PERSONAS
Summary: every single time you think a makeout session is leading to sex, Mingi pulls back. you know it's not you, so what is it? your boyfriend just has a little secret he's embarrassed to share...
Warnings: sexual content, oral, cursing, the works
Word Count: 6k+
A/N: them saying it's all a persona in their show gave me this idea thanks everyone cheers
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There was something truly amusing about watching your boyfriend run off stage and almost immediately switch personas. On stage he was grinding, grabbing, biting, smirking, winking, acting like Aphrodite herself crafted him. Maybe she had crafted Ateez’s Mingi.
But off stage, the boy could barely get into a makeout session without suddenly blushing a deep crimson and hauling you off his lap. God forbid you realize you made the poor man hard.
The first time Mingi had pulled you into a real makeout session - not just a session where he kissed you a few times, maybe pulled you closer, and then inevitably let you go - you had thought maybe you were dreaming. He had pulled you closer, bodies flush to one another, his hands low on your back. You had your arms laced around his neck, lips moving together. His lips were warm, plump, slightly wet from the exchange of saliva between the two of you. He nearly moaned into your mouth when you tugged on the hair at the nape of his neck and pulled his head to the side to angle the kiss. His hands had pulled you closer, one of his thighs unconsciously slipping between your legs.
His tongue ran along your bottom lip and you opened your mouth for him, but he pulled back, all brazenness gone from his body. You weren’t going to let it go, too worked up to find yourself able to release him, and you pushed your tongue into his mouth roughly. He groaned, tilting you back and tangling his tongue with yours.
And just when you thought it would go further, maybe a little under-the-clothes action, he had pulled away, ears red, eyes not quite finding yours, and hands now respectfully placed higher on your waist.
He had said something about being tired, lots of practice and everything, and you weren’t going to push it.
That was common with Mingi, the heavy moments suddenly ending despite how he was obviously into it. You wondered, briefly, if he wasn’t sexually attracted to you, but with the way he got hard with even a little bit of kissing these days or a suggestive comment whispered in his ear, that couldn’t be it.
Which brought you to your current conclusion: Mingi was a virgin.
Cute.
You watched from a backstage monitor as he got fans barking for him in the crowd, a shit eating grin plastered on his face as he egged them on. He looked sinful, sunglasses pushed down his nose, mouth caught between his sharp teeth lightly. His jacket had fallen off his shoulder and his shoulder muscles were shiny with sweat. His tanktop was leaving little to the imagination, chest heaving after a performance.
You found yourself imagining what it would look like with his chest heaving as he laid over you, hips snapping forward, grown-out hair falling into his eyes. You could imagine his biceps flexing, the puffs of air.
You had to blink hard as the camera switched to Yeosang, looking around a little guiltily like maybe somebody could read your mind and had seen… all of that. Smoothing a hand over your hair, you focused back on the concert, grateful that the staff had even let you backstage to begin with. It was a privilege, the black shirt on your back that also said “Staff,” and you weren’t going to ruin it by being weird about your boyfriend in public instead of enjoying the concert he had worked hard to get you access to.
It was a good concert, always filled with incredible showmanship, and you felt pride swelling in your chest. They had worked hard. You remembered the nights Mingi had called you, voice slurring from fatigue, to tell you goodnight and that he loved you and he was sorry he had been busy all day. Tour stuff, baby, he’d always said.
It was late when you finally left the concert venue with some of the other staff members. You’d pitched in, rolling up cables and helping sweep up about a ton of confetti after the concert. A little known fact, you’d realized, was that confetti was hard as fuck to sweep up. It flew out of piles when pushed with too much effort, got heavy when it built up, and stuck to everything. You may not have spent hundreds of dollars on a seat, but you felt maybe this made up about a quarter of that price. Your body ached by the end of it.
You texted Mingi that you were on your way and he sent back a picture of him, freshly showered and hair still damp at the ends, lounging in - that little shit - your hotel room. You’d given him the extra keycard and it looked like he was taking full advantage of that, messing up your freshly-made bed before you could.
