1993 - She/Her - ISTP - ADHD - ♐️ - 🇧🇷 Cat Person - StayTiny - Batman - Tattoos A space where the voices in my head can fully express themselves (mostly through quotes).
⭑ bf!mingi x gf!reader x bestie!yunho
⭑ planning to buy a house, get married and start a family within the next few years, you and mingi are the blueprint for the perfect relationship— until one of yunho’s infamous stories about his intriguing sex life gets stuck in your head for a little too long, and has you curious about spicing up your own sex life.
⭑ smut minors dni, praise, oral/both ways, p in v, degradation, choking, mention of toys, overstim, voyeurism? heavy on dom/sub dynamics, reader is a switch and so is mingi, yunho is a dom, very experimental/educational vibe, mxm
⭑ part one of ? / wc 21.4k
⭑ — this idea came to me late at night and plagued me until i finished writing it. i am obsessed with this trio, this dynamic. i love them so and i hope you do too <3
“You’ve got to be kidding,” Yunho faced the two of you from the twin blue upholstered couch across your living room, his brows slanted, upper lip raised in clear disgust. “Iron Man 2 clears the entire verse, best MCU movie to date.”
You faced your boyfriend with a smile, eyebrows raised, expression saying ‘Are you really gonna take that?’
Lopsided front teeth poked out from his pink, plump lips, a smile that was fighting to keep itself hidden. Mingi shook his head and leaned back, his heavy palm sliding over your knee, “Can’t argue with that, excuse me for wanting to watch Endgame.”
“Psychotic suggestion for movie night,” Yunho says and a disbelieving huff of a laugh falls from his lips right after, “Excuse me for not being in the mood to cry.”
“What if we watch a romcom?” You look between the two who give you wary glances, but don’t respond. “If we’re going to watch a Marvel movie, we’re starting from the beginning and not watching anything else until we finish all of them. Is that something either of you want to commit to?”
They both shrug as if you have all the time in the world, because you do. Every Friday night Yunho came over with snacks and soda in tow, sometimes beer if he had a particularly shitty week, and the three of you sat around your living room shooting the shit until you decided on a movie. It was an unspoken thing, your movie nights, your weekly hangouts, they’d started almost immediately upon moving into your shared apartment with your boyfriend, Mingi, and simply never stopped. Rarely did a week go missed.
You huffed a heavy breath, sinking back into your couch, snuggling up to Mingi. You slid your gaze over to Yunho who held the remote, “What are you waiting for? Everyone knows the first watch is The First Avenger.”
Yunho didn’t respond, but instead pointed the remote toward the TV, his hand completely swallowing the device beneath his palm as he searched the movie and put it on. You tugged the blanket that laid over the back of the couch over yourself and Mingi, laying your head over his shoulder, letting your arms wrap around one of his, letting his warmth seep into you. It’s been years since you’ve seen this movie, since any of you have seen this movie probably, yet your brain wanted to do anything else but pay attention.
With it being days after your period ended you were now nearing dangerous territory, ovulation week, a week your boyfriend adored yet had to physically prepare himself for. You resembled a fucking hormone monster for a long five days, needing your boyfriend at all hours of the day to tame the fire that would not die down inside you. Before Yunho came over Mingi had already taken you six ways to Sunday, you only stopped because Yunho trudged inside your apartment with a six pack and a face contorted with grief.
Another situationship over, he’d said. Not amicably, either.
You didn’t see the big deal, she wasn’t anything special, the girl he was hooking up with six months ago that he ended things with was better for him than this one. But Yunho is Yunho, somehow still a glutton for punishment as if it didn’t completely offset how he was with women, how he fucked. Not that you knew from experience, but from the stories he’s told while five beers deep, lounged out in your living room, complaining to you and your boyfriend, you’ve learned some things.
Things you could not think about right now. Not while your body was begging you to make a baby, not while you were literally laying on your boyfriend, not while Yunho was sitting just across the living room.
Right now was not the time.
But would it ever be the time to think about your boyfriend’s best friend’s sex life?
It’s not that you inherently wanted Yunho. You couldn’t possibly deny a gorgeous man’s beauty, but it wasn’t about wanting Yunho. It was the stories, he never should have opened his fucking mouth– how he naturally slips into dominance with every woman he sleeps with, no, he doesn’t slip, it’s intentional.
Yunho is a Dom. How he instructs, how he expects submission, how he corrects, how he tames.
Your sex life with Mingi was far from dull, Yunho and his stupid stories should be miles from your mind, but you can’t control the thoughts, especially not right now. You untwist your arms from around Mingi’s bicep, letting your palm fall to his thigh, his bare skin feeling like velvet. So soft despite the hair that grew sparsely in that area, you’d give anything to let your tongue lick up the skin, to watch his eyes roll back, to hear his deep groan as you suck a mark into him.
Your thighs tightened at the thought, eyebrows twisting because you know Mingi could feel it, and how he shifted beneath you confirmed it. You tilted your head, peeking up at him with a sheepish look through your lashes, just to be met with a disapproving crinkle between his brows.
You could basically hear his thoughts, Don’t even think about it.
You almost pouted. I need you. Now.
He shook his head once. Not here.
You looked toward the hallway where your bathroom was, that led to your bedroom. We have plenty of options.
He glanced at Yunho, then back at you. When he leaves, I’ll take care of you.
You held his gaze, I can’t wait that long.
He didn’t back down. You can, and you will.
You huffed, shuffling to the side, putting inches of space between yourself and your boyfriend. You caught the sideways glance from Yunho which lasted all of a millisecond before his eyes were back on the screen, watching the movie again. You pouted, arms crossing over your stomach, legs propped up on the coffee table in front of you that was littered with empty bottles of beer and half-filled chip bowls.
Mingi clearly wasn’t going to crack, and you could hold onto your anger until it killed you, so you leaned onto the armrest of the opposite side of the couch, the pillow shoved beneath you not giving a shred of the comfort your boyfriend’s body did. You kept your eyes trained on the screen, brain whirling in frustration and arousal, letting yourself daydream about Yunho’s debauched sex life until your eyes inevitably closed.
You woke to fingers hooking into your waistband, sliding it down your thighs with careful precision, like he didn’t want to wake you. You lifted your hips anyhow, welcoming the head of black hair between your legs, eyes still heavy and low-lidded with sleep. Mingi looked up at you through thick lashes, gaze heavy, his lips slightly parted, as if he’s been waiting for this.
“He just left,” he said like an excuse as your sweatpants hit the floor, black panties folded into the gray fabric, a contrast to your deep hardwood floors. Your back arched on command as he bent down, laying on his stomach, strong arms hooking under your thighs.
“Mm, needed this pussy just as much as she needed me,” he didn’t dare glance back up at you, eyes zeroed in on your center, leaning in just as your legs parted. He started slowly, tongue slipping through your folds, his eyes softly shut, ripping mewls from the back of your throat, low and grumbled, muddled with sleep.
Your hand flew to his hair as your chin tipped back, your neck digging into the uncomfortable armrest, the pillow beneath you doing nothing to soothe the ache. You didn’t care, you barely noticed, not with your boyfriend’s head between your legs, lips wrapped around your clit, sucking just the way you liked. He groaned as you pulled on his roots, tongue flattening against your folds, sliding upward to draw circles into your clit.
You sighed, staring at him through heavy lids, watching as his face contorted in pleasure, how his hips rutted into the cushions at the end of the couch. He pulled a hand from beneath your thigh, ripping his mouth away to spread your folds with his fingers, finally glancing up at you. Noticing your expression, he let out a huff of amusement, lips tilted in a smirk, “Have a good nap?”
Eyebrows knitted in pleasure and anticipation, you nodded, lips parted, fingers that fell to the couch gripping at the fabric. He chuckled as he inserted the tip of his middle finger into your center, earning a gasp from you. With his focus back at your core, he asked, “What had you so worked up?”
You were thankful he kept his eyes down, you couldn’t control the way your eyes widened ever so slightly, couldn’t hide your reaction to the last question you’d expect him to ask. You wished you could avoid the question, you couldn’t answer honestly and say that you were daydreaming about his best friend’s sex life.
You stuttered, “S-Steve Rogers was on the screen.”
He paused, looking back up at you with his eyebrows raised, “Steve Rogers had you ready to fuck me in the bathroom with Yunho, of all people, here?”
You cracked a smile, it was kind of funny, even funnier that it was believable. “Can you blame me?”
“No,” he bid you one more amused glance before he slipped his middle finger inside you, “I can’t.”
You gasped a moan, back arching again, hips bucking up to meet the length of his finger. He pumped it inside of you once, twice before he was curling it, the pad of his finger rubbing up against that spot inside you that made your bones feel like jelly. You were loud now, moans slipping from your lips one after another as he built up a rhythm, his finger curling into you with each thrust, putting pressure where you needed it. When he brought his lips back down to suck on your clit your hands flew to his roots again, holding him there, broken cries leaving your lips, he was so fucking good at this.
He knew how to coax you to orgasm better than you did by now. You supposed after being together for years, he should. You gasped when his teeth grazed your clit, hips bucking into him, curses flying from your lips. “F-fuck,” you hissed, “Yes, Mingi, just like that.”
He grunted in response, feeling your walls tightening around his finger, quickening his pace, the rhythm you needed to push you over the edge. Your legs shook around his head, your breath catching in your throat, shakily inhaling with each wave of pleasure as he brought you to orgasm with ease, movements he’s been perfecting for years now.
“Please tell me you’re planning on fucking me again,” you gave yourself no rest, staring at him through glassy eyes, your body heavy and slightly spent, you didn’t even know what number orgasm you were on today.
“I don’t know if my dick still works,” he sat back on his calves, pulling your body towards him with your hips. One fluid movement, so easy, he was so strong, he could throw you around if he wanted to, god, you wish he wanted to.
You rolled your eyes, arms reaching in front of you to wrap around his biceps, letting your fingers slip beneath the sleeves of his tee shirt as he bent down, bringing his face to yours. “I watched you hump the couch two minutes ago, Mingi.”
“Hey,” he pulled back before you could attach your lips to his, “Don’t make fun of me for that.”
“What?” You smiled, head tilting to the side, “I would never.”
He pouted, bottom lip jutting out, wet and plump and soft, your arms slid up to flatten your hands around his shoulders, pulling him back down. “I think it’s sexy that eating me out makes you desperate.”
He finally kissed you, tongue slipping into your mouth, letting you taste yourself. You hummed, stretching your legs to lay them over his thighs, pulling him into you, where he rutted his hips into yours the second you made contact. You kissed for a while, letting your tongues sloppily lick into each other’s mouths, your hands flying into his hair again, his hands sliding down your torso. You let your mind drift as you kissed, thinking about how he pulled you into him so easily, how much he could rough you up if he wanted to, if he had a dominant bone in his body.
Mingi is a lot of things, but you would never say dominant is one of them. Over six feet tall and so fucking strong, Mingi seemed intimidating until the moment he opened his mouth. Sweet, caring, eager to please, Mingi would do anything for you. He’d fight wars for you, swim across the ocean, you shouldn’t want anything more. You shouldn’t want anything different.
And you don’t. Not really.
Mingi is perfect how he is, you wouldn’t want him any other way. But curious you are, and you couldn’t help but wonder what he’d be like if he treated you like a pet rather than his girlfriend. Would he be anything like how Yunho describes his encounters? Would he be strict, would he control when you came, how you came? Would he choke you, slap you, take you in any way he wanted, instead of what you wanted?
What you wanted was to be fucked, and as Mingi slipped his sweatpants halfway down his flexed thighs and lined himself up with your center, you knew what you wanted would always be his top priority. Song Mingi didn’t know what the word selfish meant.
You didn’t deserve it, you acted like a brat earlier, huffing out of annoyance and putting physical space between you because you didn’t get what you wanted. But instead of punishing you, instead of fucking you only to get himself off, of denying you the pleasure of another orgasm, Mingi woke you up with his face between your legs. Because he knew you, what you wanted, what you needed, and Mingi’s life’s pleasure is making you happy.
You cried out as he sheathed himself inside you, nails painting crescents into his biceps, your eyes flying to the back of your head, flushing out your entire thought process. No, Mingi is perfect, the way he carves himself space inside you as if it’s the first time, every time, is more than you could ever ask for. He leaned back down, barely attaching his lips to yours, only the sounds of your breath and skin slapping against skin to be heard in your living room.
With his hands still wrapped around your hips he tilted them upward, fucking into you harshly, angled to hit that same spot inside you, he wasn’t in the mood to draw this out and you couldn’t blame him. You’ve been insatiable all day, when you woke up, in the car earlier, against the kitchen counter before Yunho came over, you wondered if he had anything left to give you. You slid your hand down between your legs, drawing quick circles over your clit, your jaw falling slack, lips unresponsive against Mingi’s.
“Gonna cum for me already, hmm?” He tried his best to sound like he wasn’t completely losing it, voice strained yet still teasing. His hips stuttering told the truth he tried to hide, he was just as close as you were.
“Yes,” you whispered into his mouth, voice high pitched, on the cusp of orgasm, your hips meeting his thrusts like you couldn’t get him deep enough.
He let his forehead press against yours, both surfaces coated in sweat, mixing together in their meeting, getting a glimpse of his fucked out face was enough to send you over the edge. Your knees tightened around his torso as you came, moans guttural and unabashed, embarrassment might’ve crossed your mind two years ago. But now he’s seen everything, he’s heard everything, he aches for it, if you aren’t cross-eyed and crying into his ear, he knows he isn’t hitting it right.
“Yes, baby, that’s it, so fucking good,” he praises, hands gripping under your thighs, pressing them back, bending you in half. “Gonna fill this pussy up.”
Chest heaving, mouth ajar and unable to close, you could have finished again at the sight of him. Sweat sticking his hair to his forehead, the muscles surrounding his hips peeking out from beneath the hem of his tee, bottom lip tucked between his teeth, Mingi was a vision, a sight to be seen.
“Please,” you begged, voice whiney and desperate, “Wanna feel you cum inside, I need it.”
His thrusts turned erratic, smacking into you harshly, a deep groan leaving his lips as he emptied himself inside you, fingers holding onto your legs tight as he came. Where you wouldn’t usually notice the sharp pain of his grip, your senses were on high alert, the feeling making you moan with him, the pain mixing with the comforting warmth of his cum filling you up. Hypnotizing, addicting, for a moment you thought maybe this wasn’t ovulation brain– maybe this was something you were really curious about.
Maybe something you really wanted to try.
He keeled over, lips finding yours again, palms softly running over where he’d just gripped onto you, soothing the area. Your skin burned under his touch, you wanted him to do it again, harder this time, maybe wrap one of his pretty hands around your throat–
“You’re cut off for the night,” he said into your lips, then pressed a kiss to your cheek. “No more sex.”
“Boo,” you wrapped your arms around his neck, crossing your ankles over his back, “If I keep you here maybe you’ll get hard again.”
He laughed into your cheek, heavy and genuine, “You’re terrifying when you’re ovulating.”
“Says the man who just came inside me,” you pressed a kiss to his hair, then loosened your grip on him. “You want a baby more than I do at this point.”
He shrugs as he sits up, pulling out of you, “Sue me.”
“We have a timeline, Song Mingi.”
Sundresses, swim trunks and margaritas surrounded you, all of your friends bouncing around Seonghwa and Hongjoong’s massive backyard, a ridiculously sized plot of land behind a farm-style rancher that they bought just last year.
Don’t mind the setup, Seonghwa said, We’re still renovating!
Meanwhile an inground pool enclosed by several feet of perfectly laid concrete took over the space just outside the back door, a tiki bar, a patio with a full grill, a table and chairs, couches, a fucking fire pit… We’re still renovating, your ass. It was both perfect and absolutely ridiculous how much they have it together in contrast to yours and Mingi’s one bedroom apartment two towns over.
They wanted to be the house, the place where all your friends and families gathered, the permanent hosts, and damn, did they succeed. They’ve been planning Wooyoung’s going away party ever since he broke the news of his job offer three states away, a bittersweet gathering, both in congratulations for Wooyoung’s raise and sadness that such an important voice in your friend group would be so far away. You hoped it wasn’t permanent, the selfish part of you hoped he hated it and came back to you guys immediately, he was the biggest light amongst you, one of your favorite people to be around, but you were also proud of him for his success, his hard work paying off.
You could hear him laughing now from across the lawn, chatting with his girlfriend, Sana, Jongho and his girlfriend Jihyo, about god knows what, the sound warming your heart while breaking it simultaneously. You’d miss him more than he knew.
“Want another, my love?” Mingi came up behind you where you sat, pressing a swift kiss to your cheek, stealing your glass out of your hand.
You nodded, “Yes, please,” and watched him scurry off toward the tiki bar, Yunho and his date sitting at the teal colored stools lined up on the outside. You watched Yunho’s head turn toward Mingi, how he got off his stool to follow Mingi behind the bar, no doubt to help him make you another margarita.
You turned your head back to the group lounging on the couches, Yeosang and his girlfriend Tzuyu, Hongjoong and Seonghwa, San and his boyfriend Jongin, everyone in the middle of a conversation you had accidentally clocked out of. You crossed your leg over your other one, fixing how your sundress laid over them, trying to ignore the sweaty stick of the summer heat on your skin, the alcohol that warmed your blood doing nothing to cool you down.
Past seven, the sun was still annoyingly bright and agonizing, your hair tied up atop your head, probably matted at this point from the time you spent in the pool earlier.
“...I keep telling you that you need to fire him,” San says to Hongjoong, his top lip bent in irritation, “He’s nothing but a lazy nuisance. If he messes up one more deal, I’m gonna talk to him myself.”
“He just started, San,” Hongjoong shook his head, “Cut the man a break.”
San sips his whiskey instead of responding, his hand laying over Jongin’s knee, and it’s the reminder you needed as to why you initially clocked out of the conversation. You hated when they started talking business– even if that’s how all of them remain close, minus Wooyoung and Jongho, who are old college friends of Mingi and the others. They were all college friends, the group of them in the same fraternity, still close as ever post-grad, even now that so many of them work at the same firm.
You loved when your parties and hangouts stayed free-spirited, light hearted, less talk about work and more stories from their college party days. Those stories you loved, especially the ones that included your boyfriend, the ones that told you exactly who he was before he met you. Not one story was surprising, though, he’s the same lover boy he’s always been, back then just included a lot more keg stands.
You let your eyes drift again, moving back to the tiki bar, where you caught Mingi, Yunho and his date walking towards where you sat around the fire pit. You shot them a tight lipped smile, grateful they were coming to join in on the conversation, hopefully derailing it to something more enjoyable.
“Wooyoung!” Seonghwa called across the lawn, “Why don’t you guys come join us?”
You grabbed your glass from Mingi as he sat down next to you, thanking him before you took a sip. Cold and refreshing, just what you needed to cool you off, tequila and summer was your favorite combination. Yunho sat down beside Mingi, and you watched as his date propped herself on his knee, her hands folded in her lap, crinkling the fabric of her pretty sundress. Yunho sat back, one hand holding his beer, the other haphazardly laid on her thigh as if it was nothing.
You wondered if that’s something he told her to do, or if she chose to sit there herself. There was space next to him, even more space on the couches across from you, surrounding the fire pit. Was that a part of it? Yunho’s game? Maybe it’s not a game, a lifestyle rather than some joke, a clear show of possession so everyone in the circle knew she belonged to Yunho.
Your tongue poked out to swipe over your bottom lip, ripping your eyes away from the pair, shoving the curiosity down. You turned into Mingi, crossing your other leg instead, your entire body leaning into him. You wondered if Mingi would ever ask something like that of you, maybe he would if he ever got jealous enough.
Mingi isn’t the jealous type, though. He never has been. He has full trust in you, and that trust outweighs everything, lingering eyes of others, shameless flirting that you never caught on to. Even that one time where Yeosang’s hand lingered on your forearm for a little too long after too many drinks, telling you how gorgeous you looked in blue, Mingi still didn’t care. He nodded his head with an excited smile and said, I know, right?
You wondered what Yunho would do in that situation. Would he rip your arm away, take you into an unused bedroom, a storage closet even, and remind you who you belonged to? Would he leave marks, trailing from your jaw to your chest, to show who owned you if they stepped too close?
Mingi nudged you with his shoulder, pulling you out of your thoughts, and you looked up to his concerned expression, giving him a small smile. He quietly asked, “You okay? Tired?”
You shrugged, “Was just thinking.”
He leaned over, kissing the top of your head, “Don’t think too hard, I’m starting to see steam coming out of your ears.”
You smiled, a huff of amusement leaving your lips. You don’t even know where you had been staring, if it was at anyone, you needed to control your thoughts, but they were starting to plague you. Especially when you caught Yunho holding up his beer bottle an inch above where it rested on his thigh, how his date immediately caught on, taking the empty glass and standing up to get him another. She was his date, it’s not like she was his girlfriend, someone who knows him well enough to understand his body language without a word being spoken.
The more you saw, the more you understood, the more it made sense. They were playing, even now, in front of everyone. You didn’t like the burning in your gut, the sting of jealousy, the interest it brought you, how a part of you wanted to try being in her situation. If you could be good, if you could pick up on cues so easily, so fast, if you could please. Will she be rewarded for it later? What does that look like?
You ripped your attention away again, blinking, staring down at your margarita held between your fingers. You could be completely wrong, all of this could be innocent, she could be sitting on his lap because she wanted to be there. Maybe she got him another beer because she was being a good date, doting on him. You could be sexualizing it for no reason, which changes the burning in your gut to a burn of shame, embarrassment that you’re sitting with your entire group of friends, once again pondering over Yunho’s sex life.
“What do you say we play beer pong, for old time’s sake?” Wooyoung’s loud voice washed over you like a bucket of cold water, grabbing your attention. Groans and laughter were mixed among the group, and Wooyoung tilted his head, his smile growing larger.
“How old are we?” Jongho smacked his arm, sitting on the side of the chair Jihyo was sitting in, one thigh on either side of the armrest, “Twenty?”
“Come on,” Wooyoung begged, his lips bending to a pout, “When’s the next time you guys are going to see me?”
“Guilt tripping us into playing beer pong,” San shakes his head, a smile on his cheeks, dimples out on display, “Very you– And it worked.”
Wooyoung cheered and Sana turned her gaze your way, meeting your eye, shaking her head with an amused smile on her face. You mirrored her expression, letting your eyes slide to Jihyo and Tzuyu, all four of you mentally preparing to sit on the sidelines while your boyfriends got trashed. All of you would have to deal with their hangovers in the morning.
An hour later, you and the three girls plus Jongin were all seated just off to the side of the beer pong table, where all eight boys were loudly playing, laughing, or taunting the ones currently in the middle of a game. You listened to the commentary just as much as you were watching the game unfold, your ear catching every other sentence, laughing when one of them made a remark that was out of pocket, but the five of you currently in the midst of conversation didn’t have much attention left to give the game behind you.
“...And she said she was not giving him the ring. It’s fucked up,” Sana sat back in her seat, her arms crossed over her bikini top, in the middle of telling a story. “She said she’d rethink it if I stayed with him for over a year after we move away, but I don’t believe her one bit.”
“Maybe she’s telling the truth, she’s probably just watching out for her son,” Tzuyu smiled at Sana, ever so optimistic, always looking at the bright side. Her brown hair laid in long braids down her shoulders, far past her bikini top, the tips just caressing the hem of her denim shorts. You tightened your lips, that was not what Sana wanted to hear right now. Wooyoung’s mom has never liked Sana, and you’re starting to think she never will.
“It’s crazy how she thinks she can control your relationship, I mean, Wooyoung is twenty seven. He’s far past the age of her coddling him,” Jihyo added with her face twisted in disgust, that was what Sana wanted to hear, Jihyo was always good at fulfilling whatever idea Sana came up with. The two of them were a pair, the moon and the sun, where Jihyo appeared harsh and was sweet as candy, Sana was bright and colorful until she bared her teeth.
“I know!” Sana said, a little too loudly, nervously glancing at the table behind you to check that none of the guys heard her, blonde hair moving with her. You’ve always been on Woo’s mom’s side, you always expected him to end up with someone… Nicer. He deserved someone who would treat him like a king, but in a way, you supposed Sana did treat him like one. Anyone else who wasn’t Wooyoung, though? That was a different story.
“I’m sure she’ll give in,” Jongin added, an encouraging smile on his face, he knows Sana just as well as you do by now. A linen button up laid loosely over his shoulders, the white a contrast to his golden, sunkissed skin. Him and San must have spent a lot of time at San’s beach house this summer.
This was always the dynamic between you, the partners. Jihyo genuinely believed what she said to Sana, Tzuyu was supportive, and Jongin tried to keep the peace. You kept quiet, you weren’t much of a liar, and your brain couldn’t be farther from Sana’s impertinence.
Your knee bounced, margarita watered down and loosely held between your fingers, Yunho’s date was glued to his side at the table behind you. She didn’t leave him once, not when Tzuyu invited her to sit with you, not when Yunho was actually playing the game. She respectfully declined with a bashful smile, cheeks rosy and chest gleaming with a sheen of sweat, then she stayed hung off of Yunho’s arm like an accessory.
It was beginning to fucking consume you. Was that one of his rules? Was she not allowed to leave his side, stuck there to be his personal waitress? Was she getting off on it, too?
Was the reward really worth it?
“Hello?” Jihyo tapped your knee, pulling your attention again, her smile amused as if catching you off guard was the funniest thing in the world.
“Sorry,” you tried to smile, tucking your hair behind your ear, “Did I miss something?”
“I asked how Mingi is, how you guys are,” Sana smiled the same way Jihyo did, “What’s got you so out of it today?”
You forced a chuckle, “My bad, I didn’t get good sleep last night, the margaritas are making me sleepy.” A lie so easily told, white lies you could handle. “We’re good, thinking about moving into something bigger soon.”
“Oh?” Tzuyu asked excitedly, “You guys have been in that apartment for years, are you thinking about renting or buying?”
A two-story, white house, with three bedrooms and an open floor plan, yes, you were thinking about buying. You fought to not glance behind you, keeping your eyes trained on Tzuyu, “If we can get a good loan for a mortgage, we’ll own.”
Tzuyu cheered, her grin bright and wide, “I’m so happy for you, me and Yeosang always talk about how perfect you guys are together. Do you think he’s planning on proposing this year?”
You smiled, a shy giggle escaping you as you stared down at your margarita again, “I think so.”
“Your wedding is going to be gorgeous,” Sana adds from across the small table between your chairs, “If it’s anything like how you decorate your apartment– and the bridesmaid dresses, don’t even get me started.”
You waved a hand, ignoring the bridesmaid comment, “I won’t, I’m not jinxing it. Who knows what might happen?”
You catch Jihyo as she rolls her eyes, “I wouldn’t be surprised if he proposed tomorrow, you’ve been together longer than any of us. You’re the OG girlfriend.”
That ripped a laugh from your chest, it’s true, you’ve been with Mingi long before any of the other guys’ partners entered the picture. Jongin interrupted, “I could help you with a mortgage loan, you know, my dad’s a banker.”
“When the time comes,” you nodded toward the brown haired man with kind eyes, then finally let your eyes fall to the table behind you, seeing who was playing now.
Who might still be glued to their date.
Mingi and Yunho were playing Yeosang and Wooyoung, a cocky smile on your boyfriend’s cheeks, a lazy smirk on Yunho’s. They must be winning.
And his date, her dark hair up now, in a claw clip behind her head, two pieces fallen out and framing her face perfectly. She stood just beside Yunho, her drink clasped in her hands, barely a sip drank from the clear glass. You wondered if she was allowed to drink, or if that was one of his rules, too.
Your lips pursed and you stood up, legs bringing you to your boyfriend before you could think about it. You slid in between him and San, the dimpled man throwing an arm over your shoulders, “You come to play?”
You smiled up at him, shaking your head, “Just wanted to watch.”
“Wanna watch me win,” Mingi added, shooting you a wink, then tossed the ball across the table, sinking it into one of the red solo cups filled with water.
You clapped with the rest of the boys, your grin wide as a low whistle left your lips, staring down the table at Yeosang and Wooyoung who wore red cheeks and sour faces. The difference in the amount of cups left standing made it clear who was winning, not that it surprised you, Mingi was always more competitive when he had Yunho by his side.
You watched as Yunho’s date tugged on his wrist, whispering something into his ear, and he nodded down at her. She silently excused herself, dress flowing in the breeze as she walked across the patio, inside the back door.
You watched, and then your legs were moving before you could stop yourself. You followed her in, just as she was draining her glass into the kitchen sink, one of her hands on her hip.
She turned to you as the backdoor snapped shut, surprise on her face, eyebrows raised and lips parted. “Oh! Sorry, I would have left the door open for you.”
Ah, fuck, she’s nice. You smiled, walking across the hardwood floor, your sandals smacking with every step, “No biggie, I don’t think I’ve introduced myself yet, I wanted to say hello.” You introduced yourself, a smile on your cheeks, “Not in the mood to drink?”
She glanced down at the empty glass in her hands, then at the sink, then up to you. She laughed nervously, “I'm a slow drinker, it got watered down, not all that tasty anymore.”
You slowly nodded your head, “Totally get that. Did you need help finding the bathroom?”
She looked around Seonghwa and Hongjoong’s kitchen as if you reminded her why she walked in here, the bathroom nowhere to be found. She smiled again, her cheeks rosy and squishable, face completely bare beside mascara, she’s adorable. A perfect, submissive girl. “Yes, please, that’d be great.”
“Down that hallway and to the right,” you pointed to the dark hallway and she thanked you, setting her glass down in the sink and scurrying off in the direction of the bathroom. When she was out of eyesight, you pouted, you don’t know what you expected from coming in here, but you definitely didn’t learn anything new. You took a sip of your margarita, setting a hand on the kitchen island for purchase, your mind whirling. You wanted to know. You wished you could just ask.
The door opened and closed behind you and you turned to find Jihyo walking in, her own cheeks red from the seltzers she’d been sipping on, the summer heat she’s been basking in all day. She smiled at you, eyebrows popping up in surprise and confusion, “Girl, what are you doing in here? You’ve been acting weird all day.”
Your lips pulled to one side, you wondered if Jihyo had any experience in this area, if she and Jongho ever explored in the way you’re curious about. If anyone in your group has done some experimental shit, it’s Jihyo. “Can I ask you a question?”
Her face turned serious, quickly walking closer to where you stood, gathering her dark hair behind her head to pull up into a bun. “Of course, is everything okay?”
“Yes, yes,” you said, shaking your head, loosing a quick, heavy breath. “Is Jongho ever… Rough with you?”
Jihyo paused in the middle of tying her hair, cocking her head to the side. “What do you mean ‘rough’?”
You scrunch your lips, trying to reword the question properly in your mind. “Have you ever experienced… Like, a dominant guy? That kind of role, in a relationship?”
Jihyo’s lips curved upward, a devious smile on her cheeks, eyebrows wiggling. “You thinking about spicing things up with Mingi?”
Your cheeks warmed, you looked down at the hardwood floor in embarrassment, then back up to her. “Possibly. I’m just curious, I guess.”
“Then yes, Jongho can be rough sometimes, but only when I purposely pissed him off or made him jealous or something. The relationship I was in before I started dating Jongho, though…”
Your entire face lit up, she giggled as she noticed.
“He was a very strict man, but not in a gross way, more so in a… Domineering way, I guess, everything I consented to. He thought it was sexy to control unsexy aspects of my life, what I wore, how I acted, what I did, who I talked to. In bed, he was a fucking freak.”
Your eyes filled with stars, you asked, “In a good way?”
“Oh, absolutely. He’d tie my hands behind my back, attach a spreader bar between my knees, or put a vibrator on me and leave the room until he was satisfied with how long I’d been in there by myself. Then he’d come back in and fuck me like I hadn’t already came a gazillion times.”
You released a shaky breath, toes digging into the soles of your sandals. It sounded so… appetizing.
“He was fun, that whole relationship was fun,” she smiled brightly, you almost felt bad about making her reminisce on something she loved so much, but clearly didn’t have anymore.
You couldn’t stop yourself, asking, “Why’d you break up?”
“He cheated on me,” she rolled her eyes, “Ruined a good thing. Fuck him.”
“Fuck him,” you nodded your agreement, cheeks warm, your whole body warm… You imagined Mingi tying your hands behind your back, attaching something between your legs to keep you from closing them, fully in control of your body and your pleasure. The thought was so hot, you could see it in your mind, you licked your lips as if it was happening now.
“I gotta pee, I’ll be right back,” Jihyo’s eyes flew back to the hallway, in the direction of the bathroom. Just as you started to warn her about Yunho’s date being in there, she bounced back out, apologies on her lips about being in there for so long. She was barely in there for five minutes.
You followed her back into the backyard, not stopping by the table again, but sitting yourself back in your cushioned chair, legs crossed, slowly sipping your margarita. You didn’t want to see her fall back to Yunho’s side like a lost puppy dog.
God, you needed to get a grip. The girl didn’t do anything to you. Jihyo’s story filled your head again, but instead of imagining Jihyo and the mystery man, it was you and Mingi, a vibrator strapped to you while he sat back, watching, analyzing, telling you no when you begged him to cum.
When Jongin pulled you back into the conversation you were barely paying attention to again, your body physically shook off the thoughts, a chill cooling off your very blood.
You really needed to get it together.
“I have something I need to tell you.”
Almost a full week after Wooyoung’s going away party, another movie night with Yunho under your belt, you couldn’t let these feelings fester for any longer, you were losing your fucking mind. Night after night, your boyfriend has rocked into you, sweet words on his tongue, soft caresses to your face. As much as you enjoyed it, you felt guilty for your feelings, for wanting more, something different. Admitting it was a start.
Day after day you’ve done little things, almost unnoticeable things trying to get his attention, trying to spark an ounce of jealousy. You made a comment about how good San looked at Wooyoung’s party, how he looked like he’d been hitting the gym– Mingi had given you puppy eyes, asking, “Should I start going to the gym more?”
You felt so guilty you dropped to your knees then and there, feeding praises into his ears, worshipping his body, vowing to yourself to never make him ask you a question like that ever again, to never make him feel self conscious or worth any less. The whole encounter left you feeling icky.
But maybe another route would work.
Just yesterday you asked him, What would you do if someone hit on me at the bar?
He furrowed his brows and said, Tell them not to do that, I guess?
You were getting nowhere like this, and it was frustrating. Granted, you probably should have just opened up and told him your feelings the moment these thoughts started crossing your mind.
Mingi turned over in your bed to face you, eyes sparkling, staring at you like you were his whole world. You needed to bring this up delicately, propose it in a way that wouldn’t leave him feeling like he wasn’t doing enough, that he wasn’t enough. You didn’t want to pressure him into anything, either. Asking him to slap you around was strangely feeling meticulous, you sucked your bottom lip between your teeth, eyebrows furrowed in focus and fear.
“Is everything okay?” He asked, eyes glossed over with worry, he shuffled a bit closer to you in your shared bed, needing your warmth to soothe his own nerves.
“Yes, baby, everything’s fine,” you smiled weakly, your arm stretching across the sheets to lay your palm over his cheek. “I’m just nervous to say what I need to, or ask my question, I guess. I don’t want you to feel like I’m unhappy, or that you aren’t doing enough, but… I’ve been thinking.”
He mirrored your smile, teasing, “You know what I say about you and thinking.”
A huff of a laugh left your lips, smile growing stronger, “I’m serious, Min.”
“Okay, I’m sorry,” his smile grew too, genuine and light, he’s always been good at diffusing situations, easing your stress. “Hit me.”
“Funny choice of words, actually,” you start, and the crease between his brows shows itself. “Do you ever think about… Being a little rough with me?”
He lifts his head up off the pillow ever so slightly, surprise flashing in his big brown eyes, “Like, when I’m fucking you?”
“Yeah,” you watched his face morph into confusion, “Throwing me around, saying mean stuff, choking me a little, maybe even slapping me–”
“Slapping you?!”
“I don’t know!” You shuffle in your bed, sitting up straight, tucking the baby pink comforter in your lap, hands mindlessly playing with the fabric. Staring down at him, voice coated in shame, you asked, “Do you?”
He blinked a few times, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Finally, he says, “I don’t think I have ever, once in my life, thought about hurting you.”
“Does it freak you out if I say it’s something I might be curious about?” You lay a hand behind your back, using your arm to support your weight. Mingi shifts too, sitting up beside you, still staring at you like you’re a math equation he can’t calculate.
“It doesn’t freak me out, I–” He shakes his head once, as if he’s trying to figure out his own feelings, what to say. “When did you start thinking about… this?”
“The night we watched that Captain America movie with Yunho,” you answer honestly, staring into his eyes, trying to get a read on him. He looks down at his lap, thinking, counting, before he looks back at you.
“Dude, that was like two weeks ago,” he says, horror in his voice, “You’ve been sitting on this for that long?”
“It’s not a big deal if it’s something you aren’t interested in,” you wave a hand in front of you, trying to fake nonchalance, but there was no way to prove to Mingi this isn’t important to you if it took you this long to say something. He knows you far too well.
He glances up at your ceiling, moving his lips, scrunching them to either side of his mouth, thinking. He finally looks at you, a gleam in his eye that you couldn’t place, “You really want me to be mean?”
“I–” Now it was your turn to look like a fish out of water, and then you realized this was the time to admit it, to tell him what you want. With defeat heavy in your voice, you said, “Yes, I do.”
“Okay,” he breathed, nodding slowly, “I can try.”
“Really?” you raised your brows, staring at him in surprise as if you expected him to say no. But this was Mingi after all, always eager to please, the man who would walk through fire for you.
“You’ll have to, like… Tell me what you want in more detail, what to do, I mean.”
