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prettiestvamp · 2 years

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Business Partners

lee minho x reader

word count: 6.3k

genre: smut - MINORS DNI

warnings: enemies to “lovers”, non idol au, they fucking hate each other, mentions of alcohol, hookups, no strings attached, MEAN hard dom!minho, sub!reader, dirty talk, degradation, slight humiliation and dumbification, pet name kitty/kitten, hair pulling, choking, oral (m receiving), fingering (f receiving), edging, crying, one slap to the face, unprotected sex (seriously, don’t fucking do this), minho is just mean af. if i missed anything, PLEASE LET ME KNOW.

summary: nobody can ruin a good thing quite like lee minho

a/n: FINALLY posting my weekend post on a tuesday night. tbh almost scraped this fic, but @lix-ables convinced me not to and pushed me to finish it. i hope it lives up to your expectations, thank you for pushing me to be a better author :’) also FIRM believer in hard dom minho, so hopefully you love it just as much!

this is a work of fiction. this fic in no way represents lee minho as a person or stray kids as a whole. you are responsible for the media you consume. please read responsibly.

The moment your office door was shut, locked, and the blinds on the front window were closed to avoid looks from the company gossip, you took off your heels and threw them at the large window on the opposite wall. You threw yourself against the solid wooden door and sunk down, a loud and frustrated groan filling the silent office. You were pretty sure your office neighbor heard it, but you were in no place to care right now.

The meeting you just left had to be the worst meeting of your professional career. You had arrived cheerful and optimistic - you had slept well, woke up early enough to make a good breakfast, and even got to take your time getting dressed. Nothing could ruin your day, and you went into the meeting with that exact mindset. When the meeting left you angry and blindsided, you realized that no matter how good of a day it was, someone could always ruin it.

And he always did.

The meeting was to announce the two people chosen to represent the branch at the company’s annual conference. A week long on a beach, the conference was all expenses paid with plenty of free time after the day long meetings and training activities to explore the small beach city and do whatever you wanted. The last night of the conference was a giant gala, filled with networking opportunities and loads of other benefits. It was practically a vacation you got paid for, and you wanted to be picked so badly.

You had worked your ass off the past year, going above and beyond the expectations set on you, earning a raise twice, and had raving reviews from both coworkers and customers. You wanted this. You deserved this. And when your name was announced as the first person to attend the conference, you were convinced nothing could push you off the cloud you floated on.

The next person also had an incredible work year - people who worked closely with them had nothing but positive things to say about them, and they met every goal in a record amount of time. They were just as valuable and deserving as you were, and there was excitement coursing through your veins as you waited for your boss to announce who would be your partner for the week.

The coffee burned your throat as you choked on it, eyes wide with disbelief. You had to have heard her wrong. No. No, things couldn’t go this badly before the trip even started.

But if the smug smile that painted his face was any indicator, your week was ruined before it even started. His dark eyes flickered over to you as you willed yourself not to get angry in front of him, and gave you a sly wink.

“Can’t wait.” Minho said before turning his attention back to your boss.

Every fiber of your being hated Lee Minho, and not in a cute ”they just don’t understand their feelings for each other” way, but in a way you thought was well enough understood by both your coworkers and your boss. You would not work with him, and while he never verbally expressed his unwillingness to work with you, it was obvious in the way he treated you.

The two of you were hired on the same date, and went through the training process together. Both you had the same level of education, same level of experience, glowing reviews from former employers. There was no need for competition as you two were the same on paper.

And while you would agree that the things employers looked for when hiring were similar, the two of you couldn’t be more of polar opposites.

It wasn’t until you two shared an office that you began to notice the differences. It made sense to have the two new hires share an office until they worked their way up and moved into their own space. And you enjoyed training with Minho; he was funny and witty. you weren’t angry about sharing a small space with him everyday.

Your desks were pushed together, computer screens acting as a barrier in between. The first few months were a breeze; if someone had to make a private call, the other would take their laptop and leave the room. If one of you needed help the other person was ready and willing to offer it. The office stayed as neat as it could, both of you tidying up after yourself. You had no complaints.

The first incident was the window incident.

