#i read wedding season by ballelino and now pretty is the only petname i can picture minho ever using

[moved--accs]

glowing | lee know.

You know that your feelings for Lee Minho were past a simple crush at this point–you really couldn’t bring yourself to date other people without the constant thought that they’re not him haunting your mind. But somewhere between sly smirks and stolen glances, you knew he was intrested in you too. You also knew your brother would absolutely hate seeing his little sister with one of his best friends, but Minho won’t tell if you don’t.

Best friend’s brother!Minho, female reader. ~8.2k words.

WARNINGS: smut, fingering (female receiving), oral (female receiving), very slight dom!minho i guess, one thigh slap, minho spits in reader’s mouth (i’m sorry), penetration, squirting and unprotected sex. MDNI.

Author’s note: this was requested by cait !! i love you cait !! tysm for sticking around for so long, it means the world to me <333 i really don’t know how i feel about this one since it’s my longest oneshot yet, but i hope everyone enjoys it :) also, if you like listening to music while reading, bad idea by ariana grande really helped me settle the mood for this. reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! 

To you, Minho is a force of nature. His stance alone demands attention in every room he walks into: sharp and seemingly judgy eyes tear people apart in the matter of a milisecond, then a sudden shift of countenance would offer a sweet, charming smile at them. But never to you. He carries a couple of years more than you on his back, experience and maturity seem to bleed through every interaction you have–promptly, and unknowingly, putting you in your place whenever you two exchange a simple, two-second glance with each other.

To you, Minho is magnetic. It seemed to be a shared secret, those glances you stole from each other. You only ever were in the same space when your older brother called his friends over, half a dozen bodies always in the way of your favorite activity–catch him looking. The way he never shied away always made you shiver. You tell yourself you broke eye contact so quickly because you were afraid someone would catch on to this ongoing staring contest, but really, you don't think you can handle to watch the smirk grow on his lips without tripping over nothing. Minho never smiled at you. It was never sweet–every single time he acknowledged you felt like a dare. With avoidant eyes and shaky hands, you played into every single one of them.

"I can drive her, man. It's no big deal." He told your brother–who was locking your home's door behind him–but his eyes didn't leave yours.

Your brother often invited you to hang out with his friends, so when he randomly showed up in your room asking if you'd like to join them for a night out, you had no reason to say no. The thing is: all the seats in your brother's car were already taken by his girlfriend and her friends, who were currently already getting comfortable in his vehicle. Minho's eyes are locked in yours, his black hair glistening blue in the moonlight making him look a bit more intimidating, much more inviting. The smirk in his lips is a telltale–as if he's challenging you to say no. You could get an Uber to the party–you know that–or you could simply tell your brother to politely ask one of his partner's friends to find another ride. Maybe that would come off as a bit rude, but you know he'd do it for you. You could even sit in one of the girls' laps, that's not unusual. He knows that, and he's looking at you as if your head is transparent, and he can see all of the cogs putting in the work.

"Are you sure? GPS is saying it's kind of a long drive, and I know you'll want to drink when we get there."

"I'm fine with taking her as long as she prefers getting an Uber or something." Minho says, turning to your brother for a brief moment, "It's up to her, really."

Forty minutes is not that long, but you know it would feel like ages.

"What do you say?" Your brother turns to you.

You've never been fully alone with him before, jumping from that to spending such long time by yourselves, in his car, seems suffocating. Too secluded. Too private. You feel the familiar shaking in your hands as they run down your skirt, straightening them.

"Fine by me."

You know you're staring–for some reason, you don't mind. Minho's eyes are focused on the road before you, midnight blue hair split in the middle, giving him a much bolder look than his usual fluffy bangs. The reflection of the city lights make his skin glow–iridescent glimmers of yellow, white and green paint his face–allowing you to get a full glimpse of his expression only for brief seconds.

He doesn't mind that you're staring either–his eyes find yours in a quick shift, a chuckle escaping his lips.

"You're not that bold when your brother's around."

You can feel your stomach turning. Straight to the point, then.

"Neither are you."

The man scoffs, looking out the window before replying. "You wouldn't be either if you heard how protective he is over you."

"I'm grown."

His head fully turns to you for the first time throughout this exchange, the empty road before him forgotten for a couple seconds. Minho's eyes shamelessly linger on your thighs as they travel up your body, until his gaze meets yours. He clicks his tongue, smirk growing on his lips right before his attention turns back to the road. "I can see that."

Effective as always, the words start fumbling in your brain as you struggle to form a coherent thought–you had to talk back. Anything.

"You're always staring at me. When you come over." Your voice is so quiet you wonder if he can hear you over the hum of wheels against concrete.

"Does that make you uncomfortable?"

"No," you reply immediately, looking at him. "not at all."

He nods, humming. "Do you like how I look at you?"

