âźâïœĄÂ°â© pipe dream - college au!song mingi x fem reader
â ËïœĄđŠč song mingi is a lot of things. heâs top of the class you hate the most, a mutual friend of your roommates, probably the best dressed guy on campus⊠and now heâs haunting your dreams, too.
â ËïœĄđŠč smut 18+ MDNI, angst, reader has insecurities, EMOTIONAL CONSTIPATION, everyone smokes weed itâs a college au but itâs also kind of all they do, that being said college kids = drinking, brief toxicity? if you squint
â ËïœĄđŠč wc 26.6k
â ËïœĄđŠč a/n: here is a college stoner romance comedy mingi fic fueled with insanity. it means a lot to me so i hope you like my brainchild. furthermore this is for my dear @sungbeam college collab and i had so so much fun with it & also meeting such lovely ppl thru it <3!!! ALSO hm to @minkieater for the hard fucking banner she's goated and also thank u for telling me not to scrap this fic. OK ENJOY AH
â ËïœĄđŠč a lot of graphic wet dreams itâs the whole plot, so much dirty talk bc i headcanon heâs a talker, daddy kink (sorry), but freak4freak like mingiâs technically dom but theyâre both dirty freaky, pervy reader pervy mg, dry humping, so much praise, oral (f rec), vaginal fingering, size kink heâs big, big dick!mingi (he knows it), fingering (f rec), unprotected sex, oral (f rec), unprotected p in v including creampie
It starts off like any other dream.Â
Youâre lying on your bed, comfortably spread out with the same old pyjamas you had on when you fell asleep - a t-shirt stained with hair dye and shorts that have worn elastic, sagging down over your hips. The airâs a little dense at first when you try to move, like youâve been doing some heavy lifting and your limbs havenât quite started to work again, and it takes you a moment to come into yourself, fighting through the haze.
Immediately, it feels more real than your dreams normally would. Smoking weed before bed means that you donât often get any dreams at all, really, and your two best friends-turned-housemates are loud enough at all points of the day that your sleep can be interrupted at regular intervals. However, you can feel the softness of your sheets, the lilac floral set you put on when you got home from class, and you rub your feet against it. Itâs nice, comforting, and so normal that you quickly forget what it is - a dream.
A soft brush against your side, and you feel like a fish out of water. Thereâs someone here with you. On your bed. Itâs rare for San and Wooyoung to sit there, and this person definitely isnât either of them.Â
Itâs blurry initially, so hazy that you canât quite focus on his face, but his long limbs are splayed across your bed like heâs been here a million times before. The touch was his fingers, and his hands are big too, dexterous and clad in bulky silver rings and drumming a beat you canât recognise against your skin. Itâs too comfortable, familiar in a way that feels almost too vulnerable - itâs almost like youâve dreamed about this before.
He speaks, and you canât make out what heâs saying. His voice is a deep, gravelly tone, making you feel like youâre drifting asleep all over again. With insane willpower you blink rapidly, forcing yourself to look at his face.Â
You finally see him. Heâs staring at you like youâve done something silly, plump lips curled up with the hint of a smile, and his hair is messy and dark and cascading over his forehead. You can just about make out two beauty spots on his honey toned face. Heâs not wearing much, not really, clad in a tank top and baggy, below knee shorts for ultimate comfort, lensless glasses sitting on a sharp nose.Â
He blinks at you rapidly, scrunching his nose into a silly face to get your attention, lips forming a line, and all you can think is pretty, pretty, pretty.Â
âAre you listening to me, baby?â He says again, and you hear him this time, loud and clear. Baby. It makes a chill run through your body. Heâs your type - steady, cool, teasing and big and⊠heâs so handsome, soothing your skin with his fingertips as if he knows you, has known you for a while and-
âMingi,â You croak, unable to help yourself. Itâs Song Mingi from your economics class, that tall, cool kid whoâs always late to class but still really fucking smart, gets amazing grades; unlike you. He dresses really nice, chic, lots of bulky rings and these big chains, like the one heâs wearing now. You think youâve heard San and Wooyoung say they were friends before, and if you think harder itâs like youâve seen him drive San home before, but have you ever really paid attention?Â
Song Mingi from your economics class who is your mutual friend and also⊠your boyfriend? Right, yeah. That feels right. âSorry, honey. What were you saying?â
âI was saying,â He sing-songs, but itâs raspy, like he smoked just before he came over. âItâs always nice being here with you. Youâre beautiful, you know that? But it makes meâŠâ
His eyes move to your lips. You think you know what heâs going to say, and maybe itâs a little cliche, straight out of a show youâve seen, but the butterflies still flitter in your tummy.Â
You rub your feet against the blanket again - itâs exciting, sue you. âMakes you what?âÂ
Mingiâs leaning in before he speaks again, shuffling across your blanket until his breath is tumbling across your face. Heâs closer now, but itâs not intimidating, itâs exciting. If you focus you swear you can smell him, something like cedar and vanilla, sweet but enriching and you want more of it, now.
His hand moves to your hip, just barely dipping underneath your sleep shorts. Is he going to kiss you? Even better, is he going to touch you? Your mouth feels dry, and his hands are a little calloused on your skin. He goes to the gym, you remember through the fog. San goes with him sometimes - itâs from the weights. You feel dizzy, head spinning, inching even closer.
âIt makes me want more,â he breathes tentatively, âI want to do more with you, if youâll let me.â
âIâll let you.â You blurt, and he smiles. He wriggles his way on top of you, your arms closing around those broad shoulders - he is big. While your cunt starts to slick up dumbly at the first sign of a big, strong man, he finally kisses you, a sweet peck to the corner of your lips before a deeper, proper one, tangling his tongue with yours, and it feels so fucking real. Letting out a keen, you squirm underneath him, managing to pull away from his lips to speak. âIâll let you, please,â you whimper against his lips, messy, âmore, Mingi-â
He groans in disbelief, kissing you sloppy again, again, again, finally moving his hand down, cupping your pussy through your sleep shorts and balancing on one forearm. His lips slide against yours a little messily but itâs still amazing, making you whimper when his tongue moves against yours, more than igniting that fire in your belly. You can feel the pressure of his fingertips against your core, sure that nothingâs ever felt like this in your life. âSo pretty. You sound so fuckinâ pretty, baby, saying my name like that, shit-â
His fingers slide underneath your shorts, and of course you havenât got panties on. He meets your pussy bare, slick and sensitive under his touch, and he starts to rock against your fucking leg before he can even get a finger in.
He feels big, from what you can make out, pressing into your thigh. Big, hard, and god - does he leak too? Is he getting so worked up that he canât help but soak a pool in his boxers? You try to reach down to them, but he pins your hands back to the pillow with one big palm.
You can feel the cold metal of his rings biting against your hole when he adds a second finger. He finds your g-spot effortlessly, curling his long digits upwards, and tap tap taps until your eyes cross.Â
âLike this,â He murmurs, cheeks flushing. His lips part and his eyebrows knit in admiration when he looks back to your face and sees the way your own expression canât be controlled in your haze of lust, mouth falling open, letting out a wrecked whimper. âCan you cum like this? Drench your fucking shorts and let me suck âem clean after?â
He talks frantically, viciously almost, fucking into your pussy faster, trying to give you more stimulation. Itâs filthy and you canât believe itâs happening to you, hurtling into an orgasm that you know is going to be unsatisfying because he hasnât even brushed your clit but fuck, you want to be good. Is he doing this deliberately? His spare hand cups your breasts, palm jiggling the flesh with a noise of disbelief.
âI can! F-fuck, I can,â You hiccup, and he pushes your thighs back, uses his thumb and finger of his other hand to pinch your clit in such a way that you think you might cry. It would normally be not enough but itâs the sight of him, the way he pants on top of you from just humping your leg and wants you to cum so badly - youâre done for.Â
Digging your nails into his shoulders, you seize, crying out - and you wake up in a pool of your own sweat.Â
Your pyjamas are sticking to you, shorts drenched between your legs and youâre not sure where you are. For a second you think youâre still high, or even still dreaming, but now this is definitely real.Â
Alone in your room, your chest heaves as if youâve run a marathon, and when you slide your feet against your blanket it doesnât feel as good as it did before. What the fuck was that? You just had a sex dream about a guy that youâve spoken to maybe twice, and it was so real. The surroundings of your room feel like an entirely different dimension, even though you were just there, with him, with his scent and his large presence, almost too overwhelming.
Are you going crazy? Are you smoking too much weed? Probably the latter, but that doesnât change how that felt. You groan, rolling over to reach blindly for your phone. Knocking over a few things on your bedside table, you finally find it, and the time reassures you.Â
7:02. Still two hours until class, two hours to sort yourself out.Â
It would be great if it wasnât a Wednesday. Your first class is economics, where you normally sit just a few seats over from the main character of your all consuming dream. Can you ignore him for the whole class? Shit, could you just skip it? Did it really matter?
No, youâre close to failing that stupid class already. Itâs too complicated, it just doesnât go into your brain. It would be hard to get a tutor when everything costs money, too, and youâre committed to spending a large part of your student loan on getting high and ordering pizza with Wooyoung and San.
With yet another loud groan, you swing your legs over the side of the bed and bring yourself to go to the bathroom to wash up. In the mirror, your hair is sticking multiple different directions and you have that recently fucked look, eyes half lidded, t-shirt hanging off of one shoulder.Â
Is this rock bottom?
âWhatâs up with you today?â
Wooyoungâs gaze feels like the sharpest daggers shooting into your face. Considering you walked from your house together and managed to converse quite well until you got to class, youâre not really sure what you did wrong. You even complimented him on his bleached hair that he did himself at midnight because it really did look good. Despite that he still doesnât look happy, plump lips pursed in a scowl and fingers tapping on the table.
He sits to your left, and only three seats to your right is his seat. He hasnât shown up yet, heâs always late, but you already feel like the class is getting a little too hot. Youâre determined to persevere, despite the fact that your jeans feel too tight and even though youâre wearing them, it still feels like your legs are sticking to the plastic chair.Â
Clutching the signature banana milk you always get from the vending machine outside, you grumble - even the delicious taste isnât helping.
âNothing. Nothingâs up,â You mumble, licking sugary milk and banana flavouring from your lips, âWoo, should we just go?â
âBaby, youâre nearly failing,â He coos, rubbing his thumb over your shoulder. You donât know why heâs talking, because he hasnât even got a bag with him, only a single sheet of paper from your notebook and one of your sparkly pens. Looking at the big clock on the wall, you sigh deeply - heâs going to be here soon - and your friend nudges you under the table with his knee. The movement jostles your milk and you scowl. âWhatâs the matter? Seriously.â
âIâll tell you later, but itâs fucking stupid and youâll laugh.â
Wooyoung seems satisfied with this, grinning and ruffling your hair, but itâs then through messy strands that you see him. Well, the professor walks in first, but Mingi trails in behind her as if heâs got all the time in the world, and you frantically smooth your hair down.Â
His chains jingle with his movement, and his bag hangs off one shoulder. He looks confident, prepared, probably with books and his laptop in the bag. Heâs smart, you know he is, heâs top of the class, probably going to have a really stable analytical job after college that youâd never be able to comprehend. Thinking about it makes you want to giggle like a schoolgirl, and you wish Wooyoung knew what was going on so he could slap you awake.
You drink your banana milk diligently.
The professor begins the lesson while Mingiâs walking to his seat, taking no notice of him as she arranges her things on the stand, and when he sits down you realise no oneâs sat between you this time. Low attendance, you suppose, looking around the entire room to see that not many seats are filled at all. He doesnât even look at you when he sits down and throws his bag to the floor. Youâre not sure why you expect him to, but you take the time to analyse him fully.
He never dresses casually. Shrugging off his leather jacket and letting it drape over the chair, the cheap plastic creaks with his movement, and the light glints off the bulky silver rings adorning his long fingers.Â
Itâs suddenly getting really hot now, and your banana milk is doing nothing to cool you. Your eyes scan over his hands and up his arms to his chest. His black turtleneck is tight on firm muscles and such a contrast to his silver chains, so pleasing to your eye. Mingiâs dark hair drapes over his eyes, but you can still see them, chocolate brown and striking and narrowing at you.Â
At you? You blink, and no, really, he is looking at you, and youâre not sure what to do. He doesnât give you a chance, thankfully, because he gives you a small smile and a little wave and turns to listen to the lecture.Â
Wooyoung practically chases you out of class by the end of it, even launching your carton in the bin for you. You manage to get him to a bench outside and once heâs situated, you clear your throat. He has his head in his hands, waiting, foot tapping against the floor. Heâs never been good with patience; San always teases him about the time you told him youâd tell them something in class the next day and he didnât sleep all night.
âI had a wet dream last night.â
Wooyoung groans loudly, kicking you in the shin. You squeal, falling onto the bench with an affronted stare, and he scowls at you. âIs that it? I probably have a wet dream every other night!â
âWoo, listen- listen to me. It was about Mingi. Your friend, Song Mingi. Be honest, is it over for me?â
His eyes light up. His face straightens, and then he leans forward, and you know youâre done before he even starts laughing, but the noise is still so loud that it makes your ears ring when heâs off. Multiple people in the quad turn towards you both, making you scowl at your housemate. He claps a few times in joy before heâs done.
âThatâs- thatâs probably the funniest thing Iâve ever heard, baby,â He giggles, hitting your shoulder playfully. âHave you spoken to him? At all? You never come to our friendsâ parties. Not one, actually, now that I think about it.â
The birds in the campus trees tweet a rhythm mockingly. Your eye twitches. Wooyoungâs lips curl again.
âMaybe once or twice, in passing,â You frown, voice soft and timid, âWoo, itâs not my fault. We donât choose our dreams, itâs your subconscious or something. Yâknow scientists have literally said that?â
âYou donât even know what youâre talking about, do you?â Heâs still smiling, and you shake your head. Heâs right, you donât, but youâre still sure you read that somewhere. âI guess youâre right though. Maybe- oh my god, maybe you do have a crush on him or something, a repressed one, and now itâs coming to the surface because itâs time. Like fate or something.â
You hum, thinking, deciding that Wooyoungâs insane. âStill, it felt real. Like, insanely real, Woo. It was better than anything Iâve had in person, and now I feel like Iâm seeing him differently.â
Wooyoung raises his eyebrows, but still rubs your knee comfortingly. Youâre thankful that heâs still being nice despite finding it very amusing. âItâs just a dream anyway. I donât think you have to worry about it that much, baby, youâll forget about him in a few days. Iâve had dreams that have given me crushes before too.â
âWhat if I donât? You donât get how intense it was.â
âWell, then we can talk to him,â He nods confidently, nudging you. âI can put a good word in, get you your dream boyfriend-â
âThat is literally the worst idea youâve ever had,â You deadpan, shaking your head, âI have a solid two friends for a reason, Iâm not a people person, I am just trying to get through college with zero problems. And heâs- Woo, heâs⊠cool. Like you two. I donât get cool guys.â
âYou got us, didnât you?â He pulls you into his side, kissing your forehead, then adds, âand we love you. Youâre our best friend,â It comforts you enough to quell your insecurities for a moment. He checks the time on his phone and whoops triumphantly, âletâs go home. San will be back from the gym and we can smoke and order food. My treat. Oh also, can I tell him?â
â... I donât think I have a choice.â
âNo, you donât. There's three of us in this relationship.â
Despite the fact that you fall asleep in some form of a puppy pile with Wooyoung and San in the latterâs bed, it happens again.Â
This time, youâre on the sofa in your living room. Mingiâs positioned underneath you, in a black compression shirt and grey sweatpants like an anime character youâd fantasise over, and youâre on his lap.Â
What are these fantasies?Â
Has your brain taken note of outfits heâs worn before?