That summer had been the hottest one in years, which meant a lot of time spent indoors and copious amounts of sunscreen being applied every few hours. It also meant air conditioning units were working overtime, and unfortunately for your company, yours had decided to take a break. Because of the amount of units failing, the entire office spent a week drenched in sweat and wearing as minimal clothing as professionally required.

You and Minho had decided to keep the door shut. Both of you had bought two plug in fans, one for each corner, and left them on full blast the whole time, even overnight. It didn’t do much, but it was preferred to drowning in sweat.

The incident happened on a Wednesday. Minho had lost his suit jacket and rolled his sleeves up as far as he could. Wet spots decorated his back and armpits, and he was padding his face with tissues every few minutes. You had chosen a shorter skirt that day with a sleeveless work top. One hand typing up your report, the other held an ice cube to your neck, rubbing it back and forth in an attempt to cool yourself off.

“Ice?” Minho asked as he popped open the top two buttons of his shirt. You held the styrofoam cup out to him, letting him fish a cube out. He leaned back in his chair, a low groan falling from his lips once the ice pressed against the exposed skin of his chest.

You laughed, eyes never leaving the computer screen. “Quiet down or people will call HR on us.”

Minho rolled his eyes. “Don’t even bring up sex, it’s too hot to think about it.”

You began to respond something along the lines of calling him a pervert when the fan facing Minho suddenly made a loud clicking sound and died. Minho cursed under his breath, rushing over to the fan to see if there was any way to revive it. He spent fifteen minutes trying, efforts leading nowhere. You, trying to resolve the situation, suggested opening a window to help regulate the cool air.

“Did I ask for your help?” He snapped, eyes narrowing at you. “No? Then I’m good. Thanks.”

You excused the window incident at first, thinking it a one time thing. Then progressively over the next few months, it was obvious the friendship the two of you had was beginning to chip away. First, Minho stopped offering to pick up coffee for you. In return, you no longer brought him a soda when you returned from the break room. Conversations got shorter, eye contact became non-existent unless you were speaking to one another. Soon the once lively tiny space, once filled with laughter, began to fill with silence. The only sound you heard from Minho was the click of his keyboard. A piece of you longed for that friendship back. He was a rock for you, and you were one for him; you felt like you two understood each other in the workplace better than anyone else. For a while, you thought he felt the same way too - often catching his stares over the desktop screens.

Until the straw that broke the camel’s back.

The office incident.

In the monthly staff meeting, it was announced that there was an opening in the department you and Minho both desperately wanted in. Both of you, just as qualified, were up for the promotion. Better hours, better pay, and most importantly a private office. It was what you wanted more than anything, a stepping stone to get you towards your dream position. However badly you wanted it, you couldn’t stop thinking about Minho and how it would suck to take that job away from him. Your boss requested meetings with the both of you before she made her decision, and you decided to tell her that as much as you wanted it, you think Minho would be a better fit. You cared for him, even if your friendship was gone at this point.

That all changed when you got into the meeting and found out Minho threw you under the bus. He painted you in an awful light, tweaking the truth enough to make it seem like while, yes, you both started at the time with the same qualities, he was a better fit because he was a better worker than you. Your jaw was clenched the entire time, nails digging into your palm as your boss calmly asked you to clarify the statements he made. Rage bubbled in your chest, and it required all your willpower to not make your answers snappy or emotional. Your legs shook, breathing heavy, as your boss told you she had many things to consider and that she would get back to the two of you by the end of the week.

Calmly, you rose from your chair, shook her hand and thanked her for her time, exited the room, and walked swiftly back to your office. You could see him through the open door; white shirt with thin blue stripes, suit jacket slung over the chair. He rested his chin on his palm, thoughtfully tapping his lips as he scanned the computer screen in front of him. You continued to act like nothing was wrong, carrying the files you took the meeting over to your desk to put them down. Then you turned around and shut the door. You didn’t want to make a scene.

When you turned around to face him, Minho’s eyebrows were raised in surprise.

“Why did you-“

“What the fuck-“ you walked towards him, closing the space between the two of you until you were in front of his chair, towering over him “-is your problem?”