Minho seems nonchalant, but also a bit expectant. The butterflies in your stomach seem like they won't allow you to answer nothing as witty as you had hoped.

"I do. You can... keep doing that."

He quickly looks at you again, smiling. "I can?" The car feels airtight after the next words lowly leave his lips. "Would you mind if I did something other than just look?"

Careful, quiet, expectant. If you stroke a match, the whole car would light on fire. "Weren't you worried about my brother?"

Your eyes are focused on the road, but you can hear the click of his tongue, "I won't tell if you don't."

The music is loud, and although enjoyable, you really can't bring yourself to focus on the party. The culprit was quick to lose you as soon as you both got to your destination, letting you know he was looking for your older brother. It seemed as if the group had gotten completely lost within the drunk crowd, and you were putting on an effort to not care about his absence, what he was doing, or who he was doing it with. But still, you could look for your brother. If Minho happened to be hanging around him, that would be purely a coincidence.

Still, your ego wouldn't give in. 'Enjoy tonight, forget about him. Dance like he's not watching–you'd get too shy if he was. Maybe I should drink, I'd feel more comfortable dancing. But I wanna stay sober tonight, though. Just in case. Forget about him.' It felt like the hardest you tried to empty your mind, the more Minho would plague it. You always feel like there's a pair of sharp eyes on you, even though you haven't seen him since you walked into this party. Maybe it was just wishful thinking, it probably was. Still, each time you sway your hips, you picture this specific set of eyes on you, studying your movements. You could feel it in the back of your neck, disappearing just in time before you turned around to catch him. If you were drunk, at least you'd have an excuse to think the way you are right now, but your only frail attempt of an excuse is how much you want him.

As it turns out, it seems like you were way too busy not looking for Minho to notice his presence before his breath touched your cheek, hand on your hip as he swayed behind you. "You're watching people walk in and out of this room like a hawk." You feel his gaze burning on your profile. "Who're you looking for? Wooseok?" He chuckles as you dramatically roll your eyes at him, "He sure as hell has been looking for you."

"I didn't even notice him, so..." Your stare back at him, immediately locked in a trance. His dark eyes seem to suck you in, everything else in the room drifting away when you focus on them.

Minho hums, bringing your back closer to his chest. "Of course you didn't." You don't fight against the way he spins you around, pressing your chest against his, lost in a sea of bodies touching each other. "You don't have eyes for anyone else, do you?"

Somewhere in the distance, too far away from the reality which Minho has sucked you into, you think you hear Wooseok calling your name. You can't really tell, though. Not when Lee Minho is looking down at you like that. Reality creeps it's way back into your mind when the man's head shoots up, apparently spotting his friend in the crowd. Minho backs up, meaning to leave the scene before he arrives. "You said you like it when I watch you." He says. "Put on a show."

Wooseok's hands are on your waist, his chest to your back. You're pretty sure he whispered something as he squeezed your hips, but you didn't quite catch it–Minho was leaning against the wall, eyes dead set on you. The poor lighting makes his gaze more intimidating as he brought a cup to his lips, eyes never leaving you. Slowly, his focus switches from your eyes to your neck. Your body rolls against the boy behind you, making sure your ass didn't touch his crotch. The only person you wanted to touch you like that is currently looking at you from across the room–his countenance seeming more and more annoyed the more you seem to enjoy Wooseok. It's your turn to smirk at him–for the first time ever, you're the one setting the game's rules. You keep your attention on Minho as you throw your head back on Wooseok's shoulder, letting him kiss down your neck.

How silly to think he'd hand the control over to you for this long. Minho brings his phone to his ear, sweetly smiling at you as he speaks. You keep dancing with the clueless boy behind you, putting on your best show for the man before you. He no longer tries to hide how long he admires your cleavage, jaw clenching each time Wooseok's hands would try to wander over your body. You'd stop him just before he reached your ass or your chest just to give Minho enough time to react–to watch the genuine annoyance on his face as someone else touched you. The butterflies in your stomach flap their wings violently at the indication that the man might be thinking about how he doesn't want no one else with their hands on you, the mere possibility of making him jealous starting to take over your consciousness. Suddenly, Minho smiles sweetly again. Way too sweetly. Before you can react, Wooseok seems to have been snatched off of your body–the heat of his back disappearing abruptly.

"Are you fucking serious, Wooseok? Out of all the people in this party?!" Oh, of fucking course. You can see Minho starts to laugh before you turn around, immediately approaching your brother. Wooseok stumbles, trying to regain balance after your brother pushed him off of you.

"Hey, hey. Calm down, alright?" You maintain you eyes focused on your brother, guiding him away from Wooseok.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, man?! What was that for?!" You weren't worried about an actual physical fight happening–you know both of them, and you know they wouldn't take it that far. Still, the way Wooseok raises his voice at your brother startles you.

