Mingi is very good at pretending he’s normal about the way you flirt with clients for tips, about the way you touch other people for a living. The problem starts when he realizes you might not belong to him at all, and suddenly he’s pinned against the wall confessing feelings far too big to keep inside anymore.
Pairing: sub!Mingi x TattooArtistFem!Reader
Tropes: Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pinning, Confession under pressure, Soft masculinity, “He’s so big but so soft for her”.
Genre: Smut, Fluff, Romance.
Warnings: explicit sexual content, sub!mingi, sexual tension, sexual activity in a semi-public workspace, praise kink, dry humping, male orgasm, possessive thoughts, touch-starved behaviour, jealousy, mild choking, explicit language, alcohol, emotional dependency but make it hot
Word Count: 7.7k
a/n: this fic wouldn’t exist without a conversation with @darjeelinglemontea. it was just one thing she said, but it stuck with me and turned into this. thank you for that, i really hope you like where it ended up <3 also sorry for disappearing. i’m deep in a project and barely find time to write, but i needed to get this out anyway before vanishing again for a bit longer haha
masterlist
Your studio hums softly around you. Low music. Warm light. The familiar buzz of the tattoo machine steady in your hand like a second heartbeat.
Outside, the street beyond the front windows is already dark, neon signs reflecting faintly against the glass. Your last appointment of the night stretched later than planned, the rest of the building long since quiet.
The smell of antiseptic and ink clings to the air, clean but intimate in a way most places never are. People let you touch them here. Let you get close enough to hear the change in their breathing, to feel tension beneath their skin before they even notice it themselves.
You’ve always liked that part.
“Breathe out,” you murmur.
Your client obeys immediately.
He’s stretched beneath the lamp, shirt tossed somewhere behind him, skin warm under your hand where you steady him by the waist. The tattoo curves along his ribs in clean black lines, and you lean closer to finish a careful stroke, thumb pressing lightly into his side to keep him still.
He sucks in a sharp breath.
“There,” you say softly. “Relax.”
“You say that every five minutes.”
“And somehow you still trust me.”
He laughs under his breath, eyes dragging down to your mouth for a second too long. “Hard not to.”
You ignore that easily. You’ve heard versions of it a thousand times before. You wipe excess ink from his ribs.
His gaze flicks down to your hands again. “You always this nice to clients?”
“You’re paying me.”
“Could charge extra. I’d still come back.”
The bell above the studio door jingles softly. You don’t look up immediately. You know who walked in anyway. The heavy steps. The careless confidence of someone who’s been here enough times to stop asking permission for anything. The fridge opening.
“Beer tax,” Mingi calls from the back.
Your mouth curves before you can stop it.
“Get your own studio.”
“You’d miss me.”
You don’t answer. Because you would. Terribly.
Instead you lean closer to inspect the tattoo, fingers spreading against your client’s stomach as you stretch the skin carefully beneath the needle.
From behind you, the couch creaks, and you finally glance back at him.
Big hoodie. Work boots still on. Slouched deep into the couch cushions like he lives there. Watching you over the rim of the bottle with that lazy heavy-lidded stare that always does something unfortunate to your nervous system.
He comes here almost every night after work.
At first it had been accidental. Quick stops before heading home. Then takeout between appointments. Then sitting with you while you cleaned your station at midnight. Then coffee appearing beside your machine before you could ask for it.
Somewhere along the way, your studio started feeling wrong without him in it. Somewhere along the way, you started falling in love with him. Quietly. Stupidly.
Because Mingi is like this with everyone. Warm. Affectionate. Easy with touch. The kind of person who leans into you when he laughs and throws an arm around your shoulders without thinking. The kind of person who makes you feel chosen even when you probably aren’t.
So you buried it under routine and late-night beers and the hoodies he keeps leaving behind in your studio chair. Under the certainty that none of this would ever become more.
Your client shifts slightly beneath your hand. “You know,” he says, “if I met you somewhere else, I’d think you were flirting with me.”
You drag the needle into a clean line. “That sounds like a you problem.”
“I’m serious.” His smile turns crooked. “Soft voice. Hand on my waist. Eye contact. It’s confusing.”
“You came to a tattoo appointment.”
“Yeah, but you’re making it hard to stay professional.”
Mingi sets his beer down a little too hard against the table. You glance back automatically. He’s staring at the floor now, jaw tight for half a second before he notices you looking.
“What?” he says.
“Nothing.”
Your client looks between both of you once, then keeps talking. Unbothered. As if Mingi isn’t watching his every word.
“No, but seriously,” he says, looking at you again. “You’ve got dangerous energy.”
“Dangerous.”
“Yeah. Like you flirt for fun and ruin lives accidentally.”
You laugh softly through your nose.
But Mingi doesn’t. He should. He could. He usually does.
Instead his eyes keep lifting every time your hand settles against the client’s ribs. He goes quiet whenever the client calls you sweet. He keeps trying to insert himself into the conversation and failing to catch your attention the same way the client does.
And underneath all of it, something uncomfortable starts pulling tighter in his chest. Because the client gets your teasing. Your soft voice. Your hands all over him. And Mingi suddenly can’t stop wondering if that’s just who you are with everybody.
The rest of the session passes normally. Mostly. Your client keeps trying.
“You gonna miss me when I’m gone?”
You smooth the wrap carefully against his ribs. “I’ll think about you sometimes.”
“Damn. Sometimes?”
“Don’t get greedy.”
He laughs again, completely charmed by you in the way men always are.
And every time you touch him, Mingi notices. Not angry. Not even resentful. Just painfully aware. Like hearing your favorite song playing from somebody else’s car.
By the time the tattoo’s paid for, the studio feels strangely dense. Your client grabs his jacket, already backing toward the door.
“Same time next week?”
“We’ll see if you survive this one first.”
“I survived because you were gentle.”
Something shifts in Mingi’s jaw. The client notices immediately. A grin spreads slowly across his face.
“Tell your boyfriend thanks for the emotional support.”
The door closes before either of you can answer. Silence spills into the studio after him. The buzzing needle’s gone now. The music suddenly sounds louder. Slower.
From the corner of your eye, you catch Mingi pushing himself off the couch. He flips the sign on the front door to CLOSED before sliding the lock into place with a quiet click. Then he walks toward you.
You start cleaning your station, peeling off gloves and reaching for disinfectant.
Usually Mingi waits for you to drift back toward him naturally. Tonight he comes to you instead. You feel him before he speaks. Close enough that your body notices immediately.
“So,” you say lightly, wiping down the tattoo bed, “my boyfriend, huh?”
Mingi nearly chokes on his beer. You glance over just in time to catch the way his eyes widen above the bottle.
“He was joking,” he says too fast.
“You seem stressed for someone who’s definitely not my boyfriend.”
“I’m not stressed.”
You hum like you totally believe him.
Mingi reaches past you for the paper towels at the exact same moment you turn. His chest brushes your shoulder. Tiny contact. Barely anything. Still, his hand lands automatically at your waist to steady you.
Your stomach flips immediately.
Neither of you moves. Then his thumb shifts once against your side before he pulls away like he only just realized where his hand is.
“You were very attentive with him,” he says casually.
You glance sideways at him.
“It’s my job.”
“Hm.”
Not convinced.
He leans against the edge of the bed while you keep cleaning, entirely too close for someone pretending to be normal right now. His knee knocks yours once.
“You know,” he says, “I’ve been thinking about getting another tattoo.”
You snort softly. “You complain through every appointment.”
The answer slips out so easily you almost miss it. Almost.
Your mouth curls before you can stop it. That seems to make him realize he said it out loud, because he looks away immediately, rubbing at the back of his neck while you reach for the petroleum jelly beside him.
His hand catches your wrist first. Lightly. You freeze.
“There,” he murmurs, thumb brushing across the inside of your wrist. “Ink.”
Your breath catches a little stupidly.
Mingi has always touched you easily. Like affection is something that lives in his hands naturally. This doesn’t feel careless. This feels slow. Aware.
His thumb drags once more before he lets go. Neither of you pulls away right away.
“That guy was flirting with you.”
You tilt your head. “You think?”
Mingi gives you a flat look.
“He literally asked for your number.”
“And?”
“And you flirt back.”
You blink. “I don’t.”
“You absolutely do.”
That lands heavier than it should. Like he’s been holding onto it longer than just tonight. You turn fully toward him, arms folding loosely.
“Oh my god,” you say slowly. “You’re jealous.”
“No.”
Immediate. Too immediate.
“You are.”
“I’m really not.”
“But you don’t like it.”
“I don’t care.”
“You looked ready to bite through drywall because he called me dangerous.”
“That’s because he sounded ridiculous.”
You laugh before you can stop yourself. Mingi’s eyes narrow slightly.
“There,” he says immediately. “That.”
“What?”
“That. You do that with everybody.”
“Do what?”
“That—” He gestures vaguely at you. “That thing.”
You stare at him for two full seconds. Then burst out laughing. Mingi groans instantly, dragging both hands down his face.
“Forget I said anything.”
“No, no,” you say, stepping closer. “I want details. What thing?”
“I hate you.”
“That’s not very boyfriend of you.”
His head snaps up so fast it almost makes you grin.
“You’re enjoying this way too much.”
Maybe you are. Because suddenly everything from tonight rearranges itself perfectly in your head. The hovering. The watching. The way he kept interrupting. The way his eyes tracked your hands every time you touched the client.
And now this.
Song Mingi, who walks through life like nothing rattles him, suddenly can’t even look at you properly.
You should let him recover. You don’t. Instead, you step closer. Slow enough that he notices. Close enough that his attention snaps back to you immediately.
Now there’s barely space left between you.
Your hand lifts automatically toward the silver chain half-hidden beneath the collar of his hoodie, the pendant twisted awkwardly into the fabric. You hook two fingers under it, easing it free, then straighten it against his chest. A small gesture. Almost domestic.
Your knuckles brush warm skin where the chain slips under his shirt.
Mingi freezes. Not dramatically. Just enough for you to feel it.
“You’re touchy today,” he says softly.
“You started it.”
“Did I?”
“Mhm.”
Your fingers trail once along the chain before falling away. He watches every second of it. Like your hands are speaking a language he’s trying desperately to translate before it disappears.
A reluctant smile threatens at the corner of his mouth again, weaker now. Distracted by the fact you’re still standing too close.
“How many clients leave here thinking you’re into them?”
You blink once. “Excuse me?”
“I’m serious.” His jaw shifts faintly. “You look at people like that and then act surprised when they start falling in love with you.”
The sentence lands hard enough to knock the air slightly out of your lungs. Because he says it like an accusation. But underneath it, there’s something rawer. Softer. Something dangerously close to confession.
Your mouth twitches despite yourself. “It gets me better tips.”
“Right.” He glances away briefly. “Cool.” Then, quieter, “you flirt with me for free.”
Mingi’s eyes widen slightly like he physically felt the words leave his mouth and wants to grab them out of the air.
You blink once. Then tilt your head.
“…Do I?”
His ears turn red instantly. Actually red. And that’s new enough to make warmth bloom low in your stomach.
“I just mean,” he says quickly, taking half a step back, “you’re naturally like that. With everyone.”
“With everyone?”
“Yeah.”
You follow him when he steps back. Not enough to scare him. Just enough to make him realize you noticed.
“And you hate it?”
“No.” Too fast again. “I mean. Not hate. I just don’t like watching people flirt with you.”
The words slide warm and heavy into the room. Your heartbeat stumbles.
“Oh,” you say softly.
Mingi laughs once, humorless around the edges. “Yeah. Oh.”
Another step back from him. Another forward from you. The rhythm becomes almost absurd. Mingi retreating inch by inch while you slowly invade every space he gives up. Like he’s trying to survive this conversation and you’re trying to see how long until he breaks.
“I just think,” he says carefully, “most people don’t pay attention properly.”
“And you do.”
He hesitates. Then nods once. Small. Honest.
God.
The air suddenly feels too thick in your lungs.
“I know when you’re tired before you admit it,” he says quietly. “I know you pretend to hate sweet drinks but steal mine every time. I know you stop talking when something’s actually wrong.” His voice softens. “I know you hum when you tattoo.”
Your chest tightens painfully.
Mingi keeps talking now like he can’t stop once he’s started.
“I know which clients piss you off before they even sit down. I know you clean your station twice when you’re stressed. I know you act meaner when you’re embarrassed.”
Your lips twitch despite yourself.
“And I know,” he says, finally looking at you again, “that you flirt with people when you want them comfortable. But it doesn’t feel the same when you do it to me.”
The room goes quiet. Not empty. Heavy. Your heart is beating so hard now it almost feels embarrassing.
“Mingi…”
He keeps backing up as he talks. You keep moving forward. Until eventually his back brushes the wall near the hallway leading to the back room. Trapped. His breath catches slightly.
He tries to shift forward again on instinct. He can’t. Because you’re still there. Not crowding. Just close enough that the space he needs is gone. He’s actually stuck. Not metaphorically. Not dramatically. Just physically there, pinned between the wall and you.
His breath turns shallow.
And suddenly you realize he’s actually nervous. Not teasing nervous. Not playful nervous. Real nervous. Mingi, who flirts with strangers like breathing and walks through every room like he belongs there, is looking at you like one wrong sentence might crack him open completely.
The realization sends warmth blooming painfully through your chest.
“I think about you too much,” he blurts suddenly.
The words hang there between you. Honest. Unpolished. Mingi winces immediately after saying them like he regrets how revealing they sound. But he keeps going anyway.
“Like… an embarrassing amount, actually.” His eyes flick away again. “At work. On my way home. I see things and think you’d laugh at them. Or hate them. Or make fun of them for being ugly.”
Your lips twitch helplessly.
“And then you flirt with random guys in front of me and suddenly I’m sitting on your couch acting like a fucking psycho because some dude called your hands magic.”
The laugh that escapes you is soft. Warm. Fond enough to make his face flush deeper.
“I’m serious,” he mutters weakly.
“I know.”
“No, I don’t think you do.”
That lands differently. The air shifts with it. Mingi swallows hard, debating whether to say the next thought out loud.
“I…” His voice catches briefly. “I’ve liked you for a long time.”
You stare at him for a second longer than necessary. Like you’re enjoying this more than you should.
“You said that out loud,” you murmur.
Mingi groans again, covering his face briefly. “I know.”
The words leave him too easily. You see the exact moment he realizes that. Mingi drops his hands from his face slowly, looking at you now with this exhausted kind of honesty that almost hurts to look at.
“And the worst part,” he says more quietly, “is that I don’t even think it’s just a crush anymore.”
Something deep in your chest folds in on itself. Because his voice changes in that sentence. Softer. Heavier. Deeper. Like he didn’t mean to admit that part out loud.
“I think…” He exhales shakily, eyes finally lifting fully to yours. “I think somewhere along the way you became the first person I look for everywhere.”
The room goes completely still. No music. No neon outside. No buzzing lights overhead. Just him, and the way he’s looking at you like he’s just handed you something fragile with both hands and doesn’t know what you’re going to do with it.
You should say something. You should probably breathe. Instead, you step closer. Slow enough that he notices immediately.
His eyes widen slightly. A flicker of confusion first. Then something sharper, like he’s just realized the distance is disappearing.
Your hand catches lightly in the strings of his hoodie, fingers curling there as you guide him back into the wall behind him. Not rough. Just certain.
The soft thud of it stops his breath for half a second. His shoulders hit first. Then stillness.
Mingi blinks up at you, wide-eyed now. Caught off guard in a way that makes him look younger, softer. Like his brain is a beat behind his body catching up to the fact that he’s not moving anymore.
Trapped, but gently so.
The realization flashes across his face in real time:
Oh.
Your hand stays at his chest, twisting the soft fabric once around your fingers. And for the first time since he walked into your studio tonight, Mingi has absolutely nothing left to hide behind.
No jokes. No easy grin. Just wide dark eyes and a pulse hammering visibly in his throat beneath your touch.
He stares at you like you’ve just pulled the floor out from under him.
“…You have to stop looking at me like that.”
His voice barely survives the sentence. Low. Rough around the edges. Like every nerve in his body is pulled too tight beneath your hands.
You tilt your head slightly, still twisting the drawstring between your fingers.
“Like what?”
Mingi shuts his eyes for one dangerous second. Like he physically can’t withstand this much of you at once. When he opens them again, there’s only helpless honesty bleeding through every crack.
“You know,” he says quietly.
“Explain it to me.”
A shaky breath leaves him.
“It’s just…” His eyes flick helplessly between yours. “You keep looking at me like you already know every stupid thing I’m trying to say before I say it.”
Your pulse stumbles.
“And it’s making me insane because I had this whole speech in my head on the drive here and now you’re standing this close and I can’t remember any of it anymore.”
A laugh threatens at the corner of your mouth.
“Mingi—”
“No, wait.” He shakes his head quickly, words starting to tumble out faster now. “I’m serious. I was gonna do this properly. I had actual thoughts. Like coherent ones.”
“Did you?”
“Yes.” His ears are pink now. “And now all I can think about is your mouth.”
That almost breaks you immediately. Mingi realizes what he just admitted and groans softly, the back of his head nearly knocking against the wall behind him.
“See? This is exactly what I mean.”
“You’re doing great.”
“I’m literally not.”
You smile despite the violent rhythm of your heartbeat. Because this is what you’ve wanted for so long. Not perfection. Not some polished confession. Just him. Big hands flexing uselessly at his sides. Voice falling apart mid-sentence. Looking at you like wanting you has become unbearable to carry alone.
His eyes snap back to yours instantly. And that does it.
Because Mingi has always looked enormous next to you. Broad shoulders. Height that swallows space when he walks into a room. But right now? Right now he’s melting under your fingertips. And the realization floods through you like heat.
You step even closer. Until his breath catches against your mouth. Until the wall is the only thing keeping him upright.
“I just…” His voice catches again. “I really like you.”
The sentence lands between you soft and devastating. And suddenly kissing him feels less like a decision and more like instinct. So you do. Fast. Sudden. Like finally giving in to gravity after fighting it for months.
Mingi freezes instantly. A sharp inhale catches hard in his chest the second your lips touch his. For half a heartbeat he doesn’t move at all. Like his brain genuinely stopped working. Then his hands hit your waist. Hard. Not rough. Desperate.
A wrecked sound tears out of him somewhere between a gasp and a whimper as he melts forward into you all at once, like the kiss physically knocked the strength out of his body.
You kiss him harder immediately. Months of swallowed wanting snapping loose at once.
Mingi tries to follow too fast, too overwhelmed already, and his head knocks lightly against the wall behind him with a soft curse breathed straight into your mouth.
“Fuck,” he whispers against your lips.
You laugh softly into the kiss.
“You talk too much.”
“I was trying to…”
Another kiss cuts him off.
“I know.”
Mingi makes that sound again. That helpless little exhale that seems to punch straight through your ribs.
His hands finally settle at your hips, huge and shaky and warm through your clothes. Not controlling. Just holding on. Like he’s afraid this might disappear if he loosens his grip.
You pull back barely enough to look at him. His lips are flushed already, swollen and wet from your mouth. Eyes blown wide and dazed beneath messy dark hair.
He looks ruined. By a kiss.
The realization sends another pulse of heat straight through you.
“Mingi,” you whisper.
He visibly swallows. You brush your thumb against his jaw and he leans into it immediately without thinking. That almost undoes you.
“You don’t get it,” he says suddenly, breath uneven.
“Then tell me.”
“I can’t when you keep doing that.”
“Doing what?”
“Looking at me like you want to eat me alive.”
You smile slightly. “Maybe I do.”
His entire body reacts. A shiver runs through him so obvious you feel it beneath your palms.
A laugh slips out of you before you can stop it.
Mingi’s forehead drops briefly against yours with a quiet groan, like even hearing you laugh right now is too much for him.
“You make everything worse,” he blurts suddenly.
You blink once. “Excuse me?”
“I mean good worse,” he says quickly. “Jesus Christ.”
His forehead bumps yours again, embarrassed.
“I’ll be fine all day. Totally normal. And then you smile at me once and suddenly I can’t think straight for hours.”
Your expression softens before you can stop it. Mingi notices immediately. You can see the exact second he realizes he said too much. But instead of retreating this time, he exhales shakily and lets his forehead stay pressed to yours.
“It’s not just this,” he says quietly. “It’s never just this with you.”
Your fingers loosen against his hoodie. The teasing drains out of you slowly, replaced by something warmer. Deeper. Aching.
“Then what is it?” you whisper.
Mingi’s eyes close. And for a moment he just breathes against you. Like he’s spent months holding this inside his chest and doesn’t know how to survive finally letting it out.
Then, barely above a murmur:
“It’s you.” Your heart stumbles violently. “It’s always been you.”
That one nearly steals your breath. You kiss him again before he can recover from saying it. Slower this time. Intentional. And he melts properly. No hesitation left now.
Mingi makes this quiet, wrecked sound into your mouth like the kiss physically knocks the air out of him. His hands tighten at your waist for a second before one of them slides higher, tentative at first. Like he’s not fully sure he’s allowed.
Your breath catches when his fingertips slip beneath the hem of your shirt at the small of your back. Warm skin against warm skin.
Mingi shudders immediately at the contact. You feel it happen under your hands.
The kiss breaks for half a second on his end, like his brain short-circuits from touching you there, but then he’s kissing you again instantly. Hungrier now. Still soft, still careful, but with this desperate edge underneath it that makes your pulse stumble hard.
His hand spreads slowly against your lower back beneath your shirt. Huge. Shaky. His fingertips drag upward inch by inch along your spine like he’s trying to memorize the shape of you through touch alone.
The sensation sends heat straight through your chest.
“Mingi,” you breathe against his mouth.
That sound almost ruins him. A helpless exhale leaves him as his forehead bumps yours briefly before he kisses you again, deeper this time. Like hearing his name in your voice just dissolved whatever restraint he had left.
He keeps touching you carefully. That’s the dangerous part. Not greedy. Not rough. Just unbearably attentive. His fingertips trace lightly along your spine again and your entire body reacts before you can stop it. You feel him notice immediately in the way his breath stutters into the kiss.
“Oh my god,” he whispers against your lips, sounding dazed. “You felt that.”
You hate how much your stomach flips at the shaky little note of wonder in his voice.
“Keep kissing me,” you murmur.
He obeys instantly. Like reflex. Like he’d do anything you asked right now.
Every sound you make wrecks him further. You can feel it happening in real time.
The little breathless noises he keeps losing into your mouth. The way his hand trembles slightly against your back every time you kiss him deeper. Every time you pull back half an inch, Mingi follows immediately like instinct. Like distance physically hurts now that he’s had you this close.
Your hands slide fully into his hair now, tugging lightly at the roots.
A shaky sound breaks out of him immediately. You feel it against your tongue.
“Fuck,” he whispers again, ruined already.
One of his hands stays spread beneath your shirt, warm against the center of your back. The other slides up suddenly, almost clumsy with urgency, until his fingers bury into the hair at the back of your head.
Then he kisses you deeper. Not confident this time. Needy. Like he can’t get close enough anymore.
Your breath catches softly against his mouth. One of your hands stays tangled in his hair while the other drifts slowly down his arm, fingertips tracing the hard curve of his bicep beneath his hoodie sleeve before sliding higher again. Over his shoulder. Around the back of his neck. Up along his jaw.
Mingi visibly shivers when your thumb brushes beneath his ear. You feel his hand flex hard against your spine beneath your shirt. Like he doesn’t know what to do with how badly he wants to touch you.
You kiss the corner of his mouth. His jaw. The warm skin beneath his ear.
Mingi’s head tips back against the wall automatically, exposing more of his throat with a helpless inhale that nearly destroys your composure entirely.
“There you are,” you murmur softly against his skin.
A wrecked sound leaves him immediately. Not even words anymore.
“You have any idea,” you breathe between kisses, “how hard this has been for me?”
Mingi goes still for half a second.
You pull back just enough to look at him. His lips are parted now. Eyes dark and blown wide beneath messy hair. Completely wrecked.
“I mean it.” Your forehead presses against his again. “You take care of me without even thinking about it. You show up every single time. You make every room feel safer just by walking into it.”
His hands are shaking now. Actually shaking.
“And you have been driving me insane for months,” you confess softly. “So don’t stand here acting shocked because I finally kissed you.”
A wrecked laugh breaks out of him, immediately swallowed by another desperate kiss.
Your mouths keep finding each other between breaths, between half-finished sentences, between tiny overwhelmed sounds neither of you can hide anymore.
Everything feels overheated and too close and slightly off balance.
Then suddenly his kiss falters. Not because he pulls away. Because his body gives out first. A rough breath punches out of him against your mouth as his knees buckle unexpectedly beneath him.
“Mingi—”
Your hands grab for him immediately, trying to steady him, but he’s already sliding down the wall in one overwhelmed motion, dragging you with him instinctively. One hand catches hard at your waist while the other slips from your hair, fumbling clumsily for balance that clearly no longer exists.
“Wait, wait—”
A helpless laugh breaks out of him mid-collapse.
Your knees hit the hardwood on either side of his thighs as he lands heavily against the wall with a stunned exhale. Boots scraping awkwardly against the floorboards. Long limbs everywhere at once. Completely uncoordinated now.
For one messy second, neither of you knows where to put your bodies.
Then stillness.
Mingi’s chest heaves beneath you. Your brows knit immediately. Concern flashes through you first.
“Min?”
He shakes his head once quickly. Not hurt. Just catastrophically overwhelmed.
You can see it everywhere. The violent flush spread down his throat. The dazed look in his eyes. The way his hand is still under your shirt like he forgot it was there entirely.
And something about it feels almost surreal. Song Mingi. All sharp height and broad shoulders and effortless confidence. Reduced to this because you kissed him.
“…Did your legs just give out?”
“No,” he says immediately.
“They literally folded.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re on the floor.”
“So are you.”
The comeback would land better if he wasn’t staring up at you like he’s moments away from short-circuiting completely.
And then you feel it. The thick, hard press of him beneath the dark denim where you landed directly on his lap. Heavy and unmistakable, pressing right up between your legs through your clothes. Fuck. He feels as big as he carries himself, maybe bigger.
Your breath catches slightly. Mingi notices instantly. A mortified sound leaves him.
“Don’t start,” he says quickly.
You look back up slowly. “…Start what?”
“That face.”
“What face?”
“The one where you realize things.”
Your mouth twitches immediately. His throat bobs hard.
You feel his fingers flex under your shirt instinctively before his nails drag lightly down your back in one slow scrape that makes your entire body jolt.
Fuck.
Mingi notices that too. His eyes darken immediately.
“I’m trying so hard to be normal right now,” he whispers.
The honesty of it nearly knocks the air out of you. Because he sounds wrecked. Not cocky. Not teasing. Just overwhelmed down to the bone. Still holding onto you like letting go would physically kill him.
Your eyes flick briefly to the way his hands are gripping you now. One spread hot against your spine beneath your shirt. The other tight on your waist. Strong enough to leave bruises. Shaking anyway.
Something hot curls low in your stomach at the sight. You can feel the strength coiled in him, the way he could easily lift you, pin you, take control if he wanted to. But he doesn't. He just looks up at you like he’s dying from how much he wants you.
When your hips shift experimentally against his, his reaction is immediate. A broken sound tears out of his throat as his head falls back toward the wall.
Your hand catches it before it can hit too hard, fingers tightening at the base of his neck as you cushion the impact instinctively.
Mingi melts instantly beneath your touch. His eyes squeeze shut for one second as your fingers tighten slightly in his hair. His grip spasms hard against your waist.
You bite your lip, suppressing your own sounds at the way he reacts so fast, so visibly, like every nerve in his body is wired directly into your hands.
“Oh my god,” you whisper, almost fascinated now. “I broke you.”
"Shut up," he breathes instantly, voice cracking.
Your laugh brushes warm against his mouth. Mingi’s eyes open again immediately, locking onto you like he’s afraid to miss a second of this.
And suddenly your concern dissolves into something hotter. Because he looks huge beneath you. Broad chest rising hard beneath his hoodie. Big hands gripping your body like he can’t stop himself. Thick thighs spread under yours. But none of that changes the fact he’s completely unraveling for you right now.
You tug his hair again, sharper this time. A wrecked sound punches out of him immediately.
“There he is,” you murmur softly. “My good boy.”
“Please don’t say things like that.”
“Why?”
“Because I already can’t think.”
His fingers scratch lightly down your spine again, rougher now, and the sensation shoots heat straight through your stomach. You feel him twitch between your legs, the pressure catching your clit perfectly even through denim, and you have to swallow your own moan down before it escapes.
