rules: 18+ ONLY -- not taking requests at this time -- do not copy, repost, translate, or otherwise use my work in any fashion -- you are responsible for your own media consumption -- pornbots fuck off
important to note: i am not organized enough to bother with a taglist -- this is an RPF blog -- characterizations of real people do not represent the actual person but rather an idealized or otherwise creative interpretation of their public persona -- if you don't like RPF i do not care -- topics to vary but currently include k-pop bands -- will be exploring taboo topics so read at your own risk
Title: Rescue
Rating: Explicit
WC: 5844
Pairing: Mingi x AFAB Reader
TW: Mild angst; attempted coercion
The man at the bar was absolutely relentless. You had declined the drink he brought you and tried to exit the conversation a half dozen times but he just wouldn’t let up.
“We could get out of here,” he offered with what you knew he must assume was a charming smile. “My place isn’t far. Great views.”
You offered a polite but strained smile in return. “Thanks, but I’ll stay. Going to dance a little more tonight.”
His smile grew. “Perfect!” he agreed, reaching for your hand. “Let’s hit the dance floor, get our grind on!”
You closed your eyes for a moment and drew in a deep breath. You were trying so hard to be polite; as an outsider in the k-pop scene, there was an especially great amount of scrutiny on your actions and you had to be careful. You couldn’t recall the smarmy man’s name, but you knew he was important, and he could make or break this new direction in your career. You shouldn’t even have been out in the club – none of you should – but you’d been desperate for some kind of break after working nonstop for months.
You probably should have dressed better at that, but the strapless pastel pink corseted top did wonders for your complexion and the short black pleated skirt made your legs look amazing. A girl did have a little pride in appearance, after all.
“I’m sorry,” you finally sputtered out, tugging your hand away from where he had gripped it. “I’m actually here with someone. Thank you, though.”
His eyes narrowed. “That so?” he asked. “We’ve been here a good ten minutes and you’re still all alone.” He looked like he wanted to say more, but the arm that snaked around your waist from behind clearly gave him pause.
You didn’t flinch or even glance back. The motion alone was really all you would need to tell you who it was, but the bright and spicy scent of his cologne combined with the tinge of sweat from the dancefloor and even the cadence of his breathing was so familiar as to make it unmistakable: <i>Mingi</i>.
His presence would have been enough to send the other man running, looming a good 15 centimeters over the other, but it seemed Mingi was determined to make a point. Gaze fixed on the interloper, he leaned down and dropped a soft kiss on your bare shoulder.
You shivered.
“Problem here?” he asked, pulling you flush against his chest.
“Not at all,” you told him, peering up at him with a small smile before turning your own gaze back towards your unwanted suitor. “The gentleman brought me a drink but I let him know I couldn’t accept.”
Mingi glanced at the bar where the untouched glass sat, some dark concoction that looked just a mite too fizzy after sitting for so long. Turning his gaze back to the man who had been vying for your attention, he reached out with his free hand and picked it up, tipping it over to empty into the well behind the bar.
“She’s taken care of,” Mingi said firmly.
The man glared and swore under his breath before stalking away.
Mingi watched until the man was completely out of sight before relaxing and dropped his arm, grinning at you when you turned to face him.
“Thank you,” you breathed out with a sigh. “He was such a sleaze.”
Mingi nodded with a sympathetic glance. “Sorry,” he told you. “Should not have let you go off alone like that. Some of the people here are… not nice.”
“Vero,” you agreed, nodding, then amended to say, “Too true!”
Mingi gave you another grin at the slip.
Two years prior, the boys – your <i>ragazzi</i>, as you liked to call them – Mingi and the rest of his group, had been on a tour stop in Tuscany while you were in the studio cutting your second album. The first had launched you to fame as the premiere pop princess of Italy and you were nervous about your sophomore effort, wanting to incorporate more musical styles, including a lovely ballad written for two. Tananai was supposed to record with you but had been put on vocal rest by his doctor at the worst possible time.
Your manager scrambled together a miracle, calling in a few favors and making a few promises to get Mingi’s bandmate, San, into the studio at the last minute. It never became a single but it was considered one of the best tracks on the album and a couple videos of live performances at festival shows that had booked both you and Ateez had gotten a lot of hits online. It somehow snowballed into a strong friendship with all of your <i>ragazzi</i>, but especially close with Mingi. It was a funny sort of friendship, the two of you communicating mostly in English, a second language for the both of you but the only one you had in common.
Your early text messages were almost exclusively emojis back and forth, before you both became more comfortable and could speak without worry of making errors. You had been fascinated to see the softer, almost goofy side to him that came out when he was relaxed with friends, and found you enjoyed it very much. Just being around him tended to put you in a good mood, and you seemed to have the same effect on him.
Good thing, too, as he always seemed to show up just when you needed a knight in shining armor.
You’d finally had a gap in your schedule recently and decided a visit to Seoul was in order, spending much of your time hidden away from the public to enjoy some quiet, but you’d just gotten an itch under your skin to go out and dance and Mingi, San, and Yunho had readily agreed. They’d had to be careful about it and you did too, knowing any chance of a crossover market to k-pop fans would rise and fall with the reputation you might develop, but Yunho had been certain he’d found a club with a squeaky clean reputation and less of a likelihood of paparazzi.
Pity his preparations hadn’t also screened for creeps.
“We can get out of here?” you asked hopefully. You were tired and your feet hurt in your stylish boots. Plus, it might do well to make an escape. “Before he comes back?”
Mingi nodded. “Let’s go,” he agreed, engulfing your hand in his and using the other to text San and Yunho, who were still out in the crowd, as you walked towards the door.
You breathed a sigh of relief and took a moment to think about everything that had happened – the sleazy guy, the drink that most assuredly had something dosed in it, Mingi’s rescue and… and…
You shivered again just to think of it.
He’d never done that before, not like that. Not so… possessive. Mingi’s height and ability to adopt a stoic persona made him an imposing figure, even without saying a word. He’d slipped an arm around your waist before but usually when you were alone or just with his bandmates, goofing around, having fun. Never quite so publicly.
And he’d never, ever kissed you, not on a bare shoulder, not like that. Not like anything, really. Not ever.
You didn’t know if he noticed the way a shiver crept down your spine when you felt the press of his lips to the bare skin of your shoulder and the way his hair hung down when he dipped his head, soft silky tendrils brushing against your neck.
You didn’t know if he felt the goosebumps rise on your skin, there beneath the softness of his lips.
You didn’t know if he registered the way your heart started beating a little faster.
And it was ridiculous, you thought, because it was just Mingi. You’d always thought if anyone got your blood running a little hotter, it would have been San or Wooyoung. They were an attractive group, to be sure, and spending time with them, getting to know their personalities, had been fun. The fact that you had clicked so well with Mingi was, well, just the way it was. He was your <i>friend</i>. Probably the best you had these days, as you thought about it.
Maybe you were just overthinking things. Maybe you’d had one drink too many or been cold or just relieved at his presence. It was a silly thing to obsess over. Wasn’t it?
By the time you made it to the club entrance, you had managed to calm yourself. It took Mingi only moments to arrange for a car and you shivered at the chill in the air as you watched him speak to the doorman before returning to you with a smile.
Just as quickly as it had surfaced, his smile fell. “Shit,” he muttered. Nodding his head towards the doors, he said, “My coat.”
You nodded, gesturing for him to run inside and retrieve it. It would take a little time for the car to arrive and the club entrance was crowded enough that you weren’t nervous to be standing alone. What could happen, after all?
Of course, as soon as Mingi had disappeared inside the doors, your unwanted suitor from the bar appeared at your side, expression sharp and predatory.
“Where’s your knight in shining armor now?” he asked, voice taking on a cruel teasing tone as he spoke.
You frowned at him. “Leave me alone,” you told him with a glare.
He only smiled, ducking his head a little and dropping the tone of his voice as he spoke. “I know who you are,” he told you, reaching to grip your forearm. “I can make things very difficult for you, if you don’t play nice.”
You gritted your teeth. “Let me go,” you told him, struggling to escape his grip.
He was right, of course; he had contacts and connections that you didn’t have, and it would probably take only a word or two for him to completely ruin your prospects in the local music market. But what he was suggesting… you just couldn’t.
He squeezed your arm playfully. “I said <i>play nice</i>,” he told you. “They’re bringing my car up. You’ll come back to my place and we can… <i>discuss</i> things there.”
Then that scent hit you: bright citrus and spice. And you knew you were saved.
Mingi’s hand engulfed the man’s wrist and he yanked the interloper’s touch from your forearm, an expression of disgust clouding his normally friendly features.
“Can’t take ‘no’ for an answer?” Mingi asked, tone as frigid as the night air.
The man glared. “Stay out of this,” he responded, pulling his wrist out of Mingi’s grip. “Turn around and walk away, if you know what’s good for you.”
Mingi’s stony expression didn’t even flicker. “Not going to happen,” he replied.
You were so used to the soft, friendly side of Mingi that you hadn’t even noticed how imposing he could look, tall and strong, wearing his dark jeans, a navy blue shirt, and a black coat. The sleaze who had been intent on harassing you seemed to see it too, and took a step backwards.
He turned his gaze towards you. “I meant what I said,” he told you. “You know what I can do for you… or <i>to</i> you.”
Mingi glared at him. “Kkeojyeo,” he growled. Startled, the other man glanced at Mingi and then back at you, clearly weighing his options.
“Stronzo!” you added, forgetting for a moment that he wouldn’t know the word. At the least, you thought in retrospect, he’d understand by voice and by demeanor what you meant.
In the end, he did exactly what you expected: he chickened out. He swore back at Mingi, a phrase you didn’t recognize, and stalked towards the curb where his car was already waiting.
You breathed a sigh of relief, forgetting for the moment that you were in the public eye, and turned towards Mingi, leaning against the hard planes of his chest to center yourself. The fear draining from your system was almost exhausting, and he seemed to recognize it, wrapping his coat around the both of you while you waited.
“I’m sorry,” Mingi mumbled. “I shouldn’t have left you. I thought he was gone.”
You tipped your head up to look at him and smiled. “So did I,” you replied. “You were here when I needed you. That’s all that matters.”
You stayed there close to Mingi until the car he had hired arrived and you took his hand in your own without thinking as you moved to get inside. He opened the door for you and guided you in with a hand on the small of your back, following you to slide into the back seat beside you. He gave the driver his own address and you didn’t even flinch.
It wouldn’t be the first time you spent the night with your <i>ragazzi</i>. You spent a good amount of time in their private spaces since becoming friends; it was easier that way, when you were visiting. Stepping out seemed to bring only complications, just as it had that night. So you visited their homes, watched films, played games, cooked, goofed around… it was nice. More often than not, you’d fall asleep and wake up tucked into someone’s bed, with its usual owner camped out on the floor nearby.
It felt more real than any other friendships you’d made since you’d first become a part of the entertainment machine that was the music industry. It was as though they had adopted you in a way, a token little sister to tagalong. It made you happy that they so enjoyed having you around.
You rode in silence until the car arrived at the home Mingi shared with San and Seonghwa. Mingi spoke quietly with the driver before discreetly handing him a good deal of cash; hush money, you thought, so there would be no whispers about Song Mingi bringing a girl home late at night. It wasn’t the first time you’d seen one of your <i>ragazzi</i> do it.
