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belovedgyu · 1 day ago

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and if you were my little girl || KIM MINGYU

what's a girl supposed to do when the only protective figure in all twenty three years of her existence has been her hot bodyguard?

<3 pairing: bodyguard! mingyu x heiress! f. reader <3 word count: 7k <3 warnings: heavy daddy issues and daddy kink, mentions of food, multiple orgasms, cock riding, fingering, manhandling, spanking, creampies, smut and other nsfw content, reader is mentioned to be a bit smaller than mingyu, MDNI <3 genres: forbidden relationship, one shot.

author's note: inspired by this fic request from anon and @mingyuisthevictimofsvt

Had he stopped thinking about it?

You hadn’t stopped thinking about it.

But, had he? Did it matter to him as much as it did to you?

The skin over your ribs was still burning with fire left in the wake of his cold fingers from earlier. Even as you peeled the dress off, the cotton swishing over your particularly sensitive flesh, you couldn’t escape the heat surging from your lower belly and raging through your every nerve.

Hell, your fingers were shivering—but Mingyu’s hadn’t.

Not when you had pulled him in a corner and asked him to help you with that wardrobe malfunction. Not when you told him to hurry up, afraid that your dad would never let you live it down if he found you lacking in any way…

You see, just a few hours ago, you had been at the orphanage your father had made a major donation to. A charity to the world, just another tax write-off for him.

Per your father’s instructions, you were supposed to be the one to inaugurate the latest additions to the orphanage’s infrastructure which was made possible because of your enterprise’s generosity.

It was his way of trying to get you, his sole heiress, gradually into the spotlight.

The polished perfect daughter of the owner of the largest media enterprise of the nation, the girl titled by several magazines as the country’s most eligible bachelorette on her twenty-third birthday. You.

You had made sure to wear your finest custom dress—appropriate and modest, kept your hair neat and makeup light. Without the crowd of your usual six member team hoarding you away from the eyes of the public, you came across pretty approachable and kind.

You crouched down, letting the kids kiss your cheeks, allowed them to put stickers all over your face and shoulders, even let a girl with puffy cheeks and even puffier curls to latch on your lap the entire time you were there—away from the constant nagging of your managers, yet silently protected by him who followed you like a shadow.

Mingyu, the chief of your protection team and your personal bodyguard.

Some kids had found their fancy in him, making a sport out of who could climb ‘the tall, buff man in suit’ the fastest. Mingyu had just shaken his head, removed his glasses and let them press their little watercolor stained palms all over his pristine suit.

But then when the kids began circling you with paint on their fingers and bubbling with an eagerness to decorate your palms, you bent slightly too far—and felt it. The soft, unmistakable snap of your bra unclasping beneath the fabric.

Panic surged. Horrified, you stood up almost too suddenly startling a kid who tripped over his feet. Hastily apologizing to him, you ducked to the nearest washroom only to find a long line of kids waiting outside.

Turning to the orphanage supervisor, you explained in a whisper what had happened. She nodded, eyes glazed with worry, but not for you.

The photographers waiting outside were growing restless. There had been a mix-up with the media list, and now tempers were flaring. They were on the verge of storming in or worse…penning damning articles about the chaos. She was distracted, overrun.

No one could comprehend why you were making such a huge deal out of it.

“You’re fine, no one can see anything. Just stand straight, and don’t move much…just a few pictures.” The supervisor rubbed her sweaty palm over your back.

But you were squirming with discomfort, brows pulled up in absolute devastation as you searched for a way out before the vultures with cameras hunted you down.

Mingyu had watched it all go down from the corner of the room, his palm tightening over his fist behind his back when he saw you frowning with worry, obviously distressed about something, but the people around you just kept on brushing you off like an inconvenience.

It didn’t sit right with him, but it was also beyond his duties to approach you unless there was some tangible danger looming around.

He held himself back until he couldn’t.

Walking up to you with certain, sure steps, he held your trembling elbow and pulled you out of the chaotic room into the hallway outside. The jumbled screeching of the kids muffled in the bright corridor. The smell of bleach and soap filled your overstimulated senses.

“What’s wrong?” His voice was far away from the clipped, professional tone he used with you, like he was genuinely concerned about that scowl making a home on your beautiful little face.

A trail of goosebumps lit up your skin when you realized he still hadn’t let go of your arm.

