240218 - Bts On Twitter: Guess What's Coming Up?

240218 - bts on twitter: Guess what's coming up? 👀

HOPE WORLD POSTERS : “my name is my life.” ⤷ happy hobi day 2022! | click for hq! | ig ; twt

sooooo, you know how i told you i was writing a jimin fic?

ummm, last night when i was writing all i could fucking see was jungkook and i thought that wasn't fair to jimin, so i'm saving him for later:(

so my next fic is a smut *smirk* about jungkook and im already so ecstatic. its entirely his fault and im also ovulating so you guys!! look forward to it <3

should be up tomorrow on hobis bdayyy

aww, they’re such cuties!!

Rough

Pairing: Choi Seungcheol x fem!reader

Genre: Smut, 18+

Warnings: Cheol’s hands, fingering, spitting, minor pain kink, pussy slapping, teasing/begging, thick dick cheol, unprotected sex, creampie, minor breeding kink, mating press, soft(ish) dom Cheol, strength kink, he’s wearing a watch and his chain, praise

Length: ~2k

Note: an ode to Cheol's hands, and his c*** i needed a cigarette while looking at pictures of his hands for this fic. everyone rot with me @gyuswhore @wonustars @ourdawnishotterthanourday @seokgyuu

Remember: Tumblr runs on reblogs and I run on validation in the tags and comments :)

read more here

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked!

The lights of the TV illuminate you and your boyfriend’s intertwined forms resting on the sofa. Seungcheol’s hands busy themselves, fingers digging into the sore cords of muscle twisted along your legs. He thinks nothing of it, focused on the drama unfolding on screen while you focus on the cool metal of his watch licking just above your knee.

He smiles when you jump, the tickle of his fingers sending bubbling laughter into the space between you.

“What?” He asks, as if he doesn't have all your weak spots committed to memory.

“Nothing.” you mumble.

“Want me to stop?”

A shake of your head is the only reply Seungcheol needs before he pins your flailing limbs and goes about his business once again. 

His hands always feel incredible. They’re always warm, always gentle despite what lurks beneath the surface. And they’re always on you, in some way or another. 

The roughness of his palm or dig of his fingers are second nature after years of them glued to your body. Whether they’re holding you close or stroking across your cheek as he wakes you with sweet kisses. Heating the small of your back while he guides you in a crowd, or tangled with your own as he whispers his deepest secrets into the dark late at night. You love every part of him but his hands show you a million different ways he feels the same.

You try not to react as he massages up your thighs, the sinew of muscles seizing before they melt under his careful ministrations. 

Every sigh through your nose is a tell Seungcheol is well accustomed to; what you like and what you love. Because he knows you like when he focuses on the curve of your quad, or the meat of your calves until they’re putty.

But you love when he pushes his hand under your oversized shirt and stretches the muscles deeper inside until you vibrate with want.

“You’re not watching the movie.” He whispers into your ear, nose following the curve of your jaw to the place he knows drives you wild.

“I'm a little distracted right now.”

And just like that the thick fingers stuffed in your cunt freeze before retreating. You can’t close your thighs to stop it due to the hand pinning your leg down to his lap with bruising force. But he can’t prevent your free leg from kicking in protest as you beg him to stay.

Seungcheol pinches the inside of your thigh until it stings, “Stop.”

You know that tone. It’s the one that warns you if you keep going, you won’t get what you want; what you need. Seungcheol isn’t a stingy lover but he likes to play and this is his newest game. If you can play along long enough he’ll make it worth your while.

“Eyes on the TV.”

With a harsh swallow you turn back to the screen. Once your boyfriend is sure you won’t look away, his hand returns, three fingers stretching you at a snail's pace. When he’s worked them all in, no longer cautious of your initial discomfort, he stops; focused on curling up against that spot he’s always found with embarrassing ease; pressing until your legs shake and you actually do start dripping into his lap. If it wasn’t for the fabric of your shirt, he could see everything.

The hand on your thigh joins in, the pad of his finger drawing rough circles of your clit. It’s fast and it's dirty but you keep pretending to watch the TV while Suengcheol does as he wants. Your mind is so numb you don’t even realize he’s pushed away the blanket and ruched your shirt up your hips to leave you bare. Not until you hear him spit and feel it land on your exposed clit framed between his fingers.

“Fuck,” you whimper, nails digging into the upholstery. “Please.”

But he’s not done yet. A swift slap to your pussy sends stars in your eyes and your body ten feet in the air if not for the man forcing you in place.