Your entire face lit up, eyes wide, grin bright, you jumped over the mattress to swing your arms around his neck and your thighs around his hips. You kissed his entire face, perched in his lap, mumbling thank you thank you thank you and he giggled beneath your assault, wrapping his arms around your back, holding you close.
“Do you wanna do this, like… Now?” He asked when you stopped peppering smooches to the tip of his nose, his voice not quite uneasy, nervously curious.
“We could,” you shrug, arms still hung over his bare shoulders, “We haven’t fucked since last night.”
“God forbid a day goes by where we don’t have sex,” he teases, his hands sliding down to your ass, squeezing lightly.
You gasp, dropping your hips to drag against his barely clothed crotch, smirking when you feel him half-hard beneath you. “There should never be a day that goes by where we don’t have sex.”
“As long as you’re still you, there won’t be,” he says, still teasing as he presses his lips to yours, soft and sweet, normal. You sink into him, letting your hips drag over him in a slow but intentional rhythm, allowing your mind to ease, releasing soft gasps as his hands slide up your body, under your shirt.
No, you didn’t need to do this right now. You didn’t want to. You wanted him, close to you, feeling his warmth and his weight anchoring you, to set the thoughts you’d finally gotten off your chest free. You told him, you’d talk about it, you’d plan, you’d do it. He said yes. God, you love him. You let your hands slide up his biceps, fingers dancing over the sides of his neck, cupping his cheeks to hold your world in your hands.
“Not tonight,” you whisper into his lips, forgoing an explanation he didn’t need, “I changed my mind. Tonight, I just want you.”
He smiles, bared teeth pressing against your lips, soft and comforting, home. “Yeah? You sure?”
“We have time,” you pull him closer, chest to chest, elbows hooked over his shoulders and hips still rocking as if he’d feel the truth laid bare, in your skin, in your breath, in your bones. He didn’t need to change, you didn’t want him to change, if things stayed like this you’d still spend forever by his side. “We have forever.”
He kissed you again, only breaking it to tug your shirt over your head, tossing it somewhere behind you, hands gliding up your skin with precision, feeling every dip and curve of your body. As if to burn it to memory, as if he didn’t know it already, as if he hasn’t worshiped every inch of your skin before. “I love you,” he murmured into your mouth, bodies still too close to be considered separate.
“I love you,” you whispered, barely breaking the kiss, eyes closed and heart aching with how much love for him it contained.
Another Friday, another movie night, another story told by Jeong Yunho.
Except this time, you and Mingi were more versed in his area of expertise, your listening was active, asking questions, looking deeper. Where you once sat nodding, periodically saying mhm and no way, you were now asking him to explain, asking why. And because Yunho is Yunho, he answered every question with honesty, even over-explaining when your brow quirked too high for his liking. When he read the question on your tongue.
For the past several days, you and Mingi have been doing research. Articles from legitimate blogs on the internet, books from the library, romance novels pulled from your bookshelf, Mingi had said, “If I’m going to do this, I’m going to do it right.”
You hadn’t quite explored yet together– meaning he hasn’t necessarily slapped you around just yet. He’s taken it slow, tugged on your roots during a blowjob, extended your orgasm by ripping his fingers away at the last second, he even called you a slut once. Just once, though. And he apologized after.
You didn’t think you could possibly be any more in love with him, but seeing him learn for you, express genuine interest in something you asked for, you couldn’t wait for the wedding Sana was running her mouth about. But that could wait. For now, you were still exploring, experimenting, basking in the relief of getting this off your chest and doing something about it. You never want to withhold information from your boyfriend again, and Mingi might go into cardiac arrest if he finds out you’ve been sitting on your feelings ever again.
Mingi’s been honest with you. He’s told you his doubts, his fears, that he’s petrified of doing something wrong, not knowing his own strength and hurting you, saying something vile that he can’t take back. You’ve taken them all in, easing his worries by offering him solutions, reminding him why you’re taking it slow. To set boundaries, to plan, to play, to find out if this is something he’d even enjoy. If either of you would enjoy it.
Because in theory it sounds wonderful, a wet dream coming from the pits of your ovulation, but to put it into practice… What if either of you hate it? What if your sex life is forever tainted because you’re trying to fix something that isn’t broken?
Clearly, you’re both overthinkers. But luckily, you’re both good at soothing each other, and Mingi has reminded you the two times that you’ve brought this up that nothing could destroy your sex life, the two of you were made for each other. There wasn’t much room for stress after that.
Yunho came over with a smile on his face this week, a telltale sign that things were going well with his newest partner. Walking inside empty-handed and talkative, he cracked a can of beer from your refrigerator, starting his story from the beginning as his long legs brought him to your living room. He was playing with her at Wooyoung’s going away party, a detail he left out when he was over last week, when he was too engrossed in the freshness of dating her to get down to the nitty gritty.
This week he was exploding with things to tell you both, his mouth running a mile a minute, sharing things you nor Mingi asked him to, but didn’t mind hearing. Especially not now.
“The rules I made with her are different than the ones I’ve made with others,” splayed across the couch he always sat on, Yunho’s Spot you and Mingi call it, a leg hung over the armrest with the other stretched in front of him, he sat lazily, relaxed. Yours and Mingi’s apartment was always a comfort to him.
“Like how?” You had your head laying on the godforsaken armrest, pillow beneath your head actually providing solace for once, your legs stretched over Mingi’s lap at the other end of the couch. He studied Yunho as he listened, hands on your bare legs, eyebrows bent only enough to imply focus. You knew it was more than just listening to his words, he was memorizing them, saving them for later. The sight made a soft smile live on your cheeks.
Yunho sucks a breath through his teeth, brows rising as his head tips back in thought, silver hair a contrast to the deep charcoal of the cushion behind him. “She can only wear dresses around me, when we’re in public she has to ask permission to leave my side, she can’t drink unless I allow it, hmm… Oh, I banned bras. And panties.”
You crane your head to see him over the armrest, mouth gaping and teeth poking out in a smile, a giggle leaving your lips. You fought the urge to say I knew it, instead reiterating, “Bras and panties?!”
“What’s the point of it, though?” Mingi asked, and Yunho directed his gaze to his best friend, his eyes smiling just as brightly as his lips. Mingi glances between you and Yunho, “All the rules, they just seem… Inconvenient.”
“Inconvenient for who?” Yunho raises his eyebrows, “Would it be inconvenient for you if your girlfriend walked around without a bra, without panties, in a dress?”
“Not inconvenient for me, inconvenient for her,” Mingi should have just added duh at the end of his sentence. Yunho knew what he meant, but Mingi couldn’t read between the lines of his answer. Your tongue poked your cheek as your eyes danced between the two men.
“Then you know the point of it already,” Yunho’s grin was sly, his head tilting ever so slightly, as if he knew why Mingi was questioning him. He never has before.
Mingi’s lips fell into an O shape, you watched him put the pieces together in real time, another laugh leaving your lips. Mingi glanced at you for a second before his eyebrows knitted again, turning his head to look back at Yunho, “Why couldn’t she drink?”
“Because it’d make her have to pee, and she has a piss kink,” you knew he was answering honestly by the look on his face, the ease of the words leaving his mouth. “It denied her of having the fun of toying with me and saved me the punishment of fucking her in Hongjoong and Seonghwa’s bathroom.”
Your jaw dropped as your head whipped around the armrest, gaping at Yunho, “You’d really do that?”
“If she disobeyed me?” He raised his brows, “In a heartbeat.”
“In their bathroom?” Mingi’s eyes were as wide as yours, the corner of his upper lip bent upward in disbelief.
“I would have done it in front of all of you if I had the consent of everyone in the room.” He said it so casually, too casually, as if this was normal, common. It could be these days, for all you know.
Yours and Mingi’s eyes meet as surprise and intrigue cross his features, as if he was picturing himself doing it. As if he was curating a list of rules for you, too. You assumed you wouldn’t have to wash as many pairs of panties from now on.
Mingi’s eyes trailed back to Yunho, you watched him swallow, the gulp of spit passing down his throat. “And when you say punishment…”
Yunho smiles, daring and wicked, his eyes flaring with amusement. He sits up straighter, white tee pressed against the back of the couch, ankle crossed over his knee, he wouldn’t let your rare curiosity go to waste.
You change spots, too, laying your head on Mingi’s lap instead of your legs, propping them up on the criminally uncomfortable armrest. You made a mental note to start looking for a new couch. Mingi lays a hand in your hair, not moving, just resting, as if he needed to touch you to feel grounded.
“The humiliation,” Yunho released a dragged out breath, as if he loved the word, loved its meaning, the action. “I would have put her over my knee, made her tell everyone watching what she did, why it was wrong.”
Mingi blinked, his lips parted, as if he couldn’t fathom why in the world Yunho would do that. “You’d let everyone see that? See her?”
Yunho shrugs, “If everyone was into it.”
“She obeyed you though, right?” You ask, and he raises his eyebrows in your direction, acknowledging you, “Does she get, like… Rewarded for that?”
Yunho smiled, a proud look sitting on his face, a soft nod of his head. “Of course she does, well, she did.”
You raised a brow, imploring him, and his smile grew as if he could read every thought in your mind. “You two are curious tonight.”
You can feel the embarrassment in your cheeks, and as you look up to Mingi, you see a faint blush spread over his nose. If you could see his ears from where you laid, you’d bet they tipped red, too. Neither of you are being shy with your curiosity, and it was clear.
Yunho didn’t wait for either of you to answer, “I’ll bite. We didn’t even get back to my place, to be honest. She got to finish twice in the car, another three times when we got back for good behavior.”
A huh? ripped from your chest, a disbelieving sound, just as Mingi screeched, “Five?!”
You thought back to when she went to the bathroom at the party, how she tugged on Yunho’s wrist before she went inside, how he nodded toward her in allowance. You wonder if you’d be willing to let it be taken so far, or if you truly just wanted to be slapped around. You supposed you would if five orgasms were waiting for you afterward.
“They weren’t easy, don’t say it like that,” Yunho waved a hand, long fingers bending the air around him, “I was forcing them out of her by the end of it. She likes overstimulation.”
You peeked up at Mingi again, whose lips you think were going to stay permanently parted for the duration of the conversation, with his thick, deep eyebrows touching his hairline. He was shocked— so were you, even if neither of you should be, you’re no strangers to multiple orgasms in a session. But five, for good behavior, a reward like that, it almost made you hand your boyfriend a notepad and a pen and say Yes, I want that.
Yunho’s laugh sends a shiver down your spine, your body involuntarily jerking at the noise, head shifting in your boyfriend’s lap. It sounded borderline condescending, which you weren’t sure if you were making up, or if it was on purpose. Your eyes widened as you felt it, the fucking boner Mingi was sporting beneath your head. He knew you felt it, you could see it all over his face, the blush you thought was from the nature of the conversation, no, he was horny, and Yunho didn’t seem like he was anywhere near done with the conversation.
Realization hits that Mingi must be thinking about doing that to you, and he’s hard. You might have started jumping for joy if you didn’t have to explain to both men why.
“You guys look like you’ve never heard anything like this in your life,” Yunho’s laugh is still showing on his cheeks, the way his head is tilted, his eyebrows slightly raised, smugness oozing off of him. “I’ve told you stories before.”
“Yeah, but…” You cut yourself off, swallowing down the answer you were about to give. He didn’t need to know you were experimenting, or attempting to. No one needed to know. “It’s just crazy.”
“Yeah, you’re crazy,” Mingi adds from above you, the both of you nodding your agreement, hiding why you’re both so god damn affected. His clothed cock pressing against your head, having to pretend like it isn’t there, Yunho so easily talking about how he punishes and rewards his partners, how arrogance seemed to be possessing him, it was all too much.
Yunho raises his brows, his smile still present on closed lips, as if the two of you were transparent. Completely see through, thoughts and feelings laid bare for him to see. If you could peer into Yunho’s mind you might see that he’s enjoying this, that he knows exactly what he's doing, toying with the two of you might be the most fun he’s had in months.
He can see how pathetic the two of you are, you’re wearing it. Too many ideas are brewing in his mind, ones he’s positive he can never verbalize, but if the two of you kept looking at him like that…
“I’ve told you worse, remember when that one girl thought it’d be funny to flirt with that random guy, when we all went out to the club? It was back in February I think,” Yunho’s glancing between you both now, like he doesn’t want to miss a single reaction painted on your faces. “I tied her up and left her alone in the bedroom, in the dark, for an hour?”
You gulped. You remembered this story. Mingi was only growing beneath you, he remembered this story, too.
“She was a crying fucking mess by the time I went back in, so wet, didn’t take any prep at all for me to fuck her. She didn’t cum once that night. Never did that shit again, though.”
Your breath hitched in your throat. You think of a few weeks ago, when Yunho was once again across from the two of you, when you put space between yourself and Mingi, a part of you hoping he’d fuck the brat out of you. You couldn’t even imagine Mingi tying you up and leaving you alone, he’d probably be crying before you would, or he wouldn’t even leave the room. But the thought of it… If he could… You crossed an ankle over the other, trying to create some kind of pressure between your thighs, friction to alleviate your core that was beginning to throb.
Mingi’s grip tightened ever so slightly in your hair and you knew he was showing you the restraint he was quickly losing, that he needed you. Your eyelids fluttered at the feeling.
“How did you get into this? This, uh, lifestyle,” Mingi’s voice was shallow, his mouth drying, he was feeling it just as much as you were. You don’t even know if you heard his question let alone the answer, not when you could feel his cock under you, begging to be touched, probably leaking, the tip red and aching…
Mingi pressed a finger to your cheek and your lips fucking parted. He was only trying to get your attention. “You okay?” Mingi asked, need flashing in his eyes, an unspoken question, a statement. Oh, Yunho has done it now.
I need you.
You blinked. Now?
A small nod. Now. Get him out.
“Not feeling too good, honestly,” you pouted, letting a hand fall across your forehead, “Do I feel warm to you?”
Mingi’s lips scrunched trying to hide his smile, you were the better liar out of the two of you. His palm hit your forehead, “Hm, you do feel warm.”
“Let me feel,” Yunho crossed the living room in a quick stride, his hand falling to your forehead fast, before you or Mingi could think up a silly excuse. His hand damn near laid from ear to ear, sending a spark of something through your entire body. “Damn, you are warm.”
He needed to get out, now. You give him a weak smile, “Must be coming down with something, I’m sorry to cut the movie night short.”
He shakes his head, then clasps Mingi’s hand, and goes to grab his keys off the coffee table, “Don’t worry about it, there’s always next week, Iron Man can wait. Feel better.”
“Thanks, Yun,” you call after him, tucking your smile away until you hear the front door close—
Mingi pounces. Strong arms tugging you onto his lap, assaulting your lips with his own, rough palms slipping under your shirt, thumbs hooking into your waistband. There was no time to waste.
“Fuck,” he cursed into your mouth as you rolled your hips against him, shorts dragging against his sweatpants, and you smiled at his sensitivity. “Fuck, I need you.”
“Yeah?” You rolled your hips again, harder this time, “That bad?”
His fingers tighten on your hips, digging into your skin, his jaw going slack, mouth unresponsive against yours. You let your hands feel up his chest, his shoulders, his neck, lips ghosting his jawline as he guides your hips against his.
His head tilts back as your lips attack a sensitive part of his neck, right below his ear. His voice comes out deep but breathy as he says, “Wanna make you cum five times, too.”
Excitement shoots up your spine. You sit back, hands resting on his shoulders, a grin on your cheeks, “Do it, then.”
He scoops you off his lap and falls to his knees, a muted thump was heard as cotton covered skin hit the hardwood of your floor, he laid you on your back as if you were fragile, made of glass. Your legs parted after he slipped your shorts off anyway.
You kept your hands in his hair as his tongue worked you open, your first orgasm coming quickly, easily, praises falling off your lips, skull digging into the floor beneath you. Mingi didn’t stop, though, not as his black locks ran taut between your fingers as you pulled in an attempt to get him away, when the pleasure became too much.
It was on purpose, the pleasure was fucking blinding, pleasure and pain, the sting of your orgasm that never fully finished turning into another, a pit in your stomach that ached with every swipe of his tongue. Your hips bucked, trying to chase him away, attempting to overpower strong arms holding you down by the bone.
“Mingi— holy shit,” you cried, eyes wide and staring down at him where he was doing anything but looking up at you. Focused, tongue moving in perfect circles, flicking at your clit with enough precision to tell you he wasn’t letting up. Your movements seized, joints locking up, breath getting caught in your throat as he pulled you under, forcing another orgasm to wash over you.
He ate you through it again before you were keeling, abdomen clenching, body jerking enough to where it was annoying for him to keep holding you down. His lips let go with a pop, sucking in a deep gust of air as your bones went fluid, body sinking into the hardwood floor.
Mingi smacked his teeth with plump, swollen lips. He lifted himself up by his arms, saying with a steady voice, “Turn over.”
You opened your eyes again, staring at hunger incarnate, “On my knees?”
He lifted himself farther, sitting on his calves, wrapping his fingers loosely around your ankles where they sat planted on the floor. Again, he said, “Turn over.”
You blinked, “I can’t if you’re holding my ankles like that.”
In a quick motion, he pulled you toward him, forearm scooping under your back, and your palms were pressed to the hardwood floor in a second’s time, knees stinging as the deep swirls of oak stared back at you. You hissed, “Fuck, that hurt.”
Hands that were already sliding up the backs of your thighs paused, “You okay?”
You smiled, thinking of all the limits you’ve discussed in the past weeks, your safe word, what to do in case you couldn’t say it. “I know what to say if I’m not.”
“Good.”
Your elbows hit the floor as his fingers slipped inside, his other hand holding onto your ass, squeezing your skin. “O-Oh my God, Min,” you cried, letting your forehead drop to your open palms, your back arched up into him as his fingers hooked into you, hitting that spongy spot inside, your toes curling, shins lifting off the floor.
It was overwhelming. Yunho had left barely ten minutes ago and you’d already came twice, Mingi working you up to a third without any reprieve. You could hear the smile on his face as he asked, “You gonna cum again? Gonna be good for me?”
You wailed as his fingers assaulted the spot, slipping in and out of you, curling, massaging, your body jerking at every movement he made. He sucked in a breath before he pulled his hand off your ass, letting it fall back down with a heavy smack, “Answer me.”
Your moan was treacherous, loud, somewhere between a score of pleasure and a cry of pain as you came again. Weaker this time but still as blinding as the first, you shook, he hit you. Not as hard and not as confident as he could be, it was still pain mixing with the pleasure, a cocktail of endurance and emotion, a step forward.
“Baby,” you could barely hear as both hands soothed your ass cheeks, rubbing circles into the skin. “Answer me, my love, need you to say something.”
You weren’t sure if your consciousness was still inside your skin, or if you were floating somewhere beyond.
His hands hooked into the crevice where your hips met your thighs, pulling you backward into his lap, moving and dropping you as if you were light as a feather. He was moving too fast, your brain could barely keep up, overwhelmed and overstimulated. You sunk into him, the smell of him pulling you back down to earth, the heat of his cheek pressed against your head warming you. “I’m okay,” your voice came out weak, lagged, tired. Your knees burned, but the fire he had lit inside your belly blazed.
“You swear?” He took your chin in his hand with care, forcing you to look up at him, concern bubbling wildly in his eyes.
You nodded, “I swear. You can keep going.”
He kept you in his lap, his hands moving slower now, uneasy. Fear bled into you with every touch, under your tee, as he unclipped your bra, even fumbling with the clasp. You could taste his nerves.
But his cock still stayed hard beneath you, pressed up against your back. After he tugged off your shirt and bra you faced him, bare legs wrapping around his hips, your boyfriend fully clothed where you sat naked, but not uncomfortable at the difference. You let your lips crash into his again, picking up speed, trying to show him your hunger when his had gotten foggy, masked with fear and concern.
He let you lead him, tongue dancing with yours, his hands sliding over your skin with more confidence now, more pressure. You smiled into him, “You still owe me two more.”
He matched your smile, “And here I thought we were past your insatiability.”
You let your bare center drag over his clothed length, gasping when it brushed against your clit just right. “I want you inside me.”
“I’m supposed to be telling you what to do,” his hands fell to your hips, grinding you against him harder, grinning when your head fell to his shoulder.
“Then tell me how you want me to ride you,” you mumbled into covered skin, your hands sneaking beneath the hem of his tee, fingers tracing his toned abdomen.
“Why do you get all the power?” He placed his hands under your ass, lifting you to shift onto his knees, you yelped when he stood up, easily holding you steady through the movement. A show of strength, a display of dominance, one that sent all the blood on your body straight to your still pulsing clit.
You clung to him on the walk to the bedroom, your arms hooked around his neck, adrenaline thrumming beneath your skin. All the daydreams you’ve had and research you’ve done was paying off now. This was better than anything you could’ve imagined.
He threw you onto the bed before he tugged his shirt over his head by the collar, pulling his sweats down just enough for his cock to spring out. Standing before you in all his glory, Mingi’s cheeks were pink, eyes glossed over and hazy, hair shooting out in four different directions atop his head thanks to your incessant pulling. God, he was fucking beautiful, you sat up on your knees and crawled towards him, wanting to taste—
He stepped back so you couldn’t reach, his right hand wrapping around the base of his cock, squeezing when it was already red and leaking, just as you imagined. You pouted. He raised his eyebrows. “You want my cock, don’t you?”
You met his eyes to find arrogance, something you’ve only seen on your boyfriend a handful of times. You swallowed down the thrill, nodding your head, “Yes, I want it.”
He pumped the length of his cock, a groan sneaking out of his lips, his head falling to the side, eyes fluttering shut. You gasped at the view, your eyes trying to catch the full length of him, not knowing where to look, not wanting to miss anything. Slowly, he built up a rhythm, and you whimpered from your spot on the baby pink comforter.
“Please, let me,” your eyes stayed glued to the way his hand dragged down the length of his cock, how his tip leaked beads of precum, lubing up his hand. He ignored you. “Mingi, please. I need it.”
He groaned instead, his hand pumping faster, until he finally opened his eyes. In a low, lazy voice, he moaned, “Fuck, feels so fuckin’ good.”
Your mouth hung open at the sight, he really wasn’t going to let you touch him. Was it because you told him to fuck you? He really thought you were taking the power from him?
“Please, Mingi,” you were whining now, fists balling at the comforter beneath you, eyebrows furrowed and bottom lip jutted outward.
He tsked. “Get down here. On your knees.”
You’ve never moved faster in your life. Sitting on your calves before him, knees burning again, hands in your lap, staring up at him with every hope in the world, you waited for instruction. He wasn’t fucking around.
He pumped his cock faster, palm circling the tip, squeezing his hand as stuttered moans poured from his lips. He wasn’t even looking at you, eyes focused on his cock, “Open your mouth.”
With your tongue out you sat up on your knees, eyes glued to his cock, waiting for his cum. Your cunt throbbed between your thighs, three orgasms weren’t enough, you needed more, you needed him, his cock filling you up, to cum around it. His moans grew in pitch as his wrist jerked faster, stuttering, his hips bucking forward into his hand, his eyebrows knitted together. It took everything you had not to slip a hand between your legs. At least you were a quick learner.
He came with a loud groan, ropes of white hitting your tongue, your nose, your cheeks, your eyebrows. You moaned with him as you felt the warmth on your skin, swallowing him down, licking your lips to catch what you could.
“Good girl,” his voice had dropped another octave, as if he was getting comfortable in his rank now, dominance surrounding him like an aura. You smiled up at him, stars in your eyes as he took his thumb to your face, scooping his cum off of your cheeks, nose, eyebrows, then promptly shoved it past your lips.
You gagged at the sudden intrusion, but swallowed him down anyway, lips wrapping around his thumb to suck it clean, tongue sliding against the underside. He patted your head with his other hand, a small smile sitting pretty on his cheeks, “So good for me, baby. Kiss me.”
You stood up on wobbly legs and kissed him, he could probably taste the gratitude on your tongue, how much you fucking loved this, loved him. He moved to sit back on the edge of the bed, never breaking the kiss, hands on your waist, tongue licking into your mouth to taste the leftover remnants of his release. Your knees planted into the mattress as you climbed on top of him again, a hand between your bodies, slipping his cock between your folds, spreading the wetness where it gathered.
“Holy shit,” he gasped out, breaking away from your lips to glance down between you, “You’re so fucking wet.”
“That was so fucking hot,” you said in the same tone he used as he looked back up to meet your eyes, “You’ve never done anything like that before. I’m dying.”
He huffs a laugh into your lips, “Dying is dramatic.”
You kissed him again, “And I meant it.”
You dragged your core along his shaft, sliding over his length, and he hisses into your mouth in overstimulation. You smile, “Now you know how it feels.”
“Sit on it,” he grabs his cock with one hand, your hip in the other, completely ignoring your remark, “Now.”
You cursed under your breath at the tone of his voice, at the desperation and order mixing together, how badly he wanted you, needed to feel you, yet overstimulating himself to do it. His cock was already hard again in his hand as you lined yourself up on top of him, hands bracing yourself on his shoulders as you started to sink down slowly, taking him inch by inch with ease.
The sound was deafening, how pathetic the two of you sounded, the whine-coated moans cracking from your gut. Your nails clawed into his shoulders, eyes screwed shut at the stretch, at how easily he slipped inside. His voice was strained, “Too fucking tight, gotta open up for me, relax.”
You were too excited, your joints locked up from adrenaline and anticipation. You took a deep breath, letting your body relax, unlocking your limbs, forehead falling forward to rest against his. His hands come up to your waist, rubbing circles into your back, “There you go, my love, you feel so fucking good.”
You whimpered at the praise, hips bucking forward involuntarily, “Can I move?”
“Go ahead, baby,” he said, letting go of your waist, leaning back against the mattress on his elbows, “Show me how badly you wanted to ride my cock.”
Your jaw went slack at the words, hips immediately picking up and dropping back down on him, your hands sliding up your stomach to pinch at your nipples. You bounced on him slowly at first, watching his face contort in pleasure, letting the sound of him guide you, encourage you. Eyebrows slanted and lips parted he moaned and moaned, hips jerking into you every few thrusts, silently telling you to pick up the pace.
“Mingi,” you breathed, a hand on his abdomen, using it to balance your pace, “Choke me?”
His eyes widened, “I— I don’t—”
You reached an arm forward, this was one of his unsure areas, where he was scared of his own strength, of hurting you seriously. You wrapped a hand around his throat, fingers pressing into the sides, “Like this.”
The moan he released stopped you completely. It happened in slow motion, the squeeze of your fingers, how his lips parted, his eyes rolling into the back of his head, how you pulsed around his cock at the sight, at the sound.
Now it was your turn to widen your eyes in surprise, “Oh.”
He brought his hand up to wrap around yours, his hips fucking up into you harshly, overwhelming your nervous system, shattering your god damn mind. Oh, he really liked that. You couldn’t fight the smile breaking across your cheeks, your words coming out jagged through his thrusts, “You liked that?”
He whimpered, broken through the pressure of your fingertips, and a small, shy nod of his head. You just wanted to show him how. Encourage him to do it himself. This opened another door completely.
You released him after a moment and he took a deep breath, eyes wild, gasping out, “Holy shit.”
You nodded with a wicked smile, your hips picking up the pace, “You really liked it?”
“Do it again,” he whispered, pushing himself up by his forearms, pressing his chest against yours as you changed your speed, rocking against him, a dirty grind against his cock as your fingertips danced over his throat.
You leaned in, whispering, “Kiss me,” against his lips, and he did, his mouth following your lead, up until you tightened your grip around his throat and pressed into the sides with light pressure.
“Fuck,” he whimpered against your lips, the sound broken and raw, and his jaw went slack again, his eyelids fluttering, his cock throbbing inside you. You could have fun with this.
You dropped your hips against him harshly, making him jolt into you, not a thought behind his fucking eyes as they widened, “So desperate, I told you to kiss me, didn’t I?”
“I can’t,” he cried, eyes closed, chin tipped back, “Feels so fucking good. Harder, please.”
You laughed in disbelief as you picked up your pace, the begging felt good, great even, your body consumed by another pleasure entirely. This was incredible. Maybe you could understand why Yunho does what he does, the sheer pleasure he must feel from breaking his partners down, having them at their wits end beneath him.
Having Mingi like this was unexpected but so fucking hot, even under a spell his cock was still hitting that perfect spot inside you, making you moan in tandem with him, a song of pleasure and worship filling the room, masking the noise of skin slapping against skin.
You let him go to brace your hands on his shoulders and his head fell against your chest, lazily kissing at your skin, his hands coming behind you to graze his fingernails down your back, making you hiss out at the sting. “Shit, Min.”
He whimpered again, making your hips stutter as you tried to ride him harder, faster, clenching around his length, and his fingers clawed at you deeper. Your back arched, “Yes, feels so good inside me, you’re so fucking perfect.”
“Need you to cum,” he said against your chest, a mumble of words, barely comprehensible. He glances up at you through his lashes, eyes sparkling and vulnerable, “Need to feel you cum, need it. Wanna fill you up.”
Your face twisted in pleasure, at the look on his fucking face, “Oh— Oh my God.”
You clenched again and he whined, “Fuck, I’m gonna fucking cum.”
“Wait,” you barked out, rushing a hand between your bodies to rub at your clit, “Hold it.”
His head tipped back, his features scrunching together, hands slipping down to your hips to squeeze, to guide you into fucking him harder. Deeper.
You gasped out a cry as you drew quick circles on your clit, still bouncing on him with the same rhythm, “F-Fuck, I’m so close, fuck, Min.”
“Yes,” he encouraged, “Cum for me, wanna feel it. Wanna feel you cum around me, please baby, give it to me.”
Your hips stuttered as you felt your high hit its peak, Mingi whining at the loss of rhythm, leaning back on his elbows to fuck up into you, his legs pushing against the bed frame surrounding your mattress. Your orgasm crashed over you, sending you forward, body folding in on itself as your vision went white, ears ringing as your body collided into his.
Mingi cried out, hips bucking and jerking into you to get himself off until he filled you up with his second load of the night, a sigh full of pleasure and contentment escaping him as he finished, his joints finally unlocking, laying flat against the bed.
After a moment his arms curled around you, pulling you up, laying your head on his chest from where you landed awkwardly over him. His hand went into your hair, rubbing lazy circles into your scalp, pressing his lips to the top of your head.
“Did I kill you?” He asked, voice teasing, and you grumbled a noise in response. “We can talk about it tomorrow if you want, but we still have to get you all cleaned up. Don’t fall asleep yet.”
You stuck your tongue out, licking the patch of his skin that was just beside your mouth to show him you were awake, making him shuffle in discomfort. He let out a small, disgruntled sound of surprise, “Eugh, don’t lick me.”
“Are you serious?” You picked your head up ever so slightly to see his face, which didn’t look disgusted at all.
A sweet smile sat on his cheeks, one not embarrassed, not shy, not regretful, but happy. You could have sighed in relief if you weren’t absolutely exhausted. He faked a pout, “You look so tired, and I still have one more orgasm to give you.”
He laughed when your face twisted in surprise and fear, you don’t think you even have the strength for a shower.
But because Mingi is perfect and knows you better than you know yourself, he ran the two of you a bath.
And you talked. A little.
But he definitely ripped that fifth one out of you.
You did end up talking about it the next day.
And the day after that, and the day after that, for two weeks. It seemed you and Mingi couldn’t stop talking about it, that night, his words, his assertiveness, how he jerked himself off onto your face, how your hands wrapped around his throat. It quickly snowballed into more, the two of you turning into monsters, it was as if your insatiability had grown a twin and possessed your boyfriend.
“I don’t know what happened,” at your favorite coffee shop in town the next day, the two of you sat cozied up in a booth, laptops out, but the last thing you were doing was working. “Something inside me, like, opened I guess. You put your hand around my neck and I thought I was gonna cum on the spot.”
With your cheek in your palm, you swirled your straw in your coffee cup, the doc you had open on your laptop screen long forgotten. “You really never thought you’d be into anything like that?”
Mingi shrugged, bringing his attention back to his screen, he drew mindless circles on his keypad with his finger. With his eyes on his laptop, big navy frames sitting on his nose, he admitted, “I don’t know, I never really thought about it.”
“Funny how I was trying to show you how to choke me,” you teased, lifting your head from your hand, straightening in the booth. “And here we found out something new about you.”
He rolled his eyes, a shy smile growing on his cheeks, still not looking at you, “Yeah, yeah, I owe you one.”
“No, not at all,” you shake your head, “We should just see what happens. What the vibe is when we’re in it, you know?”
He meets your eyes, cheeks dusted pink, “You’re okay with it? Like… If I asked you to do that to me again, you’re okay with it?”
Your eyes nearly bulged out of your head, was he embarrassed? You leaned forward, keeping your expression serious, “Song Mingi, that was one of the hottest things I have ever seen you do. One of the hottest things I’ve ever seen, actually.”
His eyebrows raised in surprise, as if he wasn’t expecting that answer. You smiled, hoping it came off as reassuring as you needed it to, “You’re not the only person that learned something about themself last night.”
His lips curled up at the edges, lopsided smile crawling across his cheeks, “I still wanna try doing it to you.”
“Good, because so do I,” you leaned back in the booth, still smiling, and you hoped his chest felt lighter, because yours definitely did.
The next morning, he beckoned you awake by peppering kisses to your forehead, your cheeks, your nose, your lips, but his hand sliding between your legs is what had your eyes finally opening.
You hummed in delight, sleepy mind curating nonsense to mumble as you stretched your arms over your head, spreading your knees to welcome to intrusion, the skilled fingers that knew exactly what they were doing.
Silently he worked you open, pressing kisses to your lips, slipping his tongue into your mouth to really get you there— he forced the taste of an orgasm on your tongue before he ripped it away, popping his fingers into his mouth instead.
You almost cursed him out for it, eyes wide, jaw dropped and pissed, but he just smiled.
“Be good for me today and you can have the rest later.”
You wore a scowl the entire day, even if thrill was coursing through your blood, excitement for what awaited you at home. He texted you mid-day while you were hard at work at your desk, asking for a present, a sexy picture in your job’s bathroom mirror.
You swallowed down your embarrassment, ears burning as you sped to the bathroom, eyes darting all around your office to make sure no one noticed, that no one saw you. An absurd fear.
Relief washed over you when the bathroom was empty and you quickly pulled your skirt down to your thighs, your ass laying right over the hem, plump and picturesque. You took a few, sending them all to him immediately, feeling scandalous and prideful that you’d done something so sexual in your job’s bathroom, and didn’t get caught.
He sent back a picture of the print of his cock through his slacks, his hand squeezing the base, his veins popping through his pearly skin, the watch sitting on his wrist making it so much hotter. With a caption just as incriminating as the photo, you salivated, tongue swimming in saliva as your thighs squeezed together beneath your desk, lip caught between your teeth.
Your body burned as you set your phone down, barely able to concentrate on your work as you completed your day, fighting with your mind to keep focus. By the time you got home he was waiting for you, already hard, stripping the skirt off your hips before you’d fully made it through the threshold of your apartment.
Five seemed like a lucky number for you two now, how many times you’d finished on various places of his body, on his fingers, his tongue, his cock, his thigh. The fifth came to you with his palm wrapped around your throat, squeezing harder than you ever thought he would, confidence oozing off of him as he drilled into you with your back against his chest.
The next day you seemed to switch places. You tapped into that side of yourself you just met, making Mingi a mess beneath you, tears and sweat and saliva, you took it all in stride with a smile on your face, eyes blazing with a wickedness Mingi’s never seen on you before. It was experimental and fun, fumbling hands and stuttered words, Mingi submitted to you even if you weren’t fully confident in your dominance.
You’d never degraded anyone before, much less your angelic boyfriend, it was a true fight to come up with nasty things to say, but that’s where your research had come into play. If either of you had an ounce of consciousness inside of the bubble you’d created together, you could probably pick apart where each and every piece of your words, actions, where everything had come from.
You two had become obsessed, every waking moment had turned sexual, doing and talking, talking and doing, you couldn’t get enough of each other. You started to feel silly for thinking your sex life would be ruined when, if anything, it had gotten better, somehow more active, because you both had turned insatiable. Mingi couldn’t make fun of you anymore, not when he was just as fucking horny as you were.
As deep as you were in it, the learning, the experimenting, something tugged at you. Maybe it was how you couldn’t grow fully confident in the weeks you’ve played, how you fumbled your words still, or when your hands didn’t quite know where to go, what to say, when to pull away. You knew learning never truly stopped, especially with something as severe as tapping into BDSM dynamics, but you found yourself stumped more than once, and that was enough to consider researching more.
Especially the night when you and Mingi had fallen into your sheets, a mess of lips and tongues and nails, waiting for the other to take the lead. Fighting for dominance but never winning, leaving room for the other to take charge, to set the tone for how the session would go. Ten minutes of kissing and muttering filthy words in each other’s ears, you knew he was feeling it, too.
Above you, he paused, lips parted and hands planted beside your head, chest heaving with adrenaline and slight confusion. You stared at each other for a moment, reading the feelings in each other’s eyes, before a laugh erupted from Mingi’s chest and had you giggling along with him.
“Shit, are we plateauing?” He flopped down next to you on his back, amusement laced in every word, eyes never leaving you once.
You giggled more, letting your head fall to the side to look at him, tilted smile on his lips and deep, hooded eyes. “I’m not gonna lie, I was kinda hoping you were gonna toss me around tonight.”
“That’s funny, I was kinda hoping you were gonna edge me until I cried,” he responded plainly, as if the words spilling from his lips weren’t completely filthy. You both laughed before you let out verbal breaths, a sound to fill the comfortable silence, then met each other’s eyes again.
“Well?” You asked, raising your brows at him, “What the hell do we do now?”