“I…I–can’t…I can’t face the paparazzi like this.” You stammered, lowering your eyes as you admitted this defeat out loud.

What a shame.

You expect him to roll his eyes or mumble something about the princess having yet another tantrum under his breath like everyone else. But instead of some cruel comment, it's his other palm that meets you when he cups your chin to focus your gaze back on him.

“Why? You’re doing so well, you don’t have to be nervous about them.” He shook his head, talking to you with a reverence that is laced with everything but judgement.

At twenty-eight, Mingyu was five years your elder, but he often understood you like he had met every version of your soul that has ever existed. He could predict your queasy reactions before you could even realize them yourself.

He was always there to step in closer at each unsure flutter of your feet, to wrap an arm around you when your breath hitched, to guard your hotel room gate the entire night—even when that wasn’t a part of his job—after a photographer almost managed to get a picture up your skirt in Milan last year.

The words which tied your tongue in front of most people would spill out before him without much thought. You gulped the tears threatening to choke your throat before you confessed.

“My bra got unhooked. I’m afraid the paps are gonna catch some weird angles…my father would be so angry at me for being lousy.” You mumbled, thoughtlessly sucking your plump lower lip between your teeth like you often did when you’d get overwhelmed.

The thumb resting under your chin came up to pull your lip back out, you let it go with a wet pop.

Almost everyone you’ve narrated your problem to at that point had assured you by blurting out some variation of ‘it's fine, i can’t even tell your bra has come off loose.’ or ‘the photographers are professionals, they won’t publish something awkward deliberately.’ or ‘your father’s not gonna zoom in on your chest and see anything.’...except for the fact that he would.

He always micromanaged every image that came out of his family.

It was the reason why your baby brother always had the butler carry three additional pairs of sneakers to his soccer games so that when his shoes got ‘too muddy’, he could change into something more picturesque for the cameras which were always looming around your family. It was the reason why your loose bra strap peeking out repeatedly from under the short sleeves of your dress was such a huge problem.

But Mingyu was here. He could make it right…he would always make it right.

His thumb hovered above your bottom lip, sticky with the gloss and your spit, but he didn’t touch it.

What seemed like shuddering breath escaped his slightly parted lips before he murmured, “C’mere.”

He had held your paint soaked hand and pulled you into a small closet full of cleaning supplies. He bolted the door shut, letting the small space drown in darkness, the only source of light being a small crack in the vent abovehead.

“Can you do it yourself?” He asked. It was of no use. Not when the paint on your fingers was still wet, not when he had purposefully joined you inside the room knowing that you very much can’t do it yourself.

“No.” You answered, unable to see just what emotions were swirling in his eyes in the pitch black.

“Okay.” He sounded closer than earlier, a faint warmth lingering over your shoulder, “I’ll help you, alright?”

You pressed your lips and nodded, even though he couldn’t see. He stepped in closer until the front of his leather shoes nudged against the back of your kitten heels.

A gentle motion of his hands pushed your hair over your shoulder with a soft swish. Your hair felt cold when you pressed your cheek over it. Mingyu sucked in another sharp breath because what you just did made the curve of your neck more visible to him…almost inviting.

The level of self control it had taken him to keep his fingers gentle over the delicate zipper of your dress was astronomical.

You felt his nail graze the smooth skin of your back as he unzipped your top. It made you shiver.

“Are you cold?” He asked, you didn’t miss the smugness dripping in his tone.

“N-not really.” You dabbed the back of your wrist over the bead of moisture over your brow. “Can you hurry up? There’s people waiting.”

Up until now, Mingyu was trying his best to not touch any lines he couldn’t contractually cross.

But that snippy attitude that just leaked out of you as you hissed at him like a cat? Yeah that snapped something within him.

You felt his tall height loom over you more dangerously when he got closer, wedging your heels between his shoes. Just a little movement and your ass would have rubbed right against his crotch.

But he didn’t let that be your concern for long because the very next moment, his giant palms had slipped inside your dress gaping open in the back, held up only by the thin sleeves.

His fingers were unbearably exciting on your skin as he explored around to search for the hooks of your bra. And when he finally did, he tugged at them with much force than necessary.

One of your hands instinctually flew up to your chest at the impact, your nipples burning from the harsh rub of the bra cups, courtesy to him.

A breathy gasp escaped your lips. He wanted to hear that again so he deliberately looped the lock over the furthest hook.