Lazily, he leaned back in his chair. It thumped against the wall. He had a cocky smile on his face, and all you wanted was to wipe it off him. “You’re going to have to be more specific.”

“You know what I mean.” You felt your lips shake with anger, stomach turning as you tried to keep your cool. “Why did you say those things about me? You could’ve left me out of it, but you threw me under the bus instead.”

“Mm, but I couldn't leave you out of it, could I? After all, we’re both up for the same promotion. What good would it do me to speak positively of you?”

“You could’ve said nothing. You didn’t have to speak of me at all.”

“And lose my well earned promotion? I think not.”

It was then that you realized Minho never cared about you, never cared about your work friendship. You were a pawn - a tool for him to use to get what he wanted until you got dull. And he wore you out a long time ago.

Deciding you’ve said enough, you moved back to your desk to gather your laptop and files. You’d work in the break room today. Hand on the doorknob, you turned to Minho. He was still looking at you, still leaned into that corner, but his smirk was gone. He watched you like a predator, waiting to see if your next move was one he needed to pounce on or not.

It wasn’t.

“I hope you get it, Minho.” You turned back to the door and opened, the noises of the rest of the office floating in. “You deserve it.”

Your boss called you in for a meeting that Friday. Minho sat on the left, you on the right. She explained that another position had opened up, and that she was happy to promote both of you. Equal benefits for two equally qualified employees. After the meeting, he turned to congratulate you. You nodded your head before leaving the office. The damage was done. He was out of your space. You never had to interact with him again unless you wanted to.

For a year and a half, it worked. The two of you, offices across the hall from each other, never spoke unless the mail got mixed up. You went on your way, making new friends in the department, and he did the same thing. For you, being civil with Minho was avoiding him. He seemed to share that sentiment.

How the fuck were you supposed to go on this trip with him?

For the next two weeks, you prepared for the conference both in your work life and at home. You packed, bought new swimsuits and a dress for the gala, worked overtime at least three times a week to make sure you were prepared for anything they asked. You had two necessary meetings with your boss regarding the trip that Minho had to be involved in. During them, you spoke to him only when you needed to and vice versa. Your boss gave the two of you an itinerary and plane tickets, and basically sent you on your way, encouraging you to have a good time.

Easier said than done, in your opinion.

You arrived at the airport before Minho, who strolled to the gate five minutes before boarding. The flight was the part you dreaded the most - you could avoid Minho when you got to the resort, but for three and a half hours, he would be right next to you. Thankfully, the company had sprung for first class seats so you could comfortably ignore him.

He spoke first, right before take off.

“Could you wake me when they come around for drink orders?” His voice was low and gruff, obvious he didn’t sleep well the night before.

If only you cared. “No.” You said, eyes never leaving the book in your lap.

“Wow, really?”

You shrugged. “Guess you should stay awake if you want a drink.”

He scoffed, head turning to face the window. It would’ve been easy to be nice - you wouldn’t have even had to speak to him to wake him up. You, however, weren’t too fond of doing things for others who haven’t been kind to you.

Minho stayed awake long enough to get a drink, falling asleep soon after. You read for a bit before pulling out your laptop, making some last minute adjustments. Two and half hours into the flight, Minho woke up and began to work on his reports as well. Noticing he was awake and on his laptop, you took out a headphone and spoke second.

“Did you send me your reports? I haven’t gotten them yet.” You turned your laptop screen to him, showing that you had no new emails in your inbox from him.

His eyes twitched in confusion. “I thought I did…” he trailed off, typing quickly to search for the email. “Yes. Right before I left the office yesterday, at like 5:00ish.”

You double checked your spam to make sure it didn’t accidentally get sent there before shaking your head. “Weird. Could you resend it? And did you get mine?”

He nodded. “Yes to both. Thanks.”

Neither of you spoke again until after you landed, and even then it was just about the rental car or work. The drive to the resort was silent, you with your headphones in and Minho focused on the road.

