort, but just from the overwhelming sensation of him. You’ve never been so full, never been so deliciously stretched and had these parts of you touched, and it rushes a blush to your chest and emotion through your veins.
His fingers brush along your jaw, bringing your eyes to his, “Good tears, or should we stop?”
“If you stop I’ll actually cry,” You laugh, blinking away the hazy sheen in your eyes, “you feel so fucking good,”
“Oh,” He sighs, thrusting gently in and out of you, “what a good, good girl, you are,”
“Jesus,” You shiver beneath him.
“Yeah?” He starts to move now, just a bit more, rocking his cock at a steady pace in and out of your wet core, “You like when I tell you how good you are for me?”
“Yes,” You moan, a shock of hot pleasure spiking up from your core, “please,”
“Such a good girl letting me fuck her perfect pussy on the first date,” His voice has dropped low again, husky and direct, and you babble out a sound of pleasure as he talks, “so warm and wet,”
“Fuck, fuck,” Your eyes roll.
He collapses over you a little more, his desperate lips searching for yours and the angle deepens, pushing his cock deeper and deeper inside you with every downward thrust of his hips.
You grip his shoulders, nails digging into his warm skin, “Baby,” you pant, “your cock, oh god,”
He hums against your cheek, head falling slack as his lips find your throat, sucking your pulse points and no doubt searing his mark into your tender skin. He pumps his hips harder and you moan under him, cursing again and scrambling to hold him closer.
“Such a dirty mouth,” He nips at your neck, “are you always like this, or is my cock that special?”
All you can manage is a taught moan in response, his cockhead now continuously connecting with your sweet spot over and over and rendering you unable to string a coherent thought together.
He groans at the way your cunt flutters and spasms and he kisses you hard, fingers tangling in your hair, “One of these days I’ll feel you for real,” he pants, “nothing between my cock and your sweet cunt,”
Your back arches, your mind spinning at the thought, “Yeo,” you moan.
“Fuck,” He chokes, “the way you’re squeezing me,”
You make a tight sound, something between a pleasured whine and a sob, and his hips stutter and stop, pressing his cock in as deep as possible as he grips down on whatever parts of you he can, breathing hot and heavy against your skin.
You can’t really move well in this position, but your hips rock in tiny back and forth motions to try and keep the sensation rolling through you. He’s panting into your shoulder, clearly trying to keep himself from coming too soon, and your mind commits to an idea before you have a second to double check yourself.
“Yeo,” You tap his arm, “baby I need to move,”
He pushes off you, his cock sliding out of your soaked core and you leg your legs straighten out, “What’s wrong,”
The words are barely off his tongue before you’re sitting up, grabbing his hand and drawing him back to the bed, pushing him onto his back with a guiding hand to his shoulder. He lets you lead, watching you as you put him where you want him this time, and he smiles, eyes flicking over you appreciatively.
“I need you,” Is all the explanation you can give, and maybe with a stranger this is foolish, borderline stupid, but you know him. He’s not a stranger really, not to you.
With a feverish pulse of need inside you, you shift to straddle his hips, and with quick, sure hands you roll the condom up from the base of his cock and toss it to the side.
“y/n,” He manages, but you’re lifting yourself over him now and his hands fly up to brace your waist, “are you sure?”
“So sure,” You connect his cockhead with your slick hole and drop your hips down fast, taking the whole hard length of him inside you in one smooth motion.
It’s his turn to moan, his head dropping back at the sensation of your wet walls and he grips at you, his hips stuttering beneath you.
“God,” He bucks up into you, “you’re perfect,”
“So are you,” You rock against him, finding the perfect place for your hands on his chest, “you’re so deep,”
He moans again, and when you start to bounce up and down he curses tightly.
“J-just don’t come inside me,” You keep bouncing, a steady fluid motion in your hips that you can tell is driving him crazy, but you have to keep your head at least a little.
“F-fuck,” He groans, his jaw tightening as his eyes flick down to the place your bodies are joined together, “you’re making that kind of difficult,”
“I just wanted to feel you,” Your shaking arms buckle a little and you find yourself flush against his chest while you work his cock.
“Me too,” His hands find your ass again and he starts to direct the pace, “God, I could fuck you forever,”
A moan drops from your mouth, your hands tightening on his chest.
“Don’t stop,” He urges you, and you realize your hips slowed at his words, “you feel so good riding me like that,”
Your thighs are burning already, but you hardly care, every fast shift up and down leaves you closer and closer, “Love you cock,”
“Mm, yeah? Say that again,”
“I,” You curse as a spike of pleasure rolls through you, “fuck, I love your cock,”
“Good girl,” He grips you tight, his hips jutting up to meet you now.
Your pace falters slightly, “Please, please,”
“I’ve got you,” He adjusts just enough to hold you steady as he fucks up into your tight heat, “I’ve got you,”
You moan, dropping your head into his chest and shuddering against him, “Baby, oh fuck,”
“A-are you close, jagi?” He pants, fingers digging into your hips so hard you know you’ll have bruises.
“Don’t stop,” You beg, “please, god, don’t stop,”
He groans, keeping the pace of his thrusts and using his hands on your ass to maneuver you to meet his hips.
“Shit,” You shudder in his arms, your orgasm fast approaching, “I’m coming,”
“Come here,” He shifts you fast, rolling you up and off him and manhandling you up to your feet.
You make a surprised noise at the lack of him inside you when you were getting so close, but you don’t have to worry for very long. Before you can open your mouth he has you standing, facing away from him, and bent over ninety degrees to brace your hands on the bed.
He thrusts back inside you sharply, slamming his hips into yours and leaving you moaning and curling in on yourself, your legs starting to tremble.
“Come on my cock, pretty girl,” He palms your ass before planting his hands on your hips and using the leverage to pull you back into each of his thrusts, “you’re so close,”
Your eyes slam shut, fisting the sheets as you hang on, every sharp push of his cock driving deeper and deeper. You’re going to have bruises, you’re going to be sore, but none of it matters when he’s making you feel this good.
You sob out a moan, collapsing forward into the bedding but he holds you up, “I can’t,”
“Yes, you can,” He pants, his sweat slick skin connecting again and again with yours.
“Fuck,” You groan, “I’m almost, I’m so,”
“Touch your yourself,” He directs, interrupting your pleasured ramblings, “rub your clit for me, baby,”
You slide a hand between your legs, locating your slick bud with ease and rolling your fingers over it quickly.
“Fuck, there you are,” He groans, “that’s right, baby, come on my cock,”
The same new sensation drops in your gut, your legs start to shake and you’re fairly sure that without his sure hands you’d be crumbling.
“That’s it,” He coaxes you up, never once slowing the sharp snaps of his hips, “there you go, that’s my good girl,”
Something unravels in your gut and you come with a shout, folding in on yourself as your legs quake and your mind whites out. Yeosang wraps his arms around you, curling over your back to keep you steady, and his cock slips free so he can stimulate you through your orgasm with his fingers, more liquid pulsing out of you as he fucks you over the edge.
You’re a quivering mess, and he lets you drop into the sheets, pushing you onto your back so he can stand over you, one hand fisting his slick cock.
“I’m coming,” He groans, “w-where?”
Your hands cup your breasts automatically, and you arch up to offer yourself to him, “On me, baby, come all over me,”
Yeosang groans sharply, his hips thrusting into his tight grip as ropes of silvery white cum paint your skin, covering your belly and breasts and dripping down your chest. He’s panting, his skin flushed pink and sweat covering every inch of his toned chest.
It takes you both a moment to recover, both trembling in the same position as you try to regain your breath, but after a few moments he smiles a hazy, satisfied smile and finds your eyes, “You’re so beautiful,”
Suddenly you feel a bit shy, even despite everything you’ve just done together.
“So beautiful,” He sighs again, pushing his hair back out of his face, and then he drops to his knees.
He hushes your soft protests and this time he tastes you slowly, but with intention. After such rough, intense sex, he follows it with the softest, slowest orgasm you’ve ever had. With slow sucks and gentle licks he brings you through a languid rolling wave that softens your limbs and leaves you sleepy and pliant in the sheets.
You drift, falling into sleep too easily for a first date in a sort of stranger’s apartment.
You wake a little later to a warm sensation on your skin, and you blink your eyes open to see Yeosang sitting next you, freshly showered and wearing black sweatpants and a familiar blank tank top. He draws the wet washcloth over your skin and then stops and smiles when he sees your eyes open.
“Hey,” He murmurs.
“Hi,” You reply softly, “I didn’t mean to fall asleep,”
He shakes his head, “Don’t be sorry,”
“I think you scrambled my brain a little,” You laugh, covering your face with your hands.
“Hopefully in a good way,” He nudges you.
“Beyond good,” You look up at him, “are you kidding?”
He smiles a little wider, “Good,” he says, “I drew you a bath,”
“Oh,” Your eyebrows raise.
“I thought you might be sore,” He explains, “I know I was a little rough, I hope you’re not feeling it too much,”
You shake your head, “Just a little, but in a good way,”
He nods, “Does the bath sound nice, or would you prefer a shower?”
“Bath is perfect,” You can see that he’s suddenly a little nervous, back to the same man from your date, no trace of Ryu’s husky tones.
“Here,” He offers you his hands to help you up, and guides you towards the connected bathroom suite. It’s large, crisp and clean, and in the corner stands a large spa-like tub filled high with warm water.
“Thank you,” You murmur as he helps you slip into the cocoon of water, the subtle scent of lavender wafting up from the steam.
“Mhm,” He nods, pulling a bamboo stool from the side of the sink and setting it down so he can sit at the edge of the tub and be at eye level with you.
“This is nice,” You murmur, still finding yourself a little shy in the post-orgasm clarity of it all.
He’s quiet for a moment, his fingertips dragging over the surface of the water and then he bites his lip.
Your stomach sinks for a moment, nerves coming back tenfold at the idea that maybe he’d prefer you to go after this, maybe this is all you’d ever have. Maybe he reconsidered what you know about his online persona and maybe he wasn’t willing to take the leap.
“y/n,” He sighs, “this might be forward,”
You look up from the rippling water.
“But what do you think about staying the night? We could order some dessert, maybe keep getting to know each other a little?” He asks.
You can’t fight the smile that blooms over your face, “I thought you might have changed your mind,”
“No,” He reaches into the water to find your hand, twining your fingers together, “not at all.”
“Yeah?” You squeeze his hand.
“I’d be crazy to let this be a one-time thing,” He lifts your hand from the bath and presses a kiss to the back, “I hope you feel the same.”
“I really do,” You twist to the side, leaning over to find his mouth and lock your lips together.
Yeosang cups your cheek, deepening the kiss tenderly, his tongue sweeping against yours, “What are you doing tomorrow night, then?”
“Tomorrow?” You lean back a little.
“Let me take you out again,” He kisses you again, softly this time, “I’m probably supposed to wait a few days, Wooyoung would tell me I seem too eager, but,”
“Who cares about that?” You grin, leaning out of the bath far enough to wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him, “It’s a date,”
“And Sunday?” His hands slide down your back.
You nuzzle his nose with yours, “I have a date,”
“Oh,” He says, deflating instantly.
“You might know him,” You tease, “he owns this lovely little cafe,”
He laughs, his forehead leaning on yours, “You’re mean,”
Getting stuck in the backseat of your friend’s car after a night out with your drunk friends wasn’t how you thought of ending the night, especially not on Mingi’s lap.
Genre/warnings: smut, pwp, forced proximity, technically exhibitionism but not because no one ends up noticing, fingering, light choking and wrist pining, riding, cream pies, orgasms, something is going on in the backseat…, furcoat mingi
word count: 3.3K (what the fucK)
a/n: y'all be eating fucking good fr. Also shout out to my loml @bro-atz for helping out with the plot a little <3 shout out to mingi brain rot!
She shrugs. “My boyfriend and a couple of his friends. You know them.” Well, you’ve definitely met a couple of your friend’s boyfriend’s friends before. Your eyes scan the crowd and sure enough, you spot familiar faces.
And then your eyes rest on a particular male—his hair dyed platinum and slicked back, already drawing attention because of his height alongside his fur coat that hung over his shoulders. You never thought someone could pull off a fur coat that well actually. A pair of glasses sits on his nose bridge, which seems to somehow accentuate how sharp his eyes are. He’s been on your radar since he appeared on a mutual friend’s Instagram.
“He’s pretty cute isn’t he?”, your friend’s date pushes, lightly bumping his arm against yours.
You cast him a glance. “Just surprised that there are people who still wear fur coats in this economy.”
“That’s-“
“Song Mingi”, you reply, not taking notice of your friend’s boyfriend’s surprised expression.
“You know him?”
“Came across him”, you reply a little too quickly. You sure as hell were not about to spill the truth.
He definitely looks and is intimidating for sure, especially when he opens his mouth to speak, his voice so low that it tickles your ears. You could hear him talk forever, you think. You could imagine how he moans in your ears.
You blink. The fuck?
And so, for the past hour or so, you’ve been stealing glances at the blond male, but unfortunately, there was only so much staring could do, and it was not helping you get the male’s attention. Sure, the both of you actually followed each other (you were surprised when he followed you back), and the way he liked your stories sometimes made your stomach grow butterflies, but you never actually interacted with him in real life.
It wasn’t until the party was slowing down, when you came back from being distracted by another friend, was when you realise Mingi was gone. A ping of disappointment fills you up, but it’s not as horrendous as the feeling of regret—for not just going up to talk to him. You wonder when you’ll see him again.
You decide to find your friend and call it a night.
“Do you wanna hitch a ride with us?”, your friend asks, uselessly trying to balance herself, her partner holding onto her waist.
“The driver didn’t drink, I promise”, your friend’s partner assures.
You open the car door and your eyes widen when you spot Mingi.
You whip your head to your friend to ask her sincewhen Mingi came with the friend group but you realise you wouldn’t be getting any concrete answers from a tipsy person.
You glance back at the male donned in the maroon fur coat, who seems rather surprised when he sees that you were the one who opened the car door.
But Mingi’s expression remains indifferent—god knows what he’s thinking about but you swore you saw a tint of something in his eyes when your friends told you to just sit on his lap because “the car had no space”.
“Hi, y/n”, Mingi’s deep voice calling your name is kept in a bottle and stored at the back of your head.
“Hey Mingi”, you greet back, cautiously approaching him.
“Are you okay with this?” You ask, testing the waters by putting your weight on his left thigh.
“It’s fine. I’m just worried that it’s gonna be uncomfortable for you since it’s gonna take a while to reach your place right?”
Right. You nod in defeat.
Your body jolts slightly when you feel Mingi’s touch burn against your skin—especially your thighs.
His friend on the passenger seat has the aux cord and he’s picked out a song to blast in the speakers. You feel goosebumps bloom across the nape of your neck when Mingi’s voice hits your ear from behind.
“Sorry, you might need to move in a little more, Princess. We have three more squeezing with us at the back.”
You blink, processing the information before internally thanking the universe that the car is dark so the red flushing against your cheeks gets hidden.
Soon you find yourself fully on Mingi’s lap, and although you try not to lean too much against him, you realise the position feels awkward, and when Mingi personally shifts you with his hands instead, you decide to stay put.
The energy in the car is high, even after all that partying, which you easily deduce to be due to the alcohol. Unfortunately, you couldn’t be singing along at the top of your lungs, not when you’re subconsciously aware that Mingi is just behind you.
Sitting on someone’s lap was definitely not as comfortable as sitting on a car seat, and that was a given, so you find yourself shifting constantly, not realising Mingi closing his fists every time your ass shifts against him, particularly his crotch.
Suddenly you feel the weight below you shift. Mingi’s arm wraps around your waist, his weight pressing against you. You stay put the moment you feel his lips barely inches away from the shell of your ear.
“I strongly suggest you try to stay still, y/n, or it’ll become a problem for the both of us.”
You turn your head slightly, barely enough to capture him within your peripherals. At first, you wonder if you’re starting to annoy him, but when you feel his hands slide down to your thighs and something hard pressing against your ass, you get your answer.
And you wonder how far you should take this.
Your face is heating up, at the idea you’re just sitting on Mingi’s thick erection, separated by the fabric of his pants and the ridiculously thin fabric of your body con dress. You wonder about his size, which only gets more vivid since you’re literally sitting right on his fucking cock—how thick he would be, how much he would stretch you open, and it’s making you slowly drench your panties.
The more his erection is blatantly pressing against you, the more you can’t help but fidget on his lap. You’re wondering why Mingi hasn’t said anything, you wonder if he even felt it at all. The moment that thought forms in your brain, you pick out what sounded like low groans from behind you. Then you feel Mingi’s fingers press against your bare thighs, just this fucking close to lifting your dress.
Mingi shifts against you, his hard cock now even more prominent against your ass—directly below your pussy if it wasn’t for the fact that there were layers of annoying fabric keeping them apart.
His deep voice is like a melody in your ear, “I’m closing an eye if you’re just doing this on accident, but there’s only so much more grinding I can take princess.”
You glance over to the company seated just right beside you—they are still singing their hearts out thanks to the self-assigned DJ of the car. The music was still blasting, and you realise you and Mingi are slowly forming another world—one growing of hot and heavy air.
You’re trying to weigh your options and risks, but the constant friction of Mingi’s cock just poking you through his pants mixed with the light buzz from the alcohol earlier is keeping you less than logical.
You lean back, the back of your head resting on his shoulder, feeling the thick coat tickle your cheeks, taking in the scent of his cologne that you swear only he could pull off, the boldness rushing into your veins like adrenaline.
“And if I said it wasn’t an accident?”
You don’t know what he might do next, but it’s making your legs tremble by the second. Your clit is fucking throbbing from the sheer anticipation.
Mingi’s eyes dart to glance at you while his head remains positioned straight, before he presses himself onto you with a smirk against your ears, “Right. Glad we cleared that up, princess.”
His hands press on the sides of your throat, two fingers tipping your jaw to turn your head to face him as he clashes his lips against yours, and you’re ready for him to just take whatever the fuck you have left. You’re doing your best to muffle your moans through the kisses, but as every second passes, you’re ready to give into it—mostly scream his fucking name into the night at this point.
Your eyes are so glazed out, your pussy throbbing and drenched, your mind so sexually frustrated the more Mingi keeps you waiting. Mingi’s fingers trail along your bare thighs, his legs forcing yours to stay open, easily letting the gather of your dress push upwards, while his fingers push your panties to the side. You hear him mutter fuck when your wet cunt drenches his fingers. He barely drags his fingers over your clit, yet you already feel like you’re about to burst.
“Are you gonna be a good girl and stay quiet for me?” Mingi asks, sinking his gaze into yours. You swallow hard and nod, so fucking entranced by his sharp eyes behind the glasses, and alongside the fact that his fingers are rubbing circles on your clit.
“Fuck me. You’re so fucking wet for me”, he hisses, eating up your moans as he fits his thick fingers into your pussy, filling you up instantly. Oh god. You feel your mind completely blank out at the sensation of Song Mingi stretching you out.
You swear that the wet sounds of Mingi’s fingers fucking your sopping cunt were louder than the music, but for some reason, and thank fuck, no one else seemed to notice. Yet.
His other hand clasps over your mouth as he watches your eyes roll back, your desperate and satisfied moans muffled every time his thumb presses against your clit while his fingers fill you up again and again.
You shouldn’t have agreed to stay quiet.
Mingi’s legs are strong as fuck because his knees keep your legs from snapping shut as you let the feeling build in your stomach. Your hips are involuntarily bucking against his fingers, craving for him to fuck his fingers deeper. Shit. You can’t seem to get enough. He releases his hand off your mouth for a while, letting it wander to your tits, rolling your nipples over your dress with his fingers, listening to you pant and whimper.
“Can’t wait to fuck your tight cunt once we get off”, he mutters into your ear, increasing his pressure on your clit.
“Please… fuck! Mingi…” you trail, not even sure what you’re begging for at this point. But the knot tightens hard and taut. You’re about to snap anytime soon.
“Cum on my fingers for me, y/n. Show me how your cunt is gonna feel like when my cock is gonna stuff you full.”
His hand goes back to clamping over your mouth to muffle your cries while your orgasm rips through your body. Your eyes roll back, and your back arched against his abdomen, the pleasure spreading through every nerve while he’s still fucking you with his fingers, enjoying the way you’re completely undone because of him. Your cunt can’t seem to stop spasming and it’s only from his fucking fingers.
But it slowly wears off, and he releases his hand from your mouth, letting you catch your breath.
His fingers slowly leave your spent and creamy cunt, and for a split second, you’re almost disappointed. You turn your head, watching Mingi slide his stained fingers past his lips, licking them clean, and his eyes locked onto you.
“You taste so fucking good, Princess”, he whispers, before his hands are on your throat again, pulling you in for a wet kiss, and you taste yourself on his tongue, your face heating up at his words once more.
The split second you pull away from him is when the music stops, and you hear your name being called.
“Y/n!”
Your eyes widen, and Mingi lowers his knees, letting you quickly shut your legs, letting his arm rest close to your legs, blocked by his fur coat. Thank fuck you’re in the dark.
“This is your stop right?” Your friend asks before she turns on the interior car lights. You glance at the apartment building and sure enough, it is your apartment building.
“Right”, you manage to answer with a forced smile.
And as you are about to leave the car, Mingi suddenly announces, “I’ll send her up. Don’t wait for me.” He takes off his fur coat, draping it over your shoulders, quickly turning away as he pushes the car door open, ignoring the suggestive looks his group of friends were giving him before curtly saying his goodbyes and shutting the car door.
Mingi is pretty much gentle with you as the both of you head up to your apartment, asking if you’re feeling cold, even though he’s only in a black tank top. You can’t help but gawk at how he looks even under shitty elevator lights—still so fucking hot. His fingers haven’t let go of yours yet since the both of you left the car, and he sure isn’t letting you go when the both of you reach to the door of your apartment.
You feel so ridiculous in this oversized fur coat, but the fact that Mingi’s smell is just all over it makes you turn a blind eye to it.
You unlock the door, pushing it open, the post nut clarity hitting, but the realisation of Mingi in a private space with you sending you mind into the gutter.
And suddenly you feel your cunt throb again. Fuckin hell.
“Cute place you have there”, he comments, slipping his shoes off.
“I try to make the most out of it”, you return, taking off the fur coat, handing it back to him.
Mingi pauses, staying near the door.
“I got no clue why I left the car like that, y/n. If you want me to leave, I can just call a cab and-“
His mouth runs, watching the way you’re walking towards him, and his lips snap shut when you pull him in for an open mouth kiss, his thoughts completely disappearing like they never existed.
“Finish what you started, Minki”, you whisper when you pull away.
For once, you like the way red looks on his pretty face, the red that disappears when he catches on, eye fucking you while thinking how fucking hot you look under normal apartment lights than the dim lights.
His hands cup the back of your neck before his fingers are on your scalp, tugging your hair to face him, letting his lips collide with yours. You taste him so much more intensely now, and fuck does he taste like heaven.
You feel his hands leave your head, going for your wrists instead, and he backs you up against the wall, deciding to pin your fucking wrists against the wall while stealing all of the oxygen you have left in between pants.
His fingers trail down so lightly across your skin, you feel like you’re about to combust.
“Is the couch fine for you?” He asks. You nod, just internally begging him to do anything to you.
His hands slip down to your thighs, carrying you up in his arms, kissing and sucking against the skin of your neck while he navigates through your apartment. When he does find the couch (rather quickly), he lets you fall onto it, watching the way your dress rides up higher to your hips, your soaked panties coming into view, and his cock growing hard once more.
“You know, you’re honestly killing me with that dress”, Mingi comments, his fingers tugging off your drenched panties, almost salivating over your glistening cunt. “Had to hold back from just pulling you out and fucking you.”
Oh, fucking gods.
“That’s why we’re here now, aren’t we?” You tease, watching his satisfied grin grow bigger.
You can’t wait for him to fuck your brains out.
Mingi squats, letting his face press against your bare cunt, giving licks up, his tongue pressing against your clit while holding your legs apart. He thinks your whimpers and begs are like a fucking symphony—and he could listen to them over and over again while he breaks you, over and over again.
It doesn’t last long, unfortunately, because he feels like he’s about to burst the longer he waits, his cock bulging against the fabric of his pants.
So Mingi unbuckles his pants, pushing them down along with his underwear, his thick and long cock springs from his apparel, wet and decorated in thick precum. He gives himself quick strokes, amused by the way your face is turning a soft shade of pink.
His thick fingers once again hold your wrists above you, lining his cock up to your pretty hole and pushing himself in, his girth taking up all space instantly. You see stars splatter beneath your eyelids as his cock stretches you out—thick and heavy.
“Fuck. Song Mingi-“ you cry out, struggling against his grasp.
“So fuckin tight, princess. Fuck, you feel so fucking good”, he sighs, letting himself bottom out in you, relishing in the way your face completely contorts into pleasure when he’s fully seated in you.
And when he starts fucking you, your eyes roll back—the feeling of his cock pumping in and out of you switching off most of your senses.
You sense his arms pining your wrists are growing tired, so you do your best to tap his arm, and Mingi lets go, watching you slide his wrist down to your throat.
You sure know how to push his buttons.
He applies pressure and it hits all the perfect spots. A choked moan escapes you while he fucks you dumb.
“I’d love to choke you more, princess, but I really need you to ride me right now”, Mingi whispers, his fingers leaving your throat, and he pulls his cock out.
You climb onto his lap, lining his cock before you push yourself down, his fullness knocking the wind out of you once more.
“Are you gonna take all of my cum like a good girl?” He hums, wiping away the tears from your eyes. You nod weakly, biting your lip.
“That’s my good girl”, he compliments, and it makes your heart fucking soar. Mingi bounces you on his cock, groaning at the way you’re squeezing around him. “Fuck, squeeze me just like that. God, your pussy feels so fucking amazing, princess.”
“Mingi, I’m so close. Oh fuck I’m gonna-“
Mingi only holds your thighs down, watching you shake, feeling your cunt just clenching down and flutter on his cock, cream seeping down his shaft, and he groans in your ear, keeping himself deep in your pussy, his thick cum flooding into your tight cunt, listening to you curse while he forces you to ride out your high.
“So fucking good. Mingi…” you mutter through tears and hiccup, letting Mingi kiss your tears before he slowly pulls his wet cock out of you, satisfied at the way his cum slowly trickles out of you while you catch your breath.
Mingi waits for your mind to slowly clear, and you climb off him, but your fingers stay interlocked with his.
“We can wash up and order food if you want”, you say, trying to avoid the fact that you’re still flushing slightly considering Song Mingi made a wreck out of you.
But he pulls you along with him.
“An invitation to shower together? I’ll gladly fuckin take it, princess.”
Summary: You just wanted to lose your virginity—no drama, no strings attached. What you didn’t expect was for your friend Mingi to make it that good. One wild night, a lot of firsts, and maybe… just maybe, a reason to do it all over again.
WC: 10.5k
⚠️ warnings: smut, first times, virgin!reader, oral sex (f/m), vaginal sex, dry humping, dirty talk, praise kink, voice kink (kinda), big dick Mingi (canon, right?)
An: sorry about the wc, I just really like Mingi 🫠
Ⴡ Masterlist
You got dumped again. Yeah, seriously. At this point, it was getting old. But no matter how frustrating it was, you knew exactly what the problem was, and it wasn’t something you could just fix overnight.
You were… inexperienced.
Going to college after a lifetime of being smothered by overprotective parents meant they had successfully sent you off as a virgin. And for a while, that was fine. It wasn’t a big deal—until people started acting like you were some kind of loser just because you hadn’t fucked anyone yet.
And the guys? Every single one you tried dating was the same. Either they wanted to get into your pants before the first drink was even finished, or they pretended to be patient—like they weren’t just waiting for the moment you’d cave. You might be inexperienced, but you weren’t stupid. And as much as you wanted to get it over with, you couldn’t do it with just anyone.
But after getting dumped for the third time in two months, you decided to do something about it. Something had to change. You wished you’d just handled it back in high school like everyone else, but that ship had sailed.
Your friends told you to just ask one of your guy friends to help you out. Which sounded easy enough… until you actually pictured doing it, and embarrassment nearly killed you on the spot.
Still, if you wanted to lose your virginity, your options were limited. The random guys you’d been trying to date were too impatient, too pushy, and way too stupid.
Which meant your only real option was actually asking a friend. But which one?
You had a few options, but you needed someone who wouldn’t laugh in your face or make things weird. Someone who’d get that this was just a favor, not a relationship.
Okay. That made things a little easier.
