warning : this chapter contains explicit sexual content, blackmail dynamics, rough sex, degradation, and heavy dirty talk, it features power imbalance and freaky kinks that may be disturbing for some readers.

[ Reader discretion is strongly advised ]

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Minho's apartment sat above a run-down convenience store that smelled like stale oil and piss. The stairwell was half-lit, walls marked with tags and cigarette burns. Seungmin climbed anyway, hood up, hands jammed deep into his pockets like that could shield him from what was about to happen.

He told himself he was only here because he had to. Minho had him by the throat with that fucking recording. There was no way out.

So why was his pulse racing like he was about to get something he wanted?

The door opened before he could knock. Minho leaned on the frame, all lazy grin and sharp eyes. "Knew you'd show, baby boy."

"Don't call me that," Seungmin muttered, pushing past him inside.

The apartment was dim, cluttered but not disgusting: half-empty bottles, a couch that looked like it had survived three owners, a PC glowing blue in the corner. It smelled faintly of smoke and detergent.

Minho kicked the door shut. "You came quick. What's the matter, scared I'd leak your little side hustle?"

Seungmin's jaw clenched. "You think you're hot shit 'cause you got one video? Fuck you."

Minho stepped closer, closing the gap inch by inch until Seungmin's back hit the wall. His palm landed just beside Seungmin's head, caging him in. "Nah. See, fuck me is exactly what you're about to do."

Seungmin's throat went dry. He spat back anyway. "Keep dreaming."

Minho tilted his head, his grin cutting wider. "Then why are you shaking?"

Minho didn't waste time. One hand caught Seungmin's chin, tilting his face up. "Here's the deal: you listen, you obey, I keep your little camboy hobby to myself. You fuck up, I hit send. Easy."

"And if I say no?"

Minho laughed low.

 "Then the whole world gets to see you begging on your knees with your cock in your hand. Bet your buddies would love that."

Heat surged through Seungmin — half humiliation, half something darker. His fists balled in his hoodie pocket. "You're sick."

Minho leaned in, lips ghosting Seungmin's ear. "Yeah? Then why's your pulse goin' like that, huh? Your body already sold you out."

Seungmin shoved at his chest, but Minho barely budged. He felt like a wall.

"Fine," Seungmin muttered, breath ragged.

Minho's grip tightened on his jaw. "Say it right."

Seungmin glared, face burning. "Yes, I'll do what you want."

Minho smirked. "Good boy."

Minho didn't waste another second. He yanked Seungmin's hoodie off, tossed it across the room, then shoved him onto the couch. Seungmin bounced hard against the cushions, teeth gritted.

"Don't get cute," he snapped.

Minho chuckled, already tugging at Seungmin's jeans. "Cute? Baby, you're about to be my favorite fucking toy."

Seungmin kicked, but Minho caught his ankle, twisted, and dragged him down flat. "Stop fighting. You and I both know your cock's already halfway hard."

"Shut up," Seungmin spat — but when Minho's hand pressed against his crotch, a strangled gasp betrayed him.

Minho grinned wicked. "That's what I thought."

He popped Seungmin's button, peeled the denim down slow just to watch him squirm. The tent in his briefs was impossible to deny. Minho palmed it shamelessly, squeezing until Seungmin's back arched off the couch.

"Fuck—"

"Loud already?" Minho mocked. "Bet the camera never caught you like this. You save the real freak shit for me?"

"Go to hell."

Minho smacked his thigh, hard enough to sting. "Wrong answer."

Seungmin's breath hitched. He should've hated it. He did hate it. But the heat flooding his gut told another story.

Minho yanked his briefs down, Seungmin's cock springing free, flushed and leaking. Minho's smirk widened. "Look at you. Talkin' shit with your dick beggin' for me."

Seungmin turned his face away, humiliated.

Minho leaned down, voice dropping. "Say you want it."

"Fuck off."

Minho's fingers wrapped tight around him, stroking slow, deliberate. Seungmin groaned, hips jerking despite himself.

"Say it, or I stop."

Seungmin's pride cracked under the pressure. "I... I want it."

Minho squeezed harder. "Louder."

"I want it!"

Minho's grin was feral. "Knew you'd fold."

He spat in his hand and stroked rougher, faster. Seungmin bucked helplessly, curses spilling from his lips.

"Good little whore," Minho murmured. "All that attitude, and you're melting the second I touch you. You're mine now."

Seungmin's moans filled the room, raw and desperate. His own voice betrayed him: "D-Daddy— fuck—"

Minho froze for half a second, then laughed dark. "Oh, you are a freak. Say it again."

Seungmin's face burned, but his body betrayed him. "Daddy— please—"

Minho's grin sharpened. "That's right. My good little camboy slut."

Minho stripped his own jeans off, cock hard and heavy, throbbing with anticipation. He grabbed Seungmin by the hair, dragged him off the couch, and forced him onto his knees.

"Open your mouth."

Seungmin hesitated — then Minho shoved the tip against his lips. Instinct took over; Seungmin opened, and Minho slid in deep.

"Fuck, that's it," Minho groaned, one hand fisting his hair, the other guiding his jaw. "Bet none of your subscribers ever made you gag like this."

Seungmin choked, eyes watering, but the wet sounds filling the room only made Minho thrust harder.

"You love it," Minho growled. "Say it."

Seungmin pulled off with a gasp, spit dripping down his chin. "I love it, Daddy— fuck—"

Minho shoved him back onto the couch, flipped him over, and dragged his briefs the rest of the way down. He spread him open, spitting between his cheeks, fingers pressing in without hesitation.

Seungmin whined, biting the cushion. "It's too—"

"Shut up. You're taking it."

Two fingers, then three, stretching him wide. Seungmin's moans grew higher, needier, his hips pushing back despite himself.

"Fuck, you're hungry for it," Minho muttered. "Beg me."

Seungmin gasped, broken. "Please, Daddy— I need it— fuck me, please—"

That was all Minho needed. He lined up and slammed in one hard thrust, burying himself to the hilt.

Seungmin screamed into the cushion, back arching.

Minho groaned, holding him down by the neck. "Tight little hole— fuck— made for me."

The pace was brutal from the start, hips snapping hard, the couch creaking under them. Seungmin clawed at the cushions, moaning so loud it barely sounded human.

"Say you're mine," Minho snarled, pounding into him.

"I'm yours— I'm yours, Daddy— fuck— harder—"

Minho smirked, thrusts driving deeper. "Knew you'd love it. My good boy, my dirty fucking whore."

Seungmin's body trembled, pleasure building too fast. "Gonna fuck— gonna cum—"

"Do it," Minho ordered, slamming harder. "Cum for Daddy."

Seungmin cried out, body convulsing, cock spilling untouched against the couch. The sound of him breaking sent Minho over the edge. With a growl, he thrust deep and spilled inside him, filling him until it leaked down his thighs.

The room reeked of sweat and sex. Seungmin collapsed face-down on the couch, chest heaving, hair plastered to his forehead. He was ruined — marked, dripping, trembling.

Minho pulled out slow, watching his cum seep out with a smug grin. He dragged his jeans back on, lit a cigarette, and sat at the edge of the couch like he'd just conquered something priceless.

Seungmin groaned into the cushions, voice hoarse. "Don't... talk to me."

Minho chuckled, blowing smoke toward the ceiling. "Too late, baby boy. You're mine now. Hooked."

Seungmin wanted to deny it. To tell him to fuck off. To claw back control.

But all he could feel was the ache in his body and the craving already blooming deep inside him.

And Minho knew it.