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spirit & mixer

Summary: Two people sit at a bar and stare at one another with unfaltering eyes. All they want to do is depend on the decreased inhibition that comes with alcohol consumption, and their mutual yet unknown desire for one another.

Genre: smut, & a lil' bit of fluff if you read between the lines...

Pairing: Bartender! Lee Know x female reader - mutual pining

TW: none apply

CW: unprotected sex, cream pie, oral sex (f receiving), handjob (for like 3 seconds lmao), dirty talk, alcohol - drunk sex but consent HAS been established!!! some aftercare

Word Count: 4,200

a/n: would you believe me if i told you i started writing this whilst i was drunk? the greatest inspiration comes from a mind that can’t even think straight.

Slick hands and quick pouring, knowing what it needs to taste good. Smooth talker, knowing what to say to make you feel good. Easy on the words, easy on the booze, it’s no surprise the people here spend, spend, spend their money for the bartender. Sleeves rolled up and cologne smelling strong - yet not too overbearing, a slightly mysterious soul with charisma and wit and a match that keeps the conversation alight for hours, no matter the topic.

“Another drink?,” he smirked at you, and you almost forgot that you’re the intoxicated one here, his smile reflecting more a drunk appearance than you. He was a hell of a man - a drink you’d never quite figure the taste of, and as a result, never quite get tired of.

“Please,” you smiled at him, creases forming next to your eyes and you weren’t really sure why you were so joyous - and you left the blame on the spirit and mixers.

“Leave it up to me, I’ll make you something.” He disappeared behind the bar, strainers and crushed ice in hand as his face veered on a look that spoke of pure focus.

His aura certainly matched his bar - deep red and grey interior and dim lighting that really set a mood of erotica, small tea lights providing further lighting on the tables. The walls behind the bar were filled with spirits and mixers and all sorts of drinks, some you were completely unaware of the origin of. The chairs, padded leather, were a deep coffee colour, and on the walls hung the most beautiful of decor, simple yet effective and probably in the price range of thousands.

Minho screamed expensive - and his own place matched this. He screamed high class and dignified, yet only intimidating when the time called for it, for he was the biggest charmer - charisma unmatched.

He took a cocktail mixing spoon, dropping the mixture into the crevice he created between his thumb and hand, and tasted. His lips collided with his skin and left behind a sound similar to that of two lips colliding with one another in a ferocious kiss.

He was satisfied with what he made.

Minho placed his creation on a tray and carried it over to you, small smirk evident on his lips that showed he was confident you’d like it.

“For the lady,” he pushed the drink in your direction once it hit the smoky glass table, and you became aware of just how veiny and sculpted his hands were. Well taken care of, but the prominent blue and purple underneath his skin could be seen even under the dim lighting.

“And are you gonna tell me what’s in it?,” you maintained his eye contact.

His fist provided leverage for him to stay upright as he leaned over on the table, eyes shifting slightly before whispering into your ear, “But if I told you, that doesn’t make it a surprise.” And he turned and made his way to other customers, bright smile on his face.

You’d been coming to this bar ever since it had opened. It was relatively new, only a few months old, and in a good area of the city. That made it hard to miss, and considering the way it looked so appealing, so exorbitant, just lured you in more. The way the locals spoke so highly of the bar with the talented and passionate staff made it a pretty popular place instantaneously.

What made it better was that it wasn’t such a far trip from your apartment, and so coming here alone after your first few visits wasn’t really an issue. Minho was friendly and approachable and so you never felt out of place coming as an individual - it was just like going to visit a friend. And not to forget, at the end of your night Minho always ensured you got home safe, giving you his number one late night because his conscience wouldn’t let him live it down otherwise.

A gentleman and a smooth talker is a more potent mix than the strongest alcohol.

With it being a Friday night, the bar was pretty much bustling, and as if by reading your mind, his colleague had finally entered, his jacket folded between his arms as he passed through to the bar.

“Ever the timely one,” Minho chuckled to himself, elbows leaning on the bar.