Maybe Mingi? You’d been friends for years, you went to the same college now, and he was definitely experienced enough to help. Plus, he already knew you were a virgin, so at least you wouldn’t have to explain that part.
But how were you supposed to ask him?
Like… “Hey, I need someone to fuck me so I can finally lose my virginity and date like a normal person”?
Yeah. That didn’t sound awkward at all. Well, you would have to try. Maybe it would be less awkward if you could text him…
You: Hey! You good? Look… I kinda need to talk to you about something.
Mingi: Hey, pretty. Long time since we talked, wanna hang out at that coffee place you like?
You: Sure, we can meet there after class. Byeee, see ya.
Well, if you couldn’t even type the question, saying it out loud was going to be a nightmare. But you had to try. No backing out now.
After class, you went straight to the coffee shop and ordered your usual before Mingi arrived. The second you saw him walk through the door, your stomach dropped, a cold, nervous, oh-god-what-am-I-doing panic settling in. You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down.
“Hey! Still buried in your books, nerd?”
“Yeah, and it’s been causing me some problems.” Mainly the one you were about to dump on him. “What about you? Still hitting up every party?”
“Not as much. Kinda got tired of it.”
That… was a surprise.
“Oh. Right.”
He ordered his drink, then leaned on the table, watching you. “So… what did you wanna talk about?”
Okay. You can do it.
“Uh… so… I don’t even know how to say this, Mingi.” You took a slow sip of your way too large Americano, trying to find the right words. “I mean, it might be a lot to ask, but I’m kinda out of options.”
He tilted his head, waiting.
“I got dumped again yesterday. And look, I know these guys are assholes and not worth my time, but it keeps happening because I’m a virgin. And I feel like… it’s really getting in my way, you know?”
“Uh… I don’t.”
“Of course you don’t.” You groaned, shifting in your seat. “Okay, what I’m asking… it’s just a favor, that’s all. I really want to lose my virginity, and I really don’t want it to be with those idiots I’ve been dating.”
Mingi blinked. Then blinked again.
“You’re asking me… to take your virginity?” His eyebrows shot up, his expression somewhere between shock and did I hear that right? “…Is that what’s happening here?”
“Yeah… I mean…” You trailed off, shifting uncomfortably.
Mingi still looked shocked, but you could tell—this whole situation was doing wonders for his already massive ego.
“I gotta ask… why me?” He leaned back slightly, arms crossed, clearly enjoying this a little too much. “You have a few friends.”
You sighed.
“You already know I’m a virgin. And you also know I’m not an idiot.” You glanced down at your drink, feeling your face heat up. “We’ve been friends for years, and I don’t know… I trust you.”
Mingi didn’t say anything right away, and the silence made your stomach twist.
“But if this is too much,” you added quickly, forcing a laugh, “just forget I ever said anything. And then I’ll dig a hole in the ground and hide from you for the rest of my life.”
“Relax, I was just curious,” Mingi said, holding back a grin. “Of course, I can help you with that. I think any guy in the world would.”
You rolled your eyes. His ego was thriving.
“But,” he continued, tilting his head again, making that cute puppy face at you “I gotta ask… how far have you actually gone?”
You exhaled sharply. Alright. You can do this. You weren’t exactly the type to chat about your sex life—or lack thereof—but considering you’d just asked Mingi to take your virginity, honesty was kinda mandatory at this point.
“Huh… I…”
“Oral? Fingering?” He had zero shame. Which, good for him. Terrible for you.
You cleared your throat.
“No. And… yes.”
“And did you ever… you know, finish from it?”
“Nope. Only by myself.”
That bit of information seemed to stir something in him. His expression flickered between offended and genuinely shocked.
“Damn. So the guys were really that bad, huh?” He shook his head, exhaling like this was personally upsetting. “Yeah, okay. We’re definitely not jumping straight to it, that’d be traumatizing.”
Your eyes narrowed. “What exactly are you suggesting…?”
“That we take it step by step.” He leaned in slightly, voice a little lower, a little slower. “I can’t just… do it. I mean, it’s already a painful experience for most girls, and it’d be a hell of a lot easier for you if we… prepped first.”
You were already blushing because of his lower voice. It got worse.
“Oh…OH…”
“Yeah. Well, that’s my one condition if I’m gonna help you.”
“Okay… I guess.” You swallowed, fingers tightening around your cup. “So, uh… when do we start?”
Mingi shrugged, finishing his coffee.
“You can come over tonight if you want. My roommate’s out.”
He set his cup down and looked at you expectantly. You, on the other hand, were frozen.
That soon?
You did want to get this over with. But you’d kinda imagined having some time to mentally prepare. Then again… maybe not thinking too much about it was the better option. If you gave yourself too much time, you might just chicken out entirely.
“Okay. So…”
“We can go now,” Mingi said, already standing up. “It’s getting dark anyway.” He waited for you to do the same, then tilted his head before asking you. “You’re really sure about this?”
“Yeah, I’m sure. I can ask you to stop anytime, right?”
“Of course.”
You nodded, but your mind was already spinning. You couldn’t stop thinking about what you were about to do—and who you were about to do it with. But the truth was, you had no idea what was actually going to happen. Mingi had been clear, this wasn’t going to be just jumping into it.
So… were you two just going to make out and see where it led?
Jesus. Just thinking about that made your stomach flip.
You hadn’t really considered how weird this could get, but for some reason, you still felt safe about it. Mingi was a lot of things, kind of a fuckboy, sure, but he wasn’t a liar. If something felt off, he’d tell you. You just knew that.
As soon as you got to his place, Mingi gestured for you to sit on the couch before heading to the kitchen. A moment later, he came back with two cans of beer, handing you one. The silence was already killing you.
“Drink,” he said, popping open his can. “Might help you relax. You’re really tense.”
“Yeah, I am… thanks.” You exhaled, cracking yours open. “I was just about to ask for one.”
Mingi smirked before sinking into the couch beside you. “So… tell me more about these guys you dated. They’re really dumping you just because you’re a virgin?”
“Yeah… I mean, they always try to get in my pants, and when I don’t let them, they just… lose interest.” You shrugged, taking a sip. “I don’t even always tell them I’m a virgin. I don’t need that getting around and people making fun of me, you know? So I just let them assume I’m, like, frigid or something.”
“They’re just assholes.” He paused, tilting his head. “But, like… your virginity… it’s not something important to you?”
“Not exactly…” You sighed, swirling the beer in your can. “I just wish I’d gotten over it when I was younger, like all my friends did. But you know my parents.”
Mingi nodded. He definitely knew.
“I just couldn’t do it with some random guy,” you continued. “That would’ve been awful.”
“Yeah,” he murmured, watching you. “I get that.”
“And I know you’re very experienced, so…”
Mingi chuckled, finishing off his beer and setting the empty can on the coffee table.
“I wouldn’t say very… Just… enough.”
Oh. His voice. The way he looked at you.
There it was.
That shift in the air, the kind of tension you could feel settling between you. You took a slow, deep breath, then placed your empty can next to his.
“If you say so…”
“So… whenever you’re ready, pretty.”
Your stomach flipped again.
“Can we… kiss?”
Mingi’s lips curved into a small, knowing smile. “Yeah. That’d be a great start. I told you… I wanna take things slow.”
You were already sitting close, so all it took was him leaning in, a slight tilt of his head, a shift in the air between you. You mirrored him, your breath catching just before your lips met.
Soft. Damn, his lips were soft… and so plump.
So far, nothing too unfamiliar. You let yourself ease into it, testing the feel of him. But then his tongue brushed over your lips before slipping into your mouth, meeting yours in a slow, teasing slide. And that… that sent a rush of heat straight through you.
In just seconds, that shy kiss turned into something messy, wet, hot, needy. Damn it. You could feel the effect between your legs, heat pooling inside your panties. And just when you thought it couldn’t get worse, Mingi chuckled, that deep, lazy sound vibrating against your skin as he trailed kisses down your chin, your neck.
“How you feeling?” he murmured against your throat, his voice low, teasing.
“G-good…”
His lips curved against your skin. “Hm… you’re pressing your thighs together.” Another kiss, right under your jaw. “Already horny?”
God. You swallowed hard. Why were you suddenly so shy?
“Uh… yes.”
Mingi hummed like he expected that answer.
“Ever dry-humped someone before?”
“No… never.”
Another smirk, he was such a tease… and then, two slow taps against his thigh.
“Come here. Sit on my lap.”
You hesitated for half a second before obeying, standing up just to settle yourself over him. His thighs… fuck. Thick. Comfortable. Solid under you. And even through his jeans, you could feel him. He was hard, very.
“Good girl.” Those words hit you in a very specific way…
Your hands rested on his broad shoulders as you kissed him again. Embarrassment still lingered somewhere in the back of your mind, but it was quickly drowned out by the heat pooling deep in your core. You let your body take over, responding to him—the kissing, the touching… the way his big hands gripped your waist, strong and steady.
“Come on, baby. Grind on me.”
Oh, fuck.
You felt those words straight between your legs, a sharp pulse of need making you clench so hard you whimpered against his lips.
Mingi groaned, his hands sliding down to cup your ass, guiding you into motion, urging you to move against him. Against his hard cock pressing through his jeans. Against his thick thighs.
“Just like that…” The delicious friction sent sparks up your spine, and soon enough, you were moving all on your own, chasing more of it. “Don’t stop.”
“Mingi… fuck!”
You ground down harder, a little faster, just enough to push you right over the edge. The orgasm hit you in waves, leaving you shivering and whimpering in his lap as his hands held you steady. He murmured soft praises, his voice thick with something dangerous, something that made your toes curl. Wow, that was really fast.
And all you could think was: Holy shit! You just had the best orgasm of your life. From grinding on your friend. And you didn’t know how you were supposed to feel about that, but you were just fine for now.
“So… was it good?” Mingi chuckled against your neck, his lips trailing soft, teasing kisses back up to your mouth. “You good?”
“Yeah, but… I feel… uh…” You pulled back just enough to catch your breath, to think. “I don’t know. I just came, but I’m still…”
Needy. You didn’t have to say.
His lips curled into a smirk, and you didn’t even know you like that pretty face of him that much.
“We can keep going if you want to.”
“What would be the next step? Since you wanna take things slow.”
“Hm…” He tilted his head, considering. “Maybe I can make you feel good with my fingers. If you’re okay with that.”
Your brain short-circuited for a second. Because fuck. Your panties were soaked, embarrassingly wet just from kissing and grinding against him. But you were still throbbing, still desperate for more.
So you just… nodded.
“Yeah… it’s fine.”
Still perched on his lap, you hesitated before shifting off him, kneeling on the couch beside him. Your legs felt shaky, but not from exhaustion, no. It was pure anticipation.
Mingi followed, sliding down to kneel on the floor in front of you, his eyes dark and hungry as he leaned in.
“You want me to take your shorts off, or you wanna do it yourself?” He murmured the words against your lips, stealing a quick peck before trailing his fingers down to the waistband of your shorts.
“Y-you can do it…”
His touch was slow, deliberate, as he unbuttoned your shorts and slid them down, pushing them aside like they were nothing.
Then, his hands settled on your hips, his thumbs rubbing slow, soothing circles against your skin.
“Wanna keep the panties on?” His voice was low, husky. “I can still make you feel good like this, if you’re not ready to take them off.”
You should’ve been embarrassed. Should’ve felt shy about the way he was staring at you, at your pussy, taking in the obvious wet stain darkening the fabric.
But you weren’t.
Because he looked wrecked just from seeing you like this. And you loved that, really turned you on even more.
“...It’s okay,” you whispered. “You can take them off too. I mean… there’s no point feeling shy now, right?” Your breath hitched. “You’re gonna see my pussy anyway…”
“Hm…” He chuckled at your words, fingers toying with the waistband of your panties. “So… you told me you’ve been fingered before, right? How was it for you?”
You hesitated for a second before exhaling, remembering the times you let that happen.
“It was always rushed. Like… in the backseat of a car, or some dark corner in a club. Sometimes it just felt uncomfortable. Sometimes a little painful…”
Mingi hummed, his fingers slipping lower, tracing light patterns over the fabric.
“So has anyone actually seen this pretty pussy, baby?” His voice had dropped, thick with something you couldn’t quite name. “Am I really the first?”
Your breath hitched as he hooked his fingers under the elastic, dragging your panties down slowly, revealing your mound first, then the rest as you lifted your hips just enough to help him.
“Yes… you are.”
“Fuck.” His exhale was heavy, like he was struggling. His hands smoothed over your bare thighs, slow and teasing, while you instinctively pressed your legs together. You had just told him there was no point in feeling shy, but still… his eyes on you like that made your skin burn. Mingi let out a soft, amused hum, his lower voice killing you. “You don’t have to be embarrassed, baby.” His thumbs brushed gently along the inside of your thighs. “But I need you to talk to me, okay? I don’t want you to feel any pain.”
You nodded, but he wasn’t done.
“Good girl.” He said that again, making you shiver once more at his words. His lips curled into something dangerously soft, dangerously sweet. “Now… spread your legs for me.” His voice was just sinful, God. “Let me see you.”
Even with a lingering trace of shyness, you spread your legs for him. Mingi let out a sound that looked like a moan, his eyes locked onto your glistening pussy like he was savoring the sight. You knew you were dripping, could feel it pooling beneath you, and the thought alone made you squeeze your eyes shut, bracing for his touch.
“Nah-ah.” His voice was pure, silken dominance. A soft kiss landed on your thigh, his warm palm resting against your belly. “Eyes on me, baby. I wanna see every little reaction. So behave, and look at me while I touch you, okay?”
Your breath hitched, but you obeyed, blinking up at him, cheeks burning under the weight of his gaze.
Mingi started slow, his fingers first trailing over your mound, teasing, barely there, making you ache for more. Then, with the lightest pressure, he dipped lower, parting your folds, gathering your slick on his fingertips. You whimpered when he finally brushed over your clit, already swollen, already throbbing for him.
“Fuck, you’re so wet…” His voice was rougher now, and when he pressed down on your clit, moving in slow, deliberate circles, your body reacted instantly. Your thighs threatened to snap shut, but his free hand kept you open.
“Talk to me, baby.” He smirked at you, making your cheeks burn again. “You like it when I touch you here?”
“Y-yes… feels so good, Mingi…” Your voice was barely more than a breathy moan, your chest rising and falling rapidly. God, what was this man doing to you?
“Good…” He kept up the slow, torturous rhythm, circling, sliding, making sure you felt every second of it. And then he smirked again, eyes flickering down between your legs. “I can see you clenching…” His fingers teased lower, brushing over your dripping hole, but never pushing in. “You want a finger inside this pretty pussy, huh?”
“Yes… please.”
You’d never felt like this before. Sure, you’d touched yourself before—your fingers, the desperate grind against your pillow. But this? Craving someone else's touch this badly? That was new.
“Yeah?” Mingi’s voice was warm, teasing, his breath fanning against your skin. “Alright, baby. Gonna put it in now. Tell me if it hurts, I’ll stop right away.”
He played with your clit for a second longer, making you squirm, before twisting his wrist and easing his middle finger inside you. He slid in easily—too easily—because you were already so wet, dripping onto his palm.
“Fuck…” He exhaled, watching the way you clenched around him, his voice thick with something almost reverent. “You’re clenching around my finger so tight, baby. Tell me how it feels.”
“Hm… it’s okay. No pain…” Your words were soft, airy, but your body was already responding to him, hips shifting just the slightest bit, searching for more.
“Yeah?” He started moving, slow thrusts, just the tip at first, then deeper, dragging against your walls in slow, deliberate strokes. “You like it like this? Or maybe…” He let his finger sink all the way in, curling it just right, hitting somewhere entirely new inside you.
A moan ripped from your throat before you could stop it.
Mingi chuckled, clearly pleased. “I think I have my answer… Looks like I just found your G-spot.”
“It’s… embarrassing that I couldn’t find it myself…”
“Mm, it’s fine, baby…” His tone was honeyed sin, smooth and coaxing. “It’s kinda deep, see?” He pushed in again, curling that single finger right against the spot, making your body jolt. “Here… this spongy little place… this is where you’re most sensitive inside.”
Another slow press, another deliberate curl of his finger, sending a shudder down your spine, leaving you gasping.
“Feels… different…”
“A good different? Or do you want me to stop?”
“No… keep going. It’s good… really good…”
“Mm…” He smirked, his free hand sliding down to find your clit, circling it in slow, teasing motions while his finger pressed against that spot inside you over and over again. “Like this, baby? Feels good?”
“Yes…” Your voice was breathy, almost desperate. It felt too good—like nothing you’d ever experienced before. You had no idea your body could respond like this, that just one finger could unravel you so easily. But now you knew. And you needed more. “Don’t stop…”
Mingi hummed in approval, his movements shifting, pressing into your G-spot with more precision, rubbing your clit with just the right amount of pressure. It was overwhelming, the pleasure washing over you in such an intense way it left you breathless. Your hips had a mind of their own now, rolling into his touch, grinding against his hand as you chased the high building inside you.
“That’s it, baby…” His voice was low, dripping with praise. “Keep riding my fingers like that… fuck, you look so pretty like this…”
You felt something building inside you—something different. A weird kind of pressure you’d never felt during an orgasm before. It made you panic a little.
“Mingi… feels weird.” But it still felt good, so you didn’t stop. You kept grinding against his hand, chasing the high.
“Weird how? Talk to me.”
“Like I’m gonna… pee…” you admitted, your voice small, embarrassed.
“Mmh…” He didn’t sound the least bit bothered. “Wanna try letting go, baby? You might squirt if you do. It’ll feel so good…”
But you couldn’t. The sensation was too intense, too unfamiliar. And the idea of actually doing that in front of him made your whole body tense up.
“I can’t… I just wanna cum, please… make me cum…”
He kissed your thigh again, soft and reassuring, his finger still buried deep inside you. But now his focus shifted. His other hand is working your clit in that perfect way. God, he knew exactly what he was doing.
“Come on, baby… cum on my fingers. Keep moving, just like that…”
You did. And it hit you hard. Your orgasm crashed over you, stealing your breath, making your legs tremble uncontrollably. You couldn’t even speak, so you just moaned and whimpered as he worked you through it, drawing it out until you were spent.
Then he slowly pulled his finger out and, without breaking eye contact, brought it to his mouth and licked it clean. The sight alone made your pussy clench again.
“You taste so fucking good…”
You bit your lower lip, trying to hold back a moan, because fuck. He wasn’t even touching you anymore.
“So…” Mingi sat back down beside you, his tone playful. “How was it for you?”
You let out a breathy laugh, still recovering. “That was amazing… thank you. Uh—” your hand moved to his thigh, remembering how you’d been grinding on it minutes ago, “—want me to return the favor?”
“Not today, pretty. Tonight was all about figuring out what you like.”
“Well, mission accomplished.”
“Next time we can try adding another finger… if you’re up for it. Maybe I could eat you out, too.”
“You really wanna do that?”
He looked at you like you were crazy.
“What kind of question is that?” His eyes dropped briefly to your bare skin. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“I don’t know… Some guys just don’t like giving head, I guess.”
“Straight guys? I don’t think I know anyone like that. Shit… were your exes that kind of loser?”
“One of them… maybe two.”
“Yeah, they probably didn’t like girls to begin with.” He laughed, shaking his head. “But me? I love eating pussy. You’re so damn responsive… so sensitive. Probably ‘cause you’re a virgin. Honestly, I had a lot of fun today.”
You smiled, cheeks warm. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“It is!” He gave you one of his cutest smiles, like he wasn’t just talking about eating you out a minute ago.
“Wanna crash here or want me to take you home?”
“I don’t know… I think I could stay on your couch.”
“Damn, do you think I’m an asshole or something?” He laughed, but it had a bit of a bitter edge to it. “You can use my bed. I mean, if you want, we can share. It’s big, and I don’t mind. But if it makes you uncomfortable, I’ll take the couch.”
“Calm down, Mingi… I just don’t wanna bother.”
“We’re friends, relax. So, bed or couch?”
“We can share the bed, I don’t mind.” You were just a little embarrassed, but it was fine. “Give me one of your shirts or something so I can sleep.”
“Wanna shower?” You did. You were still a mess, sticky and flustered, adjusting your clothes like it would help somehow. “Go ahead, I’ll order some food.”
Mingi was so sweet you couldn’t help but feel safe there, like actually comfortable. That post-makeout awkwardness you usually felt with guys? Nonexistent. Maybe it was because he was your friend, and it really felt like he cared.
You took a long, needed shower, and when you were done, he handed you a pair of boxers, some comfy shorts, and a soft oversized shirt like you’d asked. He’d ordered Chinese, and you ate with him while watching TV like nothing had just happened between you—chatting about college, life, random stuff. At some point, you were barely keeping your eyes open.
“Let’s go to bed. It’s pretty late,” he said, turning off the TV and getting up. “I’m gonna shower. You can go ahead and sleep if you want.”
So you did. You headed to his room, crawled into his bed and immediately sank into the smell of his sheets. That soft, clean scent of his cologne was everywhere. Your brain briefly panicked about what you’d tell your roommate the next day, assuming you’d even tell her anything. But she'd probably annoy you until you did.
You were drifting off when you heard Mingi come in. He had a towel slung low around his hips, and you peeked—just a little—before shutting your eyes again. He changed, then slipped into bed right beside you, and suddenly your heart was racing. He smelled like soap, like shampoo, like everything warm and familiar, and holy shit, all you wanted to do was reach out and touch him. But you didn’t. You forced yourself to stay still, and eventually, you managed to fall asleep.
But nothing—nothing—could’ve prepared you for the morning.
You woke up to a warm weight draped over your waist. At first, you almost ignored it… until you remembered you weren’t in your bed. You weren’t in your room. You were at Mingi’s. And his arm was on your waist.
And then it all came rushing back… the way his finger felt inside you, the things he said, the way you came so hard you couldn’t speak… and now? Now he was pressed right up against you, and very clearly hard. You could feel his cock resting against your lower back, thick and hot even through the fabric, and you really, really didn’t want to freak out.
But fuck.
How?
You shifted your hips, just a little, enough to grind back into him, slow and deliberate, because you wanted to feel him. All of him.
Mingi mumbled something low, half-asleep, and pulled you closer, spooning you tight, his breath warm against your neck. The way it made you shiver? Unfair. You bit back a soft moan, trying to keep it together.
You couldn’t stop wondering… was this just morning wood? Or was he actually turned on?
But the way he was holding you, not moving away, letting your ass press right up against him like that… yeah, it could definitely be both.
“Hey…” His voice was deep and rough, soaked in sleep, and it went straight to your core. “You doing that on purpose?”
“I was just… trying to feel you.”
Your voice came out breathier than you expected. He let out a low groan, somewhere between sleepy and way too sexy for your own good.
“Then why don’t you just touch it?”
“You want me to touch your dick?” You didn’t mean to sound so surprised, but damn.
He chuckled against your neck, his body shaking a little with it.
“You did say you wanted to feel me.” Then he rolled onto his back, arms behind his head, shameless and relaxed. “I’m all yours.”
You could see it. The tent in his shorts, the thick bulge straining against the fabric… and shit, it looked huge.
You swallowed hard, your shaky hands practically begging to touch him.
You sat up on the bed, reached for him, and the second your fingers brushed over his clothed length, you felt it. Hard and heavy, all for you. Fuck.
“Shit, baby… want me to take it out for you?”
His voice was low and wrecked, thick with lust, and god, he wanted this just as badly as you did.
“I can do it.” Your fingers slid under his waistband, tugging down his shorts and boxers in one go until his cock sprang free. Thick, flushed, and already leaking, smacking lightly against his stomach. “So big…”
“Yeah?” He wrapped a hand around himself, giving a slow squeeze that made precum beads at the tip. “You like it?”
“Yes…” God, you did. He was pretty, and that wasn't something you'd ever said about a dick before. But his? Fuck, yes. “Let me touch you.”
You weren’t some handjob expert or anything, you’d done it before, sure, but this felt different. Bigger. More intense. More him. Still, you wanted to do it right. You wanted to make him feel good.
Mingi watched you as you wrapped your fingers around him, slow strokes at first, eyes flicking between your hand and your face. His cock twitched in your grip, and that alone made your thighs clench.
He hummed in approval when you squeezed a bit harder, stroking slowly, getting his tip wetter with precum before you could do it a bit faster.
But you wanted more.
You didn’t even think, just leaned in and spit on his cock to help your hands glide easier.
The slick sound it made when you started stroking him faster had you biting your lip, and then came his whimper… breathy, needy, absolutely filthy.
“Fuck… you’re good at this…”
Hearing that lit something in you. Gave you all the confidence you needed to keep going.
You spit on him again, not giving a damn about being messy, and the way Mingi moaned for you… it was the hottest sound you’d ever heard.
You were using both hands now; he was big, too big for just one. It made your hands feel small, and the thought of having his cock inside you? Kinda terrifying… but mostly it just made your pussy clench and drip even more.
“Baby… I’m gonna cum—” he panted, voice desperate, eyes locked on you like he was begging you not to stop.
And you didn’t. You weren’t stopping until you felt his hot load spill across your fingers.
He let out a deep, wrecked moan as he came, hips twitching, cock pulsing in your hands. His cum painted your fingers, spilled onto his belly, his pelvis, so much of it.
God, it was so hot.
You loved the feeling, knowing you made him come like that. Make him lose it with just your hands.
“So…” Mingi was still catching his breath, chest rising and falling. “Now you’ve felt me.”
You laughed under your breath. Yeah, the whole thing started with you just wanting to feel how hard he was. But this? This was so much better.
“Yeah… I liked that. And…” You still had his cum on your fingers, warm and sticky. And you didn’t fight the urge anymore. You brought them to your mouth, licking them clean right in front of him—just like he did with you. “I like your taste too.”
“Fuck, you’re killing me.”
He sat on the bed and pulled you closer, kissing you like he needed it. That caught you off guard. You thought most guys would be grossed out by kissing you after you had their cum in your mouth.
But not Mingi.
He kissed you deep, tongue and all, messy and hot, just the way you liked it.
“Can I do something? Please?” he asked, breathless against your lips.
“What?” You were already dizzy from the kiss alone.
“I wanna eat your pussy…”
You felt heat rush through your whole body. You wanted that, bad. Even if the sunlight was peeking through the window, making everything feel more exposed. There was no way you could say no.
“…Okay.”
You didn’t know exactly what to do, but Mingi did. He gently switched your positions, laying you on your back and climbing over you.
He tugged your shorts off and tossed them aside without looking, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from your pussy. You were soaked, your arousal shining under the light, and it clearly drove him wild.
You didn’t need to be asked, your legs opened for him on their own, desperate to know how it would feel to have his mouth on you.
He kissed your thighs first, slow and wet, his soft lips making obscene sounds against your flushed skin. You couldn’t stop staring at him, he looked like he was enjoying this as much as you.
Your eyes locked, and in that second, you knew: if you wanted him to stop, he would. You felt safe. Even with your legs spread wide open in front of him.
Then his lips met your mound. A chill shot through your spine and you had to fight the urge to squeeze your thighs together.
But Mingi kept you open for him.
He pressed a kiss to your clit first, then started to lick it, slowly, teasing, just getting a taste of you. Watching your reactions.
Your eyes fluttered shut. It was already one of the best things you’d ever felt—and somehow, it got better. He started sucking your clit, flicking his tongue over it, then dipped just the tip of his tongue inside you. Then he was making out with your pussy, completely lost in it.
You wanted to scream. Your whole body was trembling, your chest tight with how good it felt. You couldn’t keep your hips still, you were grinding against his mouth, moaning uncontrollably, fingers tangled in his hair as you pulled him even closer.
You were so close. You could feel yourself falling apart.
And when your orgasm hit, it wrecked you.
Your legs trembled, your stomach clenched, and your moans were so loud you didn’t even register them until your body started to come down.
It was hands down the best orgasm of your life.
Fuck.
Mingi kissed your thighs while you were still trembling, then crawled up your body to press soft kisses to your neck and lips.
You could taste yourself on his tongue, and fuck, that was easily the hottest thing you’d ever done.
“So… did you like it?”
“Are you kidding?” Your voice was barely audible. “That was insanely good.”
“I’m glad.” He let himself drop beside you with a satisfied sigh, stretching lazily. “Hmm… I think we should get some breakfast. But… my roommate might be home already…”
What?
Fuck.
There was someone there? And Mingi just let you moan like that?
“You didn’t think that was worth mentioning before I screamed loud enough for your neighbors to know your name?”
