Instead Of You [part Ten] || L.mh

instead of you [part ten] || l.mh

pairing: [best friend’s brother] lee minho x college!reader ft. han jisung

summary: you didn’t expect to spend your summer pretending to be your best friend’s girlfriend- then again, you didn’t expect to fall for your best friend’s brother, either. 

warnings: swearing, alcohol, mentions of sex (18+ mdni)

word count: 2.6k

a/n: revamped my tom holland series from my main blog ( @wazzupmrstark ) to try and motivate myself to finish it!!

series masterlist | early access to the next chapter on ko-fi

“Just that you’re not technically a chef yet,” Minho explained defensively. “You’re not certified.”

“A chef doesn’t need a piece of paper to call themselves a chef,” Leo countered. “Anyone can be a chef. But don’t tell the WAC I said that.”

“Yeah, Minho haven’t you ever seen Ratatouille?” you teased.

“Great movie,” Leo added. “Jisung, great job on your dough,” he reiterated.

Jisung stuck his tongue out at his brother across the table who rolled his eyes in response as Leo picked up his ball of dough and rolled it in his hands.

“Minho, yours is still a little tough. Keep working on it.”

He nodded and took his dough back to continue kneading it. You noticed his jaw clenched subtly in frustration, but he didn’t say anything else. You watched as he rolled the pasta dough with a little more force, maybe a little too much.

Leo checked yours next and gave you similar feedback to Minho’s, even though Jisung had helped you with yours. You didn’t want to think about what kind of feedback you would have gotten on your own.

Your dough was still flaking apart when you went back to working on it, and you tried desperately to hold it together with little success. Jisung had left your side to help his mom so you were on your own.

At least Minho was also struggling. You felt a little better knowing he was miserable too.

You were starting to sweat with effort, you were so out of shape that even cooking had you catching your breath. You had thought this was going to be fun, but instead you were having flashbacks to high school P.E. class.

Leo made his way down the rest of the table and checked everyone else’s dough before circling back to you and Minho. He took over for Minho and instructed Jisung to finish kneading yours so that he could move on with the lesson. It was embarrassing to be singled out, but Jisung assured you it wasn’t your fault. He wasn’t making much progress with yours either.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with yours,” Jisung whispered to you.

“I probably did it wrong,” you hissed back.

“I watched you do it, you did it the same way as everyone else.”

“Then why is it being like this?”

“Sometimes food has a mind of its own,” Leo interjected, making you realize the entire class had been listening to you and Jisung’s back and forth. “This is good enough, though. We can set it aside with the other balls of dough to let them rest while we make the fillings.”

You and Minho set your sad pasta balls on the counter with the others before moving to the sink to rinse your hands.

“I think they’ll still taste good,” Minho said thoughtfully as he offered the bottle of soap to you and pumped some into your hands.

“I hope so.”

“It’s pasta, it’s almost impossible to fuck it up.”

“Yet somehow we still managed to.”

“Some would say it’s talent,” he said and shrugged.

You bumped his shoulder with your own as you fought over the water stream. You managed to stick your hands in first and Minho put his above yours only for you to shove them away.

“Hey!”

“You’re completely ruining the purpose of washing my hands!”

“I have soap on my hands, you have soap on your hands, what’s the issue?”

“And you’re washing off your germs and they’re going on my hands now!”

“Fine, fine, I’ll wait my turn,” he seceded and let you finish washing your hands before he rinsed off his own.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Making the fillings for the pasta was a much simpler process than making the dough. All you had to do was mix certain ingredients together. It didn’t matter what order you added them, if you whisked fast or slow, the only important thing was that everything made it into the bowl one way or another.

You worked in pairs for this step. Jisung mixed together the pesto filling while you did the parmesan-truffle one.

“This is different than the pesto I make,” he said, looking at the mixture in his bowl.

You frowned. “But I like your pesto.”

“It’ll still be good, baby,” he assured you with a kiss to the forehead. “Don’t worry.”

When the fillings were done it was time to revisit the balls of dough and roll them into pasta. Jisung explained it to you like rolling Play-Doh, but it was far more difficult in your opinion. Play-Doh was nowhere near as stubborn as this. The pasta dough somehow retained tension, and would bounce back every time you tried to stretch it.

Jisung ended up having to help you and Minho because both of you were starting at a disadvantage with your fucked up dough.

“I never want to hear you say I have it easier than you ever again,” Jisung warned as he folded your strands of dough into raviolis.

The class had moved on to the final step, shaping and filling the noodles, but you had already tapped out. Jisung was done with his portion before you had even finished one so he had taken over for you.

“I’m sorry for saying that,” you said, remembering all the times you had teased him for stressing out over his ‘soufflé final’ or ‘crepe labs’. “I would much rather be writing a paper right now.”

He shrugged. “Everyone has their strengths.”

“I’m starting to think that Ratatouille movie was bullshit,” you groaned.

“How ironic,” Minho snorted across from you.

He was really starting to get on your nerves. But you let his comment go, not allowing your temper to get the better of you. He was still Jisung’s family, even if they had a… complicated relationship.

When the class finally settled in the dining room of the restaurant to eat you were sweaty, sore, and exhausted. You could feel your skin sticking to the leather seat, and you felt severely underdressed. Back in the kitchen you hadn’t been so self-conscious. But now you couldn’t stop thinking about your appearance.

The atmosphere was much more sophisticated. The lights were dim, and soft music played in the background. All of the other guests were following an unspoken black-tie dress code while the fifteen of you were still wearing your disposable aprons, only now they were covered in flour and egg yolk.

