did u see giselle and ningning got matching belly button piercings 👀 would love to see idol reader x mingyu where reader pierced her bellybutton wothout him knowing and he randomly sees it one day. Love ur work ❤️
Pierced || Kim Mingyu x idol!reader
GIF creds to owner!
A/n: omg yes I did see!!! Thank u for the request <3
Wc: 1,001
Warnings: none??
MASTERLIST (idol!reader au masterlist)
-
You’re halfway through changing before bed when it happens.
The hotel room is dim except for the warm lamp near the couch, city lights glowing faintly through the massive windows behind you. You’d just gotten back from separate schedules.
Mingyu from a photoshoot, you from rehearsals, and the both of you were exhausted in that clingy, affectionate way where neither of you could go more than thirty seconds without touching each other.
Mingyu’s sitting at the edge of the bed scrolling through his phone while you stand in front of your suitcase, pulling one of his oversized shirts over your head to sleep in.
You don’t even think about it.
Which is stupid, considering you spent the last four days hiding it from him.
The piercing still feels a little tender when the fabric brushes over your stomach, the silver jewellery catching the light for half a second. “Wait.”
His voice cuts through the room instantly.
You freeze. Slowly, you turn around. Mingyu’s no longer looking at his phone.
He’s staring directly at your stomach.
Specifically, at the small silver jewel sitting in your belly button.
His eyebrows lift in disbelief. “What is that?”
You bite back a grin immediately, pretending to act casual as you tug the shirt down further. “Nothing.”
“Nothing?” He tosses his phone onto the bed so fast it bounces. “Baby.”
You laugh nervously. “Don’t sound so offended.”
“Offended?” He stands up immediately, tall frame crossing the room in seconds until he’s right in front of you. “You pierced your belly button and didn’t tell me?”
His hands settle automatically on your waist, warm palms sliding under the oversized shirt. The second his fingers brush your skin, you suck in a tiny breath because the piercing is still sensitive.
Mingyu notices instantly. His eyes darken.
“It’s new.” You try not to smile too hard. “Maybe.”
“When?”
“A few days ago.”
“A few days ago?!” He looks genuinely betrayed now, staring down at you with wide eyes. “You hid this from me for days?”
“I wanted to surprise you.”
“You definitely surprised me.”
His gaze drops again. And stays there.
You suddenly feel very aware of the fact you’re standing in front of your boyfriend in tiny sleep shorts and one of his shirts while he stares at your stomach like he’s forgotten how to think properly.
The silver jewellery glints under the warm lighting every time you breathe.
Mingyu swallows hard. “…Jesus.”
You burst into laughter. “Why are you acting like that?”
“Because you look insane right now.”
“Insane?”
“So hot it’s actually making me angry.”
That makes you laugh even harder, but Mingyu doesn’t. He’s still staring.
His thumb brushes lightly along your waist, dangerously close to the piercing itself but not quite touching it.
“You knew I’d like this,” he says accusingly.
You shrug innocently. “Maybe.”
“You’re evil.”
“You love me.”
“I do,” he says immediately, still looking down. “But this? This is unfair.”
Your cheeks warm at how serious he sounds.
Mingyu has always been tactile with you, constantly touching your waist, your hips, pulling you onto his lap whenever he can, but now it’s like he physically cannot stop looking at the piercing.
“You really didn’t think to warn me?” he murmurs.
“I wanted your reaction.”
“Well congratulations,” he says dryly. “I’m reacting.”
You giggle as he finally looks back up at your face, except his expression makes your stomach flip. Because he looks wrecked.
His hair’s messy from the shower he took earlier, hoodie sleeves pushed up his forearms, lips slightly parted while his hands tighten unconsciously on your waist.
“You have no idea what you do to me,” he says quietly. The teasing tone is mostly gone now. And suddenly you feel shy.
Which is ridiculous considering this is Mingyu, your boyfriend, the man who’s seen you at your absolute worst, but something about the intensity in his gaze makes your heart pound.
“You like it that much?” you ask softly.
Mingyu laughs once under his breath like the question itself is stupid.
“Baby,” he says, voice low. “I’m trying so hard to behave right now.” Your stomach flips violently.
He looks back down again before carefully hooking one finger through the little silver jewel. The touch is featherlight.
You inhale sharply. His eyes snap to yours instantly. “Does it hurt?”
“A little.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you were doing this?”
“I don’t know,” you admit. “I thought it’d be fun.”
“It is fun,” he mutters. “For you. Meanwhile I’m over here losing my mind.”
You laugh again, but it cuts off when he suddenly pulls you closer by your hips until your body presses against his.
The oversized shirt rides up slightly again. Mingyu’s hand slides across your stomach slowly, fingertips grazing just beneath your navel.
His head drops toward your shoulder with a groan.
“You’re actually gonna kill me.”
“That dramatic?”
“You don’t understand,” he says into your neck. “I already struggle when you wear crop tops. Now you have this?”
His fingers trace around the piercing again, eyes fixed on it with dangerous concentration.
“You’re gonna dance in front of other people looking like this?”
You laugh. “Mingyu—”
“No, seriously.” He looks genuinely tortured now. “That’s crazy.”
You smile softly, fingers curling into the front of his hoodie. “You’re still the only one allowed to touch it.”
Mingyu goes completely silent. Then his eyes close briefly like he’s trying to regain composure.
“Pease don’t say things like that,” he says weakly.
You grin immediately. “Why?”
“Because I already think you’re hot enough.”
His hands slide around to your lower back, pulling you flush against him.
“You always do this,” he murmurs.
“Do what?”
“Act innocent after making comments like that and doing things like this.”
You laugh into his chest as he buries his face into your neck again, placing lazy kisses against your skin while still absentmindedly playing with the piercing.
The tenderness in the gesture makes your chest ache.
Because beneath all the teasing and dramatics, Mingyu’s genuinely fascinated by it.
Like he can’t believe you did something new without him knowing.
“You were scared to tell me?” he asks quietly after a moment.
“A little.”
His head lifts immediately. “Why?”
“I thought you might hate it.”
Mingyu stares at you like you’ve lost your mind.
“Hate it?” he repeats. “Baby, I think this might be the hottest thing you’ve ever done.”
Your face burns instantly.
He smiles at your reaction, finally leaning down to kiss you properly. Slow. The kind of kiss that melts straight through you.
And even then, one of his hands still rests against your waist, thumb brushing softly over the little silver jewel like he’s completely obsessed with it already.
Summary: Mingyu complains endlessly about waiting for you until one compliment and a kiss completely distracts both of you.
Wc: 1,041
Warnings: pure fluff :)
MASTERLIST
-
Mingyu is terrible at waiting. Genuinely terrible at it.
He’s stretched across your bed like he pays rent there, all long limbs and broad shoulders, one arm tucked behind his head while the other drums impatiently against his stomach.
he mattress dips beneath his weight, his frame taking up far too much space, far too much attention.
Not that he seems to notice. Or maybe he does.
Because every bit of his attention is fixed on you.
You’re standing in front of your mirror for what has to be the eighth time now, fingers disappearing into your hair as you try to fix a strand that refuses to sit properly.
At this point you can’t even tell if it actually looks wrong anymore or if you’ve just been staring at yourself for too long.
Behind you, Mingyu sighs dramatically.
“You’ve been doing that forever,” he complains, voice deep and lazy.
You snort softly, eyes still trained on your reflection as you slide another bobby pin into place. “You’re so dramatic.”
“I’m serious,” he groans. “It’s literally been an hour.”
“It has not been an hour.”
“It feels like an hour.”
You roll your eyes automatically, smoothing your hands over your hair again before wincing when the pin catches your finger. “Ow—”
Mingyu lifts his head immediately. “See? Your hair is fighting back now. That means it’s time to go.”
A laugh slips out before you can stop it. “Nobody told you to sit there waiting for me.”
“Baby, what else am I supposed to do?” he asks, sounding genuinely offended by the suggestion.
You glance at him through the mirror for the first time in minutes and instantly regret it, because now he’s looking at you with that expression.
That soft, annoyingly pretty look he gets whenever his attention settles completely on you.
His dark hair is messy from lying around, his hoodie pushed up enough to reveal strong forearms, and he’s staring like watching you fix your hair is somehow the most fascinating thing he’s seen all day.
Your movements slow a little under his gaze.
“You could go downstairs,” you mumble, suddenly very focused on fixing a strand near your temple. “Or scroll on your phone. Or literally anything else.”
He hums absentmindedly, clearly not listening.
The bed creaks behind you. Then suddenly, warm fingers curl around your wrist. “Mingyu—”
Before you can react properly, he gives you a gentle tug backwards, just enough to throw off your balance and pull you into him.
A soft gasp leaves you as your back brushes against his chest.
“Are you done now?” he asks, voice quieter this time, the complaint melting into something softer. Something closer to whining.
You can feel his smile before you even see it.
He’s standing right behind you now, close enough that warmth radiates off him in waves. One of his hands slides from your wrist down to your waist, settling there naturally, like it belongs there. Like it always belongs there.
Your eyes lift instinctively to the mirror. And of course he’s already looking at you.
Not at your hair. Not at the outfit you spent twenty minutes changing into. Just you.
“We’re not even going anywhere important,” he murmurs, leaning down until his chin almost brushes your shoulder. “Why are you stressing this much?”
“Because I want to look nice,” you argue weakly, reaching up to touch your hair again out of habit.
The second your hand lifts, he lets out the most pathetic groan imaginable.
“Oh my god, there she goes again.”
You laugh despite yourself. “Leave me alone.”
“No.” His answer comes instantly.
The hand on your waist tightens slightly, pulling you back against him properly this time. You can feel the steady rise and fall of his chest through his hoodie, warm and solid behind you.
“Seriously,” he says, quieter now. “You already look good.”
You narrow your eyes at him through the mirror. “You’re only saying that because you want to leave.”
Mingyu’s mouth curves immediately, slow and easy. Then he leans closer, close enough that his voice brushes warm against your ear.
“No, baby,” he murmurs softly, “I’m saying it because my girlfriend always looks good.”
The words hit embarrassingly fast.
That awful soft feeling blooms in your chest instantly, warm and impossible to hide. You duck your head to hide the smile threatening to break across your face, but it’s useless.
Mingyu notices everything. Especially when it comes to you.
A quiet laugh rumbles out of him as he catches your expression in the mirror.
“There it is,” he teases gently.
“Shut up.”
“You’re smiling.”
“I’m not.”
“You literally are.”
You finally turn around to glare at him properly, but the second you do, you realise he’s already too close. One hand still resting at your waist, the other braced loosely beside you against the vanity, caging you in without even trying.
His eyes flick down to your lips for half a second before meeting your gaze again.
“You’re annoying,” you mumble, though there’s absolutely no bite behind it now.
Mingyu grins immediately, bright and satisfied like he’s won something.
“Yeah,” he says easily. “But you’re obsessed with me, so I don't care.”
You open your mouth to argue, but he kisses you before you can.
It’s quick at first, soft enough to feel teasing, his lips warm against yours for barely a second before he pulls back just enough to look at you again.
Then, because he’s greedy and always has been, he leans in once more.
This kiss lingers. Slow enough to make your thoughts blur at the edges.
His hand slides properly around your waist now, pulling you closer until there’s barely any space left between you, and you can feel him smiling slightly when your fingers curl instinctively into the front of his hoodie.
When he finally pulls away, you’re still staring at him a little dazed. Mingyu looks unbearably pleased with himself.
“There,” he says softly. “Now can we go?”
You blink at him once before narrowing your eyes. “You planned that.”
“Absolutely.”
He steals one more quick kiss before grabbing your hand.
“C’mon,” he says, intertwining your fingers effortlessly. “Let’s leave before you decide your hair needs another emotional support bobby pin.”
Summary: Every time Mingyu tells you no, you somehow end up even more spoiled by the end of the night.
Wc: 3,074
Warnings: age gap (Mingyu is mid 35, reader is in early 21), reader is rlly bratty lol, also kind of sugar bby!reader except they’re also in a relationship, oral (f receiving), swearing, arguing, slightly suggestive. I think that’s all?
A/n: experimenting with ceo!mingyu x bratty reader 😀 thoughts? This dynamic was so fun to write should I do more 🤣🤣
MASTERLIST
-
The argument started before you’d even finished your makeup.
You were sitting at the vanity in a tiny silk robe, legs crossed, gold jewellery scattered across the marble counter while your stylist zipped garment bags nearby.
The party dress hanging on the wardrobe door was tiny. Silver. Backless. Absolutely inappropriate for the kind of event Mingyu hated.
Which was exactly why you wanted to wear it.
“You’re not going.”
Mingyu’s voice came from behind you.
You met his eyes through the mirror and immediately rolled yours. “Don’t start.”
“I’m not starting anything.” He loosened the cuffs of his shirt as he walked further into the dressing room. “I’m ending it.”
Your lips parted in disbelief. “You don’t get to decide that.”
“I already did.”
You spun around on the velvet stool to face him properly, glaring up at him while he stood there looking infuriatingly calm in dark trousers and a black button-up rolled to his forearms.
Every magazine in Seoul loved him. Every investor feared him. And unfortunately for you, he carried that same authority into your relationship without even trying.
“It’s a birthday party, Mingyu.”
“It’s a Hanseong networking party pretending to be a birthday party.”
“So?”
Mingyu stared at you for a second like he couldn’t believe you were even asking.
“So,” he said slowly, voice calm in that way that always made you feel more defensive, “the people hosting that party have spent the last six months trying to tear my company apart.”
You scoffed dramatically, crossing your arms tighter over your chest.
Unfortunately, the movement only pushed your cleavage up higher in the tiny robe. Mingyu’s eyes flickered down automatically.
Brief. Instinctive. But you still caught it.
His gaze snapped back up to your face almost immediately, jaw tightening slightly when he realised you noticed.
His eyes narrowed slightly at the little twitch in your lips before continuing.
“They leaked false reports about my shareholders three weeks ago,” he said. “They’ve been feeding reporters rumours, trying to tank stock prices, trying to bait me into reacting publicly—”
“Okay, and?”
Mingyu’s jaw flexed slightly.
“And I’m not having my girlfriend photographed drinking champagne in the middle of all that.”