“Nope,” he said, grinning. “Didn’t want you to hold back. But relax. If he heard anything, he won’t care.”
“Fuck, Mingi. I’m so embarrassed.”
“There’s no need. He won’t say anything, and he won’t even know it was you. I’m not telling anyone.”
“…Okay then. Thanks. I guess.”
You didn’t stay in bed much longer. Not because it wasn’t tempting, but because you were starving. You changed back into your clothes from yesterday, and Mingi took you out to your favorite coffee shop so you could have your much-needed morning caffeine.
What surprised you most was how easy everything felt. There was no awkwardness between you two.
You talked about college, cracked dumb jokes, and laughed about random stuff like nothing had happened. Like he hadn’t just made you come harder than anyone ever had.
But then it hit you: a vivid flashback of Mingi’s mouth between your legs, and your thighs clenched on their own. Your cheeks burned instantly.
“What?” he asked, smirking. “You’re blushing.”
“Yeah, I…” Why couldn’t you breathe properly all of a sudden? “Sorry, I just…”
“You were thinking about the dirty stuff we did, huh?” He leaned closer, teasing. “I think you might be ready to really do it.”
“I was… and you think so?”
“Yeah. I figured you might be a little traumatized from the other guys,” he said gently, “but you’re doing fine. So, whenever you feel ready… we can.”
You were speechless. Truth was, you’d felt ready the second he first kissed you. He had been nothing but respectful, never pushing, never rushing, and that made you want him even more.
“…Okay, so what do you think about tonight?”
Mingi raised his eyebrows, looking a little surprised by what you’d just said. You were surprised, too. You thought it would take longer for you to let go like that. But the truth was… you felt ready. And the best part? Him.
You weren’t going to lose your virginity to some random loser. It was going to be with someone you trusted. Someone who cared about you.
“It’s totally up to you. I’m free tonight,” he said with a soft smile, a sweet one this time. “You sure about this?”
“Yeah… I really want to.”
Mingi smiled wider and, like the absolute prince he was, formally invited you on a date. He said he didn’t want to just take you to his place and jump into bed—he wanted to give you the whole experience. And you kinda liked the idea.
He even walked you home. But the moment you stepped into your apartment, your roommate nearly lost her mind.
“Tell me everything!!! You slept with your hot friend, didn’t you?! I saw you two! Holy shit, he’s gorgeous… you’re so fucking lucky.”
“I didn’t…” you muttered, cheeks burning. “Yet.”
You were way too embarrassed to give her all the details, like how he made you moan louder than you ever had in your life. So you just said one thing led to another… and now you had a date.
That was enough to send her into full panic-mode-on-your-behalf. She practically dragged you out of the house to buy lingerie, insisting that if you were finally going to lose your virginity, you needed something sexy. And you knew that she was right.
You found a few beautiful sets. Lacy bras and panties that made you feel way hotter than you expected. But once you bought them, it really hit you: this was happening. You were finally going to have sex.
Fuck.
You still couldn’t believe it.
Back home, your roommate helped you style your hair and pick out an outfit for the night.
She was genuinely happy for you, and you were getting really nervous. But in the best possible way.
“Listen… it might hurt a little. But it’ll feel good after, okay? Just keep that in mind.”
She wasn’t trying to scare you—she was actually being gentle—but it wasn’t exactly helping. “And he’s experienced, right? That’s a very good thing.”
“I know it’s gonna hurt…” Because Mingi was big. Like, the biggest you’d ever seen. “But I’m not really that scared about the pain. I’m more nervous about… what happens after.”
“Like… things getting weird between you two?”
“I don’t think they will…”
And you meant it. Mingi didn’t make things weird. He made you feel safe.
“Then relax,” she said, placing a hand on your shoulder. “And for the love of God, use a condom.”
That made you laugh, even if you weren’t sure why. Maybe because you were quietly freaking out and laughter was the only thing keeping you from losing it.
And yeah… time was running out. He’d be there any minute, and your nerves weren’t exactly calming down.
You took a deep breath, reminding yourself that it was Mingi. You’d already done things with him, intimate things. This was just the next step. You wanted it. And you trusted him. Everything was going to be fine.
Your roommate helped you finish your makeup, soft and glowy, just the way you liked, and a few minutes later, your phone buzzed.
Mingi was calling. He was already downstairs, waiting for you.
When you came down, he was already in the car, parked right in front of your building. As soon as you got in, the scent of his cologne hit you. Clean, expensive, and so him. He looked really good too, even more so in those clothes.
“Hi…” you said, trying not to fall apart while buckling your seatbelt. “Where are you taking me?”
“Well… I know you like Italian food, so I picked a nice Italian restaurant.”
“You’re making me really nervous, you know? I…” your voice was shaky, your breathing unsteady. “I just feel a little weird doing this, like…”
Like it was something serious. That’s what you meant.
“There’s no need to be nervous, you know that, right?” he said gently. “We’ve gone out to eat a bunch of times. The only difference is that tonight, I’m helping you with something… personal.” He smirked, starting the car. “Could’ve happened before, if you wanted.”
“I just don’t want you to think I’m unsure about this. I want it. I’ve been thinking about it all day, actually… it’s just… I don’t know how to explain it.”
“Maybe you’re just overthinking it,” he said, flashing you that same calm, charming smile. “It’s all good. We don’t need to plan every step. Let’s just eat, talk, and see where the night takes us.”
He was right, you knew that. But still, why was your heart racing like that? Damn.
Either way, you managed to calm down a bit when he let you pick the music.
Dinner was amazing. You ate well, sipped on some very good wine, and Mingi showed you just how much of a gentleman he could be on a date. You’d been out with him before, sure, but it never felt like this. This was different. This was a real date.
A few hours passed in what felt like minutes. Eating, drinking, laughing, talking. When the check came, he grabbed it and paid before you could even peek at the price.
As you were leaving the restaurant, his hand found your lower back—guiding you gently, protectively, until you reached the car. That simple touch made you shiver, even though you were way calmer than earlier.
“So…” he said once you were both buckled in. “Wanna go somewhere else?”
The playful tone in his voice helped a lot. You were still a little nervous, sure, but you knew exactly what you wanted now. You weren’t backing out.
“Maybe your place, handsome,” you replied, matching his tone.
He chuckled, turning the engine on. “Not nervous anymore?”
“Just a little. But I’m good.”
“That’s good.”
You looked over at him while he drove, and damn, he looked so good. So relaxed, so confident. You were on a date with a ridiculously hot guy… and you were going to sleep with him. Silly thoughts, maybe. But you couldn’t stop them.
Not long after you left the restaurant, Mingi was already pulling into the parking lot of his building, and you could feel the thick tension between you as soon as you stepped into the elevator. He was acting all relaxed, but you could tell… he was probably just as nervous as you.
When he opened the door to his apartment, you walked into the living room a little faster than you meant to, maybe driven by all that anticipation building inside you. He locked the door behind you and turned the lights on.
“Do you want something to drink…?”
“Not now, but thanks. I’m kinda nervous…” You bit your lower lip, taking a good look at him. God, he looked so good. So fucking good. “Can we… go to your room?”
“I’m kinda nervous too, to be honest. I’m gonna be your first, and I really don’t want this to be a bad experience for you. I’ll try my best.”
“Mingi, I trust you. I really do. I’m not even worried about that…”
“Good… so, we’re both nervous and in the mood. What are we waiting for?”
You chuckled at his words as he guided you to his bedroom. He had changed the sheets, it smelled really nice in there, clean but still like him. You sat right on the edge of his bed and waited as he closed the door behind you.
When he turned around and looked at you, his gaze was so intense, you could feel he was holding something back. And fuck… you couldn’t wait to find out what he was going to do to you.
Mingi sat right next to you, and after making you squirm under his intense stare, he grabbed the back of your neck and pulled you into a rough, hungry kiss. Fuck… it was really happening now. Kissing him wasn’t new, but this time it felt different. It felt hotter, more desperate, like you both couldn’t wait any longer.
Your body was already burning up, and it was like he knew exactly what you needed. Without saying a word, he unzipped your dress and slid it off you like it was nothing, not even giving you a second to overthink it. You let him, kissing him harder, wanting more.
You couldn’t help but silently thank your friend for making you buy that lingerie set, because the second Mingi saw you sitting there in just your bra and panties, he let out the filthiest fucking groan.
He hooked a finger under the strap of your bra, playing with it, before biting your lip and trailing his mouth down your neck. Then, without hesitation, he reached behind you, unhooked your bra with one quick move, and tossed it aside like he couldn’t get it off fast enough.
He was still fully dressed, it didn’t feel fair at all. So you tugged at his shirt, desperate to feel more of him. You had to break the kiss for just a second to pull it off, and that gave you a chance to really look at him… his flushed face, his lips already swollen from how hard you’d been kissing him. You couldn’t help yourself. You had to bite them, suck on them, make him feel just as desperate as you did.
You pushed him back until he was lying flat on the bed, and as soon as he hit the mattress, you climbed on top of him, straddling his hips. This time, it was you who kissed him like you were starving for it, your tongue in his mouth, your hands all over his chest, raking your nails down his skin.
His hands slid down from your waist to your ass, gripping you so hard it almost hurt, squeezing and groping until you couldn’t help but moan into his mouth. He pulled you closer, pressing you down against the bulge in his pants, making you grind against him as your bare tits brushed over his chest.
But he wanted more. He pulled you enough to bury his face in your breasts, licking and sucking your nipples, teasing them with his hot tongue until they were aching. He devoured you, biting just hard enough to make you gasp, his lips marking you, claiming every inch of your skin. Fuck, it felt so good you couldn’t think.
You shifted to kiss him again, grinding shamelessly against his clothed cock, your hips moving on instinct as dirty flashbacks flooded your mind. You could already feel how soaked your panties were, though they barely counted as panties at all. The thin, see-through thong did nothing to hide how wet and desperate you’d gotten for him.
“Baby… I gotta…” He grabbed your hips, holding you still for a second as his hands moved down to unbuckle his pants. You hadn’t even realized how tight they were on him. “Let me take these off.”
As soon as he shoved them down and kicked them away, you climbed right back on top of him, grinding against his cock again, slow and needy. He left his boxers on, but you could already see the wet spot spreading there.
You really wanted to make him feel good, you felt this urge to try something new, it was pulsing inside you. You rested your hands on his chest, slowly breaking the kiss.
“Mingi… can I…” Your fingers slid down to his waistband, teasing, pulling the elastic just enough to catch a glimpse of the neatly trimmed hair there. “Can I suck you off?”
He blinked at you a few times, like he couldn’t quite believe what you’d just said. Of course, you knew you were offering something no man in the world could resist, and you wanted to get that exact reaction out of him. It worked.
“F… fuck. You really wanna do that?” He licked his lips, almost trembling beneath you. “If you really want to… do it. I know I’m gonna fucking love it.”
“It’s my first time…” you murmured, trailing wet kisses along his jaw, down his neck, then over his chest and hard abs. “Tell me how to make you feel good.”
He just nodded, breath hitching, eyes fixed on you as you slid his boxers down, finally freeing his cock. It sprang up, thick and heavy, slapping against his lower belly. Your mouth watered instantly. Fuck… you’d never thought about sucking a dick before, but you needed it, craved the taste of him.
You wet your lips first, then stroked him slowly a few times, just to watch the precum bead at the tip. You leaned in and cleaned it up with your tongue. It tasted a little salty, but it only made you crave more. You licked along his length, making him groan again, a sound that you felt deep between your legs as you clenched harder than you thought was possible.
Wrapping your hand around the base of his cock, you started sucking on the tip, just like your friends had described before. God, you liked his taste, and you were already making a mess with your spit and his precum.
“Just like that, baby… make it wet. I like messy.”
Fuck, his voice. You couldn’t believe how turned on you were just from sucking him off.
You tried to take more of him into your mouth, and you gagged a little when he hit the back of your throat, but the way he moaned almost made you not care at all.
“You’re so pretty sucking dick, baby… keep going…” He caressed your head, holding your hair to get a better view as you started moving a little faster. “Fuck, yes… use your hand too. Like that… fuck. Such a good girl for me.”
You didn’t care if you were choking on his cock or not. You loved being praised like that. You could already feel how wet you were, ready to drip at any second.
You kept using your hand just like he told you to, listening to every instruction, loving how much he kept telling you how good you were at it. You bobbed your head faster, getting used to taking him while jerking him off at the same time. It was hard at first, but now you were doing it easily.
“I don’t wanna cum in your mouth… let's stop here. Let me eat your pussy now.”
He gently pushed you away, watching as a string of spit kept him connected to your swollen lips.
“God, you’re gonna kill me.” He touched your lower lip, running his thumb across it, as if he couldn’t resist praising you. “Lay down and spread those legs for me, huh?”
You used the back of your hand to wipe your chin and happily laid down for him, letting him slide your ruined panties off in a second.
“Fucking God, you’re so wet…” He ran his fingers between your pussy lips, feeling just how slick you were. “Baby got this wet just from sucking my cock?”
Yes, you did. And you were so horny that any trace of embarrassment had already faded. You nodded, spreading your legs a bit more, silently begging him to lick your pussy because you couldn’t wait another second.
Mingi didn’t make you wait. He dived in, eating you out like you were his favorite fucking meal. His groans and moans vibrated against your pussy, his tongue teasing your entrance before he slipped a finger inside, making your head spin. Fuck. You ground down on his face, unable to stop yourself… your whole body was on fire, and you screamed when he added a second finger, the sudden stretch making you shiver under his touch.
There was nothing but pure pleasure. He finger-fucked you so fast and so deep that the obscene wet sounds echoed through the room, proof of how messy and turned on you were.
“Gonna cum… fuck, don’t stop, please…” You clutched at his hair, grinding your pussy against his face, sloppy and desperate. He loved every second of it. So did you.
You tried to close your legs when your orgasm ripped through you, stealing every breath and almost your soul, but he didn’t let you. You whimpered, tried to push him away, but your legs barely worked. He finally stopped touching you, but kept his eyes fixed, watching the way your pussy kept clenching even after you came.
"That was so hot, baby..." When you finally came down from your high, you saw Mingi ripping open the condom and rolling it down his cock. "Ready?"
"Yes. Fuck. Yes." You didn’t mean to sound so desperate, but your pussy wasn’t exactly letting your brain make decisions anymore. Your legs were already spread, your body completely relaxed, and you couldn’t possibly be any wetter. Everything was ready.
"Okay, I’m gonna put it in… slowly. Tell me if you need me to stop, okay?"
He hovered over you, eyes locked on yours, holding himself up with one arm while guiding his cock to your entrance with the other. You felt the pressure, the stretch as he started pushing in—slow, careful. There was pain, but not in a way that made you want to stop. It was… thick. Full. He was big. You knew that. But feeling it? That was something else. And he was barely halfway in.
"God, you’re so big…" You gripped his biceps, biting down on your lip.
"You can take it." He leaned in and kissed your cheek, his voice deep and steady. "It’s just the tip now, but you can take my cock. You’re my good girl, aren’t you?"
You moaned just from hearing him say that. He already knew how much you loved being praised, and when he felt you clenching around him, he groaned.
"Fuck... can I keep going?"
You nodded, bracing yourself, but the pain never got too sharp. He didn’t bottom out just yet, but even half of him made you feel stretched to your limits. Still, the thought of having him completely inside you made your whole body ache for more. You focused on relaxing, breathing slowly.
"Fuck... I want more. Give it to me. Please."
Mingi waited a few seconds, like he needed to be sure you were okay, and then did exactly what you asked. He was so gentle, so patient—you couldn’t have asked for a better first time. And then it happened. His cock slid all the way in, filling you to the hilt.
The feeling was overwhelming. You felt so full, so hot, so incredibly stretched.
"Tell me when I can move."
You pulled him in for a kiss, wrapping your legs around his waist.
"Move... please..."
Nothing could’ve prepared you for that. Not fingers. Not toys. Nothing. It burned at first, but not enough to stop. You were soaked, and the sounds—wet, obscene, addictive—only made you more delirious. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to focus on how he moved inside you, how deep he was, how thick he felt.
But you needed to see it. You looked down, desperate to watch the way your pussy was taking him.
Mingi got the hint. He sat back on his knees, shifting your hips slightly so you could see it happen—see his cock disappearing inside you over and over.
"Play with your clit for me." He grabbed your thighs, his eyes fixed on where you were connected. "Fuck, you're taking me so well..."
You licked your fingers and started rubbing your clit. It was swollen, hypersensitive, and the added stimulation made you moan like a mess. You didn’t care. You just needed more.
"Feels good, baby?" He held himself deep inside you. "Think you can cum for me like that?"
"Yes..." You looked again, watching how slick his cock got each time he slid in. You didn’t stop rubbing, and soon your hips started moving too, chasing that feeling. You felt everything—his size, his weight, the way he hit that same spot his fingers found before—and it made you dizzy.
"You're clenching... keep going, baby. Use my cock. Get yourself off. Cum all over it."
You didn’t hold back. You rode him the way you needed, chasing your high, grinding and moaning and letting go. It didn’t take long. Your body locked up as your orgasm hit, your pussy squeezing him in waves while you screamed, head thrown back, completely undone. Mingi groaned with you, like your pleasure alone was driving him insane.
Your legs were useless now, limp from the intensity. You were still coming down when he started moving again—this time harder, faster, with no hesitation. All you could feel was pleasure.
"You're so hard... I can feel you. So deep..."
"Didn’t think you’d take cock this well, baby... Can I fuck you harder?"
"Yes... fuck me. Wanna feel you cum too."
For a second, you hated the condom, but it didn’t matter. Not when he started pounding into you like that. It was rougher, and you loved every second. Your body was sore but it felt too good to care. You heard his moans, his breath getting shakier as he got closer. He kissed you, bit your neck, and moaned against your lips when he finally came, filling the condom as his cock throbbed inside you.
God, that was insanely good.
You were caressing his back while he tried to catch his breath. You had just lost your virginity, and it felt so good you could barely believe it.
“So… good enough for your first time?” He slowly slid out of you, pulling off the condom and tying it up. “I’m really glad you chose me, gotta say.”
“It was amazing. Thank you… really.”
“You don’t have to thank me. I did you a favor, and as you can see…” He lifted the condom, still full. “I had a great time too. Huh… Did I hurt you?”
“Not at all. And… you know… is this a one-time thing? I’m sorry for asking that right now, it’s just…” You hesitated, suddenly aware of how exposed you were—and not just physically. “I… I don’t know. Forget it.”
“It doesn’t have to be. A one-time thing, I mean. If you want more…”
“I was just thinking that maybe next time you could… skip the condom, maybe?” Your voice dropped a little, more nervous now. “I was a virgin until now, and I take the pill. I just… really want to know how that would feel.”
“So… you’re asking me to creampie you?” He raised an eyebrow, smirking like the cocky bastard he was. “You know that feels like going to heaven, right?”
He looked so hot saying that, so confident, his body still glistening slightly from sweat. You couldn’t stop staring.
“I can do that, of course. Your pussy’s gonna look so pretty dripping with my cum…”
Your cheeks burned instantly, and you had to look away.
“Hm… feeling shy now? Bit too late for that.” He chuckled, tossing the condom aside and lying down beside you, his fingers lazily exploring your chest, your collarbone, your neck. “Ask me whatever you want. I’ll do it. I can be your first for a lot more things, you know.”
“That sounded like an invitation… want to keep me around?”
You turned to your side, facing him, still trying to process everything that just happened. Your legs were sore, your body still buzzing, and your brain felt like it had short-circuited somewhere halfway through.
Mingi looked over at you with that same cocky, satisfied smile, resting one arm under his head.
“I think I'll.”
A second later, he slid closer behind you, pressing his bare chest against your back and wrapping an arm lazily around your waist. You didn’t answer him, it wasn’t necessary. You just tangled your fingers with his and fell asleep.
Somehow, the crazy decision that led you to end up naked in his bed turned out to be the best one you’ve ever made.
⭑ bf!mingi x gf!reader x bestie!yunho
⭑ planning to buy a house, get married and start a family within the next few years, you and mingi are the blueprint for the perfect relationship— until one of yunho’s infamous stories about his intriguing sex life gets stuck in your head for a little too long, and has you curious about spicing up your own sex life.
⭑ smut minors dni, praise, oral/both ways, p in v, degradation, choking, mention of toys, overstim, voyeurism? heavy on dom/sub dynamics, reader is a switch and so is mingi, yunho is a dom, very experimental/educational vibe, mxm
⭑ part one of ? / wc 21.4k
⭑ — this idea came to me late at night and plagued me until i finished writing it. i am obsessed with this trio, this dynamic. i love them so and i hope you do too <3
“You’ve got to be kidding,” Yunho faced the two of you from the twin blue upholstered couch across your living room, his brows slanted, upper lip raised in clear disgust. “Iron Man 2 clears the entire verse, best MCU movie to date.”
You faced your boyfriend with a smile, eyebrows raised, expression saying ‘Are you really gonna take that?’
Lopsided front teeth poked out from his pink, plump lips, a smile that was fighting to keep itself hidden. Mingi shook his head and leaned back, his heavy palm sliding over your knee, “Can’t argue with that, excuse me for wanting to watch Endgame.”
“Psychotic suggestion for movie night,” Yunho says and a disbelieving huff of a laugh falls from his lips right after, “Excuse me for not being in the mood to cry.”
“What if we watch a romcom?” You look between the two who give you wary glances, but don’t respond. “If we’re going to watch a Marvel movie, we’re starting from the beginning and not watching anything else until we finish all of them. Is that something either of you want to commit to?”
They both shrug as if you have all the time in the world, because you do. Every Friday night Yunho came over with snacks and soda in tow, sometimes beer if he had a particularly shitty week, and the three of you sat around your living room shooting the shit until you decided on a movie. It was an unspoken thing, your movie nights, your weekly hangouts, they’d started almost immediately upon moving into your shared apartment with your boyfriend, Mingi, and simply never stopped. Rarely did a week go missed.
You huffed a heavy breath, sinking back into your couch, snuggling up to Mingi. You slid your gaze over to Yunho who held the remote, “What are you waiting for? Everyone knows the first watch is The First Avenger.”
Yunho didn’t respond, but instead pointed the remote toward the TV, his hand completely swallowing the device beneath his palm as he searched the movie and put it on. You tugged the blanket that laid over the back of the couch over yourself and Mingi, laying your head over his shoulder, letting your arms wrap around one of his, letting his warmth seep into you. It’s been years since you’ve seen this movie, since any of you have seen this movie probably, yet your brain wanted to do anything else but pay attention.
With it being days after your period ended you were now nearing dangerous territory, ovulation week, a week your boyfriend adored yet had to physically prepare himself for. You resembled a fucking hormone monster for a long five days, needing your boyfriend at all hours of the day to tame the fire that would not die down inside you. Before Yunho came over Mingi had already taken you six ways to Sunday, you only stopped because Yunho trudged inside your apartment with a six pack and a face contorted with grief.
Another situationship over, he’d said. Not amicably, either.
You didn’t see the big deal, she wasn’t anything special, the girl he was hooking up with six months ago that he ended things with was better for him than this one. But Yunho is Yunho, somehow still a glutton for punishment as if it didn’t completely offset how he was with women, how he fucked. Not that you knew from experience, but from the stories he’s told while five beers deep, lounged out in your living room, complaining to you and your boyfriend, you’ve learned some things.
Things you could not think about right now. Not while your body was begging you to make a baby, not while you were literally laying on your boyfriend, not while Yunho was sitting just across the living room.
Right now was not the time.
But would it ever be the time to think about your boyfriend’s best friend’s sex life?
It’s not that you inherently wanted Yunho. You couldn’t possibly deny a gorgeous man’s beauty, but it wasn’t about wanting Yunho. It was the stories, he never should have opened his fucking mouth– how he naturally slips into dominance with every woman he sleeps with, no, he doesn’t slip, it’s intentional.
Yunho is a Dom. How he instructs, how he expects submission, how he corrects, how he tames.
Your sex life with Mingi was far from dull, Yunho and his stupid stories should be miles from your mind, but you can’t control the thoughts, especially not right now. You untwist your arms from around Mingi’s bicep, letting your palm fall to his thigh, his bare skin feeling like velvet. So soft despite the hair that grew sparsely in that area, you’d give anything to let your tongue lick up the skin, to watch his eyes roll back, to hear his deep groan as you suck a mark into him.
Your thighs tightened at the thought, eyebrows twisting because you know Mingi could feel it, and how he shifted beneath you confirmed it. You tilted your head, peeking up at him with a sheepish look through your lashes, just to be met with a disapproving crinkle between his brows.
You could basically hear his thoughts, Don’t even think about it.
You almost pouted. I need you. Now.
He shook his head once. Not here.
You looked toward the hallway where your bathroom was, that led to your bedroom. We have plenty of options.
He glanced at Yunho, then back at you. When he leaves, I’ll take care of you.
You held his gaze, I can’t wait that long.
He didn’t back down. You can, and you will.
You huffed, shuffling to the side, putting inches of space between yourself and your boyfriend. You caught the sideways glance from Yunho which lasted all of a millisecond before his eyes were back on the screen, watching the movie again. You pouted, arms crossing over your stomach, legs propped up on the coffee table in front of you that was littered with empty bottles of beer and half-filled chip bowls.
Mingi clearly wasn’t going to crack, and you could hold onto your anger until it killed you, so you leaned onto the armrest of the opposite side of the couch, the pillow shoved beneath you not giving a shred of the comfort your boyfriend’s body did. You kept your eyes trained on the screen, brain whirling in frustration and arousal, letting yourself daydream about Yunho’s debauched sex life until your eyes inevitably closed.
You woke to fingers hooking into your waistband, sliding it down your thighs with careful precision, like he didn’t want to wake you. You lifted your hips anyhow, welcoming the head of black hair between your legs, eyes still heavy and low-lidded with sleep. Mingi looked up at you through thick lashes, gaze heavy, his lips slightly parted, as if he’s been waiting for this.
“He just left,” he said like an excuse as your sweatpants hit the floor, black panties folded into the gray fabric, a contrast to your deep hardwood floors. Your back arched on command as he bent down, laying on his stomach, strong arms hooking under your thighs.
“Mm, needed this pussy just as much as she needed me,” he didn’t dare glance back up at you, eyes zeroed in on your center, leaning in just as your legs parted. He started slowly, tongue slipping through your folds, his eyes softly shut, ripping mewls from the back of your throat, low and grumbled, muddled with sleep.
Your hand flew to his hair as your chin tipped back, your neck digging into the uncomfortable armrest, the pillow beneath you doing nothing to soothe the ache. You didn’t care, you barely noticed, not with your boyfriend’s head between your legs, lips wrapped around your clit, sucking just the way you liked. He groaned as you pulled on his roots, tongue flattening against your folds, sliding upward to draw circles into your clit.
You sighed, staring at him through heavy lids, watching as his face contorted in pleasure, how his hips rutted into the cushions at the end of the couch. He pulled a hand from beneath your thigh, ripping his mouth away to spread your folds with his fingers, finally glancing up at you. Noticing your expression, he let out a huff of amusement, lips tilted in a smirk, “Have a good nap?”
Eyebrows knitted in pleasure and anticipation, you nodded, lips parted, fingers that fell to the couch gripping at the fabric. He chuckled as he inserted the tip of his middle finger into your center, earning a gasp from you. With his focus back at your core, he asked, “What had you so worked up?”
You were thankful he kept his eyes down, you couldn’t control the way your eyes widened ever so slightly, couldn’t hide your reaction to the last question you’d expect him to ask. You wished you could avoid the question, you couldn’t answer honestly and say that you were daydreaming about his best friend’s sex life.
You stuttered, “S-Steve Rogers was on the screen.”
He paused, looking back up at you with his eyebrows raised, “Steve Rogers had you ready to fuck me in the bathroom with Yunho, of all people, here?”
You cracked a smile, it was kind of funny, even funnier that it was believable. “Can you blame me?”
“No,” he bid you one more amused glance before he slipped his middle finger inside you, “I can’t.”
You gasped a moan, back arching again, hips bucking up to meet the length of his finger. He pumped it inside of you once, twice before he was curling it, the pad of his finger rubbing up against that spot inside you that made your bones feel like jelly. You were loud now, moans slipping from your lips one after another as he built up a rhythm, his finger curling into you with each thrust, putting pressure where you needed it. When he brought his lips back down to suck on your clit your hands flew to his roots again, holding him there, broken cries leaving your lips, he was so fucking good at this.