You grin instead. Then you kiss him again.
And whatever control he had left finally snaps. His hand fists suddenly in your hair while he tilts your head enough to deepen the kiss properly. Sloppier. Hungrier. He kisses you like he can’t get enough oxygen from anywhere else.
You drag your mouth down his jaw, over his throat, and Mingi immediately tips his head back for you again with a helpless sound, exposing more skin like instinct.
His head knocks toward the wall once more and you catch him again automatically, palm sliding behind his head while your other hand stays around his shoulders.
“There,” you murmur against his throat. “Careful.”
That almost makes him whine.
Your teeth scrape lightly over his pulse. Mingi’s hips jerk up involuntarily beneath you.
“Fuck,” he chokes out, hands tightening hard enough to drag you fully against him. “You’re gonna ruin me.”
He sounds terrified.
Your forehead brushes his gently, breath mingling between you while his entire body trembles underneath yours.
You kiss him again, slower now, while your hips move in tiny experimental rolls against his. Barely anything. Just enough friction to make his breathing fall apart completely.
He’s concentrating so hard you can see it in his face. Jaw clenched. Brows pinched slightly. Trying desperately not to cum on the spot from just this. He tries to slow you once, but he fails instantly when you press closer and another helpless, broken moan slips out of him into your mouth.
Then he’s moving too, dragging desperate open-mouthed kisses down your neck like he doesn’t know where to put all this wanting anymore.
His hands slide lower.
One stays beneath your shirt, fingers tracing your spine again and again like he’s addicted to the feeling of your skin.
The other grips your ass hard, dragging you tighter against him while his mouth presses sloppy kisses against your throat.
“You’re so pretty,” he whispers against your skin, voice wrecked beyond repair. "So fucking pretty, baby, look at you—"
You’ve never seen him like this before. Never seen him stop trying to perform strength. And maybe that’s why this feels so intimate it almost scares you. Because he’s letting you see every vulnerable part without fighting to hide them anymore.
“Mingi,” you murmur softly.
He looks at you immediately.
“You okay?”
A quick nod. Then, quieter, “don’t stop.”
Your thumb smooths gently across his cheek.
“I won’t.”
And that’s what finally breaks him open. You see it happen in real time. The exact second the last bit of distance leaves his face. The exact second he realizes this isn’t temporary. That you’re not going to pull away from him tomorrow and pretend none of this happened.
His forehead drops against your shoulder with a shaky exhale.
Then he kisses you again. Different this time. Slower. Still hungry, but softer around the edges, like he can’t decide whether to devour you or memorize you.
His hands roam more boldly now, your back, your waist, your hips, your ass, gripping like he keeps remembering he’s allowed to touch you like this.
Your knees ache against the hardwood, but you barely notice once he plants his boots against the floor and pulls you flush against him with one helpless pull of his hips.
The breath leaves both of you at once.
Suddenly there’s nowhere your body ends without running into his. Broad chest. Heavy thighs. Strong arms boxing you in, without feeling threatening for even a second.
That’s the thing that gets you. How big he is and how careful he still is with you anyway.
Your hand slides to his throat experimentally, fingers loose against his pulse. Mingi's eyes go dark instantly, pupils blown wide. He swallows against your palm. Breath catching hard enough you feel it against your mouth.
"Yeah?" you whisper.
He nods, fast and desperate. "Yes. Please."
The smallest increase in pressure tears a wrecked sound out of him, his head falling back against the wall. The sound goes straight between your legs.
After that, everything loses rhythm. Kisses turning sloppy. Breathing uneven. His hands gripping harder whenever you get too close.
His hips are thrusting up, rolling, seeking more friction, and you feel yourself getting wet just from the desperation in his movements. He's so hard it must hurt, straining against the denim, and when you grind down against him, he cries out, hands gripping your ass to try to make you move faster.
He realizes what he's doing halfway through and stills himself with visible effort, eyes squeezed shut like he’s trying to regain control.
“Wait,” he breathes roughly. “If you keep doing that, I’m not gonna last.”
The honesty of it sends heat curling low in your stomach.
And you're barely doing anything, but the fact that he's this close from almost nothing makes you want to feel him fall apart because he wants you that much.
You kiss him again, deep and filthy, and keep your movements light. Just small, teasing rolls of your hips.
"So pretty," he whines, "baby, you're so—fuck. Seriously. You're so beautiful, so hot, I can't—I can’t even look at you properly right now."
“You’re so cute,” you breathe against his mouth.
Your fingers slide softly through his hair again, gentler this time, scratching lightly at his scalp while his eyes flutter half-shut.
“That’s my pretty boy,” you whisper softly. “Trying so hard to hold it together.”
His face flushes deeper immediately.
“You’re doing so good for me, Min.”
That one finally ruins him.
His hips twitch up again, needy and involuntary, and you feel the damp heat spreading at the front of his jeans where he’s already leaking from almost nothing. The realization barely has time to settle before his whole body jolts beneath you.
A strangled grunt punches out of him.
His grip clamps hard around you so suddenly it knocks your balance backward. You catch yourself instinctively, palm slapping against the wall beside his head before either of you can crack into it.
Mingi goes tense all at once, hips stuttering up into yours before he buries his face instantly into your neck with a sharp gasp, biting down hard enough to muffle the wrecked sound that follows.
And then he’s coming. Fast. Sudden. Hard enough his whole body shudders under you.
For the first time all night, he stops holding himself back. His arms lock tight around you as he pushes himself off the wall just enough to drag you with him, forcing you to tilt back slightly in his grip while he shakes through it. Like he physically needs you closer to survive it.
Your arms loop around his neck automatically to steady both of you, one hand sliding into his hair, fingers spreading against the back of his head to keep him tucked against your throat while he rides it out.
You feel every pulse through the denim between you. The hot spread of wetness. The helpless way his body betrayed him from almost nothing except your mouth, your weight against him, your hand at his throat.
His hips jerk once more before he folds inward completely, trembling against your neck, breathing ragged through clenched teeth while he tries desperately to hide how easily he came.
Then nothing. No movement. No sound except his uneven breathing against your skin.
You blink once, heat rushing straight through you at what just happened. At how little it took. At how desperately his body gave in the second you told him what he wanted to hear.
“Mingi.”
A horrified groan muffles straight into your neck.
You bite back a laugh instantly. Not mean. Never mean. Just unbearably fond. Because this man. This man who walked in here trying to act normal about being in love with you is now actively attempting to fuse himself into your shoulder to avoid eye contact.
You shift slightly, trying to look at him. He follows immediately, burying himself deeper against your neck.
“Mingi,” you repeat, softer now, fingers slipping into the hair at the nape of his neck. “Hey.”
A helpless smile spreads across your face as you press a kiss against his temple. He shudders under it instantly.
“Don’t look at me.”
That actually makes you laugh. Quiet and warm against his skin.
You coax his face back enough to look at him properly and nearly lose your mind all over again. Pink cheeks. Wet swollen lips. Eyes glassy and unfocused beneath messy hair. Completely wrecked.
And beneath you, you can still feel him, hot and sticky and probably uncomfortable as hell in his jeans, but making no move to fix it because that would mean acknowledging it.
“Shit,” he says immediately, mortified. “I’m sorry.”
That catches you off guard enough your expression softens instantly. Because he sounds embarrassed, yeah, but underneath it there’s sincerity too. Like he’s genuinely worried he ruined something.
“I was trying really hard not to cum,” he blurts, words tumbling out faster now that they’ve started. “I was trying to hold it together and then you kept kissing me and calling me pretty and I just—”
He cuts himself off with another groan, dragging a hand over his burning face.
“Min.” You wait until his eyes finally flick back to yours. “Why are you apologizing?”
His brows pull together slightly.
“…Because I came in my jeans like a teenager?”
You laugh softly. “And?”
“And we were literally just making out.”
You grin despite yourself, pulse still throbbing low and hot between your legs. Because honestly? The more you think about it, the more turned on you get.
Your hips shift unconsciously against him and Mingi sucks in a sharp breath immediately, eyes squeezing shut.
“Shit, sorry,” you murmur, fascinated. “Still sensitive?”
“Please have mercy on me.”
The shaky way he says it sends another pulse of heat straight through you. You lean in until your noses brush.
“You know this was hot, right?”
“That was hot to you? You’re not making fun of me?” he asks carefully.
Your heart actually aches a little.
“Mingi.” You brush your thumb over his cheekbone. “I’m trying very hard not to climb you again right now.”
“Oh my god.”
You kiss him again before he can get more embarrassed. Just a small one. Quick. Soft.
Mingi exhales into your mouth immediately, shoulders dropping another inch. There’s something dangerously addictive about it. Like the second you kissed him, his body decided hiding anything from you was impossible.
Your gaze drops again before you can stop it. Right between his legs. And right on cue, he shifts under you again and you feel it. Hard again. Twitching faintly beneath the damp denim. Still reacting to every little thing you do.
You pull back barely enough to look at him. “You’re kidding. You’re hard again?”
Mingi groans immediately. “Don’t say it out loud.”
Your laugh spills warm against his skin. He shivers hard at the sound. His hips shift unconsciously like he’s trying to relieve pressure and instantly regrets it when the denim drags against him.
Mingi must see something change in your face, because his breathing catches again immediately.
“Can you stop looking at me like you’re about to climb inside my ribcage?” he whispers.
You grin. “No.”
Mingi groans. “I hate you.”
“No you don’t.”
“…No. I really don’t.”
You laugh again and finally climb off his lap. Your knees ache faintly when you stand, but the sight in front of you almost takes you back out again.
Mingi looks ruined. Hoodie twisted crooked from your hands. Lips bitten red. Dark stain obvious across his jeans now no matter how he tries to angle himself away from it.
You bite your lip softly and hold your hand out toward him.
“C’mon.”
He blinks up at you. “…Where?”
Your smirk sharpens just slightly.
“You’re a mess,” you say, pointedly glancing at his lap before meeting his eyes again.
His face goes red all over again.
“Besides…” Your voice softens. “I don’t think I’m done with you yet.”
Mingi goes completely still. Then his fingers tighten around yours hard enough to feel it.
“Cool,” he says faintly. “Awesome. Great. Yeah,” he says quietly, standing now, towering close enough to steal the air from your lungs again. “You have no idea what you just started.”
Your stomach flips embarrassingly hard at the look on his face now.
“That sounds threatening.”
“It is.”
You open your mouth to answer, but Mingi kisses you first. Slow enough to distract you completely. Which is exactly why you don’t notice him crouching until the floor disappears beneath you.
“Wait, wha—”
A squeak bursts out of you as Mingi hooks an arm behind your legs and lifts you clean over his shoulder in one smooth motion.
“Mingi!”
He laughs against your startled noise as he playfully smacks your thigh before he starts walking toward the bathroom like carrying you around like this is the most natural thing in the world.
“Oh, now you’re shy?” he teases.
Heat rushes straight to your face. “Put me down.”
“No.”
He punctuates it with another slap against your ass that makes you gasp so loudly he nearly folds over laughing himself.
“You were talking real brave five minutes ago.”
You bury your burning face against the back of his hoodie while his laugh rumbles warm through your legs.
“You let me recover. Rookie mistake,” he says, opening the bathroom door. “You’re gonna regret giving me confidence.”
you kind of wished he had never found out about it. not really, but now it certainly seems he likes to use it as leverage against you.
your boyfriend was gentle in all the ways that count. soft touches that made you feel like precious art. sweet words of encouragement that made you feel seen. but sometimes you feel like he might be too gentle with you.
the only times he ever let that soft-handed mask down were when he was fucking you.
and the first time he ever found out about your little infatuation, he seemed to have grown a little more comfortable with roughing it up a little.
“oh god… oh baby. fuck, you feel so good.” on your stomach, face pressed into the sheets, san’s face nudged in the tight space where your neck meets your shoulder. his arms caged either side of your head, resting his forearms next to your ears.
his chest was glued to your back, your spine digging into his stomach. bare and hot and wet, your bodies pressed against each other without an inch of space to speak for. your entire body shivered when he forced himself deeper into you, his curved, thick cock splitting your cunt open.
this position had him so deep, so invasive, so full. his hips rolled against the flesh of your ass, san’s voice dipping low in needy moans when you squeezed around him while he pulled his hips back, listening to the slick sound your pussy made, trying to keep him inside.
“pussy’s so warm today, baby.” he lets his mouth fall open against the shell of your ear, panting and groaning to make your brain melt. “making me feel so fucking crazy, you make me feel crazy, pretty.”
you forced your head out of the pillow when you felt his thrusts slow to a deep grind, pulling a ragged whine from your mouth. you pried your eyes open to watch as his arms moved around your head.
“turn, look at us.” he kisses below your ear, and drags his tongue up the side of your cheek. his right arm reaches and grabs his phone from the corner of the bed, holding it tight in his hand and scrolling and pressing buttons.
you forget he keeps a tall mirror against his bedroom wall, right next to the end of his bed. you can see the top halves of your melded bodies. his big, broad shoulders shadow your littler form under him. his soft, flushed face meeting your eyes in the reflection, his big, meaty arms flexing and twitching around your head every time he moved.
you watch to try and see what he was doing, and he punishes your nosiness with a sharp, deep thrust that makes your calf lock up.
“mind your business, babydoll.” he grumbles, then you feel it. his left arm curls around the front of your throat, tight. the muscles twitch and contract over your neck, just enough to limit your breathing. snug, warm and secure around the front of your throat.
he feels you tighten around his cock, and it makes his skin prickle. “ooh, fuck…” he groans and you feel his voice vibrate against your back. you forced your eyes up and you can see his phone recording your reflection in the mirror. catching the fucked out look on your face, his thick arm wrapped around your throat in an owning headlock.
his mouth spreads into a sly grin when your eyes roll when he pulls back his hips and then sinks his cock back into you so slowly, so smoothly, your legs jerk under him to try and escape the feeling.
“my soft little slut…” san leans down to whisper in your ear, the flash of his camera moving with each thrust. he licks the tears that pool at the corner of your eyes before he drags his head back up to watch you both in the mirror.
“look at you go, baby.” he praises around a heated smile. “drooling all over my arm like some kind of puppy. does that feel good? hm?”
you whimper out an incoherent agreement, and he giggles softly, littering the nape of your neck with soft kisses. he adjusts his hips to drag against that deeper, sweeter spot, that makes you still and lightly sink your teeth into his arm.
he keeps that meaner pace, deep heavy strokes in your guts that you can do nothing but lie under his body and take. his arm around your neck made clouds swim around in your brain. he tightens the hold, and you squeal loudly, barely catching the way he zooms in with his phone to better catch the pretty look on your face.
your cheeks squished by his muscles, your eyes desperate and heavy-lidded. he thought you looked so cute, and who would’ve thought that all he had to do to get you this needy was to put you in a headlock.
san fucks you greedily, the curve of him perfectly hitting that spot that turned your mind off. his voice egged you on, his low moans, and his pretty heavy breaths. groaning ’mhms’ of approval with every thrust into you as if he was grading the feel of your cunt around him. with every stroke, you only seemed to get even wetter, and the proof was the sticky web of your slick that clung to his base.
“mm, i love fucking my baby, slow… and stupid.” he attaches his lips to the pulse point on your neck, sucking and running his tongue over the sensitive spot of skin. “jus wanna fuck you so deep it hurts.”
he’s in your ear, talking to you and only you. all the while his phone catches every moment, every thrust and every moan.
his lower stomach repeatedly brushes against your back, his cock stirring up your insides at the most, torturous and delicate pace. the slow smack of flesh, the sticky hollow sound of your cunt swallowing all of him.
you feel his knees brace against either side of your hips again, adjusting his posture a little. his arm around your throat tightens to your near limit, his head nudges against your neck, his lips whispering against your cheek.
this way he uses your neck as leverage to anchor is body to allow him to fuck his cock into you a little faster, a little rougher.
“yeah, baby, yeah. take all of me. all of me.” san’s voice drops into a breathy purr, pressing his lips directly against your ear, the soft skin tickling you. “givin this pussy a workout hm?”
you groan and kick your feet, and he laughs at you as hand from the arm he’s got your neck trapped in buries itself in your tangled hair and yanks your head to the side so you’re fully facing the mirror, your ear resting below his jaw.
“you like to be lazy. you like to lie here— fuck… lie here and take dick, helpless and limp. let sannie do all the work huh, princess? let this pussy do all the work for you?”
he turns his head and your eyes catch in the mirror. his eyes are lidded, competent and heated. yours are foggy, tear-glazed, spent. he smiles at your expression and growls under his breath when you clench around his dick again.
his fingers scrape against your scalp with every heavy stroke of his hips, his pretty grunts and moans making your belly twist into swirls.
your hands grasp at the sheets, your cries coming out choked and breathy then more san fucked you, and he seemingly forgot that you needed to breathe until you tapped on his bicep to tell him to let up.
he does immediately, loosening the hold on your throat. you gasp and choke, but he doesn’t stop moving his hips, fucking you slow and deep while you regain your breath.
“aww, ‘m sorry babydoll.” he kisses your temple and you could feel him giggle against your skin. his voice lowers to that brain ticking whisper and you feel your air stolen from you again.
“bet you would’ve looked so pretty passed out on my cock.” he finally sets down his phone and takes his now free hand and trails it down your body, running along the side of your waist, his hips never stopping that deep, languid push and pull.
“looking all soft and sleepy.” his hand snakes between your body and the bed and finds your clit with his coarse fingertips. you gasp and squirm under him, your body shaking as a plea for mercy. san only laughs, circling upwards against the sensitive nerves while he splits your pussy open, over and over and over again.
“think i could still make you cum in your sleep princess?” he whispers against your throat and you feel as his arm tightens its hold around your throat once again. you feel the bed start to shake and your cunt start to burn with pleasure as he picks up the pace of his thrusts, filling you long and deep at just the right angle.
“mmhm, soak my cock baby.” he growls under a moan, letting his tongue fall from his mouth and tasting the flushed skin on your throat. “make it smell like you.”
he bites his bottom lip and his eyebrows furrow, his cock pounding into you so full he just might had been close to fucking your cervix.
his fingers on your clit continue to move at that dragging, spherical pattern that helps that pressure build slowly. stroke my stroke, praise by praise. you melt under his body while he uses you as he sees fit. your pussy sucks him in everytime he draws back, your pretty little moans make san’s head spin.
“gonna fuck myself to that video everynight while im on tour.” he promises against your skin, your orgasm dangerously close to sweeping you onto the floor. he rolls his hips with every thrust, forcing his fat tip to press against your gspot.
“eee..every n-night..?” you whimper deliriously, his cock effectively having cut off all cognitive function, a stupid smile spread across your face.
he laughs and kisses your shoulder as he rolls his hips a little harder. “mhm, every night baby. i'll send you some videos so this pussy-” he thrusts hard this time, as if acknowledging her himself. “-doesn't miss me too much. want you to remember how good i make you feel while i'm gone.”
you shake violently when his tip nudges that spot just right, and right at that moment you cum on the spot. your limbs jerk and twitch and once san’s felt you cumming he eases his hips into a faster rut, pounding your pussy through your orgasm, fucking you through it.
“there we go, there we go. let it take you baby, keep cumming, keep cumming for me.” he pinches your clit and teases it with gentle brushes while he mounts you on his mattress.
his arm is covered in your drool, the red indentations of your bite marks inflamed on his skin. san looks back at you in the mirror, and you’re too out of it to notice as he pulls out his phone again and starts to record the reflection.
your eyes are shut and your brows are furrowed in bliss, lips parted in pathetic whines, your cheek resting against his bicep. he keeps his eyes on the mirror as your face twists in overstimulation when he starts to grind his cock deep into you.
his muscles flex, and he can feel the strain in his wrist from continually holding the camera up to capture you two. your shoulder twitches every time he bottoms out into your pussy, and your eyelids flutter every time he presses his palm against your lower stomach. he catches every change in expression, every twitch of your body, every lilt in your moans.
he always misses you so bad when hes away, so he always makes sure he fucks you so unbelievably well that you could probably do without him for at least a few days.
until you’re sore, or your stomach burns, or you physically can’t cum anymore. and he’ll be so methodic, so thorough, so gentle. anything to get you satiated for the first few days in his absence.
he's gotta work you out of his system somehow anyway, or else he'll be a horny, delirious wreck on tour.
summary: in which you’ve never given head before and your best friend is willing to teach you how
warning: oral, hand job, fingering, deep throating, squirting, unprotected sex, creampie
genre: smut
pairing: mingi x afab reader
word count: 16.2k
masterlist
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The bell above the door chimed as Mingi stepped out of the restaurant, the warm, greasy air of the kitchen clinging to him like a second skin. His parents were still inside, his mom yelling something in Korean about closing up the register, his dad arguing back like always. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket as he walked down the block, shoulders loose but his mind already drifting, like it always did to you.
The walk to the apartment was short. Too short for the thoughts building in his chest. By the time he reached the apartment building, he was already keyed up for no reason, like something was off, like the air had shifted and he just hadn’t caught up yet.
He took the stairs two at a time, unlocked the door and stepped inside and immediately froze. The apartment was quiet. Too quiet. No music. No TV. No you yelling at some random TikTok or calling his name from the kitchen. Just a soft broken sound that made Mingi’s head snap toward the living room.
“Y/N?” He dropped his keys somewhere by the door and moved fast, rounding the corner and there you were. Curled up on the couch, knees pulled to your chest, face buried in your hands like you were trying to hide from your own thoughts. Crying. Not the loud kind but the kind that slips out when you’re trying not to be heard. And something in Mingi’s chest snapped.
“Hey…. hey, what happened?” He was already in front of you, already crouching down, trying to catch your face as you turned away. Your eyes were red. Your cheeks flushed. Embarrassment written all over you in a way he didn’t understand yet but he felt it. “Talk to me,” he said, softer now, reaching out but stopping just short of touching you. Always careful. Always giving you space, even when it killed him.
You wiped at your face, clearly trying to pull yourself together, which only made his stomach twist harder. “It’s stupid,” you muttered.
“Then tell me anyway.”
“He broke up with me.”
“What?”
You let out a shaky breath, staring somewhere past him like you couldn’t stand to look him in the eye. “It’s not…. he just said we weren’t… compatible.” You hesitated before explaining. And suddenly, you looked smaller. Not physically. Just… folded in on yourself in a way Mingi had never seen before. “He said…” You swallowed. “Alex said it was weird that I’ve never….” You cut yourself off again, face burning.
Mingi leaned forward slightly, voice low, steady. “Never what?”
You shook your head, not looking at him. “I’ve never… done that before.”
“Done what?”
Your eyes squeezed shut like saying it would make it real. More embarrassing. “Given head before.” The room didn’t just go quiet. It stopped. Mingi blinked once, twice, trying to process what you just confessed. “You’re serious?”
You nodded, mortified now, shoulders curling inward. “I just…. I don’t know how, okay? And I didn’t want to be bad at it and make it awkward and…..” your voice cracked, frustration spilling in now, “and he made it seem like I was broken or something for not knowing how to do it already.”
Mingi stood up so fast the coffee table rattled. “I’m gonna kill him.”
“Mingi…”
“No, I’m serious,” he snapped, pacing now, hands dragging through his bleached blonde hair. “That’s what he broke up with you over? That? Like you owe him that? Like that’s something he’s entitled to?”
You sniffed, wiping at your face again. “I just feel stupid. It’s not…. like I won’t do it. I just…. Never have and now… I don’t know how.”
He stopped and turned back to you. And whatever was in his expression now, it wasn’t anger. Not at you. Never at you. It was something deeper. Softer. Almost… hurt. “Hey,” he said, quieter now, stepping closer again. “Don’t say that.”
You laughed weakly. “It’s true. I’m twenty five and I don’t even know how to suck dick!”
“You don’t need to know how.” His voice cut through yours, firm as you looked up at him. “What?” Mingi exhaled slowly, like he was trying to get his thoughts in order, but they weren’t behaving. Not when you looked like that. Not when someone had made you feel this small. “You don’t need to know how to suck dick.” He repeated, softer now. “Not unless you want to.”
You frowned slightly. “That doesn’t really fix the problem.” Mingi didn’t look away from you. He just stared… like he was thinking too hard. Like he was standing on the edge of something he couldn’t take back. “You trust me, right?” Your heart stuttered. “Always.” His tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek, jaw tight, like he was fighting himself.
“Then you wouldn’t have to feel stupid about it.”
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The fluorescent lights above you buzzed faintly. Not loud enough to be annoying. Just loud enough to be… there. Like everything else in this place. The office was small, temporary, forgettable, rows of desks, half filled cubicles, the low hum of keyboards and printers blending into one dull, endless rhythm. The kind of job you took because it was easy. Because it paid. Because it didn’t require you to think too hard.
Which, ironically, was exactly the problem. All you could do was think. Your cursor blinked on the screen in front of you, a blank document. Unfinished work. Ignored emails.
“Then you wouldn’t have to feel stupid about it.”
Your fingers stilled over the keyboard. God. You pressed your lips together, trying to focus, trying to force your brain back into something productive, but it was useless. Completely useless. Because the way Mingi had said it…. it hadn’t sounded like a joke. Hadn’t sounded like teasing. Hadn’t even sounded like him trying to make you feel better.
It had sounded… serious. Careful. Like he’d thought about it before he said it. Your stomach twisted as you leaned back slightly in your chair, eyes flicking around the office just to ground yourself, coworkers typing, someone coughing, the distant whir of a copier, a little glare sent towards Alex across the office, but it didn’t help.
Because all you could see was Mingi. You dropped your gaze back to the screen, swallowing. What did he mean? No…. you knew what he meant. You just didn’t know if he’d really meant it. That was the problem. Mingi had always been… comfortable. Safe. The one person you never had to overthink with. The one person who’d seen every version of you, from awkward thirteen year old to… whatever you were now, and never made you feel like you had to be anything else. You trusted him completely.
Your foot tapped lightly against the floor, restless energy building in your chest. What if he had meant it…. what if he meant…. to… your breath caught slightly and your face warmed instantly, heat creeping up your neck as the thought settled in deeper than you wanted it to. Not because of what it was. But because of who it was. Mingi, your best friend. The person who knew how you took your coffee, who stole your hoodies like they were his, who had a permanent dent in the couch from how often he sprawled across it like he owned the place since he moved in.
The same Mingi who had looked like he was ready to commit a felony over Alex. The same Mingi who…. your stomach flipped and you groaned softly under your breath, dropping your head into your hand. This was ridiculous. You were reading too much into it.
He was just being… him. Trying to make you feel better.
Right?
Your fingers hovered over the keyboard again, forcing yourself to type something, anything, but the words blurred together meaningless. Because another thought slipped in. Quieter. More dangerous. If he didn’t mean it… why did it sound like that? You knew the difference between when he was joking and when he wasn’t……
“Fuck.”
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The walk up to the apartment felt longer than usual. You’d replayed Mingi’s words all day. Every tone. Every pause. The way he’d looked at you when he said it. Your keys jingled softly in your hand as you reached the door, pausing for half a second before unlocking it like you needed to brace yourself. The door creaked open and there he was stretched out on the couch, one arm thrown behind his head, the other holding his phone loosely against his chest. The TV was on, something playing low in the background but he wasn’t really watching it.
His head turned the second you walked in, eyes landing on you immediately as he pushed himself up slightly, sitting forward. His brows pulled together slightly, head tilting as he watched you just… stand there. “You good?”
“What did you mean?”
His expression flickered. “What?”
You stepped further into the room now, heart already picking up, nerves buzzing under your skin. “Yesterday,” you said, voice tighter than you meant it to be. “When you said….” Your throat felt dry. “Then you wouldn’t have to feel stupid about it.”
Mingi didn’t answer right away. And that told you everything. “You didn’t mean it like that, right?” you pushed, words coming faster now. “You were just…. you were trying to make me feel better, or…”
“I meant it.” The words cut clean through yours and you stopped talking. Mingi sat there, elbows resting on his knees now, hands loosely clasped together as he looked at you, not avoiding, not backing down.
“You’re serious?”
“Yeah.”
The room suddenly felt smaller. Too small. Your fingers tightened slightly around the strap of your bag. “Mingi…” you started, but you didn’t even know what you were trying to say. Because what was there to say? “You’re talking about…”
“I know what I’m talking about,” he said quietly making your heart race now, thoughts tangling over each other. “Why would you even…. why would you offer that?” you asked, a little breathless, a little overwhelmed. “That’s not… that’s not something best friends just….”
