OP: well, that isn't fucking relevant
pairing(s): oscar piastri x mercedes driver!reader
summary: someone tries to threaten your job, oscar has some choice words for him. (OR: the trials and tribulations of being a woman in a male dominated sport)
word count: 2.7k+
an: i kinda hate the white knight trope but i still wrote this lol, it scratches an itch and i think driver!reader did a sufficient amount of defending of herself beforehand. anyway, this is a one shot that's kind of connected to my smau series just a girl. enjoy!!!!! [also standard disclaimer: this does not reflect the opinions of any real life people/companies/organisations/etc. it is fiction. thank you]
You’re no stranger to sexism in Formula racing— you knew going into this that you’d have to deal with thinly veiled remarks about your gender and purposefully obtuse questions from reporters who think they know more than you about the sport you’ve dedicated your life to. You had to deal with it when you were karting, you had to deal with it during your stint in F2, and you have to deal with it now.
The fact of the matter is that some people do not think you belong here, and therefore are entirely unable to integrate the reality that you are very much here to stay, into their worldview. You’re lucky to have somehow earned Lewis’ loyalty, which had brought the Mercedes contract and the support of Toto simultaneously. Mercedes-AMG aren’t making leaps and bounds into the world of feminism, but you’re grateful for the seat regardless. You’re here and not going anywhere if you can help it.
You try your best to stay off the bad parts of social media, so as not to be subjected to the barrage of hate comments and death threats directed your way. You’re tough— but no one’s that tough. It’s fine for the most part. You focus on the racing, how the car feels, your performance and improving it weekend after weekend. You try at least. You’d love to leave your gender entirely out of the mix, you don’t think it’s relevant frankly. But unfortunately, the reporters do. (And so do some choice individuals working on the grid, who just can’t seem to keep their big fucking mouths shut about you.)
It’s disappointing, sure— but not surprising to sit down at a press conference and get a smattering of questions about your rumoured relationships and extracurricular activities when every other driver gets fifty questions practically thrown at them about their performance, or FIA regulations, or the track conditions. The part that bothers you the most is honestly just the lack of interest. It’s like they don’t think anything you have to say about the sport is valuable so they just don’t ask you the same questions they bother to ask the men. That probably is the actual case too.
So— y’know— you’re not that shocked when a reporter from some sports blog you’ve never heard of straight out asks if you “expect to be switched out with another female driver next year?”
The room goes dead fucking silent in a way that you do actually find satisfying. It’s good to know that most of the reporters in the room do know a tactless question when they hear one, or at least that you inspire enough fear in people that they’re waiting with bated breath to hear your response. Next to you, Oscar tenses, you can feel it where your thighs are touching. You can imagine his face right now without looking, that pinched micro-grimace he does. The barest hint of a crease in the bridge of his nose as he tries not to scowl. You want to put your hand on his knee and squeeze it in thanks.
You don’t. Instead, you frown and cock your head to the side, meeting the eyes of the reporter across the room.
Slowly, measuredly, you repeat, “I’m sorry, do I expect to be replaced with another female driver next year? Is that what you said?”
He nods, bringing the microphone closer to his mouth as if you really couldn’t hear him the first time, “Yes, yeah. That is what I asked.”
You hum, pursing your lips as if you’re sincerely considering his question. You can see a few people in the crowd who are cringing already, some of them have been on the receiving end of your tendency to play with your food before you eat it. Your ego feels pretty good about that.
“Why would Mercedes want to replace me?” you ask in your most polite voice, feigning real curiosity to this man who you doubt has done any research at all on you.
“Um,” he errs, some of his former unflappable confidence leeching out of his tone, “Well, to give more women a chance in Formula One—”
You start to speak over him, done with entertaining his ignorance. You bite, “—there are other teams for that, actually. I don’t think it’s presumptuous to say that I’ve earned my seat at Mercedes, or that I’ve proven that I belong here so far this season. In which, I have not qualified or placed below a P7. And I certainly don’t think it’s fair of you to ask if I am going to voluntarily give up my hard-earned seat to another person because you think I am here because of some women’s inclusion effort by Mercedes. And, okay, who knows, maybe I am. But I am not giving up this seat without a fight, nor do I imagine that Mercedes are in a rush to find someone to replace me right now. You’ll have to ask someone to confirm that though.”
You wind down after that, punctuating your point with a firm nod; some of the fight and the fury seeping out as you start to reckon with the potential consequences of your outburst. Mercedes’ PR rep will have something to say surely, you’re just hoping you haven’t crossed some kind of uncrossable line. Another part of you doesn’t quite care as you watch the reporter gape like a fish out of water, feeling rather satisfied that you’d put him in his place.
Eventually, the room recovers and moves on from you. Checo is getting asked his opinion on tyres while you share a furtive glance with Oscar. He smiles approvingly, mouth closed and the apples of his cheeks pushed up into his eyes. You feel the urge to touch his knee again but resist, instead smiling back as covertly as you possibly can. A warm feeling spreads in your chest and you almost forget about the reporter and his stupid question in favour of watching Oscar’s slow-burn smile.
Mercedes is fine with it, it turns out. Apparently, you’re doing the heavy lifting for them in the feminism department and all they have to do is have Toto or someone come out and say a few words in agreement. It suits them fine, they don’t need to take any hard stances and you get the blame if anything goes horribly wrong. That grates at you, of course it does. But you’ve got a seat, haven’t you? You’re not going to give it up because Mercedes are covering their asses like the multibillion-dollar company that they are.
It means you’ve avoided the all-hands-on-deck PR meeting you thought you’d be stuck in tonight, but it’s left you in too sour a mood for this party. It’s some function, fundraiser, something or other and they’ve invited all the teams, drivers and ‘important’ FIA staff. This means there’s an inordinate amount of people here and you’re really not into it.
But you’re still here. You’ve shoved yourself into a cute, strappy, black top, and a denim mini-skirt and you’ve even added some cute jewellery in a feeble attempt to match whatever over-the-top outfit Lewis has arrived in. It’s at least a step up from your usual team polo and leggings, or the Mercedes hoodie that you pull on over it. You’re comfortable. You’re fine.
You pull a hand out of the pocket of your oversized leather jacket as Oscar comes back over with your beer. You smile at the expression on his face as you take the neck in between your fingers. He’s scowling openly, the corners of his lips curled up in distaste.
“Busy?” you ask, then you hold up the beer in thanks, “Cheers, by the way.”
“Hmm, too crowded,” he affirms, “I lost Lando.”
You shrug, taking a swig of the refreshingly cold beer, “Actually? Or did he run off with someone?”
Oscar snorts, “Yeah, no. He got into a conversation with Max.”
You laugh, “Yeah, in that case, I reckon we’ll see Lando in a few hours.”
“Definitely.”
The two of you share an amused smile before you’re back to looking into the crowd because sometimes, it’s hard for you to look at him— like looking directly into the sun. You’re aware of him in your periphery, standing there and rocking back and forth on his heels, occasionally taking a sip of his drink. He looks away for a moment, and you turn to look at him. Taking in the endearing swoop of his hair, the scattering of freckles and moles on the side of his pale face, the long line of his neck disappearing into the collar of his shirt. You shift your eyes slightly to the right of him, to the patchwork of vents and scaffolding in the ceiling, feigning as if you’d only been casually looking his way.
“That reporter was a piece of work,” Oscar says once he’s drifted his attention back to you.
You roll your eyes on instinct, and groan, “Tell me about it, holy shit, Osc. What an asshole. I don’t know if he was just stupid or legit didn’t know a single thing about me.”
“Mm,” Oscar hums in agreement, “and I like how no one asked you a single question after that. Way to go guys, that’s exactly how you show your support.”
You roll your eyes, still smiling a little at the contented feeling you’ve got in your chest, “I know, right. Trust, they all got on their keyboards afterwards to wax lyrical about how deserving I am of my seat. It’d be fucken’ nice if they acted like it during press conferences.”
“Yeaah,” he sighs, half-laugh, half-exhale, “It’s unfair.”
“Fucken' right,” you gripe, tipping your head back and letting a slip of fizzy beer cascade down your throat— the alcohol, though meagre, leaves you feeling loose, a little reckless, “It sucks Osc. God, I just want to be respected. If I had a dick and balls I’d be fucking killing it, dude. This is my rookie season, I’ve been scoring points every race. Except for the DNF, which was not my fault. But, fuck me, they don’t give a shit.”
You squeeze your eyes shut to stave off the angry tears that are sitting behind your eyelids, threatening. When you open them Oscar is staring at you, frowning, his brown eyes huge and sparkling and sympathetic. They’re like a black hole you want to fall into. Your heart squeezes. He’s so— ugh. Quickly, your mind supplies about a hundred answers to that question: sweet, cute, nice, adorable. Something stutters in your chest and you feel your cheeks starting to grow hot. That slow-burn smile of Oscar’s starts on his face, and you watch dimples form on his cheeks.
The moment is quickly ruined by a particularly nasally Italian accent that you vaguely recognise, “You know,” it says, clearly talking to you, “You should make sure to watch your tone. You never know who could be listening.”
Mood thoroughly dampened, you turn to face the interruption. It turns out to be one of the numerous men on the grid who won’t shut up about you, sharing unsolicited opinions left and right. He has his arms crossed against his chest and a smug expression on his face, as if he’s just caught you doing something terrible— instead of simply complaining about the subpar treatment you’re afforded.
He’s not worth your time whatsoever but God you’re angry. Maybe it’s just been too much shit on top of shit today but you cannot deal reasonably with this man right now— and you are not afforded the luxury of not acting reasonably toward someone like this, no matter how much of a dickhead they are. You open your mouth. Close it. Open it again. Close it and bite down on your bottom lip so nothing accidentally slips out. You’re trying to fish a semi-civil sentence out of a sea of fuck you fuck you fuck you on repeat and it’s not working.