The quiet continued as you stepped inside, slipping out of your boots at the door and noting the dim lights inside. San was still at the club, and if Seonghwa was home, he must have been asleep, leaving only a few low lights on for the others’ return. You breathed a sigh of relief to be free of the boots and padded after Mingi in bare feet as he headed straight for his bedroom.
He flicked on a desk lamp, leaving it mostly dark, and tossed his laptop on the bed before turning towards his dressers.
“Want to find us something to watch?” he asked, retrieving a t-shirt and a pair of sweat pants for himself. “I’m going to change… you want a shirt or something?”
“I’m good,” you said with a shrug. Your outfit was surprisingly comfortable without the boots and you didn’t feel like you had the energy to do so much as brush out your hair before crawling into Mingi’s bed. “I’ll find a movie.”
Mingi gave a small smile and a nod before turning towards his private bathroom and disappearing inside. You took the momentary seclusion to strip out of your tights and stuff them into your purse, reveling for a moment in the feel of your bare feet on the floor before flipping open the laptop, smiling to yourself as you quickly typed in his password: fixon1999.
He’d last used it to watch something it seemed, as it opened to a streaming site, and you perused the titles to find something you thought he’d like. The site had one of your favorites, a silly 1980s comedy that had become something of a comfort film for you, and you couldn’t resist setting it up to play, waiting for Mingi to return before pressing play. You slipped into the cool sheets while you waited, head resting on a pillow that carried that same familiar scent of citrus and spice that you loved so well.
Mingi returned a moment later, white t-shirt and grey sweatpants replacing his club attire, smelling of soap and clean water from washing his face. He didn’t hesitate to slide into the bed beside you, though you knew full well he’d retreat to the floor once you had fallen asleep. You hadn’t noticed him do it, but he’d already thrown a spare pillow and blanket there beside his night table.
“Did you find anything?” he asked, turning onto his side so that you face one another, the laptop on the bed between you.
“Yeah, go ahead and start it,” you told him, and Mingi laughed when he saw the title on the screen.
“This one again?” he asked.
“You like it too,” you replied, and he chuckled again. You’d made him watch it so many times; you knew he’d grown as fond of it as you were.
You watched him watching the movie, the light from the screen flashing across his features as the scene changed. You loved seeing him like this, all soft and relaxed. When Mingi was <i>on</i>, when he wore his public persona like a mask to flirt and perform for fans, he was electric. You’d never say it wasn’t an amazing thing to see, the part of him that was pure performer, all voice and mannerisms and movement designed to keep an audience spellbound.
But you still liked this best, when it was quiet and you were alone, no one for him to cater to, no audience to entertain. When every smile was genuine and every laugh pure gold. When he’d relax and his beautiful hands would lazily play with the hem of his shirt or a stray thread on a sheet, when he’d absently move closer to share in your warmth, fingers sometimes reaching to right a loose tendril of your hair and straying to touch the softness of your cheek before they withdrew.
You were still watching him instead of the film, the way the low light played over the slope of his nose and the shape of his brow. Watching as he absently licked his lips, so pretty and plush even without the cosmetics that you knew so many idols relied on to make them look just so. You started thinking about that kiss again, how casual and natural it seemed for him to do it, to just brush those perfect lips across your skin like he did it all the time.
The way it made you wonder what they’d feel like pressed against yours.
“Mingi?” you asked, voice hardly above a whisper.
“Mmm?” came the reply, eyes flicking from the screen to your face.
“You… you kissed me,” you said, voice shaking just a little.
“Yes,” he agreed, nodding as best as he could with his head on a pillow. “I’m sorry. Did I do something wrong?”
“No,” you told him, lapsing into silence as you were unsure how to continue.
“I wanted him to leave you alone,” Mingi went on. There was a certain ache of anxiety creeping into his voice, as though he felt the need to explain himself and his actions. “I thought… if I did that, it would look… he’d think… ulineun deiteu jung-iya… you were, uh, taken.”
“It’s fine,” you assured him, and reached to give his hand a quick squeeze. “I was just surprised. We’ve never… you’ve never kissed me before, Mingi.”
He frowned at you. “I have, all the time,” he told you, and touched you gently on the cheek. “Here. Lots of time.”
You quirked a small smile. It was true, he did often lean to greet you that way, but he’d just press his cheek briefly against yours and make a soft noise with his lips as though he were giving you a peck. You’d always found it charming; it was as though he wanted to share affection at seeing you but didn’t want to cross a line you weren’t comfortable with.
Which made what he had done that night all the more intriguing.
“Not really, though,” you corrected, and he cast his gaze away from yours.
You watched the slow crawl of a rosy pink blush bloom in his cheeks, creeping out to drift down his chest and to the tips of his ears. You tried not to grin; sweet and a little shy, this was your favorite Mingi, the one so few got to see.
“You could, you know,” you told him softly, watching as his eyes widened and his gaze snapped back to yours. “Kiss me, I mean.”
Mingi watched you for a long moment, before reaching out to drag his knuckles gently across your cheek.
“Here?” he asked.
“Yes,” you agreed. “If you want to.”
“What about here?” Mingi asked, letting his touch drift down your cheek and slide down the slope of your neck to land at that tingly spot on your shoulder.
You shivered. “I’d like that,” you admitted, your heart hammering so hard in your rib cage that you were certain he must hear it. He certainly felt it; you could see the way the rise and fall of his chest quickened.
“What about…” he began, fingers starting to trail up your throat.
“Mingi,” you said plaintively, shocking even yourself with the whine in your voice. “Please, Mingi, kiss me.”
That was all it took for him to close the distance between you, laptop shoved out of the way and snapping shut as it fell to the carpet with a dull thud. Neither of you cared, film completely forgotten, the weight of this moment all that mattered.
You closed your eyes, expecting to feel the press of his lips against yours, drawing in a sharp gasp when instead you felt them against that spot on your shoulder he had used to stake his claim earlier that night. He didn’t stop there, dropping soft kisses in a continuing trail up your shoulder and throat to your cheek, where for the first time he left a real kiss high on your cheekbone before turning his attention to your lips.
Mingi murmured your name before tilting his head and placing his lips so gently against yours that you thought you might die then and there. His hand, large and warm, reached up to cup your face and you shivered at the touch, unable to stop yourself from grasping at the thin material of his shirt. You needed him closer, to feel what you had in that reckless moment outside of the club when you pressed close to his strong frame seeking safety. You wanted more than safety now; you wanted everything.
He kept pressing chaste kisses to your mouth, over and over until your lips felt almost bruised but you didn’t want him to stop. When he whispered <i>nae sarang</i>, you didn’t need to speak the language to understand what he was saying; when a moment later you felt the soft brush of his tongue against the seam of your lips, you were more than ready to allow the breach.
Mingi tasted faintly of whiskey and something sweet, something you became addicted to all too quickly. You tugged at his shirt without even realizing, whining when he pulled away just for a moment to drag it over his head and toss it away. You saw only a glimpse of his toned chest in the darkened room before he was pulling you back into his arms and pressing tight against you, but it was more than enough to set your pulse fluttering wildly.
The thin sweatpants he wore did little to hide his excitement and you suppressed a gasp when you felt him hot and hard against your thigh through the fabric. It only confirmed what you had already suspected in the back of your mind – that Mingi’s height wasn’t the only area where his size exceeded standards. You rolled your hips in a low grind against him and were rewarded with a groan into your kiss that drew goosebumps across your skin.
Mingi pulled away just a little, panting as he pressed his forehead against yours.
“You sure?” he asked breathlessly. “You want this?”
“Si, si, ti voglio,” you gasped. “I want you, Mingi.”
He reached for the hook and eye closure at the front of your corset top, swearing under his breath at the sight of so many latches to be undone, and you smiled, taking one of his hands in yours and guiding it to your back.
“That’s decoration,” you said with a gentle laugh, helping his searching fingers find the hidden zipper at the back of your top. He leaned in to kiss you again as he slowly dragged the zipper down, the boned structure of the top falling slack against your skin until his large hand swiped it away.
It was his turn to gasp, not realizing that you had worn nothing more than your favorite perfume beneath the top, his fingertips meeting only the softness of your skin. You couldn’t help the way your nipples went hard and pebbled at so light a touch, any more than Mingi could help himself from breaking your kiss to duck and taste the newly revealed skin of your breasts.
You were lost in it, head thrown back, chest heaving with every breath. Mingi was a master at this, those pretty lips and nimble tongue finding every spot to touch and taste and tweak to drive you absolutely out of your mind. You could have come just from this; you were nearly there already, faint little shudders riding up and down your spine when he pressed a soft kiss to your breastbone before peppering your ribs and moving down to the soft pad of skin just above your navel.
“All of you,” Mingi whispered, hand already at the button on the side of your skirt as he looked up at you with wide beseeching eyes. “Want to taste all of you.”
You nodded, reaching to push your fingers through his hair. “Yes, anything… anything you want,” you gasped, and he groaned at the thought of it.
Mingi groaned at the very thought of that, of you being his to touch and tease and use any which way he pleased, and made short work of the buttons on your skirt until it fell open against the sheets. He leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss against the pale blue satin of your panties before reaching to pull them down your thighs and off your legs, tossing them away with little care.
“Beautiful,” he whispered into your skin, kissing his way back up your thigh. “My beautiful girl. My good girl.”
He seemed to know every word to say to set your blood rushing. You whined and were about to tug at his hair when he gave in and gave you what you had been waiting for.
You didn’t mean for the cry that slipped from your lips to be quite so sharp or loud, but you couldn’t help yourself. His kisses had been exquisite but this… this was masterful. It seemed to come as second nature, Mingi too lost in the moment to be plotting out every lick, every suckle at your most tender flesh. He was groaning in time with the rhythm of his tongue, the vibrations sending your eyes rolling back in your head as your gasps and moans flitted from one language to the next, too overcome to think clearly.
It was the press of his long fingers inside of you that brought you home, the orgasm thundering through your body like a stampede of sensation, only his name on your lips when you reached that perfect height. You were still panting in the comedown when you opened your eyes and saw Mingi staring up at you, eyes dark and glittering.
“Can I have you?” he whispered, lips still shining and slick. “Can I have all of you?”
You gave a feverish nod, beckoning him up and letting out a gasp when he surged forward to kiss you. The taste of your own arousal was still on his lips but you didn’t care; all that mattered was the sweet sounds of his groans and the heat of his body pressed against yours. It felt so natural, the way your thighs spread to allow him between, the way his eyes stayed set on yours even as he pushed inside and his mouth dropped open at the pleasure of it. He moved so slowly that you almost weren’t certain if he was teasing, but the blissed out expression made it clear enough that he needed the time to keep from letting go too soon. You panted in time, the sheer size of his cock and the tightness of your body blending together in mind-blending pleasure that would have seemed unreal had it been anyone else.
But this was Mingi. <i>Your</i> Mingi. And this was everything you had been dreaming of in the quiet, secret part of your heart that you never dared give voice.
