#sub mingi

Your studio hums softly around you. Low music. Warm light. The familiar buzz of the tattoo machine steady in your hand like a second heartbeat.

Outside, the street beyond the front windows is already dark, neon signs reflecting faintly against the glass. Your last appointment of the night stretched later than planned, the rest of the building long since quiet.

The smell of antiseptic and ink clings to the air, clean but intimate in a way most places never are. People let you touch them here. Let you get close enough to hear the change in their breathing, to feel tension beneath their skin before they even notice it themselves.

You’ve always liked that part.

“Breathe out,” you murmur.

Your client obeys immediately.

He’s stretched beneath the lamp, shirt tossed somewhere behind him, skin warm under your hand where you steady him by the waist. The tattoo curves along his ribs in clean black lines, and you lean closer to finish a careful stroke, thumb pressing lightly into his side to keep him still.

He sucks in a sharp breath.

“There,” you say softly. “Relax.”

“You say that every five minutes.”

“And somehow you still trust me.”

He laughs under his breath, eyes dragging down to your mouth for a second too long. “Hard not to.”

You ignore that easily. You’ve heard versions of it a thousand times before. You wipe excess ink from his ribs.

His gaze flicks down to your hands again. “You always this nice to clients?”

“You’re paying me.”

“Could charge extra. I’d still come back.”

The bell above the studio door jingles softly. You don’t look up immediately. You know who walked in anyway. The heavy steps. The careless confidence of someone who’s been here enough times to stop asking permission for anything. The fridge opening.

“Beer tax,” Mingi calls from the back.

Your mouth curves before you can stop it.

“Get your own studio.”

“You’d miss me.”

You don’t answer. Because you would. Terribly.

Instead you lean closer to inspect the tattoo, fingers spreading against your client’s stomach as you stretch the skin carefully beneath the needle.

From behind you, the couch creaks, and you finally glance back at him.

Big hoodie. Work boots still on. Slouched deep into the couch cushions like he lives there. Watching you over the rim of the bottle with that lazy heavy-lidded stare that always does something unfortunate to your nervous system.

He comes here almost every night after work.

At first it had been accidental. Quick stops before heading home. Then takeout between appointments. Then sitting with you while you cleaned your station at midnight. Then coffee appearing beside your machine before you could ask for it.

Somewhere along the way, your studio started feeling wrong without him in it. Somewhere along the way, you started falling in love with him. Quietly. Stupidly. 

Because Mingi is like this with everyone. Warm. Affectionate. Easy with touch. The kind of person who leans into you when he laughs and throws an arm around your shoulders without thinking. The kind of person who makes you feel chosen even when you probably aren’t.

So you buried it under routine and late-night beers and the hoodies he keeps leaving behind in your studio chair. Under the certainty that none of this would ever become more.

Your client shifts slightly beneath your hand. “You know,” he says, “if I met you somewhere else, I’d think you were flirting with me.”

You drag the needle into a clean line. “That sounds like a you problem.”

“I’m serious.” His smile turns crooked. “Soft voice. Hand on my waist. Eye contact. It’s confusing.”

“You came to a tattoo appointment.”

“Yeah, but you’re making it hard to stay professional.”

Mingi sets his beer down a little too hard against the table. You glance back automatically. He’s staring at the floor now, jaw tight for half a second before he notices you looking.

“What?” he says.

“Nothing.”

Your client looks between both of you once, then keeps talking. Unbothered. As if Mingi isn’t watching his every word. 

“No, but seriously,” he says, looking at you again. “You’ve got dangerous energy.”

“Dangerous.”

“Yeah. Like you flirt for fun and ruin lives accidentally.”

You laugh softly through your nose. 

But Mingi doesn’t. He should. He could. He usually does.

Instead his eyes keep lifting every time your hand settles against the client’s ribs. He goes quiet whenever the client calls you sweet. He keeps trying to insert himself into the conversation and failing to catch your attention the same way the client does.

And underneath all of it, something uncomfortable starts pulling tighter in his chest. Because the client gets your teasing. Your soft voice. Your hands all over him. And Mingi suddenly can’t stop wondering if that’s just who you are with everybody.

The rest of the session passes normally. Mostly. Your client keeps trying.

“You gonna miss me when I’m gone?”

You smooth the wrap carefully against his ribs. “I’ll think about you sometimes.”

“Damn. Sometimes?”

“Don’t get greedy.”

He laughs again, completely charmed by you in the way men always are. 

And every time you touch him, Mingi notices. Not angry. Not even resentful. Just painfully aware. Like hearing your favorite song playing from somebody else’s car.

By the time the tattoo’s paid for, the studio feels strangely dense. Your client grabs his jacket, already backing toward the door.

“Same time next week?”

“We’ll see if you survive this one first.”

“I survived because you were gentle.”

Something shifts in Mingi’s jaw. The client notices immediately. A grin spreads slowly across his face.

“Tell your boyfriend thanks for the emotional support.”

The door closes before either of you can answer. Silence spills into the studio after him. The buzzing needle’s gone now. The music suddenly sounds louder. Slower.

From the corner of your eye, you catch Mingi pushing himself off the couch. He flips the sign on the front door to CLOSED before sliding the lock into place with a quiet click. Then he walks toward you.

You start cleaning your station, peeling off gloves and reaching for disinfectant.

Usually Mingi waits for you to drift back toward him naturally. Tonight he comes to you instead. You feel him before he speaks. Close enough that your body notices immediately.

“So,” you say lightly, wiping down the tattoo bed, “my boyfriend, huh?”

Mingi nearly chokes on his beer. You glance over just in time to catch the way his eyes widen above the bottle.

“He was joking,” he says too fast.

“You seem stressed for someone who’s definitely not my boyfriend.”

“I’m not stressed.”

You hum like you totally believe him.

Mingi reaches past you for the paper towels at the exact same moment you turn. His chest brushes your shoulder. Tiny contact. Barely anything. Still, his hand lands automatically at your waist to steady you.

Your stomach flips immediately. 

Neither of you moves. Then his thumb shifts once against your side before he pulls away like he only just realized where his hand is.

“You were very attentive with him,” he says casually.

You glance sideways at him.

“It’s my job.”

“Hm.”

Not convinced.

He leans against the edge of the bed while you keep cleaning, entirely too close for someone pretending to be normal right now. His knee knocks yours once.

“You know,” he says, “I’ve been thinking about getting another tattoo.”

You snort softly. “You complain through every appointment.”

“And yet I keep coming back.”

“For the art?”

His mouth twitches.

“For the experience.”

“The experience.”

“Special treatment. Soft voice. Emotional support.”

“You want me to hold your hand?”

Mingi’s mouth twitches.

“…Maybe.”

The answer slips out so easily you almost miss it. Almost. 

Your mouth curls before you can stop it. That seems to make him realize he said it out loud, because he looks away immediately, rubbing at the back of his neck while you reach for the petroleum jelly beside him. 

His hand catches your wrist first. Lightly. You freeze.

“There,” he murmurs, thumb brushing across the inside of your wrist. “Ink.”

Your breath catches a little stupidly. 

Mingi has always touched you easily. Like affection is something that lives in his hands naturally. This doesn’t feel careless. This feels slow. Aware.

His thumb drags once more before he lets go. Neither of you pulls away right away.

“That guy was flirting with you.”

You tilt your head. “You think?”

Mingi gives you a flat look.

“He literally asked for your number.”

“And?”

“And you flirt back.”

You blink. “I don’t.”

“You absolutely do.”

That lands heavier than it should. Like he’s been holding onto it longer than just tonight. You turn fully toward him, arms folding loosely.

“Oh my god,” you say slowly. “You’re jealous.”

“No.”

Immediate. Too immediate.

“You are.”

“I’m really not.”

“But you don’t like it.”

“I don’t care.”

“You looked ready to bite through drywall because he called me dangerous.”

“That’s because he sounded ridiculous.”

You laugh before you can stop yourself. Mingi’s eyes narrow slightly.

“There,” he says immediately. “That.”

“What?”

“That. You do that with everybody.”

“Do what?”

“That—” He gestures vaguely at you. “That thing.”

You stare at him for two full seconds. Then burst out laughing. Mingi groans instantly, dragging both hands down his face.

“Forget I said anything.”

“No, no,” you say, stepping closer. “I want details. What thing?” 

“I hate you.”

“That’s not very boyfriend of you.”

His head snaps up so fast it almost makes you grin.

“You’re enjoying this way too much.”

Maybe you are. Because suddenly everything from tonight rearranges itself perfectly in your head. The hovering. The watching. The way he kept interrupting. The way his eyes tracked your hands every time you touched the client.

And now this.

Song Mingi, who walks through life like nothing rattles him, suddenly can’t even look at you properly. 

You should let him recover. You don’t. Instead, you step closer. Slow enough that he notices. Close enough that his attention snaps back to you immediately.

Now there’s barely space left between you. 

Your hand lifts automatically toward the silver chain half-hidden beneath the collar of his hoodie, the pendant twisted awkwardly into the fabric. You hook two fingers under it, easing it free, then straighten it against his chest. A small gesture. Almost domestic.

Your knuckles brush warm skin where the chain slips under his shirt.

Mingi freezes. Not dramatically. Just enough for you to feel it.

“You’re touchy today,” he says softly.

“You started it.”

“Did I?”

“Mhm.”

Your fingers trail once along the chain before falling away. He watches every second of it. Like your hands are speaking a language he’s trying desperately to translate before it disappears.

A reluctant smile threatens at the corner of his mouth again, weaker now. Distracted by the fact you’re still standing too close. 

“How many clients leave here thinking you’re into them?”

You blink once. “Excuse me?”

“I’m serious.” His jaw shifts faintly. “You look at people like that and then act surprised when they start falling in love with you.”

The sentence lands hard enough to knock the air slightly out of your lungs. Because he says it like an accusation. But underneath it, there’s something rawer. Softer. Something dangerously close to confession.

Your mouth twitches despite yourself. “It gets me better tips.”

“Right.” He glances away briefly. “Cool.” Then, quieter, “you flirt with me for free.”

Mingi’s eyes widen slightly like he physically felt the words leave his mouth and wants to grab them out of the air. 

You blink once. Then tilt your head.

“…Do I?”

His ears turn red instantly. Actually red. And that’s new enough to make warmth bloom low in your stomach.

“I just mean,” he says quickly, taking half a step back, “you’re naturally like that. With everyone.”

“With everyone?”

“Yeah.”

You follow him when he steps back. Not enough to scare him. Just enough to make him realize you noticed.

“And you hate it?”

“No.” Too fast again. “I mean. Not hate. I just don’t like watching people flirt with you.”

The words slide warm and heavy into the room. Your heartbeat stumbles.

“Oh,” you say softly.

Mingi laughs once, humorless around the edges. “Yeah. Oh.”

Another step back from him. Another forward from you. The rhythm becomes almost absurd. Mingi retreating inch by inch while you slowly invade every space he gives up. Like he’s trying to survive this conversation and you’re trying to see how long until he breaks.

“I just think,” he says carefully, “most people don’t pay attention properly.”

“And you do.”

He hesitates. Then nods once. Small. Honest.

God.

The air suddenly feels too thick in your lungs.

“I know when you’re tired before you admit it,” he says quietly. “I know you pretend to hate sweet drinks but steal mine every time. I know you stop talking when something’s actually wrong.” His voice softens. “I know you hum when you tattoo.”

Your chest tightens painfully.

Mingi keeps talking now like he can’t stop once he’s started.

“I know which clients piss you off before they even sit down. I know you clean your station twice when you’re stressed. I know you act meaner when you’re embarrassed.”

Your lips twitch despite yourself.

“And I know,” he says, finally looking at you again, “that you flirt with people when you want them comfortable. But it doesn’t feel the same when you do it to me.”

The room goes quiet. Not empty. Heavy. Your heart is beating so hard now it almost feels embarrassing.

“Mingi…”

He keeps backing up as he talks. You keep moving forward. Until eventually his back brushes the wall near the hallway leading to the back room. Trapped. His breath catches slightly.

He tries to shift forward again on instinct. He can’t. Because you’re still there. Not crowding. Just close enough that the space he needs is gone. He’s actually stuck. Not metaphorically. Not dramatically. Just physically there, pinned between the wall and you. 

