how do you know that its an orgasm if you haven't had one before and on top of that you're trying to reach it on your own. HARD TO IDENTIFY A FINISH LINE IF YOU'VE NEVER SEEN THE TRACK. hard to be a navigator if you're not familiar with the roads.
Bratty Seungmin who’s been mouthing off all day because he knows it makes you so frustrated. At the end of the day when you get home you simply ignore him as punishment, much to his dismay 😚 In the end he’ll just end up whining about how horny he is until you tell him he can use your thigh… but without you helping him 😂
bro would overstimulate himself so bad trust 🙁 he’s just a horny puppy it’s not his fault 😞
-🐇
He just can't help it, he just wants you so bad :((
NSFW thoughts under the cut!
He's been messing with you all day.
He knows it, you know it, hell, you're pretty sure Chan knows it by the way he sends the both of you an exasperated look halfway through lunch.
It's like Seungmin doesn't have a single nice thing to say. He'll insult every little thing about you while still someone making it sound needy. Your hair's not sitting right (let him fix it for you by ruffling it), your coat looks frumpy (so he's going to tug on it until you snap at him), that bag doesn't match your outfit (he has to carry it, then, because the color works better with his fit), your makeup looks cakey (an excuse for him to squeeze and rub at your cheeks until they're pink from friction), your jokes aren't funny (he's retelling them to all of his friends a day later) - anything that he knows will piss you off, he's saying.
Alternatively, he doesn't even have to say anything. He might laugh too loud while talking to one of his hyungs and then glance at you like he's talking about you negatively (you know he's not), or he might swat your hand away when you reach to hold his. He'll act like you smell, or shirk away from your affection just to be all over one of his hyungs two seconds later. You would be genuinely offended if you didn't catch him stealing glances at you the whole time, eyes sharp and sparkling with something you can't place.
He's a brat who's very smart about being a brat. After being together this long, he knows your limits. He knows what's going to make you actually break, just what to say to make you actually drag him away to a seclude corner and punish him for his behavior. But he doesn't want that - he wants it to build all day, just inconvenient enough to piss you off but never enough for you to reasonably drag him away and take it out on him after each infraction. He thinks that it's going to be sooooo good when you get home tonight, already dreaming about how you're going to tie him up or make him eat you out until he's drunk on your arousal. Because he's done this before, and in his head, this is his secret little trick to get his favorite kind of "punishment", the kind that isn't really a punishment to him at all. Sure, you might edge him a little, or not let him touch, but what he gets every time is your undivided attention on him, which outweighs any of the things you think are punishments for him.
What he doesn't realize is that you've caught on. You know the glint he gets in his eye when he's doing this, the way his body gets taut with mischief and how he always gets exactly what he wants every time. You let him play his little game, react just the way he wants you too in public - exasperated and pissed off, but not so angry that he gets punished now. You know this is what he wants now when he pushes you again and again, never enough to break you now but enough for you to remember his transgressions for later. He likes to put them in the bank, you suppose, until he's so in debt to you for his actions that he lets you take take take until he has nothing left to give.
The day drags on, endless comments and little jabs from Seungmin driving you insane. You have half a mind to not even let him play this game anymore, to call him out for it in front of his hyungs and dongsaeng. Say something nasty, about how he's just acting like a brat because he wants to get fucked. Tell him to be patient, that maybe if he's good you might let his members watch, might even let them join.
(You save that thought for later, filing away the way that Seungmin flushes when Changbin manhandles him or the way he melts a bit when Chan uses the leader voice on him. Another time, another time.)
Chan brushes your hand once under the table at dinner, a quiet question of whether you're okay or not, if Seungmin's being too much, and you send him an appreciative smile.
"I'll be okay," you murmur, just low enough for only him to catch your words, "He'll get it later. Trust me."
