I DONT WANT TO LIVE ANOTHER DAY WITHOUT THIS - Tumblr Posts
FUCKKKK
Greetings, May (also see: my smut writer). Happy New Year to you and yours. Is now a good time to discuss Seungmin’s beautiful hands and their potential involvement in the act of fingering the vagina? Thank you for your time and assistance.
xian one day you will kill me with this message format i- 💀
here, for you, my baby, my bestie: seungmin and his pretty hands knuckle deep inside of you, in an expensive outfit, in the back of an expensive car 🥂
🔞 sir kink, fingering, semi public sex, little jealous moment, dirty talk, slight degradation but in a very loving way; 2.5k words
One crystalline bubble separates itself from the side of the long fluted glass, and you watch it delicately dance to the surface and disappear, before another peels off the glass and makes the same journey. Somewhere down the table, Hyunjin chuckles prettily, flirtily, and it ripples through the room like it belongs. The residual waves of it hit you and an oddly peaceful satisfaction settles over your soul, your mind emptying until there’s nothing but the present moment. You try to guess which bubble will go next and fail three times before you get bored with your game.
When you raise your eyes, Seungmin is already looking at you from his seat next to you, intelligent, velvet gaze observing you with a love behind them you will never get tired of seeing. He looks beautiful. The freshly dyed honeyed hair framing his august, yet soft face, glowing a million shades of gold in the expensively fake and partially even real candlelight. Polite conversation and the odd peal of laughter float up to the vaulted ceilings of the venue before descending back down onto polished silver cutlery and white tablecloths that are less white now, droplets of wine and crumbs of bread giving the illusion, or in your case, representing the truth of a surprisingly fun night.
It’s Paris. It’s the city of love. The houses are tall and crowded together, some streets are romantically cobbled, the people are effusive in their enjoyment of life. You saw the Eiffel Tower sparkle last night, you and Seungmin sitting on the slightly wet grass with the crowd of watchers, smiling as everyone clapped when it started.
Now you’re at this fashion event, but you’ve forgotten which brand it was for two flutes of champagne ago. The event itself is blissfully empty of press, a moment of mingling for the honoured guests before the big show the next day.
It’s the smallest, fleeting moment that changes the course of your night, when the ruggedly handsome French waiter’s eyes catch on yours as he refills Chan’s glass, a charming smile playing around his lips. You barely smile back, nothing more than a polite quirk of your lips, and you immediately turn to Seungmin. The dark, displeased curl of his lips is no surprise and his eyes never leave the waiter as he scarily slowly, deliberately places his hand on your thigh. It’s high enough to be unmistakable, his big palm pressing heat through the flimsy fabric of your monogrammed tights that makes the beginning of desire trickle down your spine. Then Seungmin’s stormy eyes find yours, leaning closer as he squeezes your thigh, and you know you’re done for, heat starting to pool in your belly.
His eyes dip down to your lips, lingering there for a beat before he leans in, brushing his lips over your cheek on their way to the shell of your ear.
“Would you look at that,” he whispers, lowly, darkly, “he doesn’t know you’re mine.”
He stays where he is for a second, hot breath fanning over your ear, down your sensitive neck, and you shiver.
“You are, aren’t you? Mine?”
You nod profusely, and he pulls back enough to look into your eyes, a satisfied smirk on his face. You’re sure he can see it in your eyes, how your body is starting to ache for the privacy of your hotel room, for his expert fingers on your body, his skin on yours. He worked so hard to train you for this, after all.
He leans in ever so slightly, lets his lips brush yours in a featherlight touch that is at odds with how his palm heavily slides up and down your thigh, and then he pulls back and leans back in his chair again.
The expression on his face is as calm as if nothing happened, but you have to blink a few times, the sound of conversation coming back into your field of awareness as the outside world slowly comes back into focus. The waiter is at the other end of the room by now, nobody else at the table paying attention to you. But although Seungmin looks as aloof as always, you know he isn’t, know it and can see it in the slight tent in the front of his expensive slacks, the tips of his ears burning red under his hair. Despite it all, your heart still skips an uneven beat when his eyes find yours and his desire is right there, an expression in them that is usually reserved for the sanctity of your sheets, when he pulls you apart with a confidence as if his own hands aren’t trembling with need.
