#no plotline

[bahngnxxx]

Like Animals -- 🐶☁️ 

--------------✦ PAIRING. Kim Seungmin x !f! reader  

✦ GENRE. smut with no plot (im so sorry idk when I'll stop doing this LMAO..) 

✦ WORD COUNT. 12.7k 

✦ WARNINGS. (NOT PROOF-RED) 18+ mdni — explicit content, overstimulation, UNPROTECTED sex (NOOOO WRAP IT BEFORE U TAP ITT) use of petnames, dirty talk & praise, verbal and some physical degradtion, squirting, mess, consensual voyuerism, belly buldge if you squint, heavy edging, dry humping (with vibrator), begging, multiple orgasms, humiliation kink, etc... 

✦ A/N. HOLY SHART THANK U FOR THE LIKES ON MY LAST SCRABBLE!!! Im gonna address the elephant in my a03 room firstly because ummm I'm like kinda really bad at writing series and i haven’t updated the cycle called u for a while now so.. Idrk if I'm gonna keep going with that unless it gets a lot more engagement. Its rlly hard to stay motivated when you have like nothing to keep u going, yk?? Anyways omg I've been ovulating out of my mind. Im sadly on da cycle now but GAWSHH GAWSHHSHHMMM.... im so single cries pls someone huzz me up. Angays, enjoyz!! ALSO CHECK OUT MY CARRD IM SUPER PROUD OF IT ITS LINKED IN MY PINNED. I always appreciate likes, reblogs and comments so i can keep writing stuff for you guys, thankies. :3 

The morning light filtered through the sheer curtains of your shared apartment, casting soft, hazy stripes across the duvet. It was late—almost noon—a luxury reserved for weekends when neither of you had anywhere pressing to be. 

You were the first to wake, though you didn’t move immediately. You were too busy watching Seungmin. He was lying on his stomach, face buried halfway into the pillow, his breathing rhythmic and deep. The sheets had slipped down to his waist, exposing the long, elegant line of his back. His skin was smooth, pale, and unblemished, tapering down to a waist that always looked too fragile in your hands, though he insisted he was fine. 

He looked harmless like this. Sweet. Almost breakable. 

Eventually, the rhythm of his breathing changed, a small, furrow forming between his brows as the world slowly pulled him back from sleep. You reached out, unable to resist, and brushed a few stray locks of dark hair away from his forehead. His eyes fluttered open, the dark irises hazy and unfocused for a fraction of a second before landing on you. A slow, sleepy smile softened his sharp features, and without a word, he shifted, burying his face into the crook of your neck with a hum that sounded more like a contented purr than a human noise. "Too bright," he mumbled against your skin, his voice raspy and thick with sleep, but he made no move to pull away from your touch. 

That was the thing about Seungmin; he was always tactile in the quietest ways. You spent the next hour like that, whispering about nothing important as the apartment warmed up around you. When you finally dragged yourselves out of bed, he followed you into the kitchen, leaning his hip against the counter while you brewed coffee. He watched you with that observant, half-lidded gaze of his, making sarcastic comments about your brewing technique but handing you the sugar before you even had to ask. 

Getting ready for Chan’s place later that evening felt less like a routine and more like an event, mostly because you took great pleasure in pestering him while he tried to decide on an outfit. You sat on the edge of the bathtub, watching him run a hand through his neatly styled hair in the mirror. "You look fine, Seungmin," you teased, watching him scrutinize his reflection for a flaw that didn't exist. "In fact, you look perfect. Very pretty." He huffed a small laugh, turning to lean against the sink, crossing his long arms over his chest. "Pretty isn't exactly the vibe I'm going for tonight, but thanks," he shot back dryly, though there was a sparkle of amusement in his eyes. "Just get dressed so we aren't late. Chan won't stop texting me." 

By the time you were both dressed and stepping out of the apartment, the sun had begun its descent, painting the city in hues of burnt orange and violet. The walk to the subway was short, but you moved slow, your hand finding its way into his without a second thought. Seungmin’s fingers were slender and cool, interlacing with yours firmly, grounding you against the bustle of the street. He listened to you ramble about your week with that specific kind of focused attention he always gave you—tilting his head just so, his dark eyes following your expression, ready to interject with a dry comment that would make you laugh. If anyone else looked at the two of you, they saw the cute couple; the soft-spoken, sharp-featured boy and his bubbly girlfriend. He didn’t seem to mind the label most of the time, walking with a relaxed posture, his shoulders slightly hunched against the wind. He was gentle, pulling you closer when a group of pedestrians hurried past, his thumb stroking the back of your hand absentmindedly. It was hard to reconcile this man—the one who double-knotted your shoelace when it came undone on the pavement—with the idea of anyone seeing him as a threat. 

The buzzer to Chan’s apartment chirped just as you shifted your weight from one foot to the other. It had been a few weeks since the whole group gathered like this, and the familiar, muffled bass of music vibrating through the heavy metal door brought an instant smile to your face. 

When the door swung open, Chan was already grinning, that bright, welcoming aura practically pulling you both inside. He was dressed down in a loose hoodie, looking the picture of comfort. "Finally! I thought you guys got lost," he laughed, stepping aside to usher you in. 

"The subway was hell," you replied, kicking off your shoes. "And someone"—you nudged Seungmin lightly with your elbow—"took twenty minutes to fix his hair." 

Seungmin rolled his eyes, the corner of his mouth twitching as he toed off his sneakers, arranging them neatly next to yours—a habit you’d long since given up trying to break him of. "It’s called hygiene, Y/N. Maybe you should try it sometime," he shot back smoothly, though he reached out to gently squeeze your shoulder, instantly negating the bite of his words. He moved past you into the living room, offering a two-finger salute to the room.  

The living room was already... a lot. The air smelled like soy sauce and spices from the takeout containers scattered across the coffee table. Jeongin and Felix were wrestling playfully over a cushion on the rug, while Changbin sat nearby, scrolling through his phone with a half-eaten slice of pizza in his hand. Minho was lounging on the single armchair, legs thrown over the armrest, observing everything, lips pressed thin. He glanced up as you entered, his eyes lighting up with that specific brand of mischief reserved for Seungmin. "Look who finally decided to show up," Minho drawled, his voice lazy but loud enough to cut through the noise. "Our resident grandpa. I was just about to send a search party." 

Seungmin let out a huff of air, tossing his jacket onto the back of the sofa with fluid grace before dropping down into the empty spot next to you. He immediately reached for a piece of pizza, leaning back with one arm draped casually over the back of your seat. "Dude, talk about old. Have you seen your apartment? You literally own like, 30 cats. What does that scream if not grandpa? 

Minho let out a dry, unbothered chuckle, waving a dismissive hand in the air as if physically batting away Seungmin’s insult. "Excuse you? Cats choose you; it’s a sign of prestige. You wouldn't understand, you're too busy being the group's baby," he countered smoothly, taking a slow sip of his drink. "I bet Y/N has to hold your hand just to cross the street." 

"Please," Changbin chimed in from the side, finally looking up from his phone. He grinned, his eyes disappearing into crescents. "Seungmin? A baby? He's just... lanky. Like a baby giraffe. All legs and no coordination." 

"It's true," Felix piped up from the floor, having successfully wrestled the cushion away from Jeongin. He looked up at Seungmin with that sunshine-bright smile, which made the next words somehow sting more. "You're the softest one here, Seungmin. Remember when we watched that horror movie and you hid behind the popcorn bowl?" 

"I was eating the popcorn," Seungmin defended himself, though there was no real heat in it. He took a bite of his pizza, chewing slowly while his eyes scanned the room. "You guys are just annoying. And loud. It's not my fault I'm the only one with any class." 

Chan came back from the kitchen with a fresh tray of drinks, setting them down with a heavy clink before throwing an arm around Seungmin’s shoulders, jostling him roughly. "Come on, Seungminnie, don't get your knickers in a twist. We just tease because we love you," he laughed, his deep voice booming comfortably in the small space. "Besides, it's good Y/N here is so patient. Someone’s gotta take care of our little prince, right? Since he’s too delicate to do anything himself." 

You laughed along with them, the sound bubbling up easily as you leaned into Seungmin’s side, comfortable in the safety of the banter. You didn’t think twice before joining in, turning to press a quick kiss to his cheek. "It’s okay, babe," you teased, pinching his cheek gently between your thumb and forefinger. "You are pretty cute when you're grumpy. It’s like an angry puppy." 

Seungmin stiffened just slightly—so subtly you almost missed it—but the smile on his face didn't falter. In fact, it widened, sharp and perfect, though his eyes remained cool and calculating, fixed directly on Chan and not you. He took a slow sip of his soda, the condensation on the can dripping onto his fingers, before shifting his posture. He didn't pull away from you; instead, he draped his arm more heavily around your waist, pulling you flush against his side, his fingers tapping a slow, rhythmic beat against your hip that felt a little too intentional. "Funny," he said softly, his voice smooth like velvet over steel. "You guys talk a big game for people who couldn't get a girlfriend to save their lives. I'm literally the only person with a girl here." 

"Are you homophobic? Do men not count? What if some of us are HUZZED up, huh?" Jisung whines.  

"Oh my god, that's not what I meant. We all know your homo, ji. Good for you." seungmin groans. 

The conversation, much like the drinks, flowed freely, and perhaps it was the buzzing warmth in your veins that made you forget the subtle shift in Seungmin’s demeanor. The topic circled back—inevitably—to relationships, and Changbin was recounting a disastrous date with a laugh, waving his hands wildly. "I'm telling you, she was expecting this whole... dominant routine," he chuckled, shaking his head. "I tried, but it felt like acting. You gotta have that natural energy, you know? Some guys just don't have it in them." 

Without thinking, your eyes darted to Seungmin, a fond laugh escaping you before you could check it. "Oh, definitely not him," you agreed, leaning your head comfortably on his shoulder, completely oblivious to the way the air around him seemed to drop a few degrees. "Seungmin is all sweet talk. He wouldn't hurt a fly. The most aggressive he gets is when he's yelling at the TV during a soccer match. It’s actually kind of endearing." You squeezed his arm playfully, your tone light and filled with affection. "He's my gentle giant. Or, well, gentle... lanky string bean." 

The table erupted in agreement, Minho practically cackling as he pointed a finger at you. "See? She knows. String bean. You’re about as scary as a marshmallow, Seungmin." They were all laughing, the sound loud and raucous in the small room, but Seungmin wasn't. He was perfectly still, his jaw set tight enough to create a sharp line, his dark eyes fixed on some middle distance. The arm around your waist felt heavier now, less like an embrace and more like a shackle, his fingers pressing firmly into your side, anchoring you in place. He didn't look at you, but you felt a sudden prickle of unease, a realization that you might have just poked a bear you thought was sleeping. Then, under the protective cover of the tablecloth, his hand slid from your waist, his palm resting warmly on your knee. You thought it was a reassurance, a silent cue that he wasn't actually mad, but when his thumb began to stroke slow, deliberate circles against the fabric of your jeans, the touch felt possessive. Warning. 