You know itâs him from the size of his body and the way it feels, intense and all consuming, although you havenât managed to see everything yet, still fuzzy at the edges with sleep. The sweat drips down your collarbone already, and he seems just as wrecked from the squirming heâs doing, moving upwards into your body while he pulls you down against him by your hips. His hands move up your oversized t-shirt, settling on your flushed skin.
âFeels so fuckinâ g-good,â He huffs, âeven just- just like this,â
His deep voice makes your head spin, and when you see his face it feels like a relief. His cheeks are flushed, lips kiss bitten, and you place another few pecks on his lips for good measure. Heâs yours, after all, your boyfriend. âIs your little hole wet? Can you feel it, b-baby, drenching these cute little panties?â He whines, nosing into the crook of your neck, licking over the skin, âIs it begging for me? F-fuck, talk to me, please.â
He babbles incoherently but you can make out that itâs filthy, and you canât fucking believe it. Is he like this, really? Your hips grind down against him sharply, needing more, because heâs right. Panties drenched, too delirious to even think about it, your hands scramble against his shoulders. You can see everything in that t-shirt, the way his biceps bulge against the fabric and the way his chest clenches as he ruts himself against you, nipples poking through, tempting. Heâs got that expression again - eyebrows furrowed, lips parted, but this time heâs looking directly down at where youâre connected, bottom lip slick with spit. The pressure of his cock against your core in his sweatpants is so much, and you canât help it, eyes rolling back to your head.
âWant you, want you so bad,â You pant. It feels like the most honest thing youâve ever said. He nods, thrusting harder. He wants more, wants you to say more, his hands pulling you down against him. Itâs a dirty rhythm, a sinuous grind. âI want it so fucking bad, Mingi, you donât even-â you buck, whining, â-donât even know how bad, please, please-â
âYeah? Did you touch your little clit thinking about me?â He pushes you upwards, still letting you move against him but slipping his hand underneath his waistband to rub over his cockhead. Heâs desperate too, teeth biting into his lower lip. He wants it just as bad. You feel wet, and you look down to see youâve leaked right through your panties onto his sweatpants. Have you ever been this fucking wet before? âDid you think about my cock stretching you open, ruining you until you canât even remember your own- own fucking name?â
âI d-did, fuck,â You canât move, eyes fixated on where his hands move under the wet fabric. âFuck, Mingi, baby, please show me, Iâll do anything, please.â
His hand pauses, and your gaze flits back up to his face. His eyes narrow at you, just like they did in class, and his teeth have released his lower lip so that he can smirk at you, teeth white as snow. Itâs promising, but itâs like a threat, and your hands feel a little sweaty against his broad shoulders.Â
âReally, pretty thing?â His voice is hopeful, and his other hand begins to move his waistband down. You see the beginnings of his dark smattering of pubic hair and almost shaking, you whimper, nodding eagerly. âYouâll do anything for me?â
âAnything, I promise, please, fuck.â
Your eyes shoot open on a particularly loud snore from San. His leg and his arm are both slung over you, head resting on your shoulder with a steady stream of drool pooling on your t-shirt. When you glance at him, he sniffles out a snore, nose scrunching up and thick eyebrows knitting together. Heâs lucky you love him.Â
Once youâve spluttered yourself awake enough, the warm light of the desk lamp bathing the room catches your attention, and you see Wooyoung sitting on the chair by Sanâs desk. Heâs eating something, and the smell of bacon is the next thing that you register, slowly unwrapping yourself from the older man to crawl towards the younger at the desk.Â
Heâs already clocked you, a smile pulling at his lips as he loads the fork. âGood morning, sunshine.â
You snatch the fork from his fingers, munching before you can even talk. Eggs and bacon, and you wonder who Wooyoung learned to cook from. You make a mental note to ask, because itâs delicious. After you swallow, you mumble, âtime?â
âNine in the morning,â Relaxed as ever, he stretches out on the chair with an overpronounced yawn. Heâs still scrutinising you, and you know for sure that you havenât gotten away with it. âTwo nights in a row, huh?â
âHowâd you know?â You raise an eyebrow. Wooyoung looks pleased with himself and takes the fork back from you, continuing to eat his meal. Is it your hair? Were you⊠God, were you making noise?! He still hasnât said anything! âOh my fucking- Wooyoung?!â
âAll Iâm saying is Iâm surprised Sannie didnât wake up with all that squirming,â He finally responds, and the mentioned man grunts in his sleep at being mentioned, always alert, but goes back to snoring almost immediately after. âDonât worry, it was cute. I think you do have a crush. Subconsciously and all that.â
âI hate you,â You grumble, and he sighs, patting his lap. You still climb onto him, and he hums until you start to doze, stroking your hair in rhythm to Sanâs snores. It would make you laugh if you werenât nearly falling asleep again, but every time your eyes flutter shut you see big hands and a sharp nose and those beautiful dark eyes. Sighing, you stretch your legs out to wake yourself back up, âWooyoungie, I think Iâm going crazy. I donât even know the guy.â
âItâs okay,â He coos, and you can hear how amused he is. Still, he entertains it. âHeâs kind, very loyal. Smart, as you know. Sometimes heâs a little unsettling, but itâs endearing, in a way. A little like you.â
âI canât tell if youâre being serious or not.â
âWell, I love you both dearly, if that counts for anything.â
Still, this doesnât solve your problem, âWooyoung, what do I do?â
âI think itâll surprise you how easy this is going to be.â
It is a surprise to find yourself done up in a cute dress at a party not ten hours later, San and Wooyoung on each arm. You knew they knew people, sure, but theyâd been such good friends to you that theyâd sworn to be by your side through college, so youâd never bothered to ask to be introduced to their other friends.Â
From what you can gather, theyâre not frat boys but normal college students, too - Wooyoung told you that the two guys that live here are some of their good friends, and that makes you feel a bit better about arriving uninvited. Itâs quaint but well decorated, with music memorabilia on the walls, but you donât get a chance to take it all in because the house is absolutely packed.Â
San waves and hugs a few people as he walks through, and you see Wooyoung smiling at a group of people that you think must be in his dance classes, because they look as cool and sculpted as him. Still, they pull you through the throes of people into the kitchen, tipsy and stoned and honestly, a content smile on Wooyoungâs face that he finally got you in this position.
Youâre not even sure whoâs party this is, but the boys help themselves to drinks and San keeps a comforting hand on your lower back, leaning in close so that you can hear him while your other friend pours you a drink.Â
âYouâre sure youâre okay?â
âSannie, I have been to parties before, Iâm not a total shrew,â You tease. He pulls you into a sort of half-hug and you smell him, something earthy with a hint of jasmine, comfortable and grounding, familiar. Different to⊠youâre trying not to think about that.
The younger man hands you both the finished drinks, a concoction of something purple, and well, liquid confidence you suppose. You knock half of it down before you can think. He seems satisfied with this, but you hiss at the aftertaste, sticking your tongue out. âIâm definitely a smoker, not a drinker. This is fucking nasty. You guys drink this stuff all the time?â
âHe does, I kinda hate it too,â San huffs, swirling his cup in his hand and watching the liquid move.Â
Wooyoung scoffs, âthat and you canât handle your drink. You pass out after a few.â
Sanâs already flushed, but you swear he gets redder, shooting Wooyoung a dirty look with a too-cute pout before turning back to you. âRefresh me on the situation again by the way. You had a dream about Mingi? Song Mingi?â
Right, Wooyoung had caught him up over the course of the day while you napped and attempted to study. You lick your lips, trying to somehow clean yourself of the drinkâs bitter aftertaste but only getting a mouthful of sticky lipgloss.Â
âTwo dreams,â Wooyoung corrects, pointing at San, smiling so wide you can see his teeth in the dim light of the kitchen. Theyâre practically shouting over the music, and you want to tell them to be quiet but you are in a quieter area. No one can hear you, you hope, groups having filtered into the back garden, bedrooms and the living room. âAnd I think she liked him before. Fate, science - look, you had to be there. Anyway, we should go talk to him.â
âWooyoung, I do not know this man.â
âWe know him,â San smiles. Heâs too easy. âHey, this is cute! Is this your first crush? Heâs a good guy.â
You swat him away when he tries to pinch your cheeks. âNot my first crush or my first party. You have literally met some of my exes. I also donât think this is a good idea.â
âFirst, all of your exes were assholes so I didnât like them and therefore they donât exist. Second, you have to think itâs a somewhat good idea because you did come - to the party, I mean,â Wooyoung grabs your hand, pulling you to the back door. âI think theyâll probably be out here.â
Wooyoungâs right, about both things. All of your exes were assholes, men that only cared about getting their dick wet and their own feelings and not at all about yours. Youâve always thought it would be nice to have a man who takes notice of the things you like, the way you feel; the longer life dwindles on it seems to become less attainable.Â
Heâs also right that you came to this party with the idea that your friends were setting you up. You donât expect them to be subtle about it though - a fact that daunts on you as they lead you through the kitchen.
As soon as the back door opens, youâre hit with the sight of what seems to be a much cooler, more private party. The smell of weed and the sound of softer, less overwhelming music are the first things you can process and yeah, okay, this might be more your type of scene. Thereâs a cute, shorter guy wearing flared jeans and a shiny tiara, chatting with a group of people enthusiastically; surely it must be his party.Â
Youâre pulled over to a section of outdoor seating where thereâs a few people sitting down. Thereâs a small fire going, contained in a silver pit, and the warmth is welcomed on your skin, cold from the outside air biting at your skin in the cute dress youâre wearing. Really, you donât clock him at first, but Wooyoung and San are eager to take you over to that area and there can only be one reason why.
âYunho!â Wooyoungâs way too chipper, but Yunho falls for it, springing up from one of the chairs to wrap his arms around the shorter male. Sanâs hugging someone too, and from the corner of your eye you see itâs fucking Mingi, and youâve never felt so betrayed in your life.Â
âFancy seeing you here, huh?â San says, way too exaggerated, and you hover in confusion as he continues, âwe finally brought our cute friend, look.â
Cute friend? Suddenly all of the attention is on you. Yunho and Mingi are both peering at you, and Mingi is - he has to be assessing you, eyes scanning your frame. You canât see them properly due to the sunglasses. Does he recognise you? Youâve only spoken once or twice before, in passing. He probably doesnât even know your name.Â
Yunho seems to know who you are, grinning from ear to ear and pulling you into a hug before you can even introduce yourself. You canât help but laugh, throwing your arms around him while avoiding spilling your purple drink on his white satin shirt.
âItâs so good to meet you!â He shakes you happily. Mingi still hasnât said anything, but heâs clutching a bottle of jagermeister and a cup with a different drink, looking at you as if heâs waiting for the moment. You try not to be uncool right in front of his eyes, smiling at Yunho politely. âWooyoungie kept talking about you, all nice things, I promise. You have some good friends here.â
âI canât really get rid of them, kinda like the plague,â You smile, and youâre glad Yunho detects your sarcasm and lets out a loud laugh, a bit too loud to be normal. He ushers you all to sit down, and when everyoneâs situated the only available spot left is next to Mingi.Â
How convenient.Â
In your peripheral vision, you can see your best friends have already roped Yunho into a conversation, leaving the subject of your fantasies free and still fucking looking at you.Â
Hesitantly, you sit down. The fire is nice you suppose, warming up your legs quite quickly, and you keep your knees firmly planted together and far away from him. The other three chatter away, preoccupied in such an intentional way that it makes your blood boil. Itâs time to consider rooting through your bag in a way that looks like youâre doing something.
He says your name, and it feels like time stops. Heâs speaking to you. This is the worst possible situation, how are you even meant to talk to him? Slowly, you turn to look at him. Heâs in a black zip up jacket, bottle of Jagermeister in hand, sunglasses pushed down to the end of his nose. Those chains glint in the light again, and he leans forward, saying your name again, pushing the sunglasses onto his head. They push his hair back in the most delicious way that you shiver. No. Not right now. âItâs nice to finally meet you. Youâre in my economics class too, right? You sit with Wooyoung.â
He knows you. âR-right,â You blurt, smiling nervously. âI am. Mingi, right?â
âYou sit just a few seats over from me, with Wooyoung. I wanted to say hi to you, but to be honest, I never knew how,â He scratches the back of his neck. Heâs cute, a little shy despite how big and scary he looks. Just like Wooyoung said. It feels like that makes it all even worse - he really is a dream, delightful traits rolled all into one. âItâs good to all get together though, right? I donât think Iâve seen you at one of these before.â
âOh, no. I donât really get out much, to be honest. Iâm a homebird,â You say, and cringe inside. What the fuck are you saying? You need to be cool.Â
But Mingi only smiles, letting out an âahâ. âMe too, to be honest. Iâm an anime in bed guy, but I live here, so I have to leave my room. Itâs really sad.â
Not only is he actually so easy to talk to, but he reassured you quickly - heâs the same. Wooyoung was right again.
He lives here, though, which means⊠Wooyoung and San brought you to a party at Mingiâs house? This is some sort of next level interfering that you never even considered, but you have to act normal, so you clear your throat.
âYou live with that guy wearing the tiara, then?â
âHis name is Hongjoong,â Mingi laughs. âYou donât know whoâs house youâre at?â
Fiddling with the clasp of your bag, you look down at your lap. âI told you, I donât normally go to parties. I got dragged to this.â White lie.Â
âItâs fine, Iâm only kidding. Anyway, you know me,â He grins playfully. You flush, suddenly too warm from the fire, a little too awkward but also with such deep desperation in your belly. His zip-up slips from his shoulder and you see a bit of tanned skin that makes you inhale. âSo you drink. You smoke too?â
You laugh. âOh yeah, I smoke.â
Mingiâs eyes narrow at you again, perceiving you. Is he impressed? Flustered? Heâs still smiling, like he knows something about you, but youâre not sure what.Â
The conversation is interrupted by Yunho, whoâs pulling a bong out from by the side of the table with a loud cheer. Wooyoungâs already dragging the bong from his lap. San has fallen asleep next to him, cheeks flushed and shoulders slouched over. Wooyoung doesnât take any notice, giggling as he readies the pipe. He spills some weed on his lap but doesnât look bothered.Â
You point at San. âIs he okay?â
Everyone chimes in at once - âHe does thisâ.
Mingi leans closer to you, and you manage not to tense up when he speaks easily, âWhat are you drinking?â
You motion at the plastic cup of Purple Concoction on the floor, and he sucks his teeth, shaking his head. While the others carry on, Mingi leans down and you immediately seize up.
âIâm not drinking jager,â you panic, âthatâs way too-â
He chuckles and hands you his plastic cup, with a liquid not dissimilar in appearance to coke, and you want to laugh in his face.Â
Is this like⊠inadvertently sharing spit?Â
Reaching for the cup, you take a sip of the drink, and he watches you, waiting for your reaction.
Itâs surprisingly nice. A lot better than whatever the fuck the guys gave you in the kitchen, and definitely not jager. Itâs some sort of rum with coke and you hum at the taste, handing the cup back to him. Heâs still watching you, keeping eye contact as you swallow the liquid down.Â
When he lets you get this close, you notice the two beauty spots on his face from your dream, one by his eye and one on his cheek, and it makes your heart soar. Heâs so cute, despite the way he dresses, rough and raw on the exterior and kind and gentle inside.
âMuch better, right?âÂ
âMuch better,â You agree. For a second, the ugly, rearing insecurity appears in your head again - what are you doing? Heâs so out of your league.Â
Before it can fester, Mingi clicks his tongue, taking a sip himself. âSee, you should stick with me tonight,â he leans back, then smiles, âIâve got the good stuff, and Iâm cooler than San. Heâs fallen asleep already.â
Stick with him tonight. Just as you think there might be something there, a little flickering of intrigue in his eyes as well as yours, the guy with the flared jeans rushes over out of nowhere.