“Just relax, baby.”

You try. And Seungcheol respects your effort because every muscle he worked into submission over the past ten minutes jumps alive under your skin but you sit still in his lap and take what he gives you like he knows you can.

He kisses your cheek before whispering, “I love you.” 

Each word burns into your skin, licks through your blood. He loves you, and you love him and all he wants to do is take care of you. So you try and let him even if it means madness. 

Seungcheol watches you pretend to watch the movie once again, but your mind focuses on the sound of debauchery echoing between your thighs. If you looked down you know what you’d see. The way your pussy clings to his fingers with every stroke out, how they glisten with your arousal, every squeeze; everything. 

All the teasing is enough to make your eyes gloss. Especially when he adds a fourth finger and tells you how perfect you are, how you were made for him, and if you cum right now he’ll give you his cock but you have to earn it.

You want to feel his lips suck around your clit until you're nothing more than an empty shell but you’ll happily settle for the swipes of his fingers. It’s obscene how wet you are and how loud your ruined cunt is over the blasting speakers. 

“C’mon pretty girl,” he coos into your ear. “Come for me.”

The coil winds and winds until it snaps. All the edges ripple, the world blurs. Every breath hurts from the punch in your stomach forcing bolts of electricity through your nerves. 

And Seungcheol doesn’t stop. He keeps going until you’re crying. Only to kiss away each tear with praise and soft lips. You barely crack your eyes open, watching his fingers disappear between his lips, sucking away the mess before he gives you a taste on his mouth.

Eyes shut and boneless in his arms, you let him push and pull you just the way he wants. Your body’s only protest in the exhaustion Seungcheol’s fucked into you with his hands. But it’s not enough to keep you from taking him again.

It never is.

When the jostling stops, you find him kneeling before you. He hasn't bothered to remove his clothes, or yours. Just forces your shirt over your breasts and his pants down until he's bare. Thick thighs frame an equally thick cock you know like the back of your hand.

If your boyfriend thinks you’re beautiful then he is other worldly in the glow of the LED screen. 

Hands anchored on the back of your knees, you spread out for his eyes only. Seungcheol’s mouth waters at your wrecked pussy, soaked and swollen from his attention, begging to be split on his cock. The drooling tip of his length taps against your clit, sending you deeper into the spiral, each nudge making your muscles twitch until he uses his thumb to catch on your opening and force himself through the mind numbing clench.

Seungcheol goes slow, pressing forward only a millimeter at a time, barely giving you a taste before he pulls back and starts again. If the way you’re positioned didn’t prevent you from rushing him forward than the fist around his cock would as he teases you until you're begging and he’s puffing up with pride at how desperate you are. 

Just when you think he’s ready to give in, almost flat against one another, he pulls out.

“I sweat to fucking god if you don’t fu—ckkkkkkk,”

Sheathed to the base in your heat Seungcheol finds paradise, dick twitching with every breath. The rough skin of his palms circle your ankles, spreading them up and out of the way so he can lean forward and give you what you want; your pussy stretched to the brim on his cock while he fucks every last thought out of your head.

“Move.” You mewl, barely human, shaking under his weight.

Settling your legs over his shoulders, he folds you in half, freeing the hands you love so much to do as he pleases. One lands just above your head to keep him from completely crushing you and the other cradles your jaw, thumb brushing across your lower lip before he meets you with a kiss.

His tongue glides against your own, fucking your mouth as his hips curl in time. Every thrust forward forces the air in your lungs up your throat to be swallowed by your boyfriend. He strokes you to life, pinned in place, helpless, glowing.

Seungcheol groans as he fucks you harder. “Fuck, you take it so well.”

You're shaking, vibrating from the synapses firing through every inch of your being. Chin dipped, you watch him wreck you, creaming around the base of his length like he’s fucked you for hours rather than minutes.

You’ll come like this, without any pressure on your clit; just the delicious drag of his thick cock in your walls, crushed under his weight and entirely at his mercy. Helpless Seungcheol latches his hand you yours, intertwines your fingers, and cants against like he’s possessed.

Eyes rolled as you go limp, you reach for his face and whimper into his mouth, climbing higher and higher until you hit the ceiling. Your hands are everywhere, anywhere in reach as you fail to ground yourself against the wave of pleasure rolling through your veins. And it all shatters with a whimper of his name.

He’s perfect and he’s yours and you don’t know what you did to earn him but you know you could live a thousand lifetimes and never deserve him.

