#fumiran

Karina turned, a small smirk playing on her lips. Her dark hair cascaded over one shoulder. “Thanks. But I’m tired of being amazing for everyone else right now.” She stepped closer, fingers tracing the collar of your shirt. “I want to be selfish tonight. With you.”

Your pulse jumped. This thing between you had been building for months—stolen glances during van rides, late-night texts, the occasional brush of hands that lingered too long. Tonight felt different. Like she’d finally decided to stop holding back.

She pulled you into a kiss that started soft but quickly turned hungry. Her body pressed against yours, soft curves molding perfectly. You cupped her face, deepening the kiss until she sighed into your mouth. When you broke apart, her eyes were already hazy with want.

“Bedroom,” she whispered.

Clothes came off in a trail across the suite. By the time you reached the king-sized bed, she was in nothing but black lace panties, and you were down to your boxers. Karina pushed you onto your back and climbed on top, straddling your thighs. Her hands slid down your chest as she leaned in for another kiss.

She worked her way lower, kissing and nipping at your skin until she reached the waistband of your boxers. She tugged them down, freeing your cock—already hard and throbbing for her. Karina wrapped her elegant fingers around the base and gave a slow, teasing stroke.

“Been thinking about this,” she murmured, looking up at you through her lashes. She leaned down and took you into her mouth, warm and wet and perfect. Her head bobbed slowly at first, tongue swirling around the head, then faster. The sight of Karina—global it girl—sucking you off like this was almost too much. You groaned, hand gently threading through her hair.

She pulled off for a second, stroking you firmly with her hand while catching her breath. “You’re so big… love how you feel.” Then she was back on it, taking you deeper, jerking the base in time with her mouth until your hips were bucking up involuntarily.

You had to stop her before you finished too soon. “Karina—wait. Want to feel you.”

She smiled, wiping her lips. You flipped her onto her back and kissed down her body, paying special attention to her breasts. They were full and soft, nipples already hard. You sucked one into your mouth while kneading the other, drawing pretty moans from her. Then you positioned your cock between them.

“Fuck my tits,” she said breathlessly, pressing them together around you.

The feeling was incredible—soft, warm flesh enveloping you as you started thrusting. Karina looked up at you, tongue occasionally darting out to lick the tip when it got close to her mouth. You groaned at the sight, hips moving faster, the slick slide driving you crazy. She squeezed tighter, watching your face with dark, satisfied eyes.

“Gonna come if you keep that up,” you warned.

“Do it. On my chest.”

You did, spilling across her tits with a deep groan. She looked stunning covered in you—flushed and breathing hard. You grabbed a warm towel from the bathroom and cleaned her gently, but she pulled you back down before you could finish.

“I need you inside me,” she whispered.

You slid her panties off and spread her legs. She was soaked. You rubbed your cock against her folds before pushing in slowly, savoring every inch. Karina’s back arched, a soft gasp escaping as you bottomed out.

“Move… please.”

You started thrusting, deep and steady. Her legs wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer. The position let you kiss her while you fucked her—messy, open-mouthed kisses that matched the rhythm of your hips. You could feel her tightening around you already.

Switching things up, you pulled out and flipped her onto her stomach. She got on all fours, ass up, looking back at you over her shoulder with that signature Karina confidence mixed with need. You gripped her hips and slid back in, the new angle making her moan louder.

“Harder,” she demanded.

You gave it to her, pounding deep. The sound of skin slapping filled the room. You reached around to rub her clit, and she came hard, clenching around your cock with a cry of your name. You kept going, chasing your own release, then flipped her back over so you could see her face when you finally came inside her, filling her up as she trembled through the aftershocks.

You collapsed beside her, both of you sweaty and spent. Karina curled into your side immediately, head on your chest, one leg thrown over yours.

“Special privilege, huh?” you teased, running fingers through her hair.

She laughed softly, the sound tired but happy. “Only for you. Don’t let it go to your head, manager-nim.”

“Too late.” You kissed the top of her head. “But I’ve got you. Always.”

She hummed contentedly, tracing patterns on your stomach. The city lights twinkled outside while the two of you stayed tangled together, the weight of schedules and cameras forgotten for a few precious hours.

