#mingi imagines

[jichandesuu]

Warning!nsfw audio

Mingi keeps going even after filling you up 🐈‍⬛ྀི

[maho6any]

Talk to me Sweet

Neighbor!Song Mingi x F!Reader

summary: you lived a nice quiet life in your simple little apartment, one with little disturbances and plenty empty space to fill. then here comes the new neighbor, loud, annoying, and too hot for his own good to fill that space. and while he was positively irritating and not good for your sleep schedule, he certainly was… tempting.

warnings: enemies to lovers, loud obnoxious neighbors, mingi is an asshole in the beginning, banter, arguing, slight voyeurism, VOICE KINK, praise, oral(f!receiving), holding your hands while eating(good lord), teasing, masturbation, size kink, manhandling, on the counter, pet names(sweetheart, baby, slut, etc), taking off the condom(naughty!), he whimpers a little(everybody cheer), creampie, NOT PROOFREAD

wc: 8.3k

notes: so i totaled my car a couple of days ago on my way to work. oops! the second half of kinktober might end up delayed while i get that all figured out but in the meantime take this filth. :3

tracklist: anything, attention, til dawn

Loud neighbors are a curse you wouldn’t wish on anyone. Unfortunately, somebody must have loathed you enough to curse you with the loudest one ever living right next door. 

You had been living in this apartment for about five years, a quiet, comfortable little space. Just enough room for you, and maybe if you ever had a friend over. But you were content by yourself. The apartment next to you had remained empty since before you moved in, and you relished it. It almost felt like you had the whole floor to yourself.

You had your normal routine: wake up in the early hours, have a coffee, and listen to a podcast. Get ready for work and be gone for 8 hours, then come back, have a drink, and relax in your bed reading a book or watching a show. Then drift off to sleep. Oh, it was lovely.

Well, recently, sleep hasn’t really been coming so easily. It started with what sounded like shuffling in the apartment next to you. You assumed maybe the landlord was fixing up a paint job or checking appliances to make sure they were still functional. So you barely gave it a second thought.

Then voices. You heard multiple discussions through the walls; you couldn’t really pinpoint what exactly it was they were talking about, but they certainly were there. Then, there was the moving truck. A U-Haul, clear as day, was parked a few spots down from your own vehicle, locked up and ready to be unloaded. It was at this point that you connected the dots and realized you would be getting a new neighbor.

You were a bit annoyed at the idea, but it wasn't like that apartment would stay empty forever; they’d eventually have to rent it out at some point. You were sure you’d get some calm, quiet neighbors who would be sure to respect your quiet life and your privacy.

Wishful thinking, as they call it.

After a few days, the U-Haul eventually disappeared, so you assumed they had finally moved all their stuff in. As you thought, ascending the stairs after another grueling day of work, there lay a black welcome mat in front of the door, signifying that the space was now occupied.

You had yet to come face to face with this mystery neighbor, and frankly, you wouldn’t mind keeping that way. You liked your life the way it was, void of people, simple with a set routine. A new possible relationship might disturb that peace, so you never bothered to introduce yourself. Now you felt like it was coming back to bite you in the ass.

The first night they had moved in, it was rather quiet. Some shuffling, a couple of bangs on the wall from what you could only assume came from adjusting furniture and unboxing their belongings. You brushed it off, only slightly struggling to find sleep that night. Then it progressed.

The loud telltale sign of a buzzing razor, groups of people chatting loudly and yelling over what must have been movies, video games, or something of the sort. Blaring bassy music on subwoofer speakers and your least favorite, the moaning.

Every few nights, the incessant moaning of some girl on the other side of the paper-thin walls drove you mad. The banging headboard against the walls, the broken “oh!'s" and “please!” and “don’t stop!” The few nights that you got peace, you prayed that by some magical means the moon would stay perched in the sky longer than normal, only to be awoken by that loud music in the early mornings before you dragged yourself out of bed for work.

Your sleep schedule had been severely tampered with, your lack of peace had made it hard for you to find the motivation to get things done, and it had gone on for months since they moved in. There was one week when the moaning had finally stopped, and for a while, you finally had peace. Yes, the music was still loud and the crowds of people still droned on, but you could easily fall asleep to that compared to the girls. Whoever was living there must have taken a break from whoever they were seeing, and you almost slipped a thank-you note under their door along with a ball gag.

Of course, that peace was short-lived, and soon enough, there was another girl, a different voice this time, calling out into the late night. You had no idea how these girls could be so loud. To give credit, it didn’t really sound like they were faking it; nonetheless, it was still annoying, and you wanted to cry. Not only did it make sleeping beyond impossible, but you were also further reminded that you had been out of the dating scene for years, and it almost made you wish you had someone to make you feel so good that you would disturb your neighbors.

The thin line your patience was hanging onto was damn near ready to snap when you decided that the best way to go about this, to initiate minimal contact with your rude neighbor, was to be just as loud as they were, to give them a taste of their own medicine.

So, early on a Saturday morning, a day you didn’t have to be at work. You rose with the sun and decided to get some early morning cleaning done. You propped up your speaker right against the wall you shared with the stranger, connected it to your phone, and blasted your playlist so loud it reached every room in the space.

Gathering your cleaning supplies, you tidied up as loudly as you could, mopping your wood floors with vigor, scrubbing the walls with the occasional elbow bump, slamming your cabinet doors every time you put a dish away. It was a bit fun to be annoying.

You moved from the back of your apartment up towards the front, as now you were basically rearranging your living room, sweeping the dust bunnies from under the couch, and decided you didn't like your coffee table by the recliner anymore. Just loud and obnoxious. You had been at it for hours, and you were a bit at odds about how revenge was the only thing that motivated you enough to deep-clean your entire home. Oh well.

Maybe you took it a little too far, because as you were pushing your coffee table across the floor, the legs screeched across the ground like a broken violin. You heard a knock on your door. Loud, irritated, heavy. BANG. BANG. BANG.

You stopped pushing the table, your music continuing to blare around the house as you waited in hopes that whoever was there would walk away. But then the knock came again, louder this time, damn near shaking your door on its hinges.

You couldn’t really ignore it, so with an exasperated sigh, you rubbed your eyes and made your way over to the door, twisting the knob and yanking it open.

“Can I help… you?” The person at the door had their fist poised up like they were getting ready to knock again, and at this moment, you wished you were better with people than you were, because when you laid eyes on him, all your coherent thoughts flew out the window. 

Black eyebrows scrunched together in annoyance, soft, lightly tanned skin with pink, plush lips that were pulled into a thin line. Long, messy black hair tousled around like he had just woken up with a few locks framed around his angular face. He was fucking huge, towering a few heads above you, clad in a compression black t-shirt and grey and blue plaid pajama pants, no shoes. He looked exhausted, displeased, and to your utter dismay, hot.

“Excuse me,” he started, and god, his voice was sinful. Deep and raspy, obviously tinged with sleep, syllables rolling off his tongue sweetly like they were dipped in liquid sugar, you could almost feel it in your chest. “You do know that it's seven in the morning, right?”

You swallowed, quickly gathering your composure so you could properly speak to this hunk of a man at your door. You looked down at your imaginary watch, tapping your wrist like it might have been broken.

“Uhhh, yeah, it seems like it.” You looked back up at him just in enough time to catch him rolling his eyes. “Very astute of you,” you said sweetly.

“Some of us are trying to sleep, y’know,” he replies, lifting a hand, gesturing to himself, face deadpan.

You paused, and your nostrils flared as you locked your gaze onto him, lips slightly parted as your brain was trying to register how unbelievable he was being right now. You must have been quiet for a hot minute because he lifted a hand to his cheek like he was trying to wipe something away.

“What, do I have something on my face?” he whispered, looking at his fingers to check if he got anything. “Did I drool or something-”

“You have to be kidding.” You finally say, eyebrow raised and arms crossed over your chest. “You’re saying that I’m being loud right now?”

The man looks around outside your door, then past your body into your apartment, then back at you. “Well, yeah, I think you’re the only one here, right?”

You were going to hit him.

“I can’t believe this.” You threw your hands up, chuckling to yourself as your neighbor watched with curiosity.

“Can’t believe wha-”

You interrupted him angrily. “I can’t believe you have the audacity to come over here and tell me I’m loud when every single night since you’ve moved in, your incessant racket 24/7 has made it nearly impossible for me to sleep, work, anything! It sounds like you're throwing parties over there. It's ridiculous! But as soon as I get up early– and on a fucking weekend of all days– to get some cleaning done, you decide to come banging on my door to tell me to keep it down?!”

“I didn’t mean-” he started, hands raised slightly to try and possibly de-escalate the situation. 

You raised a finger and glared at him. “I’m not finished! Not to mention whenever you have girls over! I might as well kiss the possibility of sleep goodbye! They’re so loud, can’t you tell them to shut up? Aren’t some girls into that! I didn’t know I was living next to a frat house. No matter what, these walls are thin, as you can finally tell, so have some courtesy and keep it down, will you?!”

When you finished your tangent, you looked up at him, frustrated, waiting for a response, only to be met with a sly grin and raised eyebrows like he found your tantrum amusing. He leaned his shoulder against your door frame, arms crossed over his broad chest, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek.

You let your eyes wander down to where the compression shirt perfectly contoured the dips and ridges of his toned stomach, but ripped your gaze away from them just as quickly to meet his eyes. Your music continued to drone loudly in the background as you stared each other down, waiting.

Then he spoke. “I can’t help it that they get a little loud, what am I supposed to do, fuck them bad?” 

You wished he hadn’t said anything at all. You took a deep breath. Clearly, you weren’t getting through to this guy. You sighed, smiling annoyedly as you took a step closer to him.

“What's your name?” You ask, teeth clenched.

“Mingi,” he drawls, tongue darting out to wet his plump bottom lip. “Pleasure to meet you, sweetheart.” He smiles and reaches out a hand for you to shake, and in turn, you tell him your name, ignoring his attempt at familiarity.

“Believe me, the pleasure is all yours. Listen, do me a favor. Have you ever heard of a hotel? Headphones? Another person's place of residence?”

He only smiles wider, letting his hand fall to his side as he looks you over. “Sounds familiar.” He replies, voice laced with what could only be humor at your lack thereof.

“Great, happy for you. Maybe invest in those. Sooner rather than later. I’ve been putting up with your nonsense for the past couple of months, and I can only handle so much before I start thinking about killing people. So please? Do you mind?” The look on your face is pleading, in hopes that maybe he might attune to your less-than-difficult requests.

“Woohoo, a bit violent, arentcha?” Mingi laughs, stepping out of your door frame. “It was nice to meet you, neighbor. Let me know if you ever need help fixing holes in walls, cause by the sound of it, you’d think you're knocking them in with all that rough cleaning this morning.”

He didn’t even acknowledge your requests. You step out of your home and stare at him as he walks back to his own door, twisting the knob as he plants his feet on the welcome sign.

“C’mon, man, can you at least get some headphones?” you plead, watching as he walks into his door.

“I already got a pair,” he replies, and you can practically hear the smirk on his stupid handsome face. “I’ll see what I can do.” He shuts his door, locks it, and you are left alone.

That entire exchange felt like it led to nothing. You stepped back into your house, feeling more irritated than you already were, as you picked up your cleaning supplies to finish the last bit of chores, turning down your music, opting for a less aggressive cleaning session for the rest of the morning.

You were pleasantly surprised to have found that Mingi seemed to somewhat adhere to your requests for the rest of the day. No loud music, no people shouting over loud screens. Just the occasional shuffle and silence, and Saturdays were usually his loudest days. You were grateful, and the sliver of hope that you had finally gotten through to him made you feel a ton better.

You spent the evening working on some paperwork you didn’t finish in the office, a nice fall candle filling your home with the comforting smell of vanilla and pumpkin spice as you worked in silence, the muffled sound of rain pounding on your roof like TV static.

Your foot tapped against the wood floors rhythmically. It was well past 8 pm, about time for you to wrap up. That's when you heard voices.

One you recognized was Mingi and his bassy, low drawl, and then a girl. It sounded like they were talking at his front door. She sounded upset, and Mingi sounded like he couldn’t care less about her dismay. They argued for a few minutes, and eventually, you heard what sounded like a “screw you” from the girl before the door shut, and silence settled again.

You wondered what it was about, but eventually, you couldn’t find it in you to care anymore as you wrapped up your work. You closed your laptop, blew out your candle, and after a nourishing shower, made your way to your bed, snuggling under your sheets. You picked up the novel you were reading, switching on your bedside lamp and settling in to continue reading. The rain was relentless against your roof, providing a comforting white noise as you lost yourself in the novel.

A couple of hours of reading and you were about ready to switch off the lamp and retire to bed, grateful you didn’t have to worry about work in the morning. You clicked off your lamp and slipped the bookmark back into your book, setting it on your nightstand.

Just as you pulled your hand away from the book, darkness enveloped your room as you heard more shuffling opposite your wall. You ignored it, getting comfortable, and just as you were about to lie down and try to sleep.

“Mmm…” Deep, guttural. Heated. You froze your movements. Eyes widened as you tried to justify what you heard. 

Then more noises flowed through the wall to your poor ears.

“Shit… hah…” There was no mistaking it. And you hated how it went straight to your stomach. Lust-laced, heady, quiet moans from your neighbor's apartment. A slow, slick sound, rhythmic in nature as breaths heavy and open hit your ears like a truck. You didn’t dare move.

It wasn’t like the loud moans you normally heard from over-satisfied girls, no, this time it was him. Low and throaty groans, litting up in pitch at the end every so often, sharp inhales of breath, and sonorous purrs that were downright sinful. And the slick, wet sound, and you didn’t need to see anything to know exactly what he was doing.

You wanted to bang your head against the wall over and over again until your brain matter splattered on the ceiling. You had never heard him like this. Breathy. Desperate. Needy. You only ever heard the women; you guessed his noises were drowned out by their cries.

And you felt perverted, but you couldn’t help but strain your ears and listen. Because you wouldn’t say it to his face, but his voice was intoxicating, perfect to drown in. Your heart raced as you listened to him touch himself, the slick sounds of his stroking himself muffled but still heard. His moans would stutter now and then, like he was close but wasn’t allowing himself release. He would groan, heavy and deep, like it almost hurt, and you couldn't help it as your thighs clenched in response to his rich noises.

“Fuck me…” he moaned into the quiet of his room, and in that moment, you needed to get out before you did something you regretted. You crawled out of your bed, rushed to the kitchen, and poured yourself a cold glass of water. Taking a couple of big gulps, you sat on your living couch and sighed, closing your eyes as you waited for his little session to wrap up so you could go back to bed.

You didn’t mean to fall asleep on your couch. You awoke slowly on Sunday morning, groggily forcing your eyes open as you took in your space, realizing you spent the night on your couch. And you felt… surprisingly well rested.

 You sat up, lifting your arms and stretching your limbs before reaching for your phone to check the time. 

“One o’clock!” You nearly shouted in surprise. You had never been able to sleep this late. You were always awakened by Mingi’s racket, which now you noticed was silent. He really did take your advice to heart, somewhat.

You stood from the couch, your bare feet padding against your floors as you walked to your bathroom to freshen up, the rest from last night well needed after a long few months of jumbled sleep schedules and unpredictable behaviors from your previously anonymous neighbor.

And unfortunately, it was short-lived. The loud music was back up, seemingly even louder than ever before, groaning into the laundry you were folding as you nearly felt your walls shake from the bass. You thought he had actually listened to you, and the pattern was right back.

Shooting to your feet, you stomped to your door, swinging it open and marching to his. You stopped in front of it and, without hesitation, you pounded on the door with purpose.

The music continued, and he didn’t come to the door. So you pounded again, harder this time, in a similar fashion to the first time he knocked on yours.

Some rustling behind the door, and then it swung open, and there he stood. And god once again, you were not prepared.

Sporting a tight-fitted white tank top and some athletic shorts, dripping in sweat, his hair clung to his neck and his forehead, and he was breathing heavily. In his hand, he held a navy blue weight, and behind him lay a yoga mat with a few more weights of various sizes littered around the living room. He looked down at you, chest rising and falling with labored breaths, as drops of sweat fell off the ends of his hair and onto his tank top.

“Need something, neighbor?” He asks, voice sounded ragged, tired, worked. You ripped your eyes from his flushed face and stared at your feet; your words had died in your throat.

He leaned down in an attempt to come eye level with you, and you squeaked quietly and took a step back. Sensing your nervousness, Mingi grinned and rested the forearm that held the dumbbell against the top of his doorframe, his gaze sharp as he looked you over.

“The music?” you managed to muster, forcing your eyes to lock with his. Half-lidded and teasing, his eyebrow quirked up as he waited for you to say more. 

“Turn it down, maybe? I thought maybe you’d have listened to me by now, but it seems like you must have hit your head overnight and forgotten our conversation.”

Mingi shrugged. “I didn’t forget. I’m just doing my normal routine, just like you.” His tone was relaxed and lofty, and the urge to clock him in the throat was strong.

“You do know there’s a gym that's quite literally a 5-minute walk from here, right?” You snarked, crossing your arms, your previous nervousness gone as his all-natural talent of pissing you off immediately made you feel like you needed to put him in his place.

He loved how feisty you got with him. Mingi loves girls who bite back.

His smile only widened, “You do realize that spending stupid amounts of money for a gym membership is worthless compared to just working out at home, right?” Copying your tone, he waved the weight in your face, and you scoffed.

“I don’t care about you working out at home, that's fine by me. The music, however, is so fucking loud, Mingi. Care to turn it down a little? It's literally shaking my walls.” He didn’t respond at first, eyes roving over your body for a second.

He sighed and nodded. “Fine then. I’ll turn it down.” There was a glint in his eyes, like there was something else he wasn’t telling you, but you ignored it as just him being a pretentious ass. And of course, though, you had to push the envelope. You could never settle for bare minimum answers.

“What’s with this reluctance to being quiet with you? Can’t you just be like a normal person and just not be so loud all the time?”

It was Mingi’s turn to scoff, waving a hand at you. “I’m not even loud all the time, maybe you just have sensitive ears. Go to a concert, that’ll fix that hearing of yours in no time.”

You laugh incredulously, stepping further into his space. Mingi only leaned down further to be closer to your face, the look on his face antagonizing, challenging you.

“I don’t understand why I have to adjust to your noisy lifestyle just because I live next to you. I don’t care if you’re loud, maybe like, once a week, but every fucking day is unbearable.”

“And I don’t understand why I have to adjust to your library rules and walk around on eggshells because you can’t invest in some noise-cancelling headphones.” He leaned closer to your face, and at this point, your noses were inches away from touching. The heat radiated off his skin, and you could feel it all over you, but you ignored it, the rage bubbling under your skin your main priority at the moment.

“And I don’t understand why you have to jerk off so fucking loudly either!” 

It slipped out before you could think about what you were saying. You slapped a hand over your mouth and took a step back. Mingi’s face shifted from challenging to sheer shock, and then amusement. 