Get this, seungmin would never. You had already determined that he had something against sex, because everytime you tried to initiate something? He would avoid it. Call him sexy? He'd laugh, a full hoot and holler. He didn't seem like the dominant type either. 

But the air between you and Seungmin felt suddenly charged, like the heavy static before a storm. You tried to focus on Changbin’s story, really you did, but Seungmin’s hand was a distraction you couldn't ignore. His long, slender fingers began to creep upward, slow and deliberate, tracing the inseam of your jeans with a maddening laziness. You shifted in your seat, attempting to nudge his hand away with a subtle movement of your leg, assuming he didn't realize where he was wandering in the dark. He didn't even flinch. Instead, he just tightened his grip, his fingers digging into your inner thigh with a bruising pressure that made your breath hitch in your throat. When you risked a glance up at him, he was smiling—that handsome, boyish smile you loved so much—laughing at something Minho said, but his eyes were dark, locked onto yours with a terrifying, unreadable intensity. 

"Right, Y/N?" Seungmin’s voice cut through your daze, smooth as silk, startling you. You blinked rapidly, realizing the group was waiting for a response you hadn't heard the question for. "I was just saying," he continued, his tone light and conversational, belying the way his thumb was rubbing dangerously high on your thigh, "that we don't really need to prove anything to anyone. Actions speak louder than words, don't you think?" He took a casual sip of his drink, his eyes never leaving your face, watching the panic flush your cheeks. You nodded dumbly, unable to trust your voice, your heart hammering against your ribs like a trapped bird. The juxtaposition was dizzying—his friends saw the composed, sarcastic boyfriend, but you felt the heat of his palm burning through your denim, a silent, searing claim that contradicted every joke the group had made that night. You pressed your knees together instinctively, trying to stop his ascent, but he merely pushed them apart with a firm, controlled strength that took you completely by surprise, settling his hand even deeper between your legs. 

"What’s with you?" Felix asked suddenly, leaning forward with that innocent, curious gaze. "You got really quiet. You okay?" 

The question sucked the air right out of the room, or at least it felt that way to you. Your throat went dry, your brain scrambling to manufacture a believable lie while Seungmin’s fingers continued their torturous, slow exploration of your inner thigh. He was kneading the sensitive skin there now, his touch firm and possessive, a stark contrast to the gentle way he usually held you. You opened your mouth to speak, to brush off Felix’s concern with a nervous laugh, but before you could get a single word out, Seungmin beat you to it. "She’s just fine," he interjected smoothly, his voice dropping an octave that vibrated straight through your chest. He finally tore his gaze away from you, turning his attention to Felix with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Actually, I think she’s just feeling a little overwhelmed. You know how she gets when everyone is talking at once." He turned back to you, his expression softening into a mask of tender concern that was so convincing it made your head spin. "Right, baby? Is the noise too much for you?" 

You nodded frantically, latching onto the excuse like a lifeline, though your face was burning hot enough to fry an egg. "Yeah, just... a headache," you managed to choke out, your voice barely a whisper. "I think I just need some water." Seungmin hummed sympathetically, his hand stilling on your thigh, though he didn't remove it. Instead, he gave the flesh a sharp, warning squeeze that made you gasp softly, the sound quickly masked by a clatter of dishes from the kitchen. "Poor thing," he cooed, tilting his head mockingly. "So delicate. You really should take better care of yourself, Y/N. You know I worry about you." He leaned in close, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, making you shiver violently. "And when I worry... I like to make sure you learn to listen to your body better." To the rest of the room, it looked like a sweet, whispered reassurance, but you could hear the dark undercurrent in his tone. 

Chan, oblivious as ever, just nodded sympathetically and took a swig of his beer, completely missing the way Seungmin’s jaw was set tight with tension. "Hyung, do you have that aspirin in the bathroom?" Seungmin asked, his voice polite and steady, though his eyes were glued to your face, watching the way your pupils blew wide with panic. "I think I should take her to lie down in your room for a bit. The light out here is probably bothering her." You stiffened, your heart skipping a beat. His room? Chan’s bedroom was down the hall, secluded and far enough away from the living room to offer complete privacy. The idea of being alone with Seungmin in that state—in this state—sent a jolt of terrified electricity down your spine. "No, really, I'm okay," you stammered, trying to pull your leg away from his grip, but he held firm, his fingers digging into your skin with a bruising force. "Nonsense," Seungmin said firmly, already standing up and pulling you with him, his grip on your hand iron-clad. "Come on. You need to rest. We'll be right back." He didn't give you a choice, guiding you away from the safety of the group with a strength that shouldn't have surprised you, but did. As you walked down the hallway, you could feel the eyes of the group on your back, their attention shifting back to their conversation almost immediately, leaving you completely at the mercy of the stranger wearing your boyfriend's face. 

But even worse, he turns. He doesn't head for the warm shelter in the winter storm. He heads for the igloo -- the kitchen, steals your purse, rummages in it, and pulls out your deepest darkest secret. 

Your fucking portable vibrator. 

"Seungmin!"  

"Shh." 

He didn't even look up from his prize, his thumb sliding over the smooth silicone casing with a terrifyingly casual familiarity, as if he were inspecting a piece of tech he’d just bought. The kitchen island blocked the view from the living room, creating a small, perilous slice of privacy that he was currently weaponizing against you. "I was looking for your lip balm when we were leaving," he murmured, his voice low and devoid of any inflection, terrifyingly calm. "Imagine my surprise when I found this instead. I didn't take you for the type to need... assistance. Or maybe," he finally lifted his head, his dark eyes boring into yours with a predatory glint that made your knees threaten to buckle, "you just have that much trouble entertaining yourself because you don't know what you actually need. Anyone could hear from here. Them not being able to see you doesn't mean we're completely hidden. You want me to show them how much of a 'string bean' I am, baby?" 

He stepped closer, backing you flush against the cold marble of the counter, caging you in with his slender frame. There was a soft click as he turned the device on, a low, steady hum that seemed to echo deafeningly in the small space, though the loud laughter from the living room continued unabated. "Is this what you do when I'm not looking?" he murmured, his voice dropping to a dark, velvety register that vibrated against your chest. "Using toys because you think I'm too 'gentle' to give you what you need? Because you think I don't know how to handle you?" He brought the vibrating tip to trace the line of your jaw, forcing your head up, his eyes locking onto yours with a smoldering intensity that made your breath hitch. "You really have no idea, do you? You think I'm just the sweet, boring boyfriend who's content with cuddles and chastity." 

Without waiting for an answer, he traced the device lower, through the expanse of your shirt, down the metal button of your pants, and to where your clit lays needy--just buried beneath the thick denim of your jeans. 

The pressure of the silicone against the denim was maddeningly indirect, a dull, teasing throb that did nothing to quell the ache building inside you and everything to heighten your panic. "S-seungmin, please," you choked out, your hands flying to his wrist, not to push him away—he felt too immovable for that—but just to hold on, your nails digging into his skin. "They’ll hear. Chan is right there." 

"Let them hear," he whispered, a cruel smirk curling his lips as he pressed the vibrator harder, grinding it against the fabric in slow, deliberate circles that forced your hips to jerk against the counter. "You seemed so comfortable sharing our sex life—or lack thereof—with everyone earlier. Don't get shy now." His free hand came up to grip your chin, his fingers rough and demanding, tilting your face back down to meet his gaze. "Or maybe you like the risk? Is that why you brought this little thing along? Because fucking yourself isn't enough unless you know you could get caught?" 

He abruptly pulled the toy away, the sudden cessation of vibration leaving you panting and dizzy, your legs trembling so much you had to grip the edge of the counter to stay upright. Before you could even process the loss, he grabbed your hand, his grip bruisingly tight, and dragged you out of the kitchen and down the hallway, past the bathroom, and straight for Chan’s closed bedroom door. 

 He didn't hesitate; he twisted the handle, shoved you inside, and kicked the door shut with a definitive click that sounded like a gunshot in the sudden silence. The room was dark, lit only by the faint glow of the streetlights outside, the air thick and still. He backed you up until your knees hit the edge of the mattress, looming over you with a dark, predatory hunger that stripped away the "boy next door" facade you’d known for eight months. "You and your little comments," he murmured, his voice low and dangerous as he crowded into your space. "You think this is a game? I'm about to ruin you, Y/N. And by the time I'm done, you won't be able to look at me—or this bed—without remembering exactly who I am. I'm going to fuck you through on our best friends bed, even leave a mess while I'm at it. Isn't that what men do, love? 

He didn’t give you a moment to process the terrifying thrill of his words, moving with a fluid, practiced aggression that shoved you back onto the mattress. You landed with a soft bounce, the scent of Chan’s laundry detergent—something clean and mundane like cedar—wafting around you, a stark contrast to the filthy way Seungmin was currently looking at you. He loomed over the edge of the bed, his silhouette tall and lean, stripping off his shirt with deliberate, unhurried movements. In the dim light, the defined lines of his collarbones and the surprising definition of his shoulders were cast in shadow, painting a picture of strength you had willfully ignored for months. "Look at you," he scoffed, crawling over you, caging you in with his limbs. "Already trembling. I haven't even touched you properly yet, and you're falling apart. Is this what you wanted? To be treated like you're fragile? Because looking at you now..." He dragged a finger down the center of your chest, hooking it into the neckline of your shirt and tugging until the fabric strained. "You don't look fragile. You look desperate." 

His hands were on you then, rough and demanding, stripping away your clothes with an efficiency that bordered on violent. There was no fumbling, no sweet hesitation—just the cool air hitting your skin and the hot press of his palms following immediately after. When his hand came down on your inner thigh, the sound was a sharp crack that echoed in the quiet room, stinging with a heat that made you gasp. "Ah, there it is," he murmured, his voice dripping with dark satisfaction as he rubbed the reddening skin, his fingers teasing dangerously close to where you needed him most. "You like that, don't you? You like being put in your place." He leaned down, his face inches from yours, his breath hot against your lips. "I heard what you told Changbin. 'Sweet talk.' 'Gentle.' You really underestimated me, Y/N. You thought because I didn't paw at you like a dog in heat, I didn't want to? I was waiting. I was being patient because I thought you needed time. But if you want to act like a brat who doesn't know how to respect her man, I'll fuck you like one." 