“Sorry man, it’s hard to hail a cab these days,” Hyunjin pushed his hair back with the tie he had wrapped on his wrist. Ever the late, but still well enough prepared.

Another great thing about the bar was the staff, of course. They were so handsome, sometimes the customers forgot it was the alcohol they needed to drink in - not the bartender’s looks.

Minho grabbed the glass of red wine he’d made himself before the bar began filling up, which caused Hyunjin to make the most over-the-top disgusted face.

“What?,” Minho questioned.

“You don’t even drink red wine,” Hyunjin slipped past the other man to collect the finished glasses of other customers, pulling one last unhappy face before he disappeared.

Hyunjin was right though - Minho hated red wine. He couldn’t stand the stuff, the horrible aftertaste and the blood-like appearance swirling together to serve his distaste. Still, he liked to appear the swanky, stellar bartender and if it meant engulfing a drink he secretly thinks is shit, so be it.

A couple of more surprise cocktails had you moving to sit bar-side rather than your usual small corner table. Another glass of red wine or two (maybe even three) had Minho doing that sultry smirk that you were convinced he only shot your way.

The air around you was not only filled with his cologne that still hadn’t faded after time, but was heavy with lust.

“What’s the point in a menu if halfway through the night you take it away and make your own ideas?,” you quizzed, eyes staring down at your fruity drink, determined to make conversation after silent moments of deep eye contact that lasted far too long.

“Nah, I keep the menu for everyone else,” he looked at you, before swigging the rest of the wine in his glass, “But my favourite customer gets her special treatment,” his eyes showed signs that he was tired, or perhaps becoming tipsy. Maybe both. Maybe it was something else.

But the more intoxicated you became, the more intoxicating he became to you - drowning you in his mixture, with not enough crushed ice to dilute the warm feeling growing in your stomach unbeknownst to him.

He felt it too, but would never admit. He carried his pride too high and too heavily on his back to risk slicing the knife through the thick, salacious tension that was coating the bar.

Another few moments of eye contact and small smirks on your faces was broken as Hyunjin spoke, the haze dissipating between you both, “Hey,”

“Yeah?,” Minho looked to his side.

“We close soon, alright?,”

It was that time already?

A check of your phone helped you learn it was 1:40am, and was indeed nearly that time.

“Can I grab the bill?,” you asked, finger dancing around the rim of your glass.

“Yeah, sure, give me a minute,” Hyunjin tapped away on the tablet in front of him, readying the card machine as you felt another pair of eyes bore into you.

Minho.

He was definitely more inebriated than he’d like to admit, what with the way his pupils dilated so much you didn’t need to increase the lighting of the room to see it. His lips looked so plump, so kissable, if only Hyunjin wasn’t in the bar, if only the rest of the customers weren’t in-

“You’re walking home?,” Hyunjin looked to you as you tapped your card details into the small machine. He asked, but already knew this, his hint lingering in the air.

“Yeah, it’s not far,” your card was accepted, “It’ll only take me about 15 minutes,”

“Get Mr. Smooth here to walk you home,” the taller man smirked to himself, shooting Minho a side glance and pulling the receipt out of the machine.

You blushed a little too much at the eye contact you and Minho made.

“Shouldn’t I stay and help you lock up?,” Minho asked, hesitant in his departure.

“Nah man, I got it. There’s still twenty minutes. You get yourself off,” Hyunjin smiled at you both as he collected empty glasses, the remnants of a good night, from the tables he hadn’t yet cleared.

You thanked Hyunjin for your evening, collecting your bag and things from the bar before exiting the building with Minho beside you.

The night air was cool, the streets not too busy as you walked beside one another. Minho looked so effortlessly pretty, hands in his pockets and deep cerise shirt softly blowing against the breeze.

Despite the alcohol in your system, your vision of him was clear. The tension that created a blanket of lust at the bar was still long from leaving, and by the way you shot glances at one another which each step you took, you both knew this.

“You don’t have to walk me home,” you broke the silence.

“And? Doesn’t matter what I have to do or not, I want to,” he tilted his head back slightly, “Or would you prefer to walk me home?,”

By the lilt in his voice you could tell that was a genuine question, flirtatious intent bouncing around the surface. He wanted you to bite.