You try to break through the noise. But it just serves to make things worse because the only thing the man on top you likes to see more than you desperate for him is you coming on his cock. The arm above your head collapses, sending all of his weight on you, forcing him deeper into your guts until you can taste him on the back of your tongue. The wet clap of his balls against your ass with each rut forward rockets you into the deep end. 

“Shit, shit, shit.” Seungcheol bites into your jaw. “That’s it. That’s my girl. Fuck, you’re so good. So good.” 

It’s blinding, eyes cinched so tight fireworks float in the darkness; Seungcheol’s moans blending with the rush of blood fleeing your brain. He’s feral with the satisfaction of your orgasm, how you wail beneath him like your neighbors won’t hear and know you have a man who pleases you in every way imaginable. Like you want everyone to know his name.

“Cheol,” you whisper, all breath. So quiet he wouldn’t hear you if he wasn’t dialed into your every move. “Want…” you pant. “Want you…”

Seungcheol presses as deep as he can before letting go; stuffing you with his cum, grinding into your pussy with every jerk of his cock until it spills around where he splits you and slips down your ass. 

His eyes never leave yours, watching you take every drop of his affection like you were made to. Like he was the one made to give it to you. Even with your thrashing, you never look away.

A final pathetic noise scratches the inside of your throat when he’s done. Seungcheol won’t pull out but he will pull away, yearning to see the mess between your bodies. Cum and arousal smears your bellies, your thighs, the base of his cock still inside you. Eventually he'll pull you up to wash off and you have no doubt the cushion will be beyond repair.

When he’s had his fill, he collapses into your chest, arms twine around your back as he kisses you with every ounce of devotion he can spare. Until you can feel his love down to the tips of your toes and through every last cell in your body.

And because showing you isn’t enough, he tells you again and again while he fills you once more in the comfort of your shared bed.

-

Taglist: @tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie @gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire @missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu

© highvern. copying/reuploading/translating my work anywhere is strictly prohibited.

pretty like this. (18+ only, mdni.)

summary. you think mingyu's hands are pretty. he thinks you look pretty coming undone.

pairing. mingyu x f!reader

word count. 3194

genre. smut, fluff sprinkled throughout.

cw. very heavy ddlg themes (i cannot stress this enough, more warnings under the cut), very heavy d/s relationship, cnc (she explicitly tells him to stop but they have a safeword), degradation and praise, spit kink, squirting, creampies and a lot of cum, mingyu LOVESSSS reader so bad (and is maybe addicted to her holes), dacryphilia, lots of nicknames (love, baby, sweetheart, honey, princess)

author's note. PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS, I'M SERIOUS!!!!!! also, sorry for the long wait so here's 3k words worth of absolute filth :') i've been working on this since dec 2023 so i'm glad i've finally found the motivation and words to finish it!

this fic contains heavy ddlg themes.

this is not just a daddy kink fic. mg is not actually her dad, reader is not actually his kid. she calls him dad and daddy interchangeably. there are themes of incest play (mg literally calls himself her dad) and age play (evident in the way mg talks to her) but they are two fully consenting adults in an established relationship. think of this as being in the same universe as playtime.

if you don’t like this kind of content, just block and move on.

“your hands are big.”

that was all you said. 

you and mingyu had just been chilling on the couch, bundled up in the fluffiest blanket he owned, a strong arm around your shoulders as you snuggled up to his side, your favourite plush pressed close to your chest.

the tv played some drama that you both had stopped paying attention to for the past… four episodes? regardless, at that point, the tv was just dull, white noise to the two of you as you chatted away, talking about anything and everything your minds could come up with between hushed giggles and lingering kisses.

you somehow ended up on the topic of hands—his hands, specifically, and how pretty you think they are—as you press your palm to his, lining up your much smaller hand up to his bigger one. 

“your hands are big,” you said, index carefully tracing along the lines of his palm. he chuckled.

“yours are just small, princess,” came his response, his own fingers slotting into the spaces between yours before bringing your hand up to his lips to kiss over your knuckles.

you smiled at him, “they’re pretty.”

“you think?” there was a teasing edge to his voice, “they look prettier inside you.”

you don’t remember what happened next.

because now he has you laying on the couch, his shirt that you’re wearing bunched up over your chest, panties gone, tossed somewhere over his shoulder for mingyu to find and keep later on. your plush has already fallen off the couch and onto the floor and its big, cartoonish eyes watch innocently as your boyfriend tugs another climax out of you. 

the three fingers that curl into that spot inside you, has you grinding into the heel of his palm as your back arches off the cushions. his other hand holds onto his phone with surprising stability, trying his best to keep his camera pointed at his digits buried knuckles-deep inside you to capture the way you gush, mic catching each squelch of your slick hole. 

you’re exhausted. so fucking exhausted. 

your body buzzes with the burn of overstimulation and it feels like electricity is coursing through your veins, setting your nerve-endings ablaze. your poor, used pussy pulses around his thick digits as he continues to plunge his fingers into you with an insatiable desire for more.