“Are you threatening her?” Oscar asks, a dangerous lilt to his tone, and somewhere in the pulse of anger, you think this is the happiest you’ve ever been to hear his voice, “Because, I am pretty sure your team principal would not be pleased to hear that you’re going around threatening one of Mercedes’ drivers.”
He scoffs, trying to play it off, but you think you register a little bit of worry somewhere in there— Oscar can be threatening when he wants to be and McLaren are not exactly nobodies in this sport right now, “Please, I am not threatening her. I am just telling her that she needs to watch her mouth.”
“Right,” Oscar nods, mouth pinching, “Sure. Well, it would be our word against yours and I’m fairly sure your team principal would believe two drivers over you right now. Especially with that history, you’ve got, dude.”
A little thrill goes up your spine as his face goes white as a sheet. Oscar’s talking about the nice little list of comments he’s made that you’ve reported to your team and an FIA representative— which you’ve taken to doing every time anyone starts up a pattern of saying things about you or to you. They’re to cover your ass honestly, so you can’t be accused of making things up if push comes to shove. You’re sure they’ve made their way back to him and his boss; you’re glad they’ve made an impact (but perhaps not enough to stop him outright).
He sniffs, a nervous edge to his words, “I am not threatening her.”
“Okay. Apologise.”
“Excuse me?”
Oscar raises an eyebrow, “If you’re not threatening her, apologise.”
You bite the inside of your lip and grip the neck of your near-empty beer bottle tighter. Alright, Oscar can be scary. Noted. Very much noted.
“I—” He quickly thinks better of protesting and looks at you, lips pursed in a thin angry line, “I apologise.”
He looks at Oscar, Oscar looks at you. You shrug and nod. Good enough. You don’t need him to grovel, you think he’s been sufficiently humiliated already. Although, before he scampers off into the crowd at Oscar’s approval, you manage a dry, “You think I need to watch my tone now?”
He scowls, but says, “No,” anyway.
Then he stalks off into the throng of people.
You relax more the further that he gets away from the two of you. The tension dissipates into something warm and charged with a different kind of electricity entirely. You ignore the unease that tries to take root in your stomach and instead focus on Oscar at your side.
“That was—” you scrub a hand over your face, starting your sentence again, “Hm.”
Oscar sigh-laughs again, “Yeah, what an asshole.”
“Thank you,” you say meaning it wholeheartedly, “No one’s done something like that for me before.”
Oscar looks down at you, frowning, he shakes his head, “It’s nothing.”
“It’s not nothing,” you answer, feeling bold as you put a hand on his bicep in an attempt to express how grateful you feel for him, for what he’d done for you, “It’s really not, Osc.”
He’s quiet, staring at you with big brown sparkling eyes for a long long moment. A long moment in which you fantasise about reaching upward and pulling his face down to yours, feeling his lips against your own. They’d be soft, you think— his hair would be too. You don’t think about it and you resolutely ignore the tug low in your gut.
“You deserve it,” he says eventually, loud enough that you can hear it, but not anyone else, “You are killing it, by the way.”
You breathe a laugh, “Yeah, I’d better be.”
You squeeze gently at his bicep, feeling the sinewed muscle underneath his dress shirt. Then you let your hand drop, trailing absently down his arm as you do so. Your fingers brush his hand, and he catches yours before it's out of reach at your side. Purposefully, he threads your fingers with his, squeezing firmly and brushing his thumb tenderly over your knuckle. You feel a little lightheaded when he lets go.
You sigh, masking the out-of-breath quality of your voice, “I need another drink.”
“Yeah,” Oscar breathes, “Me too, I reckon.”
🏎️ title taken from this song :)
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mind over matter | s.mg
Pairing: best friend!mingi x reader
Genre: [+18] smut w/o plot
Warnings: jussss smut, enjoy
a/n: first fic on this blog yay
the two things you can be sure in life is that 1. you will die and 2. you've never wanted to suck a dick so bad.
I mean, you always knew that your best friend was hot — you had eyes, for god's sake! — but holy shit.
it started when you ran out of cat food. you were an attentive cat owner, don't get me wrong, but at the same time, you had the worst week for your mental state. exams after exams, studying 'till the library basically had to kick you out and group projects with lazy people... so that's how it ended up with your cat screaming at the top of their lungs and waking you up from your power nap.
mingi happened to be around because, guess what, you also forgot about your plans to watch that new anime that he rambled all about for the past month, and truly, you wanted to be able to enjoy some quality time with him, but you fell asleep as quick as his cursor pressed play on the screen, the warmth that irradiated from both inside his hoodie that you were wearing to where your head laid on his shoulder was too cozy.
so when you got up to feed the cat, your heart dropped, and you saw the grocery list accumulating dust on top of the counter, the 'cat food' underlined three times. you looked outside the windows of your small apartment and saw that the simple drizzle from before now turned into a full on storm, and all you could do was lean onto the counter and bawl your eyes out.
mingi was startled but tried to comfort you somehow, not really sure of what he could do to help, and as you tried to tell him between hiccups and tears, he quickly grabbed his jacket and told you that he would be right back.
twenty minutes later, a full-on drenched mingi stood on the doorstep, chest heaving as he took off his shoes and the same jacket, now in a darker tone from the wetness. you stared back from your couch, as you were curled into the throw blankets, eyes widened.
you almost forgot about the cat food.
in your defense, it should be illegal the way his white tee clung to his abs so sinfully highlighting each of his muscles. and when he rose his arms to take off his cap and ran his fingers between wet strands of hair that framed his cheekbones, your eyes fixated on the way his sweats clung onto dear life to his v-line.
holy fuck. jesus christ. oh my god. whatever divinity that was out there.
"you okay?" he asked, as if he was expecting your answer and you shook your head, trying to escape the trance you found yourself in.
"what? why?"
"i asked if i could use your shower" he placed the single bag with the cat food on the counter as he tried not to wet your floor.
you can use me, for sure; you thought to yourself.
"yeah, yeah, go ahead" you nodded and he took his shirt off on the way to the bathroom.
you quickly jumped from the couch to feed the cat — since that was the prime reason for all the ruckus. as you put the blocks of minced meat on the food bowl, you caught yourself fantasizing about it again.
how good he should be looking, as droplets of rain still lingered on his skin as he took of the sweatpants slowly, leaving only the boxers that perfectly held his firm thighs and secured his—
meow, you looked down, to find that a block of meat fell beside the bowl and you took a deep breath. control yourself.
you blamed the ovulation. or maybe the fact that you haven't been sexually active in a while. or that movie that had hot scenes with your favorite actor... gosh you were a horny mess.
but your life has basically been all about your studies lately, and the stress was clouding your reasoning, making you feel like impulsive decisions were now worth a lot, and that's how you found yourself standing outside your bathroom door, idly looking at it with your hand raised, on the way to give it a knock.
the thing is, the moment you found the courage to do it, the door opened from the inside, and only mingi's torso popped out, in the middle of calling your name, but now confused that you were on the other side.
all that led to the both of you sitting on the edge of your bed, with him only wearing a towel around his hips, not staring at each other as the silence overcame the storm from outside.
"so... you want to suck my dick...?" he simply repeated your words from minutes ago.
it would be comical if it wasn't so tragic.
"yes."
"are you feeling okay?" he asked.
"yes."
"'then... how should we do it?"
you took another sharp breath, your lungs almost failing you as your mind tried to disassociate from your body. leaving the bed to kneel in front of him, you kept your eyes focused on his face, his lips parted as his eyes were half-lidded. from all the years you'd known him, you knew that he was probably overthinking it and trying to figure out what was happening. but neither you could tell.
your fingers slid to the towel and as you were going to take it off, his hand flew to yours, holding it softly. he pulled you towards him in a swift movement and placed his palm on your cheek, nose now brushing against yours. soon after, you felt the plumpness of his lips onto yours.
"wait" he leaned back cautiously, as though any minor movement would startle you like a scared kitten. his eyes overthinking each and every detail. "I want to kiss you first."
and as if you were waiting for that to snap, you grabbed his neck and pulled his face lower so you could slide your tongue into his mouth. his big hands fell to your hips and grabbed firmly, decided not to let you run away.
you kinda wondered before how good of a kisser mingi was, your friends joked around saying that it must be good since he has fat lips, but you usually kept those thoughts at bay, not really wanting to dive into your hidden desires. it wasn't like you, to explore and try new things. you became friends a long time ago, and when he earned that title, you felt like it would be too messy to see him as anything else.
but you weren't dumb, of course you'd noticed how a blush crept to his cheeks whenever you grabbed one of his hoodies, or how he would stutter when others teased him about you. he wasn't good at hiding things, and you weren't good at ignoring them.
one of his hands snuck to your neck and the pulled you closer, his breathing growing heavier to the point that you could hear a faint groan from his throat.
shit, you moaned.
he let go of your face and you leaned back, a little ashamed of the noise that escaped you, but mingi didn't seem to mind, in fact, his cheeks could be mistaken to a tomato. he shifted in his place and you noticed the tent in his pants. oh.
placing a final kiss on his cheek, you maintained eye contact as you lowered yourself to your knees, hands falling to his covered member, feeling the warmth through the towel and earning a sharp gasp from him. licking your lips, you only broke the intense stare to undo the lousy knot, uncovering his lower body.
oh. OH.
how did he hide that monstrous thing all along?
"uh... pants, I guess..." he said almost in a whisper, and then you realized that you were thinking out loud.