You did.

“If you insist,” you dramatically clutched onto his arm, the flexing of his bicep felt under your fingertips, “I’ll protect you by all means.”

If Minho was a cocktail, he’d definitely be a sweet and strong one. One you can’t forget and make sure to purchase every time because the way the tang lingered was unforgettable entirely.

“I did my duty well,” you stood in front of Minho’s apartment door.

The walk there hadn’t been too long - and in fact it made you realise that Minho was a clever man, because the walk to where he lived was much, much shorter than it would’ve been had you walked to your home.

“Not well enough, I’m afraid,” He took in the way your brows furrowed, “I’m not in my home, anything could happen, anyone could just-,”

You cut him off by playfully shoving him inside his apartment, the door being slightly ajar from him pushing the handle down as he spoke.

Silence filled the room as he gripped onto you, smell of red wine cascading around you both as his lips were mere inches away from your own.

Despite how many times you’d seen Minho now at the bar, nothing quite compared to how he looked up close - this close, so close you could taste him before you even connected.

But the gap was closed, and your lips met in a soft kiss, the door closing shut behind you as you were engulfed in the deep blue colour of his walls that had no light besides the moon creeping through his ajar curtains. His hands were soft against your figure, as though he was testing the water, as though he was holding back.

Your hands wrapped around his neck, engrossed in his scent, falling into a liquid in his hands. He kissed softly and yet passionately, the red wine hanging off his tongue, as the tastes of the alcohol you had drank tonight intermingled into one.

“Y/n,” Minho whispered against your ear lobe, hands resting on the small of your back, “Stay the night, please.”

You nodded, his earnest request sinking through your ears, breathing in his scent and relaxing into him as you stumbled backwards. His grip remained firm, his touch never once loosening from you.

You travelled backwards, soft kisses between your movements until you were halted by Minho’s back hitting what you assumed was his bedroom door.

“Ah,” you hummed.

“We don’t have to go in there,” his voice was quiet, a low mumble and you detected his hesitancy to step over the line.

“Mr. Smooth isn’t going to show me his bedroom?,” you smirked at him, using the name Hyunjin had referred to him by, moving him aside as you entered.

What a grand bedroom Minho Lee harboured. Satin sheets on a large bed - possibly too large for just the lone man to sleep in at night. The interior of his bedroom clearly reflected that of the bar too, it’s deep neutrals translated into his personal room also. Chic, modern, sensual. Erotic, building on the lust being poured from the shaker. Soon, it will be all but full.

You turned back to Minho, who had passed through into his room now, salacious look in his eyes as he enveloped you in his vision. In his gaze, you felt so small, trapped, his focus on you.

“Minho…,” you trailed off, heartbeat racing.

The blanket of lust was now so thick it was suffocating.

“On the bed. Get on the bed,” he made his way towards you, nimble hands undoing the buttons of his shirt, chest becoming visible.

What a stoic and defined man.

You obliged his order, sitting on the bed as he knocked you on your back, soft sheets filling around you. With the opening you’d created with your legs, Minho pressed himself against you, kiss harsh and more feverish than the last. Wanton desire flooded through him, and you felt that same feeling - nothing but pure want for each other, right here, right now in this room.

And nobody can even admit, or come close to telling how long this feeling had been building up, that if tonight wasn’t happening, then when? Because you’d been at your tipping point and Minho at his, it’s a god damned blessing that you’re both here right now. How many times had you both felt the guilt - unbeknownst to each other, once you’d cum over the thought of one another in your lonely little rooms, silent gasps of each other’s names escaping your lips. Finally, it was now. Now that you were together - to be one.

“You don’t know how bad I’m holding back,” Minho whispered against your neck, hands sliding up and down your thighs and caressing the skin, making you grind up against him.

“Show me,” you moaned out, his hands letting the cool air hit your body as he unbuttoned the rest of his shirt, toned, tan skin on display for you to ogle.

“I can take this off?,” he gestured to the hem of your dress, waiting until your approval before he lifted the fabric.