“Oh?” He drawled, and you could already see that sly grin creeping onto his face. “You were listening?”

You were quick to defend yourself. “I wasn’t listening. I heard it. Because you’re loud. Whatever! Turn the music down, I have a headache.” Retreating quickly, you rushed back to your door, swinging it open and slamming it closed once you were inside, heart racing. He wasn’t even embarrassed; he didn’t even care that you heard him. God, he was infuriating.

You lie down on your couch, sighing and draping an arm over your eyes tiredly. It was quiet; he had turned the music off completely. You let your shoulders relax and your mind unravel from that awkward exchange.

Then came the grunting. The strained counting. The exaggerated moaning and breathing as he began working out again, and then you realized why he smiled when you asked him to turn the music down. The music masked the labored, suggestive noises he made when he worked out. You wished he would turn the music back on, and you were sure now he was being extra loud just to get under your skin. And fuck it was working.

Absolutely infuriating.

You had your first guy over at your place in a long time, years probably. One of your coworkers asked you out for dinner, and you agreed simply because you had no reason to deny. It was good-looking, polite, and frankly, you had never put yourself out there in search of relationships in so long, you figured this would be the best way to ease yourself back into it.

It was a Friday night, after a nice dinner, just talking about nothing, he took you back to your place. He stood outside your front door with you, and you could tell by the way he was talking that he expected to come in with you.

You thought about it, like really thought about it. If you did and it didn’t work out, it would just be really awkward to see him back at work again. And at the same time, you hadn't been touched in so long, at this point, you were desperate for any kind of contact.

You ended up turning him away, making an excuse that you had plans in the morning and wanted to get adequate rest. He sounded a bit broken up about the rejection, but left without too much of a fuss, bidding you a goodnight. 

You sighed and shut your door, wondering if you should have just invited him in, but it was too late to think too hard about it now. You poured yourself a glass of pinot and sat at your kitchen table, sipping on it lightly and flipping through a magazine you had received in the mail.

You sulked in the quiet, the one night you wished maybe you had a little hustle and bustle happening in your home.

And then here comes your neighbor. This time it's a blender. A fucking blender. Comical. This was not the night you needed this shit. So you stood, slammed your glass on the countertop, and stomped back over to his place.

Determined in your steps, you stopped in front of his door and knocked, softer than last time, but hard enough that you didn't have to knock twice. He switched the blender off and walked to his door, opening it and looking down at you. 

Your mouth opened, closed, and your voice didn’t come. Every time you saw him, it's like all your words left your brain. Grey sweatpants, messy hair, a loose black tee. He was holding an empty shaker cup, and when you met his eyes, you swore you saw something different.

Sympathy?

He spoke first. “Do you… Do you want to come in?” His voice was gentle, inquisitive. You were taken aback at the invitation; the surprise must’ve been clear on your face, because he smiled softly.

“I overheard you and your date tonight. Thought maybe some company would do you some good.” You blinked a few times, and you were nodding slowly before words came back to you.

“Uh, sure. Thanks, Mingi.” Your voice was small, unsure. He stepped aside so you could walk inside. You stepped past him, your shoulder brushing the lower part of his chest as he welcomed you into his home. Of course, it looked just like yours, just decorated more to his tastes. Darker furniture, darker art on the walls, cluttered end tables by his couch, and workout equipment by the front window.

“You can sit wherever. I was just making myself a protein drink, sorry if the blender bothered you.” Awkwardly, you sat at one of the seats at his kitchen island, resting your elbows on the countertop.

“Yeah, I was coming over here to give you shit about it, actually.” You laughed softly, and so did Mingi.

“Sorry again.” He replies, but of course, he was smirking. You glared at him as he poured his smoothie into a cup, the muscles in his forearms flexing too deliciously for you to feel safe and composed around him.

“No, you’re not.” You bite back, crossing your legs underneath the island, stifling the weird feeling in your gut when you realize that his entire apartment smelled like him. You were in enemy territory.

“You’re right, I’m not.” He set the cup down and walked over to you, leaning over the island opposite you and staring at you. “Would you believe me if I said I did it to get you over here?”

“Should I believe that?” You responded, but your stomach did a weird flip at the notion that he had annoyed you just to get you to come over. “Seems like overkill when you could just knock on my door yourself.”

“Seems like a lot of work to me.” He quips, grinning prettily when you rolled your eyes at him. “So tell me, what was up with the guy? Did he give off serial killer vibes? Have his mom as his lockscreen? Oh! Or did he have a weird third nipple or something?”

Your mouth fell open, and you snorted. Mingi laughed at your reaction. “What? No. None of the above. He was just a coworker, and I just wasn't sure. Nothing crazy.”

Mingi nodded and hummed, pursing his lips in thought, tapping his fingers against the marble countertop. “Got it, got it. So what, have you got a criterion they have to meet?”

“No, Mingi, you’re awfully nosy. Can’t I just not be interested?”

“Of course you can, I’m not saying that. I was just wondering if you had some specific type or something.”

You laugh and teasingly reply, “What, wondering if you check off all the boxes?”

“Yeah, maybe.” Mingi kept his eyes locked with yours, and his face was far more serious, like he wasn’t playing games. You froze, pressing your lips into a thin line. Your next words came quietly.

“For real?”

Mingi didn’t say anything, didn’t nod or shake his head, just kept his eyes on you, like he was trying to read your expression, read your body, gauge your thoughts.

“Do you want me to be for real?” He simply asked, but his tone had lowered, quieter, thicker. Your fingers twitched against the countertop when you realized it was your move.

“Do you?” you ask him. Dancing around each other. Mingi moved from in front of you, with careful, purposeful steps. He was now standing behind where you sat. You kept your eyes forward as you felt his chest press against your shoulders.

The body heat poured off of him onto the skin of your back, his hands settled on either side of your waist, not quite holding, just touching.

“I do,” he spoke, his voice heavy right above your head, and you felt yourself shiver slightly. When you didn't pull away, the hands on your waist slid down, gripping this time, hooking on your hips and holding you there. “Pretty fucking badly.” That stupid voice of his, low and dangerous, so low you felt it travel like a livewire throughout your entire body, and you couldn't help but sigh.

He leaned down so his lips were hovering right by your ear. He was so close, his breath tickled the shell of your ear, and you felt your spine straighten. “I wanna know if you think I could satisfy you the way you want. The way you need.”

Unconsciously, you leaned back into him, and the hands on your hips tightened when he felt you move closer, fingers digging into your flesh. His lips moved from by your ear down to press against your shoulder, pressing a feather-light kiss against the side of your neck, testing.

“Tell me, sweetheart,” he whispered against your skin, and you couldn’t help the quiet whimper that bubbled from you. “Do I meet your standards?”

Instead of responding, you moved. You stood from your seat and turned your body around so you were facing him. Quickly, you slid your hands around to cup the back of his neck and hurriedly pressed your lips to his. Mingi melted into you in no time, like he was impatient, as if he’d been waiting for this. For you.

His hands found purchase on your waist, and immediately he was lifting your body so you were sitting on the countertop, never pulling his lip from yours, devouring you in a kiss so deep, so hungry you’d think he’d die if pulled away from you.

Your fingers carded through the hair at the nape of his neck, craning your neck to kiss him deeper, let him consume you whole in his kitchen. His big palms roamed up your waist, down to caress the outside of your thighs. He gripped either one and slowly parted them, slotting his body between them to press closer to you.

His hands were back up, wrapping around the back of your neck and grinding his lower body between your spread legs, sighing into your mouth as your warmth seeped through his clothes.

“Fuck you’re so soft.” He moaned against your lips, swiping his tongue over your bottom lip and breathing against you like he couldn’t believe your taste. 

You gripped his hair harder, opening your mouth against his lips to beg. “Mingi, please….” You whined, arching your back and inching your hips closer to him. “Please touch me, please.”

“Of course, baby,” he purred against your lips, pulling back from your mouth, trailing wet kisses down the side of your neck, breathing heavily. He couldn’t keep his hands off your body, exploring every nook and cranny of your flesh, refusing to not touch you.

They landed on your pants, sliding them off your thighs and down your legs until they pooled on his kitchen floor. His hands gripped your now bare thighs, kneading the flesh, caressing the sensitive skin.

“Fuck… wanna eat you out.” He cooed, already trailing kisses down your body until he reached the bare skin of your thighs, and lowered to his knees below you. He hooked his hands around the back of your hips, pulling your body closer towards the edge of the counter.

Now knelt between your thighs, his hands rose and found both of yours, intertwining his fingers with yours and holding your hands down against the counter, restraining you from using your arms.

“Gonna make you cum with just my tongue.” He whispers against the soft skin of your inner thighs, a sinful promise. “Then I’m gonna bend you over and show you why it gets so loud over here at night.”

You whined when he pressed a wet kiss against your clothed cunt, letting his tongue fall from his mouth, and he licked a fat wet stripe over the cloth, his spit mixing with the wet spot you’d already made in them yourself.

Impatient to taste you, Mingi bit the waistband of your underwear and slid the flimsy fabric down your thighs with his teeth, letting go when they fell to the ground and hovering over your fluttering pussy.

“So pretty.” He mused, shouldering his way further between your thighs to spread you open more,  still keeping his fingers locked with yours. Pressing a soft kiss against your clit, he then opened his mouth over your cunt, letting a glob of his saliva slip down his thick tongue and land directly on your clit, before he began to devour you.

Ravenous, Mingi split your lips open with his tongue, dragging it through your spit-slick folds and humming loudly against you when your taste hit his tongue. 

The vibrations of his deep voice made your thighs clench around his head, but his broad shoulders kept them open for him as he licked and sucked like you were the best thing he’d ever tasted.

He groaned like it hurt, wrapping his soft plush lips around your sensitive clit, sucking, biting, swirling his tongue around it so perfectly you thought you might go insane.

His grip on your hands tightened like he was grounding himself, then dragging your hands up, guiding them to his hair. You felt as he pressed your fingers against his soft, messy hair, his hands slipping away and finding purchase on your thighs, holding them up and around his head.

“Hang on to me, baby.” He groaned into you, and the moan of satisfaction he let out when you gripped the hair at his scalp sent another gush of arousal between your thighs that Mingi was quick to drink up greedily. “Yeah— fuck, just like that, don’t let go.”

“Oh my god…” You cried, your head falling back as you let the feeling of his warm mouth wash over you, completely overwhelmed at how amazing it felt. How good he was at this.

“Feel good?” His eyes lifted to look at you, and from where you were, it almost looked like he was worshipping you, begging to taste you like you were his life source, and it made your brain go haywire.

“Feels so good.” You praised, and that seemed to spur him on further, burying his face deeper into you, nudging his nose against your clit, and sliding his tongue inside of you, and the pleasure was almost too much.

“Mingi…coming… holy shit.” He did not let up, only seeming to fuck you deeper on his tongue, the muscle so thick it nearly filled you up.

“Yes, fuck good girl. Cum on my face. Cum all over me, baby. Give it to me.” The fingers he was digging into your thighs slid upward to hold your lower waist, his thumbs pressing against your lower stomach, the pressure making your breath hitch and your vision flash white.

Before you knew it, you were cumming around Mingi’s tongue, voice breaking in a pathetic moan, thighs shaking around his head as he shook his head back and forth, helping you ride it out smoothly.

“That’s it, my pretty slut. Give me all of you, wanna taste every fucking bit of you.” Mingi finally pulled away, littering your inner thighs with slick wet kisses, his lips shiny from your arousal and dripping in your wetness.

When he rose from his knees, you immediately reached your hands out to pull him to your lips and kiss him, messy all teeth and tongue as you tasted yourself on his lips.

“C’mon.” He started, hooking his hand underneath your sticky thighs and lifting you off the counter, carrying you back down the hall and to his bedroom, kissing you all the way.

He set you down on the floor once you were by his bed, before flipping your body around and pressing you down against the edge of the bed. His hands slid up the expanse of your back, hooking beneath the hem of your shirt and sliding it up and off your body.

You heard him shuffle his clothes off behind you, and that’s when you felt it. Hot and heavy against your back, his cock lay against your lower back, pre-dripping from the tip and falling on your back.

You listened as you heard a drawer open, a wrapper rip, and then he slid the condom on with a suppressed groan. 

His hands gripped your hips as he maneuvered his body to slide his thick cock along your sticky slit, leaning his body over so he could press his lips against your shoulder blades, languidly kissing and dragging his tongue along the back of your neck.

“Fuck you smell so good.” He groaned into your hair as he continued to slide the length of him against your wet slit, the friction catching your clit every time he rolled his hips forward.

“Inside...” you whined, pressing your cheek against the sheets, Mingi’s lips pressing against the shell of your ear, his sweat-slick chest flush against your back. “Please, need you inside.”

“Inside?” He whispered in your ear, taking your lobe between his teeth. “My pretty baby wants me to fill her up?” He crooned, slipping his hips back so the tip of his dick barely pressed against your soaked entrance. His voice made your head fuzzy, so close and so intimate by your ear, your whole body shivered underneath him.

“Fuck, please… I want you inside me.” And he couldn’t wait any longer if he tried.

“Of course, beautiful.” He sank his teeth into the side of your throat, lolling his tongue over the bite as he began to sink his thick cock inside of you, so slowly, the stretch making your legs shake and your mouth fall open in surprise at how big he was. “Anything for you.”

He lifted his upper body so he could look down at where he slid inside of your pussy, moaning deeply at how you sucked him in eagerly, the slick that gushed between your thighs helping him glide in so easily it made him dizzy.

“Fuck baby…” he whined, careful as he slid out until just the tip sat inside before thrusting right back in, so deep, rolling his hips, perfectly grinding against that soft spot in your tummy that made you drool on his sheets.

“Oh my god.. so deep.” You whimpered into the mattress, feeling the heat of Mingi’s palms as one cupped around the back of your neck and pressed your face further into the bed while the other caressed the side of your waist as he began to roll his hips into you rhythmically, groaning into the space with every thrust as you sucked him back in every time he pulled his cock back.

“Mmm, yeah baby, you like that?” Mingi purred, admiring the slick sheen you had already begun to leave on his dick, with each deep-seated thrust he bullied into your pussy, grinning at each quiet, overstimulated whine that left your lips each time he hit that spot.

“You feel me in there?” He thrusted hard this time, and you nearly choked on your breath at the intensity of the feeling.

“I feel you…” You breathed out, fists gripping the sheets, loving the feeling of his big hand holding your head down and his cock stretching you out so good you were seeing stars.

Mingi picked up the rhythm, sliding the hand around your neck back down your spine before gripping the other side of your hips and beginning to take.

He began to pound you relentlessly, the tenderness of his touch now gone as he began to use your poor cunt like a toy, groaning each time you squeezed around him as he rutted against your G-spot like a man possessed.

“Fuck fuck fuck..! God baby, you feel so good. So fucking good around me.” You could only cry out as he used your body, each thrust sending your senses into overdrive as you found yourself tumbling towards another orgasm at record speed, Mingi having no trouble staying at the angle that made your thoughts fog.

“Fuck, Mingi, please. I need to feel you!” With all the strength you could muster, you reached your hand back to press against his lower stomach, urging him to stop.

He whined and stopped thrusting slowly, resorting to a deep, heavy grind in your pussy. “What’s wrong? What is it, baby?” He asked, barely holding himself back from continuing to pound you stupid into his sheets.

“Please. Take it off.” You cried out. And Mingi paused for a second. Silence shadowed both of your ragged breaths and fucked out whines.

And then you felt it. The way his cock twitched, and then jumped inside of you, nudging against your G-spot, making you weak in the knees.

“You want it raw?” He asked in near disbelief, his voice was so quiet you thought he was talking to himself. The grip on your hips was so tight you for sure thought it might bruise.

“Please..” you replied, voice broken as tears welled in your eyes.

Mingi thought he just might lose his fucking mind. You heard his breathing quicken, then the hands on your hips slid up your back, gripping your shoulders and massaging the area, and you knew then and there that you were done for.

“My little slut wants me to fuck her raw?” His tone switched, heavy, unbearably turned on. Full on feral.

He wasted no time. He slipped his cock out of you, the emptiness making you groan as you felt him grab your waist and flip your body over so you were lying on your side. With a satisfied groan, Mingi pulled the condom off his cock, throwing it off to the side as he situated himself behind your body. Pressing his chest to your back, sliding a hand to cup the underside of your thigh. He lifted your leg so he could press the head of his cock against your hole, pressing his lips against the heat of your neck, right beneath your ear.

Like it hurt for every second he wasn’t inside you, Mingi groaned with a satisfaction that made it seem he had cum right then and there as he slipped his cock right back inside of you. You could feel all of him now without the thin barrier of latex. Warm, pulsing, filling you with every inch of him.

He moaned loud and heavy below your ear, immediately fucking up into your pussy so hard you felt dizzy. Mingi was insatiable, the hand on your thigh spreading your leg open further while the other pressed against your lower stomach, letting you feel every slick inch of him pounding inside of you.

“Yeah, yeah, how's that baby? This better? Love when I’m fucking you raw and nasty? You— shit— want me to cum in this pussy and fill you up with me, sweetheart? Tell me that’s what you want.”

You nodded against him, moaning loudly, taking every purposeful stroke he gave you, the slick and wet sounds making your face hot and your cunt wetter.

“I want it.. please want you to cum inside me, Mingi.” He licked all over the side of your neck, kissing the veins in your throat and pressing ever harder against your stomach.

“Okay baby… yeah, I’m gonna give it to you. I’m gonna fill this pussy up and you’re gonna take it for me.”

You spasmed around him as your orgasm washed over you like a lethal wave, gripping him tight, Mingi’s hips stuttering, feeling you clench around him.

“Oh, there we go, what a good fucking girl cumming on my cock. So pretty when you fall apart for me.” Mingi whined into your ear as he felt his release building, his hip movements slowing to a sloppy rhythm, his voice dropping to a sultry, whimpering whisper as he pressed his plush lips right against your hot ears.

“I'm gonna cum for you, baby…” He murmured, panting quietly against your ear like he was in heat, squeezing your thigh and pressing harder against your stomach. And with a few last devastating thrusts, he slipped the hand on your stomach up to grip your chin.

Mingi turned your head so he could press his lips to yours, slipping his tongue into your mouth with a sinful, whiny moan as he came inside of you, rolling his hips to push it deeper into you, moaning and sighing into the wet kiss you shared.

He pulled from your lips with a heavy sigh, the thin string of saliva connecting you two snapping when he turned his head to look down at the mess between your legs.

“Fuck… look at the mess we made.” he groaned, watching attentively as he slipped his soaked cock out of you, you in turn sighing at the absence.

You were both suddenly startled when you heard a loud banging on the ceiling, nearly jumping out of your skin.

“Christ almighty, could you fuck any louder!!??” Whatever neighbor lived above Mingi, banging on his floor with a broom, angrily shouting at the two of you for how loud you were being.

