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Work Me Out II
Pairing: Kim Mingyu x fem!reader
Genre: Smut, 18+
Warnings: simp gyu, car sex, protected sex, dom!gyu, brat!reader, spitting, choking, minor cock warming
Length: 2.5k
Note: happy 1k! i almost deleted this bc i hated it so y'all have to be extra nice to me about it (im joking) (not really) everyone say thank u @cheolism for beta-ing!
Remember: Tumblr runs on reblogs and I run on validation in the tags and comments :)
read part I
read more here
This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked!
“Hi!”
“Hi,” Mingyu grins, dropping a kiss to your cheek before stepping back. “You look…”
He lifts your hand, encouraging a spin so he can fully appreciate the black slip dress gliding over your curves.
“Wow.”
“Wow?” You laugh as he pulls you closer, goosebumps rising under the palm at your bare spine.
“Beautiful,” he sighs into your lips.
He kisses you deeper; crowing you against his chest with a hand at your back. The lull of Mingyu’s lips and cologne lower your defenses, mouth opening to welcome his tongue. But he pulls away just when things breach on the edge of more.
“We’re gonna miss our reservation.” He coos through a smile, dropping a consolatory peck to your nose.
“So?”
You try to bring him back but he dodges you easily, tipping his chin up until your only option is to leave a trail of kisses along his Adam's apple.
“I’d like to take you on at least one real date.” Mingyu argues.
He’d be more convincing if he wasn’t leaving fingerprints on your hips. But you think it's cute how he wants to wine and dine you. When you step back, you notice how his eyes glow the way they always do when met with approval. It’s cute, toes on the border of innocence; and it makes your knees crave the feeling of the hardwood floors so you can give him all the validation he can handle with his cock in your mouth.
But there will be more than enough time for that later.
“Wow, so eating Captain Crunch in our underwear after you defiled me wasn’t a date?” You gasp. “Okay. I see how it is.”
Mingyu snorts but plucks your jacket off the coat rack and holds it open to help you in. “Alright, drama queen. Let’s go.”
The drive is filled with chatter. Over the past week, the initial spark of attraction only grew between you; through chats at the gym, texting, or the one night he came to your apartment and ended up passing out on the couch while the movie continued to play in the background. Somehow it was more intimate waking up fully clothed, big spooning him with your face buried between his shoulder blades than having him drill your guts until tears streaked your face.
Since you slept over that first night, you’ve noticed a plethora of things that make you more fond of Mingyu. How he slurs his words when he’s excited, talking so fast you can barely decipher what he’s saying. If you throw a wink his way while walking across the gym his eyes go wide like he’s completely taken aback by your interest; as if he didn’t have a front seat to how much you liked him. Or if he notices you looking he’ll not so subtly flex or make a face that has you laughing so hard you nearly tumble off the treadmill. Or the way Mingyu prides himself on being a gentleman; pausing his workout and walking you to your car, insisting it's too dark out for him to be comfortable letting you go alone (partially because it's his fault your gym visits became a two hour endeavor since the night in the car, he just can’t stop distracting you in the name of getting to know you better).
It’s the same at the restaurant. Mingyu takes your coat and pulls out your chair. He asks for more details on the book you mentioned on the way over, asking if he can borrow your copy once you finish. He feeds you some of his entree off his fork, splits dessert to satisfy your sweet tooth, and nabs the check from the waiter before you can even think of offering to split the bill.
It’s almost too perfect; like he is running a checklist in his head. But Mingyu isn’t that kind of guy. His enthusiasm is just that, enthusiasm for spending time with you, getting to know you, picking your brain like you’re the most interesting person he’s ever met and he can’t wait to know more.
“How did you not know it was a couples class?” You ask, laughing into the curve of his arm as he walks you back to the car.
“It didn’t say it on the flier! It just said ‘portions for two’ and I thought that meant I’d leave with leftovers.”
“Wow. So Wonwoo got you banned and ate your food?”
“Wonwoo got me banned and neither of us gotta eat the food.”