“Please, Minho,”

As soon as your skin was bare to the room, to the satin, Minho’s lipped glossed over as many areas as possible, light kisses each time he found an area that you were particularly responsive to.

Your lack of a bra made him keen particularly more than he’d have liked to let on, eyes drinking in the way your nipples hardened despite the sheer heat burning between your bodies.

His plump lips made their way to your breasts, licking softly and suckling at the skin, causing you to whine out impossibly more from the neediness building inside you.

For some moments, he ensured to suck hard enough to leave little marks on your skin, kissing and blowing the area cool, sending shivers down your spine.

Minho Lee, why didn’t we do this sooner?

“Move further up the bed for me,” he tapped your thigh, sending you out of the slight daze he’d put you in.

You moved up so that your head rested on the pillows. Minho, still at the foot of the bed, drank in the sight of you as he unbuckled his belt, letting it drop to the floor alongside his trousers.

Through his underwear, his desire for you was as clear as day, and he looked almost feline as he clambered on the bed to you, muscles in his arms and shoulders flexing with every movement, eyeing you like some prey.

“You’re insatiable,” he whispered under his breath, fingers playing with the lace hem of your underwear.

Slowly, he lowered himself between your legs, and you lifted up to accommodate him taking off your panties.

His hot breath could be felt against your skin, and you moaned louder than you thought you would once he planted soft kisses onto you. Immediately, your hands clutched his hair, tugging slightly. His grip on your thighs tightened as he opened you up more for him.

He ravished you with pure hunger, and yet he wasn’t messy. He sucked lightly when he felt you becoming more wet, and occasionally looked up at you to find your eyes locked on his figure, causing him to roll his own back in sheer pleasure.

When he took moments to breathe, his veiny hands played with your clit, slow and sensual and circular in motion as you writhed beneath him, haze fogging up your mind becoming especially thick.

“Minho, oh, fuck,” you whined, pussy grinding against his face with your obscenity and hands clenching the satin covers on his pillows.

He simply groaned against you, complying with your wordless demands and steering you over the edge.

You came on his face with force, body tensing and eyes rolling back, vision entirely unclear other than the band of white light that shot across you. The way Minho made you cum was even better than you’d imagined all those nights once you’d made it home, intoxicated by both his alcohol and his demeanour.

“Fuck, come here,” Minho came up from between your legs, lips connecting with yours before you had chance to register.

Tasting yourself on him was sweet - almost like the cocktails he’d been creating for you earlier in the night. Was this what it was like for him?

As your mouths moved in rhythm, the grinding of his clothed hips on your wet pussy never ceased. The heat in the room was unmissable, the desire for one another ever-growing. All that filled your mind was Minho, Minho, Minho.

Your kiss lasted a while, teeth nibbling and pulling on one another’s lips and hands groping and pulling at one another. Desperation.

Your hand reached down to his groin, “Minho, your cock,”

“Yeah, what about it?,” he teased, lips still peppering sweet kisses onto you.

“Fuck me with it. I’m done waiting,” you pulled his head back to look at you, and the sinister face he pulled made you whine wantonly as he grabbed your wrist still touching his cock.

Controlling your movements, he helped you reach inside his boxers, pulling them down enough to reveal his dick to you. Oh fuck, how much more you wanted to beg for it.

To tease him, you stroked at him, thumbing over his sensitive head, earning a hiss between his teeth. A mixture of a slow and fast pace made Minho lose his mind, so far gone behind this longing that he near-shouted for you to finally let him enter.

You lined him up with you, and with his touch overpowering yours, he rubbed the head between your wet cunt, teasing at your sensitive clit before slipping inside you slowly.

He filled you, stretching you out and making you convulse around him, causing him to groan out.

“Tighter than I thought you’d be…,” his voice trailed as he let his mind slip.

At first, his hips moved with mindless force, fucking into you and causing you to drag your nails harshly down the flesh of his back. Marks of red would definitely be there, what with the way Minho groaned in a mixture of pain and rapture as your hands clawed you into place, much to the contrast of the way his purely wanton fucking moved your body up the bed further with each thrust. It was a cycle, spurring him on to fuck you more and more into the dazed state you were entering.