Neither of you knew, and you didn’t have an outlet to turn to. Instead you fucked slow, back to your roots, praises and kisses and soothing touches that felt incredible but still didn’t scratch the itch. The two of you needed more, something to help when you were both feeling submissive, looking for the same type of pleasure.
It wasn’t something you needed. No, you think it might be… Someone. Another person to help. The thought left you feeling uneasy.
You and Mingi have never once talked about opening up your relationship to anyone. Not once in your years together have you discussed a threesome, it’s been years since you’ve experienced a shred of jealousy, never once an inkling of disloyalty. Yours and Mingi’s relationship was the poster for perfection, and opening the door to someone else, even if it was all purely sexual, for education purposes, felt… Weird. Strange. Unwelcome.
Even if you were to say yes, who the hell would you ask? You only know one Dom, one person with enough experience in this area to help you. You forbade the thought for days to come.
Until it happened again.
The two of you weren’t as rough this time, kisses pressed to skin and hands slipping between legs, but it was still there. Mingi was whimpering into your mouth, a sound you’ve learned came from a very specific mindset, when he needed to be taken care of, when he was feeling needy.
And you had a long fucking day.
Your boss had assigned your team with a project that wasn’t anywhere near your area of expertise, accompanied by a deadline that didn’t seem humanly possible. When you had brought it up to him, he was not nice, stern and angry with you for not ‘doing what you get paid to do’ when this particular assignment was under his job criteria. It wasn’t fair, you had stress bottled up inside you from your head to your toes, you hadn’t even had sex on your mind today let alone coming home to dominate your boyfriend.
Your skin burned with every touch Mingi gave, you so badly wanted him to flip you around, take you with no prep, laying harsh slaps against your skin with a hand wrapped around your throat, you wanted these feelings fucked out of you. If you were going to fuck, you wanted to be fucked. There was so much negativity built up inside you from the day you yearned for your mind to go blank, to fall into that corner of consciousness where you didn’t have to be. Where Mingi made decisions for you, where he decided what was best.
“What’s wrong?” With his eyebrows furrowed in concern he pulled you into his chest, hands cradling your cheeks with soft palms, as if you would break in his grasp.
Fuck. Your throat tightened, your bottom lip jutted outward, your eyes closing to try and force the tears ripping their way through your ducts down. Mingi held you closer, threading a hand through your hair, scratching his nails into your scalp to soothe you, “Baby, what happened? What’s wrong?”
You sobbed into his chest, guilt racking through you with every breath, you didn’t know what to do. So consumed with the stress of your day and now Mingi wanted you to perform for him, you couldn’t do it. You didn’t answer at first, and he didn’t pry, he laid you down with him instead, letting you cry into his chest while rubbing circles into your back, kissing your head every few minutes, holding you close.
“I’m sorry,” you finally choked out, eyes opening only to see his tear-soaked tee before you.
He moved his hands to cup your cheeks again, holding your head up to look at him, thumbs swiping under your eyes to paint your tears onto your skin. “What’s wrong, my love? Did I do something?”
You shook your head in his hold, “No, no, it’s not you. I just had a really long, fucked up day, and I can’t…” Another sob ripped from your chest, “…I can’t do this tonight.”
“Baby,” the word laced with the ache from his own chest, he continued, “You don’t need to, you never need to, we don’t have to do anything.”
You sniffed, you couldn’t imagine what you looked like right now. Mingi’s seen worse, though, he’s seen everything. You pouted, involuntarily sniffing up the last of your cries, voice still broken and uneasy, “That’s the thing. I want to, I just don’t want to think, I want you to take my mind off of it. But I think you want the same from me.”
He blinked at you, concern and thought drinking up every inch of his face, he didn’t know what to say, either. It was a crossroads. He couldn’t just say Okay, I’ll dominate you tonight— it wouldn’t feel right. You wouldn’t want him to, either, you only want it if he wants it. Just like he only wants it if you want it.
He looses a breath, running a hand through your hair again, thumb swiping under your eye with his other hand, “Why don’t I run us a bath, order some takeout, and we can sit and watch a movie? Then tomorrow when we’re clear-headed and you’re feeling better, we can talk about this. What to do when it happens.”
You nodded into his hands, bottom lip quivering, because God, you were so fucking lucky. He washed every inch of your body in the steaming hot water, massaging into your shoulders, your scalp as he washed your hair. He had you smiling and giggling by the time you got dressed, after he ordered takeout, and then the two of you talked about your day. He listened actively, he hated your boss already, now that dislike just ran deeper. You watched a comedy, both laughing and talking through the whole thing, cuddled up next to each other before you fell asleep on the couch with every limb on your bodies intertwined.
“Wait, so you’re both switches?” Yunho faces the two of you in his spot, feet planted on the floor, elbows resting on his thighs with his fingers interlocked. His eyebrows laced together in focus as he listened to your story from the beginning, ready to guide you, to give the advice you asked him for.
You and Mingi knew you weren’t going to get anywhere from websites, informational books or romance novels, this was a problem you needed to speak to someone about. A real life human with knowledge, experience, the one person you both know and trust to help you with your little problem. The decision to ask him didn’t come easy, days were spent talking it out, the pros and the cons of opening up your sex life enough to let someone peer inside. None of your friends knew a single detail about yours and Mingi’s sex life, it wasn’t information you gave away easily.
But this? This felt necessary.
You sat with your legs crossed on your couch in your comfiest clothes, and Mingi sat stretched out beside you in an outfit that nearly matched yours. Yunho had walked inside complaining about his latest conquest, a six pack in his hand, ready to drink and forget all about it, maybe pass out on your couch. He was even dressed for the date he was supposed to go on, slacks and a long linen shirt, the top three buttons unbuttoned. Clearly, coming here was a last resort, or an answer to his own problems.
Until you and Mingi bombarded him with your own.
Yunho seemed excited to dive into your sex life, though. From all the stories he’s told, he’s barely ever gotten a detail out of one of you, one sided experiences shared without ever getting a glimpse inside of what you two do when you’re alone. He set the six pack down on the second shelf of your refrigerator and sat down in his spot across your living room, urging you two to spill.
“I guess so?” You look at Mingi and then back to Yunho, “I don’t know how else I’d describe it. It depends on the night.”
Yunho smiles in disbelief, “I would have never expected that. If I had to guess, I’d say you’re the dom, and Mingi’s your sub.”
“He’d love it that way,” you joked, nudging Mingi with your elbow, the six foot man beside you who wore the gentlest smile. “All of this started because I wanted him to throw me around a bit.”
“Hm,” Yunho sits back on his couch, crossing a leg over the other, his arm stretching across the back. “That’s a lot to discover, you haven’t been doing it for long, then?”
“A month and some change, I believe,” your boyfriend nods in Yunho’s direction. “At this point I think we’re just confused. We’re extremely similar and our feelings line up more often than they don’t, it’s hard to differentiate when one of us wants to be the one in control. Or doesn’t want to be, in our case.”
“Wait, wait,” Yunho raises a hand, “Let me see if I’m getting this right. The issue at hand is that neither of you want to be in control?”
“Sometimes,” you add, “Not all the time. The issue is what to do when that happens.”
Yunho laughs, and it’s a shrill sound that slithers down your spine, ringing in your ears like a wake up call. You think you can read the words in his mind, on his tongue, the easiest solution here, and it terrifies you when he actually says it.
“Why don’t you just call up a third when it happens?”
So simple. So easy. Like you and Mingi haven’t been together for years, like your sex life was some measly thing you could invite others into, as if it meant nothing. That was dangerous territory.
But you suppose you’ve been in dangerous territory for over a month anyhow.
You glance at Mingi who seemed to be thinking the same thing as you. He’s the one who turns to Yunho and says, “I don’t know if that’s something we’d be comfortable with.”
“Including someone else… Opens doors,” you add, fingers fidgeting where they say in your lap, uneasiness oozing off of you.
“Doors that we haven’t even knocked on, let alone opened,” Mingi nods, and the comfort of his thigh pressed to your knee feels necessary.
Yunho tilts his head, “It doesn’t need to be some big thing. You guys are exploring, figuring shit out, it doesn’t hurt to have someone else to guide you. And scratch the itch.”
You pull your lip between your teeth. That wording, how casual he’s treating the sentiment… You and Mingi were planners, since the beginning of starting this adventure, you’ve talked everything out from day one. Yet as you glanced at your boyfriend, the transparency in his eyes, how he seemed to be contemplating it, too.
Something was nagging at you, saying maybe inviting someone else in is the right option. Yunho was the one with experience, he’s guided people before.
He’s guided people before.
“Do you know anyone who would?” Mingi asked as your eyes skimmed over Yunho. Broad chest, long legs, strong thighs, you’ve never really looked at him. You know he’s gorgeous, but you’re too in love with Mingi to notice when someone looks like that. This could work. Your head tilted, the pearly chest peeking out of the white linen shirt lined with a silver chain, eyes dropping to his slacks clung to every muscle in his thighs. This could definitely work.
Yunho smacked his teeth. “Are you kidding me?”
A smile played at your lips as a bubble of excitement erupted in your gut. Every single story he’s ever told comes rushing back to you, every minuscule detail— Is he thinking what you’re thinking?
“You two have zero structure. As much as it doesn’t need to be a big deal, you should still invite someone that you trust.” Yunho meets your eye as he finishes his sentence, and you watch as he realizes, catching a glimpse of the amusement on your features, he knows.
“I trust whoever you trust, Yun,” Mingi says plainly. “I trust you the most.”
You and Yunho stare at each other, lost in some kind of nonverbal contemplation, who was going to tell Mingi what both of you were thinking? He jerks his chin in the direction of your boyfriend, the action so small it was almost unnoticeable, his eyes saying Go ahead.
So you do.
“Min,” you say quietly, turning to look at him, and Mingi meets your gaze with an absentminded look. As if Yunho couldn’t hear, you ask your boyfriend, “Why don’t we ask him?”
Mingi’s face contorts into bewilderment. “He can hear you— I— Are you crazy?”
You look at him, really look at him. We trust him.
Mingi’s face doesn’t change. He’s my best friend.
You pull your lips together in a line. He’s the only Dom we know. He can help us.
Mingi glances at Yunho, then back to you. Are you sure?
You smile. I’m sure.
When you both looked back at Yunho, his face had completely morphed into something different. Stronger. Thrill is racing in your blood, excitement and nerves combined encouraging the trickle of sweat beneath your clothes. You didn’t give yourself a moment to think, not about what could go wrong, not even about what would go right. Just sitting across from him had your mind floating, staring at that corner of your consciousness where you were everything and nothing all at once, waiting.
Mingi said something. You weren’t listening.
Yunho sat deeper into the couch, knees spread and outstretched in front of him, a smirk on his lips. “God, I thought you would never ask.”
Amusement still rippling in your eyes, impatience sitting shallow beneath your skin, you blink, “What do you mean?”
“The night you were ‘sick’?” He bends two long fingers on each hand around the word, “Don’t think I didn’t know why you kicked me out. What my words were doing to you both.”
Your body flushes, he even felt your temperature that night, yet he knew the whole time? Smirk still etched into his skin, he says, “You both looked at me like you wanted to eat me alive. Like you needed me to put you in your place.”
The breath that leaves your lungs is staggered and Mingi catches it, he could probably feel the arousal radiating off of you, smell the wetness pooling between your legs. You wanted this more than you realized, you think, and you hoped he did, too.
“Is that what you’d do?” The words stumble out of your mouth before you can think about them, “Put us in our place?”
Yunho meets your eye again and his gaze laid upon your body is all consuming, like being under a microscope, as if he can see the brat that laid dormant between your ribs. Voice swimming with simplicity and clean control, he says, “If you give me a reason to.”
He shifts his focus to your boyfriend and you feel colder without it, “Do you want this, Mingi?” With eyes on him and him alone, still exuding confidence and strength, he asks, “Or is it just your pretty little girlfriend that wants me?”
You and Mingi both gasp. Holy shit. Mingi stared, lips parted, you were sure his mind was going a mile a minute about all the things that could go wrong, how he hadn’t done any research on this.
Hold on, Yunho thinks you’re pretty?
“I’m nervous,” Mingi responds, his voice small, brushing his pinky finger against your thigh, but keeping his eyes trained on Yunho. Ignoring the pretty little girlfriend part doesn’t surprise you at all. With a little more confidence, he says, “We should talk about this.”
“We will talk about it,” Yunho nods, “I wouldn’t do this without talking about it first. I need to know your limits, boundaries, what you’re comfortable with. I need to know if you want it most of all though, Min.”
Mingi turns to you, a fire in his eyes, one that you couldn’t place specifically. Nerves or arousal, stress or excitement, they could burn either way. With an even smaller voice, low and raspy, he asks, “Are you sure about this?”
“I trust him,” you say just above a whisper, “If you don’t want it, we don’t do it. Period.”
“Baby,” he squeezes his eyes shut, dropping his head down, voice smaller than you’ve ever heard it, “I want it so fucking bad.”
You smile, peeking to look at Yunho, giving him a quick nod. You turn back to Mingi, excitement laced in your words, “Then let’s do it.”
“I need to hear you say it, Mingi,” Yunho cuts in, voice slicing through the room, an order. Mingi’s cheeks are bright pink as he stares at his best friend across the room, fingers fidgeting with the strings of his sweatpants, nervous. “Don’t be shy with me, I know everything about you, Min. I’ve seen your worst, and I’m still saying yes to fucking you.”
The huff of air that leaves Mingi slices through the room like a knife. It relayed every thought he was keeping trapped inside, every feeling he wasn’t sure if he should feel, as if he released the last bit of apprehension so the truth could lie bare. He looked at Yunho as if he handed his pride over to his best friend to hold between his long fingers, as if one harsh squeeze would leave Mingi ashamed for the rest of his life, as if he’d lose Yunho if this went all wrong.
Mingi swallowed, “I want this.”
Yunho smiled, “Great.” And as if he could read Mingi’s thoughts, his expression just as well as you could, he added, “You won’t regret it, I promise.”
Mingi nodded, leaving silence to lay over the room like a blanket. You steal a glance at your boyfriend, the both of you seeming to be thinking Well? What now?
Yunho answers your thoughts once more, “Tell me what you’ve done, what works, what doesn’t. Any boundaries, hard limits, things that are an immediate No.”
You purse your lips, trying to rack your mind, because in all seriousness you really haven’t tried all that much besides choking, some light power play and orgasm denial.
When you nor Mingi answer right away, the smile on Yunho’s face only grows, sly and knowing. “You guys are like two virgins sitting across from me. Say something.”
As if the one sentence took the edge off completely, you smile, and the lock on your vocal chords open. “We’ve just played around with choking, denying orgasms and stuff, some degradation. Nothing crazy.”
“I did that once,” Mingi raises a finger, a nod of his head.
“I don’t really know what I’d be into or not into,” you shrug, “Do you have, like, a list?”
“What, like a survey? Check off the box next to each kink if you’re into it?”
That rips a laugh from your lungs, “Fuck you, I don’t know. I don’t even know what there is to say no to.”
Yunho’s smile is somewhere between amused and plotting, eyes thinned and menacing. “Okay, then tell me what is an immediate Yes. What you do want.”
You purse your lips again, but Mingi answers first, the confidence in his voice taking you completely by surprise. “I like being choked, and I like when she’s mean to me, but nothing too mean, more like when she calls me names. I don’t know about being spanked or slapped.”
You nod, “Choking and names, yes. Spanked and slapped also yes.”
“Okay, we’re getting somewhere,” Yunho nods, “When you say names, you mean slut, whore, etcetera…”
You and Mingi nod, saying yes simultaneously.
“And we’re both okay with orgasm denial, how about overstimulation?”
“Yes,” you say in unison with your boyfriend once more.
“Then let’s start there,” Yunho leans forward again, elbows on his knees, legs spread before him. “I won’t be too harsh with you. If you guys are still interested in exploring, then we’ll save it for next time.”
He’s already thinking about next time?!
“Have you figured out a safe word already?”
You and Mingi nod, but Mingi says, “It’s kiwi. We googled safe words and it said fruits are good words to use.”
Yunho tries to ignore his amusement but his smile leaks through the mask, “Kiwi, okay. I can kiss you both, touch you both, there’s no limits when it comes to that, either?”
You and Mingi both shake your head. You add, “We’re yours to do whatever you want.”
“Good,” Yunho says, then turns to you, back to the demeanor exuding strength and power, “For starters, never say fuck you to me again, unless you want to watch me ruin your boyfriend while you sit in the corner, watching.”
Your breath hitches in your throat, your body stilling, heat erupting beneath your skin. The thought of him touching Mingi without you, doing anything without you present, active… a shiver racks down your spine, eyes wide and alert. You nod, then squeak, “Understood.”
“So sweet,” Yunho smiles, “I’m gonna have fun with you. Come here, pretty.”
You glance at Mingi, who looks like a deer caught in fucking headlights, eyes wide and slightly panicked, lips pulled into a line. His face seemed to say, He wants to do this now?!
You hold his stare, Should we?
His eyes fly to Yunho, then land back on you, his jaw tightening as he thinks. You can see the thoughts form, the churning of contemplation in his mind, but you watch as they soften, chocolate eyes melting under the heat of his best friend. His lips perked up at the corners, but his eyes told you he wasn’t completely sure, “Don’t keep him waiting, baby.”
You swallow but still stand on shaky legs, sauntering across the room, around the coffee table, approaching Yunho who shifts as you come closer, body sinking into the couch and spreading his knees. His face is too calm and collected, too casual, as if he’d truly been waiting for this, as if he’d seen this picture in a dream. You stand before him, socked toes wiggling against the hardwood as he looks you up and down, eyes catching on your big tee, staring where it swallows your shorts beneath. You were not dressed for the occasion, but he didn’t seem to care.
“Come on,” long fingers hit the top of his thighs, patting muscles and clothed skin, his slacks bunched where his thighs met his pelvis. “Sit.”
Your heart thumps beneath your chest as you sink a knee on either side of him, your head immediately turning to look back at your boyfriend. Yunho catches your chin with his hand before you catch a glimpse, his voice stern, “Eyes on me.”
You didn’t think you’d be apprehensive– every bone in your body was screaming yes, but the thighs beneath you were so different from Mingi’s, more narrow, just as strong but more slender, a lankier build than your muscle mass of a boyfriend. The difference had your body confused, your muscle memory warped, but your muscles relaxed in his hold, submitting to his grip on you, long fingers hooked on either side of your jaw. You stared into the well of bronze below his brows, lighter than Mingi’s, but hardened with steady control.
“Do you still want this?” His voice was low, almost a whisper on your skin, “Be honest. We can just watch a movie, try again another time, or never talk about it again.”
“I do,” It took a single hammered heartbeat to answer, “I want this.”
He smiles again, sweeter this time, “Then kiss me.”
He guided you toward him with his fingers still wrapped around your jaw, his lips softly melting with yours, and the feeling was… Strange. Smaller than Mingi’s but just as soft, you adjusted, allowing him to take the lead, following his lips as his hand traveled to your cheek, taking up every inch of space from your jawline to your ear. It was dizzying, Yunho kissed like he was already undressing you, inside you, passion and lust and conjoining, you could feel every intention behind it. It didn’t take long for your hips to rut against his.
As good as it was, it was still weird. Being with one person for so long but enjoying another, guilt nibbled at your soul, at every ounce of blood in your body that circulated only for Mingi. His hands dropped to your hips, palms covering bone, fingertips digging into plush skin, moving you against him. Your lips still followed his, body pliant for him, your arms flying to his shoulders to keep you steady.
Yunho pulled away after a moment, back relaxing into the cushions, hands laying softly on your hips, he averted his eyes to your boyfriend who sat across the room.
“Min,” you turned your head as Yunho called his name, eyes widening as you took in the view of your boyfriend. Body stretched out before him, jaw locked, eyes glazed over, still somewhere between horny and hesitant. “Come here,” Yunho’s voice was softer now, control still tangled within his words but he’d mixed in something calmer, soothing.
Mingi loosed a heavy breath as he stood, taking the seat beside Yunho, his limbs locked and rigid. You met his eyes, trying to understand what laid below the surface, and for the first time in years you couldn’t read his mind. Yunho’s head still hung lazily over the couch, his eyes raking over his best friend, his thoughts you couldn’t place either.
Yunho’s hand reached out to touch Mingi’s face, his thumb caressing his smooth, pink cheek, a small smile sitting on Yunho’s face as he touched him. Yunho locked a laugh inside his chest as Mingi shuddered, his voice quieter now, “Wanna kiss me?”
Mingi looked like he saw a ghost. Rapidly blinking, his lips opening and closing, yet leaning into Yunho’s palm resting on his cheek. Mingi nodded once, and that was all Yunho needed to lean in, to attach his lips to Mingi’s.
Your lips parted as theirs met, a rush of adrenaline seeping into your bones as they kissed, softly at first, questioning and experimental. Your eyes widened as their kiss deepened, Mingi’s body turning to face Yunho, a rough palm coming up to cup Yunho’s cheek, the two of them holding each other.
It was… Passionate. You wondered if Mingi was feeling the same things you did, the guilt, unease, the feeling of it all being foreign. It didn’t look like it, but you wondered how you looked kissing Yunho, if it appeared anything like this. The heavier it grew, the higher your temperature raised, a blazing heat consuming you as every nerve ending sparked. Watching Mingi kiss someone else— Yunho of all people— had you even more confused than you were before, horny but jealous, enjoying the show but wishing they were touching you, too.
Yunho’s hand slid down to Mingi’s jaw, grabbing it the same way he grabbed yours, you watched as his fingertips turned white with pressure, his grip tightening to ignite jealousy in your fucking soul. You rolled your hips at the sight before you, unsure if it was to get their attention or if it was because of the bucket of arousal that had been dumped on your head.
A hand left Mingi’s jaw to slide up your thigh, to rest on your hip, urging you to continue. You leaned forward at the attention, your hand reaching under Yunho’s unbuttoned shirt by the collar, fingers caressing his collarbone to his shoulder. Your lips followed, tongue licking up his neck, tasting sweat and Yunho as you kissed his jaw, the two still making out just above your head.
Yunho’s hand slid up to your waist beneath your tee, still keeping the other hand on your boyfriend’s jaw, somehow appeasing both of you simultaneously. You think about what he said– God, I thought you’d never ask– It finally clicks that he’s been waiting for this. He wants it just as much as you two do. The thought makes you smile into his skin, your other hand playing with the buttons of his linen shirt, wanting to feel the skin beneath it, wanting the wall between you gone.
Yunho finally breaks away from Mingi, both hands coming to your hips to still you, and you pull away from his neck. Both you and Mingi stare at him confused, waiting for instructions or compliments or degradation, you weren’t sure.
You would have never expected what actually came out of his mouth.
“That’s enough for tonight,” he leans back into the couch, eyeing the two of you carefully. You glance at Mingi who wore swollen lips and furrowed brows, you were sure you looked the same.
“That’s it?” Your eyebrows knit together, “Just some kissing?”
You were baffled. Yunho smiles, “Just some kissing. Now you’ll know if you really want it, with me.”
“I know,” Mingi counters immediately, “I know. I want it, now. With you.”
You nod your agreement, “I know, too. I want it, Yunho.”
Yunho’s smile just grows, sly and wicked as per usual, “Think on it for a few days.”
You can feel him hard beneath you– You stare at him with wide eyes, eyebrows furrowed, jaw slack. The arousal sliding through your veins was begging to be released, the arousal for him, for what comes next. You sputter, blinking rapidly, “I– We don’t need to think. Are you serious?”
He laughs. Not condescendingly, one genuinely full of amusement, “I’m serious, baby.” His hands grab at your hips, lifting you to place you on Mingi’s lap instead, “Next time.”
You look at Mingi who shares the same expression, confusion and surprise, blue-balled. You look at Yunho who’s getting up from the couch, “You don’t want to?”
He stands before you then glances down at his clearly hard cock pressing against the material of his pants, “I clearly want it, but I know you two. You don’t do anything on a whim, everything is planned out, even sex. Think about it, talk about it, and call me.”
It was as you had jumped into the ocean, freezing water washing over you, waking you up while simultaneously putting you down. You blink at him, he was right, he knows the two of you far too well, but for once you didn’t need to think it through. You knew down to the essence of your being that you wanted this, wanted him, wanted to see what he’d do with you. Wanted to feel it.
“Don’t look at me like that,” He tilted his head, pouting, “I promise I’ll come back and fuck you stupid if you want me to.”
Oh, you burned at his words, you wondered what other filthy things could leave his pretty lips. Mingi spoke up before you got the chance to whine, “You’ll come when we call?”
Yunho nods, “I promise. We have, like, twelve more movies to watch, anyways.”
You groan, you forgot about your Marvel Marathon. “God, this is gonna be endless.”
“You have no idea,” He winks, fucking winks, and you sink into Mingi, fighting another groan.
He turns, grabbing his keys from the coffee table, and starts for your front door. He waves a hand as he approaches the door, calling behind him, “I’ll be waiting for your call!”
You and Mingi look at each other as he slips through the door, a thousand words going through your minds, but you speak first. “We are calling him tomorrow.”
Mingi laughs, head tipping backwards, his whole body falling into the couch. “He’s such an asshole, but he’s right. A correct asshole.”
“A correct asshole,” you huff, laying on top of your boyfriend, sinking into his warmth. “I’m horny.”
“Good thing I got a lil’ jealous seeing you kiss him,” Mingi says, his hands sliding up your waist, under your tee– His tee. “Come here.”
[⚠️ EXTREME CONTENT WARNING — Full NSFW, D/s dynamics, orgasm torture, degradation, overstimulation, impact play, squirting, and psychological filth ahead.]
Now Continue with caution ✨
It had started as a joke.
You were curled up beside Mingi on the couch, legs tangled and lips brushing his neck, when you whispered the idea into his ear.
“Let me be in charge tonight.”
Mingi's warm, relaxed laugh rumbled through his chest. “You? My baby wants to top me?” His teasing made your cheeks burn, but you nodded anyway, holding his gaze.
“I’m serious. Just for tonight. I want to see what it feels like… to make you beg.”
His eyes darkened—curious, intrigued—but he raised a brow. “Alright,” he said slowly. “You’ve got me for one night.”
You thought you were ready.
In the bedroom
Your hand moves slowly between his legs, your fingers curled under the waistband of his briefs as you whisper against his throat, “You’re going to be good for me tonight, right?”
Mingi’s body shifts beneath yours on the bed, his thick thighs tensing as he smirks lazily. “Mm… I’ll try,” he hums, voice husky from the way you’d been dragging this out. You had him naked, sprawled out, wrists resting above his head, chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. His cock was hard, flushed, leaking—but you hadn’t let him come. Not even close.
You grind your hips down against his thigh, pressing your palm to his chest to keep him still. “No trying. You listen. You beg.”
You curl your fingers around his cock, slowly, deliberately, giving it one firm jerk that makes his hips jump. He grits his teeth and bites back a groan.
You smirk, proud. “Already twitching? I haven’t even gotten started yet.”
His gaze flickers up at you—eyes dark, narrowed, amused.
You drag your lips along his collarbone, down his chest, then lower, settling between his thighs. You take him into your mouth—just the head—suck, swirl your tongue, then pull off with a sinful pop. He growls, hands flexing above him, but still doesn’t move. “You like being teased, don’t you, baby?”
Mingi exhales a shaky breath, his voice rough with restraint. “You’re cute when you think you’re in control.”
You stop your hand. Blink. “Excuse me?”
He chuckles, deep and low, the sound vibrating in his chest. “Don’t get me wrong,” he says, shifting suddenly—too suddenly. One second you’re above him, and the next, your wrists are pinned beside your head and his weight is pressing you into the mattress. “You tried.”
Your eyes widen as his cock, slick from your mouth, rubs against your inner thigh. His lips brush your ear. “But baby… you’re mine. And you know damn well I don't beg.”
“Mingi—” you breathe, but the sound dies in your throat when his hand slips between your legs, two fingers pressing hard against your clit through your panties. You gasp.
“Let me remind you how this works,” he murmurs, dark and sweet. “You tease me again like that, and I’ll edge you ‘til you’re crying.”
You squirm under him, panting. “I was just—trying something new…”
“And it was adorable,” he grins, leaning down to kiss your neck, then biting just enough to make you squirm. “But from now on? You ask before you touch my cock like that. Or else…”
You whimper, the heat between your legs unbearable.
“...I’ll tie you up and finish on your thighs just to watch you sob.”
Your wrists are still pinned, your breath coming in short, needy gasps as Mingi smirks down at you, chest rising with slow, confident control.
“You wanted to play dom tonight, yeah?” he murmurs, dragging his cock along the soaked fabric between your thighs. “Thought you could edge me, tell me when to beg, use me like a toy?”
You nod, barely.
“Wrong answer.”
He slaps your pussy, hard, through your soaked panties, the sting making you jerk with a gasp. “Use your words.”
“Yes,” you whimper. “I thought I could be the dom.”
Mingi leans down, lips brushing yours but never kissing. “And now?”
“Now I know better.”
He grins. “Good girl.”
He lets go of your wrists just to rip your panties aside with a single aggressive tug, the fabric tearing. “These are mine now,” he says, tossing them to the side before gripping your hips and manhandling you until you’re bent over in front of him, cheek pressed to the sheets, your ass high and exposed.
“You’re not cumming tonight,” he says as he slaps your ass—once, twice—making you moan and arch back for more. “You don’t get to. Not after teasing me for nearly an hour.”
He grabs his cock and rubs the wet head along your pussy lips, never pressing in. Just dragging, letting the thick weight of him torment your clit. “You feel that? That’s what you don’t get yet. Not until I say.”
“Mingi, please—” you start to beg, but he cuts you off by slipping just the tip inside. Your walls clench instinctively, and he moans low and cruel.
“Fuck. So wet for someone who thought she was in charge. You really couldn’t handle being a dom.”
He pushes in halfway and then pulls out. Again. Again. Never deep enough, never fast. Just enough to make your body tremble and your fists clutch the sheets. Half way in. Half way out. Again and again. Slow and steady.
“You’re going to sit right here,” he growls, voice thick and breathless with restraint, “and take every single one of my thrusts until you’re dripping on my cock. But you’re not gonna cum. Not until I finish all over these pretty thighs you love to tease me with.”
“Mingi—please, I need—”
He grabs your hair, pulling your head back just enough to growl into your ear, “You don’t need anything. You need to learn.”
And then he’s fucking you. Not fast, but deep. Controlled. Each thrust hits perfectly, calculated to drive you insane, to press right where your nerves scream for release. His other hand is between your thighs again, two fingers circling your clit just hard enough to edge you back up—but never enough to let you fall.
You’re shaking. Crying. Desperate. And he loves it.
“You wanna cum so bad, don’t you, baby?” he taunts, panting as he fucks you deeper, sloppier. “Beg. Beg like the little sub you really are.”
“Please,” you cry, your voice cracked and ruined, “please Mingi, let me cum—please, I’ll do anything.”
He groans, cock twitching inside you. “You sound so fucking good when you’re being obedient.”
He pulls out suddenly, making you scream at the loss. And before you can turn around, he’s jerking himself off, the wet slap of skin loud and filthy.
Squelching noises.
“Open your thighs,” he commands, breathless. “Now.”
You do—and he groans, hard and deep, as he spills across your skin, thick streams painting your thighs, your ass, your pussy lips. It’s hot, obscene, and somehow even more humiliating that you’re left empty and aching while he comes all over you.
He slaps your clit one more time, chuckling darkly when you jerk. “Next time you think about being in charge?” He leans in, dragging his tongue along the mess he made on your inner thigh. “Remember this.”
Your voice breaks as you whimper his name, ruined.
And Mingi just smiles.
“Now… get on your knees. We’re not done.”
Your wrists are still pinned, your breath coming in short, needy gasps as Mingi smirks down at you, chest rising with slow, confident control.
“You wanted to play dom tonight, yeah?” he murmurs, dragging his cock along the soaked fabric between your thighs. “Thought you could edge me, tell me when to beg, use me like a toy?”
You nod, barely.
“Wrong answer.”
He slaps your pussy, hard, through your soaked panties, the sting making you jerk with a gasp. “Use your words.”
“Yes,” you whimper. “I thought I could be the dom.”
Mingi leans down, lips brushing yours but never kissing. “And now?”
“Now I know better.”
He grins. “Good girl.”
He lets go of your wrists just to rip your panties aside with a single aggressive tug, the fabric tearing. “These are mine now,” he says, tossing them to the side before gripping your hips and manhandling you until you’re bent over in front of him, cheek pressed to the sheets, your ass high and exposed.
“You’re not cumming tonight,” he says as he slaps your ass—once, twice—making you moan and arch back for more. “You don’t get to. Not after teasing me for nearly an hour.”
He grabs his cock and rubs the wet head along your folds, never pressing in. Just dragging, letting the thick weight of him torment your clit. “You feel that? That’s what you don’t get yet. Not until I say.”
“Mingi, please—” you start to beg, but he cuts you off by slipping just the tip inside. Your walls clench instinctively, and he moans low and cruel.
“Fuck. So wet for someone who thought she was in charge.”
He pushes in halfway and then pulls out. Again. Again. Never deep enough, never fast. Just enough to make your body tremble and your fists clutch the sheets.
“You’re going to sit right here,” he growls, voice thick and breathless with restraint, “and take every single one of my thrusts until you’re dripping on my cock. But you’re not gonna cum. Not until I finish all over these pretty thighs you love to tease me with.”
“Mingi—please, I need—”
He grabs your hair, pulling your head back just enough to growl into your ear, “You don’t need anything. You need to learn.”
And then he’s fucking you. Not fast, but deep. Controlled. Each thrust hits perfectly, calculated to drive you insane, to press right where your nerves scream for release. His other hand is between your thighs again, two fingers circling your clit just hard enough to edge you back up—but never enough to let you fall.
You’re shaking. Crying. Desperate. And he loves it.
“You wanna cum so bad, don’t you, baby?” he taunts, panting as he fucks you deeper, sloppier. “Beg. Beg like the little sub you really are.”
“Please,” you cry, your voice cracked and ruined, “please Mingi, let me cum—please, I’ll do anything.”
He groans, cock twitching inside you. “You sound so fucking good when you’re broken.”
He pulls out suddenly, making you scream at the loss. And before you can turn around, he’s jerking himself off, the wet slap of skin loud and filthy.
“Open your thighs,” he commands, breathless. “Now.”
You do—and he groans, hard and deep, as he spills across your skin, thick streams painting your thighs, your ass, your pussy lips. It’s hot, obscene, and somehow even more humiliating that you’re left empty and aching while he comes all over you.
He slaps your clit one more time, chuckling darkly when you jerk. “Next time you think about being in charge?” He leans in, dragging his tongue along the mess he made on your inner thigh. “Remember this.”
Your voice breaks as you whimper his name.
And Mingi just smiles.
“Now… get on your knees. We’re not done.”
He grabs a fistful of your hair, jerking your head up from the sheets. “On your knees. Now.”
You scramble to obey, legs barely holding you, thighs sticky and trembling. When you finally look up, he’s standing at the edge of the bed, cock glistening with a mix of your arousal and his cum, thick and still twitching.
“Look at the mess you made,” he growls, lazily stroking himself, spreading his release along the shaft. “You wanna be in charge, baby? Then clean it up. With your mouth.”
You hesitate, just a second too long.
Smack.
His palm connects with your cheek—not too hard, just enough to sting, enough to humiliate. You whimper, your pussy clenching from the sheer filth of it.
“I said lick it up.”
You lean in, tongue trembling as you drag it up from the base of his cock, collecting the mess in slow, desperate licks. It’s salty and thick, your own slick mixed in. You moan as the taste hits your tongue, your body reacting with a wave of heat, deeper than shame—something darker.
“Good little slut,” Mingi groans, staring down at you. “That’s it. Suck it like you need it to survive.”
You wrap your lips around the head, moaning around him as you swirl your tongue, lapping up every last drop of his release. He growls low in his throat, letting his head fall back.
But then—
He grips the back of your head and forces you down, choking you on his cock in one savage thrust. Your eyes roll, throat tightening as he holds you there, nose buried in the base, spit and cum leaking out from the corners of your mouth.
“You’re not stopping ‘til you can’t fucking think.”
You gag—but he doesn’t let go. He rocks into your throat, slow and brutal, using your mouth like a toy. Like you’re nothing but a filthy hole for him to fuck. Tears stream down your cheeks as drool drips from your chin.
“This what you wanted?” he pants. “This what you thought dominance was? You thought you could own me?”
He pulls out, letting you breathe—but just barely.
“Open wide.”
You do—and he spits in your mouth, thick and mean.
“Swallow it.”
You do.
He groans darkly, dragging his cock across your tongue again, smearing the tip against your lips like he’s painting you with sin.
“You’re not my dom, baby. You’re my fucking plaything. A needy, dumb little cum rag who begs for permission to breathe. Got it?”
You moan helplessly, thighs clenching.
“Get back on the bed,” he growls. “Ass up. You’re not cumming until I ruin every hole you have.”
And from the look in his eyes—hungry, cruel, insatiable—you know he means it.
Your limbs are loose and shaking, your cunt still throbbing and untouched by release. You barely register the sound of a drawer sliding open before Mingi returns with a thick suction cup dildo in one hand—and the devil in his eyes.
“Oh, you wanted to dominate me?” he sneers, gripping your jaw hard. “Then open that pretty mouth. Let me fill it.”
He slams the dildo against the headboard, right at face level, and grabs you by the hair to force you on all fours, mouth inches from the toy. It’s thick. Veiny. Intimidating.
“You’re gonna suck that like it’s my cock, while I fuck the real one into this soaked pussy.”
You let your tongue drag over the rubber head, moaning in humiliation as you lick it, take it in, suck. It’s wrong. It’s disgusting. But you love it.
