content: fluff, homesick, long distance, comfort, soft boyfriend
he took your hoodie with him.
he didn’t say anything at first — just folded it carefully, pressed it to his face once like it was instinct, then hid it at the very bottom of his suitcase like a secret he was afraid of losing. except… he did.
halfway through the tour, somewhere between soundcheck and the dull silence of a hotel room that didn’t smell like home, he went looking for it.
and it wasn’t there. he emptied the suitcase once. then twice.
then everything was on the floor — clothes, shoes, cables, chaos — and still no hoodie.
mingyu sat down right there, back against the bed, hands shaking as he dug through the pile again, heart racing for no logical reason at all. his chest hurt. his throat closed.
“it’s probably in another bag,” someone said gently.
“we’ll find it,” another tried.
but mingyu’s eyes were already burning.
because that hoodie wasn’t just fabric. it was you. it was your perfume stuck in the collar, the way it still smelled faintly like your shampoo and your skin. it was how he slept with it bunched under his chin every night just to trick his body into thinking you were there.
and now it was gone.
he cried. ugly, quiet sobs at first, then full-on tears he couldn’t stop no matter how embarrassed he felt. the members hovered, rubbing his back, offering water, telling him to breathe — but none of it worked.
“i just miss them,” he whispered, voice wrecked. “i just wanted… the smell.”
eventually, shaking hands, he called you.
you answered immediately, sleepy and soft, and the moment you heard his voice crack you were fully awake.
“gyu?”
silence. sniffles.
“baby?”
that was it. he broke.
he cried into the phone like a child, words tumbling out between sobs — lost it, can’t find it, needed it, misses you, can’t sleep without it — and you just listened, heart aching, murmuring reassurances over and over.
“it’s okay, love. breathe. i’m right here.” “i know you miss me. i miss you too.” “it’s just a hoodie, okay? i’ll give you another one. all of them if you want.”
but he didn’t want another one.
he wanted that one.
minutes passed. then more. his crying slowed into hiccups as he sniffed, exhausted, eyes swollen. and then —
“wait.”
you heard fabric rustling. a sharp inhale.
“…found it.”
there was a pause. a long one. then the softest sound — a shaky exhale turning into a relieved little sob as he pressed the hoodie to his face, burying his nose in it like he’d been holding his breath for hours.
“it was at the bottom of the suitcase,” he whispered, voice suddenly calm, almost dazed. “it smells like you.”
you smiled through your own tears.
“see?” you teased gently. “dramatic.”
he let out a small, embarrassed laugh, already half-asleep, arms wrapped tight around the hoodie like a teddy bear.
“don’t laugh,” he mumbled. “i needed it.”
you could practically picture him — curled up on the bed, cheeks still wet, clutching your hoodie like it was the most precious thing he owned.
“sleep now, baby,” you said softly. “i’m right here.”
“i know,” he replied, voice sleepy and peaceful now. “you’re with me.”
he would slowly insert a finger in between your puffy lips, licking his lips at the sight of his digit disappearing completely in the warmth of your cunt. the squelch of your pussy as his finger sinks in little by little - stretching your hole slowly. you let out a whimper at the speed of it all, mingyu was taking his sweet time savouring each squeeze, each pulse of your tiny hole. “…can i fit another finger in?” his voice had gone completely raspy. you knew he wasn’t talking to you, that he wasn’t asking you the question—mingyu was merely talking to himself, in awe of how your cunt squeezed his finger, how your juices spilled out around it. he would enter another finger with a soft moan, his lips parted, a shaky breath escaping as his middle finger disappeared alongside his pointing finger.
a/n: i had a dream about this handsome, gorgeous, sexy man and i just had to write about him!! sorry it’s just a drabble - i have been so busy with work >.<
nothing goes right (but you still come home to me)
kim mingyu x girlfriend readerfluff, comfort, period mood, soft domestic vibes
wc: long because I want 😤
I wrote this fic because…
🎵“Sweet Creature” – Harry Styles
“Sweet creature, sweet creature, wherever I go, you bring me home.”
Request:open , checkout more SEVENTEEN fics here
It started the moment you woke up.
Your chest felt tender, like even breathing too hard might make you cry. Nothing had happened. No bad news. No nightmares. You were just… fragile. You blinked up at the ceiling, already feeling your eyes burn.
“Please,” you whispered to absolutely no one. “Be nice to me today.” Mingyu’s arm was still around you, warm and protective. You almost stayed there. Almost hid. But you moved.
Mistake number one.
The parcel.
You had been waiting for it for three weeks. Three. Whole. Weeks. You tracked it like it was your long-distance lover. You imagined outfits. You imagined selfies. You imagined feeling pretty. You checked your phone while brushing your teeth.
Order Cancelled — Seller Issue. Refund Initiated.
You blinked, you checked again. You refreshed.
You stared. “No,” you whispered.
Your lip trembled. Because logically? It’s just clothes.
Emotionally? It was the only good thing you were looking forward to this week.
You sat on the edge of the bed. Hormones said: cry.
You did not cry.
Yet.
Office was worse.
Nobody was actually cruel. But Seoyeon’s “Can you redo this?” sounded like “You’re incompetent.”
Your manager’s “We need this faster” sounded like “Why do we even hire you?” Someone forgot to include you in a meeting email and your brain went, “They hate you.”
By 3 p.m., your eyes were burning.
You went to the washroom and just… stared at yourself. “Why is everyone so mean?” you muttered. Were they?
Probably not. Did it feel like it? Absolutely.
On the way home, you spotted them first — two tiny orange kittens wobbling near a broken flowerpot.
And then you saw her ,the mother cat. Watching. You crouched slowly, heart already melting. “Hi babies,” you whispered, reaching out carefully toward one of the kittens.
That’s when it happened. A sharp hiss.
