Bi-Curious…
Gay Bestfriend Minho x Fem Reader
Tags: Smut, bi awakening, best friends-to-lovers, sexual experimentation, oral sex (m, f receiving), protected sex, hair pulling, doggy, rough sex, alcohol consumption.
Word count: 3.9k
Summary: you and Minho have always been an open book, even when it comes to his life as a proud, dominant gay man. But after a wine-soaked evening and a vivid confession about your own past, a dangerous spark of curiosity is lit. What starts as a curious "experimentation" to satisfy his sudden wonder about women quickly spirals into something far more intense.
This work contains mature themes, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!
————————————————————————-
You remembered the way the air in Minho’s apartment felt heavier that night, thick with the remnants of your laughter and the faint, earthy scent of the red wine you’d both been sipping. The city lights filtered through his blinds in soft, golden slats, casting shadows across the couch where you both lounged. Your legs were draped over his lap as usual, your bare feet tucked against the cushion, and his hand rested idly on your ankle, it was all innocent and familiar.
You’d been friends for so long that boundaries like this didn’t exist between you. He was gay, after all. Out and proud, a top through and through, with zero experience or interest in women. Or so you’d always believed. His stories were always about men: the chase, the dominance, the raw power of it. You’d listen, tease him, and share your own hetero escapades without a hint of awkwardness.
But that evening, as the wine warmed your veins and loosened your tongue, you dove into the details of your best sex ever.
"It was with this guy I met at that bar downtown," you started, your voice dropping low as you painted the picture. "We barely made it to his place. He pushed me against the door, kissing me like he was starving—slow at first, lips brushing mine, then deeper, his tongue teasing until I was melting. His hands slid under my shirt, fingers rough on my skin, tracing up to my breasts, pinching my nipples just hard enough to make me gasp. Then he dropped to his knees, hooked my leg over his shoulder, and... god, Minho, his mouth on me. Licking slow circles around my clit, sucking it gently while his fingers slipped inside, curling against that spot that makes everything tighten. The wetness, the heat—it built so slow, like a fire you can't control, until I came undone, shaking against him. And when he finally fucked me, it was deep, rhythmic, his body pressing mine into the mattress, every thrust hitting just right. That mix of tenderness and force... that's what makes hetero sex addictive."
Minho had gone quiet, his dark eyes fixed on you with an intensity you’d seen before, but only when he was dissecting a problem at work or eyeing a guy across the room. His fingers, which had been tracing absent patterns on your ankle, stilled. He shifted slightly under your legs, and you felt the subtle tension in his thighs.
"Sounds... vivid," he said, his voice a low rumble, almost thoughtful. He took a slow sip of his wine, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. "But I don't get it. With guys, it's all about the edge—the control, the friction. No... softness or mystery. What's the appeal of that? Of... women?"
You laughed, nudging his side with your foot. "You'd have to try it to know, Mr. Gay-and-Proud. But you've never even looked at a girl that way. Vaginas probably terrify you."
He didn’t laugh back. Instead, his gaze lingered on you, curious, almost analytical.
"Never have," he admitted, setting his glass down with a soft clink. "But now... I'm wondering. Seriously."
His hand moved up your calf, just a fraction, his palm warm against your skin. It wasn’t sexual—not yet—but there was a spark in it, a question. "What if we... explored? Just to satisfy the curiosity. No expectations, no labels. Show me why it's 'addictive'."
Your breath caught. Was this a joke? His eyes were serious, that sharp jawline set in determination, but there was uncertainty flickering there too—the way his brows furrowed slightly, like he was second-guessing his own words. Your heart pounded, a mix of thrill and nerves. You’d always found him attractive in that objective way: tall, lean-muscled from the gym, with tousled dark hair and a smirk that could disarm anyone. But he was gay. This shouldn’t be happening. Yet the idea ignited something in you, reckless and hot.
"You're sure? This could be weird."
"I'm curious," he repeated, his voice steadier now, though his hand trembled just a bit as it rested on your knee. "But only if you want to. Teach me."
You didn’t rush, instead you nodded, and he stood first, offering a hand to pull you up. His palm was calloused from weights, warm and firm, and as you both walked to his bedroom, the hallway seemed longer than usual, each step building this electric tension. The room was dimly lit by a bedside lamp, the sheets rumpled from where he’d napped earlier, carrying a faint scent of his cologne—woody and masculine. He closed the door softly, and you stood there, facing each other, the air humming with unspoken questions.