You saved the photo and sent him a classy picture of your middle finger back. All you got back was a winky-face.
Dick.
He was still waiting for you in his white t-shirt and grey sweatpants, watching a Myth Buster’s rerun on the T.V. when you keyed into your room. He slid off the bed and, yeah.
Dick.
The grey sweatpants were doing him favors. They hung low on his hips, the outline of his member pretty obvious in the thin material. The ties hanging down from his waistband were practically pointing for your eyes to look down, drawing them to the print.
You swallowed hard, your mind focusing on the earlier fantasies from the concert. But Mingi looked just happy to see you, his smile wide and his eyes bright.
He grabbed you around the waist and hugged you tightly, burying his face in your neck. He breathed in deeply and you hugged him back just as tightly, feeling the way his back muscles rippled as he adjusted his grip. You ran your hands over them lightly, then down his arms, pushing your hands under his t-shirt sleeves slightly to feel the warmth of his skin, how soft it was. You sighed, swaying lightly.
“Are you tired?” you whispered.
Mingi nodded into your neck, burying even more deeply into the crook. He rubbed his hands down your back then placed a kiss to your shoulder. You smiled, pulling your hands out of his shirt to pet his head lightly.
“Let me shower, then we can go to sleep, hmm?”
Reluctantly, he unwound his arms as you gathered up your pajamas and underwear to go shower. You saw Mingi peeking at the ensemble, his neck rosy as he saw the tiny panties you were wearing to bed.
You had packed them in the event that something happened, but figured you may need to give it a little push. They were going to be hell to sleep in, but maybe it was worth it by the way Mingi’s eyes got a little glassier by the second, his ears a little redder, and his dick… a little harder. You weren't going to ask him outright for sex after such a grueling performance on stage, but you wanted to let him know you were interested.
You let out a breathy laugh, leaning over to press a kiss to the corner of his lips. He swallowed hard, turning to catch your cheek with a kiss as you turned to disappear into the bathroom.
Hot shower burning your skin slightly, you really tried to get thoughts of fucking Mingi out of your mind. He was tired, and despite the fact that he was obviously turned on, maybe tonight wasn’t the night to push it.
He seemed to have other plans when you stepped out of the bathroom, throwing your clothes on your suitcase unceremoniously to pack away tomorrow. His hands were suddenly on you, slipping below the waist to cup your ass. His hands kneaded your ass roughly, his lips attached to yours and bit. You gasped into the kiss, his tongue slipping inside your mouth.
You adjusted to slip his leg between your thighs, your underwear soaked. You wondered, vaguely, if you would leave a wet spot on his sweatpants.
Then, he did something that had you moaning breathlessly, your neck and back arching.
His lips trailed down the side of your neck, wet and open-mouthed. He reached up to pull your shirt to the side, his kisses trailing down to your shoulder, and then he bit down, hard, and sucked a deep purple hickie onto your shoulder.
The sensation made your skin buzz, and you clawed at his back, your hips pushing forward to grind against Mingi’s thigh. Your thigh brushed his length, and he groaned deeply against your shoulder where he was leaving a smattering of hickies.
The sensation seemed like it brought him back to your hotel room, and he was moving away swiftly, his eyes wide, his hair a mess, and his chest heaving.
“What?” you breathed, your lips slightly tingling and swollen from kissing him so roughly. You were breathingly heavily, too, your clit was throbbing, and you wanted Mingi pressed back against you in the next few seconds.
“I, uh, I’m gonna brush my teeth so we can go to bed,” he said.
Then, he kissed your cheek lightly like he hadn’t just branded you as his, and he disappeared into the bathroom, shutting the door with a soft click behind him. You groaned, sitting down hard on the edge of the bed, and gripped your hair tightly to bring yourself back.
For once, you really hated staying in the fancy hotel. It didn’t even have a detachable shower head.