Mingi whispered your name as he bottomed out inside of you, a sense of awe to his tone as he followed it with, “My perfect girl…”
He tried to go slow; you knew he did. You could see the concentration on his face, the beads of sweat forming on his brow as he did his best to hold back. Slow fluid thrusts of his hips had you ready to fly again in no time but you needed more, and you knew he did too. You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him in impossibly close.
“Please, Mingi,” you gasped, not having the words to say what you wanted. It didn’t matter; he understood immediately, capturing your lips in a ferocious kiss before planting one hand on the padded headboard of his bed and really letting loose.
All thoughts of quiet and subtlety vanished when Mingi began pounding his cock into you like his life depended on it – like <i>your</i> life depended on it. It felt like it did, really, like you wouldn’t survive another moment without this, being covered and surrounded and <i>filled</i> with Mingi in a way you’d only been able to dream of in the past. The bed was groaning, scraping against the floor with his chaotic rhythm, moans and cries of his name falling from your lips with wild abandon.
Mingi was talking too, grunts of your name sounding out between half-groaned phrases in mixes of English and Korean. Even when you didn’t understand the words, you knew the intent behind them, nipping and kissing at his full lips to try and return the sentiment in the only way you could. It wasn’t long before you felt the pressure inside beginning to build once more, gasping his name and begging him not to stop, to bring you back to that glorious height once more. When he leaned down and bit your shoulder, right where he had kissed you so brazenly in the club, you couldn’t hold back anymore.
You came with a wail of his name, legs tightening around his waist in an unconscious effort to keep him as close as you could. Mingi panted, still thrusting, riding you through your orgasm until it all became too much, hips pumping hard and then stilling as deep as he could when he finally spilled inside of you.
Mingi didn’t seem to want to let you go, rolling you both to the side but keeping his arms right around you, kissing and nuzzling and whispering praises until you had to laugh softly and push at his shoulders for him to let you go. You slipped out of the bed and into his bathroom, unable to keep from grinning at your reflection in spite of the running mascara and messy hair. When you’d finished you returned to the bed, noting the way he had watched you uncertainly at first but then smiled when you slid in next to him.
He said your name softly and you shook your head, kissing him softly on the lips. “Sleep now,” you told him, feeling the sudden return of your exhaustion. “Talk tomorrow, yes?”
Mingi nodded. “Yes,” he agreed, casting an eye towards the pillow and blanket he had thrown to the floor as though you might kick him out of bed at any moment. You snuggled against his chest and slipped a leg between his in a silent bid to ask him to stay; you felt him sigh softly before wrapping his arms around you and settling in to sleep.
You woke up late. There were sounds of movement outside the door but you did your best to ignore them, not wanting to leave the little bubble you and Mingi had created. It was strange, you thought, that no one had bothered to wake you; usually one of the other <i>ragazzi</i> would burst into whatever room you had claimed for the evening to rouse you, dragging you out to tea and breakfast and the general madness that was their day to day life.
But not, you realized, when you stayed in Mingi’s room. It made you blush to think of it, that they had seen something you hadn’t, all this time. That they gave you your space just in case something might happen between you, because they had known it was inevitable all of this time.
You smiled to watch Mingi asleep beside you, breath slow and even, eyelashes fanning over his cheeks. You wanted to kiss the little beauty marks on his face, and then kiss his lips, and then… You drew in a soft breath. There was still much to talk about, before tumbling into bed together again – even though you were, technically, still in bed together. You had slept facing one another, barely drifting apart in the night, his heavy arm slung over your waist to hold you close.
“Credo di essermi innamorata di te,” you whispered.
To your surprise, Mingi opened his eyes, a soft dreamy smile coming to his face. “I know what that means,” he told you.
You raised your eyebrows even as you smiled. “How?” you asked.
The arm at your waist moved, his large hand reaching up to drift first across the love bite he had left on your shoulder and then to cup your face.
“I looked it up,” he admitted, blushing just a little. “So I’d know how to say it to you.”
Your heart leapt for joy in your chest and you leaned in close to kiss him, unable to help yourself; perhaps you didn’t have all that much you needed to talk about after all.
When his dormmates did bother to try and rouse you both with a knock at the door sometime later, you were too lost in one another to even respond.
it’s always extra special when someone leaves a kudos or comment on one of your older fics. like you’re telling me you scrolled all the way down/filtered through all the works in the fandom and clicked on my fic, even though it was posted months and months ago? and you LIKED IT? you showed it some love even though it’s been collecting dust for months?
and this, everyone, is how you make a writer‘s entire week.
tags: sensitive topics on religion, coercion, praise, loss of innocence, pet names (pretty baby, lamb, love, etc.) corruption, unprotected sex(yikes), religious guilt, pleasure dom mingi, oral (f! receiving), cheating, eye contact, mentions of breeding, talking you through it, NOT PROOFREAD. (Like at all, sorry for any spelling mistakes)
summary: you had been sheltered all your life, shamed at the mere thought of any sinful indulgences. but you were out on your own now, with a kindhearted boyfriend who gave you everything you wanted, but not the one thing you craved. you needed counseling, but you get way more than just a therapy session
wc: 7.3k
notes: former Christian here and expressing her issues with her religious experience through smut (Hello?)
“in the crooks of your body, I find my religion.”
tracklist- gibson girl, glory box, the death of peace of mind
ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀᴘᴘʀᴇᴄɪᴀᴛᴇᴅ!
Frankly, from the beginning, you thought it was out of the ordinary. And you had to give yourself credit for the fact that this was indeed your last resort.
For the past 10 years, you’ve struggled with a deep-seated shame in yourself. Growing up sheltered and with a family that valued innocence and chastity. Basically, celibacy was the only way to live your life without sin. While being raised that way was damaging on its own, after having left the church once you got out on your own, it followed you. The guilt...
It was instilled at a young age that anything along the lines of adultery is sinful and is to be utterly ashamed of. And even though those ideals are not ones you wholeheartedly live by anymore, ideas that you lived with for such a long time tend to stick. Old habits die hard, you guess.
So when you had your very first boyfriend, a young, kind, smart guy you had met in your public speaking class, you thought this was your chance. To break through and not let the chains of the past hold you back from experiencing new things.
When you guys had your first kiss, it went fine. He respected your boundaries, made sure to understand that you were kind of fragile. To be careful with you. You can't ask for better. But one issue is that he never ever tried anything further than kissing. You two could make out for hours, and it never progressed any further than that.
On one hand, you were relieved that you didn't have to put yourself out there like that so soon, but at the same time, you wondered if you just didn't see yourself in that way. Maybe he didn’t find you pretty enough for sex. Or maybe intimacy just wasn't his thing. You came up with every excuse in the book. Some for yourself on why you won’t just ask him, and some for him as to why he never initiated. This went on for a year. A whole year of dating and not once touching each other.
You felt disgusting. Something must be wrong with you. Your boyfriend never even once suggested anything sexual. It felt like it was all you. You felt perverted, like all you were thinking about was sex. You’d touch yourself at night while he was on his computer, working in the other room. Your pillow in your mouth as you bit to muffle your noises while your fingers explored your body.
Every time after you were done, a strong and hot feeling of dirtiness and guilt washed over you as you realized what you had done.
Touching the rosary on your neck as you stared into the ceiling, breathing heavily, a prayer in the back of your mind raced by as you tried to calm yourself. The sacred jewelry on your neck was a gift from your mother. Something that even though held sick memories and painful reminders, it was just too familiar, and you wouldn't dare part with it.
“I'm not doing anything wrong. This is normal. I'm okay. It's okay. “ But you became addicted, touching yourself until it hurt. Until it burned, but it was never enough. Lust was becoming a drug, and each dose you amped it up, but it never was the high you were searching for.
You decided that after this had been going on for too long, you needed help. You could never tell your boyfriend. You’d be humiliated, and he’d find you repulsive. You searched all over online for a solution to this problem. Sex counselors were a thing, maybe they could help.
Nothing online was helping, article after article. Website after website. It was feeding you all the same redundant information, and none of it was settling the constant disturbance in your gut. You'd find yourself twirling your necklace again, leg bouncing from anxiety. You needed to be somewhere familiar. Somewhere that might ease you.
Slipping on some clothes and gathering your things, you walked out of your room, walking to your boyfriend as he sat at his desk, like always, typing away. You pressed a chaste kiss to his forehead and smiled.
“I'm going out for a little. I’ll be home later.” He gripped your hand a kissed the back of it, squeezing it gently.
“See you later, hun, love you.” He smiled up at you. It felt mocking, even though he meant completely well. He let go, and you walked out the front door. Making your way to your car.
You didn’t know where you were driving, but you were going somewhere. It was like your mind was on autopilot. Your brain clocked out, and your body took you where you wanted to go.
You blinked and found yourself parked at the cathedral you had frequented your whole life. Standing tall and sharp against the stark contrast of the orange and purples that littered the sky as the sun descended behind the steeple.
The wind blew softly, and the streets seemed oddly empty for a Sunday night. The stained glass windows called out a whispering “welcome home” as you stepped out of your car and stared at the beautiful building in front of you. The wind started to become harsher nd began to bite at your skin with the cold. You walked up to the front entrance, purpose in your step as you ascended the stairs and slipped past the doors as quietly as you could.
Immediately, the comfort of silence enveloped you like a warm blanket. The tall ceilings with beautiful murals scrawled on them. Giant glass windows with depictions of different moments in history cast blue, green, and red lights from the setting sun on the altar. And next to it, tucked away in a dark corner in the front of the room. The confessional.
An all too familiar space to you. You forced yourself to drag your eyes away from it as you stepped further into the space, heading for the very first row of pews. You looked around, the church completely empty and the definition of quiet. Just the soft blow of the wind outside. You sat in the first row of pews, taking a moment to just take it all in. You felt safe, clean, and forgiven in here. You sat in that pew for what felt like hours, just basking in the quiet.
When you looked around again, you noticed it had gotten dark outside. The moon shone through the windows. The candles by the altar were the only light in the whole building, casting an eerie orange glow about the church.
And there was one candle in the confessional. It shone like a quiet soul inside that wooden box, seeping through the intricate carved designs on the door. You felt a small tug on your heart, like it was asking to go, to unload all the thoughts and emotions plaguing you. Let them spill free, unabashedly, somewhere to feel forgiven.
So you followed it and walked to the confessional, opening the door with a creak and sitting on the bench. You shut the door behind you, and it seemed like the world around you faded away, within the quietness of the booth. You immediately had the urge to just start talking. To get these things off your chest.
You talked about your guilt.
You talked about your sadness. You talked about your lust, how it was plaguing you all the time. How you felt like your boyfriend didn’t actually love you, and how you felt like a pervert for always wanting to feel good. How it hurts to not feel good. Another 30 minutes spent in the booth trickled by before you decided you needed to head home. You stood before bowing your head. Old habits die hard, like you said. A prayer you remembered began to flow past your lips with the ease of muscle memory. Hands clasped around the rosary and eyes shut tight.
“Merciful Lord, I come before You seeking forgiveness and healing for the sin of lust that dwells within me. I confess my weakness in giving in to impure desires and indulging in lustful thoughts and actions that offend You. Purify my heart, renew my mind, and sanctify my body as Your temple.”
You continued until the prayer was finished. You dropped your hands and turned, opening the door and stepping out.