He knew how to coax you to orgasm better than you did by now. You supposed after being together for years, he should. You gasped when his teeth grazed your clit, hips bucking into him, curses flying from your lips. “F-fuck,” you hissed, “Yes, Mingi, just like that.”
He grunted in response, feeling your walls tightening around his finger, quickening his pace, the rhythm you needed to push you over the edge. Your legs shook around his head, your breath catching in your throat, shakily inhaling with each wave of pleasure as he brought you to orgasm with ease, movements he’s been perfecting for years now.
“Please tell me you’re planning on fucking me again,” you gave yourself no rest, staring at him through glassy eyes, your body heavy and slightly spent, you didn’t even know what number orgasm you were on today.
“I don’t know if my dick still works,” he sat back on his calves, pulling your body towards him with your hips. One fluid movement, so easy, he was so strong, he could throw you around if he wanted to, god, you wish he wanted to.
You rolled your eyes, arms reaching in front of you to wrap around his biceps, letting your fingers slip beneath the sleeves of his tee shirt as he bent down, bringing his face to yours. “I watched you hump the couch two minutes ago, Mingi.”
“Hey,” he pulled back before you could attach your lips to his, “Don’t make fun of me for that.”
“What?” You smiled, head tilting to the side, “I would never.”
He pouted, bottom lip jutting out, wet and plump and soft, your arms slid up to flatten your hands around his shoulders, pulling him back down. “I think it’s sexy that eating me out makes you desperate.”
He finally kissed you, tongue slipping into your mouth, letting you taste yourself. You hummed, stretching your legs to lay them over his thighs, pulling him into you, where he rutted his hips into yours the second you made contact. You kissed for a while, letting your tongues sloppily lick into each other’s mouths, your hands flying into his hair again, his hands sliding down your torso. You let your mind drift as you kissed, thinking about how he pulled you into him so easily, how much he could rough you up if he wanted to, if he had a dominant bone in his body.
Mingi is a lot of things, but you would never say dominant is one of them. Over six feet tall and so fucking strong, Mingi seemed intimidating until the moment he opened his mouth. Sweet, caring, eager to please, Mingi would do anything for you. He’d fight wars for you, swim across the ocean, you shouldn’t want anything more. You shouldn’t want anything different.
And you don’t. Not really.
Mingi is perfect how he is, you wouldn’t want him any other way. But curious you are, and you couldn’t help but wonder what he’d be like if he treated you like a pet rather than his girlfriend. Would he be anything like how Yunho describes his encounters? Would he be strict, would he control when you came, how you came? Would he choke you, slap you, take you in any way he wanted, instead of what you wanted?
What you wanted was to be fucked, and as Mingi slipped his sweatpants halfway down his flexed thighs and lined himself up with your center, you knew what you wanted would always be his top priority. Song Mingi didn’t know what the word selfish meant.
You didn’t deserve it, you acted like a brat earlier, huffing out of annoyance and putting physical space between you because you didn’t get what you wanted. But instead of punishing you, instead of fucking you only to get himself off, of denying you the pleasure of another orgasm, Mingi woke you up with his face between your legs. Because he knew you, what you wanted, what you needed, and Mingi’s life’s pleasure is making you happy.
You cried out as he sheathed himself inside you, nails painting crescents into his biceps, your eyes flying to the back of your head, flushing out your entire thought process. No, Mingi is perfect, the way he carves himself space inside you as if it’s the first time, every time, is more than you could ever ask for. He leaned back down, barely attaching his lips to yours, only the sounds of your breath and skin slapping against skin to be heard in your living room.
With his hands still wrapped around your hips he tilted them upward, fucking into you harshly, angled to hit that same spot inside you, he wasn’t in the mood to draw this out and you couldn’t blame him. You’ve been insatiable all day, when you woke up, in the car earlier, against the kitchen counter before Yunho came over, you wondered if he had anything left to give you. You slid your hand down between your legs, drawing quick circles over your clit, your jaw falling slack, lips unresponsive against Mingi’s.
“Gonna cum for me already, hmm?” He tried his best to sound like he wasn’t completely losing it, voice strained yet still teasing. His hips stuttering told the truth he tried to hide, he was just as close as you were.
“Yes,” you whispered into his mouth, voice high pitched, on the cusp of orgasm, your hips meeting his thrusts like you couldn’t get him deep enough.
He let his forehead press against yours, both surfaces coated in sweat, mixing together in their meeting, getting a glimpse of his fucked out face was enough to send you over the edge. Your knees tightened around his torso as you came, moans guttural and unabashed, embarrassment might’ve crossed your mind two years ago. But now he’s seen everything, he’s heard everything, he aches for it, if you aren’t cross-eyed and crying into his ear, he knows he isn’t hitting it right.
“Yes, baby, that’s it, so fucking good,” he praises, hands gripping under your thighs, pressing them back, bending you in half. “Gonna fill this pussy up.”
Chest heaving, mouth ajar and unable to close, you could have finished again at the sight of him. Sweat sticking his hair to his forehead, the muscles surrounding his hips peeking out from beneath the hem of his tee, bottom lip tucked between his teeth, Mingi was a vision, a sight to be seen.
“Please,” you begged, voice whiney and desperate, “Wanna feel you cum inside, I need it.”
His thrusts turned erratic, smacking into you harshly, a deep groan leaving his lips as he emptied himself inside you, fingers holding onto your legs tight as he came. Where you wouldn’t usually notice the sharp pain of his grip, your senses were on high alert, the feeling making you moan with him, the pain mixing with the comforting warmth of his cum filling you up. Hypnotizing, addicting, for a moment you thought maybe this wasn’t ovulation brain– maybe this was something you were really curious about.
Maybe something you really wanted to try.
He keeled over, lips finding yours again, palms softly running over where he’d just gripped onto you, soothing the area. Your skin burned under his touch, you wanted him to do it again, harder this time, maybe wrap one of his pretty hands around your throat–
“You’re cut off for the night,” he said into your lips, then pressed a kiss to your cheek. “No more sex.”
“Boo,” you wrapped your arms around his neck, crossing your ankles over his back, “If I keep you here maybe you’ll get hard again.”
He laughed into your cheek, heavy and genuine, “You’re terrifying when you’re ovulating.”
“Says the man who just came inside me,” you pressed a kiss to his hair, then loosened your grip on him. “You want a baby more than I do at this point.”
He shrugs as he sits up, pulling out of you, “Sue me.”
“We have a timeline, Song Mingi.”
Sundresses, swim trunks and margaritas surrounded you, all of your friends bouncing around Seonghwa and Hongjoong’s massive backyard, a ridiculously sized plot of land behind a farm-style rancher that they bought just last year.
Don’t mind the setup, Seonghwa said, We’re still renovating!
Meanwhile an inground pool enclosed by several feet of perfectly laid concrete took over the space just outside the back door, a tiki bar, a patio with a full grill, a table and chairs, couches, a fucking fire pit… We’re still renovating, your ass. It was both perfect and absolutely ridiculous how much they have it together in contrast to yours and Mingi’s one bedroom apartment two towns over.
They wanted to be the house, the place where all your friends and families gathered, the permanent hosts, and damn, did they succeed. They’ve been planning Wooyoung’s going away party ever since he broke the news of his job offer three states away, a bittersweet gathering, both in congratulations for Wooyoung’s raise and sadness that such an important voice in your friend group would be so far away. You hoped it wasn’t permanent, the selfish part of you hoped he hated it and came back to you guys immediately, he was the biggest light amongst you, one of your favorite people to be around, but you were also proud of him for his success, his hard work paying off.
You could hear him laughing now from across the lawn, chatting with his girlfriend, Sana, Jongho and his girlfriend Jihyo, about god knows what, the sound warming your heart while breaking it simultaneously. You’d miss him more than he knew.
“Want another, my love?” Mingi came up behind you where you sat, pressing a swift kiss to your cheek, stealing your glass out of your hand.
You nodded, “Yes, please,” and watched him scurry off toward the tiki bar, Yunho and his date sitting at the teal colored stools lined up on the outside. You watched Yunho’s head turn toward Mingi, how he got off his stool to follow Mingi behind the bar, no doubt to help him make you another margarita.
You turned your head back to the group lounging on the couches, Yeosang and his girlfriend Tzuyu, Hongjoong and Seonghwa, San and his boyfriend Jongin, everyone in the middle of a conversation you had accidentally clocked out of. You crossed your leg over your other one, fixing how your sundress laid over them, trying to ignore the sweaty stick of the summer heat on your skin, the alcohol that warmed your blood doing nothing to cool you down.
Past seven, the sun was still annoyingly bright and agonizing, your hair tied up atop your head, probably matted at this point from the time you spent in the pool earlier.
“...I keep telling you that you need to fire him,” San says to Hongjoong, his top lip bent in irritation, “He’s nothing but a lazy nuisance. If he messes up one more deal, I’m gonna talk to him myself.”
“He just started, San,” Hongjoong shook his head, “Cut the man a break.”
San sips his whiskey instead of responding, his hand laying over Jongin’s knee, and it’s the reminder you needed as to why you initially clocked out of the conversation. You hated when they started talking business– even if that’s how all of them remain close, minus Wooyoung and Jongho, who are old college friends of Mingi and the others. They were all college friends, the group of them in the same fraternity, still close as ever post-grad, even now that so many of them work at the same firm.
You loved when your parties and hangouts stayed free-spirited, light hearted, less talk about work and more stories from their college party days. Those stories you loved, especially the ones that included your boyfriend, the ones that told you exactly who he was before he met you. Not one story was surprising, though, he’s the same lover boy he’s always been, back then just included a lot more keg stands.
You let your eyes drift again, moving back to the tiki bar, where you caught Mingi, Yunho and his date walking towards where you sat around the fire pit. You shot them a tight lipped smile, grateful they were coming to join in on the conversation, hopefully derailing it to something more enjoyable.
“Wooyoung!” Seonghwa called across the lawn, “Why don’t you guys come join us?”
You grabbed your glass from Mingi as he sat down next to you, thanking him before you took a sip. Cold and refreshing, just what you needed to cool you off, tequila and summer was your favorite combination. Yunho sat down beside Mingi, and you watched as his date propped herself on his knee, her hands folded in her lap, crinkling the fabric of her pretty sundress. Yunho sat back, one hand holding his beer, the other haphazardly laid on her thigh as if it was nothing.
You wondered if that’s something he told her to do, or if she chose to sit there herself. There was space next to him, even more space on the couches across from you, surrounding the fire pit. Was that a part of it? Yunho’s game? Maybe it’s not a game, a lifestyle rather than some joke, a clear show of possession so everyone in the circle knew she belonged to Yunho.
Your tongue poked out to swipe over your bottom lip, ripping your eyes away from the pair, shoving the curiosity down. You turned into Mingi, crossing your other leg instead, your entire body leaning into him. You wondered if Mingi would ever ask something like that of you, maybe he would if he ever got jealous enough.
Mingi isn’t the jealous type, though. He never has been. He has full trust in you, and that trust outweighs everything, lingering eyes of others, shameless flirting that you never caught on to. Even that one time where Yeosang’s hand lingered on your forearm for a little too long after too many drinks, telling you how gorgeous you looked in blue, Mingi still didn’t care. He nodded his head with an excited smile and said, I know, right?
You wondered what Yunho would do in that situation. Would he rip your arm away, take you into an unused bedroom, a storage closet even, and remind you who you belonged to? Would he leave marks, trailing from your jaw to your chest, to show who owned you if they stepped too close?
Mingi nudged you with his shoulder, pulling you out of your thoughts, and you looked up to his concerned expression, giving him a small smile. He quietly asked, “You okay? Tired?”
You shrugged, “Was just thinking.”
He leaned over, kissing the top of your head, “Don’t think too hard, I’m starting to see steam coming out of your ears.”
You smiled, a huff of amusement leaving your lips. You don’t even know where you had been staring, if it was at anyone, you needed to control your thoughts, but they were starting to plague you. Especially when you caught Yunho holding up his beer bottle an inch above where it rested on his thigh, how his date immediately caught on, taking the empty glass and standing up to get him another. She was his date, it’s not like she was his girlfriend, someone who knows him well enough to understand his body language without a word being spoken.
The more you saw, the more you understood, the more it made sense. They were playing, even now, in front of everyone. You didn’t like the burning in your gut, the sting of jealousy, the interest it brought you, how a part of you wanted to try being in her situation. If you could be good, if you could pick up on cues so easily, so fast, if you could please. Will she be rewarded for it later? What does that look like?
You ripped your attention away again, blinking, staring down at your margarita held between your fingers. You could be completely wrong, all of this could be innocent, she could be sitting on his lap because she wanted to be there. Maybe she got him another beer because she was being a good date, doting on him. You could be sexualizing it for no reason, which changes the burning in your gut to a burn of shame, embarrassment that you’re sitting with your entire group of friends, once again pondering over Yunho’s sex life.
“What do you say we play beer pong, for old time’s sake?” Wooyoung’s loud voice washed over you like a bucket of cold water, grabbing your attention. Groans and laughter were mixed among the group, and Wooyoung tilted his head, his smile growing larger.
“How old are we?” Jongho smacked his arm, sitting on the side of the chair Jihyo was sitting in, one thigh on either side of the armrest, “Twenty?”
“Come on,” Wooyoung begged, his lips bending to a pout, “When’s the next time you guys are going to see me?”
“Guilt tripping us into playing beer pong,” San shakes his head, a smile on his cheeks, dimples out on display, “Very you– And it worked.”
Wooyoung cheered and Sana turned her gaze your way, meeting your eye, shaking her head with an amused smile on her face. You mirrored her expression, letting your eyes slide to Jihyo and Tzuyu, all four of you mentally preparing to sit on the sidelines while your boyfriends got trashed. All of you would have to deal with their hangovers in the morning.
An hour later, you and the three girls plus Jongin were all seated just off to the side of the beer pong table, where all eight boys were loudly playing, laughing, or taunting the ones currently in the middle of a game. You listened to the commentary just as much as you were watching the game unfold, your ear catching every other sentence, laughing when one of them made a remark that was out of pocket, but the five of you currently in the midst of conversation didn’t have much attention left to give the game behind you.
“...And she said she was not giving him the ring. It’s fucked up,” Sana sat back in her seat, her arms crossed over her bikini top, in the middle of telling a story. “She said she’d rethink it if I stayed with him for over a year after we move away, but I don’t believe her one bit.”
“Maybe she’s telling the truth, she’s probably just watching out for her son,” Tzuyu smiled at Sana, ever so optimistic, always looking at the bright side. Her brown hair laid in long braids down her shoulders, far past her bikini top, the tips just caressing the hem of her denim shorts. You tightened your lips, that was not what Sana wanted to hear right now. Wooyoung’s mom has never liked Sana, and you’re starting to think she never will.
“It’s crazy how she thinks she can control your relationship, I mean, Wooyoung is twenty seven. He’s far past the age of her coddling him,” Jihyo added with her face twisted in disgust, that was what Sana wanted to hear, Jihyo was always good at fulfilling whatever idea Sana came up with. The two of them were a pair, the moon and the sun, where Jihyo appeared harsh and was sweet as candy, Sana was bright and colorful until she bared her teeth.
“I know!” Sana said, a little too loudly, nervously glancing at the table behind you to check that none of the guys heard her, blonde hair moving with her. You’ve always been on Woo’s mom’s side, you always expected him to end up with someone… Nicer. He deserved someone who would treat him like a king, but in a way, you supposed Sana did treat him like one. Anyone else who wasn’t Wooyoung, though? That was a different story.
“I’m sure she’ll give in,” Jongin added, an encouraging smile on his face, he knows Sana just as well as you do by now. A linen button up laid loosely over his shoulders, the white a contrast to his golden, sunkissed skin. Him and San must have spent a lot of time at San’s beach house this summer.
This was always the dynamic between you, the partners. Jihyo genuinely believed what she said to Sana, Tzuyu was supportive, and Jongin tried to keep the peace. You kept quiet, you weren’t much of a liar, and your brain couldn’t be farther from Sana’s impertinence.
Your knee bounced, margarita watered down and loosely held between your fingers, Yunho’s date was glued to his side at the table behind you. She didn’t leave him once, not when Tzuyu invited her to sit with you, not when Yunho was actually playing the game. She respectfully declined with a bashful smile, cheeks rosy and chest gleaming with a sheen of sweat, then she stayed hung off of Yunho’s arm like an accessory.
It was beginning to fucking consume you. Was that one of his rules? Was she not allowed to leave his side, stuck there to be his personal waitress? Was she getting off on it, too?
Was the reward really worth it?
“Hello?” Jihyo tapped your knee, pulling your attention again, her smile amused as if catching you off guard was the funniest thing in the world.
“Sorry,” you tried to smile, tucking your hair behind your ear, “Did I miss something?”
“I asked how Mingi is, how you guys are,” Sana smiled the same way Jihyo did, “What’s got you so out of it today?”
You forced a chuckle, “My bad, I didn’t get good sleep last night, the margaritas are making me sleepy.” A lie so easily told, white lies you could handle. “We’re good, thinking about moving into something bigger soon.”
“Oh?” Tzuyu asked excitedly, “You guys have been in that apartment for years, are you thinking about renting or buying?”
A two-story, white house, with three bedrooms and an open floor plan, yes, you were thinking about buying. You fought to not glance behind you, keeping your eyes trained on Tzuyu, “If we can get a good loan for a mortgage, we’ll own.”
Tzuyu cheered, her grin bright and wide, “I’m so happy for you, me and Yeosang always talk about how perfect you guys are together. Do you think he’s planning on proposing this year?”
You smiled, a shy giggle escaping you as you stared down at your margarita again, “I think so.”
“Your wedding is going to be gorgeous,” Sana adds from across the small table between your chairs, “If it’s anything like how you decorate your apartment– and the bridesmaid dresses, don’t even get me started.”
You waved a hand, ignoring the bridesmaid comment, “I won’t, I’m not jinxing it. Who knows what might happen?”
You catch Jihyo as she rolls her eyes, “I wouldn’t be surprised if he proposed tomorrow, you’ve been together longer than any of us. You’re the OG girlfriend.”
That ripped a laugh from your chest, it’s true, you’ve been with Mingi long before any of the other guys’ partners entered the picture. Jongin interrupted, “I could help you with a mortgage loan, you know, my dad’s a banker.”
“When the time comes,” you nodded toward the brown haired man with kind eyes, then finally let your eyes fall to the table behind you, seeing who was playing now.
Who might still be glued to their date.
Mingi and Yunho were playing Yeosang and Wooyoung, a cocky smile on your boyfriend’s cheeks, a lazy smirk on Yunho’s. They must be winning.
And his date, her dark hair up now, in a claw clip behind her head, two pieces fallen out and framing her face perfectly. She stood just beside Yunho, her drink clasped in her hands, barely a sip drank from the clear glass. You wondered if she was allowed to drink, or if that was one of his rules, too.
Your lips pursed and you stood up, legs bringing you to your boyfriend before you could think about it. You slid in between him and San, the dimpled man throwing an arm over your shoulders, “You come to play?”
You smiled up at him, shaking your head, “Just wanted to watch.”
“Wanna watch me win,” Mingi added, shooting you a wink, then tossed the ball across the table, sinking it into one of the red solo cups filled with water.
You clapped with the rest of the boys, your grin wide as a low whistle left your lips, staring down the table at Yeosang and Wooyoung who wore red cheeks and sour faces. The difference in the amount of cups left standing made it clear who was winning, not that it surprised you, Mingi was always more competitive when he had Yunho by his side.
You watched as Yunho’s date tugged on his wrist, whispering something into his ear, and he nodded down at her. She silently excused herself, dress flowing in the breeze as she walked across the patio, inside the back door.
You watched, and then your legs were moving before you could stop yourself. You followed her in, just as she was draining her glass into the kitchen sink, one of her hands on her hip.
She turned to you as the backdoor snapped shut, surprise on her face, eyebrows raised and lips parted. “Oh! Sorry, I would have left the door open for you.”
Ah, fuck, she’s nice. You smiled, walking across the hardwood floor, your sandals smacking with every step, “No biggie, I don’t think I’ve introduced myself yet, I wanted to say hello.” You introduced yourself, a smile on your cheeks, “Not in the mood to drink?”
She glanced down at the empty glass in her hands, then at the sink, then up to you. She laughed nervously, “I'm a slow drinker, it got watered down, not all that tasty anymore.”
You slowly nodded your head, “Totally get that. Did you need help finding the bathroom?”
She looked around Seonghwa and Hongjoong’s kitchen as if you reminded her why she walked in here, the bathroom nowhere to be found. She smiled again, her cheeks rosy and squishable, face completely bare beside mascara, she’s adorable. A perfect, submissive girl. “Yes, please, that’d be great.”
“Down that hallway and to the right,” you pointed to the dark hallway and she thanked you, setting her glass down in the sink and scurrying off in the direction of the bathroom. When she was out of eyesight, you pouted, you don’t know what you expected from coming in here, but you definitely didn’t learn anything new. You took a sip of your margarita, setting a hand on the kitchen island for purchase, your mind whirling. You wanted to know. You wished you could just ask.
The door opened and closed behind you and you turned to find Jihyo walking in, her own cheeks red from the seltzers she’d been sipping on, the summer heat she’s been basking in all day. She smiled at you, eyebrows popping up in surprise and confusion, “Girl, what are you doing in here? You’ve been acting weird all day.”
Your lips pulled to one side, you wondered if Jihyo had any experience in this area, if she and Jongho ever explored in the way you’re curious about. If anyone in your group has done some experimental shit, it’s Jihyo. “Can I ask you a question?”
Her face turned serious, quickly walking closer to where you stood, gathering her dark hair behind her head to pull up into a bun. “Of course, is everything okay?”
“Yes, yes,” you said, shaking your head, loosing a quick, heavy breath. “Is Jongho ever… Rough with you?”
Jihyo paused in the middle of tying her hair, cocking her head to the side. “What do you mean ‘rough’?”
You scrunch your lips, trying to reword the question properly in your mind. “Have you ever experienced… Like, a dominant guy? That kind of role, in a relationship?”
Jihyo’s lips curved upward, a devious smile on her cheeks, eyebrows wiggling. “You thinking about spicing things up with Mingi?”
Your cheeks warmed, you looked down at the hardwood floor in embarrassment, then back up to her. “Possibly. I’m just curious, I guess.”
“Then yes, Jongho can be rough sometimes, but only when I purposely pissed him off or made him jealous or something. The relationship I was in before I started dating Jongho, though…”
Your entire face lit up, she giggled as she noticed.
“He was a very strict man, but not in a gross way, more so in a… Domineering way, I guess, everything I consented to. He thought it was sexy to control unsexy aspects of my life, what I wore, how I acted, what I did, who I talked to. In bed, he was a fucking freak.”
Your eyes filled with stars, you asked, “In a good way?”
“Oh, absolutely. He’d tie my hands behind my back, attach a spreader bar between my knees, or put a vibrator on me and leave the room until he was satisfied with how long I’d been in there by myself. Then he’d come back in and fuck me like I hadn’t already came a gazillion times.”
You released a shaky breath, toes digging into the soles of your sandals. It sounded so… appetizing.
“He was fun, that whole relationship was fun,” she smiled brightly, you almost felt bad about making her reminisce on something she loved so much, but clearly didn’t have anymore.
You couldn’t stop yourself, asking, “Why’d you break up?”
“He cheated on me,” she rolled her eyes, “Ruined a good thing. Fuck him.”
“Fuck him,” you nodded your agreement, cheeks warm, your whole body warm… You imagined Mingi tying your hands behind your back, attaching something between your legs to keep you from closing them, fully in control of your body and your pleasure. The thought was so hot, you could see it in your mind, you licked your lips as if it was happening now.
“I gotta pee, I’ll be right back,” Jihyo’s eyes flew back to the hallway, in the direction of the bathroom. Just as you started to warn her about Yunho’s date being in there, she bounced back out, apologies on her lips about being in there for so long. She was barely in there for five minutes.
You followed her back into the backyard, not stopping by the table again, but sitting yourself back in your cushioned chair, legs crossed, slowly sipping your margarita. You didn’t want to see her fall back to Yunho’s side like a lost puppy dog.
God, you needed to get a grip. The girl didn’t do anything to you. Jihyo’s story filled your head again, but instead of imagining Jihyo and the mystery man, it was you and Mingi, a vibrator strapped to you while he sat back, watching, analyzing, telling you no when you begged him to cum.
When Jongin pulled you back into the conversation you were barely paying attention to again, your body physically shook off the thoughts, a chill cooling off your very blood.
You really needed to get it together.
“I have something I need to tell you.”
Almost a full week after Wooyoung’s going away party, another movie night with Yunho under your belt, you couldn’t let these feelings fester for any longer, you were losing your fucking mind. Night after night, your boyfriend has rocked into you, sweet words on his tongue, soft caresses to your face. As much as you enjoyed it, you felt guilty for your feelings, for wanting more, something different. Admitting it was a start.
Day after day you’ve done little things, almost unnoticeable things trying to get his attention, trying to spark an ounce of jealousy. You made a comment about how good San looked at Wooyoung’s party, how he looked like he’d been hitting the gym– Mingi had given you puppy eyes, asking, “Should I start going to the gym more?”
You felt so guilty you dropped to your knees then and there, feeding praises into his ears, worshipping his body, vowing to yourself to never make him ask you a question like that ever again, to never make him feel self conscious or worth any less. The whole encounter left you feeling icky.
But maybe another route would work.
Just yesterday you asked him, What would you do if someone hit on me at the bar?
He furrowed his brows and said, Tell them not to do that, I guess?
You were getting nowhere like this, and it was frustrating. Granted, you probably should have just opened up and told him your feelings the moment these thoughts started crossing your mind.
Mingi turned over in your bed to face you, eyes sparkling, staring at you like you were his whole world. You needed to bring this up delicately, propose it in a way that wouldn’t leave him feeling like he wasn’t doing enough, that he wasn’t enough. You didn’t want to pressure him into anything, either. Asking him to slap you around was strangely feeling meticulous, you sucked your bottom lip between your teeth, eyebrows furrowed in focus and fear.
“Is everything okay?” He asked, eyes glossed over with worry, he shuffled a bit closer to you in your shared bed, needing your warmth to soothe his own nerves.
“Yes, baby, everything’s fine,” you smiled weakly, your arm stretching across the sheets to lay your palm over his cheek. “I’m just nervous to say what I need to, or ask my question, I guess. I don’t want you to feel like I’m unhappy, or that you aren’t doing enough, but… I’ve been thinking.”
He mirrored your smile, teasing, “You know what I say about you and thinking.”
A huff of a laugh left your lips, smile growing stronger, “I’m serious, Min.”
“Okay, I’m sorry,” his smile grew too, genuine and light, he’s always been good at diffusing situations, easing your stress. “Hit me.”
“Funny choice of words, actually,” you start, and the crease between his brows shows itself. “Do you ever think about… Being a little rough with me?”
He lifts his head up off the pillow ever so slightly, surprise flashing in his big brown eyes, “Like, when I’m fucking you?”
“Yeah,” you watched his face morph into confusion, “Throwing me around, saying mean stuff, choking me a little, maybe even slapping me–”
“Slapping you?!”
“I don’t know!” You shuffle in your bed, sitting up straight, tucking the baby pink comforter in your lap, hands mindlessly playing with the fabric. Staring down at him, voice coated in shame, you asked, “Do you?”
He blinked a few times, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Finally, he says, “I don’t think I have ever, once in my life, thought about hurting you.”
“Does it freak you out if I say it’s something I might be curious about?” You lay a hand behind your back, using your arm to support your weight. Mingi shifts too, sitting up beside you, still staring at you like you’re a math equation he can’t calculate.
“It doesn’t freak me out, I–” He shakes his head once, as if he’s trying to figure out his own feelings, what to say. “When did you start thinking about… this?”
“The night we watched that Captain America movie with Yunho,” you answer honestly, staring into his eyes, trying to get a read on him. He looks down at his lap, thinking, counting, before he looks back at you.
“Dude, that was like two weeks ago,” he says, horror in his voice, “You’ve been sitting on this for that long?”
“It’s not a big deal if it’s something you aren’t interested in,” you wave a hand in front of you, trying to fake nonchalance, but there was no way to prove to Mingi this isn’t important to you if it took you this long to say something. He knows you far too well.
He glances up at your ceiling, moving his lips, scrunching them to either side of his mouth, thinking. He finally looks at you, a gleam in his eye that you couldn’t place, “You really want me to be mean?”