“Too tight…” you hissed and heard him tut under his breath in response.

His body shook a little, like he was silently snickering.

But he obeyed you, loosening it up to your comfort. He looped the straps back into place with excruciating slowness even when you told him you could do it on your own.

"Keep your hands down," Mingyu commanded, his voice smokier than you’d ever heard it, and laced with something you weren’t quite ready to name.

He moved your hand away when you reached to adjust the straps on your shoulders gently but firmly, letting it fall to your side. “Let me do it…you’ll ruin your dress.”

You should’ve snapped at him. You should’ve reminded him that this was completely out of bounds. That your father's company had a policy longer than your arm about inappropriate staff conduct.

But you didn’t. You stood still under his orders. Because the way his breath kissed your bare skin turned your limbs limp. Because the way his fingers fastened the hooks back into place— slow, deliberate, possessive— made your lungs tighten like they were forgetting how to function.

“There,” he whispered, lips so close to your ear that you could feel his words licking your skin. “All fixed.”

You turned your head just slightly, enough to glance over your shoulder, to catch the outline of his face in the faint shaft of light dancing in from the tiny cavity.

God, he was already looking at you, lust warring with confusion in those dark orbs.

And yet, his hands didn’t leave your waist. Not even after your bra was fastened. Not even when the silence between you started pressing against your ribs like it wanted out.

The perfect pictures, the drive back home where Mingyu kept on looking at you from the rearview mirror, the call with your father where the old man kept on hovering around the edges waiting for you to admit a mistake you made—it was all a blur post whatever rendezvous that was in a poorly lit closet of an innocent little place.

And now, you were sitting on the edge of your bed, unbelievably bothered and flushed in nothing but your underwear, trying not to think much about the silk lined memory from earlier.

You tucked your knees closer to your chest, resting your face on them as you waited for your friends to respond to the text you had sent them hours ago—a text inviting them for a movie night at the in-house cinema in your mansion.

Your heart was pulsing in your gut, moisture prickling behind your lids with a painful knowledge—none of them were gonna show up, they would if you invited them for a shopping spree at Dior, but a lame ass movie night? Pass.

You knew that too well…it was the reason why you hadn’t even bothered to put something on.

No one was gonna join you tonight. No one had the time to talk to you when you weren’t the daughter of one of the nation’s wealthiest. It had been like that for as long as you could remember.

Yet you waited with a little invisible ball of hope cradled in your lap like you always did. On the dining table, hoping your father would finally drop his phone call and see the butterfly you drew. In the galas where you’d wait for him to talk to you when cameras or some special guests weren’t around. In the board meetings where you wished he discussed things with you like a daughter instead of addressing you like the rest of the board members. In the company’s head office, where you waited for him to train you to take over his work, his name, his legacy, instead of having his meticulously crafted management mould you into a perfect doll.

The mobile phone thunked on your imported rug carelessly. A giant droplet of moisture, dripping from your lashes, plopped right on to it. You hastily put on some old t-shirt and padded down the stairs to the kitchen.

The oven was still warm when you grabbed the entire tray of cookies that you had your chef bake for the movie night and made your way down to the in-house theater.

A single flick of your finger on the remote jerked the sterile room to life. The space drowned in palettes of gore—harrowing greys and nauseating reds flooding the darkness as some old school horror movie looped into action.

You scarfed down another cookie— your third…fourth…fifth…in the last thirty minutes— who cared?

Maybe the cookies were laced with weed, or maybe the air was particularly cold, because you felt something brush your naked calf which was stretched on the seat ahead.

You ignored it first, focusing back on projecting your father’s face onto that of the evil villain’s who left his daughter to rot in a haunted villa as some sacrifice.

Then, there was slender warmth pressing on your shoulders. Somebody’s fingers.

You yelped, jumping out of your skin to look who it was. You tried hard to squint. A male body, tall and broad, hovering above you from behind your seat. Was it your friend Bayani finally deciding to show up? Damn, when did he get so buff?

“Bayani?” You questioned, “Ian?”

Just then, lightning flashed in the movie, and the brightness made the face of the newcomer visible to you—a face straight out of your wildest dreams.

“Mingyu?” Your voice when you said his name was much more meek than when you were barking out those of random boys. “What are you doing here?”

Your eyes had adjusted to the shallow darkness by now, you could clearly see his hooded ones. Something which you couldn’t name shadowed the hard lines of his face.