Your hotel rooms were next door to each other, a single door connecting the two. Exhausted from both the flight and having to speak to Minho, you collapsed on the king sized bed. You turned your head to the large window with a perfect view of the ocean. If you were quiet enough, the sounds of waves hitting the sand could be heard even through the closed windows.

The clock in the bedside table told you there was time for you to nap before you needed to start getting ready. You let the gentle sounds of the waves and the warmth leaking through the open windows lull you to sleep.

You needed this trip. You deserved this small break. And nobody, not even Lee Minho, was going to ruin it for you.

“Don’t you think that dress is a bit too revealing for a business dinner?”

“I don’t remember asking for your opinion, Minho.”

Minho looked up at you from his seat, eyes traveling from your exposed shoulders down to your legs. Once they reached your heels, they shot back up to your eyes. “Just might give others the idea that you’re looking for something other than networking.”

You sat down next to him and took a sip of your drink. “And what if I am?”

The smirk he gave you made you nauseous. “I didn’t take you for a slut.”

His words made your choke on your martini, loud coughs drawing attention to your side of the table. The audacity he had to speak to you like that, at a work function nonetheless. If people weren’t staring, you would’ve thrown your drink in his face and walked away. But you couldn’t do that; you couldn’t paint the picture that the two representatives of your branch hated each other, no matter how true it was. At all trainings and dinners, you were forced to act civil with Minho so other people would want to connect and work with your firm. So far, it was not going well.

“How dare you speak to me like that?” You said with a smile on your face to keep the act up. People were watching the two of you, after all.

Minho hummed, taking a long sip of his whiskey. “You know I'm not a liar.”

“So you think me a slut?”

“I never said that was a bad thing, did I?”

You hated him. Absolutely despised this man. Everything about him was ignorant and sickening, impolite and ill-mannered. There was nothing in this world that could make you like someone as vile Lee Minho.

So the fact that you felt your face begin to flush at what he called you made you want to bury yourself into a hole.

You crossed your legs, trying to hide your reaction from him. If this was before the incidents, you would’ve admitted you were attracted to Minho. He was witty, and his face looked like it had been sculpted by the Gods. It would be a lie to say he was unattractive even now, but you refused to let yourself even entertain that thought. He was the worst person you’ve ever met. How nice he was to look at wouldn’t change that fact.

“Do not speak to me again unless it’s work related.” You said once you trusted your voice to be steady.

Minho stared at you while you looked forward, pretending to not feel his eyes on you. If there was one thing Minho thrived at, it was reading people, and you knew he was currently doing that to you. You would be damned if you gave him any hint into what you were feeling.

After what felt like an hour of staring at you, Minho scoffed and pushed his chair back. He stood up, buttoning his suit jacket up. “Whatever you say, doll.” He walked away with his whiskey, and you let yourself relax, hoping he would stay away.

He did, for the most part.

Minho was social and good at drawing crowds in, so it wasn’t surprising that he had a large group of people around him in a short amount of time, a charming smile on his face as he made them laugh. A woman stood close by him, entranced by every word that left his lips, and you felt pity for her.

But pity and jealousy were hard for you to distinguish.

You had focused on networking with the people at your table, finding out where they were from and what their roles at their companies were. Throughout the night, the man seated across the circular table from you had inched closer and closer, now filling the seat Minho left empty. He, like Minho, was good at grabbing attention and keeping it, so you physically could not look away from him. Not that you would want to, anyway.

Handsome wasn’t a suitable word for his looks - he was by far the most attractive man in this building. His smile made you feel warm, his laugh made you laugh, and like the woman who stood by Minho, you were entranced by the man who sat next to you.

You didn’t come to the conference to hookup.

So when you ended up back in your hotel room with this man, hands shoving your dress up your thighs, you were surprised to find yourself here. Disappointed? Not in the least bit. But, surprised.

He kissed you like he was trying to devour you, tongue exploring each corner of your mouth. He settled in between your legs the same way, unwilling to move until you were shaking. Nothing about him was slow - he was rushed, like he didn’t have the time to care for you or touch you like you needed. The disappointment came when he finished into the condom and rolled over, completely spent from the seven minute experience.

You tried to touch him to make sure he was alright, but he jerked away from your touch. “Let me come down first.” He panted.