Your chin lifted immediately. “I’m not some extension of your company.”
“No,” he agreed. “You’re the one thing they know would get under my skin.” You hated when he answered too honestly.
Still, you rolled your eyes again, stubbornness digging in deeper even though you weren’t stupid.
You knew exactly what showing up to that party would look like. Knew the headlines would explode by morning. Knew people would twist it into betrayal, disrespect, scandal.
Whatever narrative benefited them most.
But a part of you wanted to go anyway. Just to push him. Just to see that look in his eyes when you stopped listening.
You crossed your arms harder. “I haven’t even taken your last name.”
Mingyu huffed out a quiet laugh through his nose, humourless.
“Exactly,” he said dryly. “And somehow you still spend my money like you have.”
Your jaw dropped instantly. “Kim Mingyu.”
“What?” he asked innocently. “Was I lying?”
You stared at him in disbelief before scoffing. “I don’t see you complaining when we’re in bed though.” That finally got a reaction.
His tongue pressed briefly against the inside of his cheek while he looked at you for a second too long, dark eyes narrowing with amusement.
“You always get mouthy when you’re losing an argument, did you know that?”
“I’m not losing.”
“You absolutely are.”
You rolled your eyes dramatically and turned back toward the mirror, grabbing one of your earrings with unnecessary attitude.
“You’re just mad because I look hot in the dress.”
“The dress isn’t the issue.”
“Then what is?”
“The issue,” Mingyu said patiently, “is that you act like actions don’t have consequences.”
You scoffed loudly. “Gyu, you sound eighty years old.”
“And you behave like you’re eighteen.” That actually made you laugh a little despite yourself.
“That was only three years ago,” you pointed out smugly. “Besides, I’m not that immature.”
Mingyu just stared at you.
A long, unimpressed stare that immediately started irritating you again.
“What?” you demanded.
“You bought a six-thousand-dollar lamp yesterday.”
You spun around immediately. “Because it was pretty!”
“It doesn’t even light up.”
“It’s decorative!”
“It’s a fucking lamp.”
“You are so unbelievably judgemental.”
“And you are unbelievably spoiled.”
The words should’ve sounded harsh, but they didn’t. Not with the way his eyes dragged slowly over you afterward, equal parts exhausted and fond like he couldn’t decide whether to argue with you or kiss you quiet.
Honestly, probably both.
Mingyu pinched the bridge of his nose slowly, already looking drained from the conversation.
Your stylist, who had been pretending not to listen from the corner of the dressing room, suddenly cleared her throat awkwardly.
“I, um… I’m just going to steam the other dress downstairs.” She disappeared from the room almost immediately.
The second the door shut, you stood up fully.
“I already told everyone I’m coming.”
“Then tell them you’re not.”
“You’re embarrassing me.”
“No,” he corrected calmly. “I’m protecting you.”
You hated that tone. That calm, patient tone like he already knew he was going to win.
“I don’t need protecting.”
Mingyu walked closer, large hand settling on the vanity beside you while he looked down at your expression.
He could see it written all over your face, that stubborn little spark in your eyes that always appeared whenever he told you no. It wasn’t even really about the party anymore.
You just liked pushing against him. Liked testing him to see how far you could get before he snapped and handled you properly.
“You’re not going.”
Your chin lifted. “I can do whatever I want.”
His eyes darkened slightly at that. Not angry, worse. Amused. “You really wanna play this game tonight?”
Your stomach flipped annoyingly. “No,” you snapped. “I wanna go to a party.”
“And I said no.” Silence. Heavy silence.
Then you shoved past him dramatically, grabbing your phone off the counter. “You’re being controlling.”
“I’m being smart.”
“You’re acting like my father.”
That made his expression change slightly. Mingyu stepped forward suddenly, grabbing your wrist before you could storm out.
“You know the difference between me and your father?” His voice was low now.
Your heartbeat stuttered slightly when he stepped closer, towering over you. “What?” you asked quieter this time.
Mingyu looked down at you for a long second. Then he gave a humourless little smile.
“He never spoiled you enough to get away with this attitude.”
Your lips parted immediately.
The words hit harder than they should have because they were true. Painfully true. Mingyu had ruined you. Completely.
You used to argue with people and lose. Used to hear no and deal with it. Used to think before spending money, before acting out, before testing boundaries just because you could.
Then Mingyu came into your life and suddenly there were no boundaries anymore.
Anything you wanted appeared before you even properly asked for it. Jewellery. Trips. Apartments. Designer dresses you wore once before abandoning in a closet.
And worst of all, his attention.
Because Mingyu indulged you constantly. Even when you were difficult. Even when you were bratty and dramatic and intentionally impossible just to get a reaction out of him.
Especially then.
“You think because I buy you pretty things and let you mouth off that you suddenly run this relationship?”
His hand landed on your waist suddenly, pulling you flush against him before you could fire back another argument.
Your breath hitched softly.
“You don’t.”
You hated when he talked to you like that. Mostly because it worked.
“You’re so full of yourself.”
“And you’re still testing me.”
Mingyu’s grip tightened slightly against your waist, just enough to make heat crawl up your spine.
“You wanna know why?” he asked softly.
Your brows furrowed. “Why what?”
“Why I let you get away with half the things you do.” His eyes dragged slowly over your face.
“Because at the end of the day,” he murmured, “you always come right back here.”
Your throat suddenly felt dry.
“You spend all day fighting me, acting spoiled, pushing every button I have—” His hand slid higher against your waist. “—and then at night you curl into my side like you belong there.”
Your expression faltered slightly. Mingyu noticed immediately. Of course he did. A smug little smile tugged at the corner of his mouth before he leaned down closer.
“So no,” he said quietly. “You don’t run this relationship.” Your pulse was beating way too fast now.
“But you do run my patience,” he added dryly. “Which is honestly impressive."
“But,” Mingyu said softly, thumb brushing against your waist almost absently, “I love you for it.”
Your expression flickered slightly. That was the problem with him. He could go from cold and controlling to saying something like that so easily it left you completely disarmed.
Mingyu watched your face carefully before the corner of his mouth lifted.
“Which is why,” he continued calmly, “you know I’m gonna put a ring on your finger soon anyway.”
Your breath caught.
Your lips parted slightly before you could stop yourself. “Mingyu…”
“Hm?”
“You can’t just say things like that in the middle of an argument.”
“Why not?”
“Because—” you frowned, suddenly flustered, “—because it’s manipulative.”
A quiet laugh escaped him.
“Baby, if I was manipulating you, you’d already be upstairs taking that robe off.”
Your glare returned instantly, weaker this time.
“You’re annoying.”
“And you’re still not going.”
Before you could snap back, his hand suddenly came down against your ass through the thin robe.
Sharp enough to shock you. Not enough to hurt. Just enough to make your breath hitch. Your lips parted immediately.
“Mingyu!"
He leaned down slightly, mouth close to your ear now, voice low enough to make heat crawl up your neck.
“You’re not going,” he murmured. “End of story.”
The warmth in your face burned hotter instantly.
“You’re being mean.”
“And you’re being a spoiled brat.”
The words should’ve sounded harsh, but the amusement in his voice ruined it completely.
Mingyu pressed a casual kiss to your temple afterward like he hadn’t just completely thrown you off balance.
“I’ll be in my study.”
Then he walked away. Like he hadn’t just casually told you he was going to marry you someday. Like he hadn’t completely ruined your entire night.
~
The first purchase notification hit Mingyu’s phone twelve minutes later.
He was sitting in his study reviewing contracts when the vibration buzzed against the desk.
He ignored it. Another buzz. Then another. Then another.
His eyebrows lifted slightly as he glanced down at the screen.
"AMEX ALERT — Guiseppe Zanotti Purchase Approved"
Mingyu didn’t even look up at first. Then another came through.
"AMEX ALERT — Chanel Purchase Approved"
Mingyu leaned back slowly in his chair. Another notification lit up the screen.
"AMEX ALERT — Van Cleef & Arpels Purchase Approved"
He actually laughed. A low, tired chuckle while rubbing a hand over his face.
“Unbelievable,” he muttered to himself.
He could practically picture you sprawled dramatically across the couch upstairs, angrily buying as retaliation.
Another notification lit up the screen.
"AMEX ALERT — Hermès Purchase Approved"
Mingyu shook his head, amused now more than anything.
“You little brat.”
The funniest part was that you genuinely believed this was punishment.
As if he wasn’t the one who’d handed you the black card in the first place.
Another buzz.
"Porsche Deposit Pending"
His eyebrows shot up this time. “Ah,” he murmured. “Now we’re spiralling.”
He shook his head, smiling to himself before returning to his emails.
~
By the time Mingyu came upstairs nearly an hour later, the penthouse was quiet again. Too quiet.
He opened the bedroom door and stopped immediately.
Your suitcase was open on the bed. Clothes everywhere. Designer heels tossed carelessly onto the floor. Jewellery cases open. D
You were aggressively folding bikinis with tears of frustration sitting in your eyes.
Mingyu stared for a moment before calmly loosening his tie. You looked up instantly. “Oh, now you care.”
“Hm?”
“You don’t see me packing?!”
“I do.”
“And?”
“And your folding technique is terrible.”
You stared at him in disbelief. “Mingyu!”
“What?” he said calmly. “You wrinkle everything.”
He tossed his watch onto the nightstand before sitting on the edge of the bed directly on top of one of your dresses.
“Get up!”
“No.”
“You’re sitting on silk!”
“You’re having a tantrum.”
Your mouth fell open.
“This is not a tantrum.”
“You bought a car because I told you no.”
“I was upset.”
“You spent nearly a million dollars upset.”
You crossed your arms. “Well maybe if you weren’t so controlling—”
“You were not going to that party.”
“Yes I was.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“You’re so annoying!”
“And you’re still not leaving.”
You wanted to scream. Instead you grabbed another armful of clothes aggressively.
“I’m staying at Yuna’s.”
“Yuna’s in Paris.”
“…Then Mina’s.”
“She’s in Bali.”
You froze.
Mingyu looked up slowly. “You don’t actually know where your friends live, do you?”
You glared so hard it almost made him laugh. “I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.”
You stared at him in disbelief while he calmly unbuttoned his shirt like none of this was happening.
“How are you this annoying?”
“Hurry up and get into bed.”
Your mouth fell open. “You cannot be serious-"
The words disappeared completely when Mingyu suddenly grabbed your wrist and pulled you into him.
The kiss shut you up immediately. Hot. Slow. Possessive.
“You done?”
“No.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
“You’re cute when you’re angry.”
“I don’t wanna be cute right now.”
“Too bad.”
“Mingyu—”
Your angry little noises melted against his mouth as his hand slid up your thigh beneath the robe.
“There she is,” he murmured against your lips. “Much prettier when she stops yelling at me.”
You smacked his chest weakly, but it lacked any real heat now. Especially when his mouth moved down your neck. Especially when his hands untied your robe.
“You’re still mean,” you mumbled breathlessly.
“Mhm.”
“You hurt my feelings.”
“I bought you a Chanel bag an hour ago.”
“That doesn’t count.”
“It usually does.”
You tried to keep complaining, but it got significantly harder once he pushed you back against the bed like you weighed nothing, moving the half-folded clothes aside with one hand.
“Mingyu…”
His eyes flicked up to yours knowingly. The one that always ruined your attitude in seconds.
“You still angry, baby?”
“Yes,” you lied softly.
“Hm.”
Then his mouth disappeared between your thighs and your entire body jolted. Your fingers tangled into his hair automatically. Traitorous body. Mingyu smiled against your skin knowingly.
“Oh my god—”
“Still angry?” he asked against your skin.
Your fingers tangled in his hair immediately.
“Yes—”
A laugh vibrated against you. You were still trying to rant between shaky breaths.
“I still think you’re controlling—”
“Uhuh.”
“And annoying—”
“Sure.”
“And I wanna go to Seychelles,” you breathed out shakily, words barely coherent anymore.
Mingyu’s hands tightened slightly around your thighs at the request, his mouth dragging slow and teasing against sensitive skin before he answered without hesitation.
“Okay.”
Your brain short-circuited for a second.
“What?”
He glanced up at you , dark eyes calm like this conversation wasn’t happening while you were sprawled beneath him completely ruined.
“We’ll go next week.”
You blinked down at him, stunned. “…Really?”
“Yes."
Then his attention dropped back to you again, completely unbothered.
Just like that. Like rearranging international flights and clearing schedules across two continents was nothing.
To Kim Mingyu, maybe it wasn’t.
Your fingers tightened in his hair slightly, still trying to process how easily he gave in to you sometimes.
“And I want a new car too,” you said immediately, taking advantage of the moment.
Mingyu laughed softly under his breath this time. “You already bought one tonight.”
“That was an anger car.”
That actually made him pause. Then he laughed properly. Full laugh.
Warm and deep and completely disbelieving while he shook his head slightly.
“An anger car?”
“Yes.”
“What’s this one for then?”
You thought about it for a second through the haze in your brain before answering seriously. "A forgiveness car.”
Mingyu looked up at you like you were genuinely ridiculous. But there was too much affection in his eyes for the judgement to land properly.
“Fine,” he said anyway. Of course he did.
You narrowed your eyes suspiciously despite how dazed you already felt.
“You’re only agreeing because you’re distracting me.”
“Is it working?”
His smug smile against your thigh made heat crawl all the way up your neck.
“Yes.”
Mingyu looked far too satisfied hearing that.
Now, you thrash above him, grabbing at the sheets and at his head as you come undone.
Arching your back so pretty, pressing your wet core right on his face as he laps you up.
He knows he was hard on you today, and you need the extra attention.
Mingyu makes you orgasm three times before coming up got air, kissing you possessively so you can taste yourself on him.
And you're more docile now, you always were after he's tamed you and gotten you off. Like you've orgasmed the brattiness out of you.
Except it never lasts long, but he'd take what he could get.