Not loud. Not aggressive. Just clear. The mother stepped between you and them, tail puffed slightly, eyes narrowed.
You froze.
“Oh,” you murmured, pulling your hand back. “Okay. I get it.” You stood there for a second longer than you should have.
She thought you were dangerous, even the cat thinks I’m a threat.
Emotional damage number 472.
You reached home. Ordered your favorite comfort food. You deserved it. When it arrived, you opened the container.
Wrong order. You stared at it.
Rice.
You ordered pasta.
You didn’t even like plain rice. Your chest tightened. Your eyes stung.
“Are you serious?” you whispered to no one. You felt ridiculous for wanting to cry over food.
You felt ridiculous for wanting to cry over food. But it wasn’t about the food.
It was everything. Everything was against towards you , this day was the worst and now not getting food order correct "you chuckled" maybe today you were getting punished for every single sin you did till now but you weren't prepared for it .
And then. Because the universe has comedic timing. You turned the corner too fast in the hallway and walked straight into the wall.
Not hard.
But enough. You froze.
And that’s when Mingyu walked out of the bedroom. “Baby? I heard a—”
He stopped. You were standing there. Holding the wrong food.
With teary eyes. Red nose.
One hand on your forehead. And that was it.
You broke.
“I don’t understand,” you choked out. “Why is the world so mean to me today?” that's it you can't handle more and you knew breaking in front of Mingyu will not make your day more worst instead it will heal it .
“I don’t understand,” you choked out. “Why is the world so mean to me today?”
Mingyu didn’t laugh.
Didn’t tease.
Didn’t say you were being dramatic. He walked over slowly, like you were fragile glass.
“What happened?” he asked softly. And once he touched your arm?
The floodgates opened.
“My parcel got cancelled,” you sniffed. “Everyone at work was mean and that cat hissed at me and they messed up my food and I hit the wall and I just—”
You dissolved into tears.
“I feel like everything hates me.”
Mingyu pulled you into his chest immediately. All six feet of him just folding around you like a human blanket.
“Hey,” he murmured into your hair. “Nothing hates you.”
“You don’t know that,” you mumbled against his shirt.
“I do. I checked.” Despite everything, you let out a small laugh. He rubbed your back slowly, steady circles. “Okay. Let’s review,” he said gently. “Your parcel got cancelled. That sucks. I’ll order it again from somewhere else.”
“And the cat?” He gasped dramatically. “That cat clearly has no taste. Imagine hissing at you.”
You huffed. “And the food?” He took the container from your hand. “We’ll reorder. Or I’ll cook.”
“You’ll burn it.”
“Excuse me.”
“You burned eggs last week.”
“That was artistic.”
You laughed again. A little more this time. He leaned down until his forehead touched yours.
“And the wall?” he whispered. You pouted.
“The wall started it.” Mingyu smiled softly.
“Baby,” he said quietly, voice dropping into that warm place he only uses with you, “you’re a human , you can have bad days and since you woke up today feeling extra sensitive and emotional Of course everything feels heavier. But now it's okay since you are home now”
His thumb wiped under your eye.
“It’s not that the world is mean,” he continued. “It’s just loud today. And you’re sensitive. That doesn’t make you weak.”
You swallowed. “It just feels like I can’t win.”
He wrapped both arms around you tighter.
“Then don’t win today,” he said. “Just survive it.” You blinked.
“Come here.”
He guided you to the couch, sat down, and pulled you into his lap like you weighed nothing.
Your legs wrapped around his waist automatically.
He tucked your face into his neck.
“You know what I see?” he murmured.
“What.”
“A girl who waited weeks for something and got disappointed. A girl who tried her best at work. A girl who still tried to pet a cat even though she was tired. A girl who ordered comfort food because she deserves comfort.”
His hand stroked your hair.
“I see someone soft. And soft doesn’t mean weak.”
Your breathing slowed.
“Do you think I’m dramatic?” you asked quietly.
He pulled back just enough to look at you.
“Even if you were,” he said gently, “you’re allowed to be dramatic with me.”
That did it.
Your eyes filled again—but this time softer.
“I’m sorry,” you whispered.
“For what?”
“For being like this.” Mingyu cupped your face.
“Don’t ever apologize for having feelings.” Then he leaned down and kissed you.
Slow.
Gentle.
Not rushed.
Just there.
When he pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours.
“Let’s cancel the world for tonight,” he said. “I’ll make you a hot chocolate. We’ll reorder food. I’ll scratch your back. You can complain about everything.”
You sniffed. “Even the wall?”
“Especially the wall.”
He kissed your nose.
“And tomorrow?” he added softly. “The world will feel normal again. It always does.”
When Mingyu woke up on his thirteenth birthday the first place he looked was on his wrist. And to his surprise right there it said: waffles.
He had furrowed his brows for a second before he laughed. There were a lot of different marks that contained words, what precisely his was, he wouldn’t know straight away.
Just as he was about to let his arm fall down to his side, he saw the letters disappear, only to be replaced by ‘ommelette’.
He had quickly grabbed a pillow next to him and buried his head in it as he screamed. He was so excited, but he also knew that this wasn’t going to be easy.
After a few days he had come to the conclusion that this had to be things that you craved at any given moment.
Despite it being difficult, and not really giving him any hint of who his other half were, it did still teach him a lot about you.
When he had met his brothers he had quickly realized that he would most likely be the last one to find his other half. Some of their marks made him thank fate itself for not having it, or curse it from sheer jealousy.
In the end it turned out that he had been right, that the nagging voice that had always told him he would be the last one, was in fact right.
He was happy for them all, loved his new found sister-in-law’s with his whole heart. But how long was it gonna take, how long was he forced to look at his brothers being happy, without experiencing it himself?
You had laughed when you had seen your mark, it was so silly, yet it made total sense, because you were and had always been a foodie. Your mark had also proven to be an indicator into where you could find him.