His breath turns shallow.

And suddenly you realize he’s actually nervous. Not teasing nervous. Not playful nervous. Real nervous. Mingi, who flirts with strangers like breathing and walks through every room like he belongs there, is looking at you like one wrong sentence might crack him open completely.

The realization sends warmth blooming painfully through your chest.

“I think about you too much,” he blurts suddenly.

The words hang there between you. Honest. Unpolished. Mingi winces immediately after saying them like he regrets how revealing they sound. But he keeps going anyway.

“Like… an embarrassing amount, actually.” His eyes flick away again. “At work. On my way home. I see things and think you’d laugh at them. Or hate them. Or make fun of them for being ugly.”

Your lips twitch helplessly.

“And then you flirt with random guys in front of me and suddenly I’m sitting on your couch acting like a fucking psycho because some dude called your hands magic.”

The laugh that escapes you is soft. Warm. Fond enough to make his face flush deeper.

“I’m serious,” he mutters weakly.

“I know.”

“No, I don’t think you do.”

That lands differently. The air shifts with it. Mingi swallows hard, debating whether to say the next thought out loud. 

“I…” His voice catches briefly. “I’ve liked you for a long time.”

You stare at him for a second longer than necessary. Like you’re enjoying this more than you should.

“You said that out loud,” you murmur.

Mingi groans again, covering his face briefly. “I know.”

The words leave him too easily. You see the exact moment he realizes that. Mingi drops his hands from his face slowly, looking at you now with this exhausted kind of honesty that almost hurts to look at.

“And the worst part,” he says more quietly, “is that I don’t even think it’s just a crush anymore.”

Something deep in your chest folds in on itself. Because his voice changes in that sentence. Softer. Heavier. Deeper. Like he didn’t mean to admit that part out loud.

“I think…” He exhales shakily, eyes finally lifting fully to yours. “I think somewhere along the way you became the first person I look for everywhere.”

The room goes completely still. No music. No neon outside. No buzzing lights overhead. Just him, and the way he’s looking at you like he’s just handed you something fragile with both hands and doesn’t know what you’re going to do with it.

You should say something. You should probably breathe. Instead, you step closer. Slow enough that he notices immediately.

His eyes widen slightly. A flicker of confusion first. Then something sharper, like he’s just realized the distance is disappearing.

 Your hand catches lightly in the strings of his hoodie, fingers curling there as you guide him back into the wall behind him. Not rough. Just certain.

The soft thud of it stops his breath for half a second. His shoulders hit first. Then stillness.

Mingi blinks up at you, wide-eyed now. Caught off guard in a way that makes him look younger, softer. Like his brain is a beat behind his body catching up to the fact that he’s not moving anymore.

Trapped, but gently so.

The realization flashes across his face in real time: 

Oh.

Your hand stays at his chest, twisting the soft fabric once around your fingers. And for the first time since he walked into your studio tonight, Mingi has absolutely nothing left to hide behind.

No jokes. No easy grin. Just wide dark eyes and a pulse hammering visibly in his throat beneath your touch.

He stares at you like you’ve just pulled the floor out from under him.

“…You have to stop looking at me like that.”

His voice barely survives the sentence. Low. Rough around the edges. Like every nerve in his body is pulled too tight beneath your hands.

You tilt your head slightly, still twisting the drawstring between your fingers.

“Like what?”

Mingi shuts his eyes for one dangerous second. Like he physically can’t withstand this much of you at once. When he opens them again, there’s only helpless honesty bleeding through every crack.

“You know,” he says quietly.

“Explain it to me.”

A shaky breath leaves him.

“It’s just…” His eyes flick helplessly between yours. “You keep looking at me like you already know every stupid thing I’m trying to say before I say it.”

Your pulse stumbles.

“And it’s making me insane because I had this whole speech in my head on the drive here and now you’re standing this close and I can’t remember any of it anymore.”

A laugh threatens at the corner of your mouth.

“Mingi—”

“No, wait.” He shakes his head quickly, words starting to tumble out faster now. “I’m serious. I was gonna do this properly. I had actual thoughts. Like coherent ones.”

“Did you?”

“Yes.” His ears are pink now. “And now all I can think about is your mouth.”

That almost breaks you immediately. Mingi realizes what he just admitted and groans softly, the back of his head nearly knocking against the wall behind him.

“See? This is exactly what I mean.”

“You’re doing great.”

“I’m literally not.”

You smile despite the violent rhythm of your heartbeat. Because this is what you’ve wanted for so long. Not perfection. Not some polished confession. Just him. Big hands flexing uselessly at his sides. Voice falling apart mid-sentence. Looking at you like wanting you has become unbearable to carry alone.

His eyes snap back to yours instantly. And that does it. 

Because Mingi has always looked enormous next to you. Broad shoulders. Height that swallows space when he walks into a room. But right now? Right now he’s melting under your fingertips. And the realization floods through you like heat.

You step even closer. Until his breath catches against your mouth. Until the wall is the only thing keeping him upright.

“I just…” His voice catches again. “I really like you.”

The sentence lands between you soft and devastating. And suddenly kissing him feels less like a decision and more like instinct. So you do. Fast. Sudden. Like finally giving in to gravity after fighting it for months. 

Mingi freezes instantly. A sharp inhale catches hard in his chest the second your lips touch his. For half a heartbeat he doesn’t move at all. Like his brain genuinely stopped working. Then his hands hit your waist. Hard. Not rough. Desperate.

A wrecked sound tears out of him somewhere between a gasp and a whimper as he melts forward into you all at once, like the kiss physically knocked the strength out of his body.

You kiss him harder immediately. Months of swallowed wanting snapping loose at once.

Mingi tries to follow too fast, too overwhelmed already, and his head knocks lightly against the wall behind him with a soft curse breathed straight into your mouth.

“Fuck,” he whispers against your lips.

You laugh softly into the kiss.

“You talk too much.”

“I was trying to…”

Another kiss cuts him off.

“I know.”

Mingi makes that sound again. That helpless little exhale that seems to punch straight through your ribs. 

His hands finally settle at your hips, huge and shaky and warm through your clothes. Not controlling. Just holding on. Like he’s afraid this might disappear if he loosens his grip.

You pull back barely enough to look at him. His lips are flushed already, swollen and wet from your mouth. Eyes blown wide and dazed beneath messy dark hair. 

He looks ruined. By a kiss. 

The realization sends another pulse of heat straight through you.

“Mingi,” you whisper.

He visibly swallows. You brush your thumb against his jaw and he leans into it immediately without thinking. That almost undoes you. 

“You don’t get it,” he says suddenly, breath uneven.

“Then tell me.”

“I can’t when you keep doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“Looking at me like you want to eat me alive.”

You smile slightly. “Maybe I do.”

His entire body reacts. A shiver runs through him so obvious you feel it beneath your palms.

A laugh slips out of you before you can stop it.

Mingi’s forehead drops briefly against yours with a quiet groan, like even hearing you laugh right now is too much for him.

“You make everything worse,” he blurts suddenly.

You blink once. “Excuse me?”

“I mean good worse,” he says quickly. “Jesus Christ.”

His forehead bumps yours again, embarrassed.

“I’ll be fine all day. Totally normal. And then you smile at me once and suddenly I can’t think straight for hours.”

Your expression softens before you can stop it. Mingi notices immediately. You can see the exact second he realizes he said too much. But instead of retreating this time, he exhales shakily and lets his forehead stay pressed to yours.

“It’s not just this,” he says quietly. “It’s never just this with you.”

Your fingers loosen against his hoodie. The teasing drains out of you slowly, replaced by something warmer. Deeper. Aching.

“Then what is it?” you whisper.

Mingi’s eyes close. And for a moment he just breathes against you. Like he’s spent months holding this inside his chest and doesn’t know how to survive finally letting it out. 

Then, barely above a murmur:

“It’s you.” Your heart stumbles violently. “It’s always been you.”

That one nearly steals your breath. You kiss him again before he can recover from saying it. Slower this time. Intentional. And he melts properly. No hesitation left now. 

Mingi makes this quiet, wrecked sound into your mouth like the kiss physically knocks the air out of him. His hands tighten at your waist for a second before one of them slides higher, tentative at first. Like he’s not fully sure he’s allowed.

Your breath catches when his fingertips slip beneath the hem of your shirt at the small of your back. Warm skin against warm skin.

Mingi shudders immediately at the contact. You feel it happen under your hands.

The kiss breaks for half a second on his end, like his brain short-circuits from touching you there, but then he’s kissing you again instantly. Hungrier now. Still soft, still careful, but with this desperate edge underneath it that makes your pulse stumble hard.

His hand spreads slowly against your lower back beneath your shirt. Huge. Shaky. His fingertips drag upward inch by inch along your spine like he’s trying to memorize the shape of you through touch alone.

The sensation sends heat straight through your chest.

“Mingi,” you breathe against his mouth.

That sound almost ruins him. A helpless exhale leaves him as his forehead bumps yours briefly before he kisses you again, deeper this time. Like hearing his name in your voice just dissolved whatever restraint he had left.

He keeps touching you carefully. That’s the dangerous part. Not greedy. Not rough. Just unbearably attentive. His fingertips trace lightly along your spine again and your entire body reacts before you can stop it. You feel him notice immediately in the way his breath stutters into the kiss.

“Oh my god,” he whispers against your lips, sounding dazed. “You felt that.”

You hate how much your stomach flips at the shaky little note of wonder in his voice.

“Keep kissing me,” you murmur.

He obeys instantly. Like reflex. Like he’d do anything you asked right now.

Every sound you make wrecks him further. You can feel it happening in real time.

The little breathless noises he keeps losing into your mouth. The way his hand trembles slightly against your back every time you kiss him deeper. Every time you pull back half an inch, Mingi follows immediately like instinct. Like distance physically hurts now that he’s had you this close.

Your hands slide fully into his hair now, tugging lightly at the roots.

A shaky sound breaks out of him immediately. You feel it against your tongue.

“Fuck,” he whispers again, ruined already.

One of his hands stays spread beneath your shirt, warm against the center of your back. The other slides up suddenly, almost clumsy with urgency, until his fingers bury into the hair at the back of your head.

Then he kisses you deeper. Not confident this time. Needy. Like he can’t get close enough anymore.

Your breath catches softly against his mouth. One of your hands stays tangled in his hair while the other drifts slowly down his arm, fingertips tracing the hard curve of his bicep beneath his hoodie sleeve before sliding higher again. Over his shoulder. Around the back of his neck. Up along his jaw.

Mingi visibly shivers when your thumb brushes beneath his ear. You feel his hand flex hard against your spine beneath your shirt. Like he doesn’t know what to do with how badly he wants to touch you.

You kiss the corner of his mouth. His jaw. The warm skin beneath his ear.

Mingi’s head tips back against the wall automatically, exposing more of his throat with a helpless inhale that nearly destroys your composure entirely.

“There you are,” you murmur softly against his skin.

A wrecked sound leaves him immediately. Not even words anymore.

“You have any idea,” you breathe between kisses, “how hard this has been for me?”

Mingi goes still for half a second.

You pull back just enough to look at him. His lips are parted now. Eyes dark and blown wide beneath messy hair. Completely wrecked.

“I mean it.” Your forehead presses against his again. “You take care of me without even thinking about it. You show up every single time. You make every room feel safer just by walking into it.”

His hands are shaking now. Actually shaking.

“And you have been driving me insane for months,” you confess softly. “So don’t stand here acting shocked because I finally kissed you.”

A wrecked laugh breaks out of him, immediately swallowed by another desperate kiss.

Your mouths keep finding each other between breaths, between half-finished sentences, between tiny overwhelmed sounds neither of you can hide anymore.

Everything feels overheated and too close and slightly off balance.

Then suddenly his kiss falters. Not because he pulls away. Because his body gives out first. A rough breath punches out of him against your mouth as his knees buckle unexpectedly beneath him.

“Mingi—”

Your hands grab for him immediately, trying to steady him, but he’s already sliding down the wall in one overwhelmed motion, dragging you with him instinctively. One hand catches hard at your waist while the other slips from your hair, fumbling clumsily for balance that clearly no longer exists.