“I’m jet-lagged like crazy,” you hear Minho say somewhere down the table, “I’m gonna head back to the hotel. Anyone else coming?”
Seungmin speaks before his eyes even leave yours, evenly making up some palatable words about how the two of you feel the same.
In the end, it’s you, Seungmin, Minho and Jisung stumbling out of the venue and into the cold of the Paris night. Minho’s arm is wound tightly around Jisung’s waist, and him and Seungmin exchange a wordless glance, before Minho asks the valet for both of their cars. Jisung giggles happily and sends you a smirk as he climbs into his car, and you can’t help but smile back. But then Seungmin’s soft hand is on the small of your back, gently guiding you to slip into your car, his hand hovering over your head to make sure you don’t hurt yourself.
The fashion brand hosting the evening, the one you had so readily forgotten hours ago, had provided cars for and drivers for all their guests coming in from abroad and what cars they were – giant luxury SUVs, smelling of leather and magnolia, with drivers in full suits. You melt into the leather seats, your feet slipping out of your heels with a sigh.
“Good evening,” the driver says, in an accented English, “the drive to the hotel will take approximately 30 minutes. Do you want the privacy partition up or down?”
You speak before Seungmin can even open his mouth.
“Up, please.”
The driver nods and presses a button on his console, and you and Seungmin watch with wide eyes as a dark divider slides up until the view of the driver is completely obscured.
The car starts moving, almost noiselessly, and it takes you no more than two seconds and then you’re out of your seat, Seungmin’s hands on your waist as he all but drags you onto his lap, pulling you flush against him. Your hands slide up his chest and into the long hair in the nape of his neck, and then you’re crashing your lips into his, pressing one, two kisses onto them before greedily slipping your tongue into his mouth. He chuckles breathlessly, but kisses you back just as filthily, if not more so, his hands tightening on your body, fingers digging into the plush of your waist as he presses you closer against his chest.
“Fuck, such a needy girl,” he mumbles against your lip, taking your bottom lip between his teeth and slipping his hand underneath the skirt of your dress, up your thigh until he’s cradling your ass. “Do you need to be taken care of, hm?”
His voice is velvety, yet condescending, wrapping around you as you nod, your head falling forward to press desperate kisses to his mouth, down his jaw, until you’re at his neck. You can feel him filling out underneath you, and you grind down, a choked gasp leaving your mouth as he moans out shakily.
You’re about to do it again when the world suddenly spins and your back meets the seat, Seungmin staring down at you from where he’s hovering over you like he wants to eat you alive. He presses a hard kiss to the corner of your mouth and sits up, shrugging off the jacket of his suit without looking away from your eyes. His shoulders look even wider in his crisp, white shirt, and when his deft fingers uncuff the sleeves and ruck them up his strong, veiny forearms, you thank whatever gods are out there that this man is yours.
“Like what you see?” he scoffs out, and the condescension goes straight between your legs, clenching around nothing as he stares down at you.
“You’re so fucking hot, Seung,” you breathe out, and his lips curl into a satisfied smirk, but that’s about all the talking he seems to be willing to do, carelessly shoving his jacket onto the floor of the car.
You nearly flinch, but it’s not the last affront he has planned for the expensive clothes the brand had put you in. His hands wrap around your ankles, shoving one up and over the backrest, placing the other on the floor and then his hands slide up your thighs, You barely feel his fingers dig into the fabric of your tights before you hear a resounding rip. When you look down, there’s now a hole right around your crotch, your black lace panties on display for him, the wet patch in them glaringly obvious.
“God, fuck, that’s better,” he rasps out, his voice now tinged in arousal, too. His thumb finds your clothed clit and you mewl.
“Seung, fuck, the b-brand gave me those,” you gasp out, but Seungmin just shrugs.
“They never want something like tights back. Too easily breakable.”
It looks like he’s not even speaking to you, absentmindedly mumbling it while he spreads your legs, pressing the lace between your folds, before he dips down pressing his tongue against the soaked fabric.