“Because I trust you. And you trust me,” he added, softer now. “Or at least… I thought you did.”
“I do,” you said quickly. “Always…. But that’s not…. this is just…” You gestured vaguely between the two of you, like the answer was floating somewhere in the air and you just couldn’t grab it and Mingi just watched you struggle for a second. Then leaned back slightly, dragging a hand over his face. “He made you feel like you were lacking something,” he said. “Like you were behind or wrong for not knowing how to do something you’ve never even done.” Your chest tightened again. “That pissed me off,” he continued, quieter now. “Still does.”
You didn’t doubt that. Not for a second. “But I meant what I said,” he added, eyes flicking back to yours. “You don’t have to feel like that. Not with me…. I could help you. No judgement.” The words settled heavy between you. “You’re saying you’d just…. what?” you asked, voice softer now. “Let me… practice sucking dick on you?”
Mingi’s jaw flexed. A small tell. One you’d only notice if you were really looking. “Only if you wanted to,” he said.
“Mingi,” you said again, quieter this time. But it wasn’t a protest. It wasn’t a rejection. It was something else. Something unsure and curious. Something that made his shoulders tense just slightly because he heard it too. That shift. The one neither of you were naming yet. “You don’t have to decide anything,” he said. “I’m not…. pushing you into anything. I just don’t want you thinking there’s something wrong with you.”
Your chest ached a little at that. “And this wouldn’t make things weird?” you asked, almost afraid of the answer and Mingi let out a quiet breath…..
“It doesn’t have to be.”
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Your room felt too small. The only light came from your laptop, casting that soft glow across your bed, your walls, your face as you sat there, legs tucked under you, back against the headboard, staring at the screen like it might magically fix everything. You’d told yourself this was a good idea…. just watch some porn. Told yourself that if you watched enough, paid attention, maybe you wouldn’t feel so….
You pressed your lips together, eyes flicking across the screen again, trying to focus, trying to understand what you were supposed to be learning from this as some girl started gagging, tears in her eyes, face a little red….
You exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down your face before letting your head fall back against the wall behind you with a quiet thud. “This is useless,” you muttered under your breath. Because it was. None of it helped. Your eyes drifted away from the screen…..
“It doesn’t have to be.”
Your fingers curled slightly in the fabric of your blanket. God. You shut your laptop a little too fast, the click loud in the quiet room as you shifted slightly on the bed, pulling your knees closer to your chest, resting your chin against them as you stared at the closed laptop…..
You didn’t remember deciding to move, getting up. One second you were sitting on your bed, then standing in your room, staring at your door like it held all the answers. The next you were crossing the hall, heart beating way too fast for something that should’ve felt simple.
Your hand hovered for half a second before you even had the chance to knock on his door because his door was already open, gapped enough to see inside. You pushed it gently, the soft creak barely noticeable over the quiet hum of music playing low from his speaker.
He was ditting on the floor, back slightly hunched, one knee up, the other leg stretched out as he leaned over an old pair of shoes, paintbrush moving slowly in his hand, careful strokes of black and purple. “Couldn’t sleep?” he asked without looking up.
You leaned lightly against the doorframe, arms crossing loosely, not to close yourself off, but because you didn’t know what else to do with them. “Something like that.” He hummed softly, still working, still not looking at you until you pushed off the doorframe, stepping into the room slowly, the soft music wrapping around the silence between you. “I tried to… figure it out,” you admitted, eyes flicking briefly to the shoes he was decorating. “On my own.”
Mingi’s jaw shifted slightly. “And?” he asked. You huffed a quiet, humorless laugh, shaking your head as you took another step closer. “It didn’t help.” You stopped a few feet away now, the space between you suddenly feeling… very noticeable. “Mingi….”
“Yeah?”
You swallowed, fingers fidgeting lightly at your sides before you forced them still. “If I said yes,” you started, voice softer now, more uncertain than you liked, “to what you said earlier…” His breathing shifted. “would you actually…” You trailed off, your chest tightening slightly as the words got stuck. “teach me?”
The room went quiet. Even the music felt distant suddenly. Mingi didn’t answer right away. He just… looked at you, taking you in like he was trying to read something deeper than your words before he shifted, pushing himself up from the floor. “Only if you’re sure,” he said, voice lower now. Careful. Controlled in a way that felt deliberate.
Your heart was pounding. “I wouldn’t be asking if I wasn’t.” His gaze flicked over your face, searching. For hesitation. For doubt. For anything that would make him stop. “You can stop anytime,” he added. “The second you’re uncomfortable. I mean that.” You nodded quickly. “I know.”
“Ok.” He stood, grabbing his shoes and paint, placing them by the wall like it was any other night. Like this wasn’t the most charged the room had ever felt. Like you hadn’t just asked him for something that had been sitting, buried, in the back of his mind for longer than he wanted to admit. He straightened, exhaling through his nose before turning and moving toward the edge of his bed, lowering himself down slowly, elbows resting on his knees for a second like he needed to ground himself.
He didn’t realize what you were doing until it was already happening, hadn’t realized you moved until you sank down onto your knees in front of him. His head snapped up instantly, eyes locking onto you. “Y/N….” he started, voice lower than before, rougher, like it had to push past something. “You don’t have to….”
“I know.” Your hands rested lightly on your thighs, fingers pressing into the fabric of your pajama pants like you needed something to hold onto as your gaze flicked up to his face. “Just…. tell me if I’m doing something wrong,” you said quietly as Mingi stared at you. “I’m not gonna sit here and judge you,” he said, softer now as your lips pressed together briefly. “I know…. that’s why I’m here.”
That almost broke him. Because that wasn’t just about this. That was everything. Every year. Every moment. Every time you chose him without even realizing you were doing it. Mingi’s hands flexed slightly where they rested on his knees and he forced himself to breathe. To slow down. To not let this turn into something it shouldn’t. “We go slow,” he said, voice quieter now, steadier. “Ok?” You nodded, heart racing.
“I’m gonna….” he started quietly, glancing down for a second before looking back at you, making sure you were still with him. You nodded. Every little movement felt amplified, his hands brushing his waistband, the slight shift of his sweatpants, the way his fingers hesitated for just a second like he was giving you one last chance to stop him.
You didn’t though so he slowly pulled his sweats down, not breaking eye contact for long, like he was still checking in with you even without asking. You watched, eyes following his him because you couldn’t not. He paused for a second. Not out of uncertainty. But out of awareness. Because this was the point of no return. Mingi’s jaw tightened slightly as his gaze flicked down, then back to you again, searching your face one last time before shoving his sweats and underwear both down.
And that’s when you froze and your eyes widened slightly before you could stop yourself. Because yeah. You’d thought it. Joked about it. Wondered, once or twice, in the back of your mind over the years….. yeah…. your best friend was big.
His breath hitched slightly, his body going still as his eyes snapped back to your face. “Hey,” he said, voice softer now, a little more cautious. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” you said quickly, maybe a little too quickly, your voice coming out quieter than you intended. “I just….” You cut yourself off, pressing your lips together as heat rushed up your neck and Mingi’s expression shifted. Concern… mixed with something else. Something a little more vulnerable than before.
“It’s just….. I had no idea you were packing,” you joked trying to lighten the mood, shaking your head, your hand instinctively reaching out before you even realized what you were doing, lightly touching his knee.
He swallowed, forcing himself to breathe, to not let his own nerves take over now. “We can stop,” he said quietly. “Seriously.” You shook your head again. Firmer this time. “No. I don’t want to.” Your hand was still resting lightly on his knee. “Hey,” he said quietly, drawing your attention back to him before your thoughts could spiral too far. “We don’t have to jump into anything,” he said, voice softer now, more grounded. “You don’t have to… go straight to that. Just…. start with your hand,” he added, “Get used to it first. There’s no rush.”
Your fingers twitched slightly before hesitating for just a second before moving up his thigh, your hand slowly reaching to gently grip him in your hand. Heavy and throbbing. Mingi’s breath caught but he didn’t move. Didn’t interrupt. Didn’t rush you. He just watched as you stared at the length of him, thumb lightly tracing a vein….. “Yeah,” he murmured quietly, more to reassure you than anything else. “That’s good.”
Your breath hitched slightly at the sound of his voice and how deep it had gotten. A little rougher than you’ve ever heard him before and that made your confidence spike a little. Your fingers adjusted slightly, more certain now. Mingi’s hands tightened slightly against the edge of the bed, knuckles pressing into the fabric as he focused on breathing evenly. On not overwhelming you. On not letting this turn into something it shouldn’t…..
You started slow, working your hand down, thumb swiping over his tip when you came back up, thinking how…. how he’d feel somewhere you really should not be thinking so you quickly focused. To the way his breathing changed. To the way his shoulders tensed and then forced themselves to relax again. To the way his hands gripped the edge of the bed just a little tighter every time you adjusted.
And that told you more than anything you’d watched earlier. Mingi, on the other hand, was fighting for his life. His jaw tightened, teeth pressing together as he focused on breathing through it, chest rising a little sharper than before despite how hard he was trying to keep it even. Because you weren’t just… you were you. And that made everything worse.
Your hand shifted slightly again, more confident now, more in tune with him than before, stroking faster, lingering a little towards the spot closer to his balls because you caught how his eyes rolled back a little. And that’s when it almost slipped. A moan. Barely there. But not quiet enough. Mingi’s head dipped immediately, his free hand coming up to drag roughly over his face like he could hide it, like he could take it back. “Sorry,” he muttered under his breath, voice rougher now. “I’m….” He exhaled sharply, shaking his head once. “I’m trying not to….”
You paused, not pulling away, just… stilling. “You can….. you can moan you know… it’s normal.” Mingi’s head snapped up instantly. His eyes met yours again and there it was. That look. Not just focused. Not just affected. Something deeper. Something that made your stomach flip. “Ok.”
You adjusted again, more certain now to try and get those sounds from him again. More grounded in what you were doing instead of overthinking every second of it. Mingi’s grip on the bed tightened again, shoulders tensing as he let out a slow breath through his nose, trying to keep himself in check as you started stroking him again, his dick fully hard and aching now.
Your movements were still careful, still learning, though you have give a couple band jobs before, but no longer unsure. You were watching him now. Not just doing something, but paying attention. His breath caught, chest rising a little sharper as his eyes locked with yours again. And this time he didn’t look away. Couldn’t. Because there was something different in your expression now. “Hey,” he said, voice lower now, rougher than he wanted it to be.
You stilled slightly, eyes flicking up fully to his face. “Yeah?” He swallowed, trying to keep his head straight. Trying to keep this where it was supposed to be. “You can…” he paused, breath uneven for just a second before he steadied it. “You can slow down a little. You don’t have to rush it.” It wasn’t a correction, just guidance. Gentle and grounding. Your hand adjusted instinctively at the sound of his voice, easing just slightly, testing the difference and Mingi’s jaw tightened. “Yeah….” A moan left him. “like that….”
And that moan set something off in you. You pulled your hand back, both hands resting lightly on his thighs now, grounding yourself for a second as you looked up at him again, really looked this time. “I want to try my mouth now,” you said quietly and Mingi froze. His head tilted back for a second, eyes closing as he exhaled slowly, like he was trying to steady himself before looking at you again. “You sure?” he asked, voice lower now, rough around the edges in a way he couldn’t hide.
You nodded, voice a little breathless. “Yeah.”
“Okay,” he said quietly but his hands moved this time, settling lightly against your wrist for a second before his head dipped forward slightly, his hand tightening just briefly before he forced it to relax again, jaw clenching as he tried, really tried, to stay steady for you the second your lips brushed against his tip.
“Hey,” he said softly, voice strained but controlled. “You’re okay. Don’t overthink it.” Your breath hitched slightly at the sound of his voice. Because even now he was focused on you. Not himself. You cleared your throat, tongue darting out to lick at your lips before finally opening your mouth and slowly taking him in.
Your movements weren’t perfect. Not practiced. But they didn’t need to be. Because Mingi wasn’t reacting to perfection. He was reacting to you and it showed. In the way his breathing broke slightly when you gagged. In the way his head tipped back again, his hand coming up to drag through his hair as he exhaled a quiet, uneven breath when you pulled all the way back and sucked at his tip.
In the way he said your name, “Y/N…” Soft, like it slipped out before he could stop it. And that’s what got you. “You’re…..” he stopped himself, jaw tightening again as he swallowed the rest of whatever he was about to say when you took him back in, starting get a rhythm, head moving up and down and fuck he couldn’t stop watching you.
His hand hovered for a second like he wanted to touch you but he didn’t. Because this wasn’t about him. “You’re doing good,” he managed instead, quieter now and that little praise…. the shift was immediate. You adjusted slightly, your movements easing into something more careful, more exploratory, like you were actually listening now instead of overthinking. Relaxing your throat, hollowing your cheeks a little.
And Mingi felt it. Every bit of it. His breath caught sharply, shoulders tensing before he forced them to relax again, jaw tightening as he tried to keep himself grounded. “Hey,” he said quietly, voice lower now, strained but still trying to stay steady. “Slow… yeah, like that.” Your stomach flipped at the sound of his voice. Because it wasn’t just guiding. It was affected. Real. Almost whimpering. You followed it instinctively, easing your pace just slightly, paying attention to the way his breathing changed in response, the way his fingers curled tighter against the edge of the bed.
Your movements shifted again, more fluid now, less hesitant and Mingi….. Yeah. He was struggling, especially when you moaned once and he felt it vibrate through his dick. His head tipped back slightly more, eyes squeezing shut for a second as he let out a slow breath through his nose, his jaw clenching harder, enough to make it obvious he was holding something back.
“Fuck,” he exhaled quietly, barely audible, his hand dragging down his face again as he tried to pull himself together as you glanced up. And that’s when it hit you, really hit you…. the way he looked. Completely undone in a way you’d never seen before. “You’re okay,” he said again, voice rougher now, like it was getting harder to keep it even. “Just…. you’re doing good.”
Your movements slowed again, more deliberate now, more in tune with him than before, head bobbing back and forth, sucking at his tip before taking him back in and Mingi’s reaction followed immediately. A sharp inhale. His hand gripping tighter. His jaw clenching harder. Because if he let himself react the way he wanted to…. If he let himself say what was sitting right there, on the edge of his tongue…..
You shifted again. More confident now. Or at least… trying to be. Because you could feel it, how much he was reacting, how every small change you made pulled something different from him and that gave you just enough courage to push a little further, pushing yourself to take all of him, to let your mouth stretch the entire length of him and when you gagged, holding yourself there…… “Hey,” he started, voice already rough, already slipping.
But you kept going, tears started well up in your eyes as you choked a little bit still didn’t stop until you needed air. A sharp inhale left you as your body tensed and you pulled back suddenly, coughing lightly, your hand coming up instinctively like you needed to steady yourself.
“Hey…. hey,” Mingi said quickly, leaning forward, one hand coming up to hover near your shoulder without grabbing you, like he didn’t want to startle you more. “Don’t…. don’t push yourself like that.” Your face burned, embarrassment hitting you all at once as you tried to catch your breath. “I…. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize,” he cut in immediately, softer now, more grounded. “You’re fine…. it felt good.” His thumb brushed lightly against your arm for a second, reassuring and steady before he pulled his hand back, giving you space again. “You’re trying too hard,” he added, quieter this time. “You don’t have to force anything you can’t take.” You swallowed, still a little flustered, avoiding his eyes for a second before glancing back up. “I thought I was supposed to…”
“You will,” he said, gently interrupting you again. “Just… not like that.” He paused for a second before, a little more hesitant, “You have to relax,” he said, voice lower now, more careful. “Don’t tense up like that. It’s…” he stopped himself, jaw tightening briefly before he tried again, softer. “It’s easier if you take your time.” Your heart was still racing. But the embarrassment started to fade, replaced by something else. Because he wasn’t judging you. Wasn’t frustrated. He was… helping.
“Okay,” you said quietly and Mingi nodded, encouraging. Patient in a way that made your chest tighten again for entirely different reasons. “Try again,” he said, softer now. “Just… slower. Don’t think about it too much…. don’t take what you can’t right now.” You let yourself breathe first. Let yourself settle before moving again, relaxing your jaw, realizing you liked the weight of him on your tongue.
Mingi’s head tipped back again slightly, jaw tightening again, hand wanting to tangle in your hair when you started slowly using your mouth to fuck him, more relaxed now, taking him almost all the way before pulling back and doing it again, fingers flexing like he has no idea what to do. His breath caught, shoulders tensing before he forced them to drop again, his hand gripping tighter against the bed as he tried to keep himself grounded.
But then you gripped his thighs, changed rhythm, hollowed your cheeks again, used the hold you had on him to help move, head bobbing faster, taking him all the way again, no gagging this time… and that’s what finally broke him. A sound slipped out before he could stop it. Low. Rough. Completely unplanned. Mingi’s head dropped forward for a second, his free hand coming up to cover his mouth like he could hide it, like he could shove it back down his throat before you heard it. But it was too late because you did and now you needed to hear it again as his thighs started twitching under your hands.
You started moving faster, sucking harder, letting him hit the back of your throat, eyes watering a little. His jaw clenched hard, his hand dragging down his face again for the hundredth time as he tried to steady himself, chest rising unevenly now despite how hard he was trying to keep it under control. “Hey…” he started, voice strained, catching slightly. “Y/N…”
His eyes squeezed shut for a second, head tipping back as he exhaled slowly through his nose, trying to pull himself back from the edge he was getting dangerously close to but then you looked up again. Mouth stretched around. Eyes watering. A fucking mess for him. A quiet, breathless sound left him before he could stop it, his hand tightening again as his composure faltered completely. “You…. fuck…” he muttered under his breath before he reached his hand and finally tangled his fingers into your hair. “you’re learning too fast…”
His fingers threaded through, tightening slightly like he needed something to hold onto before he completely lost his grip on everything else. “You feel so good…” his voice broke, low and uneven, his head tipping back as his chest rose sharply. “so fucking good.”
His praises made you suck harder, made you moan around him again and his grip tightened just for a second before he forced himself to loosen it, his breathing uneven now, his composure cracking in ways he couldn’t hide anymore. “I’m gonna…” he tried again, but the words fell apart halfway through, replaced by a sharp exhale as he dragged his free hand over his face again as you took him all the way and held him there.
His hand stilled in your hair. Not pulling. Not guiding. Just… there. Grounding himself. Feeling the way his dick twitched against your tongue and the back of your throat. His body tensed all at once as whatever control he’d been clinging to so he wouldn’t come finally gave out, his hand tightening instinctively for just a second before he forced it to still again. “Wait….” he tried, voice strained, already too late because his stomach tightened, his grip in your hair pulled as he felt it hit him. Hard. Really fucking hard.
He came with a broken whimper of your name, “Fuck…” he gasped as you swallowed every drop of him, not moving until you were satisfied you took it all. Mingi sat there, chest rising and falling hard, when you pulled back, his dick popping from your mouth, twitching.
“Did I do good?” you asked quietly. And that nearly wrecked him more than anything else. Mingi just stared at you, mouth parted slightly, like he had something to say but nothing came out. Because what could he say? That you had no idea what you just did to him? “Yeah,” he said finally, voice rough, quieter than before. “Yeah… you did.”
He leaned forward slowly, elbows resting on his knees again, his gaze dropping for just a second before lifting back to yours as he quickly pulled his sweats back up. “We should probably….” he started, then stopped. Because he didn’t know how to finish that sentence. What were you supposed to do after this? Go back to normal? Pretend nothing changed?
“I think…” You stood, wiping at your mouth. “I’m gonna go shower.” Mingi could say nothing as he watched you walk out of his room, you thanking him for letting you practice with flushed cheeks before disappearing down the hall and the bathroom door shutting behind you.
He finally exhaled, letting out a breathless laugh. “I think she just sucked my soul out of my dick.”
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The bell above the door chimed softly as you pushed it open and the familiar warmth of Mingi’s parent’s restaurant hit you immediately, oil, spices, something savory simmering in the back. The low hum of conversation, dishes clinking, the occasional shout from the kitchen. You stepped inside, scanning automatically and there Mingi was behind the counter.
Blonde hair slightly messy, sleeves pushed up, moving back and forth between orders like he’d done a thousand times before. You swallowed, pushing the thought of what you done the night before down as you walked further in, slipping into one of the empty stools at the counter. Mingi didn’t notice you right away, too busy taking an order, handing off a plate, wiping his hands on a towel slung over his shoulder.
But then his eyes flicked up and landed on you. And just like that he froze. “Hey,” he said, trying for casual as he stepped over, grabbing a glass and filling it with water just so he had something to do with his hands as you gave him a small smile. “Hey.”
“You eat?” he asked.
“Not yet.”
“I’ll make you something.”
You nodded as he turned away again, back into motion, back into routine but every glance lasted a little too long. Every time he passed by, you felt it. That awareness. That memory sitting just under the surface. You watched him for a second, then another. The way he moved. The way he worked. And all you could think about was….. you wanted to do it again. You wanted to do it again and let him…… your fingers tightened slightly around the glass of water. Hes your best friend…. best friend who you might have been…. kind of into for a while now.
Mingi set a plate down in front of you, snapping you out of your thoughts. “You good?” he asked, watching you a little more closely now and you hesitated. “I have this thing coming up tonight,” you said and his brows pulled together slightly. “What thing?”
“Office party.”
He made a face immediately. “Yeah, that already sounds terrible.”
You huffed softly. “It would be fine if…” you stopped and Mingi noticed your hesitation. “If what?” he pressed as you glanced down at your food for a second before looking back up. “Alex’s gonna be there. We work together remember?” Mingi’s expression dropped instantly. “Of course he is,” he muttered, jaw tightening as you leaned back slightly on the stool, arms crossing loosely. “I don’t want to go alone,” you admitted.
“So dont.” Mingi shrugged like it was obvious. “I’ll go with you.”
“You don’t even like those kinds of things,” you pointed out and he shrugged lightly again. “I don’t like Alex more.”
You snorted as his mom walked behind him, asked you how your day was before saying you need to come by more and heading towards the kitchen. “Ok. You have to wear something nice though.”
Mingi smirked. “Oh absolutely.”
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Mingi was already dressed, leaning back against the couch, one arm stretched along the backrest, the other resting loosely on his thigh. The patterned shirt fit him a little too well, sleeves rolled just enough to show his forearms, the tie slightly loosened like he’d already given up on pretending he cared about the whole formal part of tonight. He’d been ready for twenty minutes and he hadn’t checked his phone once. Didn’t need to.
His attention kept drifting to the hallway. To your door. To the quiet behind it. His jaw shifted slightly as he exhaled through his nose, dragging a hand briefly over the back of his neck before letting it drop again. This was stupid. It was just an office party. Just you getting ready. Just….. the sound of your door opening cut that thought clean in half.
Mingi’s head turned instantly and he froze. The soft fabric of your dress caught the light just enough, lace hugging in all the places he absolutely should not be looking and still somehow… flaring out in a way that made it feel almost innocent. Your hair pulled back, earrings catching softly when you moved, the whole thing put together in a way that didn’t scream for attention but made it impossible not to look.
Mingi blinked once, then again. Like his brain needed a second to catch up to what he was seeing. “You ready?” you asked, voice casual, like you hadn’t just completely knocked the air out of his lungs. He didn’t answer, not right away. His gaze dragged, slow, unintentional and honest, from your face, down, then back up again like he was trying to correct himself and failing. “Yeah,” he said finally but it came out rougher than he meant it to.
His hand shifted slightly against his thigh, fingers flexing once before stilling again as he pushed himself up from the couch, straightening just enough to close some of the distance between you. “You look…” he started, then stopped. His tongue pressed briefly against the inside of his cheek, like he was choosing his next word carefully. “Nice.” It was a terrible word for it and you knew it. Your brow lifted slightly, something teasing flickering in your expression. “Nice?”
Mingi huffed quietly under his breath, shaking his head once like he was annoyed at himself now. “You know what I mean.” But he didn’t fix it and didn’t try again. Because if he did, it wouldn’t come out safe. His eyes lingered for half a second too long again before he forced himself to look away, grabbing his keys off the counter like he suddenly needed something to do. “We should go,” he added, a little too quickly.
You didn’t move right away and he felt it as his grip tightened slightly around his keys before he glanced back at you, brows pulling together just a little. “What?”
You hesitated for a second. Eyes flicking over him now in a way that mirrored exactly what he’d just done to you. The rolled sleeves. The loosened tie. The way his shirt pulled across his shoulders. And then your gaze lifted back to his face. “You clean up nice too,” you said and Mingi stilled again, eyes locking with yours for a beat longer than necessary, something unreadable settling behind them before he looked away first, jaw tightening slightly.
“Yeah,” he muttered, quieter now before clearing his throat, shifting his weight as he moved toward the door, opening it and stepping slightly to the side, letting you walk past him first. But as you did his hand twitched. Like he almost wanted to reach for you. Instead, he stepped out behind you, pulling the door shut with a soft click, the sound echoing just a little louder than it should’ve.
And neither of you said it out loud. But it sat there anyway. Quiet and unavoidable. Tonight wasn’t going to stay simple.
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The music hit before the door even opened. Low bass, muffled voices, laughter spilling out into the hallway as you and Mingi stepped up to the venue, lights flickering faintly through the glass. It wasn’t anything fancy, just one of those rented out lounges your office liked to pretend was upscale for events like this.
Mingi reached for the door first, pulling it open and stepping slightly to the side, his hand brushing lightly against your lower back as you walked in. The warmth of it lingered longer than it should’ve and he moved back, letting it rest there. “Where do you wanna start?” Your breath hitched just a little at how close he was. At how normal that should’ve felt. “Bar,” you said, a little too quickly.
He nodded once, hand dropping from your back again as he stepped beside you, but the absence of it felt… noticeable now. Like something missing. You barely made it three steps before someone called your name. “Y/N!” You turned instinctively, spotting a couple coworkers waving you over, already eyeing Mingi like they were trying to piece him together in real time.
“Oh my god, who is this?” one of them asked immediately, eyes flicking between you and him and Mingi raised a brow slightly, glancing at you as you sighed softly. “This is Mingi. My best friend.”
“Best friend,” another one repeated like she was testing it on her tongue. “Right,” you muttered as Mingi gave a small nod, polite but not overly friendly. “Hey.” And that was all it took. Because now they were really looking. Not just casual glances. Full on scanning. The rolled sleeves. The tie. The way he stood just a little too close to you without thinking about it.
“Oh wow,” one of your coworkers said, not even trying to be subtle anymore. “We’ve heard you mention him before but you did not mention he looked like that.” You felt heat creep up your neck instantly. “Okay, relax….”
“I’m serious,” she continued, laughing lightly. “You’ve been gatekeeping.”
Mingi huffed quietly under his breath, the corner of his mouth twitching like he was trying not to react, but his eyes flicked sideways toward you as another coworker leaned slightly closer, lowering her voice just enough to pretend it was subtle. “So you two are just friends?”
Mingi’s gaze shifted to her. “Yeah.” But his hand came back to your waist. Like it had every right to be there and you felt it instantly, your body going just a little more still under his touch, heart picking up in a way that had nothing to do with the crowded room or the music.
Your coworker noticed too, her eyes flicking down then back up. “Oh,” she said softly and suddenly she looked a lot more interested but Mingi didn’t move his hand. Didn’t acknowledge it. Just let it sit there, grounding, steady, like he didn’t even realize what he was doing. You swallowed slightly, shifting your weight just enough that your arm brushed his side, your voice coming out a little tighter than you meant it to. “We’re gonna grab a drink.”
“Yeah,” Mingi added, already stepping slightly forward, his hand guiding you with him again, pulling you out of the conversation before it could stretch any further, him leaning in slightly as you reached the bar, voice low, just for you. “Your coworkers are bold.” You let out a quiet breath, grabbing onto the counter like you needed something solid. “You have no idea.”
He hummed softly, glancing over his shoulder once, catching another lingering stare before looking back at you and there was a shift in his expression. “Yeah,” he muttered. “I’m starting to get it.” You both ordered a drink, you something that tasted like a margarita but a lot more stronger and Mingi just ordered an iced bourbon. Your coworker still watched, gazes lingering but Mingi ignored them. His attention was fully on you until he felt it.
His hand slipped from your waist as he leaned in slightly, voice low by your ear. “I’m gonna hit the restroom. Don’t let anyone kidnap you.” You huffed softly. “No promises.” His mouth twitched like he almost smiled, but he didn’t linger. Just gave your side a light tap before stepping away, disappearing into the crowd like it was nothing.