“Wait, wait—”

A helpless laugh breaks out of him mid-collapse.

Your knees hit the hardwood on either side of his thighs as he lands heavily against the wall with a stunned exhale. Boots scraping awkwardly against the floorboards. Long limbs everywhere at once. Completely uncoordinated now.

For one messy second, neither of you knows where to put your bodies.

Then stillness.

Mingi’s chest heaves beneath you. Your brows knit immediately. Concern flashes through you first.

“Min?”

He shakes his head once quickly. Not hurt. Just catastrophically overwhelmed.

You can see it everywhere. The violent flush spread down his throat. The dazed look in his eyes. The way his hand is still under your shirt like he forgot it was there entirely.

And something about it feels almost surreal. Song Mingi. All sharp height and broad shoulders and effortless confidence. Reduced to this because you kissed him.

“…Did your legs just give out?”

“No,” he says immediately.

“They literally folded.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re on the floor.”

“So are you.”

The comeback would land better if he wasn’t staring up at you like he’s moments away from short-circuiting completely. 

And then you feel it. The thick, hard press of him beneath the dark denim where you landed directly on his lap. Heavy and unmistakable, pressing right up between your legs through your clothes. Fuck. He feels as big as he carries himself, maybe bigger.

Your breath catches slightly. Mingi notices instantly. A mortified sound leaves him.

“Don’t start,” he says quickly.

You look back up slowly. “…Start what?”

“That face.”

“What face?”

“The one where you realize things.”

Your mouth twitches immediately. His throat bobs hard.

You feel his fingers flex under your shirt instinctively before his nails drag lightly down your back in one slow scrape that makes your entire body jolt.

Fuck.

Mingi notices that too. His eyes darken immediately.

“I’m trying so hard to be normal right now,” he whispers.

The honesty of it nearly knocks the air out of you. Because he sounds wrecked. Not cocky. Not teasing. Just overwhelmed down to the bone. Still holding onto you like letting go would physically kill him.

Your eyes flick briefly to the way his hands are gripping you now. One spread hot against your spine beneath your shirt. The other tight on your waist. Strong enough to leave bruises. Shaking anyway.

Something hot curls low in your stomach at the sight. You can feel the strength coiled in him, the way he could easily lift you, pin you, take control if he wanted to. But he doesn't. He just looks up at you like he’s dying from how much he wants you. 

When your hips shift experimentally against his, his reaction is immediate. A broken sound tears out of his throat as his head falls back toward the wall.

Your hand catches it before it can hit too hard, fingers tightening at the base of his neck as you cushion the impact instinctively.

Mingi melts instantly beneath your touch. His eyes squeeze shut for one second as your fingers tighten slightly in his hair. His grip spasms hard against your waist.

You bite your lip, suppressing your own sounds at the way he reacts so fast, so visibly, like every nerve in his body is wired directly into your hands.

“Oh my god,” you whisper, almost fascinated now. “I broke you.”

"Shut up," he breathes instantly, voice cracking. 

Your laugh brushes warm against his mouth. Mingi’s eyes open again immediately, locking onto you like he’s afraid to miss a second of this. 

And suddenly your concern dissolves into something hotter. Because he looks huge beneath you. Broad chest rising hard beneath his hoodie. Big hands gripping your body like he can’t stop himself. Thick thighs spread under yours. But none of that changes the fact he’s completely unraveling for you right now.

You tug his hair again, sharper this time. A wrecked sound punches out of him immediately.

“There he is,” you murmur softly. “My good boy.”

“Please don’t say things like that.”

“Why?”

“Because I already can’t think.”

His fingers scratch lightly down your spine again, rougher now, and the sensation shoots heat straight through your stomach. You feel him twitch between your legs, the pressure catching your clit perfectly even through denim, and you have to swallow your own moan down before it escapes.

You grin instead. Then you kiss him again. 

And whatever control he had left finally snaps. His hand fists suddenly in your hair while he tilts your head enough to deepen the kiss properly. Sloppier. Hungrier. He kisses you like he can’t get enough oxygen from anywhere else.

You drag your mouth down his jaw, over his throat, and Mingi immediately tips his head back for you again with a helpless sound, exposing more skin like instinct.

His head knocks toward the wall once more and you catch him again automatically, palm sliding behind his head while your other hand stays around his shoulders.

“There,” you murmur against his throat. “Careful.”

That almost makes him whine.

Your teeth scrape lightly over his pulse. Mingi’s hips jerk up involuntarily beneath you.

“Fuck,” he chokes out, hands tightening hard enough to drag you fully against him. “You’re gonna ruin me.”

He sounds terrified.

Your forehead brushes his gently, breath mingling between you while his entire body trembles underneath yours.

You kiss him again, slower now, while your hips move in tiny experimental rolls against his. Barely anything. Just enough friction to make his breathing fall apart completely.

He’s concentrating so hard you can see it in his face. Jaw clenched. Brows pinched slightly. Trying desperately not to cum on the spot from just this. He tries to slow you once, but he fails instantly when you press closer and another helpless, broken moan slips out of him into your mouth.

Then he’s moving too, dragging desperate open-mouthed kisses down your neck like he doesn’t know where to put all this wanting anymore.

His hands slide lower.

One stays beneath your shirt, fingers tracing your spine again and again like he’s addicted to the feeling of your skin.

The other grips your ass hard, dragging you tighter against him while his mouth presses sloppy kisses against your throat.

“You’re so pretty,” he whispers against your skin, voice wrecked beyond repair. "So fucking pretty, baby, look at you—"

You’ve never seen him like this before. Never seen him stop trying to perform strength. And maybe that’s why this feels so intimate it almost scares you. Because he’s letting you see every vulnerable part without fighting to hide them anymore.

“Mingi,” you murmur softly.

He looks at you immediately.

“You okay?”

A quick nod. Then, quieter, “don’t stop.”

Your thumb smooths gently across his cheek.

“I won’t.”

And that’s what finally breaks him open. You see it happen in real time. The exact second the last bit of distance leaves his face. The exact second he realizes this isn’t temporary. That you’re not going to pull away from him tomorrow and pretend none of this happened.

His forehead drops against your shoulder with a shaky exhale.

Then he kisses you again. Different this time. Slower. Still hungry, but softer around the edges, like he can’t decide whether to devour you or memorize you.

His hands roam more boldly now, your back, your waist, your hips, your ass, gripping like he keeps remembering he’s allowed to touch you like this.

Your knees ache against the hardwood, but you barely notice once he plants his boots against the floor and pulls you flush against him with one helpless pull of his hips.

The breath leaves both of you at once.

Suddenly there’s nowhere your body ends without running into his. Broad chest. Heavy thighs. Strong arms boxing you in, without feeling threatening for even a second.

That’s the thing that gets you. How big he is and how careful he still is with you anyway.

Your hand slides to his throat experimentally, fingers loose against his pulse. Mingi's eyes go dark instantly, pupils blown wide. He swallows against your palm. Breath catching hard enough you feel it against your mouth. 

"Yeah?" you whisper.

He nods, fast and desperate. "Yes. Please."

The smallest increase in pressure tears a wrecked sound out of him, his head falling back against the wall. The sound goes straight between your legs.

After that, everything loses rhythm. Kisses turning sloppy. Breathing uneven. His hands gripping harder whenever you get too close. 

His hips are thrusting up, rolling, seeking more friction, and you feel yourself getting wet just from the desperation in his movements. He's so hard it must hurt, straining against the denim, and when you grind down against him, he cries out, hands gripping your ass to try to make you move faster.

He realizes what he's doing halfway through and stills himself with visible effort, eyes squeezed shut like he’s trying to regain control. 

“Wait,” he breathes roughly. “If you keep doing that, I’m not gonna last.”

The honesty of it sends heat curling low in your stomach.

And you're barely doing anything, but the fact that he's this close from almost nothing makes you want to feel him fall apart because he wants you that much.

You kiss him again, deep and filthy, and keep your movements light. Just small, teasing rolls of your hips.

"So pretty," he whines, "baby, you're so—fuck. Seriously. You're so beautiful, so hot, I can't—I can’t even look at you properly right now."

“You’re so cute,” you breathe against his mouth.

Your fingers slide softly through his hair again, gentler this time, scratching lightly at his scalp while his eyes flutter half-shut. 

“That’s my pretty boy,” you whisper softly. “Trying so hard to hold it together.”

His face flushes deeper immediately.

“You’re doing so good for me, Min.”

That one finally ruins him. 

His hips twitch up again, needy and involuntary, and you feel the damp heat spreading at the front of his jeans where he’s already leaking from almost nothing. The realization barely has time to settle before his whole body jolts beneath you.

A strangled grunt punches out of him.

His grip clamps hard around you so suddenly it knocks your balance backward. You catch yourself instinctively, palm slapping against the wall beside his head before either of you can crack into it.

Mingi goes tense all at once, hips stuttering up into yours before he buries his face instantly into your neck with a sharp gasp, biting down hard enough to muffle the wrecked sound that follows.

And then he’s coming. Fast. Sudden. Hard enough his whole body shudders under you.

For the first time all night, he stops holding himself back. His arms lock tight around you as he pushes himself off the wall just enough to drag you with him, forcing you to tilt back slightly in his grip while he shakes through it. Like he physically needs you closer to survive it.

Your arms loop around his neck automatically to steady both of you, one hand sliding into his hair, fingers spreading against the back of his head to keep him tucked against your throat while he rides it out.

You feel every pulse through the denim between you. The hot spread of wetness. The helpless way his body betrayed him from almost nothing except your mouth, your weight against him, your hand at his throat.

His hips jerk once more before he folds inward completely, trembling against your neck, breathing ragged through clenched teeth while he tries desperately to hide how easily he came.

Then nothing. No movement. No sound except his uneven breathing against your skin.

You blink once, heat rushing straight through you at what just happened. At how little it took. At how desperately his body gave in the second you told him what he wanted to hear.

“Mingi.”

A horrified groan muffles straight into your neck. 

You bite back a laugh instantly. Not mean. Never mean. Just unbearably fond. Because this man. This man who walked in here trying to act normal about being in love with you is now actively attempting to fuse himself into your shoulder to avoid eye contact.

You shift slightly, trying to look at him. He follows immediately, burying himself deeper against your neck.

“Mingi,” you repeat, softer now, fingers slipping into the hair at the nape of his neck. “Hey.”

A helpless smile spreads across your face as you press a kiss against his temple. He shudders under it instantly.

“Don’t look at me.”

That actually makes you laugh. Quiet and warm against his skin.

You coax his face back enough to look at him properly and nearly lose your mind all over again. Pink cheeks. Wet swollen lips. Eyes glassy and unfocused beneath messy hair. Completely wrecked.

And beneath you, you can still feel him, hot and sticky and probably uncomfortable as hell in his jeans, but making no move to fix it because that would mean acknowledging it.

“Shit,” he says immediately, mortified. “I’m sorry.”

That catches you off guard enough your expression softens instantly. Because he sounds embarrassed, yeah, but underneath it there’s sincerity too. Like he’s genuinely worried he ruined something.

“I was trying really hard not to cum,” he blurts, words tumbling out faster now that they’ve started. “I was trying to hold it together and then you kept kissing me and calling me pretty and I just—”

He cuts himself off with another groan, dragging a hand over his burning face.

“Min.” You wait until his eyes finally flick back to yours. “Why are you apologizing?”

His brows pull together slightly.

“…Because I came in my jeans like a teenager?”

You laugh softly. “And?”

“And we were literally just making out.”

You grin despite yourself, pulse still throbbing low and hot between your legs. Because honestly? The more you think about it, the more turned on you get. 

Your hips shift unconsciously against him and Mingi sucks in a sharp breath immediately, eyes squeezing shut.

“Shit, sorry,” you murmur, fascinated. “Still sensitive?”

“Please have mercy on me.”

The shaky way he says it sends another pulse of heat straight through you. You lean in until your noses brush.

“You know this was hot, right?”

“That was hot to you? You’re not making fun of me?” he asks carefully.

Your heart actually aches a little.

“Mingi.” You brush your thumb over his cheekbone. “I’m trying very hard not to climb you again right now.”

“Oh my god.”

You kiss him again before he can get more embarrassed. Just a small one. Quick. Soft.