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Mingi was about to do something really, really embarrassing and probably a little traumatic. He was going to ask someone to have the sex talk with him. Not the one parents have about condoms and abstinence, the one about how to actually have sex and pleasure someone.
And he kind of wanted to bash his head into the wall.
The world tour was over, they finally had some time off to relax, and he still hadn’t mustered up the courage to have sex with you. He’d gotten close on tour, the adrenaline from the concert still fueling him as he kissed you, left marks on you, and then ditched you to cool down in the bathroom. He had stood there, the tile cool against his feet, and stared at himself in the mirror feeling a little pathetic.
The truth was, he was terrified that he would do something so egregious during sex that you would break up with him. He’d never had sex before, had only seen porn in passing when his friends had showed it to him when he was younger, and he really didn’t even know where to begin.
He had tried to watch porn for ideas once he started dating you, but even with his headphones on and the brightness all the way down, it just felt wrong. He had gotten one whole minute into a video before he turned it off, stomach clenching not with arousal but with discomfort.
He’d read, and this he wasn’t super proud of, fanfiction, too, but it just didn’t feel right. He wasn’t really some sex god in real life, throwing women’s legs over his shoulder and dragging their underwear off with his teeth. He wasn’t grabbing boobs from behind as he pounded his dick into dripping pussies.
He felt a little pathetic and even more scared after reading that, his own inexperience crowding into the forefront of his mind. His own sex-ed in school had been abysmal, mainly telling them that they shouldn’t really be in the same room as girls, and he had learned only recently about the world of different condoms. (He had closed the Coupang tab very quickly.)
So there he was, standing in front of Yunho’s closed bedroom door, wanting to strangle himself with his hoodie strings. His second choice had been Hongjoong, that man definitely knew how to fuck, but the thought of listening to Hongjoong talk about sex made him positive he could never look the man in the eye again. With Yunho, this probably wouldn’t be the weirdest thing he asked him, and it definitely wouldn’t be the weirdest thing they’d experienced together.
He finally brought his closed fist up to knock, the knock timid.
It took a minute, but Yunho answered, his hair smushed down on the side he’d been laying on. He had probably been watching videos when Mingi interrupted.
“Hey,” Yunho said slowly. “What’s up, man?”
Mingi blinked, the words he had carefully planned shrivelling up and dying in his throat. He scratched his arm awkwardly.
“Can I come in?” he asked instead, the thought of even asking Yunho to talk him through sex in the open so humiliating he wanted to throw up.
Yunho seemed to sense something, his eyes filling with concern as he opened up the door wider for Mingi to slide by him to enter.
Mingi sat down hard on Yunho’s desk chair, rolling back and forth absentmindedly as he tried to bring back the courage to ask his friend for advice. He didn’t need dirty details, just a rough outline. Yunho sat on his bed and stared at him, giving him space to think.
He was grateful to have Yunho in his life, to get to share the fame with him and the quiet moments, too. He knew Yunho would maybe - probably - rib him about the sex thing, but he would also try and help him earnestly.
“How do you have sex?”
It came out with no finesse, his voice scratchy and deep. He stared anywhere but at Yunho’s shocked expression, his eyebrows furrowed as he willed his body to stay seated in the desk chair.
Yunho, to his credit, tried to keep his face mostly blank after the initial shock wore off. He cleared his throat, shifted, cleared his throat again, said, “ah,” then shifted again. The rustling of his sheet was the only sound in the room, the only sound in the dorm, even.
“Just basics,” Mingi clarified, looking down, voice coming out no louder than a mumble.
“Well, the penis goes in the vagina, then it goes in and out, in and out-” Yunho started.
“Okay I’m leaving,” Mingi said quickly, standing up and sending the desk chair flying backwards into the wall as Yunho finally broke and began laughing, covering his mouth to muffle the sound. He reached out and grabbed Mingi’s wrist as he passed and pulled him back.