“I can taste the desperation on you, sweetheart,” he hums when he pulls back and comes to hover over you again, caging you against the expensive leather with one hand supporting himself next to your head, the other trailing up your body until his middle and ring finger are resting against your bottom lip.
“Open,” he orders, and you’ve never complied faster. He slips them in slow, but deep, the metal of his rings pressing cold against your heated lips. He lets you swirl your tongue around them, desperate to please him, but then they’re gone, pulled away as quickly as they came.
His lips dip down to offer you a kiss, one you take gratefully, your hands tangling back into his long, honey hair and raking over his scalp, and he hums, licking deep into your mouth just as you feel him pull your panties to the side and drag his spit slick middle finger through your wetness. He swallows the moan you let out.
“There you are,” he mumbles, rubbing light circles on your clit until your back arches, and only then does he slide down smoothly and sink one finger into you to the hilt You throw your head back with a choked whimper.
“So fucking wet, don’t even need to stretch you open, hm?” he chuckles, eyes hooded as he painfully slowly pumps his finger in and out of you and god, it feels so good, his long, strong finger so deep inside of you, but it’s not enough, not when he’s right in front of you. You want him, all of him, want him to take you, to make you his in any way he sees fit.
As if he can read your horny, desperate mind, he adds another finger and the stretch soothes the burning need in you. He watches a breathy string of _thank you_s drip from your lips with hooded eyes, breath catching in his throat when your tongue comes out to swipe over your bottom lip, and he leans in to catch it, sucking on it lightly as he fucks his fingers in deeper.
“Listen, sweetheart,” he murmurs and adds another finger, peppering deep kisses against your lips, “I’m going to open you up right here, and you’re going to cum on my fingers like a good girl, and then I’ll fuck you nice and hard when we’re back at the hotel, just how you like it.”
You mewl, your body betraying you with how hard you clench around his digits, and he chuckles again.
“Say ‘yes, sir’,” he purrs, and you rasp out a moan, tugging at his hair enough to make him gasp and there are dark flames of desire in his eyes when he looks back down at you. Your eyelids flutter slightly when his stupidly long fingers crook right against your g-spot and he drinks your reaction in proudly.
“Yes, sir,” you breathe out, and he hums, dipping down to kiss you again. He’s fucking his fingers into you deep and fast now, his lips spit-slick and sliding over yours with a lot less coordination, wordlessly telling you that his composure is slipping. The thought of his twitching cock in his pants makes your mouth water and you decide to play a little dirty.
“Are you going to fill me up tonight, sir?” you whisper into his mouth, and his forehead falls against yours roughly.
“Until you’re dripping with it, baby,” he gasps and cages you against the seats tighter, his chest pressing against yours as he captures your lips in another messy kiss.
You know you won’t last much longer, and it’s probably good because you’re sure you’ll be at the hotel soon, and you don’t want the driver to roll down the partition to see Seungmin on top of you with three of his fingers buried in your cunt. It’ll be a miracle if you’re not dripping onto the seats.
The tips of Seungmin’s fingers find your g-spot again, and you whimper breathily, and then his thumb presses against your clit, and it’s perfect, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as you can feel the telltale tightening in your abdomen.
“Fucking gorgeous, all fucked out,” Seungmin whispers above you, and you can’t even respond because it’s like he’s on a mission, his long fingers in all the right places, the squelching sounds of your cunt getting frankly obscene as he fucks you harder and harder, pushing you up on the seat until your head almost hits the door. Seungmin’s hand finds your head, cradling the back where it’s against the door and the tenderness of it makes your head spin. And before you know it, you’re cumming, pleasure thundering down your spine and licking through your entire body, your eyes screwed shut as you open your mouth in a silent scream.
Seungmin lets out a tortured little gasp with how tightly you clench around his fingers as ride your through your orgasm, your shaking leg falling from the backrest and around his waist, trapping him against you, allowing you to pull him into a messy kiss as the last shocks of your orgasm rack through your body.
When he pulls back, there’s a smile on his lips and his eyes are still closed, nose brushing against yours tenderly.
“Good fucking girl,” he whispers, and you breathe out a laugh. He blinks his eyes open and grins down at you.
“Now let’s get you dressed again so I can take you to our room and ruin you.”
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