He flushes, but gives you one sharp nod and drops it. You slide back into conversation, well aware of the questioning look that Seungmin's giving you. He can be so bratty, but the second you do one thing that he might do it gets 1000% worse. He can't take it back at all, unable to handle the idea of getting out-bratted, you suppose.
The drive home after dinner is tense. He had told you to "slow down" while you were eating dinner, rested his hand dangerously high up your thigh on multiple occasions, stolen bites off of your fork enough times that even Minho, agent of chaos, was scolding him, and made a comment about how you really, really should've worn different shoes ("those ones don't match those pants at all"). The idea of dragging him to the restaurant bathroom and walking back out with him all ruffled and high on sex got more and more appealing throughout the night, but you held back. Took deep breathes whenever he kicked you leg under the table. Talked to other people when the conversation with him turned to sharp teasing.
The walk into your apartment is silent. You hadn't invited him over, per se, but it was an unspoken rule that these kinds of days led to long nights in your apartment, and one too many close calls with Felix made it worth the risk of Dispatch potentially seeing the two of you out here. He was fidgeting with the hem of his coat now, unused to your silence. There was a pattern to these nights: you quietly tell him the whole walk up what you're going to do to him to watch him mouth back, knowing that every filthy word you were saying was making him squirm internally. You slip the key into the door, and the two of you barely get inside before you're either making out near the front door or you've forced him to kneel and wait for you while you get supplies.
He could feel it in the air now, that something in the game had shifted. That the rules had changed without him even realizing it. There was a swirling feeling of dread in his stomach that he couldn't place, but he shook it off. You were probably just waiting until you were inside. Perhaps tonight's punishment was too filthy for even you to vocalize just yet. He prides himself with his patience with these kinds of things, so he lets it slide, taking deep, even breaths to center himself. Your behavior wasn't abnormal, he was just needy. He needed to get a grip.
But now you were in the apartment, and the silence still lingered. There was no command to kneel, no quick spin to press him to the door. Just you shrugging your coat off and hanging it up in the entryway closet. Just you carefully unlacing your shoes and sliding your house slippers on. Just you...walking away from him? You don't even say anything, just trek into the house. He watches with confusion as you round the corner towards the bedroom without so much as a glance back at him.
Whatever new game you're playing Seungmin can't place. He can tell you with confidence that he doesn't like it, that's for sure. Ignorance wasn't something that he handled very well - he was needy, damn it! What he does know about this game is that if he admits he needs you, that the reason he's been acting out if because he wants you, then he loses. He can see that much written in your cold indifference.
So he just follows suit, slipping his coat onto a hanger and his shoes onto the rack. Two can play, he supposes, even if he's been dealt into a game he's never played before. He catches you padding to the bathroom as he rounds the corner, pajamas neatly folded into your arms.
"Gonna take a shower," you call behind you, voice indifferent and light, "I'll be a bit."
That's all he gets before you're closing the bathroom door and locking it. You've never done that before, either, and Seungmin realizes with clarity that perhaps he's already lost. This was an open-door house: he doesn't even lock the bathroom door when he pees anymore, used to you slipping in to grab something from around the sink or to brush your teeth. Showers usually meant Seungmin sneaking in with you, and sex under the hot steam and then another round in bed. Whatever this was wasn't on the schedule.
"Whatever," he huffs to himself, slipping into your bedroom, "I don't care anyways."
He's a big fat liar.
He's checking the door every few minutes, every creak of the building or sound from down the hall making his head snap up, eyes locked on the door. He thinks you're joking at first, as he slips off his slippers and settles on your bed. Surely, that must be it. You're messing with him (he'd never admit that it's working), and you'll come back out in a cute little number and rock his world until he can't remember his name.
But then the water turns on and all hope is lost. He doomscrolls through reels and TikToks until his brain feels like it's melting out of his ears, not even really watching whatever's on his screen. His cock has been half-hard since the two of you left the restaurant, and your negligence is only making him harder, cock twitching on its own accord. He feels pathetic in the worst kind of way, because this wasn't how this was supposed to go. He was supposed to be having the night of his life, not...whatever this was.