And in his absence your thoughts started running. The way his hand refused to leave your waist. Last night. Your best friend literally in your mouth and now here you were, your best friend your date to your work party. It’s like everything shifted and you hadn’t caught up yet.
You shifted slightly on the barstool, fingers curling around your drink as you took a slow sip, letting the burn settle just enough to take the edge off the way your thoughts kept circling back to him. You exhaled quietly, forcing yourself to look away from where he disappeared, scanning the room instead. Your eyes landed on your boss across the room, his voice cutting sharp through the music as he snapped at two of your coworkers over something you couldn’t hear.
You snorted softly under your breath as you lifted your glass again, taking another sip, letting your shoulders relax just a little as you leaned back against the bar and then froze. Because you felt it before you even looked. That presence. That specific kind of tension. “Hey.” You closed your eyes for half a second at the voice before you turned your head slowly, already knowing exactly who you’d see before your eyes even landed on him.
Alex.
He was sliding into the stool next to you where Mingi had just been like he had every right to be there. Like nothing happened. Like he didn’t leave you on your couch feeling small after calling you pathetic for not knowing how to give head. Your grip tightened slightly around your glass. “Hi,” you said flat, sharp and completely full of distaste as Alex leaned his elbow on the bar, angling toward you, eyes dragging over you in a way that made your skin prickle. “You look good.”
You didn’t react right away. Just took another sip of your drink then set the glass down a little harder than necessary. “Thanks.” Alex huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head slightly. “Didn’t think you’d actually show up tonight.”
You glanced at him briefly. “It’s an office party.”
“Yeah,” he said, eyes still on you. “Just figured you might want to avoid me.”
Your jaw tightened slightly, but you didn’t look away from your drink. “I’m not rearranging my life over you, Alex.” He leaned back slightly at that, brows lifting just a little. “Damn. Okay.” But there was something in his expression now. Something curious. His gaze flicked over you again, slower this time. “You’ve been busy or something?”
You frowned slightly, glancing at him. “What does that mean?” He shrugged one shoulder, casual. “Just… different.” You almost laughed. Instead, you shook your head slightly, turning back toward the bar. “I’m exactly the same.”
“Mm,” he hummed, clearly not convinced. “You here alone?” Your stomach twisted slightly. Not because of the question. But because of the answer. Your fingers tapped lightly against your glass before you replied. “No.” Alex’s brows pulled together slightly. “Oh?” He paused for a second before grinning. “Don’t tell me it’s Mingi. I mean…. are you trying to mess with me? Make me jealous?”
You scoffed, rolling your eyes as you downed the rest of you drink and ordered another as Mingi across the party pushed open the restroom door and stepped out, rolling his shoulders once like he was trying to reset. His mind hadn’t been quiet for a second since you walked out of your room earlier. His jaw shifted slightly as he dragged a hand over the back of his neck, exhaling through his nose as he stepped back into the main room and immediately got intercepted.
“Hey.”
Mingi barely had time to register what was happening before two of your coworkers stepped into his path like they’d been waiting. “Bathroom line insane?” one of them asked, leaning slightly closer like she already knew him. Mingi blinked once, caught off guard for half a second before he nodded. “Uh… yeah. Something like that.”
Another one slid in just slightly to his side, tilting her head as she looked him over again. “We didn’t really get to talk earlier.” Mingi shifted his weight, already uncomfortable, eyes flicking briefly past them instinctively trying to find you in the crowd. “I’m…. uh… I was just heading back…..”
“To Y/N?” one of them cut in quickly, smiling like she’d caught something and Mingi’s attention snapped back to her. “Yeah,” he said like that was the only answer that mattered. “Oh,” she said again, softer this time, exchanging a quick look with the other girl. “You guys are really close, huh?” Mingi huffed quietly, not quite amused. “Yeah. We are.”
The second girl leaned in just a little more, voice dipping like she was trying to be subtle and failing. “So… you’re single?” Mingi’s brows pulled together slightly, his patience already thinning as his gaze flicked past them again, still looking for you.
“I mean,” she continued, smiling, “we were thinking maybe after this….”
“I’m not available.” It came out before he even thought about it. Flat, immediate and final. The words hung there for a second as both girls blinked, clearly not expecting that. “Oh,” one of them said, a little thrown off now as Mingi shifted slightly, like he was just now catching up to what he’d said, his jaw tightening for a second before he looked past them again and this time he saw you. You were still at the bar but you weren’t alone.
His eyes locked onto you instantly. Then shifted. To him. To Alex sitting way too close and something in Mingi’s expression changed, dark, protective and maybe just a little possessive. “Yeah,” he added, quieter this time, almost to himself as his gaze stayed fixed across the room. “I’m good.” And before either of them could say anything else he stepped past them.
He moved through the crowd, shoulders brushing past people without a second thought, his jaw tightening slightly with every step closer to the bar. He didn’t even register the way people shifted out of his way as he cut through the crowd, his focus locked straight ahead. On you. On him. Mingi stepped in beside you, not abrupt, not aggressive. but present. Solid and unavoidable, hand coming to the back of your stool. “Hey.”
Your head turned instantly, breath catching just slightly when you saw him. Mingi didn’t look at you first. His eyes were already on Alex who blinked once, then leaned back slightly, that slow grin spreading across his face like he’d just been handed something entertaining. “Mingi…” he said, dragging your best friend’s name out like he was testing it. “So you are her plus one.”
Mingi didn’t answer right away. Didn’t react to the tone. Just held his gaze, fingers flexing once against the back of your stool, knuckles whitening just slightly before he forced them to relax. “Yeah,” he said finally and Alex hummed like that confirmed something for him, eyes flicking between the two of you before settling back on Mingi, still smiling.
“Look…” he started, voice softening just enough to sound reasonable, gaze moving back from Mingi to you. “I thought maybe after the party I could come by.” Alex leaned in just a little again, like he was trying to pull you back into something that didn’t exist anymore. “We could talk.”
Mingi’s jaw tightened again, his gaze finally shifting, slowly, from Alex to you, hand sliding from the back of your stool, hovering just slightly behind you now, not touching but close enough that you could feel the heat of it. Ready just in case. In case of what? He didn’t even know. He just knew he didn’t like this. Didn’t like Alex. Didn’t like the way he was looking at you. Didn’t like the fact that he even thought he could just come over like nothing happened.
Mingi exhaled slowly through his nose, voice low when he finally spoke. “That doesn’t sound like a good idea.” Alex’s eyes flicked back to him, grin faltering just a fraction before he let out a low laugh. Not amused, not really. More like he’d just figured something out. “You know…” he started, shaking his head slightly as he looked between the two of you. “You think I never noticed?”
Mingi’s expression didn’t change but something in his shoulders did as Alex leaned in just a fraction, voice dropping, not quieter, just more deliberate. “When I was over. The way you watch her.” Alex caught the way Mingi’s eyes widened just a bit instantly, that grin snapping back into place like he’d just found exactly what he was looking for. “Oh,” he laughed softly, pointing between you, “Yeah… there it is.” You felt your stomach drop. “Makes sense now,” he continued, dragging his gaze over Mingi, then back to you. “You want her.”
Mingi didn’t respond but he didn’t deny it either as Alex huffed out another laugh, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe it as he looked at you again. Really looked this time. Something colder settling into his expression. “You know what?” he muttered, almost dismissive now, like he was already done. “You can have her.” Your chest tightened instantly as Mingi stood frozen next to you. “Might be a better fit anyway,” Alex added, glancing back at Mingi, that edge coming back, sharp and intentional. “Maybe you can teach her how to suck dick.”
That one hit like a slap. Not loud. But loud enough. Mingi moved before he even thought about it. His hand came down on the bar beside you with a quiet thud, not enough to draw attention but enough to make the point. “You want to say that shit again?” His jaw was tight and his restraint was hanging by a thread.
“Actually…” Your voice cut through both of them, sharp, as you stood up. Your chair scraped softly against the floor as you turned fully toward Alex, your expression no longer frustrated… no longer embarrassed. Something else now. Something steadier as Mingi’s ead snapped toward you, brows pulling together slightly, caught off guard by the shift in your tone.
“Actually…” you repeated, tilting your head slightly like you were considering your words, even though you’d already decided as Alex frowned faintly, clearly not expecting you to jump in. “What?” he asked. Your lips pressed together for just a second before a small smirk tugged at them. “He already has.”
Alex blinked like his brain refused to catch up to what you were saying. “What?” You didn’t rush to explain. Didn’t soften it. Didn’t take it back. Your gaze flicked to Mingi for half a second and that was enough. “You heard me.” You looked back at Alex and his mouth parted slightly, but nothing came out as his gaze snapped between the two of you again, trying to piece it together, trying to find something that made sense…
Alex let out a short, disbelieving laugh, shaking his head like he was trying to recover. “Wow,” he muttered. “That’s….” He didn’t finish it. Didn’t have anything to finish it with. Because whatever power he thought he had in this conversation was long gone now as Mingi finally shifted beside you, his hand sliding off the bar as he straightened slightly, his presence settling next to you again. “You done?”
Alex didn’t answer. Didn’t move. He just stood there, staring, like he was still trying to catch up, still trying to figure out when he lost control of the conversation. “Yeah…” you said, quieter now, but not weaker, just… decided as you reached for your bag, fingers a little steadier than they had any right to be, considering your heart was still pounding against your ribs. “Let’s go.”
You stepped away from the bar, not waiting to see if Alex said anything else, not giving him the chance to pull you back into whatever that was and Mingi didn’t hesitate to follow you. He moved with you immediately, falling into step beside you like it was instinct, his presence closer than it had been earlier. Every step toward the exit felt louder than it should’ve. Like the room was watching. Like the moment had followed you out of that conversation and wrapped itself around both of you.
The door came faster than you expected, the cool air outside hitting your skin immediately as you stepped out into the night. The city hummed quietly around you, distant traffic, faint voices from inside, but it all felt far away compared to the silence sitting between you now.
Mingi exhaled slowly through his nose, his hands settling at his sides like he didn’t know what to do with them anymore. Like he was trying very hard not to reach for you again. “You didn’t have to do that,” he said and you let out a small breath, shaking your head slightly, eyes still forward. “Yeah,” you muttered. “I did.” His head turned slightly toward you, like he was trying to read your face again, like he was trying to figure out if you meant it the same way he heard it. “Y/N…” Your fingers curled slightly at your sides as you finally turned your head, meeting his eyes. “Let’s just go home.”
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The ride back was quiet. Not awkward. Just… full with the kind of silence that wasn’t empty, it was crowded with everything that hadn’t been said yet. Mingi drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting against his thigh, fingers tapping once, then stilling like he caught himself doing it. His jaw shifted every now and then, like something kept trying to come out and he kept pushing it back down.
You stared out the window as the car slowed, then stopped. “Come on,” Mingi muttered, already pushing his door open. The walk up to the apartment felt shorter than usual. Or maybe everything just felt faster now. Like you were catching up to something that had been building for a very long time.
Your apartment door clicked shut behind you after Mingi unlocked it, tossing his keys onto the counter, the sound sharper than usual in the quiet as he dragged a hand through his hair. You stayed by the door for a second watching him. The same guy who sprawled across the couch and watched anime for hours. Who cooked for you. Who always listens when you have something to rant about. Who stuck a skunk in your first boyfriend’s car when you were 17 because said boyfriend had tried to pressure you into sex.
The same guy who had always been… easy and safe.
“Mingi…”
He turned towards you, his adam’s apple bobbing a little as he gulped like he was bracing for some kind of impact. “Yeah?” Your fingers curled slightly at your sides, your voice quieter than you meant it to be. “What he said…” You trailed off for a second but pushed through it anyway. “was it true?” The question hung there. Heavy and clear. No way around it.
Mingi didn’t answer immediately. His gaze dropped for a second, like he was weighing something, like he was deciding how much to give you. Then he exhaled slowly through his nose, shoulders rising and falling once and when he looked back at you it was different. Less guarded and more real. “What part?” he asked and your heart stuttered. “The part where…” you hesitated, heat creeping up your neck despite yourself. “you want me…..”
Mingi’s jaw tightened once before he shook his head slightly, almost like he was annoyed at himself more than anything else. “You really wanna have this conversation right now?”
You didn’t hesitate this time. “Yeah.”
He huffed out a quiet breath, turning fully toward you now, his hands settling on his hips for a second before dropping again. “You think I’d let him say that,” he started slowly, “in front of you… and not shut it down if it wasn’t true?” He stepped closer. “I didn’t say anything,” he continued, quieter now, eyes locked on yours, “because I didn’t want to make it worse for you in there.” Your breath caught. “But yeah,” he added, shrugging like he was giving up, tired of pretending. “Yeah, it’s true.”
The room suddenly felt smaller and your heart louder as Mingi watched your reaction carefully, like he was waiting, like he was ready to pull back if you needed him to. “I didn’t plan for it,” he said after a second, voice rougher now, like this part was harder to admit. “Didn’t mean for it to… go there.” His eyes flicked over your face briefly before settling back. “But it did.”
Your stomach flipped, your brain stopped working for a second because the way he was looking at you now wasn’t new. You just hadn’t seen it before. Or maybe you hadn’t let yourself. Mingi swallowed, his hand flexing slightly at his side like he was holding himself back again. “And last night didn’t exactly help.” That sent a rush of heat through you instantly as your voice came out softer this time. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
Mingi let out a quiet, breathless laugh, shaking his head once like the answer should’ve been obvious. “Because you’re you. You’re my best friend,” he continued, gaze steady but heavier now. “You trust me. I wasn’t gonna mess that up just because I….” He cut himself off, jaw tightening again as the silence stretched and his chest rose slowly, like he was trying to keep everything steady, keep everything where it was…..
“Why do you think….” he started, then stopped again, dragging a hand down his face before looking back at you, eyes sharper now, more exposed than you’d ever seen them. “Why do you think all I do is one night stands? Nothing serious. Nothing that lasts.” His voice dropped even more, honest in a way that felt almost reckless. “Because the only serious thing I want is you.”
Your breath caught, your body went completely still as the words settled into the space between you and Mingi took a step closer. “Fuck, Y/N…” he exhaled, like your name alone was something heavy in his mouth. “I’ve been in love with you for years.” The room went quiet. Not just silent but still. Like everything paused just to let that land. You could see it now. All of it. Every look you missed. Every moment you didn’t question. Every time he chose you without saying it out loud.
“I didn’t say anything,” he continued, quieter now but no less intense, “because I didn’t want to lose you.” Your chest tightened painfully. “Didn’t want to make it weird. Didn’t want to be that guy who ruins everything because he can’t keep his feelings in check.” His jaw clenched briefly before he forced it to relax, his gaze flicking over your face like he was trying to read something, anything, that would tell him how this was going to go. “But then last night…” he stopped again, exhaling sharply, shaking his head once like even thinking about it was too much. “And tonight…”
He let out a quiet, almost disbelieving breath as his hand twitched slightly at his side like he wanted to reach for you, like he had been all night, but he held himself there. “If you don’t want this,” he said, finally, softer now, but somehow heavier than everything else he’d said, “you need to tell me now. And I will pretend like none of this happened. I will drop it. Because I’d rather have you in my life as just my best friend than not have you at all.”
You moved, tossing your bag down blindly. Because there was nothing you could say to all of that. You didn’t know what to say, you just knew action. You closed the space between you in two quick steps, your hand coming up, grabbing the front of his shirt, fingers curling into the fabric like you needed something solid to anchor yourself and Mingi barely had time to react, eyes widening just slightly as you looked up at him. “I don’t want you to drop it.” You pulled him down to you and kissed him before he could think about what you just said.
It was everything that had been building, every look, every almost, every second of tension finally snapping into place. Mingi froze for half a second before his hands were on you. One at your waist, the other coming up to your jaw, holding you there like he needed to make sure this was real, like you might disappear if he didn’t, kissing you back hard. Like he’d been holding back for so long he didn’t know how to do anything else now.
Your grip tightened in his shirt as you leaned into him, the kiss deepening, shifting, neither of you pulling away even when you both needed air. His thumb brushed against your cheek, grounding and not at the same time, his other hand pulling you closer like the space between you didn’t make sense anymore. When you finally broke apart your breath was uneven but his was worse.
Mingi’s eyes searched yours, wide, a little stunned, a little wrecked, like he couldn’t fully process that this was actually happening. “You’re…” he started, voice rough, catching slightly before he tried again. “You’re serious?”
Your lips parted slightly, still too close, still holding onto him like you hadn’t decided to let go yet, breath catchy as his fingers traced along your waist, the fabric of your dress shifting slightly under his touch, his gaze flicking down for just a second like he was trying to keep up with what he was doing.
Your hands moved, sliding down his chest, gripping lightly as you pulled him back toward you, your lips finding his again and walking back past the entryway and into the living room. You stumbled with him, breath uneven, your fingers gripping at his shoulders as he kissed you harder. “Mingi…” his name barely made it out before it dissolved against his mouth. Your back brushed the edge of the wall, then the couch, then he pulled away and you barely had time to process it before he dropped straight to his knees right in front of you.
“Mingi?”
His hands were already sliding up your thighs under the fabric of your dress, fingers warm, firm, gripping like he needed to hold onto you, like he’d thought about this moment too many times to pretend otherwise now. His head tipped back just enough to look up at you. “I get to return the favor now,” he said, voice low, and you about moaned at the sight. “Mingi…” you started again, but it came out weaker this time, breathless, your hands instinctively moving to his shoulders like you didn’t know whether to steady yourself or stop him.
He leaned forward just enough that his forehead almost brushed your stomach, his hands still resting firm against your thighs, thumbs shifting slightly like he was grounding himself. “I’ve thought about this,” he admitted, quieter now as your fingers tightened against his shoulders and his jaw flexed once, eyes flicking up to yours again as his hands slid a little higher, slower this time, giving you time, watching your face, waiting for any hesitation, any sign that you wanted him to stop.
Instead, you leaned into him and Mingi exhaled sharply through his nose, something almost like a quiet laugh slipping out, disbelieving and overwhelmed. “Yeah…” he muttered, more to himself now. “Okay.” His grip steadied again, more confident now, less careful as he shifted closer, pulling you just enough toward him that you had to brace against him to stay balanced and your breath hitched at the closeness, at the way his hands held you like he wasn’t letting you go anywhere.
Your fingers slid into his hair, a quiet, instinctive answer that made something in his expression break open completely when you tugged at the dyed blonde strands and then he was on his feet, hands firm on your hips as he guided you back, the back of your knees hitting the couch before you dropped onto it with a soft breath. He dropped back down to his knees, hands sliding along your legs, lifting, guiding, slow enough that you could stop him, steady enough that it didn’t feel uncertain until your legs settled over his shoulders and your breath caught hard at the shift.
“Please,” he said. It came out like something pulled from deep in his chest, like he’d been holding it back for too long and it slipped out before he could stop it as you fingers moved back and tightened in his hair, your chest rising faster now as you looked down at him and his grip shifted slightly, thumbs brushing against your inner thighs. “Tell me something,” he said, voice rough, quieter now.
“What?”
He hesitated for half a second. “Please tell me you’ve had someone eat you out before?” Because he knows you’ve had sex but after finding out you had never given head before, he wasn’t sure how experienced you were.
Your face heated instantly. “Not good,” you admitted, your voice coming out softer than you intended and Mingi let out a breathless laugh, head dropping for a second before he shook it slightly, like he didn’t know what to do with that information. “Good…” he muttered, almost to himself. “because no one else will after me anyways.” You felt yourself get wet at that, could feel your panties starting to dampen because his words hit you with so much promise.
His hands slid slightly higher along your thighs again, slower this time, like he was reminding you, checking you, making sure you were still with him. “You tell me if anything feels off,” he said quietly. “I mean it.” Your heart flipped for what felt like the hundredth time because even now, he was thinking about you first. You nodded, breath uneven. “Okay.”
Mingi exhaled slowly, his forehead brushing lightly against your leg for just a second before his grip steadied again and he leaned in, nose brushing against you over your panties before he pulled back just long enough to slip them down your legs. He looked back and stared for a moment, taking you in, still not fully processing that this really happening.
The second he moved forward and his tongue started licking over your clit making your breath hitch instantly, your back pressing slightly into the couch, fingers tightening in his hair… “fuck…” you moaned as he moved, thrusting his tongue into you now, “Mingi…” his name left your lips and he responded immediately by gripping your hips and pulling you closer practically burying his face into you.
Your legs shifted slightly around his shoulders, your fingers threading deeper into his hair as the tension in your body started to unravel in a way that felt new as he rotated from suck your clit into his mouth to moving his tongue back to thrust into you, fucking you with his mouth like it was the only thing he knew how to do.
Your breath hitched hard, back arching slightly off the couch, fingers pulling at his hair now like you needed something to hold onto, like you were riding horse and had to grip extra hard on the reins. “Right there…..” your hips started moving, grinding against him, his tongue now trapped in you as he growled holding onto you and letting you take control. “fuck…. You…. God…. you eat my pussy so good…”
That did something to him, you felt it in the way his grip adjusted, steadier now, more certain, like your praise gave him exactly what he needed. He practically pulled you onto his face, making you sit forward, your hands holding his head as he moved it back and forth, tongue working in and out of you before he moved his mouth back up to suck your clit back into it and bring one of his hands down, two of his fingers testing at first before he thrust them into you.
Your breathing lost any rhythm it had left, your chest rising and falling unevenly as you tried to ground yourself, but it was pointless as your walls clenched around his fingers, your legs now locked around him as you rode his face. The sensation of his fingers pounding into you, the obscene noise of them echoing along with his moans as he rutted against the couch and flattened his tongue out against you had you close, orgasm building faster than you’ve ever had one before.
You watched him, eyes half lidded, legs starting to shake. “Look at you….” he moaned again, curving his fingers in you, just rubbing them against your walls, just holding them there as you clenched around them and you felt it, felt your legs give out, your hands on his head move to yank at his hair as you came, a gasping broken moan of his name leaving you as your orgasm tore through you. You felt lightheaded as Mingi just held you there, licking at everything you gave him and when he felt you gush, squirting around his fingers, pushing them out of you…. he could of came with you right there untouched.
He didn’t move away until he felt you yank him back by the hair, and fuck if that didn’t drive him crazy. Your body was still twitching, your breathing completely uneven as you pulled him up, your grip tight in his hair and when he looked up at you, he looked wrecked, almost more than you. His breathing was heavier, lips parted slightly, hair a mess from your hands, his eyes locked on you like he was trying to take in everything all at once. Then his brows pulled together slightly, something sharper flickering through his expression as he exhaled.
“Please tell me you never squirted for anyone else….”
You blinked down at him, still trying to come back to yourself, your chest rising and falling fast as your grip loosened slightly in his hair. “I…” you swallowed, still a little stunned, your voice soft. “I didn’t even know I could do that.”
Mingi’s expression shifted, something deeper settling in behind his eyes, something possessive. “Yeah…” he muttered, quieter now, more to himself. “Good.” His hands tightened slightly where they still held you, grounding, steady, dragging them lightly along your thighs as he stood, breath still uneven, eyes locked on you like he couldn’t quite look away yet.
Before he could say anything else, you moved. Fast. Sliding off the couch, your legs a little unsteady at first, but you didn’t stop, didn’t hesitate as you sank down in front of him on your knees and Mingi froze. “Y/N?” Your hands were already on him, fingers gripping lightly at his thighs now, grounding yourself as you looked up at him. “You don’t have to…” he started, shaking his head slightly. “I told you, you don’t….”
“Shut up.” It came out sharper than anything you’d said all night catching Mingi off guard as your fingers tightened slightly, pulling him just a little closer as your eyes stayed locked on his. “Shut up and let me,” you added, quieter now, but somehow heavier. Mingi’s breath hitched, his head tipping back for just a second like he was trying to process that you were saying that to him, breath catching the second your fingers moved to his waistband. “Y/N….”
Your hands started unbuttoning, pushing the fabric of his pants down like you weren’t second guessing it anymore. Like you knew what you were doing. Exactly what you wanted now. Mingi’s jaw tightened as he watched you slide his pants down to his ankle, his dick hard in his boxers, a small stain on them from where he rutted against the couch, chest rising a little sharper now, his hands hovering uselessly at his sides before finally settling lightly against the back of your head again like he needed somewhere to put them as you slipped his boxers down next.
Your hand wrapped around him, thumb brushing the precum leaking from him and his head dipped forward for a second like his body didn’t know how to process that, how quickly you’d gone from unsure to… this. Your hand moved, steady, controlled, like you were paying attention now, not guessing, not overthinking, just doing what felt right. “You gonna let me milk you, Mingi?”
The words came out softer than the moment but they hit ten times harder making Mingi choke on his next breath. His head snapping back slightly, a disbelieving laugh breaking out of him, rough and breathless. “Jesus…” he dragged a hand over his face, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe what you just said. “You can’t just say shit like that.” His eyes dropped back to you immediately, like he couldn’t help it, like he was trying to figure out when you flipped the script on him.
Because this wasn’t him guiding anymore. This wasn’t him in control. This was you. And he had no idea what to do with that as your hand steadied him, your other brushing lightly along his thigh as you looked up at him, really looked this time, like you knew exactly what you were doing now as you brought him to your mouth and tapped his tip against your tongue, once, twice and again before finally dragging your tongue down the length of him, tracing at the veins like you were trying to map out an outline of his dick.
“Y/N…” it came out low, almost a warning but there was no strength behind it. “Jesus…” he muttered under his breath, one hand dragging through his hair before settling back at the nape of your neck again, not pushing, not controlling, just there as your grip shifted slightly and you pulled back, looking up at him. “I want you to fuck my mouth.” A sharp breath left him as his grip tightened just slightly, not rough but tight. “You sure?” He had to ask because once he started he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop. Not when you were like this. Not when you asked for it.
You darted your tongue back out, licking at his tip. “Use me.” Mingi’s breath hitched, sharp, his grip tightening at the back of your neck for just a second before he forced himself to loosen it again. His chest rose unevenly, eyes locked on you like he was one second away from completely losing whatever control he had left. “You don’t know what you’re asking for,” he said, voice rough, barely holding together as you didn’t look away. “I do.”
His hand slid from your neck to your jaw, thumb brushing lightly against your cheek, slower now… intentional. “Hey…” he murmured, softer this time. “Look at me…. say it again,” he said quietly and your brows pulled together slightly. “What?”
“That you want this.”
Your lips parted, breath still uneven, but your voice came out firm. “I want you.”
“Yeah…” he muttered under his breath, almost to himself. “I heard you.” He moved his hand to your chin. “You don’t get to take that back,” he added, quieter now, eyes searching yours one more time. “Not after you say it like that.”
“I’m not going to,” you shot back, breath still uneven as his grip shifted, sliding from your jaw back into your hair, fingers threading through it as he tilted your head just slightly before guided his tip to your mouth and he groaned as you opened, his dick resting heavy on your tongue. Be moved slow at first, just letting you adjust, relax your jaw, as he took his time getting all of him in. You gagged a little when bottomed out, holding your head there and just taking in the feel of himself in your mouth for a moment.
His head dipped, his body shifting forward, and you felt the change instantly in the way his breathing broke, in the way his grip tightened just a fraction before he forced himself to ease it again. “Fuck…” he exhaled quietly, voice already rough, already slipping as he started moving, guiding your head, hips rutting starting to thrust. “Look at you…” he muttered, almost disbelieving, his voice low and uneven as his gaze flicked down for just a second, catching your expression. “so good with my dick in your mouth.”
Your grip tightened at his words, your body shifting instinctively closer, chasing the feeling, chasing him, and that nearly broke him all over again as you dug your nails into his thighs and started bobbing your head back abs forth, using his thighs as leverage to fuck your mouth on him. His breathing grew heavier, less controlled now, shoulders tensing as he exhaled sharply through his nose, trying to keep some kind of hold on himself but his restraint didn’t last.
“Yeah…” he moaned, hand gripping at your hair. “That’s it…” His control didn’t disappear, it changed. His grip adjusted, steady at the back of your head while his other hand dug into your scalp. “Fucking take it….” His thrusts grew, his dick throbbed on your tongue as he did like you said and started to use you. “You feel that? Yeah… just like that…” You gagged again as he started hitting the back of your throat, his hand moving around to wrap around said throat, thumb pressing at where he was fucking you. “Stay right there.”
