#minghao and now you're making me imagine him as my husband?????

[hwanghyunjinenthusiast]

— ✧ idubilu — x. minghao x reader

description. obligatory company dinners are never much fun, but you understand that your husband has to go through with them at the end of each month anyways. luckily, he knows just how to make it up to you once you two get home.

✘ genre. smut (18+ / mdni) tags under the cut, ceo & husband minghao, fluff ✘ w/c. 2.8k ✘ a/n. yk i don’t rly like pwp but i needed to pay homage to the idubilu choreo. that's it.

✘ tags. oral (f receiving), petnames (princess, pretty), they're just rly horny 4 each other lol, reader wears a suit and she is SEXY! ✘ taglist. @synthetickitsune @ixayjun @leejihoonownsmyheart @dahliatopia @gyuswhore @hoeforcheol @5xiang @hajimelvr @miriamxsworld @blinkjunhui @lixiel0ver @josefines-things @mimisxs @ming-h0e @kawennote09 @bbyjjunie @rubyreduji @marzmeltdown @todorokiskitten @98-0603 @hipsdofangirl @nikkixpenguin @minnie-mouser22 @minhui896 @whippedforjihoon @yunjinified @nishloves @woozarts @ellesmoon @blurryriki @maknae00 @jjjzzzz @marzmeltdown @peachyaeger @shoulietaro (strikethrough could not be tagged) join my taglist here!

A tight lipped smile is the only thing you’re wearing tonight. Well, that and a stiff pair of dress pants and button up shirt; usually you opt for wearing dresses to these sorts of things, but the one you’d picked out earlier was itchy in all the worst spots and really, you couldn’t bother to choose another one so you settled for this suit. It’s definitely more comfortable, but your feet still ache in the confines of your heels as you wrap your fingers around the cool glass of champagne.

Your husband is in the corner of your vision, talking to some associate as you stand by the buffet table, as you contemplate if you even have the stomach to eat anything right now. You’re overreacting—you know you are—but after long hours at work and an even longer hours trying to clean up the mess your cat had made at home, you’re not the least bit thrilled to spend your evening hours (the ones you usually spend curled up by Minghao’s side) here.

The champagne fizzles out on your tongue when you take a sip, sighing as you lean against the wall. You want to leave, that much is obvious. Minghao can sense it from across the room—the way your arms are crossed over your chest and you look down at your shoes, only glancing up to flicker your eyes at him and then the clock.

“45 more minutes,” you mutter to yourself when he finally excuses himself and walks over with a plate of food in his hands.

“I’m sorry,” is the first thing he says lowly when he’s finally within ear shot. “I know you hate coming to these.”

You let your shoulders deflate a little when you hear the sincerity in your voice, reminding yourself that this is your husband. “No it’s … it’s fine, these shoes just hurt,” you tell him honestly, shifting your weight from leg to leg as Minghao hands you his plate.

“Sit down and eat. I’ll wrap this up in half an hour and then we can leave.” You frown, taking the plate from his hands. “And remind me to get you new shoes if these ones suck—you know I hate seeing you in pain.”

You roll your eyes as he follows you to the nearest empty table in the hall. “Simp,” you tease, slipping into a seat and begrudgingly stuffing your face with one of the hor d’oeuvres.

“Whatever you say princess,” he sighs, stepping back. “I’ll be back in a bit, and then we’ll get going, ‘kay?” You nod and he walks off with a final wave, just as bored as before but a little less bitter. After all, Minghao’s sweet words and kind promises always leave a warm feeling budding in your heart.

Still, the next thirty minutes are long. You watch him not too discreetly now, getting lost in yourself as the night progresses. Minghao has long ditches his black coat, and is instead donned in a simple set of black pants and white shirt, nearly perfectly matching you. It’s a kind thought that occupies your mind for the remainder of your time—the fact that you and Minghao match each other perfectly.

You’re left with you and your thoughts, and although it’s a long wait, relief waves over your form when you hear Minghao thank everyone for coming. You make your way to his side while he does so, his arm secured around your waist as the two of you bow and wave everyone out as they shuffle out the room until it’s just the two of you left.

“Oh god, I thought I’d never get to take these off,” you huff, sitting on one of the round tables once everyone’s gone, slipping the tight heels over your sore feet. Your husband watches you sympathetically as he tucks his phone back into his pocket, workers making their way into the hall to clean up.

“I told you, we can go get new ones. Let’s go home now though,” he says, holding a hand out as you reach down to pick up your shoes. Minghao scrunches his nose up when you put your bare feet on the ground. “Ew. Don’t do that!”

You frown. “Why not! My feet hurt and I don’t care if it’s dirty—I can’t stand it anymore!”