Because more days than not he was craving korean, which had meant you had quickly concluded that he had to be from there, one way or another.
Every now and then the cuisine changed, but only for a few days, and then he went back to his old ways.
Mingyu was currently drowning his sorrows in whiskey and beer with his best friend. It was something they did a little too often, but seen as they were both still alone they at least still had each other.
“I get why it’s frustrating,” Jungkook said as he slowly scrunched his nose in that bunny-like way he had always done.
Mingyu leaned back, his arm resting behind his head as he, not so subtly, flexed his muscles. An action that made his friend smile a little wider. They were similar that way, a muscle bunny and a muscle puppy. Both completely hopeless romantics.
“I look at them all every single day, Jungkookie, and there’s literally no escaping them,” Mingyu said.
Jungkook shook his head.
“It’s as if that first one makes everyone even more desperate” he drowned his glass, as Mingyu nodded along “I swear the rest of them weren’t like this before, now they all look for them everywhere they go… I blame Namjoon”
Mingyu had quickly picked up the bottle before Jungkook even had a chance to put his glass down at the table.
“I’m pretty impressed he was the first, usually feelings is a hard one - yours however should be easy enough”
Mingyu gently tapped his friend's chest, and Jungkook pulled down his t-shirt to reveal those three golden stars that sat there, cleverly hidden with all of his other tattoo’s.
A phone rang in the distance, and before he had a chance to reply he had stood up to answer it.
He heard Jungkook talk in the back of his mind, but his attention was on that damned tattoo of his.
It switched from the craving of wine to tequila, and Mingyu couldn’t help but chuckle.
This had started to happen as the two of you had gotten older, every now and then the food cravings would switch to alcohol.
You were very fond of Chardonnay from California and Sauvignon Blanc from anywhere, tequila was something that came every now and then, and was usually followed by very greasy food the next day.
A whistle from his friend broke him out of his daydreaming.
“How do you feel about a party?” He said with that one pierced brow raised, all the while mischief shone in Jungkook's eyes.
Mingyu had never turned one down, so why would he start now?
You had always had a feeling that your soulmate liked food, not only eating it, and something told you that he ate a lot. No, but also cooking it.
Because every now and then you would crave something only for him to crave the same a few days later.
You had always loved food, and as the world shut down in 2020 while you were stuck in Korea, that had meant taste testing all the food you could and posting about it - a decision that had led you to moving across the world as your social media suddenly had become your job.
It had opened doors and opportunities, it had introduced you to people that had ended up becoming a second family, and because of your other half's constant craving for korean, you hoped it would also lead you to him.
As per usual every one was at Jacksons. It was a mix of the singer's closest inner circle, influencers, his crew, others within the industry and even a few fans.
Mingyu did a quick round and said hello to all of those he knew, and before he knew it he was sitting on a couch with yet another glass of whiskey in hand all the while he looked out at the dancing crowd.
He didn’t know why, but he had always felt like he was home in noise and chaos. Maybe that was one of the reasons he had ended up in the industry.
He looked down at the tattoo and the switch between fries and beer, and couldn’t help but wonder which one of the two would win the fight. Food always won in the end, but sometimes alcohol would put up a good fight.
A hand ran through Mingyu’s hair and he quickly leaned back his head only to find Seungkwan and Chan there, both with a lady on their arm.
“Hey guys!” He said with a smile, as his eyes squinted a little, as the lights blinded him.
“Thought we might find the two of you here” Chan said as he raised his glass towards Jungkook who quickly raised his own back in greeting.
Mingyu smirked. “What brings you here?”
P just shrugged. “I don’t really know, just had a good feeling”
“And you know me, I’ve never turned down an opportunity of spinning my princess around the dancefloor” Chan gently kissed her temple as he pulled her closer to his side.
Mingyu just chuckled. “Come let’s get all of you something to drink”
You were sitting in a kitchen while you stared down a beer, trying to decide whether or not to go grab a cab and get food on your way home.
The night had been a lot of fun, Jackson was in a good mood which had meant extra shots for you, but it was getting late and you already knew you would be an absolute mess tomorrow.
You looked out towards the living room, and you had no idea why, but for some reason you hadn’t noticed the insane amount of flowers that had popped up everywhere.
That was the final nail in the coffin. You squeezed through the people until you ended up next to your best friend, gently kissing his cheek goodbye.
“You can’t leave already” He said as he gently took your hand. “You haven’t even met my most famous friends yet”
He gestured towards the tall tattooed and pierced man that stood next to him. Jeon Jungkook. You bowed politely.
“Sorry Wang, but I’ve started seeing flowers everywhere so I think it’s time for me to go”
Jackson chuckled. “Damn bro, I didn’t think you did edibles”
“I don’t” You shrugged as you looked towards Jungkook. “It was nice meeting you”
Then you turned and walked towards the elevator, not noticing the furrowed brows of the bunny.
Mingyu was in deep conversation with the two couples as Jungkook returned to the group.
He pointed behind him. “Dude, you told me to tell you, if someone ever saw flowers random places”
Mingyu looked up at his friend with a little shake of his head. “Nah don’t worry, it’s probably just because you’ve overheard one of these four talking”
It was his best friend's time to shake his head. “No, one of Jackson's friends just left, she said she saw flowers everywhere and needed to go”
Mingyu slowly rose from his seat and gently laid his hands on his friends shoulders. “Kook, where is she?”
“She was just about to take the elevator dow-”
He had taken off before he got to finish his sentence, behind him Mingyu heard cheers from his brothers.
And as he saw the elevator doors slowly close, he yelled out for you, hoping it would lead to you holding the door for him.
That of course didn’t happen, and for a second he cursed his friend for living so far up in the building.
But that was all he had, a second, then he sprinted out the door and down the stairs to hopefully catch up with you.