He tucked the blankets around you carefully once you started falling asleep, pressing a kiss into your hair while you mumbled incoherently about beach clubs in Seychelles.
could u please write something idol!yn x idol!mingyu where they get in the same situation kai from exo and krystal from f(x) got a few years back
(pretty sure it was 2017 and someone caught them buying three packs of condoms 😭 at a convenience store and the cashier even posted the receipt as proof…kai and krystal even bought a bunch of random shit just to try and be slick and their asses still got caught 😭
Caught red handed || Kim Mingyu x idol!reader
A/n: THIS IS SO FUNNY HAHHA
Wc: 1,475
Warnings: none!!
MASTERLIST (idol!reader au masterlist)
-
The first thing you notice is that Mingyu is being suspiciously affectionate.
Not in the obvious way he sometimes got when he missed you after schedules.
He keeps pulling you into him every time you pass by the kitchen, resting his chin on top of your head while you scroll through your phone, kissing the side of your neck every few minutes like he's trying to distract you from something.
You're sitting cross-legged on the couch in one of his hoodies while some random variety show plays in the background. The apartment is dim except for the yellow glow from the kitchen lights and the television flickering across the living room walls.
Mingyu disappears into the bedroom for a moment before reappearing with his wallet in hand. “We need to go to the convenience store.”
You blink slowly up at him. “Right now?”
Mingyu leans against the kitchen island with his arms folded across his chest, already dressed in a hoodie, “yeah.”
You glance toward the digital clock glowing beneath the television. 11:47 PM.
Your brows pull together immediately. “It’s nearly midnight.”
“And?” he asks easily, like that means absolutely nothing.
The answer comes way too casually. That alone makes you suspicious.
You narrow your eyes at him instantly, studying the expression hidden behind his annoyingly pretty face. Mingyu only acts this relaxed when he is hiding something.
Usually it comes with a smile exactly like the one he is trying not to show right now, lips twitching at the corners like he already knows something you do not.
“You’re weird,” you mumble slowly.
His grin appears immediately, boyish and completely unapologetic. “You love me.”
You stare at him flatly. “That doesn’t answer my question.”
He pushes himself off the counter and walks over toward the couch, stopping right in front of you before reaching down to tug lightly at the blanket wrapped around your legs. “I want snacks.”
“You could’ve ordered them.”
“I don’t want delivery.”
There's a split second pause before you laugh in disbelief because that is objectively the biggest lie he has ever told.
“You literally order everything,” you say, sitting up straighter now. “Groceries. Toothpaste. Protein bars. You ordered batteries online once because you said you were too lazy to go downstairs.”
“That was different.”
“How so?”
“It just was.” You squint at him harder.
“No,” you say slowly. “See, now you’re definitely hiding something.”
Mingyu exhales through his nose like he is trying not to laugh. “I’m not hiding anything.”
“You’re literally smiling.”
“I always smile at you.”
“Smooth,” you admit reluctantly.
“I know.”
You stare at him for another few seconds before sighing dramatically and throwing your phone onto the couch cushions. “If Dispatch catches us buying instant ramen at midnight, I’m blaming you.”
Mingyu’s eyes brighten with victory so quickly it almost makes you regret agreeing. “They won’t.”
You point at him accusingly. “You said that last time and then somebody uploaded a photo of us holding matching umbrellas.”
“That was romantic.”
“That was humiliating.”
He only laughs before leaning down to press a quick kiss against your forehead, entirely too pleased with himself.
“Go put shoes on, baby.”
~
Twenty minutes later, the two of you are stepping out of the apartment building dressed like the most suspicious people alive.
Both of you are in oversized hoodies and sweatpants. Caps pulled low. Face masks covering most of your faces.
You even changed your phone case because Mingyu once claimed sasaengs could identify idols by accessories alone, which still sounded insane to you.
The problem is that Mingyu is unfortunately still very recognisable no matter what he wears.
He is too tall. Too broad. Too handsome.
Even hidden beneath layers, he still looks unmistakably like Mingyu.
The convenience store down the street is almost empty when you walk in. You grab a basket while Mingyu wanders toward the drinks section.
“You’re not even gonna tell me what we came here for?” you ask.
“Nope.”
You shake your head before drifting through the aisles alone. At first you genuinely only grab one bag of chips, but then the late-night convenience store cravings hit you all at once.
Strawberry milk. Gummy candies. Instant tteokbokki. Ice cream. Two random pastries you absolutely do not need. A cup ramen because suddenly you are starving.
You toss things into the basket absentmindedly while humming quietly to yourself, occasionally glancing around for Mingyu.
Every now and then you catch sight of him at the end of another aisle, towering over shelves while reading labels.
At one point you notice two teenage girls near the drinks fridge staring very hard in his direction.
One of them grabs the other’s arm so aggressively that her juice nearly falls out of her hands.
You immediately duck your head lower beneath your cap.
Oh, great.
Mingyu either does not notice or simply does not care. Probably the second option.
By the time you make it to the checkout counter, your basket is embarrassingly full.
You set it down with a sigh while fishing around in your hoodie pocket for your phone.
The cashier glances up lazily at first before completely freezing. His eyes flick between you and Mingyu. Then widen. Immediate recognition.
Mingyu finally walks over beside you, one hand tucked into his hoodie pocket casually. And then, without a single ounce of shame, he drops three boxes into the basket.
Three packets of extra large condoms. Your entire soul leaves your body. You stare at the boxes. Then at him. Then back at the boxes again. Wide-eyed.
“Mingyu.” The word comes out somewhere between a whisper and a threat.
His gaze moves to you innocently. “What?”
You lower your voice instantly. “WHAT is that?”
Mingyu follows your stare down into the basket like he genuinely has no idea what you are referring to. Then he looks back at you. “Condoms.”
“I can SEE that.”
“We were out.”
Your mouth opens. Closes. Then opens again because the complete calmness in his voice is making this infinitely worse.
Around you, the convenience store suddenly feels painfully quiet.
The cashier, who had looked mildly bored thirty seconds ago, is now staring at the ramen noodles like it’s the most interesting thing in the world.
You can physically feel the heat crawling up your neck beneath your mask.
“Mingyu,” you hiss quietly, “you could’ve bought one.”
He shrugs. “I bought three.”
“That’s not helping.”
His eyes crease with amusement above the edge of his black mask, shoulders relaxing like this entire situation is perfectly normal to him.
“Babe, relax.”
“Relax?” you whisper sharply, glancing nervously toward the cashier before lowering your voice even further. “He knows who we are.”
At that exact moment, the cashier avoids looking at either of you so aggressively that it only confirms your fears.
Meanwhile, Mingyu stands there completely shameless, one hand in the pocket of his hoodie while the other lazily taps against the counter.
“Okay,” he says reasonably, “but we still needed them.”
You stare at him in genuine disbelief.
“How are you not embarrassed right now?”
That finally makes him look at you properly, brows lifting slightly beneath the brim of his cap like the thought had genuinely never crossed his mind.
“Why would I be embarrassed?”
“You just threw giant condoms into the basket in public.”
“So?”
“So?” you repeat incredulously. “Do you want the public to know what size condoms you use?”
“There’s one person here.”
“That’s not the point.”
His gaze flicks toward the cashier for half a second before returning to you again, completely unbothered.
“He doesn’t care.”
The cashier suddenly scans the chips with unnecessary intensity. Beep. Beep. Beep. The sound somehow makes everything worse.
“You’re cute when you’re embarrassed.” You stare at him in disbelief. “Besides, all I did was buy condoms.”
“Three boxes of them? Really?”
He tilts his head slightly. “You say that like it’s my fault we go through them fast.”
You make the most offended sound imaginable while the cashier nearly misses scanning the strawberry milk.
~
On the walk home, you keep smacking his arm while he carries the plastic bags with zero remorse whatsoever.
“You are actually unbelievable.”
“What did I do?”
Your head snaps toward him so fast your cap nearly falls off.
“You could’ve ordered them online like you do with literally everything else!” you whisper-yell while walking beside him down the quiet street, your sneakers scuffing against the pavement as you struggle to keep up with his stupidly long legs.
“Why would you buy something so—”
You cut yourself off abruptly, hands flailing in frustration because you genuinely cannot find the words to describe how insane that entire interaction had been.
Humiliating? Mortifying? Life ruining?
You let out a defeated groan instead, dropping your head back dramatically toward the night sky. “Oh my god.”
Beside you, Mingyu looks entirely unbothered . Actually, no. Worse. He looks pleased with himself.
“You’re overreacting,” he says lightly.
You whip your head toward him immediately. “I am NOT overreacting.”
“You kind of are.”
“The cashier literally saw—”
“He’s probably seen people buy condoms before.”
“Not you!”
That finally earns a laugh out of him. A real one this time. Low and warm and completely unhelpful.
“We needed them immediately.”
The words come out so casually that your brain almost does not process them at first. Then it does.
You stop walking instantly.
Mingyu takes another step before noticing you are no longer beside him. He turns around slowly, streetlights casting soft gold across the edges of his face beneath his cap.
You stare at him. He stares back calmly. Completely serious. Then he gives the smallest shrug imaginable. Like that explanation should make perfect sense to you.
Your jaw drops. “Mingyu.” His mouth twitches. “You’re so annoying!”
The satisfaction in his eyes is immediate. Pure smug amusement sparkles there while he walks back toward you slowly, hands tucked into the pockets of his hoodie now.
“And yet,” he says smoothly, stopping right in front of you, “you still came home with me.”
You groan loudly, shoving his shoulder hard enough to make him laugh again.
“But am I wrong?”
“Yes.”
“You hesitated.”
“I did not.”
“You did.”
“Shut up.”
He grins beneath his mask, eyes practically glowing with amusement while you try to ignore how unfairly attractive he looks standing there under the streetlights.
“You’re lucky I love you,” you mumble finally.
His fingers slide easily between yours.
“I know,” he says quietly.
Then, because he cannot help himself, he leans down close enough for you to feel his breath against the top edge of your mask.
“Good thing too. Otherwise those three boxes would’ve gone to waste.”
You stare at him in complete horror before smacking his arm again while he laughs loud enough to echo down the empty street.
~
The next morning is catastrophic. Absolutely catastrophic.
You wake up to your phone vibrating nonstop against the bedside table.
At first you think it is your manager. Then you see the sheer number of notifications. Messages from friends. Messages from staff. Messages from members. Missed calls.
Your stomach drops immediately.
Beside you, Mingyu is still half asleep, face pressed into your shoulder. You unlock your phone. And nearly scream. Worldwide trending.
He leans down to kiss you despite your complaints, smiling against your lips while you groan in embarrassment.
Photos of you and Mingyu walking into the convenience store. Photos of you leaving. A blurry zoomed-in picture of Mingyu holding the plastic bag.
And somehow, horrifyingly, a leaked photo of the receipt. You stare at the screen in complete silence. Then another post appears captioned: “NOT THE THREE XL PACKS?????”
You throw your phone onto the bed. “Mingyu.”
He hums sleepily.
“Mingyu.”
“What?”
“We’re trending.”
That wakes him up slightly. “For what?”
You just point at the phone with the expression of somebody moments away from losing their mind. He picks it up.
Scrolls. Reads. And then the audacity of this man.
He starts laughing. Actually laughing. You’re horrified. “Mingyu, this is not funny.”
“It’s a little funny.”
“The cashier POSTED THE RECEIPT.”
He bursts into louder laughter at that, falling back against the pillows while you bury your face into your hands in pure humiliation.
“Oh my god,” you mumble miserably. “I can never show my face again.”
“You’re being dramatic.”
“People know what size condoms you use now.”
“That’s not exactly devastating for me.”
You look at him in disbelief. He’s still grinning. Still completely unbothered.
Then he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you down against his chest despite your protests.
“You know,” he says casually, “the comments seem pretty supportive.”
You groan loudly into the pillow.
He only laughs again before kissing the top of your head, entirely too pleased with himself while your dignity dies in real time across the internet.
NEED to see mingyu x idol reader who’s not afraid of dating rumours and maybes she’s mc for music bank and seventeen gets interviewed and reader is shameless 😭😭
The art of not caring || Kim Mingyu x kpop idol!reader
A/n: No bc if I woke up tomorrow and was a kpop idol I genuinely would not gaf and admire all the fine shyts SHAMELESSLY and start up dating rumours for funzies
Wc: 1,918
Warnings: NONE
MASTERLIST (idol!reader au masterlist)
~
The first time the clip starts making rounds online, it is edited exactly the way everyone expects it to be.
The footage is slowed down dramatically with soft R&B music layered over the top, the camera zooming in so aggressively that half the members are practically cropped out of frame altogether.
Someone adds sparkles during one particularly bad moment where you are very obviously staring at Mingyu instead of paying attention to the interview, and the caption across the screen reads “she is NOT subtle 😭”
The worst part is that you cannot even pretend the edit is misleading because it really was that obvious.
At the time, though, standing beneath the harsh studio lights of Music Bank with cue cards tucked neatly in your hands and cameras pointed at every angle of your face, you genuinely had not been thinking about how clips would look online afterward.
You had not been thinking about rumours or fan edits or articles dissecting your behaviour frame by frame.
You had only been thinking about the fact that Kim Mingyu was standing a few feet away from you.
And somehow, unfairly enough, he looked even better in person.
Not just handsome because plenty of idols were handsome. Mingyu had this ridiculously effortless presence about him that made him impossible not to stare at.
He stood out immediately even among the rest of his members because of how broad he was, his dark hair styled loosely away from his forehead, his posture relaxed despite the cameras following his every movement.
There was something warm about him too, something easy and naturally charming that felt dangerous when combined with a face like his.
Unfortunately for you, he also happened to be exactly your type.
“Welcome back to Music Bank!” you say brightly, slipping into your MC voice with ease.
Beside you, your co-host smoothly continues the introduction, but you barely absorb half of what he is saying because your attention keeps drifting toward the group standing beside you.
You had seen the lineup earlier that morning. You already knew Seventeen would be there.
Still, nothing could have properly prepared you for the actual sight of Mingyu standing so close to you under bright stage lighting.
The members bow politely once the cameras settle on them, introducing their comeback.
Mingyu bows too, his tall frame folding neatly despite how large he looks compared to almost everyone around him, and when he straightens again his eyes lift instinctively.
Straight toward you.
The eye contact only lasts a couple of seconds, but it feels strangely heavy anyway.
Most idols would glance away politely after a moment because that is what people in your industry are trained to do.