âMingi-ah, Iâm so sorry, but someoneâs throwing up in the living room and I need your help.â
The gentle voice brings you both out of your trance, and he immediately spins his head to the other man. Hongjoong, you think you remember him saying. Mingi all but rolls his eyes - does he look disappointed? - but swings his legs over the edge of the seat, leaving you with the nice tasting drink.
âSorry, I better go,â He says, and Hongjoong gives him a look full of something that you canât work out. Mingi looks awkward, eyebrows raising in expectation for you to say something, so you nod politely and he shoots you a grin. You think youâll replay that grin forever, late at night when youâre trying to remember all of the angles of his face. âIâll see you in class, yeah?â
âYeah.â You nod, licking over your lips. âit was really nice talking to you, Mingi.â
He shoots you a smile that looks a little too upset, but heâs off then, housemate in tow; Wooyoung wordlessly passes you the bong, eyes pink and limbs stretched over the sleeping San. Itâs hard not to go over the events with the sudden silence and your clammy fingers wrap around the cup he left you, taking another gulp of the alcohol as it pops into your head.
Apologetic.
Hongjoong looked apologetic that he was interrupting you both, and you want to tell your friends and deepen that and make it more than it is; but youâre reminded that in reality, youâre just another girl Mingi was talking to at a party.
Itâs been a couple days with no dreams now, which feels good, because you only saw him in passing again during the party. You have thought about him, in fleeting thoughts where youâve gone over the events of the party, but itâs good not to let it linger. Just two dreams, thatâs all it was, and you sit in economics class the following Wednesday with a relatively clear head and a nice skirt on, determined that you definitely do not have a crush.
Additionally, another decision - you will not fail this class. Two simple resolutions; last week was just a minor setback.
He walks in, and sits in his seat, and thereâs actually people sitting between you this time. This is reassuring because you canât focus on how his thighs fit in those jeans, or how nice his hands look when he types, or how his hair falls over his forehead in such a mysterious way-
No. You stare at your notes, flicking over the pages. Itâs good to refresh before the professor starts, you think, and you really think it works when she begins her lesson and does a brief recap⊠before she starts talking about a test a few weeks after break. Huh?
âSince itâs the last week before fall break, I thought Iâd give some of you a chance to study and get your grades up,â She explains, and you think you see her glance towards you and Wooyoung. Everyone groans, and she tuts, laughing. âThis test isnât that hard, Iâm being really nice to you guys!â
You zone out again. Now youâre going to have to do a stupid test on something you donât care about, and youâre either going to let yourself down or just not show up to do it at all, to be honest. You sigh and huff and puff, scribbling a doodle on your page.
To everyone, you included, the bell ringing after the rest of the boring lesson is a welcome sound. You huff when you put your books into your bag, you huff when you sling your bag over your shoulder, and youâre still huffing at Wooyoung as you both walk out of the door.Â
That is, until a firm hand stops your path and a very clear, deep voice says your name.
Looking up, you see Mingi, lensless glasses on his nose again and that little shy smile on his lips, and the last few days of progression are forgotten.Â
How could you ever forget how pretty he is? Love songs start playing in your head, intricate violins and piano, and itâs jarring how nervous you feel all of a sudden, uncertain of yourself. Heâs so beautiful and he dresses well and heâs smart and kind and easygoing, but you still have that looming feeling of itâs never gonna happen, hopping from foot to foot in your boots.
Wooyoung keeps walking, pretending to be occupied on his phone, and you realise youâre staring at Mingi and not saying anything. âMingi. Hi!â
âHi, itâs good to see you again,â He seems a little flustered himself, fingers pulling at the collar of his t-shirt and you canât help but smile. Heâs so endearing. âHow have you been since the party?â
âGood,â You shrug easily, like it hasnât been destroying your nerves for the past few days, âIâve been good. I- youâre good too, I hope?â
Inwardly cringing, you flush, but Mingi seems to find it amusing, lips curling up. âIâm great. Hey, listen, couldnât help but overhear youâre not doing too well in economics, and well, Iâm not too bad at it myself,â he snaps his fingers, and your eyes widen. No. âI can study with you for the test, if you want.â
âIs that a good idea?â Youâre straight to the point, and Mingi offers a pout, confused, and you want to cry. âI mean, Mingi, I would just take up your time-â
âI want to study with you,â He seems to straighten up then, and you remember how big he is, towering over you. âNo offence, but I know youâre not doing too well, and I want to help you,â He seems determined, and you canât work out why, but he continues, âWe could bump your grade up a little if you do well on the test.â
You let out a strangled noise, tapping your foot. â⊠Fine.â
âI- I could come to yours later on today? If youâre free, that is.â
You stare. Thatâs the second worst fucking idea youâve ever heard, next to Wooyoungâs that got you talking to this tall, beautiful man in the first place. Why not the library? But youâre going to have to, arenât you, because you canât deny that face anything, and what other choice have you got?Â
The idea of being in close proximity to him like that and being able to trace every single line and dot on his face with your eyes is anxiety and arousal inducing and heâs staring at you hopefully, waiting for an answer-
âMingi, Iâm bad at this class,â You blurt. He only tilts his head in question. âI could bring your grade down, distract you so badly by asking so many questions that you end up at the bottom just like me.â
Heâs quick to respond, as if he canât miss this opportunity. âThatâs a bit extreme,â he breathes out a laugh, âvery unlikely. Anyway, call it helping a friend out.â
A friend. Of course.
âRight, wellâŠâ You rub the back of your neck.Â
It would be stupid to pass this up. If studying with him could really help your grade, and stop you retaking this dumb class, youâre sure you can reign in the horny demons inside of you for a few nights a week. You look down at the floor, but get caught at his legs.Â
In the rips of his black jeans, you see a slither of muscled thigh. Your eye twitches.
Shit, can you reign it in? Fuck, youâre gonna have to. âOkay. Iâll work really hard. Iâll be a really good study partner, like, the best.â
âI know youâll be good,â He grins, and god, did he mean the way that came out? Heâs already pushing his phone into your hands for you to put your number in, and you send an emoji to yourself so that you have his too. âCool. Iâll text you, let you know when Iâm on my way.â
By the time heâs walked away, somehow Wooyoung is right behind you again, giggling in your ear about fate.Â
But thatâs how you find yourself in your room not five hours later, unfortunately not high and staring at Mingi, sitting contently in front of you. San and Wooyoung had greeted him in the hallway, mumbling too quietly for you to hear - to your dismay - and now youâre in your room. Your plushies and girly things would be embarrassing if he didnât immediately pick up a fuzzy teddy bear and place it on his lap, cooing and pulling softly at his droopy ear.Â
Heâs so cute, and the more you think about it the more itâs got you scowling in your loungewear. A matching set, in the hopes that heâd think you look nice.
Heâs talking about something, you think, but god you feel like youâre in those dreams you have again with how heâs on your bed and youâre dizzy with it - except youâre not. Itâs real, heâs there, perched on your mattress next to you in a zip-up jacket and joggers for comfort with textbooks set beside his lap. He kicked off his shoes in your hallway, and heâs in a spare pair of Sanâs slippers, two sizes too small.Â
You focus back in when he waves his fingers in front of your face teasingly, and all you can do is mumble sorry thereâs no desk in my room.
âWhat? Thatâs fine, itâs better to be comfortable anyway,â He laughs, finally placing the teddy bear back in its spot. He pats his head. You want to scream. âDo you have any idea what you want to start with? We can keep it pretty basic at first and work our way up. She said the test wonât be too bad - if you actually listen to me, youâll be fine.â
Itâs said pointedly, with a little grin like he knows youâre not going to listen.
âCool, cool,â You smile with way more confidence than you feel. Your entire body hums like a live wire at the proximity. âSo Iâll be top of the class when the grades come out, right?â
He narrows his eyes at you playfully, grabbing a textbook from the pile. âRelax. Iâm top of the class.â
Oh.
You stare at him, smirking like youâre not the slightest bit affected, even though you really are. He often rides on the line between confident and cocky, like heâs daring you to call him out. Like he knows something you donât, always one step ahead.
Scooting a little closer, you scoff, accepting the challenge. You can play ball. âTop of the class doesnât mean youâre good at tutoring. What if you canât make me any better?â
Mingi glances up at you, playfulness in his eyes, that slow smile forming like it has all the time in the world. His jaw clicks when he speaks, âYouâre being cheeky, yâknow that? I guess Iâll have to show you what I can do.â
âThat-?â You swat him, and he catches your wrist easily, making you gasp and pull back sharply. Heat crawls up your neck. âLetâs- okay, letâs just start.â
He chuckles, low and easy, satisfied at how flustered youâve gotten. You wonder for a moment if he can feel it between you too, but he leans closer, resting his elbow on his knee as he opens the textbook between the two of you. Thereâs a decent amount of distance, but you swear you can feel the heat radiating from his thighs - you have to squeeze yours together to calm down. Not now.Â
âYouâre already not paying attention, are you?â
Itâs hard to because he smells like warm cologne and something familiar, vanilla and cedar and youâve smelled this before, you swear, in your dreams. His leg brushes yours like itâs no big deal, like youâre not looking at how much bigger than you he is, like he doesnât notice how you shiver every time he gets this close. Does he?
He taps a paragraph on the page, saying something about how this part is important, and we should go over this too, but his voice is softer now, almost tender. âYouâre not even looking at the book. Whatâs up? Have you really just got a mental block for this?â
No, youâre just too attractive and itâs overwhelming. âYup, think so,â you exhale, rubbing your sweaty palms on your leggings, âhey, what if we smoke before we study? I think I might focus better.â
Mingi seems to consider it. He scratches a nail down the page in thought - you notice heâs got some letters painted on his nails, and you want to ask. Eventually he shrugs, shutting the book and throwing it to the side. Your jaw drops that he gave up that easily, but heâs rummaging through his bag all of a sudden with ring-clad hands before he pulls out a little plastic bag.Â
âI planned for this.â
Itâs your turn to grin.Â
âI mean, if you insist,â You tease, nudging him with your foot, and Mingi chuckles, low and sexy. The thought pops into your head again - you and him. Itâs so easy, bantering back and forth, the nerves only electrifying you more. You remind yourself very quickly that this is nothing more than a study session, or preparing for one at least.Â
Passing him the rolling tray from your bedside table, because youâd be damned if you were rolling with his stuff, you settle back on your pillows leisurely. He immediately begins to roll, pulling papers out of his zip-up pocket, and you want to ask him things rather than stare at his hands. Get to know him. Sue you, heâs pretty. âWhat do you major in?â
âMusic production. So does Hongjoong, thatâs how we know each other,â He answers easily, and youâre shocked initially, but actually⊠It makes sense. Heâs relaxed and sometimes shy, but he can ride the line between confident and cocky - like he has two personas, the Mingi you see and the Mingi you actually get. Itâs fun. âWhat about you?â
âEnglish, believe it or not,â You say, and Mingi hums. âSo you make music?â
He licks the paper, sealing the joint. âIâm not surprised. You seem smart like that,â He seems confused on where to smoke it, but you pass him an ashtray and he throws you a thumbs up as he lights it, inhaling deep and filling your room with the funky-smelling smoke, âbut yeah, I make music. Iâm a rapper.â
A rapper? So heâs good with his tongue. You shiver, âRight.â
âOh, do you? Write, I mean?â He smiles at his own joke, eyes already half lidded and a little pink, handing you the joint; youâll never admit you giggled at it too.
You take a few diligent tokes, ashing in the tray when necessary. âI do, sometimes, but I donât get much free time anymore.â
âMm, I bet,â Youâre already a little giggly, and you hand the joint back with a warm feeling on your cheeks and limbs feeling a little slower, less in control. âI could⊠maybe show you a song I made. Only if you show me something you wrote. That would be cool, I think.â
You canât believe youâre in here smoking with him, and heâs telling you things about himself, too. You can build on this.Â
No - youâre getting ahead of yourself again.
âIâd be down,â You smile softly. He hands you the joint again, another quarter smoked, his lips now with a permanent curve of bliss. Heâs high, and he looks so pretty when heâs high, fixing his dark shaggy hair with long, ring clad fingers. He lays on his side in front of you, grabbing your teddy bear to hold at his chest while he leans on his hand, comfortable. Thereâs one burning question in your mind as you examine him, his zip-up slipping off his shoulder, âhonestly, Iâm surprised you donât major in fashion. You dress really cool.â
That slow, lazy smirk forms again, ear to ear. You almost choke as you inhale, but you manage to keep it in. âYou think I dress cool?â
You shrug, suddenly aware of how hot it is in your room. âI mean⊠yeah.â
âThanks,â He says, then adds, almost too casually, âI think youâre really pretty.â
It lands harder than he expected. Your breath stutters, and he licks his lips, eyes widening like he thinks heâs gone too far. âIs that-â he hesitates, â-okay? Can I say that?â
You nod, still catching your breath. âYeah, you- yeah, you can say that.â
Now itâs his turn to look nervous, teeth worrying at his lip but this time like heâs trying not to smile too wide. He thinks youâre pretty? Really pretty? The compliment loops around in your head. You hand him the joint back, meaning to follow it up with a question but he simply puts it out in your ashtray, the finality causing you to pause.Â
He moves into a sitting position with a quiet sigh, and rifles through his bag a little. Just as youâre about to speak, he pulls out his laptop - the screensaver is one of him, Hongjoong and Yunho from a holiday, you judge by the background of the shot, but he clicks away and types his password in too fast for you to examine it fully.
âAnyway,â He says, too deliberately normal, clicking on a file, âIâve got some material from the professor. It should help clear things up.â
Just like that, he moves on like the compliment was nothing, like it didnât linger between you. You assume you should too.Â
Friends compliment each other, right? Heâs already pulling the file up, dexterous fingers quick and practiced clicking on the pages he needs and your head spins pleasantly from the weed, rubbing your clammy hands on your legs again.
A few clicks of his cursor, and he motions you closer, utterly unaware of how intoxicating he smells this close - youâre pooling in your panties again. Your knees touch and this time it sends a shock through you, but you catch the gasp in your throat before it leaves.Â
âAlright,â he says softly, voice deep, âtake a look at thisâŠâ
Focusing on anything else feels impossible, but you push through it, determined - for him.
Itâs only gotten worse.
Rather than the dreams just being sexual, now theyâre something more homely and serious than your heart can handle. Youâve had no more study sessions, although youâre due one today, and youâve had these godforsaken dreams almost every night.Â
Mingi cooking you dinner in your kitchen, smelling of oil and something delicious. Mingi holding your hand, safe and sure, as you walk through the city at night. Restaurants with Mingi, him pouring you another glass of wine and giggling when your nose scrunches up at the taste.
Itâs getting domestic rather than primal, and youâre not sure how to deal with it. Itâs made you want him more, while the times you actually see him only remind you that he doesnât see you like that. At least, not in real life.
To make matters worse, Mingi insisted you continue your study sessions - along with now sending you some motivational GIFs over text during the week to make sure youâre on top form, like that was meant to help your sick little crush - and now you find yourself sitting waiting for him in the library, heart already fluttering something stupid.
A carton of banana milk slides across the desk.Â
You squeak and barely manage to catch it before it tips over, glad that the campus library is pretty much empty due to fall break and you can make however much noise as you like. The librarian would typically tell you off for saying one word, but sheâs got her own nose in an old, weathered book, her eyes fluttering shut from sleep.