The moment you could usher him out of your hotel room, you did.

“That was fun.” He said once you were in the hallway.

You nodded, a polite smile on your face. “Yeah.”

“We should do this again-“ the door next to your room opened, the woman from before walking out. Minho stood at the door frame, leaning against it as he spoke to her. You tried not to stare, you really did, but the way she looked completely blissed out had you envious. At least one of you had an orgasm this evening. “-if you want to.”

“Huh?” Your eyes snapped back to the man in front of you. “Oh. Yeah. Sure.”

He smiled before leaning in and kissing your cheek. You’re happy he didn’t see the grimace that painted your face when his lips met your skin.

Minho did, though.

Minho watched the entire interaction, catching your stare without you even noticing.

You went back into your room, ready to call it a night. That was easily the worst sexual experience of your life. All you wanted was to sleep off the disappointment, maybe masturbate in the shower to at least reach your high. The silence that replaced the painful echo of fake moans was comforting and more than welcomed.

Too bad a knock on the door that led to Minho’s room disturbed it.

You considered ignoring it. It would be easy to walk away, say you were in the shower or already in bed and unwilling to move. But you couldn’t stop your feet as you made your way to the door, opening it before you convinced yourself otherwise. Minho leaned against the door, the same annoying smirk on his face as always.

“Good time?” He asked, voice laced with amusement.

You sighed, readying yourself to shut the door. “This isn’t work related.”

“Of course it is. My dear coworker just got fucked and let the entire floor hear her half assed moans. It’s only polite of me to check on her.”

You glared at him, not wanting to play his games. You were tired and sexually frustrated, and the last person you wanted to waste your time talking to was him. “Fuck off, Minho.” You went to shut the door and cut off the contact, but was stopped by his palm slamming against it.

“So was it good?”

You sighed, anger building with each word he said. “You know the answer already. I’m glad you had a good time Minho, now leave me the fuck alone so I can try to cum before bed.”

His eyes widened slightly at your admission before darkening with an emotion you’ve never seen on him before. “You didn’t finish?”

You threw your head back, willing yourself not to cry from being so overwhelmed. “Why does it matter, Minho? Just leave me alon-“

“I didn’t either.”

Head snapping back upright to look at him, you couldn’t help the shocked expression you gave. The woman he was with left his room looking so fucked out that you were jealous, so how he not have-

“She just wasn’t- she didn’t do it for me.” He answered the unspoken question. “So I just ate her out until she finished and rushed her out before she could question whether or not I came.”

The two of you stared at each other, and you couldn’t help but wonder how you both ended up with duds this evening. Minho, who could easily pull anyone he wanted, ended up in the exact same position as you on the exact same night. Both of you, high and dry, and still impossibly horny.

“Well.” You broke his eye contact, fiddling with the hem of your oversized shirt. “Guess we’re both getting off in the shower tonight, huh?”

He chuckled, and despite your best efforts, you laughed with him. It had been so long since he laughed at something you said that you almost forgot he was capable of it. You hated the way it made you feel - nostalgic and longing for more of that sound. You still hated him with every fiber of your being, but you couldn’t say you didn’t miss his friendship.

“Guess so.” He said, a real smile on his face. His eyes left yours, finding the hands at the hem of your shirt. The way you twisted it around your fingers, tightening it just a bit before loosening it again. Without looking away from your fingers, Minho spoke again. “Or we could just get each other off.”

You froze, the nonchalant tone catching you off guard. You had to have misheard him, there’s no way he meant it that way.

“What are you implying?” Your voice broke as you asked the question.

“Come on, doll.” He made eye contact with you, and when you saw the intention and heat behind them, you knew you heard him correctly. “You’re not that dumb, are you?”

You bit down on your lip, anger and lust bubbling inside you and mixing so you didn’t know where one feeling began and the other ends. “St-stop talking to me like that.”

“Oh? You want me to stop?” He closed the space in between you, large hand reaching up to stroke your face. “Say it, then. Tell me to go back to my room, and I’ll go.”