He reached into his back pocket, retrieving the vibrator he had swiped from your purse, the small device clutched in his large hand like a weapon. "Since you seem to love this thing so much, let's see how it feels when I'm in control," he taunted, turning it on. The buzzing hum was deafening in the silent room, and he didn't hesitate. He spread your legs wide, baring you to him completely, and pressed the toy directly against your clit, not with the muffled pressure of your jeans, but with the intent of ruining you. The stimulation was immediate and overwhelming, a sharp jolt of pleasure that had your back arching off the mattress, a cry tearing from your throat. Seungmin watched you with a hungry, detached fascination, his free hand holding your hips down when you tried to squirm away. "No," he commanded sharply. "You take it. You wanted to tease me all night? Now you stay still and take what I give you." He applied more pressure, watching the way your eyes rolled back, a smirk playing on his lips. "Look at you, soaking wet already. I haven't even kissed you yet. God, you really are a slut, aren't you? Getting off on our friend's bed while your 'gentle' boyfriend abuses your clit with your own toy. So fuckin' pretty and pathetic." 

"Aah- ah- seungmin, fuck seungmin! Oh min, we- we can't! 'm sorry, okay? i'm sorry i'm sorry, i just don't want them to hear--" 

"I love hearing you beg," he interrupted, his voice dripping with a sadistic delight that made your stomach drop. He didn't relent on the pressure, keeping the vibrator pressed ruthlessly against your sensitive flesh, watching you writhe. "But you're missing the point. I want them to hear." He shifted his weight, using one knee to shove your legs even wider apart, ignoring the way your hands scrambled weakly at his wrists. "I want Changbin to know exactly what 'unnatural energy' sounds like when it's forcing you to cum. I want Felix to realize that the 'quiet' guy in the corner can make his girlfriend scream so loud she shakes the walls. Let's see if you can keep that pretty mouth shut when you're squirting all over Chan’s sheets." 

He abruptly pulled the toy away just as you felt the crest of your orgasm begin to break, leaving you suspended in a painful, throbbing emptiness that drew a ragged, desperate whine from your throat. Your hips bucked into the air, seeking the friction he had so cruelly denied, your entire body trembling with the aftershocks of the almost-release. Seungmin smirked, clicking the device off and tossing it carelessly onto the mattress beside you before bringing his hand down hard against your inner thigh with a sharp, stinging smack. "Did I say you could cum?" he asked, his tone deceptively soft, contrasting sharply with the violence of his touch. He leaned forward, grabbing your jaw and forcing your teary eyes to meet his dark, unyielding gaze. "You don't get to decide that anymore. You gave up that right when you decided to run your mouth about my masculinity. You think I’m a joke? Fine. Then you’re just a toy for me to play with, and toys don't cum until I say so. Speaking of which," 

"Since you seem so fond of it, prove it," he commanded, sitting back on his heels and crossing his arms over his chest, his eyes sweeping over your exposed, heaving body with a critical hunger. "Touch yourself. Show me exactly how you get off when I'm not around, and maybe—just maybe—I'll let you finish." The humiliation burned hot in your cheeks, a stark contrast to the cool air of the room, but the throbbing need between your legs was a stronger motivator than your pride. Your hand shook as it moved to grab the vibrator across the bed, the buzzing sound seemingly loud enough to wake the neighbors as you brought it down to your throbbing center. Seungmin watched intently, his gaze unwavering, his presence looming over you like a storm cloud. "Don't be shy now," he taunted, his voice a low rasp. "Put on a show. You had so much to say earlier. Let's see if that mouth works as well when it's full of moans. If you stop, I'm leaving you here like this. And I'm taking the toy with me." 

The command hung heavy in the air, and with a whimper of shame, you pressed the vibrator against yourself, the pleasure immediate and overwhelming. Your back arched off the mattress, your eyes squeezing shut as you chased the high he had just snatched away, but a sharp tug on your hair forced your eyes open. "Eyes on me," he growled, his hand fisted in your locks, tilting your head back painfully. "Don't you dare look away. You look at me while you fuck yourself on that cheap piece of plastic. You look at the man you underestimated." He was terrifyingly beautiful like this, his face twisted into a mask of dark arousal and cold anger, the lines of his body taut with restrained power. The pleasure was building again, faster this time, a tidal wave rising in your gut, but just as you began to tip over the edge, his hand shot out, snatching the toy away and tossing it across the room, leaving you gasping and clenching around nothing. "No," he said again, his voice final. "I told you. You don't get to cum yet." 

He shifted then, his long fingers unbuttoning his jeans with a slow, deliberate precision that was far more terrifying than his previous aggression. The sound of his zipper lowering seemed deafening in the quiet room, a promise of what was to come. He freed himself, and your eyes widened as you took him in—thick and heavy, the angry red tip leaking with precum, proving that his control was hanging by a thread. He stroked himself lazily, his eyes locked on your wet, swollen pussy. "This is what you do to me," he murmured, his voice rough with suppressed need. "This is what I've been holding back for eight months because I wanted to be 'respectful.' But you don't want respect, do you? You want to be fucked. You want to be used. My poor baby, so sexually frustrated. Hasn't gotten cock in so long, mm? Thats too bad, really. You're not getting it." 

"P-please?" you whimpered, your voice cracking as you stared at him, utterly bewildered by the denial. Your body was thrumming with a need so fierce it hurt, your hips lifting off the mattress in a silent, desperate plea for him to just take you already. "Seungmin, I need you. Don't do this." 

He tsked, shaking his head slowly, a dark, mocking amusement dancing in his eyes as he watched you squirm. "Oh, I know you do. You’re dripping all over Chan’s comforter, look at you," he taunted, reaching out to drag a single finger through your slick folds, holding it up to the dim light to inspect your wetness before wiping it carelessly on your stomach. "But you don't seem to understand. We're here to prove a point. If I fuck you now, I’m just servicing you, giving you exactly what you’ve been whining for. That’s not a lesson. That’s a reward." He leaned back, his hand wrapping around his length again, stroking himself with slow, agonizing twists of his wrist, the slick sound of his precum loud in the quiet room. "No, tonight is about showing you who’s in charge. You want to get off? Then you do it the way I want. Keep your eyes on my cock, Y/N. Watch what you’ve been missing. Watch what you threw away with those jokes." 

The humiliation was scorching, flushing your skin a deep, fiery red, but you couldn't tear your gaze away. He was mesmerizing, his head thrown back slightly, his jaw tight as he worked himself over, the muscles in his abdomen flexing with every movement. "Spread your legs wider," he commanded, his voice straining slightly, betraying his own arousal. "Rub your clit for me. But don't you dare cum. If you cum, I walk out that door and leave you here to explain the mess to Chan." Your hand moved between your legs automatically, your fingers finding your sensitive bud and circling it frantically, matching the rhythm of his hand on his cock. It was a twisted, erotic tableau—him getting off on your humiliation; you getting off on his dominance, the threat of discovery hanging over you like a guillotine blade. "Look at you," he gritted out, his strokes becoming faster, his breathing ragged. "Such a desperate little slut. You look so good like this, Y/N. So needy. So mine." 

The sight of him losing control, of his composure finally cracking as he chased his own pleasure, pushed you dangerously close to the edge. The friction of your own fingers was maddening, insufficient yet necessary, and the sound of his groans filled the room, mixing with your own ragged breathing. "Seungmin, please, I can't—" 

"Yes, you can," he panted, his eyes snapping open to pin you with a fierce, burning intensity. "You will hold it. Because I said so." He slowed his hand, dragging out the torment, his cock twitching in his grip. "Look at the mess you're making. All for me. Do you think I'm 'lanky' now? Do you think I don't have the stamina to ruin you? I could go all night, Y/N. I could edge you until you're crying, until you're begging me to kill you just to make it stop." 

He suddenly stilled his own hand, his chest heaving with the effort to restrain himself, leaving you hovering on that agonizing precipice without permission to fall. "Stop," he commanded, his voice raspy and absolute, and the sheer authority in it forced your hand to freeze instantly, your fingers trembling against your slick heat. He leaned over you, caging your head in with his arms, the tip of his cock hovering tantalizingly close to your entrance but refusing to grant you the relief of being filled. "You look ruined," he whispered, a dark chuckle vibrating against your lips as he took in your glassy eyes and quivering body. "And I haven't even really started yet. But look at me, Y/N. Really look at me. Do you see anyone here who can't handle you? Because all I see is a girl who is two seconds away from begging for my cock like it's the only air she can breathe. Tell me," he demanded, his hand wrapping around your throat, not squeezing, just possessing, his thumb resting heavily on your pulse. "Tell me I'm not a man. Tell your 'twink' of a boyfriend how badly you need him to wreck you right now." 

You shattered under the weight of his gaze, the humiliation burning through the last of your resistance. "You're a man," you choked out, tears spilling over and tracking hotly into your hairline. "You're so much more than I—I thought. I need you, Seungmin, please. Only you. You're the only one who can handle me, I swear." The confession seemed to snap something fragile inside his restraint. "Fuuck, good girl. But not good enough. on your stomach for me." 

The command was sharp, leaving no room for hesitation, and your body moved to obey before your mind could fully process the shift in position. You flipped over, burying your burning face into the scent of Chan’s linens, feeling exposed and vulnerable with your ass in the air. The mattress dipped under Seungmin’s weight as he settled behind you, the heat of his body radiating against your back. "Good girl," he murmured, his voice a low rumble of approval that sent shivers down your spine. His palms ran over the curves of your ass, kneading the flesh almost appreciatively before pulling away. "But you still haven't learned. You still think you can run that pretty mouth without consequences." The air whistled a split second before the impact—smack—his hand coming down hard on your right cheek. The sound was obscene, a sharp crack that seemed to echo in the quiet room, and the sting bloomed instantly, hot and biting. You cried out into the duvet, your hands gripping the sheets, but he didn't stop. "Count them," he demanded, delivering another stinging blow to the left side, making your whole body jolt. "And don't you dare lose count, or I’ll start over from zero." 

"O-one!" you sobbed, the humiliation burning hotter than the pain on your skin. He set a punishing rhythm, his hand raining down spanks that were precise and calculated, alternating cheeks until you were squirming, your skin throbbing with a heat that seemed to permeate your entire body. By the time you reached ten, your voice was broken, tears soaking the fabric beneath your cheek, but the throbbing need between your legs had only intensified, traitorous and overwhelming. "Look at you," Seungmin taunted, pausing to run a cool hand over your heated skin, soothing the sting before digging his nails in slightly. "Crying from a little spanking? But you're soaking wet for me, aren't you? You love this." He leaned down, his chest pressing against your back, his lips brushing the sensitive shell of your ear. "I can see your twitching from here. You're desperate to be filled, aren't you? My poor little slut." 

Suddenly, the weight on the bed shifted. The empty dull throb was replaced by the sensation of a long, slender, but thick digit. 