"shit, I mean, it's not a bad thing" you placed your hand at the base of his cock, wrapping your palm around it and the boy hissed. "I just... didn't expect that."
"so you thought about it before?" touché. you deflected by giving him a slow tug.
before he could say anything else, you lowered your head and wrapped your lips around him.
"fffuck-" he let out, throwing his head back.
you started bobbing your head at a slower pace, quickening each time he groaned, and listened to his raspy moans as if they were songs hidden in heaven. his hand ran through your hair, pulling at the strands just light enough to make you whine, the vibrations helping into the pleasure.
"please—" he pled, eyes fixated on you and wet hair sticking to his face. he couldn't look any better, you noted.
mingi stared right into your soul with deep, dark eyes. his nose was flaring up and trying to keep up with the sharp breaths that left his parted mouth. it was as if he belonged in that position, and you wished that you had midas touch to keep him like that forever.
"so pretty" you said more to yourself than to him, and one of your fingers snuck into his mouth, and he wrapped those plump lips around it to suck.
feeling his tongue under your skin made shivers run down your spine, and even though you tried to take in more, he pulled you towards him once more, now landing you onto his lap. mind you, his naked lap. your pajama shorts did nothing to the mixture of pre-cum and saliva that rubbed under fabric. you hoped he couldn't feel the wetness that was forming between your legs.
kissing you again, you wondered how your teeth were not clashing at all from the desperation that exuded from both parts. you wanted him as much as he ever had wanted you, and it didn't seem like a real experience. the euphoria that overtook you made you feel almost dizzy from all the exchange in pheromones and fluids, holy fuck, you wanted to stay like that forever.
while he kissed you, mingi's hand went to the bottom of your shorts, holding you so you wouldn't fall as he took them off, leaving you in his hoodie and panties. you didn't remember what kind of underwear you wore, but you hoped to whatever god that was out there that it was something without a hole or anything.
without taking the panties off, he slid them to the side and ran both his middle and ring fingers along your folds, the new feeling making you jump a little, and he giggled. the motherfucker giggled.
"jeez... can't wait to be inside you" he said against your lips, hissing as you gave him an experimental roll of your hips.
holding your panties to the side, he grabbed his cock and aligned himself to your folds, placing the tip inside and a loud whimper fell from your mouth. you knew that it would take more effort to get him inside, he was the biggest you've ever been with, and mingi also seemed to notice that, so he touched you as if you were made of glass.
the warmth of his hot member now sheathing inside your pussy felt like too much, and the room felt foggy, just as your breaths. he kissed the side of your neck, licking up to your ear and groaning ever so slightly, as if he had noticed how much you reacted to those sounds, using them now against you.
the moment you reached the bottom, you felt as if your internal organs would combust. his dick felt like too much and too good, you drank from the sensations and the tingles that your body left each time he moved an inch, clenching around him. you reached your hands to the hem of the hoodie you were wearing, but his hand left your lower back to stop yours.
"leave it on" he looked up at your face with puppy eyes. "I want to fuck you in my clothes."
OH. FUCK.
you moaned into his mouth and slowly started to move your hips. you could've cum just from his words, but you tried your best to concentrate in making him feel good.
"you feel so good around me" he whined, a short moan leaving his lips to meet yours again.
you didn't know how you looked at that moment, probably a mess. from taking in all the sensations, his huge cock and the way he looked like a whiny mess under you... you felt powerful, and he was letting you use him to your wishes.
"please, please" he whined even more, probably taking notes that you got off from that.
"what is it, big boy?" as soon as the words fell from your mouth, you questioned yourself. is this really me?
"let me fuck you right" his hips shot up, taking you by surprise with a gasp and he bit your collarbone. "I wanna be good for you- wanna make you feel good."
"use me however you want" you said in a desperate tone. not even minding how it looked to him, you truly wanted everything from him.
with one arm sneaking around your back and the other on your neck, he moved you further into the bed, now on top of you. he didn't say anything else, only left a small kiss on the corner of your mouth and gave you a slow thrust.
the most high pitched moan fell from your lips, and you didn't care to be embarrassed. not when he was pleading for you, having your body wrapped so deliciously around him, the same as his.
you could write paragraphs and paragraphs about the way he looked; the occasional lightnings shining against his wet skin, highlighting each of his curves and muscles while his hair fell above his forehead, now a mess from the way you rushed your fingers between strands.
mingi kept rolling his hips against yours, and words kept falling randomly from your mouth, meddling with moans and sobs, you felt so cockdrunk that even the slightest stimulation coming from him could make you shed tears. felt so fucking good that got you questioning every life choice you've ever made to this point, as if everything was a part of god's plan for you to end up right under your best friend, as his touches made love to your limbs.
"hm-ugh- feels so fucking- oh my god" you kept going on and on, not even sure yourself what you were saying, but mingi wasn't falling behind.
the knot had already taken place on your lower body, each of his thrusts feeling more intense than the other. you could tell he was getting closer from the way his teeth were nipping on your neck and his thrust were growing sloppier.
"please-ah!-please, let me cum inside you" he left your neck to look at you, and you felt the knot tightening and your legs starting to tremble. "let me fill you nice and full- please"
"yes, I want all of you" you almost screamed when he took that as confirmation to grab your back and glue his chest to yours, sharpening his thrusts.
it finally snapped and you felt like you couldn't breathe anymore. he held you so close as if he could melt into your skin and become one, and with a final thrust, he whined and groaned and screamed and did everything so involuntarily, almost animalistic, and your mind was too dazed to even comprehend anything else besides the way that your pussy gripped him so tight, keeping his hot seed inside you. you didn't want to let it go.
you were still spasming from your orgasm when he let go of your body and snapped your legs apart, taking place in between them, nuzzling his nose onto your pubic bone and feasting. his tongue lapped each of yours and his juices without mind, sucking, kissing, moaning, grunting, only to prolong the way your climax came down; you screamed so hard that your lungs burned.
falling limp on the bed covers, he let go, going back on top of you with the support of his arms and knees, face leveled to yours when he placed an innocent kiss on the tip of your nose and another one to your forehead.
"did it help you de-stress?" he joked and you placed one of your arms onto your eyes.
scoffing, you shook your head. "holy shit, I'm in love with you."
he gave you a slight push and rolled to his side, still staring at you with a darker flush across his chest and neck.
"well, I'm yours" he said and you licked your lips, sneaking a glance from under your arm.
"yeah, you better be."
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steamroller
pairing: mingi/fem!reader
genre: childhood best friends to lovers, college au, angst, smut - minors do NOT interact
warnings: no dom/sub dynamic, unrequited love, mutual loss of virginity, mingi has a massive cock, fingering, oral sex (f. recieving)
word count: 10k
a/n: i want to be honest with you guys, this is not a comeback. this is just a little fic that i’ve been working on for the past year or so that has brought me a lot of comfort, and i hope that it can do the same for you. i’m not sure if i’ll ever be active on this blog like i used to be, but please know that i will always be a writer and i will always read every single comment, reblog, and note that is sent to me. thank you for being my readers. i love you all so so dearly <3
“Hey, Mingi,” Yunho asked, staring at his distorted reflection in the back of a flimsy dining hall spoon, “Have you ever eaten a girl out before?”
“W-What the fuck?” Mingi choked on his homemade sandwich. “Why would you ask me that?”
“Because I want to go down on my girl on our next date…” he dropped the spoon on his tray, frowning as it clanged. “We’ve already fucked but I think it’ll be a nice way to show her I really care, you know? But I’ve never done it before.”
“Wait-” Mingi dropped his voice to a whisper, leaning forward across the table. “You’ve had sex before?”
“You haven’t?” Yunho grinned.
“Of course I haven’t, asshole! Why didn’t you tell me?”
Yunho shrugged. “Guess I just didn’t think it was that important. What time’s your next class?”
“I’m done with classes for the day,” Mingi crumbled the tin foil that previously held his sandwich into a ball. “Yours is at 2:30, right?”
The older boy nodded and the two stood up, making their way to the nearest trash can.
“Besides,” Yunho placed his tray on top of a growing stack of them while Mingi threw away his brown paper bag. “I thought you would’ve already fucked that girl you’re always with by now. What was her name again?”
Mingi’s eyes widened as your name slipped past Yunho’s lips. “Sh!” he hissed, looking over his shoulder. “I told you to stop asking about her. She doesn’t like me like that.”
“But you haven’t even tried!”
“Yes, I have!”
“Giving her a warm Tootsie Roll that had been sitting in your pocket all day does not count as trying.”
“But I gave it to her on Valentine’s Day!” Mingi whined. “That counts for something, right?”
He reluctantly met Yunho’s eyes, groaning when he saw his friend’s lips pressed into a thin line and his head shaking.
“You’ve gotta just tell her, dude. You’re never gonna know if you don’t try.”
He knew Yunho was right. If he ever wanted anything to change, he’d have to talk to you. Otherwise, he’d spend his entire life wondering what would’ve happened if he would’ve just had the balls to tell you.
He’d do it today, he decided, when he met you at your usual spot to walk back to your dorms together. That way, he could just run home if you said you didn’t feel the same way! Perfect plan.
Mingi wiped his hands on his pants as he walked to your usual meeting spot, attempting to calm himself down and hype himself up at the same time.
He was really going to do it now; he was going to spill his heart out and hope that you somehow ended up in his arms. He’d start with how he’d loved you since you were kids when you took swim lessons with him at the community pool. You jumped right in the water when he was too afraid to duck his head underneath, and he remembered wanting to be brave like you. He loved you in middle school when you noticed him struggling with his math homework and offered to help. He loved you when you introduced him to Yunho, your friend from the student council who would end up becoming his best friend. And he loved you two years later, when he read your summer reading book aloud to you because staring at the pages made you sleepy.
