Song Mingi x Fem! Reader, OT8 ateez x Fem! Reader (reader is mingi's girlfriend)
This is my very cute, very beautiful fic. It's super dirty. minors DNI but I can't really control it. when I say dirty I mean don't lock into this if u ain't a freaky freak.
I wrote this while listening to in your fantasy on repeat I think I got possessed.
Content warning: HEAVY smut, praise/degradation, multiple partners, oral (f), fingering, Train, dom/sub, biting, hair-pulling, choking, cream pie, overstimulation, gangbang, double penetration, oral (m) titfucking, anal, rough use, spit, cum play, fully consensual non-stop sex, color checks as in physical state. This gets freaky way too fast.
when I demonstrated the positions on my bed it made sense to me okay.
📍banners by @/cafekitsune
You always knew watching Mingi onstage would be the end of you.
You’d been to his rehearsals, stood in the wings while he perfected his lines, watched him bounce from joke to joke in recording rooms and hotel suites with his members, easy and boyish and glowing with passion. But it wasn’t the same. It never compared to the way he transformed in front of a crowd.
Tonight, you watched from side-stage, heart jackhammering as the lights turned red and warm, casting the whole arena in electric heat. The moment the beat dropped, Mingi hit his first verse with a sharp roll of his hips and a growl in his throat that sent heat straight between your legs.
He was on fire. Full throttle. Every movement carved from the kind of confidence only someone adored could wear naturally. He looked like he was born for it—sweat catching at his brow, jaw sharp and glinting under the lights, body draped in that outfit like sin.
And you knew that look in his eye.
Not just the “I own this stage”, The one that locked onto you, even in a crowd of thousands. The one that said "Just wait until we're alone."
By the time the concert ended, your thighs were pressed tight together, breath shallow. You’d nearly combusted watching his tongue peek out before each verse, his low growl during the dance break, the way his shirt rode up over his abs as he hyped the crowd.
When the lights finally dropped, the roar of the fans lingering like thunder, the boys filed offstage high on adrenaline.
Seonghwa gave you a gentle shoulder bump and a smirk as he passed. “He’s been talking about you all night.”
You scoffed. “He’s been growling into a mic and body rolling. Doesn’t seem like he missed me much.”
Jongho snorted. “Oh, he missed you. He’s barely held it together. Told us not to say anything crazy after the show.”
Seonghwa smirked, slinging a towel over his shoulders. “Because he’s planning to fuck the soul out of you. Right here in the dressing room.”
Your eyes widened. “You’re joking.”
Mingi—towering, drenched in sweat, shirt riding up, chains swaying. His gaze locked on you the second he stepped offstage.
The rest of the group faded from your mind. You barely registered the way Wooyoung shouted a congratulations or how San collapsed onto the nearest couch. All you could see was him.
You opened your mouth to speak, but Mingi was already tugging you into his chest with a hand firm on your waist.
He kissed you like it had been weeks. Tongue deep, lips bruising, teeth catching on your lower lip.
And right there, in the chaotic post-show dressing room—filled with managers leaving, towels, and backup dancers filtering out—he leaned down to whisper in your ear:
“You wore that dress just to torture me, didn’t you?”
You blinked up at him. “You’re the one moaning into a mic, Mingi. You started it.”
His smirk was sharp. “And I’m going to finish it.”
“Here?” you whispered, breath hitching.
Mingi turned, glancing toward the other members, who had sprawled out on the plush couches, half-stripped, chatting and laughing about a stage mishap. Hongjoong caught Mingi’s eye — and gave a little nod.
Mingi pulled you closer until your thighs brushed his. “You sure?”
“Yes,” you breathed. “Yes.”
You didn’t miss the way Yunho raised an eyebrow from across the room, grinning as Mingi sat back on the couch and pulled you into his lap like it was the most normal thing in the world.
Like you weren’t already throbbing from the heat of his voice and the press of his bulge under you.
Like the rest of the members weren’t right there.
