Mingi’s Favorite Song

his head snaps back towards you, and he looks greatly alarmed. "what? i didn't say that. don't make shit up." you scoot closer to the edge of the bed, watching him swallow from his spot in the doorway.

"okay," you hum, dragging the syllables out. your eyes rake over his figure, stopping at the rather obvious bulge in his pants. "y'know what else is up—"

"shut up," he mutters, narrowing his eyebrows at you. with his arms crossed, seungmin clicks his tongue. "you're always fucking with me, aren't you?" he crosses the short space between you two, and your breath hitches.

standing directly above, he looks down at you, shaking his head. "is everything a joke to you?" he asks, but he's clearly not expecting an answer with the way he grabs your face with his hand, slowly dragging it down to your neck, where his thumb presses down against the base.

a whimper slips past your lips. "seung—"

"that's enough, pup. you're gonna stay quiet now, yeah?" he's quiet for a moment, like he's thinking. then: "open," seungmin tells you, his gaze fixed on your lips. you do as he says, sticking your tongue out slightly.

he spits sharply in your mouth, and on instict, you swallow, a soft moan slipping past your lips. seungmin chuckles, clearly amused. "so... you can be a good girl. you just choose to be a tease instead, huh?"

that must be rhetorical, too, because he's already moving on. your boyfriend just points towards the floor, shaking his head. "get on your knees."

you slid off the bed, knees hitting the carpeted floor with a soft thud. you know what he wants, and you know that he's not interested in waiting. breath hitching, you unbutton his pants, hooking your fingers under the waistband and releasing him from the constraints.

he's heavy and hard, tip leaking. you lick up a bead of precum, before opening your mouth to take as much of him as you can. you gag on his length, tears pricking your eyes, as you hollow your cheeks out to suck.

"fuck—you look so pretty like this. choking on my cock like a dumb puppy," seungmin groans, his hands moving to collect your hair in a makeshift ponytail.

his tip bumps the back of your throat, and you whine, squeezing your eyes shut. "this what you wanted?" he asks, thrusting slightly. you hum in a half-response, and the vibration makes his hips stutter.

yeah. this was exactly what you wanted.

A few minutes later, your stomach rumbled.

“I’m ordering coffee.”

“Get me one too.”

“Only because I’m nice.”

“You love me.”

“Unfortunately.”

San gasped dramatically from inside the cupboard, you laughed.

Then grabbed your phone and headed to the kitchen.

You didn’t notice the photocard binder you’d brought earlier still sitting on the coffee table. And you definitely didn’t notice San emerging from the cupboard while you were gone.

At first, he wasn’t interested, then he noticed the black binder.

Curiosity got the better of him, after all, he’d seen it before.

You always carried it around.

The first page contained a collection of photocards.

San blinked.

Then blinked again.

“…Interesting.”

A second page.

A third.

A fourth.

His eyebrows climbed higher.

By the time you returned with two coffees, San was sitting on the sofa staring into space.

The binder was in his lap.

Uh oh.

You immediately recognised that expression, the one that meant trouble.

“What happened?”

San slowly looked up.

His face was serious, which was somehow worse.

“You’ve been lying to me.”

You nearly dropped the coffees.

“What?”

“You’ve deceived me.”

“San.”

“You’ve betrayed my trust.”

You set the drinks down.

“What are you talking about?”

Without speaking, he turned the binder around.

Your stomach dropped.

“Oh.”

“Oh?” he repeated.

“Oh?”

“I can explain.”

“Can you?”

“Probably not.”

San looked genuinely wounded, or at least he was pretending very convincingly.

“You told me you loved me.”

“I do.”

“Then why do you own more photocards of Seonghwa?”

You started laughing. Which did not help. San pointed dramatically at the page.

“Look at this.”

“I’m looking.”

“Twenty-four.”

“Okay.”

“Twenty-four!”

“San.”

“I counted.”

You laughed harder. His expression somehow became even more offended, then he flipped through the binder.

“One.”

Page.

“Two.”

Page.

“Three.”

Page.

“Four.”

Finally, he stopped.

“There.”

You leaned forward.

Two San photocards.

Only two.

Unfortunately, that really was funny.

The silence lasted approximately three seconds. Then you burst into laughter, San looked horrified.

“You’re laughing at my pain.”

“You are not in pain.”

“I am devastated.”

“You are literally my boyfriend.”

“That’s not the point.”

“It kind of is.”

“No.”

“San.”

“No.”

You laughed so hard your eyes started watering. Meanwhile, San crossed his arms.

“I don’t know who you are anymore.”

“Stop being dramatic.”

“I can’t.”

“Clearly.”

For a moment he remained silent.

“How long?”

“What?”

“How long has he been your bias?”

“Years.”

San looked personally attacked.

“Years.”

“Yes.”

“Before me?”

“Obviously before you.”

He placed a hand over his heart.

“You didn’t have to say it like that.”

At this point you were nearly falling off the sofa.

“You really can’t be jealous of your own group member.”

“I absolutely can.”

“No.”

“Watch me.”

Before you could respond, San grabbed the binder. Then disappeared into the bedroom.

“…San?”

No answer.

A minute later he returned carrying something behind his back.

The grin on his face immediately made you suspicious.

“What did you do?”

“Nothing.”

“San.”

“Nothing.”

You held out your hand.

Slowly, he handed over the binder.

You opened it.

Then froze.

Several new photocards had appeared inside.

Every single one featured San.

Different poses.

Different eras.

Different outfits.

One was even signed.

Your mouth fell open.

“You snuck these in.”

“I improved it.”

“You vandalised my collection.”

“I upgraded it. Now the numbers are more balanced.”

“They’re still not balanced.”

“Yet.”

“Yet?”

“I have a plan.”

“A plan?”

“By next month, I’ll be winning.”

“You can’t force your way into becoming my bias.”

“Challenge accepted.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Maybe.”

“But I still think it’s funny.”

You looked up.

The teasing expression had faded, Now he simply looked fond.

“I know I’m not your bias.”

“You know I love you though.” You smiled.

“Yeah.”

His fingers intertwined with yours.

“I know.”

The apartment suddenly felt quieter. San glanced down at your joined hands, then back at you.

“Besides.”

“What?”

A smug smile appeared.

“I’m the one who gets to hold your hand.”

“There it is.”

“There what is?”

“The ego.”

“It’s not ego if it’s true.”

You rolled your eyes, San immediately wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you against him. You settled comfortably into his side.

A moment later, he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

Then another. And another.

“San.”

“Hm?”

“Are you done?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Making sure I stay number one.”

You smiled into his shoulder. For all his dramatic complaints, his fake jealousy and endless teasing, you knew exactly what this was.

Not insecurity. Not real jealousy.

Just San being San.

Playful.

Affectionate.

Hopelessly clingy, and completely determined to remind you that while someone else might be your bias…