He loved you last year when you went to prom together, even when you made a point of announcing to the rest of your group that the two of you were “Just really good friends.”
Oh, well. He loved you when he gave you that Tootsie Roll three months ago, too.
And he loved you now, when he approached you slowly and timidly, waving his hand to get you to look up from your phone.
“Oh, hi,” you grinned, pulling the earbuds out of your ears.
“Hi,” he smiled.
“How was… how was your day?” You asked the same question you always asked when you saw him, but it sounded different this time. It was like an exhale; Like you were breathing the words instead of speaking them. If he didn’t know better, he would’ve thought you were nervous.
“Good,” he nodded, gripping the straps of his backpack.
“Good!” You repeated, clasping your hands together. “So…”
He braced himself to say it. I’m in love with you. I have been ever since we were kids. I don’t want to be your friend, I want to kiss you.
But you spoke first, and you said, “I think we should have sex.”
He thought that he was having a stroke. He thought that you were having a stroke. “W-what did you say?”
“Hear me out,” you waved your hands and closed your eyes. “We’re the last virgins in our friend group, right? And everyone thinks we’ve already fucked, anyway. So we could just do it together and get it over with so that it’s not as big of a deal when we do it with other people!”
“I don’t…” His face felt like it was on fire. His stomach burned, and his palms were even sweatier than before. Get it over with?
You sighed. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have dumped that on you so fast. I’ve just been thinking about it for a few weeks now, and…”
Your voice turned into a murmur in the back of his mind as he analyzed your words. Been thinking about it for weeks now? Thinking about…
“But you don’t have to decide now, okay? I just wanted to see if you would be up for it.”
He slowly blinked and nodded back like an idiot. “O-okay. Yeah, I’ll think about it.”
You nudged his shoulder with yours as you stood up to walk home with him, down the streets of the campus that had been home to you for the past nine months. “And there’s no pressure, alright? You can say I’m gross and you see me like a sister and I won’t be mad,” you laughed.
You’re beautiful. I want you to be my girlfriend.
“I’ll think about it,” he repeated.
“Cool,” you nodded. “How’d that stats test go?”
You felt sick when you tried to go to sleep that night, nauseated with the thought that you might’ve just ruined everything.
You didn’t mean for it to come out so fast. You didn’t mean to make him embarrassed. You only meant to present the idea to him; a sort of business proposal that would benefit the both of you before you went back home for the summer.
None of your friends were virgins anymore. Only you and Mingi were left, and you’d known each other the longest, anyway.
You turned in bed to stare at the pictures of the two of you taped to the collage on your wall. He stood next to you in a cheap rental tuxedo at prom, his mouth pulled into a gummy smile and his arm linked with yours. In another picture, he stood three inches away from you at your middle school graduation, a reminder of the awkward phase the two of you went through when you realized that he was a boy and you were a girl.
But there were pictures from before that time, too, like the one of the two of you covered in nasty, artificially-colored green frosting from the cake at Mingi’s Incredible Hulk-themed birthday party in 2005. Or the two of you dressed up as Cosmo and Wanda from Fairly Odd Parents for Halloween in fourth grade.
Your oldest friend. The person who’d seen you through every phase of your life – even your emo phase in seventh grade – and stuck by you nonetheless.
You thought of his full lips and his broad shoulders, his big hands. He was handsome, there was absolutely no arguing that, but he was also kind and gentle and sweet. He was always the first to notice when something was wrong and the last to believe you when you told him you were fine.
Being his lover would be amazing, but not if it meant you couldn’t be his friend anymore. You wouldn’t fall unless he asked you to because losing him wasn’t an option.
You’d tell him tomorrow to forget it. That it was stupid, and you changed your mind.
Mingi told Yunho about it at lunch the next day.
“She talked to me yesterday,” he mumbled, picking the peel off of a clementine.
“And? What’d she say?” Yunho leaned forward, anticipating Mingi’s answer.
“She wants to fuck me.”
Yunho let out a laugh of disbelief. “Don’t play with me right now.”
“She does! She said, and I quote, ‘I think we should have sex.’”
“Well,” Yunho chuffed, “There you go, buddy! I told you all you had to do was talk to her!”
Mingi knew he didn’t really talk to you. He knew he just listened (well, half-listened, half daydreamed about what losing his virginity to you would be like) while you gabbed on about how it was a win-win situation.
But Yunho seemed so happy… No, proud of him. His validation made Mingi feel good – like this was the right decision.
“So, when are you going to do it?” Yunho squeezed a gluttonous amount of ketchup on his dry chicken patty.
Mingi stared at his Ziploc bag of slightly brown apple slices. “Well… I haven’t really told her I’d do it yet.”
“What? Why not?”
“I just didn’t know if it was right…”
“The girl that you’ve been in love with since you were a kid wants to give you her virginity and take yours at the same time, and you don’t know if it’s right?”
Mingi smiled. “Yeah… I know.”
“Tell her today. I bet you’ll do it before you go home for the summer if you tell her today.”
“Okay, yeah.” Mingi nodded, feeling more sure of himself. “I’ll tell her today.”
You had headphones in when you waited for Mingi after school, but you weren’t listening to any music. There was already too much buzzing around in your head, and music would only overwhelm you even more.
You chewed on your nailbeds and rehearsed your script in your head. Hey, I was way off base yesterday. That was weird and I shouldn’t have put you on the spot like that. Let’s just pretend it never happened and enjoy the summer, okay?
You saw his sneakers first. They were clean, exactly how they looked when he bought them four months ago.
He was smiling when you looked up.
“Let’s do it.”
“Wait… really?” You tilted your head to the side, trying not to stare at his lips.
“Yeah. You were right, it just makes sense for us to do it together.” His cheeks were pink.
You slowly nodded, trying to convince yourself that it was a good idea again. “Right. Yeah… yeah, it makes sense.” You clapped your hands together. “Well! It’s settled then! Is Yunho leaving town anytime soon?”
“I don’t… I don’t think so?”
You stood up to begin your walk home, and Mingi followed suit.
“Well,” you sighed. “My roommates are probably home, but we should be fine if we’re quiet.”
Mingi stumbled a bit as he walked. “Wait, we’re doing this right now? Like, literally right now?”
“No!” you turned your head towards him as you spoke, but you didn’t look him in the eye. “But don’t you think we should do other stuff first? And like… work up to the big thing?”
“Other stuff?”
“Just to warm us up. You know, so it won’t be as scary when we…” You pictured Mingi naked and on top of you, his eyebrows furrowed and his pretty lips parted in a moan. You cleared your throat. “You know.”
“O-okay,” he nodded. “Okay, yeah.”
Mingi sat on your bed with his hands tucked underneath his thighs to hide how badly they were shaking. He looked around the room, jealous of your full-size bed. He and Yunho were in a shared room dorm, and his feet always hung off the end of his twin mattress.
Meanwhile, you scrolled through your phone to find a good playlist. You hit shuffle on the first one that suited your taste and a familiar song tumbled out of your cheap Bluetooth speaker.
“You’ve kissed someone before, right?” You put your phone on your desk and walked to your bed.
“Yes,” he nodded.
You narrowed your eyes at him. “Who?”
He squirmed, adjusting his hands under his thighs. “My lab partner in ninth grade. She felt me up under the bleachers.” I was thinking about you the whole time, his internal monologue chimed in, the words never making it past his lips.
“Gross,” you laughed, sitting on your bed. “Just let me lead, okay? Try to mirror what I do.”
You reached up to hold his jaw, and his entire body stiffened.
“Hey.” You waved your hand in front of his face. “Don’t be nervous, Ming. It’s just me. We don’t have to do this if you don’t want t–”
“I want to!” He interrupted. “Please. I really want to. I’m just nervous.”
You rested both your hands on his shoulders. “It’s just me,” you repeated. “The same me that I’ve always been.”
Yeah, he thought, that’s the problem.
“Just follow my lead.” You gave him an encouraging smile, which he weakly returned. “It’ll be fun, okay?”
Mingi nodded, closed his eyes, and held his breath. A few seconds later, he felt your lips against his, and they were even softer than he imagined. He was sure that his were chapped, and he regretted not wearing lip balm more often like his mom always told him to.
“See? That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
He opened his eyes at the sound of your voice and gave you a tiny shake of his head.
“Do you want another one?” You smiled.
“Yes, please,” he whispered.
You kissed him again, a little bit longer this time. Your lips naturally slotted with his, and butterflies filled his tummy when you rested your hand on his thigh.
And then your lips parted. He wasn’t sure what to do other than follow your lead like you’d told him to, so he let his lips part, as well.
His breath caught in his throat when your hand slid down to his neck. He barely had time to recover before you slipped your tongue in his mouth, playful and teasing and light.
“O-oh,” he breathed, a shiver running through his body.
“How was that?”
“Good. I liked… I liked the part when you used your tongue.”
“Shut up,” you laughed. “You wanna… keep going?”
“Yes,” he nodded.
And that was how Mingi had his first makeout session with his childhood best friend. He tried to keep his whimpers to a minimum, but it was hard to when your kisses progressively got more heated. Your tongue in his mouth was unlike anything he’d ever felt before, and he blushed at your giggle when he tried to mirror your movements.
“Such a fast learner, Ming.”
“T-thanks…”
“You know you can touch me, right? You don’t have to sit on your hands.”
He looked down, completely unaware that his hands were still tucked underneath his thighs. They were both numb now, and they tingled when he pulled them up. He flexed and relaxed them to get his blood flowing again.
“I’ve never…” he whispered, “I’m sorry. I don’t- I don’t know where to touch.”