Minghao sighs and shakes his head, and for a moment you think you’ve won this battle but then he’s turning around and tapping at his back. “C’mon, let’s go.”

“I am not g—”

Minghao shoots you a warning look, and you suddenly realize you’re too exhausted to care that much anyways. “I’ll give you a treat.”

Your tummy tumbles, and you’re glad he’s turned away so he can’t see the shit eating grin that creeps onto your lips. You don’t exactly understand what Minghao means by a treat as you climb onto his back, but when he secures his arms under your legs, you learn that you don’t need to.

You trust Minghao, more than anyone if you’re being honest, so as you curl your face into his neck as he carries you out of the company building and to the car, finally driving you home, you sit and smile because you know whatever he’s going to give you, you’re going to love it just as you love him.

So yeah, you’re not exactly surprised when Minghao pushes you onto the soft covers of the bed as soon as you enter your house, but then again, you’re not complaining either.

“You look really sexy in a suit,” Minghao murmurs, climbing on top of you as his fingers find his way up your pants and by its waistband.

“You don’t like it when I wear dresses?” you muse, shuffling up onto your elbows so you can lift your hips, Minghao yanking your pants down as you do.

“I do,” he says casually, sitting back on his heels as you kick the pants off and onto the ground, leaving your legs bare as Minghao settles between them. Slowly, he runs his fingers over them, the ghost of a touch as he traces over the inside of your thighs, circles around your knees, and smooths over your shins before finally curling them around your ankles.

You grow limp under him, letting his strong arms lift your legs up high as he runs his soft lips over the flesh of your calves. He whispers into your skin, the hot breath sending a ripple of shivers coursing through you. “Dresses are nice … but suits … fu-u-uck,” he draws out, placing open mouthed kisses down the inside of your legs.

You whimper when he shuffles down the bed and presses his face between your thighs, lips moving rougher and more fervent as he nips and lips at the skin. Minghao wants to drown himself in you—wants you to be the only thing he can taste on his tongue, wants you to be the only thing he can smell as he buries himself in the beauty between your legs.

“Fuck,” he groans, peeling himself away for a moment to stare down at you—your shirt is half unbuttoned, revealing the peek of your cleavage, and your lips are puffy, eyes blown out and hair all strewn as you await for more.

There aren’t words exchanged as Minghao starts to tug at his tie that’s starting to feel all too tight, the silk fabric tumbling between his deft fingers as he pulls it to the side and lets it fall onto the bed. He’s working through but buttons next, starting by the collar and working his way down, and you find yourself growing lost into sight of him.

From the way his adam’s apple bounces and jaw clenches when you whimper, to the way his shirt falls from his shoulders and leaves his pretty chest on display—you’re fucking entranced. Minghao rolls his neck back once, flashing you a hint of his chiseled jawline before craning his head back down and sucking your lips into a deep kiss.

His hands smooth under your shirt and press against your stomach as you grip at his firm shoulders as he mumbles against your lips, “Lemme eat you out.” God, the way he says it is so crude and so dirty, but fuck, if it doesn’t have you nuzzling your nose into his and nodding as your eyes flutter shut …

Minghao moves slowly, and it’s around now that you’d usually start to get impatient; you’d start to whine and squirm, chanting his name in hopes to get him to speed it up. Something in the air is different tonight, and as you close your eyes, you bask in the feeling of his body moving down yours.

You drink in the sounds of his soft pants and echoes of his mouth sucking against your exposed skin. Minghao is meticulous—he always is. It’s how he rose to the top in practically everything he did, and it’s how he’s making you crumble beneath his palms right now.

Your limbs move together in tandem, like you were both built for each other and each other only, bodies intertwining in a heated yet perfect mess as Minghao wraps his arms under your thighs and over your hips when you pull your soiled panties off. He’s done this more times than you can count, but not once has not left you in awe when he licks the first fat stripe.

Minghao knows you well—so, so well—better than yourself, you would add with no hesitation. He knows how to make you smile, knows how to make you laugh, knows how to make you writhe beneath him.

When his tongue delves between your folds and he sucks against the sensitive flesh, Minghao knows exactly what he’s doing. You glance down, finally parting your eyes, and are met with the sight of Minghao’s own heavy lids, and your stomach churns in the realization that he truly is enjoying this as much as you are.

Moans break free from your throat as he slides his tongue up and down, flicking against your clit and making out against your gaping cunt. The words on your tongue come out in a mangled mess, and Minghao can’t really understand what you’re saying, but then again, he doesn’t need to because he loves it.

Loves the way you’re whining from just a few subtle movements, loves how you chant his name like it’s the only word you know—fuck, Minghao loves everything goddamn thing about you and it’s driving him fucking crazy.