You gasp and cover your mouth with your hands. “Oh my god, were we that loud?” Mingi laughed and kissed the side of your neck softly, smiling against your skin.

“I mean, you were pretty loud.” He teased, and you immediately turned to hit him.

“And whose fault is that?!” You exclaimed, glaring with embarrassment written all over your face. Mingi smiled harder and proudly puffed out his chest like he was getting ready to accept a gold medal.

“That would be mine.” He peppered your face with tons of gentle kisses, and you couldn’t help but giggle.

“Does this mean that you’ll stop blasting music so I can get some good sleep now?” You asked half seriously, half jokingly. Mingi only shrugged.

“If it means that you’ll keep coming over and seeing me, I think I’ll continue as previously planned.”

“Oh my god, just knock on my door like a normal person, please! Do not turn your blender on every time you want to see me. I swear to god I’ll move out.”

Mingi pouted and kissed your throat. “You wouldn’t.” He softly murmured, giving you the most pathetic puppy eyes you’d ever seen.

“Stop using kitchen appliances and subwoofer speakers as mating calls, and maybe I won’t.”

Mingi grinned and kissed your shoulder, getting up and running to the bathroom to grab a rag. 

“No promises!” He winked, and you sighed as he leaned down to get you cleaned up.

So much for a peaceful lifestyle.

[kisssan]

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐔𝐎𝐔𝐒 ⊹ 𝘀𝗼𝗻𝗴 𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗴𝗶

pairing﹢song mingi x fem!reader genre﹢smut. fratboy + uni!au. alcohol consumption, inexperienced reader. first time + unprotected sex. big dick mingi agenda, praise, dirty talk, possessiveness, mentions of multiple orgasms, jealousy + obsession themes, fratboy catches feelings. synopsis﹢mingi’s used to being chased, but when he finally meets someone who won’t give in, he becomes the chaser. thinking he was playing a mindless game, turns out, he’s the one falling hardest.

FRATBOY!MINGI is used to getting whatever he wants. parting, girls, free alcohol, numbers scribbled on his hand by the end of the night, and then there’s you. the pretty girl who's always just out of reach and knows how to play her cards right. suddenly he doesn’t even look at anyone else.

you’re his favorite girl — not because you give him everything, but because you don’t.

he walks into a party and scans the room automatically, not for hookups, simply for you. once he finds you, that's it, he is on cloud nine. attention fixes on you, shoulders relaxing, a wider and softer grin, while everyone else fades into background noise.

you sit on his lap like you are already dating, arms around his neck, lips brushing his jaw, letting him think he’s close, alas never close enough. kissing him slowly and teasingly, the taste of jaeger sweet on his lips, letting him get worked up. big hands sliding to your waist, your thighs, wanting to get under that skirt… then you stop him.

not rudely or showing that you don't like him, but the way your acrylic nail is pressing on a part of his chest that is revealed, considering how he unbuttoned his shirt earlier. all he does is look down at your finger then at you. a soft smile, a kiss pressed right at the corner of his mouth instead of where he wants it.

“not yet,” and it drives him insane.

he groans into your neck, forehead dropping to your shoulder, big hands flexing like he’s trying not to lose it. he’s hard, needy, frustrated, and weirdly attracted to the butterflies you are giving him. he turns down girls without even thinking about it now. doesn’t flirt back, entertain, or even give free shots to everyone, just to his friends.

because why would he, when you exist?

and when he gets invited to a big party once again, he tells his friends he’s “not in the mood” or when wooyoung comments about another girl looking at him, he says “already got someone,” even though they know he hasn’t slept with you. a little suspicious because mingi never turns down a party or a one-night stand. what’s worse than being teased nonstop by your closest ones: aww, the big bad boy has gone soft, isn't he adorable?

making out with him is messy and heated. he is so desperate, kisses lingering too long, biting your lip like he’s trying not to let you go. whines when you pull away, laughs breathlessly when you tease him about how horny he gets.

you’re not mocking him about it; you still curl into his side and melt under his touch. and still kiss him goodnight when you have to leave the party, so you just don’t let him take that last step.

mingi waits, patient in the way only someone completely interested and hooked can be, knowing that when you finally say yes, whenever that is, it’ll mean something.

because you didn’t give him your body right away, as every girl did before. you made him fall first, turned the one who was chases into the chaser, and now he needs you in a painfully obvious way.

FRATBOY!MINGI has been fed with only breadcrumbs for the past few months.

kisses that linger just long enough to make his head spin. your fingers brushing his wrist, his hands, the hem of his hoodie, and then pulling away right when he leans in. sitting too close on purpose, knees touching, whispering things meant only for him in crowded rooms. letting him feel wanted, but never satisfied.

a perfect little cat-and-mouse game.

mingi is visibly fascinated by it. he gets quieter around other girls, less interested, and less playful. all his energy funnels into you; every party ends with him finding you. every night ends with him asking you if you’re coming over, and you smiling, saying, “sorry, not tonight,” and you watch how his smile turns into a frown, muttering something like, “yeah, i think i’m not going either. next time, then?”

then comes the group project, and how you end up meeting san and wooyoung at the library, one of his closest friends, and mingi isn’t there yet, running late, and somehow the conversation drifts to him.

san laughs first, peeking from his laptop. “you know he’s down bad, right?”

you barely look up from your notes, not interested, but you are secretly nosy about it. “yeah, like i haven't heard that before. he just likes to talk about girls.”

wooyoung snorts. “no, seriously. he hasn’t touched anyone since you.”

that gets your attention as san nods, more serious now. “he turns girls down, like… actually turns them down. all he talks about is you.”

“or he likes bragging about body count, feeding his ego...typical men, no offence.”

wooyoung shakes his head, putting his hands in a ‘timeout’ like position. “nah, this is different. he doesn’t even brag about his sex life anymore…instead, he gets stupid when your name comes up.”

“he thinks you believe him that he will use you for one night, and that’s going to be it,” san adds as he notices you suddenly stopped writing with your pen, “and that scares him more than you saying no.”

when mingi finally shows up, slightly out of breath, eyes immediately locking onto you, as he puts your favorite sweet treats over your textbook, your heart suddenly does a whole 180-degree loop. you see it now, the way his face softens, and he wears glasses? the way his shoulders drop, looking relieved just seeing you there, and that boyish smile appears on his stupid, handsome face… it makes you feel things.

later, when you’re walking out together, he gently taps your shoulder, scared about such a simple thing, because he wanted to ask you out on a date. opening his mouth, closing it, and rubbing the back of his neck, and all that came was: “what’d i miss?”

and suddenly, he doesn’t look like a party animal at all, more like the shy and clumsy nerd. cute, you think, a total loser in the best way.

“nothing,” you say, hiding everything you learned about him, while leaning and pressing a quick kiss to his cheek, and pulling back before he can react. “don’t slack off, tho. do your part of the project, okay?”

behind the corner, san and wooyoung watch him lift a hand to his cheek like he’s never been kissed before in his life, even if you kissed a million times already, blinking as you disappear down the hall.

yeah, he’s done for.

the moment mingi starts dressing like a normal person instead of a guy who forgets what shirts are, that’s when everyone knows — he’s serious about you.

FRATBOY!MINGI and you don’t even know if it’s because you’re both wasted, or because you tug his hand and try to pull him away from the crowd, clinging to him in a way you never have before. you’ve never been this affectionate, so obvious, and it finally clicks for him when you lean in and whisper, all soft and needy, “can we go somewhere else… just the two of us?”

mingi doesn’t even stand a chance, especially not with that face of yours, that voice, and the look in your eyes. he nods immediately, letting you lead him through the house until you find a bedroom, door lock included, thank god, and even better, untouched, clean sheets waiting.

and the second the door clicks shut, you’re onto him.

jumping into his arms like you’ve been waiting months for this moment, hormones spiking higher than mount everest, body buzzing, and he finds it insanely hot. for once, he is grateful for getting absolutely wasted because what do you mean the girl he likes finally gives him the whole loaf of bread, warm and fresh, instead of just the crumbs? and you, you're so beautiful that you make him wonder if he really wants to feel you physically, and not emotionally. but the fact that your hands are everywhere, mouths crashing together, kissing messy and desperate, saliva shared as clothes disappear piece by piece.

before he can even think, you’re both naked, his body pressed against yours, his cock lined up at your wet folds…finally going in his dream destination.

you’re nervous, but brave. a virgin who somehow knows more than you should, cheeks warm from the alcohol you drank just for courage. 

he is buzzing with adrenaline, the kind that makes his hands shake just a little when he realizes what this means. yeah, he’s had sex before, sure, had his first time with a pretty classmate of his a few years ago, but this is his actual first time with the girl he actually likes. the one he waited for without even realizing he was waiting.

“you sure ’bout it, baby?” he murmurs, mouth brushing your collarbone, breath hot as his hands tighten instinctively when you move, excitement and anxiety mixing in your body. he knows how important this is for you, and how you’ve been saving yourself for someone worth this moment. “’cause once i start… i won’t be able to stop. shit– never seen such a pretty pussy before.”

when he pushes inside, slow and careful, you feel the stretch immediately. he’s big, bigger than you expected, everything deliberate, meant to make you feel safe instead of rushed. clinging to his shoulders, whining and gasping as he takes his time, letting you adjust, easing himself deeper inch by inch, he’s completely focused on you.

when he finally starts moving, slow thrusts find a rhythm, creating a tempo both of you would enjoy. all you can do is pant and moan, angelic sounds mixing with the faint clinks of his chains and necklaces. your eyes sting with tears, overwhelmed by the reality since you’re really letting him have you. yes, him. song mingi, the infamous fratboy who’s been hopelessly in love with you for months, who’s proven over and over that he’s serious, that this isn’t another game.

and then he whimpers.

actually whimpers like all soft and broken sounds that spill from him, even though he’s the one in control. it’s absurdly hot, with him dominant, needy, praising you breathlessly while still feeding his own ego because he can’t help it.

that boy moves knowing exactly what he’s doing. the way his hips roll, so controlled, aware when to press hard, the way his body stays perfectly in sync with yours: it’s obvious he’s experienced. and yeah, he uses that as an advantage, not to show off, because he wants you to feel good, and special. every movement is intentional, every deep thrust of his body meant to pull another sound from you, another reaction or orgasm. it’s overwhelming because no one has ever put this much care into making you feel wanted, loved, cherished, and most importantly, desired.

what gets him, though, is how fast he loses himself in the pleasure you offer him. mingi’s never been like this before. never came so quickly, or felt so affected by someone else’s body, reactions, personality, hence their trust. and instead of him being embarrassed that he is no better than that nerd yunho, who has been throwing not-so-secret glances at you during classes, can’t even hold a conversation without saying something uncanny, a total fucking weirdo, and visibly a big simp for you… he just accepts it, meaning, he’s in deep, metaphorically and realistically.

from there, it blurs like the alcohol in your system. bodies moving in sync, positions changing every five minutes, by the time you realize how wrecked you are, you’ve already come more times than you can count. limbs shaking, head spinning, mingi still holding you, but he pulls back just long enough to look at you, eyes filled with so much love and lust.

“neither of us will probably remember a single thing in the morning,” he confesses, voice low and husky, “some random dude knocking on the door, waking us up… but fuck that. tonight, you’re mine.”

he cups your face, kisses you again, hands sliding down to your hips, tracing every curve. “so… i’m gonna make you cum again,” he whispers, thumb brushing your clit, with his dick still inside you at a faster pace, with this stimulation it will help you come faster. “at least once more before… yes, baby, i know you’re tired, but i want to have you… properly, without worrying about being in someone else’s house, okay?”

his fingers and cock work in perfect sync, teasing, and pressing, rubbing, until your legs shake. “fuck– yes… harder… please, m-mingi harder,” you moan, and then you are clenching around him, screaming his name as your stomach twists, “mingi, please, ah—!”

mingi groans, head dropping to your shoulder, body trembling as he holds and talks you through it.

he’s never heard anything like it. never seen a girl come so desperately, so loudly, so completely on his stupid, big cock. his hands grip your hips tighter, murmuring praise between ragged breaths: “shit… you’re so perfect… so fucking mine…”

FRATBOY!MINGI has never invited a girl back to his apartment before. honestly, he’s never left a party this fast, either. he helps you dress after he dresses himself; his movements are clumsy, slipping his jacket over your shoulders to show everyone that you are his. he wipes your thighs with something, the sheets maybe, he doesn’t even check. big hands stay firm on your waist, mouth trailing along your neck, pulling you back into him every chance he gets, and you can feel how hard he already is again through his pants. it frustrates him because he wants more but knows better.

he’s drunk, but he’s forcing his brain to work somehow, because one thing is crystal clear: he needs privacy, and can’t wait another second.

you expect the smell of cigarettes and spirt when the door opens. drunk people everywhere, couples making out, bodies pressed together in dark corners. instead, it’s quiet, and then you see someone.

standing there with a plastic cup in his hand, frozen like he’s been caught eating those godforsaken cookies from the jar. mingi’s mouth is still on your neck mid-kiss. your hands resting over his when NERD!YUNHO stares like he’s just walked into something he was never supposed to see, and so the cup slips from his fingers, clattering to the floor as he swallows hard.

mingi finally looks up, so annoyed and irritated, throwing him a sharp, territorial glare. “get lost,” he snaps. “the hell are you staring at?”

it doesn’t even register at first. the fratboy doesn’t recognize him, because in his head, yunho is just some awkward guy, a background character — a nobody. someone who shouldn’t look like that, so stylish and handsome that it makes you, his girl, stare for even more than a second.

and whose party was this again? yeonjun’s? he doesn’t know, or care.

mingi drags you toward the stairs, fingers laced with yours, already halfway gone. you follow behind him, but something makes you look back.

your head is still foggy, but you know exactly who it is now. the smart guy who helped you study for that impossible exam, the one who smiled nervously when you thanked him, since he stayed late explaining formulas when everyone else gave up. he was actually cute, you thought, and his ears went bright red when you complimented him on his academic achievements.

then you smile sweetly at him, mouthing a soft bye, as he’s still standing there, cup forgotten, watching you go with an expression he hopes you never see him with. looking nothing like the awkward nerd everyone assumes he is. and if mingi knew the truth, that yunho was your first, long before tonight, he wouldn’t be pulling you away so confidently.

taglist ( open )﹢ @strhwa @lillys-bakery @les4heeseung @yeehaw-odyssey @livonianmaia @estrnrea @chanscappuccino @lateez @cyberpxnks @zerowantstobattle @raicecakes-and-buldak @finewinesixtynine @jensdior  @minkiluva @hwa2tiny @woosansbb @haleria @lol-imtrash2000 @haohaoshoe @iamagnesrrr @phesodain @chuuyaobsessed @niyareloadedd @enhacolor @atetheluck @eviemae5864 @booposaurusrex @belongjoong @life-is-a-game-of-thrones @urfavleobiscuit

© KISSSAN do not copy, repost or modify my work.

[teaxtease]

₊˚.༄ ATEEZ bf texts ft. MINGI

warnings: suggestive, fem reader, cursing, princess as a nickname for mingi

other versions: hongjoong | seonghwa | yunho | yeosang | san | wooyoung | jongho

requests open! reply here or to pinned post for tags.

taglist: @seodwae @kisses4choso

[yeonlymine]

aloe vera ᢉ𐭩 mingi

saddle burn wasn’t the only thing raw

𐚁 mingi x f!reader

𐚁wc: 3.4k

𐚁warnings!: smut, a lil plot, spit play, bondage/rope, choking, power dynamics, size kink, cum play, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, marking, spanking, biting, cowboy!mingi, im prob forgetting some

𐚁fun fact, i rodeo irl. im here to burst the bubble that cowboys are gentlemen. majority are assholes that have community d :) but we love cowboy mingi so it's acceptable in this circumstance!! this isnt rlly proofread, this was for funsies. (fyi the term "roughie" means someone who competes in rough stock events! in this case mingi is a bull rider)

𐚁𓄀✮⋆˙ 𐚁𓄀✮⋆˙

You knew better, you knew riding in shorts would rub you raw. 

Yet you did it anyway because it’s warm out, who would put on jeans when it’s 90 out? Horses gotta get warmed up too. 

Mingi told you while you were saddling up, you waved him off. Listening to roughies never got you anywhere but in the back seat of a truck.

You weren’t going to let a very tall, muscular, good-looking bullrider sway you…right?

You didn’t need the distraction, not before a run, so you continued to lope circles in the warm-up pen.

There’s no shade of trees, barely a breeze, the dust is all in your lungs, and it’s like you can feel the heat radiating from the bleachers. 

Your horse’s ride is smooth, and you match it, but the constant rubbing of your thighs from the rough out saddle is making it more agonizing.

Other contestants are scattered throughout the grounds, eating, talking; it’s the most relaxed time before it’s time to run at night.  

All but one bullrider, whom you’ve sworn not to touch with a ten-foot pole. Mingi has a tank on, shades covering his eyes, a trucker cap, and jeans. His long limbs just hanging on the fence, watching you. 

Each time you get to his side of the fence, you glance his way. He smirks that stupid smirk, you get goosebumps even though you’re sweating bullets.

Your horse’s body heat isn’t helping, so you decided to give both of you a break. It feels like scraping your knee on concrete as you slide off the other side of your saddle, you wince to yourself at the sensation.  

You waddle to the fence to tie your horse and loosen up the girth for her.

“I told you.” Mingi walks over, pats your horse’s head, his voice is filled with glee. 

“Shut up, I’m fine, just slight saddle burn.” You roll your eyes as you secure the rope knot, you wipe your forehead with the back of your hand.

“Slight?”

“Isn’t that what I said?”

“Smart mouth.” He clicks his tongue, climbs over the fence, and goes to help remove the splint boots from your horse.

“I got it, Mingi.” He pays you no mind and continues to unwrap. You get up from crouching, and that’s when your thighs touch.

“Fuck—shit.” 

He goes around to your side, takes his shades off, he’s towering over you as he holds the left splint boot in his hand. 

“No, darlin’, you’re chafed really bad—not just ‘slight’.” 

You snatch the boot out his hand, “Stop looking between my legs.”

“It’s obvious from a mile away that you’re hurting, and one more ride in that saddle is gonna have you bleeding.”

“Now you’re being dramatic.”

“You’re standing like you had 15 beers.” Your jaw tightens, and you try to straighten up. He’s so close that the brim of his cap shadows your face. 

“No I’m not.” But even the small shift makes you inhale sharply, he catches it, his eyes are drilling into you. 

He smiles at you again, you shove at his chest. You hate proving anybody right, “Don’t you gotta buckle bunny hanging around somewhere?”

His tongue presses into his cheek, “See—I would,” he leans down a little closer, feeling his body heat against your own, “but they don’t ride in soccer shorts like you.”

Your stomach gets that empty feeling, and you hate that you’re falling for old patterns again. He reaches down before you can step back.