You gave him a smile laced with what might have been pity and took his big hand in yours, moving it to rest on your hip.
“What about the other one?” He whispered, even quieter than before.
And then you were lifting his other hand and placing it on your cheek. His breath caught in his throat again.
It’s strange to truly look at someone whose face has always been a constant in your life. You looked different, but also the same. People change, but they don’t.
Mingi was sure of one thing: your face was the most beautiful he’d ever seen. He liked it ten years ago, and he liked it now.
He kissed you first the next time. And since he’d gotten a little more confident, he let his lips part and used his tongue first, too. He kept his hands where you’d placed them and you kept yours around his neck. You kissed and kissed and kissed, and for now, that was enough.
It didn’t stay enough for long. You and Mingi practically ran to your dorm after school every day, barely taking time to breathe before attaching your mouths together once your door was shut. Your obsession with Mingi’s lips had only grown since you started spending most of your free time kissing them.
His hands were nice, too. They’d gotten a little bit more curious since that day, sometimes giving your hip a gentle squeeze or moving up to your waist while he kissed you. Any noise you’d make would immediately be met with a “sorry” – a constant reminder that no matter how attractive the boy you were making out with was, he was still just the same old Mingi.
And the little reactions he’d make were precious. He’d gasp when you touched his thighs, he’d hum when you stroked his neck, he’d whimper when you took his plump bottom lip between your teeth. The more you worked him up, the luckier you felt to have been the only person to have ever seen him like this.
You wondered how that could be while you sucked his lips. Plenty of girls had crushed on Mingi over the years. You knew because they’d always ask you if you were his girlfriend before they tried to confess to him. No matter how many times you told them you weren’t, he never ended up dating any of them.
You detached from his lips with a smack. “Mingi?”
“Mm?” He blinked, eyes slightly glazed over and lips swollen from kisses.
“Why haven’t you had a girlfriend before?”
His eyes widened for a split second, and he tried to cover it up by blinking a few times. “Uh… just never met the right person, I guess.”
“But girls have been throwing themselves at you for years… You didn’t ever want to try anything with them?”
“Guess I just wanted to wait for someone that I really…” he swallowed. “Trust.”
That made sense. The thought of doing all of these things with a stranger was horrifying, but you felt safe with Mingi. You smiled, kissing the corner of his mouth.
“I trust you too, Ming. Wanna try something new?”
“O-okay, yeah.”
You tapped his shoulder twice. “Lay down.”
Like a puppy who’d just been given a command, he lowered himself against your pillows, swinging his legs up so he was laying on the bed. You swung a leg over his hips to straddle them, and his eyes immediately widened.
You’d never really taken time to admire how pretty Mingi was. His chest, which was more toned than you’d realized, was swelling and deflating as he attempted to stabilize his breathing. His Adam’s apple dipped as he swallowed, and you’d be stupid to not notice the way his thick thighs tensed and relaxed underneath his black jeans.
And then you leaned down, hovering over him to study his face. You ran your thumb over his sharp jaw as you took in his other features; The same darkness in his eyes that wasn’t mysterious, but warm and inviting. The straight line of his nose, the pointed tip of it. The birthmark under his eye, the one on his cheek, the acne scars that dotted his cheeks like stars. Those fucking lips.
Mingi was really fucking cute. Had he always been?
You kissed him again, smiling when a little whimper escaped his lips.
“Cute,” you mumbled, unaware that the word had left your mouth until it was too late.
Or maybe it was a good thing that you said it. Mingi’s response was enough to make you think that, at least. He moaned again, louder this time, as he pushed his hips forward against yours.
Mingi always got hard during your makeout sessions, but you always pretended not to notice to spare him from any embarrassment. However, pretending not to notice was incredibly difficult with his bulge grinding against your heat.
He moaned at the stimulation, but quickly interrupted himself. “Ooh-sorry! I’m so sorry, that wasn’t on purpo–”
You clapped a hand over his mouth. “I told you we have to be quiet.”
He nodded, eyes wide as your hand stayed pressed to his mouth. You slid it down to rest on his chest when you whispered in his ear. “Don’t be sorry. That’s what I wanted to try.”
You pushed and pulled your hips against his erection again in one experimental thrust, grinning when his eyes screwed shut and his lips pressed together. You cupped his face to guide his lips to yours again.
It was as uncoordinated as two virgins could be. Though your lips easily moved together from a week of practice, neither of your hips were skilled enough to set any sort of rhythm. You just desperately grabbed at each other, groping and humping and kissing like your lives depended on it.
Soon, you could feel your soaking panties uncomfortably sticking to your core. The fabric gave you the tiniest bit of stimulation, dragging against your clit and ever-so-slightly teasing you. And the boy underneath you was driving you insane, with his messy kisses and his tiny groans.
You didn’t know what the end goal was, but you knew that it felt better when you grinded your hips faster, so that’s what you did.
“Ah-” You silenced Mingi’s moan by pressing your mouth to his again, sighing as he hummed against your lips.
And then he whimpered your name. He’d said your name a thousand times before, but he’d never said it like this. Like it was a cry for help, a desperate plea for something. The sound fueled the fire of your desperation as you continued moving your hips, hoping to God that he’d say it again.
And he did. You attached your lips to his neck and he whined your name once more, followed by a tiny breath of, “O-oh, god…”
His little sounds were getting better and better. Your name slipped past his lips between breathy whimpers and choked hums, and you kept licking and sucking his neck while you grinded your clothed, soaking pussy against his painfully hard, just as clothed dick.
Finally, you took pity on the poor thing. His moans were getting increasingly desperate, and you could tell that he was doing everything in his power to keep them quiet. You hovered your lips directly over his ear.
“What’s wrong, baby?”
“A-ah-mph!” He squeezed his eyes shut as he writhed on the bed, pressing his hand to his mouth to keep his pathetic noises in. His whole body was shaking when you sat up.
A wet patch on the crotch of his jeans made the dark fabric even darker, and a horrified expression washed over his face as your eyes immediately landed on it. If he would’ve looked between your legs, he would’ve noticed that your shorts were just as soaked, but he didn’t. He only saw your dumbfounded expression as you tried to figure out what you were supposed to say. All that came out was, “D-did you just…?”
You just made a boy cum. From kissing. This had to have been the best day of your life.
“I’m sorry,” he breathed, pushing you off of him. He immediately stood up, locating his jacket on your desk and holding it in front of his pants as he slid his bag over his shoulder. “I’m… I’m sorry.” He looked down the whole time, never letting his eyes meet yours as he slipped his way out of your bedroom door.
“Mingi!” you called two seconds too late. “You’re not going to–”
You sighed, letting your voice get quiet. “Help me?”
He didn’t come back, leaving you with soaking panties and an unsatiated pulsing between your legs that wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.
You texted him the next morning.
It’s not a big deal, Ming. Do you want to come over?
He didn’t respond. You went the whole weekend without hearing from him, and even when you waited for him at your usual spot on Monday, he didn’t show. You sent him another text.
Stop being stupid. I miss you.
He didn’t respond to that, either. By Tuesday, you were so anxious to see him that you waited outside his lecture hall after his morning class, scanning the crowd of faces for him. He wasn’t difficult to find; his tall frame easily distinguished him from the rest of the crowd, even with his shoulders slouched. He made eye contact with you and immediately put his head down, walking faster.
“Mingi!” You yelled, weaving through the crowd to follow him.
His pace quickened, his long legs carrying him out of the brick building and through the grassy common area, skillfully dodging flying frisbees and strategically-hung Enos.
“Mingi! This…” you panted. “This isn’t fair! Your legs are longer than mine!”
He flinched with each call of his name, but he didn’t turn around. He didn’t slow down. You picked up your pace to a jog, huffing as you tried to catch up to him. “MINGI! Stop fucking ignoring me!”
After quickening your steps to a borderline sprint, you finally got close enough to grab the handle of his backpack, yanking him backwards and causing both of you to collapse on the lawn in the process.
“Ow…” he whined, rubbing his butt and attempting to brush grass off of it.
“You…” you breathed. “You fucking suck. Why aren’t you talking to me?”
“W-What do you want me to say? What the hell am I supposed to say after humiliating myself like that?”
“I told you it wasn’t a big deal, stupid! I wanted to make you feel good!”
His ears burned as he looked at you with wide eyes, a mixture of embarrassment and shock painting his face.
“And you… you didn’t even stay and help me. I was more turned on than I’ve ever been in my life, and you just got up and left! Right after I helped you finish! Who the fuck does that?”
“I…” he breathed, trying not to pass out. He made you more turned on than you’d ever been in your life? “I didn’t think you wanted me to…”
“You didn’t think I wanted to feel good, too?”
“No!” he stammered, “No, I just… I didn’t think, I mean, I thought you would think I was gross.”
You sighed, rubbing your temples. “Mingi, the entire point of having sex is to feel good. I didn’t think you were gross, I was jealous of you.”
And see, that was where he fundamentally disagreed with you. As far as Mingi was concerned, the entire point of having sex was to be intimate with someone you love. Feeling good was just a bonus.
He loved you so fucking much. Knowing that you didn’t feel the same way about him made his chest physically ache, but he knew that you needed him, and that was more than he could have hoped for. If you didn’t love him, at least you could love the way he made you feel.
“I’ll make it up to you next time,” he assured you. “I promise I’m gonna make you feel good.”
Your smile reappeared, and he felt like he’d been hit by a train.
“Yeah,” you laughed, punching his shoulder. “You better. Wanna try that new boba place?”
The boba was mid, but it was nice to just be in Mingi’s presence again. He crumpled his straw wrapper as he told you about his weekend, how his mom’s birthday was coming up, and how things were getting more serious between Yunho and his girlfriend.