The rhythm deepened. Slower for a second. Then chaotic. His shoulders tensed, fingers flexing again in your hair as he let out another uneven breath, his voice dropping lower, more wrecked with every second. “Fuck, Y/N…” His head tipped back for a second, jaw clenched hard, rhythm faltering before he picked up again. Deeper. Faster. Less careful as you looked up at him through wet lashes, mouth stretched around his dick that was thrusting in and out of your mouth, the sight dragging a whimper from him and that’s when he stopped.
His hand pulled you back just enough, not rough, but firm, his breathing wrecked as he shook his head once, like he was trying to clear it. “I…” he exhaled sharply, dragging his free hand over his face. “No…” Your brows pulled together slightly, breath still uneven as you looked up at him. “Did I… did I mess up?”
“Fuck no!” He exclaimed, swallowing, jaw tightening. “I just need to be inside you when I come this time.” His hand slid from your hair to your arm, pulling you up in one quick motion, your balance tipping into him as his other hand caught your waist instantly, grounding you before you could even think as he kissed you. Hard and messy. Both you tasting yourselves on each other’s tongues.
Your hands grabbed at him just as fast, fingers tangling in his shirt, yanking him closer as your mouths crashed together, breath mixing, uneven, rushed. “I need you naked…”
“Yeah…” he breathed against your lips, voice wrecked. “Yeah, you too.” Your fingers found his tie, yanking it loose in one sharp motion, pulling him down into another kiss as he let out a breathless, almost disbelieving laugh against your mouth. “Fuck…” he muttered, letting you pull at him, his hands already moving, sliding down, finding the zipper of your dress. The sound cut through everything as his fingers slipped under the fabric as it loosened, pushing it down your shoulders while your hands worked at his shirt, buttons pulling free under your grip, impatient, uneven.
Neither of you slowed down. Couldn’t. The space between you disappeared completely as fabric shifted, hands moving, pulling, tugging like neither of you could get close enough fast enough. Your dress slipped, his shirt fell open, his tie hanging loose around his neck as your fingers dragged it the rest of the way free. “Mingi…” you breathed again, softer this time but no less desperate and he stilled for half a second. Just long enough to look at you. “You sure?” he asked one more time, voice low, still rough, but steadier for that one second.
Your answer came in the way you pushed him down, him stumbling to the carpeted floor caught off guard, his back hitting the floor with a dull thud, breath leaving him in a sharp exhale. “Y/N…” But you were already on him. Climbing over him before he could even recover, your knees settling on either side of his hips, your hands braced against his chest as you looked down at him, fingers sliding up his chest, gaze locked on his face, watching every reaction, every shift, every crack in his composure.
His hands tightened slightly at your waist, thumbs pressing into your skin like he was grounding himself, like he was barely holding onto anything at all as his head tipped back against the floor as you reached down, gripping him, his dick twitching in your hand as you guided him to you, your soaking pussy taking greedily as you sank down into him. Your breath broke instantly, a sharp inhale catching in your chest as your head tipped back at the stretch of him until he bottomed out.
Mingi had a full body jolt, his grip tightening on you, fingers digging into your waist as his head dropped back against the floor again, a broken sound leaving him before he could stop it. “You’re so fucking tight….” The words came out wrecked and completely gone as you slid your hand up his chest, fingers trailing over his collarbone, then higher until your palm settled at his throat, not squeezing, just resting there, feeling the way his breath stuttered under your touch.
Your fingers tightened slightly at his throat, your other hand still gripping his chest as your voice came out softer, almost disbelieving. “Mingi…” You shook your head slightly, breath uneven. “You’re….” you huffed out a quiet, overwhelmed laugh, your forehead dipping for a second before you looked back at him again. “I knew you were big but… I didn’t know it’d feel like this…… like my pussy was made for you…”
That did something to him. His jaw clenched hard, his grip tightening again as his hips shifted instinctively under you before he forced himself to still. “Don’t say shit like that,” he muttered, dragging a hand over his face for half a second before it dropped back to your waist. “You’re trying to kill me.” Your hand stayed at his throat, your thumb brushing lightly against his adams apple as you adjusted again, slower this time, testing, feeling before you leaned back and started moving.
“Look at you…” he muttered almost in disbelief. “You’re really…… fuck yeah….. your pussy is made for me.” Your hands steadied against his chest, fingers pressing into him as you found your rhythm, slow at first, testing, adjusting still, your breath catching every time you shifted just right. And then you didn’t hesitate anymore. You took it.
Your pace built, hips moving with more certainty, more intention, like your body just… understood what to do without needing to think about it, slamming your hips down, rotating them a little as you started pounding yourself on him. “Yeah….” his voice broke, his hands tightening hard at your waist, fingers digging in. “Yeah, just….. fuck…. take it…. it’s yours…” he watched his dick disappear in and out of you, the sight of you costing him, creaming on him, completely ruining him. “Don’t stop… don’t…”
You leaned forward, one of your hand finding his, fingers threading together before you pressed it down above his head, holding it there, anchoring him beneath you and Mingi’s breath caught instantly. His eyes snapped to yours, something almost dazed flickering through them as your face dipped closer, your lips finding his again. His chest rose hard under yours, his free hand sliding up your side, fingers dragging along your back like he didn’t know where to settle, like everywhere felt like too much.
Your movements slowed a little, more deliberate now, less frantic, your body shifting in a way that made his grip tighten again despite himself. Because slower didn’t make it easier. It made it worse. Your lips stayed on his, your breath mixing with his as you kept that steady rhythm, your hand still holding his above his head, keeping him right there, right under you. “Fuck…” he muttered softly, his head tipping back for half a second before coming forward again, chasing your mouth like he didn’t want to lose it but you pulled back, sitting up again a little.
His free hand slid down your back, guiding you closer, his head dipping instinctively, lips brushing along your collarbone before lower, tongue circling one of your nipples and bringing it into his mouth. Your breath hitched, moaning his name as his grip tightened at your side, his breathing uneven again, broken in a way that matched yours now as he stayed close, like he didn’t want to give you even an inch of space.
Your fingers tightened in his hand above his head, your other instinctively finding his hair again, holding him there, keeping him latched on your nipple as his arm wrapped around you, firm and immediate, pulling you closer as he pushed himself up off the floor just enough to meet you halfway.
Your breath hitched at the change. The closeness. The way his body pressed into yours now instead of beneath you. “Mine…” he muttered, voice rough against your nipple, his grip tightening just slightly as he held you there, letting you take and take until he felt you clench him hard, your legs starting to shake. It hit you all at once, sharp and overwhelming, your breath catching hard as your grip tightened on him, your body stuttering mid motion like it just… gave out. “I… I can’t….”
Your voice came out breathless, uneven, your movements losing any kind of consistency as you tried to keep going, tried to stay in control but you couldn’t. Not anymore. The second your body faltered, Mingi’s hands were on you, steady, grounding, his grip tightening just enough to hold you in place before you could collapse forward completely. “I got you…” he murmured, voice low, rough, but steady in a way yours wasn’t anymore.
His arm wrapped around you, pulling you closer for half a second, just long enough to catch you and then he moved, guiding you down, the world tilting as he flipped you beneath him, your breath catching all over again as your back met the floor. Your hands found him instantly, gripping, holding as your legs wrapped around him without thinking, pulling him closer like your body already knew what it needed.
His hands came down on either side of you, bracing, caging you in, his breathing just as wrecked now, just as uneven but his control was back. His gaze dropped to you, slower this time, heavier, taking you in like he needed to see you like this. Under him. Looking at him like that. One hand slid down, gripping your thigh, holding it in place, keeping you close as his forehead dipped forward, almost brushing yours as sank back into you. “Eyes, baby…” he murmured softly and when you looked at him something in him snapped all over again.
His grip tightened just slightly, not enough to hurt, just enough to keep you there, grounded, held as his control slipped into something deeper. He didn’t waste time, you were close and he knew he was too. He thrusted deep, pace fast, hips slamming against you and when your nails dug into his back, scratching across his shoulder, voice broken, “Please… baby… harder… come with me…” Mingi lost it.
His movements lost that careful edge, turning desperate, chasing that high just as much as you were now, his breathing breaking with every second as he held you there, kept you close, didn’t let you pull away even for a moment as he pounded into you, the squelching sounds of your wetness loud in the room as you clenched around him, a scream of his name poured out of you as you came and he could feel you squirting, pulsing around him as he buried his face into the crook of your neck and followed you, hips stuttering as you did what you asked him earlier, milked him for every drop he had in him, spilling inside you with a broken whimper.
Everything slowed quickly and Mingi stayed right where he was, buried inside you, like moving wasn’t even an option, his weight settled over you, his breathing still uneven as his forehead dropped against your shoulder and for a second… neither of you said anything. Just the sound of both of you trying to catch your breath, the faint hum of the apartment around you, and the quiet realization settling in between everything that had just happened.
Your hand moved first, fingers sliding gently into his hair, brushing through it slow, grounding, the complete opposite of everything from just a minute ago. Mingi let out a soft breath at that, almost melting into the touch, his grip loosening where his hands still rested against you, not holding tight anymore, just… there. “You good?” he murmured, voice low, still a little wrecked but softer now.
You nodded against him, your fingers still moving through his hair, slower, more absent minded now as you exhaled quietly. “Yeah… you should’ve told me.” Mingi shifted just slightly at that, enough to glance up at you, brows pulling together faintly. “Told you what?”
You huffed softly, a small smile tugging at your lips despite everything, your fingers catching briefly in his hair before smoothing through it again. “That you felt like this,” you said. “We could’ve been doing this the whole time.” There was a beat of silence before Mingi let out a breathless laugh, his head dropping back down for a second like he couldn’t believe you just said that.
“Yeah?” he muttered, amusement threading through his voice now. “That your big takeaway from all of this?” You nudged him lightly, rolling your eyes even though he couldn’t fully see it. “I’m serious.”
“I know you are,” he said, still half laughing under his breath, his hand sliding lazily along your side like he’d finally relaxed into the moment and another quiet second passed before he shifted slightly, just enough to glance around the floor beneath you both and he huffed. “We’re definitely gonna have to steam clean this carpet.”
You snorted, a laugh slipping out before you could stop it, your hand dropping from his hair to lightly smack his shoulder. “Mingi!”
“What?” he shot back, barely holding in his own grin now, looking up at you again, completely unbothered. “I’m just being realistic.” You shook your head, laughing softly as you pushed lightly at him again, but neither of you actually moved away. Because even with the joke… with everything…. he stayed right there.
fucking mingi was all about making a mess, giving him something to clean up when he was done.
sex with him was nasty. vulgar. sloppy.
he had a way of making you feel guilty that you were allowing him to get his hands on you and do what he pleased. guilty that he knew what buttons to press and what knobs to twist in a way that made you feel so good it hurt.
it was wet, dirty, and hot. a shower afterward was a non-negotiable.
it was hard to make your moans sound pretty when they were so pure. guttural and broken, unfiltered with how deep mingi was pounding your puffy cunt. but he liked it more when you sounded like that, when you sounded like one more thrust might kill you.
when you sounded like you were in pain, but in truth, he was just fucking you so good that maintaining a front of “pretty” was not your main concern at the moment. your main concern was not passing out while he was inside you. fucking your pussy like he was trying to commit the feeling to memory.
"god, im so deep thats gotta hurt huh, baby? does it hurt you?”
you cries and groans are muffled in the pillow you’ve shoved your face into, your hands gripping the sheets by your head like they might ground you on earth. mingi is on his knees behind you, strong thighs keeping him upright, while his palms held your hips in place for him as he shoved his cock inside of you.
arched so prettily in front of him, your ass bouncing off his body every time his hips slammed against you, a filling, heavy rhythm that sends vulgar “plap” sounds bouncing off the walls.
you were covered in sweat, skin shiny and wet, your hair sticking to your neck from all the exertion. mingi was just as sweaty as you, surely more. but god he was having so much fun.
all the adrenaline that he channeled on stage when he performed, he funneled it into the bedroom too. acting nasty like he was performing for someone.
he opens his mouth and sticks out his tongue, his eyes lasered in on where his dick slid in and out of your gushy cunt, coated in a white cream that only seemed to build every time he filled you up again.
he laughs lowly as a string of saliva falls from the tip of his tongue and lands directly on the length of his cock in just enough time as he shoves it back inside of you, his fat mushroom tip catching that sensitive ridge along your walls that makes your legs shake.
“she’s creaming on my cock, baby,” he moans as he sucks his bottom lip between his teeth and drags his hands away from your hips and up to the rippling flesh of your ass. he palms the soft skin with his big, heated hands and spreads them slowly so he can get a better look at his cock filling you out.
it bewildered you every single time because mingi liked to embarrass you. he wanted you to hear the sounds that your body made, the filthy, sticky sounds that you couldn’t control.
“shhh, baby. not so loud, listen to yourself.” he reached over your arched body and pressed his hand flat against the back of your head to further muffle you against the pillow. “listen to her talk back to me.”
and hearing it always made you ashamed beyond comprehension. and yet he always felt you get so tight around him when the noises registered.
his spit, your arousal, the stirred-up sounds of your guts being rearranged hit your ears like a truck. mingi’s hungry groans that you could feel all throughout your body with every deep stroke he pounded into your cunt.
he’s big, and thick, and very purposeful with his hips. you’ve seen him on stage, rolling his body with sensual intentions that only allow a glimpse into how he could really put those hips to use.
he watches, his tongue swiping over his bottom lip as your wetness clung to his v-line in a white sticky web. the shine of your ass from the sweat and all the times he’s practically drooled on your body.
he purposely slows his hips so the sounds get deeper, hollow and louder. your moans break into breathless whines that only make mingi wanna abandon any remaining composure and fuck you til you snap.
“yeah, yeah… cunt’s asking for a baby. isn’t she?” he takes his hand off your head and moves both of them to your shoulders, curling them over the bone and pulling your body up, arching you even more.
you whine when you feel him slip his soaked dick out of you, a gross, slick sound as he pulls out. and god, it seems endless when the tip finally pops out of you. you cry at the emptiness, and mingi giggles as he watches you shake your ass side to side to try and coax him to fill you up again.
your head throws back as he pulls your head out of the pillow, and you could hear him spitting into your stretched pussy, the saliva dripping down your puffy folds.
“gotta keep you messy, sweet girl, makes this more fun for both of us.” he digs his nails into your shoulders and groans so low you could feel it in your belly as he glides right back inside of you.
there was really no friction at all, and he's nearly kept slipping out since you started. each stroke of his veiny cock is punctuated with a deep, staccato rumble in his chest.
his lips part in misty pants, watching with enamored adoration as the stickiness of your combined arousal clings to your bodies like this was really some kind of perverted home video.
the wet noises fill your ears again, and now you can’t muffle your moans in the pillow anymore with the way he holds your body up. they come out primal and desperate, helpless as mingi forces your pussy to take his shape.
“mmhm, wish i could see your pretty face.” he mumbles, the loud slaps of his hips against your ass nearly drowning out his voice.
“but i'd rather see this pussy keep sucking me in.” he laughs again and enunciates with a deep, rough thrust that makes your toes curl.
“wanna see her dripping with me once i fill her up. fuck a baby into my pretty girl.” his moans are an encouragement that further tighten that knot in your stomach, your cunt clenching around him like a vice with every nasty word that leaves his mouth.
he presses his palms into your lower shoulders, simultaneously working out a building knot of stress, all the while he fucks you into a worthless puddle in his sheets.
“fill this pussy up all the way to the fucking back.” he leans over your body and presses his lips to the small of your back, his mouth opened in low moans as he eases his hips into a swifter pace, pressing wet kisses against your fluttering skin.
his dick glides in and out of you with painful ease, every full thrust that drags the thickness of him against your gspot pulling you more and more under.
“get you all pretty and swollen with my babies.” he whispers against your back, and you whine so loud you swear it was going to tear up your throat.
if the sloppy mess between your legs wasn’t a cry for just that, you weren’t sure what was.
“p-please-!” you cry out, and you shiver when you feel his lips form into a pout and kiss your back like he was trying to soothe you. “w-want… want you t-to-“
“think it’ll take like this?” he teases, shoving his cock so hard and so deep inside of you he might’ve breached your throat. he stays there, unmoving, forcing you to feel the twitching and the throbbing of his dick against every inch of your gooey pussy.
he hums, and suddenly you’re empty again, and you whine at the loss. but then you’re moving, his hands grab your waist and turn your body over, your back hitting the mattress. “probably not.”
seeing him nearly undoes you, a sweaty, crazed wreck. his hair sticking up everywhere, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths, his v-line a sticky mess. his hands grab the backs of your thighs and push your legs up so they’re pressed against your shoulders.
you squeal and are hardly given ample time to register what was happening before he slides his cock back inside of you, the new position having him deeper than ever before. mingi’s entire body shivers when he fills you to the hilt, your own body pulling taut at the invasive fullness.
his hands keep your thighs against your shoulders, folded in half underneath him in a mating press. “fuck, that’s better,” he sighs, immediately rolling his hips into you with every deep thrust. his lips spread into a greedy smile, his tongue swiping over his teeth. “hi baby, look so fuckin pretty.”
you cry out and throw your head back against the pillow, your hands reaching around and clawing at his broad shoulders.
“lemme pound this pussy, need you to cum before i breed you mkay? work for me pretty, give me what i need.” mingi chews on his bottom lip, his moans filling your ears, you’re unable to look away from where his cock disappears into your cunt, the wet noises seemingly even louder now.
he slides inside with slippery ease and glides right back out coated in a sheen of white. over and over and over again. maddeningly deep and too fucking fast.
his eyebrows are knitted in such a pretty, concentrated expression, his cheekbones poking through his skin from where his mouth begins to part with every thrust that seems to only drag him further towards his own orgasm.
“cum for me, baby. wanna feel this pussy cum around me, wanna fill you up so bad. wanna give my beautiful girl a baby.”
and as always, you do as he says, shattering like glass while he fucks you through it, determined to drag your orgasm out of you until you've been completely wrung dry.
"atta girl." he growls through his teeth, leaning down and taking your nipple in his warm mouth, suckling and circling his thick tongue around the softness of it. "can't wait till these are full of milk," he moans around them, muffled. "i'm sure the baby wouldn't mind sharing."
it clicks with you then and there that he was completely serious. the man literally wanted you pregnant. he sinks his teeth into your areola, and you cry out when you feel him slow his hips to a punishing, intentional grind into your cunt.
"you're gonna make such a good mommy, baby." he drools around your nipple, stilling his hips and damn near whimpering like a bitch as he holds himself there. you could feel him spilling inside of you, hot ropes of cum that seep to the back of your cunt just right.
mingi purrs and groans while he rides it out, massaging the backs of your thighs, his cock throbbing deep inside of you.
sticky, filled, and spent. he doesn't move yet, holding himself inside of you while you both take a moment to catch your breath. when you shift underneath him, he pressed his palms harder against the backs of your thighs to hold you still.
"uh uh, don't move. tryna keep you plugged, can't have any spilling out right?" he smiles and trails wet kisses up the side of your neck and you sigh and relax under his body.
you hope to god it works, because you're not sure if you'd be able to handle another session of "trying" with him and make it out with your legs intact.
summary: every girl has had that exhilarating little crush on their teacher, it’s not unheard of by any means. it almost always amounts to nothing, a small little motivation that keeps you awake in class. most girls don’t get hired by their professors to be a babysitter, and most girls don’t end up entwined in a situation so wrong that it eats them alive at night. not the guilt, or the shame. but the hunger, and the need. and most professors certainly don’t play into those little infatuations, and find themselves chasing that chance to absolutely ruin them. so why are you trying to play house and take on a role that wasn’t meant for you?
warnings: age gap(reader is in her 20’s, mingi is in his 40’s), this is nasty, DILF!mingi, lowkey salt & pepper!mingi, tension, power dynamics, emotional turmoil, girl dad mingi, manipulation, corruption, teasing, condescending!mdom, pet names(sweetheart, pretty baby, darling, slut etc), size kink, voice kink, praise, mating press, oral(f!receiving), countdown, biting, fingering, lowkey breeding kink, choking, overstimulation, dirty talk, eye contact, messy sex, mouth covering, hold the moan, creampie
wc: 18.1k (I am SO sorry)
notes: hiii… my dear @linearities, it’s me your secret admirer! you put down dilf Mingi and I was SAT. and then you mentioned prof!teez, so I just thought why not combine the two? you don’t understand how much I got into this while I was writing it’s kind of insane, god I hope you like it. all the love in the world… thank you @everyonewooeverywhere for hosting such a fun event
- your secret admirer <3
tracklist: million dollar man, strange candy, baby one more time
You weren’t stupid. You weren’t dumb, quite the opposite. You were intelligent, cunning. A smart woman who sometimes made foolish decisions. This would be one of them, one of the stupidest you've ever made.
And you would still do it again if ever given a second chance.
It nearly frightened you, the effect he had on you; it was embarrassing enough. It felt like an unattainable crush, a fleeting little infatuation that was bound to pass with time.
But it was so hard to get over it when you saw him nearly every day of the week. And even so, it was still not enough, and far too much all at once.
If it had to be described as anything, the word would be taboo. When he was introducing himself to his class of the year, he started with something that made your stomach do a flip.
“Y’know I have tattoos older than most of you in here, so if you ever question my teaching methods, think long and hard about how much longer I’ve been on earth than you.”
You thought long and hard, alright, and it certainly didn't help your little girly infatuation with your professor.
Professor Song Mingi, a literary instructor at your college. Students clamored during open season to squeeze into his class, which always filled up so quickly during enrollment. His teaching was sound and effective, and it didn’t hurt that he was way too easy on the eyes.
A low, flowing voice that was easy to grip onto and follow, gentle handwriting, and a pristine way with words. Dark tresses that framed his soft yet angular face, pink, puffy lips that wrapped around his syllables like a glove. His pretty, sharp nose beckoned for a rider. His meaty arms that always seemed to be struggling beneath his rolled-up white blazers, the buttons on the cuffs mere seconds from popping off.
His class was always dimly lit, a comfortable aura that made it easy to ease into learning. You could write a 20-page essay on why you enjoyed his class.
He was never dismissive, always listened to his students attentively, and truly valued their thoughts and opinions. He enjoyed shaping young folks' minds and helping them through their way, assisting them in growing and becoming respective, creative individuals.
You never struggled in his class, never had to ask for tutoring sessions. And to be honest, you probably wouldn’t be able to handle a one-on-one with him either way. He was too intimidating, too suffocating.
Whenever he asked the class a question, and you were able to gather your bearings to answer, you could hardly keep yourself from tripping over your words with how intense his gaze was.
Like he was clinging onto every word like a lifeline, his eyebrows raising now and then when your response flowed from your lips, his tongue would poke out the corner of his mouth, nodding along as he listened.
He’d always smile when you finally stumbled through your response, pointing his pen in your direction with a sly grin.
“Smart girl.” That stupid voice that made your brain dissolve into a useless puddle.
It was never good for your nerves.
But recently, you felt like his material has been getting more difficult. Maybe it was because finals for the semester were approaching, and the work started to get more grueling? Or maybe you were just tired, but his lectures started to blend into watercolor, and the readings he assigned the class started to sound like pig Latin.
Luckily, you weren’t the only one confused, when a girl who sat next to you leaned over while he was talking and whispered to you.
“Is he speaking English right now?”
Today was no different; the stress started to weigh on you as more finals began to close in. Recently, you’d been a bit tight on money, trying your best to save up from the barista job you’d been managing for the past year, but it was starting to fall short.
You had set up a job portfolio the night before in a fit of desperation in hopes of snagging a gig on the side in childcare, just to push you through the last few months of the year.
The winter chill nipped at your bones, and you always felt demotivated in the cold. The class dragged on, and you could barely keep your thoughts in a straight line as Professor Song droned on. You tried to cling to every word, retain every piece of information, but it all just seemed to slip away like you had butter fingers.
Your notes became sloppy, and your doodles in the margins became more frequent. Everyone in your immediate vicinity seemed just as hopeless, and this must have caught your professors' attention.
He turned from the board, and his face fell from concentrated to a soft sort of concern. He sighed softly and set his pen on the desk, a quiet clatter on the wood surface. This caught your attention, and you raised your head slowly.
Your eyes locked with his immediately, almost as if he was already trained on you before you raised your gaze. Your eyes dance with one another for a fleeting moment, and something flashes across his face, subtle yet electrifying. Then he’s clearing his throat, ripping his eyes from yours, and swimming over the rest of the lecture room.
He moves away from the board, lifting himself to sit on his desk, crossing his legs, and clasping his hands on his lap.
“Alright, guys, I get it.” The class directs its scattered attention to its professor sitting on his desk, his foot shaking back and forth softly. “It's the end of the semester, we’re all tired. Believe me, I’m in the same boat.”
He turns his head to a framed picture on his desk, a candid photo of him and his young daughter celebrating her birthday at the aquarium. “My daughter keeps whining at me about how hard her coloring sheets are. She can’t for the life of her understand the difference between indigo and violet.”
This pulls a warm laugh out of everyone, and you can’t help but join in. Professor Song never stops talking about his daughter; he loves her with all his heart. He has her many scribbled arts around his lecture room, photos of her on his desk, and her pipe cleaner flowers displayed proudly in the far right corner.
You tap your pen against your notebook rhythmically, and you don’t catch the way his eyes sweep over your face while the laughter dies down. “Everyone’s running on fumes, and I’m sure you’ve heard it a thousand times, but this is important. We’ll pull through this last month, and we’ll have a few weeks off to laze away, and it’ll be well earned. Right?”
The class nods in agreement, and Professor Song smiles in acknowledgment. “So, do me a beautiful favor, and stay with me a little longer while we get through this, okay? You all have been doing phenomenal this year, let's keep it up til the end, yeah?”
Everyone perks up at the encouraging words, and you find your energy slowly creeping its way back into your blood. Just enough to get through the day, but not enough to prepare for the shitshow that was to come.
Two thousand weekly.
You rubbed your eyes, blinking a few times and drinking some water to be sure you weren’t hallucinating the mail in your inbox.
You had arrived back home after dragging yourself through the last bits of Professor Song’s class, leaving with mostly full note pages and a renewed vigor to pull through this last semester.
The portfolio you had set up on the nanny website already had a response, and quite an unexpected one. A generous offer for pay, a part-time position as a babysitter for a young girl, age 6. Two thousand per week for 6 months, free meals provided, flexible schedule. It was almost too good to be true. The email didn’t go into too much detail, only offering further information if you shot back a response expressing your interest.
It was everything you needed and more, but one thing was making you hesitant. One small, coincidental detail.
Regards, M. Song.
Signed at the bottom of the email, like colorful barbed wire.
It had to be a coincidence. There was no way it was him.
Song is a common last name; you were sure it had to be somebody else. No matter, it was too good to pass up, and you found yourself drafting your email before you gave it any more rational thought. If it were him, it would be dangerous. You’d be deep in enemy territory.
You sent the email expressing enthusiastic interest in the position, and slammed your laptop shut so hard you thought you heard a key fly off. You buried your face in your hands and groaned aloud into the darkness of your bedroom, trying to shake the weird feeling blossoming in your chest.
It had to be a coincidence. There’s no way your literary professor saw the hundreds of capable babysitting portfolios to choose from and decided to pick yours. There’s no way you posted it yesterday, and he just so happens upon a day later and immediately makes his decision.
There was no way he was offering so much money for something as simple as babysitting.
There was no way you’d be able to go through this and maintain a professional, normal attitude.
Not even 10 minutes later, your phone chimes, the blinding light illuminating your dark room, therefore sealing your fate. You hadn’t even clicked the notification, skimming over the email banner before mentally checking out.
Dear Miss L/N,
Thank you for expressing your interest in the position. I would be delighted-
And that was it. You eventually gathered enough courage to open the email. It gave you all the information you needed, a scheduled time to meet at his home to set up the payroll, and introduced you to his daughter. Work out kinks and settle into the position.
Mr. Song doesn’t return home until after dark, well after 9 pm. Your shifts start at 3 pm every day for the next six months. Sundays are guaranteed days off, and he shall keep you posted on future days off if available. You had mentioned in your email that you were a student, so availability might fluctuate depending on school.
His response?
“You mentioned you were a student; I am well aware of this fact. Do not worry, I will ensure that your studies will remain unaffected.”
An insane thing to say, by the way.
It was definitely him. Regardless, you would find out in due time when you finally meet him at his home, and solidify what was to come, which can only be described as unmentionable.
-
His big warm hand encased yours, swallowing it whole so effortlessly. Calloused fingertips brush against the pulse that bounces in your wrist, and you barely keep your breath from hitching. His thumb runs over your knuckles, and you swallow a weird noise.