"Start slow," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. You stepped closer, reaching up to trace the line of his jaw. His skin was smooth-shaven, warm under your fingers, and he didn’t pull away. Instead, he watched you, his breath shallow. You leaned in, brushing your lips against his tentatively. He hesitated, his mouth firm but unresponsive at first, like he was processing the sensation. Then, slowly, he kissed back, his lips parting yours with a gentle pressure. It wasn’t passionate yet; it was curious, his tongue flicking out to taste you, a soft hum escaping him as if he was analyzing the difference.
His hands found your waist, gripping lightly through your shirt, and you pressed closer, feeling the solid wall of his chest. "What does that feel like?" he murmured against your mouth, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes. There was genuine wonder there, mixed with a flicker of doubt.
"Like I like it," you whispered, sliding your hands under his shirt, tracing the ridges of his abs. His skin was hot, taut over muscle, and you felt him tense—not in rejection, but in surprise. He wasn’t hard yet; you could tell from the way your bodies brushed. He was gay, after all—this wasn’t instinctual for him. You had to earn it, draw him in with patience.
You guided his hands to the hem of your shirt, encouraging him to lift it off. He did, slowly, his eyes widening as he exposed your bra, the lace cups hugging your breasts.
"Soft," he said, almost to himself, his fingers brushing the curve tentatively.
He cupped one, thumb grazing the nipple through the fabric, and you arched into him with a soft moan. That sound seemed to intrigue him; his touch grew firmer, pinching lightly, watching your face for reactions. "Does that... feel good?"
"Yes," you breathed, reaching behind to unhook your bra, letting it fall. His gaze dropped, curious and appraising, like he was seeing a woman's body for the first time in this light. He touched you again—bare now—his palms rough against your sensitive skin, rolling your nipples between his fingers. The sensation shot straight between your legs, making you wetter, but you held back, letting him explore at his pace.
He leaned down, hesitantly pressing his lips to your collarbone, then lower, trailing kisses that were more experimental than heated. When his mouth closed over your nipple, it was gentle—a flick of his tongue, then a suck that made you gasp. He paused, looking up. "Too much?"
"Perfect," you encouraged, threading your fingers through his hair. He grew bolder, alternating between licks and nips, his free hand sliding down your side to your shorts. But he stopped there, fingers hovering at the waistband, uncertainty clouding his eyes again. "I don't... know what to expect," he admitted, voice husky but vulnerable.
"Trust me," you said, guiding his hand lower. He slipped under the fabric, fingers brushing your panties, feeling the damp heat through the lace. His breath hitched—a mix of surprise and intrigue.
"You're wet," he murmured, almost in awe, pressing gently against your folds. The pressure sent a jolt through you, but he was slow, rubbing in tentative circles, learning the shape of you.
You moaned softly, rocking against his hand, and that seemed to spark something. He pushed your shorts down, kneeling as you stepped out of them, his face level with your core. His eyes darkened, curiosity winning over doubt.
"Show me," he said, voice low.
You spread your legs slightly, pulling your panties aside. He stared, transfixed, then leaned in, inhaling your musky scent, getting aroused. His tongue darted out experimentally, a light lick along your slit that made you shudder.
"Salty... sweet," he whispered, tasting again, slower this time. His uncertainty shone through in the way he paused between licks, but each one grew more confident as your breaths turned ragged. He found your clit, circling it with his tongue, sucking gently while his fingers probed—sliding one inside you, feeling the slick tightness.
"Oh god, Minho," you whimpered, your hands gripping his shoulders. He hummed in response, the vibration intensifying everything, but he wasn’t fully there yet—his body responding, but not overwhelming him. You could feel him half-hard against his jeans as he pressed closer, but it was the curiosity driving him, the puzzle of your reactions.
After what felt like an eternity of building pleasure—his mouth devouring you now, fingers curling deep—you came with a cry, clenching around him, your juices coating his lips. He pulled back, licking them clean, his eyes wide with a mix of satisfaction and lingering question.
