genre — established relationship, suggestive fluff, gaming, smut MDNI!!
pairing — female!reader x boyfriend!Mingyu
summary — You're trying to beat your boyfriend at his own game. You're bad at it — but luckily, there are no rules. At least not for you. And Mingyu has no idea what kind of strategy he's about to face. Can he handle it?
word count — about 4k or 5k? [Teaser: 1,2k]
Warnings and notes under the line.
WARNINGS (for the finished fic): switch!mingyu, teasing/provocation, sexual tension, cocky Mingyu, cocky reader, lap sitting, thigh grinding, unprotected sex (pls don’t do this), reverse cowgirl!!, slight dom/sub undertones, light brat taming, dirty talk, power play if you squint, mild overstimulation, praise/degradation, possessive tones, couch sex, doggy, light breast play, light chocking, excessive use of “fuck” & “shit” (like always hehe), pet names: „baby”, will probably add more when it comes out
context for the game Tekken: Tekken is a fighting game where two players face off in one-on-one matches, using character-specific combos, timing, and quick reactions to win rounds. My favorite character has always been Hwoarang — I’ve had a crush on him ever since I was a kid… and honestly, I still do. If you know Tekken, feel free to share your favorite character in the comments, I would love to know!!
notes: Hii!! Omg, it’s been so long since I last posted something. I actually still have one big project in the works, plus three smaller one-shots planned, but I’ve been crazy busy with way too many side quests lately 😭I really hope you’re as excited for this as I am, though!! If you’d like to be added to the taglist for this fic, feel free to comment, and I’ll add you 💌 Until then, see you soon, I’m really looking forward to it! ✨
"Where's the other controller?"
Mingyu is surprised. He tilts his head, amused.
"Careful. You already lost one bet today-can your ego handle a second?"
You straighten up, looking at the screen. "First to three points wins. No rules."
His grin widens. He's still lying there, comfortably.
"I love how confident you are."
The first round is chaos-shit, you regret your big mouth a little-you barely know which buttons you're hitting, your nerves buzzing from how close he is—his thigh brushing your leg, his shoulder radiating heat. It's unfair, you think: He's been playing longer; his fingers move fast, precise. He knows what he's doing.
You lose.
He laughs. Loud. Joyful. Cruel in that affectionate Mingyu way. But still reminding you exactly how quickly you came back despite insisting you needed space.
You can do this-you can never sleep peacefully if you let him win. You demand a rematch, claiming you were only warming up. He agrees, still teasing.
Second round-
You try harder-leaning forward, locking in.
You hold your breath, don't dare blink, try to ignore his overwhelming presence.
You almost get him. You notice him slowly sitting up straighter, you smile—it seems like it's working better now.
But it stays almost.
He lands a combo.
Then another.
And before you can do anything-
Match ended. You lost. Again.
Your stomach drops.
His ego practically lights up the room. You feel your anger rising in your head with every laugh he lets out. This can't be happening.
He leans back in victory, stretching like the cockiest man alive, letting out a quiet, satisfied hum that makes your blood fizz with irritation.
His thigh brushes yours again-warm, solid, unfairly distracting.
"You know what, baby," he says softly, almost tender, "if you lose the third one too, I have a wish free."
You don't even look at him—you can't dare look at him. You refuse to let him have it. He wouldn't get what he wanted for the second time today.
You just nod; he only sees your furrowed brows.
Mingyu leans back, giving you that knowing, self-satisfied smile-the kind that makes you want to kiss it off him and slap it off him at the same time.
His fingers tighten on the controller, shoulders settling as the next round loads. He thinks he already won. He thinks you'll break first again. He thinks he's got you exactly where he wants you.
The loading screen flashes, and you move. You shift off the couch and onto your knees, placing yourself directly between him and the TV. His eyes flicker up in confusion.
"Baby-" he starts, tilting his head to the left to see around you.
You mirror him, blocking his view.
"I can't see!" He tries the right.
You lean that way too, perfectly in sync, like you rehearsed this purely to piss him off.
He laughs a little, can't believe how childish you can be sometimes.
"Really?" he asks, voice low with warning and a hint of laughter. "This is your strategy?"
"Mhm."
You shrug, unbothered. "No rules, remember?"