And to make it worse-

“Smile!”

Nikki held up her phone and motioned for you and Jisung to scoot your chairs closer together. You took a deep breath and complied, leaning your head against your fake boyfriend’s and managing a grin. You really didn’t want this moment to be immortalized, but you didn’t want to be difficult either.

The camera flashed once, then again. Jisung wrapped a hand around your waist and pulled your body against his, pressing a kiss to your cheek for another picture. You scrunched up your face as the flash went off, the tickle of his breath against your skin and the feather-light touch of his lips making you squeeze your eyes shut.

“That’s a good one!” Nikki complimented, even though you were sure it wasn’t as flattering as she was making it out to be.

The pasta was served with a glass of red wine for everyone. Jisung was right, the pesto was different from his, but it was still good. It was no match for his recipe, but the handmade pasta did give it a few bonus points. You were sure you hadn’t gotten any of the noodles you made because all of the ones on your plate were perfect. It didn’t feel fair that you got to enjoy somebody else’s hard work while they got your shitty excuse of a ravioli.

But as the wine dwindled from your glass the negative thoughts began to ebb away too. Your muscles, though still sore, relaxed slightly and you rested your head on Jisung’s shoulder as everyone else finished their meals around you. The conversation carried on without your contribution. Your social battery had died hours ago, but you were content to listen to the Hans chat with other students at the table.

You weren’t a huge fan of wine, but the one served with dinner was palatable, and to be honest you weren’t one to turn down complimentary alcohol anyway. It tasted more expensive than anything you had ever drank, like the equivalent of velvet on your tongue. You finished your glass and the rest of Felix’s.

-

The next few days in Florence passed in a similar fashion. You ate a lot of carbs, drank a lot of alcohol and let the business of the itinerary overwhelm you. It was getting tiring, living in an act. Trailing along behind the Hans like a dog, worn on Jisung’s arm like an accessory.

You had known what you were getting into, and you were trying your best to enjoy the experiences- because who the fuck knows when you’ll ever get to go on such a nice vacation again, but pretending to be in love with your best friend was a harder feat than you had thought.

It felt like being in a school play. Every move and phrase had to be intentional. You tread the lines of your relationship with rehearsed expertise. And you had to watch what you said, because everyone’s eyes were on you. At least that’s what it felt like.

Jisung’s parents were easy. They fully bought into your lie, seeing what they wanted to. They usually left you to your own devices, too. His brothers were the ones who needed convincing. Not even Felix, though. Minho was the problem. Minho was always the problem.

You were in Rome now, walking back to the hotel from the Colosseum. Jisung had his arm slung around your shoulders and was talking his twin brother’s ear off about the Gladiators and inaccuracies in films about Ancient Rome.

You didn’t think you’d seen him this excited the entire trip. It was cute, the way he talked with his hands and looked off into the distance whenever he was really engaged in something. Felix was also cute. He was trying his best to keep up with Jisung, nodding his head at all the right points, asking questions when there was a pause in conversation.

“Yeah, gladiators fucking unionized,” Jisung explained. “They put their lives on the line all the time, ya know? Might as well get benefits.”

“If I was a gladiator I’d join their union,” you said, adding to the conversation for the first time in a while.

“There were women gladiators too, babe! You totally could’ve been one.”

You laughed. “You remember my season on the intramural dodgeball team? I wouldn’t last a day. But I appreciate the thought, Ji.”

You had dinner in the restaurant attached to the hotel lobby. Nikki passed around her Canon for everyone to look through the pictures from the day while a bottle of limoncello was passed around the table.

You’d scarfed down your pasta and passed on dessert in favor of another shot of limoncello. Rookie mistake.

In the past the sugary drink had always tasted like cough syrup to you, but this batch tasted like straight-up lemonade. You were tipsy, bordering on drunk, but nowhere near blacked. Nikki and Dom turned in around shot three, leaving the tab open for the four of you. Jisung went upstairs next, having gone too hard too fast on the limoncello (he was on shot five when his parents went back to their room).

Then it was just You, Felix, and Minho. You told Jisung you’d join him in a bit after the pianist played a couple more songs. In all honesty, the music reminded you of Jisung. Back at school you could always find Jisung in the music hall if he wasn’t in the culinary building. You’d always hear him playing as soon as you walked through the double doors. You could always tell it was him at the keys by the way the playing sounded. He was self-taught, but still a genius in your mind. He didn’t need any formal training to make beautiful music, and that’s what you loved about it.

When he moved out of the dorms and into an apartment he bought a keyboard, and you’d spend nights together in his room illegally pirating sheet music for him to learn new songs. He’d play whatever you requested, and if he didn’t know how to play it he’d teach himself.

The pianist in the restaurant played with a little more expertise. The notes sounded refined, perfected. Jisung always told you that perfect music was restrained music, that real music had flaws, that a song should sound a little different every time it was played.

After an encore of Beethoven the man at the piano stood from his bench and took a bow, passing his hat around the room to collect tips. Minho dropped a bill into the hat and you did as well, handing it back to the man afterwards. He dumped the contents of the hat into a briefcase and closed the lid of the piano, thanking everyone in the audience for their donations.

“Well, I think I’m going to head up now,” Felix said, yawning for emphasis. “We still have to get up at the ass crack of dawn even though we’ll all probably be hungover.”

“Speak for yourself,” Minho said cockily, then turned to you. “One more shot?”