"You're really gonna act like you don't know what that was for?"

Even though you were standing right in front of him, your brother's eyes were focused solely on the boy. "Hey, he wasn't doing anything by himself, alright?" He looks down at you, jawline clenched. "It's not a big deal."

"You don't need to pull shit like this. She's an adult, man."

"And you don't need to act like you're not always trying to pull my sister."

"What if I am? What the fuck does that have to do with you?!"

"Hey, hey, hey." Minho appears from Wooseok's side. He had a small smirk on his lips that didn't quite match the situation at hand. "Is everything alright? What's going on?"

"Nothing new, Min. He just can't keep it in his pants whenever she's around." Your brother says, gaze not budging from Wooseok's face as he tilts his head towards you.

"Chill the fuck out, alright? You're making me sound like a creep."

"I don't care. If you go after your friend's little sister you're a fucking creep."

You watch as Minho intervenes, calmly talking to both men as he attempts and succeeds to settle their nerves. His eyes switch from one side to the other, persuasive as always, convincing both of them to let it go. Your brother seems defeated when he finally turns to you. "Are you alright?"

You roll your eyes at the question. "Why wouldn't I be? He wasn't doing anything wrong."

"I don't know, you just seem tired."

"Well, yeah, obviously. This whole thing was stressful. I'm just glad nobody here gives a fuck to make a scene out of it." You sigh, looking over the crowd with crossed arms. "I'm done for tonight, though. I think I'm going home."

Your brother's demeanour is drastically different from earlier–puffed chest turned to slump shoulders, clenched jaw turned to a frown. You would feel sorry for him if this whole fiasco didn't affect directly the one thing you want so badly to happen tonight. Sure, Minho only snitched because he knew your brother's reaction would be bad–but you wonder if it was somehow worse than he imagined, if this whole headache was worth it. If you were worth it. All you know is you'd argue with your brother a million times if it meant Minho would touch you.

"Yeah, I'm sorry. I can give you a ride." You're about to deny your brother's offer, but Minho never loses a single opportunity.

"Really? You wanna leave already?" He asks the boy.

"Not really. I wanna stay. But if I ruined the night, then-"

"You can stay, man. I can take her. I was about to head home, anyway."

"He's right." You're learning how to follow his lead. "I don't want you to leave because of me."

Your brother looks at Minho and then at you. The air the three of you share seems heavy all of a sudden, the forced proximity due to the push and pull of the crowd suddenly suffocating. But then, your brother smiles. "I really owe you one, man."

Minho's touch on your wrist as he guides you out of the party lights your skin on fire, anticipation eating up your nerves. You wonder if you'll make it to his house at all–you hope you don't. You hope he gets so desperate to touch you he doesn't care who's seeing, you hope he fucks you in his car and when you get to his house and when you wake up the morning after.

But that's just wishful thinking–that's your brain and your anticipation and your yearning yelling at the top of its' lungs, begging for the man who's leading you down the street to look your way so he can see the sheer desperation in your eyes. But Minho's not like you at all. And he's not like the million versions your mind made him out to be, either. Minho is cool, collected. Years of being around him and you've never seen him lose composure, and your gut feeling tells you you won't see it tonight.

Charming as always, he opens the door to the passenger seat when you finally reach his car. You can hear your heartbeat in your ears as he starts driving, waiting for him to give you any sign of a confirmation that this is really going where you think it is.

"You look nervous." His hair was messy from how much he pushed it back throughout the night–repeating the motion now, eyes fix on the road, a few buttons now loose on his shirt. He looked more relaxed and it blew your mind how he managed to end the night looking better than how he started it. "There's no need to be. I can just take you home, if that's what you want."

"So... that wasn't the plan all along?" The breathiness of your voice, or perhaps the words that were attached to it, make the man chuckle, quickly stealing a glance from you.

"The plan is whatever you want it to be."

The car falls silent, his open invitation hovering over you as the street lights colour the beautiful boy beside you like a blank canvas. You wondered how on earth your body was able to prevent itself from lighting on fire–you could feel your fingertips burning with pure want, skin attracted to his like magnet. As every inch of your being desperately tried to keep your composure, you were able to mutter an answer just above a whisper. "I just-" You swallow the lump in your throat, "I'm waiting for a green light, Min."

You both know that's bullshit, and Minho's smile proves that. You have been known he was interested in you, but the sheer intimidation you felt every time he looked your way had you convinced that you would never, in a million years, make a move on him. Minho can't help but find it adorable–the way you'd squirm in your seat to avoid looking at him, hands fidgety every time he talked to you, eyes shaky every time he caught you looking. Your body language was screaming for him every second he was around, but this drawn out torture was too delicious for him to just give in to without watching you struggle first. He smirks to the road ahead of him, chuckling before replying. "You have one now. What are you gonna do with it?"