He hears the water turn off and he locks back into his phone, trying very hard to act nonchalant. He doesn't want you thinking he was waiting for you, or anything like that. That would be admitting his defeat to your face. Seungmin doesn't admit defeat - you have to drag it out of him.
He stays scrolling on his phone when he hears you press into the bedroom, the padding of your feet getting closer and closer until he feels the bed dip next to him. He's laying on his stomach now, just aimlessly scrolling TikTok, as you sidle up next to him. Your cheek presses to his shoulder, peering at his phone screen with mild interest. He angles it towards you without thinking and you hum.
"What are you watching?" you ask, your breath tickling his cheek.
His cock twitches with interest below him.
"Tiktok." He responds, dry and strained.
You watch for a moment more before shifting to prop yourself against the headboard. His head is resting right near your thigh now, though you've created some distance between the two of you. You grab your book off the nightstand and open it, making a quiet sound in your throat as you start to read.
He wonders briefly how you're even focusing on your book right now. A part of him hopes that you're having just as much trouble holding it together as he is, though the steady flip of pages indicates that you probably aren't. How are you not aching for him? Doesn't he deserve his punishment?
He only lasts about 10 more minutes before he's squirming, shifting in his seat. You don't even glance, even when his movements gently rock the mattress at points. That's what makes it even more frustrating. You just keep reading, like the book is more interesting than your very real (and very horny) boyfriend. Each page turn is like you're stabbing him with your apathy, and Seungmin's face is pressed to your thigh in 10 minutes' time. You don't even glance down, just let him rest against your bare thigh, like this was just a normal Friday night.
He goes back to scrolling in his new position, his own mask of indifference slipping when you laugh quietly at something in the book. He glances up at you, waiting for you to catch his eye and elaborate on the joke like you always do, but you don't. You just keep reading, moving on like you didn't realize you were driving him insane. Did you even realize you were driving him insane? He's pretty sure the button on the jeans might burst from how hard he is, so needy that he thinks he can catch a glimpse of a little wet patch forming on the front of his pants.
He only lasts 5 more minutes before you shift a little, just readjusting yourself to sit more comfortably, and he whimpers. He clenches his jaw when he does, daring a glance up at you, and somehow, once again, you couldn't care less. Your eyes are still on the page, and your breathing stays the same - calm and annoyingly even.
He thinks this might be how he dies.
It's one more minute before he's turning his head and pressing lazy kisses into the skin of your thigh, big boba eyes glazed over and staring up at you, all wide and pleading. Your thigh jumps under his mouth, your body reacting even when your emotions seem under control. He thinks maybe this might break you, but you just sigh and keep turning pages, face neutral and eyes still not finding him.
He tries this for a little longer before he can't take it anymore, and he bites. It's not a fun, playful bite either - the area around his teeth marks go red, and the indents are deep enough that you know they're going to bruise. This makes you yelp, the sharp spike of pain something you can't ignore, and he grins triumphantly when you glance down from your book to look at him incredulously.
"Ow, Minnie, what in the world was that for??" You say, swatting at his head once, "Uncalled for. Do you need something?"
He doesn't like the way you worded that at all. He can tell it's deliberate, because there's something meaner hiding in his eyes, and he flushes a bit under your gaze. You've made it about him now, not about you. If he says he wants something now, it makes him look needy.
"Your very handsome, sexy boyfriend is bored," he says, lightly nipping right next to the already-bruising mark he left, "Surely your book isn't that interesting."
"It is," you respond, hand already coming back up to hold it again, "I just need to finish this chapter then we can go to bed. Don't bite me again."
He thinks he might cry. Should that not have been enough to get you to put that god forsaken book down? He knows that the bite has to be throbbing, the skin irritated and discoloring, but you don't even acknowledge the pain beyond the initial yelp. He even gave you his biggest, shiniest boba eyes, the kind of puppy eyes that aren't outright puppy eyes, but have the same effect anyways.