The bottle of limoncello was almost empty anyway. Might as well finish it off, it’d be a shame to let it go to waste, right?

“Hit me.”

“God, you’re both going to be so fucked tomorrow,” Felix groaned.

“We’ll be fine,” Minho insisted, rolling his eyes at his younger brother.

“Good night, Felix,” you sang, waving at him as he walked off.

“Yeah whatever.”

Minho wasted no time pouring you both a shot of what was left of the limoncello. The restaurant was beginning to clear out so he worked fast, filling the glasses up to the marked line. You both took one and clinked them together before throwing them back.

You winced at the burning sensation in the back of your throat and put the glass back on the table, searching for something to chase the shot with. Your eyes fell to Minho, lingering on his cheeks, his lips, both pink from the alcohol or something else. You flicked your gaze down to his neck, his collarbone that was peeking out from the neckline of his shirt. You thought about how it would feel to kiss him there, to run your tongue over a love bite you’d given him.

You forced your gaze back to his eyes, hoping he hadn’t caught you staring. You had to act uninterested, you couldn’t let on to- but he was staring back. His eyes were intense, and almost impossible to read in the darkness of the room. You knew you should look away, knew you had to keep up appearances, but you couldn’t.

Later you’d blame it on the alcohol, but in that moment you knew the limoncello wasn’t what was making your head spin, or your what was making your vision cloudy.

You were about to leave the table, about to rush to the elevator and back to Jisung but then suddenly Minho was kissing you. He cradled your head in his hand and tilted your chin up to meet his lips. It wasn’t desperate or messy like most drunk kisses were. Instead, it was delicate. You swore you could feel every line of his lips against yours, feel his heartbeat through his hands on your cheek.

It was only for a second, not enough time for you to react or reciprocate and then he was pulling away, eyes wide with panic.

“Please don’t tell Jisung.”

lmk what you think i always appreciate feedback!!

no taglist today bc my laptop is broken but if you’d like to add yourself to the taglist you can do so here!

Tw: j*p

The boys are so cute

01. the threesome series ; skz ; chan/reader/seungmin

masterlist.

threesome series part 1/4. -

pairing: bang chan/reader/kim seungmin content info: sexual content. threesome. established relationship. bdsm. dom!chan, sub!reader, sadistic sub!seungmin lol. these three have an established dynamic that they are very familiar with, involves lots of teasing with reader as the "good" submissive and seungmin as the "brat" who coerces her into being "bad" with him. tone indicates this is all clearly playful. physically rougher elements, daddy/sir titles, baby girl pet name, punishment play, implact play, filming sexual acts, oral sex, face-slapping (not reader), bondage, shower sex, orgasm denial.

they all luv each other n they like to have fun lol ;)

-

You wake to a kiss on your forehead and blink your sleepy eyes open to a smiling Chan.  He is perched on the edge of the bed, already dressed for the day in his baseball cap and work-out clothes.  The pale light around the curtain tells you it is still very early morning.   

You stretch under the covers, groaning as you take him in.

“Why are you dressed?”  Your voice is rough with sleep.  “Come back to bed.” 

You try to string your arms around his neck but he laughs and lowers them to the bed. 

“Just meeting Changbin at the gym,” he says.  “Then I gotta run to work for a sec—”

You slap your hands on the covers and pout. 

“Work?” you ask miserably.  “But it’s Saturday.  You promised—”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry, baby,” he says.  He holds your face in both his hands and swoops down to plant another kiss on your forehead.  He follows it up with a kiss on each cheek, then he nuzzles your nose with a goofy little giggle.  He is diabolical, knowing you are helpless to resist him being so silly.  You smile back.       

“Promise I’ll be fast,” he says.  He strokes his thumb over your cheek.  His dimples are deep with his smile, but his lifted eyebrow colours his gaze with suggestion.  “You’ll be good for me today, yeah?” he asks.  “Follow all my rules?”

He is still smiling, still speaking in a soft, pleasant voice, but you feel the shift in energy.  It wakes the rest of you with a flush of warmth.  You wet your lips and nod, looking at him with your most innocent, baby-girl eyes. 

“Yes, sir, daddy,” you say, leaning your cheek into his hand.  His thumb slips over your bottom lip and gives it a little touch.  “I’m always good.”

“I know, baby,” he says.  He smiles when you kiss the pad of his thumb, winks when he flicks your bottom lip cutely.  “It’s not you I’m worried about.” 

You follow the direction of his gaze.  Seungmin is fast asleep on your other side, one leg out of the covers, laying on his front and clutching a pillow.  Seungmin tends to bat away cuddle advances when awake but he sleeps like a clingy koala bear.  You are the opposite, snuggling up when conscious and kicking the boys away in your sleep.  Seungmin usually curls around Chan when sleeping and he looks very bereft in slumber without him.  You can’t help but smile even though you know Chan’s words are right: Seungmin is a troublemaker. 

“I’ll make sure he’s good,” you say to Chan, a promise you both know will be hard to keep. 

“Hope so,” Chan says.  He leans down for a chaste kiss, lingering close to your mouth when he says, “See you later, baby girl.  Be good for me, yeah?”

“Aren’t you gonna say bye to Seungmin?” you ask when he stands up.

Chan adjusts the brim of his cap and just grins. 

“Uh, yeah, I already tried that,” he says.  “He’s a brat.  Give him a kiss for me later.  Love you both.”