Everything is calculated carefully. Every interaction is measured. Nobody wants to feed unnecessary rumours.
You, unfortunately, have never been particularly good at pretending.
So instead of looking away, you simply hold his gaze. Completely shamelessly.
Not because you are trying to create a moment fans will obsess over later, but because you genuinely do not see the point in acting uninterested when you very obviously are interested.
Your members always joke that every thought you have shows up directly on your face, and right now your face is probably giving away far too much.
You smile at him. Not the bright smile perfected for cameras and broadcast clips, but a real one that softens your entire expression without you even realising it.
And immediately, his expression changes too.
It is subtle enough that most people would miss it completely, but you catch the slight shift in his face as if he was not expecting you to look at him so openly.
His eyebrows lift almost imperceptibly, and the corners of his mouth twitch upward in quiet amusement.
Beside you, your co-host lightly taps the back of your cue cards.
Right. Professionalism. You can still manage professionalism. Probably.
“So,” you begin smoothly, turning fully toward the group even though your attention naturally settles on Mingyu again almost immediately, “you have finally returned with a new comeback. How does it feel to be back performing again after all the preparation?”
S.Coups answers first, as expected, speaking confidently about the album and how hard the members worked preparing for promotions.
You nod attentively in all the right places, reacting appropriately whenever the cameras swing toward you, but every few seconds your eyes drift back toward Mingyu without permission.
It is not even subtle.
At one point he is not speaking at all and is simply standing beside his members listening carefully, yet somehow you still end up watching him instead of the person actively answering the question.
You notice the way he nods slightly while listening.
The way he presses his lips together like he is holding back a smile at something one of the members says. The way one hand rests casually around the microphone near his waist.
It's ridiculous, honestly. Your eyes keep finding him like they are magnetised.
Eventually, inevitably, he notices. Again.
You see the exact second it registers for him because his posture shifts slightly and his attention flicks back toward you with something noticeably more curious in his expression this time.
There is amusement there too, like he is trying to figure out whether you are genuinely flirting with him during a live broadcast or whether you are naturally just this bold.
You do not back down even slightly. Instead, you continue holding his gaze without embarrassment.
Your co-host quietly clears his throat beside you. You ignore him completely.
“And Mingyu-ssi,” you say finally, directing the next question toward him specifically, your voice unconsciously softer than it had been moments earlier, “I heard you participated a lot in the choreography details for this comeback?”
S.Coups hands him the microphone with the faintest grin already threatening to appear on his face. Traitor.
Mingyu takes the mic from him easily, fingers wrapping around it while he nods once. “Yes,” he answers calmly, “I helped with some of the smaller details during practice.”
His voice sounds deeper standing this close. You hum quietly in acknowledgment, eyes dropping before you can stop yourself.
His hands. Long fingers curled around the microphone. The veins visible along his wrist beneath the stage lights.
Then your gaze travels upward again until you are looking directly at his face.
“Mm,” you say slowly, smiling again before you can help yourself. “It shows.”
There is a tiny pause afterward that lasts less than a second, but every person standing there feels it immediately.
Mingyu’s eyebrows lift slightly in surprise. Your co-host physically turns toward another member before the silence stretches any longer.
You nearly laugh.
The interview continues normally after that, at least outwardly, but the atmosphere has already shifted completely.
The members notice. The staff definitely notice.
At one point you ask another question while Mingyu is already looking at you, and the smile he gives afterward feels noticeably less polite and noticeably more entertained.
Every single camera in the studio catches it perfectly.
You don't t think much about the interview afterward because schedules move too quickly for that.
The second filming finishes, you are already being rushed off for outfit changes and rehearsals while your manager talks through tomorrow’s plans beside you. The interview becomes just another part of the workday.
A very distracting part, admittedly, but still just work.
It isn't until later that night when you are sitting in the practice room scrolling absentmindedly through your phone that your manager walks in holding hers with an expression that immediately tells you something online has spiralled out of control.
She slowly holds the screen toward you. “You might want to see this.”
The first edit already has over two million views. Then another. Then ten more. Every platform is flooded with clips from the interview. Slow motion edits replaying every glance you gave him.
Zoom-ins of you staring directly at Mingyu while another member was speaking.
Clips highlighting the exact moment your eyes dropped briefly toward his hands before lifting back to his face.
The comments are moving so quickly you can barely process them.
“OH she wants him BAD 😭”
“The tension is actually insane”
“Mingyu trying not to smile has me crying”
“No because she looked at him like she already picked the wedding date”
“I have never seen an MC flirt this openly on national television before”
You press your lips together tightly, trying not to smile while scrolling.
Your phone buzzes seconds later with a message from your co-host.
"you are actually insane btw"
You laugh quietly to yourself before replying.
"what? i was just doing my job :)}
Three seconds later he sends back a screenshot. It' s a photo of you blatantly staring at Mingyu while another member answers a question.
You are not even pretending to listen. Maybe you had been slightly obvious.
The dating rumours begin almost immediately afterward because of course they do. It's Kim Mingyu.
Fans start compiling “evidence” within hours. Old interactions at award shows suddenly resurface online.
People dig up clips of you mentioning Seventeen songs during livestreams months ago. Entire threads appear analysing Mingyu’s reactions to you frame by frame.
But unlike most idols in your situation, you don't panic. You don't deny anything. You don't suddenly act nonchalant whenever Seventeen is around.
You continue exactly as normal. Still smiling at him backstage. Still greeting him comfortably whenever your paths cross. Still looking directly at him whenever he speaks.
And somehow that only makes people lose their minds even more.
~
A few days later, Mingyu starts a livestream after practice.
He's sitting in what looks like his living room wearing a dark hoodie with damp hair falling loosely across his forehead like he had just showered before turning the camera on.
The livestream starts casually with thousands of comments flooding the screen instantly while he talks comfortably about comeback promotions and upcoming schedules.
Then suddenly he pauses while reading something.
“…Who’s my favourite Music Bank MC?”
The corner of his mouth twitches immediately afterward.
You can practically see the memory replaying in his head in real time. The interview. The eye contact. The way you openly stared at him without even trying to hide it.
He leans back slightly, pretending to think carefully about the answer.
“These days?” he says casually, though there is something deliberate underneath the tone.
Then he smiles. Small but unmistakable. “I think Y/n.”
The livestream chat explodes instantly. Comments begin moving so fast they become impossible to read.
Mingyu laughs right afterward and rubs the back of his neck almost shyly, like he has suddenly realised exactly what he just said out loud to thousands of people watching.
But he never takes it back. If anything, he makes it worse.
“She’s very professional,” he continues lightly, eyes crinkling slightly at the corners while he smiles. “She takes really good care of us.”
The teasing undertone in his voice is impossible to miss.
By the time the livestream ends, clips are already spreading across every social media platform imaginable.
The next morning your names are trending together again. Fans are losing their minds connecting his answer back to the interview clips, completely convinced now that the interest is mutual.
Your manager looks exhausted. Your members scream every time your phone vibrates with another notification.
And you sit there replaying the clip over and over again, staring slightly too long at the smile on Mingyu’s face after he says your name.
Hi!!! i was wondering if you could write one where reader x mingyu are at a club/house party and they are drunk and/or high and super touchy, partying, kissing, etc. just very fluffy and cute, the whole nine yards basically lol🩷🩷 I love your writing, i’m always on the look out for your post!!! tons of love sent your way🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼
Drunk in love || Kim Mingyu x fem!reader
A/n: this was so cute i couldn't stop giggling and kicking my feet while writing this hehehe
Wc: 1,079
Warnings: pure fluff!!
MASTERLIST
-
You’re already a little gone.
Not completely, just that floaty, soft-edged feeling were everything’s funnier.
Your head feels light, your limbs a little slower, and every time you blink, it’s like the world lags half a second behind.
And Mingyu? Mingyu is worse.
He’s standing in front of you with his sleeves pushed up, hair slightly messy like he’s run his hands through it one too many times, cheeks flushed just enough to give him away.
There’s a drink in his hand, but he hasn’t taken a sip in a while, too busy looking at you like you’re the only person in the room.
“You good? You've been staring at me for the past three minutes," you mumble, half-smiling, words a little slurred as you sway closer to him without even realising.
“I always stare,” he shoots back immediately, but there’s a lazy grin pulling at his lips, softer than usual. His eyes drop to your mouth for a second before flicking back up. “You’re just noticing it more.”
You laugh, but it comes out quieter than you expect, because he’s stepping closer at the same time, and suddenly there’s barely any space between you.
His free hand finds your waist like it belongs there, fingers spreading, warm even through the thin fabric of your top.
It’s not subtle. Not even a little. But neither of you care.
“Did you drink all that already?” he asks, nodding toward your empty cup, though his thumb is already tracing slow circles against your hip like he’s forgotten the question halfway through.
“Maybe,” you shrug, leaning into him more than you probably should. Your hands slide up his arms, feeling the solid muscle there, grounding yourself. “Why, you gonna cut me off?”
He huffs out a laugh, shaking his head. “Why would I? I like you like this.”
“Like what?” you tilt your head, pretending to be suspicious, but you’re smiling.
He leans down, “Soft,” he says in your ear over the music. “Clingy.”
You scoff, but it’s weak, because yeah. You are.
Your fingers curl into the front of his shirt, tugging him just a little closer, and he goes easily, like he’s been waiting for it. His forehead dips until it almost touches yours, and for a second, the noise around you fades into nothing.
It’s just him.
“You’re clingy too,” you murmur, eyes flicking down to where his hand is still firmly on your waist.
“Yeah,” he shrugs, not even trying to deny it. “But I’ve got an excuse.”
“What’s that?”
“You.”
It’s so stupid. So simple.
But the way he says it makes your stomach do somersaults.
You don’t even realise you’re smiling like an idiot until he reaches up, brushing his thumb over your cheek like he’s trying to smooth it out.
“Come here,” he mutters, and then he’s kissing you.
It’s not rushed or messy like you’d expect at a party like this. It’s slow, a little uncoordinated because you’re both a bit out of it, but soft in a way that makes your chest ache.
His hand tightens on your waist, pulling you flush against him, and you can taste whatever he was drinking, sweet, a little bitter, mixed with him.
You hum against his lips without thinking, fingers sliding up to the back of his neck, and he reacts instantly, kissing you deeper, like he can’t help it.
Someone whistles nearby. You both ignore it.
“Get a room!” someone yells, followed by a chorus of laughter, but Mingyu just leans his forehead against yours, breathing out a quiet laugh.
“Should we?” he murmurs, half-joking, but his hand hasn’t moved. If anything, it’s pulling you closer.
You roll your eyes, but you’re still smiling. “You’re so annoying.”
“Mm,” he nods, like he agrees, then presses another quick kiss to your lips. “But you like me.”
You don’t answer.
Instead, you tug him toward the living room where people are dancing, the lights dimmer, the music louder. It’s easier to disappear there, easier to just be.
He follows without question.
The second you stop, he’s behind you, hands settling on your hips again, guiding you back against him. You can feel his chest against your back, his breath near your ear, warm and uneven.
“Careful,” he murmurs, voice low. “You’re gonna fall.”
“I’m fine,” you insist, but you lean into him anyway, letting him hold most of your weight.
His grip tightens just slightly, protective without being overbearing, and he starts swaying with you, moving you both to the rhythm without even thinking about it.
It’s easy like this. Too easy.
You tilt your head back, resting it against his shoulder, and he immediately dips his head, pressing a lazy kiss to your temple. Then another, a little lower, just near your cheek.
“Mingyu,” you mumble, half laughing because it tickles.
“What?” he smiles against your skin, not stopping.
“You’re doing too much.”
“Not enough, actually,” he counters, turning you around so fast you barely catch it, and now you’re facing him again, hands automatically finding his chest to steady yourself.
He looks a little dazed. Like you feel.
“C’mere,” he says again, softer this time, like he keeps forgetting you’re already right there.
You don’t argue.
Your arms loop around his neck, his hands slide down to your waist, and you end up kissing again, slow, sweet, a little messy when you both start smiling into it for no reason.
The party keeps going around you. People dancing, shouting, music changing.
But you’re kind of in your own little bubble, swaying together in the middle of it all, laughing over nothing, stealing kisses like you’ve got all the time in the world.
At some point, he presses his forehead to yours again, eyes half-lidded, lips still curved.
“You’re really pretty, you know that?” he says, completely out of nowhere.
You groan, hiding your face against his chest. “You’re drunk.”
“I’m serious,” he insists, wrapping his arms around you properly now, pulling you into a loose hug. “Like… really pretty.”
You don’t say anything. Just hug him back, a little tighter than before.
And he just stays there with you, swaying slightly, chin resting on top of your head.
Summary: Mingyu can’t seem to keep his hands off you in the gym 🤭
Wc: 1,126
Warnings: none :)
A/n: soz for the inactivity..... went on a lil break lol
MASTERLIST
-
You know the second you walk into the gym with Mingyu that this was a mistake. Not because working out with your boyfriend is inherently bad.
But because your boyfriend is incapable of acting normal around you for longer than maybe three consecutive minutes in public.
And unfortunately for you, today he’s in one of those moods.
The gym is busy for a weekday evening. Mingyu walks beside you, your pink water bottle in hand, black duffel bag slung over his shoulder, fitted compression shirt stretched obscenely tight across his chest
You try very hard not to look.
“You’re staring,” he says immediately.
“I’m literally not.”
“You were.”
“I was looking at the squat rack.”
“Mhm.” His mouth twitches. “And the squat rack happens to have my body attached to it?”
You scoff, shoving his arm lightly as he laughs under his breath.
The problem with Mingyu is that he knows exactly what he looks like.
Not in an arrogant way exactly, but in a deeply dangerous way. He knows the effect he has on you.
Knows precisely how to use that stupid deep voice and those broad hands and that smug little smile against you.
And the second you start stretching near the mirrors, it begins.
“You’re not warming up properly,” he says from behind you.
You barely glance over your shoulder. “I am.”
“Nope.” Before you can react, his hands settle on your waist.
“Mingyu—”
“Relax,” he says easily, like he has every right in the world to touch you whenever he wants. “Your stance is uneven.”
His fingers press into your hips gently, guiding you wider apart. Then he nudges one of your knees with his own.