You liked the sound of his voice. You remembered when it used to crack all the time in middle school, but it had since balanced out into a smooth baritone, cascading your ears in warmth.
“Are you listening to me?”
“What? Yes.”
“No, you’re not,” he scoffed. ”You’ve been staring at my lips for the past five minutes.”
“Yeah, because you have foam on them.”
He immediately wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his ears flushing a bright red as he mumbled a disingenuous “fuck you.”
The foam was only a scapegoat. You both knew how much you loved his lips.
“Speaking of fuck you…” You shifted in your metal chair. “When… when are we going to… you know…”
“What?”
“You know…” You looked to the side, your eyes widening.
His heartrate doubled. “Oh. Um… I don’t know. Was there… did you have a specific time in mind?”
“Sorry, didn’t realize I needed to make an appointment,” you laughed. “I don’t know. I just… I want to. Soon.”
He remembered your words. Get it over with.
“Okay,” he nodded. “We can. Soon.”
You picked up his hand that was resting on the table to play with his fingers, pinching them between your smaller ones while you chewed on a ball of sweet tapioca.
He swallowed and watched you, his eyes glazing over. I love you, I love you, I love you.
Your stomach dropped a bit when you met his starry eyes. You didn’t know why.
Two days later and you had Mingi underneath you again, his hands gripping your waist while you sucked on those perfect lips.
“Gonna make you feel good this time…” he whispered, trying to catch his breath between your feverish kisses. “Promise.”
You just rested your hand on the back of his neck and sighed.
“Can I… Is it okay if I take your shirt off?” He asked, his face a deep shade of red.
“Yeah,” you breathed. “It’s okay.”
But he didn’t move, so you tugged on the hem of your shirt and lifted it off yourself. His breath caught in his throat when he saw your half-naked torso, covered by nothing but a slightly too tight purple bra that you got on clearance a few years ago.
He shakily brushed a fingertip over the little bow in the center of it.
Your face felt so hot you were sure water would boil if someone rested a pot on your cheek.
“Can you… take your shirt off, too? This feels weird.” You covered your torso with your arms.
“O-oh, yeah,” he nodded. “I’m sorry. Yeah.”
You scooted back so that he could sit up, his trembling hands lifting his shirt over his head.
His chest was flushed red. That was the first thing you noticed. And his belly was lean, but also soft and smooth, puffing and deflating with his shallow breath.
You rested a hand on his chest to feel his heartbeat. He just watched you.
“We’re not kids anymore…” you whispered. There was a sad tone to your words, almost as if you were grieving.
“No,” Mingi shook his head, his voice barely audible. “We’re not.”
It was a beautifully horrifying realization. The kid you used to make mud soup with was a man now, and he was touching you like you’d never been touched before.
You kissed him then. To comfort him, to comfort yourself, to be closer to the person who already knew you better than anyone in the universe.
You unclasped your bra and just let it loosely rest on top of your chest.
“Hey,” Mingi whispered, “Just me, remember?”
Right. Just Mingi.
You tossed your bra to the side, instinctively covering your boobs with your hands.
“Please…” Mingi placed his hands over yours. “I want to see you.”
He sighed when you removed your hands, just as slowly.
“Pretty…” he mumbled. “Is it okay if I touch you?”
You nodded and he ran his hands over the lines on your sides where your bra had been digging into your skin. You cursed yourself for not buying a new one before this. Maybe he’d like one of those silk push-up bras you always saw your friends wearing, or perhaps one of those flimsy lace bralettes that you saw in the windows at Victoria’s Secret last week.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, and the insecurity in your stomach almost vanished completely. Almost.
He leaned forward, cupping one of your tits in his huge hand and gently kissing the other. You gasped when you felt his wet tongue drag across your nipple, and he looked up at you for reassurance while you laced your fingers through his hair.
“Does that feel good?”
“Yes,” you breathed. “Y-yeah, that feels good….”
He gently latched his mouth to your nipple, sucking and then running his soft tongue over the flesh to soothe it. You didn’t mean to, but you arched your back, and his free hand found a place in the dip of your waist.
You subconsciously tugged on his hair as he sucked your other nipple. He worshipped your tits, kissing, sucking, and licking them while you quietly moaned, grinding against his erection. You wanted to let him continue all night, but soon, the pulsing between your thighs started to become unbearable.
“Ming… need you to fuck me,” you whispered. “Please.”
He pulled back a bit, his plump lips glossy and his adam’s apple dipping as he swallowed.
“Okay.”
He didn’t move and you didn’t, either. You just looked at each other, breathing heavy though you’d hardly done anything yet.
“... Nobody’s ever seen me naked before,” he said under his breath.
You shook your head. “Me neither.”
He kissed you again, but it was really just so that you wouldn’t watch him while he took his pants off. And you weren’t sure what you were doing, you weren’t sure why, but once both of your pants were off, you reached a hand down and felt him through the thin fabric of his boxers.
He took in a sharp inhale.
“I’m sorry,” you said, “Is this okay?”
And then you felt a large hand between your thighs, softly rubbing you through your panties.
It felt so much different from when you did it to yourself. More pleasurable, sure, but also more vulnerable. More intense.
Neither of you knew what to say. You felt how hard he was against your hand. He felt the little wet patch soaking through your panties. You both needed this desperately, and yet for a few moments, nobody moved.
“Y-you can take them off of me.” Your voice was barely above a whisper and it cracked in the middle, but you were proud of yourself for getting the words out.
His hands shook when he slid them down your thighs. Before he could stare for too long, you slid your fingers under the waistband of his boxers and pushed them down.
You weren’t sure if he was big or not. You’d never seen a penis in real life before, only in porn, and he looked about the same size as what you’d seen in porn. Did that mean he was big?
He looked down, and you realized you were staring. “Sorry,” you stammered, forcing yourself to look him in the eye again.
“N-no, it’s okay. Is it… I mean, do you like it?”
Your face broke into a smile. Mingi, Mingi, Mingi. “Yes, it’s lovely, Ming. Stop stressing.”
You reached for a condom on your nightstand, closely inspecting the foil packet for instructions.
“I think I can do it,” he mumbled, gently taking the condom out of your hand.
“You know how to?”
“I think so.”
After a few minutes of him fumbling with the latex, his lips were on yours again and you could feel his dick resting on your thigh.
“Are you ready?” He pulled back for a moment to look you in the eye.
“M-mhm,” you nodded.
He kissed your cheek and held his dick in his hand, aligning himself. A painful stretching sensation flooded your lower half as his thick tip poked at your entrance.
He inhaled shakily. “C-can I… can I push it in now?”
You nodded. “I… think so? Y-yeah… go ahead…”
He pushed his hips forward, and the sensation intensified when you felt his tip enter you with a pop. The pain was excruciating, unlike anything you’d ever felt before. A horrid stretch, almost like a burn, splitting you open in the worst way. Tears pricked into your eyes.
“OW! Ow, ow, ow, stop, stop, stop!” You pushed his broad shoulders away, whimpering when he frantically pulled out. That hurt, too.
“O-oh my god, are you okay? What did I- D-did I do something wrong?”
You looked down at his dick, which was still fully hard. He was big, you supposed. Really big. With his cock resting on your stomach, it went all the way up to your belly button. You felt stupid for thinking you could take him without any prep.
And you also felt embarrassed. This wasn’t how your first time was supposed to go. This didn’t happen in porn. You were supposed to be screaming his name, he was supposed to be groaning yours and pounding you into the mattress. You were supposed to be making him feel good, and he was supposed to be doing the same for you. A lump formed in your throat and you attempted to blink the tears out of your eyes, which probably just made them more teary.
“No,” you breathed. “I think… I don’t think I’m wet enough.”
He frowned. “Did we not kiss for long enough?”
“No, no, we did.” Guilt crept into your chest. You knew this wasn’t how he pictured his first time going, either.
His frown intensified as a pained look washed over his face. “Are you not… is it because you’re not attracted to me?”
“Stop it, Mingi. It’s not for any reason. You didn’t do anything wrong. Let’s just… we can get lube from the store and try again tomorrow, okay? I can jerk you off to help you finish if you want.”
His heart ached. He didn’t want you to ‘help him finish.’ He wanted to make love to you, soft and tender and slow. He wanted to hold your face and kiss your forehead and tell you how much you meant to him.
But his dick was painfully hard, and there aren’t many times that the love of your life offers to help you finish even though they don’t feel the same way about you, so he said, “Yes, please.”
You wrapped your fingers around his erection, biting your cheek to stop yourself from crying. He bit his lip to do the same.
Mingi couldn’t make eye contact with the cashier when he bought lube from the drug store the next day. His hands shook as he put his card into the reader, and they kept shaking while he entered his pin number. The machine dinged and he yanked his card out, snatching the plastic bag from the cashier before they had time to offer him a receipt. His face burned the entire walk to your dorm and didn’t stop burning once he got there.
His breath caught in his throat when you opened the door. “I got the…” he held the plastic bag up. “I got the stuff.”
You laughed and stepped back to let him inside. “You make it sound like we’re about to do drugs.”
Yeah, something like that.
Mingi didn’t say anything when you sat him on your bed and straddled his hips. He whimpered a little bit when you pressed your lips to his, and you assumed that it was just because he was horny.
You held the side of his neck and worked your tongue against his, rolling your hips forward to grind against his growing bulge. He whimpered again, and you moved your face down to suck on his neck.
“I think you need to finger me first,” you whispered in his ear.
“W-what?” He blinked up at you for a moment, his eyes wide and starry before he shyly looked away. “I’ve never… I mean… I don’t know how to do that.”