“Love you too,” you say.  Your voice goes rough as you snuggle into the bedcovers, falling back to sleep.  The last thing you see is Chan’s affectionate smile.   

You wake a while later to warmth along your backside and a weight on your hips.  You stir, groggy, taking a second to register everything. 

The curtains are open and the golden glow of morning is shining in the bedroom.  The bedcovers have been pushed down but you don’t feel cold.  Seungmin is awake behind you, his arm draped over your middle.  True to troublemaking form, he already has a hand between your thighs, just resting over your shorts.  When he feels you waking, he cups you a little more deliberately. 

“Seungmin,” you mumble sleepily, “Daddy’s not here.  You shouldn’t be doing that.” 

“That’s so sad for Chan,” Seungmin says with a lot of cheeky sass, grinning a big boxy grin.  He never addresses Chan properly, not even to his face, not without a lot of effort on Chan’s part. 

Seungmin’s disrespect always makes you tingle because you could neverbehave that way.   You love being good.  You also love that Seungmin does not.   

“He should have thought about that before he went to work on a Saturday,” Seungmin says. 

“He said sorry,” you reply. 

You can practically hear Seungmin’s eye-roll. 

“Then it’s okay, I guess,” Seungmin says sarcastically. 

He is already touching you through your shorts, his knuckle gently rubbing back-and-forth and making all those nerves come alive with need.  

Seungmin is a veritable pussy addict.  Despite being equally submissive to Chan, Seungmin has trained you according to his own insatiable desires.  It only takes one look from Seungmin to go from resting to fully turned on.  He can spend hours curling his fingers inside you, stretching you out, rubbing your clit.  Hours more laying between your thighs with his mouth wet and soft, kissing and licking and tongue-fucking you until you are a wrung-out mess. 

He is more than half the reason you always wet by the time Chan finally puts his hands on you.   Then it’s you who gets teased for being wet all the time, Seungmin just grinning behind you with that smartass grin.   

He wastes no time this morning, warming you up through your shorts then slipping his fingers beneath the waistband.

“Seungmin,” you whine.  “We’re not supposed to…” 

“Stop crying,” he says, shoving his other arm under your body to hook it around you.  He pulls you tight against him while he works his hand into your shorts.  “I won’t make you come, crybaby,” he says. 

“I don’t believe you,” you say.

You pout but admittedly make little effort to stop him.  You should, knowing very well Chan’s number one rule is no coming without his permission, but you are lethargic with sleepy contentedness and his fingers feel so good.  You figure as long as you don’t come, indulging just a little touch won’t do any harm…

You should have known better.  It doesn’t take much for Seungmin to work you up completely.  You buck your hips as if to escape his hand but your shorts keep him trapped.  You squirm in his arms at the same time your legs thoughtlessly spread. 

“Seungmin,” you say, panting against your pillow. 

“Yes?” he asks, as if he has no idea what he’s doing.  He holds you tighter when you start to wriggle.  “Relax,” he says.  “Just don’t come.  Be a good girl,” he says it like a punchline, dry and humorous. 

“You know his rules—”

“Who?”

“Daddy—”

“Who?”

“Chan!”  Saying his name puts you over the edge.  Chan’s dominance is softer by nature but Seungmin likes to provoke him so you have seen his mean side often.  Imagining his reaction to your bad behaviour has you coming hard on Seungmin’s fingers.   

Seungmin, like the demon he is, strokes you through your orgasm and a little past it, laughing in your ear when you whimper from oversensitivity.  You have never known someone to be so sadistic and submissive at once.  Seungmin likes to make you cry even more than Chan does.  It gets Chan all huffy and mean, then he really puts Seungmin in his place.

Satisfied with his evil deed, Seungmin lets you go and flops onto his back.   You roll over to glare at him, trying to ignore the lingering thump in your pussy.  It feels like a heartbeat skipping beats, erratic when Seungmin smiles and puts his wet fingers in his mouth to suck.  He makes a dramatic mmmmm sound, then sticks out his tongue at you. 

“You’re mean,” you say. 

“I’m telling Chan you came,” he says, reaching for his phone on the bedside table. 

Your heart is really skipping beats now.  You climb on top of him and try to get there first.  He beats you to it and holds you back, cackling his mischievous little ha-ha as he opens it up.   His phone background is a picture of the three of you on holiday, crammed together and giggling in a hammock, and the cuteness is at serious odds with his wickedness. 

“Seungmin, don’t!” you say, trying to swipe at his phone.  “That’s not fair, I didn’t even wanna!”

“Liar,” he says.  He closes his phone and looks at you with a smirk.  “I won’t tell him but you have to do what I want.” 

“What do you want?” you ask, regarding him with scrutiny.   Last time he said that, he came inside you without Chan’s permission and earned you both two weeks of edging and denial as punishment.  Seungmin insisted it was your fault, that he was going to pull out when you wrapped around him, so Chan punished you both ‘to be fair.’   Seungmin always gets away with roping you into his punishments because you don’t argue with Chan, so you eye him warily now. 

He swipes his bangs out of his face and looks down his own body.  You follow his gaze, stopping on the obvious bulge in his boxers.  You look at him and he pokes his tongue into his cheek.   

“Fine,” you say, playfully petulant.  “Just this once.  You better keep my secret.”

He mimes zipping his lips shut. 

You crawl down to fit between his thighs as he spreads them, making room.  He grabs his glasses off the bedside table and pops them on, then he opens his phone again. 

“Let’s make a video for Chan,” he says.