Mingi exhales into your mouth immediately, shoulders dropping another inch. There’s something dangerously addictive about it. Like the second you kissed him, his body decided hiding anything from you was impossible.

Your gaze drops again before you can stop it. Right between his legs. And right on cue, he shifts under you again and you feel it. Hard again. Twitching faintly beneath the damp denim. Still reacting to every little thing you do. 

You pull back barely enough to look at him. “You’re kidding. You’re hard again?”

Mingi groans immediately. “Don’t say it out loud.”

Your laugh spills warm against his skin. He shivers hard at the sound. His hips shift unconsciously like he’s trying to relieve pressure and instantly regrets it when the denim drags against him.

Mingi must see something change in your face, because his breathing catches again immediately.

“Can you stop looking at me like you’re about to climb inside my ribcage?” he whispers.

You grin. “No.”

Mingi groans. “I hate you.”

“No you don’t.”

“…No. I really don’t.”

You laugh again and finally climb off his lap. Your knees ache faintly when you stand, but the sight in front of you almost takes you back out again.

Mingi looks ruined. Hoodie twisted crooked from your hands. Lips bitten red. Dark stain obvious across his jeans now no matter how he tries to angle himself away from it.

You bite your lip softly and hold your hand out toward him.

“C’mon.”

He blinks up at you. “…Where?”

Your smirk sharpens just slightly.

“You’re a mess,” you say, pointedly glancing at his lap before meeting his eyes again. 

His face goes red all over again.

“Besides…” Your voice softens. “I don’t think I’m done with you yet.”

Mingi goes completely still. Then his fingers tighten around yours hard enough to feel it.

“Cool,” he says faintly. “Awesome. Great. Yeah,” he says quietly, standing now, towering close enough to steal the air from your lungs again. “You have no idea what you just started.” 

Your stomach flips embarrassingly hard at the look on his face now.

“That sounds threatening.”

“It is.”

You open your mouth to answer, but Mingi kisses you first. Slow enough to distract you completely. Which is exactly why you don’t notice him crouching until the floor disappears beneath you.

“Wait, wha—”

A squeak bursts out of you as Mingi hooks an arm behind your legs and lifts you clean over his shoulder in one smooth motion.

“Mingi!”

He laughs against your startled noise as he playfully smacks your thigh before he starts walking toward the bathroom like carrying you around like this is the most natural thing in the world.

“Oh, now you’re shy?” he teases.

Heat rushes straight to your face. “Put me down.”

“No.”

He punctuates it with another slap against your ass that makes you gasp so loudly he nearly folds over laughing himself.

“You were talking real brave five minutes ago.”

You bury your burning face against the back of his hoodie while his laugh rumbles warm through your legs.

“You let me recover. Rookie mistake,” he says, opening the bathroom door. “You’re gonna regret giving me confidence.”

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The crisp night air leaked from the cracked window, tousling with the curtains as you laid against your boyfriend, mingi. to typical weekend fashion, you were tucked into a comforting fort of blankets and pillows, watching some sappy movie of your choice. large arm snaked around you, your head was softly laid on mingis chest, in a deep slumber.

with a silent chuckle, mingi slowly lowered the volume, picking up the computer to lower the screens lights, letting you drift into a peaceful sleep. while stopping the movie, his finger accidentally slipped, pressing a button that completely messed with the tab. grinning, he attempts his best to erase his mess, but instead seeing something like never before sitting on your other tab.

curious, he let himself quickly look, since you two never kept secrets about stuff like this. to his surprise, he felt his cheeks redden, eyes widen at what laid on the screen before him.

it was a low quality porno, the man tied to the bed frame, completely naked. the woman before him had no mercy, edging the man till he had tears prickling his eyes. finally getting his release, a chain of chanted mommy's passed his lips.

mingi couldn't process what he was seeing, or feeling for that matter. looking over at your sleeping form, his mind wandered. is this what you wanted? was all those times you had slept together unsatisfactory to you?

as you mumbled something in your daze, you placed your hand lightly against mingis chest, making him sigh and shake his head. that's not possible, he thought. But perhaps this could be interesting. with those lingering thoughts, mingi closed the tab quietly, returning everything to how they were before shutting the computer properly, easing down next to you. easier said than done, especially with his mind racing.. and cock insufferably firm in his sleep shorts.

⋆.˚

The next few days were a confusing blur for you. every time you had attempted to spend time with mingi, he had something to attend to. dinner with the bros, he had said the first time. work to be done at the studio, the second time was still normal. but when on sunday morning he shouted out going for a lengthy run, you had your suspicions. had something happened that you had missed completely?

so, when the evening rolled around and mingi finally returned, sweaty and messy, you decided to find out exactly what was going on.

leaning on the doorframe for support, pushing off his running shoes, mingi quickly looked up at you before taking off the other. the sweat had his hair sticking up all over, the black strands like a birds nest on his head, cheeks red.

"how was your run min?" you asked, sitting over on the living room couch. he just mumbled something in response, making your eyebrows turn to a frown.

"min, did something happen?" he pauses as he walks past you, looking forward and then to his feet. so something did happen. rubbing the back of his neck, you see the blush reach the tips of his ears. mouth opening but no words leaving, you turn in your seat, looking directly to his face.

"mingi, at least look at me" with a nod, he turns his gaze to you, those brown boba eyes so wide, a sliver of teeth peaking past his parted lips. you motion to him with raised hands, guiding him to speak. looking around the room, he finally spoke.

"something did happen" you sigh in both fear and relief, tapping the seat next to you on the couch. with small steps, mingi made his way next to you, hands resting on his thighs as he sat. gently, you let your hand lay on his shoulder blade, easing into the tight muscle.

"want to talk about it?" with a nod, mingi audibly swallowed before getting himself together, looking over at you with more intent now.

"are you satisfied with me" your jaw must've hit the floor by now, eyebrows curled in confusion and slight amusement.

"min, you can't possibly ask me that" he shakes his head.

"no you didn't get my question. are you satisfied with me.. in the bedroom"

you cant help the slight chuckle that passes your lips, mingi looking smaller then ever before you. what could possibly make this gentle giant question himself, you couldn't understand. your other hand now laid over his on his knee, you nod.

"obviously min, i love what we have together, in all aspects" fingers now tying together, he nods slowly, other hand going to rub the back of his neck.

"so you don't.. wish it was different?" raising a brow, you motion him to continue, as some words seem to hang on his tongue.

"the other night, when we were watching that movie? you fell asleep and i accidentally opened an another tab and saw this.. video"

the cogs in your head turn like they’re in slow-motion, remembering back and suddenly it hit you. now its your turn to feel small, cheeks burning up a bit as those big eyes look back at you with so many questions.

"min i- "

"you don't have to apologise, just answer the question, please"

taking a moment to think of a proper response, you feel mingis grip on your hand tighten a bit, the hand slightly clammy.

"no, not necessarily. i love what we have like i said, but i suppose.. i have some other things i like too-" mingi nods as you continue;

"- i just didn't know how to bring it up with you, i'm sorry min" shaking his head, you can see clarity in mingis vision this time as he looks at you.

"if its what you like, i'd always be down to try it" pausing for a second, you turn your head a bit in question. finally, that sly smile you ever so love takes over mingis face, as he nods.

"you know, i didn't avoid you because i found it weird. i was avoiding you, because i wasn't sure how to be in terms with the fact finding that got me.. interested" you're both reaching new heights of blushing by now, something so intimate and truly you about this moment.

"tell you what min.. how about you go take a shower and then come find me in the bedroom? that sound good?" you can visibly see something shift in the man, nodding his head so quick, slipping away within seconds to rush the shower. once you're alone, you chuckle, shaking yourself back to reality. this was really happening.

⋆.˚

Waiting there on the bed felt like a million years. you could hear the water from the shower stop, hear the shuffling of fabric, the nervousness rise inside you. as the door finally opened, revealing a mingi, only a dark towel tied around his hips, hand ruffling up his clean hair. he was so perfect like this, so exposed, so comfortable.

with a few movements, he was next to you on the edge of the bed, eyes wide.

"so- where do you want me?" something in you burned at the request, but you had to slow him down a little, shaking your head slightly.

"before that, just know if you want to stop, just tell me alright?" mingi nods, his hand now gripping on the flesh of your thigh, a glint sparkling in his eyes.

"go there, lay against the headboard, and wait there" like struck by lightning, mingi climbed up the bed, letting his head rest against the board. with a satisfied hum, you circled around to the side of him, no touching.

"now, tell me, what was it that you liked about that video?" you can feel mingis face radiating heat, the skin pink as he struggles to look at you directly. as your hand slightly ghosts the skin of his abdomen, his breath sucks in sharply, eyebrows twisting.

"the way the guy was completely under her control i suppose.. the power dynamic" you nod, caressing the curves and textures along his stomach, back down to brush his happy trail.

"what about the edging, how'd that make you feel?" you asked, holding eye contact as you traveled even lower, palming mingis growing hardness through the towel. he practically hissed at the contact, hands straightening to the sides on the bedspread. nodding swiftly, his head turning against the headboard.

“feels.. so good” is what manages to tear out of him, your hand slightly tightening around his length, causing a chain reaction.

you can see his skin shiver, a higher pitched noice slipping out, hand flying to cover his mouth. but you don’t let him, pulling the hand off with ease, making him pout slightly.

”let me hear you baby, sound so beautiful for me” he nods, an another sound passing as you move your hand up and down against him. then, you let go completely, mingis eyes flashing back open. he whines at the loss, squirming on the bed.

”oh baby.. you didnt think i’d let you off that easy? c’mon take this off for me” gulping, mingi tears off the remaining fabric on his body, letting his large cock spring out of its containment, demanding attention.

"still with me?" mingi nodded quickly, head spinning in bliss.

”now, play with yourself for me” mingis eyes widen, mouth dry as he looks at you. you nod with a grin, settling nicely before him.

”did i stutter? go on” with a nod, his hand slowly moves down his abdomen, letting it rest on the tilt. as you nod him forward, he sighs, the need passing all embrassment left in his system.

”that’s it, goodd”

the pleasure is visible on mingis face, plump lips parted, some spit running down the side of his mouth. pupils blown wide, his eyes close as the sensation takes over. hand tight around himself, the pre-cum wetting his way as his fist passes up and down on the length. as his finger brushes against his slit, the lightest of whimpers tears out, cheeks burning.

”good boy min, faster” the petname drives him insane, a new leak of pre-cum trickling down his cock as his speed picks up. his other hand reaches for something, wandering the bed in need of contact as pleasure waves inside him.

moving to sit next to him, you take his hand into yours, his eyes snapping open again, so dazed and slightly teary as the pleasure builds. he’s so out of it, so lost in the feeling, something incoherent laying on the tip of his tongue. squeezing his hand, you bring him back to you.

”what was that baby? speak up”

"feels so good.. mommy" that spiked something deep inside you, and mingi noticed it too, eyelashes fluttering, lip between his teeth.

"yeah? you wanna be a good boy for mommy and cum?" mingis moans and whimpers only louden as you speak filth into his ear, fingers nudged deep in your grip. his speed is relentless, tight and fast, pulling closer and closer to his finish. when you lean over to him, placing a soft bite on mingis neck, he knows its too late to stop.

"oh shit- mommy!" he couldn't possibly have been louder, cheeks flaming red as his cum comes in thick ropes, coating both his own stomach and even hitting your thighs in the process. with his body shaking, mind fuzzy, you spare him a tender smile, a soft kiss on the edge of his mouth.

"did so good for me min, so good" with a soft smile, chest heaving, he's finally coming back from his down. wiping down sweat from his forehead, he softly started to speak again;

"want you to feel good too, please" his voice low, hand placed on your inner thigh, those pleading boba eyes ever so big. how could you turn down such a request?

so, with a nod, mingi enthusiastically shimmied up, swapping positions with you. with ease, he moved down your body, leaving behind marks and sloppy kisses, before finally being in touch with where you needed it most.

before leaning in, his eyes made contact with yours, that same glint in them from earlier;

"don't worry mommy, i got you now"

“what’s wrong baby?” you ask, looking at mingi who wasn’t looking at you and chewing on his bottom lip. his hands were twitching in his lap, and you wondered what was making him anxious.