The collar of Mingyu’s shirt flitters when his chest shakes with laughter, watching you down the slope of his nose. Like a flame in a vacuum, all the oxygen in your lungs is sucked up when you notice how good he looks even under the sterile overhead light. The glass of wine you sipped through dinner doesn’t help; turning your insides to mush and your blood to a boil.
Mingyu is so genuinely sweet you almost feel guilty for crowding him against his car and palming the zipper of his jeans. The taste of whiskey clings to his tongue, sucked away by your own until he opens the door and ushers you into the back seat.
“Mingyu,” you gasp, plucking the foil package from his grip. “Did you expect to fuck me tonight?”
“No,” he groans into the side of your tit, thanking whatever power in the universe exists that you hadn’t worn a bra. “But a man should always be prepared.”
You snort, “Okay, ‘Mr. I don’t sleep with girls I don’t date.’”
“I think that's former ‘Mr. I don’t’ whatever the fuck,” he moans as he finds your mouth.
Fishing his cock out from his underwear, you lazily jerk him to full mast. Mingyu’s hip buck into the swipe of your thumb. You’d drop your mouth to suck away the mess collecting there but the back seat of his car doesn’t provide much room since your date claims most of the space already. Instead, you settle for tracing your tongue across the raised veins webbing across his neck and nipping at the sensitive lobe of his ear.
“Shit, shit, shit.”
Mingyu paws at your ass, fingers digging into the flesh and dragging your covered core closer to his cock. His other hand dips beneath your skirt, thumb swiping at your clit and two thick fingers pushing aside the scrap of fabric posing as underwear to stretch you open without preamble.
“Fuck, you’re so wet.” Mingyu pants.
You meet every curl of his fingers with a whine, face falling into the cradle of his jaw as he works you up. He’s everywhere; all you can feel, touch, taste. Even his cologne floods your nose; the scent of powdery spice and something intrinsically him that you can’t name.
Whether intentional or not, the match of pace isn’t lost on your mind as your fist sinks over Mingyu’s length the same time he stuffs you with his digits; fucking you by proxy while his tongue licks away every sound of satisfaction before it can make its way between your lips.
Before long, Mingyu bats away your hand to use his own. The second the latex is rolled down he holds himself for you, offering his cock like a prize you can’t refuse.
And he’s right.
The initial discomfort trickles up your spine. Eyes closed, chest caved, you take every inch as Mingyu whispers praise after praise into your neck. Twitching in each other’s hold, each clench of your cunt dips his stomach until you pull him back to your mouth and goad him with a demanding draw against his tongue with your own; a wet suckle more obscene than the way he splits you has him returning the gesture with fervor.
Hips finding a jilted rhythm, Mingyu manages to latch to one of your nipples, teeth razing along the sensitive skin until you nearly collapse from the delightful pain.
Arching into his chest so hard it hurts, your voice cracks, “Oh, Gyu.”
“Good girl,” he groans into your chest.
The hand on your ass pulls you across his cock, forcing you down with each of his thrusts up. Mingyu’s loud but you’re louder and the abandoned top floor of the parking deck doesn’t provide any disguise from what’s happening behind the foggy windows of his SUV.
As sexy as you are with your head thrown back, desperately moaning his name, the fear of getting caught is starting to suffocate him.
You beat against his chest when Mingyu pins you in place. He crushes you flat against him, pelvis to pelvis, so deep you feel him in your throat. Tight around the stretch, he nearly loses his train of thought but finds it when an involuntary rush of his thighs makes you squeak.
He brushes his thumb across the apple of your cheek in an effort to quell the bubbling tantrum behind your eyes. “Shhh,” he whispers. “We can't get caught.”
Time stops as you come to a crossroads. Eye to eye, you can see him waiting for a signal. If you want to stop, drive thirty minutes back to either of your apartments, and then go at it like rabbits, Mingyu will do it. If you want him to stop, drop you off at your doorstep, and send him home with the worst hard on of his life, he’ll smile through the tears. But if you want to finish what you’ve both started in the discomfort of the back seat, Mingyu needs you to be quiet.
So you can listen without complaint, bury your face in the column of his neck and bite your lip until it bleeds from strain. Or you can let Mingyu decide the best course of action.