You whimper, and his eyes switch to you for a moment as fast as lighting. "Can't you just..." You trail off, hips settling further on his passenger seat.

"Can't I just...?"

"Make things easier for me?"

He chuckles, "And where's the fun in that, pretty?"

Your body leans slightly towards him before you can process it, desperation finally catching onto your sanity. You're doe eyed as your torso turns towards his direction, demanding attention which he, obviously, doesn't give you. "I want you to take me home, Min."

"I'm doing that."

"No, I-" your heart beats so loud in your eardrums you can't really hear the next words leaving your mouth–that might be the sole reason why you were able to say them. "I want your hands on me."

His hand immediately lands on your thigh, groping the flesh as he hummed, focus still on the road. Your foolish heart soars at how fast he reacted, and even though your shaky voice leaves you in no position to tease him, you can't help yourself. "You seem eager."

He raises an eyebrow when he looks your way, detaching his palm from your skin and tracing his fingertips up your inner thigh until your breath hitches in your throat. He chuckles at your gasp, hand now gripping your thigh again. "Do I?"

Your legs spread instinctively, making the man hum in satisfaction, stealing a glimpse of your thighs every once in a while. As he gets bolder, you get more desperate–the anticipation making your cunt flutter around nothing, watching as his fingers get closer to where they belong. You quietly whine his name when his hand slips under your dress, middle finger tapping your clothed core. He laughs at you as his other hand turns the wheel. "You don't know how long I've been wanting to get you like this- all shy and whiny for me." He explains, finger tracing your clothed slit ever so slightly, feeling the fabric dampen. "Did dancing with Wooseok get you this excited?"

You stutter when you reply, unable to look away from his hand moving on your crotch, "No, no. I- kept thinking about you."

He nods, an understating hum settles on his throat, voice as calm as ever. "That's why you kept looking at me? Wish it was me dancing with you instead of him?"

"Yeah, you... I always think about you, when I feel like this..." You can't help squirming when he applies more pressure to your clit, circling the nerve with the tip of his finger.

"Then you know it should've been me touching you like that." A whine almost escapes your throat when you hear the hint of possessiveness in his tone.

"I didn't let him touch me, though." You admit. Minho's eyebrows shoot up, wordlessly questioning you. "He was really close, but his body wasn't really... Touching mine. My back was against his chest, but that's it." You know you don't really owe Minho an explanation, but you've always felt this need to let him know he's the only one who makes you feel drunk in desire. You want him to know he shouldn't worry about competition because he doesn't have any.

When these words reach Minho's ears, his fingers push your underwear to the side, spreading your wetness through your slit. A reward. "This is all me, then?" He says, referring to your arousal. "It's all for me?"

You nod as you take deep breaths–trying to accommodate your body to the foreign feeling that is having his hands on you after wanting him for so long. You can feel shivers awakening all across your skin and you can only hope he won't tease you for it, knuckles hurting from gripping the cushion beneath you. "Yes, you know I only have eyes for you."

His focus doesn't detach from the road when he smiles, fingers swiping the wetness from your slit directly to your clit, quickening the pace. Your hips keep stuttering despite your efforts to keep them in place, he notices your eyes rolling to the back of your head as it turned to the window–even though he wasn't looking at you, you still felt the need to hide from his eyes.

"You won't be able to hide when I get you under me." His calm voice comes out as a purr, a hum vibrating on his throat as his finger's pace stays consistent. "Gonna spread you out in my bed and make you keep your eyes on me as I fuck the shyness out of you." You shut your thighs around his wrist, making him force them open and earning a slap to your inner thigh. Your head spins as you let out a groan, legs parting as far as they physically can for him, hips rising from the seat slightly when his touch finds you again. "Stop squirming." He says, tone noticeably more demanding than before.

You struggle to reply through compressed moans, "I'm sorry, I can't- 's too much."

"Too close?" He asks as your thighs start to shake, and you pray to whoever might be listening to please, please don't let him stop.

The confirmation comes out in hurried whispers. "Yeah, close, close."

"Already? So easy to please, pretty." The embarrassment tensing your muscles gets mixed with pleasure. Your eyes shut tightly, head thrown back on his head restraint, focusing on the feeling of his fingers and getting high on the sound of his voice. "Hope you can take a couple more rounds."

With that, Minho's ministrations become quicker, rougher–his middle and index finger making a mess of your arousal all over your clit, careful to not let his pace relent when you start moaning for him, thighs shuddering around his wrist.

Even though you were able to feel your orgasm slowly creeping up on you, it's intensity gave you whiplash. Minho's presence was the only thing tangible in the back of your mind as your hips bucked against his hand–mind so clouded your loud moans felt distant as your body squirmed in place, heat flowing through your skin.