You had heard a man yell to please hold the door, but there was no way in hell that you wanted to share the elevator ride with a drunk dude that no doubt wanted to see if you were open minded for being with anyone except your soulmate.
So instead of holding the doors open, you had instead pushed the close button like an insane person, and luckily for you, it had worked.
You got down 13 floors before the elevator stopped once more to pick someone up, and as the doors opened, there stood a very tall, very wide man, completely out of breath. He didn’t speak, instead he just stood there, trying to catch his breath.
It was unusual for you to be kind to strangers, especially at places like this, and at this time at night, but something in the back of your mind told you he might actually need your help.
“Do you need a minute?” You asked quietly, almost as if your voice would disturb him.
His head shot up, and as his eyes met yours something inside of your chest settled.
“You love waffles in the mornings” he said as he took a step inside the elevator. “You like white wine on Fridays all year around, yet prefer red wine in the winter months. You have a serious obsession with this very specific lasagna, and you like chicken tenders and fries after a night like tonight”
As Mingyu spoke he stepped closer and closer to you, and every step of the way he was ready to distance himself from you if that was what you wanted. But he hoped it wasn’t, he really hoped it wasn’t.
“You love noodles, and sushi and birria tacos with out cilantro for your hangovers”
He smiled and it was gentle, loving. The tears had started somewhere around waffles, and it seemed like they had no intention of stopping.
When he got close enough all you did was lay your forehead against his broad chest.
You could hear his smile and slowly but surely, he raised his arms to embrace you.
He pulled you as close to him as humanly possible and you could feel how quickly his heart was beating beneath his white t-shirt.
The two of you stood like that until you finally hit the lobby of the building, as the doors opened he gently said:
“Do you want to go out and get food, or do you want me to make you something?” His head was gently laying on the top of your head and in the mirrors you could see how his cheeks were gently squeezed together.
You laughed a little.
And he pulled away to look at you. “You’re stunning”
You looked him up and down, as if he was one to talk, and despite his giant frame and objectively handsome face, he actually blushed and got flustered.
Oh how you already knew you would love to get to know this giant of a man that stood in front of you.
“I’m thinking we might as well go out to pick up something, I’m not sure you’ll be able to cook in your state”
He leaned his head back and smiled while gently rolling his eyes.
“You underestimate me, it’s one of my many talents”
You raised a brow. “Oh? What are some of your other talents?” You asked as he snaked his arm around your shoulder, pulling you to his side as the two of you walked out the elevator.
He let out a long breath. “I’m very good at rapping, some would even say singing, but I don’t know about that. Very good at lifting things. A good dancer…”
He couldn’t help but chuckle.
“What?” You asked with a gentle push of your hip.
“I’m very easy to tease it would seem”
That earned him a loud laugh, and he could’ve sworn it was the most amazing thing he had ever heard.
“We’ll see about that”
The two of you had gotten back to his apartment and had opened a bottle of champagne to both celebrate and wash down the food you had picked up along the way, and at some point in talking and catching up the two of you had fallen asleep on his couch.
You awoke to a bit of noise, and in the kitchen of the large apartment stood your other half.
He smiled gently. “Did you know you snore?” He asked as he pulled out a pan from one of the cupboards.
You walked over and jumped onto the island, before answering. “Yes, it’s especially bad when I drink”
His smile widened. “Good thing I’m a heavy sleeper then”
He quickly came over, and you moved your legs out the way to accommodate him.
Mingyu couldn’t help but bite his lower lip as he leaned his forehead against yours, his nose gently nuzzling against yours.
Before he could even ask, your arms had flung around his neck as you pulled him to you, as you pulled him in for a kiss.
He melted right then and there. It didn’t matter how long he had waited, he would wait forever if that meant ending up with you in the end.
His lips was soft, loving but with a hint of a smile that didn’t seem to want to go away. That however didn’t stop you quite the opposite.
You could’ve stayed like that, devoured him for hours on end.
Unfortunately, after a few minutes of kissing and heavy breathing, you heard his phone go off.
He pulled away gently, although all he wanted was to ravish you right then and there.
“I hope you don’t mind, but I invited my brothers and their soulmates over for brunch. I’m the last one to find… well you. So they’re really excited, and wanted to meet you sooner rather than later”
He smiled and you felt how your cheeks heated up.
“You have brothers? How many?”
He chuckled, and raised a brow in a way that clearly meant trouble.
“I have 12” he said before pulling open the door, and then 24 people quickly rushed into the room, and absolute chaos erupted.
✦ as always; please comment, like, share, reblog all of that. It what's keeps me going and keeps me writing. My asks are always open for feedback or if you just wanna give me a little praise.
also, I can't fucking believe this is the end of this series! 148 pages, and 53k words... This is incredible! Thank you all so much for following along - but in case you don't know, I'm still not done - so please stay tuned for my BTS soulmate au, followed by.... well... We'll see won't we.
mingyu comes home after a day of filming gose and everyone's been meaner to him than usually. what else could he need than being in your arms and dramatically complain about his members, who he loves dearly?
TAGS: kim mingyu x gn!reader, fluff, established relationship, the members are mean to mingyu but he's handling it like a champ (he isn't)
WORD COUNT: 800 words
a/n: my first seventeen fic !! i haven't written fanfics in a minute and i'm a bit rusty so it's shorter than what i will post in the future, but i hope that y'all will enjoy it nevertheless :) please let me know what you think and happy reading !!
Mingyu was pouting. His lower lip was slightly puffed, his cheeks looked a little rounder than they usually did, and his eyes, his eyes were big and brown as they looked right into yours. His head was resting on your chest close to your chin, and Mingyu could not stop staring at your face. His arms were wrapped around your waist, and he seemed comically small in that moment.