A big body drops into the seat across from yours, the weight of him making the table feel smaller. Mingi looks entirely too pleased with himself, nodding pointedly at the carton.
âThatâs it, right?â He snaps his fingers, âthatâs the one you like.â
You stare. It's the same exact one you get from the vending machine in the building where your economics class is every week, but given that youâre now on break you havenât had a reason to go there. It had been hard, trying to do any form of studying without your banana milk, but⊠how could Mingi have noticed that you get this one?Â
âHowâŠâ You shake your head. âHow did you know?â
His eyebrow raises, looking confused, opening his laptop.Â
âI always see you with one,â He says, as if it explains everything. Your gut clenches, and you feel something tingle in between your legs too, like all it takes is a carton of milk, making you feel nothing but desperate - itâs more than that, though. He noticed.Â
A few clicks, and then he digs in his bag again, setting a carton of strawberry milk down for himself and a set of papers next to you both. Your heart flutters. âI brought worksheets too. I know, not really fun, but at least I can see what you know since you know⊠we werenât exactly productive last time,â he tuts at you playfully, âbad influence.â
You gasp dramatically. âExcuse you. We studied after, and it was your weed.â
He nudges your ankle softly with his shoe. âAnd I brought you a banana milk,â he slides the papers over, ânow do the sheets for me, youâre wasting time again.â
For him, youâd do anything. Your pencil scribbles across the paper as you write your name with a heart next to it, as if youâre not his only student. Mingi doesnât notice - he takes the time to do something on his laptop. You wonder what, because he pulls his headphones over his head and starts working dutifully. Itâs hard not to simply watch him at work and ignore what he asked you to do; he clocks in so quickly, eyes narrowing at the screen and lips mouthing words you canât decipher. Heâs comfortable in baggy jeans and a hoodie, chains and rings catching your attention but he looks amazing, like everything he wears is straight from a fashion show.
Shaking your head, you turn to the paper - but you read a total of one question before realising that you really have no idea what the fuck is going on in this class.
âMingi,â You say finally, tapping your pencil on the page, âI need help.â
To your surprise, he pulls his headphones off his dark hair quickly and leans over to you, eyes flickering to your sheet. It takes everything in you not to kiss him then and there.Â
â⊠Thatâs the first question,â He looks at you, taking in your blank expression, then exhales a laugh. âOkay, Iâve seen you in every class - do you just not focus at all?â
Flailing your limbs around dramatically, you groan, âitâs boring as hell. The lecturer is also boring as hell.â
He snorts, but instead of teasing you more like you expect him to, he pulls his chair around properly, close enough that your knees touch. A shiver wracks through your spine.Â
âAlright,â he says gently, voice calmer, more soothing, âforget how she explained it. Iâll do it my way.â
He takes your pencil, fingers brushing against yours, sketching quick boxes and arrows across the page.Â
âOkay,â he begins, âeconomics is just people making decisions but with maths.â
You blink. âI donât think thatâs correct.â
He grins, sharp nose scrunching, clearly pleased that youâre actually interested for once. âNo, seriously. Itâs people making choices because they want something and donât have enough money or time for it. All we have to do is sound smart when we talk about it.â
He sketches two simple lines with your pencil, next to the questions on the sheet, a curve sloping upwards and another sloping down right next to it. You recognize it immediately, which makes you a little proud.
âSupply and demand,â You mumble, pointing at the page. His eyes brighten.
âSee? You do know things,â He says softly, like itâs a secret. His shoulder brushes yours as he leans closer, and you remember the party, how close he was then, and you forget everything youâve ever learned. Fuck.
âSo this,â He taps the downward curve, your cat-shaped eraser bobbing comically on the edge of the pencil, âis demand. People want less of something when itâs expensive, more when itâs cheap - dramatic, but predictable, right? Of course we do.â
âAnd supply,â He continues, tapping the other line, âthatâs the opposite. Producers are greedy. Theyâre willing to sell more when prices are higher.â
He freezes, glancing sideways at you. âYou still with me? Thatâs like, basic basic.â
You nod a little too fast. It makes sense, but fuck, are you allowed to kiss him yet? Heâs so patient, so kind, and so cute that even his fucking teeth are cute. âYeah. Iâm here.â
His mouth twitches like he doesnât quite believe you, but he lets it slide and draws a small dot where the lines intersect.
âEquilibrium,â You say, and he nods.
âThe sweet spot,â He murmurs, and you shiver. This has to be some sort of fucked up joke. âEveryoneâs equally unhappy here. Price equals quantity demanded equals quantity supplied. No shortages. No surplus.â
He leans back just enough to look at you properly. Youâre not confused, rather determined, staring at the sheet.Â
He fiddles with the eraser, rings glinting in the light. âSo what part loses you?â
âAll of it,â you admit, âbut especially those shiftsâŠ? Why do things move?â
His expression softens. You wonder if heâs finally realised youâre hopeless, but he starts speaking again, more determined.
âOkay, so,â He flips to a clean section of the page and starts again, slower this time, drawing the same silly diagrams and the same silly dots and scribbles. His plump lips curl in focus, making him look so handsome that your hands unclench and clench in your lap. âThink of demand shifting like your banana milk.â
Your heart flutters.
âYou donât always want it, right?â He says casually, like he hasnât just seen you so viscerally. âLike if itâs hot outside, or youâre stressed, or the lecture was particularly boring, then you want it more. I bet youâd even pay more.â
Heâs right, you think, but why does this all make sense now, with him? He rubs at the page with your cat-shaped eraser and shifts the curve, oblivious to your internal plight. âThatâs a demand increase. Same price, more quantity demanded.â
You stare at the page, then at him. âYouâre using me as an example.â
âWell,â he shrugs, too nonchalantly for how you feel looking at him. âYouâre the first thing I thought of.â
Your fingers tighten around the edge of the paper. Heâs still got your pencil so you canât fidget, but you can smell his cologne, mixing with the scent of books in the library. It feels way too intimate and the furthest youâve gone is your knees touching. You want more, but you have to focus.
âAnd supply, then⊠if things get cheaper, or easier to produce, you can make more so supply increases,â You try, quieter and uncertain, but he nods encouragingly. âI think this actually makes some sense when you explain it.â
Something unreadable flickers across his face - pride, perhaps. âGood,â he says, softer, âI want you to get it.â
You smile, taking a sip of your banana milk that has you humming with glee. Tasty. He mirrors you and takes a sip of his, sliding the worksheet back towards you, his fingers lingering just a second too long to tap on the words printed. Heâs got the same letters written across his fingernails again.Â
âTry the next question,â He nudges you. âIâll stay here.â
It takes you a second to decode, but you start to scribble down things here and there, trying to make heads or tails of the question. Mingi is silent the whole time but you feel him watching what youâre doing, and you feel the weight of his arm when he lays it on the back of the chair behind you.
Within a few minutes you seem to have written something of note, and you slide the paper back to him silently.Â
He clicks his tongue without saying a word and leans forward closer to the desk. Dark eyes narrow at the page and read over the few lines youâve written, before he side eyes you with a satisfied smirk.
âGood girl,â Itâs said teasingly, and he smooths your hair, too casual. Your tummy flips but his grin is content, unknowing, his eyes forming crescents, âsee, I told you youâd get it. Try the next one.â
Somehow, it starts to seem easier with him around, and over time, he has to help you less and less. It doesnât quell the burning in your gut, only igniting it to the point it starts to get unsufferable, and all you can do is try to ignore the flames.Â
The next time heâs between your legs in your dreams is in your room again, and it feels so much more vivid now that you know more about him, about the way he speaks to you, the way he acts.Â
âWhat a pretty fucking pussy,â He muses, eyes fixated directly on your core. He uses his thumbs to pull your lower lips apart, and you can see those letters on his nails. He watches your folds stick together with arousal once he lets go, groaning, running his fingertip up your slit - the contact makes you gasp, hips bucking tentatively for more. âDoes she always get this wet?â he spits down on your mound, watching it drip, âfuck- fucking creamy, baby, shit.â
He lets out a little moan before heâs diving in. You canât get any relief, trying to squirm away - his broad shoulders are spreading your thighs apart as well as pinning them, and his hands are still playing with your pussy while he tongues over your slit.
âTasty too, good girl, mmf-â he whines, moving to pull you closer by your ass instead, his rings biting into your skin. He says it the way he did in the library, and your cunt gushes so wet his lips click against it; the moan you let out is like youâre in distress, hand gripping onto the headboard.Â
How does he know you like this? His lips suck over your clit and you wail, reaching down with your spare hand to push his head in.Â
âFuck, Mingi,â you gasp, writhing, âso fucking good, please-âÂ
Yanking at his hair, you canât help but grind your hips into his face. He doesnât stop you, hands gripping you and pulling you in rhythm against his tongue, and you think heâs gonna make you cum already. Itâs too quick, debilitating as you hump his fat tongue to your orgasm and you pull at dark strands, looking down your body to see dark, narrowed eyes staring right up at you and he groans deep against your folds, youâre so close, almost there-
This time you wake up horny but beyond fed up, almost ignorant to the throbbing between your legs. Itâs quick and easy to make yourself cum with your fingers, sticking your hands down your pants to rub one out while thinking of soft lips and rapid rapper tongues, and after that itâs just another day of being haunted by him, you suppose.Â
Except this time you have a study session at Mingiâs house, and you havenât been there since the party.Â
It may have been the excitement and nerves surrounding the plans that caused the dream, but youâre too tired to care about it, yawning over exaggeratedly and stretching the sleep away from your limbs. Youâve studied hard, had a few more sessions with him that werenât romantically charged and watched countless videos online. Youâve even read some books, some that he gave you and some that you found yourself - youâre ready to impress him, glancing over at the many papers and folders in your bag.
However, despite the attempts to gain his praise, youâre beginning to accept that youâre doomed to a life without Mingi, or worse, a life with Mingi just as your friend.Â
Every single time something appears to click between you, or you have what Wooyoung would call A Moment, something interrupts or distracts one of you. Then, the moment evaporates, and nothing happens. While youâve been sitting on pins for days, waiting for something to happen - youâre also unsure something will happen.
Youâre unsure if youâve read the entire situation the wrong way, and he really is just a good, kind friend, and your insatiability has just driven you to blur the line between fantasy and reality.
When you finally get ready and go downstairs after doomscrolling on your phone, Wooyoung and San are both looking at you like the cats who got the cream. Theyâre standing in the kitchen, heads fully spun towards you while you hover in the doorway in your nice jeans with a tote bag on your shoulder. If it surprises either of them that you actually have books in your bag, they donât say anything, only smiling wider when you bounce from foot to foot.Â
You crumble first. âOkay, why are you guys staring at me?â
San answers your question with a question, sipping at his mug of coffee, âWhere are you going?â
âYou know where Iâm going,â You scoff, crossing the kitchen to fill your water bottle up. Wooyoung parts from the sink to let you get there, but his smile doesnât fall, so pleased your blood starts to boil. âIt is not a big deal. Weâre just friends.â
âSure,â Wooyoung says finally, and you groan, stomping your feet. âHeâs wasting his time helping you study for a test youâre gonna fail anyway because heâs a good friend.â
You scrunch your nose up, âWouldnât you guys do that for me?â
âNo,â they reply at the same time, and you screw your water bottle lid on, scowling.
âWooyoung, you said he was kind. This is him being kind.â
âHeâs trying to get in your pants, like, romantically,â San says, and you want to launch your water bottle at him. âHave you tried asking him? Kissing him, maybe?â
âHe is tutoring me, Choi San.â
âYou need to be tutored in more than economics if youâre this stupid.â
You gasp, affronted, âSince when could boys and girls not be friends?â
Wooyoung snorts, âSince the boy and girl in question both like each other and are being stupid about it.â
It pisses you off even more. They donât know the situation youâre in, the moments the two of you have had where you think something might break through and every single time, nothing happens, and youâre reminded that it will never happen. It feels like theyâre mocking you, and you mumble a âWhatever, goodbye,â that seems to be enough to placate them.
They wave you goodbye, and you choose not to tell them the extent of your hangout to avoid teasing - youâre going to his house. If they caught wind of this, theyâd be buying wedding outfits and booking venues.
However, this could really prove catastrophic for you. The dreams were realistic already, but now if you have the information of what his bedroom looks like stored inside your brain, theyâre only going to get worse - more variety, more realistic.
You think pathetic horny thoughts the entire walk there, nervous and excited at the same time, hands smoothing down your hair over and over as if the gentle fall breeze was going to make you look effortlessly cool. Not only are you going to his house - his room - youâre hyperaware of your body, of every movement you make, the ache between your legs thatâs been lingering since you woke up; it all feels a little too much.Â
When you knock on the front door, it swings open almost immediately.
âMmm- hey, girl,â Mingi says, tall and looming, hair a little messy and curling at the ends, glasses on. His oversized tee is loose on his frame like he just woke up and threw it over his massive shoulders. He looks domestic, like he could be your real boyfriend - itâs exactly the version of him your dreams have been conjuring, and itâs getting to you before youâve even walked through the door. âYouâre right on time, look at that!â
âHey,â Your voice is small, knees feeling weak.
He steps aside to let you in, and his place smells faintly like weed and, well, that scent of Mingi that youâve been focused on since you met him. You can smell what must be someone cooking something delicious too, faintly, and when you focus you can hear his housemate tinkering around in the kitchen.Â
His house looks different in the daytime. The sofas look lived in and comfortable and you can see the music memorabilia properly, rap album records and posters donning the walls. It seems theyâre both very serious about this kind of stuff, and your brain betrays you instantly, noting everything for future dreams.
âRoomâs this way,â he says, already turning down the hallway like he doesnât see you taking everything in. You almost trip over a half-dead potted plant on your way.
His bedroom is smaller than you expect - you wonder if Hongjoong got the bigger room - and itâs neat but not too neat. His bed is made but the pillows are a little smushed, desk cluttered with papers with scribbled lines of writing, packs of rolling papers on his bedside table and empty baggies in the bin. A guitar sits in the corner, obviously well loved and with a large sticker on the corner of the body. He seems content with you looking around, trying to shuffle some papers into a neat pile until he flops down on the floor by his bed, patting the space next to him.
âWe can spread out here,â he motions, brushing his hair out of his face, âI donât have another chair for the desk, Iâm sorry.â
You hesitate for a half second too long before joining him, back against the bed, knees bent. Youâre so close that your legs touch again, and you shiver despite being used to it by now. He doesnât move away.
âSo,â he says, nodding towards your tote bag, âready to actually pass this test? This is our last session.â
You grin, reaching into your bag. âI may surprise you.â
âOh?â He raises a brow, smiling. âNow Iâm excited. Donât tell me you actually-â
You lay out your notes. Youâve not done a lot, but whether he was expecting something amazing or not it doesnât matter, because the noise of awe he makes is all you need. Your colour coded, annotated tabs stick out from the textbook he gave you before, and his teasing expression drops, replaced with genuine surprise.
âYou did.â He murmurs. âYou actually studied.â
âWow,â you say dryly, âyou sound full of confidence in me.â
He laughs, shaking his head, flipping through a few pages, âno, not at all. This is good. Iâm so impressed, yâknow, you didnât even care a few weeks ago?â his eyes scan your writing quickly, âyou did elasticity? On your own? You didnât even text me!â
You nod. âA demon came to me in a dream and taught it to me.â
Mingi pales, fingers paused on the tabs. âPlease donât joke like that.â
You laugh, shaking your head, âNo, I actually just read the books you gave me and watched some videos online. Itâs not too hard when someone explains it to you the way you need.â
Despite your last statement, a warm expression creeps over his face, pride softening his features. âIâm so proud of you.â
The words hit harder than they should. Your throat tightens, and you have to look back down at your notes so he doesnât see the emotion spread across your face.Â
âOkay,â he says, scooting a little closer, âletâs test you. Walk me through this one.â
He points to a practice question. You explain, a little slow at first because you havenât talked about these things out loud before, but once you find your words it gets smoother. He listens intently, eyes on you, not the page; when you finish with a satisfied smile, he nods slowly.