"Now your turn," you said, dropping to your knees, hands on his belt. He hesitated, standing still as you undid it, pulling down his jeans and boxers. His cock was semi-erect—thick, veined, but not fully aroused. "It's okay," you assured him, wrapping your hand around it, stroking slowly. He groaned softly, his hips twitching, but his eyes held that uncertainty. "Feels... different," he admitted, watching you.
You took him in your mouth, slow and teasing—tongue swirling the tip, tasting the salt of his pre-cum. He hardened gradually under your touch, his breaths deepening, hands fisting in your hair. "Fuck," he muttered, curiosity turning to heat as he grew fully erect, throbbing against your lips.
When he couldn't take it anymore, his hands gripped your arms with a surprising firmness, pulling you up from your knees. Your mouths crashed together in a fierce kiss, his tongue delving deep, tasting the remnants of himself on your lips mingled with your own lingering flavor. It was messy, urgent—the tension that had been simmering finally snapping like a taut wire. His body was alive now, every muscle coiled with that newfound heat, his cock fully hard and straining against your thigh as you both stumbled toward the bed.
He broke the kiss just long enough to grab a condom from the nightstand drawer, his fingers fumbling slightly in his haste, a remnant of that earlier uncertainty. But his eyes were dark, pupils blown wide with lust, as he tore the packet open and rolled it on with steady, deliberate strokes.
"I want to feel it," he growled, his voice low and rough, pushing you back onto the bed with a gentle but insistent shove. The sheets were cool against your heated skin, a stark contrast that made you shiver. He hovered over you, positioning himself between your spread thighs, the tip of his cock nudging your entrance. He sank into you inch by inch—slow, so agonizingly slow—his face a mask of wonder as your warmth enveloped him.
"Fuck... so tight, so... different," he breathed, his brows furrowing in concentration, hips rocking forward tentatively. The stretch was delicious, filling you completely, every ridge of him sliding against your inner walls, slick from your earlier orgasm.
You both started gentle, your bodies finding a rhythm—his thrusts shallow at first, exploratory, like he was mapping how you clenched around him. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, and whispered, "Like this—slow and deep at first. Feel how I respond."
He nodded, sweat beading on his forehead, his hands bracing on either side of your head as he sank in fully, bottoming out with a groan that vibrated through his chest into yours.
But as the pleasure built, that curiosity in him ignited into something feral. His pace quickened, thrusts turning harder, more insistent, his top energy surging forward like a dam breaking.
"Teach me more," he demanded between breaths, his voice husky, eyes locked on yours with an intensity that made your core tighten.
"Okay," you gasped, pushing at his chest until he pulled out—reluctantly, with a frustrated growl. "Flip over—missionary's basic, but let's try doggy. It'll hit deeper." You turned onto your hands and knees, arching your back, presenting yourself to him. He hesitated for a split second, his hands running over your ass appreciatively, squeezing the flesh before aligning himself again. When he thrust in, it was with a sharp snap of his hips, burying himself to the hilt in one go.
"Oh god, yes," you moaned, the angle letting him stroke that sensitive spot inside you perfectly.
Minho's control slipped then, he went feral, gripping your hips hard enough to leave marks, his fingers digging into your skin as he pounded into you senselessly. The room filled with the wet slap of your bodies, his balls smacking against your clit with each brutal thrust.
"Fuck, this... this is insane," he panted, his voice breaking as he leaned over you, one hand sliding up your back to tangle in your hair, pulling your head back just enough to expose your neck. He bit down lightly, sucking a mark there while his other hand reached around to rub your clit in frantic circles.
You pushed back against him, meeting every thrust, your breasts swaying with the force of it. "Harder—don't hold back," you begged, and he obliged, fucking you with a raw, animalistic fervor you’d never expected from him. His cock dragged against your walls, thick and unrelenting, building that coil in your belly tighter and tighter. Sweat dripped from his body onto yours, your scents mingling—musky, aroused, intoxicating.
"Another one," he grunted, pulling out suddenly and flipping you onto your back again, his strength surprising you. "Show me how to make you ride me." You straddled him eagerly, guiding his cock back inside as you sank down, taking him deep. His hands roamed your body, gripping your thighs, then your breasts, pinching your nipples as you rocked your hips in slow circles at first, grinding your clit against his pelvis.