“Seungmin,” you say, glaring at the camera then up at him.  “He won’t like us fooling around.” 

“He will,” Seungmin says, smiling down at his phone.  “You look pretty, crybaby.  Now go.” 

You glare at him one more time then move down, tugging his boxers off his hips.  He is already hard, twitching in your hand before your lips graze the head.  You look up at the camera as you lick and suck, closing your eyes when diving down the length of him.  He puts his free hand in your hair and guides you, tells you to slow down, makes you drool on it before he snaps his hips up.   You take it with practiced skill, but you can’t help the way your eyes water, living up to Seungmin’s mean nickname for you. 

“Hold still,” he says, lifting your head. 

You think he must be close, that he is stopping you before he comes, but you look up and see he is still filming.  He smiles, his free hand jumping from your hair to his dick.  It only take a few swift strokes before he’s coming all over the side of your face.  He swipes his fingers in it and shoves them in your mouth before you can get mad at him, not for the mess but simply because he came when he knows it’s against the rules. 

You say his name, though it comes out garbled around his fingers.  He rubs his fingers over your tongue as if fucking your mouth, then he gives another ha-ha before he finally stops filming.  His fingers leave your mouth with a wet pop and he swings away.  He tugs up his boxers as he gets out of bed. 

“Seungmin!” you say, wiping your face on the hem of your shirt.  You leap out of bed to grab his phone only for him to sprint into the next room.  “Seungmin!” you say again, running after him.  “You can’t send that!  You’re gonna get us in trouble!” 

“Why would I get in trouble?” he asks, typing away at his phone from behind the kitchen counter.  “You were the one with my dick in your mouth.”

You chase him around the kitchen island until you are both giggling.  He spins around and catches you unexpectedly, playfully roaring in your face with a weak little raaawr.  He pretends to bite your neck while you giggle and push at him. 

“You won’t be so funny when he gets home,” you say, to which he just repeats what you said in a mocking tone.   You smack the top of his head as he directs you to the living room couch.  “You’re such a bully.  You promised not to tell.”

“And I didn’t,” he says, kissing your neck lightly then sucking a hard kiss under your jaw.  “If you don’t tell him what you did, he won’t know.”  He looks at you, that mischievous grin back on his face.  “Unless you feel guilty and tell him.”   

You pout, making him laugh. 

“I’m so nice all the time,” you say with a melodramatic flourish, waving your hand.  “I don’t know why you’re so mean to me.”

“I’m nice,” Seungmin says.  “See, your shirt’s dirty, let me help.” 

You playfully wrestle when he tries to lift your shirt off.  You let him win, squeaking then jumping onto the couch where he chases you.  He climbs on top of you and starts kissing you, messy wet licks into your mouth then down your neck and chest.  You clench your thighs around him but he wriggles his shoulders between your legs, smiling at you.  You barely pretend to fight when he tugs your shorts down, then his glasses go crooked and his mouth is on your pussy through your underwear. 

You whine his name and rake your fingers through his hair.   He tugs the fabric out of his way and licks up your still wet pussy, being as messy as possible. 

“Tsk, tsk,” he says, surfacing for a second.   His glasses are still askew and his face is wet.  He smiles dreamily at your pussy, rubbing his fingers up and down.  “What if Chan got home right now,” he slips his fingers inside you, “and saw you like this?”  He sighs as if disappointed, casually fixing his glasses with one hand and fucking you with the other one.  “He’d be so mad.” 

“He’s at work,” you say, eyes closed. 

“Is he?” Seungmin asks.  “I think he’s outside the door.”

Your breath catches and you look at the door.  Seungmin has no way of knowing if that’s true but you gasp anyway, legs closing around his hand.  He pushes them apart, then gets up on his knees for better leverage. 

“Seungmin,” you say, grabbing his arm but not stopping him.  His fingers are curling inside you, rubbing against a tender spot that has your vision swimming.  “Ohh, Seungmin, please—”

“Ohh, Seungmin, please,” he mimics.  “You’re not coming, are you, crybaby?”

You shake your head, making a show of sniffling and looking at him with purposefully teary eyes.  He rolls his thumb back and forth over your clit.

“The doorknob is turning,” Seungmin says.  “He’s gonna see you.” 

“No, I’m not—”

“He’s walking inside—”

You come with a cry, tossing your head back and squeezing his fingers between your legs.   Chan is not actually home and Seungmin is just a menace, but that menace does cover you in kisses when you are done coming all over his hand. 

You lay on the couch for a bit, feeling each other up and kissing, then Seungmin leans back to grin at you.

“Two for you, one for me,” he says.  “I’m doing better than you.”

You swat at him.

You eventually start the day for real, going about your usual weekend routine.  Chan never answers Seungmin’s video text, but Seungmin shows you that he definitely saw it.  The little READ subscript reveals he watched it only seconds after getting it. 

You are reading a book in the afternoon when Seungmin gets back from a walk.  He kicks off his shoes and joins you on the couch.  You try to ignore how distractingly handsome he looks with his hair pushed back, casual but sexy in denim.  You can tell he wants to mess around so you pointedly ignore him and turn the page of your book. 

He tugs on the sleeve of your shirt then rests his head on your shoulder. 

“What,” you say in a dry voice. 

“It’s getting late,” Seungmin says.  “Chan still hasn’t answered us.”   

“Hm.”  You turn another page despite not retaining anything.  “So?”

“So.”  He touches your chin and turns your face to his.  “We should make another video.” 