His hips roll once into the bed, his body frustrated with being this turned on for this long. Heat rushes to his cheeks, and he watches your face for a reaction. When he gets nothing, you seemingly being so engrossed in your book that you don't even spare him a glance, he rolls down one more time. The relief of friction is enough for him to rock once, twice, before he stops himself short, clenching his jaw to hold himself back. Humping the bed like a dog? He can't believe he's fallen so low. He can't believe how easily you broke him down like this.
But it hurts so bad. He can feel how much he's leaking, and a wandering hand down to his cock confirms that he's leaked so much that the outside of his jeans are a bit sticky with precum. He doesn't realize that he's breathing heavily until he hears it filling to room. He's panting like a dog in heat, cock leaking and straining in his pants like some puberty-riddled teenager who just discovered boobs on the family computer.
"Please."
It slips out before he can stop it, low and panted out against your skin. You raise an eyebrow but don't look away from your book. He whines, honest to god whines, and he feels the way it makes you shiver.
"You can punish me, you can slap me around, you can do whatever you want," he starts, heat creeping down his chest at the vulgar words slipping out of his mouth, "I don't care. Just-just touch me."
You look like you're thinking for a moment, pondering, before you shake your head. The book in your hand gets bookmarked and placed down on the nightstand, forgotten now that Seungmin has broken down and begged for it without you having to even lift a finger.
"No."
It's all he gets. He makes a choked, confused sound, fingers reaching to dig into the fat of your thigh.
"Please?" He tests, far enough gone to warrant begging.
"No," you start, though it's followed by a long sigh, "Though I suppose if you must get off..."
He nods against your thigh, cheek squishing so cutely you almost think about rescinding your idea, but you stay strong.
"I suppose you can use my thigh."
"What?" He yelps, incredulous.
"You heard me," you say, reaching for your book again, shifting so you're sitting a little more upright against the headboard, "If you want anything from me, you'll have to do it yourself. You can use my thigh to get off."
"Fine," he huffs, horny beyond belief and in a desperate need to prove that he can break you, "Fine. I don't even need your help, anyways."
He shucks his jeans and underwear as fast as he can, though his t-shirt stays on. You see a peek of his hard cock in your peripherals, leaking like a faucet and so red you think for a moment that he won't even make it to your thigh without coming.
He proves to be resilient, though, and soon he's straddling the meat of your thigh. This position is embarrassing, and you're still holding that damn book in between the two of you, but he supposes this is less embarrassing than wanking one out alone or rutting against the mattress.
One experimental roll of his hips is enough to confirm to him that is what he needed. He groans, low and rumbling, a sound that he couldn't quite hold back like he usually would. In actuality, he's pretty sure he's struggling to hold back any sounds, mouth parting into a pretty little 'o' as he moans and rocks against your thigh.
The whole bed is rocking once he loses himself in it, the headboard knocking into the wall as he humps against your bare thigh desperately. Your sleep shorts have streaks of his precum on them now, but you can't acknowledge it, because you're still pretending to read your book. You're pretty sure you've read the same three lines on this page ten times at this point, brain far too focused on the needy puppy on your lap.
He keeps going, movements sloppy and uncoordinated, just chasing his pleasure against the soft flesh of your thigh. Except he can't do it. He feels like he's at the edge, but he can't tip over. It's starting to burn, that's how bad he needs to come, but for some reason he can't. He realizes forlornly that he hasn't come without your guidance in months now, and an embarrassed heat sinks into his skin when he realizes that perhaps now he can't. It feels so good, and the friction is perfect, and he thinks he's coming and coming but nothing's coming out.
He wails, a broken sound, head falling back and tongue lolling out uselessly as he keeps humping, hard and fast and uneven. He's made a slippery mess against your thigh, and it's made a perfect place for him to rock against, but it still isn't enough. He needs your help, it hurts so bad, he can't do it alone anymore, you've broken him.