He nuzzled into your neck, lips brushing your ear. “You’ll let me keep you warm for a bit?”
“I’ll ask one more time, baby.” His voice dipped low. “You wanna sit on my cock while they all talk about the concert?”
You whined, the noise barely audible. He reached between you, thumb stroking the inside of your thigh, and you felt him press against your panties through the thin fabric of your dress.
“I need to hear you say it.”
“Yes,” you whispered, trembling. “Please.”
He didn’t rush. That was the worst part — the way he took his time lifting your dress, pushing your panties to the side, unzipping his pants just enough to free his cock.
Thick. Hot. Already leaking.
He guided you down onto him with practiced ease, one hand under your ass and the other around your waist as you sank down, inch by inch.
You gasped at the stretch—so full, so sudden—and he bit your shoulder to muffle his own groan.
The room didn’t stop moving. San was still talking about missing a cue during one of the dances. Jongho had a drink in hand. Wooyoung and Yeosang were bickering over who nailed their choreography harder. Hongjoong typed on his phone like nothing out of the ordinary was happening.
Only Yunho seemed to notice how you shifted in Mingi’s lap, breathing a little quicker, cheeks flushed.
Mingi stayed still inside you.
“Just sit,” he whispered, kissing your jaw. “Let me warm you up, baby. That’s all. You can do that for me, right?”
You nodded, barely holding in a whimper.
His hands rested on your hips like they belonged there. Occasionally he’d stroke your back or toy with your hemline, and every so often he’d roll his hips just the slightest bit. Just enough to remind you he was there, buried deep, owning every inch of you.
He tightened his grip, voice warm but commanding. “You move without permission, and I’ll make you beg in front of all of them. You hear me?”
He chuckled darkly, biting your shoulder again. “Knew you’d like that.”
You tried to stay composed—tried to focus on anything but the way he throbbed inside you, twitching slightly every time someone laughed too loud or got too close.
You tried not to moan when Yunho walked past and ruffled Mingi’s hair with a knowing look.
“Good show,” Yunho said, his voice warm. “Nice... post-show cooldown, huh?”
Mingi just grinned. “She’s the best recovery I’ve ever had.”
You whined, barely audible, and Mingi took it as permission to start moving.
Slow. Deep. Barely rocking his hips—but enough to send sparks licking up your spine.
He didn’t stop talking, didn’t stop acting like nothing was happening.
Just slid in and out, inch by inch, while keeping you sitting pretty on his lap. His arms cradled you, one hand tangled in your hair, the other gripping your thigh tightly enough to bruise.
“You’re doing so well, baby. Letting me stretch you out like this, just soaking me in while they all sit here like nothing’s happening.”
His praise sent a shiver through your entire body.
And then he added, voice low and smug, “So fucking desperate. Can’t even keep quiet, huh? Gonna cry just from sitting on my cock?”
You whimpered—and this time, Jongho turned.
“You alright over there?”
You opened your mouth to answer, but Mingi beat you to it, smiling sweetly. “She’s just shy. Gets overwhelmed easily after shows.”
Jongho chuckled. “Don’t tease her.”
Mingi kissed your shoulder. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
But you knew he was lying—and you loved it.
Tried to stay composed in his lap while the other members chatted like nothing was happening. But Mingi didn’t make it easy. His cock sat deep, the stretch delicious, maddening. Every time he shifted slightly beneath you—under the disguise of adjusting, of leaning back, of laughing at something Wooyoung said—your insides clenched, needing more.
It was unbearable and he knew it.
“You’re dripping,” he whispered, mouth brushing your ear, lips ghosting your neck. “Just sitting on me like this. Fucking filthy, baby.”
He brushed a hand across your lower back, the pressure grounding and cruel all at once.
“She’s squirming,” Yunho muttered from the other couch, half-smiling. “You planning to stay like that all night?”
Mingi chuckled low, slow. “She begged for it.”
Hongjoong raised an eyebrow, amused but unbothered. “Is she okay?”