He didn't ask for permission; he simply slid his middle finger inside you, the intrusion sudden and effortless given how thoroughly you had soaked yourself for him. The sensation was overwhelming—a sudden, blinding stretch that made your walls clench instinctively around the digit, dragging a ragged moan from your throat that you couldn't hope to stifle. He curled it immediately, finding that spongy, sensitive spot inside you with a terrifying precision that made your vision white out, his other hand pressing down firmly on the small of your back to keep you from squirming away. "So tight," he gritted out, his voice vibrating against your spine. "And absolutely drenching me. Is this all for me, Y/N? Did pretending I was some harmless little boy get you this wet? Or is it the thought of getting caught on Chan’s bed that has you dripping like a filthy whore?" 

Before you could catch your breath, a second finger joined the first, scissoring inside you with a deliberate stretch that burned just enough to ground you in the reality of what was happening. He set a rhythm that was nothing short of punishing, pumping his fingers in and out of you with wet, obscene squelching sounds that seemed to amplify the silence of the room, each thrust forcing your hips forward against the mattress in a friction that teased your neglected clit. "I can feel you fluttering around me," he taunted, picking up the pace, his palm slapping against your ass with every deep thrust. "You're close already, aren't you? You're so greedy, clenching around my fingers like you're trying to keep me inside. But remember the rules." He abruptly withdrew his fingers, leaving you clenching around empty air, a desperate whine tearing from your lips at the loss. "Not yet. You don't get to cum on my fingers. That's too easy." 

The mattress shifted again as he moved, his hands gripping your hips and yanking them up even higher, forcing your face deeper into the pillow and arching your back into a vulnerable, presenting position. The blunt head of his cock nudged against your entrance, heavy and hot, and for a terrifying second, you thought he was finally going to give you what you needed. Instead, he simply slapped the length of it against your dripping folds, coating himself in your arousal, sliding through your wetness without entering. The tease was excruciating—the friction sending sparks of pleasure up your spine but never enough to satisfy the ache. "Beg for it," he commanded, his voice dropping to a low growl that seemed to settle in your bones. "Tell me exactly what you want me to do to you on this bed. Tell me how much you need this cock. and maybe, if you sound convincing enough, I'll think about stretching you open properly." 

The words tumbled from your lips in a broken, desperate rush, your pride dissolved. "Please, Seungmin! I need you to fuck me," you cried out, your voice muffled by the pillow but loud enough to carry the sheer desperation of your plea. "I need your cock, please, ruin me, prove them wrong, just—please, fill me up!" The silence that followed was deafening, heavy with his scrutiny, until a low, dark chuckle vibrated through the mattress, his grip on your hips bruisingly tight as he finally, mercifully, began to press forward. The stretch was intense, a slow, deliberate burn that forced your body to accommodate him, inch by devastating inch, and he didn't stop until he was fully seated, his hips flush against your stinging ass, forcing a ragged gasp from your throat at the sheer fullness of him. "Good girl," he rasped, leaning over to press a kiss between your shoulder blades that felt more like a brand. "That wasn't so hard, was it? Admitting that you're mine to ruin?" 

When he began to move, any illusion of the gentle boyfriend you thought you knew was completely obliterated. His pace was punishing from the very first snap of his hips, a rhythm designed to drive you out of your mind, withdrawing almost entirely before slamming back in with a force that made the bed frame slam against the wall. The sound of skin meeting skin was loud and obscene, echoing in the quiet room, and mixed with your broken moans and his heavy breathing to create a cacophony of pleasure that felt dangerously loud. "Is this what you expected?" he gritted out, one hand tangling in your hair to pull your head back, forcing your arch to deepen. "Or were you expecting me to ask if it feels good? I don't care if it feels good. I care that you take it. I care that you remember exactly who is splitting you open right now." He drove into you with a calculated precision that hit that spot inside you that made your vision blur, reducing you to a whimpering, trembling mess beneath him. 

His control seemed unbreakable, a stark contrast to the way you were falling apart, your fingers clawing helplessly at the sheets as he used you for his own pleasure. "ohh, fuck yeah. so fuckin' good, so fuckin' tight, my perfect girl. Let them hear you. Take that pretty face out of the sheets, moan as loud as you can. Need them to hear everything," He encourages by moaning loudly himself, making your stomach drop at the sound. You obeyed, tilting your head back to gasp for air, your voice cracking as he forced another cry from your lips with a particularly harsh thrust. "You feel that?" he hissed, leaning down to bite sharply at the junction of your neck and shoulder, marking you where the others would see. "Feel my cock sliding in that pretty pussy? Marking you up?" 

He didn't give you a chance to answer, his hips snapping forward with a renewed vigor that stole the breath from your lungs, the friction overwhelming. "Ah! Oh seungmin! Fuck yes, fuck yeah! Oh yeah, right there! Mmh, yes!" you yelled, and finally, the men outside grew dead silent. 

The sudden, suffocating silence that fell over the living room was heavier than the music had been. It was a tangible shift, the raucous laughter and clinking of glasses cutting out as if someone had pulled a plug, leaving only the muffled bass of the stereo and the unmistakable, rhythmic thumping of the headboard against the wall to fill the void. Every sharp cry you let out seemed to magnify in the quiet, echoing down the hallway like a declaration of war. Seungmin didn't falter; if anything, the knowledge that he had an audience seemed to spur him on, his grip bruising your hips as he drove into you with a merciless precision that was calculated to be loud. "They hear you, baby," he panted, his voice laced with dark triumph, sweat beginning to bead at his temples. "Hear how well you take me? They know now. They all know exactly what I'm doing to you. God, fuck." 

The shame burned through you like wildfire, but it was laced with a twisted, molten heat that made your toes curl. You were vividly aware of everyone sitting just feet away, likely staring at the closed bedroom door with wide eyes, listening to the wet slap of skin and the desperate, broken moans Seungmin was tearing from your throat. Outside the bedroom, chan sit with his mouth agape, looking back at the group then at the door. 

"Are they—?" Changbin started, his face draining of color as a particularly loud, rhythmic thud vibrated through the floorboards, accompanied by the high-pitched, broken keen of your voice that didn't even sound human anymore. Felix let out a choked noise, halfway between a wheeze of disbelief and a whimper, burying his burning face in his hands as if that could block out the unmistakable, graphic sounds of Seungmin’s hips snapping mercilessly against yours. Even Hyunjin, usually the one to stir the pot, sat in stunned silence, staring at the ceiling with wide eyes, finally understanding that the quietest of them all was currently the most dangerous man in the apartment. 

Bangchan was the worst off, shifting uncomfortably on the leather couch as he tried to adjust his stance without drawing attention to the obvious. He stared resolutely at the floor, his face burning a hot, mortified red, but his body was betraying him completely. The raw authority in Seungmin’s voice—usually so quiet and composed—now growling commands through the wall, combined with your helpless, broken moans, was hitting a primal switch in his brain he couldn't turn off. "I can't believe this is happening," he muttered, running a hand through his hair, his voice tight and strained. "I'm never going to be able to look at him the same way again. Or Y/N. Jesus."  

But he wasn't the only one suffering. 

Seungmin slowed his pace, the relentless slapping of skin against skin ceasing abruptly and leaving the room in a suffocating silence filled only by your ragged breathing. You whimpered at the loss, clenching around him desperately, trying to keep him inside, but he chuckled darkly and pulled out completely, leaving you feeling empty and throbbing. Before you could protest, he flipped you over onto your back with surprising strength, manhandling you as if you weighed nothing. He loomed over you, his chest heaving, his eyes raking over your disheveled form with a look of possessive hunger that made your stomach flip. "Look at you," he murmured, reaching out to brush a stray hair away from your sweat-slicked forehead, his touch surprisingly gentle compared to the bruising grip he’d had on your hips moments ago. "Tears in your eyes, makeup ruined. You look thoroughly debauched." 

He leaned down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss that was all teeth and tongue, tasting your desperation and claiming it as his own. Then, without warning, he spat into your open mouth, a deliberate, degrading act that made your eyes go wide with shock. "Swallow it," he commanded, his voice low and rough, watching your throat convulse as you obeyed instinctively. "Good girl. You take everything I give you, don't you? Even the filthy things." He sat back on his heels, his eyes darkening as they fixed on your chest. Your breathing was labored, your breasts rising and falling rapidly, and a dark, twisted idea seemed to take root in his mind. "I've been holding back for months," he mused, his hand coming up to tweak one of your nipples, rolling the sensitive bud between his fingers until you gasped. "But I think I want to leave marks where everyone can see them. I want Chan to have to look at this bed tomorrow and remember exactly what I did to you here. But I also want you to have to look in the mirror tomorrow and see exactly who you belong to." 

He didn't wait for an answer. He lowered his head, his hot breath fanning over your skin before he bit down hard on the side of your neck, not a playful nip, but a possessive, stinging bite that made you cry out and arch your back. He soothed the sting with his tongue, only to move to the other side, leaving a matching mark. He worked his way down, sucking and biting bruises into the skin of your collarbones, your breasts, anywhere he could reach, marking you as his territory. The pain was sharp, bright, and overwhelming, mingling with the lingering throbs of pleasure to create a maddening cocktail of sensation. He traveled lower, bypassing the place you needed him most to bite into the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs, his teeth sinking in hard enough to leave indents that would surely blossom into dark purple bruises by morning. His hot tongue finally slid between your weeping slit, collecting the steady flow of fluids, before it completely plunged inside. His tongue was more filling then you ever could have thought, and fuck, it felt good. 

The intrusion was wet and relentless, his tongue curling inside you with a precision that told you he had mapped out exactly what made you tick long ago, even if he hadn't acted on it. He ate you out with a terrifying kind of focus, his nose grinding against your clit as he fucked you on his tongue, the sounds of his consumption lewd and echoing in the quiet room. Your hands flew to his hair, your fingers tangling in the soft strands you loved to run your hands through, but now you were pulling, yanking, desperate for something to anchor you as the pleasure mounted to a breaking point. Just as you felt the familiar tightening coil in your lower belly, the sign that you were about to tumble over the edge, he pulled away, leaving you cold and gasping. "Not yet," he said, his chin glistening with your arousal, a cruel smirk playing on his swollen lips as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "You know this by now." 

"But, you can grind yourself on my cock. No entering. Just rub that pretty little clit on my cock. That's all you get." 

The desperation was so acute it tasted like copper in your mouth. You didn't care about the degradation or the insane conditions; you just needed friction. You scrambled to straddle his thighs, hovering over him, and reached down to align his length with your dripping slit. The moment his hot, heavy shaft grazed your swollen clit, you let out a shattered moan, your head falling back as you instinctively rolled your hips. The friction was electric, sliding the velvet-soft skin of your folds along the rigid length of him. It was maddening, having him so close, feeling the thick vein pulsing against your most sensitive spot, yet being denied the stretch of him inside you. You set a frantic rhythm, grinding down with reckless abandon, using him like a toy to chase the high that was just out of reach, your slick coating him until he gleamed in the dim light. 