“Okay, I’m sorry,” he said, gasping. “I’ll be serious now. I think it’s nice you trust me enough to ask me. I just had to, okay? Now I’ll be serious.”
Mingi glared down at Yunho’s hand, but he moved backward and slid back into the desk chair, swiveling side to side and Yunho sat up straight and leaned back against the wall, his eyes focused on Mingi. He waited a beat before speaking again.
“What do you want to know, exactly?”
Mingi shrugged. “I know, like, how it works I guess. I know about, um, foreplay and the… penetration.” He choked. His cheeks burned.
Yunho hummed. “What are you worried about then?”
“I know about them, but I have no fucking clue how to even do any of it. What if I hurt Y/N or it’s so bad she breaks up with me? I’m serious, Yunho, it’s scary.”
The room was quiet again, not even the sounds of rustling breaking the silence. Mingi picked at his cuticle then stopped, thinking about the hell he’d get from the stylists for doing that. Instead, he focused on the sound of his breathing.
“Well, sex shouldn’t be scary. And I don’t think Y/N would break up with you if it’s bad. Have you told her you’ve never had sex before?”
Silence.
“Dude,” Yunho deadpanned. “Come on.”
“It’s embarrassing!” Mingi whined. “Especially because I’m pretty sure she’s had sex before, and that means I have to be the best at it!”
He was pouting now, staring up at the door to Yunho’s bedroom and willing it to explore inward, killing him instantly.
“So you hate your girlfriend is what I’m hearing.”
Mingi’s head snapped toward Yunho at that comment, his eyes wide.
“What the fuck, man. I love her. You know that.”
“And yet you’re not telling her these fears,” Yunho countered, sitting up and staring at Mingi harshly. “You don’t need me to tell you how to have sex with your girlfriend who obviously loves you. You need to suck it up and tell you girlfriend that you’ve never had sex, you’re not sure what you’re doing, but you’re willing to learn. Then, you fucking learn, you dumbass. That’s how you get to be the best.”
Yunho leaned back again, his face smoothing out to something contemplative.
“Actually,” he said, “you have the advantage here. She teaches you what she likes, you do that, you’re doing everything she likes, you’re the best. Then you keep having sex forever, congrats.”
Mingi cleared his throat as the words hit his brain. Yunho was right, sarcasm aside. This could only really be positive for him, learning what you liked and putting it into play so you never had a bad sexual experience with him - or anyone else ever again because he wanted to be your last and final boyfriend. He bit his lip at the thought, fighting a grin.
“You do know you need condoms though, right?” Yunho said, shattering the moment. “STDs and babies are no joke man.”
Mingi flipped him off as he stood up, but he was smiling.
“I’m built different, I’ll be fine,” he joked, face impassive as he walked out of Yunho’s room.
“I can’t tell if you’re joking or not!” Yunho cried after him, and Mingi finally let out a laugh as he closed the bedroom door behind him.
He had a plan now, one that became fully formulated after he finally bought condoms online - ribbed for her pleasure - and he felt good. He was going to have sex with you and it was going to be the best sex of your life. Obviously it would also be the best of his life, but that was besides the point.
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Step One: spend the night at your house and begin the “wine” portion of “wining and dining”.
He had picked up dinner from your favorite place on his way over, the food still hot as he knocked on your door.
You answered and he couldn’t help but bully his way in and kick the door closed to engulf you in a hug. You were warm in his arms, fitting into his chest perfectly. Your laugh rumbled against his chest and he breathed in your scent.
“Delivery,” he said, pulling back to smile at you and wave the food in front of your face teasingly.
“I hope the delivery man stays. He’s pretty cute,” you joked, swiftly kissing his lips before stepping back to let him fully inside the apartment.
He slid off his shoes and stepped in, setting the food on the counter and shooing you to go sit so he could serve dinner. He pulled out the wine he’d gotten - something fruity he knew you’d like - and brought over the wine glasses and food, balancing it all carefully on his forearm.