âYeah,â he says, âthatâs it. Well done.â
âOh,â you smile. âReally? Thatâs it?â
âYou nailed it,â He confirms, and you swat at him again. Surely not. âIâm serious! See, it was always there. You just needed it explained in a way that made sense to you.â
Your knee nudges his when he shifts to point at another question, neither of you moving away. The room feels quieter, heavier, like the air has thickened. You keep going, question after question, and each time he needs to prompt you less and less. Sometimes he just watches you scribble away or think, stumbling over your words, his chin resting on his hand in a way that has to make the rings dig into him, expression soft and unreasonable.
At one point, you get stuck, frowning at a graph.
âOkay, wait,â you mutter, but heâs already there.
âRemember what we said about equilibrium?â He says gently, leaning over your shoulder. His arm comes up and behind you, on the mattress. He doesnât seem to realise it, but itâs just like at the library, and you want to scowl at the effect he has on you.Â
Your heart pounds, but you focus, staring at the page. âEquilibriumâŠâ
âYou already know this,â he points at the graph, finger dangerously close to yours, âyou do, I promise. Youâre just second-guessing yourself. Go with your gut.â
It feels like it means a million things at once. You glance up, and heâs closer than you expect - your breath stutters, and he continues looking at the page. His thumb flicks over a few of your tabs, considering.
âYou know, itâs really cute that you put in this much effort,â he says absently, and your brain short circuits, stumbling out a few words that seem to make him snap awake. He finally looks at you, realises how it sounded and for a moment, neither of you move, looking at each other.
He laughs softly, rubbing the back of his neck. âI think,â he says after a moment, âyouâre gonna do way better than you think you are.â
The praise sits between you. Heâs been giving you a lot of it, you think, and it feels like something unspoken is there. Neither of you reach for it, something that doesnât surprise you.Â
Instead, you sit shoulder to shoulder again, letting him show you how to understand economics as the sun dips lower and the room grows dimmer. Nothing happens again, and somehow that makes it worse, causing the knot in your tummy to tighten to an excruciating point.Â
Youâre really not sure whatâs happening anymore.Â
Dealing with vivid sex dreams about a man who doesnât like you back is one thing, but dealing with them while said man is forcing you to study for a test is another thing. Still, if it hadn't been Song Mingi helping you you think you never wouldâve studied, never wouldâve bothered turning up for the test, and you wouldâve been sitting on the same exact cheap plastic chair next semester resitting the entire thing.
You get to class a few minutes before the test starts, a mere few days after your last study session, Wooyoung in tow groaning about how âmessed up the last minute test isâ - you donât have the heart to tell him it was mentioned weeks ago and he just wasnât listening so it canât be considered last minute. Youâre more focused on the crippling fear of you failing this test after all of the work youâve done, the colour coded tabs and annotations that Mingi checked over to make sure you were on the right track, and you know that Mingi is never on time and so wonât be present to look over your notes with you.Â
However, you walk into the room and see a carton of banana milk settled on your desk.
Thereâs only a few other people in here, you, Wooyoung and a few others, but a quick scan shows you Mingi is sitting in his seat and is doing very well at pretending to be occupied. He flips through a folder of notes, and you hover in the doorway, Wooyoung elbowing you frantically.Â
âThatâs-â he gasps, âhe- thatâs-â
Your mind is racing yourself. Bringing one for you before when you studied was one thing, but heâs brought you one before the test that could determine your fate with this class, and heâs acting like itâs nothing, like it hasnât shattered your heart into a million pieces that he actually fucking thought of you, unprompted.
Wooyoung continues spluttering behind you as you continue to your desk, waving at Mingi on his way, and you shoot him a look filled with nerves and want. Heâs even put the straw in ready for you, so when you sit down, you take a grateful sip instantly. Mid-sip, Wooyoung snatches it from your hand to see a scribbled good luck note stuck on the other side, complete with a drawing of a chicken holding his own carton of milk.
âThis is ridiculous,â He mumbles, running a hand through his newly cherry red hair, grabbing the paper between two fingers, âyou two are playing a game that does not need to be played.â
âWhatever that means,â you sigh, snatching it back.
Avoiding staring at the side of your crushâs head, you look back down at the milk, contemplating while the class fills up. Itâs not long until the professor comes in, and lays down the paper tests on everyoneâs desks. Everyone looks nervous apart from Wooyoung, who just generally does not care, and Mingi, who you know is more than prepared.Â
A few minutes go by while she talks, and when the class is allowed to start you look down at the questions and hang on⊠you actually know what this test is talking about. You shoot Mingi a look and heâs already staring at you, smiling with his teeth like he knows exactly what youâre thinking. It hurts your heart, but you smile back, shooting him a nod filled with everything he needs to know.
The test goes by like a breeze, banana milk aiding you along the way. Youâre not convinced youâve done amazing, per se, but you think youâve done well enough to pass. The entire class pours out at the end of the hour before you have the chance to tell Mingi that you think youâve done alright. Still, the professor tells you that sheâll upload everyoneâs grades online later today, and you hope that you have the chance to talk to him later, for him to tell you how well youâve done.Â
Your mind runs with thoughts as Wooyoung yaps the entire way home. He talks about how hard the test was, how annoying the professor is, how youâve probably done just fine with the star studentâs help, and then he pauses in his tracks on the way home.Â
âSpeaking of,â he says, pointing a finger at you, âare you going to Mingiâs party tonight?â
You freeze. Your heart skips a beat, and you lick your lips, swallowing hard, mouth suddenly feeling insanely dry.
He hasnât invited you. If he hasnât invited you to his party, then that definitely means that thereâs nothing between you, that you really have just overanalysed things in your head. It feels like life couldnât be any crueler to you right now.
You swallow again. âI wasnât planning on it,â you say, and Wooyoungâs brow rises, red hair flicking around his jaw due to the wind. He sees right through you. âOkay, fine. I wasnât invited.â
He scowls, âThatâs fucked up, especially with how much time you spend together.â He mumbles, contemplating. The two of you start to walk again before he continues, his hands shoved in his pockets, âwhatever, youâre coming with us anyway.â
âI canât turn up there after he didnât invite me. Youâre deranged.â
âThat is exactly what you did last time.â
He leaves no room to argue, and when you cross the threshold to your front door, San is perched on the sofa waiting for your arrival. Heâs shoving food into his face, cheeks puffed out beyond belief but he perks up upon your return, eyes forming crescents and hands quickly moving to the TV remote to pause whatever heâs got on. Another soppy drama show, you think, since he looks flushed like heâs just been emotional over it.
âHow did the test go?!â He shrieks, stumbling over bare-foot in shorts that show too much thigh. Wooyoungâs eyes linger on his bare skin and you scoff.Â
âIt went fine,â you say, walking in to collapse on the sofa next to the San-shaped dip, âI think I may have scraped a pass. Grades are out later.â
Unfortunately, despite you wanting anything but, you press play on the show that Sanâs watching and it engrosses you. The boys take themselves out to the kitchen, you assume to fix you all something to eat. From what you can gather, the show is an old one about some kids in school trying to become K-Pop idols. It does seem pretty emotional, but the only thing you can cry over right now is a tall rapper that doesnât want you.Â
It only takes a few minutes, but a loud, hysterical laugh from Wooyoung from the other room makes you sigh. Somethingâs happened, and you hear the telltale sound of feet clambering down the hallway to thrust his phone in your face, all bright smiles and too-red hair.
âGrades are out already,â Heâs still laughing, motioning to the block letters, a number sixty on his screen, âhow the fuck did I pass?â
San walks in laughing behind him, hands clapping on your other friendâs shoulders in glee, âI have no idea how you did it but Iâm so proud.â
Your chest clenches. Shit. Theyâre out already? Either thatâs a good sign for the class or a very, very bad sign, but you dig in your pocket and pull your phone out to unlock it. No texts from Mingi, not that you expected any, but you quickly open up your student portal and sign in, clicking through the pages you need to get to the class overview.Â
It takes too long to load. Wooyoung drops into the San-shaped dip and San leans over him, two sets of peering eyes focused on your phone screen, and theyâre both completely silent as they wait. You think Sanâs stopped breathing. The loading circle spins mockingly, over and over, and then the page loads.
Sixty-two.
Wait.
âOh my god, I fucking-â
âYou passed!â Wooyoung screams, shaking you by the shoulders. âDo you know what this means? Shit, baby, Iâm so proud!â
You know what this means. You donât have to resit that class, you donât have to ever bother with a stupid economics class at all ever again, you never have to see that professor again, and you have Song Mingi to thank for it all. It feels like a joint achievement, if anything, and you want to text him and tell him and thank him but - should you? Is that okay?
San and Wooyoung bounce around the living room screaming and shouting so loud that you get brought back to reality.
âI fucking passed,â you breathe in disbelief, and San cheers again.
âHell yeah, you did!â He hugs you, warm and grounding and so nice but not what you want at all. âWeâre so proud. Weâre gonna get drunk, and high, and go have fun at your boyfriendâs party-â
âSan,â Wooyoung pauses, face suddenly straight, shaking his head solemnly, ânot her boyfriend. In fact, he didnât even invite her.â
Sanâs jaw drops. âHe⊠what? But I thought you-â
âYeah, I know.â Wooyoung grumbles. You want them to talk more, eyebrow raising, tossing your phone to the floor haphazardly. Itâs already smashed enough, you donât even think it could smash anymore.
âYou know what?â You narrow your eyes, and both boys shake their heads too quickly. Thatâs weird. âTell me what you know. Now.â
San waves his hand in your face, trying to calm you down, âJust that you two were getting close. I promise, thatâs all Iâve been told.â
âAnyway, it doesnât matter,â Wooyoung shrugs, too easy. It makes you want to scream. âYouâre coming with us anyway, baby. I couldnât care less what Song Mingi thinks his guestlist is.â
âHey.â San says, weak. âHe is actually a really nice guy.â
You groan, flailing your limbs, and they finally shut up - or at least they start talking about something else.
By the time you get to the party, your head spins, more drunk than you ever have been, feeling nice in your pretty dress and your best boots. The boys had insisted that a strong pregame was essential to celebrate yours and Wooyoungâs results, and Wooyoung fixes your makeup for you at the front door, too sober for your liking, thumbs smudging your eyeliner perfectly.
Itâs a little like youâre entering the lionâs den, preparing to be eaten, but your brain hasnât let you fully understand whoâs house youâre entering and the fact that you werenât even originally invited, too tipsy to care.Â
San swings the front door open like he lives there, cheering with a happy, intoxicated flush on his face at whoever he sees first, and you let him introduce you to a few people while you giggle along and smile politely. It turns out a few of these people already know who you are, from the boys mentioning you you presume, so itâs easy to mingle and drink a little more when they offer it.
Your head spins. A little embarrassed, you remind yourself itâs a damn celebration. You never thought you wouldâve passed that class.
Wooyoung drags you along to the kitchen, forcing another drink in your hand, and you get an immense sense of deja vu. This time, heâs learned and itâs a rum and coke he places into your grip, while you feel present physically and not mentally. San catches up to you after a while, joining in on whatever conversation the other man is leading seamlessly, and you nod and hum along like you know whatâs happening, swaying in your spot.
Two big, firm hands land on your shoulders, and Wooyoongâs eyes widen comically at the figure behind you.Â
âYou came!â Itâs slurred, but youâd know that voice anywhere - Mingi, in front of you when you turn around, black tank top tight and cargo trousers baggy. You feel lightheaded for a different reason all of a sudden, eyes scraping down big shoulders, big arms and even bigger thighs, the way his body tightens at his waist, the way he slings an arm around you like it belongs there. He smells of tequila and bad mistakes, and in any other situation youâd question his behaviour but now, inebriated, youâre leaning in, inhaling deeply for more, letting him ramble on in that deep, soothing voice. âIâm so happy you came! I didnât- Iâm sorry I didnât ask you to come, I wasnât sure-â he hiccups, âI wasnât sure youâd want to, yâknow? Itâs not your type of-â
âYouâre right, she probably wouldâve said no,â San manages for you, and you nod along.Â
âThey dragged me here again, âcause of my test results,â you laugh airily, and Mingiâs eyes widen, round and dark, his hands way too present on your body. He moves down to grip your waist, pulling you into him, and you clock that heâs as drunk as you are - you know that heâd never do this sober, but the warmth of his torso against yours is so nice that you canât complain. You see Wooyoung trying to drag San away from the corner of your eye.
Mingi huffs out an impatient breath, staring directly into your eyes. It makes your thighs tremble and he raises an eyebrow as if to prompt you, âYour test. How did you do? Why didnât you-â he swallows hard, trying to catch his breath, âwhy didnât you tell me?â
âWhy didnât you invite me, for real?â You blurt, a bit bolder now that youâre alone - perhaps itâs knowing that Wooyoung canât see you now, but definitely due to the liquid confidence flowing through you. He at least has the decency to look guilty at your words, one hand coming to the back of his neck.
âI- Iâm sorry,â He says earnestly, bouncing from one foot to another, too full of energy and the tequila, âI should have. There was no other- no other reason, I just really didnât think itâd be your scene.â
You frown. Heâs probably right, but he doesnât know that youâd do anything, go anywhere for him. âI- uhm,â you sip your drink, eyes flickering to the back door. Itâs ajar, people milling in and out past you both but like before, the kitchen is quieter than everywhere else. You manage to look back at him, voice quiet when you speak, âI passed, Mingi. I managed to- well, I barely passed the class, but I passed. Thank you for-â
Youâre cut off by his arms wrapping around you. He shouts with glee, shaking you around in his grip and causing your drink to splash a bit. If heâs bothered by the liquid leaking on his skin he doesnât show it, pulling back from you with a huge grin that you canât help but mirror, issues forgotten. Heâs jostled your bag off your shoulder, and you scoop it back up as he gets noticeably more excited, smile growing wider.Â
âDo you know how proud of you I am?â He gushes, eyes honest, and you melt. Your heart soars, and you smile so wide it hurts your cheeks - this is all you had wanted. Mingi pulls you back into another hug.Â
This time, it lasts longer and he holds you close, letting you feel his warmth and you wrap your arms around his middle, content. Itâs nice, his dark hair tickling your neck as he nuzzles into the crook there - you hear him take a deep breath, holding you closer, and it makes you feel satisfied, somewhat. If this is all you can get, this is okay, youâre sure you can deal with this.
But Mingi pulls away, and something in his eyes tells you despite the alcohol, he knows whatâs going on, knows what he wants, knows that youâre feeling it too.
âIâm so proud of you, so fucking proud,â His chest heaves. He smells of tequila but beneath it, you can smell him, and it makes you lean in closer, head dizzy. âCan I justâŠ?â
âJust what?â You ask, fingers curling around his forearms in the hopes it grounds you - it makes you worse, letting out a whimper at the feeling of his skin on yours that you canât quite hide, âMingi, t-tell me.â
He licks his lips, shaking his head as if to get rid of some of his thoughts, dark hair tousling and he looks so handsome, looking down at you over his sunglasses with uncertainty. It looks like he wants to say too many things at once, with no clue on where to start.