“Thank you for taking the position, darling. You’re saving me a hell of a lot of time.” That's stupid, grin, toothy, and wide. His eyes crinkled at the corners, the crows' feet making their grand appearance. The streaks of silver that flow through his dark hair like a wave you’ve never noticed until now, so close it was hard to miss.
“Of course… Mr. Song, thank you for considering me.” You weren’t sure whether you should call him professor or a different honorific outside of the lecture room, but he did not correct you, so you assumed it was the right choice.
You caught yourself that Saturday morning paying extra attention to your hair, curling your lashes a little higher, reapplying layers of lip gloss until it looked like you’d been making out with honeycomb.
Throwing together a cute outfit to make a good “first impression.” You couldn’t believe yourself, but once you were out the door and in your car, it was too late to worry about it now.
Your nerves were alight as you made your way to his address. You nearly saw him every goddamn day, but of course, this was different.
His residence was a rustic western style house, furnished with well-kept gardens in the front yards and a freshly painted porch and patio. A cute, homey place that somehow just made him all the more attractive.
You pulled into his driveway, taking your keys out of the ignition and giving your body a moment to relax. A few deep breaths and one life saver mint later, and you were stepping out with your purse in your clutches and your anxiety written all over your poor face.
You hadn’t even noticed until you raised your gaze from your feet, but there he stood. On his front porch, that white blazer with his rolled-up sleeves, no tie today. Black slacks and his glasses low on the bridge of his nose. His eyes are leering at you.
You stopped in place when you saw him, and his expression never changed. A sort of scrutiny on his brow as he watched you step out of your car, dare you say borderline predatory, but you certainly wouldn’t want to set anything into motion by manifestation. Surely not.
You lift your hand and give a curt, polite wave. Then his brows are falling, his lips are curling, and he’s offering a warm, gentle smile.
“(Name.) Good to see you, I’m glad you could make it.” Mingi’s own voice booms over his front yard to your ears, and you force your feet to unstick from the driveway pavement and continue to walk to his home.
You walk up the steps with only slightly shaky legs, face-to-face with him. “Of course, sorry if I’m a bit early.”
He smiles wider, yet softer. “It’s perfectly fine, I’d prefer you be early rather than late. I admire your punctuality; you’ve always been like that.”
You’ve always been like that.
You try not to let the praise get to your head, and you barely miss the way his tongue swipes over his bottom lip as he catches the way your shoulders hunch slightly at his words, and your fingers squeeze the straps of your purse just a little tighter.
“Well, let’s not just stand around. She’s excited to meet you.” Mr. Song turns and pushes open his front door, standing in front of it to hold it open. “After you.”
You smile nervously and slowly walk inside. He watches every step you take as you brush past him, your shoulder just barely grazing his lower chest, there not quite being enough room between him and the door frame to give you a spacious entry. His cologne hits your nose as you walk by, and you stop yourself from inhaling deeply as you plant your feet on his foyer floor, listening as he shuts the door and clicks the lock.
You were in enemy territory, and you had never felt more vulnerable in your life.
Immediately, you were tripping over toys, and you nearly fell backwards as a little girl came running up you, picking up one of the dolls you nearly busted your ass on and handed it to you.
“Okay and scene!” You can’t help the smile that breaks on your face, the confusion of being suddenly thrown into a scene, evident.
“Wait, what’s happening-“
The little girl is carrying another doll, and she shakes it back and forth as she begins to speak. “Where have you been? You’re late again!” She pouts furiously as she points to the doll in your hand, and you know that's your time to shine.
“I’m not late,” you speak through the doll in your grasp, kneeling to sit at eye level with the girl. “In fact, I’m right on time!” You motion the doll’s arm to point at an invisible watch on her plastic wrist, and you practically see the girl light up over you playing along with her.
You pay no attention to Mingi, who stands behind you, watching you interact with his daughter, a small smile on his face. You play along happily, and he can see how much his daughter has already taken a liking to you. But before she can drag you into another scene, Mingi is clearing his throat.
He crouches down and with his strong arms he scoops her up, and little giggles flow from her as he lifts her into his hold. “You little monster!” He grumbles playfully, the sweetest smile on his lips as litters her face in fleeting kisses, an exaggerated ‘mwah’ punctuating each one he landed.
He swings her back and forth like she was on a carnival ride and he laughs morph into joyous squeals, the smile on Mingi’s face nothing short of beautiful.
You watch in awe and admiration, how sweet he is with her and it makes something in your heart twist.
When she reaches her little hand out and pulls on some of his hair, his smile drops a little and hers only widens.
“Ouch- okay, no hair pulling sweetpea we know this.” He gently sets her down, not without the theatrics akin to a landing airplane.
Once her feet touch the ground she mumbles out an adorable sorry, and you swear you see Mingi’s heart melt.
“Alright, lovebug, you can give her more acting lessons later. Daddy needs to talk to her for a second, okay?”
The little girl frowns as you sheepishly hand her back her doll. “Don’t worry, we can play a lot more once I’m all settled in. I promise.” You smile, and she returns it, taking her doll back and bounding away to the couch in the living room, resuming her little roleplay on her own.
You stand up slowly and watch her skip away, somewhat avoiding turning around to see Mr. Song. When you finally turn, his back is to you as he’s begun walking to the kitchen. You follow, nearly tripping over toy cars and plush animals again.
He stops in front of the kitchen island, pouring you and himself a small glass of water out of a filter. He sets the cup on the countertop with a clink, sliding towards you as you stand a few feet away from him, trying to keep as much distance as is deemed appropriate.
When the silence stretches for much too long, you pick up your cup and take a big sip, hoping the cool water will calm your nerves. You open your mouth to speak, but he beats you to it.
“She likes you a lot already.” He states, raising his eyes over and glancing at the back of the couch.
A shy smile graces your face as you take another sip. “You could tell that from such a small interaction, Professor?” You glance up at him over the rim of your glass, and you don’t miss the way his eyebrows raise, and his face shows nothing short of amusement.
“Well, she is my kid after all, and I know her pretty well.” He takes a sip from his own glass, tapping his metal-clad fingers against the checkered walls of the cup. “And I don’t see why she wouldn’t like you.”
Of course, you were going to ask, what the hell does he mean by that? You smile, more confident now, setting your glass on the countertop and crossing your arms over your chest.
“Do tell, what's there to like?” Something about the entire conversation just felt… informal. You’ve never spoken to him outside of the lines of education or questions about exams. This type of talk was far beyond your teacher-student boundaries, even if it can be considered as fleeting small talk.
This makes him laugh, and you feel your lips twitch at the melodic sound. You try not to smile any harder than you already are.
“Asking for lip service now, are we (Name)?” His playful tone of voice carried a much lighter cadence than the authoritative tone he held in the classroom. You tried not to notice that tattoo that was peeking through his sheer white dress shirt.
“No, Mingi.” You reply just as playfully, and you find yourself rubbing your lips together, grounding yourself with the feeling of the layer of lip gloss on your lips.
His eyes linger on your mouth for just a fraction of a second, hardly noticeable. They trail up the side of your face, and his gaze stops on your eyes. Something in his eyes changes, a kind of shift that makes your heart stop for a moment. His jaw flexes and fingers twitch as he moves to cross his own arms.
“That’s Mr. Song, or 'sir' to you, young lady.” His eyebrows set hard, and you feel your stomach drop at the sudden change in attitude. He looks down at you like you’re small, like you don’t deserve his respect. As much as you’d like to push it, he controls your grades and ultimately your future. And passing up on such a gratuitous opportunity with this job simply to act a little too familiar with your professor would be borderline idiotic.
His eyebrows raise, and his tongue pokes the inside of his cheek, urging your confirmation of his command. “Understand?”
You swallow and nod your head politely. “Yes, sir.” You quickly grab your glass again and down the rest of the water, taking a moment to gather yourself, because as depraved as it was. That entire interaction made you god-awful wet.
“We may not be in class, but I’m still your elder.” He turns around and walks past you, a trail of his cologne passing beneath your nose and fogging your brain. You have to crane your neck to watch the back of his head as he walks away, the sheer size of him dizzying.
“If you don’t mind me asking.” You force from your throat, keeping your eyes on the floor as you speak. “Was there any reason you chose me specifically?”
He snorts, endearingly so. “Do I need a reason?” Like it was a dumb question, even though there are no such things in his words. “I just decided to hire you. Nothing more and nothing less.”
“Well, there were plenty of people who were just as capable, if not more so-“
He interrupts you with a whistle and a loud snap of his fingers. “What did I say?” He leans his head backward like he was annoyed, an exasperated sigh leaving his lips as he speaks under a low breath. “God, always so inquisitive.”
You stop from letting your mouth drop open in surprise. “If you have any implications swimming around that pretty brain of yours, forget it. You’re a capable girl, aren’t you?” He lowers his gaze to you, waiting expectantly for you to reply.
You nod and pick a piece of dust off your shirt. “Of course.” You reply in a small voice, but Mingi clicks his tongue and shakes his head.
“Say it out loud. C’mon.” You take a small breath and sigh quietly.
“I am capable.”
Mingi smiles and turns away from you once more. “Beautiful. Save the rest of the questions after we set up your payroll.”
He finishes, and he raises his hand and brings up his middle and ring finger, motioning to you in a “come hither” motion, a movement so slow that it seemed dizzyingly suggestive.
“Come now, while we’re still young.” You force your feet to move and follow him further into the house, passing his daughter as she plays on her own world on the couch, completely oblivious to the strange tension that lingered between her father and her new babysitter.
Mingi was intense, authoritative. He knew how he wanted things to be and made sure everyone else stayed in their lane. And you had a weird lingering feeling that nothing good was to come out of stepping that home privacy boundary.
But hey, two thousand was two thousand. And maybe you were being greedy, but something much more than money was keeping you from using your fucking brain and getting out of dodge.
He was not good for you, and god he knew it. You both knew it. But if the heat you felt in your lower belly and the racing of your heart were anything to go by, the gut instinct that told you not to walk into the wolf’s den was for sure one that was meant to be ignored.
After a smooth process of connecting your bank account, printing you a house key, and an extensive tour of the home, he sent you home with a thank-you bonus of a few hundred dollars and your schedule for the following week. Monday through Friday, at 3 pm, you would arrive at the Song residence. You would see Mingi off for his night classes and tend to his daughter until he arrived home at 10 pm.
He never mentioned a wife, or any kind of spouse. You had assumed they had most likely divorced, you never saw any picture of a woman around the house, and his daughter never mentioned a mother.
You had considered asking him about it, but something inside of you said that would be overstepping a grand boundary that should not be touched.
While you had Mingi’s morning class, he would only be on campus for those two hours before returning home to spend the rest of his day with his daughter, before the evening whisked him away to work once again. So, of course, you would still see him in class.
And it is so much worse now.
And you couldn’t help but feel that he found the whole thing amusing.
Teaching the class like normal, writing down key points on the board, reading through articles and poems, and helping everyone pick the words apart. You never called him sir in class; it was always Mr. Song or Professor. He asked you to call him sir, no, demanded that you refer to him as such when you visited his home.
So with a slow raise of your hand, to ask a question that truly meant nothing. He paused his writing to look at you, and he moved back around to continue his writing once you had been acknowledged. “Yes, ma’am?” He asks, while he finishes the cursive curl of his letter y.
“You say that symbolism in poetry is entirely up to the reader’s perception, and that we can choose to decipher it any way we see fit. Is that maybe a little too loose in terms of freedom, considering some people might extend their reach of understanding too far to be deemed within the author’s original intentions?”
It was an innocent question, a good one, maybe perhaps a little random. Mingi turns away from the board, ending the sentence he wrote with a heavy period, a loud thunk against the whiteboard. The edges of the blue ink splatter around the punctuation.
“It's as I said,” he begins, eyebrows relaxed as he finds you easily at your desk, rolling your pencil eraser over your bottom lip, a curious glaze of intrigue shadowing your eyes. “While it is entirely up to the reader, most people are smart enough to gather what the poet is trying to convey. Readers can come up with similar conclusions, but maybe with different rounded edges. There will be similarities, but there can also be differences, all because we perceive everything differently as humans.” He quietly adjusts the knot of his tie, the veins in his hand flushing as he moves.
You find your eyes falling to watch his arm move, his biceps struggling under his sleeves. You smile and nod, bringing your pencil down to your chin and tapping it lightly. “Thank you, sir.”
Nobody else catches it; it was so subtle that it wouldn’t have mattered to anyone even if they did. But his hand froze around his necktie, and his fingers twitched. His nose scrunched only slightly, and a sharp, quiet inhale made your skin prickle.
He nods quietly and turns back to the board to continue teaching. “Always with the smart questions.” He murmurs under his breath, and you both clearly knew that the question was about much more than just poetry.
The first day went surprisingly smooth. You arrived at his home early, of course, using your new key to unlock the door and welcome yourself in. His daughter was the first to greet you, running to you and enveloping your legs in a tight hug, her little nails digging into your skin with how hard she held you.
You said hi, all warm smiles and soft tones, only raising your eyes when you feel another pair on you. Standing at the end of the hallway was Mingi, leaning against a doorframe with relaxed ease, his tie loosened and his hair astray. He leaned his head against the white frame, his eyes low as he paid no attention to anything but you. You couldn’t read the expression on his face, and all you could feel was pinned. Like he was holding your body down with just his gaze, and it makes your heart kick up.
Then he smirked, a ghost of one if anything. A knowing, small smile that would be easy to ignore if it simply wasn’t him. Before you could say or do anything else, the little girl, whose name you learned was Ami, was dragging you away from the foyer, spewing phrases about new toys and complimenting your punctuality.
Mingi watches you walk away with his daughter, clasping your hand tight, and your sweet little warm smile returns as you respond to her words with enthusiastic earnestness.
She leads you to the couch, grabs the remote, and asks you to switch on a movie for her.
“Can I borrow your new friend for a second, sweetheart?” Mingi appears behind the back of the couch, his sudden presence nearly startling you out of your skin. He looks down at his daughter with nothing short of pure love, his gaze soft and his tone low and sweet. Ami pouts dramatically and crosses her arms.
Mingi pouts in turn, giving her playful puppy eyes. Then you feel his fingers gently brush the nape of your neck, a slow, gentle caress that was so light it could have been mistaken for a breeze. But it was too warm, too calloused.
“Please?” he whines with a smile, and his daughter rolls her eyes, setting down the remote with a clatter.
“Okay, Daddy, but bring her back.” Her little voice warms your heart, happy that she's taking a great liking to you. You swallow as you feel his fingers slip away from your nape, and you're standing on wobbly legs to follow him as he begins to walk away.
“I promise I will,” he says, blowing her a little kiss, to which she returns with a bright smile. Mingi is leading you away from the living room, and you follow behind with a sort of muted apprehension, and it feels like you are in school again. Like you were being led away by your teacher to talk about poor behavior.
Once you’re back in the foyer, he turns to you, and his soft, parental smile has fallen into something unrecognizable.
He pulls a piece of paper out of his jacket pocket and hands it to you. “This is your list of things that should be maintained and done while watching her. Keeping the place clean, making sure she eats well. Everything we’ve already discussed.” You take the list and give it a swift once-over, mentally noting the most important things.
You slip it into your own pocket, raising your head to look at him once more, and for just a split second, you swear you caught his gaze lingering on your neck. “If you have any questions, my number is also on that piece of paper. Do not call me, but you can message me.”
You nod silently, and he sighs. “Can we work on your verbal confirmation? Use your words, please.” You can’t help the almost sour look that flashes across your face, and you quickly gather yourself before exaggeratedly dropping into a flashy curtsy.
“Yes, boss, I understand.” You say in a dramatic prim accent, but before you could stand back up straight, you feel his warm, large hand slip beneath your chin, gripping your lower jaw firmly.
He’s lifting you back up, leaning his head down so close that you feel his breath on your neck, his nose just shy of brushing against your ear. Your breath catches, and his sweet scent clouds your senses, and you could feel your knees start to buckle beneath you. Mingi’s hand keeps its firm hold on your chin as he lowers his voice to a heavy, throaty whisper that makes the skin on your temple tingle.
“Try again, and lose the attitude, gorgeous. You know better.” His breath fans over your ear, and you could physically feel the skin of the back of your neck flare warmly. He squeezes the pads of his fingers against the soft flesh of your cheek a little harder, and the heat blooms across your lower jaw at his tense hold, and you nearly melt into his hand. Your own voice drops to a nervous, shaky whisper, and you exhale slowly out of your nose. It was so quiet you could hear the wristwatch on his hand ticking by your ear.
“Yes… Sir.” You correct yourself quietly, and his hand still doesn’t move. Instead, his thumb gently runs over your cheek, a repeated soothing path like he’s trying to lull you to sleep with his caresses. He leans away from your ear, coming face to face with you once more, his nose mere inches from brushing with yours. So close you can see every strand of silver in his hair, every wrinkle at the corners of his eyes, every freckle, and the remaining five o'clock shadow from where he shaved earlier that morning. He smelled of faded cologne and wintergreen mints, and you could hardly stop your eyelids from fluttering.
His thumb moves over your bottom lip, gently pressing down on it like he was admiring how soft you were, taking a mental note of how easy you melt under him. How all he needed to do to get you to act right was to pet you like you were some kind of puppy.
It felt like an eternal standstill by the time he slipped his hand away from your face, and you could still feel the heat of it across your face. It felt so wrong. And god did you want to feel it again.
He turns and fixes his loose tie, slipping his blazer on and adjusting his watch. He walks away, leaving you standing like a dumb fawn, grinning as he opens the front door, his keys jingling in his hand. “Do behave yourself, while rewards and punishments are not handed out in class, my home is an entirely different story.”
And with that final note, the door shuts behind him with a click, and you are left in Mingi’s foyer with your heart in your throat and warmth in your stomach, and your entire body thrumming with what can only be described as anticipation.
-
You and Ami got along well, playing with toys and watching television. There was a small spat when you tried to get her to eat her veggies, but after some bribery with a promise of a packet of gummies, she offered up no more fight.
Putting her to bed was no easy feat either, her only surrendering at the promise of a bedtime story. You sent her off to go pick a book, and she came into her bedroom, trotting proudly with the first installment of the Narnia series.
When you dared to question her lengthy decision, she responded with, “Daddy has been reading this to me every night, we’re on chapter 6, he said you could continue reading it to me.”
You quietly roll your eyes, mumbling to yourself as she begins to tuck herself into bed. “Did he now?”
You didn’t complain, and you did find yourself easing into the storytelling, reading with a soft, slow tone to help lull her off to sleep, which didn’t take long, especially after a long day of play.
When her breathing evened, and her head went lazy on her neck, you switched off her lamp and set her stuffed zebra next to her arms and left her room, making sure her rainbow night light in the outlet was on.
You shut her door with a quiet click and sighed to yourself. First night done, now all that was left to do was wait for Mingi to arrive home. You pulled your phone out of your back pocket to check the time.
9:03
He was sure to be home anytime soon, so you decided to take the book you were reading with you downstairs. It had pulled you in enough just by that one chapter alone, and you found yourself wanting to read it from the beginning.
Your bare feet padded against the tile floors of the kitchen, the house asleep and silent as you picked a small mandarin out of the fridge. You sat at the kitchen island, gently peeling the citrus fruit as you held the book open with one hand, and began to read.
You found your fingers nimbly peeling the white veins of the orange and dropping them onto the napkin. Engrossed in the book, you slipped slice after slice of mandarin past your lips as you continued to read.
The quiet of his home was so different in comparison to your own. Tucked further towards the countryside, absent from the honking of horns and the screeches of tires. Just the tranquil sound of whistling trees and the occasional creak of the house settling. It was nice, something you could see yourself getting used to.
You weren’t sure how long you had been reading for, and it wasn’t until you heard the front door shut that you were ripped from your own little world. You hadn’t even noticed the jingle of keys in the lock. Your orange was long gone; only the shredded peel remained as he walked past the foyer, straight into the kitchen to see you.
He paused for a moment, taking in your peaceful little moment, then smiling to himself as he began to shed his coat and drape it over the kitchen table chair. “You look comfy.” He murmurs, loosening his tie.
You swallow a dry patch in your throat, the whole moment reeking of something inappropriately domestic. The low, warm lighting of the overhead oven light. Mingi quietly gets unready after a long day of work, your eyes catching on the way his muscles flex with every movement he makes.
Unclipping his watch and dropping it into the small wooden bowl on the edge of the counter, uncuffing his dress shirt and rolling his sleeves up once again, the hints of a tattoo you’ve never had the pleasure of fully seeing peeking underneath the white linen.
Running a large hand through his silver streaked hair, the strands falling around his face in an organized mess as he sighs, a deep and heavy sound that makes your thighs clench underneath the island.
You close the book absentmindedly, dropping your gaze to the counter just as he raises his eyes to look at you, and you clear your throat as you move to stand.
“I see you’re reading Narnia. Ami asked you to read it to her?” His voice was so quiet, so lofty, it made your brain fizz.
You nod. “She ate dinner well, told me she had fun playing with me today. She asked me to read to her, and she was out like a light by the fourth page. It intrigued me, so I decided to give it a gander.”
You raise your head again, gathering your orange peels in your hand and crossing over to the trash can in the corner. Once dropped in the waste, you turned to hand the book back to him. Your arm outstretched, to which he only stood and stared back at you, his eyes dropping over your body in a less than subtle once over.
He finally reaches out and takes the book from you, not without letting his long fingers brush against your knuckles. His two middle fingers slip between the pages, bookmarking the place that you had stopped at. You swallow as he puppy dog ears the page with one hand, before closing the book and setting it on the island.
The muted glow of the oven light shadowed his face in a soft yellow, the rest of him swallowed in the darkness of the home. He was so tall, his body big enough to stand in front of you and effectively block you from being seen by anyone.
“Well, I should be going.” You mutter, nervously wrinkling the corner of your shirt over and over again. “Thank you again.” You nod your head respectfully, and yet neither one of you makes any move.
Mingi doesn’t move; instead, he lifts his head, lowering his eyes to a half-lidded kind of gaze that makes you feel like you were being preyed on. He sees the tension in your shoulders, the unevenness of your breath, the uncertainty in your eyes, the curiosity in the way your fingers twitch at your side.
The unconscious way your tongue wets your bottom lip, the little vein in your neck that only he could notice.
Then he’s stepping forward, slowly, just enough to have you closer. Smell you, smell him. Not too inappropriate, but maybe not professional.
“I should be thanking you, darling.” His hand reaches out, oh so slowly, just enough to give you time to back away if you want. You don’t. His index finger finds a curl at the front of your head, gently twirling it around the tip of his finger, his eyes on yours.
A gaze so warm, so mistakenly hungry, you swore you were hallucinating. He watched you visibly melt, your lip forming into a parted pout, a beckon. A silent ask.
His finger moves away from the curl of your hair, dances along the side of your neck, brushes down with featherlight gentleness against the side of your throat, a tickling sensation that has your body shivering.
His eyebrows knotted together like he was conflicted, like he was battling an inner ache, one that he was holding himself back from showing.
You couldn’t take it. You simply couldn’t.
Your brain hadn’t caught up to your body, but before you could second-guess yourself, your hands shot out and gripped the collar of his dress shirt, dragging his head down and crashing your lips into his.
No words, no gasp, just a wanton moan that slips past your lips and against his.
Mingi growls from the back of his throat, a sound of sheer surprise, nearly losing his footing underneath him. He rips his head back, his eyes wide and his breathing coming labored.
You freeze, your hands holding nothing but air as he pulls himself away from you. Your heart dropped to your stomach. A look of pure fear on your face as you realized he didn’t reciprocate.
Fuck. Fuck.
A conflicted look flashes across your professor’s face, and he looked like he was about to give you what for. You screwed up.
You immediately open your mouth, ready to spew pathetic attempts at apologies and pleas for forgiveness. But he beats you to it.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” His gravely voice comes out strained and low, and a painful silence begins to stretch between you two.
Then, he bites his inner cheek, his hand lifts and slips his glasses off his face, all but letting them fall onto the counter, groaning low and sonorous, and he’s on you before you could breathe.
His hands slip around and grip either side of your waist, a tight, possessive hold as he slots his lips with yours, melting against your mouth like you tasted like a heaven he’d never get into.
His hands roam up and down your waist, his mouth opening and closing against yours, sliding his tongue over yours, and running it over your teeth. Moaning, sighing into your mouth, his eyebrows knit together in nothing short of pure bliss.
Your hands find his shoulders, your neck beginning to hurt from having to crane your head up to kiss him. All heat behind your tongues, warmth and wetness against each other as you feel a thin trail of drool slipping down the corner of your mouth.
Then he’s lifting you, picking you up off the ground, and dropping you on your ass on the kitchen island. Merely eye level with him, he kisses you deeper, shoving his tongue further down your throat, tilting his head to the side to completely devour you.
Your hands drag down the front of him, your palms flat against his chest, whimpering against his lips in tandem with his starved movements. A quiet “baby” is murmured around your tongue, and your entire body erupts into consuming flames.
His hands slip down and find either of your thighs, spreading them pretty and wide as he slots his lower body between them, pushing his body closer to your between your legs.
His hand moves back up and cups the back of your head, the other trailing up the front of your body and finding a grounding home at the base of your neck, pulling your head further into him as he takes like the greedy man he was.
Kissing the college girl on the counter as she tasted like bourbon, squeezing your flesh like it was keeping him sane, melting at the soft, needy moans that flowed down his throat from your reactions to his touch.
It was a breathless, taboo kind of lust that only people sick in the head can get a kick out of. And if this makes Mingi a sick man, then so fucking be it. He finds himself lost in the sweetness of your lips, the arch in your back. His hand trails down the side of your waist, warm and big as he finds the flesh of your thigh again, squeezing and pressing the softness, moaning at how smooth your skin feels in comparison to his rough hands.
His hand slips up the leg of your shorts, and warmth blooms on your skin, your body shivers as you lean further into him, your kisses turning needy, dangerously feral.
It’s your whiny, low moan that nearly undoes him. And the way your hands slide up to help further loosen his tie. But while he may not be a good man, he’s not a bad one either. With a type of restraint only a soldier could have, Mingi pulls away from your shiny, swollen lips, a thin trail of saliva between you both snapping silently.
Your heavy breaths mingle together, and he rests his forehead against yours, the hand on your neck slowly sliding away, and his other hand moving from your bare thigh to firmly place them flat on either side of your spread thighs, loosely caging your body against the island.
You say nothing, only fighting to catch your breath as your dizzy brain struggles to catch up. He looks down at the floor, the bulge in his pants loud and proud and fucking painful.
With a deep sigh, he turns away, wiping his mouth with the palm of his hand as he mutters a deep “fuck” beneath his breath.
You slowly crawl off the counter, realizing that you need to go. Now.
“I-I’ll see you tomorrow, Min- uh... Professor Song. Sir-“You stutter over your words, a foggy layer of need clouding your mind after having been kissed like he was trying to eat you alive.
Mingi seethes, inhaling sharply as he raises a hand to get you to keep quiet.
“Stop- goddamnit. Sweetheart, don’t call me ‘sir’ right now unless- unless you want me to fuck you against that wall.” You swallow, and it takes everything in your power not to get on your knees and beg for just that.
He could practically smell your hesitation, and it nearly made his entire body erupt into a muted shiver. You nibble on your bottom lip, he could see the way you nervously shake, and you open your mouth to respond, but he just knew what you were going to say, and he did not need to hear it right now.
“Oh, babygirl, you shouldn’t want that.” He ignores your pretty little glazed-over eyes and your frizzy hair that he messed up with his own two hands.
The addicting way you held onto him with your smaller hands, arching your back into him and keening into his touch, crying out as it hurt for every second he let you breathe.
“And neither should I.” He mumbles like he was trying to convince himself too.
Mingi massages his upper jaw, exhaling heavily out of his nose before he turns away from you again, truly believing that if he looked at you one more time, he wouldn’t be able to compose himself. Forty-something years old, and one of his students is making him feel things he hasn’t felt since high school.
“Go home.” He commands, his bassy, breathless voice sending a shockwave straight between your legs. When you don’t immediately move, Mingi clenches his jaw and slightly turns his neck, giving you a glimpse of the turmoil on his face.
“Now.” He bites out, and before you could form another thought, your body was moving.
You grab your things off the living room coffee table and slip out of the house, speeding off to your car and pulling off into the cricket-filled night, confused, turned on, and conflicted.
It was only the first day, and the walls were already crumbling.