“There,” he murmurs. “Better.”
You glance at the mirror in front of you and immediately regret it because he’s standing directly behind you, chest almost against your back, towering over you in dark sweats and that tight black shirt.
People are around. People can absolutely see this.
“You’re doing too much,” you mutter.
“I’m coaching.”
“You are not a coach.”
He leans closer, lips near your ear. “Could be.” The heat creeping up your neck is humiliating.
You bend forward to stretch your hamstrings and instantly feel his palm slide flat against your lower back.
“Straight spine,” he says.
You close your eyes slowly. “You just wanted an excuse to touch me.”
“That’s crazy,” he replies smoothly. “This is important.”
His hand drags down slightly before tapping your hip twice.
“You’re too tense.”
“I wonder why.”
He laughs quietly at that. By the time you move to the dumbbell section, he’s somehow gotten worse.
You pick up a pair of weights, preparing for shoulder presses, but the second you lift them, Mingyu is behind you again.
“Your elbows,” he says.
“They’re fine.”
“They’re not.”
His hands close around your forearms before you can argue. Slowly, carefully, he adjusts your posture, pressing your elbows inward slightly.
“There.”
You swallow.
His touch should not affect you this much after being together this long, but somehow it still does.
Maybe because Mingyu is naturally affectionate. Constantly touching. Constantly reaching for you without thinking.
Hand on your thigh in the car. Fingers hooked through your belt loops while waiting in line. Palm at the small of your back guiding you through crowds.
But at the gym it becomes unbearable because everything feels heightened somehow.
Especially when he’s focused on you like this.
“Again,” he says softly. You lift the weights.
“Good girl.” Your arms nearly give out.
“Mingyu.”
“What?” he asks innocently.
“You can’t just say things like that.” He grins immediately.
“Like what?” You glare at him.
“That?” he teases.
You rack the weights with more force than necessary. “You’re actually so annoying.”
“No, baby, your form was genuinely good.”
His smile widens when you avoid eye contact.
He follows you toward the cable machines looking entirely too pleased with himself. A few people glance his way as he walks past, which is expected, honestly.
Mingyu in a gym is kind of ridiculous. Tall, handsome, built like he was genetically engineered in a lab specifically to ruin your concentration.
You sit down at the rowing machine. Immediately, he crouches beside you.
“Chest up,” he says.
You pull the cable. “Mm.”
“No, seriously.” His hand slides between your shoulder blades. “You’re rounding.”
You almost jerk forward from the contact. “Mingyu,” you hiss quietly.
“What?”
“Stop touching me every five seconds.”
His eyebrows lift like he’s genuinely surprised by the complaint. “You don’t want me touching you?”
The smugness underneath the question makes you narrow your eyes. “You know that’s not what I meant.”
“Then explain it to me.”
“You’re being clingy.”
“I’m being attentive.”
“You’re hovering.”
“I’m helping.”
“You’ve corrected my posture twelve times.”
“Because it keeps needing correction.”
You stare at him flatly. “You’re lying.”
He smiles without shame. “Maybe a little.” God.
You finish the set and stand up, but the second you do, he reaches out automatically to steady you by the waist.
You look down at his hands. He doesn’t move them.
“Mingyu.”
“Hm?”
“You’re proving my point.”
“About?”
“You being obsessed with me.”
That finally makes him laugh properly. Head tipped back slightly, eyes crinkling at the corners.
“I thought we established that already.”
You try not to smile. Fail miserably.
The next thirty minutes are torture. Because every single exercise somehow becomes an excuse.
Squats? His hand pressing lightly against your lower back while telling you to brace your core.
Lat pulldowns? Fingers brushing your shoulders while adjusting your grip.
Lunges? Palm wrapped around your thigh because apparently your “alignment is off.”
At one point he stands behind you during a plank and gently taps your ass.
“Lower,” he says. You collapse immediately onto the mat.
“I quit.” He bursts out laughing.
“I’m serious.”
“You lasted forty seconds.”
“Because somebody keeps distracting me.”
He kneels beside you, forearms resting on his thighs as he looks down at you with that stupidly handsome face.
“I distract you?” he asks softly. You groan and cover your face with your hands.
“That bad, huh?”
“You know exactly what you’re doing.”
His fingers curl around your wrists, gently pulling your hands away from your face. The grin he gives you is unbearably pretty.
“I just like touching my girlfriend.”
Your stomach flips a little at the casual sincerity in his voice.
“You could try acting normal,” you mumble.
“I am acting normal.”
“No one else here is basically making out during their workout.”
His eyes flick briefly to your mouth.
“Who said I wouldn’t if you let me?”
You stare at him. He stares back completely unashamed.
Then, before you can respond, he stands and offers you his hand.
“Come on,” he says. “One more exercise.”
You let him pull you up.
And somehow, despite all your complaining, your fingers stay tangled with his the entire way there.
Summary: At a chaotic afterparty, Jungkook’s cold, degrading treatment finally breaks you, and Mingyu—who’s been quietly watching all along—steps in, defends you, and shows you what it feels like to actually be cared for.
Wc: 1,895
Warnings: toxic jungkook, dubcon
A/n: after i made that poll on what fic i should post next so many of u went to my inbox begging for this so its finally here!!!1
MASTERLIST
-
You looked good tonight.
It wasn’t just your outfit, or the way your hair fell perfectly despite hours under hot lights.
It was the way you carried yourself. Exactly the kind of image the industry loved.
Exactly the kind of image Jungkook had started treating you as. An image.
Something pretty to stand beside him at events. Something that fit well into headlines and fan edits. Something that elevated him.
Every after party you walked into, he'd put his arm around you and whisper in your ear like you were the only girl in the world.
Until you weren't.
Until he started forgetting to compliment you. Until his texts became dry and slow. Until he started calling you "dramatic" when you cried, or "clingy" when you asked for more attention.
You'd been brushing it off, making excuses to your friends and to yourself.
But you couldn't ignore the way it chipped away at you. How it left you questioning your own worth. Especially not tonight.
You'd come with Jungkook, as always. He was your boyfriend, after all. Dated for just under six months now.
But there was something off. Always had been. That smile that felt a little too practiced.
That charm that cut like a knife if you looked too closely. The subtle arrogance he hid behind every compliment.
That casual way he could make you feel like you were the centre of the room one moment, and invisible the next.
The afterparty was already buzzing when you walked in on his arm.
The music was loud, a high-energy remix pulsing from speakers.
Jungkook’s hand rested lightly on your waist, but it was the kind of touch that claimed you in public without ever actually seeing you.
He leaned down slightly. “Stay close, yeah?”
It sounded sweet. But it wasn’t. Not really.
He scanned the room, eyes hunting for his friends, but you spotted Mingyu first, leaning casually against the far wall, his drink in hand, just observing.
His eyes caught yours, and for a beat, he held your gaze.
Then his eyes dropped to your bare legs, your heels, the way Jungkook's hand was too tight on your waist. He took a long sip of his drink and looked away.
“Hey, Mingyu,” you greeted politely as you passed, offering a small, tentative smile.
He didn’t return it the way anyone else might. No casual grin, no playful wink, just the faintest tilt of his head, his eyes flicking over you.
“You good?” he asked quietly, his voice low but steady.
There was a sincerity there that made your chest tighten.
Mingyu wasn’t soft with most people. Not even his closest friends.
But with you it was different. Always different.
“Yeah. I’m fine,” you said, forcing your tone even, biting your lip before you looked away.
You let Jungkook tug you deeper into the crowd, past laughing idols and flashing cameras, past the music pulsing too loud in your ears.
An hour in, you were already tired of pretending.
Tired of laughing at his crude jokes, tired of the way he tugged you close only to ignore you five seconds later.
Then Jungkook leaned down, drunk, lips hot against your ear. “Let's go upstairs.” You hesitated. He didn’t notice.
He just tugged your wrist gently but firmly, guiding you down a side hallway away from the crowded lounge.
You followed—because that’s what girlfriends do, right?
You wanted this to be okay. You wanted tonight to feel like it used to.
Wanted to feel close to him again.
But as soon as he shut the bedroom door behind you, it all fell apart.
He didn’t kiss you gently.
Didn’t ask if you were okay.
Didn’t notice when your breath hitched in your throat or when you froze up beneath his grip.
The whole thing was rushed, robotic.
He wad rough with his hands, yanked your dress up like it was in the way, not part of you.
He muttered filthy things, not out of affection, but like he was trying to degrade you.
You flinched when he slapped your ass too hard.
“Don’t be a baby,” Jungkook muttered, almost impatient, rolling his eyes. “You can handle it.”
You didn’t respond. You just stared at the ceiling, cheeks burning, nails digging into your palms as if you could claw the feeling out of your skin.
When it was finally over—when he zipped up and turned away without a word—you pressed your hands to your dress, smoothing it down with trembling fingers.
Jungkook didn’t even look at you as he grabbed his phone.
“I’m gonna head back downstairs,” he muttered.
“Fix yourself up before you come down. You look like a mess.”
And just like that, he was gone.
No kiss. No comfort. No asking if you were okay. Just a careless dismissal.
You sat on the edge of the couch for a long, shaky thirty seconds, blinking fast.
Your throat burned.
Fingers trembling, you smoothed down your outfit, trying to convince yourself it wasn’t as bad as it felt.
When you finally opened the door, you almost walked right past him.
Mingyu.
He had just come out from around the corner, expression tightening the moment he saw your face.
His hand reached out, catching your arm—not harsh, just firm, grounding.
You froze.
Mingyu’s dark eyes scanned your face—puffy, streaked with tears, lips pressed tight in that way he did when he was trying not to lose control. “Y/n.”
“Hey. Hey, hey,” he added quickly, stepping in front of you before you could turn away. His hands hovered, cautious but ready to hold you steady.
“What happened?”
You tried to keep moving, forcing a small shake of your head.
“I’m fine,” you murmured, voice brittle.
Mingyu didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Didn’t let you pass.
“Stop.” His hand caught your wrist, not hard, but firm. “Tell me what happened.”
You opened your mouth. Closed it. Shook yout head.
“We just… it wasn’t—Jungkook and I—” You blinked down at the floor, trying to hold yourself together. “He was just… really mean.”
Mingyu’s entire body stiffened. His shoulders tensed, his hands flexing at his sides, jaw tightening.
“Did he touch you?” His voice dropped an octave, low and deadly quiet. “Did he hurt you?”
“He didn’t hit me,” you said quickly, almost stumbling over your words. “It’s not like that. He just… didn’t care. Like I didn’t even matter. Like I was just… there. And then he left. Told me to fix myself up.”
You lifted your eyes to his, cheeks burning. “I feel disgusting.”
Mingyu’s nostrils flared.
His jaw ticked.
His fingers curled into a fist so tight you could almost hear the tension in his knuckles.
Every muscle in him screamed—anger, disbelief, frustration—all coiling at the thought of Jungkook treating you like that. “I’m going to fucking kill him.”
“Mingyu—”
“No. I let this go on too long. I should’ve said something months ago.”
You swallowed hard. “Said what?”
He looked at you. Like you were the only thing in the entire world, like everything else could vanish and it wouldn’t matter.
“That he’s never deserved you. Not for a second. Not for a single moment.”
Your heart thundered in your chest. “You really think that?”
He stepped closer, voice softer now. “I’ve thought that since the first time I saw you two together. I watched him treat you like you were nothing more than an accessory. A prop. A status symbol.”
Mingyu’s eyes flicked to your lips for a heartbeat, then back up to your eyes.
“And it made me sick.”
You blinked, startled. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Because I didn’t want to be the guy who makes a move on his friend’s girl. But I’ve been biting my fucking tongue for weeks, watching you show up to every party, every event looking like that and seeing him look right past you. Like you were just decoration.”
He exhaled hard, stepping back. “I’m not letting him hurt you again.”
“Mingyu—wait—what are you—?”
But he was already turning. Storming toward the main lounge where Jungkook was still surrounded by a small group of friends.
You followed, heart pounding, chest tight.
The afterparty still buzzed around you, lights flickering over laughing idols, but you barely noticed.
Your focus was entirely on Mingyu.
He didn’t waste a second.
Before you could blink, he stepped up to Jungkook, his hand snaking forward to grab him by the collar.
"Mingyu what the fuck-" Jungkook froze, eyes wide, lips parting in shock.
Everyone around them went still—mouths agape, phones paused mid-recording—as Mingyu’s grip tightened just enough to let him know this wasn’t a joke.
Without another word, Mingyu dragged him toward the balcony doors, out of the crowd, out of the noise.
Your heels clicked against the floor as you followed, heart hammering so hard it felt like it might burst.
“What the fuck did you do to her?” Mingyu spat, voice low but sharp. “She came out of that room crying. What the hell did you say to her?”
Jungkook looked at you, then back at Mingyu, letting out a scoff. “What do you think we did, Mingyu? Huh? It’s not that deep.”
He glanced at you again, irritation clear in his expression. “She’s fine. Stop making it—”
Wrong answer. Mingyu tightened his grasp on him.
“You think that’s fucking normal? Leaving your own girlfriend girl crying in a room? Talking to her like she’s trash?”
“She’s sensitive,” Jungkook snapped back, voice defensive, a little too casual. “You know how girls are.”
The way Mingyu punched him—it wasn’t clean. It wasn’t controlled.
It was personal.
A messy, wild hook that snapped across Jungkook’s jaw, sending him stumbling back.
Your hand flew to your mouth as your eyes widened in shock.
“Mingyu! Stop!” You rushed toward him, panic and disbelief mixing, but your mind lagged behind your body.
But Mingyu didn’t move. Just stood there, chest heaving, hand bloody, jaw clenched.
“You don’t talk about her like that,” Mingyu spat.
“Not ever again. She’s better than you in every way. And you—” He sneered.
\You’re not even man enough to say sorry.” Jungkook wiped blood from his lip, glared at him, but didn’t swing back. He knew better. No one would back him.
~
He found you on the patio ten minutes later. You were sitting on the wooden steps, arms wrapped tightly around your knees, the night air cool against your skin.
Mingyu crouched beside you slowly, careful not to startle you. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, voice low. “If I scared you, or embarrassed you.”