But as soon as you did, you looked up from the knob and locked eyes with someone. A chill tickled down your spine as you stared past the altar, at a man sitting in the first pew, exactly where you sat for hours before. Wearing a tight, barely fitting sheer white button-up shirt, black pants, and sharp black shoes. His hair was slightly tousled yet still professional in a way. He was hunched over, elbows resting on knees as his hands came up, pressed together like he was praying, the tips of his fingers pressed against his lips. His head was tilted slightly down, while his eyes stayed up, locked directly onto yours.
Your breath hitched, and he didn’t move a muscle. His eyes bore into yours, the orange glow of the candlelight flickered across his features beautifully, and you couldn't look away. You felt small under his gaze as he pinned you down with his stare effortlessly.
Who is that? Why is he here? How long has he been here? Did he somehow hear me?
His hand twitched, then he moved it down, before fully turning his head. He narrowed his eyes. He smiled. He waved.
You felt a lurch in your stomach. He was unbelievably handsome, with the mole under his eye. The charming way his crooked teeth formed the most beautiful smile. The borderline [predatory look in his eyes. He stood and began to walk towards you.
Immediately, you stood up straight and made sure you took a couple of steps away from the confessional, as if you were too close, you would start spilling secrets.
He was right in front of you now, smiling down as the closer got, the smaller you felt.
“Evenin’, I'm sorry, thought I was the only one here tonight, I hope I wasn’t bothering you.” He had a deep, baritone drawl in his voice that felt like ice on your brain. This was not good. Not good at all.
“No, no, you’re completely fine, it's not like I own the place, I was just… visiting.” You smiled nervously, your palms sweating. Even though you were just conversing with one person, you felt like you had millions of eyes on you in the dark, empty church. His gaze alone was already so intense, the ghosts of former church goers seemed to stare at you as if you moved, the floor would cave underneath you.
His eyes traced your body, just for a flicker of a second, you didn’t catch. He caught your gaze again, taking a small barley there step closer to you. His hand rested lazily in his pants pocket. His other hand reached forward to offer a handshake.
“Song Mingi. I'm a counselor at the cathedral. It's a pleasure to meet you, sweet thing.” You smiled as you hesitated, but ultimately brought your hand up to shake his.
“(Name), nice to meet you, Mingi sir.” His hand wrapped around yours, easily swallowing your entire hand up as he shook it firmly, lingering just a little too long.
“So what brings you here so late at night (Name)? Can’t be anything good, right?” He laughs and nudges your shoulder playfully, a little glint of joy in his eyes. While mostly an overwhelming and intense presence, he sure knew how to soften the atmosphere.
You smiled softly and shook your head. “Just… feeling a little weird lately, just thought maybe a visit to somewhere familiar might ease me a little.”
He tilted his head, and his eyes softened as he tsked. “What's going on, if you don’t mind me asking. I am a counselor after all, maybe I can give you some advice.” His smile was genuine, and he seemed like he really just wanted to lift your spirits.
“Well..” You bit your bottom lip, worried, before sitting on the red velvet stairs, resting your forehead on your knees as you hugged them. Mingi followed, sitting on the step a couple below yours, looking up at your face with genuine curiosity all over his face. You took note of the clunky rosary wrapped around his neck, the crucifix sitting directly between his rather protruding pecs that pressed through the thin fabric of his shirt. You tried not to stare too much.
“Its, hard… for me to talk about. I had just been feeling strange lately. Like I can't find rest within myself. I thought maybe coming by my childhood church and just spilling my guts in the confessional would help, but it's just made me realize that what I'm feeling and thinking is real. And not just… I don’t know. I feel like there's some kind of animal in me that just won't sleep. I can't even sleep. I'm always anxious, always guilty, and I somehow can’t even get my boyfriend to validate me when I’m feeling-” Imedicualty, your eyes widened, and you slapped a palm over your mouth in embarrassment, a heat trickling up the back of your neck.
“Sorry.” You whispered. “I started rambling..” You were too out of it to notice that Mingi’s hand had been silently and ever so softly grazing up and down your calf, as if trying to soothe you through this confession.
“You’re perfectly fine, sweetheart. Thank you for feeling alright with telling me.” His hand gave your calf a small squeeze before slipping away from your leg, back on the stairs.
“It sounds like you’re going through a lot right now. You sound tired, so let me tell you something.” You were still looking down from shame, and he softly brought his hand up and tilted your chin upward so he could look into your eyes. That intense stare of his pinning you down like a fawn in headlights, you felt like you were covered in a warm, heavy weighted blanket, like even if you tried to run away, your wouldn’t be able to.
“My doors are always open to counseling sessions.” He points to a door behind the altar. “Over there is a door to my office. By the confessional. I’m here every Sunday, Wednesday, and Friday from 4 to 10, accepting walk ins. If you’d like you can come back and we can try to explore these feelings deeper and see if we can work on getting you some well needed relief.”
You felt a flutter in your stomach at his kindness, but also at the seemingly suggestive way he chose to express his words. Maybe you were really in need of professional help, he was trying to help you, for God’s sake. You nodded, and your eyes flicked to his nose, to his lips, to his chest, back up to his eyes. You felt like you had been caught, a small flicker of something in his eyes, his body shifted slightly, a small pink tongue darting out to wet his lips.
“That sound alright princess?” You took a second, mulling over your thoughts. This could really benefit you. This could fix the unrest in your heart. Fix your relationship with your boyfriend, with yourself.
“I'll stop by.” You smiled, nodding your head once as if in confirmation. “Thank you for listening to me.”
His grin widened and he dropped his voice down to a low whisper, coming a little closer to where you could feel his breath on your ear, his warm, woodsy scent wrapping around you, filling you with him.
“It's my job, sweetheart, no need to thank me.” Now, you may not know too much about people, but one thing you just barely caught was a slight twitch in his soft smile, like his lips wanted to smile wider, but he stopped himself. A look in his eyes that held a secret. A desire. It was odd, you felt so safe and comforted in his presence, it was almost eerie how easy it was to get you to spill to him like that.
I mean, you walked out of the confessional, and he was sitting in your spot, staring at you like he was going to eat you. That should have unnerved you from the beginning, which it did. But something was so alluring. So tantalizing and bewitching about him. Just a few words from his pretty plump lips, and if he had asked for your soul, you’re sure you would have given it to him.
You left, turning around to look at the church. The steeple seemed sharper against the stark black sky. The streets were even quieter, the air colder. The building seemed more haunted than holy now, but before you psyched yourself out, you got back in your car and drove home.
It had been a week since your visit to a church. If you weren’t going to hell before, you were certainly going now. Every night, the same routine continued, but this time, you were imagining him. Mingi, tracing your curves and kissing your skin. Mingi, reaching inside you and caressing your insides in a way so invasive it should be considered immoral. You wanted him pressing his body into yours, his warmth soaking into your skin as he pleasured you in ways you imagined heaven should feel like.
Just sick in the head.
There was no way you could go see him now, with these images of him squeezing your body and rolling his hips, mouth agape and eyes rolling and boring into yours in a fashion that felt like he knew your entire being.
You slept next to your boyfriend every night, not even daring to cuddle with him in fear that even just by touching, he could feel the want and the lust seeping from your skin.
And that's how you found yourself in your car, back at the church. The streets are empty again. The sky had opened on your way there, the clouds angry and dark, fat droplets of rain pouring fast on the streets.
Your hands gripped the steering wheel so hard it began to burn, but you didn’t let go. You were trying to ground yourself before you walked into the church and saw him. You needed to get a hold of yourself. With a couple of bites to your palm and a cold sip of water. You rushed out of your car and walked with purpose to the church quickly as not to give yourself time to chicken out and go back home.
You entered the church, albeit soaked to the bone from the rain. It felt darker and colder now. The candles cast flickering, dark shadows on the walls. Behind the altar was his office door. Standing tall and mocking, you pinched your necklace and took a deep breath before making your way to his door.
The carpet swallowed your footsteps as you walked to his door, past the confessional, the urge to tell secrets welling up in your chest again. You stopped in front of his door, a soft light emanating from the crack at the bottom. Your hand hovered over the knob.
“Come in.” The muffled voice beckoned behind the door. You obeyed.
Twisting the knob you opened the door with a quiet creak. Inside was a broad, beautiful mahogany desk, littered with papers, candles, and an assortment of Bibles. A large painting of Mother Mary was mounted on the wall directly behind the chair behind the desk, where Mingi sat. The first 2 buttons of his shirt were undone, and he leaned back lazily as his foot rested on his knee. His hand was on the table, his fingers resting in between stacks of paper, caressing the edge of the paper ever so slowly, occasionally slipping between sheets.
His eyes caught yours immediately, smiling as he gestured to the chair in front of him. A large velvety red and blue couch was against the left wall, and tall, gold-plated mirror was on the right. His eyes were darker tonight. Narrowed. Filled with… intention. 3 candles lit up the room, providing minimal light to properly see his face.
“(Name), it's good to see you again.” You sat in the chair, feeling his voice rumble in your chest as a roll of thunder sounded in the distance. He laughed gently before flashing that charming grin of his at you.
“Guess you got caught in the rain, huh?” The teasing lilt in his voice sent a little shock wave through your head, suddenly aware that you were still, in fact, soaking wet.
“Yeah it just started pouring as soon as I left, I considered d turning around.” You smiled in an attempt to hide your nervousness, before he reached across and took your hand in his, squeezing it gently.
“Well, for what its worth, I’m glad you wanted to be here so bad you came anyway.” Confusion shot through tou but before you could even react he pulled away and cleared his throat.
“Now then, let's start unpacking this, yeah?” He waves his hand at you and smiles.
“Talk to me, sweetheart. Tell me everything that's on your mind.” You blinked. Once. Twice.
Oh god…
“Well..” You shifted in your seat. This was it. You were here for a reason. No time to be shy, this is how you get the help you’ve been needing. But his presence is so heavy… it was overwhelming your senses. The whole office smelled like him. The air was thick, and the atmosphere was dark. It felt like the painting was watching you. He was watching you. Picking you apart with his eyes, carefully.
“I’ve got this suffocating guilt that's been following me for what seems like years. As a kid, I was sheltered, being part of the church kept me away from much outside influence, and frankly, I feel like it's messed me up a bit, in a way… I don't know how to explain it. Anyway, so I get out, right? Out in the world by myself. I’m doing okay, learning new things and trying to work the world without the influence of the church holding me back.” You stop and smile, a little lost in your thoughts as you think about old memories.
“Then I meet my first boyfriend. Hes really sweet, smart, kind. Kind of the complete package kind of guy.” Too busy lost in your story, you failed to see how Mingi’s grip on his knee tightens, how his jaw clenches and how his eyes rove over you like you’ll disappear if he looks away for one second, enamoured.
“How’s that going?” Mingi asks softly, “Sounds like a pretty awesome guy.” There it is. He sees the change in your demeanor. The way your shoulder slumps, the burning shame in your eyes. The slight readjustment of your posture.
“Well, that's just the thing. He's great and all, a really good guy. But, he doesn’t seem… interested…” You refuse eye contact as you trail off, beginning to close up again. You can feel the heat crawling up your back as you know in a second the conversation is about to take an incredibly inappropriate and soul-baring turn.