“It can’t be that hard, right? You just take your fingers and, like… put them in me.”
“I think it’s a little more complicated than that.”
“Well… I’ll just tell you what feels good, okay? I do it to myself all the time.”
His eyes snapped up again as he imagined you touching yourself. He’d thought about it before, late at night when he was jerking off, but hearing you say it out loud made him feel dizzy. Flames erupted across his cheeks again, and his body tensed.
Your face burned with the realization of your confession. “Stop picturing it.”
“S-sorry.”
“I just need your fingers first, okay? I can’t… I can’t take your dick without some prep first.”
It was like you wanted him to cum in his pants again. He nodded and reached for the plastic bag, fishing out the lube and taking it out of its little purple box.
“I’m sorry about yesterday, by the way.” His voice was quiet.
“There’s nothing to be sorry about. That’s why we’re doing this together, you know? Because we feel safe around each other.”
He nodded.
“But for the record…” You lowered your head, still embarrassed about how yesterday went. “I’m sorry, too.”
“There’s nothing to be sorry about.” He smiled.
You kissed him, and you were so glad that you were kissing him.
“I’m really going to need you to walk me through this because I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing.” His cheeks were a splotchy red.
You laughed. “I promise it sounds scarier than it actually is.” You pulled your shirt over your head, embarrassed again when you realized you were wearing the same purple bra that you wore yesterday.
“Shit,” you breathed. “I meant to wear something nicer for you today. Sorry.”
For me? Mingi thought. For me?
But he said, “I like this one. It’s cute.” And he touched the little bow again.
“Thanks.” You climbed off of his lap to take your shorts off. “Lift your arms.”
He obeyed, and you lifted his shirt over his head. It didn’t need to be off yet, you supposed, but you’d been dreaming about Mingi’s lean abdomen all day and you didn’t want to wait another second to have it under your fingertips again.
You laid down on the bed and slid your panties off, but didn’t spread your legs yet. You felt vulnerable again, especially considering that Mingi still had his pants on.
“C-can you–” you started.
“Yeah,” Mingi nodded, already unbuttoning his pants. When they were off, he sat back down and gently brushed his fingertips over your thigh.
“Okay,” he breathed. “Tell me what to do.”
“Just… just kiss me for a second.” The truth was, you weren’t even really sure how to give him instructions, and you wanted to buy yourself some time. You usually just felt around until something felt good, and you weren’t sure how to explain that to him.
He kissed you. You decided that even if he was always too big for you, even if you couldn’t ever take his full length, you’d probably be just as happy kissing him and jerking him off like you did last night.
You felt his hand on your inner thigh and you liked the feeling.
“Okay, so…” you inhaled deeply. “Just start with one. And you can just kinda… feel around? I’ll tell you what feels good.”
“Okay,” he nodded, taking a deep breath, too. “Okay.”
He dripped some of the lube onto his fingers, rubbing it with his thumb in an attempt to warm it up. Your body tensed as you felt his finger slide between your folds, shaking slightly as he rubbed you up and down.
He seemed to stop breathing for a moment. His eyes just raked over your body, all wide and starry while he clumsily touched you.
“You’re gorgeous,” he breathed. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”
“M-Mingi, Ah-” You let out a tiny yelp when his fingertip brushed your clit.
“Did I hurt you?” He immediately stopped, taking his fingers away.
“N-no, that felt good… really good…” You nodded.
He tried to find the spot again, clumsily drawing circles around it.
“S-so good. Yeah, r-right there,” you sighed.
His fingertip slipped a little too far to the left.
“N-no, back where it was.”
After a few seconds of “Here?” and “No, here,” back and forth, he found the spot again and gently traced it.
Your eyes rolled back and closed as your body twitched, trying to get used to the sensation of being touched by another person.
Then his fingers slid further down, but it was intentional this time.
Mingi looked you in the eye and didn’t say anything as he gently circled his fingertip around your opening, coating it in lube and spreading your arousal at the same time.
You didn’t say anything, either. You couldn’t if you tried. But he understood your tiny nod and the look of desperation in your eyes, so he gently pushed his finger inside.
His long, thick finger went deeper than your own ever had, but it didn’t hurt. “O-ohh,” you breathed, shivering.
Mingi was at a loss for words. Your pussy was hugging his finger so tight and you felt so warm and the tiny noises that you were making were about to send him over the edge. “Fuck…” he sharply inhaled through his teeth, staring up at the ceiling for a minute so that he didn’t cum untouched.
“M-Mingi,” you breathed, “Go like this.” And then you held a finger up and curved it inward, and he immediately obeyed.
Your back arched to a borderline uncomfortable degree as you let out a pathetic little noise, and Mingi seriously was on the edge of an orgasm already.
“I-is that a sensitive spot?”
“Do it again,” you commanded. “Mingi, do that again.”
He did, and then he did it a few more times, pumping his finger and setting a rhythm. You were probably being a little too squirmy, but you couldn’t help it. Nothing had ever felt like this before.
“Fuck,” you breathed. “Add another one.”
Mingi meant to ask ‘Are you sure?’ but his head was so fuzzy with arousal that he just obeyed, pushing his middle finger in next to his pointer finger.
“S-shit,” you gasped, sitting up and holding his wrist. “Hold on a sec– fuck.”
“Are you okay?”
“It feels good,” you nodded. “Just forgot how thick these are.”
He understood. He could almost feel you stretching out, and he suddenly felt horribly guilty for not offering to do this before he attempted to put his dick inside of you yesterday.
“You’re doing amazing,” he encouraged you, nodding slightly. “J-just let me know when you want more, okay?”
“C-can you…” You blushed, too shy to complete your sentence.
He knit his eyebrows at you, giving you an encouraging nod. He felt your pussy tighten around his fingers, and he tried not to groan.
“What do you need, baby?” He soothed, “Just tell me what you need and I’ll give it to you.”
Your face burned. Mingi had never been more attractive to you, with his lips swollen and his cheeks flaming and his fingers deep inside of you. He was gently thrusting his fingers, massaging your g-spot, tracing your opening, and stretching you out all in a fluid motion.
“C-can you play with my clit again while you do that?” You whispered.
He nodded immediately, smiling and circling his thumb around your pebbled clit.
“O-ohh…” you moaned, burying your face in his neck. “Oh my god…”
He swallowed roughly. “G-good…” He encouraged as he felt you slowly relax around his fingers.
Your back arched, tiny little whimpers escaping you as Mingi made love to you with his hand.
And he was barely holding it together. He could feel the tip of his dick sticking to his boxers, precum smearing against the fabric and providing his cockhead with the tiniest bit of friction every time he moved his hips.
“Do you want one more? Or are you good with two?” His voice was hoarse.
“I d-on’t—“ You inhaled sharply, eyes closing as you felt the tiny spark of an orgasm in your core. “D-don’t think I can take a third…”
Mingi nodded, and then he kissed your forehead. He wanted to speak, but he was putting all of his effort into keeping up a steady rhythm with his hand and not coming in his pants while your tensed thigh rubbed his dick.
And then it was silent for a few moments, except for the quiet squelching coming from between your legs every few seconds.
“I think I’m gonna cum.” You whispered, keeping your eyes closed. Focusing on that feeling, chasing it.
Mingi swallowed, his breath catching. “Mm.” He hummed. He couldn’t think of anything else to say.
Your breath caught in your throat, the rest of it escaping in a choked whimper. “F-faster…” You breathed, looking up at him with pleading eyes. “Please.”
He nodded, quickening his movements. You leaned up, catching his lips in a messy kiss as you got closer and closer.
You were quieter than you thought you’d be. As your orgasm approached, you hardly made any noise at all, save for a few little gasps.
Your mouth dropped open and you pressed your forehead to your lover’s, letting out one single moan as your orgasm clenched down on his fingers. It ran through your body in waves, your muscles tensing and releasing rhythmically.
“My god…” Mingi groaned, continuing his movements. “G-Good job, baby.”
You squeaked, gently pushing his hand away as you neared overstimulation. His brows furrowed as he worried that he’d hurt you, but you immediately eased his anxiety by holding the back of his neck and pressing your lips to his again.
“Felt so good…” You mumbled through kisses. “T-think I’m ready now…”
His heart fluttered as he felt your hand between his legs, stroking his sensitive thighs. And then he looked at you in a way that a boy had never looked at you before, with big, dark, sparkling, pleading eyes. Like he needed you.
So gently, like you were afraid he’d break, you slipped his dick out of his blue plaid boxers. He was so hard, so sticky and pulsing that you were sure he must have been in pain. “Thank you for making me feel good,” you whispered. “I know it must have been hard to wait…”
He shook his head, closing his eyes. “Don’t thank me.” He let out a tiny noise as you stroked him once. “I loved it,” he breathed. “I loved doing that for you.”
You smiled, kissing him again. “Take these off,” you pleaded, tugging at the waistband of his boxers.
Mingi pushed them down, kicking them off the bed at his feet. And then he was fully naked, hovering above you, also fully naked. It should have been scary, but you’d never felt more safe. You reached your arms behind him, stroking his back before sliding your hands down to teasingly squeeze his ass.
He let out a choked noise and you laughed. “Sorry, I’ve always wanted to do that. You have a really nice ass.”
He shook his head, laughing and kissing you again.
“You’re really beautiful, Mingi.” You whispered, feeling another pang in your core as he groaned at the praise.
He reached a hand up, squeezing your breast as he kissed you and kissed you and kissed you. His heavy cock rested on your belly, clear precum sticking to your soft skin.