“why are you fidgeting so much?” you teasingly ask when he doesn’t say anything. you drop your hand to his thigh, softly rubbing the expanse of exposed skin.

mingi gasps, startling you when he suddenly hops up from the couch. he turns away from you, mumbling something you couldn’t quite catch and kindly ask him to repeat himself.

he takes a deep breath, attempting to compose himself before stuttering out, “i-i’ve never done … that,”

“that being …?”

mingi spins towards you, face burning bright and a deep shade of red. his voice is small when he responds, “i-i mean i’ve kissed before, but nothing beyond that." he drops his head, whispering the last part “like….like sexual things.”

“so, you’re a virgin.” you bluntly state, making mingi sputter and look at you with wide eyes. you had the slightest inkling that maybe mingi wasn’t the most experienced, but him being a complete virgin honestly shocked you.

“y-yeah…” he admits shamefully, nodding his head and darting his eyes around to avoid eye contact with you.

you didn’t force him to do anything after his admission, instead comforting and reassuring him that being virgin was okay, which it was.

but, it was from that day on that you would nonstop think about fucking your boyfriend.

his innocence is such a turn on to you.

sweet, innocent mingi, who you can’t help but to constantly think about playing with. how cute he would look begging for you, his eyes shining with tears.

he could hardly handle a compliment from you or when you call him ‘baby’ in a tone that he claims is “troubling” to him. he would start stuttering over his words, shutting himself up by nibbling on his lip, face painted pink with embarrassment.

and of course you want him to take his time, do it whenever he’s ready to…but fuck- imagine how he would react to you doing what you fantasize about.

you hadn’t realize you were staring at him, deep in thought, from where he sat on the couch. he was engrossed in some tv show that you didn’t know the name of, but he would often talk to you about it.

his fluffy dark hair unkempt, strands sticking up in every direction. he squinted at the screen even though his glasses were resting on tip of his nose, and he just looks so soft in his pajamas.

you walk over to the couch and take a seat next to him. mingi briskly looking at you with a smile, an arm coming around to wrap around your shoulders, before tuning back into the show.

“mingi…” you uttered, sliding a hand to his thigh and gently squeezing it. you turn to watch his profile, looking for any signs of discomfort. slowly, you sling a leg over him and shuffle to sit on his thighs.

mingi stiffens under you his breath hitching, before he locks eyes with you. he must have found something in your gaze, his throat bobbing with a swallow.

“y-yes?” he feebly responds, dipping his head to avoid looking into your intense eyes.

“baby,” you coo, leaning closer towards him, placing a finger under his chin to lift his gaze back up to you, your mouths inches away from eachother.

his hand that was on your shoulder was now gripping onto the couch below. mingi’s breath catches when you close the gap between you, eyes instinctively closing when your lips touch and melting into the kiss.

you wrap an arm around his neck, knotting your fingers into the hairs at the nape of his neck making mingi quietly moan into your mouth. you take the opportunity to slip your tongue in, mingi squirming in response.

he doesn’t know what to do with his hands, like always they hover in the air, torn between keeping them to himself or placing them on you. he settles for your waist and tentatively runs his fingers along the curves. he can feel his face burning, his pulse quickening when his hands slip under your loose shirt.

you grab a fistful of his mussed hair, tugging it to deepen the kiss as your other hand rests on his chest. he whimpers, and you shiver at the sound that you were responsible for.

the sound must have scared mingi though, as he pulls away, panting and face flushed. you go to ask if he was alright, but pause when you take notice of mingi looking down at his hands that rested in his lap.

you smirk, gently prying his hands away to reveal his hard-on that strained against the fabric. mingi turns his head away, flustered.

“it’s okay,” you reassure him, taking ahold of his glasses that were slipping down his nose and resting them aside. mingi nods with a small pout. “may i?” you ask, hovering your own hand over his pants.

mingi bites his lip to fight the moan that almost slipped out. hips almost wanting to twitch up into the warmth radiating from you, his pants feeling tighter as his erection grew.

“don’t worry,” you assure him, your voice low and smooth with comfort. “i’ll take it slow, hm?”

mingi nods, his hands finding their way to your hips and holding them tightly. his body was thrumming with excitement, but also fear for what was to come.

he peeks to look as you rub his dick, embarrassed every time it would twitch at even the slightest graze. pressing his mouth closed, not wanting to sound like loser for moaning so loudly from a little teasing.

you frown at that, capturing him into a kiss to stop him from gatekeeping any noises from you. you wanted to hear everything, no matter how quiet or loud. everything mingi was trying to hold back being forced out.

“don’t hold back,” you whisper when you pull back. unbuttoning his pants, you pull his dick out of them. mingi moans at being released and you almost moan at the sigh in front of you.

he was huge. his dick at full attention, throbbing and leaking precum was bigger than you thought. you couldn’t stop yourself from licking your lips, a familiar throb was forming between your legs.

you take him into your hand, feeling how hot and thick he was, barely covering even half the length of it. unintentionally driving mingi crazy as you you stroke upwards teasingly, spreading the precum from his tip down his length to make the glide easier.

“how does that feel,” you breathe.

mingi loudly moans, his head flying back and his eyes squeeze shut. he couldn't stop his hips from grinding up into your grip and he doesn’t think he will last long, already feeling like he could cum if you keep going like that.

“’so good, it’s so good…”

your mouth makes its way to his exposed neck, licking and kissing along it as you stroke him. moving up to his ear, nibbling and licking along the shell of it. mingi’s needy moans spurring you on, adding your other hand and twisting with every jerk.

“w-wait,” he gasps, eyes flying open and hands flying to push your hands off him, not wanting it to end, but his orgasm was building up too quickly.

you pull back with furrowed brows, but before you could say anything…

“fuck,” mingi brokenly moans as his hips buck up with a rough thrust as he cums. you feel the heat from his cum spilling onto your fists, some shooting far and landing on your cheek, as his dick pulses in your hand and his body convulsing.

“i-’im sorry,” he stutters, his face a deep red and eyes wide and glistening with tears. “i tried to warn you… i was gonna…”

there wasn’t anything you could do but giggle a little, making mingi whine. you can't help but to find it adorable at how fast he came from a little handjob. you press a kiss to his cheek, your cum-free hand brushing his arm arm lovingly.

“it’s okay baby, you don’t have to apologize,” you reassure with another kiss, this time to his nose. “besides it was pretty hot.”

mingi doesn’t know what to say to that, his face on fire, he simply nods. your eyes meet again and he leans in to press your lips together.

“we should do it again sometime, yeah?”

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His back hits the wall with a quiet thump as soft pants leave his lips, his breath fanning over your face. He groans at the contact with the wall.

“You okay Min?” You ask softly with a smirk, moving his hair out of his face. He just looks at you, his eyes glazed over and his mouth hanging open ever so slightly. He gulps as he garners the strength to give you a small nod.

His large hands are spread across your waist hesitantly, like he’s not allowed to touch, like he can’t believe he’s actually holding you.

You lean in again, kissing him, his breath hitches but his body adjusts quickly, his hands pulling you closer to him to deepen the kiss, your hand tangled in his hair, you pull once.

You pull again, and there it was.

A noise, almost inaudible, but present, a cross between a whine and a whimper. You smirk against his lips, you feel him tense up as the sound is tugged out of him, he wasn’t even aware he could produce such a sound.

“Its okay,” you whisper softly “relax.” you mutter against his lips, he sighs shakily as he chases your lips, aching for more.

He manoeuvres his head, unconsciously pulling against your hand to recreate the feeling of you tugging on his hair. You can only smile against his lips, you decide not to torture him by making him ask, instead, you give him what he wants, whether he even realises he wants it.

You tug again, a little harder, and it happens again.

He whines into your mouth, his hands shaking against your back, you do it once more, and his knees buckle slightly, you can only chuckle softly.

“Oh you liked that..” you taunt him, usually he would have a retort ready to go, but he could only pant quietly against your lips.

You give him no time to catch his breath as your lips move swiftly to his jaw, trailing kisses along his neck and jawline. his hands grip your hips so tightly you’re convinced there will be a bruise, you find his pulse point and your lips latch on, you suck experimentally, testing the waters.

A groan leaves him, you continue.

“W- wait..” he says quietly, you suck the spot ever so gently, with enough power to leave a mark, but not enough to satisfy. “Please..” he whispers.

You pull away, looking at him with concern.

“You okay?” You ask genuinely.

He closes his eyes with a nod “Dizzy” he lets his forehead fall against yours “‘m so dizzy,” he whines.

You grin “that’s okay, ive got you,” you cup his face, he meets your eyes for a second before getting embarrassed and burying his head in your neck.

You pull him up again so he’s looking at you.

“I can stop,” you say.

He shakes his head weakly “N- no…please don’t,” he whispers almost desperately “please don’t stop.”

You smile, kissing him passionately. He responds quickly, his hands finding the confidence to explore your body, like hes trying to memorise your form, your lips find his neck again, you can feel him pushing against you, as if he’s trying to move you away, as if it’s too much. But the pretty sounds leaving his lips as you mark his neck say otherwise.

You pull away eventually, his hair was a mess, his cheeks flushed and his lips slightly swollen, he looked totally debauched.

The dressing room they'd given you to get ready to meet the boys was small. It was no more than a closet with a vanity really. You stripped out of your old sweats that represented your past life and prepared to put on the dress that represented who you'd be for the next year.

As you slipped it on, though, you realized that there was no way you could zip it yourself. You opened the door, intending to knock on the dressing room beside yours, but came face to face with Mingi instead.

He was walking around with an adorably stupid look on his face while carrying a hair gel bottle.

"Hi...umm, could you help me?" he asked when he noticed you staring.

Without thinking you agreed. You were here to do that anyway, to agree to anything they asked, but it came so naturally. You invited him into your dressing room and let him take the stool while you sat on the vanity itself. The door shut on its own, leaving you in this small space with him.

"I just want it to look good," he explained. "I don't really care how you make that happen."

"Okay," you said shyly, taking the hair gel and squeezing some onto your hands, lathering them up, before running your fingers through his thick, fiery locks. Honestly, he looked fine before your help, but you didn't want to tell him that and miss the chance to be so close to him.

"Your dress," Mingi remarked, eyeing where it sat low on your chest. Whenever you moved, it slipped down further. You'd been so entranced with his hair that you hadn't noticed.

"Oh!" you squeaked out and spun around, gripping the fabric close just before you flashed him. "I'm sorry," you muttered.

You once again tried and failed to zip it yourself. But Mingi placed a hand on your hip, stilling your struggles. "Let me see," he rasped while urging you back around to face him.

Your cheeks were flushed in embarrassment as you stared shamefully at the floor. His crooked finger pressed to your chin, urging your gaze upwards to meet his.

"Put your hands down," he instructed, encouraging you to reveal yourself.

There was something magically binding about the way he spoke, as if every word were a spell you had to follow. You listened, and dropped your hands to your sides, letting the fabric fall to your feet.

The dress was strapless, so you hadn't worn a bra.

Mingi's breath hitched and he stood, towering over you so that you had to crane your neck to hold his eye contact.

"Stay here," he whispered, leaving you alone once again.

In his absence, your heart pounded, echoing in your ears like a drum. You half thought to redress yourself, but didn't want to disappoint him. He'd asked you to do something, so you wanted to do it.

Three taps on the door were indication of his return. He slid in without being noticed by anyone, smirking at the state he found you in.

"Needed to get something for you," he said as he suddenly lifted you onto the vanity with a dopey smile.

"What is it?" you asked, trying to ignore the way he bit his lip while staring at you, or the growth in his pants, or the warmth of his hand on your thigh that made you want to melt into a puddle.

"They'll call your name to select a slip of paper at random to choose your member," Mingi described, leaning closer so that you were backed into the cold mirror, body arching in surprise at the chill of it. You gasped.

"So fucking beautiful," he hummed, when your chest met his. He shimmied his knee between your legs, encouraging them apart.

Again you listened and made enough room for him to stand comfortably, closely.

"You'll take this slip, and use it instead," he explained as he placed the crumble of paper in your palm.

"Why?" you asked, eyes wide as he cupped your cheek, making you crave him in the most filthy ways.