You couldn’t. You willed yourself too, but not a sound left your lips. As much as you hated Minho, as absolutely awful as he’s been to you, there was nothing you wanted more than for him to ruin you.

One of your hands reached out and touched his stomach, fingers running over the soft material of his shirt. Voice a hoarse whisper, you responded. “Ruin me.”

His soft strokes stopped, reaching around to the back of your neck and gripping your hair, making you look up at him. “Don’t say that unless you mean it.”

Your lip trembled as you kept his eye contact, every part of your body on fire for him and he hadn’t even done anything. “I mean it.”

He used the grip on your hair to bring your face close to his, lips softly brushing against yours but refusing to meet. “Pathetic.” He whispered before shoving you to your knees.

You gasped when your bare knees rubbed against the carpet, feeling the ache of a rug burn forming on the skin. Minho’s grip was still tight around your hair, craning your head up to look at him.

“Think you can act like a slut all night and get away with it?” His words were harsh, and coming from him should make you feel angry. You hated him, after all. But you couldn’t help but whimper at the degradation, wanting nothing more than to hear it all night.

He let go of your hair, a sharp “stay” thrown in your direction before he walked around you and sat in an armchair in the corner of your hotel room. Once seated, he beckoned you over with two fingers, and without asking, you knew he wanted you to crawl to him.

It was embarrassing how quickly you moved, knees dragging against the carpet as you crawled. His face was bored as he watched you, but you saw the amusement flicker in his eyes. How often had he pictured this? You willingly submitting to him? How often have you pictured it?

You stopped in front of him, sitting up on your knees. Minho smiled at you, the tent in his joggers becoming increasingly more obvious as time passed. “What an obedient slut, crawling over to me like a little kitten.” A whimper fell from your lips, and his smile grew. “Kitten? Did you like that?”

You nodded your head, a breathy yes falling out.

His hands cupped your face for a moment before brushing behind and pulling your hair into a makeshift ponytail. “Slutty little kitten, whining for me before I’ve even done anything.” A hand left your hair to push his joggers down to his thighs, hard cock springing out. “Suck me off and maybe I’ll touch you.”

Minho guided you to his cock, harshly encouraging you to get on with it. You thought then to tease him, either licking him slowly or just flat out refusing, but something about the way he stared at you gave you chills and made you want to please him. Without hesitation, you took the tip of his cock into your mouth and began to push yourself deeper onto him before pulling back up to the top. You bobbed your head up and down, spit trickling down his base as you went. The lewd noises filled the hotel room, mixing with the low grunts he let out as you went deeper.

Minho gripped your hair hard, pulling you off of his cock. You were panting - the pace you had set was so quick you didn’t have a chance to breathe. His cock shined in the moonlight, slick with your spit. “So messy.” He whispered, a thumb wiping the spit that threatened to fall off your chin. “You always this messy, or is it just for me?”

You swallowed, throat sore from the abuse of his cock. “Just you, Minho.”

He smirked before leaning over and kissing you for the first time. It was firm, but gentle, lasting only a few seconds before he moved away. “Good kitty.” His hands fell from your hair and he leaned back in the chair. “Up.”

Embarrassing fast, you scrambled into his lap. The need to be obedient for him was quickly overriding your deep hatred for him. Every fiber of your being told you to stop, but something drew you in. Something kept you wanting to make him happy.

Once on his lap, Minho tapped your hips, wordlessly asking you to raise them. “After this week, everything goes back to normal.” He made quick work of your panties, tossing them behind his back. “I hate you. You hate me. Now let’s fucking act like it, shall we?”

Before you could respond, Minho shoved two fingers into your mouth, making you gag around them. He thrusted them in and out, smiling at the sound you made when they got too deep. Once satisfied, he pulled them out of your mouth and wasted no time shoving them deep inside your cunt.

His thrusts were slow, as if trying to memorize what you felt like around him. Each one deeper than the last, Minho took his time fingering you, watching your face as it twisted into pleasure, the way your nipples rubbed against the thin fabric of your shirt, the sweet moans that were all for him. Everything about you like this made Minho feel like a horny teenager - you did something to him, awakening something in him he didn’t want to confront.

That’s why he hated you so fucking much.