“gimme one more, baby,” he pretty much begs, camera still pointed at your poor cunt. “one more for the camera.”

one more, he says. one more. the same words he uttered when he pulled a second one out of you. then the third, then the fourth— you’re not sure if you can take a fifth but fuck it, you’re willing to try, if not for your own gratification then for mingyu’s.

“please,” you whine, writhing underneath him. “dad, stop—s’too much. i can’t—” 

tears prick at the corners of your eyes and start to stream down your cheeks. his digits, working relentlessly at your velvety walls, start to feel all too overwhelming for you. one of your hands reaches down to grasp weakly at his wrist in a half-hearted attempt to push him away, but he only clicks his tongue as your hand comes into view on his phone. 

“yes you can, sweetheart. c’mon. do it for daddy, yeah?” he says, voice tinged with only a bit of irritation.

he curls his fingers into your spot again, the rough pads of his fingers pressing into you. you see white before you can even recognize what just happened, the tension in your core snapping with a force that rips the prettiest sounds from your throat.

he watches with a smirk, canines peeking out ever so slightly as you fall apart once more on his fingers. your back bows off the couch, small hands grasping at the blanket, and your body trembles as you cum. your cunt clenches around his digits as you squirt, drenching his hand and soaking the blanket beneath you. 

“see, princess? told you you could do it,” he coos. he says it so sweetly, so encouragingly, it’s as if he wasn’t praising you for squirting all over him. 

he continues to massage his fingers against your walls for a little while more, drawing out your orgasm before he slows down. then with careful motions, he pulls his fingers out of you just as he taps the button to stop recording. he sets his phone down onto the coffee table and pops his digits into his mouth to lick them clean, eyes focused on you—

your cheeks are warm, flushed, wet with tears. your eyes are glazed over and half-hooded. your chest rises and falls with every heavy pant as you try to catch your breath, one leg dangling off the edge of the couch while the other is hooked over the backrest, your pretty holes in perfect view for him.

he did that. 

mingyu grins wickedly to himself as he observes your figure, eyes tracing over the lines of your worn out, fucked out body, irises blown out with more lust, more greed than he started with. he observes—no. admires you because he did that.

he rises from the couch then his hands are hastily pushing his sweats and briefs down, kicking the offending pieces of clothing off to the side to be forgotten about. the only thing on his mind now is fucking you dumb on his thick cock and filling you up to the brim with his cum until you’re leaking. 

“shit. y’so pretty like this, baby,” he cusses under his breath in awe, the sight of you completely at his mercy never failing to take his breath away. “so fuckin’ cute when you’re all fucked out.”

his hands find their way behind your knees. his big, warm hands push them up to either side of your chest, folding you in half and fully exposing both of your holes to him—or, his holes, rather. his to use, his to play with. his to fuck and lap at and fill. his to adore and cherish and love.

embarrassment? arousal? you have no idea what it is that surges through your body at this point but whatever it is, it has you whimpering, hiding your face in your arms, as your boyfriend lets out shallow breaths. he stares hungrily, with heavy lidded eyes, at the way your pussy clenches around nothing, and tries to burn the image of your pretty, glistening folds and perfectly adorable puckered hole into the back of his mind so he never forgets. because god, he loves you—and god, he loves your little holes just as much. 

he wants to take his time and lap at your cunt, savour the addictive taste of you that he always seems to crave, but he’s so hard, it actually hurts. he settles instead for a few tender kisses onto your clit that has the sweetest of whines spilling from your lips before his hands are manoeuvring your legs to hook over his buff arms as he pulls you closer. 

you’re tired, half of you wishing he would let you rest, but the way he manhandles and positions you to his liking has your pussy drooling. 

“dad—” you choke out and it’s something between a whine and a sob. the way you sound so miserable sends blood rushing to mingyu’s already painfully hard cock. the heels of your feet dig into his shoulders and you push—or at least try to with whatever strength you have left. 

“daddy, m’tired,” you whine.