You nodded quickly—flushed, trembling, thighs soaked.
“She’s perfect,” Mingi answered for you. Then his voice dropped, all control and command. “Aren’t you, baby?”
Your voice cracked when you whispered, “Yes.”
“Say it like you believe it.” You gasped as he rolled his hips just once—a long, slow push deeper that stole your breath.
“I’m perfect,” you moaned out, eyes fluttering shut. “I’m perfect for you.”
And just like that, the teasing stopped.
Mingi’s grip tightened at your waist as he lifted your hips—not all the way off, just enough to slide back in with agonizing precision. You let out a choked sob at the sensation.
The couch creaked slightly as he began a rhythm—slow, brutal, possessive. His cock dragged along every sensitive spot inside you, every thrust making you feel more and more like you belonged to him, like nothing else existed but the drag of his cock and the way he filled you up so perfectly.
Across the room, the conversation shifted—slowly, deliberately—into silence.
One by one, the members turned to watch.
No one said a word for a long moment. The air was thick. Hot. Heavy with permission and understanding.
You whimpered again when Mingi tugged your hair back, forcing you to meet his eyes.
“Look at them,” he growled. “Look at the fucking mess you are in front of them. Moaning on my cock like a brainless little doll.”
You could hardly see straight, eyes glazed over, lips parted and wet.
“Do you wanna stop?” he asked suddenly—voice softer. Checking.
You shook your head immediately. “No. Please. Please don’t stop.”
He exhaled sharply, eyes dark with something primal. “That’s my good girl.”
His thrusts sped up—deep, heavy, measured. Not pounding yet, but full of heat and promise.
“She likes this?” Yeosang asked, voice breathless but respectful.
Mingi glanced up, one brow raised. “She loves this.”
You could barely breathe, let alone answer—not when your pussy was gripping Mingi’s cock so tight, not when the heat was curling in your belly, threatening to snap with every slow grind.
“She looks fucking wrecked,” Wooyoung said, his voice low and aroused.
“She is,” Mingi said proudly, dragging his cock out halfway just to slam back in, making your whole body jolt in his lap. “But she can take it. Can’t you, baby?”
You nodded frantically. “Yes—yes, I can.”
A tear slipped from the corner of your eye. Not from pain—from the overwhelming need. And Mingi saw it instantly.
He softened again, brushing his thumb gently across your cheek. “Color?”
His praise hit like lightning. “That’s it, sweet girl. Take it all.”
He adjusted your position, spreading your legs wider across his thighs, one hand gripping your ass, the other at your throat — firm, steady, never cutting off breath, but controlling.
“I could keep you cock-drunk forever,” he whispered. “Keep you stuffed and filled and fucked in front of everyone. Let them see how much you love being mine.”
A chorus of quiet groans surrounded you.
You dared to look up—saw the way all of them stared.
San was palming himself through his pants. Jongho sat still, flushed and hard. Wooyoung had one hand in his hair, biting his knuckle. Yunho’s jaw was tight, chest rising. Seonghwa had that unreadable calm, but his hand was curled into a fist. Even Hongjoong looked darkly entertained, as though he’d known this would happen all along.
But they didn’t move closer.
“Want them to watch you cum?” Mingi murmured into your ear. “Want to show them how good I fuck you?”
You whimpered, back arching. “Yes—yes, please—”
He lifted you, slammed you back down.
You choked on your moans, the slap of skin loud now, filthy in the quiet of the room.
“You feel that?” Mingi groaned. “You hear how wet you are for me?”
He was close. You could tell in the way his breathing hitched, the sharpness of his thrusts, the tight grip he had on your hips.
“I’m gonna cum in you,” he growled. “Gonna fill this pussy up in front of all of them. Gonna make you fucking drip.”
Your head dropped back onto his shoulder, mouth open, eyes shut tight.
“Beg for it,” he demanded.
“Please, Mingi, please cum in me—fill me up—I need it so bad!”
With a broken groan, he slammed deep and stayed there, twitching inside you as hot pulses of cum filled your cunt.