Mingi climbs onto the bed behind you, one hand on your lower back to arch you deep, the other guiding his cock right to your drenched slit.
“You want to cum so bad, don’t you?” he breathes, dragging the thick head through your folds, up and down, teasing. “But you’re not going to. Not until you’re drooling begging for it.”
He thrusts into you in one harsh push, bottoming out. Your mouth falls open around the dildo, muffling your scream. He groans loud, hands gripping your hips so tight they’ll bruise.
“Fuck—still so tight even after all that teasing? You’re pathetic.”
His pace is brutal from the start. Deep, hard thrusts that make your thighs tremble. Your mouth slides further onto the dildo with each forward rock, gagging slightly, spit soaking the fake shaft.
And then—his fingers trail down, pressing to your asshole. You tense.
“A little pressure,” he growls, thrusting harder into your cunt, “and I bet I can make you scream without even touching your clit.”
You sob around the toy as he pushes a finger in, slowly stretching you open. Then another.
“Filthy fucking girl. You want all your holes used, don’t you?”
You try to nod, eyes rolling back. Mingi chuckles cruelly.
“You’re not cumming. Not until I’ve got my cock in your pussy, my fingers in your ass, and your mouth stuffed with that toy like the cock-hungry slut you are.”
He pumps his fingers deeper, curling them as he pounds into you, his cock hitting that sweet, dangerous spot over and over. The overstimulation is too much. You’re leaking. Clenching. Moaning around the dildo like a bitch in heat.
“Feel it?” he pants. “How close you are? How bad you want it?”
You whimper, spit and drool dripping down your chin, thighs soaked, body trembling on the edge.
He suddenly stops.
Everything stops.
His cock slips out. His fingers leave your ass. The pressure vanishes.
You scream—a broken, desperate, raw sound.
“No,” he growls. “You don’t get to cum yet.”
You collapse to the mattress, drooling onto the sheets, your body convulsing from the brutal denial. Mingi crawls on top of you, licking a line up your spine, before whispering against your ear:
“You’re not gonna cum until you cry for it. And then maybe I’ll let you.” He gracefully but harshly grabs your throat. “Round two, baby. Let’s see how long you last before you start begging me to break you.”
Your throat is raw from sucking the rubber cock, spit slicking your chest, and your hips ache from the strain—but you don’t stop. You can’t. Mingi’s behind you again, hard and throbbing, smirking like a sadist as he watches your ruined body twitch on the bed.
“Still haven’t learned your place, huh?” he mutters, slapping your ass hard, watching the skin bounce. “You think I’m gonna let you cum just ‘cause you look desperate?”
His cock pushes back into your dripping pussy with a cruel thrust, making you choke around the toy. He fucks you rough, deep, until your eyes roll, then slows down just when it starts to build.
He feels it—your cunt clenching, your breath quickening, your thighs trembling. He can feel your orgasm crawling up your spine.
So he pulls out.
Again.
“Uh-uh,” he growls. “You don’t cum until I command it.”
You sob, face buried into the sheets now, trying to grind back against him, but he grabs your hips and holds you still. His voice is low, calm, terrifying.
“You want to cum so bad? Too fucking bad.”
He leans over your back, fingers slipping between your legs, rubbing fast circles into your clit.
It’s too much. Your body screams. You’re climbing again—high, higher, and just as your body begins to tip—
He stops.
“No.”
Your whole body shudders, muscles seizing with the loss. You wail.
“Again,” he says. “And this time, don’t you fucking dare even think about cumming without permission.”
His fingers return—cruel, fast, merciless. His cock presses into your ass this time, not all the way, just the thick head, teasing you open while his other hand abuses your clit.
You're panting, trembling, tears mixing with the drool on your chin. Your mind is blank, nothing but heat and pain and the need to cum. Every muscle is pulled tight, your orgasm teetering again—
“No.”
Ripped away again.
You scream, fist pounding the sheets, your hips shaking violently with denied release. “Please—Mingi—please—”
He grabs your throat and hauls you back, his cock now grinding against your soaked folds again but never pushing in. His lips brush your ear.
“You wanna cum so bad, you’ll do anything, huh?”
“Yes,” you cry, voice cracked, face streaked with tears and spit. “Yes, anything—please—I can’t—I can’t take it—”
He chuckles darkly.
“Oh, you can. You just haven’t begged enough yet.”
And then he flips you over, spreads your legs, and slaps your swollen clit. You scream. He does it again. Then his mouth is on you—hot, wet, filthy. He sucks your clit, tongue ruthless, two fingers back inside you, pumping in a rhythm that makes your vision blur.
You’re on the edge again. So close. So fucking close—
And he stops.
You sob, body jerking violently. He holds you down, watching you fall apart.
“Cry for it,” he whispers. “Beg me. Show me just how desperate you really are.”
You’re broken. Hips twitching, face soaked, body a mess. You’ve never needed anything like this before.
“Please,” you gasp, “Mingi—I’ll do anything—just please let me cum—I’m your toy, your slut, your fuckdoll—just please—”
He moans softly, sliding back inside your cunt with one deep, slow thrust.
“There she is,” he growls. “There’s my broken little fuckpet.”
And this time—
He doesn’t stop.
He pounds into you hard and fast, fingers returning to your clit, mouth on your throat, groaning curses in your ear. Your body convulses, overloaded, every nerve screaming as your orgasm barrels toward you like a freight train. But Mingi suddenly stops.
He pulls out slowly, his cum dripping from between your thighs as you whimper, trying to close your legs. A sharp slap makes you cry out, and he growls, “Don’t you dare try to hide from me. I’m not finished with this pussy yet.”
You barely register the cold leather wrapping around your wrists until he’s yanking them above your head, strapping you to the headboard.
“Thought you were a dom?” he scoffs, dragging the flat of his palm down your twitching stomach. “Now look at you. Tied up, ruined, leaking. You don’t get to move. You don’t get to think unless I say so.”
You open your mouth to speak—and he slaps it.
Hard.
Spit flies. Your head turns with the blow. A shocked moan leaves your lips before his hand grips your face, squeezing your cheeks.
“Too many words from a dumb little cumdrunk pet,” he growls. “You need to listen now.”
He climbs back between your legs, eyes blazing as he spreads them open again. “We’re going to play a game,” he murmurs darkly. “I’m going to make you cum now. Over and over. Until you’re sobbing, begging me to stop. And you know what I’ll say?”
You blink, shaking, pupils blown wide.
He smirks.
“I’ll say no.”
And then he’s moving. Fast.
His mouth locks on your clit—biting, sucking, his tongue dragging raw circles over the already tortured bundle of nerves. Two fingers slam back into your soaked cunt. You scream, body arching—only to be slammed back by the cuffs.
It’s instant. Orgasm slamming through you like lightning, pain and pleasure mixing into a scream that rips your throat.
He doesn’t stop.
“Number one,” he mutters, wiping his mouth on your thigh.
You barely register it before he’s back down again, using his spit, adding pressure, curling his fingers, talking to your pussy like it’s something he owns. And it is.
“Such a good hole,” he murmurs. “So greedy. So tight. Fuck—just keeps sucking me in.”
Orgasm two hits harder. Violent. Shaking. Your body convulses, tears pouring down your face.
“Number two,” he whispers.
You’re crying now. Begging. Shaking your head.
“No, no more—please—I can’t—I can’t take it—”
“Yes, you can.”
His palm cracks across your tits, slapping the soft flesh until it stings. Then his mouth’s there too, biting your nipple, sucking it until you cry out.
You try to pull away—he chokes you.
One hand wrapping around your throat, holding you still as his other hand tortures your clit again. Your cunt’s raw. You’re twitching, eyes unfocused.
Orgasm three tears out of you like a possession, your legs kicking, body fighting the cuffs.
“Number three,” he says, voice low and sweet. “Starting to break now, baby? That look in your eyes—you’re not thinking anymore, are you?”
You whimper. There’s no answer left. Fucked dumb.
He chuckles, wiping his spit and your juiced across your cheeks.
“You wanted pain? You wanted to be dominated?” he sneers, standing up, grabbing your chin so you look at him through teary eyes. “Then take it. Earn your next orgasm.”
He straddles your chest, cock hard again, slapping it across your face. “Open.”
You do. Tongue out, eyes wide, drool dripping.
He fucks your mouth slow—obscene. Then fast. Then slaps your cheek again as he pulls out, spit dripping from your lips.
“Good fuckdoll. That’s all you are now, huh?”
You nod. Barely conscious. Barely anything but his.
He grabs the vibrator from the nightstand—low setting. Then higher. Then higher. He presses it right to your clit without warning.
You scream.
Your body jerks so hard the cuffs creak. You’re soaking the sheets now—legs trembling violently as your sixth orgasm rips through you with electric, brutal force.
He doesn’t stop.
“That’s six,” he whispers, and kisses your tears.
“Let’s see how many more my toy can take before she blacks out.”
You’re gone.
Mind empty. Body trembling. Vision blurry.
But Mingi?
He’s grinning like he’s just getting started.
He leans in close, brushing the soaked hair from your face with the back of his hand, mockingly gentle. “Still with me, baby?” He gives you a slap on the face.
You whimper, lips swollen, throat raw, your body twitching in its restraints.
He grabs your jaw, forcing your teary, glazed eyes to meet his. “Good. ‘Cause I’m not fucking finished with you yet.”
Mingi releases your wrists from the cuffs, and you collapse into his arms like a ragdoll. He catches you effortlessly—then manhandles you into his lap, sitting on the edge of the bed with his legs spread wide, his bare thigh slick with your cum and spit.
He grabs your hips, dragging your used cunt over to straddle him.
“Get on my thigh,” he commands, voice dark. “Now.”
You shake, legs barely holding, but obey—because you’re too far gone not to. Your soaked pussy presses down against his thigh, still hot, still trembling, still leaking from your brutal orgasms.
But he doesn’t let you settle.
He grinds your hips against him, thigh flexing, dragging that raw, throbbing clit along his firm muscle. “Ride me. Rub that ruined pussy all over me like the good little whore you are.”
Your head drops forward, a wrecked sound tearing from your throat as you start to move—slowly, then faster. Your hands grip his shoulders, fingernails digging in for life, hips rolling with wet, filthy friction.
“That’s it,” he growls, watching you fall apart in his lap. “Fuck yourself on my thigh like a desperate bitch.”
His hands grip your ass, pulling you tighter, harder against him. You’re whining now, trembling again.
“Feel that heat building?” he taunts, voice low in your ear. “Feel that fucking pressure coming back, even though your body's screaming for mercy?”
You nod desperately, face twisting in agony.
He grabs your hair, yanking your head back. “You wanna cum?”
“Yes—yes, Mingi, please—please—”
“Too bad.”
He slaps your ass, hard, and you cry out. But he doesn’t stop. He starts bouncing his thigh beneath you—grinding that sensitive clit harder, faster. You’re crying now. Wrecked. Filthy. So overstimulated you can’t even breathe.
And then—you feel it.
That snap.
That final release.
It happens all at once.
Your vision whites out. Your hips convulse violently, and then you're squirting—gushing all over his thigh with a wet, humiliating moan that sounds nothing like a word. Just broken pleasure. Pure surrender.
Your body collapses forward, twitching. Your slick drips down his leg, soaking the bed beneath. And Mingi’s holding you, grinning into your shoulder, cock still hard between your bodies.
“Fuck. You just made a mess all over me,” he growls in your ear, licking the sweat from your neck. “That’s how bad you needed it, huh? Had to drench my fucking leg like a desperate, overstimulated fucktoy.”
You’re sobbing into his shoulder now, clinging to him, unsure if you’ll ever walk again.
He kisses your temple. Sweet. Mocking.
And then his voice drops.
“One more, baby.”
You twitch.
“On my cock this time.”
You're shaking in his arms, pussy still dripping, clinging to his shoulders like a lifeline. You just soaked his thigh. You came so hard you forgot your name.
But Mingi?
He’s not done.
He leans back slightly, cupping your face, thumb dragging over your swollen bottom lip. “You still with me?”
You nod weakly, barely able to hold your head up.
“Good,” he whispers darkly, his cock throbbing between your soaked thighs. “Because I’m going to fuck you until your body gives out. I’m going to fuck you until you pass the fuck out—so when you wake up sore and leaking, you remember who ruined you.”
He lifts your hips with one hand, guiding the thick head of his cock to your soaked entrance.
And then he slams up into you.
You scream, body arching in his arms, hands flailing until he grabs both wrists and pins them behind your back in one firm grip.
“Shhh,” he coos, burying himself deeper. “Take it. Take it. You asked for this, remember?”
He starts to thrust—hard, punishing, brutal. His thighs slap up against yours with wet, obscene sounds, your cunt sucking him in greedily despite the overstimulation. You’re wrecked. Raw. But he doesn’t give a fuck.
“Look at you,” he grits out, watching your face crumble. “Used, dripping, stuffed full of my cock. Still so fucking tight.”
You’re drooling now. Crying. Mouth open in a soundless moan as he fucks you faster, deeper, splitting you apart over and over.
“You gonna pass out for me, baby?” he whispers against your jaw. “Gonna let your dom ruin you until you go limp in my arms?”
You sob out something unintelligible. He slaps your ass—hard.
“Say it. Say it. You want me to fuck you unconscious.”
“Please,” you cry. “Please, Mingi—do it. Use me. Break me. I want to be yours—want to black out on your cock. Only on your cock.”
He growls, cock twitching inside you.
His hand wraps around your throat again—not choking, just holding. Claiming. His other hand never releases your wrists, keeping you helpless.
He angles his hips up—and pounds into your sweet spot, over and over, making your body convulse, jerk, seize.
You start to go blank.
Your eyes roll back.
And you cum—violently. A gush of slick spills out around his cock, soaking both of you again as your body starts to give out, limp in his grip.
“That’s it,” he pants. “Give it to me. Give me every fucking liquid thats indide you.”
Your vision tunnels.
Everything goes numb—except for the feeling of him still inside you, still fucking you deeper, still ruining your pussy as you go fully slack in his arms.
Your body goes quiet.
Your moans stop.
And Mingi catches you, still deep, still hard.
“Good girl,” he whispers against your ear, kissing your temple, slowing his thrusts as your breathing evens out in unconsciousness. “My perfect, broken fucktoy.”
He fucks you through your unconscious orgasm, slow now, worshipful in a twisted, possessive way—before finally spilling deep inside you with a feral groan.
When he pulls out, he watches his cum leak out of your ruined hole. He presses a kiss to your shoulder, brushing the hair from your face as you rest in his arms, completely spent.
“You’re never topping me again,” he whispers with a smirk. “Not after this.”
warning(s) : Online flirtation → IRL hookup, Mirror fingering, Vein kink (explicit worship), Cock worship, Dirty talk that will get you pregnant, Ass slapping, Doggy style, Praise + degradation mix, Spit, lube, cum mention, Choking (light), Hair pulling, Marking (handprints, cum inside), Slight overstimulation, After-sex banter & bratty backtalk, Mingi being hot and knowing it. Let me know if I missed anything!
A/N : SONG MOTHERFUCKING MINGI, I WANNA SIT ON YOUR FACE TILL YOU CAN'T FUCKING BREATH😤😤
Minors do not interact, 21+ only!!
🪐smut under the cut🪐
It starts with an Instagram story.
Not even a sinful one—well, not explicitly. Just Mingi, shirtless, post-gym, flexing in the mirror like he’s auditioning for an anime reboot of Magic Mike. Traps bulging, abs glistening, hair messy like he just rolled out of bed and into your fantasies.
But it’s the veins. The veins.
His arms look like god personally sculpted them to ruin your life. Thick, pulsing rivers of blood lust crawling from his forearms up to those thick biceps. The kind of veins that scream, "I can hold your legs open and still roll your eyes back with just two fingers."
And the worst part?
You’re mutuals.
You don’t know him, not really. But you’ve exchanged likes. A few meme replies. He once retweeted your selfie with a “👀” and that alone had you contemplating the circumference of his dick.
So when he drops that mirror thirst trap with a casual caption—
“gym got me feelin like a Jojo character today lol”
—you don’t think.
You just type.
"send nude?"
It’s meant to be funny. You’re high on vein kink and zero impulse control. You expect no reply. Maybe a like at most.
Instead...
fixon_n_on has sent you a message.
You blink. Your heart skips. You open it.
@fixon_n_on : you want it from the front or the back?
You almost throw your phone across the room.
You stare at the screen, face hot, mouth dry, thighs not. You're about to reply with something dumb like “LMAO chill I was kidding,” when a photo comes through.
Not a dick pic—he’s smarter than that.
It’s him, again, in the mirror. This time in sweatpants, low enough to show that dangerous V-line. His phone’s in one hand, the other pushing his waistband down just enough to reveal no underwear. His dick’s not out, but you can see the print. And it’s…
Well. Jesus wept.
@fixon_n_on : front. want the other too?
"You’re insane"
"You can’t just do this"
"I’m literally feral now. I hope you’re happy"
@fixon_n_on : send something back then.
I wanna see what I’m working for.
You panic.
But also? You're already halfway to your bedroom, lighting adjusted, camera propped up against your dresser. You pick your best lingerie—black lace, of course—and position yourself kneeling on the bed, arching your back, head turned just enough to show the smirk on your lips.
You send it.
And wait.
It doesn’t take long.
@fixon_n_on : oh you’re a fucking problem, stay like that.
@fixon_n_on : 10 minutes.
"what?"
@fixon_n_on : I’m outside.
Your soul leaves your body. You run to the window like a girl in a teen drama and THERE HE IS. In a hoodie and gray sweats, baseball cap pulled low, looking up at your building.
You open the door in a robe and nothing else.
He doesn’t say anything when you let him in. Just walks straight past you, drops his phone on your counter, and turns to face you like you’re his final exam.
“Thought you were just horny on main,” he mutters, voice low, eyes burning.
You shrug. “You posted that photo. I was just—”
“You were asking for it.”
And then he’s kissing you. Hard, messy, hand gripping the back of your neck while the other pulls at your robe like he owns the rights to it. Tongue sliding past your lips, hips pushing into yours, and God, he’s big. You feel it, even through the layers, pressing into your stomach.
He breaks the kiss only to whisper, “Where’s the bed?”
You nod toward your room, breathless.
He tosses you over his shoulder like it’s nothing.
You barely register the way he throws you on the bed—your robe falls open, lace panties barely covering anything, tits perking up like they know what’s coming. But Mingi’s not in a rush. He kneels behind you, towering in the mirror, eyes roaming every inch of your reflection like you’re his personal slutty art piece.
"Don’t move," he mutters. His voice is deeper now—dangerously low, like sin poured over honey. "Look at yourself. Look how pretty you are when you’re about to get ruined."
You start to turn around, but his palm lands flat on your ass, making your thighs jolt. You gasp.
"Did I stutter?" he growls.
You meet your own eyes in the mirror—wide, flushed, trembling.
Then you see his hand.
Veins. Fucking ropes of them, bulging from his forearm, crawling over the back of his hand like he was engineered in a lab just to wreck lives. He slides his fingers down your back slowly, tracing the curve of your spine, dragging calloused fingertips over your lace waistband and tugging it down with a single curl.
And you swear to God, you moan at the way his forearm flexes doing it.
“S-shit…” you breathe.
He hears that.
“Oh?” Mingi leans down, chest against your back, lips brushing your ear. “You moaning for my veins, baby?”
“Maybe,” you whisper, already breathless.
He smirks. “That’s the hottest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
Then you feel it—his fingers, thick and skilled, sliding between your legs. He presses two against your slit, slow and teasing, rubbing over your folds like he’s just admiring the texture. You’re already soaked.
"All this," he says, voice hoarse, "from a fucking photo?"
"All this," you gasp, "from a fucking forearm."
He laughs. He actually laughs, low and cocky, before slowly sliding two fingers inside you.
And fuck—he knows what he’s doing.
Long, deep strokes. Curling just enough to make your legs shake. His other hand grips your thigh, and that’s when you see it—those veins again, tensing as he fucks you with his fingers, his eyes locked on your reflection.
"Touch your tits," he growls. "Wanna see how messy you look for me."
You obey.
Your back arches. His fingers go faster. The sound is obscene—wet and needy—and you're whining now, trying to hold it in, but failing.
“Look at you,” he pants, breath hot against your neck. “My needy little internet girl. You gonna cum just from my fucking hand?”
“I-I—”
“Say it.”
"Y-yes! I’m gonna cum—fuck, Mingi, your hands, your f-fucking veins—"
And then he pulls out.
You scream.
He grins like the menace he is, sucking his fingers clean, his fucking tongue dragging between them like he’s savoring the taste of your defeat.
Then?
Then comes the cock reveal.
Mingi pushes his sweats down and you actually gasp. Like, cartoonishly. Hand over your mouth, eyes wide, legs clenched.
It’s—
Baby.
It’s heavy. Thick. Veins trailing down the shaft like they belong in a goddamn museum. The head flushed deep pink, already leaking, curved just slightly upward like it was designed to hit your g-spot and wreck your life.
“No fucking way,” you whisper.
He wraps his hand around it lazily—more veins flexing in his forearm—and strokes once. Just once. And you feel your pussy throb.
"Yeah," he says, watching your jaw drop. "You're drooling."
You blink, dazed, mouth parted. Mingi’s standing behind you now, one hand gripping his cock lazily, the other on your ass, spreading you open so both of you can see how soaked you are in the mirror.
"Look at this shit," he grunts, dragging his tip over your folds. "Dripping like you were waiting for me. You been thinking about this cock all week, huh?"
"Y-yes," you whimper. “Ever since that fucking mirror selfie—”
He presses the head against your entrance but doesn’t push in. Just teases it. Rubbing circles around your clit with the head, using your wetness like lube, slick sounds making your face heat up.
“You got off to it?” he asks low, his lips brushing your ear. “Did you cum to my pic, baby?”
You nod.
"Uh-uh. Say it."
“I fucking came to it, Mingi. I rubbed my pussy to your arms and your stupid fucking veins—fuck—”
He laughs darkly. "Yeah, you’re sick."
Then—finally—he pushes in.
And Jesus fucking Christ.
Your hands slam against the mirror, breath catching, your whole body jerking forward from the stretch. He fills you like he’s trying to mold his shape into your cunt. Thick, hot, just the right curve—and he doesn’t move for a second.
Just breathes.
"Goddamn," he mutters. “You're tighter than I thought. You tryna milk me already?"
You moan, legs trembling.
Mingi grabs your hair, yanks your head up to force your gaze into the mirror again.
“Nah. You watch this. Watch how I wreck this pretty little pussy.”
He starts thrusting—deep, rough strokes. Slow at first, like he’s letting you feel every fucking inch. The mirror fogs up from your panting, from his filthy mouth in your ear.
"You like that? Huh?"
"Yes—yes, Mingi, fuck!"
"This pussy’s made for me. Look how it sucks me in."
He groans when you clench, dragging his hand from your waist to your front, pressing on your lower belly.
"Feel that?" he growls. "That’s me, baby. That’s my cock inside you. Splitting you open like you asked for it."
You’re babbling now—nonsense, cries, desperate yeses. But Mingi’s not done.
“You wanted it so bad, right? Posting your ass online, sending me slutty pics like a little tease—”
“I wanted you,” you whimper.
“Yeah, you do want me. Want me to fuck your brains out. Want me to make you drool on this mirror like the cock-drunk little whore you are.”
Your legs nearly give out. He catches you, one arm banded around your waist as he pistons into you now, rougher, faster—pure filth slapping against your soaked thighs, the sound disgusting in the best way.
"Say it's mine," he growls.
"It’s yours," you gasp.
"Say you're gonna cum all over my cock like a good girl."
You cum hard, back arched, eyes rolling, your body twitching as he fucks you through it with a satisfied grunt.
“That’s it. Fuckin’ soak me.”
He pulls out just long enough to flip you around, throws you on the bed again, and gets on top. He kisses you hard, messy, fingers in your hair, his cock still throbbing.
“You think I’m done with you?” he breathes against your lips.
You’re still catching your breath, legs shaking, mascara smudged, when Mingi pulls you up by the hips and flips you back over like a ragdoll. He drags you to the edge of the bed, feet barely touching the floor, ass high in the air, pussy still dripping.
“You think I’m done with this ass?” he mutters, palm grazing your cheek, fingers flexing like he’s about to commit a crime. “Nah. Not even close.”
You glance back, dazed, lips parted.
And he just grins.
Then—SMACK.
His palm cracks against your ass, loud and sharp. You jolt forward, a choked moan spilling out.
"Fuck—Mingi!"
"Too much?" he asks, rubbing the sting gently with those big, veiny hands. The contrast between pain and softness makes your eyes roll back.
"Not enough," you gasp.
He laughs. Dark. Delighted.
"Filthy little thing. You like getting spanked, huh?"
"Love it."
Another slap. This time harder. And another. His handprint is going to be there for days.
Then he grips both cheeks, spreading them open. He groans at the sight of you.
“God, this pussy’s begging for me.”
He strokes himself once, then lines up—and thrusts all the way in.
No teasing. No build-up. Just ruthless, deep doggystyle.
You scream into the sheets.
“Oh my fucking God—”
“That’s right,” he growls. “Take it. Let me fuck this tight little hole till I break you.”
His rhythm is brutal. Each thrust slams into you with force, your tits bouncing with every movement. You’re whining, moaning, drooling into the pillows—and he fucking loves it.
"You feel that, baby?" he pants. "Feel my cock stretching you out?"
"Yes—yes, Mingi, fuck—so big—"
He leans over you, chest to your back, one hand choking the headboard, the other sliding under to grip your throat. His lips brush your ear.
"You gonna cum again? From getting fucked like a bitch in heat?"
“Yes—fuck, please, I want it—”
He pulls your hair, forcing your head back. His breath is hot and filthy on your neck.
"Want what?"
"I want your cock—I want you to ruin me, please, please—"
"You want me to fuck you dumb?"
"Yes!"
SMACK.
Another hit to your ass—this one meaner. You fucking sob.
“That’s what I thought,” he snarls. “This pussy belongs to me now.”
And then he grabs your hips again, starts fucking you harder—if that’s even possible. You feel every vein, every ridge, every goddamn inch dragging inside you like he was crafted by the devil for the sole purpose of ending you.
You're gone.
Crying out his name. Screaming.
“Cum for me,” he grits. “Fucking cum on this cock, let me feel you lose it.”
And when you finally do—when your body seizes, your orgasm ripping through you so hard your vision blanks—he doesn’t stop.
He fucks you through your orgasm. Keeps pounding, relentless, groaning like a beast.
“Fuck—baby, I’m close—where do you want it?”
"Inside," you gasp. "I want you to fill me, Mingi—please—"
That does it.
He growls, low and feral, and slams into you one final time.
You feel it—hot and deep, his cock twitching inside as he spills everything, his grip bruising your hips. He stays buried there, panting against your back, sweating, hand still on your ass like a trophy.
contains: +18, idol!chan, backstage pass, "come here" chan, praise, reader is his babygirl, slowww burn, teasing af, dom/sub energy shift, fingering (f receiving), oral (f receiving), grinding, riding, unprotected sex (don't, pls), overstimulation (f rec.), size kink
authors note: english is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes in advance +++ requests are open! :)
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summary: You were just another fan. One among many. You were always at the front. Always perfectly put together. And now, for the first time, wearing a Wolfchan pin. And Chan? Chan noticed. He always notices. That night, with the stage lights flashing and his gaze locking on you in the crowd, you knew: He was playing with you. And you? You were ready to play back.
!!!! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT !!!
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You didn’t go to every concert. Just… enough of them.
Enough that the boys had started to recognize your face. Enough that you didn’t really have to scream or wave for their attention anymore, they just knew you were there.
You always stood close, always made sure you got there early enough to be in their line of sight. You dressed up for it. Full face, perfect hair, outfits that took effort. You liked feeling put together, like you belonged in a crowd that was watching, like you might just catch someone watching you back.
And maybe you had. Because lately? Lately they were looking. Really looking. They noticed. But Chan? He noticed differently.
Chan had this… way. This whole thing he did when he was looking at someone. Like he was reading them. Like he could crack a person open just by holding eye contact a second too long. He made it feel personal, even in a crowd of thousands.
You weren’t wearing anything new, really. Same makeup, same lashes, same signature lipstick. It was cute, but not groundbreaking. No... the only thing different tonight was the pin. Small, clipped to the strap of your shirt: a little Wolfchan SKZOO plush pin. Just a nod, just something fun. Not that you had a bias or anything, you loved all of them, and you weren’t lying when you said that.
And Chan?
Chan fucking noticed.
You didn’t catch it at first. You were busy dancing, singing, caught in the high of it all. But then… you looked up. And he was staring. Dead at you. No smile, no crowd-pleaser expression, just a tilt of the head, and those sharp eyes locked on the pin like it meant something.
And then... then he smirked. A tiny twitch of his mouth. Private. Subtle. But you felt it.
And you shouldn’t have, but your stomach flipped.
Why did he notice? Out of all things, out of all people, why did he look at a pin and suddenly see you?
—
You were already nervous before you even left the house for this concert.
Two days, that’s all it had been. But you hadn’t stopped thinking about it. The way he looked at you. The smirk.
You told yourself it was nothing. You weren’t that kind of fan. You weren’t delusional. You weren’t reading into it. But now, standing here again, same spot, same energy, same beating in your chest, you wondered if maybe… just maybe, you were right.
Tonight, you didn’t do anything different. Same full face, same energy. Same love for all of them. But the pin? You wore it again. Because… how could you not?
The show goes on like always, flawless vocals, blinding lights, sweat and glitter and power. You’re in it, screaming lyrics, jumping with the beat. But somewhere inside, you’re waiting. Hoping.
And then, it happens.
During the talk break, the boys are on stage. Chan’s holding the mic, towel slung around his neck, hair damp and clinging to his forehead. He laughs at something Jisung says, but then, unprompted, he starts talking. “You know…” he says, voice smooth but a little distracted, like his thoughts are elsewhere. “We’ve done a lot of shows lately. Different cities. Different stages.”
He looks out over the crowd. Not at you, not even close. But still, something about the way he pauses makes your skin spark.
“But it’s kinda crazy. I keep seeing familiar faces. People who show up again and again… makes me feel lucky, y’know?”
The crowd cheers. It sounds like white noise in your ears. And then, his voice drops just a little.
“Especially the ones who wear Wolfchan pins.”
A beat.
“Ugh. So cute.”
Chan laughs, smiling with his eyes. He definitely doesn’t look at you. But the crowd erupts. Screaming. Laughing. Some girls flash their pins. Some tease each other. The moment moves on.
But for you?
Your heart has completely stopped.
Because somehow, you knew. You knew he meant you.
And suddenly the lights feel hotter, your hands a little shakier. You look up, and just for half a second, half a breath, his eyes flick your way.
And then he’s gone again.
The concert doesn’t slow down after that moment, it only gets hotter, louder, more chaotic. But for you, everything is muffled around the edges.
Because now you know. He saw you. Really saw you.
You try to keep cool, try to stay in it, singing, dancing, smiling like your heart isn’t climbing out of your chest. But the moment replays in your head over and over again: Especially the ones who wear Wolfchan pins. Ugh. So cute.
He said it like a throwaway line. But it wasn't.
And now, halfway through another song, he's moving across the stage, close to your section. He’s hyped, bouncing with the beat, sweat glistening on his collarbone, and you're ready to stay chill, keep your hands down, your expression calm...
Except.
He glances toward your row.
Just for a second.
And suddenly, you can’t help yourself.
You catch his eyes, quick, electric, and without thinking, you do it. That little two-finger move: from your own eyes to him. A silent “I’m watching you.” A "don’t think I didn’t catch what you did." A tease.
And the second he sees it, he stops walking. Dead in his tracks. He's... smiling.
His grin spreads slow, devastating. Dangerous. Then he points. Directly at you. Not casually, not passively, but with intention. And then? He lifts that same hand and points to the floor in front of him.
Like: "Yeah. You. Come here."
The world disappears. You feel it in your spine, in your fingertips, in the burn rising up your neck. You can’t breathe. But you keep your posture. You don’t step forward. You don’t scream or wave.
You just smile, tight, smug, and say it low under your breath, knowing damn well there’s no way he could hear you over the noise:
“Don’t you dare me.”
But he’s still watching you.
And somehow, somehow, you know he read your lips. Because his eyes drop. Right to your mouth.
And then he mouths back, slowly, making sure you'd understand what he's saying:
“Oh, I do.”
—
The final bow is chaos. Confetti in the air, lights pulsing, the crowd’s screaming so loud it feels like thunder inside your bones. The boys wave, laugh, say their final thanks, and Chan?
Chan doesn’t look your way again.
Not even once.
And that, somehow, makes it worse. Or better. Or… whatever this thing crawling under your skin is.
You stay in your spot even as the crowd starts shifting, still coming down from the high, wondering if you imagined it all. The smirk. The stare. The Oh, I do.
You almost decide to leave. But then.
A hand taps your shoulder, light, but deliberate. You turn, and there’s a staff member standing there. Lanyard around her neck, black earpiece in her ear.
She leans in. “This is for you,” she says, voice just loud enough to cut through the buzz. She slips something into your hand and disappears before you can ask a single thing.
You look down.
It’s a small black envelope. No writing. Just sealed. Heavy in your hand like it knows something you don’t.
Your fingers shake slightly as you break the seal.
Inside: a single piece of paper.
“Come backstage. I’ll be waiting. - CB97”
You don’t remember how you get to the hallway. You just follow where you’re led, escorted through security, past double doors, into quieter corridors.
You were told to wait.
“Just a few minutes,” the staffer had said, smile polite but unreadable. “He’s just wrapping up some press stuff. We’ll let you know.”
So now you’re alone, backstage, but not with him. You sit on a low bench in the hallway, staring at the ground, heart hammering like it’s trying to break through your chest.
You haven’t even had time to process.
He invited you. You are backstage. For him.
It’s not like you ever thought he didn’t see you. The eye contact, the teasing, the way he pointed at the floor like he owned the goddamn world, but still, sitting here now, in the silence, it feels too big. Too unreal.
Your phone buzzes in your lap. You glance down.
Bubble.
From Chan.
You open it with a shaky thumb.
thank you guys so much for tonight! we really felt the love out there. it’s crazy seeing familiar faces again… you guys always show up looking so good tho.
Your stomach tightens.
Another message pops up almost immediately.
especially the ones wearing wolfchan pins! how do u expect me to resist when my babygirls show up like that?
You blink.
Stare.
Read it again.
And then again.
Babygirls.
Was Chan… was he... calling you… his babygirl?
You scroll up, looking for context, for anything that would make this more general. But the way it’s written, soft, teasing, casually possessive, like he meant it for someone specific.
You press your thighs together. Suddenly, you’re too hot. Your pulse is rushing in your ears. Your phone buzzes again, a different notification this time.
You look up.
The same staff member is back, smiling gently. “He’s ready for you now,” she says. “Let’s go?”
You don’t answer right away. Because all you can think is:
He invited you backstage.
He pointed at you in front of everyone.
He called you babygirl.
And now you’re going to him.
What. The. Fuck. Is. Happening.
—
The door closes behind you with a soft click.
And just like that, you’re alone with him.
Chan’s sitting on the couch, legs spread, damp hair pushed back, black tee clinging to him like sin. A towel hangs loose around his neck, and there's still a flush in his cheeks from the stage. He looks tired. Lit. Alive.
But the moment he sees you, he straightens. Subtle, like a reflex. His lips curl. That smirk.
“You came.”
You shrug, trying to play it cooler than your heartbeat allows.
“You dared me.”
He laughs softly, nodding once, gaze still locked on yours.
“Yeah, I did.”
You step further inside, heart pounding, body high on adrenaline and something else entirely, something heavier, slower. His eyes follow you, dragging slow, like he's taking his time now that you're finally in reach. You don’t sit. You stand your ground.
He watches, waiting for something, maybe a word, maybe a slip-up.
When you give him nothing, he’s the one who gives in.
“So.” He tilts his head, chin up just a little. “How many shows now?”
You meet his gaze. “Enough.”
“Yeah?” He leans back against the couch, lazy. “And you always dress up like that?”
Your arms fold instinctively across your chest, a defense. “Just feels right. It’s a concert.”
“No, it’s our concert,” he says, low, amused. “Feels more personal when you keep showing up.”
Your breath catches, but you don’t flinch.
“Recognize a few people by now,” he goes on, eyes never leaving you. “But you? You're always front row. Always… ready.”
You raise a brow. “Ready for what?”
He doesn’t answer. Just smirks again, like he knows you know.
Then his eyes flick down, to the Wolfchan pin on your shirt.
“You wore that again.”
You glance down like you forgot it was there. “It’s cute.”
“It’s mine.”
That pulls a reaction out of you, a faint smile, despite yourself.
But you don’t let it show too much. Instead:
“Doesn’t mean you’re my bias.”
That stops him. Briefly. Just a flicker across his expression. Then he sits forward, elbows on his knees, watching you with that infuriating calm.
“Oh.” A pause. A slow, almost dangerous tilt of his head.
“Is that so?”
You nod. “I like all of you.”
He hums at that. Not quite agreement, not quite disbelief. Just a low sound in his throat, thoughtful. Almost like a warning.
Then...
“Wow,” he murmurs, leaning back again. “I’ll ask that again by the end of the night. We’ll see.”
We’ll see.
And just like that, the floor beneath your feet shifts. The air turns heavier. The smirk is still on his lips, but there’s something in his eyes now, locked in, lit with intent, and it knocks the breath out of you.
The words linger. Heavy. Direct.
