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𝗰𝗿𝘆𝗯𝗮𝗯𝘆 — kmg teaser.
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pairing: afab!reader x kim mingyu
word count: 398 [ for this teaser! ]
summary: sometimes it's hard to say what you want. sometimes, mingyu is just being insufferably coy.
content warning: more smut, boyfriend!mingyu, partial nudity, explicit sexual acts (dirty talk, dry humping), dom/sub dynamics, slight degradation, pet names, sub!mingyu is losing his mind
a/n: find the full fic here!
“My puppy, what’s wrong?”
Instead of answering, he purses his lips and takes a few short, constricted breaths. Closing his eyes as if he can will this whole situation away (or to a head) by pretending it doesn't exist.
“Can’t help you if you won’t talk to me, Gyu.”
It was his least practiced skill: just fucking saying what he wants. He’s always too caught up in how turned on you make him or how vulnerable he feels. How deeply he enjoys the way you look at him with the eyes of a predator, and how hot he gets at the thought of being your prey.
“Gyu. Slow down.” For a man with the body mass Mingyu possesses, he's always had a lack of spatial awareness. Bumping into the kitchen island every other morning; bonking heads in the elevator when he tries to give you a forehead kiss; generally not noticing injuries until he's flexing in the bathroom mirror and a large bruise has appeared where once there was nothing.
His sex drive was no exception. He grinds against the cotton of his trousers without a conscious thought, even now as you lay your hand heavy against his throat and mock him for it.
"Such a desperate little puppy, can't even breathe, humping yourself like a bitch in heat."
With his airways partially blocked and his eyes squeezed shut, this friction feels almost as good as your hand might.
"Stop." This time, the instruction is clear, the heel of your palm digging into his hip bone and forcing him to sit still. He trembles like an injured animal and you don't hide your snort; the sound is like a bitter spirit left on his salivating glands and it only makes him more liquid in your arms.
“Tell me what you want me to do and I’ll help you, bug.”
“M’sorry, can’t…”
“Gyu.” It's a firm warning and still he bites his tongue in resistance:
“I— Fuck… ngh, can’t, I can’t—“
Working himself up over something as simple as wanting to be touched... Well, it makes you wonder if he enjoys being punished. Because his tears are already gathering in trails down his temples, thick and heavy as they stream through his damp hair, and every time you lick at the salty water he starts bucking up into nothing again.
There’s only one way this is going to end.
penned by rowan.