pairing: step-brother!lee minho x stepsister!reader
summary: his room is thirty feet away from yours. your parents are asleep down the hall, and minho has just stepped over the creakiest floorboard in the house to prove a point: that you are entirely, hopelessly at his mercy.
genre: dark romance, step siblings dynamic, explicit contents, psychological angst
warnings: dark themes, step sibling taboo, explicit sexual content, degradation/dirty talk, orgasam denial, overstim, unprotected sex, slight dubcon/coercion, teasing/cruelty, marking, oral (fem receiving)
a/n: first fic on my new writing acc, im not too happy with it but wtv i wanted to post something atleast, pls like, reblog, comment if you even liked it the slightest bit it would be very appreciated and make me motivated to keep posting!
the floorboards in the upstairs hallway have a specific, agonizing language.
you’ve memorized every creak over the last three years, ever since your mother’s luggage settled permanently into the master bedroom at the end of the corridor. there is the dull, heavy groan right outside the bathroom; the sharp, sudden click near the top of the stairs; and the soft, hollow sigh of the wood exactly three inches from your bedroom door.
it is 2:14 am. the house is dead, save for the hum of the central heating and the distant, rhythmic rise and fall of your mother and his father’s voices through the plaster walls. they are talking about drywall estimates, they are laughing, they are entirely oblivious to the quiet violence unfolding thirty feet away.
"you're breathing too loud," minho murmurs.
his voice is a dry, raspy scrape against your ear, barely louder than the rustle of the heavy duvet. he’s leaning over you, one knee anchored on the mattress right between your thighs, pinning your sweat-damp cotton shorts flat against the sheets. the scent of him — cold air from his open window, expensive cologne, and the sharp, metallic tang of mint gum fills your nose, crowding out the safety of your own room.
"minho, please," you breathe, the words catching in your throat as his long fingers slide up your thigh. his touch is not gentle. he digs his thumb into the sensitive inner flesh of your hip, hard enough to leave a yellowing shadow of a bruise tomorrow. "they’re right next door. the door isn't even locked."
"then i suggest you keep your pretty mouth shut," he whispers. a slow, sharp smile curls up at the corner of his lips in the dark, visible only when the headlights of a passing car sweep across your ceiling. "or don't. let's see what your mom says when she walks in and finds her perfect little angel pinned to my bed like a butterfly. do you think she'd blame me? or do you think she'd look at you and finally see what a desperate, dirty little whore you are?"
your chest heaves. the heat between your thighs is already thick, a heavy, aching weight that he created and now holds hostage.
he knows exactly what he’s doing. he knows that the threat of ruin is the only thing that keeps you this still, this pliable under his hands. he’s been leveraging it for months—ever since he caught you looking a fraction of a second too long at his mouth over the dinner table, ever since he realized that the "step-sibling" label didn't make you look away; it made you blush.
"i'm not," you whisper, your voice trembling. "i'm not dirty."
"no?" he lets out a quiet, mocking huff of laughter, his breath hot against your collarbone. his fingers trail lower, hooking into the elastic of your underwear, pulling it down just enough to expose the slick, swollen heat of you to the cold air of the room. "then why are you already soaking through these? why are you begging me to touch you in the dark while our parents are talking about us downstairs? you're disgusting, sweetheart. you're a little addict."
he doesn't wait for your response. he slides two fingers down, hard and sudden, right over your hypersensitive center.
you choke on a gasp, your hips arching off the mattress instinctively. minho’s free hand instantly clamps over your mouth, his palm heavy and unyielding, pressing your head back into the pillow. his fingers smear your sweat across your cheek, his thumb catching your lower lip and forcing it between your teeth.
"i told you," he growls, his dark eyes glittering with a cold, teasing cruelty. "quiet. if you make another sound, i'll walk out of this room right now and leave you like this. wet, miserable, and empty."
the threat is real, and it makes your blood run hot and cold all at once. minho has done it before. he has left you trembling on the edge of a cliff, your body aching for release, while he calmly went to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water, leaving you to clean up his mess alone.
he begins to move his fingers. it’s rough, deliberately uncoordinated, his knuckles rubbing hard against your clit with a ruthless, blunt pressure that sends a jagged spike of white-hot pleasure straight to your lower stomach. you thrum against him, your fingers clawing at the sheets, trying to find purchase as he overstimulates the delicate tissue without mercy.