âCan I kiss you?â He asks, and your breath hitches. What? âI- Iâve wanted to kiss you for so long.â
Nodding before you can question why, when, what or how, Mingi leans forward, nose nudging yours, finally pressing his lips against you. Itâs as satisfying as you always thought it would be, and heâs nothing but enthusiastic - heâs immediately letting his tongue push between your lips and into your mouth so far it pushes against your teeth, like heâs trying to swallow you whole. His fists grip into the fabric of your dress and pull you into him, moving down to grip onto your waist and keep you close, afraid you may try to run away now that heâs finally gotten you.
You kiss him back with just as much enthusiasm, placing wet, open mouthed kisses on his lips when he tries to pull away because you canât help yourself - is this really happening, for real? He tastes of tequila, jager and Mingi, and you open your mouth in a jagged moan for more.Â
When he sees how impatient you are, he cracks. He pushes you against the wall and forces his tongue back into your mouth, moaning, gravelly and deep from his chest; your legs start to tremble, and he reaches down with a strong arm and hooks one of your legs around his waist.
âOh,â You moan at the way he moves you around easily, his heavy breaths spilling into your mouth. Heâs impatient, fingers scrambling at the bare skin of your leg, touching you as much as he can in a split second like heâs still scared itâll be over soon. He rocks forward with his hips and meets your core, clothed but youâre sure he can feel how wet you are just from being in his presence, finally feeling his lips against yours for real and not in a dream. âOh, shit-â
âSo pretty,â He murmurs, kissing you again, accidentally rutting against your cunt once, twice, before he forces himself to stop. You can barely focus, unbelieving that heâs real, right in front of you, touching you and kissing you like this - but youâll be damned if youâre not getting answers. âSo gorgeous, lovely girl,â he breathes, urgent, eager, âso smart, so proud, mm-â
He moves away again, sucking over your neck, and you take the moment to speak hoarsely, âMingi, what- what is this? Whatâs⊠whatâs going on here?â
âI-â He freezes. His lips hover at your skin before he pulls away just enough to look at you, palms unclenching and clenching at your waist like he doesnât know what to do with them. â⊠Isnât it obvious?â He asks quietly. âDo I have to say it?â
Thereâs no smugness or cockiness in his tone anymore, only hesitation, like heâs standing on the edge of something and afraid heâll fall if he says it out loud. You read his face for something, anything that tells you how he feels, but all you see is need, his eyebrows knitting together in pure desire - it just confuses you more.Â
âNo,â You say, even though itâs a lie and you wish you did know, kissing the corner of his mouth once again - hoping it channels the gentleness and encouragement that you need to show, not the nerves of wanting something so seriously that it feels like it may shatter your insides. It seems to work, because he kisses you again, rings biting into your thigh when he grips you firmer.
Hands moving to Mingiâs hair, you pull lightly at the strands, bringing him as close to you as possible. He groans at the slight pain, nose nudging yours as he devours your mouth, lips so plump and overwhelming that you try your best to kiss back but are left whimpering into his mouth. He controls it, just as you imagined he would, moving you this way and that; he nips at your bottom lip, prompting you to open your mouth and let him massage his tongue over yours, almost useless while he consumes you.Â
You think your dreams are going to be way too vivid from here on out, overwhelmed with the knowledge of what he actually tastes like and how he actually holds you - unsure but desperate. Heâs good at this too, and you curse yourself; heâs perfect, heâs everything, and this is probably going to be all youâll get, a drunken kiss in his kitchen.
âWe can set up the beer pong in here-âÂ
Mingi springs from you like heâs been burned. His cheeks are flushed, lips slick with a mixture of your spit and he spins around to see Hongjoong, looking just as guilty as he did in the last party when he interrupted you but without his tiara, jaw slack, shocked, round eyes flitting between the two of you.
âOr not.â He offers. âSorry, I didnât realise you two had finally-â
Mingi starts to babble loudly, drowning out the shorter man, hands waving and mouth making some incoherent high pitched noises that have your eyebrows knitted in confusion. Your chest is still heaving against his damn kitchen wall as you try to catch your breath, yanking down the hem of your dress and he continues babbling - you just about catch the end, when he says, clear as day, âThere is nothing going on here.â
Your heart starts to race. Right. You knew that, really, but - well, for a second, youâd hoped that it really was going to be something, forgetting that youâre drunk and so is he and youâre still standing in his kitchen ramrod straight like youâve been electrocuted. He didnât even have the decency to take you away to his room - why would he bother, you think, damning yourself for letting your brain run away with hope and excitement. He could have hidden you away from prying eyes and Hongjoong, who seems to interrupt anything good youâve ever been given by the world, but he didnât.Â
It was nothing. An accident, even. Something you shouldnât have ever dreamed of.
Speaking of Hongjoong, he huffs, folding his arms over his chest. âIt didnât look like-â
âIt was nothing,â You cut him off this time, voice a lot more stable than you feel. You donât look at Mingi, but from the corner of your eye you see something written on his face, something guilty and upset and like heâs at war with himself, and you canât be bothered to spend any more time trying to figure him out tonight. âIt wasnât anything. Hey, have you seen San and Wooyoung?â
Hongjoong nods, a small pout on his lips. âLiving room. Seriously, sorry about that, I-â
âIt was nothing,â You repeat, and he nods again, accepting it - finally. You hear some commotion as you turn your back, hushed whispers that again, you donât have the energy to try to decipher.
Beelining towards the living room, youâre pleased that San and Wooyoung can tell just by the look on your face that youâre ready to leave. They spring up from the sofa, drinks discarded, arms coming to your frame to usher you to a quieter place - it ends up being outside, in their front lawn, and it happens before you even process itâs coming.
Gagging, your body folds, and you vomit right on your crushâs front lawn, just about avoiding your nice boots. Wooyoung stifles his laugh - not very well - and San elbows him behind you, unamused, hand rubbing up your back.Â
âThatâs alright, get it up,â He soothes. âJeez, we shouldnât have let you drink this much. Letâs get you home, yeah?â
âI wanna know what the hell happened,â Wooyoung argues, and the other man sighs loudly in response, making him groan. âFine. Weâll talk when we get home.â
The walk home is longer than you remember, made even worse by how your tummy still flips. Youâre not sure if itâs from the alcohol or the kiss or Hongjoong interrupting or it being nothing or some fucked up combination of all of it but you hold back sobs the whole way home, arms enveloping your middle until you finally cross the threshold into your house.
The boys move quickly into the kitchen. Wooyoung still eyes you, unimpressed that heâs left in the dark but he starts to fill up three plain glasses of water, hopefully to calm all of you down but San simply waits, arms folded over a broad chest, eyebrow raised until you finally decide to speak.
âHe didnâtâŠâ You breathe. Your handbag drops to the floor unceremoniously, lipgloss and compact clattering out of the bag, and San moves to pick them up before you can even ask him to. Wooyoung moves to you, quick across the kitchen to put his arms around your frame. âI donât think itâs like that between us. He- Mingi didnât say he liked me, or anything, we just⊠Well, we kissed, butâŠâ
Tears are starting to form in your eyes. San and Wooyoung share a look, and San appears bewildered, âWhat do you mean?â He shoves your things back into your bag, pushing it onto the table, eyes soft when he turns to you, âhoney, I canât put this any simpler. You are awful at economics, and the man offered to tutor you. Even Woo wouldnât waste his time like that just for some sex.â
âItâs true,â Wooyoung says, hands gentle where they soothe over your shoulders, âI feel it in my gut that he likes you back. Really.â
âThen,â you sniffle, âwhy didnât he-â
âTomorrow, no alcohol, you and Mingi are having a conversation,â he urges, âall the cards on the table. Iâm sick and tired of seeing you pining.â
You sigh, âIt wonât solve anything. He doesnât like me like that. He canât like me like that, I know it.â
âWould you listen to yourself?â Wooyoung laughs, âhe had his tongue in your mouth less than an hour ago. Youâre drunk and sad, he was drunk and Mingi. You both need to get some sleep and talk tomorrow.â
Turning to San, you expect a different response, but he gives you the same look - slightly amused at your unneccessary plight, but very firm. Tomorrow, youâll be embarrassed that you got so drunk over passing a test that you made out with your crush and cried in your kitchen to your friends, but right now youâre too tired and sad to care. He hands you your bag, items back in safely, and the other man ushers you to your bedroom, not minding at all that youâre sniffling and whining the entire way there.Â
The pretty boots you chose for tonight are pulled off by Wooyoung while you sniffle and drizzle on the end of your bed. He doesnât seem to mind, letting you mess up your mascara and your eyeliner in dark tracks down your cheeks until he sighs so loudly, seriously that it shocks you. He throws your boots on the floor by the door.Â
âPromise me,â he says, and then storms over to place his hands on your shoulder. You think heâs still a little drunk too, but he says it with so much conviction that your tears stop in their tracks, eyes round and vulnerable as you look up at him. âPromise me that once you wake up in the morning, you will talk to the man.â
You sniffle, folding your arms over your chest like a child, âDonât want to anymore.â
âBarefaced lie,â San snorts, and you blink through wetness to see him standing at the door. Was he always there? âSweetheart, youâve been making this entirely more complicated than it needs to be.â
Wooyoung pulls your dress over your head and slides a big, oversized t-shirt straight back over you - you think itâs one of his, the hem too stretched and the print a little stained with hair dye. âTomorrow, full honesty,â He points a finger in your face that makes you go cross-eyed. âPromise me. No more lies. No more beating around the bush. Everything gets said.â
âI promise, Wooyo,â you garble, although now that youâve stopped crying, all you can feel is exhaustion taking over your body.Â
Your body hits your mattress before you recognise youâre falling, and Wooyoung tuts, covering you with your blanket. Everythingâs so comfortable all of a sudden, and you feel a hand move a pillow underneath your head to support it - it feels like a damn cloud.
The last thing you register is Sanâs laugh and the sound of a camera shutter before you pass out.
Itâs almost annoying this time, after the almost-confession.Â
Mingi heaves deep, staggered breaths into your neck, wearing the same outfit from the party last night - baggy cargos, too many chains, a tight tank top. A bead of sweat drips from already damp, long, dark hair, down the tempting curve of his neck and youâre already won over, too desperate for him to care, reaching up to drag your tongue up his skin.Â
âFu-uck, thatâs it,â He moans, deep, gravelly, hands determined where they pull down your shorts. Youâre left in your panties, edges of your vision fuzzy with your dream and heâs quick to crowd into your space again, thick thighs forcing yours apart. He makes quick work of his trousers, undoing the button and forcing them past his ass just enough to rut his boxer clad erection against your pussy. âThere, there you go honey, fuck, move against me-â
You do, writhing and bucking your hips to grind your swollen clit against his bulge over and over, letting him move from your neck to your lips. He kisses your mouth finally, and fuck you know what heâs like now, enthusiastic and all consuming. His tongue forces into your mouth just like it did earlier, when this was real. His lips are slick against yours because heâs so messy with it, desperate and bucking against you like he canât get enough.Â
You canât, either, and with desperate fingers moving to his boxers frantically you beg, âMingi, please, inside, wanâit-â
He groans, long and broken, rings biting into your skin when he grips your hips and pulls you down hard against him, âYeah, want it inside, my girl? Can you take it for me?â
My girl. Your head spins, your hands scrambling for purchase against the sheets, his arms, anything, finally gripping wet strands and tugging. Mingi whines this time, too high pitched to be normal, and you struggle to direct his attention to you until his fingertips curl around the waistband of your panties and pull down. He yanks them off your ankle, your leg hanging in the air when he moves back over you and thrusts down again, into your newly exposed cunt, wet and wanting.
âAnswer me,â Heâs determined, rocking against you so steadily youâre worried you might cum from just this, âcan you? Tell me you want me to fuck you, baby, please, tell me- tell me you can take it.â
âI can t-take it,â you cry out without a beat, and he nods, meeting your lips again, âinside, inside-â
It seems to work to convince him, and he leans back on muscled thighs. You take him in, the broad expanse of his shoulders and the way he tapers in at the waist, down to the beginning of his Calvin boxers.Â
He pulls up the fabric of his tank top just enough to let you see it, the beginning of his happy trail, and itâs never gone this far before. You pull yourself up onto your elbows, excited but nerves going haywire, spread eagle and naked from the waist down, and he finally starts to pull at the waistband.Â
Down, down, and the smattering of hair at his base has you gasping, toes curling where your legs lay relaxed over his, and you see the base, and then-
You wake up with shorts so wet that you know youâve orgasmed in your sleep, and now youâre certain itâs gone too far.
Without needing to make yourself cum like every other morning one of these vivid dreams occurred, you have a clear head and can only think that something has got to give. Looking back on what your friends said last night, it feels right that you and Mingi should talk today, completely sober and with clear judgement. Itâs probably the best move.Â
Youâd be embarrassed of your behaviour if you didnât know that Wooyoung and San loved you no matter what, and also they know better than anyone that Song Mingi has been giving you a tough fucking time.
Although the idea has your stomach twisting a little with anxiety, itâs time to be brave, and you roll over to grab your phone⊠only to see that Mingi has had the exact same idea.Â
[9:13am] mingi: hey, we should talk. should i come over?
You blink at the text. Sighing, groaning, and sighing again, itâs obvious you have to reply - it was only sent a half hour ago - so you send a quick okay and crawl out of bed. Youâre hungover, sure, with a soft pain in the back of your head but the determination takes over anything else you feel.Â
Everything feels a little melancholic as you walk around, back hunched over, but you have to know even if it hurts you. You do not want to go another day with any uncertainty.Â
It only takes fifteen minutes for a knock at your door to sound. Itâs given you time to get yourself ready, in another cute loungewear set with simple makeup and hair just barely brushed, and when you open the door Mingi looks worse than you feel.Â
Heâs dressed a lot more casually than normal, beanie pulled over his head tight and jumper oversized and hanging off of his frame. A fleeting thought asks you how big itâd be on you, and you shake your head, forcing it out of your brain. When you donât say anything, he awkwardly tugs at his tote bag on his shoulder, pulling at the bottom of his beanie like heâs got too much energy in his body and doesnât know what to do with it.
He looks so cosy and domestic that you think that you might just burst into tears in his face.
âItâs nice to see you,â your voice warbles, and Mingi scratches his neck awkwardly, pre-roll in his other hand. That tells you all you need to know. âShould we go to my room?â
âYeah, I think thatâs best,â He sighs, looking more nervous than youâve ever seen him and you groan internally. Heâs normally the picture of confidence, save for the few times you two have⊠well, you still donât know.Â
This is going to end worse than you thought it would, you think, perhaps even getting to the point where you canât even be friends anymore. Still, Wooyoung made you swear youâd be honest to the man, and you try not to break promises, especially not when itâs one of your best friends.
Leading him up the stairs, you take him to your room, and he falls on the bed like itâs his own, pulling that same teddy he likes onto his lap, running a hand over his face in exasperation. When he pulls his beanie off, his hair springs up fluffy and brown and cute, and all you can do is hand him the ashtray wordlessly so that you donât scream.Â
He pulls out the same pink lighter you saw him have last time, burning the end of the jointâs paper off and waiting for it to level. Youâre not expecting him to speak yet, settling on your bed across from him with your knees pulled up, picking at a loose thread to avoid staring at him, but he swallows hard and sighs.
âI shouldnât have kissed you yesterday,â he says, and your heart drops. âIâm sorry. I shouldâve- I shouldâve talked to you first, explained how I feel. Itâs been killing me. I especially shouldnât have kissed you when we were both so drunk, but I-â
âI clearly enjoyed it as much as you,â Honesty, and you try to smile, but it doesnât reach your ears. Mingi eyes you like he knows, taking the first drag of the joint. âItâs okay. I understand, it was just a drunken kiss and itâs not-â
âWhat?â Mingi laughs incredulously, âis that really what you think? Do you think I kiss people like that normally?â
You falter. Well, no, youâd hope not, but you hadnât really had anything to go by.