Seungmin watched you with a lazy, predatory hunger, his hands resting lightly on your waist but not guiding you, forcing you to do all the work. "That's it," he taunted, his voice dripping with mock encouragement as he thrust his hips up slightly to meet your downward grind, sending a jolt of pleasure through your core that made your vision blur. "Look at how desperate you are, humping my cock like a bitch in heat. You're soaking me, Y/N. Literally dripping down my balls. Is that good? Does it satisfy that little ache?" He knew it didn't. The angle was perfect for torturous pleasure but impossible for the release you craved. You were trembling violently, your thighs burning with the exertion, tears of frustration leaking from your eyes as you hovered on that agonizing edge, unable to fall over without being filled. 

Suddenly, his grip on your waist tightened bruisingly, halting your movements mid-grind. You cried out in protest, your body hovering suspended over him, throbbing and empty. "Did I say you could stop?" he asked, his voice dropping an octave, turning cold and hard. "I didn't tell you to stop, I told you to ride. So keep going. And while you do it, you’re going to look me in the eye and apologize." He sat up slightly, bringing his face inches from yours, his dark eyes boring into yours with an intensity that pinned you in place more effectively than his grip ever could. "Apologize for calling me soft. Apologize for thinking I couldn't ruin you. Say it. Say, 'I'm sorry for underestimating you, Seungmin." He waited, his expression unyielding, the throbbing heat of him still pressed tantalizingly against your wetness, a silent reminder of exactly what you were missing. 

Your vision swam with tears of frustration as you forced your hips to move again, the friction agonizingly insufficient yet maddeningly necessary. The words caught in your throat, tangled around a moan as you dragged your clit against the rigid length of him, the stimulation sharp and overwhelming without the relief of being filled. "I'm sorry," you choked out, your voice barely a whisper, trembling with the effort of holding yourself back. "I'm sorry for underestimating you, Seungmin." He raised an eyebrow, a silent demand for more, and you sobbed, grinding down harder, desperate to prove your obedience. "I'm sorry for thinking you were soft... for letting them talk... for not knowing you could be like this. You're not soft, you're—god, you're so good, please, I'm sorry." 

A dark, satisfied smirk curled his lips, the sight of you broken and begging clearly feeding the beast he’d unleashed. "Better," he murmured, his hands releasing your waist to slide up your torso, thumbs brushing over your nipples and sending shockwaves down to your core. "On your back. wanna see your face when I make you cum on this cock." 

The command barely registered before you were moving, the desperation to have him inside you overriding any lingering pride. Seungmin moved with a languid, predatory grace, his eyes never leaving yours as he settled between your legs. He didn't enter you immediately. Instead, he grabbed your ankles, pushing your legs up and out, folding you nearly in half and leaving you completely exposed. "Look at this mess," he taunted, spitting directly onto your swollen clit, the mix of his saliva and your own arousal making you twitch. "All because I got a little rough. You really are just a dirty girl." 

He finally lined himself up, but instead of the punishing rhythm from before, he sheathed himself in one agonizingly slow, deep thrust that forced a cry out of your lungs. He paused once he was hilted, his hips flush against yours, buried so deep you could feel him in your stomach. "Tight," he hissed, dropping his forehead to rest against yours, his breathing ragged. "You're milking me, Y/N. Try to relax." He pulled out slowly, almost leaving you empty, before thrusting back in just as slowly, grinding his pelvis against your clit. He kept this maddening tempo, dragging his cock against every sensitive inch of your walls, forcing you to feel every ridge, every vein. It wasn't the fuck of a desperate teenager; it was the calculated, possessive stroke of a man staking his claim, ensuring you felt the shape of him for days. 

"Touch yourself," he commanded suddenly, his voice cutting through the haze of pleasure. Your eyes fluttered open, confusion warring with the overwhelming need to obey. "I said touch your clit," he repeated, snapping his hips forward harshly to emphasize the point, his eyes boring into yours. "I want to watch you fall apart while I'm inside you. Rub it for me, slut. Show me how much you love being stuffed full of me." Trembling, your hand slid between your bodies, your fingers finding the sensitive bundle of nerves. The added stimulation was electric, your back bowing off the bed as you circled your clit in time with his slow, deep thrusts. "That's it," he groaned, his composure finally cracking as he watched you debauch yourself for him. "Make yourself cum on my cock. I want to feel you squeezing the hell out of me when you do. Just like that, my pretty baby." He leaned in to press his lips against yours, a wet, messy clash of teeth and tongue as he began to pick up the pace, fucking into you with shallow, sharp thrusts that aimed directly at your sweet spot, his eyes locked on your fingers working between your legs. 

The coil tightened to a breaking point, the friction of your fingers and the relentless drag of his cock pushing you further. "Mmh, move. Let me." and you did, removing your own sloppy fingers and letting the sensation be replaced by his practiced, fast, rough digits. 

The difference was electric. Your own clumsy desperation was replaced by a calculated, rhythmic pressure that had your eyes rolling back in your head almost instantly. Seungmin knew exactly how to touch you, how to circle that swollen nerve with a precision that bordered on cruel, matching the sharp, shallow thrusts of his hips. "Look at that," he groaned, his voice thick with arousal as he watched your face contort in pleasure. "You needed this, didn't you? Needed someone to take control because you can't even make yourself cum properly without my help." The dual stimulation was overwhelming, the drag of his cock inside you perfectly timed with the relentless friction of his fingers, pushing you higher and higher until your entire body felt like a live wire ready to snap. 

When the orgasm finally tore through you, it wasn't a gentle wave but a violent, shattering crash. Your back arched off the mattress, a silent scream tearing from your throat as your walls clenched down on him like a vice, your whole body shaking uncontrollably. Seungmin didn't stop; if anything, he fucked you through it harder, his fingers still working your clit with ruthless efficiency as he chased his own high. "Thaaat's it," he gritted out, his hips snapping erratically now, losing that polished rhythm as the pleasure mounted. "Yeah, fuck. Say my name baby. Say it." 

"Seungmin! Seungmin, oh god, yes!" The name tore from your throat in a ragged scream, your voice cracking as the intensity of the overstimulation bordered on pain. He groaned low in his chest, the sound vibrating against your own chest as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his rhythm finally fracturing into something erratic and desperate. He abandoned your clit to grip the headboard with both hands, using the leverage to fuck into you with a brutal, deep pace that punched the air out of your lungs with every thrust. 

He pulled out suddenly, leaving you feeling achingly empty and gasping, your body still twitching with the aftershocks. Before you could even process the loss, he stripped the condom off—if he had even remembered to grab one in the haze—and stroked himself furiously, pushing himself back in. 

The raw, velvety friction of him inside you without the barrier was blinding, a wet heat that felt infinitely more intimate and overwhelming. You gasped at the sensation, your walls fluttering wildly around the bare intrusion, but he didn't give you a moment to adjust. He snapped his hips forward with a reckless abandon he hadn't allowed himself before, chasing his release with a singular focus. "Oh fuck, yes, yes, yes. Ooh fuck, so good." He grit out. 

Those groans rapidly transitioned into full fledge moans, a stark contrast to what he sounded like before. It was extremely lewd; pornographic, in a way. 

"Fuck seungmin, might cum again." 

"No." he growled, though the strain in his voice suggested he was hanging on by a thread. He drove into you with a desperation that bordered on feral, the wet slap of skin against skin sounding deafening in the quiet room. The lack of barriers meant every ridge and vein dragged against your sensitive inner walls with excruciating clarity, the friction so intense it bordered on unbearable, stoking the fire in your belly back to life despite your exhaustion. "I want to feel you cream around me. I want to make a mess of this pretty pussy until you can't remember what it feels like to be empty. You're going to take every drop, aren't you? Good girl, milk me dry." 

His rhythm became erratic, his hips snapping forward with short, jabs that hit so deep you saw stars, his control finally splintering under the weight of his own need. "Look at me," he demanded, his voice cracking into a high, breathless moan that was so uncharacteristically vulnerable it shattered something inside you. His eyes, usually so sharp and guarded, were glazed over with pure, unadulterated ecstasy, his mouth hanging open as he panted against your lips. "I'm gonna—fuck, I'm gonna fill you up. Gonna ruin you for anyone else. You're mine. Say it! Tell me you're mine!" 

"I'm yours!" you sobbed, your fingernails digging into his shoulders hard enough to draw blood as your body was wracked by the force of his thrusts. "Fuck yeah. Say my name, say it loud." 

"Seungmin!" you screamed, his name tearing from your throat with a raw desperation that seemed to shake the very foundations of the room. It wasn't just a name; it was a plea, a prayer, and a surrender all at once, loud enough that you were certain it bled through the thin walls and silenced the living room completely. The sound of his name falling from your lips seemed to be his undoing. With a guttural, broken moan that sounded more like a sob than anything else, he buried himself to the hilt one last time, his hips stuttering violently as he finally let go. "Take it," he gasped, his face contorted in pure ecstasy as he spilled inside you. His eyes were rolled completely back, mouth agape, moans spilling out of his mouth. Seems like the first time he's came in his life. 

The heat of his release was intense, flooding you in thick, pulsing waves that seemed endless, marking you from the inside out with a possessiveness that stole the breath from your lungs. You could feel him throbbing against your sensitive walls, coating you in the evidence of his pleasure, a sensation so raw and intimate that it triggered smaller, echoing aftershocks deep within your core. He collapsed on top of you, his full weight pressing you into the mattress, his face buried in the crook of your neck as he shuddered through the final spurts of his climax. Miraculously enough, he managed to get right back up, body still trembling but motives driven by you. His fingers slowly formed a curl as they entered you, drawing a whimper from you. "A-ah min, you don't need to. Rest. I'm okay."  

"Shh. I'm not done until you've squirted on these sheets, remember? My cock being limp doesn't mean anything." 

"Min, please, I can't," you whimpered, your voice wrecked and trembling as your hips tried to shy away from his touch, but he held you firm with a hand splayed across your stomach, pinning you to the mattress. "You can," he corrected, his voice a raspy purr against your ear, laced with a dark, terrifying certainty. "I know your body better than you do, Y/N. I felt how close you were. You’re going to give me one more, right here, right now." He curled his fingers upward, finding that spongy, sensitive spot inside you with unerring precision, and rubbed it in a ruthless 'come here' motion. The stimulation was sharp and overwhelming, bypassing your exhaustion entirely to send a jolt of electricity racing up your spine. Your back arched off the bed involuntarily, a broken sob tearing from your throat as he forced you to take it, his other hand moving down to press down hard on your lower belly, increasing the internal pressure until you felt like you were going to burst. 

He watched your face with rapt attention, his dark eyes cataloging every flutter of your eyelids and every gasp of breath, drinking in your undoing like it was the finest wine. "That's my baby. So pretty, look at you. My angel." he hummed, kissing a gentle line down your neck. 