"look at me," he commands, his voice dropping an octave, thick and demanding.
you force your eyes open, your vision blurred with unshed tears. in the dim light, his face is a mask of sharp angles and dark, predatory focus. he isn't smiling anymore; he looks at you with a heavy, possessive hunger that makes you feel entirely consumed.
"you don't get to come," he whispers against your wet lips, his teeth grazing your jawline. "not tonight. you don't deserve it. you've been bad all week. pretending you don't know me when we're downstairs. acting like you're so clean."
he pushes two of his fingers inside you, deep and fast, his thumb staying anchored on your clit, grinding down with an agonizing, relentless rhythm. the contrast of the slick, hot friction inside and the harsh, bruising pressure outside is too much. your thighs twitch, your toes curling as the tension in your lower abdomen tightens into a hard, coiled spring.
you're so close. the edge is right there, a brilliant, terrifying dropoff.
"m-minho—" you try to sob against his palm, your hips rolling helplessly, trying to chase the friction, trying to force his hand to give you what you need.
"no," he sneers, his fingers instantly going completely still inside you, hooking hook-like against your walls, trapping you in the worst kind of suspension. he presses his thumb hard against your clit, not moving it, just holding the agonizing pressure right on the nerve ending until you're shaking, your breath coming in ragged, shallow hiccups. "stop moving. did i tell you to move?"
your eyes plead with him, wide and dark with desperation. your whole body is vibrating, overstimulated to the point of physical pain. every nerve ending is screaming, raw and exposed.
"ask me," he whispers, his lips brushing your ear, his voice a dark, teasing caress. "beg me to let you. tell me how much you need your brother to ruin you."
"please," you whine, a tear slipping down your temple into your hair. "please, minho... let me. i'll be quiet. i promise."
"say the words," he demands, his fingers twitching inside you, just enough to make you gasp, to make the ache flare up again. "tell me what you are."
"i'm-i'm yours," you sob out, the confession tasting like copper and shame on your tongue. "your dirty little secret. please, minho..."
he stares down at you for a long, agonizing second, letting the weight of your submission settle between you. his chest rises and falls against yours, his heart hammering a frantic rhythm that betrays his own control.
"good," he whispers, his voice suddenly thick, a dark promise settling in the air.
but instead of moving his hand to give you release, he leans down, his mouth catching yours in a bruising, rough kiss that tastes of mint and quiet desperation, while his fingers remain perfectly, agonizingly still.
his tongue slips past your lips, deep and demanding, claiming your mouth with the same ruthless authority he holds over your body. you try to melt into it, desperate for any sensation that might distract you from the agonizing throb between your thighs. but minho doesn't give you that mercy. he pulls back just enough to break the seal of your lips, a thin string of saliva snapping between you in the dark.
his eyes are fixed on yours, cold and critical. "you’re so pathetic. look at you, practically vibrating. if i let you go right now, you’d ruin these sheets in seconds, wouldn’t you?"
you can only nod, a pathetic, tight nod of your head against the pillow. the weight of his fingers inside you is literal torture; they are slick with your own arousal, acting like a stopper to a bottle that is ready to burst. your pelvic muscles twitch, clamping down on his fingers involuntarily.
minho’s eyes darken. he slaps his hand down against the soft skin of your inner thigh, a sharp, loud crack that echoes in the quiet bedroom.
you flinch, a quiet sob dying in your throat.
"did i say you could squeeze me?" he asks, his voice dangerously low. "keep those pretty muscles still. if you clamp down on me again, i will pull out and leave you to ache until morning. do you understand me?"
"yes," you choke out, your voice barely a thread. "yes, minho. i'm sorry."
"good girl," he mocks, using the term with a sneering affection that sends a strange, dizzying rush of humiliation and desire through your veins. "now. let's see how much you can handle."
he slowly drags his fingers out, leaving you empty and cold, but before you can even catch your breath, he shifts. he grabs your ankles, pushing your legs back until your knees are practically pinned to your ears, folding you completely. you’re laid bare in the dark, vulnerable and open to whatever cruel whim he desires.
minho leans down, his gaze scanning the wet, glistening folds of your heat. his mouth twists into a dark, satisfied smirk. slowly, he dips his head, his hot breath brushing over your hypersensitive clit, making you spasm violently before he even touches you.