A longer drag, and he eyes you again, before it seems to dawn on him and his lips curl up in amusement. His tongue drags over his teeth, eyes looking you up and down. Fuck. âYou really have no idea, do you?â He hands it to you, leaning back on his hands on the bed, âIâm obsessed with you. Why do you think I asked to tutor you? I mean, no offence, but you were kind of a-â
âA lost cause, yeah, I know,â you inhale. Then, it clicks in your brain, and you blink at him. âSorry, youâre obsessed with me?â
âFor as long as I can remember,â honest, frank, straight. Your head spins, but you inhale a little more, trying to formulate your thoughts better. âSince before we even spoke. I thought thatâs why the guys brought you to my party in the first place.â
Hold on. You ash the joint, handing the ashtray and the smoking stick back to Mingi, âWooyoung and San knew?â
He shrugs. His cheeks are pink, from nerves or the weed you donât know, but he carries on speaking like he needs to get it all out in one go or he never will. His eyes avert from you, fiddling with the long drawstrings of his sweatpants, âI donât know about them. Hongjoong and Yunho knew, thatâs why they were acting so fuckinâ weird.â He chuckles breathlessly. âTrying to sell me out, honestly, and this whole thing has been so embarrassing. I tried so hard to get close to you and then- then I fucked it up by not being able to tell you how I feel. Iâm not very good at that.â
It makes you pause. Mingi, all along, has been going through somewhat of a similar dilemma as you - and suddenly everything makes sense. The banana milk, the studying, the way he spoke to you at the first party, the way heâs been speaking to you - youâre talking before you even realise you are.Â
Honesty, Wooyoung said. Youâll stick to that.
âMingi, this is going to sound crazy, but Iâve had a lot of these really frequent, vivid dreams about you in the past month or so,â you say, breathless, âsome before we even started talking to each other."
As soon as it comes out of your mouth, you feel like dying. Mingi doesnât stop smoking though. He even smokes more, inhaling longer, nodding with every word you say before he finally seems to process it. The flush seems to extend down to his neck, and he yanks at his jumper, pulling at the collar to get air - once the jointâs in your hold, he clears his throat, gulps a few mouthfuls of water down from a bottle he pulls from his tote bag. âI- Thatâs good to know. Normal dreams, or dirty?â
Heâs⊠okay with it? Heâs actually being way more casual about this than you thought he would be. This is the same guy that gets freaked out when he thinks about the concept of demons. You finish the joint and snuff it out, discarding the ashtray to your bedside table.
âA bit of both. Mostly dirty, but like, we were together in them. A little domestic,â You admit. He cracks a grin, showing those teeth that you fell for, and you canât help but smile back. It is a little funny. A little crazy too, though. âYou donât think itâs weird?â
Mingi shrugs. âNot really, itâs not your fault. You mustâve just had a crush on me too. You know we donât choose our dreams? Scientists say itâs just stuff from our subconscious, I read about it online.â
No way. You blink. You blink again, and heâs still there in your room sitting with you, the guy from your dreams, grinning crookedly and looking ever so delighted with himself.Â
âOr,â He coughs. âIt could have been the lines I was writing trying to manifest you in my life. Maybe it worked.â
âMingi⊠thatâs fucking crazy.â
He swallows hard. His eyes are a little red from the weed, but the flush on his cheeks is from solely nerves now, you know. âWell, I had to do something from a distance. Youâre hard to approach - yâknow, you seem shy - but youâre really cool. And so fuckinâ pretty, you must know that, right?â He huffs out a quiet laugh, embarrassed, âIâve definitely had dreams about you, too.â
âItâs not shy,â You say softly. âIâm just awkward.â
Thereâs something fragile in the way heâs positioned now, something you havenât seen in Mingi yet - something hopeful but hesitant, like heâs worried heâll scare you off any second - itâs different to last night with no confidence from his rum. When his brows lift, eyes flickering with uncertainty because you havenât said enough yet, you realise that you never ever want to be the reason he doubts himself again.Â
âMingi,â you say, steady even though your heart is racing, âI think Iâve been obsessed with you for a long time. Like, a long time. After this, you never have to doubt that.â You inhale, âNot having you was killing me. The dreams felt so real, and I fell for you so quickly but the way you acted around me⊠It was so up and down. I didnât know if you felt anything at all, or if it was-â
Heâs moving mid sentence to meet your lips with his, decisive and a little desperate. He tastes like weed and Mingi, enticing, and you melt into it, following his mouth without thinking - how did you hold yourself back from jumping him last night, when heâs real, here, in front of you?Â
His lips are buttery, grounding against yours, and when you reach out to touch his arms he finally exhales and pulls you closer, yanking you onto his lap on your bed with his hands at your waist.
He mumbles against your mouth, words stumbling out between breaths, âI tried- I did try to tell you how I felt, I just- fuck, I donât know how to-â
âI know,â You manage, and this time you really do. Two people circling each other, both too excited, too unsure, mistaking intensity for indifference. âI thought⊠I thought you just wanted something physical after last night, maybe, I didnât know.â
âGod, no,â He chuckles, throwing his head back for a second with closed eyes. âI just get so excited I donât shut up, and none of what I say ever comes out right.â
âI understand,â Your hand strokes over his hair. Itâs said with purpose this time - you really mean it. With Mingi, it was never fear; itâs excitement, pure and unfiltered, knocking everything else out of order, and now that he has permission to show it he canât stop himself.
The kisses he lays on your neck prove it to you that this is possible, you and him. Itâs possible and itâs happening right now, your thighs clenching around his and hands moving to roam down his body, over his broad shoulders and firm chest as he sucks on your neck.Â
âFuck,â Mingi breathes. âI feel like Iâm dreaming. Youâre unreal, baby.â
âIâm right here,â You laugh, because itâs insane he would say that to you, knowing that his mere presence has you feeling like youâre away with the fairies and has been for a while now. âIâm right here, Min, fuck, do you wanna- get this off, please-â
He pulls back and tugs his oversized jumper off by the back of the neck, launching it somewhere in the room and leaning back for you to follow his body - you do, chasing his heat, but with your eyes down. The removal exposed planes of tan skin, muscles that rival the ones youâd fantasised about. Itâs soft to touch too, satin under your fingers as you slide your fingers down the muscles of his tummy.
âPretty,â You murmur, and he shivers under your touch, breath hitching. âYou are. Iâve- Iâve thought about how you look, but this is even better, Min.â
âOh, baby,â He moans at your words, hands sliding under your shirt and onto your skin. He gives you a hesitant look, and you nod, before heâs sliding them upwards and cupping your breasts over your bra. He lets them sit in his hands for a bit, kissing over your jaw again before he slides his fingers underneath the lace. Theyâre a little cold, and when his fingertips hit your nipples you shiver, further collapsing into his hold, but he takes your weight easily. âSo good, fuck, they feel so- can I- can you take your shirt off? I want to see.â
You pull it off over your head quickly, baring your bralette and Mingiâs palms situated under the fabric, and he moans, quickly sliding his hands out to look at them. He exhales, eyes fixated as he starts to pull at your nipples, and you donât know if youâre just sensitive or if itâs because itâs him, but your spine arches into him with a gentle noise.Â
âFuck, so pretty, so pretty. Like that, thatâs okay?â He murmurs, and you nod eagerly, making him pinch them again, on the line between pleasure and pain, âtell me more about your dreams. What was I like?â
His fingers flick over the nubs until they yank at the lace, hard and swollen, and he pulls your bralette over your head, leaving you naked from the waist up. You gasp when his head ducks down, sucking one of your nipples into his mouth, your hand going to dark strands to keep him there - but you remember he asked you something.
âYou⊠talked a lot,â you admit, embarrassed but he hums around your nipple, encouraging. You whimper and continue, writhing, âYou were nice, but- dirty. Pervy. Am I- was I right?â
Mingi pops off your bud. âWell, your dreams sound a lot more innocent than mine,â he grins easily, lips slick and cheeks pink, âI had you bent over my desk with one of my songs playing. So yeah, I guess I am a pervert.â
It shocks you so bad that you donât make a noise when he moves you, pushing you back on his dark bedsheets and moving over your body. Heâs so big above you, just like you imagined, using one strong arm for support and leaning down to kiss you filthy again.Â
He tangles his tongue with yours again as he fiddles with the button of your jeans, eventually managing to flick it open and tug the zipper down. You wrestle out of the denim underneath him, giggling when it gets caught at your knees; Mingi lets out an amused huff, smoothing your hair down like he did in the library, fond.Â
Eventually, youâre left in your underwear wanting him to strip, too, but he pushes your legs apart. âThis- this is okay?â He asks again, against your lips, and moans when you nod, âI didnât want to last night, when weâd been drinking. I wanted it to be special, baby, I-â
âI know,â you say, kissing his cheeks, his nose, his forehead, landing on his lips when his skin begins to heat in embarrassment, âbut I think if you donât fuck me soon I might die.â
âWeâre not drunk now,â his breath is impatient, heavy, and his spare hand moves down to brush against your panties, where the cotton is slick between your legs, âIâm high as hell though, and this pussy feels wet. Gâna let me touch it?â
Fuck. Your head spins, like the high is returning but stronger because itâs Mingi; youâre finally here, beneath him, his to touch, his to hold. âYou can touch it,â you heave, âI wanna touch you too. Please, I think about it so much, I wanna- wanna see it.â
Mingiâs face crumbles in a desperate noise, but he doesnât move from his position, kissing you again like he canât get enough of it.
When he speaks, you can hear him holding back, voice strained, âNot yet, baby. Let me taste it first, yeah? Then you can, I promise.â
âOkay,â you breathe against him, squirming when he rubs his fingertips over your panties, right where your clit is. He feels the pudge and brings his thumb down over it a few times, firm, and you let out a strangled whine. You hope San and Wooyoung are out, but you didnât even bother checking the house before you let your man in. Your man - your breath stutters, and all of a sudden youâve stopped caring. âOkay, fuck, please Mingi, want you, touch me properly-â
His fingers hook into your panties and yank them down your legs. Your legs rest over his, relaxed, toes curling into his thighs when youâre finally exposed to him. Despite the insecurity biting at your gut again from being so bare and vulnerable in front of him, he quells it quickly, wiggling down the bed onto his chest to examine you closely.
âLook at that, doll, so fucking wet,â He murmurs, thumbs coming up to spread your folds. They stick together with your arousal, something youâd be embarrassed about if he didnât moan so loud at the sight, plush lips parting and eyebrows knitting together. âFuck. Gâna eat it now, âkay? If you need me to stop just-â
You force him into your pussy by his hair, and he moans at the first taste. His fat tongue swipes through your folds, impatient, and he licks up to flick it over the pudge of your clit, spreading your arousal everywhere. Itâs so sensitive that you whimper and writhe underneath him, but he doesnât seem swayed, burying his face into your cunt and making out with it viscerally, messy, claiming.
Itâs just like your dream - except better. Heâs pulling you down by your hips, rings biting into your skin, whining into your folds but heâs messier - he sucks all of your arousal into his mouth and spits it back on your pussy just to lick it up again. Your pussy is clinging to his lips by strings of sticky arousal and he flicks his tongue over your clit to hear you moan loudly, incomprehensible.Â
âYouâre- how are you so fucking good at this, fuck, please, more-â
âTold you, Iâve been thinking about it for a while,â he states matter of factly, lips brushing against you, and you can see your slick has spread all over his chin, up to his nose. He doesnât look bothered - he looks like he enjoys it, voice slurred, eyes half lidded, tongue licking over his lips, down to his chin. âThis pussyâs fucking pretty. Tasty, too. Iâm gonna have to eat her all the time, okay?â
He rubs over your clit, looking up at you expectantly. Heâs waiting for a response, but you canât focus, legs twitching at the stimulation. âF-uck, Mingi-â
âMm, what do you say, baby?â He says, voice lower, and you keen. He chuckles in disbelief, shaking his head, rubbing a little faster, your pussy making an embarrassing wet noise with his movements. âAre you gonna let daddy come and eat her whenever he wants?â
âOh my god, oh my god,â you babble, squirming, desperate for him to eat you again and heâs still fucking laughing at you, eyes full of admiration. âYes, pleasepleaseplease daddy, you can eat it whenever- whenever you want!â
âGood giiiirl,â He hums, diving back in again. Heâs just as vigorous and youâre panting, making way too much noise, gripping and tugging at his hair and bucking into his mouth when he groans in delight at the pain.Â
âHaa, fuck, Mingi- baby, baby, âs so good-â
He slides his fingers inside, past the resistance of your hole, curling them up instantly. Itâs a stretch so quickly but feels so good, you squeal, humping your hips down onto him. Heâs trying to find your g-spot, and it only takes a moment of prodding and pressing for you to make an incoherent noise, hips bucking. He taps a few times, teasing it, and you canât shut up, gripping the pillow, eyes crossing in pleasure. âNoisy girl. Cuntâs fucking noisy too, talkinâ to me. Can you hear that? Sheâs telling me I own her now.â
âMingi- f-fuck, you canât say-â
âWhat? Donât you like daddy talking to you?â Heâs suddenly over you again, wet mouth forming a lazy grin. His fingers still pump into you and you reach to grab at his wrist, silver bracelets jingling with his movements. Your eyes water, hips grinding a rhythm into him. âI think you do, âcause youâre made for me, arenât you? Fuckinâ unreal,â he hisses, looking down at where your cunt leaks down his skin, âthis hole clenches around me when I talk, askinâ me for more. My hole, yeah?â
âCanât- canât be yours if you havenât fucked it-â
âShush, pretty, donât be cheeky,â His tone is firm, but he kisses against your lips with affection. âGonna fuck it. Gonna fuck it so many times it remembers the shape of my cock and canât cum on anything else, but I want you to cum like this for me first. Can you?â
Youâre nodding before he finishes, riding his fingers, and his thick thumb reaches up to flick over your clit. âI can, fuck, daddy, I can!â
âYeah, moan my fucking name as you cum, thereâs a good girl,â He kisses you again, dirtier this time, swallowing your moans with wet lips. You can taste yourself, and itâs that which does you in, Mingi pulling away just quick enough to hear the broken whine of his name that falls from your mouth. He groans back at you, rubbing your clit slower through your orgasm to drag it out, fingers curling to let you feel the shocks from your special spot just once more.Â
Heâs too good. Itâs like he knows your body already and you canât understand it, but you let yourself cream and gush on his fingers with many babbled words and strangled noises until youâre eventually done. You think you see his fingers stick together when he pulls them out but he sucks them clean quick enough, offering you a crooked, toothy smile as if he just couldnât help himself when you let out a shaky breath at the sight. He rolls off of you onto his side, leaning his head on his hand all satisfied.