“I–” Now it was your turn to look like a fish out of water, and then you realized this was the time to admit it, to tell him what you want. With defeat heavy in your voice, you said, “Yes, I do.”
“Okay,” he breathed, nodding slowly, “I can try.”
“Really?” you raised your brows, staring at him in surprise as if you expected him to say no. But this was Mingi after all, always eager to please, the man who would walk through fire for you.
“You’ll have to, like… Tell me what you want in more detail, what to do, I mean.”
Your entire face lit up, eyes wide, grin bright, you jumped over the mattress to swing your arms around his neck and your thighs around his hips. You kissed his entire face, perched in his lap, mumbling thank you thank you thank you and he giggled beneath your assault, wrapping his arms around your back, holding you close.
“Do you wanna do this, like… Now?” He asked when you stopped peppering smooches to the tip of his nose, his voice not quite uneasy, nervously curious.
“We could,” you shrug, arms still hung over his bare shoulders, “We haven’t fucked since last night.”
“God forbid a day goes by where we don’t have sex,” he teases, his hands sliding down to your ass, squeezing lightly.
You gasp, dropping your hips to drag against his barely clothed crotch, smirking when you feel him half-hard beneath you. “There should never be a day that goes by where we don’t have sex.”
“As long as you’re still you, there won’t be,” he says, still teasing as he presses his lips to yours, soft and sweet, normal. You sink into him, letting your hips drag over him in a slow but intentional rhythm, allowing your mind to ease, releasing soft gasps as his hands slide up your body, under your shirt.
No, you didn’t need to do this right now. You didn’t want to. You wanted him, close to you, feeling his warmth and his weight anchoring you, to set the thoughts you’d finally gotten off your chest free. You told him, you’d talk about it, you’d plan, you’d do it. He said yes. God, you love him. You let your hands slide up his biceps, fingers dancing over the sides of his neck, cupping his cheeks to hold your world in your hands.
“Not tonight,” you whisper into his lips, forgoing an explanation he didn’t need, “I changed my mind. Tonight, I just want you.”
He smiles, bared teeth pressing against your lips, soft and comforting, home. “Yeah? You sure?”
“We have time,” you pull him closer, chest to chest, elbows hooked over his shoulders and hips still rocking as if he’d feel the truth laid bare, in your skin, in your breath, in your bones. He didn’t need to change, you didn’t want him to change, if things stayed like this you’d still spend forever by his side. “We have forever.”
He kissed you again, only breaking it to tug your shirt over your head, tossing it somewhere behind you, hands gliding up your skin with precision, feeling every dip and curve of your body. As if to burn it to memory, as if he didn’t know it already, as if he hasn’t worshiped every inch of your skin before. “I love you,” he murmured into your mouth, bodies still too close to be considered separate.
“I love you,” you whispered, barely breaking the kiss, eyes closed and heart aching with how much love for him it contained.
Another Friday, another movie night, another story told by Jeong Yunho.
Except this time, you and Mingi were more versed in his area of expertise, your listening was active, asking questions, looking deeper. Where you once sat nodding, periodically saying mhm and no way, you were now asking him to explain, asking why. And because Yunho is Yunho, he answered every question with honesty, even over-explaining when your brow quirked too high for his liking. When he read the question on your tongue.
For the past several days, you and Mingi have been doing research. Articles from legitimate blogs on the internet, books from the library, romance novels pulled from your bookshelf, Mingi had said, “If I’m going to do this, I’m going to do it right.”
You hadn’t quite explored yet together– meaning he hasn’t necessarily slapped you around just yet. He’s taken it slow, tugged on your roots during a blowjob, extended your orgasm by ripping his fingers away at the last second, he even called you a slut once. Just once, though. And he apologized after.
You didn’t think you could possibly be any more in love with him, but seeing him learn for you, express genuine interest in something you asked for, you couldn’t wait for the wedding Sana was running her mouth about. But that could wait. For now, you were still exploring, experimenting, basking in the relief of getting this off your chest and doing something about it. You never want to withhold information from your boyfriend again, and Mingi might go into cardiac arrest if he finds out you’ve been sitting on your feelings ever again.
Mingi’s been honest with you. He’s told you his doubts, his fears, that he’s petrified of doing something wrong, not knowing his own strength and hurting you, saying something vile that he can’t take back. You’ve taken them all in, easing his worries by offering him solutions, reminding him why you’re taking it slow. To set boundaries, to plan, to play, to find out if this is something he’d even enjoy. If either of you would enjoy it.
Because in theory it sounds wonderful, a wet dream coming from the pits of your ovulation, but to put it into practice… What if either of you hate it? What if your sex life is forever tainted because you’re trying to fix something that isn’t broken?
Clearly, you’re both overthinkers. But luckily, you’re both good at soothing each other, and Mingi has reminded you the two times that you’ve brought this up that nothing could destroy your sex life, the two of you were made for each other. There wasn’t much room for stress after that.
Yunho came over with a smile on his face this week, a telltale sign that things were going well with his newest partner. Walking inside empty-handed and talkative, he cracked a can of beer from your refrigerator, starting his story from the beginning as his long legs brought him to your living room. He was playing with her at Wooyoung’s going away party, a detail he left out when he was over last week, when he was too engrossed in the freshness of dating her to get down to the nitty gritty.
This week he was exploding with things to tell you both, his mouth running a mile a minute, sharing things you nor Mingi asked him to, but didn’t mind hearing. Especially not now.
“The rules I made with her are different than the ones I’ve made with others,” splayed across the couch he always sat on, Yunho’s Spot you and Mingi call it, a leg hung over the armrest with the other stretched in front of him, he sat lazily, relaxed. Yours and Mingi’s apartment was always a comfort to him.
“Like how?” You had your head laying on the godforsaken armrest, pillow beneath your head actually providing solace for once, your legs stretched over Mingi’s lap at the other end of the couch. He studied Yunho as he listened, hands on your bare legs, eyebrows bent only enough to imply focus. You knew it was more than just listening to his words, he was memorizing them, saving them for later. The sight made a soft smile live on your cheeks.
Yunho sucks a breath through his teeth, brows rising as his head tips back in thought, silver hair a contrast to the deep charcoal of the cushion behind him. “She can only wear dresses around me, when we’re in public she has to ask permission to leave my side, she can’t drink unless I allow it, hmm… Oh, I banned bras. And panties.”
You crane your head to see him over the armrest, mouth gaping and teeth poking out in a smile, a giggle leaving your lips. You fought the urge to say I knew it, instead reiterating, “Bras and panties?!”
“What’s the point of it, though?” Mingi asked, and Yunho directed his gaze to his best friend, his eyes smiling just as brightly as his lips. Mingi glances between you and Yunho, “All the rules, they just seem… Inconvenient.”
“Inconvenient for who?” Yunho raises his eyebrows, “Would it be inconvenient for you if your girlfriend walked around without a bra, without panties, in a dress?”
“Not inconvenient for me, inconvenient for her,” Mingi should have just added duh at the end of his sentence. Yunho knew what he meant, but Mingi couldn’t read between the lines of his answer. Your tongue poked your cheek as your eyes danced between the two men.
“Then you know the point of it already,” Yunho’s grin was sly, his head tilting ever so slightly, as if he knew why Mingi was questioning him. He never has before.
Mingi’s lips fell into an O shape, you watched him put the pieces together in real time, another laugh leaving your lips. Mingi glanced at you for a second before his eyebrows knitted again, turning his head to look back at Yunho, “Why couldn’t she drink?”
“Because it’d make her have to pee, and she has a piss kink,” you knew he was answering honestly by the look on his face, the ease of the words leaving his mouth. “It denied her of having the fun of toying with me and saved me the punishment of fucking her in Hongjoong and Seonghwa’s bathroom.”
Your jaw dropped as your head whipped around the armrest, gaping at Yunho, “You’d really do that?”
“If she disobeyed me?” He raised his brows, “In a heartbeat.”
“In their bathroom?” Mingi’s eyes were as wide as yours, the corner of his upper lip bent upward in disbelief.
“I would have done it in front of all of you if I had the consent of everyone in the room.” He said it so casually, too casually, as if this was normal, common. It could be these days, for all you know.
Yours and Mingi’s eyes meet as surprise and intrigue cross his features, as if he was picturing himself doing it. As if he was curating a list of rules for you, too. You assumed you wouldn’t have to wash as many pairs of panties from now on.
Mingi’s eyes trailed back to Yunho, you watched him swallow, the gulp of spit passing down his throat. “And when you say punishment…”
Yunho smiles, daring and wicked, his eyes flaring with amusement. He sits up straighter, white tee pressed against the back of the couch, ankle crossed over his knee, he wouldn’t let your rare curiosity go to waste.
You change spots, too, laying your head on Mingi’s lap instead of your legs, propping them up on the criminally uncomfortable armrest. You made a mental note to start looking for a new couch. Mingi lays a hand in your hair, not moving, just resting, as if he needed to touch you to feel grounded.
“The humiliation,” Yunho released a dragged out breath, as if he loved the word, loved its meaning, the action. “I would have put her over my knee, made her tell everyone watching what she did, why it was wrong.”
Mingi blinked, his lips parted, as if he couldn’t fathom why in the world Yunho would do that. “You’d let everyone see that? See her?”
Yunho shrugs, “If everyone was into it.”
“She obeyed you though, right?” You ask, and he raises his eyebrows in your direction, acknowledging you, “Does she get, like… Rewarded for that?”
Yunho smiled, a proud look sitting on his face, a soft nod of his head. “Of course she does, well, she did.”
You raised a brow, imploring him, and his smile grew as if he could read every thought in your mind. “You two are curious tonight.”
You can feel the embarrassment in your cheeks, and as you look up to Mingi, you see a faint blush spread over his nose. If you could see his ears from where you laid, you’d bet they tipped red, too. Neither of you are being shy with your curiosity, and it was clear.
Yunho didn’t wait for either of you to answer, “I’ll bite. We didn’t even get back to my place, to be honest. She got to finish twice in the car, another three times when we got back for good behavior.”
A huh? ripped from your chest, a disbelieving sound, just as Mingi screeched, “Five?!”
You thought back to when she went to the bathroom at the party, how she tugged on Yunho’s wrist before she went inside, how he nodded toward her in allowance. You wonder if you’d be willing to let it be taken so far, or if you truly just wanted to be slapped around. You supposed you would if five orgasms were waiting for you afterward.
“They weren’t easy, don’t say it like that,” Yunho waved a hand, long fingers bending the air around him, “I was forcing them out of her by the end of it. She likes overstimulation.”
You peeked up at Mingi again, whose lips you think were going to stay permanently parted for the duration of the conversation, with his thick, deep eyebrows touching his hairline. He was shocked— so were you, even if neither of you should be, you’re no strangers to multiple orgasms in a session. But five, for good behavior, a reward like that, it almost made you hand your boyfriend a notepad and a pen and say Yes, I want that.
Yunho’s laugh sends a shiver down your spine, your body involuntarily jerking at the noise, head shifting in your boyfriend’s lap. It sounded borderline condescending, which you weren’t sure if you were making up, or if it was on purpose. Your eyes widened as you felt it, the fucking boner Mingi was sporting beneath your head. He knew you felt it, you could see it all over his face, the blush you thought was from the nature of the conversation, no, he was horny, and Yunho didn’t seem like he was anywhere near done with the conversation.
Realization hits that Mingi must be thinking about doing that to you, and he’s hard. You might have started jumping for joy if you didn’t have to explain to both men why.
“You guys look like you’ve never heard anything like this in your life,” Yunho’s laugh is still showing on his cheeks, the way his head is tilted, his eyebrows slightly raised, smugness oozing off of him. “I’ve told you stories before.”
“Yeah, but…” You cut yourself off, swallowing down the answer you were about to give. He didn’t need to know you were experimenting, or attempting to. No one needed to know. “It’s just crazy.”
“Yeah, you’re crazy,” Mingi adds from above you, the both of you nodding your agreement, hiding why you’re both so god damn affected. His clothed cock pressing against your head, having to pretend like it isn’t there, Yunho so easily talking about how he punishes and rewards his partners, how arrogance seemed to be possessing him, it was all too much.
Yunho raises his brows, his smile still present on closed lips, as if the two of you were transparent. Completely see through, thoughts and feelings laid bare for him to see. If you could peer into Yunho’s mind you might see that he’s enjoying this, that he knows exactly what he's doing, toying with the two of you might be the most fun he’s had in months.
He can see how pathetic the two of you are, you’re wearing it. Too many ideas are brewing in his mind, ones he’s positive he can never verbalize, but if the two of you kept looking at him like that…
“I’ve told you worse, remember when that one girl thought it’d be funny to flirt with that random guy, when we all went out to the club? It was back in February I think,” Yunho’s glancing between you both now, like he doesn’t want to miss a single reaction painted on your faces. “I tied her up and left her alone in the bedroom, in the dark, for an hour?”
You gulped. You remembered this story. Mingi was only growing beneath you, he remembered this story, too.
“She was a crying fucking mess by the time I went back in, so wet, didn’t take any prep at all for me to fuck her. She didn’t cum once that night. Never did that shit again, though.”
Your breath hitched in your throat. You think of a few weeks ago, when Yunho was once again across from the two of you, when you put space between yourself and Mingi, a part of you hoping he’d fuck the brat out of you. You couldn’t even imagine Mingi tying you up and leaving you alone, he’d probably be crying before you would, or he wouldn’t even leave the room. But the thought of it… If he could… You crossed an ankle over the other, trying to create some kind of pressure between your thighs, friction to alleviate your core that was beginning to throb.
Mingi’s grip tightened ever so slightly in your hair and you knew he was showing you the restraint he was quickly losing, that he needed you. Your eyelids fluttered at the feeling.
“How did you get into this? This, uh, lifestyle,” Mingi’s voice was shallow, his mouth drying, he was feeling it just as much as you were. You don’t even know if you heard his question let alone the answer, not when you could feel his cock under you, begging to be touched, probably leaking, the tip red and aching…
Mingi pressed a finger to your cheek and your lips fucking parted. He was only trying to get your attention. “You okay?” Mingi asked, need flashing in his eyes, an unspoken question, a statement. Oh, Yunho has done it now.
I need you.
You blinked. Now?
A small nod. Now. Get him out.
“Not feeling too good, honestly,” you pouted, letting a hand fall across your forehead, “Do I feel warm to you?”
Mingi’s lips scrunched trying to hide his smile, you were the better liar out of the two of you. His palm hit your forehead, “Hm, you do feel warm.”
“Let me feel,” Yunho crossed the living room in a quick stride, his hand falling to your forehead fast, before you or Mingi could think up a silly excuse. His hand damn near laid from ear to ear, sending a spark of something through your entire body. “Damn, you are warm.”
He needed to get out, now. You give him a weak smile, “Must be coming down with something, I’m sorry to cut the movie night short.”
He shakes his head, then clasps Mingi’s hand, and goes to grab his keys off the coffee table, “Don’t worry about it, there’s always next week, Iron Man can wait. Feel better.”
“Thanks, Yun,” you call after him, tucking your smile away until you hear the front door close—
Mingi pounces. Strong arms tugging you onto his lap, assaulting your lips with his own, rough palms slipping under your shirt, thumbs hooking into your waistband. There was no time to waste.
“Fuck,” he cursed into your mouth as you rolled your hips against him, shorts dragging against his sweatpants, and you smiled at his sensitivity. “Fuck, I need you.”
“Yeah?” You rolled your hips again, harder this time, “That bad?”
His fingers tighten on your hips, digging into your skin, his jaw going slack, mouth unresponsive against yours. You let your hands feel up his chest, his shoulders, his neck, lips ghosting his jawline as he guides your hips against his.
His head tilts back as your lips attack a sensitive part of his neck, right below his ear. His voice comes out deep but breathy as he says, “Wanna make you cum five times, too.”
Excitement shoots up your spine. You sit back, hands resting on his shoulders, a grin on your cheeks, “Do it, then.”
He scoops you off his lap and falls to his knees, a muted thump was heard as cotton covered skin hit the hardwood of your floor, he laid you on your back as if you were fragile, made of glass. Your legs parted after he slipped your shorts off anyway.
You kept your hands in his hair as his tongue worked you open, your first orgasm coming quickly, easily, praises falling off your lips, skull digging into the floor beneath you. Mingi didn’t stop, though, not as his black locks ran taut between your fingers as you pulled in an attempt to get him away, when the pleasure became too much.
It was on purpose, the pleasure was fucking blinding, pleasure and pain, the sting of your orgasm that never fully finished turning into another, a pit in your stomach that ached with every swipe of his tongue. Your hips bucked, trying to chase him away, attempting to overpower strong arms holding you down by the bone.
“Mingi— holy shit,” you cried, eyes wide and staring down at him where he was doing anything but looking up at you. Focused, tongue moving in perfect circles, flicking at your clit with enough precision to tell you he wasn’t letting up. Your movements seized, joints locking up, breath getting caught in your throat as he pulled you under, forcing another orgasm to wash over you.
He ate you through it again before you were keeling, abdomen clenching, body jerking enough to where it was annoying for him to keep holding you down. His lips let go with a pop, sucking in a deep gust of air as your bones went fluid, body sinking into the hardwood floor.
Mingi smacked his teeth with plump, swollen lips. He lifted himself up by his arms, saying with a steady voice, “Turn over.”
You opened your eyes again, staring at hunger incarnate, “On my knees?”
He lifted himself farther, sitting on his calves, wrapping his fingers loosely around your ankles where they sat planted on the floor. Again, he said, “Turn over.”
You blinked, “I can’t if you’re holding my ankles like that.”
In a quick motion, he pulled you toward him, forearm scooping under your back, and your palms were pressed to the hardwood floor in a second’s time, knees stinging as the deep swirls of oak stared back at you. You hissed, “Fuck, that hurt.”
Hands that were already sliding up the backs of your thighs paused, “You okay?”
You smiled, thinking of all the limits you’ve discussed in the past weeks, your safe word, what to do in case you couldn’t say it. “I know what to say if I’m not.”
“Good.”
Your elbows hit the floor as his fingers slipped inside, his other hand holding onto your ass, squeezing your skin. “O-Oh my God, Min,” you cried, letting your forehead drop to your open palms, your back arched up into him as his fingers hooked into you, hitting that spongy spot inside, your toes curling, shins lifting off the floor.
It was overwhelming. Yunho had left barely ten minutes ago and you’d already came twice, Mingi working you up to a third without any reprieve. You could hear the smile on his face as he asked, “You gonna cum again? Gonna be good for me?”
You wailed as his fingers assaulted the spot, slipping in and out of you, curling, massaging, your body jerking at every movement he made. He sucked in a breath before he pulled his hand off your ass, letting it fall back down with a heavy smack, “Answer me.”
Your moan was treacherous, loud, somewhere between a score of pleasure and a cry of pain as you came again. Weaker this time but still as blinding as the first, you shook, he hit you. Not as hard and not as confident as he could be, it was still pain mixing with the pleasure, a cocktail of endurance and emotion, a step forward.
“Baby,” you could barely hear as both hands soothed your ass cheeks, rubbing circles into the skin. “Answer me, my love, need you to say something.”
You weren’t sure if your consciousness was still inside your skin, or if you were floating somewhere beyond.
His hands hooked into the crevice where your hips met your thighs, pulling you backward into his lap, moving and dropping you as if you were light as a feather. He was moving too fast, your brain could barely keep up, overwhelmed and overstimulated. You sunk into him, the smell of him pulling you back down to earth, the heat of his cheek pressed against your head warming you. “I’m okay,” your voice came out weak, lagged, tired. Your knees burned, but the fire he had lit inside your belly blazed.
“You swear?” He took your chin in his hand with care, forcing you to look up at him, concern bubbling wildly in his eyes.
You nodded, “I swear. You can keep going.”
He kept you in his lap, his hands moving slower now, uneasy. Fear bled into you with every touch, under your tee, as he unclipped your bra, even fumbling with the clasp. You could taste his nerves.
But his cock still stayed hard beneath you, pressed up against your back. After he tugged off your shirt and bra you faced him, bare legs wrapping around his hips, your boyfriend fully clothed where you sat naked, but not uncomfortable at the difference. You let your lips crash into his again, picking up speed, trying to show him your hunger when his had gotten foggy, masked with fear and concern.
He let you lead him, tongue dancing with yours, his hands sliding over your skin with more confidence now, more pressure. You smiled into him, “You still owe me two more.”
He matched your smile, “And here I thought we were past your insatiability.”
You let your bare center drag over his clothed length, gasping when it brushed against your clit just right. “I want you inside me.”
“I’m supposed to be telling you what to do,” his hands fell to your hips, grinding you against him harder, grinning when your head fell to his shoulder.
“Then tell me how you want me to ride you,” you mumbled into covered skin, your hands sneaking beneath the hem of his tee, fingers tracing his toned abdomen.
“Why do you get all the power?” He placed his hands under your ass, lifting you to shift onto his knees, you yelped when he stood up, easily holding you steady through the movement. A show of strength, a display of dominance, one that sent all the blood on your body straight to your still pulsing clit.
You clung to him on the walk to the bedroom, your arms hooked around his neck, adrenaline thrumming beneath your skin. All the daydreams you’ve had and research you’ve done was paying off now. This was better than anything you could’ve imagined.
He threw you onto the bed before he tugged his shirt over his head by the collar, pulling his sweats down just enough for his cock to spring out. Standing before you in all his glory, Mingi’s cheeks were pink, eyes glossed over and hazy, hair shooting out in four different directions atop his head thanks to your incessant pulling. God, he was fucking beautiful, you sat up on your knees and crawled towards him, wanting to taste—
He stepped back so you couldn’t reach, his right hand wrapping around the base of his cock, squeezing when it was already red and leaking, just as you imagined. You pouted. He raised his eyebrows. “You want my cock, don’t you?”
You met his eyes to find arrogance, something you’ve only seen on your boyfriend a handful of times. You swallowed down the thrill, nodding your head, “Yes, I want it.”
He pumped the length of his cock, a groan sneaking out of his lips, his head falling to the side, eyes fluttering shut. You gasped at the view, your eyes trying to catch the full length of him, not knowing where to look, not wanting to miss anything. Slowly, he built up a rhythm, and you whimpered from your spot on the baby pink comforter.
“Please, let me,” your eyes stayed glued to the way his hand dragged down the length of his cock, how his tip leaked beads of precum, lubing up his hand. He ignored you. “Mingi, please. I need it.”
He groaned instead, his hand pumping faster, until he finally opened his eyes. In a low, lazy voice, he moaned, “Fuck, feels so fuckin’ good.”
Your mouth hung open at the sight, he really wasn’t going to let you touch him. Was it because you told him to fuck you? He really thought you were taking the power from him?
“Please, Mingi,” you were whining now, fists balling at the comforter beneath you, eyebrows furrowed and bottom lip jutted outward.
He tsked. “Get down here. On your knees.”
You’ve never moved faster in your life. Sitting on your calves before him, knees burning again, hands in your lap, staring up at him with every hope in the world, you waited for instruction. He wasn’t fucking around.
He pumped his cock faster, palm circling the tip, squeezing his hand as stuttered moans poured from his lips. He wasn’t even looking at you, eyes focused on his cock, “Open your mouth.”
With your tongue out you sat up on your knees, eyes glued to his cock, waiting for his cum. Your cunt throbbed between your thighs, three orgasms weren’t enough, you needed more, you needed him, his cock filling you up, to cum around it. His moans grew in pitch as his wrist jerked faster, stuttering, his hips bucking forward into his hand, his eyebrows knitted together. It took everything you had not to slip a hand between your legs. At least you were a quick learner.
He came with a loud groan, ropes of white hitting your tongue, your nose, your cheeks, your eyebrows. You moaned with him as you felt the warmth on your skin, swallowing him down, licking your lips to catch what you could.
“Good girl,” his voice had dropped another octave, as if he was getting comfortable in his rank now, dominance surrounding him like an aura. You smiled up at him, stars in your eyes as he took his thumb to your face, scooping his cum off of your cheeks, nose, eyebrows, then promptly shoved it past your lips.
You gagged at the sudden intrusion, but swallowed him down anyway, lips wrapping around his thumb to suck it clean, tongue sliding against the underside. He patted your head with his other hand, a small smile sitting pretty on his cheeks, “So good for me, baby. Kiss me.”
You stood up on wobbly legs and kissed him, he could probably taste the gratitude on your tongue, how much you fucking loved this, loved him. He moved to sit back on the edge of the bed, never breaking the kiss, hands on your waist, tongue licking into your mouth to taste the leftover remnants of his release. Your knees planted into the mattress as you climbed on top of him again, a hand between your bodies, slipping his cock between your folds, spreading the wetness where it gathered.
“Holy shit,” he gasped out, breaking away from your lips to glance down between you, “You’re so fucking wet.”
“That was so fucking hot,” you said in the same tone he used as he looked back up to meet your eyes, “You’ve never done anything like that before. I’m dying.”
He huffs a laugh into your lips, “Dying is dramatic.”
You kissed him again, “And I meant it.”
You dragged your core along his shaft, sliding over his length, and he hisses into your mouth in overstimulation. You smile, “Now you know how it feels.”
“Sit on it,” he grabs his cock with one hand, your hip in the other, completely ignoring your remark, “Now.”
You cursed under your breath at the tone of his voice, at the desperation and order mixing together, how badly he wanted you, needed to feel you, yet overstimulating himself to do it. His cock was already hard again in his hand as you lined yourself up on top of him, hands bracing yourself on his shoulders as you started to sink down slowly, taking him inch by inch with ease.
The sound was deafening, how pathetic the two of you sounded, the whine-coated moans cracking from your gut. Your nails clawed into his shoulders, eyes screwed shut at the stretch, at how easily he slipped inside. His voice was strained, “Too fucking tight, gotta open up for me, relax.”
You were too excited, your joints locked up from adrenaline and anticipation. You took a deep breath, letting your body relax, unlocking your limbs, forehead falling forward to rest against his. His hands come up to your waist, rubbing circles into your back, “There you go, my love, you feel so fucking good.”
You whimpered at the praise, hips bucking forward involuntarily, “Can I move?”
“Go ahead, baby,” he said, letting go of your waist, leaning back against the mattress on his elbows, “Show me how badly you wanted to ride my cock.”
Your jaw went slack at the words, hips immediately picking up and dropping back down on him, your hands sliding up your stomach to pinch at your nipples. You bounced on him slowly at first, watching his face contort in pleasure, letting the sound of him guide you, encourage you. Eyebrows slanted and lips parted he moaned and moaned, hips jerking into you every few thrusts, silently telling you to pick up the pace.
“Mingi,” you breathed, a hand on his abdomen, using it to balance your pace, “Choke me?”
His eyes widened, “I— I don’t—”
You reached an arm forward, this was one of his unsure areas, where he was scared of his own strength, of hurting you seriously. You wrapped a hand around his throat, fingers pressing into the sides, “Like this.”
The moan he released stopped you completely. It happened in slow motion, the squeeze of your fingers, how his lips parted, his eyes rolling into the back of his head, how you pulsed around his cock at the sight, at the sound.
Now it was your turn to widen your eyes in surprise, “Oh.”
He brought his hand up to wrap around yours, his hips fucking up into you harshly, overwhelming your nervous system, shattering your god damn mind. Oh, he really liked that. You couldn’t fight the smile breaking across your cheeks, your words coming out jagged through his thrusts, “You liked that?”
He whimpered, broken through the pressure of your fingertips, and a small, shy nod of his head. You just wanted to show him how. Encourage him to do it himself. This opened another door completely.
You released him after a moment and he took a deep breath, eyes wild, gasping out, “Holy shit.”
You nodded with a wicked smile, your hips picking up the pace, “You really liked it?”
“Do it again,” he whispered, pushing himself up by his forearms, pressing his chest against yours as you changed your speed, rocking against him, a dirty grind against his cock as your fingertips danced over his throat.
You leaned in, whispering, “Kiss me,” against his lips, and he did, his mouth following your lead, up until you tightened your grip around his throat and pressed into the sides with light pressure.
“Fuck,” he whimpered against your lips, the sound broken and raw, and his jaw went slack again, his eyelids fluttering, his cock throbbing inside you. You could have fun with this.
You dropped your hips against him harshly, making him jolt into you, not a thought behind his fucking eyes as they widened, “So desperate, I told you to kiss me, didn’t I?”
“I can’t,” he cried, eyes closed, chin tipped back, “Feels so fucking good. Harder, please.”