The juxtaposition was enough to make your head spin; the sweet, reverent tone of his voice contrasted violently with the ruthless, mechanical precision of his fingers. He was treating you like a fragile doll while simultaneously dismantling you, the pressure bordering on unbearable as he worked that spot inside you without mercy. "You're trembling," he observed softly, pressing a wet, open-mouthed kiss to your racing pulse, his fingers hooking deeper, faster, dragging a broken cry from your throat. "Is it too much? Or just enough? Come on, angel, let go. Don't hold it back for me. I know you're full. I want to see it." 

Your body was no longer your own; it was a live wire pulled taut, vibrating under his command. The pressure built to a crescendo, a white-hot knot in your stomach that demanded release, terrifying in its intensity. You tried to clamp your legs shut, to escape the onslaught of sensation, but he was nestled firmly between them, his shoulder holding you open. "Min, please, I— oh god, I can't, it's— No! N-Not on his bed, for fucks sake! I cant!" 

"Too late for that," he dismissed with a cruel, breathless laugh, his eyes glinting with a wicked sadism that made your stomach drop. "You should have thought about that before you let me bend you over it. Besides, look at you—so desperate to hold it in, but your body is begging to let go. Be a good girl and make a mess for me." He didn't let up; if anything, the heel of his other hand ground down harder on your lower abdomen. At this point, it just felt like he was forcing you to pee. "Min! Stop! This-- what are you doing??" 

"Shh, trust me," he murmured against your sweat-slicked skin, though the dark, challenging glint in his eyes betrayed his sadistic intent. He increased the speed of his fingers, the wet, squelching sounds obscenely loud in the quiet room, driving you closer to that terrifying precipice. "It feels like you need to, but I promise you, it's not that. It's just pleasure. Too much of it." He pressed down on your lower belly with his free hand, the pressure forcing your hips to buck off the mattress involuntarily, the stimulation so intense it blurred the lines between pain and ecstasy. "Feel good? Like it when I press?" 

"Fuck," is all you could manage. 

He took your broken curse as a surrender, sealing your lips with a kiss that was surprisingly tender given the way his fingers were currently wrecking you. It was a slow, deep melding of mouths that tasted of salt and desperation, his tongue lazily stroking yours while his hand worked you over with a brutal, efficient cadence. The dual sensations—the soft worship of his mouth versus the ruthless devastation of his fingers—short-circuited your brain, leaving you floating in a hazy limbo where the only thing that mattered was the pressure building low in your gut. "I can feel it," he whispered against your lips, his voice smug and dark. "You're squeezing my fingers so tight, baby. Don't fight it. You're going to make a mess, and you're going to look so pretty doing it." 

When the release finally tore through you, it was violent and unfamiliar, a gushing rush that shattered your self-control completely. Your vision went white, a high, keen sound tearing from your throat as your body locked up and then convulsed, fluid gushing around his fingers and soaking the sheets beneath you. The sensation was shocking, an overwhelming flood of relief mixed with a deep, burning embarrassment as you felt the wetness spread beneath your thighs, proof of exactly how thoroughly he had dismantled you. Seungmin didn't pull away; he groaned deeply in approval, milking it out of you with slow, deliberate thrusts of his fingers, pressing down on your lower belly to prolong the flow until you were a trembling, sobbing wreck beneath him. 

He finally withdrew his fingers, the loss leaving you feeling hollow and throbbing, your chest heaving as you tried to remember how to breathe. He brought his hand up between your faces, his fingers glistening and dripping with your release, his dark eyes locked onto yours with a heavy, satisfied gaze. Without breaking eye contact, he brought those fingers to his lips, sucking them clean with an obscene, wet sound that sent a fresh jolt of electricity through your overstimulated system. 

He hummed around his digits, a low, vibrating sound of satisfaction that seemed to mock your shattered state. When he pulled them from his mouth, they were clean, glistening only with saliva, and he leaned down to capture your lips again. The kiss was slow and filthy, forcing you to taste the salt and musk of your own release, a deliberate, branding gesture that stole the air from your lungs. "Tastes like heaven," he murmured against your mouth, his voice rough but laced with that terrifying, soft affection that disarmed you more than the violence had. He pulled back to look at you, his gaze sweeping over your wrecked expression, your tear-stained cheeks, and the debauched mess of your body spread out before him. "You okay?" 

You could only manage a weak, breathless nod, your body still twitching with the ghost of the pleasure he’d forced upon you. The reality of where you were crashed down around you—Chan’s room, the thin walls, the absolute silence that had fallen over the apartment. Seungmin seemed entirely unbothered by the consequences, his focus narrowing down to the aftermath, the cleanup, the care. "Does it hurt? Thirsty, at all? I don't mind going out to grab you a glass of water." 

"Water," you rasped, your voice sounding like sandpaper against the rawness of your throat, the single word, the only thing your battered mind could conjure up. Seungmin just nodded, that familiar, softness returning to his features as if a switch had been flipped, though the dark, satiated glint in his eyes remained a testament to what had just transpired. He climbed off the bed with an easy grace, completely unashamed of his nudity, and began to redress with methodical calm. You watched him through half-lidded eyes, your body feeling heavy and boneless, unable to do anything but track the movement of his lean muscles as he pulled his clothes back on, the domesticity of the action bizarrely jarring against the chaotic mess of fluids cooling on Chan’s sheets. 

"I'll be right back," he murmured, leaning over to brush a stray hair away from your sweaty forehead, pressing a kiss to the skin that was so gentle it made your heart ache. He didn't bother to close the door fully when he slipped out. 

The apartment was steeped in a heavy, suffocating silence, the kind that feels physical in its weight. As Seungmin stepped into the living room, he was met not with laughter or judgment, but with seven pairs of eyes wide, fixed on him. "Yeah, sorry about that chan. I'll clean up, only because that's my girlfriends' residue. I wouldn't bother to otherwise." 

Chan didn't even respond with words; his mouth pressed thin as he hummed. 

 "Seungmin." Changbin mustered up. The next thing he was able to manage was "Sorry. So sorry. Sorry. I feel like i should have left. I dont know why I didn't. That was bad. Not you. Me. Well, okay its your fault. But its only natural. it's not her. it's not anyone. It's..." 

"It's nature," Seungmin finished for him, his voice devoid of any shame, carrying that same dry, matter-of-fact tone he used when correcting someone’s grammar. He walked past the frozen group toward the kitchen, the silence stretching tight enough to snap. "You all spent months talking about me like I was some sexless house pet. Did you expect me to stay celibate forever because I’m polite?" He let out a short, cynical chuckle, filling a glass with water from the tap, the sound shockingly loud. "News flash: being gentle doesn't mean I'm incapable. It just means I have control. Though, I think I proved I can lose that just fine when the motivation is right." He took a slow sip, his eyes sweeping over his friends' stunned faces, savoring the shift in the atmosphere—from mockery to something akin to intimidated awe. 

He turned back toward the hallway, ignoring the way Changbin was covering his face with his hands and Chan was staring resolutely at the ceiling as if asking the cosmos for strength. "If anyone asks, Y/N isn't feeling well. She had too much to drink," Seungmin said, gesturing vaguely with the water glass, rewriting the narrative with effortless command. "And if I were you, I’d burn those sheets, Chan. Seriously." He didn't wait for a response, turning on his heel and heading back into the bedroom, the click of the door shutting out the judgment of the living room and sealing the two of you back in your own world. 

The atmosphere inside the bedroom was thick, heavy with the scent of sex and sweat, a stark contrast to the sterile tension of the hallway. Seungmin’s expression softened the instant his eyes found you, the harsh dominance melting back into that familiar, gentle warmth as he sat on the edge of the bed. He helped you sit up, guiding the glass to your lips with a tenderness that made your head spin, his free hand stroking your hair back from your face. "Easy now," he murmured, watching you drink with dark, satisfied eyes. "You did so good for me. Took everything I gave you." He set the glass down on the nightstand and pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering against your skin. "Let's get you cleaned up and home, hmm? I'll setup our bed, get you some good sleep... Unless your hungry?" 

"I could eat," you admitted, your voice barely audible as you leaned into his touch. "But it's not food that I'm hungry for." 

© bahngnxxx 2026 | copying, translating or stealing my work is prohibited

[ironicorange-hetalia]

feeling a lil bittersweet since then that i just want to make a real life situation scenarios as an AmeRus AU

[bahngnxxx]

୧ ‧₊🎧 No turning back once we’re connected. 

Dentist bangchan x !f!paitent 

author's note: I was at the dentist and I was sleepy asf, but then this fineass doctor came in and absolutely PENATRATED my mouth with his hands and that got me thinking about bangchan, since earlier i was watching thirst traps before entering the appointment lol. Im ovulating so i jus wanna get straight to the smut... pls spare me, this is my first fic. Ill write better ones, not just pure smut. TmT Anygays, enjoy!! 

word count: 5.3k 

warnings: (NOT PROOF RED) p in v (unprotected, NAURRR) vaginal creampie, multiple orgasms, fem overstimulation, nipple pinching/biting, biting overall, vaginal fingering, eating out (both fxm), dirty talk, slight sadism, spanking, squirting, possible impregnation, dry humping, a bit of piss, clitplay.. Too lazy to list anymore. Lmk if sumn catches your eye, but overall this is just a really filthy one.🤷‍♀️ 

A cold, chilling woosh of air hits you, the automatic doors swinging open, the gentle cool breeze of the AC brushing against your skin, causing a slight grow of goosebumps against you. You clocked in at the entrance for your first dentist appointment after 3 months of being abroad, so the difference between the humid air of palm springs and the cool contrasting air of Canada really didn’t sit well with you. You were still jetlagged too, so maybe you could shut your eyes during your appointment, I don’t think the doctor would mind. You don’t think you could keep your eyes open for any longer, anyways. 

You gently sat down on a coach in the distance. You had booked an appointment down near the south, suburb corner of town. The places lounge was small, crowded, but managed to still have a nice cozy essence to it, a tv table at front, small beige couches stacked all around, plants and trees hanging off from the wooden plated walls and light spruce floors, the scent of minty Colgate mixed with a fresh smell of coffee filling the lounge. You nuzzled into the pale couch, scrolling away on your phone to some k-pop thirst traps on your free time, adjusting the bra strap that hung out of your off shouldered white sweater, clinging around your curves slightly, your body slumped down lazily, legs spread out shamelessly, until a doctor had called out for you, startling you. You stood up straight, brushing off yourself before bowing down apologetically, following the lady down a long hall, until you had arrived to the room.  

As usual, the room was white like an asylum, a long chair centered in the middle of the chaos, a large light gazing over it as well as a tv attached to the ceiling. There was a crack of golden sunlight peeking through the room, giving a nice crisp color to it. You laid down onto the seat as the doctor told you to, and did the average things like plucking and tapping at your teeth with a bunch of pointy gadgets, blah blah, the usual. She then nodded and went outside the room, assumingly calling your new doctor. 