Your stomach flips, but you don’t let it show. You hold his gaze, steady and just a little dangerous. Then, with a soft, almost lazy shrug:
“Hmm. Okay.” A pause. A tilt of your head. “Looking forward to seeing what you’ll do to win my bias title, then.”
You swear he stops breathing for half a second. Then, his tongue pokes against the inside of his cheek, and he exhales a quiet laugh. Not out of amusement, out of approval.
“Shit,” he says under his breath, grinning now. “You’re trouble.”
The kind he likes.
His eyes drag down on you again, slower this time. Less subtle.
“Good,” he adds, voice a little rougher now. “I like working for what’s mine.”
Your skin sparks at the word — mine — but you keep your expression carefully neutral. Let him be the one off-balance tonight.
You just smile, sweet as sin.
“Guess we’ll see if you’re worth the bias spot.”
That earns a quiet groan from him, like you hit a nerve on purpose.
“Oh, babygirl,” he murmurs, low and deep, voice full of gravel and certainty. “I am.”
Babygirl.
Your breath catches. Your body reacts before your brain does, skin prickling, stomach twisting. That word again. That nickname. And hearing it out loud, in his voice?
It melts you instantly. You try to recover. Try to play it off.
“You always call random girls babygirl?”
He laughs, quiet, warm, and completely unbothered.
“Of course not,” he says, eyes locked on yours. “Only the ones that are mine.”
You freeze. No witty comeback. No smug little line. Just, nothing.
He sees it. Smiles wider. Softer, this time. And then he really kills you.
“Yeah,” he says, taking one slow step closer. “You heard that right. You’re mine for tonight.”
Another pause, deliberate, held just long enough to feel like a challenge.
“I promise I take good care of my babygirls. You don’t have to be afraid.”
Your knees almost give.
And the worst part?
He knows.
He sees the way you freeze. The way your breathing shifts. The way your lips part just a little like you want to speak but don’t know how. He’s watching every tiny movement like it’s his favorite song. So you force your body to stay upright. You meet his gaze head-on.
And you say, soft, but clear:
“I’m not.”
No wobble in your voice. No flinch. His jaw tenses. Just a little. Like that answer did something to him.
“Good,” he watches your face a beat longer. “Come on,” he says, voice low, sure. “Let’s go somewhere quieter.”
And just like that, you follow.
No questions. No hesitation. Just your heart thundering behind your ribs as you trail behind him, out of the venue, through the private corridors, into the car. The windows are tinted. The space is dim. Private.
You sit beside him. The leather seats cold beneath you.
But his presence?
Blazing.
He doesn’t say much. Doesn’t touch you. But he’s close.
Close enough that when you shift your leg, it brushes his. When you breathe in, you can smell the faint warmth of his cologne, the sweat from the show still clinging to his skin.
Your thighs are barely touching.
At first.
But as the car moves, and the minutes pass, Chan relaxes.
His legs spread wider, just naturally, lazily. His knee nudges yours once. Then again. And then he doesn’t move it away.
Your body goes still, hyperaware of the contact. He still hasn’t looked at you. Still hasn’t spoken.
And then...
His hand moves. Not sudden. Not demanding. Just a slow shift to his side, and then...
He touches your knee.
Warm palm. Light grip. Like it was nothing. Like it was everything.
You look down. His hand rests there for a beat.
Not moving. Just being there.
You don’t say a word. Neither does he.
The car slows. The lights shift. The driver says something quiet into the mic, and the door unlocks with a click.
Chan finally turns his head. Leans a little closer. And with that same casual, quiet confidence, he pats your thigh.
Soft. Warm. Possessive.
“We’re here.”
You’re not sure how you’re still breathing.
But you follow him out of the car anyway.
—
The door clicks shut behind you.
And before you can turn…
He’s already there.
You barely register your back hitting the wall. His body presses into yours, not hard, but like gravity, like inevitability.
His hands find your waist first, firm and steady, like he’s making sure you’re real. Then your face, his thumb under your jaw, tilting you up.
And when he speaks, his voice is rougher, lower, more him than it’s ever been.
“You know what you did to me?”
You blink, breath caught somewhere between your lungs and your throat.
“Always showing up this pretty. And now wearing that pin… giving me those fucking eyes all night?”
Your lips part. Maybe to respond. Maybe to breathe. But you never get the chance.
Because he kisses you.
Hard.
No hesitation. No buildup. Just all that slow-burning tension finally crashing down, his mouth hot and demanding, lips bruising yours in the best way.
And the way he kisses?
It’s not messy. It’s focused. Like he’s been waiting, fantasizing, knowing exactly how this would feel. Like he wants to memorize your taste before he even thinks about anything else.
His hand slides from your jaw to the back of your neck, holding you there. Not so you can’t move, so you won’t dare.
And he doesn’t stop to ask if it’s okay.
Because your hands are already in his shirt. Your body is already arching into his like you need it. Like you've wanted this just as bad.
He breaks the kiss only to breathe against your mouth.
“You’re mine tonight, babygirl.”
And when he says it this time?
It’s not a flirtation.
It’s a fact.
The second his lips crash into yours, the world disappears. There’s no hotel room. No walls. No floor beneath your feet.
Just him.
And god, his mouth.
You had seen it so many times. On screens, in stages, curved into grins that felt too sweet to be real. But this close?
It’s criminal. The most kissable mouth you’ve ever seen. Soft, full, sinful.
But his kiss?
It’s sweet and sharp. Like honey laced with poison. Like something designed to ruin you slowly.
And it does.
You melt into him instantly, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. His body is solid against yours, like he’s built to hold weight, your weight, and he’s not letting go.
His scent hits you next.
Clean sweat. Faint cologne. Skin and heat and adrenaline. You don’t even realize you’ve inhaled until it makes your knees go weak.
And his hair…
Damp from the show. Little curls at his nape breaking free, curling behind his ears, soft and unstyled and real. You bury your hand there before you even think about it, and fuck, it’s like silk under your fingers.
He groans into your mouth at the touch, and the sound sends a pulse straight through your stomach.
And his hands…
You don’t know how someone so strong can touch you this gently.
There’s nothing frantic. Nothing sloppy. Every brush of his fingers is grounding, your waist, your back, your cheek. Like he’s mapping you out. Memorizing you through the skin.
He pulls back just enough to breathe, foreheads brushing, lips barely apart.
His thumb strokes your cheekbone.
“You okay?” he murmurs, voice rough, like the question costs him effort to ask.
You nod before you even mean to.
Your voice? Gone.
Because you’ve never felt anything like this. Never been this seen. This wanted. Every part of your body is on fire and floating at the same time.
And he’s right there, holding you through it.
You pull back just enough to catch your breath, your chest rising and falling like a storm. Your skin still tingles from his touch, every inch of you alive and raw.
“God, Chan,” you say, voice low but full of awe, almost a whisper but sharp like a blade. “Why the fuck are you this charming? You don’t even seem to try. You just are.”
You brush past him, needing space, air… anything to steady the fire burning inside you.
But even as you move, you don’t look away. Your eyes catch his, wild and dark, and something unspoken passes between you.
“You know,” you murmur, stepping closer again, your fingers brushing over his arm, “I’ve dreamed about you.”
Chan stills.
Your hand trails upward, the curve of his shoulder, the line of his neck, until you’re cupping his jaw, your thumb grazing the corner of his mouth. His skin is warm beneath your touch. Real. Too real.
You trace his lips, watching how they part slightly under your fingertip.
“Yeah?” he murmurs, voice low, rough. “What you dreamed about?”
You shrug, all fake casual. Like your heart isn’t trying to punch out of your chest.
“Well, you know… I bet you’d be an awesome boyfriend and all. Sweet. Caring.”
You look at him through your lashes, and fuck, the smile already tugging at his mouth sends a jolt down your spine.
He tilts his head, eyes narrowing with amusement, heat building behind them.
“But?” he prompts, soft and dangerous.
You smirk, just a little.
“But I… I kinda…”
The word hangs there, teasing. He leans in slightly, eyes locked on yours like he already knows you’re about to wreck him.
“You kinda what, babygirl?”
That word again.
And just like that, your breath stutters. Your knees almost give out, again.
But you hold your ground. You bite your bottom lip, and let the words spill, soft but laced with fire:
“You’re kinda naughty, aren’t you?” You tilt your head, watching him freeze, just for a beat. “So that’s the kind of stuff I dreamed about.”
The silence that follows is heavy, thick with heat, with want, with everything that’s been boiling under the surface since the minute you locked eyes.
Chan’s jaw tenses. His hands flex at his sides, like he’s barely keeping them from reaching for you again.
And then, he steps forward, into your space, until your back hits the wall again.
His face is so close, you feel every word ghost across your lips:
“Then let me make your dreams come true.”
You don’t remember how you made it to the bed. Only that one second you were standing there, breathless and burning, and the next you were falling back onto cool sheets, with Chan crawling over you like a storm rolling in, steady, powerful, inevitable.
His mouth is on you again before you can speak. Not just kissing. Claiming. Your lips, your throat, your collarbone, each kiss deliberate, deep, like he’s trying to ruin every inch of you with his mouth. You arch into him and he groans like the sound is being torn out of his chest.
“Fuck—” he pants, dragging his hand up your thigh, “you feel unreal, babygirl.”
That nickname again. And this time, it doesn’t just make your knees weak, it pulls a moan straight from your throat. You’re already squirming under him, nerves buzzing so loud you can barely think. And he notices. He loves it.
“Yeah? This what you wanted?” he whispers against your skin, lips ghosting over your stomach as he drags your shirt up slowly, watching your body twitch under the touch. “You dreamed about me all over you like this?”
Your hands twist in the sheets as he finally gets the shirt off, tossing it somewhere behind him. He just looks at you for a second. Chan freezes. Eyes dark. Mouth parted. Chest rising and falling like he’s trying not to devour you all at once.
You're in a black corset, hugging every curve, cinched perfectly at your waist, boned structure pushing your tits up just enough. It’s not subtle. It’s not sweet. It’s intentional.
And the way Chan’s jaw tightens, the sound that rips from his chest? Wrecks you.
“Fucking hell,” he breathes, voice rougher than you’ve ever heard it. “You wore this under your shirt?”
He reaches out like he needs to touch to believe it, hands gliding along your sides, slow and reverent.
“You tryna kill me, baby?”
You blink up at him, breathless, just watching his reaction.
“No,” you whisper. “Just thought… if I ever got this close to you, I wanted to be ready.”
That breaks him.
He leans in, groaning, pressing his forehead to yours as he mutters, “You’re insane.” His fingers dig into your waist now, not hard, but firm enough to make you whimper. Grounding. Claiming.
He looks down at you again, at the way the corset lifts your chest, molds to your skin, and he laughs, soft, dark, disbelieving.
“How the fuck am I supposed to behave now?”
His mouth finds your chest, kissing along the edges of lace like he’s worshiping you, sucking marks into skin wherever he can reach. His hands roam lower, gripping your thighs like he’s memorizing every inch.
His lips trail slow, deliberate kisses along the edges of the corset, fingers tracing the delicate lace without breaking contact with your skin. Every soft touch sends electricity shooting through you, and you can feel him fighting to stay composed, but failing.
He groans low, breath hitching as his hands slide up and down your waist, the boned structure pressing firmly under his palms.
“Damn,” he murmurs against your skin, voice thick with need. “This… this is torture.”
His mouth drifts back up to your collarbone, lips sucking and biting gently, but his hands don’t stop teasing the corset’s tight fit, fingers dragging along the satin in a maddening dance.
His eyes flick up to meet yours, dark and wild.
“I wanna take it off,” he admits, voice raw. “But right now… I wanna drive you crazy with it on.”
And with that, he presses a kiss just under your ear, teeth grazing softly as his hands keep teasing, sending shivers racing down your spine.
You arch into him, breath catching.
His fingers curl tighter around your waist, nails barely grazing your skin through the fabric, and you can feel the tension coiling in his body, the hunger, the impatience.
Then, without warning, he grips the edge of the corset’s laces and pulls.
The satin slips down your curves like liquid, exposing every inch of skin beneath. Your breath hitches as cool air hits you, and his mouth drops open just a little, raw, unfiltered desire shining in his eyes.
“Fuck,” he breathes, voice husky and broken. “You’re fire.”
He leans in, lips crashing against yours with a desperate hunger, hands sliding over your bare waist and back. His mouth moves with an urgent, needy rhythm, and you melt into him once more, skin alive with every touch.
“Mine for the night, huh?” he murmurs, thumb brushing over your lower lip.
You meet his eyes, breath shallow. “No,” you whisper. “I think I’m yours for real.”
His grin is slow and wicked, a glint of satisfaction lighting up his face. “Oh, I guess I’m winning already,” he laughs softly, dragging his fingers down the curve of your waist, “and I haven’t even started.”
He leans in, mouth brushing against your ear, voice low and dirty. “You remember what you said earlier? That you didn’t have a bias?”
You nod, barely, your body arching toward his.
“Well,” he breathes, lips grazing your skin as he trails down your neck, “by the time I’m done with you, you won’t remember anyone else.”
His fingers slide between your thighs, finally touching where you’re aching for him, slow and deliberate. You gasp, clinging to his shoulders.
“You’ll only remember me,” he whispers against your collarbone, then kisses it. “My name. Your favorite.”
He looks up at you then, eyes dark and full of promise.
“You’ll say it,” he murmurs, lips brushing your skin. “You’ll say my name while I make you come.”
You whimper, already breathless, hips twitching as he kisses lower and lower, closer and closer, but never quite where you need him. You didn't even realize he took off your pants until you felt the heat of his hands press against your thighs, keeping them open, keeping you at his mercy.
“But not yet,” he smirks, trailing the tip of his nose along your inner thigh, you were feeling his hot breath in your skin. “Not until I say so.”
He licks a slow stripe along your skin, giving you several kisses, still avoiding the spot that’s throbbing for him. You let out a desperate little sound, back arching off the bed, but he only chuckles.
“Already begging and I haven’t even tasted you yet?” His voice is a low rasp, almost affectionate. “You really are mine.”
You reach for his hair, trying to pull him where you want him, but he tuts and pins your hips down firmly.
“Patience, babygirl. I’m gonna take my time with you.”
His thumbs hook under your thighs, spreading you wider, and his eyes drop to the soaked fabric between your legs. He groans, low, hungry, like he’s barely holding himself back.
“Look at you,” he murmurs, dragging one finger along the damp cotton. “Dripping through your panties. Fuck, you really did dream about this, didn’t you?”
Your hips roll instinctively toward his touch, chasing friction, but he pulls his hand away just as quickly, smirking.
“Desperate little thing,” he teases, placing a soft kiss right over your clothed core. The pressure makes you gasp, your hands fisting in the sheets. “You gonna be good for me and wait?”
“Chan,” you whimper, voice already trembling.
He gives you another kiss. "Hmm, you smell so good."
He hums, pleased, and then slides one finger over the wet patch again, slow, steady, applying the slightest pressure. Then back. Then again. Just enough to make you ache for more.
You twist under him, and he finally slips the tip of his finger beneath the edge of your panties, brushing against your folds, barely there. Maddening.
“You’re so wet,” he groans. “And so fucking soft.”
He watches you like he’s studying every reaction, eyes locked on yours as he presses against your entrance, just enough to tease.
Then his mouth is back on you, this time, tongue pressing against the soaked fabric in one long, slow stroke. The heat of it through your panties sends sparks up your spine.
You moan, your thighs clenching around his head, and he just laughs, low and wrecked.
“I can taste you through these,” he mutters against you. “You gonna come like this, baby? With your panties still on?”
His tongue moves in slow, deliberate circles over your clit, the thin fabric of your panties the only thing keeping him from truly devouring you. It’s not enough, it’s nowhere near enough, but it’s making you insane all the same. Your hips buck involuntarily, desperate for more, but his grip is firm, keeping you right where he wants you.
“Tell me what you want,” he rasps, breath hot against the soaked fabric. His tongue flicks again, slow, lazy, like he has all the time in the world. “Tell me and I promise I’ll take care of it.”
You’re panting now, fingers tangled in his curls, eyes half-lidded as you look down at him.
“I want you,” you breathe. “I want your mouth. No teasing. Please, Chan—”
“Mmm,” he hums, mouth curving against you in a smug smile. “Good girl.”
His hands slip beneath the curve of your ass, lifting you just slightly, and he mouths at you again, harder this time, dragging his tongue in deeper pressure over your clit, still through the soaked fabric.
“Fuck, I loved hearing you beg,” he growls, voice muffled. “And you taste so fucking sweet like this.”
Then finally, finally, his fingers hook into the waistband of your panties and he pulls them down, slow and deliberate, watching your face the entire time.
“You’re gonna fall apart for me now, babygirl,” he murmurs, settling between your thighs again. “And you’re gonna say my name when you do.”
His mouth is on you, bare, hot, devastating. No more barriers. No more teasing. Just Chan, and that sinful tongue, and his name in pieces on your lips.
He groans the moment he tastes you properly, like it’s the best fucking thing he’s ever had in his mouth, and then he dives in, tongue flat and wide as he licks a slow, firm stripe from your entrance up to your clit. You gasp, back arching, and his hands grip your thighs tighter to hold you in place.
“God, Chan—”
“That’s it,” he pants, lips wet, eyes glazed. “Say it again. Louder.”
He locks his mouth around your clit and sucks, tongue flicking in tight, focused circles, and your hips jerk off the bed, his hands press down harder, grounding you. Controlling you.
One of his hands leaves your thigh just long enough to slide two fingers into you, deep and smooth, curling up at the perfect angle.
“Fuck—” you cry out, hands grabbing at anything, his hair, the sheets, your own skin.
His mouth doesn’t let up. Not for a second. He’s moaning into you like the taste of you is driving him wild, his fingers moving slow and deep, tongue fast and relentless. The contrast is devastating.
You feel it building fast, hot and tight and overwhelming, your body trembling from head to toe.
“That's it, babygirl,” he growls between licks, fingers never stopping. “You're so close. I can feel it.”
He speeds up, tongue working your clit like it’s his only job in the world, and you break, your thighs shaking, body tensing, and then unraveling in his hands as you come with a loud, desperate cry.
“f-fuck, Chan—!”
He groans at the sound, eyes fluttering closed as if you saying his name like that feeds something deep in him.
He doesn’t stop.
He keeps licking through it, slower now, coaxing every last wave out of you until you’re twitching and whimpering from overstimulation.
When he finally pulls back, his lips are swollen, chin wet, and there’s a look in his eyes that’s pure wrecked pride. He crawls up your body, hovering over you, his voice wrecked and low.
“There she is,” he whispers, kissing your cheek, then your jaw, then your lips, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. “Good fucking girl. You said my name so pretty.”
You’re breathless, completely boneless beneath him, limbs trembling, chest rising and falling in rapid, uneven bursts. Your thighs are still twitching from the aftershocks, your mind fuzzy with the kind of bliss that feels almost unreal.
“God, Chan,” you manage, voice raw and shaky, “you’re insane. You’re better than what I dreamed of.”
He laughs, low, dark, satisfied.
“Yeah?” he murmurs, brushing your sweaty hair back from your forehead. “Didn’t think I could top your dirty little imagination, huh?”
You shake your head, lips parted, still trying to process the wreckage he just left behind. His hand slides down to your thigh again, gripping it with possessive ease, thumb stroking slow circles into your skin.
“You’re still shaking,” he whispers, voice smug now. “Still fucking trembling and I haven’t even fucked you yet.”
You let out a broken sound, part whimper, part breathless laugh, and he leans down, kissing the corner of your mouth. Then your jaw. Then your throat.
“Look at you,” he rasps. “Wrecked. Messy. Dripping all over the sheets because I ate you through your panties.”
He pulls back just enough to meet your eyes, expression gleaming with that cocky, almost reverent intensity. Your heart kicks in your chest, but your lips curl into a slow smile, something shifting behind your eyes.
Still breathless, still aching, but now… now you want a taste of him.
Your hand slips between your bodies, fingers skating over his abs, down to the waistband of his pants. You feel him suck in a sharp breath as your fingers graze over the hard line of him beneath the fabric.
“Then let me return the favor,” you whisper, voice sweet but loaded with intent. “I wanna see how loud you get.”
He raises an eyebrow, but his breath stutters.
“Oh?” he says, tone amused but shaky around the edges. “You think you can wreck me?”
You lean up, mouth brushing his ear now, voice sultry and daring.
You trail your fingers lower, brushing over the bulge in his pants with deliberate slowness, feeling him twitch beneath your palm. His breath hitches, the muscles in his stomach tensing.
“You really thought you’d fuck me tonight?” you whisper, your voice all soft venom and promise. Then you lean in close, lips brushing his ear. “Oh no, Channie. I’m the one riding.”
The moment the name slips from your lips, something in him snaps.
His eyes go wide, like you just knocked the breath out of him, and his jaw clenches tight. You feel it, the way his whole body reacts, like the word hit him straight in the gut.
“Fuck,” he mutters, his voice suddenly wrecked, strained, hips jerking up instinctively against your hand. “Don’t—don’t call me that looking at me like that unless you want me to lose my fucking mind.”
You smile, wicked and slow, and you do it again, just to watch him fall apart.
“Aww, does Channie like that?” you crawl over his lap now, straddling his thighs. “Is that what makes you weak?”
He groans, head falling back against the pillows, chest rising in shallow breaths.
“Jesus, you really wanna play this game?” he rasps.
You lean down, grinding your hips against his, slow and deep, and he bucks beneath you, a choked sound escaping him.
“Oh yeah,” you murmur against his throat. “I want to watch you break.”
You drag your lips along his jaw, your fingers dipping under the waistband of his pants, teasing the skin just above his cock, but not freeing him. Not yet.
“Listen, Channie,” you purr, kissing his pulse point. “I'll show you what good girls can do when they’re on top.”
“Holy fuck,” he breathes. “You’re not real.”
But you are. You’re very real, and you’re about to ride him until he forgets his own name. Unless, of course, he’s too busy moaning yours.
You stay hovering above him for a second, catching your breath, your thighs still trembling just slightly from the way he wrecked you moments ago. Chan watches you with hooded eyes, pupils blown wide, hands resting warm on your hips, like he’s trying not to grip you too hard, like he’s letting you decide the pace now.
You lean down and kiss him once, soft and slow, then slide your hands down his abs, once again down to the waistband of his pants.
“Let’s take these off,” you murmur, voice low, still breathless.
He lifts his hips obediently, eyes locked on yours, and you tug his pants down his legs, tossing them somewhere to the floor.
Only his underwear now, dark, tight, and doing nothing to hide just how hard he is for you. You pause, breath catching in your throat as your eyes drag over the thick shape of him straining against the fabric.
“Oh,” you whisper, lips parting. “You’re… big.”
He smirks lazily, head sinking deeper into the pillows, completely in his element now.
“Scared?” he teases, one hand brushing down your side, light as air. “It’s not too late to run, babygirl.”
You shoot him a look, climbing back over his lap, one knee on either side of his hips.
His groan is ragged, full of heat. And then you lower yourself, slowly, your soaked cunt meeting the wet spot already forming on his boxers. The fabric drags against your folds, heat against heat, and both of you feel it.
He sucks in a sharp breath the second you settle on him.
“Fuck—” he exhales. “You’re soaking me.”
You smile against his throat, rolling your hips once, slowly. A moan catches in your throat as your clit drags perfectly over the pressure of him, both of you desperate already.
He grips your hips tighter this time, grounding you, guiding you without taking over.
“That’s it, baby,” he whispers, voice thick. “Ride it. Nice and slow.”
And so you do.
You grind down on him in a slow rhythm, pressing deep into the heat of his body, his length solid beneath the damp fabric. You can feel how soaked both of you are now, his underwear stained with precum and your slick.
Each roll of your hips sends sparks up your spine, pleasure building again in lazy waves. Chan’s head tips back, eyes fluttering shut as he groans deep in his chest.
“You’re gonna ruin me,” he rasps. “And I'm still fucking clothed.”
You kiss him again, open-mouthed and messy, grinding down harder this time, and the way he whimpers into your mouth makes you clench. His hands are all over you, gripping your ass, your thighs, sliding up your spine like he can’t get enough of touching you.
“Baby,” he rasps, voice rough, “take them off.”
You don’t even hesitate.
Your fingers slip between your bodies, and you hook them into the waistband of his underwear, eyes locked on his as you drag the fabric down his hips. His cock is flushed, thick, glistening with precum. He’s hard and heavy against your skin now, and your mouth actually falls open at the sight of him.
Chan watches your face closely, breath shallow, chest rising and falling.
“Still not scared?” he murmurs.
You shake your head slowly, lifting yourself just enough to position over him again, your slick folds brushing along the length of his shaft now, bare to bare. The sensation makes both of you moan at once.
“No,” you whisper. “Not scared. Just… needy.”
You start to move again, hips rolling forward in a slow, torturous grind, your clit dragging along the underside of his cock, spreading your wetness all over him.
“Fuck,” Chan groans, hands trembling where they grip your waist. “You’re gonna make me come like this.”
His cock twitches beneath you, leaking even more as you keep moving, slick and soft, never letting him inside. You’re both flushed and panting, bodies burning, but you? You won't rush it. God, you want this to last forever.
Your rhythm stays slow, purposeful. Your folds part around him with each movement, teasing him with every pass.
“You feel so good,” you whisper, eyes heavy as you watch his face, the tension in his jaw, the way his lips fall open, the way his gaze flickers between your face and where your bodies grind together.
He lets out a helpless moan, thrusting up just slightly to meet your body, but you flatten your hands on his chest, holding him down.
“Not yet,” you murmur, barely a breath.
Chan swears under his breath, eyes wild.
“You’re trying to kill me.”
You lean down, lips brushing his ear.
“No,” you breathe, grinding your wet heat over the head of his cock again, slow and deep. “I’m savoring you. When will I have another chance to grind on you like this?"
Your pace shifts, faster now, rougher, the wet drag of your folds over his cock becoming messier, louder, filthier. You moan shamelessly with each roll of your hips, chasing the friction as your clit catches the head of him over and over again.
Chan doesn’t answer.
He just stares up at you, lips parted, sweat beading at his brow, his hands digging into your hips like he’s holding on for dear life. His jaw clenches, chest heaving. He bites his bottom lip hard, like he’s trying not to lose it.
You can feel how close he is. How much he's trying not to move. Trying not to flip you, thrust into you, ruin the slow burn you built.
But he’s barely hanging on.
And then you stop. Just like that.
His eyes snap open, breath catching, and before he can ask why, before he can beg, you lift your hips just enough, angle your body, and push him in.
Slow. Stretching. Full. Hot.
His cock slides into you and your breath stutters from the fullness, from the perfect way he fills you.
“Fucking— Jesus,” Chan chokes out, eyes wide, head falling back with a low, guttural moan. “You didn’t even—fuck—warn me.”
You sink all the way down, walls clenching around him tight and wet, and the moment you bottom out, you both freeze.
You’re panting, shaking, overwhelmed.
He’s already wrecked.
He can’t even speak.
“Holy shit,” he gasps, hands trembling now where they hold you. “You... you feel unreal. You’re so fucking tight.”
You roll your hips once, slow and deep, and his whole body arches off the bed.
“Baby, please,” he groans. “You’re really gonna kill me.”
But you're not rushing. Now that he’s inside, you want to feel everything. You shift again, your walls fluttering around him as you start to move, just enough to make him whimper. His hands are gripping you now like he’s scared he’ll fall apart without you anchoring him.
He’s not in control, you are.
And he’s absolutely losing his mind.
You keep him deep inside as your hips start to roll, slow, deliberate, grinding rather than thrusting. It’s not just about moving; it’s about feeling. About dragging every inch of him against your soaked walls, over every nerve that’s already on fire.
You press your palms to his chest and roll your hips forward, a slow, sinuous grind that makes him pulse inside you. Then you rock back, letting the head of his cock rub right where you’re sensitive, your breath catching hard.
“Fuck,” you whisper, your voice wrecked.
Because it’s too good.
Because you could fuck him fast and fall apart in seconds, but you don’t want to. You want to last. To memorize every stretch, every twitch, every broken sound he makes when he’s buried in you like this.
Chan is beneath you, jaw clenched, eyes dark and burning as he watches the way your body moves over his. His hands slide up your waist, trembling slightly, thumbs brushing the curve of your ribs.
You do it again, hips forward, hips back, a slow drag, deep and hard. His cock presses against that sweet spot inside and you gasp, your thighs shaking as you fight the urge to speed up.
“Oh, f-fuck, you feel—” you start, but can’t finish.
Because the words won’t come. Your body’s too full, your mind too foggy. So you just keep moving.
Another roll. Another moan. Another slow drag of your soaked heat around his cock.
And Chan is unraveling.
His hands grip your hips again, fingertips digging into your skin, holding you in place as his breath comes in sharp, shallow bursts.
“You’re— Oh, fuck, babygirl—” he grits out, hips bucking up once, just enough to push deeper.
You both moan at the same time.
Then your hands are in his hair, tugging, and your lips are at his ear.
“If I move faster,” you whisper, desperate, “I’m gonna come.”
Chan’s hands slide up your spine. He cups the back of your neck and pulls your forehead to his, his voice breaking as he says, "Good. I wanna feel it.”
But still, you stay slow. Still, you grind. Still, you make him feel every aching second of being inside you.
You’re soaked. Warm. Clenching. Every tiny movement sends sparks straight through your core.
You roll your hips again, a little deeper, a little firmer, and Chan swears violently, head falling back.
You lean in, lips brushing his jaw.
“Do you feel how wet you made me?”
“Yes, fuck, baby, I feel all of you—”
You squeeze around him once, just to prove it, and he chokes out your name. And then, just then, you shift your hips back and begin to build a rhythm. Still slow. Still grinding. But deeper now. Sharper. Enough to make his thighs flex beneath you, enough to make your toes curl.
The pace is changing.
The tension is rising.
You’re both so close.
And you? You can’t hold back anymore.
The slow, teasing grind has your body trembling, your breath ragged, and the fire building inside your chest is too much to ignore. You want more, harder, faster, deeper.
With a low, desperate moan, you push down harder with your hips and start to ride him faster.
Your movements sharpen, no longer lazy rolls, but quick, controlled thrusts that press him fully inside you every time. Your thighs tighten around his hips as you set the rhythm, each bump and roll sending jolts of pleasure through your nerve endings.
His hands grip your waist tighter, fingers digging into your skin like he’s trying to hold you close, and you want that. You want him to feel how much you’re giving, how much you need him.
The heat between you is suffocating. Your chest rises and falls rapidly, hair sticking to your sweaty forehead as you bounce harder, faster, every slick slap of skin on skin driving you wild.
You feel him twitch inside you, thick and hot, the head of his cock hitting deeper, brushing your walls in ways that make your knees weak.
Your hips rock forward in rapid, rhythmic motions, slow enough that you can feel every inch of him, but fast enough that the burning pressure in your core sharpens into a delicious ache.
“Fuck, Chan,” you gasp, biting your lip, “You’re so... so good.”
His breath hitches, voice rough as he groans your name.
“Holy shit, you’re wrecking me, baby.”
You squeeze your thighs together, grinding down onto him, your soaked folds slick against his skin, and he lets out a ragged moan, hips thrusting up involuntarily to meet your pace.
The room is filled with the sound of your gasps, moans, and the wet slap of your bodies moving together.
You’re lost in the sensation, riding him harder, the sweet burn building rapidly as you edge closer to the edge.
Your hands clutch his shoulders for balance, nails digging in as you push your limits, faster and faster, your breath hitching with every movement.
Chan’s hips jerk, a deep growl rumbling from his chest, and you know he’s close, so are you.
And neither of you want to stop.
Your thighs burn from how hard you’re riding him, from how tight you’re gripping his sides, knees pressing into the mattress as your hips roll with fierce, frantic need.
Every time you sink down, you feel the thick head of his cock hit that spot inside you that makes your vision spark, and your breath catches on a soft, choked moan. You swear you can feel him everywhere, stretching you open, throbbing deep, thick veins dragging against your walls in the most perfect way.
He’s watching you, eyes glazed over with heat, jaw clenched, chest rising and falling in sharp bursts beneath you.
“You’re driving me fucking insane,” he groans, voice low and ragged.
You tilt your hips forward on the next grind, gasping when your clit brushes the base of him, slick and swollen and aching. It’s messy now, the sound of you taking him echoing through the room, skin on skin, wet and sharp and so filthy you could cry.
“Fuck, Chan,” you whimper, and your voice cracks around it, the sound raw and desperate.
He moans your name back like it hurts, like it’s everything. His fingers dig into your waist again, steadying you as your pace falters for just a moment, because the pleasure is too much, and he knows it.
“Right there?” he pants, lifting his hips to meet your next grind. “That’s the spot, isn’t it, baby?”
You nod, eyes squeezing shut, jaw slack, mouth open around a breathless cry as you move harder. Faster.
You don’t bounce, not now. You’re rolling your hips with long, deep, dragging thrusts, soaking him, grinding your swollen folds over the base of his cock every time you bottom out. You chase friction. You chase that burn.
You’re soaked, it’s leaking down your thighs, slicking the space between you, coating his cock, his stomach, his hands when he runs them down your ass to squeeze, to help you move.
“Fuck,” he groans. “You’re fucking soaked for me. Come for me, baby. Do it, let go.”
You nod, broken, because your release is right there. You can feel it, heat building in your belly, tight and electric. If you let go now, you’ll fall apart completely.
But you still fight it. You slow for half a second. Grind down hard, then back again. You want it to last. Still want to feel everything.
You’re panting, dizzy, forehead pressed to his, eyes wide and glassy. Your lips are red and parted, chest flushed. His hands grip your ass again, then slide up your spine like he’s grounding himself on your body, like he needs every inch of your skin under his hands or he’ll lose it.
“Don't forger to say it,” he pants again. “Say my fucking name when you come.”
You nod.
You will.
And then it hits. Hard.
It crashes into you like a wave, a violent, shaking wreck of a climax that tears through your whole body without mercy.
You cry out, not just his name, but a string of whimpers and curses, syllables falling apart on your tongue.
“Chan— oh my god—fuck—”
Your thighs tremble as your orgasm pulses through you, wave after wave ripping from your core, and your hips lose their rhythm, all you can do now is grind, desperate and messy, soaking him, your slick making everything slippery and loud and so fucking filthy.
Your nails rake down his chest. Your head drops to his shoulder, forehead pressed into the crook of his neck, moaning his name over and over like it’s the only word left in your brain.
He holds you through it, hands locked on your ass, your waist, steadying you as your whole body jerks and clenches around him. His cock throbs inside you, thick and twitching, and he’s panting, groaning, barely holding on.
“Jesus fuck, babygirl—” he growls, his voice tight, raw, completely undone. “You’re squeezing me so tight—fuck—you feel like heaven.”
You try to lift your hips again, but your body’s too wrecked. Too overstimulated. All you can do is stay slumped against him, letting the aftershocks ripple through you while his hands roam your back and his cock pulses inside your still-clenching walls.
You came so hard, you’re still shaking. Still moaning his name. Still dripping down his length.
And Chan? Well, he's fucking desperate.
You're still trembling on top of him, breath shallow, body limp with the weight of your orgasm. Your skin is damp with sweat, your thighs soaked, your muscles too soft to move.
He groans, low and desperate, and in one quick motion, he pulls out of you, the sudden emptiness making you whimper. Your slick clings to his cock, glistening, dripping down his length and his stomach.
“Fuck—” he growls, voice guttural now. “You’re my fucking dream.”
You blink up at him, wrecked, and then you watch, eyes wide, as he wraps a fist around himself. He strokes hard. Fast. Frantic.
Like he’s been holding back this whole time, and now it’s snapping. The pressure, the need, the pure hunger for release. His hand is a blur, slick from you, pumping over his length with punishing speed.
“Fuck, baby,” he groans again, head tipped back, lips parted, muscles tight. “You got me this fucking desperate.”
You moan, half from the oversensitivity, half from the sight of him: flushed and wild and so close he’s falling apart right in front of you.
His abs flex with every pump. His other hand fists your waist. His cock is flushed deep red, leaking so much it drips onto his hand, and his movements get more messy, more needy.
“Gonna come—” he gasps. “Fuck, I’m gonna come—”
And he does.
With a loud, broken moan, his body jerks beneath you and thick ropes of cum spill across his stomach and chest, messy and hot and endless. His fist keeps stroking through it, wringing out every last drop as his hips twitch beneath you, his breath ragged, every muscle clenched.
It’s feral. Unfiltered. He groans your name through his teeth.
And when he finally slows, hand still lazily stroking himself through the comedown, he blinks up at you with a ruined kind of smile.
“Look what you did to me,” he breathes, voice shot and full of awe. “Fuck.”
You finally let your body give in, limbs heavy as you slide off of him and curl into his side. The heat still clings to your skin, your pulse still not quite settled, but your mind drifts somewhere quieter now. Somewhere slower.
He turns to look at you, eyes hazy, lips swollen, hair a complete mess. But it’s the way he’s looking at you that gets you. Like you’re not just someone he brought back to a hotel room after a show. Like you’re something more than that.
You swallow, breath shaky. “Fuck,” you whisper, eyes on the ceiling before you glance back at him. “I didn’t want it to end.”
He exhales softly, then pulls you closer, pressing a hand to your bare waist. “I know,” he murmurs. “I know.”
You blink at him again, and for some reason, your chest tightens, just a little. His gaze flickers over your face like he sees it too, the shift, the ache, the unspoken wish for more time. He leans in and kisses you, slow, deep, lingering. Like he's holding on.
When he finally pulls back, his lips still brush yours as he speaks.
“So…” he whispers, voice low and warm. “When’s the next concert you’ll come to?”
"I guess all of them. I guess... I'd do anything to see my bias again"
"Yeah. I know you would, babygirl."