The car feels like it’s reached forty degrees when you manage to get the feel of your limbs back, window beside you completely fogged by your laboured breathing. Minho's hand is still in your pussy, leisurely coating your arousal through your folds. You miss the way he smiles when he eases two fingers into you for the first time, head thrown back once again as your mouth drops open. A whine of his name makes him chuckle once again.

"Don't worry, I'm not making you come again until we get home." He says, barely above a whisper, taking a moment to watch his fingers slowly pumping in and out of you. "Just wanna feel you for a bit."

You don't know how long the torture lasts until you reach Minho's place–the car ride felt entirely too short but unnecessarily long. He kept his fingers curled upwards, switching from hard, slow pushes to quick ones–leaving just his fingertips inside to slowly push them in again, massaging your cunt to quickly pulling in and out of you so fast you knew his wrist would be sore by the end of the night, but Minho didn't really seem to mind. In fact, he almost looks bored–lazily averting his gaze from the road to look your way every now again, breaking into a smirk every time he stilled his fingers buried deep inside of you when you sounded like you were having too good of a time.

When he parks, Minho nonchalantly brings his fingers, that were inside you a millisecond ago, to his mouth and starts licking them clean as he picks up his keys and phone with his free hand, then hops off the car.

Your headspace is cloudy, but you’re present enough to register him opening the door for you and taking you by the hand, leading you inside the building.

When he finally kisses you, Minho is gentle. The warmth of his covers beneath you is almost as comforting as the softness of his pouty lips carefully meeting yours–months upon months of yearning finally ceasing. Although he already made you cum, although you enjoyed all the crude things leaving his lips–this is what you were really longing for. Suddenly, whatever happened in his car just a few minutes prior is forgotten–the butterflies in your stomach soaring as you open your mouth for his tongue to make home. 

Minho cups your cheek, thumb stroking your skin as his lips move against yours–the weight of his body pinning you against his mattress. His hand on your jaw helps him control the kiss as you follow his lead, soft hums of satisfaction coming from both of you the longer Minho’s tongue insists in tasting yours. You don’t know how long he kisses you, you don’t know how long your eyes stay closed. Your body feels as light as a feather when his hands start caressing your sides, lifting your dress up to your waist.

You're pure heat when Minho's hands palm your ass, kneading the skin as his kisses lower their way from your lips to your neck. You shudder under him, sighing to the feeling of him biting, then lolling his tongue over the bruise–almost like he purposefully wanted to leave a mark. Several marks. Minho easily restrains your attempts to squirm away from his mouth, relishing in your needy whines as he kisses lower down your body–smirk permanently stuck on his countenance growing wider each time your fingers, which were lazily massaging his scalp, tugged on his locks.

Minho gulps when he finally allows you to separate from him and take off your dress–his focus now entirely on your bare torso laying back down before him. His cock twitches in his pants, which suddenly feel way too tight and less appropriate to the situation at hand. He practically drools as he positions himself between your legs–both elbows planted on the bed as he gripped each side of your thighs. Minho realizes that if he has you under him, he's way too far gone to notice anything else–quiet cries and whines that sneak their way out of your lips ring loud on his ears, making him all the more eager to have you fucked out of your mind–pretty mouth constantly hanging open, unable to suppress all the sounds he yearns to hear.

A moan escapes your lips when you realize where he's leading this, but you can't help but protest, hips stuttering in his hold. "I want you inside, Min."

He hums in agreement as he slowly kisses up your right thigh, low voice muffled by your skin. "Gonna make you come on my tongue first."

"But I'm all stretched out, you already made me come back in the car-" you part your legs wider for him, inviting, trying your best to be convincing, "just want your cock, Minho. Please."

His chuckle is so adorable it almost throws you off the haze, but it’s only a second until his eyes darken again. “No, baby. I got you so wet I think I’ve earned a taste. It’s only fair."

Thankfully, the eagerness you’ve been felling for the past hour or so seems to finally catch up to Minho. Heaven knows you wish you were strong enough to watch him–pouty plump lips that usually look so adorable in your eyes now become the eighth deadly sin. Head thrown back and eyes closed, you can somehow fell the room spinning in the back of your head when the tip of Minho’s tongue meets your folds, gently tracing along your slit. You feel the goosebumps waking up along your skin, clueless hands stroking his locks.

To Minho, you’re a force of nature. You always have been. A walking magnet, clueless to the effect you had on people just by blinking your pretty lashes at them, at him. Shy but curious eyes, voice remarkbly confident and enthusiastic when you interacted with everyone else but him–an outgoing girl becoming a stuttering mess each time he walked into a room. Minho knew you would absolutely ruin him the moment he saw you. Now it’s only fair he ruined everyone else for you, too. 