Your left hand softly caressed the warm skin on his back, as the fingers on your right slowly played with his curls. Mingyu sighed quietly and leaned into your touch, not before exaggerating his pout just a little bit more. It was enough to make you coo at him and press a butterfly kiss on the tip of his nose.
“They were mean to me,” Mingyu said, the pout ever so evident in his voice. You suppressed a laugh and indulged in his behaviour. “Who was mean to you, baby?”
Mingyu closed his eyes at the pet name and pressed his body even closer to yours. His body felt heavy on yours, but still comfortable. The warmth radiating from his body was enough to keep you warm, to keep you happy.
“The members,” he mumbled, and shuffled a bit further up. Nuzzling his face into your neck, he complained: “They said I’m always scared.”
It took you a lot of self restraint to not start laughing. Granted, Mingyu had not been telling you what today’s episode was about, but considering you know how your boyfriend behaved in certain situations, the members’ statement was not that far off from the truth. Yet, the pout on Mingyu’s face was enough to have you reconsider agreeing with them, even playfully. Instead, you opted for lightly scratching his head and pressing a kiss on top of his hair. “My poor baby.”
“Yes, I am,” Mingyu nodded. His lips grazed the skin of your neck and you smiled, hugging him closer to your chest. In response, Mingyu hummed and kissed the same spot softly. He kept kissing you over and over again, until he started speaking again.
“I’m not actually mad at them,” he confessed, and you hummed, “Who would have thought.”
“HOWEVER,” he interrupted you sassily, another pout already forming on his plush lips, “I’m not scared of everything.”
You smiled at him, but Mingyu only furrowed his eyebrows. Your right hand wandered further down from his hair to his forehead, to massage the worry line gently.
“I’m not scared of being with you,” Mingyu confessed quietly. His eyes flickered back down, feeling less confident now that you reciprocated his gaze. “I’m not scared of committing to you. To give myself to you.”
It was your turn to furrow your eyebrows now. You tried to sit up straight, but Mingyu would not let you. Instead, you opted for hugging him with both of your arms around his neck.
“Where’s that coming from, darling?”
Mingyu whined and put his head back into place right in the crease of your neck, right on top of your shoulder.
“Just been thinking ‘bout marriage a lot lately, that’s all,” he replied casually, not knowing that the simple words made your heart beat just a little bit faster than it already did.
“Yeah?” you replied breathlessly, trying your best to maintain your breathing. Mingyu nodded again, sounding a bit more insecure this time. “If that’s what you’re considering too. No pressure if you’re not interested. I mean, I would be hurt by it, but I respect any decision you might mak-”
Giggling, you pulled Mingyu’s head up to press a kiss on his lips. Your hand was holding his cheek and caressing the soft skin below your fingertips. In turn, Mingyu’s eyes returned to your face, the same big and brown eyes you had grown to love. The pout was evident on his lips again, and in response, you kissed him over and over again, until the lovesick frown returned to his brows, his eyes softer than you have ever seen them.
“Of course I’ve been thinking about it too,” you admitted, pressing another kiss on the tip of his nose. Mingyu turned his head upwards, trying to catch your lips with his. He whined when you pulled away, his lips returning to his natural pout.
“Baby,” he said, his eyes switching back and forth between your eyes and your lips, “that’s unfair. I’m still sad. Why are all of you always mean to me?”
You cooed and littered his entire face with kisses. Mingyu giggled at your antics and sighed contentedly. For now, you did not have to know that his members had been nagging him about proposing to you. The box he was hiding in his sock drawer was also completely unrelated to his theatrics.
→ Summary: In a dark, pulsing nightclub packed with strangers, you’re just looking for a good time—free drinks, dirty dancing, maybe a hot kiss or two. But when Mingyu finds you on the dance floor, he changes the game entirely. What starts as harmless teasing spirals into a filthy, no-boundaries encounter right there in the crowd. And by the end of it, you're not sure who’s corrupting who.
↠ mingyu x f.reader | 1.6k words | 18+
↠ genre: smut, strangers to lovers, pwp
→ Warnings: rave night club party vibes, bad boy!mingyu, alcohol consumption, mentions of earlier drug usage, consensual sex while under the influence of drugs & alcohol (pills mentioned but no name specifics), unprotected + explicit sex, rough sex, scratching, biting, hair pulling, grinding while dancing, fingering, finger sucking, quicky in the middle of the dance floor, exhibitionism, mild choking + breath play, cum warming/stuffing, dirty talk, praise, pet names, multiple orgasms, overstimulation
→ Author Note: happy 10 year anniversary to seventeen!!! this idea was born bc bad influence has been playing on repeat all day and i cannot get the thunder visuals out of my head either so here you go LOL as always, all likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated <3
🎵 Bad influence, you had to do it, An ordinary time ain't enough for you 🎵
You slam back the first shot, barely flinching before accepting the next from the stranger beside you. He’s cute, just not your type. Still, you’re not above a little harmless flirting if it keeps the drinks coming. Lucky you.
Unlucky for him though, you have zero intention of going home with him. You flash a smile, murmuring a quick thanks before slipping between the bodies on the dance floor, losing him in the blur of lights.
Arms lifted and hips circling to the beat, you toss your hair back, letting the music take over. The mix of alcohol and pills from earlier hums through your veins, softening everything around you. It feels good.
A firm hand slides onto your hip, syncing with your movements like he already knows your rhythm. A man who can match your tempo? Instantly hot. You silently hope his face is as good as his dancing.
Sneaking a glance, you’re more than pleased. He’s insanely good-looking too. Messy black hair. A lip ring shining under the strobe lights. Probably has tattoos too, if you cared enough to look for them.
Fuck yeah, you’ll dance with him. And better yet, you’ll even let him take you home after.
“I’m Mingyu,” he says, leaning in with a cocky grin. “What’s your name, Gorg?”