-
taglist @velvetmoonlght @anjian03 @nightmarenyxx <3
(comment or dm me to be added)
+++ authors note: holy shit. that babygirl message on chan's bubble made me fucking lose my mind today. this man fucking drives me crazy. I’m delusional af.
summary : You're the soft, innocent girl who only ever had one vanilla experience—with no idea what real filth could feel like. That is, until you end up rooming with your best friend’s older brother, Mingi. A pervert with a teasing mouth and no self-restraint when it comes to your cute sleep dresses and breathy little moans. He takes it slow, then ruins you completely—making you beg, cry, squirt, and ride him until you’re too dumb to think. But he still makes you breakfast after, calling you his princess in between filthy whispers.
genre : smut
warning(s) : Slight somnophilia vibes (consensual, implied history), Innocent but perverted reader, Best friend’s older brother, Roommate AU, Pussy slapping / squirting, Spanking (lots of it), Orgasm denial + overstimulation, Crying during sex (pleasure), Dirty talk / praise / teasing, Light dumbification, Reader wears cute sleep dresses, Mutual pining masked as lust, Fluffy aftercare with continued filth
A/N : This might be the last fic I uploaded this month, or maybe I'm gonna take some rest for a while😮💨
Minors do not interact, 21+ only!!
🪐smut under the cut🪐
It wasn’t the first night you walked into the shared kitchen in one of your tiny little sleep dresses—but this one had lace trim that swayed with every step and straps thin enough to slip off your shoulder. You weren’t even trying to be sexy. That was the worst part. You were just… comfortable.
And Mingi was already sitting at the counter, hoodie pulled halfway down his arms, curls messy from sleep. His eyes trailed up from your bare legs to the way the fabric clung to your hips. Silent. But you felt him staring.
“Couldn’t sleep?” you asked, padding across the tile barefoot, opening the fridge for a water bottle.
“Not really,” his voice came low. Rough. “You?”
You shrugged, turning around to face him, and leaned back against the fridge—completely unaware of how the thin fabric stretched across your chest. “Kinda warm tonight.”
Mingi didn’t say anything at first. He just kept looking at you, jaw ticking like he was holding something back.
It’d been two months since you moved in. Your best friend’s brother had offered the extra room when you said you needed a place. You trusted him. You knew he was older, a bit… different from the boys you’d dated before, but he never did anything to make you uncomfortable.
Until lately.
Lately, he lingered.
Watched.
“You always wear stuff like that to bed?” he finally asked, voice lower now.
You blinked. “Huh?”
“That little dress.” His eyes dropped to your thighs, where the hem rested dangerously high. “You walk around in that, knowing I’m home?”
You laughed a little. Nervous. “It’s not that short…”
Mingi stood up slowly, towering. The way he walked around the counter felt too quiet, too smooth, until he was right in front of you—so close you had to tilt your chin up just to keep eye contact.
“You’re either real clueless,” he murmured, reaching one hand to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, “or you want me to stare.”
Your breath hitched. “Mingi…”
He smiled—lazy, dark, dangerous. “You ever been fucked right?”
You froze.
Your voice dropped into a whisper. “I’ve… only been with one guy. It wasn’t like that.”
Mingi groaned. “Figures.” He leaned in close, lips brushing your ear. “Bet you’ve never had someone stretch this cute little pussy open, make you cry, huh?”
Your thighs pressed together. You didn’t answer.
“You’d let me ruin you?” he muttered, voice thick. “Make you drool all over this kitchen counter?”
That was it. That was the moment something snapped. You nodded—tiny, trembling—and whispered:
“...Please.”
Mingi didn’t wait for you to say more. The second that quiet please left your lips, his hand was on your waist, dragging you flush against him like he’d been holding back for too long. You gasped when you felt how hard he already was—thick and pressed against your stomach through his sweats.
And then he kissed you.
Hard.
It wasn’t soft or shy or sweet like your ex used to kiss. Mingi kissed like he wanted to eat every breath from your lungs. Tongue in your mouth, lips moving against yours with filthy hunger, like he needed to claim you before you could change your mind.
Your little whimper was swallowed by his mouth.
He gripped your hips, pulling you closer until your thin sleep dress rode higher up your thighs. His hands were so big—touching too much, yet not enough. One slipped down to squeeze your ass through the fabric, and he groaned into your mouth. “Fuck… you’ve been hiding this from me all this time?”
“I didn’t know you looked at me like that,” you mumbled breathlessly between kisses, hands fisting into his hoodie.
He pulled back just enough to stare down at you, pupils blown wide. “I’ve been looking at you every fucking night, bunny. You walking around in these tiny little dresses, all innocent and sweet, acting like you don’t know what the fuck you’re doing to me.”
You whimpered at the pet name—bunny—and it only made him grin darker.
“Not gonna fuck you for the first time in the kitchen,” he muttered, gripping your wrist and tugging you toward the hallway. “Not when I’ve waited this long. My room. Now.”
You followed, dizzy and needy, barely noticing how your thighs brushed together with every step.
His room smelled like him—clean laundry and something warm, masculine. It was bigger than yours by far, and the bed looked like it could swallow you whole. He didn’t even turn on the light—just kicked the door shut and pushed you gently until you fell back onto the mattress.
You sat there, wide-eyed and flushed, legs folded under you.
Mingi’s hoodie was already coming off, revealing bare skin and toned arms as he stepped closer. “Take it off,” he ordered softly, nodding at your sleep dress. “Wanna see all of you.”
Your fingers trembled a little as you reached for the straps, slowly pulling them down one by one. The fabric slid down your chest… then over your waist… pooling around your hips before you pulled it off completely.
You sat there naked, knees pressed together, heart pounding so loud you swore he could hear it.
Mingi’s gaze dragged over you—slow, heavy, drinking in everything. “Fuck, baby… you’re gonna be the death of me.”
He dropped to his knees between your legs and pushed them apart gently, licking his lips.
“You ever been eaten out, sweetheart?”
You shook your head, shy. “No…”
His grin was wicked. “Good. You’ll remember your first.”
“Lie back for me,” Mingi murmured, guiding your shoulders until you were sprawled across his sheets—legs parted, chest rising and falling in uneven little breaths.
He kissed up the inside of your thigh first. Slow. Teasing. You whimpered when his nose brushed close to where you were already wet, and he groaned low in his throat.
“Shit… you’re already dripping.”
Your hands gripped the sheets tightly as his breath ghosted over your folds. And then—his tongue. One long, slow lick up your slit that had your hips jerking off the bed.
“Oh—Mingi—!”
“Yeah, baby?” he mumbled against your pussy, voice already wrecked. “Sensitive little thing, huh? Gonna cry just from my mouth?”
You shook your head, biting your lip, but the way your thighs trembled said otherwise.
Mingi didn’t tease for long. He licked you open and flat-out devoured you—his tongue dragging through every inch of you, dipping into your hole, circling your clit until your back arched off the bed. His grip on your thighs kept you spread, even as you twisted, even when you whimpered, “Mingi, I— I think I’m gonna—!”
He didn’t stop.
He growled into you, “Give it to me, bunny. Wanna taste how cute you cum.”
Your thighs shook. Your stomach tensed. And just as you hit the edge, his tongue flattened against your clit—and then slap—
His palm smacked against your dripping pussy. Just once. Light. Experimental.
You screamed.
Not from pain. From how violently your orgasm hit. It tore through you in messy, uncontrollable waves—and then you felt it. That hot rush, the release, the wet spray that soaked his mouth and chin and dripped down your thighs.
“Oh—oh my God—!”
You were trembling, toes curled, hands gripping the sheets so hard your knuckles turned white.
Mingi pulled back just enough to see the mess—lips wet, eyes blown out with shock and arousal. “Fuck, baby… you just squirted.”
You were still catching your breath, wide-eyed and teary, lips parted. “I—I didn’t mean to—”
He laughed. Dark. Proud. “Don’t apologize.” He leaned up, licking your slick from his fingers. “I’m making you do that again.”
Still trembling from the mess he’d pulled out of you, you tried to close your legs—but Mingi’s grip was firm.
“Ah, ah. Not done yet, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice gravelly and way too calm for someone who just got squirted on. “Still so sensitive... what, already crying?” he cooed as his fingers brushed your soaked clit.
You whimpered, legs kicking at the overwhelming touch. “I-It’s too much, Mingi—!”
But he just grinned, licking his lips. “Mm… I think you can give me one more. You got another one in this pretty pussy, right?”
You were too dazed to answer, and that only made him laugh—low and dark.
Then came his fingers. Two of them, thick and slow, sliding into you while his thumb pressed on your clit. He watched you with hungry eyes as your back arched again, moaning out broken little gasps.
And when you got close—that sweet, tense twist in your belly coming back—he stopped.
Pulled his hand back entirely.
You blinked in confusion, cheeks flushed, lips parted in a soft whine. “W-Why’d you stop…”
Mingi leaned down, nose brushing yours, smirking. “You think I’m gonna let you cum that easy, bunny? After that messy little squirt? Nah. I wanna watch you fall apart first.”
You squirmed under him, legs rubbing together for friction, whining softly as he started teasing again—light flicks over your clit with the very tip of his tongue.
Then fingers. Just pressing at your entrance, not pushing in.
You were twitching, gasping. “Please, Mingi, wanna cum… I wanna—wanna feel it again…”
He let out a low hum, lips brushing your inner thigh. “Such a needy little baby. One good orgasm and now you can’t even speak right?”
“Mingi—please!”
He slapped your pussy again. Sharp. Hot. Not enough to hurt, just enough to make your whole body jolt.
“Say it better, sweetheart. Use your words. What do you want?”
You sniffled, eyes glassy. “Wanna cum… wanna feel your fingers, your tongue, anything— please, Mingi, I’ll be good—”
“Shit.” He sucked a breath through his teeth, finally sliding two fingers in again, pumping hard. “You’re too fucking cute when you beg.”
This time—he let you cum.
And you screamed, all messy and twitching, a moaning little thing with your back off the bed and your thighs trembling around his head. You sobbed through it, babbling nonsense, fingers gripping the sheets as your slick dripped down his wrist.
But Mingi didn’t stop.
He kept going.
Sloppy thrusts. No rhythm. Just filthy, greedy, overstimulating pleasure while you whimpered, “T-Too much—gonna break, Mingi—ah, ah—!”
“Oh, baby…” he groaned, tongue dragging up your soaked folds one more time. “You’re already broken.”
He’d barely given you time to catch your breath before pulling you into his lap—legs trembling, lips parted with a dazed little pout as you straddled his hips.
“C’mere, baby,” Mingi said, voice low and wrecked, “Wanna see you ride this cock. Wanna watch those pretty tits bounce while I ruin that dumb little head of yours.”
Your hands pressed against his chest for balance, thighs already shaky as you lined yourself up—his cock thick and heavy against your folds. He didn’t even help. Just laid back with that smug, perverted smirk on his face like he had all the time in the world.
“You gonna do it all by yourself, sweetheart?” he teased, thumb brushing your lip. “Show me how bad you want it.”
You whimpered, biting down on his thumb, and slowly sank down.
“Oh fuck—”
Your mouth dropped open in a silent cry as he filled you up, inch by inch, stretching you so deep it felt like you couldn’t breathe. Your eyes fluttered shut, the burn so good, the pressure perfect—and when you finally sat flush against his hips, you were already shaking.
Mingi hissed through his teeth, staring up at you with that hungry look. “Shit, baby, look at you—taking all of me like that… Tightest fucking pussy I’ve ever felt.”
You whimpered, hips rolling instinctively. “Mingi… s’too big…”
He grabbed your waist, dragging you up just enough before letting you drop back down. “Nah, baby. You’re made for this. For me. Show me how you fuck.”
So you moved.
Bounced.
Slow at first, thighs burning from the stretch, your tits jiggling with every drop. And Mingi? He looked feral. One hand behind his head, the other lazily cupping your breast, watching it bounce with a low groan.
“Fuck… fuck, look at you,” he growled, thrusting up once to meet you and make you yelp. “Look how cute you are—riding my cock like it’s the only thing that matters.”
You cried out, little sobs slipping past your lips as you bounced harder, sloppier, the sounds of your slick echoing in the room.
“Am I makin’ you dumb, bunny?” he grinned, pulling on your waist to make you slam down harder. “You’re mumblin’ again…”
“I—ahh—feels s’good, Mingi, too good—dizzy—!”
“Yeah? You gonna cum on this cock?” he grunted, thrusting up to meet you again, fast and deep. “Gonna soak me like a filthy little slut?”
You nodded frantically, sobbing now, fingers clawing at his chest. “Please—please, wanna cum, please, please—!”
“Then cum.”
He sat up, mouth sucking one of your nipples into his mouth as you shattered—screaming, spasming around him, thighs locking up as you came so hard your whole body convulsed. Mingi groaned, holding you down on his cock, watching you lose your mind on top of him.
“Shit… You’re my favorite fucking toy now.”
Your thighs were quaking, tears running down your flushed cheeks, but you didn’t stop riding him. Not even when your head dropped back and your voice cracked from all the soft, incoherent sobs spilling out of your lips.
“S-s’too much—Mingi, f-fuck—can’t—!”
“Oh, but you can, baby.” His voice was wrecked with hunger, obsessed with the way you looked losing your mind on his cock. “You’re so cute when you cry like this. Makes me wanna keep you stuffed and full forever.”
He grabbed both of your tits, squeezing them roughly as he thrusted up into you hard enough to make you scream.
You sobbed, nails digging into his chest, your thighs trembling violently as the pleasure got too sharp, too deep, but he wasn’t letting up.
“Mingi—! Gonna cum again—!”
He grinned, lazy and smug. “Yeah? Show me.”
You came with a sob, body locking up as you spasmed around him, drool slipping from the corner of your mouth as you collapsed forward on his chest.
But he wasn’t done.
Not even close.
“Turn around.”
Your hazy, tear-streaked eyes blinked at him. “H-huh?”
Mingi didn’t wait—he flipped you over onto your stomach, pulling your hips up so your ass was in the air, your face buried in the mattress. You were so sensitive, so wrecked, and you felt him line back up without missing a beat.
Then—
SMACK!
You yelped.
“God, this ass is too fucking perfect,” he groaned, giving your cheek another hard slap. “Could stare at it all day.”
“M-Mingi—!”
SMACK!
“Say thank you.”
You whined, face burning. “T-thank you…”
“That’s my girl.” He slammed into you without mercy, burying himself to the hilt in one thrust.
Your scream was muffled by the sheets, fists grabbing at the blankets as he pounded into you from behind—relentless, filthy, insatiable.
He grabbed your hair, yanking your head up. “Let me hear you beg again. C’mon, say you love this cock.”
You hiccupped on a moan, body trembling like crazy. “L-love it—love your cock, Mingi—please, more, please!”
“Fuck yes,” he groaned, thrusting faster, the sound of your skin slapping echoing in the room. “I’m gonna make you squirt again. Gonna spank you while you cry on my dick.”
SMACK!
You screamed.
SMACK!
Tears spilled down again, body burning from both pleasure and pain as you felt yourself losing it all over again.
“I—I’m gonna—!”
“Do it. Squirt for me, baby. Make a mess on my cock.”
You cried out, body convulsing as you exploded, the gush of your release soaking his cock and thighs as you collapsed forward, babbling nothing but broken moans and needy whines.
And Mingi? He kept fucking you through it, whispering filthy things in your ear while he used your soft, fucked-out body like it was his personal toy.
Your legs gave out underneath you, dropping you in a trembling, sticky heap on the bed. Your thighs glistened with slick and spit, your chest rising and falling as soft hiccupy sobs slipped from your lips. Mingi had just pulled out, thick and hard and soaked in everything you’d given him—again.
But he hadn’t finished.
Not yet.
You peeked up at him through heavy lashes, eyes glassy and lips glossy with drool, a faint little whimper catching in your throat. Your body ached, pussy twitching with need, and your brain was too fogged up to think straight—but the emptiness was too much.
“M-Mingi…” Your voice cracked.
He stood at the edge of the bed, stroking himself slowly, watching you fall apart with a low, smug chuckle. “Look at you,” he teased. “Cute little thing, still crying. Didn’t I just make you squirt all over me?”
You shook your head, sniffled, and crawled to the edge of the bed on shaky hands and knees. “I-it’s not enough…” you whimpered, blinking up at him with big watery eyes.
“Oh?” He tilted his head. “You still want more, baby?”
You nodded, sniffling again, reaching out with both hands to grab at his thighs, pressing your cheek against the base of his cock like it was the only thing keeping you grounded. “Please… please cum inside me… I w-want it so bad, Mingi, want you to ruin me…”
He groaned, grip tightening around his shaft.
“Been so good, haven’t I?” you mumbled, voice all cracked and wet and soft. “Let you use me however you wanted… I d-did everything—so please, fill me up…”
Tears ran down your flushed cheeks as your voice dropped even more—sweet and whiny and broken. “Don’t wanna be empty anymore…”
“Fuck—” He hissed through his teeth, eyes dark with lust as he looked down at you, trembling and begging and so fucking perfect.
He grabbed you, hard, lifting you up with ease and laying you on your back again, legs spread wide and shaking. “You wanna be full, baby?” he growled, lining himself up. “I’ll make sure you never feel empty again.”
You gasped when he slammed back inside you, and a sob broke out of your throat.
“Th-thank you—thank you, Mingi—!”
He groaned, wrapping your legs around his waist and pounding into you with feverish need, one hand cradling the back of your head while the other held your hip steady. “Crying while you thank me? Shit, baby, you’re gonna kill me…”
You were blabbering now, voice high and pitchy, clinging to his back as he drove you into the mattress. “Feels so good—so deep—Mingi, I’m gonna break—!”
“You’re already broken, sweetheart.” He kissed your temple, whispering like a lover even as he fucked you like a demon. “And you’re so fucking cute like this. So desperate, so messy, all mine right now…”
And when he finally came—hard, with a deep groan and his face buried in your neck—you cried out again, feeling the heat flood your core, your hands clawing at him as your body twitched through the aftershocks.
Still gasping, still trembling, still mumbling barely-there thank-yous.
And Mingi just held you, sweaty and breathless, as if he was never letting you go.
You didn’t even realize you were still leaking around him until he shifted his hips, still buried deep in your swollen, overstretched walls. Mingi’s hand rubbed soothing circles into your back, his lips brushing over your forehead in soft little kisses. You felt so warm—so full—your breath slowing, your heartbeat steadying under the weight of his body.
But his cock was still inside you.
Still thick, twitching every now and then.
And he was hardening again.
You mumbled something incoherent, more like a dreamy hum than actual words, nuzzling into his neck.
“…You awake, baby?” Mingi whispered, voice hoarse, raspy with exhaustion.
You nodded sleepily, cheeks sticky with dried tears and your thighs aching deliciously. “Mmhm… still inside…”
“Still warm,” he groaned, grinding his hips just enough to feel your pussy clench. “Fuck… you’re hugging me so tight, baby. You gonna let me use you one more time?”
A sleepy whimper slipped out, and your fingers curled into his back. “T-too much…”
“Just one more,” he murmured, voice sweet but filthy. “You’re already so full, might as well keep stuffing you, yeah?”
He rolled his hips again, deeper this time, and you gasped—tired, overstimulated, but already soaking all over again. “Mingi… I can’t—”
“You can,” he whispered, lips brushing against your temple. “You’re doing so good, baby. So pretty, even when you’re crying… my cute little roommate.”
He slowly started thrusting, every movement gentle but deep, dragging out the squelch of his cum between your legs with each slow stroke.
You whimpered, head tilting back, your legs falling open for him like instinct. “Ngh… f-feels good…”
“That’s it,” he groaned. “Just let me fuck you through it, baby. Let me feel your cute little pussy milk me dry.”
You moaned louder this time, slurred words spilling from your lips in breathy little gasps. “So deep—Mingi, y-you’re still so big, why’s it still so big…”
He chuckled softly, eyes dark as he stared down at your fucked-out face. “Because you’re too cute, baby. Can’t help myself…”
He kept going, slow and thick and messy, not even bothering to pull out as his cum dripped down between your cheeks, mixing with your slick and his spit. You blinked up at him, dazed and broken and glowing all at once.
And when he finally came again with a quiet, shuddering groan, you whimpered at the warmth flooding you for the second time.
“…Mingi…” you breathed out, nearly incoherent. “Y-you’re gonna break me…”
“You’re already broken, sweetheart,” he murmured, laying soft kisses along your collarbone as he rutted lazily into you a few more times before stilling.
“But fuck, baby… I’ve never seen anything as pretty as you falling apart.”
The sunlight was barely peeking through the blinds when you stirred, your legs twitching from the dull ache between them. You were wrapped up in warmth—Mingi's chest against your back, his heavy arm draped around your waist, and his cock still lazily nestled against your ass, soft but twitching with every slow breath.
“Mingi…” you whispered sleepily, voice hoarse and sweet.
He groaned low, nuzzling into your neck. “Morning already?”
You giggled softly, your body sore in all the right places. “My thighs hurt…”
He kissed your shoulder. “Good. That means I fucked you right.”
You turned your face toward him, cheeks hot, eyes still puffy from last night’s cute little crying fits. “Pervert.”
“Your pervert.” He smirked, biting playfully at your earlobe. “And you loved it.”
You hummed. “I did…”
There was a beat of silence, and then you sighed. “But I’m sticky. We’re gross.”
“Guess we should clean up, huh?” he whispered, voice already heavy with mischief.
Before you could protest, he rolled you both out of bed and scooped you up bridal-style, your sleep dress barely hanging on your shoulders. You squealed, arms flying around his neck.
“Mingi—!”
“I said we’re showering. Gotta make sure my baby is squeaky clean.”
He kicked the bathroom door open and sat you on the cold counter, standing between your legs with his hands on your bare thighs. He just stared at you for a second—at the messed-up lace, the little bruises, the faint red handprints he’d left behind.
And then, “You gonna let me clean you with my tongue again, baby?”
You blinked at him, lips parting.
“…You’re hopeless.”
But when you opened your legs for him again, you both knew you didn’t mean it.
Mingi turned the shower on, steam curling into the room as the water heated up. While it warmed, he leaned down and kissed you—slow and deep, his tongue lazily exploring your mouth while his big hands slid under your sleep dress, dragging it up and off your body.
“Still so cute even when you’re wrecked,” he murmured, voice low and thick with sleep and lust. “Wanna fuck you all over again.”
Your body twitched at his words, your thighs pressing together instinctively. “I’m still sore…”
“I’ll be gentle,” he said—though the glint in his eyes said otherwise.
He picked you up again and stepped into the shower with you, water cascading over both your bodies, his arms strong and steady around you. You let out a shaky breath as the warmth soothed your aching muscles, but your comfort didn’t last long.
Mingi pinned your back to the slick wall tiles, water running down his broad shoulders as he grabbed your thighs and hoisted them around his waist. His cock was already hard again, flushed and throbbing against your core.
“Y-you said gentle,” you mumbled, flushed and wide-eyed.
“I said I’ll try,” he corrected, smirking. “But you’re too damn addicting, baby. Can’t help it.”
You whined as he rubbed his cockhead along your folds, spreading his cum and your slick from the night before. “Mingi… I—”
“You’re always so wet for me,” he groaned. “Still leaking, baby? God, look at you…”
He pushed in slow—just the tip—and your eyes fluttered shut, your lips parting in a soft moan as your head thunked back against the tile. The heat of the water, the steam, his body against yours—it was all too much and not enough.
“F-fuck, you’re tight,” he growled, gripping your thighs tighter. “Even after everything I did last night…”
You gasped as he slid in deeper, your arms locking around his neck. “M-Mingi… ah—nghh—s-still sore…”
“I know, baby,” he cooed, kissing your cheek. “But you can take it. You always do. My good girl.”
His hips began to move, slowly at first—just enough for you to feel the stretch all over again. You whimpered into his shoulder, legs trembling, but your pussy clenched around him greedily.
“Making those cute noises again…” he muttered, voice almost desperate. “Say something for me, baby.”
“F-feels good,” you managed, your voice slurred, high and breathy. “So big—s-stretching me again…”
“You’re dripping,” he whispered against your ear. “Fucking leaking around me, and I’m not even moving fast yet.”
You let out a sob, your fingers tangling in his wet hair. “Please—Mingi—feels too good—don’t stop—”
And he didn’t.
He began thrusting harder, the sound of wet skin slapping echoing in the shower, water spraying off his back while he fucked you raw against the tile. You whimpered, moaned, your head rolling as he hit that same deep, sweet spot over and over until your body was convulsing in his arms.
“Cum for me,” he grunted. “Wanna feel you fall apart again.”
And you did—your eyes rolled back, your mouth fell open in a silent cry, your whole body shaking as you came hard around him. And right after, with a strangled groan, he buried himself deep and spilled inside you again.
For the fourth time.
You both panted, clinging to each other as the water kept pouring over you. Mingi kissed your temple softly.
“I should get a gold medal for this,” he muttered playfully.
You mumbled into his shoulder, barely coherent. “Mm… just feed me breakfast…”
He grinned. “After I eat you for breakfast again.”
After the shower, your legs barely held you up, so Mingi wrapped you in a towel and carried you straight to the kitchen like you weighed nothing. You were wearing one of his oversized shirts now—still damp and clinging to your soft curves, the hem brushing your thighs with every step you took.
Mingi was shirtless, sweatpants slung low on his hips, his hair still damp and messy. And the way his eyes kept dropping to your bare legs as he cooked? That hungry look never left.
“You know,” he muttered, flipping the pancakes in the pan, “I could bend you over this counter right now. Bet your pussy’s still twitching from the shower.”
You whimpered into your glass of juice, squirming in the stool you sat on. “Mingi…”
“What? I’m just saying,” he smirked, setting the plate down in front of you. “You looked so cute, all dumb and crying on my cock. How am I supposed to not talk about it?”
You pouted, hiding your red face behind your fork. “You’re so dirty…”
“And you love it,” he whispered as he leaned down, lips brushing your ear. “You love when I talk to you like that, don’t you? Gettin’ all shy now, but you were begging me to spank your pussy five minutes ago.”
Your thighs clenched automatically, eyes fluttering. “That was… different…”
He kissed your temple and slid into the stool beside you. “Nah. You’re just my pretty little pillow princess who gets shy after being ruined.”
You shoved his arm playfully, cheeks hot. “Eat your pancake, pervert.”
But your voice was so soft, your smile too wide—because you did love it. Every filthy word, every dirty look he gave you like you were his favorite thing to ruin.
Mingi leaned on his elbow, watching you eat with that same smirk tugging at his lips.
“After this… I’m putting you back in bed,” he murmured lowly. “And you’re gonna sit on my cock nice and slow while I kiss you. Let’s see how many times I can make you cum without moving my hips.”
You choked on your juice.
He patted your back, completely unbothered. “Careful, baby. Can’t have you dying before I ruin you again.”
SUMMARY | Mingi comes home early from a trip to find his best friend's older sister, you, roaming the apartment in a large shirt and panties. And god, does he want you.
PAIRINGS | Mingi x Reader
RATING | Mature, NSFW, EXPLICIT, MDNI, 18+, Any Minors and Ageless Blogs will be blocked
GENRE | smut, roommate!Mingi, brother's best friend trope, older woman/younger man trope, non-idol au
CONTENT/WARNINGS | profanity/strong language, filthy dirty thoughts, unprotected sex (wrap it up ya’ll!), female masturbation, fingering, oral sex (male/female receiving/giving), dirty talk, praise kink, pet names, vaginal penetration, kitchen sex, creampie, squirting
AUTHOR’S NOTE | Hi. Hello. This was supposed to be 2-3K words but it ended up longer. It's literally just smut lolol. And those Mingi pics for CK? geezes. Hope you all love and enjoy this. Love you ❤️
In your defense, you thought you were home alone so you didn’t second guess your wardrobe choice before walking out of your room and into the kitchen to rummage through the fridge for a snack. You really should have made sure first though.
You didn’t think much of it when your younger brother Yunho asked if you wanted to get a place with him and his best friend. It was a little more spacious, a lot nicer than your dorm room on campus, and still close enough for you to go to and from school and work easily. You knew Mingi, Yunho's best friend, forever, but when you told your parents they had suggested you take precautions. Mingi may have been a family friend of sorts but he was still male and he would be living there.
Both you and your brother dismissed their worries completely, assuring them Mingi had been like a younger brother, despite the year age gap, growing up and you could count the amount of times you ever heard him say anything even remotely perverted or gross to be none. But despite all this, you all still made a pact with your respective members of the household that your individual bedrooms were to stay firmly shut at all times and privacy would be respected and vice versa.
Earlier that week, Yunho said that he and Mingi would be going on a trip, somewhere with a bunch of their other friends, while the weather was still good. It would have been a trip you would have taken too, but you couldn't. School and work kept you here. You figured you would just catch up with everyone when they came back home.
They left a few days ago, leaving with a loud goodbye before you gave yourself the all-clear, allowing your usual messy, comfortable sleepwear to take over. It was going to be a relaxing day at home with no one there to scold you and you were going to do as you pleased.
Fast forward a few days later and you’re now standing in front of a confused Mingi, wearing nothing more than an oversized t-shirt that hangs off one shoulder and boy-short panties, leaving very little to the imagination.
Both of your arms are frozen, neither able to speak as you meet each other's gazes, Mingi's eyes darted lower as your arms come down in a sudden jerk to shield your exposed form from his eyes. His stare doesn't falter, but rather it hardens, taking everything that he can, burning the image into his brain.
This is Mingi, the family friend who played games with you and shared candies when you were younger. He was the same Mingi you would tease mercilessly as children before asking him, not so secretly, for advice about how to date a guy. This is the same Mingi you danced next to in the living room until both of you became nauseous because your moves had you spinning and twisting faster and faster. And it's the same Mingi you watched slam several cups of beer down like it was water during house parties like it was nothing. He had a bit of a track record for picking up girls with ease, the kind of guy girls looked up to and talked about dreamily whenever they thought no one could hear them.
Sure you had a silly crush on him growing up but you knew Mingi didn't think of you in that way. He treated you like an older sister and it showed. An older sibling was all he was likely to ever see.
But here and now, with the look Mingi is giving you, that all seems to go right out the window. If you thought his stare was hot when it was at eye level, there was no word that could come close to explaining how the scorching temperature went up even more in the downward, suggestive direction his stare had shifted.
For a moment you think you hear a hushed, muffled grunt come out of him, but it's gone as soon as it appears.
"M-mingi?" you mutter, clearing your throat a little. "What are you doing back so early?"
Mingi's expression doesn't change, if anything it seems to darken even more and if it was possible, you are sure he is undressing you even more with his eyes than before.
"Oh, uh...hi, noona. I had to leave early due to work," he says slowly.
You wait for more information, an explanation, something but he doesn't give one.
"... and?" You encourage and your response is an almost devilish-looking smirk. It has a strangely charming effect on you, but at the same time is enough to cause heat to flow through you, settling and concentrating at one very specific spot. You've never seen him look at someone like the way he's staring at you and you are surprised you didn't get caught on fire.
His eyes flick up and down your form slowly once more before locking on yours again and he stands up straight from the door. "It doesn't matter. I'm back now."
Damn. Now you had to go back to being dressed while stuck in the house alone for who knew how long.
"U-uh... okay? Alright, um," you swallow and squirm uncomfortably under Mingi's steady gaze, hoping he doesn't hear the way the breath catches in your throat. "I'm gonna go get dressed."
You wait, feeling incredibly awkward as he watches you without moving, but finally, after a moment Mingi turns and goes in the direction of his bedroom.
“Y/N-noona?” You hear him call out to you as you move away, feet already in motion toward the safety of your bedroom.
“Yeah?” you reply.
He leans against his bedroom doorway and sends a mischievous, somewhat predatory grin at you, causing your entire body to tingle at his intentions.
"You don’t have to cover up if you don’t want to. It’s not fair to you if Yunho and I get to walk around the place shirtless and you don’t. I won’t tell Yunho." he says simply before stepping into his bedroom and closing the door with a soft click.
You let out a deep exhale the moment you shut your bedroom door behind you, pulling a hand up to rest on your chest, feeling the rapid beating of your heart. Your knees felt weak and suddenly the image of Mingi had burned itself so deeply into the back of your lids that every time you closed your eyes, the image of Mingi smirking darkly at you made its appearance, causing a fire to flare up in you.
With a shaky but needy whimper, you find yourself falling into a heap on your bed. You rest a hand flat on your stomach, allowing your mind to fill with images of Mingi, remembering the feeling of his hard, broad shoulders from the hugs you would receive, his defined arms that seemed to give you comfort the times you got them wrapped around your form, and that confident, slightly cheeky smirk you had witnessed him sending at the female population several times.
You make sure the door is locked, not knowing whether you did it out of fear or need before the hand on your belly slowly slides down, fingertips gently ghosting along your lower belly, slowly heading for the cotton of your panties. They dipped below and you let out a tiny sigh at the touch of your hand between your legs. It was a tiny, delicate touch, yet it felt like sparks had erupted all over, tingling down your spine and in between your legs. Your teeth dug into the bottom lip hard in a bid to control your whines as one lone digit traced small circles, building you up.
It's not the first time you have pleasured yourself and had Mingi on your mind while doing it. You can't even count the many nights you spend laying in this very same position, imagining Mingi there. What his kisses would be like. The way his hands would glide along your body, causing you to arch into his touch, craving more contact from his body, while he pressed searing kisses all over your neck and chest, murmuring filthy words only the two of you could ever hear.
What your mind is occupied with as your hips squirm a little are all the different scenarios you can think of. At first, your movements are small, just small pushes and rolls of your hips against your fingertips. You find yourself wondering what Mingi's hands would be like. How rough would he be or would he want to savor your body, lavishing the soft curves of your body with gentle touch, kisses, and teasing bites until he got closer to where you needed him? Would he be dirty? Would his words be enough to make you blush with his raw, sexual cravings?
The sounds, oh the sounds he could draw from you.
Your breath hitches when the tiny moans coming from you make their way up and out of your lips and as good as this feels it's still not enough for you. Your imagination runs wild. The Mingi in your mind is taking control now, turning you around, the deft hands moving to knead your breasts, a warm, wet tongue swiping up the back of your neck, moving up until a hot mouth sucked, grazing your earlobe with his teeth.
And when the imaginary feeling of Mingi biting you while one hand trailed down the planes of your body before slipping beneath and your fingers move exactly the way you are fantasizing his hands were, in this situation, you find yourself burying your face in the sheets, doing your best to muffle all the noise coming from you.
One, two, three curling fingers are all it takes, and you have brought yourself to the peak already, the fire inside you burning, scorching even. The small coiling heat within your belly unraveled and you bit your pillowcase as hard as you could, hoping the soft fabric of your bed would block out all of your noises.
As soon as the fire dies out the heaviness of your eyelids overtakes you and it's a struggle to pull off the shirt you wore and slip beneath the blankets. As soon as you're settled though, the comfort and warmth of the bed sheets caused you to fall into a deep slumber. You dream of Mingi, thinking about those fantasies but you aren't waking up anytime soon.
Little did you know that Mingi was dreaming of you, trying to relieve his own arousal.
The next day, you wandered into the living room, this time in lace panties and a scantily thin tank top. Your feet pad slowly on the hardwood flooring of the apartment. A small groan came out of you as your feet padded into the kitchen area, your hair a mess, eyes heavy with sleep and your hands worked on the buttons of the small coffee machine to make yourself something to wake up with.
"Oh, Y/N-noona..."
You jumped, yelping, spinning to see Mingi leaning against the wall, his shirt hanging open, his usual black jeans hanging low on his hips, and his brand-name briefs sticking out above them. He was half grinning, eyes trailing your half-naked form before a smirk tugged on his lips.
"Don't mind me. Keep doing what you were doing," he walked towards the kitchen island to grab a cup for himself, not bothering to close his shirt at all.
You stared at him, suddenly unable to form words, only watching him and swallowing heavily as you eyed him up and down shamelessly. How many mornings have you woken to the same view as today? Yes, Mingi walking around shirtless was not uncommon, and yes, you've always tried to not focus too much on the planes and ridges of the muscles. You stood there, your fingers drumming along the counter, unable to turn away and ignoring the burning at the back of your neck as he turned around to face you, meeting your gaze head-on as you met his gaze.
For what seems like hours it's just you standing in front of Mingi, letting his gaze slide over the whole length of your body as you both stand motionless. You finally seem to break and turn around to do the task of preparing yourself some coffee. You are close, so close. The water drips into the little mug and then a shadow envelopes you from behind, heat spreading across your backside, something heavy against your ass.
Instantly you stiffen and turn your head to see Mingi has moved in close behind you, so close that you can feel his warmth and breathe on your neck.
He wasn't touching you, he was holding himself still, and in the beginning, you are unable to detect whether he is purposely pressed up against you or if his tall body is only bent at such an angle that it leaves your butt right underneath him.
When his hands grip the counter at either side of you, your attention focuses on his hold, noting his position is to have the two of you locked into place and that's when you realize how serious Mingi is with his intentions. He hasn't said anything and neither have you, the only sounds that have left the pair of you are your short gasps and sharp intakes of air.
When he rests his chin on your shoulder, the intimate pose has the effects of a powerful drug and your knees go weak. One long breath enters through your parted lips before his hips press into yours and there was no mistaking Mingi's arousal against your back, how stiff and prominent he was. His body is locked into position and there's no escaping.
But do you want to?
"Tell me to leave, and I'll leave," his voice rumbles low with a husky edge to his tone. "Now's your chance."
It's a challenge, a clear dare like he knows full well you don't want him to leave, even though he offers the option to. It's just a question.
You decide now.