Ever since you had switched to the southern side of town, and doing things, there seemed to be a lot of Koreans working in the area, not that you were complaining, and you had a suspicion for your new doctor. He went by Chris, or Christopher, but you did a little digging to catch a glimpse of the name ‘Bang Chan’ and that unleashed a fantasy in you, so you’d hope that you would get a nice Korean doctor. You were single and in your mid-twenties anyways, it’s time you’d find a partner.  

You heard some shuffling in the halls, and they approached closer before a black heeled shoe entered the room, then another, and then he popped into the room. A man who looked a year or two older then you, his hair a crisp black and middle parted, going down to his neck, slightly shaggy and curly, his eyes wide and kind, but also so seducing in a way, his nose larger than usual and a diamond piercing on one side, as well as small hoops in his ears and a chain around his thick slender neck, and oh my gosh, he had his coat off, and had this BODY CLENCHING black shirt on, revealing the massive tits and curved abs he had. His lips were large and plump, nothing like you’ve seen before, his tongue slightly out as his eyes slowly crept their way towards your gaze, his mouth crinkling into a jaw dropping smile, dimples forming on both sides of his cheeks, his aegyo Sal puffing up and his eyes wrinkling on the sides as he did. His eyes formed to small crescents as he smiled, a kind twinkle in them. HOLY FUCK.  

Your jaw was dropped. You sat there on the long chair, your body hunched over as you stared at him with wide eyes, you looked like an idiot, honestly. He let out a breathless chuckle as he walked over to you, spinning the scaler perfectly in between his gloved, veiny hands. “So how’ya doing today?”  

He spoke in a deep, but kind voice, with a rich Australian accent. You let out a stuttered, shy response as he pumped the seat downwards until you were lying flat, his face towering over yours, only his eyes visible now, the mask covering the rest. “U-uh yeah, I’m good.. How about you..?” 

 He smiled back down at you, his chest heaving over your head as he moved the strands of messy hair off of your face, sending heat through your abdomen through your stomach. It felt like there were butterflies—no, birds flying in your stomach. You bit on your lower lip, as he set a gentle thumb on your chin. “Hmm, pretty good, thanks. How ‘bout you open wide for me, yeah?” 

 and you almost immediately followed his command, widening your jaw, a line of spit against your tongue and tooth. Two of his fingers entered your jaw, coated in your spit as he pressed down on your tongue lightly. You were ovulating too, so this didn’t make it any better at all. You held back a whimper, fighting demons against yourself. You fidgeted with your hands below your lap, curling your feet upwards, and he could sense your nervousness, letting out small breathy laughs. “Good girl, relax. I’m not gonna eat’chya.”  

and again, immediately, your body loosened--almost a little too much—going limp and melting under his words. There was a calm jazz playing over the radio, the crisp golden sunlight hitting his blazing eyes, and ever so lightly brushing against his black, curled locks.  

All through his work, he didn’t seem to be paying attention to your mouth, not at all, honestly. He just kept staring into your eyes, his eyes crinkled up ever so slightly, meaning that he must still have a smile under his face. He just wouldn’t stop smiling, it staying, his intense gaze remaining on you as he tapped on each of your teeth, his fingers tracing around your mouth, exploring it. His eyes just got heavier and heavier on you, narrowing slightly down subtly before he stood up and grabbed those mini mirror things up from a shelf, unwrapping it from its shell and discarding of the flimsy plastic before he shone that damn light from above onto you, blinding you. You squinted at the light before looking back at him. He provided some sort of shadow from the light, so you relied on staring at him back, since you didn't really have any other choice.  

The wind outside started to densen up, the once sunny outside sending a dark shadow through the room, the dim lamp now being your only support of light. You hated the light at first, but now you were holding onto your dear life with it. You don’t think you could survive farther then 5 more minutes, or you would go wild. You clenched your thighs shut tight, which he immediately and shamelessly switched his attention to. His eyes narrowed further at your legs, his seducing gaze running up and down them. Theres no way that your dentist is doing this. No way hes checking you out, but no matter how much you denied it, he totally was. He looked back up at you, now only one of his eyes crinkled, his eyebrow cocked up. “Something bothering you?” 

 he spoke in a low, more breathy tone now, taking his hands out of your mouth and sliding his gloves off, his veiny hands now clear to you. You breathe caught in your throat as you let out a shakey response.  

“You.” you whispered; you don’t know why you said that. You slapped a hand over your mouth, your eyes slightly wide, cheeks turning red, and almost immediately, Chan smiled deviously, removing his mask and closing the door behind him, sitting back on the wheelie chair, spinning back to you, his hands now levitating over your chest. “Hm? What was that? Couldn’t quite hear you.”  

You let out a hitched breath, your eyes fluttering shut halfway as your back arched towards his hands until you were now sitting up, lodged up against the chair in a restrained position, both his veiny slender forearms propped up in the crevasses of your waist. “Gettin’ comfy, hm? If you want it, say it.”  

“P-please Bang Chan.”  

he let out that deep, incredibly sexy chuckle, smooth as butter, and almost instantly did your panties fill with a gush of arousal. With that, his final strings of restraint tore apart, his mouth drifting over to yours, his lips lush against your thirsted tongue. He fought a rough battle with your mouth, his tongue darting delving deeper into you, exploring every inch of your wet throat, his fingers now grazing over and under your thick sweater, pulling your shirt up with a swipe as he unclipped your bra with one veiny hand, still working at your mouth. His rough thumbs drifting over your plump bottom lip, extending your jaw for deeper access. His lips parted away from yours, his breath growly and panting before he looked up at you with that damned, deep dimpled grin, his mouth leaving a wet trail down your chin and neck, to your collarbone and straight to the cleavage of your breasts, the tips of his fingers slowly making its way to your tits, curling around the velvety, thick material.  

You let out a high-pitched whine—near a yelp as you bucked your breasts up toward his hands, another quick gush of arousal filling your already soaked panties. “F-fuck Chris--.. what if.. We get caught...?” 

 he looked up at you, his mouth still latched at you like a leech, with wide eyes, almost innocent looking despite the situation, but quickly they narrowed to those same teasing eyes as he hooked off you, a string of spit on his tongue that dribbled down the cleavage of your boobs. He silently brought a finger to his mouth, shushing you before he slowly led his soft puckered mouth to your tit, his breathe hot against your hardened, perked up brown patch. He agonizingly brought his tongue around it, his lips curling around the tip of it as he suckled on your soft breast. You couldn’t help but let out small squeals as he licked and slurped at you, his free hand sliding down the side of your waist and to your small pretty jeaned up pussy, clenching the fat top layer before a finger slid slick into your folds, the outline of your throbbing clit palpable through the thick fabric. Your hips buckled towards his fingers in a desperate attempt for some sort of friction, his slender calloused hands curling up into your aching core through the fabric, his plump lips latching off your nipples with a soft moan. He soothed the aching sensation on your nips with a few gentle kisses as he pulled off your shirt, you were bare and had those porn star like tits. Not too big, but perky and rounded for sure. He led his hungered gaze over them. “So pretty.”  

he breathed out. The soon admiring gaze snapped back to in between your legs, you were clamping them shut against his hands, needily grinding and humping against him. He popped his hand from between your heat and with one swift motion, picked you up from the chair and SAT in it HIMSELF. You were about to scoff before he pulled you onto his lap, in the type of position where your perfect little ass was laid above his muscular thighs, your legs straddling him from both sides, his dick standing straight up right before your camel toed pussy, your cheeks tinting a bright rosey red. “Move those hips pretty girl. Need your clit rubbing ‘gainst me, yeah?”  

you are NOT his strongest solider because holy shit, the way this man has spells over you.. You start to transfer your heavy hips atop his and grinding downwards to his cock, but he lets out a ‘tch’ and holds your love handles to stop you from moving. “This won’t do. Need you in those pretty pink panties.” 

 now how the hell did he know what color it was? Whatever, and with a huff you start to unzip those tight jeans from off your legs until your pants were on the floor. His own slacks met yours on the floor in a crumpled mess, and God was it huge, full of girth and length, it was dying to be released from the boxers, like a huge water bottle in his garments.  

You were so turned on, you knew exactly the feeling, you needed him now. You were a hot mess, you wanted and needed him so quickly and without much thought, you sat back on his lap, trying to put your embarrassment aside, you sat down facing him, with your legs in the air on either side of the chair, Chan was surprised and felt so delightful your weight on his erection, he didn’t think you were going to position yourself like that but you left him absolutely charmed. You were dealing with the bulge between his pants pressing against your pussy. He was so hard, you could feel it if only through the slightly thick, rough cotton of his black garments. Just the thought of seeing his cock made your skin bristle with excitement. And suddenly, a wave of confidence hit you, a little too strong like a slap in the face, and now you were gliding your flaps perfectly through his shaft, apparent through boxers. You could feel the way the hard girth pulsated and pushed into your wet entrance even through the fabric, the mix of his precum in his shorts and your slick making it intoxicating and barely bare able. As the grinding of yours against him got more intense, small pants left his parted lips, hips bucking up often with every push of your pussy down against him.  

Chan moaned, letting out soft, melodic “A-aah, mmnh..” and then he raised his gaze, staring into your eyes, causing you to shiver at his lustful stare. “Fuck, look at you moving for me like that, keep doing what ‘your doing, just like that.. So good, love.” he licked his lips, leveling his face with yours, talking to you in such a sultry tone that it made your cheeks hot. You were so pathetically horny and starved that you were enjoying to the fullest-- bouncing on Chan’s cock under the hard cotton, pressing all over your pussy, your labia, moving them nimbly that it made you blur your vision.  

“God yeah-- you’re doing so good, beautiful.” His voice aroused you more and more bringing you so close to your orgasm, you were so concentrated in the sensation of your movements on his cock, you couldn’t stop, you moved your hips and Chan helped you with his hands squeezing your waist, guiding your every hump; you felt so hot and trapped, so desperate to get your clothes off but you didn’t want to stop, you weren’t going to stop until you were tired, it was as if you had no choice but to climax right now, just like this, and under his gaze it was physically impossible, flushed and sweaty, eager, watching you with keen, firey eyes. Chan was sighing and straining to make you feel good at the same time you were making him feel that effect on him, squeezing his cock so hard, expelling precum and not so far from his ejaculation. 

 Chris bit his lower lip and caught your mouth again, touching your restless and desperate body, he was about to cum. You were starting to get tired but it was a tiredness so inexplicably pleasurable, your chest was burning from the constant strong heartbeat. You were at your limit and you were doing almost nothing, but both of you were a mess of heaving breaths, Chan didn’t want to change anything about you either at that moment, he just squeezed you tightly enjoying every movement until he cum inside his underwear, in a gasp, throwing his head back, feeling one pressure release pleasantly but another coming so abruptly and quickly not wanting to finish yet with you. You held onto his shoulders tightly, pressed your legs into his body, Chan knew you were close so he encouraged you, with a kiss on your mouth half open and words that warmed even your ears. “Go on, cum, princess, let yourself go… Cum for me.” 