“Then shut me up.”
A beat of absolute silence rattles your shaking confidence. Mingyu’s eyes widen, jumping back like he’s been burned but you fake courage until you spot the way he licks his teeth at the idea.
Whatever permission he’s looking for he finds in the slight dip of your chin. You watch Mingyu’s mood shift in an instant. The playful tilt of his lips melt away, the corners of his eyes freeze over their usual humor. And the arm around the dip of your waist squeezes so tight you fear he’ll leave a bruise in the shape of his palm.
The hand on your face falls to your jaw, pinching your cheek between his pointer finger and thumb as he tsks, forcing your head back and forth mockingly before he forces his thumb between your teeth.
“Shut. Up.”
He punctuates his command with a bruising thrust of his cock; thrilled at the way his thumb digging into your tongue chokes any sound. The hand on your ass nearly rips your underwear as Mingyu uses it to guide your hips, keeping you bouncing in his lap until you're drooling.
Mingyu’s teeth rake against your jaw, “Touch yourself.”
You clumsily snake a hand down, hips jerking under the blind swipe of fingers at your core. Eyes unfocused, ears filled with the rush of blood, you don’t resist the urge to bite his thumb just to see what he’ll do next.
The sting of his palm against your ass isn’t a shock.
But the wet of his fingers on your throat is.
And when Mingyu squeezes, cutting off the blood to your brain for a second in a show of possessive strength, your choked wail is music to his ears.
“Fuck, you like that?”
Nodding like a bobble head, more pathetic whimpers fill the car.
With a shift of weight, he makes you grind against his lap, the metal of his belt buckle cutting into the back of your thighs. But you’re full to the brink of shredding apart you can’t bring yourself to care. Heat in the pit of your stomach blooms, used and deep.
Mingyu fans his hand along your throat, fingers digging into the jut of your jaw to make you look at his face. His hair is a mess, cheeks rosy with sweat at his hairline. A low rumble in his throat is all the warning you get before he spits on your lips and it glides down your chin; slipping under his palm while he squeezes until stars dance in your vision.
Hips stuttering, everything draws tight; every muscle, every vein, each individual cell contracts and detonates until Mingyu fucks into your so hard your head hits the roof as he flails. Thighs firm against the top of his, you feel each sputter into the condom.
“Mingyu,” you croak, throat wrecked.
Everything feels heavy and worn when he brings you into the warmth of his chest. Somehow, you hadn’t managed to undo a single button beyond the four that let you peek at the dip between his pecs; but the friction of his shirt against your sensitive chest makes you shiver. Sweat and spit leave the fabric clinging uncomfortably but you don’t have the energy to change it.
“Jesus Christ.” Mingyu draws in a heavy breath, and the motion has your legs twitching again. “You okay?”
Nodding into his neck, your eyes slip shut. If he keeps tracing shapes on your back, you’re in serious trouble of falling asleep right there in the back of his car with his softening length still inside you. Attempting to prevent the momentum from taking over, you rise on your knees, only for Mingyu to bring you back down.
“Just…just let me hold you for a second.” he sighs, sounding as exhausted as you feel. “Please.”
Peppering languid kisses across his face, down the curve of his cheek, up the bridge of his nose, you smile when he pouts at the lack of attention to his lips. But when you meet them with your own, it's nearly impossible to call it a kiss from the sleepy grins splitting your faces.
“Wanna come back to mine?” Mingyu whispers into your cheek, leaving his own series of kisses. “We can watch that new horror movie you were talking about.”
“You hate scary movies.”
“Oh no, I guess you’ll have to stay the night in case I can’t sleep.”
“How awful!” You mock. “Did you buy more cereal?”
“Yes.”
With a monumental sigh, “Then I guess I can come over.”
It takes nearly fifteen minutes to find the courage to unwind from each other. Mingyu distracts you by tracing shapes between your shoulder blades and making you guess his artistic interpretation. Each time you're wrong he demands a kiss. Each time you're right he gives you one back.
When you make him guess what your finger burns into his shoulder he nearly faints before deciding it's time to head home, hands intertwined over the center console the entire way.
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