The venue still smelled like sweat and vanilla body spray when the last fan left. You were supposed to be gone too, but your best friend had dragged you to the side exit hoping for one last glimpse. Instead, a tall figure in a black hoodie and mask stepped out, eyes locking on you like he’d been waiting.

Mingyu.

He didn’t say much. Just tilted his head toward the dim corridor behind him and murmured, “You coming?” in that deep voice that made your knees weak on a good day. You followed because of course you did. Seventeen’s golden boy, all sharp jawline and broad shoulders, was looking at *you* like he was starving.

The door clicked shut behind you. The hallway was narrow, emergency lights casting everything in soft red. Mingyu tugged his mask down and suddenly he was right there, close enough that you could smell his cologne—something woody and expensive that made your head spin.

“You’re shaking,” he said, almost amused. His thumb brushed your bottom lip. “Nervous?”

“Understatement of the century,” you whispered.

He laughed softly, the sound rumbling through his chest. “Good. Means you’re real.” Then his mouth was on yours, hungry and a little clumsy like he’d been thinking about this longer than he should have. His hands slid down your sides, gripping your hips and pulling you flush against him. You could already feel how hard he was through his sweats, thick and insistent.

You broke the kiss first, dropping to your knees right there on the cold floor because if this was a once-in-a-lifetime fever dream, you were going to make it count. Mingyu’s eyes widened, then darkened with heat.

“Fuck… you don’t have to—”

“I want to,” you cut him off, fingers already tugging at the waistband. His cock sprang free, heavy and flushed, the tip glistening. He was bigger than you’d imagined in all those late-night fantasies, veined and perfect. You wrapped your hand around the base and gave one slow stroke, watching the way his abs clenched under his hoodie.

“Shit, baby,” he groaned, one hand threading gently into your hair.

You started with teasing licks along the underside, savoring the salty taste of him. Then you took him into your mouth, lips stretching around the head. Mingyu’s hips twitched but he held still, letting you set the pace. You bobbed deeper, hollowing your cheeks, using your hand to jerk what wouldn’t fit. The wet sounds echoed obscenely in the quiet hallway. Every time you swirled your tongue around the tip he let out these low, broken moans that went straight between your legs.

His fingers tightened in your hair. “You’re too good at that… gonna make me come already if you keep going like that.”

You pulled off with a pop, strings of spit connecting your lips to his cock. “That’s the plan for round one,” you said, voice hoarse, and dove back in. Faster this time. You jerked him with a tight fist while sucking hard on the head, and Mingyu cursed, thighs trembling. He came with a choked groan, thick spurts hitting your tongue. You swallowed as much as you could, the rest dripping down your chin. He looked wrecked—hoodie pushed up, chest heaving, eyes half-lidded.

He pulled you up and kissed you filthy, tasting himself on your tongue. “My turn.”

The next few seconds were a blur of clothes being shoved aside. He lifted you like you weighed nothing, pressing your back against the wall. Your legs wrapped around his waist. Mingyu’s fingers pushed your skirt up and found you soaked through your panties. He groaned in approval, rubbing slow circles over your clit before sliding two thick fingers inside you.

“So wet already. All for me?”

You nodded frantically, grinding down on his hand. He curled his fingers just right, hitting that spot that made stars burst behind your eyes. When you were right on the edge he pulled them out, smirking at your whine.

“Want you to come on my cock first.”

He lined himself up and pushed in slowly, stretching you open. The burn was perfect. Inch by inch until he bottomed out, hips flush against yours. You both moaned at the same time. He felt huge inside you, filling every part.

“Move,” you begged.

He did. Hard. Deep thrusts that slammed you against the wall with every stroke. Your hands clutched at his shoulders, nails digging in through his hoodie. The angle let him hit so deep you swore you could feel him in your stomach. One of his hands slipped between you, thumb rubbing your clit in time with his thrusts.

“Come on, baby. Let me feel you.”

You shattered around him, clenching so tight he cursed, pace stuttering. He fucked you through it, drawing it out until your legs were shaking.

He didn’t pull out. Instead he carried you—still impaled on his cock—to a small couch in what looked like a dressing room. He laid you down gently, finally kicking his sweats all the way off. Then he was on top of you, pushing back inside in one smooth thrust.