“You called me.” He answered.

“I didn’t.”

His reply was to hold up his phone screen right in front of your face, there was still a call connected from your device to his. Oh, you must have accidentally called him or pressed the emergency button when you dropped it. He was your emergency contact after all.

He finally ended the call, swinging his long legs over from behind to occupy the seat next to you. His hair was still dripping from the shower he must’ve taken. “I thought you were in some trouble, searched the whole mansion for you.”

He lived in one of the rooms in the east wing of your bungalow. But you had never seen him dressed like this— just his sweatpants hanging loose over his hips— his golden skin flushed from all the running around to look for you.

“Oh.” You managed, trying hard not to ogle at his abs for longer.

But the defined ridges on his abdomen seemed to have their own gravity, they kept on pulling your eyes back towards themselves.

“Stop staring.” He scoffed.

“‘M not!” You defended.

“You so are.” He laughed, reaching forward to steal a cookie off your plate and inhaling it whole at once.

“I’m not a pervert like you.”

“Oh really? What did I do to earn that title?” Lips smeared with a melting choco-chip, he quirked his brows at you.

You couldn’t believe you were having this slow, lax conversation with Mingyu while he ate your cookies. Almost like you were talking to a friend.

He wasn’t even that older to you, but perhaps the severe nature of his job, that strict protectiveness he held over you, made him appear so much more mature in your head to a point that seeing a movie with him while being so scantily dressed seemed like a sin.

You weren’t touching, but it felt like you were.

Yet you eased up. You always eased up around Mingyu. Even when he was confusing you with all these blurred lines of professionalism, comfort and intimacy.

“You think I didn’t notice what you did earlier?” You threw him a nasty glance sideways, putting your legs down and stretching your t-shirt around your upper thighs.

You thought you heard him groan in displeasure, or maybe it was just the ghost of the rotting girl screeching on screen.

“And what might that be?” He pressed, now looping an arm over the backrest of your seat making his fingers brush over your shoulder. He leaned down just a bit to hear your soft voice better.

You dusted the cookie crumbs off your fingers. Maybe if you didn’t look at his perfect sculpted face while confronting him, it would be less mortifying. “You pulled at my bra, deliberately hard, like a perv.”

You kept your eyes anywhere but at him—the cookies, the screen, the shadows dancing on the smooth, exposed skin of your tanned legs— anywhere but that riveting cheek mole.

To your surprise, he barked out a laugh, low and dry, like you didn’t just accuse him of something inappropriate.

Your face blushed a deeper shade of maroon. You twisted your body to face his shaking one. "What's so funny about sneakily—”

“Sneaky?” He asked, his chuckles dying down in exhausted fits, “Baby why would I have to be sneaky when I know I can play with your tits whenever I want to and you’d let me. Every. Single. Time. Mhmm?”

The way he enunciated that last word was so sweet, almost deceptively saccharine, with a smile so harmless and pure.

But it didn’t stop your body from reacting to this sudden change in his demeanor with a jerk. Yet you didn’t inch away from him, just stared at him. Mouth agape, eyes wide, breath coming out in short, silent pants.

It wasn’t his crude observation—yes, observation because you knew what he was saying was true—that elicited that reaction out of you. It was the fragile nickname spoken before it.

Baby. Almost too quick, too feathery, that it would have slipped from between your fingers like smoke had you not been clinging onto his every word.

Baby. No one had ever called you that. Romantically or unromantically. Not even your own parents.

Baby. You'd like to hear that again. And then again. Maybe loop it like a broken record forever.

“Cat got your tongue?” he jutted his tongue against his cheek, a smirk dancing over his luscious pink lips, “Or are you too scared to face the truth.”

He was still being flirtatiously playful, completely unknown to the pandora’s box of deep seated emotions he had unlocked. What’s worse was that he hadn’t unlocked it all too suddenly tonight, he had been working around, loosening its edges for a long, long time without even realizing. It was that word, that nickname, that landed like the final hammer.

“You shouldn’t…” you sounded like you had just run a marathon, “you shouldn’t speak those things, Mingyu.”

“You mean, I shouldn’t speak the truth?” His other arm, the one that wasn’t snaked over the back of your seat, glided over the armrest to trace the edge of your jaw with a crooked finger, “Tell me baby, would you stop me if I touched you right now?”