Your eyes drift down. You know that underneath that expensive-looking underwear and his tight, dark-wash jeans, the cock pressing into you is everything you've ever desired. A muscle twitches under the touch of a hand. Another tense, loud swallow, and you manage to glance to your side.
"Mingi?" you breathed out softly, your words barely above a whisper, so silent that the thrumming of blood in your ears was almost overshadowing your words.
"Hmm?" Mingi answered, turning his head a little, his face now mere millimeters away, and the anticipation you feel makes your stomach flip. Your thoughts are clear. The vision in your mind is real. Your senses are acute, and more sensitive than ever. But for whatever reason, words refuse to come to you. It was one of those moments of wanting to speak, knowing what needed to be said but it was a struggle.
Your lashes flutter and before you know it, your lips capture his.
A low groan vibrated in his chest the instant your mouth came into contact, his eyes sliding shut and arms snaked around your middle, pressing you completely back into him. The hand by your hip clutched you as you turned in his hold and pressed your chest fully into his, fingers sliding into his hair.
The feeling of being up against him like this is sending every single part of you into a heightened state and everything he touches sets your skin on fire. It's a tight embrace and when he lifts you effortlessly onto the kitchen counter you immediately wrap your legs around his hips, pulling him as close to you as possible.
Mingi pulls your head back, sliding his tongue into your mouth. You bite down on his bottom lip and his hands roam every single part of you and every curve your body can offer him. The second he pulls away, a single whine leaves you, already missing him, but at the sight of the look in his eyes, all coherent thoughts go out of your head. You stare up at Mingi who is just looking at you with a glint of smugness in his eye that tells you the guy knows what he's doing to you.
"Want to know something, Y/N-noona?" His deep raspy voice has you staring intently into his eyes as his hands glide down and cup your butt, squeezing the plump globes.
"Uh-huh," is your dazed response, followed by a deep breath. The sudden change in Mingi from a moment ago was impressive and honestly sexy. You swallow, staring into his eyes, the tiniest bit of hesitation, nervousness, and anticipation fluttering around in your belly.
"I've been in love with you since I was fourteen," he mutters, staring at you intently, his hands coming around and grasping the edge of your lace panties. "I stopped thinking of you as an older sister. And then every time I look at you, or think about you, my imagination runs wild and sometimes I can't help myself."
And with that his thumbs dip past the lace, stroking the tender skin there.
"O-oh," you bite your lip and curl your fingers, your mind swirling, intoxicated by the desire in his voice and his eyes. His fingers are still moving and Mingi moves forward, closing the gap between you two, lips pressing into the corner of your mouth as your hands come up, resting on the sculpted pecs that send every thought flying from your head. "Thank god because I've had a huge crush on you for a damn long time, Song Mingi."
Mingi let out an amused chuckle, before giving you a heated look, and the next time he pressed his mouth against yours he was no longer timid and gentle. He is more confident and aggressive, more demanding of what he wants, but you welcome it, giving him exactly what he was asking for, not having the will nor strength in you to push him away.
"Tell me where you want me," he says in between breathy pants against your lips, kissing you once more and his tongue slides into your mouth, reaching for every nook, wanting to be inside you in some way.
His actions, his hands stroking, his kiss, his scent surrounding you...everything has your senses, all of them, overwhelmed and your fingers tighten into his hair, a desperate sound escaping you.
"Fuck Mingi...I need you to eat me out," your words make Mingi give a low groan in the back of his throat.
You barely had a moment to catch a breath before his face disappeared downwards, your thighs resting on his shoulders. Mingi pushed the sheer material of your underwear to one side and slid a finger between your wet lips and let out a moan that sent an electric surge throughout you when he touched your aching clit.
You gasped and squirmed and his name left your lips. You're not quite sure whether your gasps were out of embarrassment or how good he feels but the moment you feel Mingi's tongue stroke against you, all thoughts are replaced by pleasure.
"F-fuck, Mingi" you breathed out shakily.
Mingi's lips curled into a smile, making a 'hmm' sound deep in his throat. Every vibration from that only makes you squirm against his lips and the things he was doing to you, his lips and tongue licking you out like you were his favorite flavor, like he wanted nothing more than to have you all to himself. Your moans were the icing on the cake, rewarding him further as you pushed yourself against him and had no other option but to clutch at his hair and beg.
All sorts of needy words and noises fell from your lips as you closed your legs, trapping him between them, and pulled his face deeper into you as Mingi alternated between licking and suckling you. He continued to kiss and suck on you, pressing his lips flat, open, and covering every bit of exposed skin. Your moans had only gotten louder and needier as you felt your release beginning to build up, getting closer and closer to the edge.
Suddenly Mingi stops and the next thing you know, you're thrown over his shoulders, his strong arms gripping the backs of your thighs firmly and keeping you secure. He threw a cheeky grin your way before carrying you off to his bedroom, using one arm to shut the door behind him before dumping you unceremoniously onto his large, soft bed.
The bed itself was so soft you sunk in a little, his silk, blue-colored bed sheets smoothing the action. This wasn't the first time you were in his bedroom, having gone in and borrowed games or clothes that had been left there.
But this was the first time being in his bed.
"You look really good laying in my bed, noona. You look like you fit right in this spot," he chuckled deeply. "Let's see if we can make this scene look even better."
He pinned you on the bed and captured his lips to yours and your back arched at how amazing the weight of his body was on top of yours. Maybe it was because Mingi was very tall but laying on his bed, with his body pushing you into it felt nice. Not the sensation of being forced down, but the kind of nice where Mingi's scent, his body, everything just melted you.
A moan ripped through your body when his hands palmed you through your thin tank top. They traced every contour they could find.
"Shit," the man hissed. "You've got great tits."
His thumbs swiped back and forth over your nipples and it took less than ten seconds of the combined work of Mingi's mouth and fingers to turn you into a trembling, pleading mess. Mingi licked his lips and then he slid his fingers down to play with the elastic of your lace panties, the back of his fingers brushing lightly over your soft skin and the smirk never left his face.
"Mingi...can I... can I please suck you off?" Your heart was thumping loudly in your chest, heat bloomed all over your entire body and his face was suddenly pulled into a huge, teasing grin as he crawled up towards the head of the bed.
"You wanna taste it, noona?" He asked. "Go ahead then. Show me what you can do with that pretty mouth."
Your eyes couldn't look away from Mingi's as you moved slowly on your knees to follow him as he sat himself against the headboard of his bed. Without hesitation, your fingertips moved to push aside his undone shirt, exposing more of his bare chest. Leaning down to kiss his torso, his abs contracted while he sucked air in. When your lips met the elastic band of his briefs, you looked up and his eyes were completely focused on yours.
"Noona..." he breathed softly, licking his lips at the sight of your doe-like eyes staring up at him. "Look at you. Take what you want, noona. Do what you need. Use my cock as your plaything, doll."
Fuck. He's driving you crazy.
The thought of having him like this has been a fantasy of yours, not that you had admitted it to yourself until just now, but your dreams are now becoming a reality. You slipped his briefs down, just enough to free him, letting out a hum in satisfaction.
"All for you, noona," Mingi kicked his pants and briefs off, smirking as he spread his legs out for you, wanting you to get closer.
God, Mingi was gorgeous. Not just because of his features but because he had the personality of an amazing man who made his way into the hearts and minds of everyone who met him. And with a body like that, well... who could resist him? No one you know.
Wasting no time, you wrapped your fingers around the base of him, your tongue starting the journey from the thickest section and licking a path from root to tip, sucking his crown between your lips. Your mouth enveloped the first few inches and you hummed when you were rewarded with a low grunt that told you everything your touch was doing for him was satisfactory.
"Noona. What the...how are you...so...good...?" he was at a loss for words, Mingi's sentence left in broken segments when his tongue got tangled. His reaction, however, was music to your ears. He tried to sound put-together, calm, and collected, yet his grunts and groans weren't lost on your ears as you worked him.
He was thick and hard in your hand, growing harder and longer with every bobbing motion your mouth did along his length. There wasn't anything better to hear than the man's own low, heavy groans when you tried deep-throating him or your name whimpered as a low, almost chant when your pace increased. His head dropped back onto the pillows. He was able to just relax and watch, one hand curling softly into your hair.
"You like it, Mingi? My hot, wet mouth on you? You like watching your big dick disappear in my mouth, babe?" you asked.
"So, you do have a dirty side to you, huh?" His low chuckles send pleasant shivers up your spine and cause heat to coil within your abdomen once again. "Fuck, noona...you're so fucking sexy right now. How the fuck can anyone expect me to act sane in front of you? You look so good sucking me like that. Look at me while you're sucking, Y/N-noona."
"You know...I've always fantasized about taking your cock deep in my mouth," you whispered seductively. His eyes met your gaze, watching as you bent and gave the head of his cock a delicate swirl with your tongue.
"Really, now? What else has my naughty Y/N-noona fantasized about, huh?" Mingi's eyes closed and let the bliss that was his imagination take over, biting his lip with a sexy smirk and looking delicious with how laidback he was.
"Mm, many things," you sucked him into the hot cavern of your mouth. You watched Mingi's chest as it rose and fell. "You fucking me, your cock splitting me open. Stuffing me with your cum. Marking me as yours."
With Mingi's eyes half-lidded, his groans are louder, deeper, and longer. The strokes and motions from your mouth bring him to the edge.
"Are you a squirter?" he asked, his eyes peering down, meeting your gaze again. He looks mischievous, and his tone dripped with lust and suggestion. His head tips back, his hips thrust forward as a deep, rumbling growl tore from his throat.
"Why don't you find out? If you think your cock can make me scream loud enough to squirt all over it," you challenged, one eyebrow raised up at him.
"Challenge accepted, noona," his lips twitched upwards in a lascivious smirk and that is when he sat himself up. Gripping the back of your head gently, he was very clear in his instructions. "Now open wide. Be a good noona, and make sure you swallow everything."
Obedient, you did as he asked, parting your lips and ready to taste every drop Mingi offered you, taking it like the good girl you wanted to be for him. And when it finally happened, the salty tang burst against your taste buds, Mingi growling your name and encouraging you to take everything.
"Come here, sweet thing," he growled, reaching out and grasping at the backs of your thighs, pulling them apart until you straddled him. He tugged your panties to the side before lowering you onto his erect cock, slowly so you could adjust to him. "Damn, you look so sexy with your panties pushed aside and stuffed full of me."
Settling yourself on his lap and stuffed full to the hilt, you grabbed the edge of your tank top and lifted it over your head, throwing it somewhere in his room. Mingi groaned at the sight of your fully naked upper body on display to him and he quickly busied himself by reaching out to run his fingertips over your nipples, making you arch into him, gasping at the feeling and your breathing erratic.
You grabbed the headboard of the bed. "Wanna bounce on your cock, Mingi."
His hips instantly jerked against you at those words, groaning as you slowly rolled your hips to get a feel for the movement before finding the speed and rhythm he liked, panting heavily when his head went up so he could focus his attention on your breasts bouncing and his name leaving your lips. Mingi held a strong grip on your sides to help steady your body before you felt his long tongue flick one nipple before wrapping his lips around it.
You were pushing his open shirt off his body so that you could finally admire how beautiful Mingi's body is, so fit and muscular and he let out a happy sound at how eagerly you were trying to touch every inch of him that's exposed to you, how willing he is to let you do as you wish.
"Look at you taking every inch so perfectly," his voice rumbles deeply, almost in a groan. His fingers trailed lightly up your chest, gently cupping your cheek. The tender gesture only lasted mere moments as you began to roll your hips harder, bouncing faster, moving around him, going in circles, grinding up against him. "You like how big my cock is, Y/N? Like the feel of the my cock sliding in and out of your wet pussy? Does my cock hit just the right place?"
"M-mingi..." you squeaked. He feels so thick, so full, all of it deliciously stretching and opening your wet core in ways you didn't know you needed until now.
He takes you without the need of force, every touch and movement filled with patience, and his groans are husk and raspy and deep, and you keep wondering how someone can even be so vocal. Everything Mingi did had you panting for more, pushing for more.
"Love you, Y/N-noona," the male growled, digging his nails slightly into your thighs before letting his palms glide upward and rest on your ass, squeezing and spreading you apart to give him a full view of you. His breathing was quick and his muscles tense. The room was filled with the scent of sex, both of your heavy pants mingling in the air around you as sweat began to glisten both of you.
“Love you too,” you moaned.
Your fingers brushed the top of his shoulders, trailing upwards and into the silky, damp strands of his black locks as you bucked your hips in response, giving him even more depth in your tight core. Mingi continued to gyrate upwards, keeping up the relentless pace you set. He let out an airy groan every few minutes. His body arched towards you. His grunts were desperate, more guttural.
"Fuck, noona," he groaned. "I could watch you ride me for a lifetime."
"M-mingi," you whimpered, letting out a noise when he squeezed your ass cheeks before he dragged a long lick up the valley between your breasts and flicked one pert bud.
"Look at us baby...so good together," Mingi crooned, taking one of your hands and bringing it down to the apex of your bodies, so your fingers brushed against the part where you joined. "Touch yourself, sweet girl. I want us to cum together."
Doing what you were told, you began to rub tight, frantic circles around your clit, and after only a few strokes, a tingle zinged through your pelvis.
"Fuck..." you whimpered, squinting your eyes shut, feeling the knot of pleasure unfurl. “Mingi, I’m going to cum soon.”
"Cum for me," Mingi urged. "Wanna see you fall apart around me."
He gripped your ass and guided you until it was only the head that was left inside you and his deep grunts increased as he slammed back up into your dripping core, deep strokes in and out of you, hitting the perfect place at each stroke. The familiar tightening in your belly returned, growing stronger, building towards an immense climax. Your walls constrict around him, the man moaning with you at how good you feel when he hits his release, coating your walls white.
"F-fuck! Oh shit, oh my god," you yelped, unable to resist, coming undone, squirting all over him as you'd teased and promised, screaming his name loud and unabashed, squeezing him tight, your arms clasping around Mingi's neck. He lets out a husky, broken laugh before collapsing back, dragging you down with him.
"I never would have guessed," Mingi mused breathlessly, stroking the underside of his spent cock while you came back to earth, "That you were a squirter, Y/N-noona. Of all the other surprises about you tonight."
A laugh, somewhere between exhausted and relieved bubbled out of you. "You...are so fucking amazing, Song Mingi."
There is a smile in his voice as he replies. "It's nice hearing that, especially after the kind of mind-blowing sex I just experienced."
Another moment or two and you begin to shift. You wanted, no you had to, clean the mess you made all over Mingi's amazing abs. Moving as if trying to untangle yourself from the tall male. “God, I need to shower.”
"Nope. If you're going, then I'm going," he gave you a quick kiss before looking down at his mattress. "I need to change my sheets anyway. Can't sleep in this bed."
"Pity that," you let out a little laugh before turning into his warm, naked embrace. A blush forming across your cheeks when his hardened length brushes against you. "I was hoping for more."
He pushed your hair aside, your bare back becoming exposed to his dark gaze. Leaning down, he began nipping at your ear. "Maybe..." he began slowly, "We could, y'know, try it in the shower? Maybe in the kitchen, up against the wall... Your bed...?"
"Sounds...wonderful," you moaned softly. "Where do you want to start, big guy?"
His strong arms encircle your waist, his eyes heated with desire. "Wherever you want."
thinking about being drunk in the back of a car with minho…
tags: drunken decisions!!!!, bsf!lee minho x afab!reader, kissing, making out, spit, fingersss, no actual smut but kind of implied, driver!changbin is fed up
author’s note: not sure if this is considered dubcon due to drunken consent but if you don’t like don’t read!! both characters are functioning and understanding of what’s going on despite drinking, NEVER hook up with someone who is past the point of awareness.
purely fiction, minors dni
you probably shouldn’t have drank as much as you did- if your blurry vision was anything to go by.
as fuzzy as everything around you felt, minho’s beauty suddenly stuck out to you clearer than it ever had before. you never really took in how perfect his features were; his perfectly sculpted nose now scrunched up cutely between two sharp, feline like eyes that currently struggled to maintain focus on changbin, the designated driver of the night, as he attempted to hold a conversation with the tipsy man.
“min,” you eventually whispered. his eyes flickered towards you, to which you finally got to admire his dark orbs under a slight state of intoxication. his eyes were more than alluring; you’d have no problem stare into them forever.
“hmm?” he questioned, his voice low and husky to match the faintness of your own. you didn’t immediately respond, being too busy admiring his features. your attention travelled down to his pink lips: they still looked wet from the drinks he was previously taking down, glistening from the reflection of the moon through the car window. “…what?” he asked again, his voice curious yet playful as his lips turned up in a smirk.
“…nothing,” you reply. “you just look nice.”
‘nice’ is not the word you wanted to use. best friends tell each other they look nice all the time. ‘you look nice’ is the phrase you use to compliment each other before a first date or when dolling yourselves up for a night out.
maybe it’s just because your sex life had been rather dry recently, but what you really wanted to tell him was how hot he was making your body feel. just being next to him and appreciating his features made your face flush with a heavy and sudden lust. minho’s fierce eyes were lidded and faded, yet you still felt intimidated under his gaze. the way he was staring into you, trying to decipher your true intentions, had your thighs shifting together- a small detail that failed to go unnoticed by minho.
“i look nice?” he repeated in a slur. his hand landed on your leg under the guise of holding his balance when the car drove over a small bump. your lower region tingled up at the light touch. “you look nice,” he replied.
“no,” you simply responded, turning your face away from his. he leaned closer, his face following yours. he cocked his head to the side to try and read your face that avoided him so persistently. your cheeks were now visibly red, feeling unbelievably warm from his close proximity.
“no? but you always look nice.” his pretty lips were molded into a pout when you finally faced him again. his body was now extremely close to yours, his leg only a hairs length away from pressing against yours.
you tried to look into his eyes again, you truly did, but his lips look much more enticing in your buzzed state. despite minho’s clouded mind, he was certainly alert to where your lidded eyes settled on his face. you merely whined in response to his compliment, the only form of reply you could manage, before he took your cheek in his palm. “you know you always look good, right?” he practically purred, forcing you to finally make eye contact.
his fingers trailed from your cheek and down to your chin, and now it was his turn to stare at your pretty lips. electricity ran through your body under his intense gaze. your lips subconsciously fell into a pout, presenting them deliciously to minho’s view.
it felt like forever before he finally leaned in with a hum, kissing your lips slowly and tenderly.
the way he kissed you was a contrast to his feisty personality. his lips moved against yours in a steady rhythm, taking his time as if it was the last time he’d ever lay his lips on another human. for how riled up he had you, you weren’t expecting him to pace you like this. his hand that wasn’t resting on your chin rubbed at your thigh, pulling small noises from your mouth that vibrated through the passionate kiss.
you could taste the alcohol lingering on his tongue when he finally welcomed it into your mouth. you took initiative in intensifying the kiss, an unexpected bout of courage leading you to bite down softly on his bottom lip. his eyes opened momentarily, catching yours as you mentally panicked that you may have crossed a line. you didn’t have a lot of time to overthink it, because minho eagerly returned the gesture after a moment’s time, pulling at your bottom lip between his teeth as he groped your thigh with a little more fervor. the man was practically straddling you at this point.
you had to stop yourself from moaning out, nearly forgetting about changbin in the front seat of the car. as if on cue, you heard a loud gasp of your names coming from the front of the car.
“yah! what are y- in my car???” changbin cried as he met your eyes in the rear view mirror. your face flushed and you hid yourself in minho’s neck.
“we’re just kissing, relax!” minho scoffed in response, settling back into his seat.
“i don’t care! it starts as kissing, then kissing turns to fucking in the back of my car!”
in the midst of changbin’s complaints, you watched minho’s fingers lift up to his lips in the corner of your eye. his digits slid past his bow-shaped lips momentarily, returning to your view coated in a thick layer of saliva. your wide eyes followed his slender fingers as they drew closer to your face, your mouth unwillingly gaped open. he tapped two fingers on your bottom lip, an unspoken request that you gladly obeyed.
your lips captured his spit-covered fingertips, little by little taking in the whole length of his digits. your lidded eyes maintained contact with his steady gaze. if it wasn’t for the prominent tent in his pants that twitched at each swirl of your tongue, you wouldn’t think he was phased by your actions at all. it felt messy, you felt like taking everything he would give you, and he was absolutely dominating your mind.
his fingers curled down your throat, triggering a small gag that had changbin whipping his head around and losing control of the car.
“what the f- can you guys NOT?”
to that, minho practically lunged at you, instantaneously replacing his fingers with his mouth and pressing a sloppy kiss against your lips. the kiss sounded as messy as it felt. his tongue danced around yours in a lustful exchange of saliva that drooled down your own chin.
it was over as soon as it started though, or at least it felt like it. minho pulled his whole body away from you and once again sat back in his designated seat under harsh glares from the irritated driver.
changbin sighed out, visibly aggravated at the two of you. “minho if you’re not in the front seat in ten seconds, i’m calling the cops and asking them to pull me over.”
you peeked over at minho who exchanged an amused glance with you. he leaned over to level his lips with your ear. “stay at mine tonight?” he practically purred, his fingers ghosting over your thigh and his breath tickling your neck. you nodded a little too quickly, to which minho smirked and patted your leg. he then stood up and crawled across the body of the car, taking his place next to changbin in the passengers seat and muttering a small “cockblocker” under his breath.
in a clouded state of drunk and horny, you didn’t care much about the sober consequences that the next day would bring. you missed his presence next to you, but you knew he’d make up for it once you were both finally out of this damned car.
summary; sparks fly whenever you and lee minho are in a room together, no matter how long it’s been.
rating; e for explicit
pairing; lee know | lee minho x reader
author’s note; please don’t ask— i don’t know. i never know. at this point, my brain just has a thought and my fingers just write it. no word count because drafts, what’s new here?
warnings; dirty talk, praise, banter, brat vs brat vibes, wap!reader, semi-public sex, unprotected sex, creampie, reader and minho have history, pet names (mostly ‘little rabbit’ & ‘baby’ & ‘bunny’), teasing/humiliation/degradation (like BARELY but it’s lee know, yk?), copious amounts of body fluids, needy!reader, brief daddy kink and it’s partially as a joke, implied sir kink, maybe one or two slut references, a teeny tiny bit of feels at the end.. uh? i probably missed something but oh well!
it’s fate, he thinks as he stares down at your widened eyes. that’s really all it could be, right?why else would he looking at you — again — in some random club in downtown seoul after two years of absolutely nothing?
“well, well, well,” he grins, bunny teeth on full display. “what do we have here? a bit far from home for a little rabbit, isn’t it?”
you roll your bottom lip between your teeth at the fond nickname, cheeks feeling flushed from the attention. the first time you met lee minho was in a seedy bar with a packed dance floor much like this one, only it was in your home country instead. he’d been on a trip with his friends to visit the americas and the two of you spent two out of his three weeks there fucking like rabbits. eventually he’d gone back home — no exchanging of numbers, socials, or even emails. you aren’t mad about that; the two of you knew exactly how it would end and instead chose to live life to the fullest together while you had the chance. regardless, you can’t say you aren’t ecstatic to be seeing him again.
“vacation,” is the only answer you give him, gaze falling to the pretty pout of his lips.
“is that right?” he hums, smirk gracing his mouth when he realizes where you’re staring. “still obsessed with my mouth, huh, bunny? two years is a long time; maybe you’ve forgotten that it’s great for a whole lot more than being stared at.”
minho doesn't miss the way you suck in your breath harshly, nor does he miss the way your pupils dilate in arousal. even if he hadn’t witnessed it, he’d know it was happening. two years is a long time to be separated from someone, perhaps long enough to forget pieces of them and their mannerisms, too. only minho is sure he’s incapable of forgetting the way you looked when you wanted him; he’s incapable of forgetting you. there was an instant connection when you two met inside of that silly, little club in some useless american town (that he can’t remember the name of) and that connection is very much alive and kicking if your current situation is any indication.
“still have a filthy mouth, i see,” you tease with a smile, stepping closer to him so that you're pressed chest to chest.
minho’s smirk only grows, mirth causing his oval eyes to transform into cat-like slits, “i do recall you loving this filthy mouth,” he states, wrapping a long arm around your waist. it feels right, just like it had the first time.
“are you sure about that?”
he groans at your teasing, feeling incredibly turned on from just a few words, but doesn’t miss a beat. “positive. you don’t remember my lips on your skin? on your tits? oh, don’t tell me you’ve forgotten the way my mouth feels on that little pussy of yours, baby,” he pouts, feigning hurt. “filthy or not, you even used to let this mouth kiss you breathless,” he finishes, lips inches from yours as if he was planning to do just that.
“how could i forget?” you sigh, lashes fluttering as honesty momentarily wins out over your desire to rile him up, “so are you gonna do it again? or do i have to find someone else in this club to give me what i want? don’t tell me you’re all talk and no walk these days, minho.”
minho throws his head back with a laugh that shakes his body enough to rattle you where you’re still pressed close. you are such a brat and he loves it. minho’s used to the girls that are sweet and docile, taking his orders like the little, obedient submissives that they are. there’s nothing wrong with those types; he loves a good girl just as much as the next guy. but you’re a breath of fresh air, a challenge that has always yielded the sweetest reward when won over. you need someone with a strong will and a playful, yet firm hand; minho’s got all of that and then some, of course.
when his gaze returns to you, it’s smoldering. he looks at you like you’re the only person in the room and you can’t get enough of how it feels to be the center of lee minho’s attention. your hands move with a quickness to find his torso, but they are slow and methodical m as they travel up the front of his shirt, fingers brushing the zippered edges of his leather jacket along the way. his strong gaze reminds you of a predator ready to pounce on his prey, but you fear him none.
“all talk and no walk, lee minho,” you repeat, daring him to give in.
“careful, little rabbit,” he warns, canines sharp and gleaming, “or you might regret it.”
your eyes slip closed with the shiver that runs down your spine as your pussy clenches violently around nothing. you’re aching already, panties and inner thighs sticky with slick. you want to drag him in for a kiss, maybe even taunt him a little further in hopes he’ll take you home. like he’s able to read your mind, minho doesn’t let you say anything else because he’s much more concerned with his mouth claiming yours.
finally, you think, whimpering into his mouth as your clit twitches with each swipe of his tongue against your own. god, you’re so empty, pitifully so, and you need him to fill you up as soon as possible. one hand of his cradles the back of your head, the other sliding down to squeeze your ass through your dress and you want, with every desperate fiber of your being.
“minho,” you pant after pulling back, looking up at him from under your lashes. “please say you’re going to fuck me. i need it, need you,” you plead, squeezing him with your hands wherever you can reach. he lets out a breathy chuckle, a brief glance around the crowded dance floor giving him an idea.
“you gonna let me fuck you right here?” he pauses, tongue peaking out between his lips briefly. “in front of all these people? didn’t know you were so slutty.”
“no,” you shake your head, “not right here.” there’s no privacy at all out here and you really don’t want to get kicked out.
“mm,” he hums, head tilting so he can kiss along your neck. “what if i found us a hallway, huh, baby? somewhere dark? a little secluded where no one can hear your pretty sounds but me?”
“fuck,” you whine, not caring if any of the dancing bodies around you are clocking your descent into weakness. “yeah, yes,” you slur, drunk on the way his lips feel so perfect against your skin.
you nearly get whiplash from how quickly minho’s tangling his fingers with yours, dragging you from your spot in the dance floor. you follow him without protest, spare hand reaching to pinch at one of his ass cheeks just because it’s there, because you can, and because you know it riles him up. he reacts as expected, hissing and tossing a glare at you over his shoulder. you grin like the cheshire cat, unsurprised when you’re suddenly jerked down a darkened hallway and find yourself pinned to the wall, minho’s arms and chest caging you in.
“you’re a damn tease,” he grunts, kissing you almost violently.
“as if you’re any better,” you bite back, hands tugging his jacket to bring him closer. “you’re driving me crazy.”
“feeling’s mutual, little rabbit,” he says, kissing you a little more before dragging the blunt edges of his teeth along the line of your jaw. “you’ve been driving me crazy for two whole years.”
you gasp, a pretty, little whimper following soon after. you clutch him to you like he’s a life line, fingers digging into leather as he suckles at the skin of your neck. sure, you’ve hooked up with others in the two years since, but knowing you’re wanted, particularly by him, is something that gets you wet and desperate all on its own.
the noise of the club drowns out most of your whiny meals, music loud and the crowd bustling. even still, minho manages to hear every sound you release, his cock waking up with each new noise, each shaky breath you inhale. it’s a fucking head rush, being the cause for and the recipient of your pleasure. he wonders how wet you are between your legs, and his cock twitches in pants, begging him to find out.
“god,” he hisses, squeezing your hips, “bet that cute cunt’s soaked, isn’t it? pretty fucking pussy’s probably leaking all over your thighs.”
“yeah,” you confirm, unashamed and hiking a leg up around his hip. “come feel it, daddy, come feel how wet i am for you.”
a truly guttural sound leaves his throat at your admission. one hand moves to wrap around your knee so that he can pull it tighter against his body and the other hand slips between the two of you, the backs of his knuckles brushing against the dampened fabric that fits snug over your slit. he’s more than pleased with what he finds there: a small, circular patch of wetness along the seam of your folds, one that steadily grows larger as minho strokes over it with purpose. your mouth drops open in a pant, mouth going dry at the way he seems to coax your cunt to slick up for him.
minho’s eyes track your every move, fingers pushing against the place where your lips vee open, giving way to the engorged flesh of your clit. the pads of two fingers meet it, applying light pressure and smooth circular motions that cause your pretty eyes roll up into your head. your breath comes harder the longer he continues, rubbing at your wet, swollen clit until you’re near trembling in his hold.
“minho, minho,” you moan, desperately searching for his mouth in order to silence your noises.
“you really are a miniature slut, huh, baby?” he coos, pressing harder on your clit, “getting all wet like this in public.”
you shake through your first orgasm, while gripping onto him for dear life. he does kiss you through it, fingers stroking your clit until you’re whimpering against his swollen lips, needing him inside you immediately. you can’t get enough of him, scrambling to reach between your bodies to fumble with his pants. a quick shake of his head has your hands stilling, falling away from his waist line obediently.
“aht, aht,” minho chastises, bumping your nose with his own, “i don’t recall giving you permission to touch.”
“minho.”
“try that for me one more time, yeah?”
“daddy,” you pout, “please. need you inside so bad.”
oh, he knows; he shares the sentiment.
nimble fingers tug and pull at his belt, undoing the leather and metal before popping the button on his pants and tugging down the zipper. your eyes follow, hoping to catch even the tiniest glimpse of his cock. it’s too dark, obscuring your view with opaque shadows, but you feel it, poking against your wet panties as minho pushes his hips forward between your thighs .
“wrap your other leg around me,” he rasps, and at you’re terrified expression, presses his forehead against yours. “don’t be scared, little rabbit, i won’t let you fall.”
the tone he uses soothes your fear, dulling your skepticism and you nod, doing as he said. you try your hardest not to squeal when you’re no longer supported by your own legs, wrapping your arms around minho’s neck and squeezing your eyes shut tight. he catches you under the thigh, shifting in place to shimmy you up the wall, pinning you with his torso and hips. his chin rests where your breasts swell out from your chest, heated breath washing over your collar bones. there's a tingle in your belly from how easily he managed to adjust you and when you look at him he's wearing a smirk, already in tune with the thoughts in your head.
“don’t say anything,” you warn, shooting daggers with your eyes.
“never,” he grins, somehow managing to tug your panties aside, baring the entirety of your wet cunt to the air. “got better things to do anyways.”
you only whimper at the feeling of his bare cockhead slipping through your wetness. the way your panties dig into the crease of your hip and thigh is a bit uncomfortable, but the easy glide of his cock through your folds makes it worth it. he teases your clit with the head of his dick, spreading your slick and his precum over it. his mouth is open, soft puffs of air hitting your chest with his every exhale but his expression is still cocky, dark eyes eating up your obvious pleasure as it morphs your expressions.
“s-stop teasing me,” you whine, feeling your cunt drool onto the floor below you.
“why?” he taunts, still going. “why should i quit teasing you, huh? what's in it for me?”
you glare, fingers pulling angrily at the hair at the back of his head. “if you don't fuck me now, lee minho, i swear i’ll find someone else who will.”
it’s a meaningless threat, logically minho knows that it is. that little piece of knowledge does nothing to stop him from getting jealous just like you hoped, though. it’s in his eyes, the way they narrow and darken further, something like a growl rolling up his esophagus. you give him something a responding purr that soon gives way to a wanton moan when suddenly his dick is pressing into your cunt, stretching your walls open and making a space for itself.
“the hell you will,” minho grunts, blunt nails digging into the backs of your thighs. “you think i’m going to let someone else feel this hot, little cunt around them when i’ve worked this hard for it?”
“worked this h-hard?” you question, clamping down in him hungrily.
“yes,” he growls through his teeth, hips keeping an even pace. “i got you wet and made you come, didn’t i? played with this pretty pussy until it was all ready for me.”
you squeal, loud enough to be heard over the thumping bass of whatever song is currently playing. he doesn’t pause, just glares and continues fucking into you. it feels good despite the bite of minho’s zipper against your ass and the scrape of his belt as it clangs around. you like when he’s a little bit rough with you, when he’s a bit possessive and overbearing.
“i waited two fuckin’ years to feel this perfect cunt again and i’ll be damned if some sleazy bar rat is gonna take it from me.”
his eyes are wild, hair skewed this way and that from the way your fingers have tugged at it. he’s sweating, droplets forming at his temples, dripping off of his face. the pool on the swells of your tits where his face is pressed against them and you don’t mind because you can’t spare a second thought to anything other than how hard your going to come on his dick if he keeps battering your insides the way he is.
“fuck, fuck,” you pant, other wet, desperate sounds getting caught in your throat. “minho, fuck.”
he feels you pulsing, sloppy cunt soaking him in slick. you feel incredible, better than he remembers, and he knows for a fact he’s not letting you walk out of this club without being full of him. hell, you’ll be lucky if he lets you leave the club at all. he wants to keep you suspended in this moment forever, hanging off his dick while he fucks you dumb and you’re coming your little brains out.
you’re so close, pussy getting tighter and tighter with each thrust. surely, you’re making a mess of minho’s pants, creaming messily along the length of his dick. if you were being fucked by anyone else, you’d probably have the brain cells to be embarrassed. you’re basically letting a stranger fuck you stupid in a side hallway of a dance club and you can’t get enough. you eat it up happily, perfectly content to let any one come find you and watch as long as minho doesn’t stop trying to wreck your cunt.
“y’fuck me so good,” you slur, thighs trembling around his waist. “gonna come — shit! — g’na come s’good.”
“c’mon, pretty bunny,” he croons, the lilt in his voice soft and warm despite the mean force he’s using to pound into your cunt. “give it to me, yeah?”
“mhm,” you moan, noises coming out staccato when minho’s pace gets even quicker.
minho bumps your nose with his own again, brushing his lips against yours. he’s staring you down, eyes begging you to give him the end you both so desperately need. you’re powerless to that gaze, utterly helpless as the walls of your pussy clamp tight and begin to flutter, orgasm hitting you so hard that you think you’ll go unconscious.
“that’s it — fuck yeah — good girl, s’good bunny,” minho praises, actually feeling your cunt gush around him as it sucks hungrily around his shaft. “milk that dick, baby. daddy’s gonna fill that tight, little pussy up so nice.”
“yeeesss,” you drawl, feeling like you’re gonna burst apart at the seams. “come in me, daddy. make me leak.” your pussy is still gripping him tightly, still spasming — hot and hungry — as it demands the fill it’s owed.
he shoves his face into your tits, whimpering as true desperation manifests within him for the first time the entire night. you are such a damn brat — bratty mouth, even a bratty fucking pussy, always, always making him feel like a lunatic. even when he wasn’t with you, you were pushing him towards insanity. two years of trying to chase pussy not even half as good as yours and countless nights fucking his own fist to the thought of you, to memories of your pretty face and creamy cunt.
with minho’s forehead pressed into your cleavage it feels like he’s trying to get inside your skin. you feel yourself being pinned tighter to the wall, unable able do anything other than grab at minho’s hair and squeal as he grinds his hips up, thrusting deep enough into your cunt to have you feeling him in your throat. god, you missed this. no one, no one, no one makes sex feel as good as lee minho does and the realization has you hurdling towards a third orgasm.
“goddamn! another?” minho gasps, looking up at you.
“yeah,” you whine, tears leaking from your eyes, “feels so good. can’t — can’t help it.”
“oh, baby—”
“please,” you cut him off, begging sweetly as you hold his face between your clammy palms, forcing his mouth against your own. “come w’me, please.”
it’s the kiss and feeling your sweet cunt gripping him like a vice (courtesy of your third orgasm) that makes him come hard enough to have his knees buckle. your pussy spasms again with the slight falter of his hold on you, a squeak of terror leaving you while you hug minho tightly. the man laughs, sinking into an uncomfortable sort of squatting position with you in his lap. despite the discomfort, he doesn’t let you move, just keeps his forehead pressed against your chest as you comb your fingers through his sweaty locks. his biceps are trembling from the exertion of holding you up for so long but he’s not gonna tell you that. otherwise you’ll never let him fuck you standing up again, and well, he certainly can’t have that.
eventually, it gets too uncomfortable to remain in that position, so the two of you move. you first with minho’s help, him holding one of your hips for support as you stand on wobbly legs and tugging your panties back to their rightful place like the gentleman he is. you tug the hem of your dress back over your hips and ass, restoring your modesty. you grip his hands and help him stand after, letting him hold onto you as you tuck his softened cock back into his boxers, redoing his buttons and zippers and lastly his belt.
the two of you stare at each other for a while, both trying to figure out what to say to the other. but it isn’t until you knock your temple against his that anything is said, the two of you quite content to bask in the fading bliss of a good fuck.