"I can't leave this to chance," he muttered before pressing his lips to yours and kissing you the way you had always imagined being kissed.

Mingi was passionate. He stole your breath away with every passing second, and his hands touched you as if he owned you...which in many ways, he did.

"Mingi," you whined, pulling on his gel-hardened hair. "You're such a good kisser," you complimented.

"Mmm," he replied with a throaty moan. "Can't wait to show you more," he teased as he slid his hand up your thigh, allowing it to lightly graze over your center, just enough to make your breaths shaky.

"Please," you begged, using your legs to wrap around his waist to bring him closer.

"Love hearing you beg," he smirked as he pulled back, eyes dark with lust. "But I need to wait until after the ceremony. It's a rule."

"Okay," you sighed, silently pleading for one last kiss.

"Did you need help with that zipper?" he asked, ignoring your desperate stare.

You nodded and let him help you dress, let his hand glide up your spine until the shortest dress you owned was on, barely covering your figure.

He hissed as he took you in, sucking air in through his teeth, "Might have to fuck you right on that stage, baby. I don't think we'll make it back to my room."

You smiled as he spoke, easily imagining such a lack of control as that was exactly what you wanted right now.

"Mingi," you sang, running your hand down his chest. "You can do whatever you want to me."

"Good to know," he groaned before squeezing your ass. "I'll see you out there," he added with a wink before leaving you in the room with blushing cheeks and an ache in your belly that you knew only he could satisfy.

—————————————————————————

7 girls walked out of the dressing rooms. 1 joined the line last minute which you couldn't believe. This was such a huge deal and you couldn't imagine not prioritizing it.

You entered the room in a line organized by age. Mingi playfully raised his brows at you before licking his lips. It was like nobody else was in the room. No other girls, no other guys. Just the two of you eye fucking, separated by a stage that you hoped to be undressed on within the hour.

As the ceremony began, girl by girl made their way to the stage. You didn't have to worry that they'd pull Mingi, because his slip was already selected. It was in your palm like a burning secret.

The girl beside you pulled Yeosang, looking very pleased by it, and it was then your chance to select a name.

Up until that point, you'd had your hands closed in a fist around the paper, not wanting to let it slip. And when you stuck your hand into the bowl, you played it off as if you were searching for the right one...though your perfect match was already secured in your grasp.

"Mingi," you announced, and made your way to the eager man near the end of the line. He reached for your hand and pulled you in for a kiss, the only true one of the evening, before spinning you around while you giggled.

A glare from Hongjoong made him control himself though and he hugged you from behind instead. "Gonna tear into this dress the minute this is over," he groaned, secretly kneading your chest with an arm he had crossed over it.

"Mingi," you whined quietly, letting your head fall back against his shoulder. His fingers rolled your nipple, and it wasn't long before he was grinding his cock against your ass, tempting you to break open your dress, and be dammed with the ceremony.

"Your uniform is an ugly yellow dress with feathers," he explained, speaking over Hongjoong.

"Why'd you pick something ugly?" you asked with a laugh.

"So you'll want to spend more time out of it," he explained with a chuckle. "Though this dress is sexy, and you seem more than willing to let me take it off," he added just as Hongjoong dismissed everyone.

He unzipped the dress before the stage was even empty just as you pulled at his shirt, sending the buttons flying everywhere.

"Fucking made for me," he groaned as you jumped onto him, wrapping your legs around his waist while kissing him desperately. He fiddled with the button on his pants for a moment before they fell to the ground, he waddled out of them down the hall toward his room, discarding them who knows where.

You used your feet to push his boxers down behind his bum, exposing his round ass to the world, and pulled your panties aside to make room for him.

"There we go," he groaned as he pushed open his door, and let you fall onto his thick and lengthy cock.

"Oh fuck!" you cried out, wincing in pain because of his size.

Mingi's breathing stuttered as he stilled, letting you throb around his cock and adjust. All the while, his lips never left yours, relaxing you bit by bit with rough kisses built out of mutual desperation.

"Keep going," you whined, moving to sit on the edge so he'd have a more optimal position.

"Mmm," he hummed as he sunk into you again. "Not gonna last if you're gonna stay this tight baby."

"Then finish and fuck me again," you taunted, biting his lip and pulling back.

He moaned in surprise and pressed his hands into your thighs, pounding away carelessly with animalistic grunts that sounded inhuman in nature. You could feel that ache in your belly growing, knew that despite the stretch it was the best sex you'd ever had.

And then he kissed your shoulder, sucked, and marked anywhere he could find skin. His tongue licked across your neck, sending a chill through you, and he chuckled in response to your gasps when he flicked your nipples playfully.

"Mingi!" you whined, clutching his back and squeezing your eyes shut in surprise. He felt good, so good that you didn't dare rub your clit. You knew he'd get you off without it.

"Cum around my cock baby," he ordered. "Don't be shy."

You let yourself relax and release all of the tension in your abs and arms so that all focus was on the pleasure he was giving you. His thrusts became sloppy, but somehow that felt better, even more so when combined with the twitching of his cock.

"I'm close," you warned, wrapping your legs around his waist so that every insertion was as deep as possible.

"Together," he groaned and buried himself in your cunt, emptying his warm release inside you for the very first time.

You whimpered as you came with him and looped your arms around his neck, holding him against your chest where his labored breaths made your skin tingle. Mingi was adorably gentle as he came down. His kisses were softer, his hands needy and clutching you close.

"So beautiful," he praised, compliments leaving his love-drunk lips without a second thought. "My chick. My girl."

"Mingi!" someone called from outside. "5 minutes! And you better not be late!"

He chucked and kissed you sweetly, ignoring the warning as he pulled out, and slid a finger through your cunt, pushing any of his seed back in that tried to leak out.

"We need to get dressed," you reminded him with a laugh and needy whimper. You didn't want to be in trouble with the others, but you were more than happy to stay here and let Mingi fuck you again.

"Such a waste to get dressed just to peel it off later," he groaned in complaint while pulling away. He sported an adorable pout, but helped you off the counter anyways.

"We can fuck again after the party," you bargained. "Maybe try the bed this time?"

"Mmm," he smirked. "Need me again so soon?"

You kissed him, pushing him back against the wall, and answered an encouraging, "Fuck yes."

Mingi looked pleased with your answer and reached just behind you to collect your uniform. When he opened the garment bag you realized he'd been right...it was ugly.

"I promise I'll take it off as soon as I can," he laughed when he saw your face.

You grimaced but took the bag to get dressed before shooing him away to do the same. But Mingi was addicted. He brought his clothes to the closet and changed with you, thoroughly enjoying the bit where a feather got into your mouth. But you didn't mind having him there, especially when he hiked his pants up and buttoned them without a shirt on yet...

That may be your favorite look on him. Business downstairs but ready to eat pussy as sloppily as he wanted up top.

"Mingi! I swear to god!" someone screamed from the hall.

With equally amused smiles, he grabbed your hand and ran toward the door with you in tow. You hadn't even put your heels on yet and held them as you ran.

"Mingi!" you laughed, trying to tell him.

But it only made him that much more eager to get in line, and the two of you joined in a mess of feathers while everyone stared. You were obviously late, but the twinkle in Mingi's eye made it worth it.

"Leave the shoes," he whispered, taking them from your hand and flinging them against the door.

"Barefoot to the party?" you questioned. It didn't seem sanitary.

"Makes you look like a good match for me," he explained on the walk. "So in the moment that you couldn't even find time to put on shoes."

"Oh, is that what happened?" you asked with a spark igniting in your chest. "I just thought we fucked in the kitchen for three hours."

Mingi spanked you playfully with a toothy grin and held your hand on the walk up the stairs. Another stage for the two of you, but this time many others were watching.

"Who are these people?" you asked, suddenly feeling your heart race.

"Doesn't matter," he answered with a reassuring squeeze of your hand.

Hongjoong gave his speech about the aids and thanked the room of mostly men for sponsoring the program. Then, each member introduced their girl.

For most, it seemed like a degradation ritual. Hongjoong's even had a mouthful of cum.

"What do I do at the mic?" you asked as Yunho's girl barked for him...literally barked.

"Just be your charming self," he smirked and pulled you with him when it was time.

"Woof woof woof woof," he started, encouraging the room to bark for him. It was silly really how even in such a professional-looking setting he managed to make all the tension go away.

"You know who I am," he introduced himself cockily. "And this is my chick, (y/n)," he said proudly.

You waved awkwardly with a quiet, "Hello," to the crowd.

"She did a great job with my hair didn't she?" he asked the crowd who whooped and hollered in support. Your cheeks blushed at the praise and then Mingi shouted, "I think I should reward her!"

They chanted his name, encouraging him on. You could only smile widely with a laugh as he leaned in, dipping you into a kiss that had the room in an excitable state.

When he finished, he brought you vertical again and you noticed Hongjoong roll his eyes at the display. You didn't care, though. You were there to make Mingi happy; not anyone else.

After that, you both skipped back to the line, where he leaned against your front, letting you wrap around him from behind the way the other guys were doing to the girls. You couldn't stop smiling into his back. His energy was infectious.

When the intros finished, he waddled down the steps, making you walk with him in wide strides.

"Where are we going?" you laughed.

"Just making sure we remember this night," he laughed and pushed through the last bundle of people before releasing your hands and letting you see what he'd taken you to.

"It's a photo booth," you smiled at him excitedly.

"Never want to forget the night the beautiful woman with an unzipped dress helped me put gel in my hair," he whispered as he pulled you in for a kiss.

"Is that how you'll remember it?" you teased, watching him bite his lip already as you let one of the straps fall off your shoulder. "I'll remember it," you began as you pulled him into the booth with you, closing the curtain behind you. "...As the night I fucked the hot idol in the photo booth."

You straddled Mingi who wasted no time undoing his pants and freeing his cock. You slid down on his length, watching realization settle across his face. "You aren't wearing underwear?" he whined, hands gripping your hips throughout your descent.

"You watched me get dressed and didn't give me any," you reminded him with a smirk. "Besides, I think you like easier access."

"Fucking perfect," he sighed again while thrusting into you.

With a whimper, you gripped his shoulders with one hand and covered your mouth with the other. You bounced on his cock, thighs screaming in agony at the workout.

The partygoers had no idea what going on, on the other side of the purple velvet sheet. It was filthy of the two of you to do this here so shamelessly... but it was so hot, too.

"I was wrong about the dress," he grunted. "You make it sexy. So fucking sexy," he moaned as he pulled the other strap down to kiss your shoulder.

You held him close by the nape of his neck, staring at the ceiling and seeing stars in the plastic. You didn't even mean to cum so quickly, but there you were, a whimpering mess that he kept thrusting into gently while kissing you through it. His hands were soft on your back, pressing firmly to hold you close. His other hand intertwined with yours...it felt more romantic than anything else he'd done...more intimate.

"I'm sorry," you apologized as you buried your face against his neck.

"Why?" he laughed with a soft kiss to your cheek. "For finding me so irresistible that you couldn't wait to let me hear your little cries?"

"I did not cry," you argued with a playful smack to his bicep.

"M-Mingi," he exaggeratedly mimicked. "I'm gonna cum!"

"I didn't even say that!" you laughed, leaning into him with a kiss, his cock twitching inside you, begging not to be forgotten.

"Get out," a slap against the curtain threatened. It was most definitely a pissed-off Hongjoong... not that you'd seen another version so far.

It made you jump so much that Mingi couldn't help but cackle. You didn't have to redress but you did want to fix your hair, and you bumped the picture button when you turned to use the camera.

You and Mingi laughed nervously, trying to cover his cock from the camera and failing miserably as you fell over each other in a haste to get out.

"Ow!" he yelped, bumping his head on the way out.

You giggled and snatched the photos, both of you running away from the photo booth so that Hongjoong wouldn't scold him.

"Where are we going?" he laughed. "You don't even know your way around!"

"Umm..." You looked both ways and spotted a stairway not too far off. "There!"

"If we fuck in the stairs it'll echo," he spoke from experience.

"Fine," you came to a stop. "You decide."

Mingi paused for a second, thinking carefully before pulling you into the hall.

"Are we going back to your room?" you asked.