You came with him—hard, shaking, clenching tight around his cock as your orgasm ripped through you. You cried out, nearly screaming his name, nails clawing at his arm as you unraveled.
It took you a full minute to stop shaking.
You collapsed against him, panting hard, your thighs still twitching around him.
And he held you like glass—kissed your hair, whispered praises, stroked your sides until your pulse slowed.
“You still with me?” he murmured.
Then you heard it—the soft rustle of someone shifting closer.
Kneeling beside the couch, gaze hot but gentle.
“She really okay?” he asked, voice husky but calm.
“She is,” he said. You and mingi eyed each other, gazes saying everything words couldn't. He nodded briefly, arms tight around you. You turned to everyone else, voice soft. “If you all want to... if you’re okay with it... I’m open.”
One by one, they approached. Every single member paused before touching you. Every one of them asked.
“Can I kiss you?” Seonghwa whispered.
“Can I taste you?” Wooyoung asked.
“Can I touch her with you watching?” San growled at Mingi, not you.
And Mingi—flushed, possessive, proud—nodded slowly.
“Make her feel good,” he said. “But she’s still mine."
You were still trembling when Seonghwa knelt in front of you.
He was so gentle with it—reaching for your hand, kissing your wrist. His touch soothed the burn Mingi had stoked to a roaring fire.
“You okay, sweetheart?” he asked softly.
“Yes,” you breathed, blinking through tears. “Please.”
Mingi sat back, still deep inside you, arms wrapped around your waist. He didn't move to pull out, didn't try to hide the proud smile on his lips.
“She’s still full of me,” he said darkly. “So don’t waste time, Hwa.”
Seonghwa leaned in—pressed the softest kiss to your inner thigh.
“Can I taste you?” he murmured. “All of you?”
“Yes,” you whispered, legs falling open more.
Mingi slowly shifted you off his cock, groaning as you slid free with a wet sound. His cum dripped from your spent cunt, but you barely had time to process before Seonghwa dove in.
He licked you clean—slow, deep, reverent—moaning softly into you like your pleasure was his favorite melody. He tongued Mingi’s cum out of you like it was holy, spreading your folds with long fingers to suck gently on your clit.
He hummed, dragging two fingers inside, curling them perfectly.
“Such a pretty mess,” he murmured between strokes. “You take everything so well, sweetheart.”
Your moans came louder now, legs twitching as he devoured you—his tongue flicking, his fingers curling, and Mingi holding your hips still as you writhed.
You came quickly again—bucking into Seonghwa’s mouth, sobbing his name as he coaxed you through it, never once letting up.
By the time he pulled away, your whole body shook.
“Still green?” he asked, brushing sweat-damp hair from your face.
He smirked, slow and wolfish. “Good.”
He was fire—all grabbing hands and teeth and growled praise.
“Want me to fuck you with my fingers first, or do you want my cock now, baby?” he asked, cock already out and heavy in his fist.
“Now,” you moaned, eyes wide. “Now, please—”
He hooked your leg over his arm and slid in deep in one thrust, groaning loud at the tightness. You screamed, overwhelmed by the stretch and the leftover sensitivity.
“God, you’re ruined already,” he moaned. “Mingi fucked you open just for me, huh?”
He pounded into you—hard, fast, relentless—but never once stopped looking at your face, checking for signs of discomfort. His hand snaked around your throat, squeezing lightly as you moaned louder and louder.
“She’s so loud now,” San teased, glancing at Mingi. “You always fuck her this dumb?”
Mingi smirked. “Only when I want her brain off.”
“She’s close again,” San groaned, feeling you clench. “Cum on me, please,I want to feel it.”
You came like a shockwave—head tossed back, walls fluttering around him. San fucked you through it, pulling out last-second and cumming across your belly with a low, possessive grunt.
“Oh baby,” he purred, wiping San’s mess from your skin with his shirt. “You are a sight.”