-
The following week was torture. Dragging yourself out of bed after being kept up all night with ludicrous dreams, dreams of what could’ve happened if you two didn’t stop. Panties sticky and eyes heavy, you crawl out of bed and dread having to face him every day.
It went the same every day; you arrived, maybe a little later than usual. You avoided every look he shot your way, and you never asked any questions. Just listened and took notes, silently. And when it was time to watch his daughter, he’d be out the front door by the time your car pulled into the driveway, walking past you in silence as you effectively traded places.
You both knew it was for your own good, to keep whatever had been brewing between you two at bay, even if it was never explicitly stated. You had hardly said a word to your professor since that first day. But your eyes said everything.
His, too, god if you both couldn’t be subtle. He’d sit at his desk, watching you click away at your laptop, your leg bouncing beneath the table as you nibbled on your nail. He imagined things about you, things that made him have to adjust his pants before he stood to continue teaching.
And when he arrived home early? Fuck it was even worse. He’d quietly sneak in the front door and catch you and Ami on the couch, her head lying on her lap with her blanket tight in her grasp.
You read to her in a soothing, quiet voice, and gently, your hand stroked the top of her head, playfully brushing your fingers over her face like you were trying to convince her to close her eyes, all with a beautiful smile on your face.
Your pretty pout, your mothering voice, your frizzy hair, and your soft body. God, it makes him so hard it hurts. That night, he announced himself and offered to take Ami off to bed himself, and by the time he made it downstairs, you were already in your car and pulling out of the driveway. It was better this way anyway, Mingi would tell himself. But better for whom? And for what?
Why was this so wrong?
His morale was beginning to chip away, and with each passing hour, each passing day, it was getting harder and harder to keep his hands off of you. And he could tell you felt the same. Your lingering looks and the way your thighs would clench when your gazes met in the lecture room.
Saturday night. You did not go to class that day; therefore, you did not see him. But you would have to later. He always travels to campus on Saturday night to get any extra work done. A workaholic, you called him once. And it was true.
So when you arrived at his front door once again, you tried with every bone in your body to act normal. Unlocking the entrance, you walked inside the now familiar home and stopped in your tracks when you noticed him. Standing in the hallway entrance, like he was waiting for you.
His eyes are low, and his body seems tense. Wearing a form-fitting black dress shirt today, the top two buttons undone. Something more casual for the weekend. A small silver necklace with a dog tag pendant disappeared beneath the collar, and you could see the print of the tag through his shirt. His hair was messier, and his glasses were clasped loosely in his hand.
You breathe quietly, then he's walking towards you. Just as you think he’s going to stop, he walks right past you and reaches for his watch in the little brown bowl. “Ami is down for a nap; if she’s not up by five, go ahead and rouse her.”
He slips on the timepiece, then slides his glasses onto his face, letting them sit low on the bridge of his nose. You nod in acknowledgment, and he's already made his way to the front door, his car keys jingling on his fingers.
Just as you think he’s going to leave, he pauses, his hand hovering above the knob.
“And keep your hands out of my liquor cabinet, young lady.” Now that makes your heart stop. You may have indulged one night after you put Ami to bed, just a couple shots, nothing too concerning. But he had noticed, of course, he had.
When you don't reply, he turns back to you and raises his eyebrows in a scrutinizing question. “Next time, have enough manners to ask. That stuff is not cheap, sweetheart.” The pet name had a bite to it, and you can’t help but want to bite back.
He turns, opens the door, and takes one step outside.
“I’m so sorry, sir. I’ll ask politely next time.” You speak the words with a ghost of a moan enveloping them, and you could see the way his shoulders tense and his hands squeeze the doorknob harder.
Mingi inhales sharply and keeps his head forward. The silence stretches so long and thin you think time might have frozen. And when he speaks next, it sends electricity through your blood, and you can't deny the way you feel your skin tingle.
He laughs, a slow, soft chuckle. “Keep that shit up, (Name),” he challenges, adjusting the straps of his watch in one swift movement. “I can be a bad man if you need me to.” Then the door is shutting behind him, a loud click that rivals the pounding of your heart in your ears.
The house is silent once again, and you are left alone with your racing thoughts and a really, really stupid fantasy in your mind that makes you feel like the nastiest bitch on earth.
-
The bottoms of your feet felt like they were burning, and the floors of his house were frigid. The heat of your body rivaled the still quiet of the house, Ami put to bed, leaving you as the only soul awake inside.
Mingi would be home any minute. And it was at this moment that you needed to make a decision. You weren’t sure what you were going to do, or rather, you weren’t sure what he was going to do.
Or what he wanted to do.
You felt trapped in a home with no lock, like there was no escape. The windows were unbreakable, and the walls were too thick. You were a trapped animal who did not want to leave in the first place.
You could argue that you were a dumb, naive little girl who didn’t know her way in the world, who couldn’t pick up on the signs that her professor wanted to fold her in half and show her what it felt like to be ruined by a real man.
You’d be such a liar, because that’s the one thing that you wanted. You were stupid for wanting this. And Mingi wholeheartedly believed that.
He believed that your wanting him was complete ignorance of consequences, turning a blind eye to plenty of boys who were perfect for a sweet girl such as yourself.
Choosing a man, one that would not care how much you cried those pretty tears, a man that would fuck you until you weren’t able to tell where you ended and he began.
And it was taking everything in his power as he climbed into his car after work that night to not drive himself off the bridge as he drove. Because that would be the sole and only way to stop himself from pouncing on you as soon as he stepped through the front door.
You lie on his bed. In his room. Invading his space without a care in the world as you took in his abode. Neat, clean-smelling, suffocating. Being in there felt like you couldn’t move a muscle without the walls closing in on you.
He strictly told you his room was off limits, that you had no business in there. He would come home, and he would find you in there, the doe on the wrong edge of the forest. And he would hunt you then and there, because you stepped into his territory, and the rules were painted in red on his sheets.
When Mingi first stepped foot into the house that night, he was surprised to find you missing from your usual place at the kitchen island. Reading a book, having a snack. Waiting for him so politely.
You weren’t in the living room, you weren’t in Ami’s room. The guest room, either. Were you hiding from him? He sighed and set his briefcase on the kitchen table, loosening his tie with a groan and setting his watch in the wooden bowl.
You could hear him from upstairs, the familiar sounds of him getting unready. You shifted in his sheets and sat up straight, straining your ears to listen for him.
Footsteps, the clack of the metal plates beneath his shoes, resonated throughout the house like gunfire. The sounds of them ascending the stairs, before the silence of his footfalls as he hit the carpet. He was upstairs.
Immediately, you began to second-guess your decision to be in here. Your choice to take this job. Hell, your choice to take his class to begin with. It was all too risky, too grey.
Silence again, and you could only feel your heart beating in your ears.
“I sure hope you’re not in there, doll.” His voice was so much closer that you could see his shadow through the crack beneath the door. His voice penetrated the walls of his room like a dark kind of fire, and it rattled your bones.
He could hear you. Hear you shift your weight on his sheets after he addressed you. He could hear you stand, hear you walk to the door, and stop in front of it like you were scared to walk any further.
“You’re not supposed to be in my room, you know better.” His tone was tinged with a disappointed, disciplinary note. Mingi teases you by lightly shaking the doorknob, and you nearly jump out of your skin. Why were you so nervous? You had no idea.
You know better. One of his favorite things to say to you. It was true after all. You do know better, but it doesn’t mean you acted like it.
Mingi wouldn’t admit it. Not to you, not to himself either. But he was having so much fun with you. You awakened this dangerous excitement in him that made him want to make all the wrong choices.
He wanted to bend you over his knee and punish you for affecting him the way you did. He wanted to bury his fingers deep in your hair and pull like he was trying to steer you about at his discretion while he worked you inside and out.
Mingi wanted to lay your body out and make you cum so many times you’d have to drop out of his class because every time you laid eyes on him, you would still feel him in your belly.
You made him feel alive, and at his age, that was a dangerous thing.
When you didn’t respond to him, he lowered his voice to a small, gentle coax, like he was trying to convince you he was no threat. “Listen, sweetheart, you’re not in trouble.” It was like he was using his dad voice on you, and you hated that it made you freeze and your heart flutter.
“I just want to talk to you. So are you going to come out of my room? Or am I going to have to come get you myself?”
Your hand hovered over the knob, and just as you dropped it to twist it open, you stopped. Your brain reeled in your skull, and you backed away from the door with small, quiet steps.
When Mingi realized you wouldn’t be opening the door, he couldn’t help but smile. So typical of someone so young and fresh-blooded like you.
You wanted to be found, you wanted to be desired, you wanted to be chased. You wanted Mingi to open that door and make you regret your decision not to listen to him.
You didn’t use your manners and ask with your big girl words, but don’t worry, he’d come in there and set you straight.
Just as you were starting to second-guess yourself, the knob twists, and the door makes no sound. No creak, no squeal on the hinges. Just a silent, slow invitation. The warm light of the stairwell flooded the floor of the dark bedroom, like a spill of orange oil. He stepped in, reached back, and shut the door closed once more with a muted click, and darkness shrouded the room again.
The silence stretched as he stalked towards you; with every step he took, you took one back.
With every step he removed something. His shoes came first, then he reached up and slipped his glasses off his nose, setting them on the dresser he passed by.
His tie was next, his big veiny hands untying it gracefully and wrapping it around the palm of his hand like a leash, teasingly, before he let it hit the floor.
One by one until you were backed against the wall by his headboard. His smell surrounded you like mustard gas, his body shadowed over you like a monster, and his eyes pierced through the dark like a hunter. You barely contained your trembling once he was close enough to touch, close enough to melt into.
His big, rough hands find your wrists, gently gripping them and sliding his palms up your inner arms, over your shoulders, to the back of your neck. He cupped your nape like he was trying to cradle your head from injury, so gentle and so loving.
He squeezed softly, stepping further into you, pressing his body against yours, molding your front with his. His head craned down, and he maneuvered your neck to train your eyes on him. In the dark, everything felt more intense. His touch on your neck burned, the way his thumbs stroked along the edges of your jaw, and his blunt fingernails scraped against your nape.
He inhaled deeply, like he was trying to calm himself.
“Asking for permission really isn’t your style is it?” He spits out the words like a reprimand, and he could feel you shiver under his touch when he said it. You had tears in your eyes, you looked like you had just dropped your lollipop, and you wanted to cry. You were so pretty.
You felt him everywhere, in your ribcage and in your head; he smelled so good. The silver in his hair glimmered from the lamp in the far corner. You heard a roll of thunder in the distance that sounded like Mingi’s moans. The onpour of rain that hit the roof like a broken television.
He looked so beautiful in the dark.
“We can fix that.”
While one hand remained on your neck, the other slid away, along your jaw, up the front of your throat, until you felt his fingers prod against your pouted lips. You opened with zero hesitation, and he slid his middle and ring fingers into your mouth, laying them flat on your tongue.
Oh, so slowly, he glides his fingers in and out of your pretty little mouth, pushing just far enough against the back of your tongue to make the tears in your eyes finally fall. “Such a nasty, pretty baby.” His eyes fell like he was entranced by you, your compliance, and the way you shook like a deer. His eyebrows knit together like he was trying to memorize you, everything about you.
He presses his fingers up, and your canines gently sink into the flesh, and it makes his skin tingle. Back down across your tongue, breaching the back of your mouth, gagging around him with a sad little choke.
He slips his fingers out of your mouth, and you hardly notice the saliva that connected to him, with how you could not pull your eyes away from his face. With a patience that drives you both mad, he trails his hand down the front of your body, over the swell of your breasts beneath your shirt, down to the waistband of your shorts.
He presses his hand at the back of your neck harder, forcing your forehead to collide with his. Nowhere to run as he slips his hand into your shorts.
“You wanna be nasty?” he whispers against your lips, and you catch yourself nodding. You didn’t even mean to, but he finds it so amusing.
Your entire body jerks when you feel his wet fingertips slide beneath your panties and brush over your lips, lifting the slightest bit, finding your clit with such quick ease you could hardly believe it.
Your hands shoot up and fist the front of his shirt, and your eyelids widen then flutter as he presses against that sensitive bundle of nerves, a gentle press and prod as he circles against your clit with teasing intent.
When Mingi watched you practically melt at the simplest of his touches, he felt the confessions start to rear at the backs of his teeth. The urge to tell you everything you may or may not want to hear.
His breath ghosts over your parted lips, his fingers making mind-numbing work of your clit, rotating movement and pressurized strokes that made your thighs shake around his wrist. With a deep breath, he pressed his lips to yours, slipping his thick tongue into your mouth and groaning down your throat.
His fingers claw at the back of your neck, tracing intimate patterns into your mouth, as his fingers dance away from your clit, and gently he prods at your dripping entrance. He coats his fingers in your arousal, and he presses his thigh between your legs to spread you further for him.
“You’re such a pretty little thing.” He whispers into your mouth, and you gasp against him when he slowly fills your soaked cunt with one thick finger, and you feel your eyes roll when he presses so deep and curls up just right. He circles the pad of his finger against that spongy spot, and he purrs into your mouth when your hands on his shirt tighten even more.
“I drive myself crazy thinking about you at night.” Slow, deep come-hither motions inside of you that had your breath coming in broken shudders. “I’d think about kissing you silly, holding you down, playing with you, having that smart mouth of yours moaning for me instead of giving me lip.”
You shiver as he slips a second finger inside of you, a slight stretch that had your knees buckling, but he kept you up by the back of your neck, fully pushing his body against yours and holding you still against his bedroom wall. You moan whiny and pathetic as he slips his thumb up and gently circles it against your clit, all the while his fingers keep curling nice and deep inside you.
“Would you like that?” He murmurs, pulling away from your lips and gently kissing below your ear, breathing lowly against the side of your neck. Your skin shivers as his voice brushes over your ear, and you can hardly control the way your body responds to him so effortlessly, like he has an invisible leash on you.
You nod, muttering out a pathetic ‘yes.’ Mingi pressed the tip of his nose against your neck and pressed his lips against your skin so you could feel them move when he talked. “Words, sweet girl. Haven’t I already told you this?”
It was hard to form words while he was fingerfucking you so well, so deep it was making your stomach cave in, but the need for more outweighed everything else. “Y-yes, sir.” You whimpered, and you felt your chest flutter when he groaned lowly against your ear, a guttural, primal sound that had you clenching around his fingers.
He leans away from your neck with a fleeting kiss, moving his hand from the back of your neck around to the front. Squeezing at the base of your throat, his fingers pressing on those sensitive, soft spots on the side that started making your eyes darken at the corners. His fingers pressed harder, deeper, coaxing inside of you with purpose that was making you go insane with bliss.
Your hands frantically grasped at anything you could, his wrist, his shirt, his belt, anything you could to ground yourself as he pushed you towards that orgasm. He held your throat nice and tight, and you were choking on moans as he fucked you with his thick fingers, and he breathed heavily against your lips. The grip on your neck kept your head in place for him, and as your eyes began to roll to the back of your head, he pressed against those soft spots a little harder.
“Eyes, darling, eyes,” he commands in a breathless moan, and you tear your eyes from the back of your head to look at him, and it nearly undoes you. His fingers are relentlessly curling deep in your pussy, his big warm hand squeezing your throat just tight enough to make your body feel all fuzzy. His dark, begging eyes make your stomach clench, his guiding, baritone voice making your whimpers slip out involuntarily.
“You wanna cum?” He whines against your lips, just lightly loosening his grip on your neck to allow you to respond. “Ask me nicely.”
“Yes, fuck- please…” You moan hoarsely, and Mingi takes his bottom lip between his teeth.
“So you do have manners.” He teases, his thumb brushing upwards against your clit as the grip on your throat tightens once more. “Cum then, baby. Let it go, make a mess for me.” The corners of your vision bleed into something dark, and he lowers his mouth to take your lips with his again, moaning softly into your mouth, his eyes never leaving yours.
“Come on, come on….” he barely whispers into the kiss, and you cannot deny him even if you tried. His fingers never cease, only slowing as he does his very best to prolong your orgasm like some kind of torture method. His fingers curl and prod, rolling inside of you as your orgasm rocks your body, a feeling so intense you feel like you are shattering from the inside out.
“Thats it, that's it. Don’t stop.” He keeps kissing you, fucking your cunt with his fingers, squeezing your throat just hard enough you feel like you might have been on the brink of passing out.
Mingi rides you through it, the restraint in his movements starting to slip away the more he sees of you. His hand on your throat moves away and slips beneath your shirt, up and over your smooth stomach, around to the warm skin of your waist. Up until his hand slips beneath your bra and cups the swell of your breast. So soft beneath his calloused palms, he finds that he can’t stop his fingers inside of you, massaging your chest and continuing to fingerfuck you through the overstimulation.
“Wait-” you whine out, interrupted by your own moans. Mingi reaches behind your back and finds the clasp of your bra with more surprising ease. It falls loose beneath your shirt, and he maneuvers your shirt over your head. He catches your surprise, and it only makes his cock twitch at your sweet expression.
“I’m a grown man, (Name).” He speaks against your cheek, slipping the straps of your bra down your arms until it falls onto his floor. “None of this is new to me, baby.” Finally, he slips his fingers out of your cunt, and the slick sound it made was embarrassing. He gives you no time to quell on it as he slides his fingers into his mouth and cleans your mess off him with a hungry moan.
His other hand makes quick work of the buttons of his shirt. One by one, unclipping the silver buttons until it's completely open. As he reaches for his belt, the clank of the metal makes your thighs clench. He cocks his head to the side, running his tongue over his bottom lip.
“Lie down,” he instructs, as he undoes his belt. The dark of the room shrouds his face, and a loud rumble of thunder rolls, much closer this time. You can hardly move at first, your eyes trailing down his body. Toned, the grey and black happy trail that disappears beneath the waistband of his pants is tantalizing.
You swallow and slowly sit on the edge of the bed, but Mingi doesn’t give you the chance to lie back on your own. Once he loosens his belt, he’s leaning over you and caging you in. His hands find your waist as he inches you further up the bed and pushes you onto your back. You stare at the dog tag on his necklace that swings back and forth as he sets you up how he wants.
His thighs, thick and strong, cage either side of your legs as he leans down, his hands massaging up your sides like he was trying to soothe you to sleep. He kisses between the valley of your breasts, down your chest, and along your stomach, all the while his hands make their way further down to the waistband of your shorts, teasing you with his fingers slipping beneath them as he worships your body.
“So soft.” He mumbles between kisses as he slips your shorts down your legs and off onto his floor. “So pretty, so sweet.”
When his fingers hook on your panties, he moans and nibbles on the flesh of your stomach, and your entire body tenses as he slips off the final piece of clothing.
Down your legs, off your feet, and onto the floor. He’s quick to sink to his knees at the edge of the bed, hooking his big, strong arms around your lower waist and pulling you to the edge of the bed, just enough to where your ass nearly hangs off.
He signals you with his hands, making a grabbing motion. You watch and slowly give your hands to him, and he laces his fingers with yours and holds your hands down against your abdomen.
Your thighs hang over his broad shoulders, his face inches away from your dripping cunt, and Mingi’s eyes bore into yours as he places a soft, gentle kiss against your mound.
You whimper in anticipation, and his hands squeeze yours harder, your limbs twitching at his pinning gaze.
“You want my mouth, honey?” He teases, blowing a stream of cold air against you, your thighs twitching around his head.
“Fuck… please?” You beg lowly, and he gently lets his tongue loll out of his mouth, splitting your lips with a low laugh. When you jerk at the feel of his warm tongue, he tugs your hands harder against your stomach and trails his tongue up to circle your clit.
“Stop squirming, and take it for me.” He opens his mouth and takes your sensitive nub into his mouth, running his tongue over it and sucking it like he’s been deprived for months. Which technically wasn’t a lie. He had dreams of your taste, dreamed of the reactions he could drag out of you with his mouth.
Your moans come out high-pitched and cracked, his warm mouth working your poor pussy out like his favorite meal. Obscene, sloppy noises as he fucks you open with his mouth. Detaching from your clit and burying himself between your thighs even further. His nose nudges the nerves while his tongue slips inside of you. Tasting you, drinking you, making you cry like a baby while he ruins you.
“F-fuck… too much-!” You were so sensitive after his fingers fucking you stupid just mere minutes before, and now his thick tongue is filling you like no other, his pretty big nose pressing up against your clit so perfectly it was insane.
He lets go of your hands, just to take both your wrists in one hand while the other flattens against your stomach, trailing down along your inner thigh, before gently sliding between your slick pussy lips.
“Fuck, you taste incredible, such a wet mess.” He wraps his lips around your clit and slides his coated fingers inside of you once again, and your voice shatters when she curls them perfectly. The stimulation of his mouth and the feel of his fingers pressing and kneading, your wrists twist and turn in his grasp, but he makes no move to let you go. He only squeezes tighter. He groans around your clit, and your mouth falls open as the vibrations of his voice send sparks flying in your brain.
Moaning like he could feel it himself, slow, coaxing motions of his fingers against your walls that had your eyes rolling, the tip of his tongue circling your clit just enough to have you tethering that edge.
“Good girl… good girl…” he coos, his voice muffled as he focuses on getting you to cum again. “Feel me, focus on me, pretty baby. God…”
He was getting off on your frantic movements, your endless amounts of arousal that seemed to gush from you. The way you clenched around his fingers when his voice vibrated around your clit.
“You’re right there.” He encourages, shaking his head back and forth against your cunt, your arousal slipping down his chin and coating his lips, the wet slurping sounds so nasty and vile.
“Keep working for me, you're so close.” Mingi talks you through it, pulling away from your clit and littering wet kisses against your tummy. “Rock your hips, tell me what feels good, let me hear you.”
You choke out a broken cry, and he’s tempted to let up just so you can quiet down, but he’s addicted to you, and he couldn’t stop even if he tried.
“U-up..” you stutter out, and he wastes no time. Gently, he moves his fingers inside of you, nudging them upwards a little more. He feels it, your body tense and your cunt clench, and you let out a low groan.
“There… right there…” You exhale, and he presses up against that spot, circling the tip of his fingers against it repeatedly, instead of thrusting them. A constant, mind-numbing pressure that feels so good it hurts.
“Yeah, there we go.” He grits out, bringing his tongue down and flicking it up against your clit in soft kitten licks, a slow light, warm pressure that makes your hips jerk to chase it more.
You try to cry out, beg for more, but the harder his fingers pressed, the less you could remember English. Your breaths were whiny, and your voice kept cracking, and you were so close to cumming again.
“I'm going to count you down, darling.” His low voice pulls a low wail from your chest, and you try to move your hands to grab his head to push him further against you, just to remember he had you restrained.
“You can cum your brains out when I get to one, okay? Can you do that for me?”
You nod your head frantically, your hips bucking against his tongue that oh so gently teases your clit. Mingi smiles and nibbles your sensitive nerves playfully, and then he starts to increase the pressure of his fingertips against your G-spot.
“10.” You cry out when he runs his tongue along your inner thigh, up and down, a teasing motion against the sensitive skin that makes your entire body flare with heat. “9… 8… 7…”
With every number he bites you. Sinking his teeth into your thigh, your stomach, your clit, anything his mouth could reach between your legs. And all the while, his fingers never stop curling.
“6… 5… uh uh. C’mon, baby, get a hold of yourself, not yet.” He feels you clench hard, your moans getting breathy. He knows you’re so close, he can hear it in your tears. But he gave you a command, and he expects you to follow it.
“You can do it… 4.” He wraps his lips around your clit one more time, and this time he lets out long, drawn-out groans that come from deep in his chest, the quiver of his voice stimulating your clit so perfectly you thought you wouldn’t make it.
“3…2… c'mon baby, make it good. Cum yourself stupid for me, okay? For me… please?”
God, when he whines. It hurts your head. You force yourself to breathe, the knot in your stomach tighter than ever. He lets go of your wrists, and immediately, your hands fly and bury themselves in his soft hair. His now free hand snakes underneath your thigh and hikes it further up his shoulder, prying you open as your legs begin to close around his skull.
His tough fingers sink into the soft flesh, and he drags his tongue over your clit in repeated, pressured waves.
“1… go ahead, baby, cum for me. Don’t hold back, give it to me. Let me have you.” You shatter, instantaneously. It hurt, it felt amazing. Your entire body locks up, his hand on your thigh, squeezing so hard it was sure to bruise, his fingers coax and prod, dragging you through it.
He moans around your clit, and you feel like you’ve been shocked with volts of electricity. Your fingers grip his hair at his scalp, the intensity of your orgasm nearly knocking you out.
He laps at your pussy, drinking up the slick that spills from you, and you find yourself limp beneath him, regaining your breath as he cleans you up greedily during the aftershocks. Purely for his own enjoyment, it seems. He could watch you do that all day. He finds himself wondering if you’ve ever squirted before.
He rests back on his haunches, taking in your body below him. Squirming and soaked, begging for his hands and for his mouth.
“You’re so fucking bad for me.” Mingi breathes out in barely controlled disbelief, like your very being was something unhealthy while he was on a diet.
He’s leaning back over you and letting one hand slip around your body, pressing against your lower back to arch you a bit, his other hand unbuttoning his pants with hurried precision.
His lips swallow yours in a hungry moan, tilting his head and kissing you long and deep and frantic, your heavy breaths brushing against each other, his warm tongue running over yours in a cannibalistic kind of hunger.
“You’re making me such a bad, bad man, baby.” Mingi coos into the kiss, and while he’s kissing you into a fever, you feel something warm and heavy press against your stomach. Slowly, he grinds his hips against you, humping his cock against your belly.
You can tell two things immediately. Number one. Mingi was feral. The kiss was all teeth and drool, not giving you one second to breathe. The hand on your back is moving back up and gripping the back of your neck to help maneuver your head in the best way to kiss you as deep as possible.
And two. He felt so fucking huge.
Not to mention the mere size of him as he is, his broad shoulders shielding you from even being able to see the ceiling of his bedroom itself. But you can feel his cock twitch against your flesh. Long, so much so it reaches past your belly button, thick, hot. He was gonna split you in half, there was no doubt about it.
When he finally gives you a moment to breathe, he’s taking his other hand and grabbing the underside of your thigh, lifting it and maneuvering your leg over his shoulder, your ankle resting next to his head.
Spreading you nice and pretty, he reaches back down and grabs the base of his cock, setting it between your drooling lips, twitching against your clit, and you groan loudly into the space.
He gently moves his hips through your folds, a slow, slick glide as he lubes himself up with your arousal, moaning low and deep as he coats himself with you. His hand drags up your body, grabbing every inch of flesh he can before his hand is cupping over your mouth, pressing down nice and hard.
Your eyes widen as his hips never cease their movement, only gliding even smoother the wetter the length of his cock gets. He leans down to press his lips against your ear, and he kisses it lightly, his shaky breath fanning over you.
“Shh…shh.” he coos, and he cock jumps when he feels your moans vibrate beneath his palm. He litters the side of your neck with wet kisses, and your entire body shivers as you realize that no matter what you do, you cannot move.
He has you pinned against his mattress with the strength of his own body, holding you down with his weight. He feels you shake, and he swears he feels your cunt get even wetter, and he’s barely holding back the primal urge to pound you into his bed until you cry for him to stop.
“Not gonna use a condom with you, baby, I’m going to give it to you raw, maybe fuck some manners into your head while I’m at it.” Mingi groans nice and low against your ear, and then he’s finally sinking his cock into you, nice and slow. Stretching your pretty little pussy out as torturously as he can manage.
When you squeal beneath his hand, he shakes his head and leans back, his eyes lock with your watery ones as he clicks his tongue.
“No baby no….” He purrs, but he doesn’t stop sinking into you, pressing his hand further against your drooling mouth. “You have to be quiet, okay? Please?” He begs in a low, whiny tone. You can feel every vein of him graze against your pulsing walls, your tears spill down your cheeks and flow over his knuckles, and he whispers sweet nothings to you as he seems to sink into you endlessly.
“Such a pretty crier, darling.”
“Almost there, just a little more, beautiful slutty girl, taking me so well.”
His fingers are wet with your tears, and he can’t quite bottom out yet; he has to fuck himself deeper into you.
“Alright, I need you to be a good girl for me and keep that pretty mouth shut, I’m gonna fuck you now, okay?” You whine with a broken cry, and he’s pulling his hips back, sliding the length of him out of you, and then sliding right back in with a moan you can feel in your chest. Your legs shake as he pushes himself just a little deeper this time, and your belly feels full of him.