"so wet," he murmurs, his tone dripping with mockery. "look how wide open you are. you're practically dripping onto the mattress. let's clean you up a bit, hm?"
without warning, he presses his tongue directly against your swollen bundle of nerves.
the sensation is so sharp, so violently intense, that your whole body jolts. you try to scream, but minho’s hand is already back on your mouth, smothering the sound into a pathetic, muffled squeal. his tongue lap is heavy, rough, and mocking. he swirls his tongue around your clit with an agonizing pressure, sucking the sensitive bud into his mouth and biting lightly with his teeth.
you are thrashing against him, your hips rolling frantically against his face, completely overwhelmed. the sheer intensity of his wet tongue combined with the heavy pressure of his mouth makes you feel like your veins are on fire. you’re sobbing into his palm, tears streaming freely down your face as he eats you out with a brutal, relentless hunger, completely ignoring your silent pleas for him to stop, to slow down.
he pulls back abruptly with a tacky sound of his mouth leaving your skin echoing in the dark. his lips are wet and shiny with your juices.
"look at me," he commands, his voice dropping an octave, thick and demanding.
you force your eyes open, your vision blurred with unshed tears. in the dim light, his face is a mask of sharp angles and dark, predatory focus. he isn't smiling anymore; he looks at you with a heavy, possessive hunger that makes you feel entirely consumed.
he reaches for the hem of his grey sweatpants. you watch through half-lidded, feverish eyes as he shoves them down, freeing the heavy, thick length of him. he is fully hard, the dark veins tracing along his shaft standing out in the faint, shadowy light. he looks impossibly large in the dark, a looming threat of complete stretching and ruin.
he doesn't use a condom. he never does when he wants to punish you. he likes the raw, wet heat of skin against skin; he likes knowing that he is leaving himself inside you, a physical mark of his corruption that you’ll have to wash away in the shower while trying not to make a sound.
minho shifts his weight, the blunt, heavy tip of his length pressing directly against your dripping, overstimulated hole.
"minho," you gasp, your hands flying to his shoulders, your fingers digging into the soft cotton of his t-shirt. "please, it's too much—"
"it's exactly what you want," he whispers, his lips pressing against your temple, his breath hitching slightly as he feels just how hot and wet you are. "you're practically begging for it. open wider."
he nudges your knees further apart with his thighs, forcing your hips to tilt upward. he doesn't ease himself in. with a sudden, heavy thrust, he drives his hips forward, burying himself inside your cunt in one blunt, unyielding motion.
the sheer stretch of him makes your eyes wide. you stretch to accommodate him, the tightness of your body clamping down on him like a vise. a high, sharp whine escapes your throat, but minho is already there, his hand slamming over your mouth to smother the sound.
"hush," he growls, his own eyes closing for a brief second as his jaw tightens. he holds himself perfectly still inside you, letting you feel every single inch of his thick, throbbing cock stretching you to your absolute limit. "f-fuck, you're so tight. are you trying to choke me? relax."
you try to breathe, your chest rising and falling in rapid, shallow jerks against his. his weight is heavy, crushing you into the mattress, making you feel completely small and consumed. the sheer volume of sensation is overwhelming; the rough slap of his skin against yours, the heat of his palm over your mouth, the agonizing stretch of him inside you, and the constant, terrifying knowledge that your mother is asleep just thirty feet away.
"if you make a sound," he whispers, his eyes opening, dark and cruel, "i'll push you harder. i'll make you scream, and we'll see who comes through that door first."
it's a slow, agonizing deep rhythm. he pulls almost entirely out, letting the sensitive head of his cock drag over the wet, swollen entrance of your cunt, before driving back in with a heavy, deliberate thrust that bottoms out against your cervix. each thrust is a blunt shockwave of pleasure that makes your mind go completely white. you are so overstimulated that even the sliding friction of his shaft feels too much like a sweet, agonizing torment that makes your thighs shake.
you try to tilt your hips, trying to find a rhythm, but minho pinches your hip bone, his fingers digging deep into the skin.
"i told you to stay still," he whispers, his voice tight with his own mounting pleasure. "i do the moving. you just take it."
he increases the pace, the slow, deep thrusts turning into a faster, rougher pounding. the wet, sticky sound of your bodies slapping together is incredibly loud in the quiet room. each friction filled stroke makes your toes curl into the sheets. you are clawing at his back now, your nails digging through his shirt, your hips lifting off the bed involuntarily as the tension in your lower stomach tightens into a hard, screaming knot.
you are right on the edge of a shattering, violent orgasm. your walls are contracting around him, milking him desperately.