“Date night,” he said softly, sliding to sit beside you and holding up his glass for a toast. You giggled at his silliness before clinking your glass with his. The bright sound lit up the room a little bit more, and you smiled after taking the first sip. Paired with the food, that man had an agenda, you just couldn’t figure it out yet.
Dinner was perfect, it usually was with Mingi unless he was trying to cook something. One time he had tried to help you make dinner by chopping the vegetables and he massacred the carrots so badly you’d quietly thrown away the mushy mess and said you had just needed him to prep them for a different meal.
It was when the two of you were doing dishes that Mingi finally brought sex up.
Step Two: spill the beans.
“It’s not that I don’t find you sexy, I obviously do,” he mumbled to your wine glasses suddenly. “I just… haven’t had sex before. And it’s a little embarrassing. But I want to, have sex that is. With you. Obviously.”
You had stilled where you were drying a plate, your eyes glued to your boyfriend’s sharp side profile. He kept washing the same glass over and over, like he was trying to wash the glass clean away. He kept scrubbing diligently, his eyes never leaving the suds.
“Okay,” you said, your voice cracking slightly. You cleared your throat. “Okay.” It came out stronger that time.
You grabbed your boyfriend’s forearm to stop him. He tensed, finally stopped washing the glass, and glanced at you. You smiled at him, drawing lazy circles on his arm with your thumb. His skin was soft. His cheeks were pink.
“You’ll teach me?” he asked quietly, his eyes meeting yours. They were dark, deep, flickering with something you had seen before. It was more intense this time, the desire.
“Of course,” you whispered.
His wet, soapy hands were on your waist in an instant, grabbing you so tightly you knew you’d have bruises in the shape of his fingerprints. You didn’t care about your clothes getting wet, just that your lips were on his, bruising and wet. Mingi groaned into your mouth and his hands were on your ass, reminding you of your hotel stay. Your spine tingled at the thought, and you pulled yourself closer to Mingi’s body by grabbing his hair and yanking. He groaned.
“Fuck, baby. You’re going to kill me before we can do anything.”
Unknown to you, Step Three of Mingi’s plan was to not come right away.
You raked your fingers through his hair and started moving back, heading toward the bedroom. Mingi let you lead him blindly, panting against your mouth as he kissed you, his hands sliding up and off your ass and under your shirt. His fingers grazed your skin lightly and somehow that was sexier than his grip on your ass had been. Your skin burned where he touched you and you unlatched your lips from his to kiss down his neck.
“I won’t mark you,” you whispered by his ear, biting his earlobe lightly. He whimpered slightly, tilting his head to let you have better access to his neck.
“You can,” he said, panting. “Just has to be below the shirt, okay? I want you to mark me. Please, baby.”
You clenched your thighs at the demand, your pussy so wet it was making your underwear stick to you. It was uncomfortable but you couldn’t bring yourself to care, kissing your boyfriend’s neck while his hands wandered to your stomach lightly, then up.
He stopped just shy of your breasts, his hands stilling against your ribs. They were so broad they took up most of the space on your torso, rough and warm. You leaned into his hands, but he remained still.
He wasn’t really sure where to go from there. He wanted to touch your breasts, obviously, wanted to slip his hands underneath your bra and feel the soft skin, the warm nipples, make them harden under his fingers. Maybe even leave marks on the swell of your breasts to admire later, right over your heart.
But he was nervous now. It was further than he’d ever been with you and his mind had come back online and stopped his body. Well, it had stopped his hands from moving and his mouth from forming any words, but it didn’t stop his length from hardening further. Trapped against your bodies, he knew you could feel it, especially when you pushed yourself closer to him, ground down hard against him.
At his sudden stillness, you pulled back and removed your hands. He looked wide eyed, his mouth starting to form what was probably “sorry” before you grabbed his hands and placed them squarely on your boobs. He let out an undignified squeak, but his hands began kneading the soft flesh. You let go of his hands and reached around to unhook your bra, letting it go loose. You wanted to take your shirt off, the feeling of your bra and his hands stretching it out making it uncomfortable, but you worried it would send Mingi into a panic. So you let him knead your breasts, his fingers swiping over your nipples before he began kissing down your neck.