You laughed in disbelief as you picked up your pace, the begging felt good, great even, your body consumed by another pleasure entirely. This was incredible. Maybe you could understand why Yunho does what he does, the sheer pleasure he must feel from breaking his partners down, having them at their wits end beneath him.
Having Mingi like this was unexpected but so fucking hot, even under a spell his cock was still hitting that perfect spot inside you, making you moan in tandem with him, a song of pleasure and worship filling the room, masking the noise of skin slapping against skin.
You let him go to brace your hands on his shoulders and his head fell against your chest, lazily kissing at your skin, his hands coming behind you to graze his fingernails down your back, making you hiss out at the sting. “Shit, Min.”
He whimpered again, making your hips stutter as you tried to ride him harder, faster, clenching around his length, and his fingers clawed at you deeper. Your back arched, “Yes, feels so good inside me, you’re so fucking perfect.”
“Need you to cum,” he said against your chest, a mumble of words, barely comprehensible. He glances up at you through his lashes, eyes sparkling and vulnerable, “Need to feel you cum, need it. Wanna fill you up.”
Your face twisted in pleasure, at the look on his fucking face, “Oh— Oh my God.”
You clenched again and he whined, “Fuck, I’m gonna fucking cum.”
“Wait,” you barked out, rushing a hand between your bodies to rub at your clit, “Hold it.”
His head tipped back, his features scrunching together, hands slipping down to your hips to squeeze, to guide you into fucking him harder. Deeper.
You gasped out a cry as you drew quick circles on your clit, still bouncing on him with the same rhythm, “F-Fuck, I’m so close, fuck, Min.”
“Yes,” he encouraged, “Cum for me, wanna feel it. Wanna feel you cum around me, please baby, give it to me.”
Your hips stuttered as you felt your high hit its peak, Mingi whining at the loss of rhythm, leaning back on his elbows to fuck up into you, his legs pushing against the bed frame surrounding your mattress. Your orgasm crashed over you, sending you forward, body folding in on itself as your vision went white, ears ringing as your body collided into his.
Mingi cried out, hips bucking and jerking into you to get himself off until he filled you up with his second load of the night, a sigh full of pleasure and contentment escaping him as he finished, his joints finally unlocking, laying flat against the bed.
After a moment his arms curled around you, pulling you up, laying your head on his chest from where you landed awkwardly over him. His hand went into your hair, rubbing lazy circles into your scalp, pressing his lips to the top of your head.
“Did I kill you?” He asked, voice teasing, and you grumbled a noise in response. “We can talk about it tomorrow if you want, but we still have to get you all cleaned up. Don’t fall asleep yet.”
You stuck your tongue out, licking the patch of his skin that was just beside your mouth to show him you were awake, making him shuffle in discomfort. He let out a small, disgruntled sound of surprise, “Eugh, don’t lick me.”
“Are you serious?” You picked your head up ever so slightly to see his face, which didn’t look disgusted at all.
A sweet smile sat on his cheeks, one not embarrassed, not shy, not regretful, but happy. You could have sighed in relief if you weren’t absolutely exhausted. He faked a pout, “You look so tired, and I still have one more orgasm to give you.”
He laughed when your face twisted in surprise and fear, you don’t think you even have the strength for a shower.
But because Mingi is perfect and knows you better than you know yourself, he ran the two of you a bath.
And you talked. A little.
But he definitely ripped that fifth one out of you.
You did end up talking about it the next day.
And the day after that, and the day after that, for two weeks. It seemed you and Mingi couldn’t stop talking about it, that night, his words, his assertiveness, how he jerked himself off onto your face, how your hands wrapped around his throat. It quickly snowballed into more, the two of you turning into monsters, it was as if your insatiability had grown a twin and possessed your boyfriend.
“I don’t know what happened,” at your favorite coffee shop in town the next day, the two of you sat cozied up in a booth, laptops out, but the last thing you were doing was working. “Something inside me, like, opened I guess. You put your hand around my neck and I thought I was gonna cum on the spot.”
With your cheek in your palm, you swirled your straw in your coffee cup, the doc you had open on your laptop screen long forgotten. “You really never thought you’d be into anything like that?”
Mingi shrugged, bringing his attention back to his screen, he drew mindless circles on his keypad with his finger. With his eyes on his laptop, big navy frames sitting on his nose, he admitted, “I don’t know, I never really thought about it.”
“Funny how I was trying to show you how to choke me,” you teased, lifting your head from your hand, straightening in the booth. “And here we found out something new about you.”
He rolled his eyes, a shy smile growing on his cheeks, still not looking at you, “Yeah, yeah, I owe you one.”
“No, not at all,” you shake your head, “We should just see what happens. What the vibe is when we’re in it, you know?”
He meets your eyes, cheeks dusted pink, “You’re okay with it? Like… If I asked you to do that to me again, you’re okay with it?”
Your eyes nearly bulged out of your head, was he embarrassed? You leaned forward, keeping your expression serious, “Song Mingi, that was one of the hottest things I have ever seen you do. One of the hottest things I’ve ever seen, actually.”
His eyebrows raised in surprise, as if he wasn’t expecting that answer. You smiled, hoping it came off as reassuring as you needed it to, “You’re not the only person that learned something about themself last night.”
His lips curled up at the edges, lopsided smile crawling across his cheeks, “I still wanna try doing it to you.”
“Good, because so do I,” you leaned back in the booth, still smiling, and you hoped his chest felt lighter, because yours definitely did.
The next morning, he beckoned you awake by peppering kisses to your forehead, your cheeks, your nose, your lips, but his hand sliding between your legs is what had your eyes finally opening.
You hummed in delight, sleepy mind curating nonsense to mumble as you stretched your arms over your head, spreading your knees to welcome to intrusion, the skilled fingers that knew exactly what they were doing.
Silently he worked you open, pressing kisses to your lips, slipping his tongue into your mouth to really get you there— he forced the taste of an orgasm on your tongue before he ripped it away, popping his fingers into his mouth instead.
You almost cursed him out for it, eyes wide, jaw dropped and pissed, but he just smiled.
“Be good for me today and you can have the rest later.”
You wore a scowl the entire day, even if thrill was coursing through your blood, excitement for what awaited you at home. He texted you mid-day while you were hard at work at your desk, asking for a present, a sexy picture in your job’s bathroom mirror.
You swallowed down your embarrassment, ears burning as you sped to the bathroom, eyes darting all around your office to make sure no one noticed, that no one saw you. An absurd fear.
Relief washed over you when the bathroom was empty and you quickly pulled your skirt down to your thighs, your ass laying right over the hem, plump and picturesque. You took a few, sending them all to him immediately, feeling scandalous and prideful that you’d done something so sexual in your job’s bathroom, and didn’t get caught.
He sent back a picture of the print of his cock through his slacks, his hand squeezing the base, his veins popping through his pearly skin, the watch sitting on his wrist making it so much hotter. With a caption just as incriminating as the photo, you salivated, tongue swimming in saliva as your thighs squeezed together beneath your desk, lip caught between your teeth.
Your body burned as you set your phone down, barely able to concentrate on your work as you completed your day, fighting with your mind to keep focus. By the time you got home he was waiting for you, already hard, stripping the skirt off your hips before you’d fully made it through the threshold of your apartment.
Five seemed like a lucky number for you two now, how many times you’d finished on various places of his body, on his fingers, his tongue, his cock, his thigh. The fifth came to you with his palm wrapped around your throat, squeezing harder than you ever thought he would, confidence oozing off of him as he drilled into you with your back against his chest.
The next day you seemed to switch places. You tapped into that side of yourself you just met, making Mingi a mess beneath you, tears and sweat and saliva, you took it all in stride with a smile on your face, eyes blazing with a wickedness Mingi’s never seen on you before. It was experimental and fun, fumbling hands and stuttered words, Mingi submitted to you even if you weren’t fully confident in your dominance.
You’d never degraded anyone before, much less your angelic boyfriend, it was a true fight to come up with nasty things to say, but that’s where your research had come into play. If either of you had an ounce of consciousness inside of the bubble you’d created together, you could probably pick apart where each and every piece of your words, actions, where everything had come from.
You two had become obsessed, every waking moment had turned sexual, doing and talking, talking and doing, you couldn’t get enough of each other. You started to feel silly for thinking your sex life would be ruined when, if anything, it had gotten better, somehow more active, because you both had turned insatiable. Mingi couldn’t make fun of you anymore, not when he was just as fucking horny as you were.
As deep as you were in it, the learning, the experimenting, something tugged at you. Maybe it was how you couldn’t grow fully confident in the weeks you’ve played, how you fumbled your words still, or when your hands didn’t quite know where to go, what to say, when to pull away. You knew learning never truly stopped, especially with something as severe as tapping into BDSM dynamics, but you found yourself stumped more than once, and that was enough to consider researching more.
Especially the night when you and Mingi had fallen into your sheets, a mess of lips and tongues and nails, waiting for the other to take the lead. Fighting for dominance but never winning, leaving room for the other to take charge, to set the tone for how the session would go. Ten minutes of kissing and muttering filthy words in each other’s ears, you knew he was feeling it, too.
Above you, he paused, lips parted and hands planted beside your head, chest heaving with adrenaline and slight confusion. You stared at each other for a moment, reading the feelings in each other’s eyes, before a laugh erupted from Mingi’s chest and had you giggling along with him.
“Shit, are we plateauing?” He flopped down next to you on his back, amusement laced in every word, eyes never leaving you once.
You giggled more, letting your head fall to the side to look at him, tilted smile on his lips and deep, hooded eyes. “I’m not gonna lie, I was kinda hoping you were gonna toss me around tonight.”
“That’s funny, I was kinda hoping you were gonna edge me until I cried,” he responded plainly, as if the words spilling from his lips weren’t completely filthy. You both laughed before you let out verbal breaths, a sound to fill the comfortable silence, then met each other’s eyes again.
“Well?” You asked, raising your brows at him, “What the hell do we do now?”
Neither of you knew, and you didn’t have an outlet to turn to. Instead you fucked slow, back to your roots, praises and kisses and soothing touches that felt incredible but still didn’t scratch the itch. The two of you needed more, something to help when you were both feeling submissive, looking for the same type of pleasure.
It wasn’t something you needed. No, you think it might be… Someone. Another person to help. The thought left you feeling uneasy.
You and Mingi have never once talked about opening up your relationship to anyone. Not once in your years together have you discussed a threesome, it’s been years since you’ve experienced a shred of jealousy, never once an inkling of disloyalty. Yours and Mingi’s relationship was the poster for perfection, and opening the door to someone else, even if it was all purely sexual, for education purposes, felt… Weird. Strange. Unwelcome.
Even if you were to say yes, who the hell would you ask? You only know one Dom, one person with enough experience in this area to help you. You forbade the thought for days to come.
Until it happened again.
The two of you weren’t as rough this time, kisses pressed to skin and hands slipping between legs, but it was still there. Mingi was whimpering into your mouth, a sound you’ve learned came from a very specific mindset, when he needed to be taken care of, when he was feeling needy.
And you had a long fucking day.
Your boss had assigned your team with a project that wasn’t anywhere near your area of expertise, accompanied by a deadline that didn’t seem humanly possible. When you had brought it up to him, he was not nice, stern and angry with you for not ‘doing what you get paid to do’ when this particular assignment was under his job criteria. It wasn’t fair, you had stress bottled up inside you from your head to your toes, you hadn’t even had sex on your mind today let alone coming home to dominate your boyfriend.
Your skin burned with every touch Mingi gave, you so badly wanted him to flip you around, take you with no prep, laying harsh slaps against your skin with a hand wrapped around your throat, you wanted these feelings fucked out of you. If you were going to fuck, you wanted to be fucked. There was so much negativity built up inside you from the day you yearned for your mind to go blank, to fall into that corner of consciousness where you didn’t have to be. Where Mingi made decisions for you, where he decided what was best.
“What’s wrong?” With his eyebrows furrowed in concern he pulled you into his chest, hands cradling your cheeks with soft palms, as if you would break in his grasp.
Fuck. Your throat tightened, your bottom lip jutted outward, your eyes closing to try and force the tears ripping their way through your ducts down. Mingi held you closer, threading a hand through your hair, scratching his nails into your scalp to soothe you, “Baby, what happened? What’s wrong?”
You sobbed into his chest, guilt racking through you with every breath, you didn’t know what to do. So consumed with the stress of your day and now Mingi wanted you to perform for him, you couldn’t do it. You didn’t answer at first, and he didn’t pry, he laid you down with him instead, letting you cry into his chest while rubbing circles into your back, kissing your head every few minutes, holding you close.
“I’m sorry,” you finally choked out, eyes opening only to see his tear-soaked tee before you.
He moved his hands to cup your cheeks again, holding your head up to look at him, thumbs swiping under your eyes to paint your tears onto your skin. “What’s wrong, my love? Did I do something?”
You shook your head in his hold, “No, no, it’s not you. I just had a really long, fucked up day, and I can’t…” Another sob ripped from your chest, “…I can’t do this tonight.”
“Baby,” the word laced with the ache from his own chest, he continued, “You don’t need to, you never need to, we don’t have to do anything.”
You sniffed, you couldn’t imagine what you looked like right now. Mingi’s seen worse, though, he’s seen everything. You pouted, involuntarily sniffing up the last of your cries, voice still broken and uneasy, “That’s the thing. I want to, I just don’t want to think, I want you to take my mind off of it. But I think you want the same from me.”
He blinked at you, concern and thought drinking up every inch of his face, he didn’t know what to say, either. It was a crossroads. He couldn’t just say Okay, I’ll dominate you tonight— it wouldn’t feel right. You wouldn’t want him to, either, you only want it if he wants it. Just like he only wants it if you want it.
He looses a breath, running a hand through your hair again, thumb swiping under your eye with his other hand, “Why don’t I run us a bath, order some takeout, and we can sit and watch a movie? Then tomorrow when we’re clear-headed and you’re feeling better, we can talk about this. What to do when it happens.”
You nodded into his hands, bottom lip quivering, because God, you were so fucking lucky. He washed every inch of your body in the steaming hot water, massaging into your shoulders, your scalp as he washed your hair. He had you smiling and giggling by the time you got dressed, after he ordered takeout, and then the two of you talked about your day. He listened actively, he hated your boss already, now that dislike just ran deeper. You watched a comedy, both laughing and talking through the whole thing, cuddled up next to each other before you fell asleep on the couch with every limb on your bodies intertwined.
“Wait, so you’re both switches?” Yunho faces the two of you in his spot, feet planted on the floor, elbows resting on his thighs with his fingers interlocked. His eyebrows laced together in focus as he listened to your story from the beginning, ready to guide you, to give the advice you asked him for.
You and Mingi knew you weren’t going to get anywhere from websites, informational books or romance novels, this was a problem you needed to speak to someone about. A real life human with knowledge, experience, the one person you both know and trust to help you with your little problem. The decision to ask him didn’t come easy, days were spent talking it out, the pros and the cons of opening up your sex life enough to let someone peer inside. None of your friends knew a single detail about yours and Mingi’s sex life, it wasn’t information you gave away easily.
But this? This felt necessary.
You sat with your legs crossed on your couch in your comfiest clothes, and Mingi sat stretched out beside you in an outfit that nearly matched yours. Yunho had walked inside complaining about his latest conquest, a six pack in his hand, ready to drink and forget all about it, maybe pass out on your couch. He was even dressed for the date he was supposed to go on, slacks and a long linen shirt, the top three buttons unbuttoned. Clearly, coming here was a last resort, or an answer to his own problems.
Until you and Mingi bombarded him with your own.
Yunho seemed excited to dive into your sex life, though. From all the stories he’s told, he’s barely ever gotten a detail out of one of you, one sided experiences shared without ever getting a glimpse inside of what you two do when you’re alone. He set the six pack down on the second shelf of your refrigerator and sat down in his spot across your living room, urging you two to spill.
“I guess so?” You look at Mingi and then back to Yunho, “I don’t know how else I’d describe it. It depends on the night.”
Yunho smiles in disbelief, “I would have never expected that. If I had to guess, I’d say you’re the dom, and Mingi’s your sub.”
“He’d love it that way,” you joked, nudging Mingi with your elbow, the six foot man beside you who wore the gentlest smile. “All of this started because I wanted him to throw me around a bit.”
“Hm,” Yunho sits back on his couch, crossing a leg over the other, his arm stretching across the back. “That’s a lot to discover, you haven’t been doing it for long, then?”
“A month and some change, I believe,” your boyfriend nods in Yunho’s direction. “At this point I think we’re just confused. We’re extremely similar and our feelings line up more often than they don’t, it’s hard to differentiate when one of us wants to be the one in control. Or doesn’t want to be, in our case.”
“Wait, wait,” Yunho raises a hand, “Let me see if I’m getting this right. The issue at hand is that neither of you want to be in control?”
“Sometimes,” you add, “Not all the time. The issue is what to do when that happens.”
Yunho laughs, and it’s a shrill sound that slithers down your spine, ringing in your ears like a wake up call. You think you can read the words in his mind, on his tongue, the easiest solution here, and it terrifies you when he actually says it.
“Why don’t you just call up a third when it happens?”
So simple. So easy. Like you and Mingi haven’t been together for years, like your sex life was some measly thing you could invite others into, as if it meant nothing. That was dangerous territory.
But you suppose you’ve been in dangerous territory for over a month anyhow.
You glance at Mingi who seemed to be thinking the same thing as you. He’s the one who turns to Yunho and says, “I don’t know if that’s something we’d be comfortable with.”
“Including someone else… Opens doors,” you add, fingers fidgeting where they say in your lap, uneasiness oozing off of you.
“Doors that we haven’t even knocked on, let alone opened,” Mingi nods, and the comfort of his thigh pressed to your knee feels necessary.
Yunho tilts his head, “It doesn’t need to be some big thing. You guys are exploring, figuring shit out, it doesn’t hurt to have someone else to guide you. And scratch the itch.”
You pull your lip between your teeth. That wording, how casual he’s treating the sentiment… You and Mingi were planners, since the beginning of starting this adventure, you’ve talked everything out from day one. Yet as you glanced at your boyfriend, the transparency in his eyes, how he seemed to be contemplating it, too.
Something was nagging at you, saying maybe inviting someone else in is the right option. Yunho was the one with experience, he’s guided people before.
He’s guided people before.
“Do you know anyone who would?” Mingi asked as your eyes skimmed over Yunho. Broad chest, long legs, strong thighs, you’ve never really looked at him. You know he’s gorgeous, but you’re too in love with Mingi to notice when someone looks like that. This could work. Your head tilted, the pearly chest peeking out of the white linen shirt lined with a silver chain, eyes dropping to his slacks clung to every muscle in his thighs. This could definitely work.
Yunho smacked his teeth. “Are you kidding me?”
A smile played at your lips as a bubble of excitement erupted in your gut. Every single story he’s ever told comes rushing back to you, every minuscule detail— Is he thinking what you’re thinking?
“You two have zero structure. As much as it doesn’t need to be a big deal, you should still invite someone that you trust.” Yunho meets your eye as he finishes his sentence, and you watch as he realizes, catching a glimpse of the amusement on your features, he knows.
“I trust whoever you trust, Yun,” Mingi says plainly. “I trust you the most.”
You and Yunho stare at each other, lost in some kind of nonverbal contemplation, who was going to tell Mingi what both of you were thinking? He jerks his chin in the direction of your boyfriend, the action so small it was almost unnoticeable, his eyes saying Go ahead.
So you do.
“Min,” you say quietly, turning to look at him, and Mingi meets your gaze with an absentminded look. As if Yunho couldn’t hear, you ask your boyfriend, “Why don’t we ask him?”
Mingi’s face contorts into bewilderment. “He can hear you— I— Are you crazy?”
You look at him, really look at him. We trust him.
Mingi’s face doesn’t change. He’s my best friend.
You pull your lips together in a line. He’s the only Dom we know. He can help us.
Mingi glances at Yunho, then back to you. Are you sure?
You smile. I’m sure.
When you both looked back at Yunho, his face had completely morphed into something different. Stronger. Thrill is racing in your blood, excitement and nerves combined encouraging the trickle of sweat beneath your clothes. You didn’t give yourself a moment to think, not about what could go wrong, not even about what would go right. Just sitting across from him had your mind floating, staring at that corner of your consciousness where you were everything and nothing all at once, waiting.
Mingi said something. You weren’t listening.
Yunho sat deeper into the couch, knees spread and outstretched in front of him, a smirk on his lips. “God, I thought you would never ask.”
Amusement still rippling in your eyes, impatience sitting shallow beneath your skin, you blink, “What do you mean?”
“The night you were ‘sick’?” He bends two long fingers on each hand around the word, “Don’t think I didn’t know why you kicked me out. What my words were doing to you both.”
Your body flushes, he even felt your temperature that night, yet he knew the whole time? Smirk still etched into his skin, he says, “You both looked at me like you wanted to eat me alive. Like you needed me to put you in your place.”
The breath that leaves your lungs is staggered and Mingi catches it, he could probably feel the arousal radiating off of you, smell the wetness pooling between your legs. You wanted this more than you realized, you think, and you hoped he did, too.
“Is that what you’d do?” The words stumble out of your mouth before you can think about them, “Put us in our place?”
Yunho meets your eye again and his gaze laid upon your body is all consuming, like being under a microscope, as if he can see the brat that laid dormant between your ribs. Voice swimming with simplicity and clean control, he says, “If you give me a reason to.”
He shifts his focus to your boyfriend and you feel colder without it, “Do you want this, Mingi?” With eyes on him and him alone, still exuding confidence and strength, he asks, “Or is it just your pretty little girlfriend that wants me?”
You and Mingi both gasp. Holy shit. Mingi stared, lips parted, you were sure his mind was going a mile a minute about all the things that could go wrong, how he hadn’t done any research on this.
Hold on, Yunho thinks you’re pretty?
“I’m nervous,” Mingi responds, his voice small, brushing his pinky finger against your thigh, but keeping his eyes trained on Yunho. Ignoring the pretty little girlfriend part doesn’t surprise you at all. With a little more confidence, he says, “We should talk about this.”
“We will talk about it,” Yunho nods, “I wouldn’t do this without talking about it first. I need to know your limits, boundaries, what you’re comfortable with. I need to know if you want it most of all though, Min.”
Mingi turns to you, a fire in his eyes, one that you couldn’t place specifically. Nerves or arousal, stress or excitement, they could burn either way. With an even smaller voice, low and raspy, he asks, “Are you sure about this?”
“I trust him,” you say just above a whisper, “If you don’t want it, we don’t do it. Period.”
“Baby,” he squeezes his eyes shut, dropping his head down, voice smaller than you’ve ever heard it, “I want it so fucking bad.”
You smile, peeking to look at Yunho, giving him a quick nod. You turn back to Mingi, excitement laced in your words, “Then let’s do it.”
“I need to hear you say it, Mingi,” Yunho cuts in, voice slicing through the room, an order. Mingi’s cheeks are bright pink as he stares at his best friend across the room, fingers fidgeting with the strings of his sweatpants, nervous. “Don’t be shy with me, I know everything about you, Min. I’ve seen your worst, and I’m still saying yes to fucking you.”
The huff of air that leaves Mingi slices through the room like a knife. It relayed every thought he was keeping trapped inside, every feeling he wasn’t sure if he should feel, as if he released the last bit of apprehension so the truth could lie bare. He looked at Yunho as if he handed his pride over to his best friend to hold between his long fingers, as if one harsh squeeze would leave Mingi ashamed for the rest of his life, as if he’d lose Yunho if this went all wrong.
Mingi swallowed, “I want this.”
Yunho smiled, “Great.” And as if he could read Mingi’s thoughts, his expression just as well as you could, he added, “You won’t regret it, I promise.”
Mingi nodded, leaving silence to lay over the room like a blanket. You steal a glance at your boyfriend, the both of you seeming to be thinking Well? What now?
Yunho answers your thoughts once more, “Tell me what you’ve done, what works, what doesn’t. Any boundaries, hard limits, things that are an immediate No.”
You purse your lips, trying to rack your mind, because in all seriousness you really haven’t tried all that much besides choking, some light power play and orgasm denial.
When you nor Mingi answer right away, the smile on Yunho’s face only grows, sly and knowing. “You guys are like two virgins sitting across from me. Say something.”
As if the one sentence took the edge off completely, you smile, and the lock on your vocal chords open. “We’ve just played around with choking, denying orgasms and stuff, some degradation. Nothing crazy.”
“I did that once,” Mingi raises a finger, a nod of his head.
“I don’t really know what I’d be into or not into,” you shrug, “Do you have, like, a list?”
“What, like a survey? Check off the box next to each kink if you’re into it?”
That rips a laugh from your lungs, “Fuck you, I don’t know. I don’t even know what there is to say no to.”
Yunho’s smile is somewhere between amused and plotting, eyes thinned and menacing. “Okay, then tell me what is an immediate Yes. What you do want.”
You purse your lips again, but Mingi answers first, the confidence in his voice taking you completely by surprise. “I like being choked, and I like when she’s mean to me, but nothing too mean, more like when she calls me names. I don’t know about being spanked or slapped.”
You nod, “Choking and names, yes. Spanked and slapped also yes.”
“Okay, we’re getting somewhere,” Yunho nods, “When you say names, you mean slut, whore, etcetera…”
You and Mingi nod, saying yes simultaneously.
“And we’re both okay with orgasm denial, how about overstimulation?”
“Yes,” you say in unison with your boyfriend once more.
“Then let’s start there,” Yunho leans forward again, elbows on his knees, legs spread before him. “I won’t be too harsh with you. If you guys are still interested in exploring, then we’ll save it for next time.”
He’s already thinking about next time?!
“Have you figured out a safe word already?”
You and Mingi nod, but Mingi says, “It’s kiwi. We googled safe words and it said fruits are good words to use.”
Yunho tries to ignore his amusement but his smile leaks through the mask, “Kiwi, okay. I can kiss you both, touch you both, there’s no limits when it comes to that, either?”
You and Mingi both shake your head. You add, “We’re yours to do whatever you want.”
“Good,” Yunho says, then turns to you, back to the demeanor exuding strength and power, “For starters, never say fuck you to me again, unless you want to watch me ruin your boyfriend while you sit in the corner, watching.”
Your breath hitches in your throat, your body stilling, heat erupting beneath your skin. The thought of him touching Mingi without you, doing anything without you present, active… a shiver racks down your spine, eyes wide and alert. You nod, then squeak, “Understood.”
“So sweet,” Yunho smiles, “I’m gonna have fun with you. Come here, pretty.”
You glance at Mingi, who looks like a deer caught in fucking headlights, eyes wide and slightly panicked, lips pulled into a line. His face seemed to say, He wants to do this now?!
You hold his stare, Should we?
His eyes fly to Yunho, then land back on you, his jaw tightening as he thinks. You can see the thoughts form, the churning of contemplation in his mind, but you watch as they soften, chocolate eyes melting under the heat of his best friend. His lips perked up at the corners, but his eyes told you he wasn’t completely sure, “Don’t keep him waiting, baby.”
You swallow but still stand on shaky legs, sauntering across the room, around the coffee table, approaching Yunho who shifts as you come closer, body sinking into the couch and spreading his knees. His face is too calm and collected, too casual, as if he’d truly been waiting for this, as if he’d seen this picture in a dream. You stand before him, socked toes wiggling against the hardwood as he looks you up and down, eyes catching on your big tee, staring where it swallows your shorts beneath. You were not dressed for the occasion, but he didn’t seem to care.
“Come on,” long fingers hit the top of his thighs, patting muscles and clothed skin, his slacks bunched where his thighs met his pelvis. “Sit.”
Your heart thumps beneath your chest as you sink a knee on either side of him, your head immediately turning to look back at your boyfriend. Yunho catches your chin with his hand before you catch a glimpse, his voice stern, “Eyes on me.”
You didn’t think you’d be apprehensive– every bone in your body was screaming yes, but the thighs beneath you were so different from Mingi’s, more narrow, just as strong but more slender, a lankier build than your muscle mass of a boyfriend. The difference had your body confused, your muscle memory warped, but your muscles relaxed in his hold, submitting to his grip on you, long fingers hooked on either side of your jaw. You stared into the well of bronze below his brows, lighter than Mingi’s, but hardened with steady control.
“Do you still want this?” His voice was low, almost a whisper on your skin, “Be honest. We can just watch a movie, try again another time, or never talk about it again.”
“I do,” It took a single hammered heartbeat to answer, “I want this.”
He smiles again, sweeter this time, “Then kiss me.”