“Y/N!” you shout over the music, turning back around to grind against him. His fingers trail down your sides, brushing the bare skin between your tiny skirt and your cropped, backless halter. He moves as if he knows exactly where this night is going, and you’re not about to stop him.
His lips brush your neck as you dance, followed by the teasing flick of his tongue and a playful bite that sends heat straight through you. You spin in his arms again, this time facing him, and crash your mouth to his without hesitation.
Mingyu’s arms lock around you, pulling you flush against his solid body. Your hands roam, tracing the hard lines of his biceps, his broad shoulders, the tension coiled in his back—then lower, to the firm curve of his ass.
You're sharing body heat, breathing each other in, getting lost in one another.
“Mmm,” he murmurs against your lips, “Baby, you should know I’m nothing but a bad influence.”
You pull back with a dangerous twinkle in your eyes. “So influence me then, Mr. Bad Boy,” you dare him.
🎵 Bad influеnce, you had to do it, You wanna have a good, good night 🎵
His thumb drags slowly across your lips, smearing the last of your gloss.
You part them slightly, tongue flicking out to taste the corner of your mouth, knowing exactly what you’re doing.
He takes the opening, pressing his thumb past your lips.
Instinct takes over. You close your mouth around it, tongue swirling, sucking slowly. His eyes darken, hunger and lust flashing through them.
With a soft pop, he pulls his hand away. You turn around without a word, body rolling as you grind down to the beat, taunting him to make the next move.
He grabs a fistful of your hair and yanks you back up, mouth at your ear, voice low and rough. “Don’t start something you’re not gonna finish, dollface.”
You push your ass back against the growing bulge in his jeans, grinning wickedly. “Right back at you, darlin’.”
He groans, no longer holding back, completely indifferent to the people surrounding you both. One hand wraps firmly around the front of your neck, tilting your head back and keeping your body flush against his. The other glides down your bare stomach, slipping beneath the hem of your miniskirt.
“Fuck, you’re soaked,” he growls, fingers sliding through the heat between your thighs. “This for me, baby? You want a good time? I’ll give you a fucking unforgettable one.”
The pressure at your throat flares for a moment, just enough to make your vision edge with stars. Then, mercifully, he loosens his grip, letting you gasp a few shaky breaths before tightening again.
“Make all the noise you want, Gorg. No one here gives a shit. I’m gonna fuck you right here too, make you lose your goddamn mind on my cock. You want that?” His fingers pick up their pace, curling relentlessly against your inner walls.
The bass from the music thuds in your ears, but it’s nothing compared to the pulse pounding between your legs. Mingyu’s breath is hot against your neck. His lips brush your skin as he mutters filthy praise into your ear.
You can feel him too, hard and throbbing through his pants, grinding against your ass in rhythm with every stroke of his fingers.
Your legs threaten to buckle as he hits that perfect spot again and again, sending tremors through your core. You're dripping, thighs slick as he pumps his fingers in and out of you. A small gasp escapes your lips, then a whimper, louder than you intended. But he was right. No one notices.
“Yeah, that’s it,” he growls, voice laced with pure desire. “Let ‘em hear how good I’m making you feel.”
You’re unraveling. The pleasure is building, sharp and blinding. You throw your head back against his shoulder, mouth parted, eyes fluttering shut as your body starts to shake.
You nod, too breathless to speak, reaching back to clutch the back of his neck. Your nails dig into his skin as he pinches your clit hard.
White-hot ecstasy tears through you, the orgasm hitting like a jolt of lightning. Your legs tremble violently, mouth falling open as a cry escapes you. Without Mingyu’s strong grip holding you up, you’re certain you’d collapse right there on the dirty dance floor.
🎵 Bad influencе, you had to do it, It's four in the morning, what the fuck we doin'? 🎵
But he’s not finished with you. Not even close.
“I wasn’t kidding, Y/N,” he growls against your ear, pulling his hand from the front of your skirt. You hear the soft, unmistakable sound of his zipper lowering as he frees himself with a quiet, practiced motion. His hand slides to your ass, tugging your soaked thong aside with a rough, impatient grip. You feel the thick head of his cock press against your slick folds, teasing, threatening.
“I’m gonna ruin you right here, between all of these people,” he whispers, his voice full of dark promise. “And you’re gonna let me. Aren’t you?”
Then he pushes in.
You both moan in unison as he begins to stretch you open. The intrusion is intense, overwhelming, and everything you didn’t know you were desperate for. The loud music around you pulses through your bodies, but all you can feel is him.
It’s so much better than you imagined.
“Fuck,” he hisses, thrusting deeper, inch by inch, until he's almost fully sheathed inside you. “You feel that? You think you can take all of me, baby?”
“Give me everything,” you mewl, voice shaking with need.
And he does.
He starts fucking you from behind, his tip hitting deep inside you while his girth stretches against your walls. You’re trapped against his body and the faceless crowd. Bodies blur around you, lights flash, bass pounds. Everyone’s too drunk, too high, too far gone to register the way your breath hitches or how his hand fists your hair to keep you upright.
His mouth brushes your ear again, “Goddamn, look at you. So perfect around my cock, so fucking greedy for it. You were made to be fucked like this, weren't you?”
“Y-yes, made for this,” you gasp, voice cracking. “Made for you.”
That last word snaps something in Mingyu.
He growls, going feral as a switch flips. His movements grow rougher, harder as he pounds into you recklessly, chasing your release like a man possessed.
You fall apart all over again, body writhing, head tossed back against his shoulder as you come undone. A hot gush of wetness spills out around him, dripping down your thighs, making an even bigger mess. But that’s a problem for later.
“Gonna come,” he grunts through clenched teeth, thrusting once, twice, then burying himself deep as his hips jerk. You feel the molten heat of his release pulse inside you, in thick and hot threads. The sensation alone is enough to make your legs buckle, arousal spiking all over again at the thought of him filling you up.