You’d had sex before with men who had done similar things, but with Mingi it was different. Maybe it was because you loved him or maybe it was because he was so earnest and eager to please. But he was also lost in his own pleasure, his nerves falling away to be replaced by lust. When he pulled back and looked at you, his eyes were dark, hooded, his mouth swollen and even plumper. He looked sinful, his hair falling into his eyes as he pulled his hands back, reached around to the back of his own shirt, and pulled it off in one swift movement.
You couldn’t help yourself, your eyes roaming over his torso. You’d seen him shirtless before, but in this context you looked at him with reverence. He was beautiful, toned, skin golden. You ran your hand down his chest, his stomach, stopping at his pants to dip a finger just below his waistband. He bucked his hips unconsciously into the touch. You were pleased to see that even his chest turned pink when he was embarrassed.
He preened slightly under your touch before pulling back, shoulders drawing in slightly. You took it as a sign to strip with him, make him more comfortable.
Grabbing your shirt by the hem, you pulled it over your head swiftly, your bra catching and lifting to show under your breast. Mingi sucked in a breath, his hips stuttering as he looked at you. His eyes mapped the expanse of your torso, and as you slid your bra off your shoulders slowly you watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed roughly. His eyes were hooded, his chest rising and falling rapidly.
You didn’t have to grab his hands this time. He leaned in, massaging one breast lightly while sucking dark marks into the other. You moaned at the sensation, pushing forward into his mouth. You tested the waters, your hand sliding down the front of his pants to cup his hard length, and he bucked into your hand.
He switched to your other breast, marking a trail across your chest that would last for the days to come. It went straight south, making you throb, your thighs rubbing. Your hand rubbed up the front of his length, his breath hitching, before he pulled your hand to the button on his pants. You thumbed it, undid it quickly, and then let Mingi take the lead to take his pants off.
He slid them off without fanfare, gripping yours and pulling them off quickly. Too quickly. Your panties slid down with them, leaving you bare. Mingi sucked in a breath.
“Oh shit, sorry. Sorry. Wait let me-” Then he was pulling his own underwear off, stepping out of it.
Left bare in the warm light coming from a small lamp on your bedside table, you stared at your boyfriend unabashedly. He was strong, lean, and so, so handsome. His cheekbones stood out in the lighting, and you couldn’t help but reach up and graze them tenderly with your fingertips. He leaned into your touch, grabbing your wrist before you could fully pull away to kiss your fingertips.
“You’re stunning,” he whispered.
“You’re one to talk,” you whispered back, drawing closer to press your body against his. He shivered. His hands held your waist tightly. “You are so perfect.”
“I was hoping for sexy,” he whispered, then bent down to nip at your neck lightly.
“Don’t push it,” you joked back, leaning down to leave a love bite on his peck, right by where his heart was nearly beating out of his chest. He hissed at the sensation.
“Co-condom,” he murmured, and you nodded. You had a stash in your bedside table for just this moment, and you moved to get them before he stopped you lightly, gripping your arm. He bent down and dug around to find his wallet.
Then, he pulled out the purple wrapped condom. Ribbed for her pleasure. Ah, he’d done some research.
You pushed him in the chest lightly and he sat down hard on the bed, scooting back slightly to allow you to climb onto his lap. He handed you the condom, letting you roll it down his length. You pumped it a few times to make sure it was on.
Satisfied, you straddled him. His eyes dropped to your breasts then further down, hands coming up to grip your hips. Fully naked, your pussy wet and dripping, you ground hard against his cock. Mingi groaned, his hands gripping and guiding your hips. You held onto his shoulders and let him pick the pace.