You shook your head, voice barely above a whisper. “You didn’t. I just… didn’t expect you to care.”
He looked at you like you’d just spoken another language. “How could I not care?”
You didn’t answer. You couldn’t.
So he kept talking, softer now, closer but not imposing. “I meant what I said. Every word of it.”
“I know,” you whispered.
“And I’m not trying to pressure you,” he said, voice gentle, careful.
He met your gaze, eyes steady and warm. “You deserve someone who sees you. Really sees you.”
You stared at him, heart pounding in your chest. And for the first time that night, you felt something you hadn’t in hours. Safe. Appreciated.
You leaned your head against his shoulder, letting yourself rest there, just for a moment.
Summary: Mingyu takes the brunt of your cranky mood all day, but when he comes home with a pharmacy bag full of period essentials, you realise he knows you better than anyone.
Wc: 652
Warnings: none :)
MASTERLIST
-
You’d been on edge all day, and poor Mingyu had taken the brunt of it.
It started that morning at breakfast. He was taking his time buttering toast, big hands careful and annoyingly precise, while you were already halfway through your coffee, bouncing your leg impatiently.
“Are you seriously gonna use half the stick? Or are you trying to give yourself a heart attack before you hit thirty?” you muttered, narrowing your eyes at him.
Mingyu barely reacted, just glancing up at you with that soft, slightly amused look he got when you were being dramatic.
“Good morning to you too,” he hummed, dragging the knife across the bread again like he had all the time in the world.
That only made it worse.
Later, when you asked him what he wanted for dinner and he got distracted scrolling through his phone, you huffed.
“Forget it, I’ll just starve,” you muttered, rolling your eyes as you stood and walked off dramatically, fully expecting him to tease you or pull you back.
But he didn’t. And that was the problem.
Normally, Mingyu would grin, or throw a sarcastic remark your way, but instead, he just tilted his head and studied you with that annoyingly calm expression.
He let the little jabs pass, which only irritated you more.
By the time night fell, you were curled up on the sofa in one of his oversized hoodies, sleeves swallowing your hands, scrolling aimlessly on your phone.
The apartment was quiet, and you didn’t even notice the front door opening until you heard his shoes by the entryway.
“Where’d you go?” you asked flatly, not looking up at first.
“Out for a bit,” Mingyu said casually, setting his keys down.
You frowned, finally glancing over at him. He had a small bag in his hand.
“Out where?” you pressed.
“Pharmacy.”
That made your brows knit. “Do we even need anything from the pharmacy?”
He didn’t answer straight away. Instead, he walked over, the couch dipping under his weight as he sat beside you. Then, gently, he placed the bag in your lap.
You gave him a suspicious look before peeking inside.
Tampons and pads. Your favourite chocolate. The exact heating pad you always insisted worked better than any other.
Even a box of the chamomile tea you drank religiously that week every month. Your eyes snapped up to his face.
“Mingyu… what's all this?” He just shrugged like it was obvious.
He shrugged, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, a small smile tugging at his lips. “For your period.”
You stared at him.
"You’ve been snappy all day," he added, voice soft and careful. not teasing in a way that would set you off again. "I figured it’s either that or you suddenly decided you hate me."
You blinked at him, mouth opening and closing.
“That’s—” you paused, torn between outrage at being called out and warmth that he’d noticed at all. “I wasn’t even that bad!”
Mingyu let out a quiet laugh, leaning closer until his shoulder nudged yours.
“Baby,” he murmured, warm and fond, “you threatened me over toast this morning.”
That pulled a reluctant laugh out of you, even as you tried to stay annoyed. Your cheeks warmed, and you shook your head, looking back down at the bag.
“You’re so thoughtful,” he smiled at that, reaching up to gently brush your hair back, fingers lingering in that absentminded, affectionate way of his.
“That and I just know you too well.” That was all it took for you to melt, scooting closer and curling into his side, resting your head against his chest.
His arm wrapped around you instantly, warm and steady, like it had been waiting for you to give in.
“Thank you Gyu,” you whispered, your fingers absentmindedly tracing the edge of the bag.
He pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head, “Always, baby.”
hey i was wondering if you could write something where mingyu and his gf are at a event and she started to get tired of standing but there’s no where to sit so he does wall sits so she can sit down like justin bieber did for hailey that one time? sorry this is so long, i love all your fics 🩷🩷
Anything for you || Kim Mingyu x fem!reader
A/n: this was so wholesome aweee
Wc: 502
Warnings: none!!
MASTERLIST
-
“Y/n?” Mingyu's voice cuts through the fog of your daydream, snapping you back to reality you as you blink up at him.
He’s already looking at you, like he’s been watching you zone out for a second now, a small, amused smile playing on his lips.
You follow where he’s looking and realise the couple in front of you are still mid-conversation, waiting.
“Sorry, what was the question?” you say, a little embarrassed, your cheeks heating under their polite smiles.
Mingyu lets out a quiet chuckle, his hand settling at the small of your back. “Don’t worry about it,” he reassures, his tone light. “Do you want to get another drink?”
You nod, grateful for the escape, and the two of you excuse yourselves from the conversation.
His hand stays on your back as you move through the crowd, steady and comforting in a way that makes it easier to breathe in events like these.
“You okay?” he asks softly once you’re away from prying ears, his eyes scanning your face with concern.
“Mm… just tired,” you admit with a sigh, leaning into him slightly. His thumb starts tracing slow, absent circles against your back, and you exhale a little, your shoulders dropping.
“Feels like we’ve been standing forever," you add, letting out a small huff as you shift your weight, reaching down to rub at your aching calf.
His eyes flick around the room, scanning for somewhere to sit, but it’s packed.
He doesn’t say anything, just takes your hand and starts leading you somewhere else.
You look up at him, confused. “Where are we going?”
He doesn’t answer, just walks you over to a quieter corner near a brick wall. Then, before you can even ask again, he leans back against it and slides down into a wall sit, his shoulders hitting the bricks, thighs tensing.
You blink at him. “What are you doing?”
He pats his lap, a little grin tugging at his mouth. “Come here.”
You stare at him. “Mingyu, no.”
“Why not?” he laughs, like it’s obvious.
“I’ll feel bad,” you say, glancing around, already flustered.
He scoffs lightly, shaking his head. “You think this is hard for me?” His hands find yours, giving them a gentle tug. “C’mon. I’ve got you babe."
There’s something about the way he says it, so sure, so casual, that makes it hard to argue.
You hesitate for a second longer before finally giving in, carefully lowering yourself onto his lap. His arm comes around your waist straight away, steadying you, pulling you in so you don’t have to think about balancing.
“See?” he says, a little smug, adjusting you slightly so you’re more comfortable against him. “Told you.”
You huff, cheeks warm, but you relax back into his chest anyway, letting your weight rest against him. “Show-off,” you mumble, though there’s no real bite to it.
He just smiles, leaning his head slightly forward yours before pressing a quick, soft kiss to your shoulder. “Anything for you,” he murmurs.
Summary: On the night before Mingyu leaves, the two of you try not to fall apart over how much you're going to miss each other.
Wc: 750
Warnings: angst :(
A/n: wrote this ages ago but I swear this was a request but couldn't find it in my inbox idk if i accidentally deleted it or not!!!
MASTERLIST
-
The apartment feels too quiet for a night like this.
Dinner sits half-eaten on the table between you, plates pushed slightly aside, chopsticks abandoned, candles burning low.
You’re sitting across from him, knees drawn up on the chair, fingers absently tracing the rim of your glass.
You’ve been staring at him for a while now, long enough that he notices.
Mingyu looks up, eyebrows knitting together when he catches your expression.
"Hey,” he murmurs. “What’s that look for?”
You don’t answer right away.
You just keep looking at him, eyes shiny, lips pressed together like you’re trying to hold something back.
He knows that look.
It’s the same one you get when you’re tired but pretending you’re fine, when you don’t want to ruin the moment even though it’s already breaking you.
He exhales softly, pushing his chair back and standing.
He comes over to you, crouching in front of your chair, big hands settling on your knees.
“Baby,” he says quietly, tilting his head to catch your gaze. “Talk to me.”
Your voice comes out smaller than you mean it to. “I’m just… upset.”
Mingyu’s jaw tightens for half a second, like he already knows exactly why.
He lifts one hand and places it against your cheek, warm and steady.
His thumb brushes under your eye, slow and tender.
“I know,” he says softly.
You lean into his touch immediately, cheek pressing into his palm like it’s the only thing holding you together.
Your eyes flutter shut, and when you speak, your voice wobbles.
“I hate that you’re leaving,” you whisper. “Three months is so long. I just… I wish I could come with you.”
The words crack at the end, and that’s what does it.
Mingyu’s other hand comes up to cradle the other side of your face, thumbs brushing your cheeks as he rests his forehead against yours.
He sighs again, deeper this time, heavier.
“I wish that too,” he admits. “God, I wish it so bad.”
You open your eyes, searching his face. He looks just as wrecked as you feel.
Eyes soft, mouth pulled into a sad little line, like he’s memorising you.
“I don’t want to miss things,” you say quietly. “I don’t want to wake up without you. I don’t wanna fall asleep alone knowing you’re on the other side of the world.”
His lips press together, and for a second he looks away, like he needs to steady himself.
Then he looks back at you, hands still framing your face, thumbs tracing familiar paths like muscle memory.
“Hey,” he murmurs. “Look at me.” You do.
“I’m gonna miss you every single day,” he says.
“Every stupid little thing. Your clothes on my floor. The way you steal my hoodies and never give them back. How you sit with your legs tucked under you like this.”
He taps your knee gently. “All of it.”
Your chest tightens. “Then why does it feel like I’m the one being dramatic."
He lets out a soft, breathy laugh.
“You’re not.” He leans in and presses a kiss to your temple, lingering. “I’m just trying to be strong for you.”
That’s when your eyes finally spill over.
Mingyu catches it instantly, thumbs wiping at your tears, his voice dropping even lower.
“Hey, hey… don’t cry, baby.”
“I can’t help it,” you whisper. “I just want more time.”
“I know,” he says, pulling you gently out of the chair and into his arms.
You melt into him, face pressing into his chest, fingers clutching his shirt like you’re afraid he might disappear right now if you let go.
He holds you tight, arms wrapped all the way around you, chin resting on the top of your head.
His heartbeat is strong and steady under your ear.
“Tomorrow’s gonna suck,” he admits quietly. “I’m not gonna lie to you.”
You sniffle. “You’re not allowed to forget about me.”
He huffs softly, tightening his grip.
"As if I ever could.”
He tilts your head up just enough to look at you, thumb brushing your swollen lower lip.
“I’m taking you with me. In every hotel room. Every flight. Every stage.”
You give a watery smile. “God you're so cheesy.”
“Yeah,” he says, smiling back. “But it’s true.”
He kisses you then.
Slow, unhurried, like he’s pouring everything he can’t say into it.
When he pulls back, he rests his forehead against yours again.
“Tonight,” he murmurs, “we don’t think about tomorrow. Okay?”
Summary: Seeing Mingyu at a party turns all the unresolved hurt from your messy breakup into a heated confrontation that pulls you right back into each other.
Wc: 1,997
Warnings: smut! angst, toxic gyu AND reader,
A/n: we hit 800 followers!! Thank you all!!!! We’ve grown sm in such little time 🥹
MASTERLIST
-
The rooftop penthouse party was already in full swing when you stepped out of the elevator, the bass from the music vibrating faintly through the floor beneath your heels.
You hadn’t planned on coming.
Actually, you told your friends you were skipping it completely.
But something about knowing he’d be there—knowing Mingyu would be somewhere in this crowd, laughing with friends and pretending like your breakup hadn’t wrecked him—made your blood simmer.
And if he could pretend he was fine.
So could you. You looked good. No, better than good. Perfect.
A black silk lace dress clung to your body, the thin straps showing off your shoulders, the slit high enough to flash your thigh when you walked.
You were a walking distraction. And you knew Mingyu would notice. He always noticed.
The moment you stepped out onto the terrace, you felt it.
You didn’t even have to look to know exactly where it was coming from.
Still, you turned slowly, gaze drifting across the crowd until it landed on him near the bar.
Mingyu stood with a small group of familiar people, a glass of whiskey loose in his hand.
But the second his eyes met yours? Something in his expression shifted. His smile disappeared. His jaw tightened slightly.
Mingyu looked like he wanted to tear you apart.
Good.
You smiled sweetly before turning away like he didn’t exist.
Instead, you walked toward the group gathered near the lounge seating.
That’s where you found Jaehyun. Tipsy, charming, and already halfway through another drink.
He perked up the second he saw you.
“Well, look who decided to show up,” he said with a grin, shifting so you could sit beside him.
You sat down easily. “Miss me?”
“Obviously,” he laughed. “We thought you were avoiding everyone after… you know.”
Your breakup. You shrugged lightly, taking the drink someone offered you.
“Just needed a little detox,” you said casually. “From certain things.”
Mingyu’s fingers tightened around his glass as he watched you settle beside Jaehyun.
You crossed your legs slowly, the slit in your dress shifting just enough to reveal more skin.
You could practically feel his stare burning into your back. But you refused to look.
You leaned closer to Jaehyun, laughing a little louder than necessary at something he said.
His hand brushed your knee casually as he spoke.
From across the room, Mingyu’s jaw ticked. It was a petty game.
But you wanted him to feel it.
Because when Mingyu broke up with you, if you could even call it that, it hadn’t been clean.
It was messy. Raised voices in his apartment. His hands dragging through his hair in frustration.
You telling him you were tired of coming second to schedules, cameras, and expectations.
“You knew what this was when we started,” he’d snapped.
“And you knew I deserved more than being your secret,” you’d shot back.
The fight ended with you walking out. And him letting you. So now here you were. Untouchable. Unbothered. Playing with fire.
You saw Mingyu set his drink down harder than necessary at the bar from the corner of your eye.
His shoulders were tense now.
His attention completely locked on you.
You bit your lip slightly. That rage in his eyes? That was for you. You barely heard what Jaehyun said next.
Something about missing you around, maybe. You weren’t really listening.
Instead, you turned toward him slowly. Smiled. And kissed him. Not a quick peck. Not polite. You kissed him deliberately.