âHow was that?â He asks, cute as ever, and you think you see him fucking blushing. Heâs so good, and fuck, heâs yours now. âWas it like your dreams?âÂ
Your chest is still heaving, but you lean over to give him a kiss in response. His hand smooths over your lower tummy and you swoon, too happy, too desperate all over again despite the fact his fingers have just been all over and inside your pussy. âMm, it looked intense, I liked doing that to you,â Heâs getting excited again too - you think you can tell now, when his voice starts to pick up, airy, âyouâre so fucking pretty, look so sexy when you cum, I just wanna-â
Furrowing your eyebrows, you glance down to his sweatpants. Mingi is definitely still hard, although thereâs a small wet patch on his clothed bulge that you think heâs created without realising and fuck, your pussy is throbbing again. You can see how big he is through the clothes, much bigger than you ever thought, ever dreamed of, and it must be aching. âLetâs do more. I wanna do more with you.â
Mingi definitely blushes now, but heâs climbing on top of you again with that look in his eyes again. âYeah? I want to do more too, youâre so gorgeous when you cum. Do you think you can you do that on my cock?â
Heâs a little impatient, pushing his sweatpants down with one hand and leaning above you with his other. You try to look down but he tuts at you, making you look back at his face straight away, and you link your arms over his shoulders. âUm- maybe? Iâll try, shit.â
âThink you will,â He kicks his bottoms off and wriggles out of his boxers, too, and when you look again he doesnât stop you. He even leans back to make sure your view isnât obscured. Desperate, you assume, but shit it is big.Â
His muscled arm swings as he jerks it back to full hardness leisurely, and you were right, it leaks heavily in his palm. The lubrication adds to the sensation and he lets out a sigh. His cock is long but thick too, and thereâs a smattering of dark hair at his base that makes you want to press your nose into it and inhale as you deepthroat him. Youâre quickly distracted, though, because he shuffles forward and positions his cockhead at your hole. It tries to suck him in already, gummy and wet and pliant after your orgasm.Â
He pecks your lips again, addicted, nuzzling you with his sharp nose. He looks so pretty on top of you, plush lips pillowing over your cheeks and your chin and your nose, his black hair tickling your forehead. Your belly burns - you donât think youâve ever wanted anything this bad, and youâve known that a while, but itâs real now, happening, not a dream although it still feels like one.
His tip catches in your folds again, and you feel him shiver on top of you but he doesnât stop looking at you, kissing you again, over and over before he speaks hoarsely, âCondom?âÂ
You shake your head. No fucking way. Youâre on the pill for health reasons, and youâll be damned if youâre having anything between you and this man when youâve finally gotten hold of him. âRaw, please, Iâm on the pill, wanna- wanna feel you, all of it.â
âShit, you are a fucking dream, baby,â he groans, finally, finally swiping his cock through your folds. You think heâs finally going to put it in but he uses your arousal to slick his cock, letting you feel the pressure of it against you. âThink itâll fit? Youâre- baby, youâre so fucking tiny down here, could barely get my fingers in- oh shit, trying to suck me in.â
You try to squirm, but heâs so overpowering you can barely move underneath him. Thereâs a burning feeling in your tummy like you need it or youâll die, and heâs still playing with you. He swipes his cock through your folds over and over, watching the way his tip disappears a little into the slick mess. You canât help it - âMingi, please put it in!â
âFuck, âm so sorry, baby,â He grunts, sounding like he isnât the least bit sorry, repositioning himself on his knees so that heâs more comfortable. You see him pull at his cock, moving the foreskin down to expose the tip, leaking pearly precum that makes your mouth water, ââs too fucking pretty, all creamy like that, hadta play a bit. Gonna take it all for me now? Itâs not gonna be too big?â
âMingi, please- please, Iâve thought about this for so long, just- please, oh my god- oh, oh-â
Youâre cut off by the deep, gravelly groan he lets out as he finally pushes inside. It slides in easily from how soaked you are, but itâs still a stretch, so thick and hard that your pussy throbs and tries to gush around him, begging for more.
âPlease,â you gasp wetly, and he gives you the first inch. Itâs barely anything, not compared to the whole size of him, but you moan and he grins in satisfaction. His tongue licks over his teeth as he slowly starts to fuck the first inch in and out, over and over until you start to shake, hands scrabbling for his hips to push him further inside. âPlease, Mingi, daddy, I want more, all of it, give it to me-â
He grunts, sliding all of his length home as he pushes your thighs further apart, letting the pits of your knees rest on his elbows. Itâs then that he begins a sinuous grind, hips steadily rolling against your ass, jiggling the flesh upon impact. Your bed is creaking with his steady movements, a thud every second that has you worried your housemates can hear you but well, you decided a while ago that you were over that.
âThatâs w-what you needed, yeah?â He coos, voice shaky from the way your pussy is clenching around him. Every time his hips roll backwards, your hole grips and clings as if you canât bear to have him pull out, so Mingi shortens his thrusts - quick, deep bursts that almost pain your cervix when he hits it. It feels too good to hurt though, and you canât help but push against his tummy, overwhelmed with sensation. He catches your hands, pinning them above your head and grinding his pubic bone against your clit. âI know, âs so good, just- baby, f-feel it, feel it. Gonna feel it for the rest of your life. Yours now.â
You feel dizzy. Itâs so good, and heâs right - this is all yours now, finally, after everything.Â
Mingi quickens his thrusts, hitting right where you need him to. His shoulders catch your attention, broad and rippling with exertion as he holds himself above you, wet, hot pants spilling from his lips with every movement and you canât help yourself, you feel so full your eyes start to water. Heâs throbbing inside of you, desperate to split you open with his teeth biting into his lower lip as he gazes down at where youâre connected. Your pussy drools, slicking up to your mound and over his pubes, up to his happy trail.
âS-so fuckinâ tight, so wet, so warm,â His voice breaks, palm moving to your lower stomach to keep you steady. It quivers under his touch, but he doesnât notice, thinking solely with his dick. âWanted to fuck you so bad. Fuck, Iâve wanted this for so long, feels too good, p-please, baby, I gotta fuck you harder-â
âYou can, please, please,â You gasp when he does, shifting his knees to balance himself. His hips start move against you steadier, harder, cock pistoning into your pussy, abs rippling as he grinds himself inside of you. Itâs everything you dreamed of and more, and itâs almost too much, too full, too big - you canât help but whimper and scramble at his shoulders, squealing when he starts to rub over your clit in rhythm with his thrusts. Itâs so swollen, so sensitive that you squeal as he makes contact, cheeks burning as your back arches into him - youâve been waiting so long for this, and itâs ruining you, every thrust taking you apart and putting you back together again.Â
Mingiâs just as affected. He drools wetly onto your bare shoulder, wrapping one arm around the small of your back and letting the other hand move to cup your breast. Heâs flushed, warm and rutting into you like a mindless animal, but the whines falling from his lips are nothing but grateful. âH-How does it feel, baby, is it as good as you imagined?â
âBetter,â you hiccup, because it is, âfu-uck, Mingi, so much better, s-so deep!â
âYeah, pussyâs t-too fucking good,â He cups your head with his hand, pulling your body upright so heâs essentially holding you off the bed to fuck you. He can go harder like this, and you feel his balls slapping against your ass, lips drooling messily on your shoulder while he talks. You donât think he could be quiet if he tried, and you canât believe your brain got this so right. âSo fuckin- warm, tighttighttight, I could fuckinâ bust now,â he babbles, âfeels so good to fuck you open finally, thought about it- s-so much-â
âBaby, oh my god, âs so good,â you mewl, hands moving to his chest, cupping the ample flesh and scratching down further, leaving red lines in their wake. It only makes Mingi fuck you harder, thighs trembling as he drives into you over and over, and you realise heâs right - you are gonna cum around his cock, too soon to be acceptable. âFeels- youâre perfect, I canât, Iâll- itâs so good Iâll cum, I-â
âOh, honey,â Mingi groans, long and drawn out, âi-itâs okay, you can cum for me. I want you to cum as m-much as you can, okay?â he kisses you, messy and wet against your cheek, âas much as that little pussy lets you, soak my dick over ân over, please, baby.â
You hump yourself onto him, managing to push yourself over his shaft and he lets you, lets you fuck your hole on his thick length until you feel it starting to build, too fast, too sudden, too perfect. He holds you close, ruts into you just enough to abuse his cockhead against that spot inside of you and it doesnât take much, only a few grinds over him until youâre shaking apart.
âThatâs it, oh, good girl, my girl, all mine, so pretty,â Mingi babbles through it, and at the crest of your orgasm your lips part in a sharp noise. Your moan is strangled, almost pained, and he moans right back at you, moving one thumb down to your clit to rub over it and extend your orgasm as long as he can. Your walls flutter around him, gummy and soft and gushing so wet down to his balls that he canât help the way he rocks forward, chasing the wetness - he only causes you to leak more, cumming so long that your pussy starts to force him out; he presses his hips hard against yours to keep himself inside.
âA-Ah, I,â you cry, unsure, still stuttering with the remnants of it, âso good, I- thank you, daddy.â
Mingi gasps, plush lips parting, cock throbbing inside you. âdonât fucking- donât say that, I almost came,â all of a sudden, he pulls out, gripping his cock at the base to stave off his own orgasm. You see how slick his shaft is, drenched with your arousal and it looks so dirty, white cream moistening his tan skin and contouring the veins with wet mess. As if it catches his attention, he looks down too, groaning at the sight of your release before his eyes move to your body, raking down you unabashedly. You canât fucking believe this. Was he always this obvious? âFuck, I⊠baby, can I have you on your hands and knees? Always wanted-â
Youâre moving before he can finish, shaky limbs pushing your body up to your hands and knees. Your back forms an arch that he runs his hand down with a noise of appreciation, and then you hear the sheets rustle where he walks on his knees towards you, impatient.Â
âGood girl,â he mumbles, smoothing down the curve of your spine and down to your ass, where he seems to hesitate before he lands one firm slap. The flesh ripples as you cry out, but you donât run from him - instead, youâre bucking back for more, and Mingi pushes his dick back through your folds once again. âThought of this s-so much. Your ass, you grinding back on me, tellinâ me- tellinâ me how it feels. Thought of you too fucking much to be normal, baby, thought I was going insane.â
âMm, Mingi,â you shake your hips, distracted, trying to entice him, and it works. His noise is almost pained, eyes fixated down on where your ass perks up in the air, and heâs sliding back in in one quick thrust. Itâs deeper like this, and he hits your cervix almost immediately - this time he doesnât wait, hips hitting your ass consistently. The headboard thuds against the wall again, too loud and steady to be anything else, incriminating.
Mingi hisses and pulls out right to the tip, âP-please, baby. Shake it on me, like I said, shake it for daddy, good girl.â
Perhaps youâre too obedient but heâs engrossed by it, cock throbbing inside you. You start to grind your hips before you can be embarrassed, moving yourself up and down on his shaft in such a slick slide your chest hits the mattress, hands forming fists on your sheets.Â
âFuck, fuck, fuck,â you gasp, scrambling for dear life - has anything ever felt this good outside of those damn dreams? You knew it, knew it had to be him, knew it was always gonna be him - âfeels so good, please, please-â
Mingi gasps, hand coming to grip your hips, moving you against him, âYouâre unreal. Fucking- oh my god, thatâs it, just like that. My girl, my f-fucking dream, god, let me-â
He takes over. Youâre thankful for it, because youâve never felt anything so thick and long and veiny and so fucking perfect inside you - itâs like heâs made for you, carving his ridges and curves into your walls until you couldnât possibly think of anything else. Youâre glad youâre his now, because itâd be impossible to be anyone elseâs, to even try to be after heâs given you a taste of what you could have.Â
Mingiâs ravenous. Hands come to push you down, like heâs realised he can be rougher, and youâre forced fully onto your front before his teeth bite at your neck. His hips slap into you, sloppy, uneven, size forcing the cream youâve created to form a ring around his base, and he whines at the wetness.Â
âGâna cum, canât hold it,â He murmurs, hands wrapping around your shoulders for purchase, pulling you back into him. âCan you- fâme, another- fuckinâ give it to me, girl, all for your man.â
His finger and thumb come to roll your clit, and youâre done for. Combined with the feeling of him aching so heavily inside of you you can do nothing more but babble nonsensically, eyes crossing and cunt clenching around him so deliciously that he roars, pressing deep. Bites turn into kisses, softer as he gets closer and he tries to keep the pace the best he can but itâs unnecessary; just feeling his weight on you, his skin, his chest against your front triggers your orgasm, and one hand shoots down to hold Mingiâs wrist right over your bud.
âThatâs it, f-fuck, I can feel it,â He gasps, knees scrambling on the bed to get closer to you. He pushes deep once, twice more and then with a sharp whine you feel him too, the head of his fat cock erupting and filling you with more than enough proof that he likes you back.
âMngh- itâs- fucking deep, I-â You choke, and Mingi shushes you, voice shaky, pulling your hips back to get it even deeper as he pumps you full, breaths stuttering. Something awful flashes through your brain, something domestic and too serious but it makes your cunt throb, gummy and soothing around his shaft as he empties himself.Â
Mingi chuckles, kissing the slope of your shoulder. âMaybe itâll take, h-huh? Claim you properly. Will you believe itâs real then?â
âJ-Jesus,â you stutter, squirming - how did he read your mind like that? - and he laughs again, finally coaxing his softening cock out of your hole. It feels stretched, and you know it is when he groans, elongated, thumb rubbing over the slick opening.
âCould fuck you again looking at that,â He muses, and you wriggle your hips, tempted - he huffs and gives you another smack, this time on your thigh, admonishing you. âBehave. Weâll have a spliff and weâll go again.â
You roll over on your back, deflated, finally seeing him. He sits next to you on the bed, skin flushed, eyes half lidded. Heâs just as fucked out as you but somehow more composed, eyeing you like he wants to laugh but he knows he canât as heâs not much better.
âWeed and then more sex,â Your hand reaches up to smooth over his cheek, and his eyes flutter shut, a smile pulling at his lips until he falls into you again. Limbs intertwined, you peck at his nose again. âWhere have you been all my life?â
âBuying you banana milk and trying to be normal around you, actually.â
âRight, yeah,â You giggle, and he plasters himself to you closer. Youâre both sticky and exhausted but itâs comfortable, the heat satiating rather than stifling. Nails trailing up his arm, he shivers, and you watch the goosebumps form - real. Itâs real. âWe have a lot of making up to do. We couldâve been doing this a while ago.â
Mingiâs eyes open, glinting. âYouâre not leaving this room until it stinks, baby.â
âOkay, disgusting,â You shove at him, and heâs amused, finally rolling away to put some clothes on with a shake to his shoulders. Watching him as he moves, sitting on the edge of your bed, youâre unashamed this time - heâs yours to look at - and you hum as his back muscles flex, reaching down to pull his discarded boxers back up. When he stands, you see his thighs tense, and well, that ass⊠your eyes want to water. How lucky can one girl be?
Mingi stretches his arms above his head and turns to you, making you avert your eyes promptly to the blanket beneath you. âPervert, I saw that. But, hey, are Wooyoung and San still in?â
You yawn, shrugging, finally reaching over for your own clothes. âHonestly, no idea. Stopped caring.â
âThey can thank us for the show, and the many more to come,â Mingi grins, cocky, and you roll your eyes like you arenât obsessed with him. With that, your phone starts to ping on your bedside table, three tones one after another, and you furrow your eyebrows. Itâs quick throwing your clothes on before you check - a fresh pair of panties and a tee as your last pair of panties were ruined - and when you pick your phone up, he sidles in behind you, wrapping his arms around your middle and kissing over your neck.
Nosy ass, you think, but you open your phone with a satisfied little smile, before it promptly falls at seeing that itâs your house group chat.
[2:13pm] wooyo: definitely still in baby
[2:14pm] sannie: Told you heâs a nice guy
[2:14pm] sannie: Do u guys want anything btw weâre ordering food
You splutter. âOh my god-â
âHow kind of him,â Mingi coos. âI think Sanâs nice too.â
âMingi,â You scowl, but he doesnât flinch, and when he plants a sloppy kiss on your cheek you canât help but smile. âYou know thatâs not the point!â
âOh, right. Ask him to get me some chicken. He knows what I like.â
âThatâs still-â
âBaaaaby. Chicken, please.â
âFine.â
if you got this far hi, thank you, this is the longest oneshot i've ever posted ever <3