But he wasn’t content to let you lead for long. With a feral snarl, he bucked up into you, his abs flexing as he took over, thrusting upward with powerful, erratic strokes that made you bounce on him.
"Like this?" he asked, but it was rhetorical—his eyes were wild now, lost in the sensation, one hand clamping on your ass to guide your movements faster, harder. You leaned forward, your hands on his chest, nails scraping down his skin, leaving red trails that made him hiss in pleasure.
The tension peaked, your pussy clenching around him rhythmically, milking him as another orgasm ripped through you, waves of ecstasy making your vision blur.
"Minho—fuck, I'm coming," you cried, your body shaking uncontrollably. That pushed him over the edge; he went utterly senseless, hips slamming up into you with a few final, brutal thrusts before he came with a shuddering roar, his cock pulsing deep inside, filling the condom as his body tensed and released.
You both collapsed together, him still buried in you, your breaths ragged and synced. His arms wrapped around you possessively, that feral edge softening into something tender, but the air still hummed with the aftershocks of what you’d unleashed. Curiosity had turned into chaos, and you knew you’d both crave more.
—••
The days after that night felt like walking on a live wire—every glance, every casual touch between you carried an undercurrent that hadn’t been there before. Minho didn’t pull away like you’d half-expected him to. No awkward "that was a one-time thing" speech, no sudden distance. If anything, he leaned in closer. His texts came faster, his teasing sharper, laced with something new: heat.
You both didn't talk about it outright at first. You just... existed in the aftermath. Movie nights where his arm draped over your shoulders felt heavier, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your arm that made your skin prickle. Late-night calls where his voice dropped lower when he asked about your day, lingering on details like he was memorizing them. And the way he’d look at you sometimes—dark eyes flicking over your lips, your throat, the curve of your hips—felt like he was seeing you for the first time.
It built slowly, that realization in him. You could feel it in the way his breath hitched when you stretched in front of him, shirt riding up just enough to show skin. Or when you’d catch him staring at your mouth while you talked, like he was replaying the memory of it wrapped around him. He was still Minho, still the same sharp, confident guy who’d never once questioned his identity, but cracks were forming in the certainty he’d carried for years.
One evening, about two weeks later, you were both back on his couch. Rain hammered the windows, the room dim except for the glow of the TV you weren't really watching. You’d kicked off your shoes, legs tucked under you, wearing one of his old hoodies that swallowed you whole. He sat closer than usual, thigh pressed to yours, beer bottle dangling from his fingers.
"You've been quiet," you said, nudging him with your elbow.
He huffed a laugh, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Thinking."
"About?"
He set the bottle down, turned to face you fully. His gaze was intense, unguarded in a way you’d rarely seen. "About how I can't stop thinking about that night. About you." He swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing. "I thought it was just curiosity. One and done. But it's not. It's... more. And it's fucking with my head because I was sure—sure—I was gay. Full stop. No room for anything else."
Your heart thudded hard against your ribs. "And now?"
"Now I look at you and my dick gets hard. I hear your laugh and it hits different. I smell your shampoo on my pillow and I want to bury my face in your neck while I—" He cut himself off, exhaling sharply through his nose. "I don't know what label fits anymore. Bi? Pan? Something else? All I know is I want you. Badly. And not just once."
The admission hung between you, raw and vulnerable. This was Minho laying his confusion bare because the pull was stronger than his old certainties.
You reached out, cupping his jaw, thumb brushing the sharp line of it. "You don't have to have it all figured out tonight. But if you want to explore... I'm here."
His eyes darkened, pupils swallowing the brown. "I want to explore. Everything." He leaned in slow, giving you time to pull back if you wanted. You didn't.
The kiss started tentatively, your lips brushing, testing you like he was still learning the shape of this desire. But when you parted your mouth, inviting him deeper, something in him snapped. His hand slid to the back of your neck, fingers threading into your hair, tilting your head exactly how he wanted. The kiss turned hungry, tongues sliding, teeth grazing your bottom lip hard enough to sting. He groaned into your mouth, low and wrecked, like the taste of you was unraveling him.
You both didn't rush to the bedroom. You stayed on the couch, making out like teenagers discovering fire. His hands roamed under the hoodie; palms hot on your bare back, tracing your spine, cupping your breasts through your bra. When he thumbed your nipples, rolling them slow and firm, you arched into him with a whimper. He broke the kiss to watch your face, fascinated, like every reaction was new data.