It feels surreal to have you under him on the very same bed he came so many times to the thought of you, but his imagination could never top reality–you feel warm and soft on his tongue, wetness leaking out of you with every swipe of the muscle over your slit. His ministrations are featherlight against you, but as always, your reactions are what really get to Minho. Your back arches off the bed anytime he adds the smallest bit of pressure to his licking–he can feel the shivers as he runs his hands from your hips, that are constantly trying to stutter away from him, up your thighs.

Minho's own hips rut against the mattress when he finally allows his tongue inside. A loud, strangled moan leaves your lips and now it's his turn to shiver–your soft, needy cunt flutters around the muscle as he licks upwards, lolling his tongue, drinking everything you give him. His head spins as he gets drunk off of your scent, your taste, your moans–he doesn't even realize how fast his tongue has been moving inside of you until you let out a specially long whine.

Restlessness starts stirring up on your core, the intense tingling on your insides making you want to both roll your hips into Minho's mouth and squirm away from him at the same time. His grip on you was iron–veiny hands keeping your thighs spread, fingertips digging into your skin every time your legs instinctively tried to shut around him. Your mind becomes smaller and smaller as the pleasure builds up–consciousness barely there to hear the sinful sounds coming from Minho's mouth. His eyes are closed as his tongue massages your cunt, lapping up every last bit of your arousal and spreading it all over your cunt when he flattens his tongue on your slit, licking upwards to your clit. You feel your whole body tremble when he starts to circle the tip of his tongue against the bud, slowly at first, eyes now open to watch the way your body quivers to his ministrations. Splayed out over his bed, back arching off the bed constantly and grabby hands pulling into his locks, the pillow, his covers–any touch that could distract you just a bit from the alarming amount of pleasure you were whining your way through.

Minho can't help the mess–his head tilting every now and again, slowly stroking his tongue on your clit as his plush lips sucked it into his mouth. He could see the wetness dripping down your ass and pooling into the mattress–he could feel your arousal all over his lips and chin, the tip of his nose nudging your clit when his tongue snakes it's way inside you again. He started eating you out mostly with your pleasure in mind, but now as he notices your moans getting muffled by the loud sounds coming out of where you two connect, he realizes that he won't be able to go a single day without not wanting to have his face between your legs. Hell, he was so close to edging you just so he could eat you out longer–keep you bucking your hips into his face as you grew more desperate for release each time, his tongue reaching deeper inside due to the force with which you'd roll your torso towards him. But he still wants to finish the night inside you, and by the way your entire body is trembling and how loud you've been moaning, Minho reckons he has to be nice if he wants you to take another round.

So, he carefully builds up your pleasure–lips insistent around your clit as the tip of his tongue flickered the bud, finding humour on how your body tried to thrash around the bed but couldn’t do much due to his grip on your waist. Minho smiles around your cunt when your legs start shaking violently, hips attempting to raise off the bed simply because it was too much–his mouth is warm and soft, his movements so precise it startles you how quickly he took in your reactions, learning exactly what you like in no time. Either that, or he’s just Minho, and that’s just how his alluring aura manifests itself in every aspect of his life. Luring you in, hypnotizing you, locking you in his trance. A siren.

Your head rolls as further back as it can over his pillows, eyebrows furrowed as your mouth hanged open–you don’t know how loud you were moaning, you can’t tell if you were moaning at all. Your brain was mush as your orgasm thrashed through you–Minho keeping your hips in place as your limbs gain a life of their own. The only parts of your body you could feel were the ones where his touch was burning into you, numb to anything else but the man between your legs.

He coaxes you through your high, thumb stroking your skin and keeping the stimulation consistent until your body relaxed onto the bed–chest heaving with laboured breathes. Minho doesn’t look so composed himself as he kneels between your legs, taking his own shirt off before laying on top of you. His ears, neck, chest are beet red–face glistening with reminiscents of you and drowsy eyes scanning over your body, hands landing one on your waist, the other on your cheek, elbow supporting his weight on the bed.

You mindlessly lean into his touch, cupping his hand on your cheek and dragging it closer to your mouth until you were able to suck his thumb into your lips, sleepy eyes locked on his. You were growing addicted to his smirk and the darkness of his room and the pretty stars you could see through his open window–already able to tell he would haunt every single one of your dreams.

“Desperate little thing.” He coos, voice so sweet you suspect he was mocking you. He chuckles at your whine–eyebrows furrowed to express indignation, “What do you want?”

Suddenly popping his finger out of your mouth, you raise your neck off the bed in order to bite his lower lip, bringing him closer to you. When he follows, you lay your head back on the pillow and open your mouth up wide, tongue sticking out for him. Minho clicks his tongue, eyebrows raised as he looked down at you for a few seconds, smile growing wider. Then, his hand cups your jaw, holding your mouth open as his saliva drips down from his lips to your tongue. A sigh leaves you when you're finally able to taste him, relaxing your body on the bed as you swallow what he gave you. Minho watches you with a humoured, curious countenance–eyebrows raised and eyes fix on your lips when your tongue licks over them, as if you were chasing the very last trace of his flavour.