All your rationality melted into the touch of his palm the moment he cupped the plushness of your face in it. You wanted to tell him just how jeopardizing this was to his job, that you didn’t want him to be in a risky position because of you because then it would mean he won’t be there to take care of you when you needed him to.

But all you could do was squirm in your seat and close your eyes, pressing your face deeper into his warmth. His arm slipped from the back of your seat to coil around you, maybe he just wanted to hold you like that. But you surprised the both of you by clutching his shoulders and leveraging your weight on them to climb over his legs.

You didn’t care that your t-shirt bunched all the way up or how his eyes had widened at your bold maneuvers. Because right the next second, that shock melted into appreciation and his palms were already cupping your upper thighs.

You were straddling Mingyu's lap like it was the most sensible place for you to be.

And he was holding you there like he echoed that notion.

You leaned in, but it was him who initiated that kiss by capturing your lips between his own.

The kiss was like finally coming home in the evening after running out in the belting rain all afternoon in the winters. Warm, comforting, yet alive with a tremor settled deep in your spine from the frosty lashes from before.

You shivered, whimpered, moaned as his silken tongue explored every curve of your mouth. He mumbled some compliments when you smiled, licked the remaining gloss off your rosy buds, pushed your tongue back into your mouth when you tried dominating the kiss.

Your fingers dug into his shoulders with all your weight. When he didn’t seem phased by the crescent marks of your nails on his skin, you slithered them to his scalp to tug at his hair. He groaned into your mouth, still refusing to part.

His hands were all over you, new yet familiar…like he had done this several times in his dreams.

And when you tried to pull away for a moment to catch your breath, he kissed you harder like he was punishing you for making him wait for so long when you had been just as ready as him all this time.

He kept on pulling you closer until your front was practically mashed with his, breaths mingling and heartbeats thumping in wild rhythms, which one belonged to you which one belonged to him—you didn’t know.

When you finally parted, a fragile string of saliva still connecting your lips like your bodies didn’t like the idea of letting go, you babbled without a second thought.

“I was so lonely,” you whispered, hands still buried in his hair but instead of pulling at it to get a reaction from him, you were letting the silky wisps trickle your fingertips, “and you always take such good care of me.”

It shouldn’t have sounded like such a pathetic, desperate sonnet of gratitude, but it came out as exactly that.

You clenched your eyes shut, like doing that would make him disappear and erase his memory of seeing you so needy.

“Baby, look at me.” He cooed, coaxing you to open up and for some reason, your body followed his command like an instinct. Like your own mind wasn’t even in charge of it anymore.

He cupped your little palms between his giant ones, full of care, not even a trace of pity in his touch, “Hey, look, beautiful…I’ll always be here whenever you feel alone, okay? Just gimme a call and I’ll come.”

“No, Gyu!” You shook your head frantically, almost on the verge of tears, “You don’t get it. I’ve always been so alone until…until you came. Just like you did tonight. Here, in the theater. But that’s also true about everything else. Am I making sense?”

You weren’t, not at least to him. But sincerity softened the lust in his eyes until it turned into something deeper—a craving to see you, not just your physicality, but to really see you.

A wave of patience crashed against his raging system and while just moments ago where he couldn’t think of anything but fucking you open in every position possible…now, all he wanted to do was listen to you, help you sound more coherent.

If he confused you by making you feel protected and turned on at the same time, you confused him even more by triggering something so primal, so deep within him that he couldn’t even call it desire anymore.

“Gyu, can you kiss me while I complain?” You suggested out of the blue, a hiccup rupturing the heady silence between your buzzing bodies.

He blinked, “Would that make you feel better, baby?”

You nodded urgently.

Without any further ado, his lips began peppering the exposed skin of your collarbones with the sweetest, most gentle kisses ever, as you began your rambling.

“I called my friends for a movie date but none of them showed up.” You breathed, clutching his head as he nibbled the skin under your ear. “They only want me when I take them shopping. I don’t even like shopping. Serena, my stylist, chooses better clothes for me anyways.”

Giant hands cinching over your waist tightened. But it wasn’t enough. The cotton, even though only a delicate barrier, was annoying. You wanted to feel him closer.

And so, in a swift motion, you pulled your shirt over your head, the fabric rustling in your arms as he watched you undress for him in utter awe.

To you, this wasn’t some performance of seduction but a need to lay everything bare before him.

Maybe if you showed him everything that hurt, he’d make it right? Mingyu always made it right.