“No, we shouldn’t,” you say, closing your book.  “You’re just gonna do something you’re not supposed to again.”

“What, me?” he says.  He flicks some hair out of his eyes and laughs.  “I don’t think so.” 

“I do.  You’re evil and you’re not dragging me down with you.” 

“Really?”

“Yes.  And nothing you say can change my mind.”

A few minutes later, you are curled over the arm of the couch, clutching a cushion while Seungmin fucks you from behind and films it.  He’s down to just his open jeans, the denim rough against your skin when he pulls you onto him again and again. 

“Mmmf,” is the noise you make, groaning into the cushion.  “You better not come again.”

“Worry,” he says, panting, “about,” he slows down a little, “yourself.”  He takes another breath and speeds up again. 

“I’m at no risk of—” Your overconfident proclamation is interrupted when Seungmin expertly circles your throat and yanks you up.  You whine and claw at him but he roughly manoeuvres you onto your back. 

“Hi baby,” he says with a sarcastic little wave, phone camera pointed down at your scowling face.  He frowns with exaggeration.  “You gonna cry again?”

“No.”  You try to kick him, pushing at his chest with your foot.  He just scoops that leg onto his shoulder and presses himself back inside you.  “This was Seungmin’s idea, daddy,” you say, covering your face with your hands.  “I was being good, I promise.” 

Seungmin just mimics your voice and grinds into you.  One hand holds the phone and the other slips down.  His thumb rubs softly and simply over your clit until you are whimpering again.    

“That’s not fair,” you say with a little hiccup.   

“Should be easy for you,” Seungmin says.  “Chan’s good little girl, right?” 

“Ugh, shut uuup, you’re the worst—”

“The rest of you would disagree, good girl,” he says.  He tips his head, looking at the phone, so you can only assume he is zooming in on your pussy gushing around his cock as he rocks in and out.  “Uh oh,” he says when you squeeze him inside you.  He knows your body well by now, having wrung countless orgasms out of you, so he is grinning before you even start coming.  “Three, two, one…!  Ha-ha.”      

You make a shaky, shuddery sound as you come, barely recovered before his hand is around your throat and he is fucking you in chase of his own completion.   There’s no point in even pretending to protest.  You just sigh and reach down, holding your thighs open as he moans and groans for show, coming inside you.   He takes his time filming it after, sweeping his fingers around to show Chan the mess he made.   He must turn the camera to selfie mode because he starts smiling his mean, puppyish grin into the screen. 

“See you later, old man,” Seungmin says.  “If you can even get it up after working all day.” 

He stops filming and laughs you when you frown at him. 

“Do you have to make it even worse?” you ask. 

“Yes.  Don’t ask stupid questions.”  He swoops down and kisses your forehead.  “Come on, crybaby, let’s have a shower.  Unless you want to be full of cum when he gets home—”

“Hmmph!”  You give him a indignant pout, but you get up when he helps you. 

You share the shower.  You keep pretending to be mad at him, only giggling a little when he touches a few ticklish spots.  He knows they are ticklish so he is just being mean, but he does compensate with little kisses over your back and shoulders.  

He stands behind you, kissing down your neck as you tip your head, the hot water rushing down your front.  Your eyes are closed against the spray but also from pleasure, smiling to yourself as he nips at your skin then licks over the bite. 

“No marks,” you say without much verve.  “You know that’s another rule.”

“That’s okay,” he says, smirking into your shoulder.  His hand starts to slide down the front of your body.  “You’ve already broken the rules, so…”

“Seungmin,” you say, your scolding tone contradictory to the way you rock your ass against his growing hard-on.   You giggle, holding onto his wrist but not stopping his descent.  “We shouldn’t,” you say. 

“He’s right,” comes a voice from the doorway. “You already broke the rules anyway, didn’t you?”

Your eyes fly open.  You look through the glass wall of the shower to see Chan leaning against the bathroom door with his arms crossed.  He is still dressed for the office, suit and tie, though he is already barefoot.  His dark hair is neatly styled, his eyes darkly lined, a diamond stud on his nose and his ears.   He lifts his eyebrows and tips his head, the expression more than a little condescending. 

“Whoops,” Seungmin says with a laugh. 

Chan exhales, unsmiling. 

You turn the water off and slide the glass door open.   The shower is a big, roomy space with two showerheads, leaving Seungmin plenty of room to step back.  He rolls his eyes and somehow manages to look belligerent despite his nudity.  You are a far more repentant sight with your watery eyes and pouty lips, naked and damp and innocent as can be. 

“I’m so, so, so sorry, sir, daddy, sir,” you say, shaking your head.  “I tried to make him stop but he wouldn’t listen.  You believe me, right?” 

Chan doesn’t say anything.  He just looks at you with the vaguest hint of amusement in his eyes.  Then he looks away with a sigh, unbuttoning his blazer.   He shakes his head as he peels it off and approaches the shower. 

“I don’t know what to believe, baby girl,” he says.  The blazer hits the floor and he loosens his tie next.  “Ya know I had to leave work early because of this?” he says.  He rolls his sleeves up to his elbows then his gentle hand reaches out to cup your chin.

You shiver from the coolness of the room, from his touch, from his gaze.  You do not dare look away from his eyes, not even to see Seungmin’s face.  You do not doubt he is just frowning and rolling his eyes anyway. 

Chan presses his thumb to your lips and you open your mouth dutifully.  He rests it on your tongue.   