“shh, i know, baby. i know,” he soothes, almost patronising, paying no mind to your cries or your weak kicks at his shoulders. “jus’ one more, okay? know you’re tired but you can do it. you’re my good girl, right? jus’ one more, i promise—one more on dad’s cock.”

so you sniffle and nod because you’d do anything for mingyu.

he litters light kisses all over your face. first on your right cheek, then on the left, then between your eyebrows to your forehead, down your nose then to your lips and chin. you can’t help but giggle, though tired, as his lips tickle your skin with every kiss.

then his eyes are searching yours—despite the haze of your delirium, you can tell he needs the reassurance that you’re okay. but your words are failing you as you fall deeper and deeper into him, into the trance he’s placed on you. your mind feels all too clouded for words so you kiss him instead with a weak hand on his nape, fingers carding through his locks. 

you kiss him slowly, tenderly, in a way that tells him don’t worry, i’m okay because he’s already reduced your mind into mush. it seems to ease his worries because he kisses you back with just as much fondness and so much more devotion, and when he pulls away, he lets out a breath of relief against your lips. 

“tell me your safeword, love,” he pleads with a gentle, hushed voice, eyes peering into yours with an undeniable glimmer of adoration and care.

“red.”

then he’s dripping his spit thickly over your cunt. your body’s so sensitive that a shiver runs up your spine when his saliva hits your clit and slides between your lips.

“please, daddy,” you whimper. but you’re so lost that even you don’t know what you’re asking for.

he grasps his cock by the base as he guides the tip between your pretty folds. then he sinks in, the head pressing into you with a delicious pop, and your breaths turn shallow as he sheathes himself in your warmth. you can feel every ridge and vein of his thick cock as he stretches your walls, and when he presses into your cervix, you’re gone. 

he can’t keep his eyes off your pussy—the way your folds stretch to accommodate the intrusion, cock barely fitting inside you. the slide of his cock against your walls is heavenly despite the pain and sensitivity—fuck, it makes it even better. 

“jesus christ, princess, look,” he rasps, voice strained with what sounds like equal parts disbelief and amusement.

his gaze is fixated on the outline of his cock that bulges on your lower belly, and his mouth fucking waters at the sight. he cracks a smirk. he doesn’t think he’ll ever stop being astounded by just how much your body has to adjust to fit him. 

it reminds him constantly that you’re his little cocksleeve. his little plaything. born and made for him.

a burning, irresistible desire to ruin you, to defile you, blossoms in his chest. he presses down on the bulge with a devious grin and you keen, toes curling and back arching off the couch. 

“look at that, honey,” he coos with a lick of his lips, “dad’s all up in your tummy.” 

he pulls out carefully only to slam back into you again. he does it over and over and over, watching with greedy eyes as the bulge disappears and reappears with every brutal thrust. 

then he buries his face into the crook of your neck and draws back to leave just the tip. with a low groan, slams back into you, the head of his cock kissing up against your spot so good as he bottoms out. it rips a sob out of you so loud, it actually alarms mingyu for a moment and it makes him stop, cussing under his breath in worry as he lifts his head from your neck to look at you, one elbow digging into the cushions to prop himself up and hover over you.

concern settles into his features as he studies your expression. carefully, his free hand cradles your cheek, big thumb smoothing over the plush of your cheeks wet with tears.

“hey,” his voice is gentle as he tries to catch your attention. 

you’re unresponsive—nearly. your head lolls with the motion of his hand as he gently tries to shake you awake. your eyes are closed, lashes clumped together with tears as short, shallow breaths fall from your lips.

“hey. baby, you okay? shit. princess, look at me—”

“don’t stop.”

your voice is so soft and hushed, he almost misses it. if it weren’t for the concern rushing through his body, he would hiss at how impossibly snug your walls are around his cock, how tight you are around him as your cunt throbs. 

it burns—the overstimulation, the stretch, the way your body, despite having trained you so well, struggles to take him. yet you can’t help but crave more, more, more, your mind blurring the lines between pleasure and pain almost completely. 

you want him, you want more of him but you can feel the exhaustion settling in your bones, like your body’s about to break. but you just can’t seem to care, not when his cock pressing into you feels so fucking divine. 

your voice echoes in his head. 

don’t stop. 

and the desire to fuck you stupid hits him all over again in full force. 

he hisses—fuck—then his hips are pistoning into you again with a force that knocks all the breath out of your lungs, your walls burning so good with every drag of his fat cock. a large hand curls around your neck, your chin knocking against the back of his hand, and his fingers press into your pulse just enough to make you lightheaded. you mewl, holding onto his arms weakly, then it melts into an incomprehensible slew of daddy—ngh—d-dad, please—daddy, da—

“pretty baby,” he grunts. “daddy’s pretty little baby. thought you said you were tired, hm? thought you wanted daddy to stop?”

his hips are relentless as he pummels into you like it’s his life’s purpose to have you shatter on his cock, and you’re left whimpering at the pain that courses through your body and fades into the pleasure in some sick, deliciously masochistic way.