You gasped in despair and a little high-pitched moan, you cum all over your panties, leaving you flushed, breathless and with your pussy sticky. Seconds later you wanted to catch your breath, you still felt immobile before his big hands squeezing your body, you were at levels of agitation you didn’t think you’d reach in the near future with another guy. He was so the one, no matter a side chick from a new dentist you just met, you’d be booking appointments weekly with the daily pathetic excuse of tooth aches. That's one way to go.  

One orgasm down, so many more to go, left a sloppy panting mess atop him, he gently carries you until you're sitting at the side of the chair, on the edge, legs spread wide, head in a daze, not a care in your eyes until the sensation of his cold hands hits your underwear – a loss of warmth but a new sensation. Only when you look down is when you catch the concentrated man on his knees for you, peeling off your pink panties and licking the slick off of it so none went to waste, letting out an approving hum.  

“You taste so fucking good.” 

Chan said it, in such a thick voice so lost in the image of your pussy. You were a hot trembling mess, letting out a shuddered moan as you felt his warm, full lips on the skin of your plump mons pubis, giving you kisses and leaving little hickeys down his way until his mouth took your clit, making you squeal; you were beginning to relax and let yourself be carried away by the tingling of the tip of his index finger caressing your soft, moist vulva, playing with your wetness, until two of his fingers teased your entrance until he inserted his fingers, while his mouth never let go of your sensitive spot, licking and sucking it gently, causing you pleasure and the beginning of trembling in your legs. 

Chan fucked you gently and deeply for a few moments, teasing you and reaching sweet places inside your tight pussy, but he withdrew his fingers from you, positioned both his hands on your thighs, squeezing them gently and began to move his mouth all the way down your vulva, licking the right places, sucking delightfully on your labia and filling himself with you, from his chin to his nose, so focused working on you. You felt so hot, and he looked so good eating you out while you were a panting mess, arching your back and being pleasured. Your slick dripped its way down his chin, covering his faces with your whipped up, once clear but now creamy and sweet juices. “Fuck," He groaned out, lapping up and sucking at your clit, then going back down to collect your juices.  

You were close, again, your hips stuttering against his plump lips as he alternated from eating your pussy to sucking at your clit. He could feel the way your hips bucked up, the way your needy pussy clenched around his tongue, before with one last suck of your vagina, he slid up and started going savage onto your clit, opening his mouth with a wide grin, flicking his tongue against you as he plunged two fingers, slick with spit inside of your already seeping pussy, thrusting in and out and curling his fingers up in a way that was sure to drive you over the edge, and so it did, a mix of juices and release spewing all over his fingers, up to the muscles of his forearms, squealing out his name in a desperate moan.

 “Chris- chrischris—c-christopher!! Cumming!!” 

He stared at you in awe and immense pleasure, cock twitching in his boxers as he witnessed your climax, shaking and trembling, heartbeat pounding, sweat dripping, hot and messy flushed face, hips bucking up so high he could have sworn he was seeing stars, and before you knew it the sound of fabric sliding down filled your sensitive, worn-out ears, and a deep sensation hit your overstimulated pussy. 

Within seconds, as you came down from your haze, you were immediately sent back to that trance but so much deeper as his girthed cock unmercifully pounded its way deep into your pussy, kissing your cervix with every deep thrust. His hips slam against yours as he slides back in, you're so warm and wet around him that he's losing his mind. He's like a rabbit in heat as he moves his hips, harder and harder, his balls hitting your ass and the sounds that leaves your lips encourages him more. One minute you have your legs wrapped around his waist pulling him deeper and the next your legs are against your chest as Chan's large hands are on the back of your thighs as he slams his hips against yours again. He's hypnotized. Your pussy sucking in dick so well, and you're taking it like a good girl too. Tears falling from your eyes and words leave your lips but he doesn't really understand what you're saying. The word daddy leaves your lips, and you chant it over and over.  

You felt so full, his dick filling you up so nicely and you honestly believe that you could cum just like this. And the way the tip of his head hits your sweet spot it makes you feel on cloud nine. Thrusting into you with a sharp hit of his hips, and you internally cringe at yourself for hiccupping at the force. “G-god-!!” is all you manage to say as he continues slamming his hips into you at a painfully slow pace, looking you dead in the eye as you crumble beneath his intense gaze. 

gripping at his biceps and biting your lip as an attempt to keep your moans in, but the little whimpers and whines end up spilling out anyway. You can feel Chan's cock twitch inside you every time you say yes for him, especially with the way your walls are throbbing around his length as he groans the words “good girl” in the midst of it all. 

“So so good for me,” he continues, grinding his hips in a way that makes his pelvis graze your clit rhythmically, and you’re sure you’re seeing stars once his hand finds your neck, just resting it there to get your attention. “W-want you to fill me up so bad,” you whimper, and he lets a groan out right after you… one that makes your stomach flutter with emotions given how beautiful it sounded. 

“Channie--” you blabber out pathetically, your own mouth filling with saliva at how amazing he’s making you feel right now. “P-please-!!” you cry out, and it’s a weak cry. He finally lets his lips find yours in a needy kiss, and a string of spit keeps y’all together as he breaks away to let out a moan of his own, but you’re pulling him back into you, wanting him to be as close as possible to you in this moment.  

“Feels so fucking good inside you, sooo fucking good,” he grunts, and you know he’s almost close just from the way his eyebrows are screwing into adorable little crinkles, his thrusts becoming sloppier and sloppier by the second. 

“F-fuck-” you mewl against his lips, feeling the knot in your own stomach tighten as his cock hit mesmerizing places inside you. He keeps his hand snug around your neck while looking into your eyes, and his hips can’t bare to piston into your cunt any longer once your walls clench around him, making him feel dizzy in the head. At that point, hes too far in to care about anything, gripping your ass cheek with an intense need as his hands lands a hard slap against it, leaving a red stain of his handprint on your cheek, the stinging pain of his hands and soothing rubs making you go insane.

With each 3-4 hard thrusts, he adds in a hard WACK, marking both cheeks with a rosey red that looked like it was blushing, and soon enough he was lifting one leg straight up like a candle, toes curled as he fucked deep into you, with a new refreshment that was only yours to claim, luckily enough. He fucked into you with a matched fervor that can only be described as wild, and with that, chan finally lets himself go, barely getting any extra thrusts in before painting your walls with his hot release, groaning shamelessly like a porn star. “Oh my God,” he grunts with a strained voice, using his last bit of strength to prevent himself from collapsing on top of you given how spent he is now. He pops out of you soon enough, after having his soft cock warmed up by your wet walls, his cum seeping out of your used pussy, but his cock doesn’t look... normal. Its soft yet still kind of up, like maybe his balls were too big and propping it up? No, it was infact still semi-hard, his eyes meeting yours with a mutual agreement, a challenge, as if asking to help him out, and so you did, backing up into the marbled countertops containing of those small sinks and that random hole filled with garbage.  

His hand slides to the back of your neck, firm but gentle, and pulls you closer. “Good girl,” he praises, voice laced with an almost indistinguishable amount of contempt, and it has you reeling. You lick a bit along his tip, slowly and gently kissing along the sensitive skin, and you can already feel it start to rise along your lips. His fingers weave through your hair with a slow sigh. You press another kiss to the side of his cock, soft at first, as if tasting the moment before plunging in. His body shudders. The saltiness lingers on your tongue as you part your lips wider, slowly taking him into your mouth. “Fuck,” he breathes, the word barely audible, more an exhale than speech.  

His hand slightly tightens in your hair, not pulling, just holding, grounding himself. You hollow your cheeks, sliding further forward, and the groan that rumbles in his chest sends a thrill through you. The weight of him is heavy on your tongue, and you let yourself sink into a languid pace, drawing him in, inch by inch, savoring the way his body reacts. His hips jerk, just a little, involuntarily, and you can’t help the slight moan that leaves your throat. The sound and vibration seem to undo him.  

“You’re so fucking good at this,” Chan grunts, his voice rough around the edges, raw with need. His hand cups the back of your head, guiding you—not forcing, but encouraging—as you take him deeper, working with a mix of tongue, lips, and a shit ton of spit. 

You glance up, catching his gaze. A carnal glint is in his stare, and he smiles. Fuck. The sight of him nearly takes your breath away. His jaw falls slack, his lips part, and his eyes lock on you—heavy-lidded and burning with something primal. The tension in his thighs grow as you continue, a gradual acceleration in the way you take him in. The soft, wet sounds fill the air, mingling with his labored breaths and low groans. His thumb brushes your cheek, a ticklish touch that feels oddly tender amidst the heat. “Just like that,” Chan murmurs, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Don’t stop. You’re—perfect.” You give an hum, letting it thrum in your mouth. Chan whimpers and it’s an absolutely beautiful thing to hear. You hum again, louder this time. Your chest heaves at the limited breathing but Chan is slowly losing his sense of control and it arouses you, motivates you to keep going. “God, your skilled. I work in oral care, yet you seem to be better at it.” Chan laughs to himself, head thrown back, words spiked with unmistakable lust. His hands move to your shoulders, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he fights the urge to thrust into your mouth. “I won’t last if you keep going like that.” His voice cracks, betraying the thin line of self-control he’s holding onto. You pull back slightly, just enough to take a breath, then bob your head back into his girth, but this time you take him deep and you swear you can catch glimpse of his soul leaving his body, eyes rolling back and brows furrowed in a pornographic way. You choke and gag slightly on his cock, but being the sadistic girl you are, you take pleasure in the way he thrusts less carelessly into your mouth, fucking into you as he tugs on your hair as a guide, the only pillar of support besides the cold counter behind him, his other hand holding onto the edge so he wouldn’t slip, but the moment you hollow your cheeks again and gaze up at him with that stare is when he looses it. Before he could mutter any more words, he just lets out a series of swears. “F-fucking hell-! O-oh my god cumming--” 

And a hot liquid fills your throat, forcing its way inside until your throat is sore, raw and hot from his salty liquids. It’s murky and a bit penny-like in a way, but your addicted to the taste that would normally seem gross. As you pull back with a mix of spit and cum on your tongue, he ruffles up your hair and helps stand you up, kissing an awkward kiss onto your messy forehead as he sets you back down onto the chair, scooping out the remains of his liquid out of your spent pussy and dabbing it up with a tissue, the light fabric teasing your overstimulated clit, drawing a whine out of you. He gently hushes you and continues to clean you up and pack up his stuff.  

“Until next time, yeah? And wear those pink panties again, they look good on you.” He waves out with a charming wink, despite his current state. 

God, this man. Guess your next appointment won’t just be one type of oral... 

[good-sailing-starbuck]

godspell is kind of stupid so far