“Yeah, you've been wanting me to mess this pussy up, huh, baby?” Mingi’s free hand finds the base of your throat once more, helping keep you quiet by limiting your airflow. And you tighten around him so much that he has to pause because he physically cannot move any further.
He laughs lowly, and he peeps the way your eyelids flutter, and you seem to have drunk haze over your eyes. One hand over your mouth, so large he practically has your entire jaw in his grip. The other with a grounding hold on your throat, just tight enough to make you a little dumb. His entire body presses down against yours, pinned beneath him, so helpless.
His cock thick, heavy, and deep in your guts, slow, mean strokes that make your drool pool in the back of your throat.
He grins, and then he’s pressing himself deeper into your cunt, and you moan gutturally against his palm.
“Nasty little girl. You like not being able to breathe when I fuck you? Huh?” You don’t answer, of course, just moan and whine as he fucks his cock into you, deep and slow.
Your muscles start to tense from the pressure, your leg straightening over Mingi’s shoulder as the pleasure absolutely sweeps you away beneath his warm body.
“Your legs are locking up, baby.” He murmurs, pressing his lips to the crook of your neck and inhaling deeply. “C’mon, relax, you’re gonna hurt yourself.” He teases you, even while drilling his cock into you like he was insatiable.
Then he’s slipping his hand underneath your knee, bending your leg forward, and pressing it against your chest. You cry out, and suddenly he’s sinking in ever deeper, and you feel so incredibly full. His hand slips away from your mouth for just a moment to hook beneath your other knee, and pushes it up to your chest as well, folded underneath your professor like some kind of doll.
You choke out an overstimulated sob, and once he’s able to hold both your legs down against your body with his chest, his hand is back on your mouth to keep your noises down.
He stops moving his hips and shivers, the new angle having you so much tighter around his cock, and with your knees up to your shoulders, making you look so small, he’s seconds away from losing it.
“S-Sir…” you whine beneath his palm, your cries muffled and your breath hot against his skin. Mingi’s cock jumps inside of you when he feels your voice against his hand, and he drops his head by your neck with a shaky, low moan.
“I’m sorry, pretty baby.” He murmurs in your ear, and then he starts to move again. “It’s okay, you’re okay.”
This time, he’s kissing spots so deep you feel him in your ribcage. His tip scraping that perfect spot that makes your muscles cramp, and your throat catches.
“Am I too big for you?” He smiles against the flared skin of your throat, pulling his hips all the way back, tantalizingly slow enough to force you to feel every thick inch of him stroke in and out of your walls.
He leans away from your neck and looks at you, your eyes fluttering and your nose flaring as he slowly eases into a meaner pace, nearly pounding your cunt like he couldn’t control himself.
“Look at me, baby,” Mingi mumbles softly, and when you don’t respond, he squeezes your jaw harder, and your eyes shoot open. “I said, look at me, right here.” His voice is rougher this time, commanding. Like how he talks to the class when he wants their undivided attention, but this time it’s laced with pure primal need.
Your eyes lock with his, and everything starts to crumble. Your whines break into breathless, sad whimpers, your legs shake even when he’s got them pressed to your chest, your pussy gushes around him as he finds a relentless, deep rhythm, drilling his fat cock into you.
“Holy shit, you’re soaked.” He breathes out, pressing his lips against the back of his hand that covers your mouth. His hips smack against yours, a wet slap of skin with every drag of his hips; you could hardly hear yourself think.
“Good slut… fuckkk- my baby is so needy, hm? Such a selfish pussy.” He’s bullying you now, his swollen lips shiny and wet, then finally he’s taking his hand off your mouth and immediately replacing it with his lips.
Kissing you slow and deep, muffling your cries with his own mouth. His tongue fills your mouth, and your moans vibrate against him, and you feel as he starts to fuck up into you faster, the slaps of skin louder and the pleasure scraping up your spine and rendering you cockdrunk.
“Such a crybaby.” He groans down your throat, his warm chest pressed against your own like a heated cage, nowhere to go, nowhere to hide.
“Mm, just wanna- fuck… just wanna make you feel good.” He sinks his teeth into your bottom lip and almost growls, and you notice he’s starting to get rougher, get meaner. Losing control.
He started to ramble in cracked moans under his breath. “Better than her… p-prettier than her… fuck-! Softer than h-her…”
You hadn’t had half the mind to dwell on his words, but you just knew he must have been talking about his wife. Whether she was in the picture or not, he was still thinking about her. And you hated to admit it, but it sent your ego soaring.
His hands grip the underside of your thighs, pushing your legs harder against your body, then he’s dragging his hips back with a heady growl and pounding you.
Hard, deep thrusts that have you sliding up the mattress, he’s careful enough not to send the headboard flying against the wall, but it’s still enough that it sends your poor little brain into a frenzy.
“Shouldn’t be letting me do this to you.” He breathes through gritted teeth, his messy salt and pepper hair falling over his eyes. He opened his mouth to speak again, but interrupted himself with a broken moan. You felt so fucking good around him, he couldn’t believe it.
A wet, blissful mess under him. Such a smart girl who risked everything she had just to be ruined by a man old enough to be her father. There was no redeeming himself now. And he wasn’t sure that he’d want to.
“Does it feel good? Does my baby feel good here?” His hand gently presses against your lower stomach, where he’s buried inside of you, teasing you with heated questions he knows you don’t have the capacity to answer. You shake and shiver every time his tip kisses that sweet spot.
You’re doing so well, keeping your voice down, struggling to breathe as you try to keep your noises to yourself. And in all honesty, all he wants to do is hear you. He wants to hear you squeal and cry for him, but not while his daughter is home.
“P-please…!” You weep, your hands scrambling to grab something, anything. He doesn’t let you, grabbing both your wrists in his huge hand and lifting your hands above your head.
“Wrap your legs around me.” He bites out, sliding his hand from under your thigh and covering your mouth once again. Your muffled whines flow through his hand as you follow his command, wrapping your shaky legs around his waist as he adjusts the position of his hips so he can put as much force as he can behind his thrusts.
With your wrists pinned above you and your mouth beneath his palm, his gaze burns through your skull, and his eyebrows knit together like he’s focusing. “Shh. Be still, be quiet.”
You whine loudly, and he presses his hand harder against your mouth, shaking his head like he was disappointed.
“No ma’am, you know better.” He groans, sinking his teeth into your shoulder to muffle his own noises as he starts to fuck you so hard it’s like he is trying to force your cunt to mold to his shape.
Resolute, deep, cruel, Mingi uses your body like he is burning from the inside out. Angling his hips upward with every thrust to perfectly graze against your G-spot in a way that had you spiraling forward to your orgasm in record time. Your neck involuntarily cranes backward, and his hand follows your movements, keeping a tight grip on your jaw to muffle you.
Your wrists wiggle in his grasp, your hands shaking and spasming as all you feel is white-hot bliss. Like your entire being was pleasure embodied, and Mingi was working you out so perfectly.
The wet slaps were impossible to mask, the creak of the bed rivaling Mingi’s only thought that swam around his brain.
Break her. Break her. Break her.
You sobbed quietly, and you couldn’t believe this was happening. It all felt too good, and Mingi was way too good at this. It would be easy to get addicted, and it would ultimately be the downfall for you both. But you were too lost in it to care; all you wanted was to cum, and Mingi was getting you there no problem.
“I know baby, I know.” He growls under his breath, and your stomach lurches.
Mingi whines out broken and low curses, dropping his forehead against yours, his body jerking when he feels you tighten around him.
He lifts his eyes to your fucked out ones and kisses the tip of your nose, such a soft gesture, all the while he pounds your pussy to death.
“You cumming beautiful?” He exhales, and you nod frantically beneath his hand. There’s a conflict in his eyes, then he’s leaning down to whisper in your ear.
“I’m gonna move my hand, but you have to be quiet, darling. I want this to be good for you, but you have to breathe through it.”
You weren’t really listening, too focused on your orgasm, the more it coiled in your lower stomach. You nodded, anything to let you cum. Mingi wasn’t buying your eagerness, and he shook his head.
“Look me in the eyes and say you understand.” You force your eyes to lock with his, his hips slowing to a deep grind, your shuddering breaths warming his hand.
Your pleading gaze has him crumbling, and slowly he slips his hand away and grips the front of your throat loose enough you can breathe, but enough to assert control.
“I u-understand!” You cry, your voice a low whimper. “Please, Mingi, I’ll b-be good! I promise…”
Your sweet voice, it makes his cock twitch inside of you, and he grinds so deep into you that your lungs shake.
“Beg.” He snarls, forming his lips into a mocking pout. “Say, ‘Please let me cum, please fuck me through it, please.’ Make it pretty, use your manners.”
Your nose flares, and your cheeks are wet with tears make Mingi’s heart pound.
“Please… let me c-cum.” You whimper, your bottom lip wobbling, every word a drunken slur. “Please, wan’ it so bad… please.”
He smiles greedily, your pleas trailing off into quiet, mindless babbles, while he slips his hand between your melded bodies and finds your clit.
You feel his fingertips press up against it, and a gasp tears from your lungs, your legs tightening around him enough to force his hips to sink his cock deeper into you. Mingi tucks his bottom lip between his teeth drunkenly, circling your clit and grinding his hips into you each time he bottoms out with every powerful thrust.
“Yes. Yes…” You weep pathetically, and with every clench of your cunt, every sweet noise from your mouth, Mingi finds it very hard to push the thought of fucking a baby into you to the back of his mind.
His body craves it, his soul screams at him to fill you up, his cock twitches from the sensitivity of holding himself back. He knows that it would be bad for both of you. Once he lets go like that, he’s going to want to fill you up again, again, again. Until the results are satisfactory and you are round with his child.
He doesn’t want that. He’s sure you don’t want that. His body craves it, his instincts pick up on your young, palpable fertility like he was some kind of animal.
Your legs lock up around him, and your back arches off the bed, so close to that blinding edge. Your hands reach around his claw at his broad back, your nails scratching him up, dragging a wince from his lips.
“M-Mingi-! Oh my god… right there- right there…”
The authoritative honorific long abandoned, your brain clouds over as your orgasm creeps up your neck.
“You got it, sweetheart…” he praises, never stopping the repetitive strokes of his fingers, the filthy grind of his hips. “Cum for me, all over me, please baby…”
He kisses the front of your throat, sucking dark marks into your soft skin and running his tongue flat over them. Repeated begs for you to fall apart on his cock, begging for you to let go.
Your entire body tenses, and then it washes over you in waves; they seem to never stop. He doesn’t stop moving his hips; he starts to fuck you faster. Dragging your orgasm out and taking advantage of how tight you’ve gotten, you cry out and shake violently. Mingi gives you no room to breathe, every slick sound of his cock slipping in and out of you so smoothly, only seeming to help you cum harder.
“That’s it… yeah… c’mon babygirl. Don’t stop. Cum until it hurts.” He smashes his lips with yours and moans loudly down your throat, his tongue invading your mouth with a greedy hunger, fucking you with renewed vigor. His hands slide up and cup your jaw, holding your head still as he kisses you stupid.
Then, your legs tighten around him, you tilt your head, and kiss him deeper. You force his hips against yours, and he sinks deeper into you.
“Inside.” You moan around his tongue, and you could feel his low, gravelly whine against your teeth. “Please.”
“Fuck…” he growls, and the hands on your jaw slip up and splay against either side of your face, holding you like you might try and run from him. “Don’t say that.”
But you double down. “Please, sir. Need you to fuck me full of you… get me all messy.”
Mingi gives you a warning look, his thumb slipping down and pushing against your chin, opening your mouth for him. He opens his mouth and sticks out his tongue, and you watch as a string of spit falls down the tip of his tongue and into your mouth, and your entire body erupts into an uncontrollable shiver.
“You want it?”He grunts, molding his lips with yours and kissing you so nastily, so dirty, you swear you were cumming again. You whisper pleading ‘yes’s’ and whimpering begs for him to fill you up, and you could practically feel the resolve crack in hips. “Gonna make this pussy a fucking mess.”
How could he resist? Mingi’s hips stutter, and his mouth opens against yours, breathing heavily, exhales broken with whines and groans. His pretty eyes half lidded, and his eyebrows pulled together as he shoves himself deep in your cunt one last time before he’s cumming, rolling his hips into you as he shakily moans against your lips, filling your pussy up with him.
Warmth spreads throughout your body, and Mingi’s entire body presses down heavily against yours, his hips grinding against you in slow, repeated motions, making sure not a single drop of him slips out of you.
Your heavy breaths fill the quiet of his room that has fallen, and realization begins to set in. There was no coming back from this.
You weren’t going to drop his class. You weren’t going to quit the babysitting job. You needed both, and Mingi could do without you, no matter what you decide to do.
He could find a new babysitter. It would be one less paper to grade.
But he doesn’t think he would be able to go one day without craving you like some kind of drug.
Slowly, he crawls off of you, his heart still racing. You sit up on your elbows, and immediately you move to gather your clothes, but his hand on your wrist stops you.
“Whoa, whoa, wait. What are you doing?” His gentle, kind voice has returned, and your eyes widen as you freeze in place.
“I’m- I’m getting my stuff…?” You’re confused, and he shakes his head like he was disappointed. He stands up and guides you to stand with him. He towers over you, and his hands, which were so rough with you earlier, caress the sides of your arms.
Up your shoulders and along the marks he littered along your neck. He presses his lips to the top of your head and kisses you softly, inhaling the smell of your shampoo. “Let me take care of you.” He murmurs into your hair, and you exhale shakily.
“Why?” You answer, and he rolls his eyes and scoffs.
“What a stupid question.” He laughs, massaging your shoulders and maneuvering you to walk towards his bathroom.
“I thought you said there was no such thing.” You tease, and he opens the bathroom door before picking you up and setting you on the counter.
“I can be wrong sometimes.” He shrugs, turning around and opening the sliding glass door of the shower. “Don’t let it get to your head.”
While he’s adjusting the temperature of the water, you turn and look at yourself in the mirror. You were an awful wreck. Frizzy hair, sweaty skin, dark marks on every inch of your body. He really did a number on you.
“I am still a gentleman after all.” He smiles and turns to fetch you once again, scooping you up and setting you inside the tub.
“You weren’t acting like one earlier.” You mumble, and he scoops some water in his hand and splashes it on your face. Your mouth falls open in shock, and he raises a warning eyebrow at you.
“Manners, young lady.”
Mingi cleans you up with a soft rag, gently washing you clean with a soap that smells like him. You nearly fall asleep in his arms, strong and grounding as held your body up.
He’s careful with you, like you’re made of glass. Attentive to your sensitive spots. He dries you off like a baby duck, avoiding your hair to not mess it up any further.
Once he’s got you cleaned up, he ushers you downstairs and urges you to eat something while he takes a shower of his own. He ever generously cuts you up a bowl of fruit, wearing nothing but a loose towel around his waist.
That strange domesticity from the first night he had hired you returned tenfold. And you couldn’t pull your eyes away from him while he worked. His damp hair clinging to his skin, his skin shiny and freckled. The tattoos on his body faded and turned green from the years of existence.
He lay you on the couch, gently massaging your ankles while you ate the fruit, a comfortable quiet settling over both.
“You can sleep here, if you want.” He whispers, massaging your calves. His glasses sit on the bridge of his nose, and he glances at you over them. You avoid his gaze, very interested in the pieces of kiwi sprinkled about your bowl.
“I shouldn’t.” You mumble, and you could feel his grip on your calf loosen. You turn and lock eyes with him, and he thinks he would do anything for those pretty eyes you give him.
“We shouldn’t.” You finish, and you move to stand, but he follows you. His hands cup your elbows and pull you close, flush to his chest. His fingers caress the fragile bone in your arms, and he leans his head down to kiss your forehead.
“Just for tonight, you shouldn’t be driving. You can hardly keep your eyes open.”
He kisses your eyelid, trailing chaste smooches down the side of your face until he melts against your lips, breathing deeply as you lean into him.
His hands slide down from your elbows to gently envelop either side of your waist, tilting his head to greedily kiss you deeper.
You sigh into his mouth, and he could feel you relax in his arms. Your hands reach up and wrap around the back of his neck, pulling him further against you.
“Okay.” You whisper, pulling away from his lips. He smiles, the smile lines making your heart flutter in your chest. He kisses the corner of your mouth, then he’s leading you away once again, the half-empty bowl of fruit abandoned on the side table. “Just this once.”
Of course, once would turn into twice. And before you know it, you have a routine with him.
Moments that were spent together in the privacy of his own home gradually transitioned into fleeting touches in the campus library, pushing you up against secluded bookshelves and eating you out to high heaven.
Dragging you to his office after class and bending you over his desk and having you then and there like some kind of animal.
You even went so far as to have him over at your home, riding on the hope that your parents wouldn’t decide to come home early from their date nights.
If the board found out, he’d be terminated effective immediately. If your parents found out? God knows how they would feel.
So you agreed to keep this little secret between you two. His daughter was none the wiser, and she never questioned whenever you chose to stay the night, it only made her happier.
You and Mingi had something. Something good? Something bad? You weren’t sure just yet.
For now, you were having fun. Something someone your age should prioritize. You act like strangers in class, only fleeting looks that were silent promises for what was to come later in the privacy of his home.
These kinds of things were always bound to end in a disaster, and god you prayed it wouldn’t. Just this one time.
You weren’t his girlfriend. You weren’t his wife. You were a placeholder of sorts, a ghost to fill the empty shadow left in the home. You had no place there, but the longer you stayed the more you began to burn your imprint into the floorboards.
The wolf can keep that fawn as a pet for a little while, but its instinct to consume will always outshine later down the road.
And the fawn’s instinct to flee will always be there; it never disappears. However long it chooses to ignore it, will only prolong the pain that will destroy it when it is finally devoured.
dude, some fans were saying that he's been getting bigger lately and im fucking freaking out
idolbf!mingi x f!reader
thinking about mingi...
Song Mingi, who knows his strengths, always makes sure to use them against you. He knows how weak you get for him when it comes to his strongest attributes.
His stupid, rich voice. And the sheer fucking size of him.
He made you feel small. You don’t even have to be short, and somehow it felt like Mingi shrank you down when he was around, in body and in soul. When he covered your mouth with his hand to muffle your moans, his thick fingers would curl around your face enough to basically have your entire lower skull in his grip, strong and heavy as he pressed down to keep you quiet.
Shoved down prone into the plush mattress, your cheek pushed into the pillow, his face buried deep against your neck, forcing you to listen to every single lust-drunk groan that fell from his lips, right against your hot ear.
Gravelly, low, sonorous, his voice always sending that weird twist to your gut that made your cunt gush like he pressed a button to open the floodgates. Every noise he made flowed over the ridges of your brain like cold water, and sent your senses alight. His nose inhaling your sweat slick scent and groaning deeply when he felt you clench around him every time his purrs sent shockwaves to your lower tummy.
His entire, enormous body holding yours down, never giving you an inch of space to escape, to squirm or even let your limbs twitch.
Making you feel him. Making you take him. His thick arms wrapped around your lower torso, his hands interlocked over your stomach as he pressed your back to his chest all the while letting all his weight rest on top of you.
An immovable force that you wouldn’t want to slip from under even if you could. The pressure he left on your lower belly, the way his legs pressed over yours so you couldn’t kick when his tip dragged against your gspot so perfectly, over and over and over again.
Maddeningly deep, and unfair strokes that quite literally made you unable to form words to praise him, or beg for mercy. All you could do was lie under Mingi and take what he was giving you and hope you wouldn’t pass out from pleasure. You wouldn’t wanna miss a second of this after all.
You would try to form words, moan his name, but nothing would come out.
“What’s that honey?” Mingi drawled against the crook of your neck, your skin shuddering when his tongue laved against the vein that protruded through your skin. “Can’t hear you over how slick this pussy is.”
To emphasize his point his slowly pulled his hips back, every thick inch of his cock sliding against your tight walls, the telltale sign of your soaked cunt echoing in your ears.
“Fuckk..” He growls quietly, sinking right back into your heat and rotating his hips slowly when your ass pressed flush against his hips once again. “You’re so wet and loud baby, can barely hear myself think.”
Your breath caught in your throat, unable to focus on intaking oxygen when you felt so full of him. His hands gently kneaded your lower stomach, his thumbs rubbing slow circles against the bulging flesh.
“Don’t forget to breathe.” He instructs lowly, but pressing himself deeper into your pussy like he knows you were already struggling, to make it harder for you.
His broad shoulders easily swallow you beneath him and your drool pooled on the pillow. His arms constrict even tighter around your body, Mingi’s brain frying when he felt your body squirm in his grip, like a helpless little bunny trying to keep itself from being eaten.
But you loved feeling helpless with Mingi. You loved feeling like there was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. You loved feeling like there was no escape, that all you could do was stay trapped in his arms and let him fuck you slow, deep, and mean.
You could feel the dips of his abs against the bone of your spine, his powerful legs keeping your own spread beneath his body so he could continue to thrust into you smoothly.
When you try to moan his name again, Mingi presses a wet open mouthed kiss to the side of your throat, a choked groan falling from his lips.
His cock throbs inside of you, and he finds his body unable to help itself as his hips speed up, his fat tip gliding against that spot inside with determined purpose.
“So close…” he pouts against your jugular. “Try again pretty baby, moan louder for me.”
At this point you had completely given up, your brain no longer functioning, cockdrunk and useless under the weight of his body.
“Love when you let me use you.” Mingi groans, cooing at every weak sound you made when his strokes hit so deep your stomach felt like it was caving in. “When you let me use this pussy. I love it when my baby just lies there and lets me fuck it how I want.”
It didn’t matter how Mingi fucked you. No matter what position, what pace. His sinful girth and curved shaft hit every spot just right no matter what. But he loved prone the most. He loved holding your little body down underneath him, his flesh melting into yours without a centimeter of space between you two. Filling you up nice and slow, languid, intimate moves of his hips. He always had to make sure he got a hold of himself or else he’d try to fuck you to sleep.
“Atta fuckin’ girl…” he praises around a strained groan, your cunt clenched around him so hard his hips stuttered their movement from your grip.
One hand moved from over your stomach and slipped over your puffy clit. You immediately jerk in response as his tough calloused fingertips pressed up against it, your thighs shaking as the pleasure rocked your sensitive body so hard you felt like you were falling.
Mingi’s hold on your body stayed firm, and his hips pressed deeper into your pussy, his body resting further against yours and rendering you immobile as you laid beneath him and just took it.
“F-fuuc-! M-Mingi… mmff…” your moans broke and shattered pathetically as you came around his thick cock immediately, which only coated his length in more of your slick, lubing him up even more to continue fucking into you with a renewed passion.
“There it is…” Mingi pinches your clit and shifts his legs to spread you open even more. Moving his other hand from your stomach back up to cup your jaw and holding your head still.
He loved to just hold you, hold you still, hold you close. Completely overpowering you. His giant hand is swallowing your chin, and his thumb slipping into your mouth and sliding over your tongue. His thumb was so thick it filled your mouth deliciously, your eyes rolling when the cologne on his wrist clouded your senses.
“I know it’s big, baby.” He teases, and he almost sounds sorry for you. But it was hard to discern his tone over the slick plaps of his hips against yours, echoing against his bedroom walls. “I know beautiful, I know. Took so long to stretch you out for me, but look at you now.”
He laughs against your ear and slides his thumb deeper into your mouth. “Creaming, soaked, so open and willing.”
You wouldn’t even be able to tap out if you wanted to; your brain was far from here now, forgotten and useless. All you were at the moment was your body, and Mingi’s big hands, broad body, smooth voice and thick cock were defining you as a person in his sheets tonight.
“‘M gonna make you cum so many fucking times you forget that pretty name of yours, baby.” Mingi’s hips pause for a brief moment, slowly rolling them deep into you to punish you with the suffocating feeling of him in your guts.
The grip on your jaw tightens, his hand forcing your neck to crane to the side so he can press his open mouth against your temple, making you feel the vibrations of his low moans rattle against your skull. “Take my fucking word for it.”
He does end up fucking you to sleep this time, after you had cum so many times, the only sound you could make was sad attempts at breaths. You passed out with his cock still inside of you, but your cunt was so slick he was fighting with each stroke to prevent himself from slipping out of you.
“Fuck baby, fell asleep on me, hm?” He whispers against your skin, and you moan softly, your cunt fluttering gently around him.
He wondered if he was fucking you stupid in your dreams, his slow thrusts a lullaby for your tired body.
When you eventually wake up, he asks you what month it is. You could not tell him to save your own life.
He always does end up fucking you so good you forget more than just your name. He prides himself on how dumb his dick gets you.
He teases you about it, but apologizes by eating you out for hours, his thick tongue filling your pussy and warm mouth feeling you out and devouring you like he was drunk.
He always wins you over with that stupid pout, that throaty voice and those big rough hands. He had you around his finger and him around yours.
One day, you’ll really put him in his place and get him to beg you for mercy, but for now, you enjoy the overwhelming sense of power he subjects you to at his hands.
But fuck man, you love turning your brain off for him and just letting him have his way.
Being Mingi’s personal toy was a fucking blessing.
Pairing: Sanjoong x f!reader (light background polyteez)
MINORS DO NOT INTERACTI!!!
Contains: Smut, light degradation, dom/sub dynamics, sub reader, dom hj, switch sn, fingering, making out, light mentions of breeding kink, soft (somehow??), one shot
It had been a long week and I had been tired and exhausted the whole morning of my free day, traipsing around the house like a lost kitten and latching onto anyone willing to give me attention. With passing hours I had become needier and quicker to pout until I had pulled a face one time too many and had ended up cumming on Wooyoung's fingers, making a mess out of my panties. I had just ditched those after, walking around the house in wide sweatpants and one of the many tour hoodies lying around. The downturn of having a great orgasm (thanks Woo!) was that it had just made me even more sleepy.
In the afternoon, Seonghwa came home, took one look at me and sent me to San's room to nap, since the latter was always down to cuddle and would almost never turn down a shared nap. So that's how I had ended up in a tight tight embrace, bodies heating up from the lack of space between us. San and I faced each other, one of his legs between mine, his face in my neck, pressing a warm kiss onto my skin every now and then. We weren't sleeping, but I definitely felt more relaxed with every second I spent wrapped in San's safe, strong arms.
After some time his leg shifted, my breath hitching almost inaudibly. Without saying a word, San continued to move his thigh this and that way, making me whine quietly into his ear. Suddenly the front door slammed shut - Hongjoong had to have finally come home after working hours upon hours overtime on a new track. San's leg stilled, but he continued slowly mouthing my neck, wet from his spit. There was the sound of voices, Seonghwa chiding Hongjoong for coming home late again I presumed and then - feet tapping over the wooden floor until they stopped before our door. Quietly it opened and he stepped in, immediately closing the door after himself again. Walking closer to the bed, Hongjoong chuckled low “My sleepy babies.”
“Joong?” I turned my head away from San's shoulder to speak. Hongjoong bent over the bed, kissing my lips softly before pecking San as well, who just let out a satisfied hum. As the older moved to leave again, two hands shot out. As if we had agreed beforehand, San and I had grabbed Hongjong's arm and - under his protest - pulled him into the bed. He settled behind me, sandwiching me between his and San's hot bodies, making my insides flutter.
“You two rascals..” the leader murmured but even his voice sounded tired and he didn't try to make another escape, betraying his exhaustion. Small, slightly cold hands crept under my hoodie, making me breathe in sharply as they traced patterns onto my hip. Simultaneously, San lavished my neck with attention again and soon I was squirming between the two men.
“I heard you were needy today darling.” Hongjoong breathed into my ear and I shuddered, “Wooyoung didn't tire you out enough?”
It wasn't a question, not really. After being with eight men for so long, it took way more than just one orgasm to stave off my or their need for touch. Hongjoong's hands dipped lower and he cursed lowly when he found my wetness instead of the obstruction of fabric.
“Such a sweet thing for us.” He whispered, making me whine and San chuckle darkly “Let's stuff our girl full Sannie.”
And literally a huge part of gaming has ALWAYS been the experience of sitting around together, watching one person in the group play while everyone else cheers, heckles, shrieks, and generally has a good time.
I wanted to remind you that this video for Hala Hala exists. This was Ateez's first comeback in 2019. Imagine Hala Hala being the title track of your second album and you release this video with your faces completely covered. You cover your faces...as kpop idols...and you force people to focus on the performance, the choreography, the vocals...
Absolutely bonkers.
Give the Music Video a watch, too, because it's just so good. Hala Hala, you will always be famous!!