“But then you came here and joined me like you always do.” You pulled his face back into your skin, this time, he licked the newly exposed valley between your breasts. “You’re my only constant, y’know?”

His eyes flickered up to meet yours, earnest adoration brimming in those honey pools. Even when the rest of his body was busy worshipping yours, his eyes were focused on gauging your reactions and his ears perked up to not miss a single word from you.

“You’re the first one ever to give a damn about me.” You confessed—no filters, no brakes—like you didn’t need to hold yourself back in front of him.

“Even my father, he has never taken care of me like you do.” His kisses halted right above the swell of your breast when you blurted that out.

Uh oh.

“Baby…” He breathed, pulling back by a beat.

Your hands slid down his hair to his chest as you pushed your flesh closer over his lap, afraid that he might freak out and leave.

Who knew that it would be you who’d freak out when your core brushed right over his hardened shaft.

Instantly, you attempted to scoot away, not because you wanted to but because it was the modest lady-like behavior that was forced down on you which prohibited you from grinding on men’s hard-ons.

But his palm came down on your butt, too quick, too sharp. One large hand anchored you in your position around your lower waist, another splayed across your thigh.

“Don’t run away from me.” He murmured, it sounded like a plea more than a command. “Whatever you feel around me is valid, baby. Let me show you just how good it can be.”

Your nails raked down on his bulging biceps—the strong, rippling muscles that picked you up and carried you back home when you sprained your ankle in the garden just last month.

His gaze burned into you. “Do you trust me, baby?”

You weren’t even thinking when you answered him, hazy thoughts divided between the rigid body in your hands, the hardness digging at your sticky crotch, and the giant fingers playing with the hem of your cotton panties.

“Yes daddy.”

Your hands moved instinctively, one cupping the side of his neck while the other gripped his wrist. You were still batting your lashes at him, the weight of your words hadn’t crashed down on you.

He processed them before you could, and by the time your eyes widened with absolute horror, he was already massaging the nape of your neck, gentle yet firm to keep you from turning away now.

“It’s alright, sweetheart.” He crooned but you were gasping for an apology. “Baby, no…you don’t have to say sorry. No, no I don’t mind.”

A stray tear rolled down your cheek. You sniffled, “you don’t?”

His response was a kind smile teetering on the edge of playfulness. “Why? I can call you baby but you can’t call me daddy?”

“Daddy…” you tested the foreign word out, thinking it would brittle, but it only soothed you over like a mellow balm.

“Daddy.” you tried again, this time, holding his eyes gleaming with pride.

Prior to this night, you had never realized just how alien that word was to you. You always addressed your father as ‘pa’ when you were a kid, or simply ‘father’ when you grew up.

The two syllables were a whole new territory for you—one you trudged with unsure steps. But Mingyu pulled you in deeper when his body reacted to you calling him that in a manner that could be only described as feral.

The fingers skimming the edge of your underwear were now tugging at it with a strength that could rip them off any second, his other hand already working its way to free your aching breasts from the cups of your bra.

A firm tongue met your large nipple, sucking the sensitive bud until you grabbed his hair, pulling harder than you normally would have for some other guy, but every bit as hard as you would for Mingyu.

He just chuckled softly. You had heard it before—knowing, quiet, like he knew a secret no one else did.

His hand roamed over your velvety body again, finding its way inside your panties. When he finally cupped your leaking mound, stroking the dark curls between your legs, your breath caught. Fingers slipped between your lush lips, finding your creamy wetness. Your legs spread of their own accord above him, giving him more access to your body.

The scene on the screen behind you changed into a sunny summer day, casting a halo of warm yellows and muted greens around you as you ground on his fingers.

“Baby you’re so fucking beautiful…such an angel.” He hummed with utter reverence masking a fierce hunger.

His eyes raked over the slow movements of your hips on his hands, almost like a dance and he wanted to devour you whole. But his touch? As delicate as heaven’s kisses.

He stroked the pulsing bunch of nerves between your legs in repeated swift motions, his thumb rubbing certain circles over your clitoris. You were so wet that it didn't take him much cajoling to slip a finger in, then two. Thick digits exploring your quivering cunt as you kept his skull buried in your chest.

In true spirit of that word, he was indeed, playing with your tits.

His hot tongue would press flat over your perked up nub or flick it sensuously, then his lips would pucker around it the very next second. And then he sucked, god, he really sucked your nipples so hard until they bloomed red.