He hooks his finger under your shorts at your outer thigh; he doesn’t lift, just keeps his fingers there. 

“Mm.” He observes, and you swat his hand away. “Don’t.”

“C’mon, lemme see.”

“No.” 

He tilts his head, “So you’re just gonna be in pain through your run tonight, just to prove something?”

You don’t say anything, because that was the plan all along, you were just going to suffer the consequences of your actions for the day. 

Then he straightens up, “My truck–now.”

“Absolutely not.” You cross your arms, lean on the shoulder of your horse, you don’t dare cross your legs over. 

“Relaxxxx, it’s not like that—unless you want it like that.”

You glare, and his grin only gets wider, then he softens up a bit. “I got aloe.”

Now you know he’s getting serious, he’s actually offering you a practical solution, not just the thing between his legs.

He knows your run is important, he knows that’s the real threat for you. He turns and starts walking towards the field with the parked truck and trailers.

You don’t follow at first, but you wait about five seconds before you attempt a step across the gravel.

Pain immediately shoots up your thighs, you huff out, trying to keep it down because you swear he’s smiling even though he doesn’t turn around. 

He keeps walking as gravel shifts under your boots, it’s uneven footing, so every brush of skin makes you clench your jaw. 

His long legs make big strides, but you can tell he slowed down a bit, he definitely wasn’t trying to make it obvious. 

By the time you reach his truck, he’s already dropped the tailgate. No trailer hooked to it, as roughies only need to bring themselves and their gear, no animals to worry about until their performance. 

They have it easy outside of the 8 seconds of them risking their life. 

He leans against it, arms crossed, shades hanging on his tank. “Took you long enough.” You stop a few feet away.

“Whatever, you planning on actually helping or just enjoying the show?”

He looks you up and down slowly. You look all over the place, to be honest. A tank top on with dust sticking to your body,  sweat on your face, hair pulled back under a cap, with boots on. 

You never look your absolute best during the day of the show anyway. Except Mingi isn’t looking at your face or your chest, he’s looking at your legs.

“That depends,” he says lazily. “You gonna keep pretending you don’t need help?” He pushes off the tailgate, taps on it.

“Hop up.”

“I can stand.”

“I really didn’t ask.”   

You hesitate until he raises a brow, then you grab the edge and pull yourself up, the metal is hot through your shorts. His truck is not covered and has been sitting in the beaming sun. 

Your legs part just a little, limiting the friction against them. He goes around to the front of his truck and grabs a bottle that has green gel inside.  

The aloe, you could jump for joy. He steps between your knees as your legs hang and your back stiffens. 

“We’re in public– dude, you see how many trailers parked next to you?”

“Would you prefer this in the truck? Windows are tinted–plus nobody is looking at your legs but me.”

Your pulse jumps, it shouldn’t, because this is just a favor, but it seems your body doesn’t care what your brain thinks.

“Yeah, truck please.” You slide off the tailgate and go to the open passenger door. He follows and stands in front of you, his body plus the door covering you completely from any other eyes. 

It just looks like Mingi digging into his truck at this angle.  He flips the cap open with his thumb, squeezes some into his hand.  “Last chance to tell me to stop.”

You swallow, your pride is screaming, but your thighs are on fucking fire.

“...Just make it quick.” His mouth curves up.

“Oh—you know I don’t do anything quick.”

The first touch is cold, the aloe hits your skin, and you suck in a breath. It feels like pouring peroxide on an open wound. 

His hand is rough, calloused from the bull ropes and working with his hands all the time. He spreads it slowly along the inside of your thigh.

He doesn’t go high or inappropriately, just where the roughed-up skin is. He doesn’t rush, he rubs it in like he does baby powder before his rides. 

“You’re so sensitive,” he murmurs.

“Well, no shit.”

“You should’ve listened.” His thumb drags a little slower, and you can feel the shift in breathing. He looks up at you from under his hat.

“Still just ‘slight?’” His thumb presses a little harder as he works the aloe in some more, the stinging sensation still subtle. 

Your knees go loose, opening up a little more, and his eyes don’t leave yours. “You can tell me to stop.”

You swallow, you’re sweating even more now, and your hand finds the front of his tank. You don’t push him, you bunch it up in your hands, holding him there. 

“Mingi,” you warn, but it comes out more breathy, not serious in the slightest. 

“Didn’t think so.” He says, stepping where his hips brush the edge of the passenger seat, your thighs hitting his. 

You know the aloe is just becoming an excuse at this point, you both have played these games before. 

“You’re such an ass.” Your grip tightens, pulling him closer.

His voice drops lower. “Then tell me to fuck off.” His hand rubs your inner thigh again, getting close to where you’ve been secretly aching and wet.

He leans in, his other hand bracing against the middle console behind you. You don’t say anything, don’t tell him no.

He hooks one finger under the edge of your shorts, tugs on them. “These are in the way.”

“Then do something about it.” Your pulse has quickened, know you shouldn’t be getting involved with him. 

His eyes flash, he grabs the shorts at the inseam, and they rip. Your shorts hang open, exposing your panties, already damp.   

“Shit, Mingi.”

“You told me to do something.” He yanks them away, hangs them on the rearview mirror. You’re left in your underwear, tank top, boots, and spurs.

His hand cups you through your underwear and you bite back a moan. “You’re so damn wet, bet there’s evidence of a snail trail in your saddle, huh?”

“Don’t get cocky, honey.”

He pulls your panties to the side, fingers sliding through your folds, and you choke. “Mhm. Keep talking for me.”

You can’t form words. His fingers work you open, you’re still covered from the other trucks and people in the parking lot, as two fingers push inside and his thumb finds your clit.

Your head falls back against the console, and he leans by your ear, tongue swipes it and you shudder.

“All that mouth and you can’t say shit now.”

“Maybe if you were better at this–”

He pulls his fingers out, and you whimper slightly. He grabs your jaw, forcing you to look at him, and his fingers wet with you press against your lips. 

“Open for me.” You glare as you do. He slides his fingers into your mouth, and you taste yourself with the tart lingering taste of aloe. His eyes are dark as he watches. 

You hollow your cheeks as you suck, and his breath hitches. He then pulls his fingers out, a string of spit connecting as he puts his fingers in his mouth. Moaning around his own fingers, holding direct eye contact with you. 

He then leans over into the bed of his truck and comes back in front of you, holding his bull rope. The one he uses for his rides, worn leather and frayed orange cord. Your eyes go wide.

“Turn around.”

“I’m not a fucking bull, you’re gonna have to make me.”

His hand grabs the hair peeking out of your cap and spins you, bending you over the console. Your boots scrape against the truck frame, spurs jingling. 

“You keep acting like a bull, get treated like one, baby.” He loops the rope around your wrists, pulling them behind your back and tying them tight. 

He tears your underwear next, throwing them in the backseat to be added to his collection. You can hear his buckle and zipper, and then you feel the head of his cock pressing against you. 

You think about onlookers and slowly stop giving a fuck, you’re covered. If they want to see Mingi's cheeks, they’ll get a show. 

He’s fucking big, you feel every vein, every muscle as he pushes in slowly.  “Jesus–shit, shit.”

“Too much? Thought you could handle it like you do your horses.” His voice is strained while still mocking you.

“Fuck everything about you.” You grit out, but get broken by a moan as he bottoms out in you. You’re so full, the air is getting scarce. 

He doesn’t give you time to adjust, he just pulls back and slams in. His balls slapping against you as you cry out. It hits the chafed skin from the saddle, and it hurts, but feels so damn good you can’t think straight. 

“Take it.”

He fucks you hard as your cheek rubs against the console, slobber smearing along the leather. The truck rocks with every thrust. 

Sweat drips, the rope burns your wrists, and you pull against it, which makes him go harder. He leans over you, one hand wrapping around your throat, pulling you up slightly so your back arches.

Your spurs catch on him and he hisses. “Careful with those,” he goes deeper, hitting your cervix, which makes you go delirious. 

“Oh my god.”

“Uh uh, wrong name.”

You can’t form coherent thoughts, so you push back against him, meeting his thrusts, and he groans.

He pulls out, and you whine. He unties the rope and flips you over, pulling you back to the edge of the seat. Your legs wrap around his waist, spurs digging into his ass, and he grins.

He pushes back in and you both moan. The angle is deeper, you can see him now. His hat is half on, tank top clinging to his body with sweat, happy trail visible,  jaw clenched. 

He looks damn good. 

He spits into his hand and brings it between you, rubbing your clit in tight circles while he pounds into you. It’s so much, you’re coming before you can stop it, your whole body squeezes around him tight. 

“Fuck,” he thrusts three more times, and then he’s spilling inside you with a groan. He collapses forward, head hanging on your shoulder, both of you gasping.

He pulls out slowly, and you feel his cum drip down your thighs, they burn even more now. The aloe has gone to waste. 

He swipes his fingers through it and brings it to your mouth again. “Clean this all up, you’ve already fucked up my seats.”

You maintain eye contact as you do, and his cock twitches against your thigh. “You’re such a dick.”

He grins lazily, satisfied. “You’re the one who was on this dick in a parking lot with your spurs still on.” 

You can’t even argue with that, but then your breathing steadies, and when you look at him, there’s a look in your eyes that makes him falter.

“Looks like it’s my turn, huh.”

He blinks, “What–”

“Get in the truck.” He stares at you a moment, cock still hard, then he laughs. “You serious?”

“Does it look like I’m fucking joking?” You move over to sit on top of the console to give him room, it takes all your strength to move because of how shaky you are. 

The seat is soaked in spit, cum, everything that’s dripped out of you. It’s absolutely filthy. “But that’s your seat.”

“And now it’s yours, sit.” His cocky smirk returns, and he gets all the way in. The truck dips, and he takes up the entire passenger seat, even in his big ass truck.

His thighs spread wide, and when he settles into the seat, you hear the wet sound of him sitting in your juices and the leather.  

“Jesus christ I’m gonna need a detail.”

“You should be honored.” You climb over him and squeeze in where you can, the heat seeping through with no ac.

His hands go to your hips, the fit is tight. His shoulders are so broad you have to brace your hands on the roof of the truck to balance, your knees press against the seat on either side of him.

No one can hear or see into his truck, tinted so dark you don’t know how he drives it on the regular.

You reach down between your bodies and wrap your hand around his cock. He begins to harden even more, and you stroke him slowly. 

You sink down on him in one stroke, and his words cut off into a choked groan. The stretch is delicious. You never took off your boots, dirt in his seat, spurs digging into the side of his thighs as you settle.

“What’s wrong Mingi?” You roll your hips and watch his eyes roll back. “Thought you’d be able to last 8 seconds?

“Fuck–”

You brace your hands on his shoulders, you set a fast pace. Your thighs burn, but you lift yourself almost completely off him before slamming back down. Cum drips down your thighs, down his cock, adding more to the mess he’s sitting in. 

His hands go to your hips, trying to slow you down, but you slap them away. “Didn’t say you could touch.” You lean forward and wrap your hand around his throat.

His cock twitches inside you, and you laugh breathlessly. “Oh? You like?” You squeeze your thighs tighter, changing the angle.

“I’m gonna die before my ride. Shit–”

“You’ll make it, just maybe not last the full time–” You sit up as much as you can, your head nearly brushes the roof. Your hips roll and snap, your spurs jingle with every movement, scraping his skin that’ll leave marks. 

Sweat drips between your breasts, and you can feel his chest slick under your hands. The windows start to fog, but you don’t slow down. 

“Look at you—big tough roughie who can’t take what he dishes out. Pathetic.”

“I like it when your mouth is occupied.” He sticks his fingers into your mouth and shoves them down your throat, your hips stutter a bit. 

“Good girl, all nice and quiet.” His other hand comes up to grab your tits, squeezing hard, he pinches, causing you to moan and clench around him. It only makes you go harder. 

You spit his fingers back out, some of it hits his face, he uses his tongue to lick it off around his lips. The scene alone makes you want to buckle at the knees. 

“You’re fucking insane.”

His hand slides down to your ass, and he spanks you, the sting matching the sensation of your inner thighs. Then he does it again. 

“Fuck—yess–” He spanks you harder, and you grind down harder, taking him deep. Your clit rubs against his unshaven stubble with every movement. You’re getting close again.

“Shit, I’m bout’ to nut.” His voice is wrecked, and you can feel him throbbing inside you. 

You tap his cheek playfully, “Not yet.”

“Please–”

“Please what?” You roll your hips, start spelling your nickname with your hips, and he chokes. “Use your words, honey.”

“Please let me come—fucking please.” You lean down, lips brushing his ear. “Fill me up again, wanna feel it.”

He comes with a groan, hands on your hips, and the feeling of him pulsing inside you. You come shortly after, thighs clamping around him. 

Even as you come, you keep moving, slower. “Wait–I can’t.”

“Yes, you can, take it.” You sit up, wringing every last bit out of him. His head falls back against the seat, throat exposed, and you lean down to bite it.

Your muscles are screaming, you chase another orgasm as you grind down on him. His hands roam your thighs, ass, tits as you come down. 

He’s about to say something smart until the sound of a mic squeals. You both freeze. A voice echoes from the arena, running sound check for the speakers before the night.

The loading of bulls and horses into the chutes, it makes you realize how the world didn’t really stop, and you’re still parked between trailers.

Still supposed to compete. 

Your thighs burn when you shift off him, the aloe is smeared everywhere. He runs a hand over his face, hat crooked, jaw tight. 

You adjust your tank top like nothing happened, grab what’s left over of your shorts off the rearview. 

“Better ride better than how you handled this.”

He laughs, you lean down as your lips brush the shell of his ear. “Wouldn’t want you lasting less than eight seconds under those lights.”

You pull back before he can respond, open the door, and slide on your ripped shorts. Heat floods in, and real life hits you.

He watches your boots hit the gravel, your thighs are still red, still raw, and it’s all his fault.

“That aloe was absolute shit.”

[kalisburnerphone]

LTF || Song Mingi

Summary: Mingi’s strokes so good he rearranges your living room. That’s it. That’s the summary.

Warnings: idol!Mingi x grad student!f.reader, Mingi’s hips,minimal plot, cuddling, kissing,smut, MDNI!, dry humping, fingering, nipple play, unprotected sex, couch sex, riding, mating press, vocal Mingi, as usual I may have forgotten something.

W.C: 5k

A.N: LTF: Lovin, Touchin, Fuckin. My man told me to bring my ass home and stop straying in these streets.

You’re bundled up on your couch like a little blanket burrito, deep into an episode of Gachiakuta when you hear the familiar beep of the keypad on your door being unlocked. You don’t get up; you already know who it is given that only one other person has the code. The sound of him kicking off his shoes echoes down the short hallway, followed by the distinctive drag of his feet, that lazy shuffle he does when he’s exhausted.

“Fuck, baby, why’s it so cold in here?” Mingi’s voice carries from the hallway before he even rounds the corner. You hear him pause at the heating panel on the wall, and you can picture the exact expression on his face; that mix of concern and exasperation he gets when he thinks you’re not taking care of yourself properly. “Six degrees? Six? Are you trying to become a popsicle or something?”

“I have a heat pack and I’m comfy. Didn’t wanna get up,” you mumble from your cocoon, though the excuse sounds weak even to your own ears. The truth sits heavy between the words you don’t say; that you’d been watching the utility costs climb, doing the math in your head about what you could cut back on this month.

But Mingi knows better. He’s always known better.

You hear him drop his bag and outerwear near your bedroom door with a soft thud before his footsteps approach. Then he’s there, towering over your bundled form on the couch, his ashy silver-purple hair slightly mussed from the winter wind outside, cheeks still flushed from the cold. There’s something in his eyes—soft and a little sad—that tells you he understands exactly what you’re not saying.

“I’ll handle your utilities this month,” he says matter-of-factly, already reaching down to pull you up and closer. His long fingers work to unwrap your blanket burrito with practiced ease, and you want to protest but the words die in your throat when you see his expression. “And before you argue, I’m also ordering groceries this week.”

“Mingi, you don’t have to—” you start but his arms wrap around you, cutting off your protest.

“I want to.” He repositions you both on the couch, wrapping the blanket around your bodies together like a shared shelter, tucking it carefully around your shoulders. His warmth immediately starts to seep into your cold limbs, better than any heat pack. “You’re my girl. Let me take care of you, yeah? Now what episode are we on?”

The finality in his tone leaves no room for arguments but it’s the gentleness in how he holds you that really makes your resistance crumble. He settles back against the couch, adjusting you more comfortably against his chest and you feel the steady thump of his heartbeat through his hoodie.

He knew your scholarship didn’t cover much, the same way he knew rent wasn’t cheap in Seoul, especially not in a decent neighborhood close enough to campus. Even with your on-campus departmental assistant job, you deprived yourself of a lot of things simply to save money. You’d been so used to handling everything on your own, so accustomed to being self-sufficient since you’d moved here, that even after almost two years of dating, you still found it hard to let him do things for you. To let him in like this, past all those walls you’d built out of necessity and pride.

“I watched two without you, but I didn’t really pay attention,” you admit quietly, letting yourself relax against him, breathing in his familiar scent. “We can rewatch them.”

You don’t put up a fight because you knew how Mingi could get when it came to taking care of you, stubborn and immovable as a mountain. You knew that he knew exactly why you were sitting in the cold of your apartment rather than turning the heating on, counting every won and making sacrifices you thought he wouldn’t notice.

But he always noticed.

“Good,” he says, pressing a kiss to your temple.

That conversation was an hour and those two rewatched episodes ago—episodes that neither of you pay attention to because you kept pausing to talk, to catch up on everything you’d missed in each other’s lives. He tells you about the comeback preparations, the choreography that was killing his back, the way Yunho and Seonghwa kept stealing his and San’s snacks. You tell him about the grades you received for the last semester, the remote job you were struggling with and wanted to quit, the way your neighbor’s cat had somehow ended up in your apartment last week.

But eventually the conversation had shifted, grew quieter, more intimate. The touches lingered longer. His hand on your thigh. Your fingers tracing patterns on his hand. The way he looked at you had changed too, darkened with want that had been building for weeks of separation.

Now the “Are you still watching?” screen on Netflix stares back at you both, forgotten and irrelevant.

You hadn’t seen your boyfriend since the end of December; nearly three weeks of your relationship sustained only through phone screens and late-night video calls that always ended too soon, interrupted by his impossible schedule or the need for sleep. You’d missed the solid warmth of him, the way he smelled like his cologne mixed with laundry detergent and something uniquely him. Missed the way his laugh sounded in person, richer and fuller than through phone speakers. Missed the weight of his gaze on you, the casual touches, the intimacy of just existing in the same space.

And as much as sitting cuddled up like this was great, as much as you wanted to savor this reunion, it was getting increasingly hard to keep things innocent.