“Slo-, slower,” you whined into his chest, vicarious grip never faltering on him.

You wanted to feel this - remember it, etch it into your brain so that when the alcohol left your system you wouldn’t even come close to forgetting it.

“Like this?,” he quizzed, grinding up into you, the sensuality of his movements causing you to keep clenching on his cock.

It was then that he realised he needed to fuck you with more passion and eroticism than he had begun - and so he did.

He needed this feeling to last just as much as you did - he needed to learn this recipe, the ingredients, he needed to learn the outcome. He needed to know the taste.

The feeling of his slower thrusts had you mewling, ankles locking around his waist in fear he would disappear if you didn’t keep him tight enough.

“There! Please,” brows furrowing, sweat building up between your bodies, and the grunts and groans of one another filling the air created the perfect blend.

“You like it here?,” Minho was inquisitive - but not because he needed your guidance or help, but because he wanted to hear just how good he was making you feel, hear just how much you need and wanted him to stuff your hole and fuck it.

You nodded frantically, pussy grinding against him and matching his thrusts. His lips attached to your tits, sucking on your nipples and adding to the feeling. He groaned loudly when he felt the sensation of you pulling his hair.

He liked that?

And so you did it again. Harder.

The same reaction, moaning out and stopping himself from continuing to kiss your boobs.

Pulling his hair back enough that he was forced to look into your eyes, you almost came again on the spot. The way his rosy, tinted lips were plump with blood, and the way his pupils bore large, eyes hooded with insatiable need to just stay here right now. Even in his fucked out state he was absolutely ethereal. He oozed the sweetest of tastes. You were hooked.

"I'll cum if you carry on," Minho masticated his lips between his teeth, eyes threatening to close in satisfaction.

The sheets were now damp with the combination of fluids, the rising heat of your bodies and the wetness of your cunt. The scene before you was a beautiful mess - lacking much control, no clear order for the ingredients and with no precision at all, just everything thrown into one and yet still coming out a delight.

Your fingers reached for your clit, determined to cum for Minho, around his cock, "I'm close,"

"Wait for me," he rasped, pace increasing more so to take you both there, to the edge.

The incrementum was unreal, thighs shaking around the man's figure in such a way that you were losing your senses. And him losing his own too, the sight before him just plain erotic and pornographic and he couldn't hold back any longer.

You released, breathless moan escaping your mouth as your head was thrown back into the silky sheets. Cumming around Minho's cock sent him into overdrive, doing his best to fuck you through your orgasm but being stumped by just how perfect your cunt squeezed him, milking him of his release as he came inside. And with final determination, he fucked his cum back into you until he could feel the hardness of his cock fading, before pulling out, cum leaking lewdly.

"Fuck me," you breathed out after a few seconds had passed and heartbeats had began to slow.

"I just did," Minho giggled, face down in the pillow, back glistening with sweat and breathing heavily from fatigue. Still quick with the words, even after a late night like this.

He turned to look beside him, seeing the glow on your face - reflecting that of his too. What a beautiful sight you were, even with makeup threatening to wipe off and hair stuck to your forehead from the warmth.

Your eyes were about to close, when Minho wrapped himself around you, "As much as I'd love to let you sleep, I need you to shower first,"

You groaned quietly, not wanting to move.

"Come on, I'll wash you. Then we'll sleep somewhere else." His voice was soft, and he shifted positions to enable himself to carry you, his hot muscular form not even flinching an inch at your weight.

You hummed into his skin, arms wrapping around him. Minho completely didn't mind the mixture of cum and sweat that merged, his main priority being to clean you up and ensure you slept as well as you could.

Looking over Minho's shoulder, the sheets were definitely uninhabitable for the night - perhaps his guest room would be viable, or even the sofa. Anywhere as long as he was there.

In the morning, you may need to have some words with one another now that the thick tension has been cut and your desires for one another had been aired out.

But for now, just for now, you'll blame it on the spirit and mixer.

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