He pulls out slowly, and you feel some of his come leak out after him.
But he’s still not done.
Mingyu drops his hand between your legs, massaging your combined mess into your swollen folds. Then, with zero hesitation, he slides two fingers back inside you.
“Fuck, still so warm, so tight,” he murmurs, eyes dark as he watches your body react. “Think you can give me one more?”
He already knows the answer. Your walls flutter around his fingers, clenching in anticipation even as tears prick the corners of your eyes. It’s almost too much, but you crave it.
It’s so fucking good.
Your body tenses, shuddering violently as a third orgasm rips through you, smaller but more intense. You cry out, unable to hold back, clutching his forearm like it’s the only thing keeping you tethered to the ground.
Mingyu groans, pulling his fingers free. They’re coated in slick and come. Before you can move, he presses them back against your entrance, pushing his release back inside you with a filthy smirk.
“Can’t let it all go to waste,” he says smugly. “Gotta hide the evidence.”
You glance over your shoulder, flushed and wrecked, barely able to stand.
“Wanna get out of here?” he asks, already zipping up, eyes locked on yours.
“Your place or mine?” you ask breathlessly.
🎵 Bad influence, you had to do it, You turn and say "a good, good time" 🎵
your math major soulmate is the only reason you’re surviving college, but how long can you rely on him for help?
★ math major!mingyu x art major!reader.
★ word count: 2k
★ genre/warnings: alternate universe: college/university, alternate universe: soulmates (you and your soulmate can communicate with thoughts), romance, fluff, humor. a math term/solution i am not 100% sure about. reader’s thoughts are in pink while mingyu’s are in blue.
★ footnotes: this is part of my follower milestone event. when are @maplegyu and i not self-indulgent? alas, brainiac!kmg is one of my favorite versions of gyu— so i’m glad to finally have an excuse to play with it. ily, maple!
↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺ hard carry by got7. no song without you by honne. in the same place by girls on top. let’s love by suho. lilac by iu. mariposa by peach tree rascals. love equation by vixx. common denominator by justin bieber.
Barnett Newman. Helen Frankenthaler. Mark Rothko.
All fantastic abstract expressionist painters, known for their vibrant compositions and color-saturated canvases. Some of your peers turned their noses up at the movement, presumably because it always took a little more of a critical eye to understand it.
You didn’t share the same distaste. Most of the time, you enjoyed the colors, lines, and shapes that all served to be a bigger part of a whole.
If anything, the math problem in front of you was the most abstract thing you’d ever faced.
You stare at the test paper, your pencil hovering uselessly above the page. The numbers have all blurred together— a mess of equations and symbols that could rival the work of Jackson Pollock.
It’s almost comical, how you slot so easily into the stereotype of art-major-who’s-ass-at-math. Some people are an exception to the norm. You are not one of them.
“Fifteen minutes left,” your hard-pressed professor drawls from the front of the classroom, and you snap out of your woe-is-me reverie.
Question five taunts you. If f(x) = 3x² - 4x + 7, find f'(x) and evaluate f'(2).
Derivatives. Okay. You know this. You should know this.
Except, right now, your brain is a blank canvas.
You purse your lips. This isn’t going to bode well for you, but you’d held out this long. You’ll be lucky to get a C on this test— to pass by the skin of your teeth— and so you deserve to get at least one question indisputably correct. Right?
Mingyu. You reach out through the bond, desperate. You there?
Some have said that once you’ve met your soulmate, once you know how they sound like, it’s their voice that rings in your thoughts. If you haven’t, though, you’re left with something more akin to subtitles. Text flashing in your head in a font of your choosing.
(Your poison is Courier New. You asked Mingyu once, what his font for you was, but he never really ‘got back’ to you on it.)
There’s a pause— just long enough for you to feel guilty— before a response flashes in your mind. Aren’t you in the middle of a test?
You can almost imagine his tone. You anticipate it’d be something sharp and warm all at once, which is just your way of coping with how desperate you feel right now.
I’m seriously failing in the middle of my test, you respond. Hopefully, he can read how frantic and desperate you are. I just need a little nudge.
A beat.
You tack on, Please?
If Mingyu could sigh, he probably would have by now. He’s a man carrying the weight of your academic shortcomings, after all. There’s just enough exasperation in his ‘tone’ when he shoots back, Fine. What is it?
Your eyes dart over the problem plaguing you. Once you’ve mentally relayed it to your soulmate, he responds without missing a beat.
Power rule. If you have something like axⁿ, the derivative is naxⁿ⁻¹.
You blink. Say that like I’m five.
So help me, God, Mingyu says, forcing you to tamp down a laugh. Okay. What’s 3x²?
Uh… 6x?
Good. And -4x?
-4?
And a constant?
Zero—
You sit up a little straighter, faltering mid-mental correspondence. So f’(x) is 6x - 4.
Mingyu can’t really sound amused— or proud— but you picture it all the same when he urges you to go on. And f’(2)?
Your pencil is already scribbling furiously across your test paper. Eight, you triumphantly declare. The answer is eight.
There you go, he answers.
For not the first time, you wish you’d already met him. It must be nice to have a smile in your mind, a cadence instead of sentences. But you and Mingyu had agreed that neither of you were in a rush. You were both uni students wanting to explore your individual lives at your own pace before attempting a happily ever after.
It’s only through your ironclad will that you’ve resisted the urge to look him up, to find out if there was a math major named Mingyu within your area.
This is the last time I’m going to help you cheat, he says as you move on to correct your answers for some of the other questions.
A corner of your mouth twitches upward. That’s what you said last time.
Yeah, well, I mean it this time. Get a tutor or something, woman.
Are you presenting yourself?
Don’t tempt me with a good time.
Your professor keeps you from responding immediately. “Five minutes,” she calls out.