“Interested in what love? Cmon, talk to me.” he comes over from behind the desk and squats down in front of you as you stay sitting in the chair, so he can look at you eye level. His hands rested on his knees, and he spoke even softer now that he was closer. “You can trust me. Let me help you.”
Mingi was so close now, and he was making it so hard for you not to just straight up start acting like an animal in heat with that look he was giving you. He was trying to pull the secrets from your throat with his eyes. Like a fish hook in your mouth, he was prying you open to him, and you just simply couldn’t resist
“I… fuck okay. Fine. I feel so gross because he won’t make any sexual advances towards me, and it's been over a year of dating. Yes, it's unbecoming, and it makes me feel so sick that all I seem to crave is for him to touch me. I'm so ashamed it's all I think of every day and every night, and we’ve never gone any farther than kissing. I feel like I'm missing out on so much because of my lack of knowledge, but I also feel like it's better for me to just never know. It's sick and it's hurting! It–it hurts me to know that it's not okay to feel good like.. That..” Silence fell, your eyes glued to your lap.
You slowly raise your eyes, ready to see the disappointment in Mingi’s face at your shameful confession.
Instead, a small smile, barely there, tilts up the corners of his lips. You glue your eyes to the rosary on his chest as you feel the deep, baritone chuckle that slips past his lips. The shame burned. You won’t look at him.
“Y’know. I’m going to tell you a secret, okay?” You felt a finger pinch your chin gently, before he directed your gaze at his, dropping them before they landed on your knees.
“What you are feeling? Is okay. I promise.” His voice was soft and promising, words dripping in sugar as he began to drag his big, calloused palms up and down… up and down… your thighs soothingly through your pencil skirt.
Your breath hitched, and you couldn’t take your eyes off him. “Your boyfriend, not touching you, has nothing to do with you physically. You’re beautiful, I can promise you that.” You felt that warmth envelop you again from when he whispered in your ear. That deeep pull in your lower stomach that burned.
“In fact, I could even go as far as to say you’re very alluring. So small, soft, like a lamb.” Daringly, his hands slipped further up, now resting on your hips, like they were made to fit there.
He knew what he was doing. The dangerous look in his eyes swelling as he watched you slowly melt as his words sat in your skull.
“I’ll confess it now, I heard everything you said in the booth last week.” his voice was now a whisper, gentle like he would scare you off. He felt your body jolt like you’d run from him, and his hands held your hips tighter, holding you down onto the chair only slightly, like it was a suggestion that you should stay, his thumbs rubbing slow, soft circles into your stomach.
“I heard every word. Every cry. Every plea. Every prayer that this feeling could be relieved for you. You were so pretty coming out of the booth. Little tear droplets on your lashes and embarrassment all over your body. I knew you needed help.”
Mingi sank to his knees, so close to your body you could feel and smell every inch of him all over you. His hands moved up and gently cupped your face, guiding your head down so he could mumble in your ear.
He breathed quietly for a second before blowing a cold gust of air on your ear, making you shiver. “Let me help you, precious. Let's drag that feeling out. Let me drag it out of you.”
“If anyone can make you feel good in a way that’ll satiate the craving inside of you, it’s me. I can take care of you. Treat you like the angel you are. Does that sound good.” He pressed a gentle kiss to your hair, his hand mindlessly massaging your leg. “I promise.” He was whispering now, barely contained desire seeping from his gentle, coaxing words. “Don’t you trust me?”
Your brain was so fuzzy. Was this happening? Was he offering to take care of you in the way you’ve been crazy about? The one your boyfriend won’t give you. Maybe it’ll clear the nasty thoughts out of your head. Make the hysteria go away.
“Cmon baby…” He was all over you now, standing, towering over you as he leaned down, one hand on either side of your chair. You followed his gaze up and stared into his eyes. His rosary dangled right above your chest, almost touching it. It swung back and forth back and forth, hypnotically. His hand gripped the armrests tightly, like he was stopping himself from ripping you apart with his bare hands.
You looked so good, so delicious, so pure. He’d love to be the one to introduce you to the wonderfully sinful world of pleasure, to drown you in the feeling himself. To give himself to you.
“Let's get it out of your system, yeah? I can fix you, angel.”
Testing the waters, he leaned further down, his breaths mixing with yours, keeping you caged in, his eyes never leaving yours. It felt like you stayed like that forever. Lips millimeters from touching, tension in the air crackling.
You had never felt this way before. Your body ached, and your lower stomach throbbed with what could only be described as need.
All it took was the small, slight parting of your lips before Mingi finally pressed into you. His plushy lips sinking into yours like they were meant to be there. His eyes stayed on you, watching and guaging your reaction to the touch, only when your eyes fluttered close and you whined softly into his mouth did he really let himself go.
Pressing himself impossibly closer against you, his hands left the arm rests and threaded through your hair before gripping gently and completely swallowing you whole with his mouth. His tongue delved deep, tracing patterns in your mouth and moving against you in ways that had you groaning deep into him.
He swallowed your sounds gratefully, a loud crack of thunder nearly shaking the room. One candle blew out.
It wasn’t enough. He needed more of you. He needed to consume you. Even though it hurt, he pulled away from your mouth, panting softly as he watched the trail of saliva snap between you. He stared at your glassy eyes and pink lips, groaning to himself as he stood up and started to undo his tie.
“Alright, princess, I need you to take off your skirt and go lie on your back on that couch over there, okay? Can you do that for me?”
Taking a second to break out of your stupor, you nodded and stood up, slipping the skirt and pantyhose off your legs before complying and lying on the couch. Mingi strode over, his tie gone and his shirt completely unbuttoned, a filthy, hungry look in his eyes. Rosary hanging proudly around his neck.
Gently, like he was still afraid to scare you. He laid between your legs on the couch. He planted his head directly between your thighs, his big hands slipping under your thighs and guiding them upward around his head, before spreading his big hand directly over your lower abdomen. His other hand slipped down and teased your soaking wet cunt through your panties.
Mingi stared into your eyes from between your legs and breathed in your scent deeply.
“You’re gonna taste so sweet for me, aren't you, angel?” Your head lolled at the sweet words; he just knew how to break you down and turn you into a puddle in his hands.
“All for me…” he mumbled completely to himself as he dragged your panties down your thighs and off your legs. He couldn't pull his eyes away from your pretty pussy. You felt so bare, so exposed, shying away, you tried to close your legs, but of course, his head was in the way.
“Don’t be ashamed, pretty girl.” He rubbed gentle circles on your thighs again before letting out a quick, quiet whistle. “Look at me, {Name}.”
Your head snapped to him, eyes locked with his, his gaze so intense you felt your eyes water, and a whimper bubbles up from your chest. He kisses your thighs softly, before hovering his mouth over your cunt, letting his breath fan over her gently.
“I want your eyes on me while I eat, okay? I need to see what you like, baby.” He’s going to read your body. You shivered and moaned softly at his words as you kept your eyes on him.
“Good. Keep those pretty eyes on me.” Slowly, tortorously slow, he brought his mouth down, licking a slow, wide strip up your cunt, kissing your clit at the end of its journey. The switch in Mingi was quick. Too quick. He became addicted immediately.
His eyes clouded over and buried his tongue inside of you, his nose grinding against your clit. You felt like you were going to die. It was so good. It felt so fucking good. You brought your hand up and bit your finger to keep yourself quiet. It felt so wrong. Doing something like this in a church, of all places. You felt judged and watched, but it felt like heaven. Mingi’s tongue felt like heaven.
“Yeah, yeah, that's it. Feeling good, pretty baby?” You nodded frantically, whimpering out broken “yes’s” and cries of his name. His hand snuck up and pulled your hand away from your mouth, grabbing both of your wrists in one hand, keeping a firm grip on them, holding them down in front of your tummy.
He groaned loud into your pussy, the vibrations reaching deep inside and making your back arch. He closed his eyes for a second, lost in the taste of you. “I have to hear you, don’t be shy.”
The knot in your stomach tightened, that familiar feeling from the nights you explored your body, but this time tenfold in strength. Mingi truly was drawing a kind of pleasure out of you that you’ve never felt before.
“Oh mmff… Min-! Feels good.” You whined, feeling that climax building deep in your gut.
“Oh, baby, I feel you. You bout to cum?” He smiled and latched onto your clit, sucking and slipping one long, slender finger deep in your snug cunt. You nod again, moans breaking when he curls his finger upward inside, pressing against a spot you’ve never been able to reach yourself.
“Yeah.. yes yes yes..” You panted out, focusing on the feeling of Mingi all over you. He let out deep staccato moans around your clit before he slipped a second finger inside, coaxing inside even deeper.
“I’m gonna get you there, sweetheart. I’m gonna fuck you right through it and spread you on my cock. I'll have you seeing stars, baby, I promise.”
Before you could react he slipped his fingers out and moved up, caging you against the couch, in split second he removed your shirt and his pants, his cock, hot and heavy laid on your stomach as his hand came up and snaked behind the back of your head.
Pressing all his body weight down on you, he nudged your legs up to wrap around his waist.
His other hand slipped down and adjusted the fat head of his cock against the slick entrance of your pussy, before moving to hold your waist tighly, his thumb sinking and pressing hard against your stomach.
“I’m gonna make you feel so good. Such a good girl like you deserves to feel good, right?” Mingi’s lips came down and swallowed your whines again, increasingly desperate and sloppy like his tongue was trying to drag noises from deep in your throat.
“You deserve it.” He groans into your mouth, keeping his eyes on yours as he slowly, slowly sinks into your cunt.
Already, you felt so full, tears spilled from the corners of your eyes, falling apart as his eyes stripped you down to your soul, and his curved, thick cock split you open. He bottoms out with a deep groan.
Your legs shake as his head sits snugly against your G-spot perfectly. He stays there for a moment, sinking his teeth into your plush bottom lip.
“Shh, yeah… that's it. So filthy. You feel how deep I am? So warm and so perfect.” Mingi rolled his hips into you, not quite thrusting, but he dragged his tip against that spot, and you came just like that, convulsing and whining into his mouth.
‘“Oh angel, you just came?” His whole body shivered at the amount of control he had over how good you felt. Like clay, he could shape and mold you to fit him perfectly. Make you his pretty little doll.
Your hands wrapped around his neck as he pulled himself out of you, dragging deliciously against your insides before thrusting back into you.
“Oh, you're so good. So good for me…” Ming sucked and licked dark purple marks into the flesh of your collarbones, drooling on your neck before leaving wet, open mouth kisses against the shell of your ear.
“You’re perfect, there’s nothing wrong with you, pretty baby. So responsive. So easy to please.” Mingi words floated around in your empty brain as he fucked you deep, and heavy. Your moans and cries egged him on. He wanted more from you, he wanted you to come on his cock again.
“You’re gonna give me another one (Name). I’m gonna make you come on my cock again, okay baby?” Mingi took the rosary that was swinging in your face off and flipped you over so you were on your stomach now. Wrapping the chain around your wrists, he brought them down behind your back, bound tight.
His hand massaged from your neck, down your shoulders, along your back, and down to your hips. Without warning he slid his cock back inside of you, the new prone angle making your pussy suck him even deeper. He bends over, lips pressed directly against your ear, one hand around the back of your neck and the other snaked between your stomach and the couch, drawing slow, rough circles against your clit. He fucked you deep and hard, feeling him in your stomach.