Like your heart wasn’t racing because you knew Mingyu was watching.
It only lasted a few seconds. Suddenly. Hands grabbed you. One arm wrapped firmly around your waist while the other gripped your wrist as you were pulled away mid-kiss.
“What the—” Jaehyun started.
Your body collided with a chest you knew instantly. Mingyu.
His cologne hit you first—warm, clean, unmistakably him.
“What are you doing?!” you snapped, trying to twist away, but his grip only tightened.
He leaned down, mouth close to your ear.
“You trying to start something tonight?” he muttered, voice low and rough. “Because it’s working.”
Your stomach dropped.
Before you could respond, Mingyu was already pulling you away from the crowd, ignoring the curious looks starting to form around the room.
“Let go of me, Mingyu—”
“Not happening.”
He led you down the quiet hallway near the rooftop lounge before stopping abruptly, spinning you so your back pressed against the wall.
His arms braced on either side of your head.
You were completely trapped between him and the wall.
“You really think I’m gonna just stand there and watch you kiss someone else?” he said quietly.
“You don’t get to be jealous,” you shot back, chest rising and falling. “You’re the one who ended it.”
His eyes flashed.
“Didn’t think you’d move on that fast. And with Jaehyun- of all people?”
You scoffed. “Didn’t think you’d let me walk away so easily.”
That shut him up.
For a moment, Mingyu just looked at you.
His eyes dragged slowly down your body—the dress, the bare skin of your legs, the way the fabric clung to your waist.
His jaw tightened.
“You wore that knowing I’d be here,” he said quietly.
Not a question. You lifted your chin.
“I wore it for me.”
“Bullshit.”
His voice dropped lower.
“You wanted a reaction.”
He stepped closer, his thigh pressing lightly between yours.
“And congratulations,” he murmured. “You got one.”
Your breath caught.
Mingyu leaned down slightly, his height forcing you to tilt your chin up just to hold his gaze.
“You miss me,” he murmured, his voice low enough that it almost brushed against your lips.
“Not even a little,” you whispered, forcing a scoff as you lightly shoved at his chest, trying to create space between you.
He barely moved.
A quiet, humourless laugh slipped from him as he straightened.
For a moment he just stood there in front of you, hands sliding into the pockets of his trousers, shoulders relaxed in that frustratingly confident way of his.
But his eyes.
His eyes dragged slowly over your face. Taking you in like he was memorising every detail you’d tried so hard to hide from him tonight.
Your lips. Your expression.
The way your breathing wasn’t quite steady.
His jaw tightened slightly.
“Liar,” he said softly.
And then he moved.
The distance between you disappeared in a second as his hand came up to the back of your neck, pulling you toward him before you could even react.
His mouth crashed into yours. Hard.
Not careful. Not gentle.
It was the kind of kiss that came from hours of restraint finally snapping.
The frustration, the jealousy, the weeks of pretending he didn’t want you.
All of it poured into that single moment.
Your back hit the wall again as he kissed you, breath rough against yours.
And instead of pushing him away, your hands fisted in the front of his shirt, dragging him closer like you’d been waiting for it too.
~
The sheets were cool against your spine when Mingyu laid you down, but his body was all heat, pressing into yours with enough urgency to make your breath catch.
The kiss was rough, punishing, all teeth and heat. You bit his lip back, nails digging into his arms, still furious—still wanting him.
Your hips betrayed you, pressing into his.
“You’re such an asshole,” you gasped when his mouth moved to your neck, sucking hard enough to leave a mark.
“I know,” he muttered.
He lifted you effortlessly, carrying you to the bed like it was muscle memory, tossing you down.
His hands were already everywhere—too fast, too sure—pushing fabric out of the way like it didn’t matter.
“You were wet the whole time, weren’t you?” he rasped, fingers sliding through you without mercy.
You sucked in a breath as his fingers sank inside you.
“And you’re telling me you wanted Jaehyun tonight instead of me,” he continued, voice dark.
“Shut up,” you gasped, grabbing his hoodie and yanking him down.
He kissed you again, biting your lip, grinding into you hard enough that you felt just how much he wanted you.
You reached for his belt, impatient, needy. “Take it off. Now.”
He did, no hesitation, dragging himself through your slick slowly, deliberately.
“Say it,” he said hoarsely. “Say you want me.”
You glared up at him. “I hate you.”
He thrust into you in one deep, brutal motion.
Your head fell back, a broken sound tearing out of you as he filled you completely.
He stayed there, buried, breathing hard.
“I said say it.”
“Go to hell.”
“Say it.”
Your voice cracked. “I want you.”
He smirked. “Yeah. I know you do.”
And then he moved.
Hard, relentless, like he was fucking every ounce of frustration out of both of you.
Every glare. Every second of jealousy Every moment he’d made you feel small.
“You gonna come for me like this?” he panted. “Still mad?”
You clawed down his back, hips rolling up to meet him.
“Don’t stop.” He didn’t.
Your orgasm tore through you, sharp and overwhelming, his name spilling from your mouth as you clenched around him.
He followed with a low groan, forehead pressed to yours, still inside you.
You stayed tangled together, breathing hard, sweat-slicked and quiet.
His were still holding you like he hadn’t quite decided whether to let go.
For a moment, neither of you said anything. And that was worse.
Because now there was no distraction.
You swallowed, your chest rising and falling as reality started creeping back in.
“This doesn’t change anything,” you said finally.
Mingyu didn’t answer right away. His grip on you tightened slightly.
“Doesn’t it?” he murmured.
You let out a short, breathless laugh, shaking your head.
"No," you said flatly. "We're not doing this again, Mingyu."
"Do what?" He looks at you.
“This,” you gestured weakly between you, frustration bleeding back in. “Act like you still want me when you were the one who let me walk away.”
His jaw tightened.
“I didn’t want you to walk away.”
“But you did,” you snapped.
That hit harder this time. You saw it in his face. The way his expression faltered—just for a second.
“I thought it was the right thing,” he said quietly.
“For who?” you shot back.
He didn’t answer. Simply because he didn’t have one.
Silence stretched between you again, thick and suffocating.
You pulled back slightly this time.
And this time, he let you. That hurt more than it should’ve.
You slid off the bed, retrieving your dress with shaky hands, avoiding his gaze.
Behind you, Mingyu sat there for a moment, watching you. You could feel it.
“You really kissed him just to piss me off?” he asked, softer now.
You paused. Then glanced at him over your shoulder.
“Did it work?”
A small, humourless huff left him.
“Yeah,” he said. “It did.”
You nodded once, like that was all you needed to hear. Then you turned back toward the door.
“Might do it again,” you added lightly.
That made him move. Fast. His hand caught your wrist before you could reach the handle.
“Don’t,” he said.
You looked down at where he was holding you. Then back up at him.
“Why?” you asked with a slight tilt of your head.
His grip tightened just slightly.
“Because I don’t think I can watch that twice.”
Slowly, you slipped your hand out of his grasp.
“Then don’t look,” you said before turning around him and walking out,, leaving him standing there.
girl u need to more dad mingyu fics!! love ur writing btw! 🫶
Expecting || Dad!Kim Mingyu x fem!reader
A/n: YES I DO!!!
Wc: 2,580
Warnings: none just fluff :)
MASTERLIST
-
Mingyu’s driving with one hand resting easy on the wheel, the other resting loosely on your thigh. His thumb moves in slow, lazy circles against your skin like he doesn't even realise he's doing it.
In the backseat, your daughter fills the quiet with her own little world, babbling nonsense to herself like it’s the most important conversation she’s ever had.
Her tiny shoes tap against the car seat in uneven kicks, soft thuds that come and go as she wiggles, completely content with the attention she’s giving herself.
Eleven months old, and somehow already running both your lives without even trying.
You twist slightly in your seat, looking back at her, your expression softening. She catches your eye for a split second and lets out a bright, proud sound, like she’s been waiting for you to notice.
“She’s in a good mood,” you say, turning back around, a smile still lingering on your lips.
Mingyu glances at you briefly before returning his attention to the road, the corner of his mouth lifting. “She always is when she’s about to show off,” he murmurs, voice low and amused. “Wait till your sister starts paying attention to her.”
You let out a soft huff of laughter, settling back into your seat. “She gets that from you.” That earns you a look.
He turns his head just enough, brows lifting slightly, eyes flicking over you with that familiar mix of mock offence and quiet fondness. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me, Gyu," you say easily, tilting your head against the headrest as you watch him. “You love attention. Don’t even try to act like you don’t.”
There’s a second where he just looks at you, like he’s deciding whether to argue or not. Then his hand tightens on your thigh, a gentle squeeze that lingers for a second longer than necessary.
“I think you’re projecting,” he says, but there’s no real bite to it.
You smile faintly, not bothering to respond, because you both know you’re right.
Then, after a second, his voice goes softer. “You okay?”
Your fingers drift down to your stomach without thinking.
It’s still early. Not obvious. Not something anyone would notice unless you told them. But you know. And he knows.
You glance over at him, catching the way his grip on the wheel has tightened just slightly, the way he’s not looking at you now but still completely tuned in.
“I’m okay,” you say softly. Your voice comes out calmer than you expect, steadier too.
“Just…” you pause, exhaling lightly as your thumb brushes over the fabric of your top. “Thinking about telling her.”
He finally looks at you properly this time, eyes softening in a way that makes your chest tighten just a little.
“She’s going to lose her mind,” he says, the hint of a smile pulling at his lips.
You let out a quiet hum, already picturing it.
“Mm. At you, specifically.”
That gets a small laugh out of him, low and under his breath, like he already knows exactly how it’s going to go.
“Yeah,” he mutters, glancing back at the road. “I figured.”
The corner of his mouth lingers in that smug smile for a second before his hand slips from your thigh, reaching for yours instead.
His fingers slide easily between yours, like it's instinct, like he's done it a thousand times and will do it a thousand more.
He lifts your joined hands slightly, just enough to press a soft kiss against your knuckles.
"I'm sure your sister will understand though," he murmurs against your skin. His eyes flick toward you, glint of playfulness in them.
"I can't seem to get enough of you."
You scoff immediately, but it comes out lighter than you intend, your lips twitching as you try to fight the smile threatening to break through.
“Please,” you mutter, nudging his arm slightly with your shoulder. “You’re so—”
“So what?” he presses, amused, glancing at you again.
You shake your head, rolling your eyes, but there’s no real anger behind it. “You just love it when I’m pregnant, don’t you?”
There’s a brief pause. Then he hums. Not even denying it.
Your brows lift, turning toward him properly now. “Mingyu.”
“What?” he says, completely unfazed, a grin tugging at his lips like he’s been caught and doesn’t care in the slightest.
“If it were up to me,” he continues casually, giving your hand a small squeeze, “you would’ve been pregnant sooner.”
You let out a louder scoff this time, half incredulous, half laughing as you pull your hand back just enough to swat lightly at his arm. “Oh my god, you’re unbelievable.”
He just laughs, shoulders relaxing further into his seat like he’s pleased with himself.
~
By the time you pull into the driveway, you barely have time to unclip your seatbelt before the front door swings open.
Your sister's alreadyt there, like she's been watching for your car, bouncing slightly on her feet with barely contained excitement.
You laugh under your breath. “She’s been waiting.”
“Obviously,” Mingyu murmurs, cutting the engine as he glances toward the house, already spotting her standing there. “Not for us, though.”
You hum in agreement, pushing the door open just as she steps forward.
“Finally—” she starts, but the second you’re within reach, she wraps her arms around you, squeezing tight, quick and familiar. “Oh my god, it’s been too long.”
“I saw you last week,” you mumble into her shoulder, smiling anyway.
“Exactly. Too long,” she insists, already pulling back, only to immediately lean around you, eyes lighting up. “Give me my niece.”
“No hello for me?” Mingyu mutters from the other side of the car, but there’s no real complaint in it.
He’s already moving, already opening the back door and carefully unbuckling your daughter from her seat.
Your sister rolls her eyes like clockwork, completely unimpressed. “Hi, Mingyu,” she says flatly, waving a hand in his direction without even properly looking at him. “Now hand her over.”
“She just got here,” he protests, lifting your daughter up with easy familiarity, one hand supporting her back as he brings her against his chest.
She melts into him instantly, like that’s exactly where she wants to be. “At least pretend you missed me.”
“I did,” your sister replies without hesitation, tone dry. “Now give me the baby.”
You can’t help the laugh that slips out as you close the car door, leaning back against it for a second just to watch.
Your daughter, traitor that she is, clings happily to Mingyu instead, tiny hands gripping his shirt as she lets out a delighted little squeal, face lighting up like she’s just been handed her favourite thing in the world.
Which, apparently, is him.
Your sister freezes mid-step, blinking. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”
Mingyu looks down at her, then back up at your sister, a slow grin spreading across his face as he adjusts his hold, bouncing your daughter lightly.
“Looks like she’s made her choice,” he says, voice laced with quiet satisfaction.
“Unbelievable,” your sister mutters, hands dropping to her hips as she stares at the two of them. “I’m literally her aunt.”
Your daughter only giggles louder, pressing her face into Mingyu’s chest for a second before peeking back out, completely unbothered by the betrayal she’s committing.
You push yourself off the car, shaking your head as you walk over. “You’ll survive.”
“I won’t,” your sister argues immediately. “This is personal.”
Mingyu huffs out a laugh, shifting your daughter slightly, his hand splayed securely across her back as she continues to cling to him like she’s glued there.
“You’re just jealous,” he says easily.
“I am jealous,” she shoots back. “Give her to me.”
He pretends to consider it. Actually looks down at your daughter like he’s asking her opinion.
“Should I?” he murmurs softly. She responds by grabbing onto his collar even tighter.
Your sister groans. “She’s dramatic. She gets that from you.”
You snort, crossing your arms as you lean against Mingyu’s side for a second, glancing up at him. “Told you.”
“Unbelievable,” your sister mutters again, stepping aside to let you both in. “I carried you for nine months,” she says to the baby, pointing accusingly. “Well, not me, but still. You owe me something.”
You laugh under your breath as you slip your shoes off, the familiar scent of her place wrapping around you instantly.
Behind you, Mingyu steps in carefully, ducking his head slightly out of habit even though he doesn’t need to, your daughter still tucked securely against him.