"Not quite," he smirked. He tried every doorway in the hall at random while you watched curiously, wondering what he was up to until he pulled you into a different room you'd never seen before. And despite the space being unfamiliar, you knew whose it was within seconds.

"He's going to kill us if he finds us here," you whispered.

"Then we won't let him find us," Mingi laughed as he lay on Seonghwa's bed and kicked his shoes off.

"Come here," he held out his hands, pleading with you to join him.

With a reluctant, yet eager sigh, you set the picture down and joined him, straddling him and settling against his chest, finding it very domestic and relaxing. He pet your back for a moment before his finger caught on the zipper and he pulled it down allowing him access to you.

In tantalizingly slow fashion, he trailed his finger down your spine, grazing it lightly, just enough to make you tremble.

Mingi exhaled peacefully, looking closer to sleep than sex. "Are you happy you got me?" he asked, worry marking his features. "I know a lot of aids want someone else. Prefer a little less chaos and..."

You cut him off with a kiss, hating how insecure he sounded when to you he was perfect. "You're all I wanted," you promised.

"You sure?" he checked. "I know I gave you the slip and forced you to..."

"Mingi, you didn't force me into anything. If I hadn't wanted it, I would've dropped the slip and picked up a different one," you assured him as you squeezed his face in your hands. "I wanted you. I do want you."

"Even in Seonghwa's room?" he smirked, growing more confident by the second.

"Yes," you assured him with another kiss.

"Even in front of Lego Baby Yoda?" Mingi asked, eyeing the display on his nightstand.

"Maybe not in front of him," you giggled and leaned forward to turn him around. When you did, your undone dress slipped, exposing your chest to a needy Mingi who nipped at your nipple, causing you to jump and knock the display down.

"Mingi!" you gasped as you got up to see the damage. On the ground were 1075 pieces that had fallen apart and scattered in every which way.

"Oh no," you covered your mouth in shock, unsure of what to do.

"We need to leave," Mingi decided, pulling you out the door without a second thought and guiding you into the safety of his room.

"I-I can't believe we just did that," you fretted. "He's going to be so..."

Mingi pushed you back against the door with an adrenaline-fueled kiss. The dress fell to the ground and you made quick work of removing his pants and tearing away the shirt again.

You'd forgotten for a second just how much you wanted him...how much you needed him.

"Come here," he muttered as he pulled you to his bed, guiding you to lay down on the fresh sheets.

"Need all of you," you murmured between kisses while spreading your legs and allowing him to settle between them.

"Seonghwa will never know," Mingi vowed. "We will remember this night as the night we got away with..."

There was a knock at the door.

Just after a quick and slightly nervous glance, Mingi made his way to see who it was. He tossed it open shamelessly, not bothering to realize that his dick was out.

"I believe this is yours," Seonghwa scowled as he handed Mingi the forgotten photobooth pictures.

"That's not me," Mingi argued. The pictures only showed your back and him from the waist down. Your faces were technically concealed. He had plausible deniability in his favor.

"That's you," Seonghwa fought. "That's literally your dick."

"No it isn't," Mingi lied, shrugging casually as if he were telling the truth.

"I'm looking at it right now!" Seonghwa shouted. Throwing the photo at Mingi despite his unwillingness to claim fault for the Lego fiasco. "And stay out of my room!" he shouted as he marched away.

"No promises, hyung!" Mingi blew him a kiss before rejoining you.

"Are we in trouble?" you asked him, eyes wide like a deer who'd just run into oncoming traffic. You didn't want to be kicked out so soon.

"We are not," he promised. "Just me."

"What will they do?" you worried. Mingi was your responsibility and technically the Lego display had only fallen because you knocked it off.

He looked unbothered by any possibility he faced. "I'll probably have to do a few extra fan calls so Seonghwa has free building time."

"Oh! That's not so bad," you smiled in relief.

"Nope," he agreed. "They like us too much to do anything too bad."

"But what about me?" you pouted, crossing your arms so that your chest was covered. Mingi tried within seconds to peel your hands away, his eyes growing frustrated at the denial.

"What about you?" he grunted with a tug, finally gaining exposure again that had him licking his lips eagerly.

"Will I be punished? I was a bad, bad girl," you whispered sultrily while crawling towards him.

Mingi sat at the edge of the bed and pulled you by your wrists toward him until you were settled over his lap.

"You want to be punished pretty girl?" he hummed, his hand palming your ass.

"Yes," you sighed in anticipation, wiggling your ass in front of him until he came down with a hard smack across your cheek.

"Count for me," Mingi demanded, his hand soothing where he'd just hit while waiting for you.

"One," you began, gripping the sheets in front of you as you waited for another.

This one was sharper, harder than the last one. You yelped out in surprise as you lurched forward gasping out a quick, "Two."

"Last one," Mingi prepared you while pushing your back down to make the arch deeper.

When his hand came down, it stung right away. It actually hurt to the point of tears and you blubbered, "Three," while he massaged your sore bum.

You didn't move, too busy simmering in the pain and trying to stop the tears brimming in your eyes.

"If you wanted punishment, why are you crying?" he teased.

"The last one hurt," you whined while laughing at yourself. You pulled yourself off of his lap to lie down on the bed.

Mingi joined you with a pitifully amused smirk on his face. His hand that had spanked you, which you now realized was almost as large as your whole torso, settled on your thigh.

"Didn't it turn you on, baby? Didn't you like being punished?" he hummed with slow kisses down your jaw.

"I-I don't know," you gasped, spreading your legs to give his hand access to you. Mingi smiled against your skin and slid his hand up, letting his finger just barely graze your center.

"Mmm," he purred, a deep breathy sound that had a pool of desire growing inside you. "Seems you're ready for me again."

"Mhm," you moaned, grinding his hand shamelessly.

"Beg," Mingi smirked, seeming to thoroughly enjoy the surprised look on your face.

"Beg?" you repeated, heart pounding at the thought of letting him hear you so desperate.

"Mhm," he hummed, eyes shining in anticipation.

You didn't intend to let him hear you like that tonight. Instead, you kissed down his chest looking up through your lashes as his expression changed from curiosity to realization.

Mingi's dick was already hard, and you reached for it, angling it toward your lips as he hissed in surprise.

"I think you should beg," you taunted prior to taking his tip between your lips and sucking and licking the precum. Mingi's fingers instinctively entwined in your hair, urging you to take more of him.

So you did. You sucked all the way down his length as far as you could go, and pulled off, moaning around his cock so that it twitched in your mouth, ready to cum any second.

"Fuck," he groaned with a fistful of your hair. "Fucking perfect."

Giving head wasn't on your top list of favorite activities, but giving head to Mingi was unlike anything you'd ever experienced. He was vocal and unafraid to praise your efforts. You'd originally just wanted him to concede and fuck you, but now you were in pursuit of finishing him, desperate to know what it felt like to have him cumming down your throat.

You couldn't take all of him, and he knew that. Yet, he acted as if nothing had ever felt so good. You bobbed up and down on his cock and jerked him off with the bit of dick you couldn't reach. Mingi was a mess of moans, and used both hands to grip your head now, slightly thrusting into your mouth, but never too much.

"I'm gonna—" he warned just before he came down your throat, his hot ropes of cum shooting off as you swallowed it, swallowed him. He sounded so pretty and tasted so much better than you'd had before. You held yourself down until he stopped shaking and pulled off just as he let out a relieved exhale.

"That was incredible, baby," he appreciated as he pulled you toward him, sinking his tongue into your mouth.

"I thought you'd beg me to stop so we could fuck," you confessed between kisses.

Mingi chuckled, though, and pulled away. "Why would I need to stop when I'll be ready again in 5 minutes."

You gaped at him in shock. "You bounce back in just five minutes?"

"Yes," he smiled as he kissed down your body, nibbling across your chest and him, marking anywhere there was skin, which was everywhere. "And do you know how we should spend that time?" he asked just before licking through your center.

"Oh fuck!" you cried out, legs closing in impulse.

He smirked and held them open before sinking his tongue into you. It was so wet and warm and only an inch or two and yet it felt better than most sex you'd had.

"Keep that leg open yourself, baby," he instructed. "I need a hand."

You listened and watched as Mingi brought his thumb to your clit, flicking it mercilessly. Your body squirmed in response, making you writhe in pleasure and grind against his mouth.

"So good," you cried as you tried your best to hold still for him but failed. Mingi was deathly focused. He pulled away only briefly to switch so that his fingers were inside you instead and so that his tongue was now in charge of your clit.

"M-Mingi!" you cried out, legs shaking on either side of his head from your impending release. "I'm gonna cum!"

He chuckled for some reason against your clit, but even that couldn't deter the inevitable. You came around his fingers, body trembling from the strength of it. Your cunt throbbed around his digits until you had nothing left to give.

Only then did Mingi remove his hand and lap it all up, humming pleasurably as he did so. He ate you out with eyes closed, truly savoring the taste above all else. And when he finally rejoined you, he was hard.

"M-Mingi! I'm gonna cum!" he teased you with an amused smirk. You'd said exactly what he had earlier. Of course, he'd find that funny.

You rolled your eyes, and swiped your thumb across his chin, cleaning up where he'd gotten sloppy.

"Open," you whispered and sunk your thumb between his lips, letting him suck it clean. Your breath hitched from how beautiful he looked, and he popped off of it with a peck to your hand.

"Do you still need a minute?" he checked with a soft caress to your cheek.

"No. I want you," you answered and wrapped your legs around him. "But I'm not going to beg."

"Maybe tomorrow then," he shrugged as he sank into you, eyes never leaving your cunt as he looked down to watch you take him.

Inch by agonizing inch he sank in until he bottomed out. Your eyes rolled back and little whimpers escaped your lips. Mingi brushed his hand across your cheek, waiting until you looked ready for more.

"You're so big, Mingi," you whispered while throbbing around him, still adjusting even though you'd fucked multiple times today.

"I know," he said without a hint of amusement. "Are you okay?"

"Mhm," you nodded and shifted your hips, jaw dropping open at the slightest movement. "Keep going."

Mingi was careful. He'd pull his hips all the way back, and sink in slowly again, never being harsh, always watching for any sign of discomfort. But all you felt was full...full and satisfied by his warmth and kindness.

"Harder," you permitted, watching his features become marked by surprise. He tested the waters first, merely picking up speed while being gentle, but when you asked again, he could see you meant it.

He pulled his hips back, and slammed forward, the slap of your skin-on-skin filling the room.

"Mingi!" you squealed in pleasure, gripping his shoulders, and pulling him closer.

"Shit," he whined, surprised you could take him so well. He bullied your cunt with his cock, stabbing it into you repeatedly and watching you come undone beneath him in incoherent whines.

"Fucking perfect," he grunted for the twelfth time that day. He moved faster, sharply ramming into you like he was a needle and you were a balloon ready to pop.

"Kiss me," you urged him. Hands settling on his cheeks to bring his face to yours.

"Beg," he smirked, knowing your fucked out state was the best chance to get what he wanted.

"Mingi, I need you to fucking kiss me, please," you asked shamelessly before pulling his lips to yours.

"God," he whispered in the space of your shared oxygen. "You feel so good around my cock baby. You gonna cum for me again?"

"Mhm," you hummed, heart racing excitedly as he drove you towards that edge. "Once you beg for it."

Mingi smiled into your kiss and pulled away with an amused shake of his head. "Made for me. Fucking made for me," he whispered with another kiss.

At this point his thrusts were sloppy. He had seconds to get yours out of you, and bit his lip, watching where your cunt clenched around him, threatening to pull his release first.

"Why don't you cum for me pretty girl?" he asked.

You looped your hands around his neck with delighted twinkles in your eyes at his attempt. "You can do better than that, Mingi."

"Fuck," he groaned, voice higher, more desperate. "I need you to finish, baby. Need you to cum so I can," he whined, gripping your hips to hold you still as he drove into you for the last time.

"Good boy," you praised with a kiss before spilling onto him again. True to his word, your orgasm made him finish, too. You trembled in each other's arms, bodies frantically offering what little was left to one another.

"I liked that," Mingi confessed between his soft kisses and sweet touches.

"Liked what?" you asked as you ran your fingers through his hair, watching his eyes close as he relaxed into it.

"Being called 'good boy'. Nobody has ever called me that before," he admitted just before pulling out and falling to the bed beside you.