Especially when his big hands started wandering from their safe position on your waist, rubbing slow circles on your stomach that gradually drifted lower. When his fingers started tracing the curve of your hip through your sweatpants, then growing bolder, gripping and kneading the soft flesh of your thighs with a possessiveness that made heat pool low in your belly, like he was reacquainting himself with the geography of your body.

“Mingi,” you breathed, half warning, half plea and you felt his lips curve into a smile against your neck.

“Mm?” The sound rumbled through his chest and into yours where you were pressed against him. “Just missed touching you, bonita. It’s been too long.”

“You’re distracting me from the show,” you murmur, though you make no move to stop him.

“What show?” His voice is already rougher, deeper than usual, vibrating against your back where you’re pressed against his chest. “It’s been asking if we’re still watching for like twenty minutes now. Just missed touching you, baby.”

And it had been. Too many weeks of aching for this, for the weight of his hands on you, for the heat of his breath against your skin. 

His face finds the curve of your neck, lips brushing against sensitive skin, and you can’t help the way you turn your body around to face him; a leg hooked over his hip as you tilt your head to give him better access. He takes immediate advantage, placing hot, open-mouthed kisses along the column of your throat, teeth grazing your pulse point in a way that makes you gasp and arch into him. His hand finds your ass and when he squeezes, fingers digging into the soft flesh with a possessiveness that makes you shiver, you couldn’t help the small sound that escaped your throat.

“Missed you so fucking much,” he murmurs against your skin between kisses, and you can feel how much he means it in the way his arms tighten around you, in the way his breathing has already gone uneven. “Three weeks is too long. Way too long.”

“I know,” you breathe, fingers threading through his soft hair, tugging gently in the way you know he likes. “I missed you too.” You continue like you both haven’t gone longer without seeing each other.

“Yeah?” His voice dropped lower, rough around the edges in that way that always made heat pool low in your belly. “You missed this too?”

You nodded, not trusting your voice, and shifted against him; feeling exactly how much he’d missed you, hard and insistent against your hip.

“Fuck,” he groaned, low and drawn out, his other hand coming up to thread through your freshly pressed hair, tilting your head back so he could access more of your throat. “You have no idea how much I’ve been thinking about this. About you.”

His lips found that sensitive spot just below your ear and you gasped, fingers clutching at his shoulders. “Baby, please—”

“Please what, mama? Tell me what you need.” His teeth grazed your pulse point and you could feel your heart hammering there, could feel how he paused to feel it racing under his tongue. “Use your words.”

“Need you,” you managed, breathless already and he’d barely touched you. “Need you so bad.”

The groan that pulled from his chest was pure satisfaction. “That’s my girl. Always so good for me when you remember to ask.”

One of his hands slides up under your sweater and shirt—his sweater and tshirt, actually, ones you’d stolen months ago—his palm hot against the small of your back, exploring skin he’s been denied access to for weeks. The other hand is still gripping your ass, pulling you harder against him and you can feel him hardening even more beneath you.

“Can I—” he starts, but you’re already shifting so you can straddle him properly as he sits up.

“Yeah,” you say, and then your mouths finally meet.

The kiss is immediately desperate, weeks of longing poured into it. His lips are soft but insistent, moving against yours like he’s trying to make up for lost time. Your hands cup his face, feeling the warmth of his flushed cheeks, while his grip your hips hard enough to bruise in the best way.

When his tongue traces your bottom lip, you open for him immediately, and the kiss deepens into something filthy and consuming. He tastes like coffee he must have had on the way over and underneath that, just him. One of your hands tangles in his hair, pulling harder now, and he groans into your mouth; a sound that goes straight through you, making you grind down against him.

“Fuck,” he gasps, breaking the kiss to look at you with hooded eyes, pupils blown wide. His hands slide under your shirt properly now, pushing it up, and you help him pull it over your head. The cold air hits your skin but you barely notice because he’s looking at you like you’re everything he’s ever wanted.

“No bra?” His thumbs brush over your nipples that were already peaked and sensitive. “You’re so fucking beautiful. Missed these. Missed all of you. Missed seeing you like this.”

“You know I don’t like wearing any at home,” you admitted, gasping when he pinched lightly, rolling the hardened peak between his fingers. “plus, it’s winter. Who’s gonna know with all the layers?”

“I know,” he grins as his mouth finds your collarbone, kissing and sucking marks into your skin that you’ll definitely have to cover up later, but right now you don’t care. Your head falls back as his lips trail lower, hands now cupping your breasts as he continues to pinch your nipples in a way that makes you whimper.

“Mingi, please—”

“I got you, baby,” he murmurs against your skin. “Gonna take care of you.”

He moves one hand to your hip to pull you flush against him and then his mouth is on you, hot and wet, tongue circling one nipple while his fingers work the other. You’re grinding against him properly now, seeking friction, and he’s meeting your movements, hips rolling up to meet yours.

The layers between you are too much, too frustrating. You need more, need him closer, need—

“Off,” you manage, tugging at his hoodie, and he pulls back just long enough to yank it over his head along with the shirt underneath. Then his hands are on you again, pulling you back flush against his bare chest, skin to skin finally, and the contact feels so good you could cry.

You kiss him again, slower this time but no less intense, pouring everything you feel into it. Love and want and need and come home and I missed you and please don’t leave again. His hands map your body like he’s relearning every curve, every sensitive spot that makes you gasp or shiver.

“Mingi—” His name came out broken, desperate.

“God, I love the way you say my name like that. Like you need me. Do you need me, baby?”

“Need you,” you whisper against his lips, and you feel him shudder.

“Yeah, okay, fuck—” His hands move to the waistband of your sweatpants, fingers dipping inside, and you lift up enough for him to slide them down along with your underwear.

The blanket has long since fallen away, forgotten on the floor, but you don’t need it anymore. Not with the heat building between you, not with the way he’s touching you like he’s been starving for it.

His fingers find you already wet, and he groans at the discovery. “You’re soaked. All this for me?”

“Three weeks,” you remind him breathlessly, rocking into his touch. “Three weeks of just my hand and thinking about you.”

“Fuck, bonita,” he breathes, circling your clit in slow, deliberate strokes that have you trembling. “Tell me what you thought about.”

“This,” you manage. “Your hands, your mouth, how you—ah—how you feel inside me.”

He rewards you by sliding two fingers inside, and the stretch makes you moan loud enough that you briefly worry about your neighbors before you stopped caring entirely. He curled his fingers, finding that spot inside you that made your vision go hazy, and set a rhythm that had you clutching at his shoulders.

“That’s it, baby. Let me hear you.” His thumb found your clit and you nearly sobbed. “Let me hear how good I make you feel. Missed these sounds so much. Used to replay the videos you sent me every night, you know that? Every night on tour, every night away from you, wishing it were my fingers inside you instead of yours.”

The image of him touching himself to videos of you made everything feel hotter, tighter. “Min, I’m—”

He works you open carefully, thoroughly, fingers curling to continuously hit that spot that makes your thighs shake, thumb still working your clit. You bury your face in his neck, breathing hard, hands gripping his broad shoulders for support as he builds you higher and higher.

“That’s it, baby,” he murmurs encouragingly. “Let me hear you. Missed those pretty sounds you make. It’s been too long since I’ve heard them in person.”

You’re close, embarrassingly close already but before you can tip over that edge, you pull back. “No, wait…want to come with you. Need you inside me.”

His eyes darken impossibly further and he withdraws his fingers, bringing them to his mouth and sucking them clean while maintaining eye contact. The sight of it, the hungry look in his eyes, nearly undoes you on the spot.

“Missed your taste too,” he says, voice absolutely wrecked. “Missed everything about you.”

You make quick work of his sweatpants, shoving them down just enough to free him, and then he’s there, hard and heavy in your hand. He’s already leaking and when you stroke him once, twice, his head falls back against the wall with a thud, and the sight made your mouth water.

“Next time,” you promise, twisting your hand around him and earning a sharp hiss of pleasure. “Next time I want you in my mouth.”

“Fuck, don’t…don’t say shit like that right now or this is gonna be over way too fast.” He catches your wrist gently, stilling your movement. “It’s been too long, baby. I need to be inside you. Need it so bad.”

“Now,” you say, positioning yourself over him. “Please, baby, now.”

His hands grip your hips, guiding you as you sink down onto him slowly, both of you groaning at the sensation. It’s been too long, and the stretch of him filling you is almost overwhelming.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” Mingi’s head lifts off the wall slightly to look at you, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise. “So tight. So perfect. Fuck, you feel like heaven. Missed this,” he gasps, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips and ass. “Missed you. Missed being inside you.”

You took him fully, settling in his lap, and paused to adjust to the stretch, to the fullness of having him inside you again after so long. His hands roamed your back, your sides, pulling you close so your foreheads pressed together.

“Okay?” he murmured, and despite the strain in his voice, despite how you could feel him twitching inside you with the need to move, he waited for your signal.

“Yeah,” you breathed. “Perfect. You’re perfect.”

“Then move for me, baby. Show me how much you missed this cock. Wanna watch you ride me.”

You start to move, rolling your hips in slow, deep grinds that have both of you breathing hard. His hands guide you up and down, finding a rhythm together, relearning each other’s bodies. Every slide of him inside you feels incredible, hitting deep, the angle perfect from this position; it makes stars burst behind your eyelids, and when you cry out, he does it again, harder.

“There it is,” he praises, voice rough and breathless. “Right there, yeah? That’s the spot?”

“Yes, fuck, yes, right there—” 

“That’s my good girl. Taking me so well. Look at you.” One of his hands comes up to cup your face, thumb brushing over your kiss-swollen lips. “Look at how beautiful you are when you’re riding my cock. Wish you could see yourself. Wish you could see what I see.”

He leans forward to capture your mouth in another searing kiss, swallowing your moans as you ride him faster, chasing the pleasure building in your core. One of his hands slides between your bodies to find your clit again, rubbing tight circles that make you clench around him.

“Fuck, yes, just like that,” he breathes against your lips. “You feel so good, so perfect. Taking me so well.” His words make you clench around him and he groans, low and long. “Fuck, do that again. Love feeling you squeeze me like that.”

You did, deliberately this time, and his hips bucked up involuntarily, driving him deeper. The rhythm was getting faster now, more desperate, the slap of skin on skin mixing with your combined moans and the creak of the couch beneath you.

“More,” you whimpered and felt him smile against your skin.

“Greedy girl. I love it. Love you.” He nipped at your bottom lip, soothing the sting with his tongue. “Love how you get like this for me. So needy. So perfect.”

The praise sends heat coursing through you, spurring you on. You grip his hair tighter, pulling his head back so you can kiss down his throat, biting and sucking marks into his neck the way he did to you, not caring about his upcoming schedule,if he had any.His hips start thrusting up to meet you, driving deeper, and the change in intensity makes you cry out.

“That’s my girl,” he groans. “Let me hear you. Don’t hold back.”

“Min, baby, I’m close—”

“I know, baby, I can feel it. Can feel you getting tighter. But not yet, okay? Just a little longer. Want to make this last.” His thumb found your clit, rubbing tight circles that made your thighs shake. “Want to feel you for as long as possible.”

“Mingi…baby,”

“You can take it. You’re doing so good for me, mama. So fucking good.” His other hand tangles in your hair, pulling your mouth to his for another messy, desperate kiss. “Just a little more. Can you do that for me?”

You nodded but even as good as it feels, the angle isn’t quite enough. You need more, need him deeper, need—

He seems to read your mind, because suddenly he’s shifting, movements purposeful and hungry with need.

“Hold on,” he murmurs, and then in one smooth motion he’s lifting you, pulling out only long enough to flip you both. Your back hits the couch cushions and he’s above you, those broad shoulders blocking out the world, making everything narrow down to just this, just him. “Want to see your face. Need to see you when you come.”

He hooks your legs over his shoulders, folding you in half, and when he pushes back inside you from this angle, you both moan at how impossibly deep he goes. The angle makes you cry out; he was so deep like this, hitting spots that made you see stars. “Need to fuck you properly. Need to hear you scream my name.”

Then he was moving, and God, he wasn’t holding back anymore. Each thrust was hard and deep and purposeful, driving into you with a force that had the couch protesting beneath you, had you clutching at his back, nails digging into his skin.

“God, fuck, Mingi—” 

“Fuck, yes, just like that—” He’s panting, each word punctuated by a thrust. “So good, baby. Taking me so fucking well. Love watching your face when I’m this deep. Love hearing those sounds you make—”

The sounds you were making were obscene, high-pitched whimpers and moans that you couldn’t control, couldn’t hold back even if you tried. And from the way Mingi was groaning in response, he didn’t want you to.

This is what you needed. This intensity, this closeness, him taking control and giving you exactly what you’ve been craving for three agonizing weeks. Each thrust hits that spot inside you that makes your vision white out, and you’re already so close, wound so tight you might break apart.

“Louder, bonita. Let the whole building know who’s making you feel this good. Let them hear who you belong to.”

“Mingi, fuckkk, Mingi—” His name was a chant, a prayer, the only word you could remember.

“Look at me,” he commands, and when your eyes meet his, the intimacy of it, the love and want you see reflected there, steals your breath. “That’s it, baby…that’s my girl. Want to see those pretty eyes when I make you come.”

He’s driving into you with a force that has the couch protesting beneath you, the frame creaking, and you swear you can feel it shifting across the floor. But you can’t focus on that, not when he’s hitting so deep, not when his fingers find your clit again and start rubbing in time with his thrusts.

“Fuck, you sound so pretty when you say my name like that. Say it again.”

“Mingi, please baby, I need…I need to—”

“I know, I can feel you,” he groans and he does look wrecked, hair plastered to his forehead with sweat, lips swollen from kissing, eyes dark and desperate. His angle shifted slightly and you nearly screamed. “Right there? That what you need?”

“Yes! Oh god, yes, please don’t stop—”

“Not stopping. Never stopping. Gonna fuck you until you can’t remember your own name, until the only thing you can remember is mine.”

The couch was definitely moving now, you could feel it sliding with each powerful thrust, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Not when he was filling you so perfectly, not when every nerve ending was on fire, not when his fingers found your clit again and—

“Come for me, mama.” he commanded, voice strained with his own need. “Come on my cock, baby. Let me feel it. Let me feel you fall apart for me.”

It only takes a few more thrusts, a few more circles of his fingers, and then you’re shattering, back arching off the couch as pleasure crashes through you in waves. You cry out his name, clenching around him, and he fucks you through it, prolonging your orgasm until you’re shaking and oversensitive.

“Fuck yes, that’s it; fuck, you feel so good, so fucking good—” His rhythm falters, becoming erratic. “Gonna come, baby. Gonna…where?”

“Inside,” you managed, still riding the aftershocks. “Want to feel you. Want you to come inside me. Want all of you.”

That permission is all he needs. He buries himself deep with a groan that sounded like it was torn from his chest, and you feel him come, spilling hot inside you, face buried in your neck as his whole body shudders.

For a long moment, you both just stay like that, breathing hard, hearts racing, tangled together in the aftermath. His weight on top of you feels grounding, perfect, and you run your fingers through his sweaty hair, pressing kisses to his temple.

“Fuck,” he finally managed, voice hoarse. “Fuck, I love you.”

“Love you too,” you whispered, holding him close. “Missed you,” you whisper again because it’s all you can think to say, the truest thing you know.

“Missed you more,” he murmurs back, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder. 

You stay like that for a moment longer, neither of you quite ready to move, to break the connection. When he finally did pull out, you both wince at the sensitivity, and he collapses beside you on the couch, immediately pulling you into his arms.

That’s when you become aware of something odd. The angle of the room looks different somehow. The TV seems farther away than it should be. You both turned your heads at the same time, taking in the couch’s new position; a solid three feet across the floor from where it started, leaving visible drag marks on your area rug.

There’s a beat of stunned silence as you both process this.

Then you both burst into laughter, the kind that shakes your whole body and makes your stomach hurt, the kind that’s contagious and impossible to stop. You bury your face in his chest, shoulders shaking, while his own laughter wheezes out in that high-pitched way that always makes you laugh even harder. The shift from intense intimacy to this moment of absurdity is so jarring that it makes it even funnier. 

“Oh my god, baby!” you gasped between giggles, smacking his chest weakly. “You literally moved my furniture! You fucked me so hard you rearranged my living room.”

He was laughing just as hard, that beautiful, uninhibited sound that you loved, his whole face scrunched up with it. “Hey, hey now,” he protested, though he could barely get the words out. “That’s not just on me! That’s a team effort right there. That’s what happens when we’re both…we’re both putting in the work. Y’know, teamwork makes the dream work, baby. We should get a medal or some shit.”

You dissolve into fresh giggles, smacking him again. “You’re the one who was going at it like you were trying to drill through my floor! Like you were on a mission.”

“And weren’t you pulling on my hair like you were trying to scalp me?” He catches your wrist, bringing your hand to his lips to kiss your knuckles, eyes dancing with mirth. “Besides, I’d say the results speak for themselves. When’s the last time regular sex came with a free furniture rearrangement service? I’m basically doing you a favor. Helping you redecorate. Very boyfriend of me.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you say but you’re grinning so wide your cheeks hurt and he’s looking at you with such open affection that it made your chest feel warm and full.The apartment doesn’t feel cold anymore, hasn’t felt cold since he walked through the door. Not with him here, not with this warmth between you that has nothing to do with the heating he’d turned on earlier. 

“A little bit, but you love me anyway,” he says, pulling you closer and pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Even when I get too enthusiastic and redecorate your apartment mid-sex.”

“Especially then,” you admitted, snuggling into his chest. You trace idle patterns on his chest, feeling his heartbeat gradually slow under your palm. “Though I’m not sure ‘sex so good it moves furniture’ was on my list of relationship goals.”

“Well, it should’ve been.” He grins.

“We should probably move it back,” you say eventually, though neither of you make any move to get up. “And move to the bedroom before you’re ready for another round.”

“In a minute,” Mingi mumbles, his arms tightening around you as he settles his weight more comfortably against you, pulling the forgotten blanket from the floor to drape over your cooling bodies. “Not done holding you yet. Three weeks of missed cuddles to make up for. That’s a serious deficit, and besides, I kind of like it here. New perspective on your living room. Very feng shui.”

“That’s not what feng shui means.”

“Sounds like something someone with bad feng shui would say,” he teases, and you could hear the grin in his voice.

You roll your eyes but you’re smiling, fingers tracing idle patterns on his chest. “Next time maybe we should just use the bed like normal people.”

His laugh rumbles through his chest and into yours where you’re pressed together. “Where’s the fun in that, mama? Where’s the adventure? Besides, I’m pretty sure your bed can’t slide across the floor.” He pauses, then adds with theatrical seriousness, “Though I guess we could test that theory. You know. For science. Just think of all the other furniture we haven’t christened yet. The possibilities are endless.”

“Oh my god, stop,” you groan, but you’re laughing again, and yeah, you definitely missed this. Missed him. Missed this exact feeling of being completely comfortable and completely happy and completely yourself with someone who loved every part of you. Missed the way he takes care of you even when you don’t ask, the way he makes you feel safe enough to let go.