She looks around curiously, eyes wide, taking everything in like it’s brand new, one hand still fisted tightly in his shirt.
"See?” your sister continues, shutting the door. “Not even a second glance at me.”
“She’s just overwhelmed,” you say lightly, though you’re already smiling because you know that’s not entirely true.
“She’s not overwhelmed,” your sister argues, walking past you into the living room. “She’s obsessed with him. It’s weird.”
“It’s not weird,” Mingyu replies easily, following after her. “I'm literally her dad.”
“Don’t start,” she mutters, dropping onto the couch.
You end up curled into the corner of the couch, legs tucked under you, while Mingyu sits beside you, your daughter comfortably perched on his lap.
She’s completely entertained, tiny fingers wrapping clumsily around his, pulling them toward her mouth, only for him to gently stop her each time with quiet patience.
“No, no,” he murmurs softly, adjusting her grip, letting her hold onto his thumb instead. “That’s not for eating.”
She lets out a small, frustrated sound, then immediately gets distracted again, reaching for him like he’s the most interesting thing in the room.
And he lets her. Every time.
You watch him for a second longer than you mean to.
The way his big hands move so carefully with her. The way he instinctively shifts whenever she wiggles, keeping her steady without even thinking about it.
Your sister notices.
Of course she does.
She leans back into her seat, arms crossing loosely as she watches them for a moment, eyes narrowing slightly like she’s analysing something she doesn’t quite trust.
Then she looks at you. “You got lucky,” she says bluntly.
You blink, pulling your gaze away from Mingyu. “With?”
She gestures toward him, chin tilting in his direction. “That. He’s… annoyingly good at this.”
There’s a second where Mingyu glances up, catching the tail end of it.
A slow, knowing smirk pulls at his lips.
“You can just say you’re impressed,” he says, voice easy.
“I’m not,” your sister shoots back immediately, not missing a beat. “I’m suspicious.”
You snort, shaking your head as you lean back into the couch. “Of what?”
“Of men who are that good with babies,” she says simply. “There’s always something behind it.”
Mingyu huffs out a quiet laugh, looking back down at your daughter as she grabs at his fingers again. “Yeah? Like what?”
“I don’t know,” she mutters. “Too much experience. Too much confidence. It’s unsettling.”
“Or,” he counters, glancing up briefly, “I just love my kid.”
“Yeah, yeah,” she waves it off. “Still suspicious.”
There’s a lull in the conversation after that. Your sister goes on about something—work, maybe—but you’re only half-listening.
You try to follow. You really do.
But your thoughts keep circling back to the same place, over and over again. The timing. The words.
The exact way you’re going to say it. The way she’s going to react.
Mingyu must notices your silence, because his eyes flick toward you briefly, something knowing in his expression.
You take a breath.
“Hey,” you cut in gently, interrupting your sister mid-sentence.
Your sister stops mid-sentence, blinking as she turns to you. “Yeah?”
You hesitate just for a second, then say it. “I have something to tell you.”
That gets her full attention immediately. Her posture straightens, eyes narrowing just slightly as she studies your face. “Why do you sound like that?” she asks, suspicion creeping in. “What happened?”
“Nothing happened,” you say quickly, already smiling a little to soften it. “It’s just—”
Your hand moves to your stomach again, instinctively. “I’m pregnant.” Silence. For exactly one second.
Your sister just stares at you, blinking once like she’s buffering, like her brain is trying to catch up with what you just said.
Then, “Another one?!”
Her voice practically bounces off the walls, loud and sharp with disbelief as her head snaps so fast toward Mingyu it’s almost comical.
Mingyu freezes mid-bounce, your daughter still in his hands as he blinks at her, caught completely off guard by the sudden attack.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asks, half laughing already because he knows exactly where this is going.
“Because this is your fault,” she says, pointing at him dramatically.
You can't help but burst out laughing.
“Give my baby sister a break, Mingyu!” she exclaims. “It hasn’t even been a year!”
He lets out a disbelieving laugh, shifting your daughter slightly as she starts babbling at the sudden noise. “Okay, first of all—”
“No, no, don’t ‘first of all’ me,” your sister cuts him off. “Do you not know how to—”
“Alright,” you interrupt quickly, laughing harder now. “Please don’t finish that sentence.”
Your sister looks like she absolutely wants to anyway, mouth already half open, but your reaction only makes it worse.
“I’m getting blamed like I did this alone,” he mutters, glancing over at you like you should be backing him up.
You only laugh more, shaking your head. “You’re not helping your case.”
You just laugh even more, shaking your head as you lean back into the couch. “You’re not helping your case at all.”
“I’m not even saying anything,” he argues, though he very clearly is.
“You don’t have to,” you shoot back, still smiling. “Your face says enough.”
“That’s exactly my point,” your sister cuts in immediately. “Another baby? Already?"
Mingyu finally looks up properly at that, like he’s deciding whether to take this seriously or not.
“I mean…” he shrugs, shifting your daughter on his lap as she leans into him, completely unbothered by the chaos she’s indirectly caused.
One of her hands fists into his shirt again, and he steadies her without even thinking about it. “I like my wife.”
There’s a split second of silence.
Then your sister makes a face.
“Disgusting,” she says, but she’s already laughing, shaking her head like she doesn’t even have the energy to argue with that.
“I’m being honest,” he says, completely unapologetic, like that alone should clear him of any accusations.
Your sister groans, dragging a hand slowly down her face as if she’s physically trying to wipe the conversation away. “I don’t need to hear this. I really don’t.”
“But you asked,” he points out.
“I didn’t ask for details!”
“I didn’t give any details,” he shoots back, still grinning, clearly enjoying himself far too much.
You let out a quiet laugh, shaking your head, but before either of them can keep going, your daughter lets out another bright squeal.
His grin softens, one hand coming up to steady her as she wiggles excitedly. “Yeah?” he murmurs, voice lowering without him even thinking about it. “You having fun?”
She grabs at his collar again, babbling nonsense back at him like she understands everything that’s going on.
He lets out a quiet chuckle, leaning in to press a quick kiss to her cheek, lingering just for a second before pulling back.
The camera clicks on before the sun is even properly up.
For a second, it’s just a blur, your fingers brushing the lens, your face way too close, lashes still heavy with sleep. You squint at the screen, adjusting it with a small huff before leaning back against the headboard, sheets rustling softly under you.
“It’s… like, six? I think. Early start today,” you mumble, voice husky, still caught somewhere between sleep and wakefulness.
The frame finally settles.
Your apartment is quiet, no traffic outside yet, no noise from neighbours, just soft light spilling in through the curtains.
Behind you, half-hidden in the sheets, is Mingyu.
He’s completely knocked out.
One arm stretched across your waist, face pressed into your pillow, hair falling haphazardly across his forehead, lips slightly parted. His chest rises and falls in slow, even breaths.
You glance back at him without even thinking about it, your expression softening instantly.
“He got in late,” you whisper, lowering your voice instinctively, like speaking any louder might pull him from sleep. “Practice ran over… again.”
There’s a tiny pause, your eyes lingering on him for a second longer than necessary.
You reach back, gently pushing a piece of hair off his forehead. He shifts a little but doesn’t wake, just settling deeper into the pillow.
You smile to yourself.
Then you look back at the camera, like you just remembered it was there.
“Anyway—” you whisper, a little breath of a laugh slipping out. “Welcome to my very glamorous, very sleep-deprived life.”
You push yourself upright, the camera wobbling slightly in your hands as you start walking. The floor is cold under your bare feet, a small shiver running up your spine as you flick on the bathroom light.
“Okay,” you exhale, setting the camera down near the sink and loosely tying your hair up, a few strands already falling free. “Day in my life…”
You glance at your reflection, barefaced, tired, but already mentally running through everything you have to do.
Looking back at the camera, you offer a sleepy, genuine smile.
“Let’s go.”
~
he next clip flicks on, faster this time—messier, more chaotic.
Your vanity is scattered with a few essentials: a tinted moisturizer, a quick swipe of mascara, lip balm, and a single brush or two.
You sit perched on the edge of the stool, mirror in front of you, lips pursed in concentration as you apply a light layer of colour, just enough to wake up your features without feeling heavy.
Music hums softly from your phone, tucked against the vanity. It’s faint, barely audible at first, and you hum along absentmindedly, head bobbing slightly, completely in your own world.
You glance at the camera, a small, tired grin tugging at your lips.
“Day two of rehearsals,” you murmur. “I’ve already picked up the dance, so today’s mostly running it a few times and polishing. Hopefully I don’t mess up too badly…”
Cut to the wardrobe.
You’re standing, halfway dressed, holding two outfits in front of you with a slight frown.
“Concept check,” you mutter, tilting your head, eyes squinting. “Do we like this… or is it giving nothing?”
You switch outfits anyway, barely waiting for a non-existent answer.
“Okay… wait, this is better. Yeah. Definitely better.”
You spin a little, tugging at the hem as if the motion could magically tell you what works.
~
Another cut.
You’re back in the bedroom, quieter again, slipping on your shoes near the door.
The camera tilts, catching Mingyu in the background once more—still asleep, face buried in your pillow, hair falling over his eyes.
One arm is draped lazily across the sheets, resting over your side as if he’s holding onto you even in sleep.
You hesitate.
Then you pad back, careful, almost floating across the room. You crouch beside the bed, brushing a loose strand of hair from his forehead.
Your fingers linger for just a beat, warm against his skin, tracing the curve of his temple without really thinking.
“Bye,” you whisper softly, a tiny smile tugging at your lips, your voice barely more than a breath.
He stirs—a soft, almost inaudible groan—but doesn’t wake, snuggling a little deeper into the pillow.
You grin, heart softening at the sight, and stand up slowly, careful not to make a sound.
The camera sways slightly as you reach for it, giving one last glance at him before slipping quietly out of the room.
~
The rest of the day moves fast.
Rehearsal clips flicker across the screen, your hair pulled back tightly, face bare except for the slight sheen of sweat, every breath coming a little uneven as you run the choreography again and again.
“From the top!” your choreographer calls out.
You snap into position, already anticipating the first beat.
The music hits.
Your body moves instantly—precise, controlled, sharp, every line clean and confident. The sleepy, half-awake girl from the morning is nowhere to be seen.
Cut.
Again.
Cut.
Again.
At one point, you laugh breathlessly, doubling over with your hands on your knees, chest rising and falling in ragged, happy pants.
“I’m actually dying,” you say to the camera during a quick water break, cheeks flushed pink, hair sticking to your forehead. “Like—this comeback might legitimately take me out.”
But you’re smiling when you say it.
Always smiling.
~
Studio next.
The couch is tucked into one corner, piled with blankets and pillows. A microphone stands nearby, notebooks scattered across the table, pens rolling slightly when nudged.
You’re curled into the cushions now, legs tucked under you, hoodie slightly oversized, sleeves stretched past your wrists.
The camera balances on the armrest, angled to catch you, catching the small movements you don’t usually notice, the way your fingers play with the edge of your sleeve, the faint crease in your brow as you think.
“I feel like people don’t really see this part,” you murmur, almost to yourself, absently tugging at your hoodie.
“Like… the waiting. The thinking. The redoing the same line fifty times until it sounds… right.”
You laugh lightly, a soft exhale that barely disturbs the quiet.
“Or maybe I’m just picky.”
There’s a pause.
You tilt your head back against the couch, staring at the ceiling for a long, thoughtful second.
The faint flicker of the studio lights reflects in your eyes.
“I don’t know. I just… want it to be good.”
Your gaze drifts back to the camera. The smile you give is small, almost shy, but genuine.
“And I want you guys to like it.”
The silence after that isn’t empty. It’s comfortable.
You sigh softly, letting yourself relax for a moment, shoulders dropping, eyes fluttering closed.
~
The camera keeps rolling.
You don’t notice when your eyes start to close.
At first it’s subtle. Your voice trails off mid-thought. Your head tilts slightly to the side. Fingers still idly tug at the sleeve of your hoodie.
Then nothing. You're asleep.
Curled into the couch, one arm tucked under your cheek, the other resting loosely over your knees. Your breathing is slow and even.
The studio is quiet except for the faint hum of equipment and the distant, muffled noises of the building outside.
Time passes.
The door clicks open.
Mingyu steps in.
He’s still in his practice clothes, hair slightly damp, a bag slung over his shoulder, but he pauses the second he sees you.
“…baby?” he whispers.
No response.
His expression softens immediately, the tension in his shoulders melting.
His eyes roam over you, taking in the little details, the way your hair has fallen across your face, the gentle rise and fall of your chest, the tiny crease of your brow even in sleep.
Then he notices the camera still recording, lens pointed squarely at you, and lets out a quiet, amused breath.
“Ah…” he murmurs, setting his bag down carefully, careful not to make a sound. “You fell asleep again.”
He walks closer, slower now, like he doesn’t want to disturb the moment.
For a long second, he just stands there, looking at you.
There’s something almost unreadable in his expression, pride, fondness, maybe even a hint of worry.
He glances at the camera again, then back at you.
“She’s been like this all week,” he says softly, voice low so he doesn’t wake you. “Doesn’t sleep properly… just works.”
A small, fond smile tugs at his lips.
“But she won’t listen if I tell her to rest.”
He disappears briefly out of frame and returns with a blanket, one you must have left in the studio.
With careful hands, he drapes it over you, tucking it snugly around your shoulders. You stir slightly but don’t wake.
He leans down a little, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, his fingertips lingering just a beat longer than necessary.
“So hardworking,” he murmurs softly, almost to himself. “Seriously… I don’t know how you do it.”
He looks back at the camera again, quieter now.
“Please give her a lot of love when this comes out, okay?” he says, a soft smile in his voice. “She really… gives everything.”
He adjusts the blanket one last time.
Then, instead of leaving, he starts tidying up around the studio. It’s small things.
He picks up scattered notebooks, straightens cushions, moves empty cups off the table. Each motion careful and quiet.
Every few seconds, he glances at you, making sure you are still there, still sleeping peacefully, still okay.
The camera keeps recording.
And the last thing it captures is Mingyu in the background, moving quietly around the studio while you sleep, completely unaware as you sleep.