Just to tease him, you let his tip slip inside of you as you drug your hips back down. The stuttering breath it pulled from him was enough to make you grin, and you buried your face in his neck as you did it again, the slow drag of your hips, the quick catch of his tip, all making him groan into your ear.
“You have to tell me what you want, okay?” you whispered.
You had had ample time in this relationship to consider what you wanted to do the first time the two of you had sex. You wanted to blow him, to feel him try and refrain from bucking his hips up, to try and stop himself from choking you. You wanted him to guide your head lightly, sinful words about how well you were taking him in your mouth falling from his lips.
You had a strong suspicion that if you blew him tonight he would cum in a matter of seconds and you really wanted him inside of you.
Thankfully, Mingi seemed to be thinking the same thing.
“I want to be inside of you, baby, to stretch, ah, to stretch you out.”
And he would. He was thick, just the tip making you feel a light stretch.
The next time you ground your hips down, you let more of his length dip into your pussy. Slowly, you lowered yourself down, legs shaking slightly, bobbing lightly to let yourself adjust before sinking to completely engulf his length. He let out a strangled moan, diving forward to kiss you hard and wet.
You lifted up and dropped down on him, the curve of his length hitting just the right spot inside of you that you were both moaning at the sensation.
Riding Mingi was something else you had imagined, but the real thing was so much better. The heat of his dick, the slight squelch of your wetness encompassing him, the way he groaned underneath you and his abs tensed at every movement, the way he dropped his head to leave more marks across your breasts, the sensation of his dick hitting your G-spot constantly. It was all so delicious. You leaned back, letting his dick repeatedly hit that perfect spot, your head falling back. His hips snapped up into you each time, the sensation jolting you.
Suddenly, Mingi was pushing your hips down hard, stilling your movements. You clenched your pussy around him, and he whimpered.
“Fuck, fuck, stop. I don’t want to cum yet,” he mumbled into your neck.
You nodded, running a hand through his hair and pushing his bangs off his face. He was covered in a thin sheen of sweat.
“I want,” he started, then stopped. His eyes were dark, hooded again, and his entire body was flushed.
“You can say it,” you murmured.
“I want to fuck you from behind.”
He said it resolutely. Then, the second he saw you nod okay, he was pulling you off and flipping you over. You let out an undignified yelp at the movement. You knew Mingi was strong but holy fuck.
Barely getting your hands underneath you, you arched your back as he pushed into you from behind. His hips snapped forward and, oh, fuck.
“Fuck, Mingi,” you whined.
“You’re so fucking tight, baby,” he groaned from behind you, his hips picking up the pace and finding a steady rhythm. “I might… I might not…”
“It’s okay.”
His grip on your hips was bruising, a hand gripping your ass leaving red marks across the cheek. Your legs and arms were shaking, your pussy clenching around his length. He pulled your hips up, angled down, and you were seeing stars. You could feel the beginnings of an orgasm pooling low in your stomach, the way your pussy dripped more, the heat that spread. You wanted to cum, the ribs of the condom stimulating you.
Mingi came first, his hips stuttering and a string of expletives leaving his plump lips. He stilled inside of you, falling over to rest his chest on your back. He was panting, his damp hair tickling your shoulder blades.
“How do I make you cum, baby? Tell me how to do that?” he grunted, pulling out of you. You whined at the loss of contact. It really felt like he was edging you, and you were impatient.
“Get between my legs and make me cum with your mouth,” you commanded, your brain fuzzy with the need to cum. You rolled onto your back and gave him a pointed look.
He shivered, pulling the condom off and tying it. He looked around frantically before spotting your trash can, throwing it away before pushing you onto your back and practically diving between your legs.
Soft kisses on your thighs had your legs spreading, and the sharp nips that came after them had your legs clenching around his head. He grinned up at you from his spot between your legs, but he looked nervous.
You ran a hand through his hair softly before gripping the hair at his crown.
“It’s all about the licking and sucking. Your fingers… I want them inside of me too.”