“Never,” he promised, kissing the top of your head. “Never stopping. You’re stuck with me forever.”

And as you lay there in his arms, the couch askew, your body deliciously sore and your heart so full it might burst, you think that being stuck with Song Mingi forever sounds just about perfect.

[jiminbility]

Nightgown

Pairing: idol boyfriend mingi x girlfriend reader

Words: ~6,5k

Warning: basically porn without plot, there is more sex than talking tbh, mingi is a horny freak, use of sex toys, phone sex, clothed sex (mingi is whipped for what reader is wearing), oral both giving and receiving (he’s so mean 🥀), SPIT, unprotected sex (stay safe yall), doggy (it’s not mingi coded when he doesn’t take it from the back😈), lemme know if I missed something

-🩷🩷🩷-

Ahh it’s finally time 🤩 thank you @everyonewooeverywhere for this opportunity I had so much fun!!

Note: I was struggling a bit on what to write for you @sangis-puppy . A dream of mine may or may not have inspired me to write this. (We don’t talk about which part of the fic😔) anyways I looked up what your favorite tropes are but since mingi and reader are already dating, I put some sprinkle of enemies type shit in it, I mean he fucks her like he hates her tho…(no boy is whipped he loves her so much) so I hope you have fun reading it Ri 🩷 please let me know what you think 🤩

The soft glow of your phone screen painted your face in hues of blue and white. The apartment, usually vibrant with Mingi’s booming laughter or the beats of the music he’s working on, felt empty tonight. Only the distant sound of the city was heard through the closed windows. Mingi’s face, sharp and handsome as always even through the poor connection, filled the screen of your phone. He leaned against the pillows of the bed in his hotel room. He looked tired.

"Just finished up some things with the members for the show tomorrow," he murmured tiredly. "My ears are still ringing." You pulled the straps of your nightgown higher on your shoulders, the fabric cool against your warm skin. "Rough day?" you asked, your voice soft compared to his deeper tones. You looked to your right. His side of the bed was wide and empty. It felt colder than usual. You missed him so much.

A sigh escaped his lips. "Long day. But seeing you makes it all worth it." His gaze on you felt like a physical touch, warm and familiar. "What about you? Did you manage to survive without me?" A playful smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Barely," you shot back, a smile forming on your face. "The fridge is still stocked, so I haven't starved yet. And the plants are alive, surprisingly." You shifted, pulling the blanket up to your chest.

He chuckled. "Good to know my plants are in good hands." His eyes dropped, tracing the line of your collarbone visible above the silk. "You look… comfy." A sudden ring of the doorbell cut through the quiet intimacy of your conversation. Your brows furrowed. "Who could that be?" You glanced at the clock on your bedside table.

Past eleven.

"Whoa, hold on," Mingi said clearly concerned. "Don't just open it. Check the peephole first." You pushed yourself up, the nightgown clinging to your curves as you moved. "It's probably just a package delivery. I ordered those new books I told you about." You swung your legs over the side of the bed, your bare feet padding softly on the cool wooden floor. The phone, still displaying Mingi's anxious face, remained clutched in your hand. "At this time? Still, be careful," he insisted, his voice a little sharper now.

You walked towards the front door, the light from the hallway spilling into the living room. As you neared the door, you held the phone up, angling it so Mingi could see. You peered through the peephole. "It's just the neighbor," you reported, relief washing over you. "He's returning the baking dish I lent him last week."

After a quick exchange of pleasantries, you closed the door, locking it securely. Turning, you walked back towards the bedroom, the soft fabric of your nightgown swaying with each step. The thin silk clung to your hips, emphasizing the curve of your ass. Mingi’s eyes, which had been fixed on your retreating figure, were now wide, a mischievous glint sparkling in them. A slow, predatory smile spread across his face, replacing his earlier concern.

He leaned back against his pillows, his gaze sweeping over you, lingering on the way the silk draped and clung to your body. "Well, well, well," he purred, his voice dropping to a husky whisper that sent a shiver down your spine. "Look what I missed." You felt your cheeks flush even hotter, a warmth spreading through your entire body. You climbed back into bed, pulling the blanket up, but his eyes still seemed to pierce through the fabric.

"What are you talking about?" you asked, feigning innocence, though you knew exactly what he meant. The way his eyes devoured you, the sudden shift in his demeanor, it was all too familiar. Oh he wants to play.

"That little show you just put on," he clarified. "Walking away like that, in that… thing." He paused, his eyes gleaming. "You know how much I love seeing you in my shirts, but that little piece of silk… that’s a whole different kind of torture." You swallowed, your throat suddenly dry. His words felt incredibly intimate, wrapping around you like a physical touch.

“It’s just my nightgown, Mingi," you managed, your voice barely a whisper. "Just your nightgown?" He scoffed with a shit eating grin. "Don't play coy baby. You know what you do to me. You know what I'm thinking right now." His gaze was intense, the grin gone now, making your skin tingle with anticipation. "I'm thinking about fucking you in it. I'm thinking about the taste of your skin, the taste of your sweet sweet cunt, the way your body responds to my touch."

A shiver ran through your body, your pussy throbbed at his words. "Mingi," you breathed followed by a small whimper. He ignored your protest, his voice becoming more insistent. "I wish I was there right now yn. I wish I could reach through this screen and pull you into my bed. I'd have you screaming my name baby, until all you can feel is me and only me."

His hand disappeared from view, and you heard a faint rustling sound, a soft groan escaping his lips. You knew what he was doing and your breath hitched. "I want you so bad, I can almost taste you," he continued, his voice a low growl. "And it's killing me, being so far away from you. But that doesn't mean we can't still play, does it?" His eyes dark and knowing, locked with yours.

"Go get it."

You frowned confused. "Get what?" He chuckled. "Don't tell me you forgot, baby. The little present I sent you last week. The one that's supposed to keep you company while I'm gone." His gaze dropped, a suggestive glint in his eyes. "The one that's a perfect replica."

Your mind raced, a sudden jolt of recognition. The package that arrived two days ago, tucked away in the back of your bedside drawer. You hadn't even opened it yet. A blush spread across your entire body. "Mingi, no," you whispered, though a thrill of excitement coursed through you. "Mingi, yes," he countered, his voice firm, leaving no room for argument. "Go on. Get it. I want to see you with it."

Hesitantly, you reached for the drawer, your fingers fumbling with the knob. You pulled it open, revealing the small package nestled amongst your lingerie. Your heart hammered against your chest. You pulled it out, a sleek black box, surprisingly heavy. "Open it," he commanded. "Show me what's inside."

Your fingers trembled as you tore at the packaging, revealing a red velvet box. Inside lays a perfectly sculpted silicone dildo. It was long, thick, and undeniably realistic. Your eyes widened. It was exactly as he described, a perfect copy. The same girth, the same length, even the subtle curve you knew so well.

Well?" he prompted, his eyes filled with anticipation. "Is it everything you remembered?" You lifted it from the box, the smooth, firm silicone cool against your fingertips. It felt so real. Your cheeks burned. "It's… it's big," you managed, your voice barely audible.

He let out a pleased groan. "Just like the real thing, isn't it, baby? Now, I want you to do something for me." His voice dropped to a low, seductive whisper that made your insides clench. "Go to the bathroom. Get the lube. And bring that mirror from the hall."

Your eyes widened. "Mingi, what are you—" "No questions," he interrupted, his voice firm. "Just do it. I want to watch you." You gulped. You knew there was no arguing with him when he got like this. He loved to push your boundaries, to explore the depths of your desires.

And you loved it.

You rose from the bed, the dildo clutched in one hand, your phone in the other. You walked into the bathroom and grabbed the lube from the cabinet. You made your way towards the hall to pick up the full length mirror, dragging it back into the bedroom, positioning it carefully against the wall opposite your bed.

You sat on the edge of the bed, the replica resting on your lap. Mingi's eyes, wide and hungry, watched your every move from the phone screen. "Good girl," he purred. "Now, I want you to sit on the floor, right in front of that mirror. And put the toy right between your legs."

Your breath hitched. This was it. The real show. You slid off the bed, kneeling on the floor. The mirror offered a full view of yourself. Your nightgown was hiked up around your thighs, leaving your bare ass exposed to the cool air and more importantly to Mingi's gaze. You placed the silicone dildo on the floor between your spread knees.

"Now, the lube, baby," he instructed, his voice thick with anticipation. "I want you to really get it good and wet. Make sure it's slick, ready for you." Your fingers fumbled with the lube cap, your heart pounding against your ribs. You squeezed a generous amount onto your fingertips. You began to spread it over the shaft of the replica, coating it thoroughly.

"That's it," Mingi breathed, a low groan escaping his lips. "Get it nice and wet. Don't be shy. I want it dripping." You continued, working the lube into every curve and crevice of the silicone, making it shimmer. Your clit, already throbbing with anticipation, pulsed against your panties.

"Now, I want you to slowly, very slowly, lower yourself onto it," he commanded, his voice like a hypnotic whisper. "I want you to feel every inch of it sliding inside you. I want you to watch yourself in that mirror, baby. Watch how good it feels." Your gaze flickered to your reflection in the mirror. Your wide eyes met your own. You took a deep, shaky breath as you began to lower yourself, inch by agonizing inch. The head of the replica pressed against your wet pussy lips, a blunt, insistent pressure. A gasp escaped your lips as it began to slide inside, the slick silicone gliding against your walls. It was overwhelming.

"Oh, god," you whimpered, your body trembling. "You like that, baby?" Mingi's voice was rough. "You like how it feels? Just like me, isn't it?" You pushed down further, feeling the thick shaft fill you completely. A moan, long and drawn out, escaped your throat. “F-fuck yes feels like yours”, you whined.

Your pussy gripped the silicone, like it does when Mingi is inside you. It was so deep. "That's it," he urged deeply. "Now, I want you to move. Slowly at first. Just a gentle rock. Show me how much you want it."

You began to rock your hips, a hesitant, circular motion. The friction of the silicone against your sensitive walls sent shivers of pleasure through you. You watched your reflection, your face flushed, your eyes half closed and your mouth open. "Faster, baby," he demanded, his voice growing more urgent. "I want to see you working it. I want to see you riding it like you ride me."

You picked up the pace, your hips moving with more confidence. A soft slick sound filled the room as the silicone slid in and out of your pussy. Your breath came in short, ragged gasps. Your hands instinctively went to your hips, pressing down, urging yourself deeper onto the toy.

"Oh, fuck, yes," Mingi groaned. You took a look at him. He watched you intensely while biting his lip. "Look at you, baby. You're so wet for me. So hungry." You heard a distinct, wet slap coming from his end. he was stroking his own cock with vigorous intent. "I can almost feel you around me. Tight and hot."

You closed your eyes for a moment, imagining his hands on your hips, guiding your movements, his cock buried deep inside you. The fantasy intensified the sensation, making your climax feel closer. "I want you to tell me what you feel, baby," he commanded, the sounds of him touching himself getting louder. "Tell me how good it feels to have me inside you."

"It's… it's so good, Mingi," you gasped, your voice thick with pleasure. "So full… so hard." You rocked your hips harder, faster, the slicking sound growing louder, more insistent. "Good," he breathed, a low, satisfied growl. "I want you to push down. Feel me stretching you. Feel me filling you up." His voice was hoarse, strained with his own building climax. You could hear his heavy breathing, the frantic pace of him stroking his cock growing faster.

You pushed down, grinding your hips against the silicone, feeling it deeper than before inside you. A wave of intense pleasure washed over you, making your entire body tense. Your pussy pulsed around the toy, clenching and releasing, drawing it deeper, not wanting to let go of it. "Oh, god, Mingi," you cried out, your voice raw. "I'm so close."

"Let it go, baby," he urged lowly. “Let it all out for me. Come for me baby." You pushed your hips down, riding the toy with desperate urgency. It takes one last thrust and a wave of pure pleasure crashed over you, making your body arch, your back bowing. Your toes curled at the sensation and a long drawn out moan left your lips. You collapsed onto the floor with the toy still inside you. Your breath came in ragged gasps, your heart slowly returning to a normal rhythm. Your legs felt like jelly, your pussy throbbing, spent but wanting more.

Mingi’s face on the screen was flushed, his hair disheveled, his eyes heavy lidded. He let out a long, shuddering breath, a faint groan escaping his lips. "Fuck, baby," he whispered, his voice rough. "You are incredible. Absolutely incredible."

You slowly pulled yourself off the replica, letting it clatter softly to the floor. You lay there for a moment, catching your breath, the lingering tremors of your orgasm still rippling through your body. "I wish you’re here," you whispered.

He chuckled, a low, throaty sound. "Believe me, baby, so do I. But don't worry. This is just a little something of what is waiting for you." He leaned closer to the camera, his eyes dark and intense. "When I get home, yn, I'm going to ruin you, using that mouth and pretty pussy of yours. I'm going to make sure you can't walk for a week. You hear me?"

A shiver ran through you. "I hear you," you whispered, a soft smile gracing your lips. "Good," he said, the shit eating grin from before now back on his face again. "Now, get some sleep. You're going to need your rest." He gave you a final, lingering look. "I'll call you tomorrow." And with that, the screen went black, leaving you in the quiet aftermath, the scent of sex and lube lingering in the air.

You got up on wobbly legs and dragged your tired body back to your bed, thinking about cleaning up the mess you made tomorrow. Closing your eyes with a satisfied smile on your face you drifted slowly to sleep.

Today was finally the day.

Every ticking second felt like a year. You’d spent the last hour pacing around the living room, pulling at the fabric of your nightgown in nervousness. It was the same one, the one you’d worn that night he called, rememberig his low promising voice through the phone.

The lock clicked. A sharp sound that sliced through the quietness, made you stop in your tracks. Your breath hitched and the door swung open.

Mingi.

His hair, a little longer now, framing his handsome face. His eyes, usually so bright, held a deep, hungry glint. He was scanning you from head to toe. His heavy duffel bag slumped to the floor beside him, long forgotten. He didn't speak. He didn't need to. One long stride and he was in front of you. His hand found the curve of your waist, possessively pulling you flush against him. Your lips met, raw and full of need. You missed him so much.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging, deepening the kiss. His warm hands slid down your back, pulling you closer to him. They dipped lower beneath the silk, finding the bare skin of your thigh. A low growl rumbled in his chest, vibrating against your own. "Missed you," he breathed, the words a whisper against your mouth, before his lips were on yours again, more desperate this time.

You arched into him. He groaned, a sound that sent a shiver down your spine. You yelped in surprise when he grabbed your thighs to lift you up. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, your arms tightening around his neck. Without much effort he moved through the apartment, passing the living room and the kitchen, heading straight for the bedroom. The bedroom door stood open when he entered the room. The city lights from outside illuminated the room in a faint glow. He lowered you slowly, not to the bed, but to your feet, his grip still firm on your waist. His intense eyes raked over you. He smiled knowingly at you.

"Still wearing it, I see." His thumb traced the delicate lace trim of your nightgown, just above your breast. "Two weeks ago, you called me in this. Do you still remember what I told you baby? All the things I want to do to you?” A flush spread across your cheeks. You remembered that phone call, the desperate whispers, the promise in his voice when he told you what he is going to do once he’s back home.

"Yes, I remember,” you whispered back, your voice a little breathless. His gaze sharpened. "Good." He leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear. "On your knees. Now." His fingers tightened on your waist, one hand moved, pushing gently on your shoulder. You stumbled back a step, then another before you landed on the floor with a soft thud, a surprised gasp escaping your lips.

You looked up at him in anticipation. He stood in front of you, broad chest, wide shoulders and thick thighs. You bit your tongue, stopping yourself from making any humiliating sounds you might regret later. He pulled his shirt over his head, ignoring the pleading look in your eyes.

„My sweet sweet baby,“ he murmured to himself while opening the button of his pants. He pulled the zipper down, revealing his hard cock. No underwear. Full on commando.

Fuck.

„What’s with that look baby? Did you forget? I told you, I’m going to use that pretty mouth of yours“, he whispered. With that he pushed his pants all the way down before stepping out of them. „And you’re going to love every fucking second of it.“ His thick cock pulsed with a life of its own, rock hard in front of your face, begging to be touched.

You looked up, your gaze drawn to the thick head of his cock, glistening with pre cum. You see the familiar thick vein down the shaft, making your mouth water. He reached down, his finger curling around your jaw, tilting your head back. His thumb pressed into your cheek, digging in slightly. “Good girl,” he murmured, his dark eyes boring into yours. “You know what comes next.” You nodded. Your tongue darted out, wetting your lips. He saw it, a dark smirk on his lips.

“Pretty girl,“ he drawled, his grip on your jaw tightening. He kneeled down, nearly being face to face with you when he leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. “Open your mouth. Tongue out.“ You did as he told you embarrassingly fast. He chuckled at your eagerness. He pressed the tip of his thumb against your tongue, playing with the saliva on it before spitting directly on your tongue. You closed your eyes at the feeling and just as you wanted to close your mouth to swallow, the sharp tone of his voice stopped you.

“Don’t.“

You whined and opened your eyes, your gaze glassy with need. He grinned knowingly while standing back up to his full height. “Open wider baby,” he commanded, his voice returning to that low rumble from before. He released your jaw but his eyes never left yours. You opened your mouth wider, your spit dribbling down your chin. He gripped his cock and pushed it slowly forward. The tip thick and heavy, brushing against your lower lip first then sliding past to press it against your tongue.

He was huge, filling your mouth almost instantly. You couldn’t stop the gag, your throat tightening, the fear of choking rising within you. “No, no, no,” he whispered. He gripped the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair. He pushed. “Deep. All the way.”

The head of his cock was already stretching your jaw, pressing against the back of your throat. Your eyes watered, your stomach churned. You tried to breath through your nose but it was hard, you felt like drowning in him. He pushed harder, the base of his cock pressed against your face. Your mouth stretched impossible wide. Every muscle in your face aching.

Your gag reflex fought him, you tried to get off him but his hand on your head was firm. He hold you there for a long tormenting moment, letting you feel the full, suffocating size of him. Your eyes wide and teary pleaded with him. „Good girl“, he purred, a cruel satisfaction in his voice, ignoring your pleading eyes for a short moment before he pulled back. Just an inch, giving you barley two seconds before pushing forward again. Slow, making you feel everything of it. You choked, a wet and desperate sound. Your hands reached up, gripping his thighs hard.

“Suck it,“ he ordered as he leaned down. “Show me how much you want it.” He began to move, a slow grinding rhythm. He pulled back, almost to the tip to plunge forward again, driving his fat cock deep down your throat. Each thrust was brutal, your jaw ached and your throat burned. A low moan escaped his lips as he continued his relentless pace. He gripped your head tighter, holding your head still, forcing you to take him deeper, faster.