As if remembering that hatred, his pace sped up and became more relentless. He fucked you so deeply with his fingers, aggressively hitting the place you wanted him the most, only stopping when you started to twitch. He pulled his fingers out of you as quickly as he inserted them, a sadistic smile painting his face as you whined.

“What? Did you think I’d let you cum that easy?” The fingers he fucked you with pushed into your mouth, and you lapped up every bit of your essence on him. “You’ll cum when I’m ready for you to, not a minute before that. Understand?”

He pulled his fingers out of you to allow you to respond. “Yes.”

“Good. Now turn around, I want to watch the way your ass bounces when you ride me.”

You flipped in his lap, back against his chest, and Minho lined his length up with your center. Hands on your hips, he shoved you down until you were filled. The moans that left your mouth were sinful and embarrassing - maybe you were a slut, letting the man you claim to hate make you so weak and compliant.

Minho slapped your ass hard, skin stinging from the impact. “Move, or I need to do everything for you?”

You shook your head no and rested your hands on his knees. Finally your turn to set the pace, you brought yourself all the way up until only the head of his cock was in you before slowly sliding back down. Each downward motion was accompanied by the sound of skin hitting skin. The slow pace allowed you to feel every ridge of his cock, letting him press against your sweet spot with just the right amount of pressure. It felt so good. You felt so whole, so full, the edge of pleasure in your grasp as you continued the movement.

Something Minho has always admired about you, even in his hatred, was your patience. He’s never been as patient as you.

A hand snakes up your chest and grips your throat from the front, pulling your head back against his shoulder so he could speed your movements up.

Patience has never really been Minho’s thing.

“What a pathetic fucking show, begging me to ruin you and then riding me like that? You are absolutely helpless.” His thrusts were as brutal as his words, cock fully buried inside you and hitting you harder than anyone ever has. Minho’s hand tightened on your neck, a gasp leaving your throat as your air supply was restricted. It was shameful, really, the way his grip made you grind against him and had your fingers desperately fumbling for your clit.

His laugh was loud, vile, absolutely adoring the way you reacted to him. To the power he held over you.

“Slutty, dumb, needy, worthless - just my stupid little kitten, huh?” In a gesture that could almost be viewed as loving, Minho’s free hand found the one of yours that was trying to push you closer to bliss and laced his fingers with yours. Pointing his middle finger up, he pressed it against the matching one on your hand, controlling the movements against your clit.

It was too much. His degrading words, his hand on your throat, his hand controlling how you pleasured yourself, his cock ramming into you at a bruising pace - he was too much.

Lee fucking Minho, the worst person you’ve ever had the displeasure of knowing, was now someone you couldn’t get enough of.

Your voice was raw from the lack of air and moans, causing a barely audible “please” to slip out.

“Please what, kitten?”

No words left your lips, body tingling in ways you’ve never felt before. It was right there. You were right there. An orgasm never felt so within your reach-

With a loud groan, Minho abruptly pulled out, hissing as he came all over your silt. The hand controlling yours pulled you back, refusing to let you touch your clit anymore. You couldn’t stop the tears from flowing down your face. He brought you to that edge, and then forced you away just as quickly. Twice.

“Minho.” Your voice was nothing but a bratty whine, tears streaming down your face and dripping onto the hand still wrapped around your throat.

He pulled you off his body, using his grip to guide you to the bed. Minho let go of your throat only to spin you around and push you on the bed. On your back, you looked up at the man above you.

He had never looked more angry or disgusted with you, and you swore nothing had ever turned you on more than the look he gave you.

Sweetly, a hand found your face and brushed the salty drops off your face. You found yourself almost leaning into the feeling of his cold hand on your warm face.

Almost.

The hand moved and struck you quickly, the pain making your back arch. One of your hands shot up to your face, holding it as you stared at him in shock and arousal.

“If edging you twice already has you crying-“ his shirt was off before you could even register his movements. Minho wrapped the shirt around his hands to roll it up, then shoved the thick fabric into your mouth “-it’s going to be a long fucking night for you, kitten.”

tag list: @lix-ables, @notonehorangdan

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