He guided you toward him with his fingers still wrapped around your jaw, his lips softly melting with yours, and the feeling was… Strange. Smaller than Mingi’s but just as soft, you adjusted, allowing him to take the lead, following his lips as his hand traveled to your cheek, taking up every inch of space from your jawline to your ear. It was dizzying, Yunho kissed like he was already undressing you, inside you, passion and lust and conjoining, you could feel every intention behind it. It didn’t take long for your hips to rut against his.
As good as it was, it was still weird. Being with one person for so long but enjoying another, guilt nibbled at your soul, at every ounce of blood in your body that circulated only for Mingi. His hands dropped to your hips, palms covering bone, fingertips digging into plush skin, moving you against him. Your lips still followed his, body pliant for him, your arms flying to his shoulders to keep you steady.
Yunho pulled away after a moment, back relaxing into the cushions, hands laying softly on your hips, he averted his eyes to your boyfriend who sat across the room.
“Min,” you turned your head as Yunho called his name, eyes widening as you took in the view of your boyfriend. Body stretched out before him, jaw locked, eyes glazed over, still somewhere between horny and hesitant. “Come here,” Yunho’s voice was softer now, control still tangled within his words but he’d mixed in something calmer, soothing.
Mingi loosed a heavy breath as he stood, taking the seat beside Yunho, his limbs locked and rigid. You met his eyes, trying to understand what laid below the surface, and for the first time in years you couldn’t read his mind. Yunho’s head still hung lazily over the couch, his eyes raking over his best friend, his thoughts you couldn’t place either.
Yunho’s hand reached out to touch Mingi’s face, his thumb caressing his smooth, pink cheek, a small smile sitting on Yunho’s face as he touched him. Yunho locked a laugh inside his chest as Mingi shuddered, his voice quieter now, “Wanna kiss me?”
Mingi looked like he saw a ghost. Rapidly blinking, his lips opening and closing, yet leaning into Yunho’s palm resting on his cheek. Mingi nodded once, and that was all Yunho needed to lean in, to attach his lips to Mingi’s.
Your lips parted as theirs met, a rush of adrenaline seeping into your bones as they kissed, softly at first, questioning and experimental. Your eyes widened as their kiss deepened, Mingi’s body turning to face Yunho, a rough palm coming up to cup Yunho’s cheek, the two of them holding each other.
It was… Passionate. You wondered if Mingi was feeling the same things you did, the guilt, unease, the feeling of it all being foreign. It didn’t look like it, but you wondered how you looked kissing Yunho, if it appeared anything like this. The heavier it grew, the higher your temperature raised, a blazing heat consuming you as every nerve ending sparked. Watching Mingi kiss someone else— Yunho of all people— had you even more confused than you were before, horny but jealous, enjoying the show but wishing they were touching you, too.
Yunho’s hand slid down to Mingi’s jaw, grabbing it the same way he grabbed yours, you watched as his fingertips turned white with pressure, his grip tightening to ignite jealousy in your fucking soul. You rolled your hips at the sight before you, unsure if it was to get their attention or if it was because of the bucket of arousal that had been dumped on your head.
A hand left Mingi’s jaw to slide up your thigh, to rest on your hip, urging you to continue. You leaned forward at the attention, your hand reaching under Yunho’s unbuttoned shirt by the collar, fingers caressing his collarbone to his shoulder. Your lips followed, tongue licking up his neck, tasting sweat and Yunho as you kissed his jaw, the two still making out just above your head.
Yunho’s hand slid up to your waist beneath your tee, still keeping the other hand on your boyfriend’s jaw, somehow appeasing both of you simultaneously. You think about what he said– God, I thought you’d never ask– It finally clicks that he’s been waiting for this. He wants it just as much as you two do. The thought makes you smile into his skin, your other hand playing with the buttons of his linen shirt, wanting to feel the skin beneath it, wanting the wall between you gone.
Yunho finally breaks away from Mingi, both hands coming to your hips to still you, and you pull away from his neck. Both you and Mingi stare at him confused, waiting for instructions or compliments or degradation, you weren’t sure.
You would have never expected what actually came out of his mouth.
“That’s enough for tonight,” he leans back into the couch, eyeing the two of you carefully. You glance at Mingi who wore swollen lips and furrowed brows, you were sure you looked the same.
“That’s it?” Your eyebrows knit together, “Just some kissing?”
You were baffled. Yunho smiles, “Just some kissing. Now you’ll know if you really want it, with me.”
“I know,” Mingi counters immediately, “I know. I want it, now. With you.”
You nod your agreement, “I know, too. I want it, Yunho.”
Yunho’s smile just grows, sly and wicked as per usual, “Think on it for a few days.”
You can feel him hard beneath you– You stare at him with wide eyes, eyebrows furrowed, jaw slack. The arousal sliding through your veins was begging to be released, the arousal for him, for what comes next. You sputter, blinking rapidly, “I– We don’t need to think. Are you serious?”
He laughs. Not condescendingly, one genuinely full of amusement, “I’m serious, baby.” His hands grab at your hips, lifting you to place you on Mingi’s lap instead, “Next time.”
You look at Mingi who shares the same expression, confusion and surprise, blue-balled. You look at Yunho who’s getting up from the couch, “You don’t want to?”
He stands before you then glances down at his clearly hard cock pressing against the material of his pants, “I clearly want it, but I know you two. You don’t do anything on a whim, everything is planned out, even sex. Think about it, talk about it, and call me.”
It was as you had jumped into the ocean, freezing water washing over you, waking you up while simultaneously putting you down. You blink at him, he was right, he knows the two of you far too well, but for once you didn’t need to think it through. You knew down to the essence of your being that you wanted this, wanted him, wanted to see what he’d do with you. Wanted to feel it.
“Don’t look at me like that,” He tilted his head, pouting, “I promise I’ll come back and fuck you stupid if you want me to.”
Oh, you burned at his words, you wondered what other filthy things could leave his pretty lips. Mingi spoke up before you got the chance to whine, “You’ll come when we call?”
Yunho nods, “I promise. We have, like, twelve more movies to watch, anyways.”
You groan, you forgot about your Marvel Marathon. “God, this is gonna be endless.”
“You have no idea,” He winks, fucking winks, and you sink into Mingi, fighting another groan.
He turns, grabbing his keys from the coffee table, and starts for your front door. He waves a hand as he approaches the door, calling behind him, “I’ll be waiting for your call!”
You and Mingi look at each other as he slips through the door, a thousand words going through your minds, but you speak first. “We are calling him tomorrow.”
Mingi laughs, head tipping backwards, his whole body falling into the couch. “He’s such an asshole, but he’s right. A correct asshole.”
“A correct asshole,” you huff, laying on top of your boyfriend, sinking into his warmth. “I’m horny.”
“Good thing I got a lil’ jealous seeing you kiss him,” Mingi says, his hands sliding up your waist, under your tee– His tee. “Come here.”
You're already awake when Yunho's key turns in your lock at 2 AM, staring at the ceiling and replaying the heated argument you'd had three days ago. Not a fight exactly—more like sexual frustration disguised as bickering about everything and nothing until you'd both stormed off in opposite directions.
The friends-with-benefits thing had been working perfectly for months until feelings started creeping in, making everything complicated. Now you're both too stubborn to admit you want more and too addicted to each other to walk away.
"I know you're awake," his voice carries from your living room, and you hear him tossing off his shoes.
You don't get up, don't call out—just wait as his footsteps approach your bedroom. When he appears in your doorway, hair mussed like he'd been running his fingers through it, that knowing smirk on his face, heat immediately pools in your belly.
"Miss me?" he asks, leaning against the doorframe.
"It's been three days," you point out, not moving from your position on the bed.
"That's not an answer." He pushes off the doorframe and approaches slowly, deliberately. "Did you miss me?"
The honest answer is yes, but you're not about to give him the satisfaction. "I missed what you do to me," you say instead, which makes him laugh.
"Fair enough." His mouth finds that spot just below your ear that makes you shiver. "I missed what you let me do to you."
And there it is—the thing that makes this arrangement work so perfectly. Yunho knows exactly what you need, what you crave but have never been brave enough to ask for from anyone else. He reads you like a book, understands that beneath your confident exterior, you want to give up control, want someone to take charge and make you forget everything else.
"What do you want tonight?" he murmurs against your neck, hands already working at the tie of your silk robe.
"You know what I want," you breathe, tilting your head to give him better access.
"I do," he agrees, letting the robe fall to the floor. "But I want to hear you say it."
You're wearing nothing underneath, having shed your clothes the moment you got his text, and the way his eyes darken as they rake over your body sends electricity straight to your core.
"I want you to fuck me," you say boldly. "Hard. The way you know I like it."
His smile is predatory. "There's my good girl. Using her words."
The praise sends a shiver through you, just like it always does. Yunho has this way of making you feel simultaneously degraded and worshipped, and it's exactly the mindfuck you crave.
His hands are rough as they explore your body, gripping and squeezing in ways that will definitely leave marks. But that's what you want—evidence of him on your skin, reminders that will last days after he leaves.
"On the bed," he orders, already pulling his shirt over his head. "Now."
You obey immediately, settling onto your mattress and watching as he strips efficiently. The sight of him never gets old—tall and lean but muscular, all sharp angles and smooth skin that you want to mark up with your teeth and nails.
"Look at you," he says, climbing onto the bed and settling between your legs. "Already so wet for me, and I've barely touched you."
His fingers trail up your inner thighs, deliberately avoiding where you need him most. "Please," you breathe.
"Please what?" His thumb brushes maddeningly close to your clit. "Be specific."
"Touch me. Make me come. Do whatever you want with me."
"Whatever I want?" His eyebrow arches. "Dangerous words, baby."
Before you can respond, two of his fingers are pressing into you without warning, making you arch off the bed with a gasp. There's no gentle buildup, no careful preparation—just the delicious stretch and fullness that makes your eyes roll back.
"This what you wanted?" he asks, curling his fingers in that way that makes you see stars. "You want me to be rough with you?"
"Yes," you manage to gasp out. "More. Please, more."
He adds a third finger, the stretch bordering on too much but perfect at the same time. His thumb finds your clit, circling with just the right pressure to make you writhe beneath him.
"So fucking perfect," he growls. "Taking my fingers so well. You love this, don't you? Love being at my mercy."
You can only moan in response, too overwhelmed by sensation to form words. But Yunho doesn't seem to mind—if anything, the helpless sounds you're making seem to spur him on.
"I can feel how close you are," he says, his pace increasing. "Your pussy's getting so tight around my fingers. You want to come for me?"
"Please," you whimper. "Please let me come."
"Not yet." He pulls his fingers away suddenly, leaving you empty and desperate. "I want you to beg for it properly."
The loss of stimulation makes you want to cry with frustration. "Yunho, please—"
"Please what?" His fingers trace your lips, still slick with your arousal. "Tell me exactly what you want."
"I want to come," you say desperately. "I want you to make me come all over your fingers, and then I want you to fuck me until I can't think straight."
"Better," he approves, his fingers returning to their previous position. "But I think you can do even better than that."
This time when he touches you, it's with purpose. His fingers pump into you relentlessly while his thumb works your clit, building you up to that edge faster than should be possible. But just when you're about to fall over, he stops again.
"No!" The protest rips from your throat before you can stop it.
"No?" His voice is dangerously quiet. "Did you just tell me no?"
The shift in his tone makes you shiver. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean—"
"You didn't mean to be a bratty little slut who thinks she can make demands?" His hand tangles in your hair, tugging just hard enough to make you gasp. "Is that what you were going to say?"
The degradation should probably offend you, but instead it sends heat racing through your veins. "Yes," you whisper. "I'm sorry."
"I think you need to be reminded who's in charge here," he says, positioning himself at your entrance. "Don't you?"
You nod frantically, beyond caring how desperate you look. "Please. I need you inside me. I need you to fuck me."
"Since you asked so nicely," he says, and then he's pushing into you in one smooth thrust that has you crying out at the perfect stretch.
This is what you've been craving—the feeling of being completely filled, completely owned. Yunho doesn't give you time to adjust, setting a punishing pace that has you clawing at his shoulders for something to hold onto.
"This is what you wanted, isn't it?" he pants against your ear. "You want me to use you. Want me to fuck you like you're my personal toy."
"Yes," you gasp, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him deeper. "I'm yours. Use me however you want."
The words seem to snap something in him. His rhythm becomes even more brutal, each thrust hitting that spot inside you that makes you see stars. You can feel another orgasm building, coiling tight in your belly like a spring about to snap.
"I can feel you getting close again," he says, one hand moving to wrap loosely around your throat. "You want to come on my cock?"
The pressure against your throat is light but unmistakable, just enough to make you feel owned, controlled. "Please," you whisper.
"Please what?" His pace doesn't slow, if anything it increases. "What do good girls say when they want something?"
"Please sir," you gasp out. "Please let me come on your cock. I need it so bad."
"That's better." His thumb finds your clit again, rubbing tight circles that have you teetering on the edge. "Come for me. Now."
The command combined with his touch sends you tumbling over the edge into the most intense orgasm of your life. Your back arches off the bed as waves of pleasure crash over you, and you're dimly aware of yourself crying out his name like a prayer.
But Yunho doesn't stop. If anything, your climax seems to spur him on, his movements becoming more erratic as he chases his own release. The overstimulation is almost too much, but the way he's looking at you—like you're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen—makes you want to give him everything.
"So perfect," he groans. "Taking me so well, letting me fuck you exactly how you need it. My perfect little slut."
The praise mixed with degradation sends aftershocks through your system, and you feel another orgasm building impossibly quickly. "Again," you whisper. "Please, I want to come again."
"Greedy," he says, but his hand moves between your bodies to rub your clit again. "One more. Give me one more and then I'll fill you up."
The promise of him coming inside you is enough to send you over the edge again, your inner muscles clenching around him as pleasure whites out your vision. You hear him curse, feel his rhythm falter, and then he's following you over with a groan that sounds like your name.
Afterward, you lie tangled together, both breathing hard and covered in sweat. Your body feels boneless, satisfied in a way that only Yunho seems capable of achieving.
"Good?" he asks eventually, pressing a soft kiss to your temple.
"Incredible," you breathe, still trying to catch your breath.
"Good." He rolls off you but doesn't move away, his arm still wrapped around your waist. "I like when you tell me what you want instead of making me guess."
You turn to look at him, taking in his mussed hair and satisfied expression. "I like when you give me what I actually want instead of what you think I should want."
"What's the difference?"
"You know exactly what the difference is," you say, trailing your fingers over his chest. "You know I don't want gentle. You know I want you to take control and make me work for it."
His smile is slow and devastating. "I do know that. I also know you're not done yet."
The statement makes heat pool in your belly again, despite having just come twice. "How do you know?"
"Because I know you," he says simply. "And I know that look in your eyes. You want more."
He's right, of course. You always want more with him, could probably go all night if your body could handle it. The arrangement works so well because you're perfectly matched in terms of appetite and desire.
"What if I do want more?" you ask, already knowing the answer.
"Then you'll ask for it nicely," he says, his hand trailing down your body. "Using your words like a good girl."
The cycle begins again, and you couldn't be happier about it.
But this time, instead of immediately going for round three, Yunho's touch gentles. His fingers trace lazy patterns on your skin, soothing rather than inciting.
"Stay still," he murmurs when you try to turn toward him. "Let me take care of you."
You're not used to this side of him—the soft aftercare that follows the intensity. Usually one of you leaves pretty quickly after, but tonight feels different. His hands smooth over the places he gripped too tightly, pressing gentle kisses to the marks he left on your throat.
"Water?" he asks, and you nod, watching as he pads naked to your kitchen like he belongs there.
When he returns with two glasses and a damp washcloth, you feel something shift in your chest. He cleans you up with careful touches, then pulls you against his side, sharing the water between soft kisses.
"We should probably talk," you say quietly, tracing circles on his chest.
"About?"
"The fact that you have a key to my apartment. The fact that you knew I'd be awake. The fact that neither of us has been with anyone else in months."
He's quiet for a long moment, his fingers combing through your hair. "And what conclusions are you drawing from those facts?"
"That maybe we're both too scared to admit this stopped being just physical a long time ago."
His hand stills in your hair. "And if we did admit it? What then?"
You tilt your head up to meet his eyes. "Then maybe we stop pretending we don't want more."
The smile that spreads across his face is soft and vulnerable, nothing like his usual cocky smirk. "I've wanted more since the second time we did this," he admits. "But I didn't want to ruin what we had."
"You couldn't ruin it," you say, pressing a kiss to his collarbone. "You could only make it better."
"Is that what we're doing? Making it better?"
"We're making it real," you correct, and when he kisses you this time, it tastes like promises and new beginnings.
twin cowboys ⇄ yungi ʚɞ
song mingi x f!reader x jeong yunho
your sorority chose to spend spring break in nashville this year and you couldn’t wait to finally go out to bars with your sisters. it was your second night out on the broadway strip and the only thing on your mind was having a good time – who are mingi and yunho to stop you?
w. smut 18+ minors dni porn with a lil' plot, dom/sub dynamics
wc. ~9k
spring break for you and your sorority was a big deal.
for the last three years you’d traveled with the group of girls to new orleans, new york, las vegas, all places with incredible nightlife and a vast amount of things to do whether you’re of age or not. the older sisters always went to bars and clubs, leaving the underage sisters to their own devices in a new city, but someone always knew someone, there was never a shortage of something to do.
this is your first year of being able to go out to places you could legally drink at and you were overflowing with excitement at where was chosen in the famous yearly salad bowl draw. every year you and your sisters would sit in the living room, your cutest and comfiest pajamas on and the entire sorority would get a partner and make a powerpoint presentation of where they wanted to travel to for spring break, including everything you could do in that city. at the end of all the presentations, you’d put all the cities in a bowl, and the president of the sorority would choose where you’d go.
this year the name that was drawn was nashville, tennessee.
the bowl draw was smart, every year you had a complete guide already made up, the only work to be done was figuring out where to stay and getting tickets on the same flight. the vice president always figured out the rest, an unspoken job that was passed down year to year.
this year you were staying in an adorable airbnb, decorated in pink, little sayings and picturesque opportunities covering the walls. it was massive, it had rooms for each of you, including a living space and a kitchen. if you needed to you didn’t have to leave, the place was enough for an instagram post — perfect for the underage sisters.
it was your second night going out on the broadway strip and you were still hungover from the night before. you get ready with a redbull in hand, chasing your shots with it, using it to power through the stomachache and energize you for another night of too much alcohol. your sisters felt the same, despite the loud music flowing through the space of the home there was an underlying trudge between the sixteen of you.
you did your makeup before you could feel the buzz that was flowing through your veins form into a flat out drunk, leaving you to only choose your outfit. you had packed very specifically for the short four days you’d spend in nashville, a leather mini skirt, leather top and of course, leather cowboy boots was already laid out for you as your night two outfit.
your sisters were dressed the same, tassels and cowboy boots were on everybody in the house, that’s how you dressed for nashville, it was on every woman in the city between the ages of twenty and fifty. you’d all gotten ready in the middle of the day, most of you just waking up from a drunken sleep to shower and do it all over again.
before you left the house you shoved a couple of crackers down your throat, something to soak up the alcohol so you didn’t throw up high noons all over the pink airbnb when you got home tonight. you’d walked up and down the strip a few times already the night before, checking out every bar on the sloped street that way you had a better idea of where you’d spend your night tonight.
as you left the airbnb your first stop was kid rock’s honkey tonk, a building consisting of five stories that had a different band playing on each one. you’d made it through all five stories, stopping for a drink at each of the six bars, spending more than enough time in the crowd before the band.
it was getting later, the sun had far past gone down, you and your sisters decided to go to where you’d spend most of your night tonight. luke bryan’s bar, 32 bridge, was connected to jason aldean’s rooftop bar, two places that you could slip back and forth from by just going to the top floor. the night before you’d loved it there, with country music playing earlier in the night shifting to more typical techno and rap music as you got closer to the nightlife crowd entering the bar.
you were standing on the stage, the lights glowing a dim, cool blue, a massive crowd beyond the stage. you and three of your sisters were dancing along to a random country song, kicking your feet and swaying your arms in the air as if you were holding a lasso. you paid no mind to the crowd beyond you who was watching, eyeing you up from below. you were having fun with your sisters, all three of you giggling onstage, eyes half lidded in a drunken haze.
the song ended and you realized your drink was empty, you motioned to the bar to let your sisters know you were going for a refill, leaving you to fight the dense crowd on your own. you stuck to the outskirts, weaving through random people and groups of girls just like you jumping and dancing to the music, trying your best to head straight to the bar.
you sighed when you noticed the three layered crowd surrounding the entirety of the bar, knowing you’d be waiting here for a while to get close enough to even be noticed by the bartender. this was everywhere, every bar, nothing you hadn’t already experienced in the 36 hours you’d been here.
“what’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?” your neck snapped to the corny pick up line coming from a raspy, poor accented voice, having to crane your head upward to see the face the voice was connected to. he was smiling, humor laced in his tone, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at the attempt.
“never heard that one before,” you laughed it off as he tipped his cowboy hat in your direction, obviously putting on a southern front when there was no way this man had ever stepped foot in the south.
“was it convincing?” he kept up with the fake accent and instead of cringing you giggled again, covering your mouth with the hand that wasn’t holding your drink.
“somewhat,” you shrugged your shoulders, a blush creeping on your cheeks when you really looked at him. dark, black hair if it wasn’t the deepest brown hair you’d ever seen curling around the edges of his cowboy hat, a lean but muscular build, you could see his forearms flex under the folds on his western themed button up as he drank from his beer. deep, inviting dark eyes, full lips and a sloped nose. he was sturdy, definitely your type, tall and husky and strong.
“i’ll take that as a win, doll,” he smirked, dropping the accent as the corner of his mouth lifted into a lopsided smile, “who are you here with?”
“my sorority,” you turned to point to the stage, the remaining two of your sisters dancing with one another for the crowd. that was one way to let you keep an eye on them.
“no way, i’m here with my frat,” his eyes were wide in surprise, “did we all have the same idea for spring break?”
“seems like it,” you used your hand to refer to the crowd surrounding you, it seemed like there was no one present that was above the age of twenty five. “have you ever been here before?”
he shook his head, “nah, the president’s birthday was yesterday so we’re here to celebrate him and spring break.”
you nodded then decided to introduce yourself, wanting so badly to learn the cowboy’s name, encouraging the conversation to keep flowing so he’d stick around for awhile.
“mingi,” he tipped his hat again with that pitiful accent, “pleasure to meet you, doll.”
the blush returned to your cheeks, a weak resolve when his pick up lines were not up to par. you finally got up to the bar, a space left open when the person in front of you had gotten their drink, and you waited with elbows on the gloss finished wood for the bartender to come around to you.
“did you need another beer?” you asked mingi who stood behind you, grateful he hadn’t left. he shook the bottle of beer to feel how much of it was actually left, and gave you a nod.
he reached into his pocket and passed you his card, “a drink for you and me.”
“we just met, i can totally get my own drink, don’t worry about it,” you pushed his card back to his chest and his smile returned, showing his lopsided teeth that matched his endearing look.
“let me show you a little southern hospitality, you can get the next one if you’d like,” he was giggling as he spoke, barely getting the words out because he knew he was keeping the act up for too long, it was too entertaining to stop, plus it seemed like it was actually working.
the bartender came around quickly without giving you time to respond, you ordered drinks for the both of you while tapping the corner of his card on the bar. the bartender quickly returned with your drinks and you traded them for mingi’s card, waiting for their swift return so you could sign off on the transaction.
“wanna dance?” he asked as you turned around, handing his beer to him.
“only if you promise to cut the accent.” he laughed at that and nodded, walking towards the crowd of people.
he guided you slowly, inching towards the center of people, wanting to get to the more dense area of the crowd. he seemed to have found his friends, waving to three people who were shorter than him, all wearing cowboy hats and western attire themselves. they were all hot, you needed to find out where he went to school.
he turned back to you and started dancing, a sway to his hips matching that of the cowboy boots on his feet, swinging back and forth in front of you, encouraging you to match his rhythm. you agreed, your body naturally reacting to the flow of the music and the movement of his body, bodies quickly getting closer. it was like his hips were magnetic, the way they pulled you closer to him, closing the space between you.
your chest came up to just before his pecs, your head tilted up to get a view of his face, his bottom lip sucked between his teeth. the songs switched, the next one a hit that everyone in the building knew, a famous song across the entire country.
well i walk into the room, passing out hundred dollar bills…
you squealed in excitement, jumping a little bit because you know this one. you immediately started singing along, taking control of the dance this time, making mingi move to a flow of your own.
cause i saddle up my horse, and i ride into the city…
his empty hand reached for your hips, keeping you flush to himself, singing along with you as he stared down at you, between you. you sipped your drink as your legs moved between his own, somehow getting even closer, welcoming every huge inch of him pressed to you.
riding up and down broadway, on my old stud leroy…
an idea popped into your foggy head, a clever one, one you were sure would get the man to finally close the distance. you reached up to his cowboy hat and quickly took it off his head, placing it on your own as the words save a horse, ride a cowboy pumped through the speakers of the club and out of your mouth.
his sweet smile turned devilish before he moved his lips closer to your ear, “doll, do you even know what you just did?”
you laughed, your head falling backwards in a drunken haze, eyes fluttering shut as you held his hat tight on your head with your hand.
you were oblivious to the old saying, the unspoken rule that if you take off a cowboy’s hat, it’s an invitation to take off other things, too.
his hand tightened around your hip, snapping you out of your giggles and swiftly moved his hand up to your chin, fingers pinching the skin to connect his lips to yours. you allowed it, you welcomed it, your too hot body immediately leaned into his touch.
your free hand moved up to cup his cheek, moving your lips with his, biting the skin of his bottom lip. he gasped and you used the opportunity to slip your tongue in his mouth, tangling with his own. your bodies kept swaying, moving, dancing as your tongues tangled, bodies involuntarily moving to the music and to each other.
your back arched into him, pulling away so you could switch your angle, connecting your lips to his again. it was deepening, too hot to be in the middle of a crowded bar. you heard cheers from behind him that you could only assume were his friends, making you smile into the kiss, inevitably breaking the trance the two of you had subconsciously entered.
you giggled as you peered around his shoulder at the shorter guys who were cheering and clapping, rooting for their friend in the middle of the dance floor. there was a blush to mingi’s cheeks as he told his friends to shut up, then turned back to bring his lips to your own again in a short peck.
“ignore them!” he yelled as he pulled back, getting into the groove of dancing along to the next song.
“it was cute,” you replied, taking his hat off of your head and standing up on your tippy toes to put it back on his head.
“gotta pee! i’ll be back,” you told him, the seal you had broken an hour ago was on overdrive, now your bathroom breaks were getting closer together. he pulled you flush to him in another of slew of open mouthed kisses before he let you go, sending you off with a quick tap to your ass.
you maneuvered through the crowd again, much more dense this time before you finally made it to the sparse areas, head turning left and right in search for the bathroom. you spotted it and made it there quickly, resetting your bladder to another countdown before you were off for the crowd again.
as you left the bathroom in a rush, eager to get back to mingi, you slammed face first into something similar to a brick wall.
you jumped back a step, apologies flooding out of your lips, craning your neck to look up to the kindest eyes you’ve ever seen looking back down at you.
“you’re good, don’t worry,” he waved his hand with a tight lipped smile, bringing the same hand up to adjust the hat that was atop his rich, chestnut hair.
“did i spill your beer? i can get you another one,” you offer, hands wiping at the damp spots in his button down, strong abdomen underneath. it was similar to the one mingi wore, identical to the one his friends’ shirts, your drunk mind was too foggy to notice the correlation.
he shook his bottle and his lips tightened with his eyebrows raised and a tilt to his head, “i could use another beer, actually.”
you smiled, grateful he was allowing you to pay back the inconvenience you caused him, quickly guiding him over to the bar again. you got yourself another drink and another beer for him, the crowd around the bar was two layers less compared to your last stop here.
“thank ya, little lady,” he smiled again, patting your head with his long fingers. you were weak in the knees, he was huge, taller than mingi but more lanky. his arms were thinner, thighs less full yet he also looked so strong… where have all of these men been hiding?
“we’re even now…?” you asked for his name without asking for it, your sentence trailing along, soliciting the information from him.
“yunho,” he finished for you, those kind eyes smiling down at you once more. you introduce yourself back with a smile, and he shook your hand much to your surprise. such a mature gesture from a seemingly college boy…it was somehow expected from his character that bled through his features.