"Still wet for me?" he murmured, voice gravel-rough.
"Always," you breathed.
He slid a hand down, cupping you over your leggings. The pressure made you grind against his palm instinctively. "Fuck. I love how you feel. So soft... so ready." There was wonder in his tone, mixed with that feral edge from before. He rubbed slow circles over your clit through the fabric, watching your hips buck. "Tell me what you want."
"Touch me properly," you begged. "Fingers. Mouth. All of it."
He didn’t hesitate. He tugged your leggings and panties down in one go, spreading your thighs wide on the couch. The cool air hit your soaked folds, making you shiver. Minho stared, transfixed, his breathing ragged. "You're dripping," he said, almost reverent. Two fingers slid through your slickness, coating them, then pushed inside; slow, deep, curling just right. You moaned, loud and shamelessly.
He watched his fingers disappear into you, then leaned down, tongue flicking out to taste. One long, slow lick from entrance to clit had you jolting.
"Still tastes like heaven," he muttered against you, before sealing his mouth over your clit and sucking hard, insistently. His fingers pumped steadily, the wet sounds obscene in the quiet room. You tangled your hands in his hair, grinding against his face, chasing the edge.
When you came, it was explosive; your back arching off the cushions, thighs clamping around his head as you cried his name. He didn't stop, lapping through the aftershocks until you were trembling, oversensitive.
He pulled back, chin glistening, eyes wild. "I need to be inside you. Now."
You both stumbled to the bedroom, clothes shedding in a trail. Naked, he pushed you onto the bed, slid a condom on in record time. But this time, there was no hesitation, no uncertainty. He flipped you onto your stomach, yanked your hips up, and thrust in deep—one hard, claiming stroke that made you both groan.
"Like this?" he growled, setting a punishing rhythm. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you back onto his cock with every snap of his hips. The angle was brutal, hitting that spot over and over until stars burst behind your eyes.
"Yes—fuck, Minho—harder."
He went feral again, but different now—possessive, like he was staking a claim on this new part of himself. One hand slid around to rub your clit, the other fisted your hair, arching your back so he could lean down and bite your shoulder. "You feel so fucking good," he panted. "Tight. Wet. Mine."
You pushed back, meeting every thrust, the slap of skin loud and filthy. "Come inside me—want to feel you lose it."
He roared when he came, hips stuttering, cock pulsing deep as he filled the condom, body shaking against yours. You followed seconds later, clenching around him so hard he cursed under his breath.
You collapsed, sweaty and spent. He didn't pull out right away; instead, he wrapped around you from behind, lips brushing your neck in soft, almost reverent kisses.
"Still figuring it out," he whispered after a long silence. "But I know one thing—I want this. You. Whatever label ends up fitting... I'm in."
You turned in his arms, kissing him slow and deep. "Then we're figuring it out together."
And in the quiet after, with his heartbeat steady against your back, you felt the shift settle—not just in him, but between you. His bisexual awakening wasn't a lightning bolt; it was a slow burn that had finally caught flame. And neither of you was letting it go out.
••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
Authors note: Happy New Year guys ❤️ I’m just dropping this here as proof of life lol. I deleted the app over the holidays because i wasn’t really feeling connected anymore and also because i didn’t want distractions writing my novel (which is finished by the way 🤩) I won’t be releasing that till mid year though, because its going through all the processes… DON’T WORRY GUYS, I HIRED A REAL LIFE EDITOR, I LEARNED FROM MY MISTAKES LOL! I cant wait to show you guys my book 😭😭❤️❤️❤️. It ain’t fanfic by the way.
Anywho! Whenever the urge comes to write some skz smut, I’ll definitely come make a post 😉🥰
Comment if you wanna be added to the taglist just in case. I love you!
@ocean-glacierblue @nojerama-writes @monkeyshua @stewpidcheezcat0427 @sillylittlecat1 @lexlikesbts @hanjisunnnng @foppishitudinality @notmeneo @rebelmooon @straykitten88 @lielfsworld-blog @lisastay1 @elastickeyscorpion @emeraldgem22 @91dreams91things @jeyelleohe @hyunniesprincess @seunghyoverse @ryvannanightshade-kpop