This position was slower, more intimate. Missionary but filthy. He hooked one of your legs over his shoulder, folding you in half so he could watch his cock disappear inside you. The wet slap of skin on skin filled the room.

“Look at me,” he said. His eyes were intense, hair falling into his face. You locked gazes as he drove into you, slower but no less deep. Every thrust ground against your clit. You came again, harder this time, crying out his name.

Mingyu followed right after, burying himself deep and spilling inside you with a long, guttural moan. He collapsed on top, careful not to crush you, face pressed into your neck.

For a while there was just heavy breathing and the sound of your heartbeats. He eventually pulled out, cum leaking down your thighs. He grabbed a towel from somewhere and cleaned you up with surprising gentleness, pressing soft kisses to your stomach and inner thighs.

“You okay?” he asked, voice rough.

“Better than okay.” You laughed shakily. “I think I just had an out-of-body experience.”

He grinned, that bright Mingyu smile that made millions weak. “Good. Because I’m not done with you yet.”

He flipped you over onto your hands and knees, pulling your hips up. The new angle made everything feel even deeper when he slid back in. Doggy style suited him—big hands gripping your ass, pulling you back onto his cock with every thrust. He reached around to play with your clit again, relentless.

You lost count of how many times you came. By the end you were a mess, face down in the cushions while he fucked you slow and lazy, chasing one last orgasm. When he finally came again, he stayed inside you for a long moment, kissing along your spine.

Aftercare was soft. He helped you fix your clothes, let you borrow his hoodie because yours was… ruined. Sat with you on the couch, big arm around your shoulders, playing with your hair.

“I don’t usually do this,” he admitted quietly. “But something about you in the crowd… I couldn’t stop looking.”

You smiled against his chest. “Lucky fangirl, I guess.”

He kissed the top of your head. “Stay a little longer?”

You did.

When you finally slipped out hours later, legs wobbly and lips swollen, you knew you’d never look at Seventeen performances the same way again. Especially not when Mingyu caught your eye from the stage during the next concert and smirked like he had a secret.

Your secret.

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End notes:

First time writing mingyu smut and Fics, be gentle with me pls

The practice room mirror was fogged up from hours of sweat and heavy breathing. The rest of the team had left ages ago, complaining about sore muscles and early schedules, but Sunoo stayed behind like he always did when he wanted to perfect something. You stayed too—partly because you were the choreographer’s assistant and partly because watching Sunoo dance felt like mainlining adrenaline straight to the veins.

He was in the center now, chest heaving under a loose white tank top that clung to his slim frame. The bass from the speakers faded out, leaving only the sound of your heartbeats and the faint hum of the air con.

“You’re staring again,” Sunoo said without turning around. His voice had that teasing lilt, the one that made fans lose their minds. But tonight it sounded lower. Breathier.

“Can you blame me?” You stepped closer, towel in hand. “That last run was insane. Your hips don’t lie, man.”

He finally met your eyes in the mirror. Pink hair damp with sweat, cheeks flushed, lips parted. Something shifted in the air—thicker, heavier. He turned slowly, and before you could overthink it, he was right there, fingers brushing your wrist as he took the towel.

“Thanks.” His touch lingered. “You’re always staying late with me.”

“Someone’s gotta make sure you don’t collapse.” Your voice came out rougher than intended.

Sunoo’s gaze dropped to your mouth, then lower. “Or maybe I just like the company.”

The towel hit the floor. You weren’t sure who moved first, but suddenly his back was against the mirrored wall and your mouth was on his. He tasted like cherry lip balm and salt. Soft little sounds escaped him as you kissed deeper, tongues sliding, hands roaming. His body was warm and pliant under yours, all lean muscle from endless hours of dance.

You pulled back just enough to breathe. “Tell me if you want to stop.”

“Don’t you dare,” he whispered, eyes dark. “I’ve been thinking about this too long.”

That was all the permission you needed. You dropped to your knees on the cool wooden floor, tugging his sweatpants and boxers down in one go. Sunoo’s cock sprang free—pretty, flushed pink like his hair, already leaking at the tip. He was smaller than you but perfect, curving slightly upward.