Minho didn't even process that your mouth opened again, and he doesn't process that he's already obliging–your chin tilted upwards, eager to taste him once more. The man's body seems to be moving in autopilot along with yours–both minds completely clouded, unable to form any coherent thoughts, making pure desire the only motivation to each of your actions.

You look hauntingly beautiful under him–countenance mostly darkened but your features still striking under the city lights coming from outside. You stared up at him with black, dilated pupils and eyes half open, as if you were trying to look past his consciousness and make home inside the depths of his mind, engraving the memory of tonight onto his brain for as long as you possibly could. Like you wanted him addicted.

Minho's lips clash onto yours, constant moans swallowed by one another as you desperately tried to touch more and more of each other–not a single inch forgotten. He soothes the goosebumps on you skin, hands caressing from your hips to your waist a couple times before his palms find your breasts. Minho feels dizzy when you moan his name, arching your back to seek his warmth.

Eager as always, you roll your hips against his–spread legs allowing your cunt to finally get the slightest friction from his cock. Your vision is blurry and you can't tell when you started tearing up, but the harshness with which Minho was grinding his clothed crotch against your naked cunt was the trigger for the first tear to run down your face. You were sensitive and the pleasure was overwhelming, but you still could feel your pussy fluttering around nothing, needing Minho inside.

"You're making a mess on my jeans, pretty." He mumbles against your mouth.

You struggle to breathe out, "Take them off, then."

Having sex wasn't anything new to you, but having sex with Minho feels like a completely different experience. You don't understand the headspace you're in nor are you able to dwell on what it could be–the only things you can fathom is Minho's warm body pressed up against yours and how safe and comfortable you feel. And how, when he suddenly kneels to take his jeans off, you feel so lonely and vulnerable tears flutter out of yours eyes, reaching for him with a whine of his name.

In a matter of seconds, Minho holds both your hands and comes back to his past position above you, shushing your mindless, whiny whispers with soft kisses all over your face as his thumbs caressed the skin of your hip and your cheek.

"Are you still with me, baby?" He never looked at you the way he is right now. He doesn't look confident, but in awe. Vulnerable. Like he knew this moment was a miracle and that it probably shouldn't happen again, and he, for once in his life, was allowing himself to wear this vulnerability.

You nod, eyes locked into his as you roll your hips, moaning when you feel his hard-on against you. He sighs, his underwear now being the only thing between you two, circling his hips as he asked. "Maybe we should take a break, hm?" His lips find your neck, distracting you from protesting. "Get you some water."

You barely find the strength to whisper "No, Minho, need you to fuck me. Please, I need you so bad."

You swear all the stars fall out of the sky and onto Minho's bed when you finally feel him whole. After a while of teasing you with his tip, he sinks into you with ease, both mouths hanging open in a symphony of loud moans he'd probably get complaints about.

Soft whimpers of his and your own fill the room, you feel fire lingering on each place he touches and Minho swears the universe begins and ends with each lazy, slow stroke of his hips. At this moment, he can't conceptualize the existence of anything else besides him and you. You and your constant, high moans of his name. You and your face contorted in pleasure and your needy, grabby hands. Your wet heat greedily sucking him in, trying to keep him. You and your timid gaze when he entered a room, stuttering over your words, shy smile forcing its way into your clueless lips. You, you, you.

His hands dig marks into your hips, keeping you in place as he moved above you. His thrusts were timed, consistent, and although leisured, you still bounced with each of them–his cock ripping deeper into you. Minho couldn't physically bring himself to stop kissing you–tongue roaming your open mouth, noisy kisses joining the night's soundtrack of moans and the slapping sound of his hips against your ass. 

Minho felt like he ascended closer to heaven each time you moaned his name–nails digging into his shoulder blades in your own way of claiming him. He could see the desperation in your teary eyes, endless begging leaving your wet lips and shaky legs wrapped around him in a weak attempt to keep him close. Your hips, that were once bouncing off of his now lay tired on his mattress, no longer having the strength to meet his thrusts or squirm away from them. Your lips had his spit all over them and it looked like every ounce of your morality left your conciousness with every snap of his hips. Although pretty, you weren’t nearly as gone as he pictured in the times which he fucked his hand to the thought of you–the way you lay under him right now sits very closely to his visions, but Minho is a perfectionist.

"Arch your back for me." He says, although he’s the one to actually pull your waist off the bed, “Gonna make you feel so good.”

He shoves a pillow between you and the bed and the angle instantly changes, your insides squeezing his stilled cock. Your eyes are shut tight when he whispers right by your ear, pulling your arms around his neck. “Hold on tight, pretty.”