Mingi nodded, drinking in your words. Then his tongue was put to good use, licking a stripe up your pussy before teasing at your entrance. The slick heat made you moan and tug his hair, and he dipped his tongue inside of you, curling up and flicking it.
The sounds you made egged him on. He really didn’t know what he was doing, but he figured if you weren’t saying “ow” or “stop that’s awful” he was doing okay. He kept his eyes on you, on the way your head was thrown back and your breasts heaved as he ate you out like a man starving.
He replaced his tongue with two fingers, lightly twisting them to see your reaction. There seemed to be a spot he should hit, and he wiggled his fingers forward until he found it. God, his fingers were perfect, thick yet graceful as they pumped inside of you. His mouth attached to your clit and sucked, lightly at first then harshly. Your back arched off the bed.
“Fuck, who taught you that? I thought you said-” you were cut off by him humming against your clit, the vibrations going straight to your core. “Don’t stop.”
He looked beautiful between your legs, strong back visible, muscles shifting as he fingered you. His eyes never left yours, sharp and watchful. He was going to make this good, he was making this good, you wanted more of him always. You couldn’t imagine not jumping his bones the next time you saw him with how good it felt, but you would find a way to restrain.
The warmth in your stomach grew, your pussy throbbed, and then everything was warm. You tensed around his fingers, bucking forward into his mouth as you came. You could barely even let out a moan with how intense the sensation was. Stars danced in front of your eyes and your entire body coiled then uncoiled. You pulled Mingi off of you and he looked at you, triumphant and smirking.
“Fuck, come here,” you whispered, and he climbed up to kiss you, wiping his mouth on the way up. It was a soft kiss, full of reassurance and love.
“I love you, Y/N,” he said once you parted.
“I love you, too, Mingi. So much.”
He grinned, then the crook of his transformed into a shit-eating smirk. “So… how was it?”
He already knew the answer. You huffed, turning away slightly.
“It was fine,” you lied, and he knew you were lying. “Would be better if we showered together now.”
You side-eyed him.
Not even a minute later he was with you in the shower, begging you to wash his back with your nice loofah and soap.
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“So…” Yunho said it casually, like he was about to ask about the weather or Mingi’s thoughts on having lunch together. “You did okay?”
Yeosang looked between the two of them, his eyes following the flush on Mingi’s neck and the way Yunho was covering his smile with his glass of water.
Mingi cleared his throat and looked away.
“Yeah, it was good. Great. Went well.”
Yeosang eyed him as Yunho snorted, eyebrow raising. The lightbulb clicked suddenly, Yeosang’s eyes widening as he looked between the two of them.
“A threesome? Really?” he gasped, shaking his head. “Didn’t think you’d be one to share.”
Mingi let out a strangled sound while Yunho choked on his water, pounding his chest as he coughed violently.
“NO!” Mingi spluttered. “No, oh my- how?”
“He’s not a virgin anymore,” Yunho croaked, rubbing his chest like he could massage the rest of the water out of his lungs.
Yeosang nodded knowingly, his mouth curling up at the corner. “I know. Just wanted to hear you admit you were a virgin. Wooyoung owes me.”
Mingi’s mouth dropped open and Yuho stared at him, gaze piercing.
“There was a bet?”
“Why wasn’t I let it on this?”
Both boys started speaking at the same time.
“No way, you knew he was a virgin already,” Yeosang said dryly. “And yeah, I had 20,000 won on the table.”
“Sellout,” Yunho mumbled, turning to head back to the couch and finish the movie the group had all been watching together.
“20,000… that’s all my sex life is worth to you?” Mingi mumbled, turning to follow Yeosang into the room. The other boy just shrugged. “What can that even buy?”
“Post-sex chicken,” Yeosang whispered, settling back into his spot.
Mingi stood, dumbfounded, until Seonghwa gently tugged his arm to make him sit back down. He barely even watched the movie. His mind was too focused on ways he could make himself spontaneously combust.
Virgin.
Not anymore.