Your fingers tighten around your pencil. It wouldn’t be the first or last instance where academic integrity might be compromised because of the whole soulmate bond, but Mingyu is right. You can’t keep summoning him like your personal math genie.
Fine, you concede. I’ll stop bothering you with my [math] problems. Nerd.
Mingyu asked for it, so, really— he’s to blame for missing it.
It’s an odd feeling, this restlessness that comes in the absence of your out-of-the-blue inquiries. The two of you still occasionally reach through the bond to exchange an amicable word or two, maybe recommend a song, but gone are the times you’d come running to him for help.
He’s sitting in the library, his notebook opened to a half-finished proof. His pencil twirls idly between his fingers as he attempts to focus. Instead, his mind keeps drifting to what was once a daily occurrence.
Panicked whispers of Mingyu, help. Last-minute pleas for salvation. Complaints about how math is ruining your life, how this would most definitely not be useful in the real world.
(He would never admit it, but he had always liked when you tangented into the last one. It felt a bit like a betrayal to his field, the endearment he felt whenever you’d flood his mind with paragraph after paragraph cussing out Newton and Leibniz for inventing calculus.)
With a sharp sigh, he stabs his pencil into the spiral binding of his notebook and leans back, rubbing a hand over his face. His fingers drum against the desk. His leg bounces. He debates reaching out first— just to check, just to make sure you haven’t actually given up on math altogether. But what would he even say?
Hey, fail another test yet?
Are you alive, or did calculus finally take you out?
I kind of miss you annoying me. Don’t let it go to your head.
No, no, and definitely not.
He doesn’t even know you like that. You’re soulmates and that’s pretty much it. He’s lucky that you’ve been rather chill about the whole affair, not hurrying to meet him and lock him down like other soulmate horror stories he’s heard.
He knows bits and pieces. Your major, your love for survival reality shows, your utter distaste for anything beyond multiplication.
Mingyu mumbles something like “for fuck’s sake” to himself. He tries to refocus, and he manages to make it halfway into his homework when it comes.
Mingyu.
When you wanted to tell him something inconsequential, like The new Fantastic Four movie sucked or I’d kill for a slice of pizza right now, you went straight into it. You only ever ‘said’ his name when it was related to numbers.
Took you long enough, he says, his lips twitching.
Shut up. I was trying to figure it out on my own this time.
And?
Your brief moment of hesitation has Mingyu wondering if he’s too cruel. His mother had always advised him to be nice to his soulmate, to not overwhelm you, and he contemplates throwing in an apology. Before he can, though, you’re back in his head.
I need you.
Something in his chest tightens. He tells himself it’s just relief.
(The truth of the matter is this: Mingyu liked being needed by you. He wasn’t sure yet why, but he did.)
Yeah, yeah, he responds as he absentmindedly sketches a heart into the corner of his notebook. What’s the problem?
You’re starting to think that a tutor might not be that bad of an idea.
While Mingyu is always obliging, the guilt of relying on your connection was beginning to weigh on you. You scoured the university boards until you found a girl named Somi willing to meet with you twice a week, and it was going pretty well.
Still— is it weird to admit that you kind of miss running to Mingyu?
You try your darndest to keep those thoughts catalogued. A couple of your friends have talked about accidentally slipping some of their innermost thoughts to their soulmates, and God forbid Mingyu find out that you crave his dry wit.
You can’t miss somebody you’ve never met.
At least that’s what you keep telling yourself as you go to Mingyu less and less, instead filling in the gaps of your conversation with menial, everyday things.
What coffee do you usually drink?, you ask him one afternoon.
You’re in the world’s slowest-moving line, at the cafe you and Somi frequented for your tutoring sessions. Your phone is dead, you’ve analyzed the art on the walls at least seven different ways, and there’s no one around for you to talk to. Might as well abuse the soulmate connection.
His response comes in by the time you’re nearly at the front of the line. Iced Americano, he responds. Why?
No reason.
“Next.”
You offer a sympathetic smile to the dead-eyed barista at the counter. “Once large iced Americano, please,” you say.
You go to stand off to the side. As you’re waiting for your order, Mingyu asks a question of his own.
What about you?
What about me?
What’s your go-to order?
You contemplate it for a moment. Salted caramel cream cold brew.
The barista hands you your drink. A corner of your lip twitches upward as you accept it, Mingyu’s response coming in at the same time.
That sounds obscene, he taunts. A toothache in the making.
Hey. You’re mentally britsling, readying to defend your coffee of choice. I’ll have you know—
“Oomf!”
This was sometimes the problem about getting lost in your thoughts. You tend to get dragged out of the real world, stuck in your conversation. You exchange a quick apology with the person you bumped into, the tips of your ears flaming red.
With your drink in hand, you make a beeline for the table that you and Somi always sit at. You’re distracted enough to forget that you were mid-‘conversation’ with Mingyu, and so you barely register that your usually punctual tutor has yet to arrive— or that someone else is coming up to your table once you’ve settled in.
Later, you will get a text from Somi telling you something came up, but not to fret; she called in a friend to help. Someone who was more than willing to pick up Somi’s slack after joking that he’d already been doing it for the soon-to-be-love-of-his-life.
Your gaze flicks up to the boy standing in front of you.
‘Cute.’ ‘Cute.’
It’s a two-way record scratch.
The stranger hovering by your table seems to freeze, too, and the pieces fall together in your head like a puzzle— no. It’s like when you squint at an abstract painting and the whole thing comes together.
You had said sorry earlier, hadn’t you? To the person you bumped into. He had apologized as well.
Now, there was a voice to the words in your head. A face to the soulmate you’d been missing.
“Hey,” your soulmate says, he says out loud.
He plops down into the seat across from you, trying and failing to fight off the biggest smile on his face. There’s no need to exchange introductions. He says your name, and it’s so much better than anything you could have ever imagined.
When Mingyu sets down his drink, you actually laugh.