“This is what heaven feels like, baby. Like it? I know you do, your voice and your wet cunt is telling me everything. Every dirty thought you’ve been having. I’m giving you what you need. I can always give you what you need…”
The knot was building again, the drag of him against your walls stretching you so perfectly, the feeling of his body overtaking yours.
“My dirty, dirty girl. Would you like me to take you out and fuck you stupid in the altar? All whiny and sensitive, I can breed you like an animal, would you like that?”
Grinding his hips into yours without mercy, Mingi relished in the feeling of you giving yourself up to him. He was obsessed with the way you twitched and squirmed, completely at his mercy.
He loved that he was the one to rip this abstinence away from you, drag you down further into sin.
“See, this isn’t so bad, no need to feel guilty about it baby, it feels good, nothing that feels this good— fffuckkk… could ever be so bad…”
Mingi must be right. It feels so good, it’s impossible for this to be so bad right?
You weren’t going to last much longer, and he could feel you clench around him as your impending orgasm was reaching its height. Mingi licked and bit all along your back, dragging his open mouth along the length of your shoulder blades. His hand continued to rub slow, pressured circles on your clit.
“Almost there sweet girl,” he murmured against your bruised skin, chasing his own high with your body.
“You sin so beautifully for me, you’re to tempting, as soon as I saw you I wanted to shove you back in that confessional and eat you out so good you’d beg me to stop. A sweaty overstimulated mess for me in a place meant for repentance.” He kept whispering in your ear, the deep rolls of his hips making your stomach feel like it was sinking.
“Oh, I wanna cum in you so badly. But that’d be so wrong of me. So bad..” Mingi’s hips began to stutter as he buried his face deep in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent and lazily kissing every inch of your throat.
“Cum for me baby, it’s okay to feel good, feel good under me, feel good while I strip your purity from you, give it to me, let me have it. I want it please honey please..”
Who were you to ignore such sweet prayer to you as he worshipped your body, practically melting into your flesh and becoming one.
His arms came around and wrapped around your torso like you were a body pillow, locking his hands together around your arms and your chest, effectively caging you against him and the couch, you couldn’t budge if you tried. He held you in a vice like hold, so tight you almost couldn’t breathe.
Your vision blacked, for just a second, as your orgasm came crashing down on you in strong periodic waves that felt like your insides were being battered, again and again and again and-
Mingi slowed his pace inside of you, opting for deep, deliberate rolls of his hips to move you through your orgasm, fucking his cum into you in the process.
His grip on your body turned softer, more like he was trying to hold you together rather than prevent you from moving. He ran his hands up and down your body so slowly and gently, like he was mapping you out and finding every curve, every mole or scar, every stretch mark and every sensitive spot.
“Yeah good girl. Let me fuck you through it mkay? Should I fuck you to sleep too huh? Would you like that pretty baby?” His voice was low and soft, his lips kissing along the top of your head, soothing and gentle. Your eyes lids fluttered at his softness, your cunt giving one last clench before you fully realized he had run you ragged.
Your body slumped under his own, face smushed in the pillow as you caught your breath. Mingi stood up and slipped on his pants, before gently turning you over on your back again. He pulled a pack of baby wipes out of his desk drawer and began gently cleaning between your thighs and all over your body.
His eyes followed trails of marks and bruises he left on you from his kisses and his grip on your flesh, a flash of possession hit his heart as you traced the dark marks on your neck and collar bone. “Did so good, love. Bet your boyfriend wouldn’t be able to have you praying for me like that huh?” He laughed to himself before reaching up and untying his rosary from your wrists.
He turned to the mirror and began putting it back on him. With his back turned you stared at the scratches on his back. He made you feel so good… and then it hit you.
Your boyfriend.
Your eyes widened and panic quietly began to set it. But before you could really process anything, Mingi turned back around, that stupid smile on his face as he gestures you to stand up.
“Come on lamb, we have to go visit the confessional.”
The puzzled look on your face formed and he laughed, almost condescendingly at your pitiful appearance.
He leaned down to your ear and gently bit the lobe, tugging with a low, quiet hum.
Title: ROAR (ao3)
Rating: Explicit
WC: 3404
Pairing: Mingi x AFAB Reader
TW: None
They were all grown up now, that was the problem. Years of living in the public eye and Ateez weren’t kids anymore. Of course, they wanted to push some boundaries. Of course, their music was getting a little risque.
That didn’t mean they had to talk about it.
After several overly candid interviews, someone somewhere in the upper echelons of KQ sent an email that became a memo that became a directive, and the idea of hiring an image consultant to tame things a bit was born.
Hongjoong, ever the stalwart captain, had taken matters into his own hands and hired someone outside of KQ to act in that capacity. He had learned quickly which battles to pick, and it seemed to soothe the managerial beast that something was being done, even if they weren’t at the helm.
Thus entered Ateez into your life, and what a wild few months it had been.
Hongjoong had chosen you for a reason: you walked the line between tradition and modernity, keeping a neat and respectable public profile while still clearly living in the 21st century. You dressed fairly modestly, pencil skirts and button-up blouses, hair kept up and out of the way in a tight twist with nary a strand loose, and yet you were still a career woman, an entrepreneur, a freelancer making waves in the public relations community and making good money doing it. You seemed the perfect fit.
You were happy to take such a high profile job. If nothing else, it would look great on your resume, though you would have liked a little warning that it would be far less image policing and more like chasing after puppies that had just plowed through a few bags of pure cane sugar. Hongjoong would have your sympathy, dealing with this everyday, if he wasn’t just as bad more than half the time.
Plus, well, there were some upsides.
The fact that you were kinda-sorta-dating Song Mingi, well. You couldn’t complain about that.
It started so simply, small smiles at meetings, nods of acknowledgement from across the room. Then he started showing up with a matcha latte for you, just the way you liked it, whenever you met with the group to go over interview material and coaching.
He started striking up small conversations during lulls in your work and you were surprised at how easy it was to talk to him. When you complimented him on his solo work, he outright blushed, and it occurred to you that you had never seen anything so cute and charming as the way the pinking of his cheeks crept down his chest and up to the tips of his ears.
Then one day, after you had met with them at their dorms rather than in the close confines of a conference room, Mingi caught you as you headed for the door.
“Do you have to rush out?” he asked.
You glanced up at him surprise – always up, since he seemed to tower over you. “Oh! I suppose not, Mingi. Did you need something? Want to go over the specs for that appearance next week again?”
Mingi gave you a small smile and shook his head. “I thought you might like to stay for dinner,” he offered, and you noticed the way he kept fidgeting and playing with a ring on his thumb, as though he were nervous. It filled you with an unexpected warmth.
“With everyone?” you asked curiously.
The sweet pink rose in his cheeks. “No, they’re going out. I’d like to stay in, and I thought… I could cook for you. If you wanted.”
You paused a moment and bit your lip, thinking it over. On one hand, it sort of flew in the face of professionalism. If Mingi was just offering a friendly dinner, you knew he wouldn’t be blushing, so it was definitely an invitation for a date. On the other hand… he was probably the sweetest, most adorable man you had ever met.
Sometimes the reward is worth the risk, you reasoned, and slipped back out of the coat you had just put on.
You gave him a bright smile. “I’d like that,” you told him, and his returning grin was almost blinding.
It quickly became routine; meetings at the dorms followed by a quiet dinner, a private moment, a streamed film, all alone with Mingi. Somewhere along the line, a few soft kisses started getting traded, and you certainly weren’t opposed to that. All in all, it had really been looking like it might grow into something good, and the rest of the boys were doing a bit better and staying in line.
And then Mingi told you, as nonchalantly as he could manage over dinner, that a video he had filmed for Roar was getting a midnight release online in just a few days’ time and it might skirt a few of the lines you had drawn for them.
You paced behind where Hongjoong sat grinning at a large computer screen, watching the YouTube countdown until the video would release. Mingi stood nearby, clearly a little skittish.
“I wish you had told me this was happening a little earlier,” you told him, frowning. He’d had a lot of creative control in what was filmed, from what you had gathered, and though he seemed to think it harmless, you couldn’t always trust his judgement on such things.
Song Mingi who made you dinner and wrapped you up in fleece blankets to watch movies together was oftentimes quite a different person than Song Mingi who strutted and barked on stage. You didn’t mind the dichotomy – you reveled in it, really, getting to know the quiet side of him while the rest of the world had to be content with the showman – but sometimes you had to remind him to keep that public person in check.
“I don’t think it’s that bad,” he reasoned, shrugging a little.
Hongjoong, who clearly knew at least some of what was to air, snorted. “Yeah I think he keeps his hips from swiveling too much in this one,” he said with a snicker.
You groaned and squeezed your eyes shut. “I’m really going to regret seeing this, aren’t I?” you muttered.
Mingi sighed. “I hope not,” he replied quietly.
For two minutes and forty seconds you stood almost still, expression unreadable as you stared at the computer screen. The only sound you made was a sharp inhale of breath when Mingi’s double on the screen made the ‘bite’ gesture with his arms, something you’d talked about easing back on in the past. When it finished, you close your eyes for a moment, steadying yourself.
Mingi looked at you like a child caught with his hands in the cookie jar. “So… what did you think?” he asked carefully.
Hongjoong was watching you both with an amused expression, clearly waiting for some fireworks to ensue. You gritted your teeth and reached for Mingi’s arm without a word, tugging him away from the screen and up the stairs towards his bedroom for some privacy.
Hongjoong snickered. “Don’t spank him too hard!” he crowed after you.
You stayed silent as you stalked away but Mingi couldn’t seem to stop talking. It was as though he wasn’t sure why he was apologizing, or to whom: an image consultant sent to clean Ateez up and make them more palatable for the conservative Korean audience, or his girlfriend who had asked him specifically not to make any big waves so she could concentrate on the other members of the group and not worry about him.
“I didn’t want to upset you,” he was muttering as you dragged him through his open bedroom door and let it slam behind you. “We had the plans for a long time and the company knew, they okayed everything a while ago. It was all laid out before we even started filming, everyone knew…”
Turning to face him, you held up a hand to quiet him. When he made an overture to speak again, you made a soft tsking sound, hand still raised and eyes still closed as you gathered your composure.
“I didn’t want to upset you,” he repeated lamely, then quieted.
Opening your eyes, you took a deep breath. “Song Min Gi…” you started, noting the way he winced at the deliberate pronunciation of his full name. “Song Min Gi, I swear to all that is holy that if I am not gagging on your cock within the next thirty seconds, I might actually die.”
To his credit, Mingi didn’t immediately drop trou. It seemed his brain short-circuited for a moment and his jaw dropped open, brow furrowed as he gulped in a few breaths of air, clearly trying to catch up on the conversation.
You dropped to your knees in front of him and arched an eyebrow. “Twenty seconds,” you cautioned, and that seemed to snap him out of his stupor. His hands were shaking when they reached for his belt but you pushed them away, wanting to unbuckle it yourself even as he stared down at you in wonder.