“Fuck, Sunoo…” You wrapped your hand around him and stroked once, twice, watching his thighs tremble. Then you leaned in, licking a stripe up the underside before taking him into your mouth.

He gasped sharply, one hand flying to your hair. “Oh my god—”

You worked him slow at first, savoring the weight on your tongue, the way he twitched when you swirled around the head. Spit dripped down your chin as you bobbed deeper, hollowing your cheeks. Sunoo’s moans were music—high and breathy, nothing like the polished idol voice he used on stage. You jerked him with your fist in time with your mouth, twisting at the head just to hear him whine.

His hips jerked forward instinctively. “You’re so… good at that. Shit—”

You hummed around him, the vibration making him cry out. One of your hands slipped back to cup his ass, squeezing the firm muscle you’d watched move for hours. He came embarrassingly fast, spilling down your throat with a broken moan, fingers tightening in your hair. You swallowed every drop, pulling off with a filthy pop and wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

Sunoo looked wrecked already—eyes glassy, lips swollen, tank top rucked up to show his toned stomach. He pulled you up and kissed you hard, tasting himself on your tongue like he couldn’t get enough.

“Your turn,” he murmured against your lips, nimble fingers working your shorts open. He wrapped his hand around your cock—already rock hard and aching—and started stroking with that dancer’s precision, long smooth glides that had you groaning into his mouth. His thumb swiped over the head, spreading precum, twisting just right at the base. You thrust into his fist, chasing the friction.

“Sunoo—fuck, slower or I’m gonna come too quick.”

He smirked, that mischievous idol smile, and dropped to his knees instead. His blowjob was teasing and eager all at once—little kitten licks followed by deep sucks that made your knees weak. He couldn’t take all of you but made up for it with his hand, jerking the base while his pretty mouth worked the head. The mirror across the room gave you the filthy view: Sunoo on his knees, pink hair bobbing, cheeks hollowed.

You pulled him off before you finished. “Not yet. Want to be inside you.”

His eyes lit up. You grabbed the small packet of lube you’d started carrying weeks ago (wishful thinking, maybe), and prepped him carefully on the practice mat. Fingers first—one, then two, scissoring gently while he pushed back, moaning softly. He was tight and hot, body trembling under your touch.

“Ready?” you asked, voice low.

“Please.”

You lined up and pushed in slowly, inch by inch, until your hips met his ass. Sunoo let out a long, shaky breath, forehead pressed to the mat. “Big… feels so full.”

You gave him time to adjust, rubbing soothing circles on his back, then started moving. Slow, deep thrusts at first, savoring the tight heat clenching around you. The position—him on all fours, you behind—was perfect for watching his back arch, the way his waist dipped.

“Harder,” he begged after a minute. “I can take it.”

You gripped his hips and gave it to him, snapping forward harder. The sound of skin slapping skin mixed with his breathy moans and your grunts. You changed angles until you hit that spot inside him that made him keen loudly, pushing back desperately to meet every thrust.

Switching positions, you pulled out and flipped him onto his back. Missionary so you could see his face—flushed cheeks, bitten lips, eyes rolling back when you slid back inside. You hooked his legs over your shoulders, folding him nicely, and pounded deeper. One hand jerked his cock in time with your thrusts.

“Gonna come again,” Sunoo gasped, nails digging into your arms.

“Do it. Come for me.”

He did, spilling over your fist and his own stomach with a cry. The sight and the way he clenched around you pushed you over the edge. You buried yourself deep and came hard, filling him up as pleasure crashed through you.

You stayed like that for a moment, catching your breath, before pulling out carefully. Sunoo winced a little but smiled sleepily when you cleaned him up with the discarded towel.

“Practice is never gonna feel the same,” he mumbled, curling into your side on the mat.

You laughed softly, running fingers through his damp hair. “Worth it though.”

He nodded, pressing a lazy kiss to your jaw. “Stay with me a bit longer? Before we have to pretend again.”

You held him tighter, the city lights faint through the high windows. “As long as you want.”

The studio felt smaller, warmer. Just the two of you and the secret that now hummed between every future dance step.

End Notes: I'm creating any genres but no non-con, rape smut