“i wouldn’t say we’re even yet, little lady,” yunho interrupted your train of thought, picking your hand up that was glued to your side, “you owe me a dance and then we’ll be even, scout’s honor.”
he held up three fingers and you laughed, nodding so he’d put down his damn hand that wasn’t holding onto yours and he led you to the crowd.
he kept towards the outskirts, only inching you in maybe five layers deep, nowhere near the center. his arm immediately slipped around your waist, knees bending a bit as he did, pulling you flush to him to the flow of music in the air. you giggled, swaying your hips along with his, less build up than you had with the other cowboy yet the destination was just as clear.
you turned yourself around, pressing your back to him instead and he kept that same arm curled around your waist. you tilted your head, hair falling to one shoulder, leaving the other one bare for him. mingi had started something you were unable to finish, you’d hoped that yunho would pick up right where he left off.
yunho took a breath, moving his hand to travel along the skin of the slope of your neck to your shoulder, pressing his fingers to the flesh made bare for him. your body’s temperature rose even higher than before, trapping the noise of enjoyment in your lungs. your hips moved in tandem, bodies moving as one to the beat, yunho’s small touches only encouraged the pit that was forming in your stomach. you were getting worked up, beginning to inch toward needing a release, not caring which cowboy you got it from.
like he could read your mind, yunho bent down and pressed his lips to your shoulder, evoking a sound you couldn’t keep inside this time. your head sank back into his shoulder, your hips stuttering slightly against his, you couldn’t hide what yunho knew you needed right off the mark.
his lips trailed along the skin of your shoulder, spending time where it met your neck, licking over the sensitive skin there, only encouraging your body to sink further into his own. his hand trailed around your hips, playing with the hem of your skirt, fingertips slipping inside the leather to rub against the skin of your thigh.
you whipped your body around, overstimulated by the small touches, you needed more. you pressed your lips to his and he moved his hand from your skirt to the back of your head, tangling his fingers in your hair. his knee split your legs, slipping a muscled thigh between your own, pressing up against your center.
once again you were in the crowded mob, doing something not meant for the public eye yet enjoying every second of it — damn near begging for more, for it to go further. you moaned at the contact, finally getting some kind of stimulation where you needed it. your lips moved quickly, rushed, your hand flying to his chest to grip onto the fabric of his shirt. yunho chuckled into the kiss and bounced his leg once, twice before you had to pull your lips off of his, eyes screwed shut.
“yun!” a voice called from behind you and you wanted to scream in frustration, tell the other person to fuck off so you could keep going, finally finish what had been started. but as you whipped around and your other cowboy stared at you in the face, eyebrows raised and mouth slightly ajar, you knew you were caught red handed.
a blush crept onto your cheeks, mingi clearly didn't realize it was you that yunho had attached himself to when he yelled his president’s name. you didn’t realize they knew each other.
“damn, i was gonna ask if you were ready to move to another bar,” his lips pulled into a line but you didn’t see any anger in his big, innocent eyes, “i see that you’re busy.”
your eyes trailed up and down his figure, thighs thick and full and inviting. you peered up to his lips through your eyelashes, missing their taste, wanting more of him. an idea popped into your head, another one that you didn’t consider the consequences of, thinking with everything but your head.
you curled your index finger, motioning him towards you as your back sunk into yunho’s chest once more. as mingi came closer, your chin lifted to give mingi your best innocent look, “don’t go, we’re just getting started.”
you swung your arms around mingi’s shoulders, locking your fingers around your cocktail, hips starting to move along to the song again. the boys followed your lead, neither of them saying a word, only falling into rhythm with you.
with yunho pressed to your backside and mingi flushed against your front, you felt like you could let go, let your inhibitions run rampant between the two sturdy men who could easily take care of you. you pulled mingi down towards your face with the arms wrapped around his neck, you were met with no resistance as your lips connected once more.
yunho drank from his beer as he kept his other hand secured on your hip, watching the scene unfold in front of him with darkened eyes. it was hot, watching a girl he just met make out with his best friend while her ass pressed against his cock so deliciously, grinding against him to the beat of the song. he was salivating, his beer washing down the desire he felt from head to toe, fingers gripping harder the longer you kissed.
yours and mingi’s tongues danced again, fighting for dominance, neither of you unaware of the man that stood right behind you. the slight ache of yunho’s grip on your hip made you whimper into mingi’s mouth, mingi’s own hand lifting up to your waist. his thumb circled at the small space between your top and your skirt, feeling the softness of your skin, the heat that transferred from you to himself.
you broke away from mingi and glanced behind you, noticing yunho’s lustful stare, his eyes low and clouded. you glanced to his lips and he agreed without a word, leaning forward to catch your awaiting lips with his own.
mingi huffed at the contact between you and yunho, thumb slipping inside the hem of your top, wanting to keep his hands on you as you kissed his best friend. he pressed himself closer, keeping the growing tent in his jeans away from watchful eyes, suddenly very aware of what the three of you were doing in a packed club.
“we should go,” mingi’s voice is hoarse as he speaks, “i mean, if you guys want to take this elsewhere.”
you break away from yunho and nod, scared that the wetness between your legs will start dripping down your thighs if you don’t do something about it. you bring the rest of your drink to your lips, chugging three quarters of it down, the twin cowboys doing the same. you placed your glasses on the bar on your way out, the three of you nearly racing out of the club and back onto the street of broadway.
“i’m staying at an airbnb a block away,” you decide, leading them in the direction of your place, not giving them the option of going anywhere else.
as you walked off the busy street the two of them grabbed both of your hands on either side of you, their long legs making you have to walk twice as fast to keep up with them. you arrived quickly, messing up the door code not once but twice in anticipation, giving the code to yunho who punched in the numbers with a cool, calculated head.
the living room had a few underage sisters still lingering, all who watched you with the two men with eyes that bulged out of their heads, but yet no one said a word. you gave them a small wave and a meek smile before you dragged the boys up the staircase, finally arriving at your bedroom which was a wreck after two days of getting ready.
mingi hopped on the bed quickly, manspreading with his feet planted on the floor, an invitation for you to sit on his lap.
“we should talk about this first,” yunho interrupted and both you and mingi simultaneously whined, you stopped in your tracks before hopping on mingi’s lap.
“i’m sorry, i’m sorry,” yunho raised his hands in defense, “but we’ve all been drinking and i want this to be a good experience for all three of us.”
“i want this,” you interjected with a finger, “i started it.”
“i also want this,” mingi nodded in agreement, hands readjusting his jeans, “was hoping the night would end this way when i first laid eyes on you, doll.”
you giggled, your body immediately moving to crawl onto his lap, making yourself comfortable on the spot he just readjusted.
“hold on, little lady,” yunho came up behind you, placing his hands on your shoulders, “you sure? what do you want from this?”
your head craned upward to look at yunho who stood over you, the crown of your head touching his chest as he towered over your figure that was spread across mingi’s lap. “i’m sure yunho, i wanna be taken care of, want you, want both of you.”
you glanced down to mingi with the last part and that lopsided smirk returned to his lips as he leaned forward to finally kiss you. yunho interrupted with fingers wrapped around your throat before mingi got the pleasure, tilting your head upward to look at him once again. he leaned down to kiss you, upside down from his position behind you, and you involuntarily ground your hips into mingi. mingi groaned, his head tipping back, watching you kiss yunho.
“don’t be afraid to tell us to stop if it gets to be too much, okay? you know the color system?” he says as soon as he breaks away from the kiss, moving his head so you were looking into his eyes that have gotten impossibly darker. you nodded and he let go, letting you stretch your neck side to side before you nearly pounced on mingi.
you attached your lips to the first cowboy, all teeth and spit and tongue, no time to waste as your hands snuck up to the short tufts of hair that were peeking out of his hat, tugging at it. mingi groaned, his hips bucking into you from beneath you, his hands roaming across your thighs. you ground your hips into him, the bulge in his jeans dragging against your clothed clit just right, working your hips into a rhythm.
you felt the bed dip beside you, remembering yunho was here too, you reached for him with a weak arm. he ignored your hand completely as he pulled your hair over to one shoulder again, leaving the whole side of your neck open, indulging himself in licking up the faint saltiness of sweat on your skin. you moaned into mingi’s mouth from the contact, the stimulation from his cock grinding up into you and yunho’s hot tongue running along your shoulder.
you broke away from mingi’s mouth, continuing your assault on his lap while yunho licked up the base of your neck, making your head fall to the side so he could suck on your jaw, left hand coming up behind you to unzip your top. you and mingi filled the room with sweet sounds of pleasure, working yourselves on each other, his hands coming up to guide your hips against him.
“fuck, mingi,” you cursed, your eyes fluttering shut as your top fell to the sheets, missing the widening of the twins eyes, how mingi’s tongue lolled out of his mouth at the sight.
you felt the pit in your stomach start to build and fast, but it was ripped away from you even faster as yunho scooped you off of mingi’s lap and threw you on the bed behind him. you whined at the loss of contact, your skirt slipping up to your waist at the movement, nothing but your chest and your lacy black thong visible to the cowboys.
“my turn,” yunho’s declaration was nasty as he attached his lips to yours again, body completely enveloping yours on top of the sheets that you left in disarray. you moaned into him as his hands fled to your chest, thumbs circling over the hardened peaks, making you arch into his touch, legs wrapping around his torso.
mingi stripped himself of his hat, shirt and boots before he crawled next to the two of you on the bed, an arm sliding between yours and yunho’s bodies, slipping his fingers into your panties.
you cried out a fuck into yunho’s mouth, the rest of the house be damned as mingi used his ring finger and began circling your clit. you broke the kiss as your head fell back into the mattress, digging into it, your chest arching up into yunho’s as mingi dipped his finger further down, dragging your slick up and down your folds.
“so fucking wet,” mingi said under his breath, eyes focused on his own fingertip that was slipping in and out of you, barely breaking the line of his first knuckle. you couldn’t focus, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, the only word forming in your head was the continuous chant of more.
“please put it inside, please don’t tease,” you whined, head turning to plead with mingi, eyebrows knitted together in frustration. yunho kissed down your neck and throat, licking the column, covering the area in his spit and all you could do was moan.
mingi’s smile turned devilish, not a singular ounce of sympathy in his beautiful face. a rush of something fled through you as the dynamic changed in the room, mingi’s sweet, playful energy turned taunting, “you like it when i play with your pretty pussy, doll? hm?”
your eyes rolled into the back of your head at his words and his finger that was slowly inching deeper, each stroke of the thick digit went further yet still not giving you its entire length, leaving you unsatisfied and impatient but utterly fucked out.
yunho chuckled as he leaned backward, unhooking your legs from around his waist. your legs stayed spread around his hips as he sat on his haunches, taking one hand to move your panties to the side, watching as mingi’s finger that was covered in your slick barely moved in and out of your center. yunho had changed too, that cool, clear headed energy he filled the room with had turned dominant and powerful, it sent a shiver up your spine.
he bit his lip as his eyes lowered in focus, “you were right ming, such a pretty fucking pussy.”
your back arched again, hips bucking into mingi’s finger that still wasn’t giving you enough stimulation. mingi smiled at you through lowered eyes as you thrashed on the bed, bucking your hips even though it was doing nothing.
“so antsy, what a needy girl,” mingi tsked, shaking his head as he watched you, fingers still not letting up from their unsatisfactory attempt of pleasuring you.
“here, little lady,” yunho said as if he’d help while he brought his other hand to your center, thumb rubbing slow circles over your clit, using very little to no pressure. you were gonna lose your fucking mind.
tears welled up in your eyes as the twin cowboys watched with amusement, enjoying your frustration before you brought your hand down to yunho’s wrist, opting to force more pressure from his hand if he wasn’t going to give it to you willingly. it was the only option left, they were getting a kick out of your misery, out of your begging — it was the wrong move, and it turned you on even more.
yunho gasped as he pulled his hand away right before you could wrap your little fingers around his wrist, mingi following suit, leaving you empty and without any stimulation at all. you cried out, eyes squeezing shut, hips chasing their hands.
“what was that?” yunho asked in disbelief while you stayed silent, eyes opening to small crescents, tears spilling from your mascara coated lashes.
his head turned to mingi who responded, “i think that was the doll trying to fuck herself. seems she doesn’t need us at all.”
mingi’s tightened lips pulled to the side, a disappointed look on his face when yunho responded, “i think you might be right again, ming. you don’t need us, little lady? you wanna fuck yourself? thought you wanted us to take care of you.”
his words were taunting, mocking, the inflection of his voice did nothing but make the tears flow faster. they had definitely done this before, there were already too many moments where they read each other, knowing what the other was going to do next for this to be their first threesome, you were the naïve one here. you nodded, bobbing your head with fervor, a silent plea for them to just give in, give you what you needed.
“beg for it,” his words were vile, venom as he spat them off his tongue. a wicked smile followed yunho’s order, his hands sliding to your thighs to your hips to take control of your lower half.
“need you to take care of me, please,” you were immediate in your plea, looking between the two men who wore sardonic faces, their smiles twisted. “need both of you so bad, want you inside me.”
mingi leaned forward and wiped your tears from your cheeks, the sympathetic glint in his eye did not match the evil smile planted on his lips, “what’s that you sang to me earlier? save a horse and what?”
“i think it’s save a horse and ride a cowboy,” yunho finished for mingi, pretending he had to rack his brain for the answer, just stalling for more time to look at your naked body spread out in front of him.
mingi nodded in remembrance, the scene of you grabbing his hat and placing it on your own head playing out in his mind. he flipped over on the bed to his back, knees bent up as he looked over to you, “well? what are you waiting for?”
you jumped. you scrambled over to lap, kneeling over him as you unbuckled his belt and he laughed, “so eager, doll. can’t wait, can you? no patience at all?”
you shook your head, eyes completely glazed over as you unzipped his jeans, pulling them down to his ankles. he kicked them off with ease as you took in the size of him, eyes widening and a gasp leaving your lips at the sheer length he’d somehow kept hidden in his jeans.
mingi chuckled before he turned his attention to yunho, “wait til she sees you.” yunho immediately smiled with a short nod, zeroed in on you spitting onto mingi’s length, spreading it with a manicured hand.
you couldn’t hear him, too focused on the voice in your head screaming how the hell you were gonna fit him inside of you? you ignored your worry and kept your focus on him, figuring that you could at least try and take him in your mouth before you fit him inside.
“there you go,” mingi cooed as you bent down to pepper kitten licks across his leaking tip, spreading the saliva that was pooling in your mouth down his length. you finally took what you could in your mouth, tongue massaging against the underside, hands pumping what your mouth couldn’t fit. mingi immediately groaned, his hand flying to tangle in your hair, not pushing your head but leaving the weight of his palm as a reminder that he could.
yunho undressed himself off to the side, sitting back to watch, hand wrapped around his length as he pumped himself at the scene playing out in front of him. he always lets mingi go first, get the initial stretch out of the way so he could have an easier time slipping inside you. they had a method, the twin cowboys, a routine they’d used every time they found themselves sharing the same bed with a partner. you might have started this, but they fell into pattern the moment they realized where tonight was headed.
you took mingi down in your throat, gagging around him, eyes filled with tears once more as you took him impossibly further. mingi’s eyes were screwed shut, moans falling from his lips, hips involuntarily bucking up into your throat with his fingers tangled in your hair.
“so fucking good, doll, keep going,” his words slurred, voice low and hoarse as he tried to open his eyes to steal a peek at you. he failed, the view made the feeling overwhelming, you’re too good, too pretty, he felt a pit in his stomach forming and he could not allow that to happen just yet. his fingers pulled at the roots of your hair and lifted you off of him with a pop, his own mouth hanging open at the sight of your fucked out face.
he pulled you up to his lips by your hair, kissing you roughly, once again all teeth and tongue. you whimpered into his mouth, reaching for his cock again and he bucked his hips into your grip on him.
“ride me, need you,” he said into your lips between kisses, that raspy voice sending another wave of heat through your body.
“color?” a voice called from the side of the bed and you called green to the air, not even bothering to look over to the taller cowboy who asked the question, too engrossed in mingi’s slick, angry cock laying across his pelvis.
you swung your leg over his lap, spit onto your palm and gave mingi one last pump of lubrication before you lined yourself up over his length. you caught the taller cowboy in the corner of your eye, his hand was still, squeezing the base of his cock and your mouth went dry from what you saw out of your peripherals.
“fuck yunho,” your eyebrows furrowed together as you finally looked over at him, another worry slithering up your spine, making you pause in your ministrations, locking up your joints. he was leaned back, chiseled abdomen clenched as he edged himself, head tipped back and knuckles white from the pressure of the squeeze around the base of his cock. he looked so fucking sexy you almost moaned from the view, but the fear remained, mingi was big but yunho was bigger, massive even as his cock curved toward him past his belly button.
mingi gave you a light slap to your pussy making you gasp before you turned to face him. “eyes on me doll, i’m the one fucking you, not him.”
you nodded and tried to refresh your focus, regain your train of thought, lining him up with your center but you couldn’t relax as you tried to split yourself open on him. muscles locked, joints stiff, even mingi’s delicious length had you a little nervous despite every nerve begging you to sit the fuck down.
yunho picked up on it, sliding from his spot beside you to slip behind you, planting kisses along on your shoulder and both hands on your hips. you relaxed in his touch, head leaning back on his shoulder, your own shoulders slumping.
“you can do it, little lady,” he encouraged, guiding your hips down onto mingi, “there you go, baby, relax for me, hm?”
you moaned at the stretch and yunho’s words, trying to relax your core, letting your head get a little fuzzy so you didn’t tighten around him and just sank. mingi moaned, a strained, languid noise as he felt you wrap around him, a delicious squeeze as you took him further.
his hands sat on top of yunho’s as his eyes screwed shut, moaning his words in pleasure as much as he was encouraging, “yes, doll, take this dick.”
the two men pulled you down further, guiding you, encouraging you to let go. a guttural moan broke out of you as you bottomed out, sitting flush against mingi. he let out a sigh of relief.
“really thought you panicked after seeing yun,” mingi said with a laugh as you sat for a moment, enduring the stretch, embracing it.
“i did,” you admitted and you heard a breath of amusement leave yunho's lips behind you. “you guys should’ve warned me!”
“how were we supposed to warn you? hey i know you want to fuck us but just so you know we have massive cocks? that’s insane, we’d never get laid,” mingi replied and you laughed at that, almost as if he weren’t buried inside of you.
“valid,” you replied and you could feel yunho’s grip on your hips pulling your body upward, telling you to move without actually saying anything. you and mingi both moaned at the friction, you could feel every inch of him inside of you, every vein rubbing against your walls.
“color?” yunho asked from behind you, thumbs rubbing circles into your hips as he guided you downwards again, keeping a slowed pace.
“green,” your voice was breathless and your eyes screwed shut, brain going fuzzy again knowing that yunho was fucking you onto his best friend’s cock. it made you feel like a doll, a plaything, and it was so fucking hot.
“yes,” mingi whispered as you picked up speed, bouncing on him now, gaining enough strength of your own instead of relying on yunho’s. you lurched forward and your hands pressed against mingi’s sculpted abdomen, using it as leverage to bounce your hips, to gain a rhythm.
yunho leaned back, hand wrapping around himself again as he watched you fuck mingi, a beautiful view of the back of you bouncing along his length.
“so fucking sexy,” yunho’s voice was low and sultry, music to your ears and you moaned in response, eyebrows furrowing, that pit in your stomach growing again. yunho noticed your thighs twitch and your rhythm stagger, he was quick to sit on his knees again, wrapping an arm around your hips to attach his fingers to your clit.
“yes! yes keep going,” you chanted, using the strength of your thighs instead of learning forward against mingi’s abdomen, giving yunho easier access to rub quick circles on your clit.
“so fucking good doll, taking me so well,” mingi’s hands ran up your thighs as you bounced, his eyebrows fixed together, jaw dropped in pleasure.
he was hitting every spot so deep, close to touching your cervix from how far he was inside of you. his hands leaned up and kneaded your tits, massaging your nipples between his fingers, pushing your boobs together, slack jawed from the sight in front of him.
“yes, cum on this cock,” the rasp to his voice was so hot, he felt his own orgasm approaching quickly, he needed you to cum first.
yunho circled your clit impossibly quicker and brought his lips to your neck again and you lost it, creaming around mingi, your bounces becoming erratic as you finished on him with a loud cry. mingi quickly brought his hands back to your hips, fucking you onto him through your orgasm, keeping you at a pace to get him past the finish line.
“inside,” you mumbled through heavy breaths, “cum inside me baby, please mingi, wanna feel it, wanna be full of you.”
mingi lost it at that, hips bucking up into you until he lost it, too. he finished inside you with a loud groan, his hips slowing, overstimulating himself until he came to a stop.
like they had a routine, mingi gave himself a moment to catch his breath as yunho lifted you off his length, mingi pulling his body up the bed until his back was against the headboard. you gasped at their quick movements, you were hoping for at least a minute to recover.
“my turn,” he repeated the same words from earlier as he flipped you, laying you down against mingi’s broad chest, kissing you sweetly as his hands raked over your body.
“say red if you need to stop, okay?” he looked up to you, eyes staring deep into your own so you knew he was being serious. you nodded and he smiled, kissing you again, taking a minute to get lost in your mouth as his hand traveled to your center that had just been pumped full moments prior.
he let his fingers slip up and down your folds and you gasped, hips immediately bucking at the contact.
“too sensitive,” you whined, grabbing mingi’s hands that were laid at your sides.
“gonna take care of you little lady, don’t worry,” yunho didn’t even look up as he spoke, eyes glazed over as he watched his fingers slip through the flood, the mixture of yours and mingi’s release coating his long digits.
yunho laid down on the mattress, face centimeters from your center and you panicked. is he doing… what you think he’s about to do? he planted a quick kiss to your clit and your head shot back against mingi’s shoulder, a whine leaving your lips from the quick contact, only getting louder as yunho’s tongue dragged from your overstimulated clit to your full hole.
he spit on it, getting his own liquids in the mix, a concoction of the three of you that was messily spread onto your pussy. it was hot as much as it was embarrassing, you couldn’t live in the discomfort for any longer than a second as the pleasure overtook it.
“shit,” your moan was dragged out as yunho ate mingi’s cum out of you, you watched him lick, you watched him swallow, you watched as he dug his face farther into you when your hips involuntarily bucked into him.
he took one of his hands that was pressing your thighs to the side and brought it to your center, circling his middle finger around your entrance, slipping the tip of it inside.
“not this again,” you whined and yunho chuckled against you, sending vibrations through your entire body before he slipped the entire finger inside.
you cried out, back arching, nails digging into mingi’s hands as you chanted thankyouthankyouthankyou into the air. he added another finger, scissoring them inside of you, curling them up to hit the spongy spot inside of you that made you see stars.
the pit grew again, that tight band that threatened to snap dangerously quick. yunho kept the pace of his tongue against your clit, a brutal rhythm, one begging you to cum all over his face.
“go ahead doll, cum,” mingi said in your ear, voice still low and hoarse and strung, it was music to your ears. you let the band snap, hips jerking against yunho’s face but he let you ride it out, let you come down before he came up for air.
“no one’s ever done that before,” you admitted the second yunho was in earshot, still shocked and slightly embarrassed by what he had just done you began babbling. “well, i’ve never had a threesome before so no one’s really had the opportunity to.”
both yunho and mingi’s heads snapped to look at one another before they looked back at you. yunho’s eyes were wide as he spoke, “this- we are your first threesome? why didn’t you say that?!”
“why would i tell you that?” you asked in the same shocked tone, chest still heaving from your orgasm.
“it’s the same reason we didn’t tell you we were packing,” mingi replied from behind you, chest vibrating into your back, “you were scared we’d say no.”
“we wouldn’t of said no,” yunho interjected as he sat back up on his haunches, throwing your legs around his hips again as he lined himself up, “we just would’ve been nicer, more gentle.”
“too late for that, put it in,” you were quick in your response, eyes flying to yunho’s cock, making mingi chuckle beneath you.
yunho lined himself up before he paused again, making you whine and answer him before he had the chance to speak, “i’m green and impatient, i’ll tell you if it hurts. put it in.”
he smiled before he pushed himself in, face contorting as he was greeted with resistance, but not enough to make him concerned. your eyebrows twisted, eyes closing at the stretch, still a discomfort after coming twice so far.
mingi let go of your hands and brought one finger to your clit, the other hand tweaking at your nipple, trying to make the pleasure outweigh the discomfort. you moaned, a strangled but sweet noise, the stretch was intoxicating.
yunho sheathed himself inside of you and groaned, his head falling forward, leaning his forehead against yours.
“still so fucking tight little lady, gotta open up for me or i’m gonna cum,” his voice was low, his breath labored as you tried your best to relax again.
“yeah, just like that, there we go,” he noticed the release of your core and began rocking himself into you, small grunts turning into louder moans the faster his thrusts became.
mingi kept up the pace of his fingers with yunho’s thrusts making the pleasure almost blinding, so overstimulating you felt your head go fuzzy again, tongue lolling out of your mouth, your senses leaving you.
“perfect little pussy taking me so good,” yunho praised, only sending you further into whatever headspace you’d entered. you didn’t even know what sounds were leaving you as yunho’s thrusts became relentless, fucking into you at a speed that had you seeing stars again, your head falling lifelessly onto mingi’s shoulder. the pit in your stomach returned and you wondered how it was possible for the two of them to make you cum nearly three times in one night.
“yunho, so fucking big,” you tried to muster but your babbles had become incoherent as you grabbed onto mingi’s forearms, nails clawing at the soft skin, stuck between wanting him to stop and wanting him to rub your clit faster, your orgasm right on the brink of crashing over you again.
your hips started fucking back onto him and your prayers were answered, your cries ascending to almost screams as your stomach snapped again, so loud the twin cowboys were hoping those girls in the living room had left.
“fuck yes, cum on this cock. give me another,” yunho ordered, hands wrapping around your hips again, pulling you into him harshly. his brain seemed to have gone elsewhere also, the dominance returning, the powerful energy he’d surrounded the space with earlier.
“again?” you cried, hands coming up to claw at yunho’s forearms instead, “i can’t!”
“yes you can, baby, cum again. give me another, wanna feel you cum around me,” he was as mindless as you are, eyes empty as he fucked into you at a dangerous pace.
mingi’s hand slid up your torso and his hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing ever so slightly but just enough, the loss of air causing that pit of pleasure to grow again. yunho smiled, a devilish one while his hand came to circle your clit, tipping you over the edge.
“yes baby, fuck yes, so good for me,” yunho praised as you came around him, the clench of your pussy only aiding his own release.
“such a good girl,” mingi cooed, grabbing your hands again, kissing your cheek to soothe your now twitching body. yunho only got out three, four, five more pumps inside you before he was emptying himself, coming down to stilling his movements.
you caught your breath for a second, pussy still pulsing around him, feeling so utterly spent. yunho pulled out and collapsed beside you, his chest heaving, hands dangling atop his chest.
“color?” yunho asked, that kind smile on his face as he turned to you.
“green,” you responded, your voice raspy, “but you can’t fuck me again. i won’t be able to handle cumming again for another, like, three days.”
the twins both laughed at that, mingi pecking small kisses to your cheek before he asked, “should we shower?”
the three of you showered, all of you resembling something like zombies as you all shared the same vanilla coconut body wash. you went back downstairs after that for food and water, all dressed in white robes the airbnb provided, and the girls that were in the living room earlier were all still there, faces bright red.
“wanna watch a movie?” you asked the room, the twin cowboys still behind you, and the girls reluctantly agreed, only receiving shy nods of their heads.
the three of you sat on the massive sectional surrounded by your sisters in their pinkest pajamas, with cozy robes and towels twisted around your heads. you ate popcorn, watched once upon a time in the west, and fell asleep with your limbs entangled, cozied up in the fluffiest blankets with two cowboys that’d go down in history in your sorority’s legendary spring break stories.
You moved in for cheap rent, not to get passed around like a shared secret. But with four insanely hot men in one apartment— Gojo, Geto, Toji, and Nanami—it didn’t take long before things get messy. Now you’re cockwarming Nanami at midnight, riding Gojo in the shower, bent over for Geto before dinner, and getting your throat fucked by Toji. College? Peace? Who needs it when you’re getting ruined nightly?
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A/N: a reminder that Room for one more is a no-limits smut-heavy fic—it’s only going to get more intense and darker, please check CWs and only read if you’re comfortable with that kind of content .
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