You hadn’t gone that far yet, not even close. Dinners, cuddles on the sofa, some kissing and a little petting here and there. Mingi was respectful, always letting you set the pace and stepping back when he thought he was reaching a bit too far. A couple weeks prior he had arrived at your apartment door with takeout, leading to the two of you making out on the couch like your lives depended on it. At one point his large hand had slipped beneath your sweater, a low groan erupting against your lips when he realized you had nothing underneath and his hot palm had met your bare breast.
He’d pulled back after that; you’d relaxed and cuddled close watching a film, but nothing more. You’d been looking to take the next step for some time but hadn’t found the moment; the video had been the straw to break the camel’s back.
It was literally the hottest thing you had ever seen and the fire it lit in your belly could not be extinguished.
First the belt buckle then the button and zipper on his jeans, black boxer briefs that had clearly been swag from his Calvin Klein shoot, and then you were confronted with the prettiest cock you’d ever laid eyes on, half-hard and already red and weeping at the tip.
Mingi’s breath was coming hard as he watched you, your small hands stroking his length to full hardness in only a few seconds.
“You don’t have to–” he began, but his words were cut-off with a choked-back groan when you swallowed as much of him back as you possibly could in one go.
He tastes salty and clean, crisp black hairs at the base of his cock tickling your nose when you relaxed your throat to take as much of him as you could. He was huge, bigger than any you’d seen, and even though your own sexual history was somewhat sparse, you knew he must be well above average.
You knew already the taste of him would be addictive. Mingi was absolutely lost, sounding as though he were quietly losing his mind and doing all he could to bite back the sounds he was longing to make. He kept drawing his hands into fists at his side and your lips pulled into an approximation of a smile as best they could while wrapped around the throbbing dick against your tongue, a string of drool slipping from the side of your mouth as you let go of the base just long enough to pull the clip out of your hair. Once it was falling free across your shoulders, you grabbed one of Mingi’s hands and pulled it to tangle there, quickening the way you bobbed your head and letting out audible sounds of gagging as he hit the back of your throat over and over but refusing to stop.
That seemed to break the damn for Mingi, his other hand reaching to tangle there in your tresses beside the one you had placed and his hips beginning to pitch forward of their own accord. He was moaning softly, whispering your name in strangled tones, desperate to keep quiet but unable to stop the sounds from spilling forth.
“God… fuck… you’re fuckin’ amazing, fuckin’ amazing, my sweet girl, my pretty girl…” Mingi ground out and you couldn’t help the answering whines slipping from your throat with every sound and every praise he gave you.
You pulled back just enough to suckle the head, letting your tongue undulate against the sensitive head, and were about to swallow him back once more when he groaned, using his grip in your hair to pull you off, staring with blown pupils at the string of saliva that connected your lower lip to the tip of his cock.
“Not… not like this,” he panted, struggling to contain himself. “Want… fuck, beautiful, I wanna be inside you when I lose it, you got me so fucking close already.”
You nuzzled your face against his cock just to hear him groan. “You want to fuck me, Mingi?” you asked, voice perfectly innocent in spite of the circumstance.
He moaned your name and you smiled.
You arched an eyebrow and asked, “So what are you waiting for?”
Mingi wasn’t much one to go without a shirt or even a jacket, never too buttoned up during a performance but fairly covered in his day to day. You often forget the strength that lurked there beneath the innocent cotton t-shirts and jerseys, the defined muscles of his arms and abs, so it surprised you just a little when he scooped you up in his arms, kicking off his jeans completely before carrying you to the bed and tossing you on the mattress. He pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it aside before crawling towards you, already tugging at your skirt.
“Let me see you, lovely,” he whispered and you sat up, unbuttoning your blouse slowly while he rid you of your tweed pencil skirt and leaned forward to lick a stripe up the seam of your little red panties.
“So this is what you are always hiding from me?” he whispered against the damp lace.
“Always been yours to see,” you replied, letting your blouse fall to the bed cover. “You’d only needed to ask.”
Mingi started kissing your way up your body, stopping here and there to nip at your soft skin and leave behind a mark or two, desperate to tell the world that he had been there, that you were his and his only. He had decided that some time ago, from the first moment he had held you in his arms; you were his now, and it would never change.
By the time he had reached to suckle at your breast through the matching red lace, you had shimmied out of your panties and widened the spread of your thighs, letting his throbbing length glide against you. All thoughts of keeping quiet had vanished; the sounds you were making echoed in the room, gasps and groans that surely could be heard beyond those four walls.
You wrapped your legs around his waist. “Mingi… let me feel you.”
That was all it took.
You’d thought about it – of course you’d thought about it. What it would be like. What it would feel like. What he’d feel like. So much of what you had assumed came from the frantic energy he expressed on stage, the way he played the crowd and the madness of his Roar performance. You expected hard and fast, banging headboards and all.
But Mingi surprised you.
Slow. Fluid. The first roll of his hips pressing him inside but not fully. It was as though he were seducing your very body with his gentle little presses inside, inviting you to play. Somehow it still made your breathing come fast, made goosebumps erupt all over your skin. Slow and gentle or not, he was still huge; the stretch made your skin prickle in the best way, made you chase his retreat with rocks of your own hips, wanting more and more.
“It’s like you were made for me,” Mingie murmured, sweat from his forehead dripping onto yours like a benediction, a blessing.
He threw back his head and moaned your name when he finally pressed fully inside. You couldn’t help but drag your nails down his sweat-slick back, leaving pink streaks on his skin that would show anyone who saw them that he belonged to you, just as you belonged to him. However it had started, this moment made it complete: it was you and Mingi now, the two of you against the world.
He started rocking into you faster, chasing the high that had so far eluded you both. He had angled his hips just right so every thrust ground your swollen clit against his pubic bone, dragging soft cries of pleasure out of you with every movement of his body. He would taste you soon enough, wrap his lips around that plush little nub and suck and nibble until you couldn’t stop screaming his name, but for now he needed just this: to feel your heat surround him, to feel your muscles caressing his cock, coaxing him towards bliss.
It was everything. It was too much. His name was falling from your lips like a chant; you couldn’t have stopped it if you tried. You had never been more turned on in your life than that moment when you knelt to your knees in front of him and it brought this moment to fruition, the mindless ecstasy you two were finding together, all wrapped up in one another.
Your orgasm hit you like a freight train and you arched hard against him, mouth dropped open in a soundless cry as waves and waves of pure pleasure washed over you. Your body tightened around him and Mingin couldn’t take it anymore, a few more short thrusts before he was flooding you with his warmth, every hot spurt inside you another torrent of pure rapture.
You were both panting when it was through. Mingi kept his arms wrapped around you as he rolled onto his back, dragging you atop him like a ragdoll, sweaty and still shivering with the last aftershocks of your orgasm. He kissed your forehead before letting his head fall back against the pillow.
“That was… that was…” he panted, searching for the right word.
Your lips pulled into a smile where your head was tucked against his chest. “Amazing,” you breathed out, and he smiled himself, reaching to stroke a hand through your hair.
“Amazing,” he agreed.
It took a few moments for you to regain your composure, sitting yourself up while still straddling his hips. Mingi was grinning up at you like a fool.
“Hi,” he said, almost shyly.
“Hi,” you replied with a chuckle. You realized that in the heat of the moment, you’d neglected to remove your bra, and you reached behind you to unhook it, tossing it away with little aplomb.
Mingi watched with interest as your breasts fell free and offered a soft, “Boing!” sound effect when they did. You stared in surprise for a moment before you burst out laughing, ducking to bury your face against his chest to mute the sound.
This is why you loved this man, you realized. So many different sides of him, each one as lovable and sexy as the next, all wrapped up in one beautiful package. A complete dweeb trapped in a hot body. He was perfect.
“I guess you liked the video?” Mingi mused, playing with your hair as you calmed your laughter. He was fully relaxed, happy to spend the rest of the evening right there beside you.
“It completely undermined all of the work we’ve been doing on softening your image to the public,” you responded matter-of-factly, and bit gently at his pec. “It was also the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my life and if you ever show the public that side of you again, I will fuck you right on stage to stake a claim.”
Mingi chuckled, and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “I knew you’d like it,” replied.
Title: Smile
Rating: PG
WC: 3170
Pairing: Mingi x AFAB Reader
TW: Mild angst; referenced alcohol and pot
What had begun as a casual gathering of old friends had somehow spiraled into a near perfect recreation of an Alpha Tau Zeta blowout from your university days, and you’d absolutely be there for it if you weren’t dealing with a constant stream of irritating phone calls. Perched on the arm of a plush sofa, you glanced around the room and smiled softly to yourself, the familiar faces giving you a sense of joy and nostalgia in spite of the irritation radiating out from your phone. You were about to join Honjoong, Seonghwa, and a couple of girls from your sorority days in a game of beer pong when it buzzed yet again and you sighed.
You stood, setting your drink on the nearby coffee table, before heading outside to field another call from the ex-boyfriend from hell.
“What is it now?” you snapped, walking down the wooden porch stairs towards the concrete sidewalk.
“So sorry to interrupt your rager,” he sneered on the other end, and not for the first time, you wondered how you could have convinced yourself that you loved him. “I’m going through the kitchen and I’m not seeing the cutlery I just bought…”
Of course, he had been different in those days. Whether it was an act or he had actually changed that drastically, you couldn’t be sure. All you knew now was that you wanted him out of your home as soon as possible.
This time, the argument took a good ten minutes of you pacing back and forth on the sidewalk until you were finally able to hang up, his precious cutlery secured. With a sigh, you headed back towards the door, but certain another call was just a moment away, you elected to sit on the porch steps rather than go back inside.
It was supposed to be a fun night. You hadn’t seen all of the ATZ boys all together in years; you had been a member of their sister sorority during university, Alpha Tau Nu, and spent a lot of time hanging around the ATZ house and the group that had been pledging there the same time you were doing the same at ATN. The hazing, the need to grow up so quickly after leaving home for the first time… it cemented a bond between the group of you that had never broken. Even after graduation, when everyone was going their separate ways, you kept in touch.
Somewhere along the line, the boys had collaborated on a tech startup. That much didn’t surprise you – they were all so close knit and creative, it was clear that they’d one day do something amazing together. It just went public a month before to great acclaim and phenomenal wealth. In celebration, Hongjoong, the de facto captain of the team, had rented out a house for a month of late summer fun and invited all of their old friends. You had been honored to be included in that number but your frustration had been growing more and more as your participation in the festivities remained limited with the constant stream of phone calls you were receiving.
You sighed and glared at the phone in your hand. Leave it to your ass of an ex to ruin it all.
“You okay?” a deep voice asked, startling you out of your thoughts and making you jump. A large hand gave your shoulder a squeeze, the voice adding a quiet, “Sorry.”
You glanced up at him and couldn’t help but smile. “That’s okay, Mingi,” you told him. “It’s on me, I just wasn’t paying attention.”
His long legs loped down the stairs to sit down next to you. “I noticed,” he replied with a small smile of his own, and your traitor heart began to beat a little faster at his words.
Song Mingi had noticed you. It was something you would have killed for when you were just a couple of clueless university kids.
He had been so skinny back then, drowning in t-shirts and sweats that were at least two sizes too large, wearing glasses far too big for his face and an awful bowl-cut. But even then, all he had to do was smile at you and you were a goner.