But you notice it doesn't really help—if anything, it looks even worse for you now.
New strategy? New strategy.
Before he can tell you off, before he can drag you out of the way-you shift and climb into his lap.
His entire body goes rigid in an instant.
You shifted back, settling onto his left thigh, your legs angled on either side of it. With your back to him, you leaned in just enough to feel the warmth of his chest close to yours-the tension beneath his skin, the brief hitch in his breath as you lowered yourself fully, your weight settling over him.
His hands freeze, still holding the controller.
Oh, you like this.
"You-" he starts, voice suddenly tight. "You can't sit on my lap."
You don't even need to turn your head to him. "You agreed on this," you murmur.
You roll your hips once. Just checking.
You feel it—the exact moment he cracks. His grip on the controller tightens. His thighs shift under you as he tries, tries so desperately, to pretend he's unaffected.
Barely a movement. Barely any pressure. You were barely on his dick. Just enough to test him.
"What's wrong?" you ask sweetly, tilting your head.
"Hard to focus?"
He grits his teeth, jaw locked. His voice is barely steady. "Fine."
„Hmh“, you make little noises. "Really?"
You roll your hips again—a slow, soft drag. Almost feeling his cock through his sweatpants, just almost. Just you and your panties, against Mingyu.
Mingyu gulps. Breath hitching. This wasn't the game he imagined. But it can't be that hard, right?
After all, it's just his girlfriend sitting seriously in his lap for once, he thinks. Especially since your pussy isn't even near his dick-just as you shift again, his eyes glide to your bare legs. It can't be that you're wearing nothing underneath, can it? You definitely don't just have panties on—your shirt rides up, shit—you only have panties on. Focus-focus, Mingyu.
You can feel it—the way his timing slips, the way he stops dodging some of your punches, the way his reactions start coming a fraction too slow. You don't know how it happens so fast, but:
He loses the round.
WIN flashes on your side of the screen.
He lets out a rough sound and throws his whole body back against the couch.
"Shit."
"That means nothing," he insists immediately-too immediately—already fumbling to reset the match.
Your lips curl into a smile you can't control. You shoot him a sideways glance, taking in the new tension in his jaw, the focused set of his brow, just enough to dig under his skin. Maybe you do want to push a few more of his buttons. Maybe you want to see when he snaps—to find the exact line of how much he can take.
Fuck, this is just too much fun.
Next match, you move more-you slide closer to his crotch. Slow friction against his cock through the thin fabric of your shorts and bare legs. His hands twitch on the controller. You hear the quiet catch in his breath. He notices he's losing control. Bingo.
"Fuck—" he mutters, brows knitting. "You're cheating."
You grind again, a little deeper. God, you can feel how he slowly gets hard.
"This won't make me lose," he tries to tell himself.
You lean closer, a quick look to him on the right, you move again. A soft moan escapes you-not loud, just enough for him to hear.
He lets out a loud sigh. "Stop-making sounds like that," he warns, but it's broken, almost a plea.
You smile. You've got him.
One hand slips to your waist, gripping, guiding you forward once-as if he just needs to feel you. His head leans on your shoulder for just a second, eyes squeezing shut, a low groan slipping out despite him trying so hard to stay composed. And this is it.
And the match ends.
You win. Again.
He looks at the screen like it betrayed him, stunned beyond words.
It's 2:2. The next round decides everything.
"This isn't fair."
"I didn't break any rules," you remind him softly, smirking.
"You'll do anything to win, won't you?," Mingyu says. You shrug.
"Fine." He exhales, he's now near your ear. "Then let me make the last round fair."
You raise a brow. Look him in his eyes now.
"We play the last match," he says, each word deliberate, controlled. His eyes stay locked on yours, sliding briefly to your lips. "While I'm inside of you."
Full version coming soon! Comment if you want to be in the taglist! See Ya! ✨ xo
Ahh!! Guys!! Thank you so much for all the love on my first fic, ˗ˏˋJealousy part I! ´ˎ˗ I never expected it to get this much love, and I’m honestly so grateful.
I’m currently working on part two, but I can’t make any promises since I’m working full-time! Let me know in the comments if you’d like to be tagged in part || when it’s out.