"m-minho," you sob against his palm, your eyes wide and wild with a desperate plea. "please... let me come. please, i can't—it hurts, please—"
"no," he grunts, his own breathing heavy and ragged now, his forehead resting against yours. "i told you... no. you don't get to come until i say so."
with a cruel, calculated precision, he pulls his hips back, completely removing himself from your wet, aching cunt.
the sudden emptiness is a physical shock. you let out a broken, pathetic cry, your hips rolling on the empty air, trying to chase the phantom sensation of him. you are dripping, completely exposed, your body trembling with a desperate, unfulfilled need that feels like a physical sickness.
"look at you," minho sneers, his chest heaving as he hovers over you. he looks down at your wet, flushed thighs, at the slick trail of your arousal glistening on his own length. "a complete mess. you look so cheap like this, begging your stepbrother to ruin you in the dark."
he reaches down, his fingers catching your chin, forcing you to look up at him. his thumb presses hard against your bottom lip, dragging it down.
"do you want it?" he asks, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper. "tell me how much you want it."
"i want it," you sob, the tears finally spilling over your eyelashes, wetting his fingers. "please, minho. i'll do anything. please."
"say 'please, brother, ride me until i'm ruined,'" he whispers, his eyes glittering with a dark, twisted amusement.
the words are a heavy, toxic weight in your throat, but you are too far gone, too thoroughly broken by the overstimulation and the denial to care.
"p-please," you whimper, your voice trembling with shame. "please, brother... ride me until i'm ruined."
a dark, victorious smile spreads across minho’s face. "such a good girl," he purrs, the praise tasting like sweet poison.
he doesn't hesitate. he grabs your knees, pulling them all the way up to your chest, exposing your dripping cunt completely. he aligns himself and drives back in with a fierce, punishing speed.
the depth is unbelievable. he is hitting you so deep, so hard, that your entire body slides up the bed with each heavy thrust. his hand is back over your mouth, clamping down with a bruising force as he pounds into you without mercy. the wet, slapping sounds of his hips hitting your ass are deafening to your ears, a rhythmic, dirty soundtrack to your undoing.
you are completely lost to the sensation. your mind is gone, reduced to nothing but the hot, thick stretch of him filling you over and over, the hard friction against your clit with every thrust, and the crushing weight of his body. you are shaking, your muscles twitching, your eyes rolled back as the pleasure becomes too sharp, too intense to bear.
"now," minho groans, his voice breaking as his own control finally shatters. his thrusts become frantic, messy, and desperate. he buries his face in your neck, his teeth biting down hard on the sensitive skin right above your collarbone, leaving a deep, dark mark that you know will take weeks to fade. "come for me. keep it quiet."
the moment his teeth sink into your skin, the dam breaks.
a violent, shattering orgasm rips through your body. your walls clamp down on him in a series of tight, spasming contractions, milking him with an intense, agonizing grip. you shake violently under him, your back arching off the mattress, a muffled, choked scream tearing from your throat, completely swallowed by his heavy palm.
the sheer intensity of the overstimulation makes you sob, your body twitching as you come hard, the pleasure so sharp it feels almost like pain.
hearing your muffled cries and feeling the tight, pulsing grip of your climax is what finally pushes minho over the edge. with a low, guttural groan that is entirely unrefined, he drives himself as deep inside you as he can go, pinning you flat against the bed, and releases.
you can feel the hot, thick waves of his seed pulsing deep inside your cunt, filling you up, a warm, heavy weight that contrasts with the cool air of the room. he holds himself deep inside you, his body twitching as he spends himself, his chest heaving against yours as he tries to catch his breath.
for a long, quiet minute, the only sound in the room is the ragged, wet rustle of your breathing.
slowly, minho pulls his hand away from your mouth. his palm is wet with your saliva and tears. he looks down at you, his face softening just a fraction, though his eyes remain dark and possessive. he reaches up, gently brushing a stray lock of hair away from your sweaty forehead.
"look at you," he whispers, his voice returning to that quiet, teasing purr. "you're a complete ruin."
he slowly pulls out of you, the wet, suctioned sound making you shiver. a thick, warm mixture of his seed and your own slick spills out of you, wetting the sheets beneath your hips. minho doesn't offer to help you clean up. he simply pulls his sweatpants back up, his eyes lingering on the dark, angry bite mark on your neck.
"make sure you cover that up tomorrow," he murmurs, a slow, cruel smirk playing on his lips as he steps off the bed. "it'd be a shame if your mother asked how you got it."
without another word, he turns and walks toward the door. he steps over the creaky floorboards with practiced ease, opening your door just wide enough to slip through, leaving you alone in the dark, cold room, shaking, wet, and entirely his.