His hold on you grew impossibly tighter as he whipped his hips against yours–thrusts so deep yet so quick that you could no longer contain the pornographic cries leaving your open mouth. Your existence narrows to nothing but open legs spreading wider for Minho to fuck into as his own narrows into being a mere tool for your pleasure–your entire senses of self were, in that moment, engulfed whole by one another. 

This amount of pleasure is so foreign to your body it completely shuts down when you try to react, utter nonsense leaving your lips when you try to let the man above you know you’d never felt like this before–no one’s ever made you feel like your soul was drifting away from you whilst simultaneously spiking all of your senses so violently, making your skin hot to the touch. You completely miss most of the words leaving his lips, laboured breathing giving away both exhaustion and pleasure.

“A little cockdumb, are you?” He says, his own voice muffled by the constant noise of his hips smacking against you. “My sheets are fucking drenched in you, baby. You take it so fucking good.” 

He's hitting your spot perfectly, the pillow helping him reach even deeper inside you. Minho's pace didn't allow you to breathe for a single second, your pussy desperately clenching around him as you feel the knot in your stomach threatening to explode–it's intensity so intimidating you start involuntarily shaking your head, legs shaking besides Minho's hips and moans getting drawn out, whiny, louder.

Your hips come back to life, stuttering messily when he presses a thumb to your clit–your hands fly to his biceps nails digging on his skin, surely to leave marks of your own.

"Come on, pretty. Gonna come all over my cock, hm? Gonna claim it?"

Claim it. Claim it. Mine, you're mine. If this was anyone else, you'd me embarrassed that that's what pushed you over the edge. But it's Lee Minho, and he just said out loud the one thing you want the most in the entire world, even if it was in a drunken haze.

Your head is numb as your body pushes through your orgasm–pleasure hits your body in violent shockwaves that leave you shuddering, not giving you a second to recover until they hit you again. You're able to tell that Minho's moans got way louder, and the thrusts of his hips now have a squelch to them. It's only after a few seconds you're able to feel the wetness all over your crotch, even reaching up to your hips and belly, due to the force of Minho's thrusts as you squirted.

You feel full, completely satisfied and overly sensitive, but Minho was never not welcome between your legs. So, you lazily drape your arms around the man's neck and pull him towards you–tip of his nose touching yours, hooded eyes fix on hooded eyes. Your mouth is still open for him, moans now quiet but still constant as his thrusts grew erratic. Minho, on the other hand, was being so loud you hoped to God his roommate wasn't over. Not just his moans, but the ferocity of his hips now combined with the wetness made a noise so loud it'd be borderline unbearable to anyone else but you two.

But you really couldn't care less, not when Minho looks like a greek god above you. Perfect eyebrows furrowed in concentration and eyes burning into yours, every vein on his reddened neck prevalent and hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, pouty lips hanging open exposing his–in any other situation– adorable teeth, but now you just wanted him to sink them in your skin.

"So good, so good..." You mindlessly blabber, that was the most you could do for him right now.

"Is it? Yeah? You just showed me how good it feels, ah. Squirting all over my cock, fuck."

"Do I feel good?"

His head drops to your shoulder, burying his face on your neck. "Perfect. Fuck, like you were made for me. Want this pussy all for myself."

"Have it, then." You struggle through moans, "I don't want anyone else, Min."

His hand takes the pillow under your waist and throws it somewhere in the room–snaking one hand under your waist to arch you for him as the other stroke his cock only once, enough to paint your stomach and breasts in his white stripes. Minho is shuddering as he collapses above you, face finding home in your neck again. You feel him shifting over you somewhere in your sleepy state, after a while passes. Your whine in protest makes him chuckle.

"I have to clean you up, angel." You ignore the way your insides turn due to the new petname and pulls his kneeling figure towards you again.

"Stay a little longer."

"A little longer?" He whispers, looking at your lips as he lays above you.

Minho hums when you kiss him, gently cupping your chin and guiding you through it. His tongue was soft, slow and addictive–after him, you can't really picture yourself kissing anyone else.

"I'm gonna talk to your brother." He tries to play it nonchalant, but his eyes are closed and his ears turn pink as he whispers his confessions through peppered kisses across your face.

"Really?" You can't help how hopeful your whisper sounds.

"Yeah, of course." His voice suddenly changes to an annoyed tone, clicking his tongue. "Gonna have a talk with Wooseok, too. Asshole." Your chest flutters with laughter as he curses under his breath, heart beating out of your chest as he kisses your cheekbone, then your jaw, tone suddenly soft again. "Wanna make you mine."

Your eyes flutter shut for a second, an embarrassing attempt to hold back tears. "I already am, Min."

#i read wedding season by ballelino and now pretty is the only petname i can picture minho ever using #lee minho smut #lee know smut #lee know x reader #lee know x you #stray kids smut #stray kids x reader #stray kids x you #skz smut #skz x reader #skz x you #skz imagines #stray kids imagines #skz scenarios