He didn’t go in right away. He teased. Kissed his way up your thighs. Bit your hip. Smacked your pussy gently to watch you twitch.
“You like being everyone’s little toy?” Mingi whispered as wooyoung licked a stripe up your folds. “You want him to wreck you?”
He didn’t fuck you with his cock—not yet.
Wooyoung ate you out like it was a competition.
He sucked your clit between his lips, flicking hard, while two fingers worked you open again. The filthiest sounds came from you—sobs, gasps, choked apologies as you tried to hold back an orgasm and failed every time.
When he slid inside finally after your third orgasm—he grunted and leaned down to bite your shoulder.
“So tight still. So fucking greedy.”
He didn’t last long—not with how wrecked you looked.
He came inside you, whispering filthy praise in your ear as you sobbed for more.
He was firm. Silent. Rough in the most disciplined way.
He bent you over, held your hips like iron, and fucked you from behind while Mingi kissed your face and whispered how perfect you were.
Jongho didn’t moan much—but the low growl in his chest when he came deep in you made your walls clench hard again.
You nearly blacked out from the overstimulation.
Yeosang and Yunho were last.
Yeosang was curious. Almost reverent, asking if he could watch you fall apart from just his fingers.
He slipped two in, then three, hitting your spot again and again until you screamed his name, coating his hand in slick and shaking like you’d been hit by lightning.
“You’re unreal,” he whispered, kissing your knees, your ankles, your trembling stomach.
He held you in his lap, murmured soft praises, told you how beautiful you were even while his cock dragged in and out of your slick walls.
“You’ve done so well,” he whispered. “Let me give you one more.”
He tilted your hips just right—and you came again, body limp in his arms as you squirted, a wet gush that made every member groan.
And through it all, Mingi watched.
Eyes dark. Arms crossed. Hard again.
When Yunho gently set you down, shaking and boneless, Mingi came back to you.
You didn’t know how long it had been. How many orgasms they’d pulled from you. How much cum was already dripping out of you, soaking your thighs, your chest, your throat.
The concert was already over—long over. The space was empty and quiet. staff didn't dare to enter, and everyone had left.
When Mingi looked at you—ruined, limp across Yunho’s lap, trembling and slick—he grinned like the devil.
Your voice cracked. “Yes.”
“Then don’t think we’re done.”
He grabbed you by the hips, dragged you to the center of the suite’s large bed, and flipped you on your stomach like you weighed nothing.
San was already behind you—hard again, spit-slick fingers rubbing over your folds.
“Want her like this,” San growled, “With you inside her too.”
Mingi’s mouth curved. “D.P?”
“She can take it. Look at her already—cockdrunk and drooling.”
You moaned at their words, knees shaking as they spread your legs apart. Mingi leaned down, grabbed a handful of your hair, and tilted your head back.
“You want both of us inside you?”
“Y-Yes,” you gasped. “Please, please—”
San shoved two fingers into you while Mingi rubbed the head of his cock against your rim, pressing slow and firm.
“Please fuck me,” you sobbed. “Fill me up, stretch me—need you both.”
They didn’t make you wait.
San lined up and thrust in deep, groaning as your cunt clamped down on him.
“Fuck, how are you still so tight?”
Then came Mingi—careful at first, easing into you backside with slick-coated fingers first, then the thick head of his cock. He kissed your spine as you trembled beneath him.
“I’m okay,” you panted, teeth digging into the pillow. “Please—”
He pushed in slow. The stretch was unreal—the two of them moving together, both panting curses as they bottomed out.
You screamed into the sheets.
“Fuck—she’s so full,” San groaned.
“Taking it like a perfect little slut,” Mingi snarled, biting your shoulder. “You love being ruined like this, don’t you?”
You nodded wildly, tears falling freely as the pressure overwhelmed you.
Mingi set the pace—brutal, coordinated thrusts with San, pistoning into you like they were on the same rhythm. Every drag of their cocks inside you stretched your walls, lit every nerve on fire.