He’d hated his smile then, off-center front tooth driving him to distraction no matter how many times you told him he had such a sweet and charming grin. Mingi was always so unsure of himself and you found yourself working overtime to make him understand what a catch he was. Pity that he never turned those charms on you.
Pity you had been too timid to make a move yourself.
The years had been kind to him, putting on some muscle and finding his sense of style after a few experiments with his hair and clothing, though the truth was you would have gladly taken him even if he was still that thin reedy man too shy to meet your eye. The years hadn’t managed to extinguish that flame, just let it burn brighter in your heart.
It hadn’t been long until others started to notice him. Deep-set, dark hooded eyes, straight nose, strong jawline, those beautifully plush lips… the way he drifted from silly to serious, all paired with a tall and muscular frame. The man was gorgeous, whether he believed it or not. He always had been to you.
Of course, your chance was long since past. You were friends now, after all. Just friends. You kept up with one another over social media, texted and chatted regularly even though you didn’t have a chance to see one another often. But you were close, frustratingly so at times.
You moved on with your life, dated here and there, almost married someone once and moved in with the last ex, disaster though it turned out to be. You had long ago settled into the fact that Mingi would remain a constant presence in your life but just out of reach.
You sighed. “Is it that obvious?” you asked, frowning again at the phone in your hand.
Mingin nodded. “I thought you were done with that… guy,” he replied, clearly wanting to use a different word but amending it at the last minute.
“I’m trying to be,” you told him, leaning against him and reveling just a little when his strong arm slipped around you. “It’s just been a mess. We broke up four months ago and I can’t get him out of my apartment.”
“Does he need a little convincing?” Mingi asked, and you chuckled at the thought. Your ex had always hated your friendship with Mingi and the other frat boys from your university days even though it was largely long distance; he’d have an aneurysm if any of them showed up in person, especially Mingi.
The ex may have been an ass, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew you well enough to pick up on the emotions hiding just beneath the surface when you mentioned your old friend.
“I’d love to see that, but no, I don’t think it’d help the situation,” you admitted. “I love my place but when he moved in, I put him on the lease. He’s been dragging his feet on moving out until it needed to be renewed. My roommate moved out when he moved in and he knows I can’t afford it on my own. He’s trying to swoop in and push me out.”
Mingi raised his eyebrows. “That dick is trying to steal your apartment?” he asked, incredulous.
You sighed and closed your eyes. “I should have known better,” you relented. “He insisted on being on the lease, like he was such a great guy, guaranteeing that he’d cover his half of the rent. He was just planning ahead for when we inevitably split. You know how hard it is to get a decent place in my neighborhood.”
“I remember how excited you were when you found it,” Mingi agreed, and you smiled at the memory. He had been the first person you called, even before your potential roommate. You had raved about the exposed brick, the floor to ceiling windows in the living area and the beautiful view… It was perfect. Expensive, but perfect.
And you knew you couldn’t keep it on your current salary, but you didn’t want the ex to get it either. Vindictive, maybe, but he shouldn’t get a parting gift for cheating on you with his secretary. How cliche can he even be?
“I know I can’t keep it,” you told him. “But I don’t want him to have it either. Isn’t that terrible?”
Mingi scoffed. “Why should he get it?” he responded. “You’re the one who went through every listing agent in the city to find it.”
“Exactly!” you agreed, and then slumped further against him. “But it’s still out of my price range. And my old roommate got married last year so there’s no hope there.”
Mingi was quiet for a moment, his hand rubbing absent circles on your shoulder. You thought perhaps he had simply given up in trying to cheer you up, and you could understand that much. The situation was pretty hopeless, after all.
“What if you found a new roommate?” he offered softly.
You snorted. “Eun was someone I knew and trusted. At this point I’d have to take out an ad for someone new and probably end up with some psycho who’d chop me up into little bits in the bathtub. No one I know is looking for a new place these days.”
“I am,” Mingi offered, and it seemed almost shy, the way he said it. You tilted your head to look up at him in surprise.
“You have a place, don’t you?” you asked, frowning. The idea of sharing your living space with Mingi was… daunting at best. Being that close to him? Sharing meals? Evenings in front of the television? Early mornings over the breakfast table?
You shivered. Living with Mingi would be like… like living with Mingi. Wonderful and heartbreaking all at once.
“I do,” Mingi relented, and offered you a sheepish smile. “But it’s not that great. And Yunho got a place of his own when the company went public so now it’s just me.”
“You can afford to keep your place,” you told him. You knew that it had to be true; Mingi, his best friend Yunho, all of the frat boys who had worked together to start their company, had made a lot of money. From what you could tell, even if they never lifted a finger for the rest of their days, they’d be set for life. He didn’t need a roommate.
“I can,” Mingi agreed, nodding. “Doesn’t mean I want to. It’s too quiet now. Even with the television on or music playing, it’s just… empty. I don’t think I was meant to live alone. I don’t like it.”
You laughed, leaning your head back onto his shoulder and closing your eyes. “Maybe not,” you agreed. “But you could do something more productive about it, Mingi. Go find yourself a girl. She’ll keep you company. Then it won’t be so quiet.”
Mingi inhaled a shaky breath, so much so that you could have sworn you felt him tremble against you for just a moment. You thought perhaps he had a run of bad luck in love as of late and was keeping it to himself, or was just too embarrassed to admit that he’d been picking up. He was never one to speak on his romantic exploits, you realized, as you thought about it. There had been a girl here and there that he’d mentioned in passing but you were never certain if they were serious or not. He just didn’t like to bring it up.
“Maybe I already found someone,” he said, slowly and evenly, as though he were trying to control his voice as he spoke. You opened your eyes and looked up at his profile, watching a slow blush bloom in his cheeks and crawl down towards his chest. “Maybe I found her a long time ago and I’ve just been too much of a coward to do anything about it.”
“Mingi?” you asked, voice soft. You weren’t able to keep the tremble out of your tone, too unsure of what he was saying, too uncertain if the meaning you swear you felt in your heart was real.
“Do you remember that first semester, when you failed a big calculus exam?” he asked, and turned his gaze to face yours. His cheeks were still rosy but there was a determined set to his jaw and something like hope in his eyes.
You nodded. Of course, you remembered. It was your first big exam at university and you absolutely bombed. You began second-guessing everything from your enrollment to your proposed future, all hanging on the balance of one bad test.
And then Mingi came by your dorm.
“Seonghwa was in your class and he mentioned how upset you were leaving, so I ran by to check on you,” Mingi went on, a misty sort of reminiscence in your voice. “We’d only known each other a few weeks but I… I was worried. And I found you, crying.”
“I was afraid I’d made a mistake even trying to go to university,” you said with a slow nod. “My father didn’t think I was cut out for it, I thought maybe he was right.”
“And I asked you if there was anything I could do to help, and do you remember what you told me?” Mingi went on.
You couldn’t help but smile as you nodded. “I just asked you for a smile. And then I felt a little better,” you admitted.
“Just a smile,” Mingi told you, shaking his head even as he smiled at you now. “And I hated the way I looked back then, you know that? Skinny and gawky, face covered in acne, and my smile… I really hated it.”
Your brows knit in concern for this younger version of Mingi, the one who had meant so much to you even then. The idea he could have any qualms with his appearance… Well, at that age, you supposed everyone did, but in your eyes he was always something special. It hurt that you were never able to make him see it too.
“But it was all you asked for,” Mingi went on. “And you just grinned and wiped away your tears and we went to the cafeteria for dinner and it was like nothing bad at all happened. This one thing I really disliked about myself was all it took to make you feel a little better and I thought… I thought, hey, maybe it’s not so bad, if someone as wonderful as you could like it.”
You whispered his name, unable to find any other words. It felt as though your heart was breaking open inside of your chest. For so long you had loved him from a distance, tried to forget what you’d been feeling and move on with your life, certain he saw you only as a friend and nothing more. To know now that he had felt the same for all this time was stunning but still so sad: so much time wasted.
He reached his free hand to cup your cheek and you closed your eyes at the touch, reveling in the gentle caress of his fingertips.
“I know you don’t… you could never…” he stumbled over his words. “I only wanted you to know, so that you’d know that whatever you needed, if I could help, I would. I don’t need anything in return. Just… just being near you is enough. Okay?”
He said your name, soft and plaintive. “Please tell me it’s okay.”
In that moment, you didn’t have the words. You just had to show him.
It was such a small distance to bridge the gap between you, tilting your face just right and leaning forward to simply brush your lips across his. It would leave the ball in his court; Mingi could either respond or pull away. You prayed you had made the right decision.
The arm that had been around your shoulders slid to your waist and pulled you forward, angling you fully towards him and bringing you in closer. There was a soft rumble in his chest, sounding something like approval and an echo of your name as Mingi began to return your kiss in earnest.
You’d be lying to say you hadn’t thought about it before, what it would be like to finally kiss Mingi. He was such a dichotomy, two personalities existing in the same beautiful body: the shy and timid Mingi, and the bold and brash Mingi. You were never certain who would come out to play, should it ever come to this.
You should have known that he would find a way to surprise you, even after all these years. The first presses of his lips in return were soft and tentative, but quickly became more confident. He mumbled your name against your lips as though he couldn’t believe it was happening, as though he couldn’t believe it was you, even as you moved closer, pressing yourself against the strong planes of his chest, desperate for as much closeness as you could manage.
Your world was shifting; years upon years of hidden feelings and secret fantasies were becoming real and tangible and somehow allowed.
“Is this real?” you whispered, pulling back from his kiss just a moment long enough to speak it.
“It can be, if you want it to be,” Mingi replied and you smiled, taking his face in your hands as you leaned back in, desperate to feel his lips moving against yours once again.
Neither of you knew how far it would have gone if not for the bang of the screen down flying open and slamming shut coupled with a surprised “Oh!” hadn’t startled you both out of your reverie. You jumped apart on instinct, each glancing up to the top of the stairs where Honjoong stood with a joint in one hand a lighter in the other, eyebrows raised nearly to his hairline.
“Aw, come on, really?” he said, frowning. “We gave up on that bet <i>years</i>.”
You blinked. “Bet?” you asked.
Hongjoong shrugged and lit his joint, taking a long hit before answering in a croaking voice, “Yeah, you and Mingi. Figured you’d get there someday, just thought it would be a lot sooner. Wasted a lot of time if you ask me”
Mingi swore at him in annoyance, but you couldn’t help but smile, reaching out to fold your hand into his. He turned towards you, the irritation falling from his features and a small smile forming on his kiss-swollen lips.
“Guess it’s a good thing we’re moving pretty fast, then,” you mused, winking at Mingi before glancing back to Honjoong with a grin. “We’re moving in together.”
FIN
First time writing for this fandom so pardon my mistakes! ~ yesterday
Rescue ♡❦ (coming soon) Song Mingi x AFAB Reader; Popstar trying to break the Korean music market finds herself in need of a rescue.
Roar ♡❦ Song Mingi x AFAB Reader; Ateez's image consultant's burgeoning relationship with Mingi takes a drastic turn with the release of his solo video for Roar.
Smile ♡ꨄ︎ Song Mingi x AFAB Reader; Mingi and an old friend have a talk they should have had years ago. Part of the forthcoming GREEK series (Alpha Tau Zeta frat).