You closed your eyes, focusing on the taste of him and the feeling of his cock filling your mouth completely. “Eyes open baby, don’t wanna miss anything,” he groaned. You tried keeping your eyes open, watching him with blurred vision. Mingi looked down at you, lower lip tucked between his teeth while he’s using your mouth to his own satisfaction. His pace slowed down for a bit when he pushed all of his length all the way down your throat for one last time.

He pulled out, a wet disgusting sound echoing in the room. You gasped, your throat is burning making you cough hard. Your jaw locked open for a bit before snapping shut. Your mouth hurt and you tried to clear your dry throat. He looked down at you, his chest heaving and his eyes were still dark but there was something else too. His cock was still hard, now dripping with your salvia and his pre cum. He reached out, his thumb wiping across your lower lip smearing the mixture of your spit and his pre cum down your chin before tilting your head up.

See?” He murmured, his voice softer now but you hear the underlying sound of mockery. “Told you, you will love it.” He was right. You loved everything of it. Unable to think straight anymore you crawled from your current position forward, pressing your cheek against his thigh and looking up at him. You ignored the insistent pulse between your legs, your attention was solely on him.

Mingi watched you, a predatory glint in his eyes as you were still trying to regulate your breath. He gently stroked your hair, murmuring praises before helping you back up. Your legs felt like jelly and if it wasn’t for his tight grip on your hips you would be on the floor again. He kissed your cheek lovingly before putting his hand on your throat. He pushed you down, making you lay on the bed and leaned closer, his pelvis directly pressed against your center.

His lips hovered over yours, the hand around your throat still there. He kissed the corner of your lips, avoiding a direct kiss and chuckling at your poor attempt of chasing his lips to kiss him properly. He leaned back again. “So so needy aren’t you?“ He looked at you with so much intensity you could only nod, the gaze of him alone made you unable to think properly.

“Of course you are”, he murmured before he leaned down, his lips trailing from your neck to your shoulder, sending goosebumps across your skin. He nipped gently at your collarbone, eliciting a soft moan from your throat. His hand, no longer around your throat, slid under your gown, his fingers brushing against the bare skin of your inner thigh. You gasped, your hips arching instinctively towards his touch.

“Hmm?” he whispered, his breath hot against your skin. “You’ve been so good baby. Behave, I don’t want to be mean to you.”

Mingi,” you breathed, your voice barely a whisper, your fingers digging into his shoulders. “Touch me please.” He chuckled, a sound so low, it vibrated through you. “Like that?“ Before you could register what he meant, he directed a harsh spank on your still clothed cunt. Your body twitched, a broken moan left your lips. You tried to close your legs because of the impact but Mingi stopped you from doing so.

He leaned closer again, his lips nipping at your earlobe. “You’re only getting what I’m giving you, so behave or I’ll make sure it will hurt some more”, he whispered before coming back up to see your reaction. “Understood?”, he asked when you only watched him with big eyes and pouting lips.

“Yes, I’ll behave”, you murmured, voice quiet and trembling. Mingi bit his lip in approval when he leaned down again, his lips on yours, a hungry demanding kiss that left you breathless. His hand continued its journey, sliding higher up your thigh, his fingers teasing the delicate lace of your panties.

Your body was screaming for his touch but you didn’t dare to move around too much. He made it clear not to disobey him. He pulled back, his eyes dark with want. You could see he tried his best to hold back and not to fuck you stupid immediately. “So so wet,” he murmured, his thumb brushing against the damp fabric.

“Fuck, I bet I could just slide in, hmm baby? Sliding in like the toy. Pretty pussy can take it, i know she can.” A flush spread across your cheeks, but you met his gaze, licking your lips before answering. “Yes, yes she can please. I promise she can take you.”

He grinned mischievously while biting his lip. With that he leaned down and pulled your panties to the side, spitting directly on your clit and watching it running down your hole. You gasped, fully caught off guard by his sudden act.

“Beautiful”, he whispered. His voice coated in lust and desire. He pressed his thumb down your opening and sliding it up to your clit, rubbing your bundle of nerves in slow motion. His thumb, wet from your arousal and his spit, makes it easier for him to rub your now puffy clit in a steady rhythm. “Fuck mingi please”, you begged.

He only chuckled and murmured something about you being needy before he leaned down, his tongue flicking out, tracing your sensitive folds. A jolt of pleasure shot through you, your hips arching off the bed. You cried out, a strangled sound of pure bliss. He chuckled, a low satisfied sound, as he continued to plunge his tongue deeper, teasing your clit with expert precision.

You moaned, your fingers burying themselves in his dark hair. Desperate for more you pulled him closer. His mouth was hot, wet and so fucking nasty. He’s sucking and licking around your clit, making your legs tremble. Your body convulsing with each stroke of his tongue. “Mingi,” you gasped, your voice hoarse, your body arching violently against him. “Please… I can’t…”

He pulled back, his eyes gleaming in the dim light. “Not yet, yn. Not until I’m satisfied.” With that he dived back in. He licked around your hole, his nose nudging perfectly against your clit, making you grip his hair harder than before. „Please, wanna cum mingi“, you begged.

A sob left your lips when he gripped your thighs, closing his lips around your clit and sucking hard. Your eyes rolled back, you missed his mouth so much. „Oh god, oh god please f-fuck“, you pleaded when suddenly the band inside you snapped and your orgasm washed over.

Mingi hummed satisfied, licking your release off you while helping you to calm down. You stayed like this for a while, you caressing his head with him being busy kissing your inner thighs. You hummed satisfied, your head lolling back against the pillows of the bed, being on the verge of falling asleep.

Your breath hitched, a soft gasp escaping when he sucked your clit again. “I’m not done with you yet”, he cooed. He got up on his knees, gripping your thighs as he made himself more comfortable between your spread legs. The hot skin of his thighs brushed against your own and you spread your legs wider.

He didn't bother to take off your panties. He flipped the hem of your gown up and pushed your panties to the side like he did before. Mingis hand merely reached down, just a quick adjustment to guide his hard cock to your wet pussy.

A soft moan escaped your lips as the head of his cock nudged against your clit. You were still wet, that he just slid inside. No struggle or resistance, just a smooth thrust that took your breath away. The sudden fullness and the sheer size of him, sent a jolt through your entire body. Your back arched, a silent scream of pleasure trapped in your throat. He paused, letting you adjust to his size for a moment. He’s not that of an asshole after all.

"Feel that?" he murmured, his voice a low growl close to your ear. His hips began to move in a rhythm that drove him deeper for him to pull back, only to plunge again. Even deeper than before. Each stroke was meant to find its way to your mind and straight to your core. Your clit, still throbbing from the initial contact, was now caught in the delicious friction of his movements, a constant nerve wrecking pleasure.

"Yes," you managed, the word a breathless whisper. Your hands instinctively gripped his hair, your knuckles turning white but mingi didn’t care. You could only think of him, of his cock and how he makes sure to fill you full to the brim. He picked up the pace and his thrusts becoming more insistent, more demanding. The pressure intensified and you’re close to cumming.

"So easy," he scoffed, his voice laced with a cruel satisfaction. You heard him but you chose not to say anything. Your vision blurred and your pussy clenched around him, milking him and begging for more. One last, deep and powerful thrust and it was over for you. A shudder ripped through you as you clenched around his cock.

“Fuck… oh shit fuck,” you moaned. Your hips buckled uncontrollably and your legs trembled as your release gushed out from your pussy, soaking the both of you and the bed beneath you. He pulled back slightly, watching you intensely. Your breathing was ragged and your eyes glazed with pleasure. "Pathetic," he said, his voice flat, devoid of emotion. He withdrew his cock completely, the sudden emptiness a stark contrast to the recent fullness. A whimper escaped your lips, a tiny sound of loss.

“No,” you whimpered. “Want you back inside.” He didn't acknowledge it. He reached down, grasping your hips and with a swift motion he flipped you over. You landed on your stomach with a yelp, your face pressed into the soft pillow. He lifted your ass up, exposing you to the cool air.

This time he pulled your underwear down your knees before positioning himself behind you, his knees pressing into the backs of your thighs. You felt his hot breath on your neck, sending goosebumps across your skin. "Ass up," he commanded harshly.

You obeyed instantly, lifting your hips up, giving him a full view of you ass, high and inviting. Your pussy, still throbbing from your recent orgasm, pulsed with need. Clenching and unclenching around nothing, waiting to be filled up again.

He nudged your ass cheeks apart with his hands, exposing your swollen pussy. His fingers traced your folds, a light, teasing touch that made you squirm. You felt his cock press against your asshole, a short, startling pressure. He pressed down slightly before he angled himself, guiding his shaft down your wet hole once more. He tried to push in in one go like before but your pussy was resisting, not letting him in smoothly.

He could barely push the tip in so he grabbed you by the hips and slammed his entire length in one go inside of you. A gasp tore from your throat as he fully entered. A thrust so deep you felt him in your throat. Your body trembled feeling overwhelmed all of sudden. He began to move slowly again, massaging your sweet spot with every stroke. Your breath hitched in pleasure.

"You like that, don't you?" he murmured darkly in your ear. His hips faster now, driving him deeper inside of you. Your pussy gripped him hard, leaving no room to pull out anytime soon. The constant thrusts against your spot made your head spinning. "Yes," you whimpered, the word barely audible. Your mind was a swirling, your legs began to shake uncontrollably.

He leaned down, his chest pressing against your back, his hands gripping your hips, pulling you tighter against him, deepening the penetration. "Tell me what you feel," he urged, his breath hot against your skin. His cock slammed against your depths, a relentless rhythm that pushed you closer and closer to the edge. You were a babbling mess, incoherent sounds escaping your lips, your body writhing under his powerful strokes.

"So good," you moaned, the words slurred, barely recognizable. "Oh, Mingi… so good." Your voice was thick with pleasure. He picked up the pace, his thrusts becoming deeper and meaner. Your still sensitive clit was now being stimulated by the constant friction, sending shockwaves through your body.

"Tell me you're mine," he demanded, his voice a low growl that vibrated through your bones. He fucked you in deep, slow strokes. Gripping your body so tightly, giving you no chance than to take it all. You could feel the rising orgasm in your throat.

"I'm yours," you gasped, the words torn from your throat, a desperate plea. "All yours, Mingi. Please." Your hips bucked wildly, your ass meeting his powerful thrusts, begging for the release that was so close. He drove into you, a final push and your body shattered. Your muscles tensed, your back arched and hot come gushed from your pussy, soaking the both of you and the bed.

He continued to thrust for a few more moments, giving you one last hard thrust before spilling his release inside your warm cunt. A groan left his mouth when he pressed his body down on yours, careful not to hurt you. He was still inside you, trying to regulate his breathing while caressing the soft skin on your hips.

Mingi kissed and sucked lightly at the skin of your cheek, making you giggle. “Feeling good baby?”, he whispered between kisses. You hummed in agreement. “Yeah, so good. You really did keep your promise. All that just because of a piece of clothing, huh?”, you murmured tiredly.

He laughed while moving the both of you carefully to the side, pulling you closer to his chest, still being inside you. “What can I say, I’m a simple man.”

[reveriebae]

Bunny in His Bed

pairing(s) : Song Mingi x reader

word count : 4922

summary : You're the soft, innocent girl who only ever had one vanilla experience—with no idea what real filth could feel like. That is, until you end up rooming with your best friend’s older brother, Mingi. A pervert with a teasing mouth and no self-restraint when it comes to your cute sleep dresses and breathy little moans. He takes it slow, then ruins you completely—making you beg, cry, squirt, and ride him until you’re too dumb to think. But he still makes you breakfast after, calling you his princess in between filthy whispers.

genre : smut

warning(s) : Slight somnophilia vibes (consensual, implied history), Innocent but perverted reader, Best friend’s older brother, Roommate AU, Pussy slapping / squirting, Spanking (lots of it), Orgasm denial + overstimulation, Crying during sex (pleasure), Dirty talk / praise / teasing, Light dumbification, Reader wears cute sleep dresses, Mutual pining masked as lust, Fluffy aftercare with continued filth. Let me know if I missed anything!

A/N : This might be the last fic I uploaded this month, or maybe I'm gonna take some rest for a while😮‍💨

Minors do not interact, 21+ only!!

🪐smut under the cut🪐

It wasn’t the first night you walked into the shared kitchen in one of your tiny little sleep dresses—but this one had lace trim that swayed with every step and straps thin enough to slip off your shoulder. You weren’t even trying to be sexy. That was the worst part. You were just… comfortable.

And Mingi was already sitting at the counter, hoodie pulled halfway down his arms, curls messy from sleep. His eyes trailed up from your bare legs to the way the fabric clung to your hips. Silent. But you felt him staring.

“Couldn’t sleep?” you asked, padding across the tile barefoot, opening the fridge for a water bottle.

“Not really,” his voice came low. Rough. “You?”

You shrugged, turning around to face him, and leaned back against the fridge—completely unaware of how the thin fabric stretched across your chest. “Kinda warm tonight.”

Mingi didn’t say anything at first. He just kept looking at you, jaw ticking like he was holding something back.

It’d been two months since you moved in. Your best friend’s brother had offered the extra room when you said you needed a place. You trusted him. You knew he was older, a bit… different from the boys you’d dated before, but he never did anything to make you uncomfortable.

Until lately.

Lately, he lingered.

Watched.

“You always wear stuff like that to bed?” he finally asked, voice lower now.

You blinked. “Huh?”

“That little dress.” His eyes dropped to your thighs, where the hem rested dangerously high. “You walk around in that, knowing I’m home?”

You laughed a little. Nervous. “It’s not that short…”

Mingi stood up slowly, towering. The way he walked around the counter felt too quiet, too smooth, until he was right in front of you—so close you had to tilt your chin up just to keep eye contact.

“You’re either real clueless,” he murmured, reaching one hand to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, “or you want me to stare.”

Your breath hitched. “Mingi…”

He smiled—lazy, dark, dangerous. “You ever been fucked right?”

You froze.

Your voice dropped into a whisper. “I’ve… only been with one guy. It wasn’t like that.”

Mingi groaned. “Figures.” He leaned in close, lips brushing your ear. “Bet you’ve never had someone stretch this cute little pussy open, make you cry, huh?”

Your thighs pressed together. You didn’t answer.

“You’d let me ruin you?” he muttered, voice thick. “Make you drool all over this kitchen counter?”

That was it. That was the moment something snapped. You nodded—tiny, trembling—and whispered:

“...Please.”

Mingi didn’t wait for you to say more. The second that quiet please left your lips, his hand was on your waist, dragging you flush against him like he’d been holding back for too long. You gasped when you felt how hard he already was—thick and pressed against your stomach through his sweats.

And then he kissed you.

Hard.

It wasn’t soft or shy or sweet like your ex used to kiss. Mingi kissed like he wanted to eat every breath from your lungs. Tongue in your mouth, lips moving against yours with filthy hunger, like he needed to claim you before you could change your mind.

Your little whimper was swallowed by his mouth.

He gripped your hips, pulling you closer until your thin sleep dress rode higher up your thighs. His hands were so big—touching too much, yet not enough. One slipped down to squeeze your ass through the fabric, and he groaned into your mouth. “Fuck… you’ve been hiding this from me all this time?”

“I didn’t know you looked at me like that,” you mumbled breathlessly between kisses, hands fisting into his hoodie.

He pulled back just enough to stare down at you, pupils blown wide. “I’ve been looking at you every fucking night, bunny. You walking around in these tiny little dresses, all innocent and sweet, acting like you don’t know what the fuck you’re doing to me.”

You whimpered at the pet name—bunny—and it only made him grin darker.

“Not gonna fuck you for the first time in the kitchen,” he muttered, gripping your wrist and tugging you toward the hallway. “Not when I’ve waited this long. My room. Now.”

You followed, dizzy and needy, barely noticing how your thighs brushed together with every step.

His room smelled like him—clean laundry and something warm, masculine. It was bigger than yours by far, and the bed looked like it could swallow you whole. He didn’t even turn on the light—just kicked the door shut and pushed you gently until you fell back onto the mattress.

You sat there, wide-eyed and flushed, legs folded under you.

Mingi’s hoodie was already coming off, revealing bare skin and toned arms as he stepped closer. “Take it off,” he ordered softly, nodding at your sleep dress. “Wanna see all of you.”

Your fingers trembled a little as you reached for the straps, slowly pulling them down one by one. The fabric slid down your chest… then over your waist… pooling around your hips before you pulled it off completely.

You sat there naked, knees pressed together, heart pounding so loud you swore he could hear it.

Mingi’s gaze dragged over you—slow, heavy, drinking in everything. “Fuck, baby… you’re gonna be the death of me.”

He dropped to his knees between your legs and pushed them apart gently, licking his lips.

“You ever been eaten out, sweetheart?”

You shook your head, shy. “No…”

His grin was wicked. “Good. You’ll remember your first.”

“Lie back for me,” Mingi murmured, guiding your shoulders until you were sprawled across his sheets—legs parted, chest rising and falling in uneven little breaths.

He kissed up the inside of your thigh first. Slow. Teasing. You whimpered when his nose brushed close to where you were already wet, and he groaned low in his throat.

“Shit… you’re already dripping.”

Your hands gripped the sheets tightly as his breath ghosted over your folds. And then—his tongue. One long, slow lick up your slit that had your hips jerking off the bed.

“Oh—Mingi—!”

“Yeah, baby?” he mumbled against your pussy, voice already wrecked. “Sensitive little thing, huh? Gonna cry just from my mouth?”

You shook your head, biting your lip, but the way your thighs trembled said otherwise.

Mingi didn’t tease for long. He licked you open and flat-out devoured you—his tongue dragging through every inch of you, dipping into your hole, circling your clit until your back arched off the bed. His grip on your thighs kept you spread, even as you twisted, even when you whimpered, “Mingi, I— I think I’m gonna—!”

He didn’t stop.

He growled into you, “Give it to me, bunny. Wanna taste how cute you cum.”

Your thighs shook. Your stomach tensed. And just as you hit the edge, his tongue flattened against your clit—and then slap—

His palm smacked against your dripping pussy. Just once. Light. Experimental.

You screamed.

Not from pain. From how violently your orgasm hit. It tore through you in messy, uncontrollable waves—and then you felt it. That hot rush, the release, the wet spray that soaked his mouth and chin and dripped down your thighs.

“Oh—oh my God—!”

You were trembling, toes curled, hands gripping the sheets so hard your knuckles turned white.

Mingi pulled back just enough to see the mess—lips wet, eyes blown out with shock and arousal. “Fuck, baby… you just squirted.”

You were still catching your breath, wide-eyed and teary, lips parted. “I—I didn’t mean to—”

He laughed. Dark. Proud. “Don’t apologize.” He leaned up, licking your slick from his fingers. “I’m making you do that again.”

Still trembling from the mess he’d pulled out of you, you tried to close your legs—but Mingi’s grip was firm.

“Ah, ah. Not done yet, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice gravelly and way too calm for someone who just got squirted on. “Still so sensitive... what, already crying?” he cooed as his fingers brushed your soaked clit.