You came faster than before—sobbing, choking, shaking—and they didn’t stop.
“Hold her still,” Mingi barked.
Yunho moved first—kneeling at the head of the bed, hand gripping your chin.
You parted your lips just as he slid his cock between them, filling your throat until you gagged around the length.
“God, she’s so good at this,” he groaned, gently guiding your head with one hand.
Right beside him, Yeosang stepped in, cock already hard and leaking.
“Can I…?” he asked softly.
Mingi grunted behind you. “Yes. Stuff her full.”
You moaned around Yunho’s cock as Yeosang slipped in too—not deep, just enough to stretch your lips around both of them.
“You’re doing so well,” Yeosang whispered, fucking into your cheek. “Look at you.”
San and Mingi never stopped—one brutal thrust after another, cocks dragging through both holes until you felt split wide open, cock in every hole, hands on every inch of skin.
Then came Hongjoong and Jongho—kneeling beside your tits, stroking themselves slowly.
“She’s ready for more,” Jongho muttered.
“She’s a masterpiece,” Hongjoong said simply. “Let’s ruin her chest.”
They leaned in together—hands gripping your tits tight as they slid their cocks between the plush curves, dragging slick heads over sensitive nipples.
“Fuck, fuck—” you moaned around the cocks in your mouth.
“You want more?” Mingi growled behind you. “You want to be used like this?”
Yes, your brain screamed, even as your throat was too full to speak.
And then… the last two stepped in.
Seonghwa and Wooyoung, already hard, already grinning.
“You okay?” Seonghwa asked one last time.
You pulled off Yunho and Yeosang for a moment just to whisper: “Yes. Don’t stop. I want all of you.”
Wooyoung kissed your temple. “Good girl.”
They knelt behind Mingi and San, hands on your cheeks, slicking your already-spread ass.
“She’s taken Mingi’s cock before, and he's huge,” Wooyoung muttered. “She can take us.”
First Seonghwa—easing in steady beside Mingi, slow and steady. Then Wooyoung—slipping into your pussy beside San.
You screamed so loud Mingi slapped your ass hard.
“Quiet,” he growled. “You can cum as many times as you want, but you keep your fucking voice down.”
You nodded desperately, tears streaming down your cheeks.
Now there were four cocks inside you—stretching both holes beyond reason. Each thrust felt impossible, raw and powerful, and you came so hard you nearly blacked out.
And they still. Didn’t. Stop.
They fucked you harder—hips slamming in sync, cocks pulsing, hands dragging over your body like they couldn’t get enough.
Jongho came first—all over your tits with a grunt.
Then Yeosang, painting your face in thick cum.
San came inside your pussy, groaning your name as he twitched deep.
Wooyoung followed, filling you so full it leaked onto the sheets.
Seonghwa was next—soft curses and gentle kisses as he emptied into your ass.
Yunho pulled out, finished across your chest, moaning into your hair.
Hongjoong didn’t even grunt—just tightened his grip and came all over your neck, cock twitching between your breasts.
He bit your neck hard as he slammed into you one last time, burying himself fully before spilling inside, cum dripping down your thighs, your holes leaking.
Sobbing. Twitching. Barely breathing.
And then it shifted—everything softened.
Hands touched you like feathers.
A towel on your cheek. Gentle strokes through your hair. Warm water on a cloth dabbing between your legs.
“Green?” Mingi asked softly.
You blinked slowly. “Green. Just… no more.”
“No more,” he promised, voice breaking. “You were perfect.”
They carried you—arms wrapping around you like a nest—to the wider couch. Someone pulled a blanket over you. Someone else lifted your hair, to cool your neck.
Mingi curled beside you, brushing your temple with his lips.
“I feel amazing,” you whispered, weak but glowing.
Each of them took turns—kissing your forehead, stroking your back, massaging your thighs with warm oil. They didn’t rush it. Didn’t joke or laugh. Just took care of you.
Hongjoong wiped your mouth and gave you water.
Seonghwa held your hand the whole time.