You reached for the condom on the nightstand, carefully ripping it open. His eyes didn’t leave your face as you gently rolled it onto him, your small hand wrapping around his girth. You slid his tip between your folds, then coated it in even more lube. You knew it might still hurt a little bit, but you felt much more prepared for it this time.
“The second it starts to hurt,” he whispered, his voice raspy. “You tell me.”
You nodded. The two of you looked into each other’s eyes, and didn’t look away when his tip was aligned with your entrance.
But his eyes fluttered shut a bit when he slipped inside. He couldn’t help it.
Your gasp made him open his eyes again. “Are you okay?”
“Mmh–” You nodded, your voice high pitched and squeaky. He pushed forward, filling you, stretching you, making you his.
“Mingi…” You whined, tears blurring your vision. “S-so big…”
He kissed away the first tear that fell. “I know, I’m sorry,” he whispered, “Y-You’re doing so well.”
He stilled for a moment, allowing you to adjust to his length.
“Is it…” You looked up at him with teary eyes. “Is it all the way in yet?”
“Not yet.” His eyes were full of empathy and adoration. “Can you take any more? It’s okay if you can’t.”
You whimpered. “S’big, Mingi.”
“I know, baby, I know it’s big. Does it feel good? D-Does it hurt?”
“It feels…” you trailed off. “It feels good but it hurts. I dunno if I can take any more.”
“That’s okay,” he nodded, kissing your forehead. “You feel s-so good just like this.”
“R-really?”
“Yes,” he nodded. “You feel amazing. So… so fucking good.” He gritted his teeth as he spoke, shaking and sweating and forcing himself to not instinctively start fucking you hard and fast. “Can I move a little bit now?”
“Yes,” you nodded. “Slow, please.”
He pulled back so that only the very end of his tip was dipped into your opening, then shakily pushed forward in a single stroke, a little over three quarters of the way inside.
Tears stung his and your eyes. You felt better than anything he’d ever felt before, and the stretching sensation was starting to feel more pleasant than painful.
“I’m so…” he whimpered. “I’m so proud of you. You’re taking me so well.”
“Mingi…” you whined in response, clawing at his back. “F-feels good.”
“Yeah?” His eyes met yours. “It feels good?”
“Mmm. I want… want you to fuck me. B-but slow, okay?”
He visibly shivered, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up as his whole body became covered in goosebumps.
“T-tell me if it’s too much.”
He attempted to set a pace then, slowly pushing and pulling his hips to halfway-fuck you as gently as he possibly could. Little moans slipped from your lips in time with his thrusts.
“Ungh…” he whimpered, “God. F-feels so good. You’re so…” his eyebrows furrowed. “Fuck, you’re so tight.”
“Mingi…” You rested your hand on his cheek. “Kiss.”
He didn’t need to be told twice. His perfectly full lips gently kissed yours, softly massaging his tongue into your mouth while he slowly pumped his cock in and out of you. You were embarrassed that you couldn’t take his whole length yet, but you decided in that moment that this wouldn’t be the last time you did this with him, and you had all the time in the world to train for the entirety of him.
“Fuck…” he repeated, resting his forehead against yours. “I’m… I’m close. I’m sorry.”
“You are?” Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked up at him, a moan slipping from your lips when his thrusts got a bit faster.
That was fast, you thought, but it was his first time, you supposed. You hoped he had good stamina, because you didn’t want this night to be anywhere close to over.
“I c-can’t…” His hips were starting to shake a bit. “God, you feel so good. Squeezing me so tight.”
“Ming…” you whispered, holding his face. “I wanna make you cum. Want you to cum for me.”
“Oh, fuck…” he whimpered. “God, f-fuck-“
His voice cracked as his eyes squeezed shut, his belly tensing and his lips dropping open in a silent moan.
And for a few seconds, time didn’t exist. There was only him and you and your bodies, like this was how you were always meant to be. You felt his big hand on your waist and his thick length stretching you out, but you also felt that same comforting atmosphere that always followed him around. You saw his face, the one that you knew so well, contorted in pleasure, and you heard his familiar voice making unfamiliar noises. And there was no one in the world you’d rather do this with. There was no one else you wanted to kiss.
“I love you.”
He cried out as he came, curling in on himself and burying his face in your neck as he pulled out so just his tip was inside, pumping the condom full of his load.
He pulled out and rested his cock on your belly, huffing in your neck as he caught his breath.
You stroked his hair and swallowed, a lump forming in your throat.
You said it. You told him out loud and you’d never be able to take it back.
He just kept breathing down your neck, sweaty and shaking and wondering if he heard you right.
“I– I tried not to…” you breathed. “I tried so hard not to fall in love with you. You’re my best friend and you mean more to me than anyone else. But I just…”
You swallowed. There was really no going back now.
“I see you smiling and it hits me like a steamroller. Like my chest is knocked in and I can’t breathe. It feels… It feels like I’m suffocating and I don’t know how to stop it or make it go away.”
You felt his large hand hold your jaw, and his lips were on yours.
“Please… be my girlfriend,” he mumbled, breathless between kisses.
You pulled back to look in his eyes. “What?”
“I’ve been in love with you since we were kids. Please, please, please be my girlfriend.”
Your face broke a little bit. “You have?”
He nodded, and then his face broke, too. “Please say yes.” He held your face, looking deep into your eyes. “P-please, baby.”
“Obviously yes,” you smiled, tears so close to spilling from your eyes. “Dummy.”
“I love you,” he cried, kissing you again. “I love you so fucking much.”
“Mingi,” you breathed, for no reason other than to say his name.
He kissed you and cried and you kissed him and cried, and he suddenly remembered what Yunho said. A nice way to show her I really care.
He kissed down your neck, across your chest, on your nipples, over your belly, until his shoulders were between your thighs.
“W-what are you doing?” You asked, looking down at him a little too innocently.
“I don’t really know,” he sighed, leaning forward and kissing your dewy pussy.
“A-ah! Mingi!” Your legs instinctively closed around his head, and his big hands gently pried them open again.
“It’s okay…” he breathed, leaning forward again. “I’ve got you, baby. I’m not gonna hurt you.” He sweetly kissed your inner thigh before spreading you with his tongue.
You whimpered and squirmed, grabbing a fistful of his soft dark hair.
“You sound so pretty,” he mumbled, kissing your clit, “And you taste so good…”
His thick, plump lips worked with his velvet tongue to worship your pussy. And it was loud, the room filled with wet sounds and Mingi’s groans, along with the pathetic little moans you were letting out.
You looked down at him. His ears and cheeks were dark red, his eyes closed, the sharp tip of his nose shiny and wet.
“T-that feels really good, Ming—“ You were interrupted by your own gasp as his tongue slipped into your entrance.
“You’re mine now…” His deep voice sounded gravelly and thick. “You’re all fucking mine…”
“Mingi…” You whimpered, lacing your fingers through his hair as his lips sweetly sucked your clit. How did you learn how to do this? You wanted to ask.
But he was moaning against you again before the thought could finish. “I’m gonna do this every fuckin’ day…” He blinked slowly, a string of drool connecting his lips and your pussy. He used his broad shoulders to push your legs open even wider, taking a deep breath before diving back in.
This time, he slipped two fingers inside of you while he worked his tongue. He closed his eyes, enjoying the taste of you while he passionately used his fingers and tongue.
“I’ve dreamed of this…” He paused to kiss your inner thighs. “Wanted this for so long… needed to know what you tasted like.”
“Mingi…” You breathed, watching as his pink tongue drew circles around your clit. “I-I’m gonna cum again…”
“Yes,” he groaned, never coming up for air. “Please, baby. Come in my mouth. I wanna taste all of it, please… wanna lick you clean.”
Hearing those filthy words come from shy, sweet Mingi’s mouth made your stomach flutter. Your thighs clenched around his head as he gave you the most enthusiastic slurp of the night, the otherwise silent room filled with the sounds of his mouth devouring you.
You moaned so loud when you came that there was no doubt in your mind that your roommates heard. Mingi’s groans of enthusiasm were hardly muted, either.
Your thighs twitched, your body shook and your hips pressed against Mingi’s warm mouth as your orgasm consumed you, and you’d never felt more adored in your life.
And then he didn’t stop.
“Mingi!��� You cried out, trying to squirm away from his tongue.
But he looped his arm under one of your thighs, keeping you pried open. He used his other hand to spread your pussy, groaning as he licked it again.
“My girl…” He mumbled, and he seemed to be drunk off the taste of you, talking to himself. “Such a pretty fuckin’ pussy…”
Your eyes widened and you twitched as his tongue flicked inside of you again. You’d never seen this side of Mingi before; you’d never seen anything close to this side of Mingi before… and you really, really didn’t want it to stop. But—
“I’m really sensitive, Ming…”
That seemed to snap him out of his trance a bit. He looked up, moving his body up to sweetly kiss your lips again. “I’m sorry, baby. You j-just…” He sighed, catching his breath. “You taste so good.”
You smiled. “I really like it when you call me baby.”
He kissed your forehead then collapsed on the bed, laying next to you. You rolled onto your side, gently stroking his belly.
“Do you feel good?” He asked softly, his full cheeks blushing. “Was that enough?”
“Enough?” You laughed in disbelief. “It was perfect.” You nodded. “Perfect.”
“I’ll always make sure you’re satisfied, okay?” Your boyfriend looked you in the eye, his brow slightly furrowed. “A-and I’ll always make sure you’re taken care of. I’ll make sure your belly is always full and your shoes never get dirty.”
A kiss on his chin, your face in his neck. “It’s just me, Mingi. Just you and me.”
“Just us…” He mumbled, “Just like always.”
You nodded and then sat in silence, touching and being touched. He stroked your thigh with his pinky, his eyes on your lips.
“In our own little world. Just the two of us.”
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