You whimpered, legs kicking at the overwhelming touch. “I-It’s too much, Mingi—!”

But he just grinned, licking his lips. “Mm… I think you can give me one more. You got another one in this pretty pussy, right?”

You were too dazed to answer, and that only made him laugh—low and dark.

Then came his fingers. Two of them, thick and slow, sliding into you while his thumb pressed on your clit. He watched you with hungry eyes as your back arched again, moaning out broken little gasps.

And when you got close—that sweet, tense twist in your belly coming back—he stopped.

Pulled his hand back entirely.

You blinked in confusion, cheeks flushed, lips parted in a soft whine. “W-Why’d you stop…”

Mingi leaned down, nose brushing yours, smirking. “You think I’m gonna let you cum that easy, bunny? After that messy little squirt? Nah. I wanna watch you fall apart first.”

You squirmed under him, legs rubbing together for friction, whining softly as he started teasing again—light flicks over your clit with the very tip of his tongue.

Then fingers. Just pressing at your entrance, not pushing in.

You were twitching, gasping. “Please, Mingi, wanna cum… I wanna—wanna feel it again…”

He let out a low hum, lips brushing your inner thigh. “Such a needy little baby. One good orgasm and now you can’t even speak right?”

“Mingi—please!”

He slapped your pussy again. Sharp. Hot. Not enough to hurt, just enough to make your whole body jolt.

“Say it better, sweetheart. Use your words. What do you want?”

You sniffled, eyes glassy. “Wanna cum… wanna feel your fingers, your tongue, anything— please, Mingi, I’ll be good—”

“Shit.” He sucked a breath through his teeth, finally sliding two fingers in again, pumping hard. “You’re too fucking cute when you beg.”

This time—he let you cum.

And you screamed, all messy and twitching, a moaning little thing with your back off the bed and your thighs trembling around his head. You sobbed through it, babbling nonsense, fingers gripping the sheets as your slick dripped down his wrist.

But Mingi didn’t stop.

He kept going.

Sloppy thrusts. No rhythm. Just filthy, greedy, overstimulating pleasure while you whimpered, “T-Too much—gonna break, Mingi—ah, ah—!”

“Oh, baby…” he groaned, tongue dragging up your soaked folds one more time. “You’re already broken.”

He’d barely given you time to catch your breath before pulling you into his lap—legs trembling, lips parted with a dazed little pout as you straddled his hips.

“C’mere, baby,” Mingi said, voice low and wrecked, “Wanna see you ride this cock. Wanna watch those pretty tits bounce while I ruin that dumb little head of yours.”

Your hands pressed against his chest for balance, thighs already shaky as you lined yourself up—his cock thick and heavy against your folds. He didn’t even help. Just laid back with that smug, perverted smirk on his face like he had all the time in the world.

“You gonna do it all by yourself, sweetheart?” he teased, thumb brushing your lip. “Show me how bad you want it.”

You whimpered, biting down on his thumb, and slowly sank down.

“Oh fuck—”

Your mouth dropped open in a silent cry as he filled you up, inch by inch, stretching you so deep it felt like you couldn’t breathe. Your eyes fluttered shut, the burn so good, the pressure perfect—and when you finally sat flush against his hips, you were already shaking.

Mingi hissed through his teeth, staring up at you with that hungry look. “Shit, baby, look at you—taking all of me like that… Tightest fucking pussy I’ve ever felt.”

You whimpered, hips rolling instinctively. “Mingi… s’too big…”

He grabbed your waist, dragging you up just enough before letting you drop back down. “Nah, baby. You’re made for this. For me. Show me how you fuck.”

So you moved.

Bounced.

Slow at first, thighs burning from the stretch, your tits jiggling with every drop. And Mingi? He looked feral. One hand behind his head, the other lazily cupping your breast, watching it bounce with a low groan.

“Fuck… fuck, look at you,” he growled, thrusting up once to meet you and make you yelp. “Look how cute you are—riding my cock like it’s the only thing that matters.”

You cried out, little sobs slipping past your lips as you bounced harder, sloppier, the sounds of your slick echoing in the room.

“Am I makin’ you dumb, bunny?” he grinned, pulling on your waist to make you slam down harder. “You’re mumblin’ again…”

“I—ahh—feels s’good, Mingi, too good—dizzy—!”

“Yeah? You gonna cum on this cock?” he grunted, thrusting up to meet you again, fast and deep. “Gonna soak me like a filthy little slut?”

You nodded frantically, sobbing now, fingers clawing at his chest. “Please—please, wanna cum, please, please—!”

“Then cum.”

He sat up, mouth sucking one of your nipples into his mouth as you shattered—screaming, spasming around him, thighs locking up as you came so hard your whole body convulsed. Mingi groaned, holding you down on his cock, watching you lose your mind on top of him.

“Shit… You’re my favorite fucking toy now.”

Your thighs were quaking, tears running down your flushed cheeks, but you didn’t stop riding him. Not even when your head dropped back and your voice cracked from all the soft, incoherent sobs spilling out of your lips.

“S-s’too much—Mingi, f-fuck—can’t—!”

“Oh, but you can, baby.” His voice was wrecked with hunger, obsessed with the way you looked losing your mind on his cock. “You’re so cute when you cry like this. Makes me wanna keep you stuffed and full forever.”

He grabbed both of your tits, squeezing them roughly as he thrusted up into you hard enough to make you scream.

You sobbed, nails digging into his chest, your thighs trembling violently as the pleasure got too sharp, too deep, but he wasn’t letting up.

“Mingi—! Gonna cum again—!”

He grinned, lazy and smug. “Yeah? Show me.”

You came with a sob, body locking up as you spasmed around him, drool slipping from the corner of your mouth as you collapsed forward on his chest.

But he wasn’t done.

Not even close.

“Turn around.”

Your hazy, tear-streaked eyes blinked at him. “H-huh?”

Mingi didn’t wait—he flipped you over onto your stomach, pulling your hips up so your ass was in the air, your face buried in the mattress. You were so sensitive, so wrecked, and you felt him line back up without missing a beat.

Then—

SMACK!

You yelped.

“God, this ass is too fucking perfect,” he groaned, giving your cheek another hard slap. “Could stare at it all day.”

“M-Mingi—!”

SMACK!

“Say thank you.”

You whined, face burning. “T-thank you…”

“That’s my girl.” He slammed into you without mercy, burying himself to the hilt in one thrust.

Your scream was muffled by the sheets, fists grabbing at the blankets as he pounded into you from behind—relentless, filthy, insatiable.

He grabbed your hair, yanking your head up. “Let me hear you beg again. C’mon, say you love this cock.”

You hiccupped on a moan, body trembling like crazy. “L-love it—love your cock, Mingi—please, more, please!”

“Fuck yes,” he groaned, thrusting faster, the sound of your skin slapping echoing in the room. “I’m gonna make you squirt again. Gonna spank you while you cry on my dick.”

SMACK!

You screamed.

SMACK!

Tears spilled down again, body burning from both pleasure and pain as you felt yourself losing it all over again.

“I—I’m gonna—!”

“Do it. Squirt for me, baby. Make a mess on my cock.”

You cried out, body convulsing as you exploded, the gush of your release soaking his cock and thighs as you collapsed forward, babbling nothing but broken moans and needy whines.

And Mingi? He kept fucking you through it, whispering filthy things in your ear while he used your soft, fucked-out body like it was his personal toy.

Your legs gave out underneath you, dropping you in a trembling, sticky heap on the bed. Your thighs glistened with slick and spit, your chest rising and falling as soft hiccupy sobs slipped from your lips. Mingi had just pulled out, thick and hard and soaked in everything you’d given him—again.

But he hadn’t finished.

Not yet.

You peeked up at him through heavy lashes, eyes glassy and lips glossy with drool, a faint little whimper catching in your throat. Your body ached, pussy twitching with need, and your brain was too fogged up to think straight—but the emptiness was too much.

“M-Mingi…” Your voice cracked.

He stood at the edge of the bed, stroking himself slowly, watching you fall apart with a low, smug chuckle. “Look at you,” he teased. “Cute little thing, still crying. Didn’t I just make you squirt all over me?”

You shook your head, sniffled, and crawled to the edge of the bed on shaky hands and knees. “I-it’s not enough…” you whimpered, blinking up at him with big watery eyes.

“Oh?” He tilted his head. “You still want more, baby?”

You nodded, sniffling again, reaching out with both hands to grab at his thighs, pressing your cheek against the base of his cock like it was the only thing keeping you grounded. “Please… please cum inside me… I w-want it so bad, Mingi, want you to ruin me…”

He groaned, grip tightening around his shaft.

“Been so good, haven’t I?” you mumbled, voice all cracked and wet and soft. “Let you use me however you wanted… I d-did everything—so please, fill me up…”

Tears ran down your flushed cheeks as your voice dropped even more—sweet and whiny and broken. “Don’t wanna be empty anymore…”

“Fuck—” He hissed through his teeth, eyes dark with lust as he looked down at you, trembling and begging and so fucking perfect.

He grabbed you, hard, lifting you up with ease and laying you on your back again, legs spread wide and shaking. “You wanna be full, baby?” he growled, lining himself up. “I’ll make sure you never feel empty again.”

You gasped when he slammed back inside you, and a sob broke out of your throat.

“Th-thank you—thank you, Mingi—!”

He groaned, wrapping your legs around his waist and pounding into you with feverish need, one hand cradling the back of your head while the other held your hip steady. “Crying while you thank me? Shit, baby, you’re gonna kill me…”

You were blabbering now, voice high and pitchy, clinging to his back as he drove you into the mattress. “Feels so good—so deep—Mingi, I’m gonna break—!”

“You’re already broken, sweetheart.” He kissed your temple, whispering like a lover even as he fucked you like a demon. “And you’re so fucking cute like this. So desperate, so messy, all mine right now…”

And when he finally came—hard, with a deep groan and his face buried in your neck—you cried out again, feeling the heat flood your core, your hands clawing at him as your body twitched through the aftershocks.

Still gasping, still trembling, still mumbling barely-there thank-yous.

And Mingi just held you, sweaty and breathless, as if he was never letting you go.

You didn’t even realize you were still leaking around him until he shifted his hips, still buried deep in your swollen, overstretched walls. Mingi’s hand rubbed soothing circles into your back, his lips brushing over your forehead in soft little kisses. You felt so warm—so full—your breath slowing, your heartbeat steadying under the weight of his body.

But his cock was still inside you.

Still thick, twitching every now and then.

And he was hardening again.

You mumbled something incoherent, more like a dreamy hum than actual words, nuzzling into his neck.

“…You awake, baby?” Mingi whispered, voice hoarse, raspy with exhaustion.

You nodded sleepily, cheeks sticky with dried tears and your thighs aching deliciously. “Mmhm… still inside…”

“Still warm,” he groaned, grinding his hips just enough to feel your pussy clench. “Fuck… you’re hugging me so tight, baby. You gonna let me use you one more time?”

A sleepy whimper slipped out, and your fingers curled into his back. “T-too much…”

“Just one more,” he murmured, voice sweet but filthy. “You’re already so full, might as well keep stuffing you, yeah?”

He rolled his hips again, deeper this time, and you gasped—tired, overstimulated, but already soaking all over again. “Mingi… I can’t—”

“You can,” he whispered, lips brushing against your temple. “You’re doing so good, baby. So pretty, even when you’re crying… my cute little roommate.”

He slowly started thrusting, every movement gentle but deep, dragging out the squelch of his cum between your legs with each slow stroke.

You whimpered, head tilting back, your legs falling open for him like instinct. “Ngh… f-feels good…”

“That’s it,” he groaned. “Just let me fuck you through it, baby. Let me feel your cute little pussy milk me dry.”

You moaned louder this time, slurred words spilling from your lips in breathy little gasps. “So deep—Mingi, y-you’re still so big, why’s it still so big…”

He chuckled softly, eyes dark as he stared down at your fucked-out face. “Because you’re too cute, baby. Can’t help myself…”

He kept going, slow and thick and messy, not even bothering to pull out as his cum dripped down between your cheeks, mixing with your slick and his spit. You blinked up at him, dazed and broken and glowing all at once.

And when he finally came again with a quiet, shuddering groan, you whimpered at the warmth flooding you for the second time.

“…Mingi…” you breathed out, nearly incoherent. “Y-you’re gonna break me…”

“You’re already broken, sweetheart,” he murmured, laying soft kisses along your collarbone as he rutted lazily into you a few more times before stilling.

“But fuck, baby… I’ve never seen anything as pretty as you falling apart.”

The sunlight was barely peeking through the blinds when you stirred, your legs twitching from the dull ache between them. You were wrapped up in warmth—Mingi's chest against your back, his heavy arm draped around your waist, and his cock still lazily nestled against your ass, soft but twitching with every slow breath.

“Mingi…” you whispered sleepily, voice hoarse and sweet.

He groaned low, nuzzling into your neck. “Morning already?”

You giggled softly, your body sore in all the right places. “My thighs hurt…”

He kissed your shoulder. “Good. That means I fucked you right.”

You turned your face toward him, cheeks hot, eyes still puffy from last night’s cute little crying fits. “Pervert.”

“Your pervert.” He smirked, biting playfully at your earlobe. “And you loved it.”

You hummed. “I did…”

There was a beat of silence, and then you sighed. “But I’m sticky. We’re gross.”

“Guess we should clean up, huh?” he whispered, voice already heavy with mischief.

Before you could protest, he rolled you both out of bed and scooped you up bridal-style, your sleep dress barely hanging on your shoulders. You squealed, arms flying around his neck.

“Mingi—!”

“I said we’re showering. Gotta make sure my baby is squeaky clean.”

He kicked the bathroom door open and sat you on the cold counter, standing between your legs with his hands on your bare thighs. He just stared at you for a second—at the messed-up lace, the little bruises, the faint red handprints he’d left behind.

And then, “You gonna let me clean you with my tongue again, baby?”

You blinked at him, lips parting.

“…You’re hopeless.”

But when you opened your legs for him again, you both knew you didn’t mean it.

Mingi turned the shower on, steam curling into the room as the water heated up. While it warmed, he leaned down and kissed you—slow and deep, his tongue lazily exploring your mouth while his big hands slid under your sleep dress, dragging it up and off your body.

“Still so cute even when you’re wrecked,” he murmured, voice low and thick with sleep and lust. “Wanna fuck you all over again.”

Your body twitched at his words, your thighs pressing together instinctively. “I’m still sore…”

“I’ll be gentle,” he said—though the glint in his eyes said otherwise.

He picked you up again and stepped into the shower with you, water cascading over both your bodies, his arms strong and steady around you. You let out a shaky breath as the warmth soothed your aching muscles, but your comfort didn’t last long.

Mingi pinned your back to the slick wall tiles, water running down his broad shoulders as he grabbed your thighs and hoisted them around his waist. His cock was already hard again, flushed and throbbing against your core.

“Y-you said gentle,” you mumbled, flushed and wide-eyed.

“I said I’ll try,” he corrected, smirking. “But you’re too damn addicting, baby. Can’t help it.”

You whined as he rubbed his cockhead along your folds, spreading his cum and your slick from the night before. “Mingi… I—”

“You’re always so wet for me,” he groaned. “Still leaking, baby? God, look at you…”

He pushed in slow—just the tip—and your eyes fluttered shut, your lips parting in a soft moan as your head thunked back against the tile. The heat of the water, the steam, his body against yours—it was all too much and not enough.

“F-fuck, you’re tight,” he growled, gripping your thighs tighter. “Even after everything I did last night…”

You gasped as he slid in deeper, your arms locking around his neck. “M-Mingi… ah—nghh—s-still sore…”

“I know, baby,” he cooed, kissing your cheek. “But you can take it. You always do. My good girl.”

His hips began to move, slowly at first—just enough for you to feel the stretch all over again. You whimpered into his shoulder, legs trembling, but your pussy clenched around him greedily.

“Making those cute noises again…” he muttered, voice almost desperate. “Say something for me, baby.”

“F-feels good,” you managed, your voice slurred, high and breathy. “So big—s-stretching me again…”

“You’re dripping,” he whispered against your ear. “Fucking leaking around me, and I’m not even moving fast yet.”

You let out a sob, your fingers tangling in his wet hair. “Please—Mingi—feels too good—don’t stop—”

And he didn’t.

He began thrusting harder, the sound of wet skin slapping echoing in the shower, water spraying off his back while he fucked you raw against the tile. You whimpered, moaned, your head rolling as he hit that same deep, sweet spot over and over until your body was convulsing in his arms.

“Cum for me,” he grunted. “Wanna feel you fall apart again.”

And you did—your eyes rolled back, your mouth fell open in a silent cry, your whole body shaking as you came hard around him. And right after, with a strangled groan, he buried himself deep and spilled inside you again.

For the fourth time.

You both panted, clinging to each other as the water kept pouring over you. Mingi kissed your temple softly.

“I should get a gold medal for this,” he muttered playfully.

You mumbled into his shoulder, barely coherent. “Mm… just feed me breakfast…”

He grinned. “After I eat you for breakfast again.”

After the shower, your legs barely held you up, so Mingi wrapped you in a towel and carried you straight to the kitchen like you weighed nothing. You were wearing one of his oversized shirts now—still damp and clinging to your soft curves, the hem brushing your thighs with every step you took.

Mingi was shirtless, sweatpants slung low on his hips, his hair still damp and messy. And the way his eyes kept dropping to your bare legs as he cooked? That hungry look never left.

“You know,” he muttered, flipping the pancakes in the pan, “I could bend you over this counter right now. Bet your pussy’s still twitching from the shower.”

You whimpered into your glass of juice, squirming in the stool you sat on. “Mingi…”

“What? I’m just saying,” he smirked, setting the plate down in front of you. “You looked so cute, all dumb and crying on my cock. How am I supposed to not talk about it?”

You pouted, hiding your red face behind your fork. “You’re so dirty…”

“And you love it,” he whispered as he leaned down, lips brushing your ear. “You love when I talk to you like that, don’t you? Gettin’ all shy now, but you were begging me to spank your pussy five minutes ago.”

Your thighs clenched automatically, eyes fluttering. “That was… different…”

He kissed your temple and slid into the stool beside you. “Nah. You’re just my pretty little pillow princess who gets shy after being ruined.”

You shoved his arm playfully, cheeks hot. “Eat your pancake, pervert.”

But your voice was so soft, your smile too wide—because you did love it. Every filthy word, every dirty look he gave you like you were his favorite thing to ruin.

Mingi leaned on his elbow, watching you eat with that same smirk tugging at his lips.

“After this… I’m putting you back in bed,” he murmured lowly. “And you’re gonna sit on my cock nice and slow while I kiss you. Let’s see how many times I can make you cum without moving my hips.”

You choked on your juice.

He patted your back, completely unbothered. “Careful, baby. Can’t have you dying before I ruin you again.”