“this feel good? dad’s cock feel good in your tummy?” 

there’s a teasing, condescending edge to his voice that makes you clench around him, eyes rolling into the back of your head as his hold on your neck tightens slightly for a moment too short. then his big hand is gripping your jaw, your chin fitting into his palm while his fingers dig into your cheeks as he forces you to look at him.

“i’m talking to you, honey,” he grits between pants, punctuating his taunting with a particularly hard thrust. he gives your cheek a few light slaps, hips stilling to get you to focus on him and not his cock. “look at your dad when he’s talking to you.”

a crooked grin finds its way onto mingyu’s features as he watches your eyes struggle to focus on him. 

there’s nothing behind them now. 

your gaze is hazy at best. unfocused. drunk. your sanity has rotted away, far from your reach, and the only thing you can bring yourself to care about now is the way mingyu’s fat cock is buried all the way in your poor, little hole. how you’re so close but mingyu isn’t moving, and for a split second, you’re terrified to tears that he’d pull out and edge you because you know he has a mean streak and you’re just so, so, so close— 

“you like this, don’t you?” he pries your mouth open and spits right onto your tongue, and if you didn’t know any better, you would think he hated you. “my dumb little princess loves when daddy fucks her stupid.” 

you do. god, you fucking do. 

you wish you had the words to tell him but your mind fails you with the way your boyfriend’s stuffing you full of his cock. instead, you press your tongue against the roof of your mouth to swallow down his spit before sticking your tongue out for him to show him you want more. he smirks. what a perfect little—

“whore.”

so spit on your tongue he does, for the second time, and you whine in delight, music to his ears, before he’s back to bullying his cock into your sopping cunt with a fiery determination to paint your walls white and fuck you full of his seed. 

he wants to make sure you’re full. so full that no matter how hard you try, his load inevitably spills out of you because there’s just too much and you’re just too small. 

then your body bows off the couch yet again, your pretty, pink nails decked in cute little charms are digging into his thick arms, squirming underneath him as your climax unexpectedly hits you head on. your body tenses and quivers as your peak washes over you in tidal waves, squirting all over his thighs and lower stomach. daddy, daddy, daddy falls from your lips like a sacreligious prayer to a forbidden god because you’re starting to think he and his cock deserve to be worshipped. 

the blanket under you is so uncomfortably soaked. it’s unpleasant to lay on, really, but you don’t care. of course you don’t, mingyu’s fucked you too stupid for you to care about anything else other than this dick.

your pussy clamping down on his cock matched with your pathetic cries that he so fondly finds adorable are enough to tip him over the edge, and the pressure that was building in the pit of his stomach finally releases after a few more thrusts. he slides back home into the warmth of your hole, burying all of him in your tightness as he cums deep inside you with a whimper, a desperate fuck, m’cumming. it has the hairs on the back of your neck rising and your walls pulsing around him, greedy and ready for more, as if he didn’t just blow a huge load into you. 

he ruts into you again, slowly this time, just to ride out your highs, warm, sticky cum spilling out of your pussy with every draw of his hips. your poor cunt is absolutely ruined, covered in a mix of your slick and mingyu’s cum—and neither of you would have it any other way.

you’re gone by the time he pulls out. worn out. exhausted. you don’t even notice him leave to grab a washcloth then dampen it to clean you up. your breaths are heavy and your eyes struggle to stay open as he wipes you down and showers you with praise.

mingyu manages to bring you back to your shared bedroom, change you out of his soiled shirt and into a new one, and tuck you under the blankets as he holds you close to his chest. his heartbeat rings in your ears and instinctively, you melt into him, his presence warm and comforting. safe. 

“y’did so good for me, baby,” you hear him say as he kisses the top of your head. it’s a little muffled in your ears, your mind still hazy. “always so good for dad.”

you nuzzle into him, tugging him impossibly closer, and he tightens his hold around you. 

“i love you, daddy,” you manage to say. he’s just as sleepy as you now, but still, he smiles. his chest glows with pure love and adoration.

“i love you too, princess.”