You turned on your side to look at him, noticing the pink in his cheeks from being so vulnerable.

"You can be my 'good boy' if you want," you permitted. "Especially if you beg for it."

4 months later

You and Mingi had done it everywhere...in every room of your place, in every dorm, in every dance studio and recording booth; you had even done it on the elevators and in cars. And you'd tried every single position from missionary to wheelbarrow to weird contortions that should've been impossible.

Some of the things you'd done weren't even in the Kama Sutra yet...and despite all the fucking and lovemaking and animalistic sex...there were things you loved more about him than his dick.

Like now...while lying in bed beside him, Mingi cuddled himself to your chest being the biggest little spoon in existence. He mumbled your name regularly in his sleep as if even in his unconsciousness he couldn't deprive himself of a second without you. 

You ran your fingers through his hair, content to stay in bed with him until he woke up naturally. It was a lazy day...one of the few with no schedules to abide by or concerts to attend. You could just be with him, which was your favorite way to live.

When Mingi finally did wake up, he squeezed you with a yawn and smiled sleepily, eyes still glazed over from rest. "Good morning," he kissed your stomach which was the closest thing to him right now.

"Good morning," you hummed back while continuing to run your fingers through his hair. The feeling always made him shiver which woke him up a lot nicer than any blaring alarm ever could.

"We have a whole day together," he mused as he considered how best to spend it.

"Only about half a day now, Mings. It's already noon," you laughed and watched him jump up in surprise to check the time on his phone. It was, in fact, 12:03.

"Come on!" he urged while tugging your hands. "We can't waste our free day!"

"Hey!" you teased as he pulled you to the closet. "It's not wasted when we're together."

Mingi stopped in his tracks to turn and pull you into a hug instead. "You're right, baby. Time is never wasted when it's spent with you."

Your heart fluttered as you embraced him back, pressing your cheek to his chest where his heart was beating rapidly. You didn't understand how he could still be so turned on and excited by you...then again you felt the same way.

"I love you Mingi," you mumbled into his chest.

"I love you too, baby. So much," he cooed with a soft kiss to your forehead.

Mingi had let the "L-word" slip not even two weeks into being together which for some may have been too soon, but everything just clicked so easily with him. You knew that you loved him right away, because even more than being called a good boy, Mingi just wanted someone to come home to who truly supported him in everything.

"Do you want to walk out to the lake?" he asked. He loved the lake behind the dorms because he could be outside without the stress that someone would ask him for a picture or autograph. It was his happy place.

"Sure," you agreed and stood on your tiptoes to kiss him. Naturally, his hands found your waist while he kissed you back.

"And would you be open to wearing..." he began but you already knew what he wanted to ask.

"The pink sundress?" you finished for him only for him to nod guiltily as if by asking you to do your job in pleasing him was inappropriate.

"Of course I will, baby," you answered and pulled off your satin tank top you'd slept in as you stepped forward to take it off the hanger.

Your bare back was to Mingi, but he sighed happily while watching you. "How did I get so lucky?" he asked as you dropped your matching shorts.

"By rigging the event," you laughed as you slid it over your head, letting him see no more than your backside exposed.

"That's right," he smirked when you turned back around. He was leaning against the doorframe looking so casually sexy that you could've drooled...from between your legs.

"And since you chose my outfit," you trailed off while taking Mingi's hips in your hand and pulling him close. "Can I choose yours?"

"Mmm," he pretended to consider it, but he always gave in whenever you asked him something. Mingi was a big softie no matter how rough he looked on stage. "What did you have in mind?"

"Faded jeans," you whispered first with a squeeze to his ass those very same jeans would cover. "And your white t-shirt that you have on right now," you smirked as you ran your hands up his chest and torso. "And then, since it's a little cold today and you have me in a dress, your brown leather jacket that I plan to steal."

"I do love the way you look in my clothes," he smirked as he pulled you with him to his closet. The two of you were inseparable. Even at events when most of the other guys left their pets at home, Mingi always brought you, claiming you were the only one who could do his hair right.

Mingi was a tease while he changed. He jokingly danced and slid his pants lower before tossing them at you. When he tugged the jeans on the zipper got caught on his bulge and you laughed before helping him tuck it all away.

"Maybe I need some bigger pants," he laughed as he did the button.

"Or a smaller dick," you joked.

"Never," he laughed and slid the jacket on before taking your hand.

The two of you slid on some easy sandals by the door and were off. The elevator down was comfortable with an easy silence and the outside welcomed you with whistling birds and warm sunlight. The slight chill of the wind blew by making you shiver a little, and Mingi, as always, handed over his coat.

"Thank you," you accepted it and took his hand again. He slowed his strides so you could keep up and didn't spend much time looking at the lake in favor of watching you. You could feel his eyes and were sure he knew what you were thinking...knew of the secret you'd yet to tell him.

"Mingi," you sighed and stopped your walk. "I have something to tell you."

Mingi stopped, too, and turned with an equally nervous expression. "I have something to tell you too."

"Okay you first," you permitted, your hands sweating in his.

"No you," he said as he took your other hand.

You swallowed anxiously and nodded while squeezing his fingers. "I'm..." you began, but paused as the word caught in your throat.

"Let's get married," Mingi blurted out.

"Pregnant," you confessed at the same time.

"You're pregnant?" he gasped in awe.

"You want to get married?" you spoke over him in complete shock

"Yes," you both said together.

"Mingi," you placed your hand on his cheek. "I'd love to marry you, baby. But is that still..."

"Yes," he interrupted. "Yes, I still want to marry you."

"But...I'm pregnant, Mings," you repeated, watching his eyes light up at the nickname as always.

"I sort of knew, but I wasn't sure," he admitted shyly. "It's why I kept kissing your stomach in the morning."

"H-how did you know?" you asked.

"Well...you haven't let me see your stomach in a while..." he said. "And we've had sex for like...two months straight without you having a period."

"Oh..." you mumbled, realizing you hadn't kept the secret well at all. "Well...is that why you want to marry me? Because that's not a good enough reason Mingi. You deserve to have true love. Not a situation that made you feel like you had to take on that responsibility."

"I am in love," he smiled sweetly. "And I didn't know at all when I bought this," Mingi reached into his pocket and pulled out a little box. "I grabbed it when the sweatpants were in your face," he laughed as he presented it and got down on one knee.

"Mingi..." you began to cry, tears welling faster than you could wipe them.

"(Y/n)," Mingi began with teary eyes and a smile so wide it was brighter than the sun. "I love you. I've known I loved you since the second I saw you and decided I needed you, and I've fallen more in love with you every day. And I know this is fast, but why should we wait to be happier?"

You squeezed his hand in response, completely agreeing.

"Will you allow me the privilege of getting to call you my wife? Will you marry me?" he asked.

Before he could even finish his sentence you were nodding, and repeating, "Yes, absolutely. Yes!" over and over again.

Mingi slipped the ring onto your finger and got up excitedly. You wrapped your arms around him and jumped onto his waist, letting him spin you around.

The kiss was magical, a promise that you would love him forever and that he'd do the same.

"Get a room," Jongho joked as he walked by, but you both ignored it. Nothing could ruin this moment.

"You're going to be a mom," he whispered eagerly when he pulled away and set you down.

"And you're going to be a dad," you grinned through happy tears while holding his hand.

A/N: just wrote this cause I kept thinking about about their cock sizes and how they’re both big, but yunho is definitely bigger so it’s harder for mingi to take all of him in his mouth. it turns mingi on but frustrates him at the same time. plus I needed to post something just to dip my toe back into the writing pool so did this real quick, enjoy ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊

The house was still. Only the low burble of the automatic coffee machine filled the quiet, a soft hum that grounded Mingi in the rhythm of morning. He yawned, rubbed at his eyes, and stretched. His muscles ached from sleep, his throat dry from breathing through his mouth. He padded barefoot down the hallway, making his way to the kitchen.

He sat two mugs on the counter — one for him, one for Yunho.

He poured the first cup, black and fragrant, then carried it back toward the bedroom. He wasn’t in a rush. He just wanted to see him again. Yunho always slept deeply, limbs everywhere, mouth slack and soft. Mingi loved him most like that — unguarded, peaceful.

But when he pushed the door open, the coffee nearly slipped from his fingers.

Yunho had kicked the sheets off in his sleep — as usual — but this time, he was on his back, one arm tossed over his head, chest rising and falling with slow, even breaths. His legs were slightly parted. And nestled against his thigh, bold and obscene, was his cock — hard. Thick. Leaking. Pressed along the skin like it belonged there.

Mingi stopped in the doorway, breath catching. Heat flushed over him fast and sharp. His mouth watered.

“Fuck,” he whispered, eyes locked on the sight.

He knew he shouldn’t. Yunho was still asleep, unaware. But Mingi couldn’t look away. That gorgeous length, the twitch of it against Yunho’s thigh, the soft sound of his snoring in the background — it was too much.

He set the mug down. Quiet. Careful.

Then sank to his knees at the edge of the bed.

His hands shook just a little as he reached out, brushing his fingers lightly along the base. Yunho didn’t stir — just shifted slightly, letting out a low breath through his nose. Mingi bit his lip, eyes wide. He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the tip, tongue flicking out to taste the bead of slick already gathered there.

God, he was so big. Mingi’s jaw ached just looking at him.

But this? This was a chance. A moment to practice, to take his time — to prove to himself he could do better. That he could take more.

His lips parted as he slowly began to sink down, deliberate and eager.

Mingi exhaled through his nose, eyes fluttering shut as he slowly eased his mouth farther down. His tongue flattened beneath the weight, guiding Yunho’s cock as he worked it deeper, stretching his jaw. He gagged softly, but didn’t stop — never even considered stopping. He pulled back only slightly, spit-slick and focused, then sank down again, hand gripping the base and stroking in rhythm with his mouth.

Breathing heavy now, tongue out, spit pooling on Yunho’s skin. Mingi’s thighs clenched with every low moan he made, each one vibrating through Yunho’s length as he worked him over with aching devotion.

He wanted to be good.

He wanted to take it all.

A deep breath. Then another glide down. He was dripping now, half from arousal, half from the effort of it all — so turned on it was almost dizzying.

And then Yunho shifted.

A soft grunt. The twitch of his hips.

Then a sharp inhale.

Mingi froze for half a second — just long enough to look up, wet lips still wrapped around the head of Yunho’s cock.

Yunho’s eyes cracked open, unfocused at first, until they landed on the view below him.

And then his entire body tensed.

His toes curled against the sheets. One hand flew into Mingi’s hair, gripping tight but not forcing — just holding. His mouth fell open around a sound between a moan and a gasp.

“Mingi— fuck. Baby.”

Mingi moaned around him in response, tongue swirling, cheeks hollowing as he took him deeper again. Yunho’s head dropped back, his abs tightening, the sound he made fully wrecked and breathless.

“You’re… fuck— you’re such a good princess,” he groaned, fingers curling in Mingi’s hair like he never wanted to let go. “Look at you… taking me so well…”

Mingi whimpered at the praise, cock throbbing untouched beneath him. The word princess went straight to his spine, molten and bright. His hips rocked slightly against the bed as he sucked harder, tongue relentless, tears slipping from the corners of his eyes.

“You wanted this bad, huh?” Yunho whispered, breath ragged, voice thick with sleep and arousal. “Didn’t even wake me up first…”

Mingi moaned again — a broken, desperate sound that made Yunho’s hips jerk.

Yunho looked down at him, eyes dark and soft all at once. “You’re making me feel so good, baby. So fucking good.”

The praise made Mingi even more greedy, the fire in his belly catching fast. He was confidently sucking his boyfriend off without getting flustered, taking more of him down his throat than he ever had before.

The large fist in his hair tightened, Yunho’s eyes glazing over as he watched Mingi choke himself trying to take him deeper. “My pretty boy,” he hummed proudly, “nearly swallowing my whole cock, aren’t you?”

Mingi lifted his face, silvery strings drawing from Yunho’s erection to his plump pink lips, as the younger licked sweetly at the salty flesh, basking in satisfaction and hunger.

And that was before Yunho started fucking his throat.

© written by teezslvt— do not steal or claim as your own 𓆩♡𓆪