“I don’t have a lot of rules, yeah?”  Chan says.  “Don’t you think I’m fair?”  

“Mhm,” you say, nodding, lips pursed around his thumb. 

“Did you not understand the rules?” he asks.  “You’re not stupid, baby. I’d find that hard to believe.”

You don’t answer, knowing you are guilty and there is little to say in your defence.  Chan just sighs and slips his thumb out of your mouth.  He cups your cheek and lovingly strokes it. 

“You know I’m disappointed, don’t you, baby?” he says.  “How many times did you break the rules today?”

“I’m sorry!” you say in a rush.  “Seungmin really did start it, though.  I was just in bed and he made me—”

“How many times?”    

“Five,” you say, sniffling.  “Three for me, two for Seungmin.  It really was his fault, though, you know I would never—”

“I know what he’s like, baby,” Chan says. He is speaking in an easy, calm voice as he draws his fingers down your chin, your neck, the middle of your chest until he has a breast cupped in his hand.  You try to keep a neutral expression when he rubs his thumb over its peak.  “But you know you’re responsible for yourself, yeah?”

He lets go and reaches past you to turn on the water.  It is a light, warm spray that makes you jump with surprise.  He surprises you again by stepping into the shower almost completely dressed.  He backs you into the wall as the water runs over his white dress shirt, turning it translucent. 

Seungmin finally scoffs, the sound mixed with a laugh. 

“You’re getting your clothes wet, weirdo,” he says. 

Chan’s gentle expression hardens.  You jump when his hand shoots out, grabbing Seungmin roughly by the throat.  Seungmin grabs onto his wrist, clearly surprised given the way his breath catches.  He tries to hide it with a grin, lifting his eyebrows when Chan looks at him.

“I’ll deal with you in a minute, Seungmin,” he says.  He chokes a little gasp out of him then lets go, looking at you again.  “Come here, baby,” he says softly.  “You know what I have to do.” 

You know he means a punishment, but you don’t know which one.  Chan is tantalizingly unpredictable in that regard. 

You nod, stepping where he gestures, under the showerhead but just behind the spray so none of the water hits you.  You shiver again, your nipples hard and skin breaking into goosebumps.  You meet Seungmin’s eye over Chan’s shoulder, Seungmin looking at you with gleeful anticipation even while rubbing his throat.  From where he is standing, he must also feel the chill, the same prickling awareness of his skin, the air like a constant kiss all over your body.      

The water hits Chan on the shoulder, running down his chest and side.  His shirt is sticking to him, drawing your eye to the ridges of muscle down his abdomen.  He taps your chin to lift your gaze, keeping your eyes locked while he undoes his tie and whips it off. 

“Open,” he says.  

You part your lips and he puts the tie in your mouth, wrapping the rest around your head.  He reaches behind you and secures it with a knot.   He taps your side, confirming the usual mute communication for when your mouth is covered.  You nod and he smiles, tapping your cheek approvingly. 

He reaches for his belt next, looking you over with heady eyes.  You shiver at the clink of metal and whistle of leather.

“Hands,” he says. 

You offer them and wait as he ties his belt in neat loops around your wrists.  Your heart leaps when he yanks your bound hands up above your head and hooks the belt over the neck of the showerhead.  He slides it backwards, making you follow until your back is flat to the cold wall.  You make a startled, pained noise into the gag, flush with the sudden cold.  The temperature shock is a stark contrast to the heat spreading between your thighs.  You can do little relieve the ache, balanced on the front of your feet.   

“That’s a good girl,” Chan says with one last parting look, dimples sweetly smiling at your predicament.  Then he sighs, slicking back his now damp hair.  Maybe his make-up is just turning smoky with the heat, but you swear his eyes literally darken when he turns to face a grinning Seungmin.  “Now.  You.” 

You might prefer Chan’s gentle daddy dominance more than anything else, but that doesn’t mean you don’t like watching his mean sir routine when it comes to Seungmin.  Because Seungmin does not like it gentle.   You live vicariously through the thrills of their rougher play. 

It never disappoints.  You mewl like a surprised kitten when Chan backhands Seungmin, catching him before he can stumble.  Even his catch is rough, a hand over his mouth and his other arm hooked around his neck.  He presses Seungmin into the glass wall, his cheek flat to the cool surface.  You feel a shiver of empathy. 

“You think you’re smart, don’t you?” Chan asks.

There is a moment of quiet as Seungmin clearly contemplates surrendering or continuing.   Then he nods.  Chan’s laugh is breathy, his gaze turned upward in exasperation. 

He releases his mouth and swings his hand down on Seungmin’s backside.  You never imagined being so jealous of a spanking, but you are starting to feel like you got the worse punishment after all.  You are forced to merely watch as Seungmin squirms in Chan’s firm grip.  You are certain those marks will bruise, darkening alongside some older ones still purpling his skin. 

After a thorough spanking, Chan turns him around.  Seungmin thuds onto his knees when forced down.  Chan places him where the water can reach and Seungmin stretches upright on his knees, trying to escape where pebbles of water hit his smarting skin.  Chan smacks him and it splits Seungmin’s attention, on his cheek and his backside at once. 

You thought Seungmin was mean for lightly finger-fucking your mouth earlier, but that favour gets more than repaid.  Chan shoves two fingers far enough into Seungmin’s mouth that he chokes, attention fracturing yet again as he haphazardly grabs the offending hand by the wrist.  

Chan tugs his fingers free, a trail of spit connecting them to Seungmin’s open mouth. 