“i—,” you pause, a little scared to be as vulnerable as you want to be.
“hm?” he nuzzles your cheek with his nose, hands rubbing over your hips.
“it’s not just me, right?” you ask, tongue heavy. “th-there’s something here, isn’t there?”
“between us?”
“yeah. like, i’m not just dickmatized; there’s chemistry— maybe even potential, here?”
he huffs out an amused breath at your choice of words, shaking his head lightly. for a second, minho has the thought to keep guarded, to tell you no and play it off as you being delusional, but something about that doesn’t sit right with him. lying to you seems cruel, regardless of the reality of the situation or rather, the very obvious reality of the distance normally between you.
“flying back and forth would be pretty expensive,” he supplies, refusing to look at you just yet; he doesn’t want to see the disappointment in your expression.
“well,” you breathe out shakily, steeling yourself for the storm to come if he doesn’t take your next sentence well. “not if your job is paying for it. after all, it’s kind of hard not to fly your company liaison for pacific countries out to the job sites she’s supposed to be, you know, liaison-ing.”
the speed in which minho whips his head in your direction makes your cringe, worried that he’ll pull something if he isn’t careful. you go to scold him but he’s looking at you like you’ve grown three heads. you’ve gotta be fucking with him.
“don’t play with me, little rabbit. tricks are for kids.”
you laugh. “seoul for three months and japan for another, before i’m due to report back. i don’t know much about after, but—”
“three months?”
“three months,” you affirm, a tentative smile on your face.
“then we’re leaving,” he deadpans, wrapping his hand around your wrist to tug you along.
“minho what? wait! where are we going?!” you holler over the music, grimacing at the icky feeling of minho’s cum seeping into your panties. “minho!”
he stops abruptly, causing you to run into him. he turns to face you, your wrist still held in the palm of his hand, and raises one dark eyebrow. you huff, staring right back at him, and he thinks of course— once a brat, always a brat.
“if you must know,” he starts, tone bored, “i’m taking you home. and once we get there, i plan to get my mouth on that cute, lil’ cunt of yours and eat it until you cry. then, i’m gonna to fuck you. again and again until you can’t hold any more of my cum inside you. after that, and only after that, we’ll wash up and have a real adult conversation about all of this. but up until that point, and not a single damn second before, your ass is mine.”
“okay,” you acquiesce, not sure that you want to keep him from his goals any longer.
“good girl,” he coos, turning in an about face, “now come on, you’ve kept me waiting long enough.”
“yes, sir!” you shout, following behind him like a little puppy.
minho groans, suppressing a bodily shudder and biting the inside of his cheek in attempt to mask how that title affected him. he hopes, for his own sake, that missed it. of course, nothing is that easy, but you have plenty of time to remind him of that later. for now, you’ll let him think he’s got the upper hand.
after all: once a brat, always a brat. not that minho would have it any other way.
Genre: enemies(ish) to fwb to ?, smut, angst(a bit?)
Summary: after going from annoying each other to fuck buddies, Minho took your situationship from granted, always having you on his beck and call. So imagine how surprised he is to hear you have a date with someone else?
This content is +18 ONLY, minors do NOT interact.
Warnings: Minho is possessive, a bit manipulative, kind of a jerk too(he's a walking red flag let's be for real), hair pulling, rough sex(?), unprotected piv(this is fiction please always use protection irl), creampie, bites/hickeys, I think that's all let me know if I missed something.
I had to write this plot because it has given me brain rot since I first thought about it so I just really wanted to take it out of my head ☠️ as always let me say that I'm not very good with smut but I keep trying so I can get better at it, so I hope you guys like it.
You didn't like him, not at all. Minho is a known fuckboy, the guy you shouldn't get involved in anyway. You were always surprised with how many girls fell for his trick, until you did too.
You didn't mean to fall in love, it actually was the very last thing you wanted to happen. You and Minho were always fighting, bickering, provoking each other, it was natural. You were not friends, more like you were part of the same group, so you were always together and that ended in arguing every time.
You can't remember why you thought it was a good idea to fuck, maybe it was all the pressure and snarky comments your friends kept making, saying there was too much sexual tension between you two.
You didn't hate each other, you just didn't agree with everything. It always started with you saying something, anything, and Minho making some stupid comment with that damn smirk on his face.
Your first reaction was to feel embarrassed, blush rushing to your cheeks as you think of a good answer to give him. After that, you would pick on anything he said, making him roll his eyes every time you opened your mouth.
That was your thing, annoying each other.
One night, after everyone drank themselves to unconsciousness on the floor of your apartment, you decided to take a shower to sober up and go to sleep too.
You thought everyone was sleeping, clearly you were wrong because you bumped into Minho as soon as you opened the bathroom’s door. He was waiting outside, turning around to look at you the moment he heard the door.
He checked you out, staring at you up and down, biting his bottom lip before showing you that pretentious smile of his. That made you hold onto the towel tightly around you, afraid that he could undress you with only his eyes.
“Looking good”, he says, leaning against the wall. His comment makes your whole face hot and you just pray you were not as red as a tomato.
“You are drunk”, you scoff, trying to recompose yourself, walking past him.
He grabs your wrist, forcing you to turn around to bump right into his chest. He's looking down on you and you can't muster up the courage to look him in the eyes, just staring at his chest.
“I'm very much sober”, he tells you, mockery in his tone.
“Okay”, you mumble. Even though you're avoiding his gaze you can feel the intensity of his stare without having to look at him, “can you let go? I want to go to bed”
“Maybe I could keep you company”, he whispers, bending down to reach your height, making you look into his eyes now.
You shake your head frantically, closing your eyes.
“Are you sure? I'm very good company”, he whispers in your ear, he has gotten even more close now.
You gulp, feeling the warmth spreading through your whole body, making the tingling sensation grow in your stomach and that's the moment you knew there was no turning back.
You woke up alone in your bed, so exhausted and sore you couldn't lift an arm. Flashbacks from the prior night came rushing in, making you want to scream. What the hell did you do? How would you look at his face now?
You look around to find a tray with orange juice and pancakes on top of your bedside table. You snatch the note that's glued to the tray so fast it's embarrassing, feeling your cheeks warm up.
“Enjoy the food. I had fun last night, let's do it again. - Minho”
An involuntary smile creeps in while you read his simple and nothing romantic sentence, you don't know why you felt so flustered and excited, was it because he was handsome? Was it the remaining feeling of a great night? You just thought it would be okay to have this kind of relationship with Minho, just pure carnal desire.
Minho was always very good at setting his boundaries and crossing them too, so good it often made you confused.
Minho would call you at midnight and talk to you till 4 in the morning, fuck classes the other day.
Minho wouldn't spare you a glance for an entire week until you received a text from him, telling you to meet at janitor's closet nearby so you could fuck before class.
Minho would buy you flowers, take you on a date and hold your hand, whispering sweet nothings in your ear after spending another night together.
Minho wouldn't want to go out with you on valentine's day, saying he was busy.
Minho would introduce you to his mom, he would take you to have dinner with his family and his cats.
Minho wouldn't ask you to be his girlfriend even after months, actually, he would often tell you how good it was that you were friends.
You were already tired of this situation, he would give you so many mixed signals, messing with your head. The last straw was when you were at his house and his phone buzzed while he was in the bathroom, you mistook it for yours and grabbed it instinctively to look at the screen, seeing texts from a girl.
You shouldn't feel jealous, you're nothing more than fuck buddies and you're not exclusive, you know you're not. Then why did that feel like a punch on your stomach?
You wanted to fight with him, yell, make a scene, but you had no right doing that. So you just collected your things and left without saying goodbye.
You spend a week avoiding him, every time he wants to come to you, you tell him you are out. Every time he asks you to go to him, you tell him you are busy. You finally decided to let him go and you are just mustering up the courage to tell him that.
You even downloaded a dating app, thinking that you could maybe distract yourself, maybe you could think about anything other than Lee Minho. But every man reminded you of him, how they were not him, how they didn't stand a chance against him.
After talking for a few days with someone new, you agree to go on a date. While you're getting ready, your phone buzzes, taking your attention out of your reflection on the mirror.
Minho: come over
Minho: I miss your face
You: Can't
Minho: what's your excuse today?
Minho: I can go to yours if that's the problem
You: I'm going out soon
You: I have a date tonight
You throw your phone on the bed, not in the mood to engage in conversation with him. You're actually afraid that he'll tell you to go on, because even though you know he doesn't care, it's different to have him sending you off to a date with someone else. You finish getting ready, grabbing your phone and purse, giving yourself a last look in the mirror to make sure everything is in place.
The date goes well, the guy is so fun and respectful. You go to a beautiful restaurant, he opens the car door for you, pulls the chair for you to sit before dinner and pays the bill. He smiles the entire night and compliments you, asking questions about everything: school, family, friends, he just seems very interested in anything related to you.
You enjoy his company, he makes you believe that you will be able to get over Minho, that maybe he can help you with that.
It's after midnight when he leaves you in your apartment, watching as you get inside the building safely. The night was perfect, you just didn't expect to find Minho at your doorstep.
He turns around quickly when he hears your footsteps, looking you up and down and scowling, noticing your blurred lipstick.
“Did you have fun?” He asks, scoffing.
“Yes, I did”, you say, walking to your door to open it so you can go in.
“Did you fuck?” He asks, shamelessly, making your head snap to look at him.
“That's none of your concern”, you whisper yell, trying not to wake up the neighbors but shocked by his bluntness.
“It is, I don't like people touching what's mine”, he says, through gritted teeth.
He's so close you can feel his breath hitting your skin, making you nervous, trying to find your keys inside your purse.
“I'm not fucking yours, we are nothing”, you glare at him when you have the keys in your hands.
“You should tell yourself that while I fuck you stupid, I'm sure the only person on your mind at that moment is me”, he spits, his anger growing.
“Well, I'll not be doing that anymore”, you inform him. Unlocking your door and walking inside.
“What? Why are you acting like this, Y/N?” He says, walking behind you. “Things were going great until now”
“It was great for you”, you say, throwing your purse on the couch, turning around to look at him and crossing your arms. “Being just your booty call is not enough for me anymore, I want more”
Your voice sounds more weak than you meant to in your last sentence, you want to cry. You didn't plan to end things like this, not right now.
You can almost see the gears turning on Minho's head, he's trying to find a way out.
“You told me you didn't want to date”, he accuses you.
“I really didn't want to”, you sigh, “but we've been doing this for months, Minho. It's impossible for me to not feel anything other than just horny”
“Well, I do like you”, he clears his throat, looking anywhere but your face, “I just don't want to date anyone right now”, he completes.
“Then we are done”, you tell him, shrugging and smiling bitterly.
“No, no”, he takes a step closer, grabbing your hands and bringing them to his mouth, kissing them. “Don't say that”
He places your hands around his neck, sliding his behind your back, wrapping your waist with his arms. You want to tell him off, want to tell him to go away, that you two are really over, but his scent is just so intoxicating, you can't help but take a deep breath.
“What are you doing?” You manage to say, feeling his lips brushing against yours.
“I'm showing you my affection”, he whispers.
You almost melt into his arms, feeling his lips press against yours. He kisses you deeply, his arms holding you tightly.
Minho starts walking, making you take steps back. He leads you to your room, slowly helping you lie down on your bed.
Minho takes his shirt off, looking down on you and leaning to kiss you again, soft lips pressing softly on yours, his hands traveling through your body, making you shiver to his touch.
He pulls your dress off of you, looking at your chest.
“Didn't wear a bra?” He smirks, “did you want him to touch your tits? Hm?”, he asks condescendingly, leaning closer to your breasts, licking your hard nipples, making goosebumps rise all over your body. One of his hands slide down on your stomach, reaching your covered pussy.
“Oh?” Minho disconnects his mouth from your chest “Are you sure you two didn't fuck? Why are you so wet? Did you let him play with you?” He's smiling playfully, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. He's staring deeply at you daring you to tell him you wanted your date to fuck you.
“Maybe I should have”, you challenge, he has no right to inquire what you did or didn't do on your date.
“Really?” He scoffs, standing up and you just watch, afraid he'll leave. However, he starts unbuckling his pants. “I guess I've been too nice to you this whole time, y/n. Since you apparently don't know who fucking owns you”
You feel your whole body shudder, you should be mad, not excited about what he said. Then why is there a pool forming on your already wet panties? You never really noticed that Minho was the possessive type, but thinking about it, it was quite strange how he always had his hands on you whenever you were out. Other than holding hands, he often would just wrap his hand around the back of your neck while you walked together, like he wanted to claim you, let people know you were not available.
Minho leans over you again, pulling the soaked piece of fabric down your legs. He grabs your waist, flipping you around effortlessly and positions himself in between your legs, caressing your ass as you get on all fours.
He's not really worried with foreplay since you're plenty wet, he's more preoccupied with putting you in your place. So he drags the head of his cock through your folds, soaking his cock on your arousal before pushing it in.
“Min-Minho”, you gasp at his fast thrust. “Slow down”
“I don't think so”, he bends down a bit, sliding his hand through your back until he reaches your head, grabbing a fistful of your hair, pulling it all together. “The way you're squeezing my cock, tells me you like it when I treat you like the toy you are”, he tells you, smacking your ass in an unexpected slap.
You shake your head, unable to talk. His cock is reaching everywhere, like he always do. That's the worst part, he always fucks you so well and you always want more.
“Fuck”, you groan when your knees give in but Minho doesn't stop. He forces your legs open, leaning on top of you to keep fucking you from the back. His mouth is so close from your neck now, he starts biting your skin, sucking so hard you're sure you won't be able to cover the hickeys with makeup later. “I'm close”, you cry out when you feel his teeth on your shoulder.
“Tell me you're mine if you want to finish”, he tells you, slowing down his movements. But you shake your head, not giving in that easily. Minho sinks his teeth on your neck once more, sucking and licking the sensitive skin, he knows how much that turns you on even more.
“Come on, babe. I know you want to”, he says one more time but you hold it in, making him huff angrily, changing the pace of his thrusts again to deep strong movements that rip the air out of your lungs, “fucking say it”
You feel the tears brimming and running through your cheeks, the overwhelming feeling of the pending orgasm making your mind hazy.
“I'm yours, I am-”, you struggle to spit the words.
You can feel his smile on your skin while he disconnects his teeth, leaving a kiss on the reddened area.
“Was it that hard?”, he says, sliding his hands to your folds, sinking his fingers on your already full pussy to wet them. Minho brings said fingers to your clit, making circling movements accompanied by your moans, choking on the pleasure.
“Please, please, don't stop”, you cry out feeling the tightening on your lower stomach, the heat spreading to all your body, making you moan loudly when you finally reach your orgasm.
“Fuck, keep squeezing me like that.”, Minho groans, thrusts getting sloppy. He puts his hand behind your neck, pressing the side of your face to the pillow. “I love seeing your fucked out face while I cum, kitten”
Minho moans, releasing his load inside of you, making you squirm beneath him, feeling his warm shot. With no energy, you just feel him pulling out of you and throwing himself by your side.
When your high starts subsiding it hits you that you're still at the same place as before, so even though you just want to cuddle with him at that moment, you turn your face to look at him and ask.
“What are we now?”
------
A/N: as always, feedback is VERY important to writers, so please leave a comment, reblog or stop by my DM, I love to hear your thoughts on my stories!
pairing: song mingi x reader (no pronouns mentioned, reader has female anatomy)
au/genre: college!au, tutor!reader, mingi does not give a shit about studying, smut
word count: 4816 words
warnings: voice kink (AHHHHH), oral and fingering (reader receiving), reader is a little mean, kitchen sex, anime references, cringe, a joke about adhd, dirty talk... um..., oh right Mingi has a big dick (wbk), everyone's a little silly, unprotected sex (boo ‼️👎🏻), premature ejaculation almost, creampie, cum eating... (not reader...), i think that's it. NOT PROOF READ YET!!
synopsis: mingi hates studying, but what he hates way more than that is being perceived as stupid. what mingi loves on the other hand, are pretty people getting flustered about his voice
or
mingi shows you exactly what he hates and loves.
a/n: i was almost ready when i saw this tiktok and it completely blocked my mind because it's SO FUNNY, but at the same time, it's men being dudes, dudes being bros, and that kind of made it hard for me to continue. i apologize for the 24h delay 😞
Mingi is not one to sit there and look at books. Or papers. Or anything that doesn't move and feed his brain with bright colors and his ears with noises, really. He prefers to vibe, and studying is definitely not the vibe. Sadly, studying is a part of his life as a university student. Yes, he chose this path for himself and yes, he was aware that it would involve studying. Still, now that it's really happening and is not just an obstacle to overcome in the far, far future, Mingi kind of wishes he'd chosen something else to do with his life. It's just exhausting, why would he waste the precious time he has left on planet earth on something that doesn't get the serotonin floating? He's pretty sure he has some undiagnosed ADHD simmering up there, but who is he to judge that? He's certainly not studying to become a doctor or whatever.
Anyway, given the fact that Mingi doesn't like to study, he's not had much experience with it in the first place. He's barely gotten his way through school, but uni is a different level. Hence, he needs someone to 1) teach him how to study and 2) make him study, or rather: have a judging eye on him while he is supposed to study, so the fear of being called out on it may light a fire under his ass and force him to bury his nose between the stinky pages of an old library book (on that note: he also needed someone to show him how to check out books from the library).
And that's why you are here, every Thursday afternoon, sitting at the sad excuse of a kitchen counter slash dining table in Mingi's scandalously expensive apartment given its size, growling next to him every time you catch him analyzing the bumps on his wallpapers instead of the letters on the pages.
Mingi generally likes you, even though you are a bit scary, he has to admit, or maybe that's the appeal. You are polite, but you have a way of looking at him that makes him feel like he's getting mansplained by your eyes. Your taunting gaze on him makes him feel small, and he doesn't like that at all. It makes him feel like all these years of drinking milk to make him stand at the 1.84m he is at today were in vain. You always have that one expression on your face, and maybe that's just Mingi's subconsciousness telling him to STUDY HARD FOR GOD'S SAKE, but in the way your eyebrows would scrunch together just the tiniest bit, he reads: God, he is fucking stupid.
He doesn't know which (since he did not pay attention in biology class, nor is he even sure they teach that in biology class) chemical in his brain suffers an allergic reaction every time you look at him like that, but there has to be one. There is nothing that Mingi hates more than being called stupid. Well, except for studying, maybe.
Call him lazy, call him a scalawag, call him witty for being able to get through all of school without reading a single one of the set books if you must, but do not call him stupid.
The only problem is that you haven't, well, called him stupid per se. It's just how Mingi interprets your stares. Also, he desperately needs you because he doubts there will be many other contestants that are okay with getting paid as little as you are (which is all Mingi has left by the end of a month full of Pokémon trading cards). So Mingi just has to sit back and relax and simply take it because, apparently, that's what he gets for not studying his entire life.
A loud ringing wakes Mingi from his peaceful afternoon nap - one that he has really earned this time around, he managed to look through his study notes for a full 20 minutes during his lunch break!
Disoriented, Mingi raises his head to make out his location and what year he is in. It rings again. Slowly, Mingi recognizes the shrill sound as his door bell. He slowly gets up, a quick glance in the mirror tells him that his hair is an absolute mess (which is really a crowning achievement given his buzz cut length) and he has imprint marks from his blanket all over his right cheek, but his sleepy mind doesn't even take it in. Mingi furrows his brows and shakes his head. Who would dare to disturb his peaceful slumber at this ungodly hour (4pm)?
The answer, of course, stands right in front of his door. With your arms crossed and the tip of your shoe drumming a dent into Mingi's "come in if you're a silly baka"-door mat, you raise an unimpressed brow at the sleepy shell of Mingi that blinks one eye after the other.
A few seconds pass until Mingi finally realizes who you are, and his mouth forms an 'o'-shape. Immediately after, he furrows his brows once again, his body slumping forward a bit because: why on God's green earth are you here? Then, it hits him like a truck, the aftermath of the collision blowing the remaining sleep out of his eyes: it's Thursday afternoon!
"Sorry," he says and sheepishly scratches the back of his head, then steps aside to let you enter.
"It's fine, it's only freezing cold outside," you stare at him before stepping in, shudder as you kick your shoes off, slip into Mingi's guest slippers and hurry inside. Mingi's brain does not register the sarcasm drenching your words.
"Let's get to it, shall we?" You ask as Mingi finally manages to follow you into the kitchen. You sit, take out a few sheets of paper from your backpack, then look over questioningly as Mingi has not even moved a millimeter, but instead started yawning like his life depends on it. Your eyes drift down his body. "Or maybe after you've put on some pants?"
Mingi freezes, looks down to confirm that, indeed, he's not wearing pants, but Naruto boxer shorts, then covers his crotch with his hands and buzzes off into his room.
Minutes later, Mingi reenters the kitchen, a pair of sweatpants hanging low on his hips that, yes, he checked twice if he's wearing them the right way around. As mentioned, he is generally unable to properly focus on his studies, but today, it's exceptionally bad. Of course, you'd notice.
"Mingi, are you okay?" There's worry in your eyes – a sight Mingi has not seen. Ever.
"I'm fine, just tired," he mumbles, eyes unfocusing as he stares ahead.
"Yeah, you are? Why?" Mingi's tired mind cannot question why you suddenly seem so interested in his well-being. He also doesn't put any meaning into why you're scooting closer to him, your forearm accidentally touching his.
"I studied during my lunch break," Mingi informs you, a little, proud smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Something tingles inside his chest as you carefully place your hand on his arm. As he looks over at you, you smile at him, and he notices your gaze flickering down to his lips for a second.
Hold on. Mingi's mind suddenly snaps out of its hazy state and works on overdrive. He might be the type to vibe, the type to just let things play out, but he'd be damned if he didn't notice when someone likes him like that. He suddenly notices the way you started creating skin-on-skin contact with him, the way you want to be closer to him, eyeing him even more than you ever did before. Just... why? Is it because you saw him in his Anime panties?
A few moments pass, and you sit back, then pat your pencil against the book to remind him of the reason why you're actually here. Mingi groans, admittedly a little dramatically and unreasonably erotic, brushing a hand through his hair to flex his biceps right in front of your face. You seem unimpressed.
"Well, fuck me," he chuckles deeply, the rasp in his voice more evident than usual due to his nap. It's then when you tense, he notices from the corner of his eye. Oh. Okay. So it's the voice?
"I'm really glad you're tutoring me, you know?" He purrs, throwing in a little praise to get you extra bothered, and you simply breathe out nervously.
"Heh, no worries," you brush him off. Mingi decides that, for now, he's made you suffer enough and keeps quiet. Instead, he focusses on his studies, although he's already planning his next step to terrorize you with the sultry rasp his vocal cords are gifted with.
"Mingi, focus-"
"No, I get what I have to do, the contents just won't stay in my head." Mingi reasons, his voice unusually, but not by chance, high pitched, eyebrows scrunched as to why the hell he has to do this before doing that only to do whatever next when it wasn't like this for the other exercise he had to do minutes prior. He is not stupid (!), he does understand how this works. It's just that it doesn't make sense, and that is surely not his fault.
"Are you stup-" you start, but shut your mouth before you're even able to call him the dumbest fucker you've ever crossed paths with. Mingi inhales sharply. Oh, oh, you're lucky he is patient, and you're lucky he knows that as soon as he growled a few dirty words into your ear, you'd slam your upper body on the counter without regards of caution, pushing your panties down under your skirt and begging him to take you right there - or at least, that's what he imagines.
Yes, Mingi is super patient, that's just what comes with the entire vibe-personality package, so he does not dump your cute sorry ass on his baka-door mat, but simply closes his pen, lays it on the table and looks at you. A fabulous idea plops into his mind.
"God," he groans as deeply as he can, stretching his arms over his head, "I guess I'm just a little" - he throws in a little moany sigh - "a little distracted today."
"A-are you?" You nod, biting your lip subconsciously. Mingi looks at you without moving his head. "Why?"
"Well, just stuff, you know?" Mingi enjoys how the rumble in his voice makes his throat and - obviously - you feel. "There's just a lot, going on. Like big... big stuff. Stuff that just keeps coming and coming, in and out, just like that. Ugh, I wish I could just let all this frustration out you know, all this pent up stuff." He watches for your reaction.
Unmistakably, your hand holding your own pen in a relaxed manner mere seconds ago now desperately grasps the poor objects until your knuckles turn white, your breathing is uneven and loud as if you'd just ran the entire way from Mingi's place to the next convenience store (seriously, why the fuck is he paying so much for this godforsaken apartment?). And - Mingi's favorite reaction to him ever: you're pressing your thighs together.
Oh, how Mingi loves himself a good reaction like this.
"Big stuff, huh?" Your voice trembles as your nervous eyes search for his. "H-how big?"
"Oh, really big. Just really fucking big," Mingi confirms with a slight smirk. He loves how you just fold easily like that. One second, you're over there feeling superior on your little throne of knowledge that Mingi lacks, and the next, you're making a little mess in your panties just because Mingi so much as spoke. Absolutely incredible. People should start calling him "the rizzler".
"I think-" you clear your throat, "I think I should head home then?"
Mingi smiles to himself as soon as you turn away to pack your stuff into your backpack. His hands automatically reach out to play with his pen, his long, slender fingers toying with the object, inevitably drawing your attention to the movements. "Already?"
"Mhm." You stare a second too long, gulp, then hastily stuff your belongings into the big compartment of the backpack, Mingi listens to the sweet melody of stressed breathing and papers crunching.
As amused as he is, he decides that it is time for the big reveal.
"Keep it in your pants, baby" he looks over, his eyebrow halfway raised, and stops rocking back and forth and fiddling with the pencil as you freeze in your tracks and stop packing. "What?"
Slowly, you turn your head to look at him. "So you know?" You manage to squeak.
Mingi smugly pushes his tongue into his cheek. He loves how you're basically vibrating out of nervousness. "Oh, I know."
You sigh, hands finally letting go of your stuff and motioning defeat. He wonders what's going on in your mind right now. Are you afraid he's going to call you out? That he's going to make fun of you? That he's going to call you a needy slut and send you home? Or are you wondering if he's going to give you what you want? Mingi loves this game.
That's why he decides to make your situation a little more miserable.
"I also know that you think I'm stupid," he explains calmly, trying his best to no longer show any excitement, smugness, or any emotion whatsoever on his sharp facial features to really confuse you. Well, that's what you're getting for (almost) calling The Song Mingi stupid. Just a little payback, is all. He's not going to go so far and make you cry. No, no, Mingi can't handle when people cry, much less so if it's because of him.
Nevertheless, your breath hitches. Oh, you're fully aware that he didn't like you calling him that at all. Oh, how the gears are turning behind your forehead as you're trying to figure out what's going on, and what's going to go on in the next minutes.
"Thought so," Mingi deadpans. Yeah, that's right. Look how smart he is now! Super smart! He's got you all figured out. He knows exactly what to say and how to act to make you feel - and, fuck, does this feel like redemption - stupid.
"I'm sorry-" you start, back facing Mingi's form, but Mingi is not here for it. Mingi has gotten what Mingi wants. Mingi feels as powerful as he imagines a lion to feel, like, every day.
"Dumb fucks good," he simply states, just putting it out there, throwing it into the room for you to do with that statement whatever you like. Mingi's mind is already satisfied, his ego stroked because he's just proven that he isn't dumb. Although... he wouldn't mind a little diddling because, if he's being honest, you're hot as fuck and seeing you react to him in this way- well, he's also just a man!
"What?" You probably think you must've terribly misheard him as you whip your head around to face the confident Mingi smugly leaned back in his chair. Your eyes meet his, and he is sure that you now realize that, no, you definitely did not mishear him. That was exactly what he said.
In the blink of an eye, Mingi feels your presence on his lap, a last final look into his eyes before he feels your lips against his, desperately chewing away the remaining air separating his spit from yours. It's messy, lips colliding, too much teeth and tongue, but it's all raw and desperate. Mingi gets the vibes that you may have had some pent up want for him, but that's honestly the last clear thought he can muster before you grind your hips against his.
A deep groan escapes Mingi's lips, inevitably echoing against your own quiet gasps that just turn louder with every movement of your hips, your hands frantically trying to touch him everywhere at once to the point where he has to grab your arms and pull you back. Your eyes, wide. And confused, but somehow lidded and hazy at the same time struggle to take in Mingi in front of you. Yes, Mingi is aware of the effect of his siren eyes.
For another moment, he simply enjoys seeing how destroyed you look already, but honestly, there is just one thing on his mind.
"I'm gonna eat you out," he informs, waiting for you to nod frantically, whine and scramble off his lap for him to keep his promise. And you do, allowing Mingi to grab your waist with his large hands and lift you onto the counter. Of course, he can't resist getting another taste of your lips, almost losing himself in the soft pillows that frame your pretty mouth, but the hardness creating a tent in his sweatpants reminds him that he should possible attend a little lower.
Hence, he kisses his way over your cheek towards your jaw, then over your neck and down your collarbones. Mingi is not sure what your opinions on love bites are, so he just hopes you can remember him being right here and here and here even without visual proof, he can save that for next time.
Okay, Mingi admittedly was not able to hold himself back completely, his teeth only gently nipping at your skin on his way down. He simply hopes for the best, but your sounds seem to imply that you do not mind him one bit. Instead, you sound as if you wouldn't mind him taking a few bites more.
Impatient as you are, you assist Mingi in pushing your shirt out of the way, the straps of your bra automatically falling down your shoulders to reveal more of you to his hungry eyes.
And as much as Mingi would like to spend hours playing with your chest, he keeps it down to a minimum, kissing the soft flesh while gently pushing the remaining material out of the way for better access. His lips wrap around a nipple, his hands meanwhile busy with massaging the other and carefully holding your waist. God, Mingi loves boobs. But he might love the way your fingers comb through his hair and gently pull on it a bit more even.
Finally, the time has come, and Mingi kneels down on the floor. Pushing your skirt up, hands caressing your thighs, he creates eye contact with your eyes glazed over by lust and want. It doesn't even faze him that he hasn't cleaned these floors in weeks, honestly, he is in so deep he probably wouldn't even realize if the stove was on, lighting his study notes on fire.
He wants to tease you more, make you wait, maybe make you beg even, but he just feels too hungry to keep waiting. His fingers hook into the hem of your panties, pulling them down your legs as quickly as possible before spreading your legs and groaning in anticipation.
Throwing your thighs over his shoulders, he pulls you forward a little further, chuckling as you almost lose balance and smile at him. Okay, maybe Mingi feels a little tingle, and maybe that is not a horny tingle, but that's something to worry about later, if ever. Right now, he has a mission: dive in.
So that's what he does, obviously, planting a careful kiss right on your clit to wait for your reaction. And you do not disappoint, gasping slightly at the first sensation before getting louder and bolder the more Mingi tastes you.
His tongue gently parts your folds, getting a first taste of your juices. You basically cry out as his tongue prods at your hole, carefully easing its way inside to caress your walls.
Automatically, your hands fly to his hair, gently pulling at the roots to find a way to ground yourself, the feeling assumingely overwhelming, Mingi thinks, not to brag, but-
Mingi's eyes roll back at a particularly hard tug at his hair, paired with the way your hips grind closer until you're basically riding his face. Fuck, how are you so hot? Mingi's fingers grab hard at your thighs, loving the way the soft flesh feels in his hands.
To experiment a little more and, first and foremost, to get more rewarding reactions out of you, Mingi lets his mouth wander back up to your clit, gently sucking the nub between his lips, his tongue carefully flicking as not to overwhelm you. At the same time, a fingers sneaks its way over to circle your entrance.
Your throat coughs out a broken moan at this, your eyes switching between looking at Mingi's eyes and his mouth, and closing completely. Mingi loves taking in the pleasure written all over your face. He might not admit it, but he loves this kind of praise much more than verbal praise because your body really can't lie. He can literally taste how good he is at this.
He finally pushes his finger inside, loving how the wetness and muscle contractions are basically pulling him deeper and deeper until past his second knuckle. He feels around a little, trying to find the spots that seem to appeal to you the most, watching carefully how you react to each and every flick of his wrist.
Although, he feels that one finger is not enough to prepare you for the rest of him, so he adds another, massaging them into the spot that seems to be making you see stars with the way you grip his hair even tighter and mutter something he interprets as a warning that you're about to cum.
Keeping his pace, he successfully sends you over the edge, letting you ride out your high on his tongue before removing his lips, only getting his fingers massage the last clenches out of you.
Looking up he realizes you look, respectfully, wrecked, with your chest heaving, your hair a little messy and your eyes hazy and glossy, parted lips asking for his. And who is he to deny them, as he leans in to allow you to taste yourself. You seem to like it.
Pulling back after a while, he looks at you. You look so happy and relaxed like he's never seen before. For some reason, it reminds him of the weight in his pants that he suddenly feels the need to inform you about.
"You make me so hard," Mingi says lowly, carefully taking your hand to prove it to you, "feel." It's more your hand guiding his with how fast you reach down to feel him, eager to touch the outline of him through the sweatpants. And as if you're getting paid to stroke Mingi's ego even more, you gasp at his size.
Mingi can't help but smirk, of course, who wouldn't?
"Big stuff, huh?" You repeat your words from earlier, but this time no longer nervous, but cheeky as you bite your lip playfully. Oh, how Mingi would love to make you choke on his dick right now, just a little, and in a loving matter, but he's honestly waited long enough and he really just needs to be in you right now. And besides, Mingi is more in his giving > receiving era.
Instead, he grins. And he feels like there is something more.
Impatiently, you tug at his pants, successfully moving them a millimeter. Mingi helps you push his pants further down until it pools around his ankles. You giggle.
Damnit, Mingi. Why couldn't you've changed your underwear? Mingi mentally scolds himself, a good amount of his previously earned smugness flying out the window. Instead, he gives you kind of a sheepish look.
"I don't mind," you assure, tugging at his anime boxers next, "it's actually relieving to be reminded that you're still the cute, dorky Mingi and are not possessed by a sex demon."
"Incubus," Mingi points out.
"I don't fucking care. Just get this hideous thing off and have sex with me!"
Mingi does not need to be told twice, although he makes a mental note to scold you later for calling the one and only Naruto printed on a piece of fabric shielding his balls from the outside world hideous.
"God, fuck," you let out, and Mingi chuckles at your reaction to his naked lower half, "come here. Please."
You pull him closer, wrap your legs around him and beg him with your eyes. Mingi wastes not another second, aligning himself with your hole and slowly pushing forwards. Your eyes roll back as he enters you, causing you to hold onto him for dear life as he inches inside, filling you completely.
God, must your walls hug him so perfectly? Must you be so unbelievably wet just for him? Must you make these sounds? Mingi feels like he doesn't want to be inside anyone else ever again.
"I feel like I don't want to inside anything else ever again."
How did that get out there?
You chuckle, and have the nerve to pinch his cheek, as if he wasn't balls deep buried inside you right now. "You're so cute."
Cute?!
Mingi will show you cute. He grabs your jaw, admittedly still gently, and makes you look at him as he pulls almost all the way out until his tip catches at your entrance. "Cute?" And he pushes in all the way all at once. You moan, the feeling too much, too intense for you to still keep your eyes open. Helplessly, you cling to Mingi's body as he repeats the action 4 more times before setting a steady rhythm, angling his hips in a way that should stimulate the spot you liked so much earlier.
With your mouth hanging open and your eyebrows scrunched, you look like the prettiest thing Mingi's ever seen. He wants to see you drool, watch you completely lose your mind over nothing else but his cock. At the same time, he is surprised how good it feels. Well, not surprised that it feels good, but that it feels abnormally good, like he's about to nut in the next minute or so. Hopefully, he's able to coax another high out of you before that.
"What was it that riled you up so much earlier? My voice?" He growls, and you as much as whimper in return. "Yeah, like it that my voice is so deep?" You nod pathetically. "Cute."
"Mingi- 's so good."
"Yeah, am I fucking you good?" Mingi grins and you nod weakly, struggling to keep your eyes open. Mingi really shouldn't be the one talking big because honestly, he feels like if u moan one more time, if ur walls clench around him one more time, he is going to lose it. Something about this entire situation is just super surreal to him, or maybe it's simply you that is the reason for his premature high that is coming for him with fast steps.
"Fuck, baby," he groans, kissing your cheek before whispering, "can I please cum inside?"
"Shit, y-yes," you confirm, nodding quickly as you fight your hardest battle to keep your eyes open, focused and on the man that's currently grinding his tip into your sweet spot. Mingi feels like he loves you.
Mingi also feels like he's loosing his grip on reality, which is why he grabs your hips harder than before, using his strength to really slam his hips into yours with force, drowning his thoughts with the sounds of your moans. There is nothing on his mind except for you, you, you, and the primal need to make you his.
"Please," he groans, not quite sure what he's begging for, but it doesn't really matter in the end, does it? All that matters is that Mingi's ears catch the way you're begging him to cum for you, to fill you up, to please, please finish inside. He is not going to deny you that wish.
His hips stutter, his mind goes numb as he feels his muscles tighten and contract, releasing deep inside you. The feeling spreads in his body, feeling high and happy with such a forceful orgasm like this one.
Everything after is just a blur in his mind, he just remembers realizing that you didn't cum a second time, and he wouldn't be Mingi if he kept it that way. That's why he found himself back on his knees seconds after pulling out, sucking your clit back into his mouth, tasting his own release that's threatening to drip out if it wasn't for his fast fingers pumping in and out of you to push you over the edge.
It doesn't take long until you do, orgasm fueled by the lewd action of Mingi eating his own cum out of you, he assumes. Somehow, you two end up in his bed after, mostly because Mingi is a cuddler, partly because Mingi is not able to let you go yet. Or ever. Who knows.
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