Minghao watches you grind upwards to meet the pace of his tongue and lips—it’s perfect. “The best,” he groans, parting his lips from your cunt for a moment so you can hear him better, although he’s not sure you’re even paying attention.

Your neck is thrown back and one hand is threaded through his hair, the other gripping at one of your exposed tits as white noise rushes through your ears. “Could live here,” Minghao says, not really to you but more to himself as he gazes down at your shiny folds before diving back in.

You, you, you, is all Minghao can think, and as he snakes one hand up your stomach, gripping at your other unattended breast, fingers flexing and clenching around the bouncy flesh. “Oh—Hao!” you whine out when he pinches your nipple. It’s not rough or harsh, but you’re so sensitive all over that even the brush of his hair against your skin has you jerking into his touch.

The cry of his name only eggs him on, and Minghao finds his eyes shutting tight as digs his face deeper and deeper into your slobbering core. Through the sucking, through the lapping, through the borderline making out with your cunt, Minghao starts to talk.

He tells you how good you taste, how pretty you sound, how fucking hard he is—his princess, that’s what he calls you. His pretty, pretty princess. Minghao doesn’t even know if you can hear him, but he also knows it doesn’t matter.

You’ll understand.

Minghao knows you’ll understand because everytime you moan his name, his hold on your tits tightens and his lips move with more and more vigor until you’re pulsing—fuck, he hasn’t even stuck anything in yet and you’re already being driven damn close to insanity.

It comes out in broken sobs—“‘m gonna cum, H-H-Hao! ‘m g’na—fuck!”

And he responds with equal passion, mutter into your wetness to, “Do it—fucking do it.”

Minghao devours you through the high that permeates your body, and you feel he might as well swallow you whole with the way his hands are all over you and the way you’re tugging at his hair (it’s painful, but Minghao concludes that this is the best kind of pain).

And then he’s kissing you, your sweet arousal mixing in a mess of both of your saliva as your tongues clash together. Your cheeks are wet as they press against each other and there you two are, rolling around on the sheets until your head is spinning, partly from the buzz of your orgasm but mainly from the pure passion that surges through your blood.

Your hands are in his hair, on his chest, sinking into his back, fumbling with his pants—they’re everywhere because, fuck, you just need to feel him. Minghao is no different because he’s also everywhere—unclipping your bra but still keeping your shirt on, sliding his hands over your tits and pressing against your neck, grinding into you as you shove his pants and boxers down.

You’re on top of him when he’s finally kicked his pants off, grinding down on the massive hard-on he’s wearing, swiveling your hips as he grips onto your tits as if they were a lifeline. “Put it in pretty,” Minghao moans, tweaking one nipple between his fingers as he uses his other hand to tap his thick, leaking cock against the base of your stomach.

He doesn’t need to tell you twice, and you’re pressing forward and lifting your hips. Again, Minghao knows you well. So well that it hardly takes him a second to find your dripping hole, aligning himself with you before jutting upwards.

You cry out at the sensation, sinking down on him almost immediately as your lips meet for another fervent kiss. It’s maddening, really, the way your clit rubs against his pelvis as you carefully rock your hips forward once you get adjusted to his side.

You moan into each other’s mouths and drink up the pleasure because that’s all you two know—in this moment, it’s only you and Minghao.

It’ll only ever be you and Minghao, because no one’s gonna be able to carve the shape of their cock into you like he’s doing so well right now. No one’s gonna lift their hips and swivel right back down, sucking him in and clenching him so tight like you’re doing so well right now. No one’s gonna ever share a moment like the two of you do right now, and as Minghao paws at your waist and threads his fingers into your hair, you both don’t need to say it, but you know.

Skin against skin echoes in symphony with your broken gasps and choked sobs as you begin to bounce over Minghao. He’s got you in a grip like a vise as he murmurs, “Princess—fuck, my pretty princess—feels s’good,” he slurs, to which you can only furrow your brows in pleasure and nod dumbly. You feel like you’re on fire, sweat all over as you chew down on your lip, trying to shake off the soaked dress shirt, but Minghao stops you with a firm hand on your arm.

“Keep it on pretty,” he whines, “Please.”

Something about the desperation in his voice has your heart strings strumming, and let your hand fall back onto him, shifting so his cock hits even deep inside of you. Your squeezing is more than he can handle, and Minghao wraps his arms around your waist and holds you close, lips ghosting over your neck and teeth sinking into your skin.

Through mangled whispers and hot skin, tangled limbs and melting lips, you two move through sheets languidly. For how long, you can’t say, but when you two reach your peaks together, it’s with words of love pushed through gritted teeth hard kisses.You two probably won’t be able to understand what the other is saying, but that’s okay because you don’t need to. You’ll know and Minghao will know—I love you.