Seungmin blinks his dizzy dark eyes upward.  Chan gazes back, cool and unbothered, while unbuttoning his pants.  Seungmin looks ready to speak but Chan just shakes his head.   

“Don’t,” he says, grabbing Seungmin by the jaw and tugging him close.  “Just don’t.” 

Seungmin is so funny, calling you a crybaby only to get all dribbly from a little face-fucking.  It’s hot, though, and Seungmin is fully hard now.  His hands are on Chan’s clothed thighs, functionally so he can tap out, but doubly affecting in how he can’t touch himself because of it.  You think you can see his mental space shift in real time, going from petulant brat to something else, something content and quiet and physical.  

He gasps and leaves his mouth hanging open when Chan pulls out.  He flinches when Chan taps his cheek.   Chan just smiles. 

“That’s better,” he says.  He reaches out and snaps off the water.  It makes Seungmin shiver and you follow in sympathy.   “Come on,” Chan says, kicking at him lightly.  “Get up.  This way.” 

Seungmin stumbles when Chan grabs his bicep and yanks.   You whimper with jealousy when Chan kisses him, a filthy hot kiss that makes you tingle from head to toe.  Fortunately, you do not have to suffer much longer.  Chan manhandles Seungmin until he is facing you.  The mischief has been replaced with hazy desire, his eyes watery and mouth so pink and raw. 

“On your knees,” Chan says, pushing at Seungmin’s shoulder. 

Seungmin takes in a shaky breath but nods, getting back down on his knees in front of you.  Chan grabs his hair and yanks his head back, looking down at him. 

“You forgetting something?” Chan asks. 

“Sorry, sir,” Seungmin says.  “Yes, sir.”

Satisfied, Chan lets him go.   He helps guide your leg over Seungmin’s shoulder, cooing sweet nothings at you when you make a startled sound because he lifts the other leg too.  It raises you completely off the ground, both legs over Seungmin’s shoulders, weight partially supported by Chan and partially by the shower.   You are completely suspended, simply sitting pretty while Seungmin eats you out. 

Of course, Chan doesn’t let you finish.  He tells Seungmin to stop and start a few more times before he finally lets you down.   Your feet touch the ground again, though you rest your weight on the wall, your legs shaking. 

Chan sweeps Seungmin’s hair out of his face and tips his head back. 

“You have something to say now?”  Chan asks. 

“No, sir,” Seungmin replies, his voice rough. 

“You gonna listen to me?”  Chan asks, to which Seungmin nods.  “Good.  Then get up and do what I say.  You ready?” 

Seungmin’s job is a step ahead of yours.  Chan is still helping you out of the shower by the time Seungmin reaches the bedroom.  You sit perched on the counter, towelling yourself dry while Chan strips out of his wet clothes.  You are about to step down when Chan scoops you up.  You suppose you have lost the privilege to run ahead at will, just in case you get any funny ideas, but you don’t mind if Chan is holding you.  You cling onto him, legs and arms wrapped around him as he carries you into the bedroom where Seungmin is waiting. 

Chan lays you out beside him and waves a hand, giving Seungmin permission to kiss you.   Seungmin eagerly sprawls on top of you, kissing and licking and moaning while Chan gets up behind him. 

Your punishments appear to be contrary, you unfucked and untouched thanks to your several stolen orgasms, and Seungmin the overwhelmed subject thanks to his provocations.   It’s him Chan fucks now, you laying under him, kissing his face as he grunts and groans and whines.  Your shared kisses are breathy, gasping things. 

You twitch and buck with wanting, feeling emptier than you ever have, while Seungmin digs his fingers into the bedspread, rocking against you while Chan rocks into him.   

Seungmin comes first for once, helped along by your hands desperately seeking more, more, more.  He comes all over you, dropping his face into the crook of your neck.  Chan pulls out and finishes with a few strokes of his own hand, coming on that bruised and purple backside. 

Fucking you both is one thing, but Chan’s work is truly cut out for him in the aftermath.  But your loving boyfriend never falters, doing everythign to ensure you are both settled and soothed.  Some days you return the favour, lovingly doting on your careful dominant, but today is a day he massages and kisses and takes care of you both.  

You take care of Seungmin too, kissing his face.  He is sandwiched between you and Chan, letting you both love up on him until his character comes back to him, then he starts thrashing around with playful dramatics.   Chan giggles in that silly way of his and wraps him up, covering his shoulders with kisses while Seungmin glares at you like a disgruntled puppy.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you tease, giving him a little kiss.  “This was all your fault anyway.  I’m a good girl.”

Seungmin grins at that.  Chan just shakes his head, but smiles deeply.  He wraps an arm around you both, pulling you close.  Seungmin, trapped in the middle, whines and groans, but he doesn’t stop smiling the whole time.    

— make a wish

pairing: minho x fem!reader genre: smut, fluff, established relationship. content: 18+ minors dni. warnings below cut. word count: 3.9k

summary: it’s your boyfriends birthday. you can’t afford to get him much—so you offer him a small coupon book of favours. he cashes in immediately.

a/n: reupload bc of shadowban mess, i’m sorry! thank u so much to everyone who read and gave me feedback the first time, love u for it ❤︎︎

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ch 05. are we friends friends?

a/n: hi friendssss here’s a new chapter !! lmk what you think of this one <3 i had to re plan the entire series so i’m worried it doesn’t make much sense 🫣 anyway hope u enjoy !

ch 04 || ch 05 || ch 06

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