Wooyoung whispered compliments in your ear.
Yunho cradled your head in his lap.
Yeosang helped clean between your legs, murmuring, “You’re so good. So strong.”
Jongho brushed his fingers along your arm and hummed a lullaby.
He held you until you stopped shaking. Ran a warm bath with rose oil and bubbles. Sat behind you and cradled your body, massaging your back while you relaxed.
“You’re mine,” he whispered. “And I’ll never stop showing you how much I adore you.”
The bathwater was still warm when the others began gathering their things. One by one, they slipped out with gentle touches and soft kisses, leaving you tucked between Mingi’s thighs, your back pressed to his chest beneath the bubbles.
San knelt beside the tub, still shirtless, and ran the pad of his thumb over your cheek.
“You were amazing,” he whispered.
You gave a tired smile, voice hoarse. “You guys were…”
“We know,” Wooyoung cut in with a wink, tossing his towel over his shoulder. “Total gentlemen.”
Mingi didn’t say anything—just kissed your shoulder and watched them with his arms tight around your middle.
Jongho gave you a fresh water bottle and a quiet “Rest well.”
Yeosang rubbed your back with long, soft strokes. “You’re glowing.”
By the time Hongjoong shut the door behind him, leaving the bathroom quiet again, the tension that had buzzed in your bones for hours finally began to fade.
His chin rested on your shoulder, arms around your middle, both of you submerged in warmth.
You reached for his hand and laced your fingers through his.
He squeezed, then kissed your temple.
“Color check,” he murmured.
You laughed softly. “So green.”
“Good,” he said. “You scared me for a second. You were shaking so bad.”
“I know.” His voice dipped, pride curling at the edges. “You took everything. Let me share you like that. Let them touch what’s mine.”
You tilted your head to look at him. “You liked watching?”
His eyes darkened instantly. “More than I should’ve.”
You grinned, even as exhaustion tugged at your limbs. “You didn’t look jealous.”
“Oh, I was,” he said, brushing your wet hair away from your face. “But not in the way you think. I wanted them to see what I get. I wanted them to know no one could make you fall apart like me.”
You leaned back against his chest, melting into his embrace.
His next words were quiet. Almost reverent.
“You’re gonna make me cry again,” you whispered.
He kissed your cheek. “Good. I’ll clean up the tears too.”
You stayed there in the bath until your fingers pruned, Mingi adjusting the temperature once, then twice, until you were fully relaxed. He washed your hair with delicate fingers, massaging your scalp like it was sacred. Then he lifted you from the tub like you weighed nothing and wrapped you in the fluffiest towel he could find.
Your legs trembled when he carried you to the bed.
“You want something to eat?” he asked, tucking pillows behind your back and draping a blanket over your lap.
You nodded. He held the bottle to your lips, letting you sip until your throat stopped burning. Then he dried your arms and legs gently, kissing each new bruise he found.
“You okay with the marks?” he asked.
“Love them,” you murmured. “You know that.”
His gaze burned. “You’re so fucking beautiful when you’re ruined.”
He pulled on a pair of sweatpants, then climbed in beside you, shirtless and warm, his arms open wide.
You curled into his side immediately. He kissed your forehead. Your temple. Your eyelids. Then just held you, rocking slightly.
“I still feel full,” you whispered.
He smirked. “You are full.”
You groaned, face in his chest. “Don’t say things like that or I’m gonna want another round.”
His hand slid under the blanket. “Another time. Tonight was too much already.”
You nodded. “Yeah. But I don’t regret any of it.”
His fingers gently traced your lower belly. “Me either.”
He shifted, nudging your chin up so you could meet his eyes.
“Thank you for trusting me with that,” he said seriously. “Letting them join. Letting me push you way too far.”
“I’d let you take me apart a hundred times over,” you whispered. “You always put me back together.”
His arms locked tight around you at that.
“Sleep, baby,” he whispered into your hair. “I’ve got you.”
And as you slipped under, sore and floating, you knew that was true.
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