All while his fingers were jerking in and out of you, knuckles deep, as you drenched his palm. Each time he thrust in, they’d come out slicker than earlier. When he tried easing another finger in, it was met with some soft resistance.

He let go of your nipple with an audible pop, “Baby, relax. I need to open you up for my cock, no?”

“Yes…yes daddy.” You gasped, eagerly pressing your knees further apart.

“Good girl.” He grinned like his fingers weren’t drilling in and out of you at a debauched speed, filling the room with squelching noises that echoed louder than the screams from the screen.

Your waist had started to hurt now from all the squirming and wriggling, but his iron grip fastened around you cemented you there as he made you take all three of his fingers.

You were already on the brink of your inevitable orgasm when he hit the spot. It only escalated everything, pushing you over the edge and muddling all your senses until you were a blubbering mess of leaking heat and a single word riding your lips like a prayer.

Your face smushed over his hard chest, mouth hanging open and drooling all over his skin.

Mingyu eased his soaked fingers out of your ruined folds, you almost didn’t let him go when you clenched around him. It was only when he promised to make it better that you relaxed.

He somehow managed to get you out of your panties and slide his own pants down just enough to ease out his rigid cock all while you rutted on top of him, still under the throes of the orgasm he had given you.

A strong hand slid to your rounded ass, cupping your supple cheek firmly and angling your completely nude body against his. The blunt head nudged at your wet opening. Winding your arms and legs around his hard body, you squeezed him as hard as you could—your way of telling him to just put it in. He groaned into your neck, letting his cock sink deeper into your tight cunt despite his worries of not having prepped you enough.

“You sure you okay, babe?” He asked, pausing.

“Yeah, yeah…” You nodded into his neck, “I think I can manage this, just gimme a moment.”

You felt his body stiffen under yours. “Baby I’m only halfway in.”

You froze, mewling at first, but your determination soared higher at the challenge.

He attempted to distract you from the fact that he was destroying you for any other man after tonight, by scraping at the soft skin on your shoulder with his teeth. It was all so hot—uncomfortable one moment, exhilarating the next.

You had been so horny and you needed him fully inside of you so badly. But he held you up like a doll, only moving you at a pace he knew you could handle.

“Oohh…” you mused with each additional inch, arching your back and effectively pressing your sensitive tits deeper into his hard body. Raw nipples rubbing against his sweaty muscles.

You felt so vulnerable suddenly—stretched way beyond your limits, bodies tangled so close that it was incomprehensible what trickle of liquid was his sweat and what was your drool, as he began spearing up inside you with steady, sure movements.

When he nudged that sensitive spot again, your cunt spamsed around him, bathing his shaft in steamy heat. Your arousal trickled out around the base of his cock.

“Fuck, baby…you’re so hot like this.” Mingyu grumbled.

You shuddered at the complement and buried a moan in his shoulder. His cock massaged your tingling cunt as he slowly began fucking you. All the time, you clung on to him, trusting him with all your body at your most vulnerable.

His tanned skin glistened amber under the flickering lights of the movie rendering him looking like a succulent, sweet treat. Your tongue darted out to taste his warm and salty skin like you were licking a popsicle on a hot summer night.

“Yummy…” You giggled when he moaned low.

That only made him twitch harder inside of you, his patience was running thin and you kept on teasing like the little vixen that you were. Gone were his consideration to keep it slow and steady enough for you to adjust. He wanted to…no, he needed to fuck you harder.

You hiccuped when his thrusts became longer turning your crotch into liquid heat which melted around his hard rod moving at a sensuous pace inside your warm cunt. You turned your hips a little desperately, trying to add to the pleasure but Mingyu was too focused on fucking in and out of you to stop you from playing around.

When his tongue sank into your mouth again, you gasped, scratching your nails down his broad, sweaty back.

“Fuck yeah baby, go wild.” Mingyu smiled—crooked, ruined, reveling in your animalistic reactions to his cock drilling your cunt.

Your hips jerked, doing anything and everything to match his vigour. He decided to show some mercy on you by hooking an arm around your waist to make you ride him in a manner that was pleasurable to you both instead of just bouncing on him hungrily.

“Daddy is so deep inside of me.” You spoke to yourself, it was music to his ears.

With fingers digging into the back of your plush thighs, he lifted you up and lowered you down, causing your back to arch even deeper. God, it would ache worse than your pilates classes tomorrow morning.