"Please?" He whimpers, voice cracking and pitchy and a huge juxtaposition to the bratty Seungmin who was mouthing you off earlier.
You let out a long sigh, like he's the greatest inconvenience known to man. You bookmark your book (you haven't flipped a page once, not that he would've noticed) and buck your thigh.
"Off."
He scrambles to listen, mind too scrambled and lust-filled to even think about not listening anymore. You roll over and getting on your hands and knees, glancing at him over your shoulders.
"You can use my thighs. I don't want your dirty cock in me right now." you say, letting your chest fall to meet the bed.
He mounts you just like the desperate puppy he is, cock slipping into the pillow heaven that is between your thighs. You press them together for him and it's over. He's not even saying words anymore, just loud babbles and something that sounds vaguely like your name. He's humping you so hard that sometimes he pulls back too far and his cock slips out from between your thighs, and it makes him let out a devastating whine, tears rolling down his cheeks.
Because while this is better, it's still not enough. He can't do it, he can't. It's still him guiding it, him humping and you just laying there, totally silent and unreactive. He needs you to tell him what to do, he needs you to tell him that he's allowed to let go.
He's choking on his own sounds now, hiccups mixing in with the moans and babbles, a sick gurgling sound choking out every once and a while when his saliva gets thick from crying. He's totally mindless, rutting against you like a dog in heat, cock leaking and leaking but never coming. Everything is on fire and he's sinking and drowning and-
"Dumb puppy," you coo, and his sob turns into something like relief, "Can't do anything yourself, can you?"
He shakes his head dumbly, hips still rocking into you with so much force the mattress shift on the bedframe.
"Apologize for earlier."
And he thinks he does, words spilling out of his mouth, more words than he usually says in a whole day. He's rambling now, humping into you and prattling on and on about how sorry he is and how you have to let him come, please.
You hum, head tilting. "You won't do it again?"
"No!" He wails, hiccuping and slobbering, his voice snotty and tear-filled.
You sigh, and then nod to yourself.
"Okay. Then come."
It's like a trigger word. All the weight that's been sitting on his since he started teasing you, since he decided that he was going to rile you up, shatters, and he's coming. And oh god, it's so much, spurts and spurts of milky come splattering across the bedsheets as he keeps humping you through it. The friction doesn't even feel good anymore, his cock red and angry and aching, but he can't stop his hips anymore, humping into your thighs through every painful thrust as he keeps coming. He's wailing and crying and sobbing out little calls of your name (you think - it's hard to tell what he's saying right now) as he does, like somehow you are the reason he's still humping. Like he's not in control of his own hips.
When you can tell the overstimulation is genuinely hurting him, and that he's finally done coming, you slide your thighs apart, wincing at how sticky they feel. He whimpers as you do, the pressure and warmth of your thighs disappearing around his soft cock.
"Nooooo..." He whines, flopping forward onto you.
His full body weight presses into your back, making your groan.
"Minnie. Puppy. Jagiya. C'mon, get up!"
He shakes his head into your neck, licking long, lazy stripes up it and not moving. He doesn't say anything in response, just somehow presses even further into you. Your knees are going to give out at this rate.
"I need another shower. You can join me this time."
You say it like a person might say the word "walk" to get their dog excited. He perks up, and slides off of you. He doesn't even let you do anything - he just scoops you up and heads towards the shower. You can imagine his metaphorical tail wagging right now as he walks you both to the bathroom, shockingly still strong despite how dumb he is right now. You suppose there will probably be a round two (and three) in the shower at this rate, but you can't complain. Not when you've finally got your brat tamed into a good boy for the night.
Anyways. Bratty Seungmin would meet his match if you ignored him as punishment <3
If you are a Hazbin Hotel fan who can't recognize the racism surrounding Alastors character you are a fucking abysmal person and and you give me no hope for racism in our media coming to an end