But all your focus was on the inescapably huge bulge swelling inside your wet cunt.

“Am I too heavy?” You whimpered when his biceps flexed as he manhandled your body on top of his own.

“Not at all, baby.” He assured, firmly pressing you closer and jerking you faster than before just to prove his point. “Why do you think I go to the gym everyday?”

Every movement of his hips sent his thick cock rubbing that sensitive spot inside of you. You began lifting your ass even without his assistance, sliding your juicy cunt up and down his shaft over and over again. He fastened his plunges, his hands roamed everywhere—your heavy breasts, your smooth belly, your quivering thighs.

That little smile curling his lips hadn’t disappeared for even a single second and it only sent a hard shudder of need throughout your body. And when a sudden touch of his fingers pressed down on your aroused clitoris, you screamed.

Waves and waves of pleasure crashed down on you until you had soaked his lap.

Trembling fingers which were digging on his shoulders curled around him, locking behind his neck in an inseparable hug. You were beyond overstimulated, but you didn’t want to be even an inch away from him.

He hugged you back, but his cock hadn’t stopped bullying your tender pussy nor had his fingers slowed down from fondling your ripe breasts or your overused folds. You thrashed in his arms, beginning to sob from the overwhelm.

“Such a nice little pussy.” He murmured, encouraging you to continue taking him in your sopping cunt even after you had orgasmed. “Taking everything I’m giving you like the nice obedient girl that you are.”

“Just nice, daddy?” You hiccuped, determined to drive him as crazy as he had driven you by squeezing around him.

“No…the best pussy ever, fucking amazing, I wanna cum inside of you all night long.” He grunted.

Your cunt rippled around his cock yet again, your thighs began squeezing his hips. His meaty cock plunged out until only his tip remained, then he forced you down again until he was nestled as deep as he could. He kept on repeating that, fast and hard, knocking the very air out of your lungs. His strokes were longer than ever, driving into you with almost no regard for your sensitivity now.

“I wanna fuck you everywhere baby…on every surface of this house, lick every crevice of your body.” He panted, breathless, strained with need, “I wanna fuck you until the only thing you can remember is me, until every inch of your skin is covered with me. I wanna give you all that I have and then I wanna see it running out of you as you lie there, fucking worn out and satisfied because you’re so little to keep it all in. Aren’t you?”

You wanted to protest, wanted to tell him that you could, in fact, take him all in. But you were so sensitive after coming twice, way too sensitive to do anything but nod with a 'yes daddy' mumbled against his skin.

You were in a fog, hazy and hot, and so unreal. The chair underneath you both squeaked like it would give out any moment now. But you only spread more, urging his cock to go as deep as it could because you were practically frothing to feel him come inside of you. To prove him wrong that you couldn’t keep it in.

It surprised you both when his palm landed harsh over the plumpness of your bottom. Mingyu had just spanked you.

And the hitched moan you let out at the impact, glassy eyes wide and bitten lips parted in shock, it triggered his own orgasm.

Heavy groans turned into soft sighs with the final few jerks of his hips as he pumped his load deep inside of you.

He was right, you couldn’t take it all in. Because that same moment, as he emptied inside of you, you came again, making the sinful mixture of both of yours cum to dribble down his shift and slickening your conjoined bodies. There was a thick puddle of wetness right on the seat underneath.

“Daddy you came so much.” You managed to gasp, writhing on top of him as he hugged you tight, not letting you move even a single inch.

“Blame yourself, baby.” He chuckled, pressing a kiss to your sweaty temple.

The air around you was less frantic now, but no less hungry. The kind of hunger that lingered until it turned into longing during midnights like this.

His grip over your body loosened, but you slumped right on his chest, too exhausted to even lift your hips when he tried to pull out.

“Lemme cockwarm you.” You insisted, sucking at your lower lip again. God, you were so uncharacteristically bratty and demanding around him.

“Damn, you got crazy daddy issues.” He guffawed, flushed and spent, but still conscious enough to pull your lip from between your teeth. He didn't want you to bruise it, that was his job now.

“And you have a raging daddy kink.” You argued back, nestling impossibly closer to him.

a/n: This is what I mean when I say my writing fell off since i wrote normal people….luna in her flop era i should just kms :((

had to channel the energy of absolute mother @madeforgyu for this one iykyk

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